Courage
Courage
"you're not afraid of me."
it wasn't a question, but he answered anyway, mouth set in a steady line of concentration because he wasn't sure whether or not he was meant to smile. "no suh, lieutenant, i daresay i am not." the quick wide eyes jumped to make contact, then back down to the task at hand, the row of small neat stitches appearing like ants marching forward.
"most men are."
"yes suh, i imagine you're right." roe paused in his work to wipe a bit of dirt from the wound with his sleeve, but the man he was mending never flinched. "most men, they see a man they can't unduhstand and they wonduh what makes him up, what's inside uh him."
"but not you."
doc roe smiled a little, a nervous but gentle tug at the corner of a generous mouth that was usually pulled tight with the weight of his responsibility. "no, suh. i figure i seen the insides of just about every man in this company one time or 'nothuh. don't mattuh who the man is--cap'n wintuhs, or a german officuh, or old eff-dee-ah himself--yuh made up of the same things as them, just blood and bone is all. maybe a little more guts."
roe smiled and tugged the knot tight, clipped the rough black surgical thread with the scissors he'd scavanged from toye. "there you ah, suh, all fixed up and ready to go off and do some more foolishness."
speirs twisted his arm and inspected the newly closed two-inch shrapnel wound crawling along his forearm. "i suppose courage doesn't mean much to a man with your job, does it?" he asked.
roe shrugged and tucked the scissors and thread back into his hip pouch. "i like courage just fine, lieutenant suh," he said, standing, feeling the tingling numbness rush through his frozen legs. "i just hate stitchin' up all the bodies it leaves behind."