At the unexpected touch on his shoulder he whirled, knees bent, body coiled…ready.
Both men were perfectly still. The man facing him had his arms held loosely at his sides, the look on his face was neutral and he remained totally silent. After a moment he reclaimed himself and straightened. His chin lifted slightly and a clipped "Sorry," was offered up.
The other man shook his head. "My mistake." His face took on a look of understanding. "The memories can be pretty intense sometimes, can't they?"
He didn't trust his voice with that answer and merely nodded his agreement before turning back to the scene outside the French doors.
"Maybe you should tell them."
"No." He responded firmly. "That wouldn't be a good idea."
"Why not?" The question was quietly leading.
"Because I got the other men killed." He answered without thinking. "They'd never trust me if they knew."
When the hand rested lightly on his shoulder again he fought the instinct to flinch away and won.
"It wasn't your fault." The comment was offered with the calm authority of someone who had been through the same ordeal.
They stood there watching the group of men out on the grass argue and laugh as they went from practicing to rough-housing. He thought how like the others he'd led they actually were….even though no one else would ever believe it. But things were turning serious out there. A voice was raised in anger and a fist followed it. When he started towards the door the hand was on his shoulder again, holding him back.
"Let the guards take care of it for a change. I believe you and I should go have a drink."
He turned to face his CO and shook his head. "No, sir. That wouldn't be proper."
Garrison laughed. "Sergeant Major name me one thing we do out here that's 'proper'."
The American's imitation was perfect and bought a genuine smile to his face.
"So what'll it be? A pint at the pub, or a dram or two of the good stuff?"
Rawlins considered the options he'd been given for a moment before deciding. "Well, sir. A bit of the good stuff might be just the ticket." He made to follow when the Lieutenant started for the door to the hall but came up short at the "As you were, Sergeant."
He could hear the sound of the desk drawer being pulled open across the hall. And then the chime of glass against glass rang out. A moment later the Yank CO reappeared. There was a bottle in one hand and two Glencairns in the other. The Lieutenant poured and Gil accepted the glass and brought it to his face to inhale the aroma of the whisky.
They stood face to face and raised their glasses to the men of the past, the ones they'd lost. As they completed the silent toast there was a shift to the noise coming from outside that drew their attention. The men had stopped fighting one another and shifted to present a united front to the approaching guards.
Garrison smiled and tipped another measure into their glasses. They raised them again, to the new men that were in their charge now.