The underground was empty save for James. Being present for roll call was one of the key things to keeping the base a secret. He stumbled around, trying to find somewhere to sit and eat. Crates of different goodies lined the wall like a buffet. The crates themselves were non-descript, but the smell wafted all about the room in a most enticing way. Almost masked the stench of musk and dirt.

With his eyes glued to the spoils, James tripped over a stool. He caught himself before he smacked his lip into a chair leg and righted the seat so he could sit. He peered inside one crate and saw nine, neat little jars of jam. An unsteady hand reached in and pulled out a thick, glass jar. Sweet, sticky goodness lined the sides. A faded label read "Strawberry" in cursive. Placing the jar between his thighs, James gripped the lid with his good hand and twisted.

The lid popped off, allowing the sweet aroma to assault his nose. A deep growl from the pit of the boy's stomach demanded to have the jelly. There was no spoon or knife within arm's reach, so James did the only logical thing: he ate it with his fingers. He scooped the sticky substance with two, then three, fingers into his mouth, swallowing every bit like water. The sugar zinged in his mouth while the tanginess of the strawberry pulled at the corners of his cheeks. Even before being captured, such a delicacy was practically unheard of. Anything this good went to the war effort.

James set the half empty jar down in front of him and wiped his fingers on the side of his coat. All three fingers used stuck together as if with glue, and his lips fared no better.

With his belly full and sleep pulling at his lids, the young man decided to take his boots off. While he thought it was kind of Carter to give them to him, they pinched his toes something fierce. He unlaced them with some effort before kicking the first boot off. The stench of damp wool hit him like a freight train. He pulled the sock off and tossed it down a corridor. Next came the other shoe with the same horrid smell. That wool sock found its friend down the corridor. Now the poor boy was faced with the reality of his feet covered in soggy bandages.

Earlier, when Carter had changed them, the Sergeant said it was best to let them air out a little before the next change. Otherwise, the germs would just fester on the skin.

James wasn't sure of the best way to remove the bandages, so he just tore at them. They came away like tissue paper. Soon there was a nice pile of old bandages beside his swollen, scab-covered feet.

They looked a little discolored, and James tried to wiggle his toes to test the damage. All responded; though some better than others. That was good at least. No damage there. He turned his left foot over to see the gash mark from the rock along with other smaller cuts. He ran his finger down the middle of the bottom of his foot and sighed. These weren't the feet of a dancer. His director would laugh at him if he ever returned to France. Not to mention the shape, or lack of, his legs were in. While they marched in the snow for days, the lack of nutrients prevented any muscle from forming. He'd need to start training every day if he ever wanted to be back in shape again.

Why not start now? James thought mindlessly. No one was here to see him anyways. And in his head he could hear the music almost perfectly. Mathieu had made sure of that by playing into all hours of the night.

A smile formed on his lips at the thought of Mathieu. How earnestly the other tickled that ivory or strummed with the finest horse hair. Hungarian Dance No. 5 came to his mind. Mathieu loved playing that for James to practice to. Every note rang crystal clear in his ears as he stood to begin the dance. He knew how to work around the pointe parts of the dance, so that was one hurdle taken care of. What was a little trickier was dancing on fresh deer legs.

Memory told him how to stand, move his legs, and where to place his arms, but muscles seemed lost in entropy. The graceful movements he was accustomed to jumbled together into jerky spins and wobbly stances. Leaps were well out of the question.

Though James pushed himself through till the very last note. The music swelled in his ears before crashing down into the dénouement of the piece, which usually ended with a tight spin. However, James' legs gave out from underneath him and he toppled into a set of empty crates. His head hit the wall, and little stars twinkled above. Every muscle in his legs screamed in agony just like the first time he tried to dance a full piece without stretching. Though this searing pain was not what brought tears to his eyes.

James slowly pushed himself up to his knees and hung his head. Wet spots formed on the ground below him. A little rain shower formed that soon turned into a flood. James placed his hands over his head and screamed until his lungs were red raw.


A/N:

Another Monday update because I will be out the house again Tuesday. Also, due to school, the story will be updating on Saturdays only. There will be no Friday update this week because that's when I move in.