Kiss of Life

This had never been in his plans - this life reeling in front of him as though it were a flash bomb or mortar fire, showering over time like shrapnel. Things seemed to move so much faster here, life blowing by them into death in such a way that it was impossible to stop and live in even the tiniest moment. He wanted to plead for an end to this madness, wanted to scream himself, with this soldier for all the pain he had endured. His shoulders were heavy with all the deaths of men he could not save, the children with no fathers and wives newly wed, never to see their husbands again. He was alone here, had no one to talk to about all of these things that they all, each one of them kept secret. And it was driving him crazy, literally speeding up his heart to a point of breaking, but it couldn’t because there were still people who needed his help. This boy needed his help and Cheshire was going to do his best to save him.

His heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt and Cheshire was acutely aware of the heat making the sweat on his back form in large droplets that slid down at various intervals. They pooled at the top of his pants and soaked his lower back to the point that it itched and made him more uncomfortable than he had ever been. On top of it, the bullets from ally as well as enemy guns still showered them, and the boy knew that if this wounded soldier was going to survive he had to work fast. Screaming still, Cheshire covered Hatter’s mouth as he suddenly dug into the boy’s shoulder with his nimble fingers, without even informing anyone of his plans. He could just see the bullet lodged in the thick muscle of the boy’s shoulder, and if Cheshire could get it out it would stop the bleeding that much faster. He felt it, cold metal surrounded by hot, running blood and grasped it, just as he watched Mab pale into a lily white color.

It was torture to see someone so sick just at the sight of pain, of blood, of everything he saw every moment, even when his eyes were closed. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, and he knew he shouldn’t have embarrassed her by assuming she knew anything about nursing just because she was a woman. Cheshire was typically much more astute than that, and by looking at Mab probably could have told that she didn’t have the stomach to help a doctor, much less a surgeon - but the moment had called for haste, which didn’t allow much time for study. He also wondered vaguely why she was even here, caught in the middle of this conflict just as Rook and he were. It wasn’t really a concern at the moment though, because he suddenly realized that the soldier next to him, Outlander by origin, that much was clear, was prepared to help.

Dislodging the bullet from his wounded ally’s shoulder, he let Rook take over compressing the wound that was still a fountain of hot red liquid. Hatter was beginning to pass out and Cheshire knew it wasn’t long after that, that a solider would not wake up again, which meant that he needed to dress the wound quick and get him the hell out of here. He was running out of shirt, and since Rook’s hands were full, Cheshire again looked over at the girl for some kind of help. She was here, and although she might not have liked it, she was as tied to the three of them as any other soldier. He didn’t want to frighten her more than she already clearly was, but the medic needed something more to wrap the soldier’s shoulder with. Assessing her clothing, Cheshire saw that Mab’s dress was long enough for them to get at least a strip or two off the bottom. ”Please Miss, I know you’re scared but I need your help” His voice was consistent but breathless at the same time, a pleading young boy begging for another’s life. His eyes strayed back down to the still writhing soldier below him then back to the girl. ”He needs your help. If you could rip off the bottom of your dress, we can be out of here much quicker.”

Those were his exact thoughts too, as soon as he could get the boy’s shoulder wrapped they could find a way out of the action and on to the base camp hospital. Turning back to Rook, Cheshire smiled slightly and with the nod of his head thanked the soldier for offering his help. ”Just keep your hand where it is, I’m gonna need you to roll him over on his side so I can get a better look at it.” Waiting for Mab’s answer or action all Cheshire could do was hope that he wasn’t too late when they finally did get back to the hospital.

Self preservation, while being a horribly selfish human trait, was in every person no matter how hard they tried to hide it. In fact, George had been self-preserving by hiding in the hospital all these years, cowering behind the excuse that they needed a skilled surgeon such as himself there more than out in the field. But the truth was that he could do much more good here, being the first to the scene, than he ever could trying to clean up the aftermath, only helping the ones who had already been saved by the real heroes. He wasn’t trying to be a hero, wasn’t putting his life at risk by abandoning his gun for some bandages for an award, he was doing it because he cared more about other people than himself and he was tired of hiding from that fact. As dangerous as it might be, these people he was saving were the real heroes - they were the ones who deserved a second chance at a life that was slowly being torn away from all of them. They were all a little indignant at getting thrown into a war that was not theirs, being forced to give their lives for a cause they did not even believe in. But what were these children to do - they could not hide, or run away, they had to stand and fight.

