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snelbz · 3 years

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I'll Be Seeing You {4}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc

Summary: After Cassian gets injured in the war, he’s taken to a war camp to be cared for until he gains enough strength to return to his battalion. While he’s there, he falls for a nurse that couldn’t care less about his title and doesn’t put up with his bullshit. Once he’s healed and the years pass by, he finds that there’s only one thing he wants to remember from the war, and she’s only a letter away.

Trigger Warnings: war

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 2429

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October 1940, The Autumn Court

Major Cassian Nazari was bored.

Nesta could sense it from where she was, back turned to him at the other end of the tent. It had also been a sign when she came in that morning and he was complaining, loudly, to Madja. I don’t see why I can’t get up and walk around. I’m fine. And bored shitless.

Madja, of course, had told him, Very well, Major. Do as you wish.

Cassian had taken two steps before a wave of nausea hit him from the pain, and he was throwing up his breakfast. After a dose of pain medicine, he had fallen asleep.

Now, he was awake, his pains were dulled, and he was loud.

Loud, and having a one-sided conversation with the unconscious soldier next to him about his favorite brands of whiskey.

He was just getting to the pros of living near a distillery, back in Velaris, when Nesta approached his cot. He glanced over to her and gave him a smile. A sleepy, drug-induced smile. “Nurse Nesta.”

“Major,” she replied, sitting next to his bed. “How are you feeling this afternoon?”

“Feeling great. Ready to get back out there.”

“Really now?” She asked, feeling his head for fever. He’d been warm after getting sick and she wanted to check and be sure they hadn’t missed some sign of infection setting in. His skin was cool as could be now. “So this morning was just a reaction to the breakfast porridge?”

He got quiet immediately and rolled his eyes.

“That’s what I thought.” She helped him sit up and checked the wounds on his back. They weren’t healing like she would have liked, but it was also likely he could have used stitches over a few of them. His burns were healing nicely though, even though she knew they still caused him quite a lot of pain. The broken arm and shoulder were the same.

Now that his shoulder was set correctly, it was all about keeping him still, which seemed to be a continual problem for him.

“I can’t sit here forever,” he claimed. “I’ll go insane.”

“You need something to occupy your mind,” Nesta said. “I’ll bring you some books.”

Cassian snorted. “Your romances? I’ll pass.”

Nesta huffed and shook her head. “Has anyone ever told you how difficult a man you are?”

“On many occasions,” Cassian noted. “Mostly women.”

Nesta sighed and helped him fall back against his pillows. “I’ll be back.”

“Good,” he muttered with a yawn as she walked away. After telling her fellow nurses she’ll be back in a moment, Nesta exited the tent and walked to the one just across the way from it, where the nurses slept. She strode to her tent in the far corner and grabbed an old western romance that he would surely read if bored enough, then pulled a suitcase from underneath her cot and popped it open.

The old, folded-up wooden chess board that sat inside had once belonged to her father. They used to play often, before the death of Nesta’s mother.

All the pieces were slightly dusty, but still in good shape. She picked up one of the ivory pawns, wiping it off with the apron tied around her waist, careful not to get any blood or antiseptic lotion on it. Without the dust coating it, the piece shined and she replaced it in its home before cleaning off each piece. She closed the suitcase, carrying it, the book, and a small, foldable tray back across the camp, and into the med tent.

As soon as Cassian saw her, he zeroed in on the case. “What’s that?”

“First,” she said, sitting down and holding the book out for him. “I brought you this.”

His face twisted with a twinge of pain as he reached out and took it, opening it and flipping through it. He paused on a random page and read a few lines. His eyes widened. “This is…explicit.”

Nesta’s cheeks reddened.

“It’s a romance,” he groaned.

“It’s an old western,” she defended. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s a very good book.”

Rolling his eyes, Cassian sat it on the side table, but pointed at the suitcase, which she had set down to unfold the tray. “And what’s that?” He repeated.

Nesta set it on the end of his cot and opened it. “Until I’m needed, we’ll play chess.”

Cassian stared at her for a moment before repeating, “Chess?”

She lifted a brow as she set up the board, on top of the tray. “You’re complaining about the forms of entertainment I offer?”

Cassian hesitated, and Nesta secretly liked that hesitation. For once, a comment made by her actually made him think. Usually, he was so quick on his feet. She liked it when he wasn’t.

“Fine,” he said, at last, clearing his throat. “But, it’s been a long time since I’ve played. You may have to refresh my memory.”

She suppressed her smile, moving the tray just next to his bed, so it would be within his reach. “I can do that.”

He nodded, grunting as he got himself into a sitting position. Nesta made a move toward him, but he held up a hand, letting him know he could do it on his own.

Even if it was just barely.

She laid out the pieces, almost reverently, but quickly and efficiently. She didn’t have to think about where the pieces went and before he knew it, the board was set in front of them. The white pieces sat on his side of the board, the black on her own. She gestured for him to make a move.

He reached for one of the pieces in the front, but then pulled his hand back. Twice, he repeated the movement, before clearing his throat and saying, “Ladies first.”

“That’s not how chess works, Major,” she chuckled. “White goes first, black second.”

He nodded and stared back down at the board. “Right.”

Picking up one of the pawns, Cassian moved it diagonally, as if it were a checker.

Nesta blinked, waiting for him to move it back or chuckle as if he were playing a joke. “That’s not how you move a pawn forward.”

His cheeks heated and she knew he was embarrassed. “Well not all of us grew up as well off as you were.”

Eyebrows raising, Nesta was unable to stop the surprised chuckle from bubbling from her lips. “Excuse you, sir?”

“I’m just saying, only spoiled, rich girls grew up playing chess.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but couldn’t bring herself to be angry at his words. “You don’t know how to play chess, do you?”

“I told you I would need your help.” He wasn’t looking at her, just the board and pieces.

“When’s the last time you played chess?” She asked.

He shrugged. “Never.”

Nesta stared at him for a moment, waiting for an explanation. “Never?”

Cassian’s head fell back and he groaned. “Nurse, are you going to make me ask you to explain the rules to me or do I have to make a fool of myself any longer?”

Nesta pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “Very well.”

She went on to explain the rules to him, then just to make sure she was not setting him up for failure, she explained the rules to him, again.

The pawn can move one square, unless it is the first time they move, then they can move two. It can’t move backwards. They can capture pieces on either space, diagonally, in front of them.

The knight moves in an L shape. Don’t ask why.

Bishop is a bit of a roamer. It can move in diagonally, as many squares as it wishes.

The rook can move both horizontally and vertically, as many squares as it wishes, as well.

The Queen is basically the best, most important piece. She can move however she wishes, wherever she wishes.

Cassian stared at the board thoughtfully. “Hmm. And the king, again?”

Nesta chuckled, quietly. “He can move only one square in any direction.”

“And he decides who wins the game?” Cassian asked, head cocked to the side as he stared at the board, trying to imagine it all.

“More or less, yes,” Nesta said, watching him study the board. “When a player attacks the other’s king, it’s called a check. A checkmate, or the win, is what happens when the opposing king can no longer make any legal moves.”

“So you must protect the king at all costs, then?” Cassian asked. “That’s the purpose of the other pieces?”

“It is,” Nesta nodded.

“And that’s why the queen is such an important piece?” he continued, meeting her gaze. “Why she has the most freedom? To protect her king?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Speaking like that, I cannot believe that you don’t admire a good romance novel.”

