#reme

He should have told them. He should have told them. He should have told them.

The damn metal mage was here. Banner had never been in a battle to last this long, rage this ferociously; they thought they'd had the upper hand at first, but then another company of mages had arrived, and now -

And now his people were dying. The Eolans were surrounded on three sides, and Banner knew - he knew - the damn metal mage was here, tying up nearly an entire company on his own with his magic. Because Banner had let him go. Because he’d been too weak to do his job.

He ran along just behind the blurred front lines, where his company of soldiers did their best to hold off the Cords; occasionally Banner lunged through a break to run his sword into an enemy, or dispatch a Cordellan soldier that had managed to break through. For a moments - a few terrifying moments - he was alone, keeping a knot of soldiers from overwhelming his company completely, until Taryn's squad - somewhat fresh from being on reserve - rallied behind him, and plugged the leak, so that Banner could stumble onwards.

He caused this problem. He had to fix it.

Banner tore at the straps of his armor as he ran. He dropped his brigandine and his helmet; someone yelled his name behind him - Marles - but Banner barely heard, his eyes on the knot of soldiers running to their death, archers with metal arrowheads, soldiers with swords and knives and metal-studded leather -

It was First Company. Reme’s company.

He tripped over a fallen soldier and hit the blood-soaked ground, swearing. The dead woman had been holding a spear, but the metal spearhead had been snapped off. Banner tore it from her death-stiffened grip, snapping the haft over his knee. The wood splintered with difficulty, but when it broke, it broke sharp - sharp enough to kill.

The closer he came, the fiercer the wind fought against him and others, throwing up dirt and smoke - until it died completely, suddenly. Banner didn’t think about the fact, just kept running, dodging around a Cordellan and letting another of his soldiers dispatch the enemy.

“Reme!” He was just a hair too slow; she surged forward with another of her men, angling for the metal mage with death in her eyes. Banner recognized the mage and Boar all too easily, even through the haze and panic of pitched battle.

He’d nearly caught up, when Reme stumbled and fell ahead of him, screaming as her own knife twisted into her stomach, slipping far too easily through her armor - how many times had he begged her to get some brigandine, at the very least, instead of just leather, how many times had he asked her to stay back, stay in formation, stop running ahead -

He didn’t think. He didn’t care about the meal they’d shared. He’d messed up. He’d let them live, and the bastards were here, killing his people again - killing Reme -

He felt a pressure on his belt buckle, on the metal plates of his gloves, but it was too little, too late, and Banner shouted as he swung one half of the broken spear shaft into the metal mage’s face.

The mage dropped instantly.

“You son of a bitch!” Boar lunged over the fallen mage, and Banner barely had time to bring up his other stick, the sharp end of it punching into Boar as the larger man crashed into Banner, bearing them both to the ground. Boar hardly seemed to notice the length of wood stabbed into his side. Banner forgot about it, too, as instinct and skill took over. It didn’t matter how much bigger Boar was, Banner was still the better grappler.

He had Boar on his back in an instant, and yanked the knife that had been buried in Boar’s shoulder. Banner slammed the pommel of it against Boar’s temple, and he fell back, limp, against the dirt.

Banner didn’t wait long enough to see if it had killed him or even knocked Boar unconscious. He scrambled off the larger man, running back towards Reme. Someone crouched over her, in the colors of Cordellan livery - Banner tightened his grip on his knife, before his mind caught up to his vision, and he recognized the cut and symbol of a Cordellan healer.

The woman had her hand pressed against Reme’s stomach. Blue light gleamed, sunlight glinting off the gold ring the Cordellan healer wore. She looked up with a start as Banner fell to his knees, and jerked her hand away, eyes wide.

Someone whistled, and both Banner and the healer looked over; Marles, soaked with blood, came towards them. “You’ve got two of your own,” he called to the medic. She nodded and got to her feet. Banner ignored the both of them, hovering over Reme, brushing a hand over her face. “Reme? Reme, are - are you all right?”

Her stomach was still bare, the knife wound not anywhere near as bad as Banner had thought it would be - she’d screamed so loudly, and so much blood soaked her shirt, but it hardly looked that deep -

Marles grabbed the healer before she could go any further, dragging her closer by the front of her shirt. "You healed her."

"She asked," the healer snapped back, but her eyes widened in fear.

