A QUIET NIGHT

RATING: G

Your roving weather reporter has decided to try her hand at QOS fic! Shall we begin?

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Doctor Robert Helm, late of her Majesty's Service and currently medical doctor and occasional vet to the residents of Santa Helena, sat back in his favourite chair. It had been a rather slow day, all things considered. There was a few minor scratches and bruises from a fight between two soldiers, and the cook at the cantina burned her fingers on a hot pan, but no broken bones, no bashed heads.. which meant that the Queen hadn't made an appearance. Helm wondered why and then caught himself. Ok, Robert, do not go thinking like that. You are just wishing work on yourself. But he knew it wasn't the work he was wishing about. It was seeing her again, the black swirl of hair, the lithe movements, the razor sharp tongue. Helm smiled as he remembered their many verbal spars. Then he shook his head. He needed to clear her out of his thoughts. He stood up and stretched, reaching his hands out to his sides, as if to push the memory of her away... her eyes, her lips, her kiss.

"Stop that!"

He realized he'd actually spoken aloud. Ok, boy, you are now talking to yourself! He was determined to have a nice, peaceful evening for a change, with no thoughts of Queen or country. He snorted at his mental pun and started rummaging through his far-too-few books. He picked one at random and opened it up.

"... She walks in beauty like the night.."

Right! Wrong book! Next!' Robert shoved the offending volume hastily amid his collection and pulled out a red leather bound book. Just before he opened it, he looked at title: 'Love Sonnets' by William Shakespeare.

I don't think so. This one went back. Where were all his medical books, books about conditions and diseases and .. more poetry??.. he didn't remember having this many books about poetry, why were his hands guiding themselves to these books? Wrong question, Robert. He finally found a large and technical thesis on conditions of the skin. Hmm.. illustrated? Good, a few chapters about leprosy will straighten me out.

He dragged the book back to his chair and settled in. Of course, a few minutes later, he was thirsty and wanted a drink. He walked over to his stove and put a kettle of water on. That would do the trick. A nice calming cup of tea and a book about hideous skin diseases. Just the thing for getting a chap's mind off of.. things they didn't want to think about. Helm flipped the pages until he found a particularly unappetising treatise on a tick that burrowed underneath the patient's skin. He was actually making faces at the page when he heard the noises. The shouting, the gun fire, and the one name he was trying to avoid tonight.

"It's the Queen! Get her! Shoot her!? Get the Colonel!!"

Helm sighed stubbornly. 'No, I will not go to the door. I will not get involved. Not tonight."

Against his instincts, he stayed sitting in his chair, ignoring the commotion that seemed to be on the other side of his door. After a few minutes, the shouts turned to, "We've missed her!" and "Her horse went this way!" and Helm's personal favourite, "You dolts!! Does she have to be standing in front of you for you to hit her!?" Helm grinned at Montoya's frustration. Maybe he was going to have a quiet night after all. He sat straight up in his chair as a large thump came from the next room.

He came in to the clinic just in time to see a black figure on the floor in front of the open window. The light was dim but it didn't take much light to see the identity of his patient, or the dark bloodstains on the windowsill. She rolled so her face was towards him.

"Sorry for dropping in on you, Doctor, quite literally I'm afraid.."

Or maybe he wasn't going to have a quiet night after all.

Helm stood there for a few seconds, his mind racing. He then went to her side. It didn't take a medical degree to see the blood on her and she was holding her left leg with both hands.

"You're hurt.. I need to get my medical bag."

Brilliant line, Robbie, you should write poetry yourself. Helm frowned down at the Queen.

"Uh..doctor, could you close that window first, if you don't mind."

"Window.. Right." Helm stood up and fastened the latch, then proceeded to bring his medical bag over to where she was.

"I don't think it's that serious actually, it's not bleeding much. I wasn't even looking for a doctor. You were just the first open window.. Doctor?!! What are you doing?"

Helm stopped in the process of unbuttoning her blouse, "You have blood all over your... front, you must be hurt elsewhere."

