He slept hard, without interruption, no dreams, no nightmares. That alone seemed strange to him upon waking in the half-light. The lantern behind the partition was lit, filtering through a dull gleam that still managed to send a knife straight through either eye. He squeezed them shut quickly, covering them with his hands, a quiet groan rumbling in his chest.
He wasn't in his own tent, that became obvious to him even before the pain fully registered. The bed was too wide, too firm, the surrounding space too large. He pried one eye open slowly, peering around him slowly. Years ago, he would have woken in a panic, first thought being that of an escape. It wasn't the first time he'd woken in a strange bed, wouldn't have been the first time an angry husband or boyfriend (even a few girlfriends) had been there to greet him when he did. There was no such threat now, and he pieced the previous night together slowly in his mind. His hands quickly found his eyes again, rubbing them roughly. Upon opening, the scenery had not changed, and he let out a shuddering breath.
It hadn't been a dream. A mistake, though, that was what it was. Of all the people… had he really? They had been drunk and… the things he'd done… Jesus. It was a night he'd live to regret, he knew, if he even lived that long. His own stupidity was glaringly apparent to him: of all the people he picked, it was the one person who could see to it he was out on his ass outside that fence before he could blink, the one person who had the fire and manpower to make good on it. He flattened his palm over his mouth slowly, sitting up and dragging the blankets to his chest.
Where the hell were his clothes even at? How the hell was he going to get out of here? It was dark enough outside. If he could pick his way through the tents just right, maybe he could make it back to his tent before anyone noticed. His feeble plans at escape were interrupted by a shaft of light as the partition zipped up. He winced, holding a hand in front of his eyes again.
"Jesus Christ. Turn the light off." He growled, regretted it as soon as his mouth opened. Good idea, order her around, piss her off a little more. His suicidal streak was showing again.
She laughed, and he peeled one eye open slowly to peer at her. She pulled the partition back together behind her, only a glimmer of light escaping from the front portion of the tent. She had a towel wrapped around her, though her hair was dry, wrapped atop her head and secured with a band. His stomach lurched dangerously, dropped somewhere down near his feet. He felt perilously close to vomiting.
"See you decided to wake up." She said quietly, watching him for a moment before edging around the bed and opening a tote to pull out several articles of clothing from neat stacks within it.
"What time is it?" he croaked.
"5 am." She answered, the towel dropping carelessly as she pulled on her clothing bit by bit.
"Christ," he growled again, averting his gaze quickly. "Why so early?"
"PT. Gotta get you out of here before the majority of the camp wakes up, less you looking to spread this around?" She looked to him, expression flat, serious.
"No," he said slowly, shaking his head, watching her carefully as he turned his head again. "Not much for talking."
"Good," she nodded, pulling her shirt over her head, and he caught her scent as the fabric moved, clean and cool despite the early morning warmth.
He swallowed, shifted uncomfortably, wrapping the sheets tighter around him.
"Wouldn't want anybody to know about me either."
She snorted, sitting down on the bed not far from him, bending over to pull on a pair of socks.
"Now we ain't gonna have this same conversation again, are we?" She looked over her shoulder at him. "You see where it got us last time." Her eyes traveled pointedly to his naked shoulders.
"Look," he said quickly, "I… I didn't… I wasn't planning on this."
She laughed again, looking back down as she pulled one boot on, began lacing it up with a lack of thought that spoke of repetition.
"That's sweet, son. But let me tell you a little bit about me. This ain't my first rodeo, cowboy. We got drunk, we got emotional, we got laid. Sounds like every other Saturday night I've had since I was 18. You sitting there thinking I'm gonna be angry over some sort of… imagined lost virtue? Ain't got a whole lot left to lose, son, and that ain't got nothin' to do with you, or what happened between us." She finished tying the last knot, and looked back to him again.
"I wanted it. I went through with it. You didn't do anything more than what's human nature. You responded to an advance that I willingly offered. But you thinking about bragging about your conquest at some point, I'd advise against it."
He opened his mouth to refute her statement but she held up a hand quickly.
"Listen to me. I ain't finished. I'm sittin' in a very precarious position here. There's quite a few people… quite a few men… that don't exactly agree with me sitting at the top of this food chain. They got some reason to believe I've taken a shine to somebody, they gonna use it against me. They gonna use it as evidence of my emotionality… my irrationality… evidence I ain't fit to lead. They gonna see you getting special attention, and they gonna start to wonder what other special privileges you getting… They gonna wonder if everything is so fair around here as I say it is, and they gonna use that against me, too.
"You gotta understand. This ain't nothing personal. I ain't ashamed of what I did. I enjoyed it." She looked to him, and smiled softly after a moment. "Enjoyed the hell out of it, in fact. Doesn't change the fact that I'm in a different position than you. You could come out of a different tent every morning, and nobody'd blink an eye, but the same rules don't apply to me. We like to pretend we've advanced so much, but it hasn't changed the fact that a woman in power is still unwelcome. They get the chance, they're gonna use you against me. Fact is, you don't know how to keep your mouth shut, you're a loaded gun pointed right at my head, waiting for them to pull the trigger."
"Ain't particularly fond of spreading my business around."
She nodded, grinned at him, and he found himself returning a soft smile.
