Coupling: A/I
Rating: Teen
Disclaimer: I don’t own Roswell. No infringment is intended.
Brief Summary: Alex is an American soldier who was wounded in Germany during World War II. He is sent to a hospital in London, England to recuperate. While there, he meets a nurse named Isabel. He falls in love with her...but will she fall in love with him before he’s sent home to America?
Thank you to ~Amara~ for the absolutely gorgeous banner created for this fic!
Prologue
“Twenty-five new soldiers today,” Dr. Michael Guerin sighed, handing a large pile of patient files to his nurse, Isabel Evans.
“Smile,” Isabel told him, glancing half-heartedly through the new files. “We have ten more hours to put in before we can head home.”
“Don’t remind me, Miss Evans,” Michael grumbled. “After checking on some of your patients you can take a break. Perhaps you should try to sleep a bit in one of the free break rooms.”
Flashing Michael a grateful smile, Isabel nodded and headed down the hallway towards the first of her twenty-five new patients.
-----
“Private Whitman?” Isabel asked quietly, approaching the last new bed in the crowded infirmary. She was exhausted. It was nearing the end of her shift and all she could think about was going home and sleeping.
The man in the last bed looked up and nodded wearily. “I’m Private Whitman,” the man confirmed. Upon looking up at his nurse, Private Whitman’s eyes grew wider and a slight glow came into his cheeks.
“Welcome to London,” Isabel said, trying to stifle a yawn as she reached over to fluff one of the Private’s pillows. “I’m Isabel, one of the nurses here. I’m about to go off duty, but I’ll be here early tomorrow morning.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Isabel,” the Private replied. “You can call me Alex.”
“Oh, no sir,” said Isabel, checking Alex’s blood pressure. “I should call you by your full title.”
“Please, I insist. Call me Alex. I hardly feel like ‘Private Whitman’. I’ve only been with the United States Army for two months.”
Finishing her job of checking his vitals, Isabel did something she never did with her patients. She asked about the war.
“How...how are things out there?” Her voice was timid and weak. She wanted to know, but she was afraid of the answer she might receive.
“Pretty bad,” was all Alex said. The rest of his response was unspoken, yet powerful, as he flipped back the blankets over the lower half of his body.
Isabel couldn’t help but to gasp at what she saw. Although she encountered it everyday, Isabel was always shocked by the sight of mangled or missing limbs.
Below Alex’s blankets he’d been hiding the extent of his injuries. His right leg ended mid-thigh, bandages wrapped around the stump, and his left leg was bandaged tightly from thigh to ankle. Blood and pus decorated the old bandaging on his legs.
“Oh, sir! I must change the dressings on your legs!” Without waiting for him to respond, Isabel hurried to the nearest supply cabinet and picked up as much gauze as she could. She also filled a bucket with lukewarm water and found a clean sponge.
Isabel returned to Alex’s side and began to remove his bandages. “It’s so horrible what you boys have to go through,” she said. She began to gently wash Alex’s wounds. “How old are you?”
“I’m eighteen,” Alex replied. Then, with a bitterness in his voice, he continued. “Eighteen and missing a leg...and probably about to lose the other to gangrene.”
“No,” reassured Isabel. “I don’t think you’ll lose this one. As long as we keep it clean, you should be okay. And we have extra doses of penicillin at the hospital this month. Every soldier who needs it can receive three doses.”
“How old are you?” Alex asked, obviously changing the subject.
“I’m eighteen as well,” Isabel replied, now re-wrapping Alex’s wounded limbs with the fresh gauze. “I’ve been working in the hospital for two years.”
As Isabel finished her work, the two fell into silence, just listening to the other sound surrounding them in the infirmary. A few men snored quietly, while one man tried to hide the sounds of his sobbing.
“It’s depressing here most of the time,” Isabel suddenly said, surprised at herself for sharing her thoughts. “But every once in a while we save a man who we never expected to live. Some of the doctors and nurses throw a little party afterwards. We have to celebrate the little things. They’re what keeps us going.”
“You love your job, despite it being depressing so often, don’t you?” asked Alex.
Isabel met Alex’s eyes, noting the flecks of green in them. “How did you know that?”
“You talked to me and you were gentle. The nurse I had last night didn’t say a word to me, didn’t change my bandages, and in general didn’t care about me. I was just some injured American soldier to her. Another nameless face.”
“I’m sorry,” said Isabel. “We’re a good hospital staff, I swear it. A few of my newer colleagues, though, aren’t as nice. They’re only here to make a bit of money. They’d been going to university, but all the schools temporarily closed. This isn’t the type of work they want to be doing.”
“Don’t apologize for them,” Alex insisted.
Isabel nodded and began to clean up Alex’s old bandages, carrying them to a trash bin.
“I have to be going now,” said Isabel. “I want to check on him.” She pointed down the infirmary at the man who was crying.
“That’s sweet of you, Isabel,” Alex replied, his voice soft. “You’re a very sweet woman.”
Isabel blushed, telling herself not to let a soldier affect her so. He probably had a girl waiting for him back home in America, and besides that, he was probably only trying to flirt with her because he’d been surrounded by the men of his regiment for the past two months and hadn’t seen any women.
Yet, she couldn’t stop herself from replying, “And you’re a decent man, sir.”
