❝Light a campfire and everyone's a storyteller.❞
—John J. Geddes
A couple of days after we heard the special broadcast on the radio, we were geared back up with all our advance equipment and ready to head into the thick of things. Our backpacks are filled with the necessities of a sure-to-be-long mission in a cold-weather environment: mittens, goggles, a blanket, civilian clothes, an over white camo uniform, a tarpaulin, over boots, snowshoes, water bottles, MREs, midday rations, an individual first aid kit, and a sleeping bag. It's heavy as all hell, and that's not even the start of it.
On our body, uniform, and belts, we carry an assortment of weapons: our TFX, two pistols, a flaregun, grenades, and a small dagger. We have an abundance of ammunition for these weapons as well. It's times like this when I feel bad for people like Rory, who has to carry the infamously-heavy RYG Rocket Launcher, or Peggy and Vincent, who carry snipers. And yet, I still envy them, for Alexander and I have yet to be issued Wings.
Our armor is particularly important, as it protects our torso. It's far stronger than the armor the normal soldiers get... as long as it doesn't get damaged. Our shields are strapped to our arm, ready for ejection at a moment's notice.
We're lined up in front of the lot of Ocelots, prepared to hop into the back of the vehicles and drive to Moscow to assist in the fighting. It's what we've been waiting for: action. We came here to fight, and waiting for those Russians in Ukraine to mosey out of there is tiresome.
Whispers have been going around. People think Russians are going to invade Moscow today. We're waiting for a message to come in from Washington directing us to join the soldiers in Moscow. As it stands, Burr and Davidson left an hour and a half ago to deliver to and receive a message from George Washington regarding our responsibilities.
We're simply waiting for Burr to return and tell us to saddle the fuck up.
Lee, Lafayette, and John converse privately in the middle of the sea of Ocelots, but even from this distance, I can tell they're arguing. What could they possibly be arguing about?! And of all times, why now?! If we're going into battle, we need to be united, not divided over some petty personal affairs!
It annoys me, but I don't say a word. Instead, I act as though I am engaged in the conversation going on around me. Most of the soldiers talk about what they plan to do in Moscow, but my group talks about something completely different.
"I didn't say anything other than he's a shady guy," Vincent says with a dismissive shrug, fixing the night vision goggles over his helmet.
"There's nothing shady about him!" Peggy argues back. Ah, they must be talking about Burr.
"I don't know," Alexander hops in. "He seems like a self-benefit-seeking bastard to me."
"I agree with the Russki," Rory nods. "You've seen the look in his eyes, yeah? He probably sees you as a ticket to one of your sisters."
"He's not to be trusted," Vincent concludes.
"Vincent, you shouldn't be saying who can and can't be trusted," Peggy scowls. "You once didn't trust your mom because you thought she was a Russian spy!"
"That was when I was younger," Vincent dismisses, sounding somewhat embarrassed. "I thought everyone was a spy back then. Now I'm older and wiser, and I'm telling you that Burr is the type to kill an innocent man for self-gain."
"You're just jealous."
"Of what, Peggy?" Vincent asks, raising a brow.
Peggy places her hand over her chin in thought, then pouts in frustration. "I don't know yet, but I'll it figure out."
"There's nothing I'm jealous over, Peggy," Vincent says sternly. "I'm simply looking out for you."
"I don't need you to look out for me. I'm old enough to take care of myself!"
"Let's move to a different topic, yeah?" Rory breaks in. "Umm, you guys like the weather?"
Despite his efforts, Rory is unable to stop their bickering. They go on and on for another five minutes, only stopping when I suggested we go visit Aragog's grave. The moment of silence was suddenly interrupted, however, with more bickering as Peggy accused Vincent of causing Aragog's death. By the time we returned to the lineup of soldiers, Peggy started giving Vincent the silent treatment. It was better than their arguing.
It's odd. As far as I recall, they don't argue often. And when they do, it's never this venomous. It must be all the tension in the freezing-cold air killing everyone's mood. We've been out here for what seems like years waiting for Burr to return. Where the hell is he?
Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear...
All at once, the gaggle of soldiers and I turn our heads at the sound of an oncoming Ocelot. It drives by us and into its respective place among the other Ocelots. A moment later, Davidson comes out of the driver's side and Burr from the passenger side. They slam the door behind themselves, and I can hear the frustration in the volume of the slam.
I wince and glance at Alexander.
"What the hell do you think has their dicks in a twist?" I whisper.
Alexander shrugs. "I don't know... Do you think we should find out?"
I glance at Vincent and Rory, who are trying to say controversial things in hopes of getting Peggy to speak, so I decide they're occupied. All the other soldiers are also occupied with their conversations, excitedly speaking as they strap their helmets more securely to their heads.
"Sure," I nod. "Let's go before anyone notices."
