"I'm fucking fine! Stop fussing!" Sixty groused as he held his hastily bandaged hand out of reach and swatted at Nines like a pesky insect. Nines clicked his tongue in annoyance as he tried, and failed, to grab his arm. He rested his hands on his hips, standing beside Sixty's cot with a scowl. No one else would, or could, deal with him. Only he and Connor had the patience and knowhow. He was a little like Gavin in that respect.

"I swear to God, you're worse than Gavin!" Sixty glared at the accusation, almost pouting as he cradled his injured arm against his chest. They'd been extremely lucky during the assault a few weeks back. They'd had just enough men to fend off the enemy and make them turn back. The only ones who'd gotten close enough to realise their smaller numbers hadn't made it back. Sixty and Allen had seen to that. With any luck, our reinforcements will arrive before they make a second attempt...He'd heard that Allen sent an emergency telegram to let the higher-ups know what happened, and that they needed new men as soon as possible, else their position would be overrun.

They'd taken a few losses. Five dead, thirteen injured. The injuries had been mostly superficial, like Sixty's. Fortunately, most of the other patients were better behaved. Many of them had already been cleaned, bandaged, and returned to the front. They'd stayed in the resting camp for a day or two, having their dressings changed and making sure an infection didn't set in. After that, they'd returned to the front with strict instructions to come back if they noticed any deterioration. Sixty, as usual, had ignored those instructions.

"I don't need you fussing over it! It's just a flesh wound!" He was insistent as he kept his hand against his chest, though Nines could already see rusty red showing through the bandage. He'd been extremely lucky. An enemy soldier had made it close enough to strike with his bayonet. Nines swore he'd lost about five years of his life as he'd watched Sixty block the strike with his own rifle before grabbing the blade. It was a miracle he hadn't sliced off his own fingers. He'd managed to knock the soldier off-balance before striking down with his own bladed rifle. He'd continued afterwards as if nothing had happened, barely stopping long enough to loop a dirty strip of material around his hand.

"It's just a flesh wound until it gets infected! If infection sets in, you'll lose your hand! And if you lose your hand, I swear I'll write to Elijah and have him give you the room right next door to Gavin!" That shut him up. Sixty was brimming with agitation as he finally stuck his hand out and let him unwind the ragged bandage. "Thank you..." Nines knew Sixty didn't like being poked and prodded. He also didn't like being out of action. Being out of action led to thinking. Thinking made him restless and antsy. He was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

Sixty avoided his gaze as he peeled the material away. Nines hissed a little at how sore it looked. He'd been lucky that the blade had somehow left his fingers unharmed, perhaps catching the blunt end. His palm was another story. It was just a cut, but it was deep. He'd already stitched it once, right after the assault. Since returning to the front, the cut had become mildly infected. It was red and puffy at the edges, weeping blood and clear puss. I'll need to clean and re-do the stitches...Sixty was going to love that. He was already wincing a little as Nines pressed and tugged the edges, trying to check inside. It was hard to spot dirt through all the dried blood. He sighed as he looked around for help.

"Connor! I'll need a stitch-kit." Connor knew what he meant. It was their own way of listing things. He needed swabs, bandages, water, antiseptic, scissors, and a sterilised needle and surgical thread. Sixty didn't like the sound of that. He was distrustful as he looked up. "The wound is infected. It'll get worse if I don't clean and re-stitch it." He didn't mention that it would hurt like hell. Sixty had done this before, with and without medication. Right now, they didn't have the meds to spare. Sixty cursed under his breath, more apprehensive as Connor approached.

"Let me clean it," Connor insisted as he brought everything over and set it on the cot. Nines nodded as he threaded the needle ready. The basin of water was hot as he lowered Sixty's hand into it. Sixty didn't hold back as he cursed him to high heaven. Connor was apologetic as he stroked and teased the cut beneath the surface, doing his best to clean it out. He took the scissors and cut the stitches one by one. The pain of pulling them loose was nothing compared to what it would be as Nines re-stitched it later. The cut started bleeding again as he lifted his hand from the water and dabbed it dry with a towel. Once it was dry, he poured on the antiseptic, using a cotton pad to tease inside the wound.

