Gregory didn't tell his parents about the incident with the dog. When his father asked why he hadn't gotten the milk, and why Christophe wasn't with him, Gregory said that Christophe had tripped and had decided to go home. It was the first lie Gregory had ever told his parents, and it would also be the first of many he'd keep from them. He didn't like the feeling it gave him, being untruthful. It made his stomach twist and put a throbbing in his head.

He retreated to him room immediatly after dinner, claiming he wanted to practice his letters. Another lie - he just wanted to lie down and think. He flopped down on his bed and gathered all his stuffed animals around him, burying his face into General Thorne and staying that way until his mother came to kiss him goodnight.

He remained awake under the covers, wondering what Christophe was doing. Sleeping, most likely. He hoped the incident today didn't make the French boy hate their troop game. It was still fun, Gregory thought glumly. It quenched the thirst for adventure he'd barely discovered he had. Now that he'd seen for himself what it was like to go out on his own, to be in charge of himself for once, he didn't want to stop. He just hoped the same was true for his friend.

xxx

The following week was boring. Christophe was apparently grounded for some reason Gregory didnt understand, so everyday after school he'd be left to his own devices. He mostly moped around he house, drove his mother insane asking "why" after everything she said, and drew pictures that he smeared over with black crayon.

It felt like an eternity later that the blond finally came home to see the French boy sitting on the front lawn, stroking the neighbor cat absently until he saw the blond approaching. Gregory burst out of the vehicle as soon as it had stopped and rushed to hug his friend, explaining how horrible it had been without him. He asked about Christophe's arm and got a shrug in reply. They went up to Gregory's room and colored for a while, the blond glancing at the stuffed animals out of the corner of his eye every now and then.

Christophe caught on to what Gregory was doing and chuckled softly, putting down his green crayon and grabbing Medic from the bed. The Brit grinned in response and tossed the crayons and paper aside, making room for the remaining soldiers. He lined them up by height and sorted them into groups, explaining what each's mission would be. He saved the best job for Medic, naturally, and Christophe set off immediatly into battle.

He fought a government agency (Gregory's toy chest) that was holding civilians captive. Christophe and Gregory pried open the blond's toybox, using the other soldiers to keep it open while they freed the toys inside. "Alright, move out, move out! It's going to close!" Gregory pulled the last toy free and the toy box slammed shut, earning a gasp from Christophe.

"Medic!" Both boys stared in horror as they realized that the giraffe's head was still inside the chest. Christophe tugged its tail, struggling to release the animal.

"He's done for!" Gregory shouted, clearing the rest of the troops away and walking General Thorne to the toy box. "I'll tell your wife you loved her."

Christophe made a face and laughed, stopping Medic's struggle and sighing. Suddenly he cupped his hands together and held them up to his mouth, making a noise that terrified Gregory for a moment.

"What in the world was that?!" he asked once Christophe had stopped.

"Eet was ze sound of a dying giraffe." He shrugged and put his hands in his lap. Gregory furrowed his brow.

"How do you know that's what sound they make?"

"I don't know."

"Oh." Gregory scratched his head. "Well, then I suppose we should have a proper burial. I know how to give one. We had to bury my hamster one time because I let it out of the cage and my mum accidentally sucked it up in the vacuum." He opened the toybox and gingerly took Medic into his arms. "We have to go outside and dig a hole. Come on."

He lead Christophe downstairs and out to the backyard, sitting down next to his mother's garden. He laid he giraffe down near some flowers and handed Christophe a spade.

"The hole has to be at least six times bigger than the body. So dig deep."

Christophe glanced momentarily at the tool in his hands before plunging the blade into the ground, smiling as he shoveled out a huge load of dirt. Gregory grinned at his progress and watched him lazily. It was only a few moments later that the hole was deep enough for Medic, and Gregory lowered him inside.

"Wow, this hole's deep!" He peered to the bottom where the old giraffe lay and giggled. "Time to bury him. Would you like to say a few words?"

Christophe nodded solemly and put the spade down, sitting straight and speaking softly in French. Gregory closed his eyes and bowed his head respectfully. He gave his own eulogy when he heard Christophe shoveling dirt back into the hole, and then the boys stood and went back inside, only to come out ten minutes later and dig the old animal back up.

"I forgot that he has he power to come back to life," Gregory reasoned, watching Christophe brush off the dirt. "Silly me."

They continued playing Troops with the animals for months, still not daring enough to go on a real mission again. Christophe's wound healed alright, though it left a small pink scar, serving as a reminder of what had gone wrong during their first mission. The brunet seemed to have no interest in playing the game again. Gregory hinted at it a couple times, but Christophe would pretend he hadn't heard or didn't understand the question, which Gregory thought was stupid because Christophe was almost fully fluent in English now. The Brit always gave up in case it still bothered the shorter boy, but he was beginning to grow bored with just the animals.

So they sat in the garden, Gregory giving toys orders and Christophe digging holes for the fatally wounded. He seemed to enjoy digging the most, and several times the blond had to tear him away from it. "You're digging more holes than we have dead men!" But there was something relaxing in watching the French boy dig. He had a rhythm to it, and Gregory often fell asleep watching him.