Alexander and I masterfully slither through the crowd, not bumping into a single shoulder or brushing a single elbow. We pass by like a shadow, and in no time, we're making a hot pursuit behind Burr and Davidson. They reach the group of bickering Generals. Their presence seems to bring calm to the ever-stirring storm.
Alexander and I stay behind one of the Ocelots, hoping to overhear their conversation without being caught.
"Wotcha, mate?" Lee greets.
"What's the news?" Lafayette asks, sounding annoyed that his argument was interrupted.
"Well, we have good news and bad news," Davidson says somewhat timidly, shrinking in comparison to the already-small Burr. "Which one do you want first?"
"Good news," John responds.
"Bloody fucks, I want the bad news first, dingus," Lee argues.
"I want neither," Lafayette hisses. "I just want to get out of this godforsaken cold."
"Go piss on a tree, cunt. You're a proper pussy, that's what you are," Lee hisses.
Lafayette responds with a jumble of French words, which I suppose created a horrible insult based on the way Davidson winced.
"Shut up and listen," Burr growls in an uncharacteristically-demanding way. "The bad news is that Washington doesn't want us anywhere near Moscow."
The three Generals make a similar face to the one Alexander and I make. Our eyes widen and jaws drop in utter shock. What the hell? Surely we heard Burr wrong. Surely he has the wrong message for us.
Washington is barring us from going to Moscow?! What the actual hell?! Does he have any idea what he ordered?!
"What the hell is he thinkin'?" John says, being the first one to wake from his bewildered daze. "Our men in Moscow will need the AC's help!"
"He doesn't think so," Davidson whispers shyly as though John would have punched him for speaking.
"What the bloody hell?!" Lee shouts. "That's proper rubbish and tosh!"
"For fuck's sake," Lafayette spits. "We've been waiting for nothing? Shit, I'm done with this."
"Did Washington give an explanation?" John asks.
"Obviously, it wasn't Washington directly talking to us," Burr says. "It was one of his aides, so none of our questions could be answered properly."
"What we did get told is that Washington wants us ready for a mission," Davidson says.
"We've been waiting for bloody-ever! Blimey, that man has gone proper mental!"
"I'm leaving," Lafayette bitterly says. Lafayette limps away (his leg is still injured), but after only two steps, Davidson stops him.
"Don't you want to hear the good news, sir?"
"Fuck that," Lafayette shouts back. "I need my meds."
Lafayette continues to limp away. Davidson seems conflicted for a moment, then he follows behind Lafayette. They make a beeline for his cabin... to get meds.
"Reckon you should tell us the good news," John says to Burr.
Burr sighs, but relents. "Washington did say that he wants to send us on a mission soon... Just not in Moscow."
John and Lee exchange an unimpressed gaze, then look back to Burr. "Did he say what this mission would be?" John asks.
Burr shakes his head. "No. He just said it might happen."
"Might?" Lee raises his eyebrows. "So we'll just be sitting our arses right here doing bugger all, just buggering about, while other soldiers are fighting in Moscow? Only to have Washington send us somewhere later on? The bloody hell is that?!"
"At least it's something," Burr says.
"No, fuck that," Lee hisses. "Can't you send a message to Thomas Castle, Aaron? Tell him to send my unit in."
"Thomas Castle signed your unit to be directed under Washington until we leave Russia," Burr says somewhat guiltily.
"So we're going to obey Washington?" John asks, crossing his arms. "I say we break the rules."
"This isn't a matter of obeying him or not, Laurens," Burr snaps. "We have orders."
"Orders are malleable," John shrugs. "I just think it's wrong for Washington to see we have a chance to make a big difference, and for him to completely disregard that."
"I know," Burr nods, his eyes glinting with aggravation. Not directed towards John, no. To Washington
"Blimey," Lee whispers, rubbing his temples. "I need a cuppa."
"Make me one too," Burr calls after him as Lee begins making his way to his cabin.
"Righteo, mate."
I was tossed into such a deep daze that I didn't realize that Lee was coming right towards us. It's only when I feel Alexander's urgent tugging on my sleeve that I come back to my senses. By then, it's far too late. Lee passes by the Ocelot we were hiding behind and he sees us in an instant.
"Cor blimey," Lee says, stopping in his tracks to glare at us. "Gander at this, Aaron. We have two earwigs here, mate."
Burr and John (despite not being called) join Lee in taking a "gander" at us. John raises an eyebrow in confusion, but Burr scowls and squints his eyes.
"You shouldn't listen to conversations between your superiors," Burr says.
"Leave the bloke and bird off it, Aaron," Lee says somewhat sympathetically.
I've found that Lee has been a little more fond of Alexander and me after I nearly killed Lafayette. As they say, "the enemy of my enemy is my friend."
"I reckon there ain't no harm in them hearin' what they'd eventually hear anyway," John backs Lee up in a rare case of an alliance.
Burr crosses his arms, "I'm just saying it's improper."
