Twific - Copperhead - 2/2
Part 1
My first thought when I felt the morning sun bright on my eyelids was, Jesus, my back is sore.
But then, I remembered why I was sleeping against a bumpy tree root and, more importantly, who I was sleeping against it with.
Edward.
I knew he’d be gone, disappearing with the night like so many other good dreams, but I still had to look for myself. So when I saw a young man in front of me I had to blink to make sure it wasn’t just wishful thinking laying there.
It was him, it had to be, and he’d somehow turned toward me during the night. I had only seen his features briefly the night before, but it was enough to know he was striking. I had seen the full lips and shape of his face. But now, this young man was gorgeous. I recognized his cheek bones, but his jaw was just as sharp and defined and his lips had the sloping curves of the Virginia hills.
What shocked me the most, though, was what had been missing from our night together. The colors.
Edward was made of colors like I’d never seen before. His hair was the same coppery color as the back of my coat buttons. For a soldier, he had the smoothest, palest skin, like a pail of perfectly fresh milk all the way from his forehead to his neck with the grey coat pulled tightly around it. He had tiny freckles above his nose and stubble below it that looked like cinnamon or cocoa sprinkled across flour. His lips…they were red but not just red. Rosie had a hat that color that she called cerise. They reminded me of the reds and pinks in a sunset that overlap, with just a hint of the deeper purple.
I blinked against the palette of his face, but he was still stunning even after I cleared the bleary sleep from my eyes. I thought I was content just to watch him lay there, stuck in a brief moment of peace in the middle of this wretched war. When he didn’t wake under my watchful eye, though, I grew impatient.
I had no idea what he’d think of last night, of the things we did, but I couldn’t bring myself to be ashamed. God help me, pressing myself against him was the most invigorating thing I’d felt in months of battle, and I wanted to feel it at least one more time.
I rolled carefully under our makeshift blanket, careful not to pull the warmth away from his sensitive neck. Quickly, and softly, I aligned our bodies and pressed my lips against his.
He didn’t stir, just puffing a breath against my mouth, and I kissed him harder. Watching him sleep was nothing compared to the thought of laying here with him, awake.
I moved my mouth against his, letting the tip of my tongue stroke him into wakefulness. Soon he was inhaling deeply, and eventually pulled away from me with his eyelids flickering in confusion. Behind them I saw another color, something bright, but couldn’t make it out until he opened his eyes fully and fixed them on me.
Green. Green like springtime grassfields or the fresh buds of a rosebush. Would this soldier never cease to astound me?
I was still transfixed on this new color when he moved, kissing me back eagerly. I heard him take sharp breaths through his nose so as not to pull away, and I did the same. Reaching under the borrowed coat, I wrapped my arm around his waist and pulled him flush against me. I felt his faint moan in my mouth, and kissed him back harder. In truth, I was happy to pick up where we left off, relieved that the spell of wonder cast over us last night had not been lifted.
Soon, too soon, he pulled back, but the grin across his face was good enough compensation. He looked thrilled, radiating enthusiasm from merely inches away, and I couldn’t help being washed over with his glow.
“You’re still here,” he whispered in awe.
“So are you,” I whispered back.
He blinked excitedly, smiling brightly and unashamed, and I couldn’t believe I had missed all these glorious looks in the darkness last night. Even the thought of one expression, of the pure openness that must have shone in his eyes as he gasped in pleasure, was enough to make me tight all over.
His smile faded and his lips twisted thoughtfully. “I think I’d better go relieve myself, though, before… well, as soon as possible.”
“You’ll come back though?”
He nodded, saying, “Absolutely,” and urged his lips against mine yet again. I let my eyes fall closed, kissing him back with gusto. When I felt him pull away, I left them closed, slumping against the ground and basking in the feeling of contentedness as I heard his borrowed boots stomp away.
I took in one long, crisp breath, finally taking a moment to think. I think I was so relieved and excited that he hadn’t crept away in the night, that the intimacy of our night had come rushing back. Who knew kissing another man would feel so damn good? When he came back, I wanted to do all the things I hadn’t done last night. I wanted to watch my fingers slide across his lips, and see him squeeze his eyes as he moaned. I wanted to see those eyes silently begging me for more, and what the rest of his body looked like exposed.
