Rethinking The English (fanfic)

No Need for a Doctor

Right, so in the tv show Cornelia collapses and White Moon breaks his leg. Eli manages to get them both to a travelling doctor. In my rewrite this is a great opportunity for an intimate moment between our two not so star crossed after all lovers. Either imagine White Moon is with the doctor, or that they didn't go to a doctor at all.

"I'm so sorry..."

Cornelia collapses to the ground and Eli's heart jumps with tight and sudden fear. Heart already racing from the confrontation with the riders, he urges his horse forwards then jumps from it to kneel by the woman's side.  Gently he presses the outside of his fingers to her cheek, it is warm, still, a cursory look over her, her leg confirms his fears, it's burnt and bleeding.

Moving quickly he picks up the money and stuffs it in the saddle bags and puts them back on her horse. Adding White Moon to it, his body over the back of the saddle as comfortably as possible. Wrapping Cornelia in his red blanket he lifts her up onto his horse before easing himself in front of her. She sags against his back and he can feel the warmth radiating out of her, seeping into his skin.

They ride for most of the night, putting as many miles between them and the cable camp as possible. By the time the moon is high and the sky is scattered with blinking stars he pulls up, beginning the difficult process of getting them settled for the night. 

After laying both unconscious bodies down he builds a small fire quickly, he's used to working fast and efficiently, but this time the need to do so is more important than ever. He wants to focus on Cornelia but the boy needs seeing to as well and his injury looks much more straightforward. He sets and binds his broken leg and covers him with a blanket, the boy lost in dreams that should last till morning, buffering him from the worst of the pain.

"Is he going to be alright?"

Cornelia's soft breathy voice alerts him to her wakefulness and he gets up and goes over to her. It's just like her to be in pain herself but care more about someone else.

"Bad break, he'll live"

He watches her as she eases herself up into a seated position, she looks pale as usual, the fever from her cheeks subsided which fills him with relief. Out here an infection could and would prove fatal, especially for someone so unused to living this kind of life. She had exhausted herself and injured herself saving him, he could barely believe someone, especially a white woman would do such a thing, for him.

"Need to take a look"

Eli kneels down at her feet glancing meaningfully at her leg. He knows it's not what she wants, the English having strange notions when it comes to their own bodies and who sees what.

"Oh!"

She seems about to argue and then winces, realising that it needs to be done. For a long moment she seems to consider how best to let this happen, and then looking down fiddles with the waistband of her breeches under her skirt and pushes them down.

Eli looks away discreetly so as not to cause her even more embarrassment as she discards another layer of white cotton undergarments, the like of which he has never seen before.

"Alright...I'm ready"

She clears her throat, voice small and uncertain. It tugs at his chest and he grunts and nods and looks up at her again.

"Gonna sting"

She nods back steeling herself and he douses a square of clean cloth with water from his flask and edges closer in.

"Need to see"

He gestures to her skirts, long and red, the colour forever ingrained in his mind when he thinks about her, which is often. She bites her pink lips and flicks back a fold, raising it higher until he can see the white of her thigh and then the angry red of the burn she has been riding with since she killed Black Mog...for him.