"We were just curious," I say, specifically looking to John. "We've been waiting for so long, and we wanted answers... We just didn't expect to hear what we did."
"Yeah, pretty fucked up, right?" Lee runs his hands through his hair. "I'm sure we'll get more info on it tomorrow."
"So we are going to just stay here at Valley Forge?" Alexander asks politely.
Lee, Burr, and John look at each other, confirm with their eyes, then look back at us. "Yes."
Alexander puts his hand on his chin, his eyes glowing with contempt, "What a fucked situation."
"Ain't no doubt 'bout that," John agrees. "I ain't givin' up, though. I'm goin' to try to convince Washington. Maybe I can speak to him direc'ly."
"Don't count on it," Burr says. "He isn't convinced easily."
"I've gotta try." John ponders for a second, then nods. "Right. I'm goin' to the Cyber Force base."
John leaves towards his cabin, presumably to lighten his load and collect some other things he'll need. As John leaves, Lee turns to Alexander and me.
"Do a right one and spread the news to everyone else. Alright, Hamilton?"
"Which one?"
"Blimey, either one. Just let them know... I don't think I have the heart to break it to them."
With that, Lee and Burr go striding towards his cabin, leaving Alexander and me on our own. It gives me time to reflect.
Since we arrived at Valley Forge, we've been waiting for a call to action. I was hoping that this call would come within the rubble of Moscow. I got my hopes up... high up.
And why? Because Washington doesn't want us involved.
Goddammit. It's always Washington.
"You can tell them," I say to Alexander. Perhaps seeing the disheartened expression on my face, he submits to my wish. He returns to the gaggle of soldiers and tries to catch their attention. It proves to be a challenge, as they're conversations have gotten quite rowdy. They're expecting action, and it only angers me more.
Alexander has to stand up on one of the Ocelots to silence the crowd. Once everyone is listening, he begins sharing his newly-gained knowledge.
I watch from afar as it all happens slowly. Alexander makes his announcement. The gleeful grins of the soldiers disappear without a trace. They ask questions. Alexander says Washington never gave answers. The air becomes thick with intense misery. They drop their bags right their in the snow, remove all their extra gear, and retreat towards the center of camp to warm up by the fire.
It's incredibly irresponsible to leave all their equipment here in the snow, but I can't help but not care. What the fuck is the point? We're not going on a mission any time soon.
Now Alexander and I are left alone again. He jumps off the hood of the Ocelot and I rejoin him.
"Cyka blyat, I feel like shit," Alexander murmurs.
"It's not your fault," I whisper. "You just delivered the news."
"They look devastated... They wanted to help in Moscow."
I slide my equipment off my back and unstrap my gear, letting them all fall into the sea of equipment in the snow. I shake my hair free after taking off my helmet.
"They did," I say. "It's unfair to them, but there's nothing we can do."
Alexander seems too distracted by his inner thoughts to focus on anything else. With this being so, I do him a favor and slip off his backpack. I remove all his heavy gear, wishing it would take off the weight of disheartening every soldier. I straightened out his uniform and zip up his leather jacket more tightly. I take off his helmet and run my hands through his hair, fluffing it out to restore its natural shape.
I gaze into his eyes, drowning in the intoxicating violet color, and take one of his hands with both of mine. "Focus on something else, okay? Look at me. Focus on me."
His previously-distracted stare fixates on me, and I lock my eyes with his. "I'm focusing on you," he says, tightening his grip on my hands.
"You think too fast for your brain to comprehend. Whatever you're thinking, let it go and go slower," I say. "Important things are going on outside of your mind. Let's just-"
"(Y/N)!"
I drop Alexander's hands frantically and look in the general direction of the voice. I sigh in relief to see it's only John.
"What's up?" I ask, hoping he didn't see anything.
John, also no longer bearing his gear, approaches us. "You heard what I said before, righ'?" I'm headin' to try and contact Washington."
"Oh, yeah," I say. I give him a kind smile.
"Uh, I was actually goin' to ask you to come with me," John says, the slightest hint of shyness in his tone.
I stand up straighter, suddenly feeling big and important. "Oh, really? Are you sure?"
"Reckon it might be nice to have someone come with me," John nods.
I should deny; I need to give Alexander my full attention right now. Yet, this is a different case. This is John Laurens! He's my ticket to Washington! And if he somehow does get a direct hold of Washington...
My mouth waters at the possibility.
"Yeah, I'll come," I say nonchalantly, hiding the intrigue in my voice. "Come on, Alexander."
John pauses for a moment, perhaps mulling over whether or not to say that he never invited Alexander. But he says nothing about it. By now, he must know that anywhere I go, Alexander goes. By inviting me, he invited Alexander indirectly.
"You're driving," John says, tossing me the keys as he leads us to an Ocelot. I catch them, smiling at the power I wield. "I'll give you directions."
