Complete Again (TomTord Mpreg)

Three

He was on fire.

Tord's back arched, and he bit down harder on the cloth in his mouth, the pain returning full force as the bone saw dragged through his arm. Patryck was at his left, holding his leader's hand in an attempt to lessen the pain. The field doctor was at his right, lobbing off the forsaken limb.

And god, did it hurt.

Tord's face was flushed and sweaty, his lips almost as pale as his skin. He was shaking, gasping through the rag between his teeth as the field doctor worked to remove his arm.

The base didn't have all of the medical supplies necessary for a thorough procedure, the list including general anesthetic. Tord would have to be awake through the brutal removal of his arm, whether he liked it or not.

He was told not to look at it, but he couldn't keep his eyes off of it.

They were lobbing it off at the shoulder, an inch or so below the joint. Blood was slowing from the wound at that point, likely because it was clotting. He had been told that they had plenty of donor blood in their bank, so everything would be fine. That didn't ease the fact that the green sanitary cloth underneath him had pools of red on it, having soaked up all that they could.

He watched the field doctor lift the dead limb, carefully cutting away at the portion of skin that still connected it to Tord's body.

Tord knew how amputation worked - she was salvaging a piece to sew over the clean separation on his shoulder.

Once the skin was cut, the limb fell to the table with a thump, no longer a part of Tord.

He looked away as she took out a needle and surgical thread. He knew it was silly - he had just watched the gory removal of his arm, yet he was scared of a lowly needle. No matter how strong he was physically, he still had his own mental quirks that made him feel weak.

The repeated pricking of the needle was all he could feel, his body involuntarily tensing every time he felt the needle enter. He had expected her to sew his lip back together, but she decided against it - it would have been impossible for him to speak with his lip drawn so tightly over his teeth. It would only split open again. She simply attached gauze to either side of the split, stuffing cotton behind it. If it stayed that way too long, however, she warned his gums would recede, the teeth going with them. That would take time, however, time that they thankfully still had.

"You're going to have to stay in the med bay until your replacement is repaired, but I think you're going to heal just fine." The medic mumbled, attempting to ease Tord's mind as she finished the last few stitches.

He nodded shakily, closing his functional eye. His only eye.

She had already cut out the split eye, covering the hole with a gauze pad and medical tape. She also had removed the metal scrap from his side. It entered at his waistline, only going an inch or so into his flesh. It was a miracle that nothing was torn or broken internally.

"Thank you, Celia." Patryck sighed, giving Tord's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'll be sure that Paul gets working on the replacement immediately, sir."

Tord opened his mouth a bit, and Patryck carefully took the cloth from it, setting it nearby.

Tord swallowed roughly, hoping his voice wouldn't come out too hoarse.

"Thank you, Pat. Can you le-!" He flinched at the sound of Celia cutting the remaining thread, immediately continuing. "Can you let Paul know I'm okay? I know he won't visit me for a bit - he hates the sight of blood."

Patryck nodded. "Yes, Red Leader. I'll make sure he knows."

Tord smiled a bit, the most he could manage without pain. "At ease, soldier."