Author notes: I was supposed to have this chapter up this morning, but alas, it seems that the curse of being a computer coding major means that you will be the family tech support for the rest of your life, and yes, figuring out how to work Minecraft mods for my unthankful boob of a younger brother is just what my plans for the future are! end.rant
Sorry about that. Here, have some fic. And thank you for all the comments <33 and for not hating me for taking so long to get to the porn. I might put up a second chapter tonight if I can get that far.
--------------------
Appreciation
Chapter 1
”Ohh, I told him to get some rest, I really did...”
The Doctor's voice was hoarse and low, nearly a whisper as he gently wiped the wound with soaked bandages. Stephane clutched the pan of water in his hands so hard his knuckles turned white. Together they had managed to wrestle Connor out of his coat, and then the Doctor had carefully cut the undershirt off to avoid harming the young man any further.
It was an old wound, not fresh, and the thin cotton shirt had been firmly sucked into the liquid mess that was seeping out of Connor's mauled flesh. It had healed badly, festered under tightly wound bandages, and the weak scar tissue had finally ripped when weakened by the infection. The dark coppery skin around the wound was sickly red and purple, streaked with dried blood and fluids.
”I can't do anything to help him like this. I have to open the wound and clean it, draw out the pus and scrape out what I can.”
Doctor White had intense worry written all over his features as he reached for his medical equipment. He turned towards Stephane, his brow pinched with sadness behind his spectacles.
”Would you please prop him up a bit, support his head while I try and get laudanum into him? The pain is going to be absolutely excruciating as it is.”
–
Consciousness returned with a vengeance, lighting up his exhausted body like a gunbarrel loaded with black powder, and Stephane snapped awake from his restless sleep. For a moment he stared at the flickering shadows around him, incapable of registering the cast off from the two candles in the room. He shot up from his curled up position atop of a pile of quilts and pillows and scrambled for the edge of the bed next to him, wincing as he hauled himself up on his loudly complaining knees.
Connor was still dead to the world, sprawled out on his bed like a man with no breath left in him. But his bare chest was rising and indicating life, never minding how shallow and stuttering it looked. He had not moved from the position they had left him in after the operation had finally ended. The white, clean and carbolic soaked bandages were firmly wrapped around his abdomen, contrasting strongly against his dark skin. Blood had not yet stained through the bandages. Stephane finally allowed himself to release the breath he had been holding.
”I... Would it be too much asked, if I asked you to stay with him over the night?”
Stephane would likely have jumped off a mountain into a burning pile of ammunition if it meant he could have aided Connor in some way. Instead of voicing this to the Doctor, he had simply piled up some quilts and pillows on the bedroom floor and attempted to make himself comfortable. Sleep was out of the question, he had woken with a start at least a dozen times during the night, desperately clambering to his knees or feet to check on the man he was keeping watch over.
Once the sound of a small voice had been the reason for his awakening. It had not been a stranger talking downstairs as he first had thought, but instead it had been Connor, whimpering in his sleep. Words that Stephane did not understand. But he had understood the pained expression, and gently attempted to feed his mentor more of the laudanum. The Doctor had purposefully left a portion in a flask, prompting him to try and calm the patient down with it should he have regained consciousness or started to become restless.
Slowly Connor had quieted down, and the sound of his choppy breathing had once again been the only sound in the room.
”I will return first thing in the morning. Or, if he gets worse, please send for me. I will be there.”
Stephane cast a glance towards the window. The sun had not started to rise, it was still very early. No birds were crowing, and no dogs barking outside. A quiet moment before sunrise. Connor was out cold and fairing as well as he could in the situation. Stephane decided that he would stop creeping on his sleeping mentor like a crazy man grasping onto invisible threads of hope, and headed for the little study just across the hall.
There he could use the little table and chair to sit down and write, and at the same time he could listen for any changes.
–
Stephane woke with a start once more. The bottle of ink that he swiped at had no chance of surviving the crash. His vision was bleary, his mouth was dry and his head felt incredibly heavy. After further inspection he also noticed his stomach was empty like the purse of a beggar, and the starting knocking on his temples was definitely making way for the greatest headache of all times. Falling asleep infront of a table was likely the most uncomfortable position to sleep in. Stephane felt his neck and his back agreeing quiet vehemently to that thought, and he grimaced as he attempted to sit up properly.