I almost couldn’t believe that I wanted to experience all that again. It was hard to know if it was his honesty, his reverence for life, or something else I couldn’t place that had drawn me to him initially, but through the act of touching we had elevated ourselves to something beyond mere brothers in arms. We were men… together. Here in this tiny clearing, waking up next to Edward had felt as natural as breathing.
All too soon, an urgent sensation cut through my thoughts, and I knew I’d better find a tree to piss on too. I swiped the coat away and pushed myself up. I didn’t want to soil the tree we had made our bed, so I headed to the trees clear across from where we’d slept.
Emptying my bladder against a young Mulberry felt better than I thought it would, relieving all the pressure that had been masked by a separate, but neighboring tension. It was only when I was buttoning myself back up that I really began to look around. The sunlight was bright but thin, probably less than an hour old, and the birds were starting to announce the new day. The trees surrounding us were tall and thick, and without the glowing lights of the fires it was hard to make out my camp through all the branches.
I turned, looking back in the direction he had walked, wondering if Edward was back yet. I couldn’t see him, though, so I assumed he had ventured off toward the stream I knew lay deeper into this crop of trees.
Something else caught my attention, though, something light and large beside the muddy roots of another tree. Stepping toward it, I was suddenly assaulted with another, less pleasant, memory from the night before.
The body. The soldier that Edward had killed. I crossed to it quickly, but the man’s face was turned away so I had to circle to his other side. As soon as I looked down, a gasp rose in my throat.
The broad nose, the high forehead - this was a face I knew.
For a moment I blinked, seeing nothing, but could practically feel the rush of vital blood to my limbs and fingertips as they tingled with shock and grief. Then my vision returned, and so did his face.
Pete.
Why? That was the only thing I could think - why was Pete dead? And by Edward’s hand? It didn’t make sense. How could the one other man in my regiment who wasn’t eager for bloodshed have attacked another soldier just for startling him?
Pete. Forbes Peterson. My only friend… before last night. One friend taken away by the other. Was Edward even my friend? Was that all he was?
Questions swirled in my head, making it hard to think. Why was Pete dead? What had really happened?
Through my mental haze I heard the snap of twigs beneath Edward’s boots, and pulled my head up, intent on questioning him again. As soon as I saw him, though, the answer was clear. It seems Edward had one more color I hadn’t seen yet. Blue.
Dark blue, like the troubled skies before a storm. Blue like the middle of a lake deep enough to drown in. Blue like the coat of the north-loving Union Army.
Edward was a goddamned Yankee.
I had been fooled, but how could that be? I scanned my memories, trying to pick out when I’d see him wearing the light grey that matched my own Confederate jacket. I couldn’t, though. The only time I’d really been able to see him was this morning when - damnit - he had Pete’s grey coat pulled up to his chin. We’d avoided the technicalities of our lives so as to dwell on the experiences. But everything made more sense now, even his strange accent. Maybe I’d just been so damn eager to believe he was a fellow secessionist, like me.
I felt embarrassed, like the wool had been pulled over my eyes, but also surprised and somewhat… betrayed.
It was so clear, looking at him now. His light pants may have looked grey under the moonlight, but shame on me for thinking the deep shadow of his coat was just a splash of mud.
I was fit to be tied, and I pulled my pistol from my leg where it was still tied. Raising it, I pointed it directly at the Union soldier in front of me and spat, “You’re a filthy liar.”
His steps halted immediately, and he raised his hands into the air with another pair of boots dangling from the laces off his finger. His own boots, probably. He must have retrieved them from by the stream. With a tip of his hand, he let them fall, clumping in the dead leaves at his feet.
His bright eyes wavered back and forth between my face and my gun. Finally, he met my eyes and asked in a tight, troubled voice, “Jasper?”
Hearing my name pass his lips, so reminiscent of when he’d whispered his pleasure into my ear, tore at me. I felt like I had lost everything in the span of a few minutes. All at once, my oldest and newest friends had been taken from me; Pete to the heaven that awaited him, and Edward to the enemy.
Except that he had been the enemy all along.
I readjusted my gun, balancing it with my other hand, keeping it trained on him. “You’re just a lousy Mudsill.”
His eyes widened and he looked flustered, and alarmed. “Jasper,” he said again, more sympathetically, as he moved to take another step toward me.
I lurched the gun in his direction, telling him to stay back.
