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AND THEN...
Something about being left behind a day after thoughts of renegotiation and promises of being his and hers forever have eaten at Charlie for the last seven weeks.
They'd argued about leaving her behind (something something it wasn't safe to take her) and about her going (something something if he could go, how come she couldn't?) and it'd ended with a compromise that'd sounded suspiciously like pandering. A declaration that he'd let her visit if things seemed calm or he'd simply come back. Just that he wasn't going to allow her on the front lines of anything dangerous because otherwise, what was the point of trying to keep her safe?
She'd pretty much blocked it out once he'd started making excuses not to take her; feelings hurt, she'd pouted for the rest of the afternoon, through most of dinner, but she'd loved him all night long. She'd told him again that she was his, had let him press into her while he'd left marks on her skin and called her his. After, she'd reminded him that he was hers, too, and she'd be very put out if something happened to him and then, without exploring the ramifications too deeply if that happened, she'd curled into him and fallen asleep.
The next morning, she'd woken up alone. She'd woken up alone for the last seven weeks. It was agony as she'd realized that so much of her routine was caught up in this man, a man she'd finally realized that she loved, and now he was just gone. She couldn't be sure where, and the snippets of information she got were too few and far between.
Meandering around the large house didn't help with the boredom, though she spent time with Miles. She refused to leave, despite his insistence, and he still didn't understand. She didn't care and didn't change her mind. It surprised the men that the General had left behind, too, that all she did was entertain her uncle, and a few of the wives of the other soldiers. Just to keep up morale. That they sent notes back to inform him that yes, she'd stayed, and yes, she was keeping busy, was something they didn't share with her.
And then one day, all that tempered peace was rocked. When she came downstairs, she found everyone on edge and, when asked, the answers were vague. Not until she made demands did she find out that he'd been injured. He was expected to live, probably, but it'd been two days now, and Charlie was livid.
That she couldn't go was no longer an option. Who she was taking with her was the only question. Miles, of course. Her personal guard, naturally. And two other men. That was all. And a day and a half later, their group of five arrived at General Monroe's camp like they belonged there.
They'd argued about leaving her behind (something something it wasn't safe to take her) and about her going (something something if he could go, how come she couldn't?) and it'd ended with a compromise that'd sounded suspiciously like pandering. A declaration that he'd let her visit if things seemed calm or he'd simply come back. Just that he wasn't going to allow her on the front lines of anything dangerous because otherwise, what was the point of trying to keep her safe?
She'd pretty much blocked it out once he'd started making excuses not to take her; feelings hurt, she'd pouted for the rest of the afternoon, through most of dinner, but she'd loved him all night long. She'd told him again that she was his, had let him press into her while he'd left marks on her skin and called her his. After, she'd reminded him that he was hers, too, and she'd be very put out if something happened to him and then, without exploring the ramifications too deeply if that happened, she'd curled into him and fallen asleep.
The next morning, she'd woken up alone. She'd woken up alone for the last seven weeks. It was agony as she'd realized that so much of her routine was caught up in this man, a man she'd finally realized that she loved, and now he was just gone. She couldn't be sure where, and the snippets of information she got were too few and far between.
Meandering around the large house didn't help with the boredom, though she spent time with Miles. She refused to leave, despite his insistence, and he still didn't understand. She didn't care and didn't change her mind. It surprised the men that the General had left behind, too, that all she did was entertain her uncle, and a few of the wives of the other soldiers. Just to keep up morale. That they sent notes back to inform him that yes, she'd stayed, and yes, she was keeping busy, was something they didn't share with her.
And then one day, all that tempered peace was rocked. When she came downstairs, she found everyone on edge and, when asked, the answers were vague. Not until she made demands did she find out that he'd been injured. He was expected to live, probably, but it'd been two days now, and Charlie was livid.
That she couldn't go was no longer an option. Who she was taking with her was the only question. Miles, of course. Her personal guard, naturally. And two other men. That was all. And a day and a half later, their group of five arrived at General Monroe's camp like they belonged there.
no subject
"Miss Matheson. Good morning. How is he?"
She doesn't look upset, so Jeremy isn't too worried, but the question still needs asking
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Coffee. Give it over, Jeremy. At some point, she thinks she might say something about the 'Miss Matheson' but now isn't the time and not in front of his men. Instead, she looks around for the source of caffeine because she needs it to make the day go, otherwise Miles' barking is going to sound like a lullaby by noon. As the doctor passes, she tells him that Bass might be awake and, if he is, please check him out and make sure he's good to go.
The doc gives her a nod, holding his own coffee, and heads that direction.
"Okay, where can a girl get a cup?"
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"Here, have mine," Miles says, as he walks up, holding out hie full mug to her.
Yes, the officers have their own mess even when they go to war and that's the only place to find coffee out here. It's still a rare, expensive commodity. And he's pretty sure no one would be stupid enough to stop her going in--they'd let him in--but why risk it? It's his third cup anyway, because Miles didn't sleep last night. Too much on his mind, and too much to do for today, too.
The doctor nodded at her, waved at Jeremy and went to check on Bass and get him ready to travel. Miles has already been working on setting up a wagon for him and Charlie with plenty of blankets to keep Bass from getting too banged up. "You think this is sufficient?" he asks Charlie, waving at it. "He seemed pretty banged up in the bath, but Christ knows what the men's pillows are infested with--nothing I'm gonna expose him to, at least, with any open wounds."