"Shotgun!" Alexander quickly calls out, racing past John and sliding into the passenger seat. It looks like Alexander is feeling better... That's good.
I giggle at John's bewildered expression. "Umm, I should get shotgun."
"Should have called it," I wink, going over to the driver's side. "Looks like you'll be giving directions from the backseat."
John looks at me, his eyes glinting with adoration. It causes my heart to palpitate in an unfamiliar way.
"Touche, (Y/N)," John smiles playfully. I hop into the driver's seat and stick the keys into the ignition. Alexander, sitting next to me, looks quite comfortable. He flashes me a small grin, which I return.
John goes into the backseat, and when he shuts the door, I begin to drive out of the place, with the empty hope of talking to Washington and changing his mind.
I'm sure all of us are at least mildly aware that our efforts will no doubt be in vain, but we ignore this. For the sake of positivity... and sanity.
♙♟♙♟♙
There's something about a campfire...
I'm not sure what it is, nor have I ever seen it have such a strong effect on people until I came to Valley Forge, but sitting around an open flame during a cold day brings serenity to anyone.
I was sure we'd get into action before the end of September, but it's looking unlikely. The fighting in Moscow has been going on for about two weeks now, but the end seems near. I don't know an exact body count, but Burr has predicted it's closing in on the tens of thousands.
No one in the Valley Divide talks about it. I'm sure the AC troops in the Air Force base is as distraught as we are; there's no need to talk about it.
As I expected, we weren't able to convince Washington to send us in with the rest of the normal soldiers. In fact, we couldn't even get a hold directly onto Washington. Of course, he's likely to be very busy at all times, but he ought to make time for us; we're important, aren't we?
Two weeks ago, when Russian soldiers crossed into Moscow from the East, a full-blown battle was initiated... And here we are, only about two hundred miles away, doing absolutely nothing while those soldiers get bombs dropped on them.
We try to keep our spirits up, but nothing works. Nothing except sitting by the fire. We add more wood every day, getting rid of the burnt, used wood. A new fire is lit up, and we sit around it for hours at a time, listening to the news spewing from the radio. There's a lot of coverage on the news about Moscow, but it doesn't interest us. We listen because it gives us something to focus our scattered minds on. It brings us temporary peace. I'm grateful for it, but our health is deteriorating.
We'll hardly eat, hardly speak, hardly sleep. The Generals are no better. They are as agitated as we are.
Tonight is no different.
September 25, 2058.
After a long day by the fire, everyone has retired to their barrack to get some sleep. At first, no one can sleep. We lay in bed, staring up at the upper bunk or the ceiling, still praying to get called into action to help out those poor bastards in Moscow.
Eventually, we do sleep. We close our eyes and tell ourselves everything's okay. And we don't dream.
That's what I should have done tonight. Yet, I have far more interesting things to tend to. It's come to my attention that our three Generals spend hours each night sitting by the fire long after everyone else has gone to bed. It is during this time that they supposedly share information... and they're not arguing.
I'm intrigued as all hell, so I suggested to Alexander that we stay awake and investigate. Now is the time for that investigation.
Our barrack is dark and I can hear the sounds of sleep coming from the other soldiers. I peer over the edge of my bunk, looking down at Alexander. As usual, he's reading a book. It's a new and girthy book; I suppose he finished his other one.
"Alex," I call down in a hushed whisper.
Alexander sets his book down on his chest, his violet eyes almost glowing in the dark. "What is it, (Y/N)?"
"Are you ready to go?" I ask.
"You want to go now?" Alexander raises a brow.
I nod my head, "Everyone else is asleep, and we should go before the Generals hit the hay as well."
Alexander sighs and sits up upon seeing me hop down to the floor. "Why are we doing this again?"
I pull on my boots. "Because we want to hear what they're talking about."
"I doubt it's anything interesting," Alexander shrugs, also pulling on his boots.
"It could be useful, nonetheless. Whether they're talking about the war or themselves, they're bound to say something we can use."
"I was getting to a really good part of my book, (Y/N)," Alexander whines.
I glance at his book, then back at him, giving him a scowl. "You can stay if you want. I'll go alone, and I know how much you like me to be surrounded by men and their manly urges, right?"
Alexander glares back at me, then breaks his gaze in defeat. "Cyka blyat. Clever, aren't you, honey?"
Ugh. He's trying to annoy me with that name, but I won't let him get the upper hand. Instead, I flash him a playful grin, "You know it. Come on, let's go before anyone hears us."
We zip up our coats, then stride out of the barrack, gliding across the floor without so much of a creek in the wood, cruising our way out like professional burglars.
Needless to say, it's far colder now than it was earlier in the day. The base, other than the warm glow coming from the center of camp, is nearly pitch-black. A thick blanket of clouds looms ominously over us, obstructing any luminescence from the moon that might have shined tonight. The dryness of the air sends bouts of pain through my nose. It's uncomfortable but familiar. The ground is carpeted in a fresh sheet of snow that fell earlier this afternoon. There aren't many tracks in it yet.