“Jasper,” he whispered, still holding his hands in the air. “I thought you knew. I thought-” he dropped his eyes, looking away. “I thought you didn’t care.”
How could I not care? He wasn’t some poor, homesick brother in arms, he was a damned Bluebelly. And a Yank this close to our camp, alone, meant he was most likely a scout. Damn him.
“Please,” he started begging, “listen to me. I tried to tell you last night.”
That sparked another memory.
Indeed, he had. And I, like the damned fool I was, had stopped him.
“Are you a copperhead?” I asked, desperately holding out for some saving grace in all this. Maybe if he was a confederate sympathizer, none of this would matter.
Sadly, he shook his head, still staring at the damp ground. So much for the easy way out.
“Who’s your commanding officer?” I demanded, wondering which General he would be tattling to.
“Colonel Cullen, of the forty-third Pennsylvania Infantry.”
A good soldier - I’d heard of him, and did not relish the thought of meeting him in battle.
The way Edward was looking at me though, frightened and dismayed, tugged at my chest. His young face was watching me with the same honesty I’d heard from him all night. My anger dropped away as I realized he wasn’t at fault any more than I was. He really had tried to tell me. But that didn’t change the fact that he was my enemy, and on a reconnaissance mission that had yielded him plenty of information.
I cursed silently, not knowing who was to blame - him, myself, or God for putting us in this miserable circumstance.
Really, I could not blame him. But I couldn’t let him go either.
“Edward,” I said, finally speaking his name aloud, and I was shocked to hear that it held all the emotions I felt. I had such a fondness for this young, beautiful soldier, but also a duty to all my men. The two, it seemed, were mutually exclusive. “I can’t let you go.”
“Are you going to shoot me?” he asked timidly, just as he had last night.
I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know.
Without words, or dropping his hands, Edward began to step toward me. I tried to motion for him to stay put, but he took no heed.
“Jasper, you don’t have to do this.”
“I do,” I said, though it pained me. “I can’t let you go.”
“You can,” he promised. “I’ll walk away and you can pretend this never happened.”
“I can’t!” I said, my hands tensing as he came closer. “I can’t let you report back. I have an entire regiment to think of.”
With a heavy sigh, he avoided my eyes and said, “Okay.”
That shocked me, and my grip slackened. “Okay?”
Looking up to me again, I could see that his eyes were bright, glassy, and oh-so-green. “I understand, I do. Just like you can’t let me tell the Colonel what I’ve seen, I can’t not tell him. Either way, one of us is guilty of getting our men killed.”
I think his words hurt so much because they were true. By dropping our duties, one of us was sure to have more lives on our conscience.
“Then we are at an impasse,” I whispered across the short distance left between us.
He shook his head sadly. “I’m not going to fight you. I have no weapon.”
It didn’t escape my notice that he clearly did not need a weapon to fell me, but I didn’t say it.
Stepping up to place his chest directly against the barrel of my pistol, he watched me with wet, resigned eyes.
“It’s okay, Jasper. I always knew I would die in this war, and there are other scouts that most likely know what I do.”
All I could think in that moment was to not squeeze the trigger. With his proximity, I could smell his earthy scents, and hear his rapid, shallow breathing. Even as he offered me his life, all I wanted to do was protect it. My whole body was tense and shaking with the thought of losing him and I stared back into his stunning face helplessly, horrified that he would offer up himself to this miserable bloodbath.
“Edward, no,” I whispered. “You said yourself, you don’t want to die here.”
Slowly, carefully, he moved his raised hands to my face, sliding his palms along my cheeks before looping his arms behind my neck. His chest pressed more firmly against my gun, pressing the butt of it into my own ribs, and I silently prayed that there would be no accidents here today.
When he pressed his lips and nose against my cheek, I could feel the moisture from his first tears wetting my skin.
Instead of sounding frightened, or nervous, he answered with an air of soothing affection. “It’s okay,” he said, “I don’t feel alone anymore.”
My breath caught, hearing him voice the sensation I had been feeling all night, and those were the words that broke me. Wrenching the gun from between our chests, I tossed it to the ground, several feet away. I wrapped both arms around his chest, pulling him tightly to me. After the first few, I stemmed the tears that were pressing behind my eyes, and wiped them off on his deep blue shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered into his neck. I was sorry for everything - for mistrusting him and scaring him and threatening him.