"She better have," Marles hissed, his face barely an inch from the healer's. "Or I'll have your head."

He shoved her away, watching her stumble towards the fallen mages, before turning to join Banner and Reme. Banner flinched as he felt something hit his back, and then his chest armor dropped to the dirt next to him. Marles shoved his abandoned helmet over Banner’s sweat-soaked copper hair.

“You fucking idiot,” Marles seethed. “We’re in a fucking battle, get your gods-damned armor on!”

Banner ignored him. “She’s hurt -”

“I see that,” Marles snarled. He shoved Banner aside. “Are you a medic, now, Tadsson? Get your fucking armor back on!”

Banner didn’t move for a moment. His vision blurred, and he didn’t realize for a moment that it was from tears, the salt stinging cuts on his face. “Marles -”

The medic turned away from Reme and grabbed the front of Banner’s shirt, shaking him. “Your soldiers are dying, Lieutenant!” he snapped. He gave Banner a rough shove, seething with fury. “Go do your damn job!”

Banner startled, and like an ocean wave, the sounds of battle all around him crashed back into his head. Screaming, whistled and shouted signals, weapons clashing together. He gave Reme one last look, his heart pounding, but then grabbed his brigandine and scrambled to his feet. He had no idea where he’d left his sword; it seemed that Marles hadn’t grabbed that for him, too, but the medic pressed one into his hands anyway. Banner recognized Reme’s sword from the way it felt in his hand: the lighter weight, the smoothed leather grip. 

He stumbled towards a knot of soldiers in the black and red of Seventh Battalion, wearing the dog patch of Second Company - his company, his soldiers, he had to lead them, had to keep the Cordellans from overwhelming them. Banner struggled into his brigandine armor again as he moved, unable to take the time to tighten the straps properly. It would have to do for now. He had to fight.

He had to keep them safe.

---

The Cordellans retreated, but not for hours. They didn’t follow the Cords; the Eolans were barely left standing, and for all that they’d routed the enemy, Banner didn’t feel much like a victor.

He didn’t think anyone else did, either, not after they took stock of their casualties as the sun fell behind the horizon. He gathered his company, sick to his stomach when he saw how many were able to muster, and how many weren’t.

It didn’t mean they’d all died, he told himself, over and over. A lot of them were likely just wounded. But he couldn’t help but keep a mental tally, and despite the exhaustion dragging at his bones, he forced himself to the hospital tents.

They were overflowing.

“We can’t look at you,” a young woman in a medic’s overcoat snapped at him. Banner didn’t realize, until that moment, that he needed to be looked at; he glanced down and realized that his body throbbed in a dozen places, that blood caked his arm and stiffened the side of his shirt, between the laces of his armor. That was when the pain punched through the fog clouding his mind.

He pushed it away. He was still standing. He needed to find his soldiers. He could hurt later.

He needed to find Reme. Banner closed his eyes. His soldiers, first. He owed them that much, even though his heart ached and his stomach twisted. She wasn’t dead - she had still been alive when he left her with Marles, and Marles was the best medic in the entire damn army. She would be all right.

She had to be.

Tovi was laid up with an ugly gash along the side of her head. She didn’t respond when Banner found her, talked to her, touched her. But she was breathing and alive, and left in a corner once she’d been bandaged up, so the medics could deal with the overflow of wounded soldiers. Banner left her after a few moments, after he’d at least gotten a squeeze of her hand proving that she wasn’t completely dead in the mind. She’d be all right; he’d seen this before, and usually they recovered.

He didn’t think about the people who didn’t recover.

Banner wandered through two of the hospital tents before he finally found Reme in the third. She had been cleaned up, bandaged, and tucked away along one side, out of the medics’ way as they worked. He only got a glance of her, before one of the medic’s assistants barked at him to fetch more water; Banner found himself stumbling along, doing small, menial errands, before he got a chance to duck away.

He sat down next to Reme. Her face was clammy, and she didn’t open her eyes when he nudged her. Banner didn’t want to wake her, but he slipped his fingers through hers, well aware that he had his lieutenant’s duties to perform - and well aware that he couldn’t bring himself to care about them. Not right now, not when Reme lay there, still and silent and breathing shallowly. He traced his thumb over the spots of white on her fingers and hand, and leaned back against a crate of medical supplies. The dull throbbing of his arm and side matched up with the faint pulse he felt in Reme’s wrist, and that, eventually, lulled him to sleep.