“I already told you, I don’t think women are meant to stay home and do nothing but become mothers,” he replied, reaching out and moving his own piece properly this time. “However, a boring book about two people falling in love? No, thank you, ma’am.”

“Falling in love isn’t boring,” she defended, moving her own piece.

He grunted in answer, making his move.

Nesta looked at him, gauging his non-reply. “Have you ever been in love, Major?”

“Now who’s asking the personal questions,” he muttered, waiting for her to take her turn. She did, silently waiting for him to answer. He picked up the piece, studying the board, though barely anything had been done to need strategy yet. “No. I haven’t.”

Nesta watched him for a moment before looking back down at the board. “Interesting.”

Cassian moved his piece at last. “Don’t worry, plenty of women have been in love with me, I just haven’t returned the feeling.”

Nesta couldn’t help but bark a laugh. “Of course you would think so.”

Cassian’s grin told her it was all just a joke, but Nesta had no doubt that Cassian had had his fair share of women throughout the years.

“What about you?” He asked. “I know about your ex, of course, but have you ever been in love?”

It was Nesta’s turn to be quiet, but she pretended to be thinking over a move. “Yes,” she finally admitted, moving one of her knights, which had finally been unblocked by her pawns. “At least, I think so, at least. Things with Tom were…complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t sound like it’s a good thing,” he replied, mirroring her own move.

She narrowed her eyes at him, finally catching on to how he’d been playing. She said nothing about the game though, and continued on. “There’s a reason we aren’t together anymore, if you recall.”

Nesta moved another piece and he asked, “Would you go back to him? If you found out he’d been waiting for you?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, still staring at the board, if only to keep from having to look at him. “His family was much better off than mine, which was the reason for our engagement anyways. I came here to keep my sisters from having to do so.”

“That doesn’t sound like love,” Cassian murmured, taking his turn.

“And what makes you such an expert on the subject?” Nesta snapped.

Cassian slowly met her eyes once he set down his knight. He didn’t look offended by her tone. Instead, he remained quiet for a moment, then said, “I may not waste my time reading romance novels, and I may have never been in love, nurse, but I have plenty of experience in what love is not.”

She couldn’t place it, but she didn’t like why his voice became so…sad when he said it. “I didn’t mean to react in such a way,” she replied, not even paying attention to the moves she was making at this point. “I’m just not…accustomed to talking to anyone about these sorts of things. Especially a patient.”

He nodded. “I get it.”

Nesta nodded and broke his gaze as her eyes settled back on the board. After a moment, she moved her queen and said, “Check.”

Cassian blinked, eyes darting to the board, trying to find how his king was in jeopardy. Once he saw it, he tried to figure a way out of it, but after five minutes of thinking, he knocked his king down in surrender.

Nesta suppressed her smile as she outstretched her hand. “Good game, Major.”

He chuckled and shook her hand. “Nice lie, nurse.”

“Perhaps we can play again tomorrow,” Nesta asked, with a questioning tone.

Cassian met her eyes, and the edge in them softened as he said, quietly, “I would like that.”

She nodded and began putting it away as a few nurses entered the tent with big boxes in their arms. “Looks like we got some care packages from Velaris, gentlemen.”

Cassian’s brows rose, and Nesta chuckled at the excitement that flooded through the tent from those who were awake. In a war, it was the little things that made it all better.

Nesta placed the chessboard beneath Cassian’s cot and rose to help the nurses go through the boxes. With everything they pulled out, there was an announcement.

We’ve got candies!

Homemade breads and jams!

The funnies from the newspapers!

Tea!

Nesta reached into the box and pulled out a big carton and announced, “Cigarettes!”

That one got a round of applause, but nowhere near the number of cheers that the whiskey got. It went on for another few minutes, and then for the first time in quite some time, something that resembled joy could be felt in their little war camp.

As the goodies were dispersed, Nesta’s eyes kept trailing to Cassian.

She was surprised to find his eyes on her as well. Carrying one of the small bottles of the cheap whiskey that had been sent, she found herself standing beside his cot. She set the bottle down on the side table, along with a pack of cigarettes, and said, “Might not be the brand you prefer, but it’s better than nothing.”

“I’d drink anything right about now, brand doesn’t matter,” he chuckled. “If you could possibly get me some of that sweet bread and blackberry jam though, it might make it just a bit easier to go down.”

She shook her head, saying, “You’re unbelievable.” But she knew she would get it for him, she’d make sure of it.

Because his smile was the first thing that made her own appear without being forced in quite a while.

#i’ll be seeing you #snacmc ibsy #nessian ibsy #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #1940s au #period au

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theladyofdeath · 3 years

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I’ll Be Seeing You {1}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @snelbz

Trigger Warnings: war

A/N: FINALLY. Shelby and I have been writing away (both at this one, and the one she will begin posting later this week). We’ve been so excited to share, and hope you all like it.

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 3745

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September 1940, The Winter Court

It was cold.

It was cold and Cassian couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a full night’s sleep. He was bleary eyed in the midday sun, which did little to warm the frigid air as he walked, one hand braced on the gun hanging from his shoulder.

He idly wondered where Rhys and Az had been deployed to, if they’d ended up in one of the milder courts, or if they were as unlucky as he was, patrolling the borders of Winter.

If they were in one of the warmer courts, he hated them.

Loved them, missed them, hoped they were safe.

But he hated them, nonetheless.

Alongside his fellow soldiers, Cassian continued on, marching through the snow from the night before. It had been a wicked storm, one Cassian wasn’t certain they wouldn’t make it through. But they did, through some miracle their fires remained burning all night long, snow and all.

“Perk up, Nazari,” the soldier beside him grinned. “At least it’s above freezing today.”

“It’s at least ten below freezing,” Cassian said, snorting.

The soldier's grin just widened and he kept marching on. At least someone was happy to be there.

He’d stopped learning anything aside from his fellow soldiers' names after the first couple of months. After losing someone he’d grown close to for what felt like the hundredth time, it was easier that way.

Andras, the golden haired man, continued on. “We’ve only got another ten miles before we meet up with the seventeenth battalion. Rumor has it they got a resupply in rations last month.”

There was too much to unpack in that statement for Cassian to waste his energy and warmth responding.

Only another ten miles made him want to wring Andras’s neck. They’d been moving since dawn and had only covered seven miles. At the rate they were moving now, they’d likely have to make camp again in volatile unclaimed territory.

He also knew a resupply of rations was unlikely. He hadn’t heard of any of the courts sending out any aid, because none had any to spare. So it was likely that rumors were all Andras had heard, and rumors they would stay. And if they somehow were true, Cassian was sure that the seventeenth battalion had probably gone through them themselves, not concerned with any forces coming to meet up with them.

He knew his legion wouldn’t have cared.

But this was war. Every man for himself, even if f they were fighting for a common goal.

Peace.

Peace seemed far away as the sound of rapid gunshots went off in the distance.

Someone screamed, and then an explosion went off up ahead, sending smoke and bodies flying into the air.

At first, Cassian’s body locked up but then his training kicked in. He fell into formation.

As he hurried behind Andras, Cassian took pity on one of the younger guys. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen, and this was most likely his first attack. He looked terrified, completely frozen.

“Move!” Cassian yelled, and the kid’s eyes connected with his, then he was finally moving, fumbling for his gun.

Cassian wished him the best but didn’t think about it long. He couldn’t. This was war. He had to remain focused.