We stride through the snow and towards the center of camp, using the light and the flags as our compass. Valley Forge has a serious and cynical feel to it at night. It must be the lack of life.
We go around the medic hut, then the campfire comes into sight. As I suspected, there sits our three Generals: Lafayette, Lee, and John. Hell, even Burr is there! He doesn't come here often. From this distance, I can hear their quiet and quite civil conversation. They're so immersed in it that they don't notice Alexander and me until we're a mere foot away from them.
They jump at our sudden appearance.
"Blimey!" Lee cries out, nearly spilling a cup of tea in his hand.
"What are you two doing up?" Burr asks, giving us a skeptical look.
Without invitation and without answering, we sit down with them. I sit at John's left, and Alexander sits at my left.
"You two should try to get some rest," John suggests, although his eyes betray him. The way he's looking at me... I can tell he's glad I'm here.
"We couldn't," Alexander explains, lying expertly. He didn't need to pre-plan this. He's coming up with his lies on the spot. "We were hoping to warm up by the fire, and we weren't expecting you all to be here."
Lafayette scoffs, perhaps not believing us, but he doesn't say anything.
Lee takes a sip from his teacup. "Righteo, Hamiltons. We were going to talk about some important stuff anyway, so don't mind us-"
"No, I don't think we're going to talk about that anymore," Burr interrupts.
Lee and John look at Burr in confusion.
"Why not?" John asks.
Burr glares at him. "This is confidential material, Laurens. We can't say it in front of anyone."
"What're they gonna do?" John challenges, raising a brow.
"I'm not sure," Burr admits shamelessly.
"Exactly," John says.
All remains silent for a while. I'm sure if we weren't by this fire, an aggressive argument would have followed John's snarky remark. Instead, the flames seem to thaw their sensitive side and they avoid a confrontation.
Suddenly, after nearly two minutes of silence, Lafayette finally speaks.
"Well, if we're not going to speak of what we planned to speak about, I have no reason to be out here."
And with no formal goodbye, Lafayette stands up, turns on his heel, and makes his way to his cabin. We watch the back of his head for a while, the insults that would usually come out of the men being subdued by the fire, then we look away.
Another brief silence ensues, but this time, it's broken by Burr, starting with a long sigh.
"Why are you drinking tea at this time of night?" Burr asks.
"Midnight tea is good for the heart, mate," Lee responds. He takes a small sip from his cup, then he looks back to where Lafayette once sat. "I'm glad that bloody wanker is gone."
"Lafayette?" Alexander asks unnecessarily.
Lee nods. "Yeah, him. Bloody thief."
Burr shakes his head, seemingly in disappointment. "Are you still on about that thing?" Burr asks.
"Of course I am," Lee responds quickly. "You would be too if it was your knacks he took."
"I wouldn't assume it was Lafayette without proof, Charles," Burr says reasonably. "I suggest hearing his alibi before outright accusing him. It only further drives a wedge between you."
"I don't need to hear his bloody alibi," Lee says. "I know it was that wanker."
Alexander and I look at each other, demanding the other to ask the question going on in our minds. After a silent staring contest and Alexander's dramatic loss, we look back at Lee and pull innocent grins.
"There has been a lot of speculation about what Lafayette supposedly took from you," Alexander starts.
"How the hell does anyone know I think he took shit from me?" Lee asks bluntly.
John laughs. "You won't fuckin' shut up about it, Lee," he says, pulling out a small, slim, silver tube from his pocket. He opens the tube, and within is a cigar. He pulls the cigar out professionally, lights it, then smokes it.
"Bugger," Lee curses. "Well, sure. What about these speculations?"
Alexander leans forward. "I don't believe any of them, but I'm utterly curious. Mind sharing what you think Lafayette took?"
John laughs once again, throwing his head back like a little kid. God, it's attractive. "Yeah, tell 'em, Lee!"
Burr sighs. "You don't want to know, trust me.
I'm shocked when Lee turns slightly red. Not because of the cold, no. It looks like he's flushing from embarrassment!
"Nothing important," Lee says, looking away and holding his teacup by his lap.
"If it's nothing important, why are you so bothered by its disappearance?" Alexander retorts.
Lee glares back for a second before looking away once again. "Snarky bloke, aren't you?"
"I'm just curious," Alexander shrugs. "I figure there's no harm in me knowing... I'm sure the speculations are far worse than reality."
"I doubt that," Burr says, sounding slightly amused.
"If you don' tell 'em, I'm goin' to do it," John says nonchalantly. "And you don' want me to be the one tellin' anyone your business."
"Cor blimey," Lee glares at John. "Fine, I'll tell them."
"Great," I flash a grin. "We're listening."
