#lyselkatz

Eugene was just finishing the bandage on the wound when the doors were thrown open. For a moment he feared it meant more wounded soldiers, but instead of stretcher-bearers it was Lieutenant Nixon who dashed in. “Dick! Oh God – What happened?! What’s wrong?!” he shouted as soon as his eyes happened on his friend. Eugene finished the bandage and took a step back to wipe his hands as Nixon rushed inside, slipping in the trails of blood on the floor. It was a fascinating sight since usually he was so calm and aloof like nothing could touch him, but now for once he was entirely serious, his eyes wide, and without a trace of his cocky smile. Winters looked embarrassed and quickly yanked his pantleg over the bandage. “I’m fine , Nix, it’s nothing,” he insisted and threw Eugene a look that seemed to be subtly begging for him to back him up, but Eugene wanted no part in the relations between the officers, so he just smiled and turned away. “But… But they told me you were shot!” Nixon insisted when he got next to the table while frantically scanning Winters with his eyes like there had to be a more serious wound he just hadn’t spotted yet. Eugene grimaced internally; to him it sounded like some thoughtless fool had offhandedly got the word to Nixon and made it sound worse than it was. Eugene stepped over a puddle of blood on the floor and fought against an urge to curse all the needless pain. “More like shot at,” Winters corrected on the table, obviously having come to a similar conclusion. “I got bit unlucky. It’s stupid, really.” “God, I’m going to kill Foley, he made it sound like you – “ Nixon sounded ready to rant, but came to an abrupt stop like he was about to break a taboo. He shook his head and settled on crowding Winters, deathly pale where Winters was blotchy red with embarrassment. Eugene decided to let them be. He had already seen plenty of soldiers worrying over their friends and gathered it was best to give them space, especially since this was the first time they were facing this sort of fear. Eugene felt the possibility of loss yawning in front of him like the edge of the world and firmly ignored it and got back to work. He washed his hands in a basin while on the edge of his field of vision Nixon was fidgeting next to Winters. Eugene didn’t look straight at them, but still spied with some amusement how Nixon clearly wanted to touch his friend but didn’t seem to know why or how. Eugene hid a smile into his collar. Winters was perfectly fine, fit for duty and not even rattled, but Nixon seemed unable to pick up on any of the obvious information even though it was literally perching on the table in front of him. Some intelligence officer he was. Eugene picked up all used instruments from a tray and dumped them into the basin now filled with dark pink water while keeping a subtle eye on the officers, more out of curiosity and amusement than anything else. Nixon’s hands hovered over Winters like he couldn’t decide what to do with them. “You’re fine… It’s fine… Totally fine…” he muttered under his breath, then finally gathered up the sense and courage to grasp Winters by the elbow. “It’s fine, Nix!” Winters insisted, his cheeks pink with embarrassment even when his voice remained stern. “It’s basically just a scratch.” Eugene wanted to roll his eyes and turn back to tell Winters to drop his tough guy persona and instead comfort his distressed friend, and only his sense of tact and manners kept him from doing so. At least Winters finally reached to touch Nixon’s hand where it was gripping his arm, and Eugene gave him a point for that at least. “Can you walk?” Nixon asked, his voice so unlike his cheeky self that Eugene had to turn fully away to give them some privacy. “Yes, I can walk,” Winters replied, a bit exasperated but still let Nixon help him off the table. Eugene took a subtle look at Winter’s stance when he put his weight on his wounded leg and made a mental note of his flinch. Nixon seemed to notice it too, but when he swooped in to put his arm around Winters’ waist to support him, Winters reddened and took a quick look around like he was afraid others witnessing their commanding officer needing help. “Nix –” he started to protest, but Nixon interrupted: “Your leg is hurt. This is what people do when someone’s leg is hurt. It’s just for a little while, okay? For a bit, just let me give you this.” His voice was so soft it was almost drowned out in the noise of the aid station, and the only reason why Eugene picked up on it was that he was already listening. To his ear Nixon sounded almost pleading. “Alright then, Lew,” Winters allowed and let Nixon press up against his side and wrap his arm around his waist while he put his arm around Nixon’s shoulders. Eugene watched from the corner of his eye when they swayed together out of the door and decided to look the other way.