Summary:
Alternatively, the one where Kathryn Egan has just come out of her fever and from being deathly ill. Her recovery is anything but linear and it's her connections in the Camp that help her through this entire situation. Alternatively, the one where the men of the Hundredth are really just that wholesome and we love to see it. Or further alternatively, the one where we see a much softer side to a bunch of rough and tough men.
Notes:
A/N: Just a short little blurb set right after Kathryn breaks her fever. As always, let me know what you think, thoughts on things, things you want to see more of, or dynamics and friendships you want to see in the deleted scenes!
Chapter Text
The first thing that Kathryn was aware of was the fact that her body ached . Every muscle in her body burned and felt sticky, as though she had just swam through a lake of molasses. Every effort to open her eyes was like pulling a weed from the ground, one that was much too strong for her.
When her eyes finally opened, she found herself securely in the arms of none other than Buck Cleven. He had drifted off, dark bags under his eyes. She silently wondered how long he had been awake for before falling asleep. Kathryn studied his face and the way that he had some stray whiskers growing, the way that his breath was a lulling sound to her—almost as melodic as a lullaby to her ears.
"Of course, you go from being sick to being lovesick." Bucky's voice filled her ears and a sense of relief filled her chest.
Kathryn turned her head, finding her brother sitting in a chair—not even a few feet away, and eyes locked onto her. It was immediately clear to her that he had been sitting here for a while, maybe even for days. "Huh?" Kathryn's voice cracked out into the silence—catching all of the ears in the room.
She suddenly felt as though she were on display and then Buck was shifting—blearily waking and eyes falling onto her. "You're awake," He mumbled in surprise.
"How are you feelin'?" Bucky questioned, ignoring everyone else clambering towards the small group.
Her head felt as though cotton had been shoved down inside of it. Her limbs were lead and her legs so sore she thought that they might fall off. "Like I got hit by a train," Kathryn mumbled the words out—finding her mouth dry and scratchy as sand had been poured in her mouth.
"That's one way to put it, Kitty," Bucky mumbled, letting out a low whistle.
"I'll get some water!" Hambone had ducked out the door before anyone could stop him.
With the way that everyone was looking at her, Kathryn wondered how close she had been to death. If any of them had even expected her to make it through the entire thing. Buck's hand brushed against her forehead, a steady and grounding presence that anchored her back into the reality of the situation.
"You think you can handle some food?" Buck's voice was quiet.
Kathryn just gave a weak nod. "Help me sit up?"
The very strain of shifting into a sitting position nearly made her pass out. Dark spots decorated and danced across her vision. For a moment, it was all Kathryn could do to just cling to Buck's arm and breathe heavily. Before anyone could ask another question, Hambone had ducked back inside, a cup of water in hand.
At the feeling of clear liquid passing down her throat, Kathryn nearly choked. It took Buck holding the cup and helping her with it to even get any of the water down her throat. And once she was done, she just sat there and looked around the room.
"How long was I sick for?" Kathryn mumbled.
"Too long," DeMarco said, shaking his head at her. "You won us some cigarettes though."
She piqued an eyebrow at that as her brother elbowed DeMarco harshly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"They were betting with the Brits if you'd make it through the night," Tina cut in, tone full of disapproval as she glared over at DeMarco and the others.
All of the men—sans her brother and Buck—just gave a guilty expression as they glanced at the ground. "You all bet on whether I'd live through the night?" Kathryn's jaw ticked for a moment. "None of you bet against me, right?"
Very quickly, Captain Brady was shaking his head. "No, ma'am. We all know that you Egan's are difficult to kill. The Brits started it, we just put an end to it."
"Damn straight," Kathryn mumbled tiredly, resting her head against Buck's arm. Conversations broke out amongst the men and Bucky slid his chair right up to the bunk, gaze locked onto Kathryn.
"You're not lying, are you?"
"No?" Kathryn looked between him and Buck, a confused expression on his face. "How bad was it?"
Bucky just blinked back tears, shaking his head as he stared holes into the ground. It was a painfully silent moment as Buck rubbed soothing circles on her back. "Bad, honey."
" Oh ," Kathryn felt jarred—as if she had just walked outside in the snow or something. Because the realization that she had nearly died, it was enough to send her reeling. "I don't—I don't really remember much," she admitted.
"You were out of it," Bucky said quietly. "Talkin' about all sorts of things, like dad and Maggie. Spooked the boys half out of their wits. You were cryin' and delirious and didn't recognize anyone."
Kathryn recognized that in her brother's gaze, there was a totality of fear. It was the same thing reflected in Buck's gaze too. She just set her shoulders and looked between the two of them. "Well...I'm not goin' anywhere," Kathryn insisted. "I'm okay now."
"But what if—" Bucky started, voice cracking.
Kathryn reached out a hand—and then she was holding Bucky's hand and her other hand held Buck's hand, interconnecting the three of them. "I'm not about to go provin' myself wrong," Kathryn said in as firm a tone as she could muster. "It's all of us, we're making it through this. Thank you for not giving up on me."
"Never," Buck murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of her head.
Bucky just gave a tired grin. "As if I could. It's always been you and me—and Buck now. And it's always gonna be us."