Very little had been said after that, but they had spent the remainder of Jane's time on watch engaged in an intense, and very physical, exploration of one another. For Jane it was the culmination of years of frustrated longing, of thinking she had loved someone who did not, could not, ever love her back. Based on his demeanor, it seemed to be something very similar for Gunther.
When her watch had been up, Jane had pulled herself to her feet on legs that shook. Losing Gunther's heat had felt a little bit like dying. She had started to sit back down, wanting nothing more than to nestle back into his warmth, but then Gunther had been standing too, right beside her. "Go and rest," he'd whispered. "I do not know what tomorrow may bring, but we will need to be sharp, so try to sleep."
Then he had pulled her into a brief, hard hug, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand splayed in her hair, holding her head pressed to his shoulder. "Just stay safe tomorrow," he had murmured. "You... are precious to me, Jane."
Then they'd broken apart and Jane had felt so giddy she'd almost fallen down. Gunther had stayed where he was - his watch was directly after hers. So she had turned toward the bedrolls, alone, had even taken a couple of steps away from Gunther - but then she'd swallowed hard, steeled herself, and turned back.
"I love you, Gunther Breech," she'd whispered into the darkness. "I have for years." And surely that had been been the fifth mistake.
OOOOO
There had been no response. She could hardly even make Gunther out anymore; just a shape in the darkness, that's all he'd been. She'd picked her way over to where the others were sleeping and had virtually collapsed into the scratchy, somewhat moth-eaten warmth of her own blankets. Sleep had taken her almost instantly.
Assuming that what had just happened - what had just been revealed - would matter at all come morning, that had been her sixth mistake.
Because come morning, Gunther wouldn't even look at her.