Lee takes a deep breath, trying his hardest to maintain eye contact. Lee almost definitely wouldn't be telling us on any other occasion.
There's something about a campfire...
"In one of the bags of my personal belongings — Lafayette was the only one who even entered my cabin the day it disappeared to my knowledge — I had a... I absolutely did not know this was in my bag, by the way! It was a huge surprise! How Lafayette was able to track it down is what confuses me greatly! Aaron can testify that I-"
"Goddamn, tea bag," John rolls his eyes in annoyance. He then turns to Alexander and me to explain what Lee can't. "He took one of his girl's bras. For some hardcore masturbation material, ya know?"
Before I can even process what he said, Alexander bursts out laughing.
"I did not bloody take it! She left it in my bag!"
"Sure thing, tea bag."
Lee, perhaps noticing my shocked face, looks to me and tries to clear his name. "I did not take it. I spent a couple of days with her and one thing led to another and... It was she who put her bra in my bag! Not me!"
A small smile forms on my face and I kick some snow into the fire to see it melt. "You must really like that girl if you stole her bra, Lee."
"Bloody hell! I did not steal it!"
"I heard it was red," John crudely comments. "Heard it smelled nice too."
Lee shoots him a deadly stare. "Get your bloody mind off my girl's bra, donkey fucker."
John might have argued back on any other occasion. Instead, he just laughs in amusement.
There's something about a campfire...
"It's pretty humiliating," Burr comments, seeming to pity poor Lee, who sips his tea in hopes of clearing his dry throat. "But it still teases the question of where it went."
"Lafayette," Lee growls, not a single drop of doubt in his tone.
"It might have slid under your bed after a night of fantastic fappin'," John taunts humorously.
"Bugger off, bloke."
"I still suggest we don't accuse," Burr says maturely. "Charles, you haven't looked through all your bags yet, have you? You haven't searched through your cabin? Maybe... Maybe it did slide under your bed?"
"Bloody fucks," Lee runs his hand through his neatly-done hair. "I know exactly which bag I put it in, and it's not there!"
Burr and Lee go on about whether or not Lafayette could have done it, going through time logs and suspicious activity. While John is entrapped by their conversation, I ponder on a prominent thought: Charles Lee has a girl.
I remember Lee, Lafayette, and John arguing over an unnamed girl on our first day in Valley Forge, but I haven't given it much thought since that day.
I find myself with a similar reaction to when I found out Rory has a girlfriend: I'm shocked. Neither has a personality that strikes me as irresistibly attractive, but I suppose someone does. Despite having no knowledge of this girl, I find myself intrigued. I want to learn more.
"This girl," I interrupt, straining my voice to be louder than the men's, "what's her name?"
Lee and Burr simultaneously give each other a hesitant stare, then look back at me. "We can't tell you," Burr says quickly.
I frown. "Why not?"
"It has nothing to do with you, bird," Lee says. "It's because... maybe we can't even tell you why."
"She's a spy, that's why," John blurts out.
"Bloody hell, Laurens," Lee shoots him a glare.
"We shouldn't be spewing out information like that," Burr backs up.
John shrugs and draws another breath from his cigar. "She's a spy. That's what she is. It's no shock that some people are spies. It's a fuckin' war out here."
"That's scandal material," Alexander chuckles. "A General and a spy... She's a spy for the Allies, right?"
Lee once again has flushed an embarrassed red, flustered by all this talk of his girl. "Obviously," Lee says defensively. "She's my spy. She works under me."
"Sometimes she works on top of him if ya know what I mean," John jokes while nudging me playfully. Lee is unamused.
"A British spy," Alexander coos. "Intriguing."
"A French British spy," Burr says, suddenly interested in spilling information he might have thought classified a minute ago.
There's something about a campfire...
"What's a French British spy?" I ask, wondering if it's some odd breed of nationality.
"She's French," Lee says. "She's- bloody hell. Let's call her Tori."
"That's pretty fuckin' obvious."
"Bugger off, Laurens," Lee snaps. "Anyway, Tori is purely French. Her parents are French, she was born in France, she spent pretty much her entire life in France. But she's working for the British Army, so she's a French British spy."
"Why wouldn't she — Tori — just work for the French?" Alexander asks curiously.
"Lafayette refused to accept her into the Army," Burr jumps in. "He spoke with Napoleon Bonaparte, the commander of the French Military, and assured she wouldn't be accepted."
"Why?" I ask, sounding like a child.
Lee shrugs. "I suppose it could be because she's a woman and he has a knick against women in the military for some bloody reason... But it could also be because Lafayette and Tori know each other."
"Since childhood, I've heard," Burr adds.
"Lafayette has a hard-on for her, and he doesn't try to hide it," John says. "Just sayin' her name can give him a major boner."
"So why did she join the British military instead?" I press on.
