March 8th, 2014
AUTHOR: Mano
March 8t, 2014
i.
She stood tall in the ranks though only 5 feet 6 inches in height, dwarfed by men on either side with muscular arms thrown in salute. Head held high, eyes bright, hair yanked into a tight bun, she waited for her commanding officer to pass.
He did not inspect as usual, but spoke softly to a pair of men dressed in civilian clothes. She saw the three conversing quietly at a table in the mess hall a few hours later, but said nothing. Her own table laughed raucously over some old army joke.
"Becky, you sure gave Samuel a run for his money during training today." Her friend James clapped her shoulder with an approving smile. "Made him look like a blind badger with a gun. Where do you hide all that strength? Not in those puny muscles I hope."
Samuel grumbled into his coffee. He was small but lithe, tendons standing out on long arms.
"Becky is practically superhuman or something. Bigger balls than all of us combined." He nodded with a slight upward quirk of his lips, a small salute. "I'd let her lead me into battle any day, s'what I'm saying. There's no shame in that." He pointed to the table in the corner of the hall with a triangle of toast. "But something's fishy over there, don't you think?"
Becky looked up again. She'd been glancing every few minutes, but now she met them with a full gaze. "I don't know. Hopefully not people with bad news. I want to get through training in one piece, you know."
She swallowed, the unspoken truth shared between a band of kindred spirits. There wasn't much time until they were assigned their stations, some into the thick of an overseas conflict and others to quell the unease on home soil.
One of the men at the table looked up. Bright blue eyes behind spectacles met hers. He was a strong man-good-natured despite pinched cheeks and a sickly pallor. He leaned heavily on his friend, who was shorter in stature, a man with rowdy blond hair and thick eyebrows. The first tilted his head, brows furrowed, then looked away to continue his conversation. The friend, however, had followed his gaze, and watched Becky carefully.
She jerked her eyes downwards and shoveled bland green beans into her face.
ii.
"Art, I'm fine…" Alfred slapped away Arthur's hands as he tried to wrap a second wool blanket around his shoulders. He sat on the double bed in a small hotel room, surrounded by mint green furniture and beige walls.
"Absolutely not," Arthur said, sinking down onto the bed beside him. "You're as white as death."
Alfred groaned, but felt himself waver as he shifted aside to accommodate the other. "S'what war does. Arthur please." A wave of dizziness hit him. Black ate the edges of his vision.
He found himself slouched over onto Arthur's chest, who sat carding his fingers through his hair. By then, the bar of light beneath the door had vanished while the evening glow dulled from sheer curtains. "Awh shoot…"
"I told you to take it easy," Arthur said. He tutted softly and continued stroking his head.
A few minutes crawled by; Arthur was sure that Alfred had drifted into sleep until the other shifted with a little whine. "Arthur…you know…how you can sense things about your own citizens? Your people?"
"Hmm? Yes, I suppose…"
Arthur pulled him closer. One hand cupped his cheek, checking his temperature. It had spiked with the first attack, but the drain of resources was what really sapped his strength.
"S'just…I know they're scared. They know things are going to get seriously messed up soon. Yet they're here. And I can sense a greatness about them." He sighed, pushing himself upright to look earnestly in his eyes, "Because of them, I'm not afraid. These are my people and…some of them have families and hopes and dreams yet they're here. Fighting for me." He slumped back into Arthur with a rattling sigh. His voice faded into a muddled yawn. "S'bad now…but stuff gets better. We bounce back. We always have." His eyes slipped closed and he slept.
Arthur secured him in another wool blanket, planting a soft kiss on his forehead, then headed for the door.
iii.
Becky and her friends had retired to the break room late into the night, where they were catching the end of a movie. There was an easy silence born of fatigue and sore muscles. Becky, seated on the floor, leaned back against the side of the couch and kneaded her palms into one of her calves with a little groan.
A lithe shape stepped through a tangle of sprawled limbs. He deposited himself beside Becky. One of the civilian men, with disheveled hair and the thick brows. He pretended to watch the film, but turned toward her with a small murmur that beckoned her to lean closer. "You. This is going to sound absurd. But you're doing your country proud. The lot of you." He clapped one hand on her shoulder with a little nod. "Right. Erm, fight strong."
When he found Alfred again, the other's expression had smoothed into quiet sleep. Another kiss to his forehead indicated that his fever had finally gone down.