A/N: Tomorrow's finally Friday. I think I just slept in school all week.
He frowned when he saw her entered the tent. For with her she dragged in behind, everything he ws trying to escape from at night. She gave an ever so slight smile at Hughes, which the man took as his que to leave the two alone. They had both watched him leave the tent and make sure that no one was in close enough to hear them. He patted the spot next to him and she had greatly sat down, happy to be relieve of the postion he had been in all day.
He held up the glass that she had just now noticed he had, offering her some. She always refused, for she didn't want to get drunk again. He set the glass down on the sorry excuse for a night stand after taking a final sip of it. This was when things seemed to become awkward between them. She felt the desperate need for words. The air was searching ever so hard for someones voice, but yet, no one spoke. He then apologized for dragging her into Hell's inferno. She smiled and said, she was the one to take the first step inside. He tried to give her a smile, but it was hard to do, now that her eyes had started to glisten from the tears forming in them.
He reached out to touch her and the corners of her mouth turned ever so slightly. He couldn't help but kiss her. He knew it would lead to another repeat of last night, but frankly he didn't care. No one would be able to hear them, for their moans of pleasure and the moans of the many in pain, blended together. Of course, there were still the ever present noises of guns being fired and the screams of people, trying to survive.
Afterwards, he would apologize once more. For he had shouldn't have done what he had just done with her. But then again, he said that every night to her and yet, nothing seemed to change. They scrambled to get dressed again, before Hughes joined them back inside the tent, where the sand couldn't stain them. When Hughes entered they pretended as if nothing had happened between them. Hughes offered her to stay with them a while longer, but she held up a hand, saying the she had better return. Hughes understood and said good-bye. She said a whispered good-bye to Roy, but he never said one back. After she had left the men tried to get some sleep, although Hughes kept questioning him about her, to which he would just tell him to shut up.
He would wake and hate the dreaded feeling. The sun was shining in some awful tone of yellow. She would always see him before they had to head off into the heart of what they thought was the end of the world. She would hold her gun at her side and would watch as he slipped on his gloves. When he looked up, she smiled and then it quickly vanished as she heard her call to leave. He watched her walk across Hell's firey floor, afraid it might burn her feet.
A/N: For some reason, I love writing about their time in war.