The sound of the canon roared and before they had time to think, the cannonball landed just up ahead. Close enough for Cassian’s ears to ring.

He looked around, trying to locate the enemy.

He raised his gun.

His ears we’re still ringing and he couldn’t place where the shots were coming from, just saw man after man in his battalion go down. But Andras surged ahead and Cassian followed behind, trusting the instincts of his fellow soldier.

“Into the trees,” he called, knowing they wouldn’t offer much cover, but they wouldn’t be as exposed as they were on the open road.

Andras’s quick nod was his only reply and they pushed, but not before white hot pain shot down Cassian’s arm.

He cried out, still barely able to hear himself over the high-pitched ringing in his head, but he didn’t go down. He knew the only thing that awaited him if he did was death.

They’d been split up, separated and disoriented, just like the enemy had wanted them.

Cassian pressed a hand to his arm, hoping he’d just been grazed, but when he looked down, he knew that wasn’t the case. He was lucky he was still able to use his arm, with how much blood was pouring from the wound. He leaned against a tree as they made it deep into the cover.

“Fuck, man, you’re hit,” Andras muttered, not even pausing to consider before tearing into his own small med kit and tying a tourniquet above the wound on Cassian’s arm.

It took every ounce of willpower in him not to snap something like “No shit,” back at the man, but knew it would be a waste of energy.

“This should hold you over,” Andras yelled, above the screaming, the gunshots, the sound of the cannon. “You good?”

“I’m good,” Cassian promised, even though he wasn’t sure it was the truth. He was certain that he was running off adrenaline. There was a bullet in him, after all.

Bullet and all, he raised his gun and looked toward the hillside.

He could see the enemy, dressed in black. They looked like ants, being so far away, but Cassian took his aim, nonetheless.

He aimed.

He fired.

He repeated the process.

The others near him did the same.

The battle was in full force.

Gunshots echoed and the men around Cassian went down. It was no use, really. The enemy was stronger, and far more confident.

“Fuck,” Cassian muttered when he ran out of bullets. As he was reloading, a scream echoed from beside him, and Cassian looked down. “Andras? Andras!” He fell to his knees and took the soldier’s face into his hands. “Hey. Hey! Stay with me.” A crimson stain appeared on his uniform, just over his chest.

The man coughed, blood spraying his chin and Cassian knew death lingered around them.

Granted, it was a constant shadow over all of Prythian.

He watched the light leave the man’s usually bright, laughing eyes, watched as they dimmed and stared unseeing to the canopy of trees above.

He didn’t have time for sadness, didn’t have time for grief. He picked up Andras’s gun, slinging it over his shoulder and grabbed his ammunition.

“We’ve got to move,” Cassian called back to the soldiers around him. “Deeper into the trees and head south. Try to get to the Autumn border.”

He held rank above the men, but not by much. Enough that they listened to his orders and did as they were told.

If they could just get to Autumn, they’d be back in friendly territory. He dared a look back as they retreated.

The number of bodies left bleeding in the snow made him sick to his stomach. How many men were still breathing and how many had passed on into the darkness?

A blanket of white, splattered with red.

Cassian tried not to panic, but they were outnumbered. “Move!” he yelled, but with every second that passed, another body fell. He pushed down that panic, and moved forward.

He had only taken a few steps before a searing pain hit his back, just below his shoulder. Cassian landed facedown in the snow, and this time, he was unable to move.

A burning sensation began to spread, and that panic that he had pushed down began to resurface.

He heard someone yell for him, heard someone call his name, but it sounded far away, too far away. Someone was holding him, but Cassian felt nothing, nothing but that burning in his back. Darkness clouded his vision, and as much as he told his feet to keep moving, as much as he told himself to get back up and keep going, he couldn’t move.

Time moved slowly.

Cassian felt like this is what it was like to die.

And, surprisingly, once that panic began to fade, he was no longer afraid.

An explosion sounded nearby, and Cassian’s body was thrown.

In the snow, in the heart of the Winter Court, the darkness took over, and Cassian was gone.

There had been an ambush.

That was all that they were told as bloodied and battered men were hauled into the med camp just over the Autumn border.

Nesta Archeron’s eyes were wide as she took in some of the injuries.

Blood. There was so much blood.

She’d had to tend to a few of the men as they passed through, but most of the fighting had been deeper into the territory. She hadn’t seen the violence of all out bloodshed.

The screaming of a man whose arm was hanging in tattered ribbons broke her from the haze she’d settled in. She looked around the tent at the dozens of men and wondered if the other nurses tents were filling as quickly as hers.

“Madja,” she breathed, surprised to find her voice gravely. “Who should I—?”

“Anyone,” the head nurse snapped, pressing a wad of bandages to a wound in a man’s chest. “Just pick one.”

She nodded and tied her hair back, hurrying across the tent.

The bloody man was unconscious, covered in burns and mud, but the young soldier who brought him in still stood beside him. She asked, “What are his injuries?”

The young man was a stammering mess. “He— He took at least two shots to the ba-back, one to the arm.” She was about to reach for him, to turn him over and inspect his back but he added, “And then we tripped a land mine on the trek over.” Nesta went still. “He wasn’t in the direct path of the explosion but he was in the radius. I think— I think he was thrown, but I’m not sure. I helped carry him in after that.”

Nesta only hesitated for a moment before nodding, tight lipped. “Thank you. Help me turn him over.”

The young soldier nodded, helping Nesta flip him onto his stomach. She could see where he had been shot. Crimson stains coated his uniform. Without another word, Nesta began to cut the fabric.

First things first: remove the bullets.

Nesta cleansed his wounds, then went to work. They had very limited surgical equipment, but Nesta had gotten used to using what they had since she arrived in the recent weeks. The young soldier remained as Nesta removed the bullets from her patient’s back and arm, and once that was complete, she checked his vitals.

His pulse was steady enough, although it was slower than it should have been. He had a fever, most likely due to infection of the bullet wounds. Considering he was out, there was no way to check for any sort of head injury, but if he had been thrown due to an explosion, Nesta had no doubt that he did.

She could only hope that he would wake up soon so that she could examine him further.

“What’s his name?” Nesta asked the young soldier that continued to stand by his bedside.

“Corporal Cassian Nazari, ma’am,” he answered.

Nesta nodded. “Thank you.” She wrote his name on the sheet of paper on the clipboard hanging from his bed.

“Should I— What should I do?” He asked, swallowing hard. “Do I help or—?”

She looked at him, nearly shaking in the medical tent. “What’s your name?”

“Isaac, ma’am. Private Isaac Hale,” he replied, and it was the first thing he’d said that he sounded confident in.

“Do you have any medical training, Private Hale?” She asked, firmly, but not unkindly.

“No, ma’am,” he admitted.

She nodded. “Then go be with your men. Your presence is appreciated, but we need the space to work.”

He accepted the dismissal, nodding, and hurried out of the tent.

Nesta looked back down at her patient and reached for one of the damp rags. She needed to get him cleaned up so she could fully assess his injuries. He was still out cold, so she whispered, “Sorry, Corporal Nazari, but this is probably going to hurt.”

After re-drenching the rag in alcohol, Nesta was cleaning the gunshot wounds, carefully but quickly. At one point, Corporal Nazari stirred, which she assumed was due to the horrid stinging of the alcohol against an open wound, but Nesta took it as a good sign.

He was responsive.

He was alive.

