The sun was at it's highest when the enemy came, although we expected it, the heat made us weak and we struggled to defeat the deserters that had attacked us, we suffered a loss, and three casualties, with Sergeant Harper badly wounded we we forced to find shelter and set up camp.
The company truly suffered with the heat and I took it upon myself to help the wounded, healing them slowly to avoid suspicion and allowing them to rest.
Sergeant Harper was still resting when I returned to see him once the sun had set and the air began to cool, as I was tending to his wounds, I heard the soft, slightly limping footsteps of Sharpe.
"How is he?"
"He'll live. The heat doesn't help, but a good amount of sleep should help him."
He was quiet, his tension was evident, his hand squeezed my shoulder.
"Thank you."
He turned to leave, but I stood and stopped him.
"You're limping. Sit."
"It's fine, I've had worse."
"I said sit."
He rolled his eyes and sat down on the edge of an empty bunk, stretching out his wounded leg. I could see the circle of blood staining his trousers, and when I tried to lift the material from his skin, he winced.
"It's been left too long already."
I did not think the Major would be so stupid regarding his own health, I tore the material from the knee, he complained, but quietened once he saw the mess of blood and the open wound.
"I'll fix them when you're resting." I clean the wound, pressing a bit harder than was necessary, quietly enjoying his pained sound.
"You're a tailor as well as a Doctor?"
Sarcasm is most unbecoming, but I force a laugh, he relaxes, I pick up the roll of bandage and begin to wrap it around his shin.
"Just a scrape." I explained to him, distracting him from the slight healing glow. "A ricochet probably, nothing to extract."
"Good."
I finished, and tore the bandage, tying it off and putting the bandage to one side.
"Thanks again, Charles."

I left. It probably seemed abrupt to the Major, but I had to leave quickly.
Since I had travelled with the 95th the smell of blood had not bothered me in any way, after battle, in the medical tent, fixing wounds on the move... but Sharpe's blood... once I was in my tent I breathed deeply, I could only smell the dry canvas and the dust on the ground, thankfully, his scent had not lingered.
This was becoming risky.
I knelt next to my bunk and clasped my hands, often I had seen the other soldiers doing so, 'a quick prayer before bed' they would explain, and they would continue to ask their god for his blessings in all manner of things and ask him to watch over their families.
As odd as I thought it, I adopted it now, I needed guidance and help. I just hoped I was not too far away.
Can you hear me?
"Quietly, as if a whisper, but yes, Chasseur, I can hear you."
Majesty, I think my position has been compromised, I need your reassurance...
"What has happened to make you so troubled?"
I have not tasted human flesh for years, I have not craved it even when it has been readily available...
"You have shown strength where no others could."
I sighed. I have healed many wounds and the blood has not affected me, but the Major's... I felt such craving, such a strong desire deep in my core.
"Hm. Chasseur, if he is a strong man his blood will also be strong, you must be stronger to resist it, to resist him."
What if I can't... what if I cannot help myself?
There was a warm sound, not quite a laugh. It reassures me.
"You will not hurt -"
"Greene!"
Startled, I stand, caught off guard, I never heard Sharpe enter my tent, despite the anger in his tone.
"Explain!"
It took a moment for me to realise exactly what he wanted to explain, but then I noticed, his leg wound was gone, I had healed it completely without meaning to.
"What did you do?"
"I bandaged-"
"The bandage was completely clean." He threw it at me as proof, bloodless. "I saw the wound, but now there's not even a scar. What did you do?"
I could not understand the expression on his face, anger, yes, I could feel that without searching, but something I couldn't place...
"I -"
"And why haven't you done it to Harper?"
Then I saw it all, sadness, fear and anger, he hated me for healing him over the Sergeant, angry with me for the same reason, but feared me overall. I felt the same rush as before, stronger with every heartbeat.
Then he steps further in and sits on my bunk, all anger dissipated, nothing but sadness.
"Could you do it?"
"Sir?"
"He's not only my Sergeant, he's my friend."
I stand, then crouch in front of him, my hands on his shoulders, I hold his gaze and in his eyes I see nothing but pain, the uncertainty of another settling on top of it all.
"He'll be fine, sir. I promise."
He sighs and his eyes close, his sadness lifts, if only a little, he bows his head and takes a few relieved breaths. He raises his head again, a curious expression causing his brow to crease.
"What did you do?"
I let my hands drop, honesty, they say, is the best policy.
"I healed your wound."
"How?"
"I don't know." I had never thought on it before. "I've always been able to do it."
"Could you-"
"I have. With Harper and everyone, just slowly, so that it looks more like they're healing on their own."
"It couldn't go wrong could it?"
"No."
He smiled, rested a hand on my shoulder, squeezed, a friendly gesture, it made my heart drum faster than ever. I cannot lose composure now... this would be disastrous.
"Are you alright?"
I felt another squeeze at my shoulder, his eyes trying to meet with mine.
"Charles?"
Then I felt it, an audible snap somewhere in my being and I leapt for him. I felt him struggling before I realised exactly what I was doing, I felt his hair under my hand and between my fingers, his shirt bunched into my fist, the sound of his complaints against my mouth.