And even little girls sometimes had to grow up, which Mab was quickly finding out. He was surprised when she stared back at him, eyes large as saucers, knowing she must help because the human condition propelled her forward into action. It was not possible for even the most hardened heart not to feel compassion for a dying man, especially if he was splayed out before you in all his innocent determination. Still Cheshire could not help think that Mab was too young to be witnessing this cruel side of humanity, the way they could so easily lay waste all that which they had created, even their own brothers. Any kind of innocence they held as children was quickly ripped away when faced with their own looming mortality, so close on the horizon. And it pained him to have to involve her in this matter, one the girl never should have been a part of - a reality she should have been separated from. Her parents should have been the ones to protect her, not Cheshire and Rook, even though they would because she was now in their care and irrevocably so.

He thought her brave for so carelessly ripping her dress, hesitantly handing it to him so as not to touch the vast moment they are separated by. She still stood in her own world, safe from the gore and gunfire of the ally’s entrance. But Cheshire could not help grazing Mab’s hand, and in that second she was connected to Rook and he in a way that was electric and that pulled her in. She could not refuse his gift, one he did not offer but forced upon her in a moment of weak human mistake. But she seemed to accept it as a part of the new life she would inevitably begin as of this second, entering into the world of men and boys like a victim of war always will. Like the soldiers she would wake up in the middle of a dream realizing her home was safe and she was no longer in the midst of this deadly action. Cheshire still thought she looked like a child, standing there in that long moment with her dress torn and her innocence on the verge of being broken. But when she crouched near him, offering a second strip of fabric and her help, he could not help but smile that boyishly familiar grin that had earned him the nickname ‘Sunny’.

Rook has done the work needed of him by keeping the bleeding to a minimum and turning Hatter on his side so that now Cheshire could more easily bandage the soldier’s shoulder. Saying the words that Cheshire could not guarantee, he was glad that Rook had said them because Cheshire knew he could not. The pain he could easily deliver, sticking another vial of morphine into the boy’s arm before beginning to wrap as tightly as he could. And it worked surprisingly well to the effect that the boy was not screaming so loudly and his leg had stopped bleeding so profusely. He had lost a lot of blood but there was a chance that Cheshire could save him if they moved fast enough back to base camp. There was a moment now for him to find in himself the strength to look into his patient’s eyes and pat him on the chest. ”You’re gonna be okay kid, we’re gonna get you outta here.” He let out a long breath, that had seemingly been held this whole time in his intense concentration. They needed to move, this much is obvious.

Turning then to Rook, Cheshire wanted to ask his name but knew there was no time for those sorts of casual things. Instead he grit his teeth and looked out again towards the street and the action lingering there, ”We need to move him back to base camp, are you with me comrade or are you going back out there?” nodding his head toward the fighting. Of course he couldn’t know that Rook was a sniper, made to hide, not fight openly with the other infantry men. And Mab, he hadn’t forgotten her either, for when he looked over at her, Cheshire could still see she was shaken and he could not in good faith simply let her try and find her way back home, however close that might have been. ”Miss, you’ve got to come with me, there isn’t time for arguments, we’ll help you get back home later.” His commanding tone led only to the fact that he was a surgeon and needed often to tell his nurses what to do. But his use of ‘we’ suggested that he wanted Rook to come, for help if not for protection - since Cheshire certainly could not carry this boy and shoot a gun at the same time.

There was an almost easy ebb and flow in the hospital these days. There had been minimal fighting up until now so the wounded had been few and the recovery rate quick, and close to painless. He had been enjoying this lull like a child revels in the luxury of summer; the quiet and
stillness of things before they inevitably speed back up. It was an almost non-existent quality of a hospital, and it surprised Cheshire that things should be this way even in the midst of a war. And it was nice to be able to check on his healing patients without wondering what danger the next second might bring; to chat with the nurses and flirt as though nothing were wrong in their little corner of the world. Though through all this vague happiness, there was still that looming darkness in the back of his mind, a feral knowledge of what was yet to come. He could not quell the fear that had been welling in the bottom of his stomach, replacing what food he could have eaten with an acidic aching. He had gotten far too thin these past few months and his young mothers worried too much about him. The girls liked to fawn on their little Sunny, since he looked younger than his 27 years, and still held a certain amount of innocence, even though he’d seen more death than any of them.