Not for knowing him, though. Now that I knew he understood this connection, that he felt it too, I wouldn’t give up our night together for anything.
He hugged me back, the buttons of our coats clacking and our boots straddling each other’s. He dragged his lips to mine, kissing me with a desperate aggression that I returned.
Again, he pulled away too soon, breathing deeply but looking concerned.
“Japser,” he whispered, and I loved the sound of my name in his voice. Coming from him, it felt so personal, so intimate.
So I whispered his name back. “Edward.”
The steep angle of his bronzed eyebrows didn’t lessen. “I have to go.”
Even though I knew he was right, my fingers dug into the thick wool of his coat. Still, I nodded. It was too dangerous for him to be here in the daylight, and I had a regiment to oversee.
Despite knowing I should send him away, into the thick growth of trees where he would remain hidden and safe, I couldn’t force myself to let go. I felt like I should do something, give him something, to at least show him what our meeting meant to me. Except I had nothing to give him besides the clothes off my back.
Instead, I kissed him again, letting my tongue mingle with his.
He surged forward, pressing his open mouth even more firmly against mine. It felt like goodbye.
When he reached up to my ear, I felt the stain of his tears once again and the faint brush of his skin as he whispered, “Remember me.”
I nodded, swiping my cheek against his wet one. “You too,” I said, feeling choked by our farewell. “You keep yourself alive, and so you can remember this, you hear?”
He nodded too, and when he pushed himself away to wipe his tears, he didn’t look back.
Hoofing it toward the trees, his shoulders slumped with pain and dejection, and the sudden separation tugged painfully at the tension in my chest.
“Edward!” I called out, desperate to stop him.
He stopped, turning his head only, and looked back over his shoulder. That’s when I realized that that was what I wanted - just one more look at his beautiful face, his colors. The grief in his eyes didn’t hide their grassy color, and his sunset lips still stood out against his fair skin. I stared hard, memorizing his face for future memories.
When he saw that I didn’t actually have anything to say he nodded, understanding. His mouth opened, briefly, before shutting again. Several seconds passed of us merely taking in the sight of the other before he suddenly said, “We’ll come from the east.”
With that, his head snapped forward and he began to weave through the trees. I watched him go, and saw him crouch to pick up something, probably his lost saber. Only once he was out of sight did I turn towards my own camp.
On my way, I picked up his forgotten boots.
As I trudged along, my boots felt leaden and my head hurt like I’d swum too deep in cold water. I felt guilty for thinking that I had traded away Pete for Edward, especially since I’d only enjoyed Edward’s company for one night, but it still felt true.
I couldn’t believe I had to go back and face those men without him. I couldn’t believe that everything would be the way it was before except, now, without Pete.
There had been other scouts, Edward had said. They had been just as likely to stumble upon Pete. By that same token, they would most likely be giving Colonel Cullen my whereabouts as well, and his army would be coming for us, either way. By sparing Edward’s life, perhaps I had just reduced the death toll by one. And a significant one, at that.
They were solid excuses, but I knew they weren’t the truth - at least not the whole truth. I let Edward go because I cared too much to shoot him.
In certain moments of clarity on my walk back, I couldn’t help but feel grateful. Despite the woes of the night, I had still gained something I’d never thought I’d find here: a true friend. Someone who understood and cared for me as more than just a commanding officer. He knew my thoughts and priorities and misgivings. He understood childhood and my hesitance to kill, and the pressure I felt at commanding so many men, at such a young age. He truly knew me…
… and so I was no longer alone.
That one thought gave me the strength to return to face my men, and this god-forsaken, interminable war.
~~~~~~
Civil War Slang:
Jackanapes - young soldier who was promoted too fast
Paleface - new soldier, inexperienced
Blowhard - braggart, bully, bigshot
Bummer - loafer, someone who lags behind to forage
Pig sticker - bayonet
Fit to be tied - really angry
Mudsill - derogatory term for Union soldiers
Bluebelly - derogatory term for Union soldiers
Copperhead - Northern person with Southern, anti-Union sympathies
Hoofing it - marching
I want to point out, just for historical coolness, that there really was a battle at Five Forks, VA in 1865. Also, when I was looking up Civil War slang and came across 'paleface' and then 'copperhead', I just knew this thing had to be written. But, alas, Edward is a copperhead in appearances only.