Once his wounds were cleaned, she flipped him back onto his back and checked his pulse, once again.

Slow, but steady.

She had stitched and bandaged him up, so the blood loss had been minimized. Nesta made a note to check on him in half an hour and wiped her hands on her apron, continuing on.

Cassian Nazari was not the only soldier that had gotten caught in an explosion. In fact, there were men far worse off than him. Madja was assisting a man who had his leg nearly blown off, and although Nesta had a tolerance for such things, she looked away.

War on the frontlines was not easy.

But being a nurse, seeing what the frontlines did to soldiers, was not easy, either.

It was nearly two hours later, the sun beginning to set and lamps being lit inside the med tent, before Nesta made her way back to check on the corporal. One of her fellow nurses had cleaned him off as much as they could and underneath all the mud and gore, she found that his face, despite being battered and burnt and bruised, was…handsome. Ignoring that handsome face, she gave him a full once over, finding burns on his entire left side, four cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder and a broken bone in his forearm. He was also probably concussed, but until he woke up, that couldn’t be confirmed.

Not the worst injuries he could have gotten by far, but the number of them would keep him down for a while. He was lucky he hadn’t been closer to the blast when the mine had gone off.

Quickly, but efficiently, she set the bones in his arm, and popped his shoulder back into place, before wrapping his arm and slinging it around his neck.

The injury to his back worried her. One of those bullets had been very close and she wasn��t sure if any damage had been done to his spine. Again, they’d have to wait until he was awake to see just how bad it was, but until then, she elected to check for response in one of the few ways she knew how.

Carefully tugging off one of his boots, she ran a finger along the inside of his foot, tickling gently. His knee jerked slightly and she breathed a sigh of relief at the quick response and movement.

A raspy voice whispered, “That’s the strangest version of foreplay I’ve ever seen, but I’m open to trying anything once.”

Nesta’s eyes were immediately on his face and one of his was barely cracked open and trained on her. The other was swollen shut.

She hurried to the head of the small bed he laid in. “Corporal Nazari, how are you feeling?”

“Who are you?” He asked, and even though his voice was quiet, it sounded like the man had been gargling gravel.

“Nesta Archeron, sir,” she breathed. “You’re in the med camp of the twenty-sixth legion.”

His eye fell shut again and he rasped, “Autumn?”

She nodded, but then voiced her words. “Yes. There was an ambush—.” She paused, realizing she didn’t have much information for him. He had been there. He probably knew better than she did.

He sighed, grimly. “How many of us were brought in?”

Nesta looked around. Nearly all of the beds were full. “About twenty of you so far. Your men are still scoping the valley now that the ambush has cleared.”

He stayed quiet for a moment. “Casualties?”

Nesta cleared her throat. “I’ve yet to hear an update.”

His eyes remained shut as he said, “Okay. Thank you.”

“Can I get you anything?” she asked.

“How long until I’m on my feet again?” he asked, in answer.

Nesta looked over his body, wondering if he’d make another snide, inappropriate remark. “Now that you’re awake, I’d like to examine you further.”

Cassian nodded, and tried to sit himself up, but hissed the moment his palms hit the cot, and he put pressure on them.

“Your ulna is broken, don’t put pressure on it,” she explained. He probably hadn’t even noticed that it was wrapped, considering his eyes could hardly open and he hadn’t really taken a moment to take in his surroundings. She assumed that the entirety of his body hurt. “You also have four cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and some severe third degree burns. The bullet wounds have been cleansed, but…”

Cassian looked at her. “But?”

“A bullet just missed your spine.”

“Okay,” he said, slowly. “And that means?”

“That means that I need to see how your body has reacted,” she said, simply, and helped him into a sitting position. At this point, she had learned to ignore the horrid smells that came from soldiers. She wondered when the last time he’d been given the luxury to shower. She made a mental note to offer to help clean him up when she was finished with her examination. “First, we’ll check for a concussion.”

He nodded, slowly.

“Do you have a headache?” she asked.

Cassian looked at her, and blinked. “Seriously? Look at me. Every inch of my body aches.”

Her lips thinned but she gave him a curt nod. “What about nausea? Dizziness?” She lit a candle and held it up. “Sensitive to light?”

His eyes, already barely open to slits, closed further as he tried to turn away. “Let’s say yes to all of the above.”

She nodded, leaving the candle burning, but setting it down atop the small table beside the infirmary bed. “You’re going to to rest for the remainder of the day, after we get you cleaned up. Tomorrow, we’ll further look at your back, make a plan based on that, and go from there.”

She could tell he wanted to argue, to say they needed to begin treatment now, but his eyes were so weary. They were still glazed.

“I can get you something for the pain,” she offered.

He didn’t answer her, just asked a question of his own. “What’s your name?”

Nesta pursed her lips to suppress her laughter. “You’ve already asked me that, corporal.”

Cassian looked up at her. “No, I didn’t.”

Nesta didn’t bother to correct him as she subtly shook her head. Concussion, indeed. “My name is Nesta Archeron. I’m a nurse.”

“I’d hope so,” he grumbled. “If you’re not a nurse, I’m afraid for my health.”

“Rest assured, I’m a nurse,” she promised. “I’ve got the certificate to prove it.”

“Were you a nurse before the war?” Cassian asked.

A lot of nurses were volunteers, with very limited training. They were tossed into battle with as little experience as the soldiers.

“I was in school for it,” she answered, simply. “Only in my second year.”

“And you stopped going to school?” He pushed. “To come here?”

“You ask a lot of questions, Corporal.”

She was ringing out the rag in a warm-ish bowl of water on the table when he spoke.

“Just trying to figure out why someone as beautiful as an angel would be willing to be dropped into pure hell with people like us.”

Nesta froze from where she’d been about to wipe down his neck and shoulder. She didn’t look at his face as she began to carefully clean the bits of burned skin. “I’m just trying to do my duty. To protect my village, and to keep my sisters from getting it into their heads that they need to join the war.”

“You must be the oldest,” he replied, hissing as she cleaned out a wound.

“I am. One of my sisters is twenty-one and the other just turned eighteen.”

“My brothers are somewhere on a battlefield.” His words were quiet, eyes distant, even as they didn’t look at her. “But I have no clue where.”

She needed to stop talking, needed to stop telling this soldier about herself and her family. He was just as likely to heal under her care and go back out and get blown up as he was to die from infection in these festering camps. “I’ll be right back, corporal.”

She tossed the rag back into the bowl, the blood staining the water pink and hurried to the large cabinet where the medications were stored. She poured water into a mug from one of the clean pitchers and mixed in a healthy dose of the powder indicated for pain relief. Carrying it back to his bed, she helped him prop up slightly. “Drink this, please.”

He did as he was told and she watched as the powder took hold.

“Trying to knock me out so I stop asking questions?” He asked, as he drank from the glass.

“Just trying to ease the pain,” she answered, simply, and helped him lay back down.

Putting that wet cloth back in the bowl, she dabbed it on Cassian’s brow, cleaning off the dried blood.

“It will do you well to get some sleep,” Nesta said. “When you wake up, I’ll get you something to eat. A new shipment should arrive soon from our neighboring camp.”

In response, Cassian’s stomach rumbled and he was grateful for the news. “Can I ask you just one more question?”

Nesta hesitated, but nodded as she continued to wipe off the blood.

“Will you always be the one tending to me?” He asked, with a yawn.

