III

DAY 20

Hadassa looked around a bit expectantly.

For the last two weeks or so, every day, Sergeant Barnes had shown up to help her around, and as much as she tried to distance herself from that young and bright Alpha, he was starting to grow a place in her heart.

"Wounded soldiers," someone announced immediately sending her into action.

Somewhere deep inside, she found herself begging for it not to be Barnes as she ran, catching up with the nurses.

"Numbers?" she put her coat on.

"Four, ma'am," nurse Dot rushed her pace to follow her steps. "A grenade exploded and they couldn't clear the area fast enough."

"Get their files, I need one of you for each of them," Hadassa listed. "Who needs immediate care?"

Dot ran to do what she had told her, giving place to Christine.

"One of them lost part of his leg, and the other has a nasty wound on his torso."

Hadassa almost groaned. The leg would probably need to be amputated if the loss was too big and they probably needed to control his blood loss, but the torso wound sounded fatal. The girls rarely used the word 'nasty' for anything that wasy to treat.

"Above the knee?"

"No, ma'am."

She nodded, taking Dot's files when she caught up with her again.

"Change of plans, I need two nurses with me and two for the other two men. I want a tourniquet on the leg man while I check on the torso injury."

They all complied and when their group reached the man with an injured torso, he turned out to be one of the soldiers she barely knew, not Barnes, which calmed Hadassa down a tad bit.

A nurse had already cut what was left of his shirt open and cleaned his chest and stomach, and Hadassa examined him as fast and as carefully as she possible could. He was bleeding lightly, and some pieces of the grenade were still inside. If they were removed, the result would be even worse than what they had now – Hadassa had been briefly trained as a surgeon, but didn't trust her abilities outside of a hospital -, and the only option they had now was to call an ambulance and send him to the closest town.

The second man – the soldier with the wounded leg – needed an amputation and what was left of his leg would need to be treated to prevent an infection, which meant he'd need to be transported just as well.

The two other soldiers, luckily, only needed stitches, and the worst of them had a licence to rest and start healing properly for a few days.

She stitched them carefully when she was done with the worst cases, trying not to be too quick under the nurses' eyes. Hadassa's powers were the big reason she chose to do what she did know; Hadassa had lived long enough to learn more than anyone in her field, was agile and strong, and could endure much more than a common and ordinary human.

As much as her appearance transpired, she wasn't a young woman; her own parents apparently knew she was different the moment she was born, and her family always worked towards protecting her through time. Hadassa had recently turned 125 years-old but had stopped ageing between her late teens to early 20s, never finding a wrinkle on her face or a grey hair on her head.

She accumulated money through inheriting money from family members and working a midwife in diverse countries until she could finally join medical school. It wasn't easy; she was the only woman in her class and the men didn't quite like her presence. Still, she didn't leave and graduated as one of the best in the class. Hadassa was the best if honesty was to be taken into consideration, but she knew they wouldn't give her that place because of her gender.

"I want you back by tomorrow," she warned Grace as the nurse boarded the ambulance with the man who needed an amputation. Mary Anne had already left with the other man, and they really couldn't afford losing nurses for too long.

When Hadassa entered the medical tent once again, the doctor who'd replace her was already taking his place.

"Doctor Klaczko," he smiled politely.

"Doctor River," she felt her body tensing up. "My shift isn't over yet."

He offered her a condescending smile Hadassa knew all too well about.

"I'm sure you want a break."

"There's no need," she kept a serious, but pushing tone. "You can come in an hour, I have reports to fill."

He pressed his lips together but didn't protest. River was a beta and a man with a hero complex, always wanting to be the best doctor in the field, but she never gave him the closest bit of a break.

"Of course. I'll see you soon, ma'am?"

"Goodbye."

Hadassa sat down as he left, reaching for her branded paper, and only raised her head when she heard someone coming in not even 30 minutes later. She was ready to send them away when she noticed who it was.

"Sergeant Barnes," she stood up. "Good evening."

"Good evening, doctor Klaczko," he said politely.

When her eyes rested on his face, she quickly noticed the open cuts on his left side and the tiredness on his expression.

"You're hurt," she quickly pointed. "Sit down."

Barnes didn't protest, walking to the closest chair and taking his cap, showing how his hair was a bit wet.

"What happened?"

"Grenade," he muttered as the Omega doctor walked close to him to clean the cut over his cheekbone. "I'm okay, but two of my men..."

"They were sent to the hospital," she finished his sentence. "I know."

Barnes flinched when Hadassa touched his open wound with the cotton soaked with antiseptic, but didn't say anything.

She was holding her breath, trying not to be entranced by his smell. It was so strange that no Alpha had any effect on her except for him.

"Do I need stitches?" he questioned in an almost whispered, and the sound sent a shiver over her spine.

Instinctively, Hadassa walked away from him, trying to calm down her breath.

"Butterflies are enough," she reached for the bandaged in the drawer. "Don't worry, they won't hurt."

Barnes closed his eyes as soon as she was close to his face, taking a long breath while she held her own.

"I'm James," he whispered. "You can call me Bucky if you want me to."

Hadassa didn't answer, concentrating on the small wound. When it was done, she distanced herself and finally breathed.

"Why Bucky?" she discarded the used items.

"My second name is Buchanan," he explained. "So... Bucky."

"It's a nice nickname."

He nodded silently, looking like he was expecting something from her, probably her own name.

"Tell me if you feel anything different or if there's any inflammation in the next days," Hadassa instructed. "Do you have any other injuries?"

He shook his head.

"Not that I know about."

She hummed something in confirmation and went to behind her desk, pulling her chair.

"Is that all?"

"Yes," he stood up.

Hadassa sat down.

"Good evening, sergeant."

"You too, ma'am."