30 July, Une maison renfoncée

Charcot blinked unconsciously as the hands came near to his face, and then he flinched slightly at the touch, but he held himself still.

It did not feel as though there were any knots or bruises on the lad's head. Todd made a thorough examination but there were no signs of obvious trauma. Certainly nothing that would have caused such complete blindness.

"Was the blindness the only thing you noticed upon waking?" He asked, rocking back onto his haunches.

"I couldn't hear anything either. For a while. And I couldn't really remember the battle much, and I didn't know what was going on." Although the memories were disturbing, there was a strange sort of calm that came with explaining them to this surgeon. Charcot could almost detach himself from the emotions connected to the events.

Temporary deafness that had resolved itself. The loss of memory was not as surprising, since Todd had seen that before.

"How long did it take for your hearing to return?"

"I don't know." Time had seemed nonexistent. He had thought it was night at first, and he had been wrong about that. How long had he and Paol wandered before they were caught? "An hour maybe? Paol might know - Soldat Kerjean."

Unfortunately, asking Paol was out of the question. Todd shrugged. It was not really important.

"You have no wounds or injuries that might have caused your blindness," he said. "I confess I cannot think what has brought it on."

The inability to make a diagnosis frustrated him and made him sad in the same instant. Truth be told, he felt only pity for this poor lad.

Charcot opened his mouth, but he was too surprised to think of anything to say for a moment. What was wrong with this stupid English surgeon? Monsieur Montreuil always knew things! "What? But - well what can you do to fix it?"

"Very little, I'm afraid. There is no physical injury to repair. I can only suggest that time and rest may help. Your sight may return, as your hearing did, in due course."

It was the best Todd could do, however much it frustrated him to have no sound answer or solution.

Tears began to well up in his eyes once again, never having quite fully retreated. He frowned against letting them spill over. "Just gimme some kind of medicine for it! You must have something."

The sight of brimming tears gave Todd momentary pause, but it was too small a piece for him to add to the puzzle.

"I can give you some laudanum so you may get some sleep, if you like," he said.

"Sleep? No, I want medicine for my eyes!"

"And he said that rest could help," Duval cut in firmly. "You should take the laudanum and you should sleep."

Todd cast a grateful look at the sergeant. "Yes. I cannot give any better advice than that, I'm afraid." As he spoke, he removed the vial of laudanum and its small dosing glass from his bag. "Would you accept a dose, m'sieur?"

"Yes," Charcot agreed reluctantly. "But, can you ask other surgeons or look in a book or something about my eyes?" That's what his father did when he had a puzzling clockwork problem, and he was sure he had seen Montreuil tell other surgeons what to do. Maybe there was a British Montreuil somewhere who knew more than this Jacques fellow.

"Of course." He could indeed make enquiries amongst his colleagues, though he doubted any of them would actually come see this fellow themselves. There was too much else to do, unfortunately. Shrugging, Todd measured out six drops of laudanum and set the vial aside. He had nearly held the small glass out for Dominic to take before remembering the lad could not see.

"The glass is here," Todd said, reaching for Dominic's left hand. "I'll put it into your hand for you."

Charcot felt the glass in his hand and drank its contents with a grimace before holding it out for the surgeon to take again. The bitter taste was reassuring somehow. Medicine that tasted so terrible must have good healing qualities, and he knew that laudanum was given for all sorts of ailments. Maybe it would restore his vision in spite of the surgeon's ignorance on the matter.

Todd nodded as he took the glass back, saying, "Good lad." If there was any luck in the world, the poor fellow's ailment would resolve itself in due time.

Duval pushed to his feet, grimacing slightly, and reached down to take the boy's arm. "Alright, son, up you get. Let's find your mate." With a nod to the surgeon, he added, "Thank you, m'sieur."

"Thank you," Charcot echoed, standing to follow the sergeant. Then a worrying thought occurred to him. "What if the Spanish come back for us? Will I wake up?" He could imagine everyone fleeing the barn while he slept on, forgotten and unnoticed until someone came to kill him. His only chance would be if one of his friends woke him, but - "Did you give Paol and Roux laudanum too?" He gripped the sergeant's arm. What if the surgeon was dosing everyone to make them easier victims for the Spanish? "Did you take laudanum, Sergent Duval?"

Todd inclined his head. "You're welcome, Sergeant." Then, to Dominic, he added, "There is a double guard on the barn now, I believe, so the Spanish will not be back. I trust your mates would look after you regardless, however. And yes, I did give Alain and Paol, and Michel also, some laudanum. They were in some pain and needed relief and sleep both."

"Oh." The double guard sounded reassuring, and his fear ebbed away. Was the drug taking effect already? He could not tell, but a night of sleep, of real, restful sleep, took on sudden appeal. His grip on the sergeant's arm relaxed, and he followed his guidance placidly.

"Here," said Duval, halting beside the soldier with the bandaged arm, "There's a wall. Put your hand out -- There."

Charcot felt the wall. He stopped and felt another person lying next to it. "Is that Paol?" Yes, the drug was definitely taking effect by now. "Hello Paol. Is he asleep? I love Paol. He's my brother now. Père Duval, tell my family when you go home that I'm bringing Paol with me. He can marry Lise if she hasn't married butcher François."

A low chuckle escaped Duval "Sure, I'll tell 'em. Now go to sleep. Don't be--" But it was too late for that; the other soldier was already stirring.

"Charcot?" he mumbled, still more than half asleep.

"Aww, you're awake. Fais dodo, Paol." He smiled sleepily and curled up next to him in the dirt and old straw. "Good night, Père. Tell my family I love them and I'll be home soon."