So I just realized that I made you all wait extra long for an extra short chapter and I'm feeling kind of guilty right now...I had been planning on posting it over the past weekend but things got away from me as it's that special time of year where tests are thrown at us left, right, and center (at least AP Literature is done now YAY!)

Again, I apologize for the brevity. Hope you all enjoy it anyway!
Disclaimer: I do not own Troy or any of the affiliated characters

Chapter 23: Tired of Tears

Patroclus really only needed help standing up. His sore side made bending a problem, but as soon as he was on his feet, he could get by walking with just a slight limp.

Despite this, Adara had an arm wrapped around his waist - mindful of his wound - as they walked through the ward to the exit. It occurred to him that maybe she needed him more than he needed her at that moment. To everyone else, the arm he put around her shoulders was for his support; but when she gave him a brief, grateful smile, he knew she understood its other purpose.

He noticed the slightest hesitation when they reached the tent flap, but before he could even comment, she pulled it back and went into the sunlight.

She basked in the warmth for a brief moment, closing her eyes. Then the second passed, and she turned her attention to the newly arrived warrior who was some distance away.

As they approached, the scene became easier to see in the sunlight. Achilles stood with his back to them, blocking something attached to the chariot. Odysseus stood on the other side of the odd shape behind the chariot, facing them and Achilles. A few yards away was Briseis, crying with no control of the sobs that were shaking her slim frame. Achilles alive meant that Hector was dead.

The heated conversation also grew easier to hear as they came closer.

"...if you listened to someone else for a change, you would have known that Patroclus is not dead!" Odysseus shouted, having reached the climax of the argument.

Achilles stopped what he was doing over the lump behind the chariot. "What?" His shouting voice was replaced by softer, bewildered tone.

Odysseus sighed and lowered his voice too. "It was what we had been trying to tell you. Patroclus is alive." To prove his point, Odysseus pointed to the two newcomers.

Achilles turned, very slowly, almost afraid, like it was some cruel joke and when he did look, his cousin would not be there. But there was reason for his eyes to spread wide and his mouth to part. For the first time ever, Patroclus saw his cousin completely confused. As the warrior walked towards them, though, that was not what Adara saw. Achilles was with them now, and having moved, he revealed to Adara the lump which he had been blocking.

"Hector," she breathed.

Patroclus turned his attention from Achilles to her. "I know." He squeezed her tightly with the arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"No," she said, louder. He didn't understand. "Hec-" Her voice caught. She blinked, wondering, hoping it was just the sunlight that changed the image. She knew that it could be no other. She ducked out from under his arm and ran, throwing herself to the ground in front of the lump that was her prince and dear friend.

Hector lay behind the chariot, every inch of his mangled body covered in dirt and blood.

"What have you done?" a voice hissed. She recognized it as Patroclus's. She knew Achilles should be the one to answer, but no reply came.

A shadow came over her, and the arm she'd just ran from wrapped itself around her. She leaned her head against his chest, but kept her eyes on Hector, unable to look away. She was not repulsed nor disgusted by his condition, nor was she angry at Achilles. These things she expected to feel, but didn't. All she felt was sorrow, loss, and exhaustion.

Perhaps, she thought as Patroclus helped her stand and walk away, she'd had enough, felt enough. She remembered how little sleep she'd gotten and as soon as she realized it, a wave of fatigue hit. She felt her eyelids droop, and her feet became difficult to lift. But she tried her hardest to keep walking; Patroclus couldn't support her if she collapsed.

Still, he noticed before long. "You need to rest."

"I know," she sighed in agreement, her voice thick with tears, though they didn't run down her face. She was sure they had dried up a few days ago.

He led her into his tent and helped her onto the blankets. A thought stirred: it was her bed. He'd never cleaned it up, or used the blankets and pillows for himself. She laid her head down and closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry it happened this way," he whispered, placing a kiss on her head.

"As am I," she mumbled.

Short but kind of full...I think...your thoughts?