“Banner.” Someone squeezed his hand; Reme had to repeat his name several times before Banner opened his eyes, gummy from sweat and tears and exhaustion.

He jolted upright when he realized that Reme’s eyes were open, too, and she was smiling wearily up at him. “Reme,” he said, hoarsely, and had to resist the urge to pick her up, crush her to him.

She’d been stabbed, after all, and this time he would be careful. “Are - Are you all right?”

She let out a ragged laugh. “Do I look all right, Tadsson?” she scoffed, but then grinned. “What about you?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Reme closed her eyes for a brief moment, letting out a heavy, haggard breath. “Damn, Banner. First battle in command of my own company, and I fuck it up.”

“You didn’t -”

Reme squeezed his hand again. “Stop that,” she told him sternly. She started to say something more, then stopped, coughing harshly. Her free arm wrapped around her stomach, and there were tears in her eyes when she managed to stop. Banner’s vision was a little blurry, too.

“Do - What do you need?” Banner asked anxiously. “I can - I can get you some water.” He looked up; the tent seemed to have calmed a little. There were fewer medics, and they moved with a bit less urgency than before. Their patients seemed to be sleeping, or at least quiet, except for the occasional moan of pain, and the lit candles and darkness outside showed that the sun had long st.

“Stay with me.” Reme’s voice was little more than a whisper, and her grip tightened on his hand. “Please.”

Banner didn’t move. “All right,” he said, after a moment, and squeezed her hand back. He waited a beat, then mumbled, “You didn’t fuck it up.”

Reme laughed again. It sounded healthier this time, less full of death and horror, but then it trailed off into another painful cough. “We’ll see,” she said, finally, eyes closed from the pain. “Once I get to my muster.”

“Your second lieutenant has it handled,” Banner assured her. “I saw him earlier.”

She relaxed at that. They fell into a silence, and Banner listened to her breathing, unconsciously matching his own to her pace. After a long moment, Reme said, “I knew it was - it was the metal mage. So I dropped my sword.” She gave that haggard, painful laugh again. “And got out my knife, Banner, gods, I’m such an idiot. Why I thought that would work…”

She shook her head. Banner brought her hand up, carefully, and kissed the back of it, unable to think of anything to say. “Metal mage, so I use a knife instead,” Reme said again, letting out another laugh. She closed her eyes and shifted, so that the side of her head pressed against Banner’s leg.

He went still for a moment, then carefully moved himself, lying down before pulling Reme into his arms. She moved slowly so that she laid across his chest, turning her face into his jacket and sobbing. He hugged her close, slipping his fingers into her hair.

She quieted, eventually, and her breathing evened out again. Banner closed his eyes, and after a long moment, he said quietly, “I should have killed him.”

They both knew he wasn’t talking about the battle. Reme slipped her hand under his jacket, curling it under his shoulder. “Banner -”

“We - We could’ve taken them prisoner,” Banner whispered. “They were mages, we should’ve - we should’ve taken care of ‘em. Then -”

Then they wouldn’t have lost so many soldiers. Then Reme wouldn’t be here, a knife wound in her gut, laid low by the man they could have killed already.

“...I know,” Reme said, after a long moment. “But - Banner, you -”

She cut herself off, for once the one who couldn’t think of how to say what she wanted to say. “I think we did the right thing,” she whispered, finally. “We were wounded and exhausted, Banner, and they were mages - I don’t think we would have won.”

Reme pressed her thumb, rubbing it along Banner’s ribs without thinking. He tried to ignore the feeling, until it went from distracting to soothing. “And I - I don’t think I could live with myself if we…”

If they had attacked them after lulling the Cords into a false sense of security. Banner stared at the tent ceiling, and realized that he agreed with Reme. He wouldn’t have been able to do it. 

But because of his unwillingness to fight, how many people had the metal mage killed, instead? 

“How badly are you hurt?” Reme asked, after a long moment. Banner blinked, then looked down at the top of her head.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. It was true. He could feel the pain, and he knew, if only because Marles had yelled at him time and time again, that not at least cleaning himself up would result in sickness, if not more blood loss. But Banner couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’ll - I’ll look at it later.”

“If you get an infection and die, I’m burying you,” Reme warned, but with a tired smile. Banner found one creeping onto his own face, and he finally, finally relaxed.