"I swear you're fucking enjoying this!" Sixty accused through clenched teeth, doing his best not to tear his hand free.

"I can assure you, I'm not." Connor's gentle eyes remained focused and intense as he scanned the cut again. It was clean, as far as he could tell. Nines gave it the once over as well before nodding. They worked together. Connor held Sixty's wrist down and stroked away fresh blood as Nines stitched as quickly and cleanly as possible. It was torture. Stinging, burning torture. The thread pulled through his sensitive skin like fire, tugging the flesh painfully. Connor held tight as Sixty flinched and writhed, hissing and groaning as he buried his face in his shoulder. Connor didn't mention that he could feel tears soaking through his shirt.

"Assholes! Fucking assholes!" Sixty cursed as it finally ended. Connor sensitively handed him a spare towel to wipe his face as Nines cleaned the wound once more and wrapped it in a clean bandage. The one good thing about the stitching was that the pain and writhing had tired him out. He was docile and pliant as Nines tied the bandaged and eased him back against the pillow. Connor sighed in relief as he patted Sixty's shoulder in sympathy and support.

"He needs to rest, and the dressing needs to be changed three times a day until the bleeding stops. Keep an eye on the wound. If it gets worse, we'll have to start him on arsenic." That was mostly precautionary, but the risk of sepsis was one he didn't want to chance. Connor nodded his agreement as he hurried off to get a small shot of opium ready to help him relax. Sixty raised his good arm over his eyes, breathing heavily through the lingering pain. He cursed Allen to high heaven for being so perceptive. Deep down, he knew it was best it had been caught sooner rather than later. Nines was right. If it had time to go gangrenous, he would have lost his hand, if not part of his arm as well.

"Roll your sleeve up..." Connor murmured gently as he returned and lifted Sixty's arm. Sixty groaned quietly, but held still as Connor worked. He held the syringe between his teeth as he rolled up Sixty's sleeve and found a vein. Sixty didn't need to be told to keep still. He was too tired anyway. He barely felt the needle as Connor quickly slide it beneath the skin. Connor taped a small cotton bud over the prick before drawing back with a sigh. Hopefully, the bed rest and changing of dressings would help him heal. Being away from the front would also help. Trench mud was a terrible thing to be around with open wounds.

"Anderson! And Anderson...and another Anderson!" Nines turned at the call to find Simon heading towards them with an armful of parcels. What on earth? Their father had sent them packages a few months back. They weren't expecting anything else. Connor and Sixty were just as surprised as Simon plopped the parcels on the end of Sixty's cot. Sixty remained on his back, looking up at Connor curiously. Connor shrugged. He didn't know either. "Looks like Christmas came early for you guys," Simon teased with an envious sigh. Those were good, stocked parcels. Nines picked one up curiously, smiling as he recognised Chloe's handwriting.

"Chloe." That was enough to almost have Connor blushing. Sixty gave a weak smile as he punched his thigh weakly. He was acting like a love-struck puppy again. Connor was suitably bashful as he examined one of them, placing it on Sixty's lap as he read his name. Sixty shuffled himself upright, pleased to have something else to focus on besides the nagging burn in his hand. Nines handed the parcel he was holding to Connor before taking the last one for himself.

He used the discarded surgical scissors to cut the binding. They were clean of blood and would need to be sterilised again anyway. Sixty used his own rusted pocket knife, reaching over to cut Connor's string, too. Nines' eyes widened as he took in the pile of items within. It really was too much. Simon let out an impressed whistle. They'd literally hit the jackpot. Candy, cake, cookies. Truly, they were spoiled. Nines remained shocked as he opened the bag of candy and snagged an orange one before politely offering one to Simon. He wasn't about to say no to that. Nines smiled. He often shared his belongings with Markus, Simon, and Josh. This time would be no different.