My first thought when I felt the morning sun bright on my eyelids was, Jesus, my back is sore.
But then, I remembered why I was sleeping against a bumpy tree root and, more importantly, who I was sleeping against it with.
Edward.
I knew he’d be gone, disappearing with the night like so many other good dreams, but I still had to look for myself. So when I saw a young man in front of me I had to blink to make sure it wasn’t just wishful thinking laying there.
It was him, it had to be, and he’d somehow turned toward me during the night. I had only seen his features briefly the night before, but it was enough to know he was striking. I had seen the full lips and shape of his face. But now, this young man was gorgeous. I recognized his cheek bones, but his jaw was just as sharp and defined and his lips had the sloping curves of the Virginia hills.
What shocked me the most, though, was what had been missing from our night together. The colors.
Edward was made of colors like I’d never seen before. His hair was the same coppery color as the back of my coat buttons. For a soldier, he had the smoothest, palest skin, like a pail of perfectly fresh milk all the way from his forehead to his neck with the grey coat pulled tightly around it. He had tiny freckles above his nose and stubble below it that looked like cinnamon or cocoa sprinkled across flour. His lips…they were red but not just red. Rosie had a hat that color that she called cerise. They reminded me of the reds and pinks in a sunset that overlap, with just a hint of the deeper purple.
I blinked against the palette of his face, but he was still stunning even after I cleared the bleary sleep from my eyes. I thought I was content just to watch him lay there, stuck in a brief moment of peace in the middle of this wretched war. When he didn’t wake under my watchful eye, though, I grew impatient.
I had no idea what he’d think of last night, of the things we did, but I couldn’t bring myself to be ashamed. God help me, pressing myself against him was the most invigorating thing I’d felt in months of battle, and I wanted to feel it at least one more time.
I rolled carefully under our makeshift blanket, careful not to pull the warmth away from his sensitive neck. Quickly, and softly, I aligned our bodies and pressed my lips against his.
He didn’t stir, just puffing a breath against my mouth, and I kissed him harder. Watching him sleep was nothing compared to the thought of laying here with him, awake.
I moved my mouth against his, letting the tip of my tongue stroke him into wakefulness. Soon he was inhaling deeply, and eventually pulled away from me with his eyelids flickering in confusion. Behind them I saw another color, something bright, but couldn’t make it out until he opened his eyes fully and fixed them on me.
Green. Green like springtime grassfields or the fresh buds of a rosebush. Would this soldier never cease to astound me?
I was still transfixed on this new color when he moved, kissing me back eagerly. I heard him take sharp breaths through his nose so as not to pull away, and I did the same. Reaching under the borrowed coat, I wrapped my arm around his waist and pulled him flush against me. I felt his faint moan in my mouth, and kissed him back harder. In truth, I was happy to pick up where we left off, relieved that the spell of wonder cast over us last night had not been lifted.
Soon, too soon, he pulled back, but the grin across his face was good enough compensation. He looked thrilled, radiating enthusiasm from merely inches away, and I couldn’t help being washed over with his glow.
“You’re still here,” he whispered in awe.
“So are you,” I whispered back.
He blinked excitedly, smiling brightly and unashamed, and I couldn’t believe I had missed all these glorious looks in the darkness last night. Even the thought of one expression, of the pure openness that must have shone in his eyes as he gasped in pleasure, was enough to make me tight all over.
His smile faded and his lips twisted thoughtfully. “I think I’d better go relieve myself, though, before… well, as soon as possible.”
“You’ll come back though?”
He nodded, saying, “Absolutely,” and urged his lips against mine yet again. I let my eyes fall closed, kissing him back with gusto. When I felt him pull away, I left them closed, slumping against the ground and basking in the feeling of contentedness as I heard his borrowed boots stomp away.
I took in one long, crisp breath, finally taking a moment to think. I think I was so relieved and excited that he hadn’t crept away in the night, that the intimacy of our night had come rushing back. Who knew kissing another man would feel so damn good? When he came back, I wanted to do all the things I hadn’t done last night. I wanted to watch my fingers slide across his lips, and see him squeeze his eyes as he moaned. I wanted to see those eyes silently begging me for more, and what the rest of his body looked like exposed.