As I held my lips to his there was a moment of calm, as if that deep craving was satisfied, but it did not last, I felt it still, a rushing wave, bringing my heart further forward in my chest.
I pushed myself further upon him, deepening the kiss, tasting his lips, pushing my tongue to meet his. He stilled, his grabbing and pushing hands rested on my back, I shivered as I felt him lift his jaw slightly, returning the kiss, his tongue passing softly over my own.
I feel a sudden rush of cool air against my skin, his hand swiftly replaces it, my skin seeming to tremor from the contact, he must feel it, because he makes a noise in his throat and pulls hard at my jacket.
I break the kiss and lean back, panting, for the first time since his sadness, our eyes meet, and I may as well be looking at a completely different person, his eyes were burning, watching me, his chest rising and falling beneath his loose white shirt.

I remove my jacket, loosen my own shirt when he leans forward and assists me, his hand purposefully stroking over my skin as he helps push the material up and over my head. It is thrown aside and we make short work of removing his, I touch his skin, smooth, scarred in places and ruined by the sun, but for this moment, perfect.
I lean to him and I taste a scar just below his collarbone, my lips brush the ridge of the bone and follow it with kisses, he groans again, his neck arching, and I follow the tendons, I can feel his blood rushing beneath his skin, almost taste it with each lasting kiss.
Our lips meet again, once, then we look.
While his eyes held mine captive, his hands were stroking down my back, carving a determined path and leaving a tingle in their wake, one thumb slips into the waistband of my breeches, the other slips around to my stomach, and I shiver as the hand presses at my arousal.

"Sir..."
My plea goes unfinished as his mouth captures mine, his hand opening and pushing into my breeches, his careful hand, soft fingers touching, making my breath hitch, my body jerk.
I feel him smile, that smug, self-satisfied, lop-sided smile on my skin as he presses his face to my shoulder.
I groan as he holds me, moving his hand slowly, I shiver with each movement, my breaths broken and ragged, I cling to him, unable to talk but trying to coax him to move just a bit faster.
His grip tightens, and suddenly I cannot breathe at all, my fingers gripping hard at his shoulders, I hear him hiss slightly in pain, but he continues, his hand moving faster, my shivering unceasing, my breath short, hitching, my lungs and body burning for release.
I groan once more, and his mouth is on me again, swallowing my every cry as pleasure overwhelms me, my body suffering violent, uncontrollable shudders with every pulse of orgasm.

He shifts and pulls me up, lying us both on the small cot, he kisses at my jaw, and I kiss back lazily when he reaches my mouth.
I feel my eyes beginning to close in tiredness and I welcome the removal of my boots and breeches, kicking weakly as the material is tangled around my feet.
Sharpe laughs lightly, and there's a moment of rustling before I feel him settle between my thighs, a hand stroking softly over my thighs and knees, he slides them up and lifts my hips.
"Sir...?"
One hand at my hip squeezes, that reassuring gesture, this time it sends a weak ripple of pleasure through my body and makes me calm, I sigh, closing my eyes and feel him settle closer, his arousal pressing at my backside.
Then there is a pain I had never known before as he enters me slowly, my body shudders as it resists, my breath catches and falls and I close my eyes tight.
He pushes intermittently, grunting each time, heat rolled over me from his body, I could sense his need through my pain, I wondered briefly if he knew how much this hurt.
I could feel him pause and I looked up at him, he was breathing heavily, head bowed, eyes closed, he opens them again and looks at me, his mouth slack and lips moist, he leans forward, the movement causing him to move in me, and kisses me.
As his breath slows, he begins to move, my body jerks against the unknown feeling, the weird sensation of having another being inside of me.
His movements soon quicken, and I find myself gasping involuntarily, moaning softly, pleasure beginning to build quickly as he deepens his thrusts.
I feel a shock of pleasure through my spine and call out, arching my back and pressing down against him, he is caught off guard and he groans, leaning and kissing me again, the movement making me moan against his mouth.
He moves faster, moaning desperately, his hands grasping hard at my backside, pulling me down harder onto him, pleasure shooting through my spine with each inward thrust.
I shout out as he pushes in hard, his body shuddering through me, he moans with pleasure and
I feel his climax striking just as mine ends.
His movements slow and he lays over me, a lazy kiss is pressed against my neck and I listen as his breathing and his heartbeat slow to a more normal pace, my own calming swiftly.

I could no longer hate the Major.
I left him asleep in my tent as I stood out by the dead fire, looking up at the stars, my heart was aching.
I found her star, it still blinked and burned brighter than the others. My tears ran freely, I may never forgive myself for this.
"She forgives you."
The Queen's voice is soft, caring, she would know, after all.
I loved her so, Majesty.
"One can only mourn for so long, Chasseur. A century is long enough."
I nod and I return to the tent, the young Major still fast asleep, I strip back down and lie with him, his arm drapes across my chest.

But I will not love another human again.