Nesta took the emptied glass from him and said, “We are a team here, but you are in my section. We typically divide to stay organized, unless there is an emergency we will work together to save the life, to do what we can. As for rotational check ups, I will most likely be your primary caregiver, yes.”

She looked down at him and his eyes were closed, his breathing even. She shook her head, already being able to tell this corporal was a handful.

After dropping the rag in the bowl, she began to walk away, but before she could go she heard him say, “Good.”

#nessian #period au #1940s au #war au #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #snacmc IBSY

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snelbz · 3 years

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I'll Be Seeing You {2}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc

Trigger Warnings: war

A/N: Enjoy a surprise chapter a couple days early, we’re just too excited for y’all to read this story.

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 2336

IBSY Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta was making her rounds as the sun set outside of their desolate war camp.

It had been a long day, one filled with losses. After the ambush two days prior, their tent had become full. Now, there were far too many empty beds.

It never became easier.

With every soul that she attempted to heal that passed from this world to the next, she felt like a failure, even though it was impossible to save every soldier that had been injured in the heart of battle.

There were victories, though.

Those who were left in the tent were improving.

The ambush had brought in nearly fifty injured soldiers, and just over twenty of them remained.

Including Corporal Cassian Nazari, who she was walking up to now, a glass of water in hand.

He blinked a few times against the light of the guttering candle on the table, but after a moment his eyes settled on her. Settled, but still glazed with pain.

“Nurse Nesta,” he said, voice rasping from sleep, attempting to resituate himself in the uncomfortable bed, with one good arm. “Is it time for my sponge bath already?”

She sighed through her nose and closed her eyes, resisting the urge to rub her temples.

Most men in the infirmary were polite, respectful, grateful to be taken care of, especially knowing what befell their fellow soldiers who hadn’t been quite as lucky as they were. The first day she’d attended to the corporal, she’d assumed his inappropriate comment about foreplay had been some sort of unintended joke, something he hadn’t been able to control as he awoke.

But as Cassian slowly healed, Nesta learned those little comments were quite regular for him. And when he learned that they made her blush, or even snap at him occasionally, it only made him say them more frequently.

“I’ll give you a bucket and a sponge and you may help yourself,” she quipped. “Does that interest you?”

He laughed, quietly, but winced as it seemed the simple shaking of his shoulders brought a bout of pain. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Why do you think that?” she asked.

“You joke with me,” Cassian said, shrugging a shoulder. “You joke when you’re in a good mood.”

“I don’t joke,” she replied. “I only give back what is given to me, even though I do it in a far more appropriate way.”

“There are worse things than being inappropriate,” Cassian promised her.

Nesta simply shook her head. “Here.”

He took the pill from her palm and took it, swallowing it with the glass of water she gave him. For a moment, his eyes closed and he sighed, deeply.

“How are you feeling today?” She asked, sitting down in the chair next to the table. He opened his eyes and she reached out to feel his head. He had been feverish the night before, and she was worried about infection setting in.

He was just as clammy as he’d been, if not more so. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, but before she said anything, she wanted to hear it from him. Even if she was fairly sure it would be a lie laced with male bravado.

“Fine,” he replied, though he attempted to sit up with one arm again and winced. “Like I could get back on the battlefields right now.”

Rolling her eyes, she stood. “Too bad that won’t be happening yet.”

She strode for the medicine cabinet in the center of the tent, aiming for an antibiotic strong enough to stave off the infection. His own inability to keep still had led she and Madja to band his fractured arm to his side, but this kept the bullet wounds on his back from airing out. It was about choosing the lesser of two evils with this man it seemed.

Last night, they’d elected to set his arm. Tonight, it seemed he’d go back in the sling and she’d see what needed tending to on his back.

“Are you allergic to penicillin, Corporal?” Nesta asked, coming back to his cot.

“Not that I’m aware of, but I have a feeling that we’re about to find out for certain,” he noted, chuckling, then breaking into a cough fit.

“Alright,” she sighed, and pulled him fully into sitting position. “It seems you still have a fever. I’m going to give you this penicillin. Then, I’m going to take off your bandages and clean your wounds.”

“And then?” he asked.

Nesta blinked, hesitating as she a needle with the drug. “Pardon?”

“After you clean my wounds, what will you do?” Cassian asked, that sly smile remaining. “Because I have a few ideas-.”

“Corporal,” Nesta interrupted. “I am here to heal you, and nothing more.”

Cassian lifted a brow. “First of all, it’s Major, actually. It’s been years since I was a corporal. Secondly, I thought we could play a card game. What was it you were thinking?” Nesta’s cheeks heated and she ignored his pointed question. “My apologies, but Private Hale said—.”

“He knows nothing, which is why he’s only a private.”

She cleared her throat and held out her hand, letting him take the two pills in her palm. He did so, without any commentary, which Nesta took as a blessed relief.

She retrieved the sling his arm had previously been in, as well as fresh bandages, an ewer of fresh water and a bottle of antiseptic.

And a bit to put between his teeth in case the pin became too unbearable.

With a few tugs on the knots tying them together, Nesta unwrapped his arm from his body, not taking a full look at his back yet.

Almost immediately, Cassian tried to stretch out his arm, which earned him a chastising look from Nesta. “It’s tight,” he defended.

“If you move it too much before it’s had time to set and heal, tight will be the least of your worries, Major,” she replied, carefully tying the two ends of the fabric sling around his neck. “Not to mention your shoulder is still too weak as well. Do you want to dislocate it again?”

He grumbled something that sounded similar to No, ma’am, and sat still while Nesta settled his arm into place.

Once she tended to his arm, she prepared herself to examine his back again.

“This isn’t going to feel good,” she warned, taking in the angry, red skin puckering the edges of the wounds. They’d been able to retrieve the bullets while he was unconscious, but they weren’t in the most ideal and clean conditions for a healing to take place. Gently pressing her fingers around the mildest looking one earned a hiss and sudden jerk from Cassian. As well as puss, far more puss than Nesta was expecting. “I’m going to have to clean these out.”

“Can’t you give me more of that stuff that put me under and do what you need to do?”

His words weren’t unkind, but the tone… Nesta knew he was in pain.

She could, of course, but the powdered pain killer was much stronger than what she’d already administered. Not to mention is much, much shorter supply. It was reserved for surgeries, mostly, or life-threatening injuries.

An injury like the major had been brought in with at the time.

Not for a standard, but nasty, infection, unfortunately.

War was unfair, Nesta decided then. She’d known it for quite a while, watching good men die for their lands, but it was evident in that moment as she looked at the man’s ravaged back before her.

“Unfortunately, no,” she said, at last. “But I promise to work quickly.”

He gave her a curt nod and braced himself.

The alcohol burned, she knew that, she knew that it had to feel like fire was being lit to the surface of the skin, but as she poured the alcohol over the wound and began to clean it, the only sense of pain that Cassian showed was his rigid posture.

“Bear with me,” Nesta muttered, beginning to rebandage the wound.

“Got any whiskey?” he asked.

Despite herself, Nesta snorted. “No, I don’t. Is that your drink of choice, major?”

She was trying to distract him, trying to make the time go by just a little bit quicker as she worked.

“Usually,” he said, and huffed. “Every now and then I like to order a simple lager.”

“Lager,” she repeated. “What a luxury.”

“It has been a while,” he agreed.