I almost couldn’t believe that I wanted to experience all that again. It was hard to know if it was his honesty, his reverence for life, or something else I couldn’t place that had drawn me to him initially, but through the act of touching we had elevated ourselves to something beyond mere brothers in arms. We were men… together. Here in this tiny clearing, waking up next to Edward had felt as natural as breathing.
All too soon, an urgent sensation cut through my thoughts, and I knew I’d better find a tree to piss on too. I swiped the coat away and pushed myself up. I didn’t want to soil the tree we had made our bed, so I headed to the trees clear across from where we’d slept.
Emptying my bladder against a young Mulberry felt better than I thought it would, relieving all the pressure that had been masked by a separate, but neighboring tension. It was only when I was buttoning myself back up that I really began to look around. The sunlight was bright but thin, probably less than an hour old, and the birds were starting to announce the new day. The trees surrounding us were tall and thick, and without the glowing lights of the fires it was hard to make out my camp through all the branches.
I turned, looking back in the direction he had walked, wondering if Edward was back yet. I couldn’t see him, though, so I assumed he had ventured off toward the stream I knew lay deeper into this crop of trees.
Something else caught my attention, though, something light and large beside the muddy roots of another tree. Stepping toward it, I was suddenly assaulted with another, less pleasant, memory from the night before.
The body. The soldier that Edward had killed. I crossed to it quickly, but the man’s face was turned away so I had to circle to his other side. As soon as I looked down, a gasp rose in my throat.
The broad nose, the high forehead - this was a face I knew.
For a moment I blinked, seeing nothing, but could practically feel the rush of vital blood to my limbs and fingertips as they tingled with shock and grief. Then my vision returned, and so did his face.
Pete.
Why? That was the only thing I could think - why was Pete dead? And by Edward’s hand? It didn’t make sense. How could the one other man in my regiment who wasn’t eager for bloodshed have attacked another soldier just for startling him?
Pete. Forbes Peterson. My only friend… before last night. One friend taken away by the other. Was Edward even my friend? Was that all he was?
Questions swirled in my head, making it hard to think. Why was Pete dead? What had really happened?
Through my mental haze I heard the snap of twigs beneath Edward’s boots, and pulled my head up, intent on questioning him again. As soon as I saw him, though, the answer was clear. It seems Edward had one more color I hadn’t seen yet. Blue.
Dark blue, like the troubled skies before a storm. Blue like the middle of a lake deep enough to drown in. Blue like the coat of the north-loving Union Army.
Edward was a goddamned Yankee.
I had been fooled, but how could that be? I scanned my memories, trying to pick out when I’d see him wearing the light grey that matched my own Confederate jacket. I couldn’t, though. The only time I’d really been able to see him was this morning when - damnit - he had Pete’s grey coat pulled up to his chin. We’d avoided the technicalities of our lives so as to dwell on the experiences. But everything made more sense now, even his strange accent. Maybe I’d just been so damn eager to believe he was a fellow secessionist, like me.
I felt embarrassed, like the wool had been pulled over my eyes, but also surprised and somewhat… betrayed.
It was so clear, looking at him now. His light pants may have looked grey under the moonlight, but shame on me for thinking the deep shadow of his coat was just a splash of mud.
I was fit to be tied, and I pulled my pistol from my leg where it was still tied. Raising it, I pointed it directly at the Union soldier in front of me and spat, “You’re a filthy liar.”
His steps halted immediately, and he raised his hands into the air with another pair of boots dangling from the laces off his finger. His own boots, probably. He must have retrieved them from by the stream. With a tip of his hand, he let them fall, clumping in the dead leaves at his feet.
His bright eyes wavered back and forth between my face and my gun. Finally, he met my eyes and asked in a tight, troubled voice, “Jasper?”
Hearing my name pass his lips, so reminiscent of when he’d whispered his pleasure into my ear, tore at me. I felt like I had lost everything in the span of a few minutes. All at once, my oldest and newest friends had been taken from me; Pete to the heaven that awaited him, and Edward to the enemy.
Except that he had been the enemy all along.
I readjusted my gun, balancing it with my other hand, keeping it trained on him. “You’re just a lousy Mudsill.”
His eyes widened and he looked flustered, and alarmed. “Jasper,” he said again, more sympathetically, as he moved to take another step toward me.
I lurched the gun in his direction, telling him to stay back.
