Author's Note: Scene 7, and the end of Act 1! I believe that this will be three acts. Have been debating who they find next but have pretty much decided. This chapter was fun to write overall, I'm very fond of Mellish. He was a cool character, although I think that they pretty much all were. So…please review, and very many thanks to those who have and did!

Act One, Scene Seven

Exterior-Campsite-Late Afternoon

(The squad has settled down from the initial excitement of Mellish's return, and are now taking a moment to rest due to the new peace of mind—or the illusion of such, for, unfortunately, none of them at this moment face the fact that several others are still missing. Perhaps it is the human psyche—or the combined personalities of Wade and Reiben, one acting to cushion the sharp pains of life for the others if it means his own suffering must be increased, and borne in silence, the other living in a conflicting denial and realism, constantly alternating between the two.

A lazy plume of smoke rises up from the ashes of the fire that was lit the previous night, as it has finally died down due to a lack of fuel. Upon investigation, one sees that Irwin Wade has finally found a moment of comfort and has fallen asleep, momentarily free of the cries and yelps that have plagued the mind of his companions for some time. He attempts to muffle his groans when he can't hold them back any longer, the pain finally overwhelming his bravery, not directly visible to those that are not borne able to sense such things…but in his sleep, he is at the mercy of his physical self and nothing more, and it seems that he loses the choice of whether or not to trouble his comrades.

As for Upham, he has sat by the fire for a little while longer before he, too, decides to go back and rest, leaning against a large granite rock and closing his eyes, creating two small crescents of long black lashes. It is a few moments before he, too, has fallen asleep.

Richard and Mellish sit next to each other by the fire, the New Yorker staying a good foot away from his friend—or perhaps the closest to, for Mellish is, if nothing else, a tolerant soul, a pillar of strength---a confidante. Neither speaks, as it seems both are merely enjoying each others' presences for the time being.

The silence lasts until Richard begins to involuntarily rap his fingers against the wood, taking on the look of a caged lion. Mellish smiles in his way of doing so, in the way of a dog completely satisfied, a Siberian Husky after a long run in foot deep snow. He wordlessly withdraws two cigarettes from his pack, taking one for himself and then offering the other to Richard.)

Mellish: You look as sick as a dog. Take it, Reiben. (There's mock exhasperation in his tone and he grins. Richard takes it with the expression of an addict finally provided with what it is that he desires, his eyes flickering down and taking on a dull, almost restful expression, although perhaps it is merely that the shadow cast down upon them seems to make the already-dark shade of brown grow black. He lights it, putting it in his mouth. Mellish smirks.) No 'thank you'? Damn. (He chuckles lightly. Richard huffs.)

Richard: Thank you.

Mellish: It's not a problem. (Mellish crosses his legs, leaning back slightly and watching Irwin and Upham as they sleep. Irwin has begun to twitch, his face twisting in discomfort as his momentarily relief vanishes as quickly as it had come about. Mellish turns his gaze to Richard again, but he doesn't say anything, just watching, observing. Richard's quieted, the insecurities for a moment put to rest by the feeling that the space to his left is occupied by a friend.

He gets up after a few more minutes, starting towards where Upham and Irwin sleep. He sets a stiff hand on Upham's shoulder, waking him, and then sets the same hand on Irwin's arm—summoning what seems to the others like a small amount of compassion and gentling the touch, as if it would hurt Irwin further through the small gesture. For indeed it does, and he yelps softly, with the tone and sound of a newborn puppy taken away from the warmth and comfort of its mother as it nurses.

Seeing Richard, he gets up with effort and stands, leaning against a tree for support. Mellish frowns, watching, and Upham looks at Richard with a pitiful expression when he speaks.)

Richard: Get up—we need to keep going. The longer we stay back, the farther away from us the rest of the squad get. (His tone is harsh, and it's evident that he is growing tired as well---they all are, except for maybe Mellish, who hasn't been through the ordeal of the goings-on, as of yet. With the lack of sleep comes the state of becoming emotional, inevitably—although it is expressed in different ways, for Richard, it could best be described as a growing restlessness, anger, irritation with all others---for Upham, the mere increase in sensitivity to remarks, the magnification of hurt feelings, similar to a child that has stayed up far beyond its bed-time and seems about ready to wail at the slightest reprimand. As for Irwin, one may ask? He is finally falling onto his knees, losing the strength that he had on the first day of the journey, and it's evident---the seemingly constant travel is doing him no good.)

Upham: (His voice rising, then breaking) Reiben, we can't keep moving--! We have to rest, look at him! (He makes a desperate gesture to Irwin, who closes his eyes.) You're going to wind up hurting him even more, he needs---

Irwin: I'll…be fine, Upham. I'll be okay. You don't need to worry, I…can take care of myself. (He's lying. His skin has grown pale and sickly, and there are dark rings under his eyes. His face has become sallow and it seems that beneath the uniform he's lost an unhealthy amount of weight. It's impossible to tell.)

Richard: (Ignoring Irwin) You know what, Upchuck?! There's a lot of things he needs right now, like a fucking doctor or maybe some god-damn morphine, but I don't have any of that. So if you do, feel free to give it to him. I'm trying, Upchuck, but for the love of Christ, if you would stop griping for more than five fucking minutes than maybe I would be able to help our friend Wade a bit more. But I can't, so shut the hell up and get moving!

(Upham cringes as Richard's voice rises to a nasal, sharp yell again, closing his eyes. When he opens them they're watering, clear with pain.)

Upham: I'm trying the best I can. I can't do much, Reiben, but I'm trying, and I may not be a doctor, but I know that you're killing him. You're forcing him farther than he can go, Reiben, why can't you see that? (His voice shakes.)

Wade: (Tiredly.) Please, stop fighting…--

Mellish: Reiben, can it. I've had enough of this! Go back to sleep, Wade, we'll rest until tomorrow morning. Jackson, Horvath, and Miller are all going to be okay, I can feel it. (Mellish turns back to the fire, sitting back down. His eyes darken with what seems to be frustration and he sighs. Reiben remains standing, growling under his breath at being so easily jolted out of command by his one confidante.

For Mellish seems to be universally trusted, spoken to with the small bits of information that aren't shared, and all the while, this has never come into light. He is a figure meant to get along with others, and to understand both sides…)

End Scene 7, end Act 1. Fade to black.