The knocking however become louder, and the cook realized that someone was at the door and not attacking his poor skull. Indeed there were now small rays of sunlight streaming in through the windows. He could not have been asleep for long, but a disastrous feeling of nausea was immediately summoned once the worry settled in again, digging its cold claws into his skin.
Stumbling out of the chair, Stephane quickly snuck into the bedroom across the hall just to make sure that everything was as it had been earlier. Connor was still unconscious, he was breathing - and it may have been just Stephane's desperate imagination or the fact that he was sadly starting to get used to the pained sounds – but it did seem that the broad chest was now rising and sinking easier than during the night.
Doctor White was at the door, and it appeared the man had slept just as much as Stephane; meaning nearly not at all. He was wearing mostly the same clothes as well, though the shirt was clean and not stained with blood so he must have had time to change at least. But his face was tense with exhaustion, and deep black furrows had appeared under his now red-tinted eyes.
”How is he?” Doctor White's voice was dry and raspy, laced with exhaustion and strain.
”Alive. Sleeping.”
”Ah, good.” Then the doctor's shoulders slumped with relief. Stephane hoped that this meant that the worst had passed. They climbed the stairs together in silence. The doctor had brought his bag with him, though this time it was even larger. It was all worrying, and the niggling nausea did not stop spreading.
”I am going to simply cut the bandages and clean out the wound. When was the last time you gave him some of the laudanum?”
”At some point during the night. I... Cannot remember exactly when, this is all very confusing.” Stephane shook his head sadly. Upsetting would have been the right word. Instead of looking disappointed, the doctor patted him on the shoulder. The human contact was welcome, reminding Stephane of reality.
”It is fine. You have done well. Try and rest a little, I will call for you if I need help” he said simply, before heading for the bedroom. Stephane willed himself to not follow the doctor and instead headed back into the study to finish his work. There were five letters to close and bring to the nearest and fastest courier.
"Appreciation" - Chapter 1
seems that the curse of being a computer coding major means that you will be
the family tech support for the rest of your life, and yes, figuring out how to
work Minecraft mods for my unthankful boob of a younger brother is just what
my plans for the future are! end.rant
Sorry about that. Here, have some fic. And thank you for all the comments <33
and for not hating me for taking so long to get to the porn.
I might put up a second chapter tonight if I can get that far.
Appreciation
Chapter 1
”Ohh, I told him to get some rest, I really did...”
The Doctor's voice was hoarse and low, nearly a whisper as he gently wiped the wound with soaked bandages. Stephane clutched the pan of water in his hands so hard his knuckles turned white. Together they had managed to wrestle Connor out of his coat, and then the Doctor had carefully cut the undershirt off to avoid harming the young man any further.
It was an old wound, not fresh, and the thin cotton shirt had been firmly sucked into the liquid mess that was seeping out of Connor's mauled flesh. It had healed badly, festered under tightly wound bandages, and the weak scar tissue had finally ripped when weakened by the infection. The dark coppery skin around the wound was sickly red and purple, streaked with dried blood and fluids.
”I can't do anything to help him like this. I have to open the wound and clean it, draw out the pus and scrape out what I can.”
Doctor White had intense worry written all over his features as he reached for his medical equipment. He turned towards Stephane, his brow pinched with sadness behind his spectacles.
”Would you please prop him up a bit, support his head while I try and get laudanum into him? The pain is going to be absolutely excruciating as it is.”
–
Consciousness returned with a vengeance, lighting up his exhausted body like a gunbarrel loaded with black powder, and Stephane snapped awake from his restless sleep. For a moment he stared at the flickering shadows around him, incapable of registering the cast off from the two candles in the room. He shot up from his curled up position atop of a pile of quilts and pillows and scrambled for the edge of the bed next to him, wincing as he hauled himself up on his loudly complaining knees.
