For @hope-on-hope-ever !
Warnings: Blood, amputation, daddy issues
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By the time the young Leftenant Kirkland had his wound cleaned, clamped and closed, he was properly and hopelessly exhausted.
“Dr. Goodsir--” Arthur murmured--
“Mr. Goodsir,” Dr. Stanley unceremoniously corrected from across the infirmary. But Mr. Goodsir, despite the incorrect address, scurried over. “Yes, Leftenant Kirkland?” He’d done most of the intricate work of closing the stump of Arthur’s ruined leg, and was now covered in the young man’s blood. But despite all that, he still reminded Arthur of a dark, curly, and very friendly retriever.
Unfortunately, Arthur couldn’t muster the request for more laudanum before his consciousness sunk below into a heavy sleep.
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When he woke, it was to empty his stomach.
Then came breakfast, then laudanum and tea, and Arthur was promptly cleaned up with his dressings and clothes changed.
Once he was vaguely presentable, Mr. Goodsir asked of him-- “Leftenant, are you... That is, have you the strength to receive a visitor? It’s... Sir John. He’d very much like to see you.”
Arthur already had his mouth open to say ‘no’, but then he heard the words “Sir John” and he knew the question was just a formal courtesy, not an actual choice.
He could already see the Captain stepping across the infirmary threshold.
“...of course. Thank you, Mr. Goodsir.”
