LOTR RPF AU - Civil War 1/?
Oct. 22nd, 2007 11:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kitsune_writesAuthor: Fox
Rating: This part R for language and violence.
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Disclaimer: This story is not to be taken as factual even though there are factual elements to it - it is a fictionalized account and it did not happen. The characterizations are not the real people who's names and images I've used in my story - they are false and should not be taken to indicate any sort of agreement with what I've written. I am not making any money from this, only using my (admittedly) overactive imagination.
A/N: Artistic license is my friend. I've tried to be as accurate as possible but sometimes I tweak history to help myself out. ;-)
Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dicorvo and pippinmctaggart. ♥
This a birthday fic forbabybrothalova which also coincides with her fic prompt from my request post ages ago. As per usual with me, it went from a teensy ficlet to...ehm...well, a multi-parter. ::facepalm:: Happy Birthday, Baby! Hope you enjoy this! ::hugs::
8 April 1862, six miles SW of Shiloh, Tennessee
“Boyd!”
Assistant Surgeon William Boyd, 4th Tennessee Regiment, stopped in his tracks as he heard the unmistakable voice of his commanding officer, Colonel Nathan Bedford Forrest boom out over the camp. “Sir?” he said, turning to face the man. He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him - Colonel Forrest on a litter, blood soaking his uniform, the litter, and leaving a trail behind the procession of men who were accompanying him.
“Good God, Colonel, what happened?” he cried as he ran to Forrest’s side, lifting up the edge of the man's jacket and pulling back the blood-soaked shirt to try to find the extent of the damage.
“Some damned Union kid got a lucky shot,” Forrest muttered, grunting in pain as Boyd palpated the area. “Billy, if you do that again, I will court-martial you!”
“Empty threat if you’re dead, sir,” Billy retorted. “Get me some laudanum,” he snapped at one of the infantrymen standing about gawping. The boy jumped and made a run for the nearest surgery tent. “You,” he commanded another boy, “Go into that last tent and get my case. It says W. Boyd. Go. Hurry.”
“Where do you want him, sir?” One of the soldiers carrying the litter asked.
“Clear off that table and put him on it, I need to keep him outside to be able to see well enough. Where’s my Goddamned laudanum?” Billy shouted even as the young soldier came running out of a surgery tent, dark bottle in hand.
“Here, sorry, sir, Surgeon Wells was using it, sir—“
Billy snatched the bottle out of the boy’s hand, uncorked it and held it to Forrest’s lips. “Drink it.”
“How much?” Forrest panted in between sips.
“Until I tell you to stop, Colonel. Now, drink.”
Forrest looked up at Billy, who glared down at him, his eyes daring the Colonel to disobey. Finally, Forrest nodded and began to drink again. Billy held the bottle to the man’s mouth until his lips went slack and the liquid began to dribble out the side of his mouth.
“If you need the litter, take it,” Boyd told the second boy as he came trotting up with a case in his hand.
“We don’t need it, sir. All that’s left out there is Union trash, and they can rot.”
He would have taken the soldier to task, but as his commanding officer was bleeding to death in front of him, he hadn’t the time or the inclination. “Then go away. You’re crowding me.”
The men moved away, but not too far. They’d formed a protective circle around the operating table, holding watch over their fallen leader. At some point during the surgery, Billy became aware of an influx of soldiers – wearing blue. The Union Army had arrived. He paid no real attention until he heard raised voices and the cocking of weapons. He looked up from his work, one hand holding the edges of the wound apart, the other inside of Forrest just above his hip, probing with his forceps. The bullet was eluding him so far and he was getting concerned that he wouldn't be able to find it before it was too late.
“Be quiet, all of you, Goddamn your eyes!” he shouted angrily. “I’m trying to save a man’s life here!”
The ruckus settled down and Billy turned his concentration back onto his patient. He worked steadily, finally locating and digging out the bullet before doing what he could to repair the extensive damage done to the muscle and tissue from the entry point all the way through Forrest's body to where the bullet had lodged beside the spinal cord. Finally, he dressed the outer wound with carbolic acid, pressed the cleanest lint bandage he had over it and wrapped a slightly dirtier one around the colonel's waist to keep the lint in place. Afterwards, he sank down on his haunches by the table, wiping his gore-covered hands on his operating coat. He was exhausted and starving. He hadn’t eaten since that morning, and he felt like he could fall asleep right there, leaning on the leg of the table.
“What’s your name, son?” A quiet but firm voice asked.
“William Boyd. Assistant surgeon for the 4th Tennessee Regiment, under this man here, Colonel Nathan Bedford Forrest."
“Will he live?”
“I don’t know,” Boyd said tiredly, not looking up. “I’ve done all I can do. It’s in God’s hands now.”
“What was the extent of the damage?”
Boyd finally looked up to see a tall man in a Union officer’s coat. “The bullet was lodged right up against his spinal cord. Even if he survives any infection that might come, there’s no guarantee he will walk again,” he said, shaking his head.