But he loved the girls, and the boy thought they enjoyed his company as well since he was one of the few men who were always around. Cheshire practically ate and slept at the hospital, but he barely ever slept and sometimes wandered the hallways at 2am like a ghost, which made the girls worry even more. He couldn't sleep because every time he closed his eyes the screams of dying soldiers filled his dreams and all he could do was toss and turn. He needed someone to hold him, to give him the warm comfort that another person’s body could offer in the darkness of night. He didn't have any particularly strong affection for any girl specifically, unless you counted March Hare, who had been his best friend since childhood and the only one whom he gave a real damn about.

His breathing was erratic, and the soldier’s dead weight on his back was crushing, but Cheshire could do nothing more than run forward. Thank God for Rook, not only to protect him but to take care of Mab. She had to be scared more now, running through the haze and showering of bullets towards some unknown destination. He had watched her back in the ally, the innocence draining out of her smooth white skin, almost like a withering flower. And he’d wanted to pull her into his arms, to wipe away what she’d seen and return Mab to her former ignorance, for all its childish bliss. But there was no way for Cheshire to do that, and he hated himself for witnessing it. No one should have to be exposed to this kind of madness, not forced or even by choice because it was so drastically life changing. As he had looked up at her from his keeling position in that dirty ally, Cheshire silently apologized for everything that was not his fault. His deep brown eyes pleaded for her not to hate him for them meeting this way, and he had watched as she had moved closer to the safety of Rook. Cheshire would never be anyone’s safety because he held too much in his hands - the power to give life or bring death. And it suddenly saddened the boy to realize this about himself. Except that there wasn’t time for him to come to terms with it because again he was hauling Hatter over his shoulder and creeping his way out of the ally and on towards the hospital.

And right now he sadly had to break their prefect silence. Kicking open the door to make easier access for himself and the heavy soldier slung across his back, Cheshire killed the peaceful slumber and steady heartbeats of patients and nurses alike. The loud noise startled a few nurses who ran to his side, dashing to get a gurney to lay the boy down on. Cheshire was dirty, sweaty, more scared looking than he had ever been, and it had to scare the girls as well, since he always looked so composed, normally. Trying to lay the soldier down as gingerly as possible, he told the closest nurse to run and get Tock for him. He didn’t care what she was dealing with - this was more important.

Looking up, in the midst of all the chaos that he had created, Cheshire caught Rook's eye, and watched he and Mab. The girls were prepping a room for the boy and before he had to stitch up the gaping wounds, he needed to speak to his two friends. They were bound together by this event and he could call them nothing less than friends now. Practically dashing over to where they stood, in almost shocked silence, Cheshire smiled weakly and stuck out a hand. “The name’s Cheshire Cat, thank you for helping me out there.” He didn’t know what he would have done without Rook’s help, and he hated to push the two of them off like this but he could see a wounded boy on a bed in the next room and after their quick introduction he walked briskly into the room where a nurse already stood, shaking her head over the man lying in the bed. Crouching down he took the last vial of morphine from the field medic’s bag he still wore and jammed it into the boy’s leg. He was screaming something about his friend and Cheshire looked up solemnly, ”Your friend’s dead kid, and this is going to hurt a little.” He pulled the knife out on the word ‘this’ and held the gaping wound as his nurse wrapped some bandages around it. He would leave her to do the rest, the boy was in good hands. ”Sorry kid, there’s a dying soldier not much older that you in surgery waiting for me. I’ll be back to check on you when he’s done.” It was not insensitivity that forced Cheshire to be so quick and blunt, simply necessity. He could not be in two places at once, although sometimes he tried to be.

Running down the hall he found his wounded patient lying semi still on a table, awaiting his scissors and needle and tread. Taking a deep breath, Cheshire started to wash up wondering where Tock was and hoping they weren’t too late to save this boy.