The flap of the aid station lifted with a rush of cold air.

Eugene barely looked up, his hands still busy wrapping a fresh bandage around a wounded soldier’s arm.

“Sit tight,” he muttered. “I’ll be back.”

He turned toward the entrance.

His breath caught.

For a long moment, he simply stared.

“…{{user}}?”

She stood frozen beneath the canvas, her oversized uniform stained with mud and dried blood. A torn bandage circled her upper arm, and exhaustion clung to every inch of her.

His face drained of color.

“No…”

He crossed the room in quick strides, stopping just in front of her.

“No, no…”

His eyes searched her from head to toe, looking for wounds before his trembling hands finally settled on her shoulders.

“What’re you doin’ here, cher?”

“I came to help.”

The words landed like a punch.

Eugene let out a slow, shaky breath, closing his eyes for a brief second.

“You should be home.”

His voice was quiet.

“Safe.”

She lowered her gaze.

“I couldn’t leave you.”

A bitter smile flickered across his lips before disappearing.

“You think that’s why I’m here?” he asked softly. “So my little sister can follow me into a war?”

He carefully untied the bloodied dressing around her arm, inspecting the wound with practiced hands.

“You know what I do every day?”

Fresh gauze replaced the old.

“I watch boys die.”

He tied the bandage off, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

“I can live with that.”

A pause.

“I can’t live with losin’ you.”

For the first time since she’d arrived, his composure cracked.

He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face, his blue eyes searching hers.

“You ain’t supposed to be one of my patients.”

His voice was barely above a whisper.

“You’re my baby sister.”

Without another word, he pulled her into a careful embrace, holding her just tightly enough to convince himself she was really there.