“As you said, his fate is in God’s hands now, Boyd.” The man reached out a hand. “Colonel Jesse Hildebrand. I command the 77th Ohio Infantry. We’re in charge of this encampment now.”
Boyd allowed the officer to help him to his feet. “You’re welcome to it, Colonel,” he said bitterly as he started to walk away.
“Hold on, Boyd, I need your help.”
“Sir?”
“I have a man; he was injured at Shiloh. I need you to take a look at him and see what, if anything, you can do for him.”
Boyd heaved a heavy sigh. “Lead the way.”
“Thank you.”
Boyd followed Hildebrand to the outside edge of the camp where there was a man stretched out on the ground, his face twisted in pain. He knelt down and removed the bloody bandage from around the man’s thigh. The edges of the entry wound were already puffed and angry-looking. He turned the leg as gently as he could to see if there was an exit wound; there wasn’t.
“His shoulder as well,” Hildebrand said quietly.
Boyd pulled the strip of blood-soaked cloth from the wound, wincing at the sucking noise it made as it stuck to the sweaty skin.
The man’s head turned and his eyes opened – dazed blue, dulled with pain, meeting Boyd’s tired green eyes.
“He’s going to try to help you, Monaghan,” Hildebrand said evenly.
“C…can you s…save the leg?” Came the weak English-accented voice.
“I’ll bloody well try. That you can count on,” Boyd promised. Union soldier or no, the man needed his help and his expertise, and William Boyd never turned his back on those in need.
Feedback will be treasured.
Rating: This part R for language and violence.
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Disclaimer: This story is not to be taken as factual even though there are factual elements to it - it is a fictionalized account and it did not happen. The characterizations are not the real people who's names and images I've used in my story - they are false and should not be taken to indicate any sort of agreement with what I've written. I am not making any money from this, only using my (admittedly) overactive imagination.
A/N: Artistic license is my friend. I've tried to be as accurate as possible but sometimes I tweak history to help myself out. ;-)
Betaed by
dicorvo and pippinmctaggart. ♥This a birthday fic for
babybrothalova which also coincides with her fic prompt from my request post ages ago. As per usual with me, it went from a teensy ficlet to...ehm...well, a multi-parter. ::facepalm:: Happy Birthday, Baby! Hope you enjoy this! ::hugs::“Boyd!”
Assistant Surgeon William Boyd, 4th Tennessee Regiment, stopped in his tracks as he heard the unmistakable voice of his commanding officer, Colonel Nathan Bedford Forrest boom out over the camp. “Sir?” he said, turning to face the man. He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him - Colonel Forrest on a litter, blood soaking his uniform, the litter, and leaving a trail behind the procession of men who were accompanying him.
“Good God, Colonel, what happened?” he cried as he ran to Forrest’s side, lifting up the edge of the man's jacket and pulling back the blood-soaked shirt to try to find the extent of the damage.
“Some damned Union kid got a lucky shot,” Forrest muttered, grunting in pain as Boyd palpated the area. “Billy, if you do that again, I will court-martial you!”
“Empty threat if you’re dead, sir,” Billy retorted. “Get me some laudanum,” he snapped at one of the infantrymen standing about gawping. The boy jumped and made a run for the nearest surgery tent. “You,” he commanded another boy, “Go into that last tent and get my case. It says W. Boyd. Go. Hurry.”
“Where do you want him, sir?” One of the soldiers carrying the litter asked.
“Clear off that table and put him on it, I need to keep him outside to be able to see well enough. Where’s my Goddamned laudanum?” Billy shouted even as the young soldier came running out of a surgery tent, dark bottle in hand.
“Here, sorry, sir, Surgeon Wells was using it, sir—“
Billy snatched the bottle out of the boy’s hand, uncorked it and held it to Forrest’s lips. “Drink it.”
“How much?” Forrest panted in between sips.
“Until I tell you to stop, Colonel. Now, drink.”
Forrest looked up at Billy, who glared down at him, his eyes daring the Colonel to disobey. Finally, Forrest nodded and began to drink again. Billy held the bottle to the man’s mouth until his lips went slack and the liquid began to dribble out the side of his mouth.
“If you need the litter, take it,” Boyd told the second boy as he came trotting up with a case in his hand.
“We don’t need it, sir. All that’s left out there is Union trash, and they can rot.”
He would have taken the soldier to task, but as his commanding officer was bleeding to death in front of him, he hadn’t the time or the inclination. “Then go away. You’re crowding me.”
The men moved away, but not too far. They’d formed a protective circle around the operating table, holding watch over their fallen leader. At some point during the surgery, Billy became aware of an influx of soldiers – wearing blue. The Union Army had arrived. He paid no real attention until he heard raised voices and the cocking of weapons. He looked up from his work, one hand holding the edges of the wound apart, the other inside of Forrest just above his hip, probing with his forceps. The bullet was eluding him so far and he was getting concerned that he wouldn't be able to find it before it was too late.
