Re: Aftermath.
They were allowed out of the prison sometime in the middle of the night. Duke found himself holding one sleeping child in each arm as he carried them to their respective destinations. And then it was up, towards medical, to put a staying hand on the volunteers who had been there for hours, faces pale with exhaustion and grief. Silently, he put himself at their bidding, and fetched and carried for hours, helping to wipe away the bloody evidence that just hours before, medical had been as much a war zone as outside.
Duke directed people to sit, brought them coffee, wrapped his arms around more than a few shaking, crying shoulders, and wondered what hell he was actually living in. He'd stayed below because if the worst happened, if they had lost, then someone would need to buy the rest a little more time, and Duke was prepared to do that. Only now, he felt guilty. He'd stayed inside, safe and sound, fidgety while a battle raged outside.
As daylight began to break outside, he joined a line going upwards. The dead needed to be buried.