"Uh no, actually, my horse got winged slightly and the blood is from him. He spooked. That's why he took off without waiting for me.. It's.. just the leg actually."

Was she blushing as she rebuttoned her blouse? Helm knew he was, and was glad his face was in shadow.

"Right, I'm going to move you over to the bed where the light is better. It's not bleeding heavily." He dismissed her protest and lifted her up, moving her gently over to the examination area. "Are you sure you're not hurt anywhere else?"

"I think I bumped my head a little when I hit your floor", the Queen smiled and tried not to think about how very nice it felt to be carried around like that. She quickly dismissed the thought and focused on the dull pain in her leg.

"Alright, it doesn't look like it's bleeding much, it may be a flesh wound. We're still going to have to cut away the pants to take a look at that thigh.. leg." Why was he so embarrassed, he was a medical doctor for God's sake! She got shot in the thigh, he should call it a thigh.

"I tell you what, you go next door and boil water or do whatever you need to do and I'll take off the pants? Yes? After all, we all can't afford a vast wardrobe and black is so hard to come by in hot climates." She kept a deadpan face but her eyes were laughing. His mouth twisted as he tried not to smile. "Alright then. But the pants must come off", he walked through the doorway and without turning, tossed over his shoulder, "And the mask too."

"Not likely."

He turned around in mock surprise, "But I have to examine your head! The bump, remember, and the mask might be constricting the blood flow." His attempt to keep a deadpan face was getting harder and harder. He turned and continued to walk.

"That's a chance I"ll just have to take." Her voice floated from the other room, he could hear the smile in it.

He grinned in spite of himself as he walked towards the boiling kettle. So much for his plans. It was going to be an interesting night. Not quiet, but definitely interesting.

He took his time pouring the hot water into the pan. He wanted to make sure she was undressed and back under the sheet by the time he got in.

"Ready?" He called out, just in case.

"As I'll ever be, doctor."

What was it about her voice that reminded him of someone else? He shook his head and carefully brought the pan of hot water into his office.

She looked at him through lowered lashes as he put it carefully on the table near her. My, it must be a heavy pan, it's making the muscles on his forearms stand out.. Maria Teresa, do not think like that, just get patched up and get home before Marta goes out looking.

He raised the section of the sheet covering her injury, and raised his eyebrows, sardonically. "Ouch."

"Is that your medical opinion, doctor?"

His mouth twisted into a smile. "One moment please." He carefully probed around the wound, checking to make sure the bone wasn't broken. She bit her lip to keep from making a sound.

"No.. my medical opinion is that you have a nasty looking but non-life threatening bullet wound, not involving the bone, or any major blood vessels. The bullet seems to have passed clear through..", his hand slid professionally under her leg. She drew in her breath sharply. It was more from the contact of his hand than the injury, but she didn't think he noticed. "Does that hurt?"

"A little, yes."

"I'll have to clean it up and bandage it. Do ..uh..Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you have anyone to clean the wound for you and replace the bandages." He said all in a rush, turning away and beginning to unroll a large white roll. Why am I stammering? Get a hold of yourself, Robert.

She opened her mouth and then closed it. What was she going to say? Oh yes, Doctor, Marta will look after me just fine.

"Uh.. I..can make arrangements."

Whatever possessed him to ask her that? Was he trying to find out if she was alone? Was he trying to get hints as to who she was? Maybe he was just concerned about her wound. Get a hold of yourself, Tessa!

"Good..um..yes..good." He bent to his task, cleaning the wound out professionally and carefully, and then putting in a few stitches. She took the time to study the top of his head. Her fingers itched to touch his hair. She even found herself sliding off her black glove off her left hand. The movement caught his eye.

"Uh...gloves.. they get really..hot", she finished weakly. Great, make a complete and total fool of yourself, woman.

"You know," he leaned closer and looked at her hand, "I've always wondered.."

"..uh..wondered?"

"How you could hold the sword wearing those gloves, anyway." He tried to keep a straight face but his eyes were dancing.

"Practice, doctor", she said, pushing his head back down towards her leg, "Keep stitching."