"Take one for Markus and North," Nines instructed as Simon got ready to leave. He knew he'd be seeing them. They always worked the same rounds. North was pretty much their lead nurse. He hummed his agreement and thanks as he reached back into the bag. "On second thought, take two...I'll leave them in the usual place." Any time they had something good to share, they left it in a small lockbox at the back of their tent. All four of them had keys and used it to store communal supplies. Personal and emergency.

"Thanks! The lemon ones have a real kick," Simon replied as he took five candies and put them in his pocket. They waved him off and thanked him for the delivery as he left. Nines returned his attention to the parcel. He was truly touched that Gavin and Chloe had been so thoughtful. He was especially pleased to find the chess set. There was a communal one in the dining tent, but it had been a while since he'd last played. It was often already in use or he wasn't on the right shift to have a second player. He'd definitely use this to beat Connor later. Perhaps Markus if they crossed shifts. He knew he liked to play.

"Aw sweet! I can't wait to slit a throat with this baby!" Sixty exclaimed as he flipped the new pocket knife. Connor smiled sheepishly. He was pretty sure that's not what it had been intended for. It was more for doing work within the trenches, cutting rope and such. Connor was pleased with his own little notebook. It would be perfect for use on his rounds, recording medication and making notes on patients. New underwear was always welcome, as was the soap. Nines saved the letter for last. He was saddened to hear his own letter hadn't reached Gavin at the time this one was dated, almost two weeks ago. That was better than last time...

"Any news?" Connor asked as he chewed a gummy.

"Not really...The weather has been stormy, and Gavin is eager to beat me at chess." He smirked at the thought. He'd have to train hard with Markus before heading back. If he could beat Markus, he was pretty sure he could take anybody. Connor smiled at the thought as he found his own letter. Sixty also had one, though he was nowhere near as excited as Connor as he opened it. Chloe and Elijah wished him well and hoped he'd be cheered up by the package. It really was excellent timing. He'd needed cheering up. He unwrapped one of the cookies as he sat back.

"Don't lie down and eat! You'll choke!" Connor chided as he swatted his shoulder. Sixty rolled his eyes as he pushed himself up a little higher. Nines gathered his parcel together to return to his tent. He'd lock the items away and write Gavin a response before continuing his rounds. He needed to reassure him that everything was alright. News of the latest assault probably wouldn't have reached him, but it never hurt to be safe. He sat at the communal desk space and laid out the paper ready.

My dearest Gavin, I'm saddened to hear my last letter has yet to reach you. With any luck, you will have it by the time this arrives. Thank you, and Chloe, for thinking of us so fondly. Needless to say, your gifts and well wishes are very much appreciated. I am especially pleased with the chess set. I pray you live up to your claims, else there will be consequences to pay upon my return. He smirked as he thought of all the ways he could introduce forfeits to the game. Perhaps a different price for each lost piece. Perhaps simple strip chess. He crossed his legs as he felt himself stir to life. He sighed as he tapped his pen. It had been a while since he'd taken a walk in the forest.

We've had a difficult few weeks. Sixty cut his hand during a minor incident, so he's with us in camp to monitor an infection. He can't be trusted to take care of it himself. Captain Allen had to drag him back, kicking and screaming. I have no doubt he'll be an insufferable nuisance for the whole week. We are doing our best to keep in good spirits. I haven't heard from other camps, but I imagine we have the best of it. That was really as much as he could say to let Gavin know they were holding on alright. His letter would get pulled if it was too revealing. He didn't dare let on how under manned they were, especially with this most recent incursion. It also seemed unwise to tell Gavin such things. He was worried enough already.

It is difficult to put into words how much I miss you. I ache to see you again. I feel I would give up half my life to simply hold your hand and hear your voice. He was quite sure from the strands of silver in his hair that he may have lost half already. A single year at the front felt like an eternity. I love you, Gavin. Truly yours, Nines. He sighed as he folded the paper and found an envelope to put it in. Gavin and Chloe had been so generous, he wished he could reciprocate somehow. Unfortunately, there was nothing at the front he could send besides his own thoughts and affections. He kissed the paper before slotting it inside and sealing the envelope.