“Jasper,” he whispered, still holding his hands in the air. “I thought you knew. I thought-” he dropped his eyes, looking away. “I thought you didn’t care.”
How could I not care? He wasn’t some poor, homesick brother in arms, he was a damned Bluebelly. And a Yank this close to our camp, alone, meant he was most likely a scout. Damn him.
“Please,” he started begging, “listen to me. I tried to tell you last night.”
That sparked another memory.
Indeed, he had. And I, like the damned fool I was, had stopped him.
“Are you a copperhead?” I asked, desperately holding out for some saving grace in all this. Maybe if he was a confederate sympathizer, none of this would matter.
Sadly, he shook his head, still staring at the damp ground. So much for the easy way out.
“Who’s your commanding officer?” I demanded, wondering which General he would be tattling to.
“Colonel Cullen, of the forty-third Pennsylvania Infantry.”
A good soldier - I’d heard of him, and did not relish the thought of meeting him in battle.
The way Edward was looking at me though, frightened and dismayed, tugged at my chest. His young face was watching me with the same honesty I’d heard from him all night. My anger dropped away as I realized he wasn’t at fault any more than I was. He really had tried to tell me. But that didn’t change the fact that he was my enemy, and on a reconnaissance mission that had yielded him plenty of information.
I cursed silently, not knowing who was to blame - him, myself, or God for putting us in this miserable circumstance.
Really, I could not blame him. But I couldn’t let him go either.
“Edward,” I said, finally speaking his name aloud, and I was shocked to hear that it held all the emotions I felt. I had such a fondness for this young, beautiful soldier, but also a duty to all my men. The two, it seemed, were mutually exclusive. “I can’t let you go.”
“Are you going to shoot me?” he asked timidly, just as he had last night.
I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know.
Without words, or dropping his hands, Edward began to step toward me. I tried to motion for him to stay put, but he took no heed.
“Jasper, you don’t have to do this.”
“I do,” I said, though it pained me. “I can’t let you go.”
“You can,” he promised. “I’ll walk away and you can pretend this never happened.”
“I can’t!” I said, my hands tensing as he came closer. “I can’t let you report back. I have an entire regiment to think of.”
With a heavy sigh, he avoided my eyes and said, “Okay.”
That shocked me, and my grip slackened. “Okay?”
Looking up to me again, I could see that his eyes were bright, glassy, and oh-so-green. “I understand, I do. Just like you can’t let me tell the Colonel what I’ve seen, I can’t not tell him. Either way, one of us is guilty of getting our men killed.”
I think his words hurt so much because they were true. By dropping our duties, one of us was sure to have more lives on our conscience.
“Then we are at an impasse,” I whispered across the short distance left between us.
He shook his head sadly. “I’m not going to fight you. I have no weapon.”
It didn’t escape my notice that he clearly did not need a weapon to fell me, but I didn’t say it.
Stepping up to place his chest directly against the barrel of my pistol, he watched me with wet, resigned eyes.
“It’s okay, Jasper. I always knew I would die in this war, and there are other scouts that most likely know what I do.”
All I could think in that moment was to not squeeze the trigger. With his proximity, I could smell his earthy scents, and hear his rapid, shallow breathing. Even as he offered me his life, all I wanted to do was protect it. My whole body was tense and shaking with the thought of losing him and I stared back into his stunning face helplessly, horrified that he would offer up himself to this miserable bloodbath.
“Edward, no,” I whispered. “You said yourself, you don’t want to die here.”
Slowly, carefully, he moved his raised hands to my face, sliding his palms along my cheeks before looping his arms behind my neck. His chest pressed more firmly against my gun, pressing the butt of it into my own ribs, and I silently prayed that there would be no accidents here today.
When he pressed his lips and nose against my cheek, I could feel the moisture from his first tears wetting my skin.
Instead of sounding frightened, or nervous, he answered with an air of soothing affection. “It’s okay,” he said, “I don’t feel alone anymore.”
My breath caught, hearing him voice the sensation I had been feeling all night, and those were the words that broke me. Wrenching the gun from between our chests, I tossed it to the ground, several feet away. I wrapped both arms around his chest, pulling him tightly to me. After the first few, I stemmed the tears that were pressing behind my eyes, and wiped them off on his deep blue shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered into his neck. I was sorry for everything - for mistrusting him and scaring him and threatening him.