Lee sips his tea. "Makes sense, don't it, bird? If France denies you, turn to Britain. She had to go through extra extensive spy training after being admitted, all of which I assisted her through. When she passed, I made a special request to have her assigned under my command."
"You must have already been obsessed," I comment, leaning closer. I never knew how fascinating it is to witness a man talk about someone he loves.
A small grin grows on Lee's face. "No doubt I fell for the lady the moment I saw her. She's bloody perfect. She's so smart and passionate and courageous and patient and understanding. Her smile is the cutest thing I've ever seen — just so bloody beautiful. And her eyes! God, her eyes..."
John teasingly gags, to which Burr shoots him a "behave-for-the-love-of-god" stare.
"That's so romantic," I smile, my heart swooning as though he were saying these things about me.
Alexander scoffs at my reaction. "Women."
I ignore his comment and continue to question Lee. "You're an official thing then? You and Tori?"
Lee nods timidly. "That we are. We've been together for a while..."
"She's only with your sorry ass to get back at Lafayette and rub it in his face," John crudely says, his tone dripping with utter jealousy.
Is John jealous of Lee?
"I thought so too," Burr admits, his shy expression showing that he has never planned to tell anyone his suspicions. But he's saying them now.
There's something about a campfire...
"You did?" Lee glares at Burr.
"Yes, I did," Burr repeats. "But then I saw the way she looks at you... And I realized that she really does love you the way you love her."
Once again, John gags, but now I don't see it as a humorous act. Instead, I see it as his way of hiding his jealousy.
After a brief minute of silence, Lee sips the remainder of his tea, then sighs. "And now she's in China, risking her life for the sake of moving this bloody war along."
I hadn't considered it before, but Lee must be feeling tremendously terrified. Spies have the most dangerous job of any participator in war. Even AC soldiers have it easier.
If spies are caught, they're tortured for information. Sometimes, their captors will offer back the spy in return for something from the spy's commander. They never accept because they cannot admit it is their spy.
More often than not, spies are killed and never to be remembered. They die as they lived: a shadow. If Lee's spy — his girl — is killed, he might not find out for a long time...
Burr clears his throat, and in an attempt to change the melancholy mood, he changes the subject.
"Alexander and (Y/N)... You've only been on two missions so far as official AC soldiers, correct?"
I look to Alexander, hoping he'll answer for me. Luckily for me, he sees the hesitance in my eyes and wastes no time jumping onto Burr's question.
"Yes, the one in Florida and the one in Cuba, both of which you were present."
Burr nods. "It's a common notion that the third mission is always the hardest for an AC soldier."
"No way," John interrupts. "The first one is undoubtedly the hardest... for several reasons."
"I've heard that number ten is the hardest," Lee says, pulling himself out of his distressed daze. "I wouldn't know, though. I don't remember my tenth mission."
"My tenth mission was no problem," John says, sounding to almost brag. "It was in Iran. We joined the small Israel AC to save a political figure from Israel. Those bastards ran away the moment they saw our planes and heard our tanks."
"I don't think I've had a tenth mission yet," Burr comments. "In fact, I think the next mission we go on will be number ten."
"Hopefully, Washington sends us into action soon," Lee says.
"If you don't mind me asking, what was all of your first missions?" Alexander coos politely, looking between the civil Generals.
All is silent for a moment, the only sound coming from the crackling of the fire. I'm sure it's common knowledge that no one likes talking about their first mission. I know I don't like recalling my first mission in Florida. But it's a valid question. It can tell us a lot about them. What I'm most curious about is when they became AC soldiers. Is it possible any of them were in the AC before it became a worldwide division?
"Why don't you go first, Charles," Burr says, nudging Lee a bit roughly.
Lee swallows hard and nods. "Right. It was about three weeks after the war started and I was a recent graduate of the British AC. It was the first graduating unit of Britain, but that's irrelevant. We got dropped off in Poland to help the Polish soldiers fight off the Russians."
I give myself a moment to take this in, then make sense of it. Of course. Not that long after Ukraine was completely taken over by the Russians, they tried to push straight through Poland, a bordering country. Eventually, the Russians had to pull back and almost lost some Ukrainian land to the Poles. Currently, there is no threat to the Polish borders.
"It was mid to late January," Lee continues. "The storms were getting bloody bad — I had never seen so much snow in my life before. The temperature was dangerously low and a lot of our vehicles stopped working. We spent more time trying to stay warm than actually driving back the Russians. One day, a storm was so bad that we agreed with the Russian units to have a cease-fire until the storm passed. We spent that day — and this is bloody unbelievable — in some of the Russian camps."
My eyes widen and I lean closer to Lee. "Wait, really? The Russians let the Brits and Poles in their camp?"
Lee nods. "I was gobsmacked, bird. But they offered to share their vodka and beer with us. In return, we gave them tea. They wanted tea..."
I suppress a laugh. Why wouldn't those Russians want tea? Tea is hard to come by in Russia, especially in poor towns like where I grew up.
