By the time he had blinked away the tears -- involuntary tears, of course, because Switzerland hadn't even given him time to catch his breath, let alone brace himself for any kind of shock -- the room had finally stopped spinning around him and his arm and shoulder no longer felt like they were going up in flames. He tried to wiggle his jaw and tongue to force the bandage out of his mouth, nearly gagging on the dry, linty material, but before he could manage to make any headway on his attempt Switzerland reached up and plucked it free.

'Jesus fuck that hurt!' America spat the moment his mouth was clear. He glared at Switzerland, who was unrolling the slightly damp bandage without so much as a glance at his infuriated patient. 'What the hell was that for?!'

'Had you kept your mouth shut, as I ordered,' Switzerland said, placing one end of the bandage against the side of America's chest, 'I would not have had to gag you.' Judging by his flat, unemotional tone, he had said the same words so often that by this point the response was automatic. 'Did you expect it not to hurt?'

'No.' The word came out more sulky than he wanted it to sound, so he tried again. 'But you could've given me something first, maybe.' He winced as he felt the bandage touch his torso; his skin, already hypersensitive from the pain, prickled with unpleasant goosebumps at this new sensation. 'To make it easier, I mean.'

'We are low enough on nitrous oxide as it stands here, not to mention the morphia.' Switzerland's hands kept moving without a pause, wrapping the bandage around and around America's upper arm and chest to hold the injured limb in place. 'And I have no intention of wasting it on a dislocated shoulder when that boy in the bed opposite will need it shortly when I take off what's left of his legs.'

America opened his mouth, then shut it again. He looked over Switzerland's shoulder, trying to see the bed across from his, but his view was mostly blocked by the two nurses who were standing on either side of it. One of the nurses was holding up a glass bottle filled with reddish-brown liquid, while the other was bent over the bed's occupant, doing something that America couldn't quite make out. Whatever she was doing must have been painful, because all of a sudden the bedframe shook and the bent-over nurse leapt back just in time to avoid being hit by a flailing arm. In that moment, America caught the briefest glimpse of a white, strained face and heard a cracked voice rising in distress --

' -- tut weh -- Bein -- '

-- before another nurse came running, and then there were three people crowding around the bed and blocking his view entirely.

'Breathe out,' said a quiet voice in his ear.

America obeyed, and the tightness in his chest went away. He had no idea how long he had been holding his breath.