"Good."
She stood, moving to another tote, turning sideways to get farther past the bed.
"Is this gonna happen again?" He clamped his jaw on the words too late, cursing his own feebleness of mind.
She stopped in the middle of removing the top from one of the totes.
"You already thinkin' about a next time, huh?" The grin spread slowly across her face, setting the lid vertically beside the tote. "Maybe," she said, looking up to him for a moment, before looking down again. She withdrew a rifle from the tote, the same rifle he had seen in her hands the previous morning.
"You're starting on the line tomorrow. You gonna need something more than that bow and arrow, Geronimo. Sure, it might do you well in the field… It's compact, quiet, but what you gonna do when ten or twelve of 'em come up on us? You run outta bolts, and what you gonna do? Throw it at 'em?"
"We got a few shotguns between us," he said quietly, his arms relaxing, the blankets folding around his waist. She shook her head, setting the butt of the rifle upon the floor, rummaging again in the tote and removing several boxes of ammo, one at a time.
"Ain't no shotguns on the line. Too much spread. It's gonna take out what you pointing at, that's true, but it might clip the one beside it, the one behind it, maybe stun it long enough for us to get out there to clean up, end up having one of us lose a chunk of leg to it, or a finger, and then a life. No, what I want is a nice clean shot right between the eyes, a guaranteed kill." She offered the rifle to him, and he took it carefully, feeling the heft of it in his hands, the stock worn with use, but the bolt still slid smooth, the barrel clean and free of carbon.
"This thing's just about an antique." He looked up to her as she nodded.
"Just about. And you gonna be careful with it, till you pick yourself out one of your own. That was my Daddy's. It's a good gun, reliable. Somethin' happens to it, I will kill you," she finished, without mirth. "Gonna give you a good excuse to be in here this time o' morning. Anybody asks, I woke you up, and you pissed about it. They ain't gonna ask no more questions than that."
He nodded his understanding, and she returned the gesture, pushing the top back down on the tote, sliding past the bed again and to the partition.
"Your clothes are over there." He looked in response to her gesture, found them in a precisely folded pile atop an overturned milk crate, boots neatly placed before them. She left him to dress, pulling the partition shut behind her.
He set the rifle aside carefully, slipping out from beneath the covers to pull on his clothes as quickly as he could with his head still throbbing, stomach still rolling dangerously. His boots were the worst, pressing his stomach flat over his thighs as he bent to tie them quickly. His mouth watered alarmingly and he gulped, squeezing his eyes shut, willing his stomach to settle again.
It did, just enough for him to stand, swaying dizzily as he did so, leaning over the bed for a moment before he grasped the rifle, slinging it over his shoulder, stacking the boxes of ammo and tucking them carefully under his arm before he slid past the partition.
She had thankfully dimmed the lamplight, the front flaps of the tent opened to reveal the still thick darkness of the early morning beyond it. He heard the sound of water running into a bowl, kibble hitting metal, heard the whistle of a kettle that was blessedly short. She returned to sight a moment later, a steaming mug of liquid clasped in one hand, the tiny chain of a tea ball hanging over the edge. She offered it to him, and he accepted it, transferring his precious cargo to her, sniffing at it carefully, wrinkling his nose.
"What is this?"
"Feverfew, valerian, skullcap, lavender, mullein, and ginger. Daddy's best prescription for a hangover. And you sure do look like you need it… You look like shit." She added, smirking, setting the rifle and ammunition aside carefully.
"Thanks," he croaked.
He glowered, taking a careful sip of the tea, waited for his stomach to lurch alarmingly, but found the reaction weak enough to venture another sip.
"Here." She offered a hand to him, and he set the mug carefully on one knee, reaching out his free hand. A small coral-colored pill and an orange-colored lump fell into his palm.
He peered at it in the lamplight, found that he could not yet focus his eyes enough to read the small black letters.
"What is this?" he repeated, taking another careful sip of the tea.
"Darvocet… and candied ginger. All together it's gonna get rid of your headache, settle your stomach, and let you get some sleep. You gonna need your strength tomorrow. That eight hour shift is longer than you think." She exited the tent again, crouching just within sight, turning off the camp stove the kettle had previously been whistling from. "Take your pill, finish your tea, and suck on the ginger till you lay down. You'll be right as rain, soon enough." He heard the metal top closing, heard her pouring the heated water back into the water cooler beside the tent.
She stood before him again, tucking her shirt in carefully, an old habit she had to break, he thought.
"Much as I'd like to, can't stand here and talk all morning. On point today."
"You gonna be alright?" he looked at her skeptically as he swallowed the pill quickly, tucking the lump of ginger against his cheek as he took another sip of the tea.
She laughed, looking at him.
"You cute… I'll be fine. Done had my cureall for the morning. Ain't gonna be the first time I showed up for PT hungover. Didn't stop me before… ain't gonna do it now." She turned away, began to leave, looked back to him, reluctantly, something told him.
"You zip everything up, you get ready to leave, but don't stay too long. People gonna be waking up soon." She stepped backwards, head tilted slightly as she smiled at him. "Don't forget your smokes, hillbilly." She spun on her heel, but looked over her shoulder, back to him for a third time.
"See you next time," she added quietly.