Treasured

50)

Fletcher

I frowned, watching as Wren whimpered in his sleep, sweat pouring off his weakened body and dampening the sheets. His hair was matted and stuck to his head, and his mouth looked painful from where his lips had been stitched shut.

"We have to cool his body, or I fear we'll lose his mind," The doctor fretted.

I dutifully wrung a new cloth out, dabbing at Wren's grey skin. It honestly wasn't looking very good for him. He had lost a lot of blood, infection had set in, and his body was frail to begin with. We had sent word to the others, that he was in a perilous state, and that he could not travel, but Mr. Price thought they should stay as they were. Seeing him on the brink of death was taking its toll on the three of us, and thinking about Robin or Sal seeing him in that state was unthinkable.

As it was, the doctor had sent for a surgeon. His leg was beyond saving, and needed to be taken in order to save the rest of his body. Infection and sepsis had already set in, and things would only grow worse if we did nothing.

We knew the risks that amputation would bring. Many died during the process, but seeing as Wren was already in dire circumstances, we felt that it was better to try and save him, than to let him die without taking the chance. It was less than optimal, but we were desperate.

Dr. Ratchford began making another poultice to help his infected wrists and ankles, a troubled look in his eyes. The Physician had been quite calm and collected the whole time he had been of service, but he honestly cared for the poor boy. It was a little hard not to have compassion on him, especially when he looked so small and feeble in the large bed.

Two raps on the door caught my attention, and I stepped toward it, envisioning Branson or Eddie on the other side. I stopped in surprise as a tall man in a dark coat lifted his top hat. Dark hair, and even darker eyes met mine, but it was his black bag at his side that clued me in as to his identity.

"You are the surgeon?" I inquired roughly, voice sounding as worn out as my body.

"Yes. William Bates, at your service," The man grimly stated.

I stepped aside to let him enter, unease and pain filling my heart. I could only imagine Wren's reaction when he woke up to his missing limb. If he woke up.

"Fletcher, would you please inform Mr. Price that the surgeon is here? We need to confer for a moment before we proceed," Mr. Ratchford requested.

I numbly agreed, feeling as if I were in a dream. This could not be happening - not to my angel. Wren was such an innocent, beautiful soul...he never did anything to deserve such a cruel fate. I only hoped our presence was felt, and that it soothed him in some way.

I stepped next door, quietly entering the room the rest of us had taken residence in. There were two beds, a small table, a chair, and a few candles. Branson's clothing was neatly hung in the wardrobe alongside Eddie's, but mine were flung in every direction, since I was too exhausted to care about such things.

"Fletcher...?" Eddie looked up from his dinner, a panicked gleam in his eye. "Did something happen? Is Wren..."

He couldn't finish, letting his fork fall with a clatter to his plate. I could see the exhaustion permeating his being, but his love for Wren was beating it back in order for him to be present.

"The surgeon is here..." My voice sounded small and whispery.

"I see..." Eddie sounded devastated.

I understood. I felt the same way. I felt as though I were taking something away from Wren without his permission. Like I was stealing it from him. But I was too selfish not to do so.