Goodnight Julia
Things were beginning to wind down around camp as the men prepared for a brief night of rest. Gren still sat by the small fire, stretched out with his hands behind his head and watching the troops through the hazy smoke of his cigarette. He blew out a puff of smoke and examined the cig wryly, wondering what his mother would say if she saw him like this.
Gren closed his eyes, and was just about to doze off when a sweet, strange song penetrated the air. Sitting up slightly, he looked around for the source, and to his surprise, saw Vicious seated a few feet away. Moving closer, he saw the man staring at a small music box that rested in the palm of his hand. The tune was beautiful, and it struck Gren as odd that his commander could just sit there, listening to it as if unmoved. But why would he carry such a thing with him, unless it meant something?
"What's that song?" Gren asked softly, hesitantly taking a seat next to the solemn man. At first, it seemed as if Vicious wasn't going to answer, but at last he broke the silence.
"Julia," he answered, his gravelly voice emotionless as always. Was it Gren's imagination, or was there a brief flash of sadness in the man's steel gray eyes? He quickly brushed it off as nothing. The two sat there in comfortable, if not necessarily amiable silence, Gren letting the soft notes of the music wash over him.
"Nice melody," he said casually after a while. He looked over to see Vicious watching him out of the corner of his eye, and continued. "You mind if I play it on my sax when I get back home?"
Vicious looked at Gren with an almost surprised expression, and for a minute, the two men stared at each other in stony silence. Gren supposed that perhaps Vicious was thrown off by such a request, or by the fact that Gren knew how to play a saxophone. He wasn't very proficient at it, but there had been a few years during his childhood when his mother had taken a sudden interest in his upbringing, and insisted on music lessons.
But as taken aback as Vicious may have been, he didn't show it, and so gren was the surprised one when Vicious simply placed the music box in his hand, and stood up without another word. Gren watched him go, when suddenly the man whirled around, grabbing Gren's forehead and holding it in place as he drove his knife into the rock face only centimeters from his ear. An overwhelming sense of déjà vu came over Gren as Vicious removed his knife, and Gren glanced over to see a large scorpion, neatly severed down the middle.
When Vicious had sheathed his blade, picked up his rifle and walked off, still silent, Gren finally let out the breath he had been holding in. he felt something digging into his palm where he had clenched his fist, and opened it to find the music box. Holding it up, he wound it and let it play, the sad, lilting tune making him wonder who it had been named after. Was it someone from Vicious' past? Or just a song he happened to like? Either way, the idea of his stoic commander carrying around a music box seemed a little strange. And why had Vicious just given it to him, without another thought? The barrage of questions swirled around in Gren's mind, making his head hurt and reminding him he needed some sleep.
::Goodnight, Julia, whoever you are.:: He thought as he let the sweet notes of the music carry him to sleep.
Things were beginning to wind down around camp as the men prepared for a brief night of rest. Gren still sat by the small fire, stretched out with his hands behind his head and watching the troops through the hazy smoke of his cigarette. He blew out a puff of smoke and examined the cig wryly, wondering what his mother would say if she saw him like this.
Gren closed his eyes, and was just about to doze off when a sweet, strange song penetrated the air. Sitting up slightly, he looked around for the source, and to his surprise, saw Vicious seated a few feet away. Moving closer, he saw the man staring at a small music box that rested in the palm of his hand. The tune was beautiful, and it struck Gren as odd that his commander could just sit there, listening to it as if unmoved. But why would he carry such a thing with him, unless it meant something?
"What's that song?" Gren asked softly, hesitantly taking a seat next to the solemn man. At first, it seemed as if Vicious wasn't going to answer, but at last he broke the silence.
"Julia," he answered, his gravelly voice emotionless as always. Was it Gren's imagination, or was there a brief flash of sadness in the man's steel gray eyes? He quickly brushed it off as nothing. The two sat there in comfortable, if not necessarily amiable silence, Gren letting the soft notes of the music wash over him.
"Nice melody," he said casually after a while. He looked over to see Vicious watching him out of the corner of his eye, and continued. "You mind if I play it on my sax when I get back home?"
Vicious looked at Gren with an almost surprised expression, and for a minute, the two men stared at each other in stony silence. Gren supposed that perhaps Vicious was thrown off by such a request, or by the fact that Gren knew how to play a saxophone. He wasn't very proficient at it, but there had been a few years during his childhood when his mother had taken a sudden interest in his upbringing, and insisted on music lessons.
But as taken aback as Vicious may have been, he didn't show it, and so gren was the surprised one when Vicious simply placed the music box in his hand, and stood up without another word. Gren watched him go, when suddenly the man whirled around, grabbing Gren's forehead and holding it in place as he drove his knife into the rock face only centimeters from his ear. An overwhelming sense of déjà vu came over Gren as Vicious removed his knife, and Gren glanced over to see a large scorpion, neatly severed down the middle.
When Vicious had sheathed his blade, picked up his rifle and walked off, still silent, Gren finally let out the breath he had been holding in. he felt something digging into his palm where he had clenched his fist, and opened it to find the music box. Holding it up, he wound it and let it play, the sad, lilting tune making him wonder who it had been named after. Was it someone from Vicious' past? Or just a song he happened to like? Either way, the idea of his stoic commander carrying around a music box seemed a little strange. And why had Vicious just given it to him, without another thought? The barrage of questions swirled around in Gren's mind, making his head hurt and reminding him he needed some sleep.
::Goodnight, Julia, whoever you are.:: He thought as he let the sweet notes of the music carry him to sleep.