She worked in silence for a few minutes, having to go so far as to scrape out the bits of skin that were too far gone and only likely to slow down the healing process. But when his breathing became ragged as she started on the worst of the wounds, the one right near his spine, she asked, “What’s the first meal you’re going to have when you get home? What have you been dreaming of since you enlisted?”

Mindless chatter, she reminded herself, was just as effective as a painkiller.

He was quiet for a moment, only hissing as she pressed the alcohol-soaked rag to his back. She had accepted he wasn’t going to answer when he softly asked, “Don’t you mean if?”

She was suddenly very thankful that she was working on his back and was unable to see his face. Playing dumb, she kept him talking. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Don’t you mean if I get home?” He asked. His voice was hollow, lacking the warmth it usually did when he spoke. It was unlike what she’d started to grow accustomed to. “This is a war we’re in the middle of, ma’am.”

She cleared her throat, continuing to work. “I think you ought to change your manner of speech, major, or you’ll be more likely to conscribe yourself to believe the worst.” Pressing a clean bandage to his skin to staunch the bleeding, she asked, “Now about that meal, sir?”

Surprising her, he laughed, quietly. “I guess I haven’t thought about it too much. My mother used to make a mean pork roast. With carrots and potatoes. That would hit the spot right about now.”

Nesta couldn’t help but lick her lips at the thought of a nice, hot, homemade dinner. “How about dinner rolls?”

Cassian hummed. “My mom used to make the fluffiest dinner rolls. She used to make me roll the dough. I hated it, until it was time to eat them.”

She smiled to herself. “My sister Elain loves to bake. She makes this pear crumble…” Shaking her head, she sighed. “It’s the best. Especially when she whips cream to put on top.”

“I don’t remember the last time I had a warm dessert,” he admitted, wincing as she applied antibacterial cream to the wounds. Turning to glance at her, he amended, “Actually, I don’t remember the last time I had a hot meal.”

The words hurt Nesta’s heart. The food they had in the med camps weren’t great, but she was sure they were better than rations the soldiers were issued.

“Tell me more about your sister,” he breathed, clearly needing the distraction while she worked.

Nesta sighed. “Which one?”

“How many do you have?” he asked.

“Two,” Nesta said. “Couldn’t be more opposite of one another. Feyre, the youngest, would rather spend her time painting, or outdoors in the woods behind our house, while Elain prefers to spend her time baking, or in her garden.”

Cassian nodded, thoughtfully. “And you?”

“What of me?” she asked, beginning to rebandage his wounds.

“What do you prefer to do with your time?” he pushed.

Nesta’s hands slowed. She wished she had more time to fill as of late. “I enjoy reading, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” he asked, then chuckled.

“What’s so funny about that?” Nesta asked, eyes narrowed at the back of his head.

“You either do or you don’t,” he said, shrugging, and wincing from the simple motion. “But, you suppose.”

Nesta scoffed. “Fine. I enjoy reading.”

“What manner of books?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Romance.”

He snorted. “Of course. Let me guess, a knight in shining armor, coming to rescue a damsel in distress?”

Nesta’s cheeks heated as his guess was nearly spot on of the plot of one of the tattered, well-loved books she kept in the small bag she brought with her from home. “And what’s so wrong with a knight saving a lady who needs help?”

“Nothing,” he replied, trying to shift his hurt arm. She adjusted the sling to hold him tighter. “I just think it’s a silly ideal to hold. Not everyone is going to have someone come save them.”

She was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were in a med camp in the middle of war.

“I guess you’re right,” she mused. “But I don’t see why that should stop anyone from dreaming.”

Cassian huffed and said nothing more.

When Nesta was finished, she asked, “How does that feel?”

“As good as it can,” he answered, in grumpy sincerity. “Although, I still wouldn’t mind that sponge bath.”

“Has anyone ever told you how ridiculously impossible you are?” she asked, the words flying out of her mouth before she could think better of it.

Cassian’s smile only grew. “If only you knew.”

Nesta’s chin rose as she tried to make sense of his remark, but she asked, “Can I get you anything else for the time being?” Cassian opened his mouth, but Nesta interrupted with, “Nothing that has to do with sponges.”

He laughed, quietly. “A cure for boredom?”

Just as Nesta was getting ready to reply, a cry came from just outside the tent, and her body was tensing, preparing itself. Madja’s eyes connected with hers, and Nesta’s feet were immediately in motion.

Another body coming in, caught in warfare.

It seemed he would have to entertain himself, as Nesta was once again vividly reminded that no one may ever come to save her.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t save someone else.

#snacmc ibsy #i’ll be seeing you #nessian ibsy #snacmc collab #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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snelbz · 3 years

Text

I'll Be Seeing You {Chapter 8}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @theladyofdeath.

Trigger Warnings: war

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 2078

IBSY Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

***Announcement! >>> After the completion of I’ll be Seeing You and Tempting the Fates, all of Tara and I’s joint fanfiction will be posted on a separate blog that we run together > @snacmc. Be sure to follow the new blog as we will start posting on there soon!

He’d been getting stronger and stronger every day.

For any other patient, it would be an answer to prayer, a sign that the Cauldron was listening. But it only sent fear down Nesta’s spine every time she thought about it.

Cassian would be leaving their med camp the next time supplies were scheduled to be dropped off. He’d be taken to the closest battalion and find his way back to his own from there.

Back to war. Back to fighting and bullets and bloodshed.

The thought made her sick, even if she knew he was more than capable of handling himself. He’d progressed so much that he did little more than sleep in his cot at night. He went for runs in the morning and evening and helped the nurses throughout the day.

He was ready.

But Nesta was not.

“Either I’ve gotten better or you’ve gotten worse.”

Now, Nesta scoffed as she watched Cassian make his next move across the chess board. “Maybe your ego has just increased.”

Cassian’s grin was mesmerizing. “Fair enough.”

Nesta made a move.

So did Cassian. “Check.”

Nesta blinked, clearly taken back, which only made Cassian laugh.

“You have gotten better,” Nesta said, simply. Which, she would have been worried if he hadn’t. They’d played the game at least a couple hundred times by this point. “Turns out you’ve become an actual opponent.”

“Between chess and dirty novels, you’ve made me a new man,” Cassian muttered.

“You act like that’s a bad thing, sir,” she chuckled, still searching for a way to save her king from certain demise. Luckily, a risky move from her last knight seemed to do the trick. Even if his bishop took her knight, with a couple evasive moves she’d be safe again. But he planned his moves out in advance, like a true soldier, so for how long, she wasn’t sure.

He didn’t say a word about her misdirection, just moved his own pieces. “Not a bad thing, but I’ll never live it down if one of my men catches me reading about Jessa Mae and Henry spending time together in the hay loft.”

Nesta’s eyes brightened. “So you finally got to that part?”

“I did,” he said, rolling his bad shoulder. It still bothered him, but he knew that it likely always would now. Especially when he returned to Winter with his battalion. “It’s not as good as the westerns you’ve leant to me, but the prairie setting is a nice change of pace.”

She snorted, something she would have never let him see before a few weeks ago. “I didn’t expect you to read all four of my westerns in a matter of three weeks! At this rate, you’ll have read my entire personal library before you go.”

The words hung heavy between them.

They both knew his departure was imminent, a matter of days at the most, hours at the least, but they had yet to speak about it. His pack was neatly laying beside the small table, full of the supplies he’d need until he reunited with his men.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “About that-.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up-.”

“I was hoping it would be okay if I write to you.”

