Ashamed of being called a coward by Zapp, Fry goes out and tries to do something brave to redeem himself. Based on "War is the H-Word."
Zapp looked up and felt his stomach tighten at the sight. Not that the sight of a dead body was that distressing, he was plenty used to that, but the red hair, reddened with blood, sticking up was what did it. Cursing, Zapp jumped out of the truck that hadn't even stopped yet and ran over to Fry's body, feeling his heart race.
Any other time he'd scoff at feeling so worried about Fry, of all people, but at that moment all he could feel was a sudden loneliness. He dug his bare knees into the ground as he laid Fry flat on his back. His eyes were still open, the lids fluttering, and he had a pulse, however faint. Zapp felt relieved, but focused on what he knew he should do. It really wasn't his job to treat injuries or go out of his way to ensure his men's safety, but he felt compelled to do something now. Of course the medics would fix all this up when they got back to base, but Fry was in shock.
Fry swiveled his eyes to stare at Zapp eerily as Zapp lifted his legs and bent them at the knees so he could loosen his clothes. He recoiled at the wound on his side and even fought the urge to throw up. No way he could do that in front of inferiors. He felt nearly as pale as Fry at the sight of so much blood staining his white gloves and the ground beneath them.
“You...you...” Fry whispered, trying to lift an arm to touch him.
“Quiet, soldier!” Zapp ordered, trying not to look into Fry's eyes. For the most part they were unfocused, but when they found Zapp's eyes, they became suddenly intense. Accusing him, Zapp imagined. He didn't know that Fry was trying to say, “You came for me!” and he mistook Fry's attempt to smile as a scowl.
Trembling a little himself, Zapp leaned close to Fry's ear and pleaded, “I'm sorry.” Then he gathered that ruined body into his arms and carried him to the truck. As Fry's blood pressure started to climb to a safer level, he found the strength to wrap one arm around Zapp's shoulders and press his head against him. He moaned at the pain, but his bleeding fingers clutched tightly. The other cadet cringed and pressed himself against the door, as far away from that bleeding mass as possible.
Zapp had watched while the medics treated Fry. They had to sedate him and clean out all the wounds and even give him a transfusion. Artificial toes, just as good as the real thing, were affixed. Fry still looked pitiful by the time they were done. He had been cleared for duty by the medical staff, and Zapp would indeed send him right back to battle in the morning, but he wouldn't tell him personally.
He didn't blame himself for what happened, not really. He knew that Fry had gone out as a result of getting chewed out, but that didn't make Zapp personally responsible. He knew this was true, but he still burned with guilt. It was a repulsive emotion, one he wasn't used to, and he felt a little resentment towards Fry for inspiring it.
His guilt and concern that Fry might not make it through the night led Zapp to sneak to Fry's bedside and squeeze his hand. But he fled as Fry started to open his eyes.
They both acted like nothing happened the next day, but would think of the other the same way ever again.