As winter approached and the ground started to frost over, Christophe finally started showing an interest in going on a "real mission" again. Gregory rolled his eyes in relief, and they planned to walk to a place called Stark's pond, where you could walk on the frozen water. The boys had scoffed when Gregory's mother had told them about it, but she insisted it was true and drew them a map.

Gregory held the map while Christophe watched for any sign of danger. They had seen a group of older kids near Christophe's house, but snuck by them with no complications. They got lost twice and had to ask an adult to point them in the right direction, much to Christophe's annoyance. But finally they arrived at the pond, which was deserted. Gregory pulled his coat tighter around himself and stepped closer to the water.

"It's frozen, alright." He tapped the ice with his foot and shivered. "I dare you to stand on it."

"Alright." Christophe hesitated slightly before stepping onto the frozen water. He stomped lightly and grinned. "I'm standing on water!" He moved further away from the land and got enough courage to slide around on his shoes. "Come on, Gregory."

"I'm not sure. What if it's not safe?" The blond looked suspiciously at the ice, putting more weight on the foot resting on it.

"Eef eet wasn't safe, your mozer wouldn't 'ave let us come." Christophe slid over to him and grabbed his wrist. "Now let's go."

The Brit put up a struggle and gasped in fear as he was pulled all the way onto the ice. He gripped onto Christophe as tightly as possible, earning a laugh from the brunet. "It's not funny, Christophe. What if the ice breaks and we fall in?"

Christophe stopped in the middle of the pond and shrugged. "I don't zink eet will break." He stomped on the ice, eliciting a shriek from Gregory. "See? You worry too much."

"I have good reason to," the blond retorted. He let go of Christophe, though, and tested out his balance. He took a step forwad, then another and another before letting himself slide on the ice, laughing. Christophe joined him, taking running starts before jumping and landing not so gracefully onto the ice. The last time he tried it the ice cracked a little, so the two scurried off the ice and hit the ground laughing.

After calming down, Gregory brushed off the snow that had accumulated on his coat and leaned on Christophe's shoulder. "It's nice out here."

Christophe nodded, growing silent. He kicked at some of the snow and stretched. "Eet would be a good place to run away to." Gregory froze, eyeing Christophe suspiciously.

"What do you mean, run away? You don't mean that." He crossed his arms, angry that Christophe would even bring up such a thing.

The brunet shrugged. "I'm not saying I will. All I said ees zat eet would be a nice place."

"Well...you're not going to, right?" Gregory huffed. "What would I do without you? You're my only friend, Christophe, and friends don't just run away and leave the other one stranded!" He thought about a word he had learned recently in school. "That's very selfish."

"I said I wasn't, alright?" Christophe furrowed his brow and took a step away from the blond. "Eet was just a comment." He kicked angrily at the snow and turned away.

Gregory's expression softened. "...Alright. But...you've thought about it?"

There was a long pause and Christophe sighed. "Yes. I 'ave. Eet should be obvious why. I don't want to live with 'er forever, Gregory." He turned back toward the blond and Gregory reached out a hand, placing it on his shoulder. Christophe leaned close and whispered in the blonde's ear, as if someone might be listening, "I don't zink she loves me."

Gregory's heart dropped at the words. He felt tears prickling at his eyes and stuttered, "O-of course she does, she's your mum. Just because she desn't act like it-"

"Non, she told me," Christophe interrupted, not looking the least bit upset. He seemed so much older suddenly, in Gregory's eyes. The look in his eyes and the stoic expression made him seem a thousand years older, like he had lived for decades and had experienced the world for a century instead of just five years. "She said zat I shouldn't 'ave ever been born. She tried to get rid of me, when I was still in 'er stomach, but she couldn't finish."

Gregory felt a tear slide down his face, not understanding anything Christophe was saying, but understanding everything at the same time. Christophe frowned, giving Gregory an annoyed look, and the blond quickly wiped the wetness away.

"I zink she should 'ave finished," the French boy muttered, and Gregory had slapped him before he had even fully processed the sentence.

"Don't talk like that!" he shouted, shoving Christophe to the ground. "You have just enough purpose to be alive as I do! Just because your mum- just because she-" He wiped tears from his face and immediatly felt bad, looking down at Christophe's blank stare. He knelt down and hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you." Christophe shook his head and curled his arms around Gregory's back.

"Eet's okay," he muttered.

"No, it's not. You know it isn't." Gregory took a deep breath and wiped his face on Christophe's jacket, wetting the thin material. "Just...please don't talk like that."

"But eet's 'ard." Christophe ran his fingers through Gregory's hair absently, not knowing what else to say. "I can't help eet." The blond pulled back and kissed Christophe's cheek, slightly pink from the slap.

"Well, you should try." Gregory took another shaky breath. "It's not going to help, and you have me. One day we can leave and travel around the world and go on real missions, but we can't go yet. Just hold on for a little while longer, okay?"

Christophe sighed in defeat and nodded, smiling grimly. "Okay. Eef we make ee zat long."

"What do you mean if we make it that long?! Of course we will! If I can lead us through all those troop missions, I can get us through an angry mother. Don't you trust me?"

Christophe rolled his eyes, smiling. "Of course I do. Idiot."

He wiped at his cheek where Gregory had kissed him.

"Even zough you are an ugly crier."