Nesta blinked, almost shocked by the question, although she wasn’t sure why. “You want to write to me?”

“Yeah, well, you said I can while I’m here,” he continued, and Nesta laughed quietly at the memory of her getting his letter from the tent next door, all because he was bored. “I was just…hoping that it would be okay after I left, too.”

Nesta looked up at him, but Cassian was already watching her, wistfully.

“I would like that,” Nesta said, nodding. “I would like that, very much.”

“Good,” Cassian said, letting out a breath, as if he was afraid that she would have said no. “Good. Check.”

Nesta started, eyes darting back toward the board, unsure how, yet again, her king was in danger.

She scanned the board trying to play out every possible move, but she was locked in a stalemate, his ready to come from one direction and his rook from the other.

He had gotten much better, but still was learning the rules.

“I think,” she sighed, sitting back in her chair, “you mean checkmate.”

Even his eyes widened in surprise as he looked down at the board, and he scanned the possible moves he could see her making. There was nothing she could do.

“Congratulations, Major,” she smiled, knocking her king over. “You finally beat me.”

They had just finished serving dinner when the sound of an engine approaching the camp had everyone on alert. It didn’t matter that a supply drop was expected, this was war and an ambush could happen at any time.

Even to an unprotected med camp.

But the covered vehicle sped from the trees and came to a stop at the main tent. Madja was hurrying to meet them and Nesta couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not.

It couldn’t be time. It was too soon.

Sure enough, supplies were soon being unloaded, but Nesta couldn’t convince her feet to move.

“That’s a supply truck.”

Nesta spun around to meet the broad chest of Cassian, who was looking over her at the truck that had pulled up and was being unloaded.

“It is,” Nesta said, although the words hardly came out.

Cassian nodded, slowly, and met her eyes. “I guess that means it’s time, then.”

“I guess it does,” Nesta said, and raised her chin, hoping he didn’t sense anything amiss.

Cassian didn’t move, though. Nesta didn’t either, she simply kept staring at him, watching him, waiting.

“Would you think less of me,” Cassian began, quietly, “if I told you that I didn’t really want to go?”

“It’s not going to be an easy thing,” she replied. “Going back to the war, back to the violence—.”

He shook his head. “I don’t mean that. That’s a part of my life at this point. Falling back into the fray will be as easy as breathing.” His fingers skimmed hers. “I don’t want to go because I don’t want to leave you.”

She blinked rapidly, willing the tears away, and glanced over her shoulder at the supply truck.

“I’ll write to you as soon as I get back to my men,” he promised. “I’ll send a letter out every time a supply truck comes and goes, that way you can know where to find me.”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to her, that his battalion would be moving constantly, following the battles.

“The men are going to have dinner here before they leave,” he went on. “I need to make sure I’ve got everything. And get your book back to you.”

“Keep it,” she breathed. “I… I have plenty of books, and you’ll need something to keep you occupied.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I know it’s one of your favorites-.”

“I want you to have it,” she promised. “It’s yours.”

Cassian nodded, unwilling to protest further. “Okay. Thank you.”

“I’ll help you pack,” Nesta said, turning on her heels without another word.

Cassian felt empty as he turned and followed her inside of the tent.

There was nothing left to pack. At this point, it was just a formality. Everything Cassian had was already in his pack, Nesta’s book included.

All that remained was that folded up chess board under Cassian’s cot.

“I’m not all that hungry,” Cassian said, and Nesta bent down to pick it up. “One more game while the suppliers eat?”

Nesta wasn’t sure if eating was a good choice anyway, with how her stomach was in knots, so she sat down on one end of his cot. He sat at the other. Rather than using the stool as they usually had, Nesta just unfolded the board directly atop the blankets and set to laying out the pieces.

As always, she set the white pieces up on Cassian’s side and the black pieces on her own. Cassian said nothing, he just watched her, quietly, and when he was done, he said, “I think I may need a refresher on the rules. Think you can help me out?”

He knew it was an outright lie. He’d beaten her that morning, but she knew he was asking her to distract him, just as much as it would distract herself.

The small smile she gave him was sad, but she hoped he didn’t notice the slight wavering of her voice or her hands as he explained the rules, one last time.

He listened and when she was done and placed her hand on one side of the board, he tentatively reached out and took it in his own. He didn’t let it go as he made his first move. He didn’t let it go as she took piece after piece and dominated him at the game.

She didn’t think he was letting her win, he was just as distracted as she was.

Just as Nesta was about to check his king, the supply truck started running again.

Their eyes met across the board.

“I guess it’s time for me to go,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across the back of her hand, over her knuckles.

She nodded, swallowing harshly, blinking furiously as her tears tried to spill over.

He began to put the pieces of the game back into the box, but she shook her head. “I can take care of that in a bit,” she whispered. “We should… You need to get out there.”

Cassian’s eyes moved from board to the open tent flap and finally to her. He nodded once. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated, and for a moment, neither of them moved, but then they were standing up. Cassian tossed his sack over his shoulder and walked with Nesta out of the tent.

They were obviously waiting on him, and Cassian knew he had to hurry, but leaving… It was not something he had properly prepared himself for.

“Look,” Cassian said, facing Nesta. She slowly turned to face him. “I want to thank you. You’ve made the last weeks…bearable.” He laughed when Nesta rolled her eyes. “More than bearable. Oddly enough, I enjoyed my time here.”

“I’m glad I could help, sir,” Nesta said, quietly.

“I promise, I’ll write to you as soon as I know where I’ll be. I just don’t know when that will be.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know where we’re going from here.”

The words settled into her and she realized he meant between them and his own personal situation.

She nodded. “I understand. I’ll look for your letter.”

“And you’ll write back to me?” He asked, those hazel eyes full of hope in the sunset around them.

“Of course,” she breathed. His thumb rubbed across her knuckles again, and she realized they were still holding hands. That neither of them had broken the connection. Her fingers tightened in his. “I… I’ll miss you, Major.”

His smile was sad. “I thought I asked you not to call me that.”

The tears she’d been fighting finally won as she breathed, “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“I’ll see you again, Nesta,” he promised.

She knew as well as he did that that was a promise he might not keep, no matter how hard he tried.

She sighed and started, “You can’t—.”

His lips were on hers before she could react, and as soon as she started to melt into the kiss, he pulled away, reaching down for his bag.

With one last smile, he pulled his hand from hers and began walking toward the supply truck.

Nesta watched him go.

He walked away, and didn’t look back at her as he went.

With her heart beating fast, a lump forming in her throat, and her vision growing blurred, Nesta watched him go.

It wasn’t until he was inside of the truck and driving away that Nesta realized how much she wanted to beg him to stay.

She hadn’t told him goodbye.

But, with him, goodbye hadn’t been a strong enough word for the distance they were about to endure.

I’ll see you again, Nesta.

She hoped his words were true, and that she would one day be graced with his presence again. But, for now, she had meant what she had said, too.

She would wait for his letters.

And she would write him back.

#snacmc ibsy #nessian ibsy #i’ll be seeing you #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

142 notes · View notes

snelbz · 3 years

Text

I'll Be Seeing You {6}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc.

Trigger Warnings: war

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 1696

IBSY Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta had no idea what had happened.

She was shaken awake in the middle of the night by one of the night nurses, quickly hurrying her out of the tent she shared with a few other nurses in hushed tones. She pulled her robe around her tighter, the nightgown she wore was perfectly fine with the warm fire crackling in the hearth, but in the crisp autumn air, it left her shivering.

