Authors Note: WARNING for slight blood and gore.

Oh yes, the man was indeed not dead in the morning. That was perfectly clear when as Alfred approached the area he found himself listening to grunts and howls of pain the closer he got. As he rounded a bend he finally saw the other. Shirtless, he was leaning along the side of the hill, red blood smeared and dripping down his abdomen. Alfred wasn't quite sure what was happening but nonetheless the sight and the sounds made Alfred's stomach curdle. As Alfred drew closer he froze in horror as came close enough to realize that the British soldier was currently digging the musket ball out of his side himself.

His head thrown back and face scrunched in pain, the enemy soldier had one hand pressing down on the area surrounding the wound presumably to keep pressure, and the other hand gripping white-knuckled onto an instrument that Alfred couldn't quite make out as it was dug six inches deep in his side.

The other soldier wasn't even looking at what he was doing, doing everything by feel alone. Just the thought of digging around inside himself until he felt the hard foreign object clink against the other cold metal object he was shoving into himself and then having to work it out himself made Alfred shudder.

The enemy soldier threw his head up looking up for only a split second only throw it back onto the ground and Alfred saw the thick leather belt clenched between the other man's teeth, slightly smothering his screams. Alfred wasn't even sure if he saw him. He gave no reaction to his presence if he did.

It was kind of strange, Alfred thought in the back of his mind, to be watching such a painful, intimate moment but to be completely invisible.

Alfred watched, unable to move from his spot, eyes glued open at the scene for what seemed like minutes. Finally, the other slowly began pulling the six inch instrument out of his body, black musket ball poking through the hole, falling out leaving a bloody trail behind it from where it rolled off his body. Alfred noticed the instrument he was using was a pair of scissors.

A few deathly quiet seconds passed of only the other panting before the soldier threw the bloody pair of scissors to the side and sat up looking Alfred directly in the eye.

"Are you going to kill me now?" He said in bitter mockery before his head once again rolled back hitting the ground with a thump and he fell limp.

Alfred stood there for a second, stunned in complete silence. Until, the other's words came crashing through his mind. Was he going to kill him? He took a hard look at the now unconscious other but hesitation was thrown out the window without a second thought when it dawned on him the other was still very much bleeding and still very much unconscious. Instinct rushed him to the other man's side. Snatching up the discarded bloody shirt he pressed it to the other's wound. All that digging around opened the wound even further. He checked the other's pulse. Still beating. If someone wasn't there to keep pressure the man would bleed out before he even woke up.

Alfred wasn't even sure why he was doing this but stayed there like that, slowing the bleeding. It didn't seem like it had been that long before the other man groaned and moved his head. In his dazed state even before opening his eyes he lifted his arms, reaching out for the wound.

Alfred's stomach dropped. He was waking up. Panicking, he grabbed the man's wrist and brought it down onto his wound pressing it down firmly so the man would get the idea then stood up and quickly withdrew back into the hills before the man fully regained consciousness.

Alfred retreated, he had to stop himself from running. He wasn't sure why he did it. He hated that man. Hell, he still did. Then why? He was so willing to just let the other bleed out yesterday, why not now? Alfred kicked himself. Why didn't he do it? It was the perfect opportunity!

Maybe… it just seemed like… a waste. The man tried so hard and got so far to keep himself alive, it just seemed… unfair.

Fair? Fair?! What made this man even deserve his fairness? He's one of the tyrants, they don't even have the concept of fairity! One less man is one step closer.

Alfred's stomach suddenly growled, pulling him out of his thoughts. Oh god he needed something to eat.

Fine, he made a quick decision. He'll just have to go back and finish the job. For good this time. The man deserves it anyways, he told himself. But not right now.

Now was time to find food.

How was he going to do that? There was nothing here. Maybe he could use a musket and go hunting? But the shots from the battle would have surely scared off any animals within miles. He then turned to the dead. The soldiers would have rations wouldn't they? He swallowed. It was bad luck to steal from the dead wasn't it? He might make their spirits angry.

No, Alfred mentally kicked himself. Get ahold of yourself. There wasn't time for this. It was this or starve to death. But just in case, he'd only steal from the British soldiers.

So Alfred took to scavenging. He felt dirty doing it but it was either that or starve. He looted the British soldiers bodies and packs and found enough of what he was looking for. The rations of hard stale bread, dried meat and a few beans would do. Unsurprisingly, the British rations were much better than he or the colonies ever got.

Alfred sighed and sat down looking out over the still body-covered desolate fields. It really bothered him, why did they all just leave? At the very least someone should have stayed behind to manage the dead. What about all of their families? Or weapons? They just left them all behind, the army could have at least reused the muskets and ammunition.

As he ate he wondered how far he was from any town. Or for that matter, which direction town was even in. This is a problem. How was he ever supposed to find his way back to his army and his troop. He knew he must be west of most major cities as the battle was pretty far inland but that didn't mean much and how far he'd have to travel to ge there was worrying, if he even found out which direction to head.

Then it slowly occurred to him, the other soldier. He'd been awake when Alfred found him, maybe he knew what happened at the end of the battle, maybe he knew where they were. Alfred gulped, maybe it was a very good thing he hadn't killed him yet. If the other soldier had information he needed, he had to go back and talk to him.

Alfred growled. This screwed up all his plans again. He just wanted to get it over with, but now, god forbid, he might need the other.

No, Alfred thought firmly. There would be no needing. He'd just have to go back and see what he knew, and if he didn't know anything then he'll kill him. And if he did, then he'll just have to threaten it out of him and also kill him. There, simple, quick, easy.

But the thought of going back to him and seeing him again so soon after he'd shamefully helped him and then ran like a coward didn't quite appeal to Alfred.

Maybe he'd wait until tomorrow. The soldier could last until then right? He seemed like he knew what he was doing. Afterall, he could dig a musket ball out of himself all on his own. It was settled.

But it soon became evident that Alfred didn't have to wait that long.

Authors Note: Wow this got a lot of feedback! Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and follows! Here's the next chapter! Less eventful but it's setting things up for things to come.

Hope you enjoyed~! Until next time!