“Be quiet, all of you, Goddamn your eyes!” he shouted angrily. “I’m trying to save a man’s life here!”
The ruckus settled down and Billy turned his concentration back onto his patient. He worked steadily, finally locating and digging out the bullet before doing what he could to repair the extensive damage done to the muscle and tissue from the entry point all the way through Forrest's body to where the bullet had lodged beside the spinal cord. Finally, he dressed the outer wound with carbolic acid, pressed the cleanest lint bandage he had over it and wrapped a slightly dirtier one around the colonel's waist to keep the lint in place. Afterwards, he sank down on his haunches by the table, wiping his gore-covered hands on his operating coat. He was exhausted and starving. He hadn’t eaten since that morning, and he felt like he could fall asleep right there, leaning on the leg of the table.
“What’s your name, son?” A quiet but firm voice asked.
“William Boyd. Assistant surgeon for the 4th Tennessee Regiment, under this man here, Colonel Nathan Bedford Forrest."
“Will he live?”
“I don’t know,” Boyd said tiredly, not looking up. “I’ve done all I can do. It’s in God’s hands now.”
“What was the extent of the damage?”
Boyd finally looked up to see a tall man in a Union officer’s coat. “The bullet was lodged right up against his spinal cord. Even if he survives any infection that might come, there’s no guarantee he will walk again,” he said, shaking his head.
“As you said, his fate is in God’s hands now, Boyd.” The man reached out a hand. “Colonel Jesse Hildebrand. I command the 77th Ohio Infantry. We’re in charge of this encampment now.”
Boyd allowed the officer to help him to his feet. “You’re welcome to it, Colonel,” he said bitterly as he started to walk away.
“Hold on, Boyd, I need your help.”
“Sir?”
“I have a man; he was injured at Shiloh. I need you to take a look at him and see what, if anything, you can do for him.”
Boyd heaved a heavy sigh. “Lead the way.”
“Thank you.”
Boyd followed Hildebrand to the outside edge of the camp where there was a man stretched out on the ground, his face twisted in pain. He knelt down and removed the bloody bandage from around the man’s thigh. The edges of the entry wound were already puffed and angry-looking. He turned the leg as gently as he could to see if there was an exit wound; there wasn’t.
“His shoulder as well,” Hildebrand said quietly.
Boyd pulled the strip of blood-soaked cloth from the wound, wincing at the sucking noise it made as it stuck to the sweaty skin.
The man’s head turned and his eyes opened – dazed blue, dulled with pain, meeting Boyd’s tired green eyes.
“He’s going to try to help you, Monaghan,” Hildebrand said evenly.
“C…can you s…save the leg?” Came the weak English-accented voice.
“I’ll bloody well try. That you can count on,” Boyd promised. Union soldier or no, the man needed his help and his expertise, and William Boyd never turned his back on those in need.
Feedback will be treasured.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 07:09 am (UTC)I'm going to try and respond coherently, but I'm like, drunk on squee right now!!!!
That was so fucking cool of you! I wasn't expecting that at all! I'm so happy, I could shit! I won't, of course, for your benefit, but still, I'm that happy!!!
Surgeon Boyd = rrowwrrrr! Especially the part where he's ordering people about. *fans self*
And injured Monaghan at his mercy. *makes whimpering noises*
I love how you've placed them on opposing sides, too. I'd be interested to learn how Surgeon Boyd became affiliated with the Confederate Army.
This is like, the best pressie ever. Thank you sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much!!!!
Thank you thank you thank you!!!!
*smooches*
♥
no subject
Date: 2007-10-25 06:51 am (UTC)I'm so glad that you enjoyed this bit and I hope you'll like the rest as well.
::celebratory hugs::
♥
no subject
Date: 2007-10-25 04:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-25 04:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-25 04:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 07:28 am (UTC)I love AU. That goes tenfold for your AU.
Way to awesome on this! I can't wait for the rest.
::grumbles:: I can't believe I missed a fic request post from you. If I'd known...
no subject
Date: 2007-10-25 06:53 am (UTC)::adores you::
add a request to it and I'll see what can be done. ;-)
no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 01:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-25 06:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 07:01 pm (UTC)And you also know I'm an impatient cow so.....
MORE! NOW!
;)
*smooch*
no subject
Date: 2007-10-25 06:58 am (UTC)::hugs::
no subject
Date: 2007-10-28 07:22 pm (UTC)If you want another beta to look at it
nowyou know where to find menow. Just sayin.How bout now?:Dno subject
Date: 2007-11-01 04:20 am (UTC)I'll totally take you up on that beta offer though. ;D
no subject
Date: 2008-03-09 01:21 pm (UTC)There's more, yes?
no subject
Date: 2008-03-11 06:49 am (UTC)Only thank you for your timely and tremendously appreciated fb. I'm glad you enjoyed this and I hope that continues on for the next bit as well.
♥