Connor was still dead to the world, sprawled out on his bed like a man with no breath left in him. But his bare chest was rising and indicating life, never minding how shallow and stuttering it looked. He had not moved from the position they had left him in after the operation had finally ended. The white, clean and carbolic soaked bandages were firmly wrapped around his abdomen, contrasting strongly against his dark skin. Blood had not yet stained through the bandages. Stephane finally allowed himself to release the breath he had been holding.
”I... Would it be too much asked, if I asked you to stay with him over the night?”
Stephane would likely have jumped off a mountain into a burning pile of ammunition if it meant he could have aided Connor in some way. Instead of voicing this to the Doctor, he had simply piled up some quilts and pillows on the bedroom floor and attempted to make himself comfortable. Sleep was out of the question, he had woken with a start at least a dozen times during the night, desperately clambering to his knees or feet to check on the man he was keeping watch over.
Once the sound of a small voice had been the reason for his awakening. It had not been a stranger talking downstairs as he first had thought, but instead it had been Connor, whimpering in his sleep. Words that Stephane did not understand. But he had understood the pained expression, and gently attempted to feed his mentor more of the laudanum. The Doctor had purposefully left a portion in a flask, prompting him to try and calm the patient down with it should he have regained consciousness or started to become restless.
Slowly Connor had quieted down, and the sound of his choppy breathing had once again been the only sound in the room.
”I will return first thing in the morning. Or, if he gets worse, please send for me. I will be there.”
Stephane cast a glance towards the window. The sun had not started to rise, it was still very early. No birds were crowing, and no dogs barking outside. A quiet moment before sunrise. Connor was out cold and fairing as well as he could in the situation. Stephane decided that he would stop creeping on his sleeping mentor like a crazy man grasping onto invisible threads of hope, and headed for the little study just across the hall.
There he could use the little table and chair to sit down and write, and at the same time he could listen for any changes.
–
Stephane woke with a start once more. The bottle of ink that he swiped at had no chance of surviving the crash. His vision was bleary, his mouth was dry and his head felt incredibly heavy. After further inspection he also noticed his stomach was empty like the purse of a beggar, and the starting knocking on his temples was definitely making way for the greatest headache of all times. Falling asleep infront of a table was likely the most uncomfortable position to sleep in. Stephane felt his neck and his back agreeing quiet vehemently to that thought, and he grimaced as he attempted to sit up properly.
The knocking however become louder, and the cook realized that someone was at the door and not attacking his poor skull. Indeed there were now small rays of sunlight streaming in through the windows. He could not have been asleep for long, but a disastrous feeling of nausea was immediately summoned once the worry settled in again, digging its cold claws into his skin.
Stumbling out of the chair, Stephane quickly snuck into the bedroom across the hall just to make sure that everything was as it had been earlier. Connor was still unconscious, he was breathing - and it may have been just Stephane's desperate imagination or the fact that he was sadly starting to get used to the pained sounds – but it did seem that the broad chest was now rising and sinking easier than during the night.
Doctor White was at the door, and it appeared the man had slept just as much as Stephane; meaning nearly not at all. He was wearing mostly the same clothes as well, though the shirt was clean and not stained with blood so he must have had time to change at least. But his face was tense with exhaustion, and deep black furrows had appeared under his now red-tinted eyes.
”How is he?” Doctor White's voice was dry and raspy, laced with exhaustion and strain.
”Alive. Sleeping.”
”Ah, good.”
Then the doctor's shoulders slumped with relief. Stephane hoped that this meant that the worst had passed. They climbed the stairs together in silence. The doctor had brought his bag with him, though this time it was even larger. It was all worrying, and the niggling nausea did not stop spreading.
”I am going to simply cut the bandages and clean out the wound. When was the last time you gave him some of the laudanum?”
”At some point during the night. I... Cannot remember exactly when, this is all very confusing.” Stephane shook his head sadly. Upsetting would have been the right word. Instead of looking disappointed, the doctor patted him on the shoulder. The human contact was welcome, reminding Stephane of reality.
”It is fine. You have done well. Try and rest a little, I will call for you if I need help” he said simply, before heading for the bedroom. Stephane willed himself to not follow the doctor and instead headed back into the study to finish his work. There were five letters to close and bring to the nearest and fastest courier.