Not for knowing him, though. Now that I knew he understood this connection, that he felt it too, I wouldn’t give up our night together for anything.
He hugged me back, the buttons of our coats clacking and our boots straddling each other’s. He dragged his lips to mine, kissing me with a desperate aggression that I returned.
Again, he pulled away too soon, breathing deeply but looking concerned.
“Japser,” he whispered, and I loved the sound of my name in his voice. Coming from him, it felt so personal, so intimate.
So I whispered his name back. “Edward.”
The steep angle of his bronzed eyebrows didn’t lessen. “I have to go.”
Even though I knew he was right, my fingers dug into the thick wool of his coat. Still, I nodded. It was too dangerous for him to be here in the daylight, and I had a regiment to oversee.
Despite knowing I should send him away, into the thick growth of trees where he would remain hidden and safe, I couldn’t force myself to let go. I felt like I should do something, give him something, to at least show him what our meeting meant to me. Except I had nothing to give him besides the clothes off my back.
Instead, I kissed him again, letting my tongue mingle with his.
He surged forward, pressing his open mouth even more firmly against mine. It felt like goodbye.
When he reached up to my ear, I felt the stain of his tears once again and the faint brush of his skin as he whispered, “Remember me.”
I nodded, swiping my cheek against his wet one. “You too,” I said, feeling choked by our farewell. “You keep yourself alive, and so you can remember this, you hear?”
He nodded too, and when he pushed himself away to wipe his tears, he didn’t look back.
Hoofing it toward the trees, his shoulders slumped with pain and dejection, and the sudden separation tugged painfully at the tension in my chest.
“Edward!” I called out, desperate to stop him.
He stopped, turning his head only, and looked back over his shoulder. That’s when I realized that that was what I wanted - just one more look at his beautiful face, his colors. The grief in his eyes didn’t hide their grassy color, and his sunset lips still stood out against his fair skin. I stared hard, memorizing his face for future memories.
When he saw that I didn’t actually have anything to say he nodded, understanding. His mouth opened, briefly, before shutting again. Several seconds passed of us merely taking in the sight of the other before he suddenly said, “We’ll come from the east.”
With that, his head snapped forward and he began to weave through the trees. I watched him go, and saw him crouch to pick up something, probably his lost saber. Only once he was out of sight did I turn towards my own camp.
On my way, I picked up his forgotten boots.
As I trudged along, my boots felt leaden and my head hurt like I’d swum too deep in cold water. I felt guilty for thinking that I had traded away Pete for Edward, especially since I’d only enjoyed Edward’s company for one night, but it still felt true.
I couldn’t believe I had to go back and face those men without him. I couldn’t believe that everything would be the way it was before except, now, without Pete.
There had been other scouts, Edward had said. They had been just as likely to stumble upon Pete. By that same token, they would most likely be giving Colonel Cullen my whereabouts as well, and his army would be coming for us, either way. By sparing Edward’s life, perhaps I had just reduced the death toll by one. And a significant one, at that.
They were solid excuses, but I knew they weren’t the truth - at least not the whole truth. I let Edward go because I cared too much to shoot him.
In certain moments of clarity on my walk back, I couldn’t help but feel grateful. Despite the woes of the night, I had still gained something I’d never thought I’d find here: a true friend. Someone who understood and cared for me as more than just a commanding officer. He knew my thoughts and priorities and misgivings. He understood childhood and my hesitance to kill, and the pressure I felt at commanding so many men, at such a young age. He truly knew me…
… and so I was no longer alone.
That one thought gave me the strength to return to face my men, and this god-forsaken, interminable war.
~~~~~~
Civil War Slang:
Jackanapes - young soldier who was promoted too fast
Paleface - new soldier, inexperienced
Blowhard - braggart, bully, bigshot
Bummer - loafer, someone who lags behind to forage
Pig sticker - bayonet
Fit to be tied - really angry
Mudsill - derogatory term for Union soldiers
Bluebelly - derogatory term for Union soldiers
Copperhead - Northern person with Southern, anti-Union sympathies
Hoofing it - marching
I want to point out, just for historical coolness, that there really was a battle at Five Forks, VA in 1865. Also, when I was looking up Civil War slang and came across 'paleface' and then 'copperhead', I just knew this thing had to be written. But, alas, Edward is a copperhead in appearances only.