My.. his hair really is very soft, isn't it?, she thought impishly, keeping her face neutral. This could be a very long night.

She waited as he finished the stitching and then, without looking, she noted wryly, he wound the bandage deftly around the thigh, just above the knee.

"Well.. we're finished." He bent his head down to make sure the bandage was secure, and when he raised it, he found himself almost nose to nose with the Queen, who had sat up and leaned over while he was working.

"That's nice.. was I good?"

He was not going to let her get the better of him this time. He kept his face carefully controlled, "Excuse me? Good?"

"Well, I've heard that you give the children candy if they're good when you attend to them? Wasn't I good?" The little pout reminded him again of someone, but his brain didn't seem to be functioning at full capacity right now... and besides...

"Wait a minute! I just got the candy in yesterday, I haven't given out more than three pieces. How did you hear about it so fast?"

"I listen very carefully."

"Hmmm... ", he continued to gaze into her dark eyes, determined to keep up the game, "Do you listen from nearby or do you listen from far away."

She tried not to smile but failed. "That..would be telling, Doctor. If I'm not going to get any candy.. ", she impishly leaned over until her lips were almost touching his ear. His eyes widened by he didn't move away. "Can I go home now?"

His nose scrunched up as he let out a deep chuckle. "You are officially discharged.. your Highness." He added the last bit with a flourish as he stood up and bowed gallantly.

"Why thank you, good doctor." She offered him her hand, the gloveless one, and he bent over it and grinned at her. Mmmm, his hands are very soft too, she thought.

"I will be in the next room..uh..disposing of the evidence." He indicated the water, now pinkish, and the bloody cloths.

"And I will be getting dressed."

Helm worked quickly, he wanted to get back in the room before she did one of her famous disappearing acts. He'd just finished and picked up a small pink tin when he heard voices outside.

"I am surrounded by morons. How they expect me to function, given the average level of intelligence of my soldiers, is one of the greatest mysteries of all time!"

His heart dropped. The voice was Montoya's. He walked over to the window that faced the soldiers milling around.

"Let me see if I can understand this." Montoya's voice dripped with sarcasm. "You are standing there, and telling me.. that you have spent the last half hour following a riderless horse!?" The last word was almost a shout.

"Si, Mon Colonel. Capitan Grisham said.."

"Take a look at this face, Gonsalez.... does it look like it cares what the Captain has to say?"

"Yes, Colonel.. I mean No Colonel! What I meant to say was.."

Helm had heard enough. He turned away from the window and went back into his office, noting that at least she'd turned down the lamp, throwing the room into darkness. He stood in the inky blackness, trying to sense her presence.

What the hell, it's worth a try, he thought. He opened the tin he carried. "You didn't get a candy?!", he said hopefully.

The voice that spoke into his right ear made him jump, despite himself. "I decided that you were sweet enough, Doctor... but since you offered." He felt her hand brush his as she removed one of the sweets from the tin.

"I think our Colonel is a bit distracted right now, it might be a good time for me to leave."

He turned, but he couldn't tell in the darkness how close she was, "Mind your stitches."

"They are strong, they were put in by a very skilled physician. Goodbye, doctor." Helm felt a breeze and realized she'd opened the window by which she'd come in. "You have no horse! How will you..?" He realized he was alone in the room. He closed the tin and walked back into the other room just in time to hear Montoya's next comment.

"Alright, you incompetents, who left the stable door unlatched?! And where...!?? Where is my horse?!!?"

Helm collapsed into the chair he'd abandoned earlier that night and burst out laughing. He picked up the book he'd tossed aside earlier, and proceeded to do the same again. Perhaps he didn't need a quiet night after all!!

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So endeth my first QOS fiction. I should have entitled it "Wishful Thinking" cause that's the kind of scene I wanted to see happen but never did! Ah well, that's what fiction is for, isn't it!? :)

Mary, mfarrell@northatlantic.nf.ca

Keeper of Dr. Helm's various non-period Stethoscopes
Keeper of the Queen's Red Sash
Keeper of Marta's pom-pom corset