"We spent the day and night drinking away our sorrows, singing songs, and acting like drunk dinguses. We didn't understand their music, but we danced to it all the same."
I smile at the thought. A younger, more innocent Lee dancing around while drunk. Back when he wasn't a General but merely a soldier. Things must have been easier then.
I'm saddened, however, by what Lee says next.
"The jolliness didn't last, though. The next morning, after many of us blacked out drunk, we were marched back to Polish territory. We thought there might have been a chance to create some peace. We even heard that some Russian Generals were willing to have a cease-fire for a couple more months. But Washington had a conference with the British Generals, demanding that we get back into fighting. Before I knew it, we were back in the bloody trenches, shooting at the Russians we were laughing with the night before."
I can't stop the frown from forming on my face. What a horrible reality check that must have been for Lee. All that fun was built up... just for it to be torn away. And for what? The progression of the war, of course.
"That must have been horrible," I say sympathetically.
Lee stares into the fire for a moment, then sighs heavily. "I try not to tease the memory. It's not like it should have come as a surprise anyway... Aaron, you should share your first mission."
Burr, seeming to have been preparing during Lee's story, sits up straighter and faces Alexander and me directly, a stern look on his face.
"I had joined the war rather early — training was far less extensive than it is now and I was able to graduate from AC training about three months into the war. My unit was on standby for a couple of weeks, but when we got called in, it was an important mission. A Chinese diplomat from Hong Kong was kidnapped by the people of Beijing."
"Why would they kidnap someone from their own country?" Alexander asks.
"He may have been from their country, but he wasn't of their mindset. He constantly preached for Hong Kong freedom from the Communistic hell hole the rest of China had become. The people outside of Hong Kong didn't like that very much. Thus, the outspoken diplomat was kidnapped and held hostage."
"I never understood why the AC got involved with that issue," John comments, seeming to remember the event himself. "China is a Voyna country. We have no business getting involved."
"It was Washington's special request," Burr explains. "He felt like such a powerful voice of the Chinese people preaching for the removal of the Communism system could make a difference. Maybe spark a coup d'etat."
"So what happened."
"We got a tip of where he was being held, so we stormed the city and searched for the diplomat... Unfortunately for us, we were lied to, and when the kidnappers saw us searching for the diplomat, they acted quick and tossed him off the Great Wall of China."
My jaw hits the ground. "What? They killed him?"
"Yes, they did. It was more of a direct message to Washington than anything. They wanted to prove a point, and they did."
Now, everyone looks at John. We wait patiently, expecting him to tell the story of his first mission. I'm too interested for my own good! He says the first mission is always the hardest, so what about his first mission made him believe this? I'm utterly curious.
Yet, when I see how the guilt that is usually masked under the hazel color if his eyes showing prominently in the glow of the fire, it deterred my interest. What is going on in that mind of his and why can't he hide it like he usually does.
"What was your first mission, John?" Alexander asks softly.
The fire crackles loudly, the cold wind gently brushes against my skin as it sways the fire left and right. John stares into this fire as though it has the answer for him somewhere in the flames. I can see the reflection of the fire in his misty eyes.
I can't help but find him attractive... And I hate myself for thinking such a thing.
John draws one more breath from his shrunken cigar, then drops it into the snow before stomping the flame out.
"I'm goin' to try and get some sleep... G'night y'all."
Our eyes follow John as he stands up and strides away, his hands in his pocket and his steps slow and sluggish. The men quickly look away, conversing about that odd behavior, but I'm still mystified by John's action.
My gaze lingers on him until he fades in the darkness. Even after the shadows consume him, my thoughts remain on him.
What was he thinking? What was he feeling guilty about? What was his first mission?
I take in a deep breath, then sigh it out. In the cold air, I puff out a white cloud, reminding myself of John and his cigar. There's something about John that I don't know, and I'm dying to find out.
Both Lee and Burr's first mission were influenced by Washington. Washington played a part in their missions, both of which sounded hellish. Is it possible that Washington played a part in John's first mission?
I don't understand how Lee, Burr, and Alexander can carry on with their conversation without speaking of John's odd behavior. They're far more interested in talking about Lafayette's first mission, which is very vague and mysterious.
I pretend as though I am not thinking of John even though I very much am. I keep staring into the fire as I plan out my plan of attack. Whatever John is hiding, it surely is worth knowing. If our bond permits, I'll slowly inch my way closer to that guilty part of his mind until I can hear the thoughts screaming within. Then, and only then, I will know John's true character — the part of himself he tries to hide.
I don't know why I'm so interested. If it has nothing to do with getting closer to Washington, then I shouldn't waste my time on it.
There's only one reason why I'm so invested in John: I am starting to like him, and not in an innocent way.
I internally scoff at the thought. Yeah, right. I'd normally never even tease the idea. But, you know...
There's something about a campfire.