As did the reason she’d been awakened in the middle of the night. One of her patients she’d been solely residing over had taken an unexpected turn at some point in the evening. Infection. Fever.

She felt shaky and hollow as she pushed through the tent flaps. She knew it made her a horrible person, but she couldn’t help but pray it was anyone except—

There were two nurses hovering beside Cassian’s cot and she thought she was going to be physically sick.

“What’s happened?” Nesta asked as she approached. It had been meant to have been firm, direct, but it came out shaky.

“He was sleeping peacefully, but then he started to stir and groan,” Claire explained. “When I came over he was drenched in sweat. I checked the gunshot wounds on his back and the burns. There were no bandages. I’m not sure how he had gotten them off—.”

A ringing in Nesta’s ears drowned out the rest of Claire’s words, but it didn’t matter what the nurse said, Nesta knew the cause of Cassian’s downfall.

It had been her.

She had been cleaning his wounds when the soldier had been rushed in earlier that morning, had left Cassian to help. When the soldier had died, Madja had ordered Nesta to go clean up and she had left the tent…

It had all happened so fast.

She had lost a life, and it distracted her from her thoughts, her further duties.

She had never gone back to finish cleaning and bandaging his wounds.

And, of course, Cassian had said nothing.

“I didn’t know what to—.”

Nesta cut Claire off, shaking her head to try and clear her thoughts. She knew she was to blame, but wouldn’t alert Claire to that knowledge. “He needs a dose of penicillin, maybe two, depending on how far the infection has spread.”

Claire nodded, the other two nurses having moved on to check on other patients, most of whom slept peacefully. When she kept standing there, nodding, Nesta snapped, “Now, please.”

She blinked and was off, hurrying to the medical cabinet in the center of the tent.

Leaning down over his bed, Nesta placed a hand on either side of his face. “Cassian?”

His skin was hot, clammy and he was covered in sweat. She swore quietly. He felt like he’d been lying in front of a furnace for a few hours.

His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t rise to consciousness.

Claire returned, a syringe in one hand and a glass bottle in the other. Nesta took it, surprised by how steady her hands were. She felt as if they should be as shaky as her breathing had become, but she quickly and efficiently administered the dose, holding a small piece of gauze over his arm where she’d stuck him.

“Should I… Would you like to go back to bed?” Claire asked. “I can watch him while I make my rounds.”

Nesta shook her head as she sat down in the chair next to the cot. “No, I— I need to stay with him.”

Claire hesitated, but nodded and excused herself.

Nesta would wait with him, would keep him company, because it was all her fault.

She told herself that was the only reason, but as she reached up to brush his damp hair back, she knew she was only fooling herself.

But fool herself, she would.

This was war. He was a soldier. Aside from being completely inappropriate, considering she was his nurse, one should never get involved with a soldier.

It often only led to heartbreak.

His face was flushed, even though his lips were bloodless, and he looked so…frail. Even when he’d first been brought in, bloody and burned, he hadn’t looked so helpless. Nesta couldn’t look away from him.

She knew no one else was around, knew the other nurses may have been nosy and curious, but they would give Nesta this privacy. And because of that she reached out and took his hand, gently holding it in hers.

Was it really just earlier in the day that he’d held her hand after coming to check on her after that poor soldier had passed? The thought, that he considered her feelings more important than his own healing, had her fingers tightening around his.

I could see myself loving a woman like you.

She tried not to think about the thrill his words sent through her, then or now. It was highly inappropriate, especially considering they barely knew each other. But there was just…something about him. She reached out with her free hand and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. Still clammy. Still burning up.

Again, his eyelids shifted, but they didn’t open. The penicillin would keep him down for a while.

She wouldn’t be sleeping, though. Not any time soon.

With a defeated sigh, Nesta took the book off of the small table by Cassian’s cot. He had read a little more that afternoon, it had seemed. He was nearing chapter six, and Nesta couldn’t wait to see his reaction to the coming chapters.

Especially in regards to his beloved Daisy.

She opened to the page he was on and took out the leather strap that marked it. It was old and worn, and she found herself wondering how long he’d had it, how long it had held his hair back. She wondered how long he’d had long hair. She assumed always. It was hard to imagine him with short hair.

It just wouldn’t look right.

He stirred on the cot before her, and Nesta’s eyes jerked up to him, but he still didn’t wake. She watched him for another moment, making sure he was sleeping peacefully, then looked back down at the scrap of leather in her hand.

It occurred to her how little she knew about him then. She knew about his mother and lack of a father, but he’d mentioned brothers. Were they blood or was it more in a camaraderie sort of way? And who were they? Did he love them the way she loved her own sisters?

Perhaps she had been selfish thus far, in asking so little about him. Usually the man never shut up, was always making sarcastic remarks with his raunchy humor, and now as he lay unconscious, she wanted him to speak.

She wanted to ask him questions.

He mentioned Velaris, but Nesta had only been there once as a child and didn’t remember much from it. She wanted to ask him about it, ask him what it was like growing up in the famous City of Starlight.

She wanted to ask about those brothers of his, if he had any other siblings, and how his mother, who had never married, survived it, living in the world that they did.

She wanted to ask if he’d ever had any pets, what his favorite subject was in school, if he’d ever broken a bone or climbed a tree for fun or been in an airplane.

She wanted to know where this scrap of leather came from that she had been fiddling in between her fingers for far too long.

Eventually, she rested her head against her own arm, still holding onto his fingers in one hand and clutching that strap of leather in the other. It didn’t take long before she was asleep herself.

A few hours later, a firm hand on her shoulder had her jolting awake. She sat up quickly, finding Madja standing behind her.

Standing, she cleared her throat, releasing Cassian’s hand, still holding onto that piece of leather. “Madja, I—.”

A gentle smile was on the old healer's face. “You should get changed, Nesta.”

Glancing down at her open robe and nightgown, Nesta blushed and nodded, before replacing the strap of leather in the book she’d leant to him.

The sun was up, but the chill in the air told her it hadn’t been for long. She hurried across the camp to the tent she shared with a few other nurses. Quickly changing, she tied a fresh apron around her waist and was surprised to find Madja standing outside the tent as she emerged, still braiding her hair back.

“Walk with me,” she said, and took off, not waiting to see if she followed.

Nesta couldn’t help but feel like she was a child about to be scolded.

“There is no rule stating you can’t have feelings for your patient, Nesta,” she said, glancing over at her.

Nesta blinked, not expecting her to be so blunt. She immediately went on the defensive. “I don’t have—.”

Madja gave her a look that told her the woman knew she was full of shit. She went on. “This isn’t a formal job. There is no rule book saying you can’t fraternize with others. He’s very handsome, and it’s clear he’s taken quite a shine to you. But remember where we are, what we’re doing. Why we’re here.”

Nesta nodded, hesitantly.

She knew.

The soldiers came in, they healed, and they left, went back to war.

And that’s exactly what Cassian would do, Nesta was fully aware of that fact. There was no romance, there was no happily ever after, not when it came to war.

“I just want you to be careful,” Madja continued, her voice gentle. “I have seen young women, time and time again, fall for men who did not come home. It is okay to feel for another, my dear, but you must remember the risks.”

The risks. It was a long list.

“I was not planning on anything happening between myself and the Major,” Nesta said, at last.

Madja’s smile was soft. “That’s always when it happens, Nesta. When no plans are made.”

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