*~*Gerard's POV*~*

A few weeks, maybe months passed, and snow was falling and covering the ground in layers every few nights. It wasn't pleasant, the weather was cold, and it was hard to move from place to place. Ever since the ambush, Christopher has insisted on moving occasionally, and covering our tracks. He waited barely two weeks to move from that camp to the next, and ever since then, we've only set up what we need to survive, most of the stuff staying stowed away.
It's like we were running away.
General Christopher would send out teams to scout areas, and as people started to get back on their feet, he would send them to ambush even passing citizens so no one could see where we were headed, since we were going deep into Confederate territory.
One day, I asked as we were moving, where we were, and he told me we were moving into Virginia, sticking along the outskirts of towns and not even willing to try going into any town for supplies. Anyone would recognize one of our dialects, if our uniforms didn't catch them off guard.
When General Christopher would order a group to kill passing by citizens, their goods would soon become ours, and that's how we went from day to day, basically.
I didn't like his method, people who were threatening our lives to kill was one thing, but killing the innocent? I wasn't okay with that. Even though I wasn't, Christopher still sent Pierre's team (which was me, David, Seb, Jeff, and Jared) to go and take care of what he deemed to be a 'problem.' Even when our camp was all set up, he would tell us to go sit in the trees by a road and take down merchants going from town to town, which, although it was against my like of killing people, better than staying at the camp and sorting inventory.
Oh, I mentioned Jared, didn't I? He's fine, alive and kicking. He spent almost a solid month recovering from his injuries, and got right back into the swing of things even though he was told to take it easy. He was a fighter, for sure.
When his wounds were healing, and Ray said he could go walking about for fresh air since he had been stuck in tents and wagons for the longest time, he tried taking my sword and tried to practice with his good arm (which was his non-dominant hand) saying 'incase my right arm doesn't heal'. I would try to fight him back for it, which never worked since he had the sword, and I didn't want to get stabbed in the shoulder.
As we were walking, snow falling down slowly, Jared bumped into me. I was lost in my thoughts and he brought me back to reality. Pierre, Jared, and I were looking for any type of meat. Most of the animals here were probably hibernating, but there was always some stray animal wandering about. Or we could always 'rob' a family going by if we passed one.
"What?" I asked, looking at Jared. He shrugged, his usual grin on his face, on that I was always glad to see after worrying for so long that he wouldn't make it.
"You just looked focused, I needed to distract you," he said simply after a moment of silence. "What were you thinking about?"
"Just how much I hate the cold," I said, lying. I started picking my feet up higher, trying to keep my steps light, but the snow was starting to get deeper. I was mostly thinking about how much I hated being home, but Jared had told me to stop thinking about it like I would never go back, but sometimes the thought occurred.
"Everyone hates the cold, but what can you do about it?" Pierre said from my other side, taking bigger steps to catch up. "Thanks for waiting when I fell, by the way, very much appreciated."
"Sorry." I mumbled.
"You know how Gerard gets," Jared started, "when he gets to thinking. It's like trying to contact someone in England by whispering."
"Strangest simile I think I've ever heard," I noted, and Jared seemed pleased with himself.
He did a little mock bow, and then we walked a couple of feet with the only sound being the snow crunching under our feet.
"The silence is unbearable," I muttered, and I could almost hear Pierre roll his eyes, it was that obvious he was. He was a man who preferred silence, unless something important was being said. He didn't like my nonstop rambling sometimes, and it would get on his nerves, but I needed to talk, it was who I was.
"If you talk you'll scare away whatever meat we can find."
"There's nothing here," I sighed, "hibernating for the winter? Something I wish I could do. Even if we found something, there's no way we could get it back to the camp, how far have we walked?"
Pierre shrugged, not caring. I hoped we would be able to find our way back to the camp, I didn't particularly think the idea of freezing to death was a good way to go out. Yes, I go to war, and I die in one of the most dishonorable ways possible - by frostbite. It wasn't in my top ten ways to go out, that's for sure.
"We should head back soon," Jared piped in, "my body is starting to ache. I'm sure the other groups have gotten something, they're all experts in this."
"Come on, Pierre, let's head back and warm up, and if we have to come back out we can."
"You two can go back," he said, and the three of us stopped, looking at each other expectantly.
"We're not leaving you here," Jared said, and I nodded in agreement. "The buddy system is important in these parts. We're in enemy territory, and in the middle of winter, not exactly the best conditions to leave you alone under."
Pierre sighed, and I really started to wonder why he would push himself. I debated on asking him why he did, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words. It seemed personal, and I was already more attached to him than I wanted to be, just in case things came to the worst possible scenario.
The walk back was long, and the wind was starting to pick up. I pulled my jacket up, pulling my collar up and trying to hide the bottom half of my face. The tailor was going to need to make warmer uniforms, or at least better jackets if they expected us to survive this winter with as many people as we had when it started.
Jared was trying to be silly again, bumping into my shoulder to knock me down, and I was struggling to keep my balance, but I didn't stop him. There was no words said between us, an uncomfortable silence filling the spaces between us. It wasn't ideal, but what was there to talk about the it felt like one was going to freeze to death before reaching the camp?
I started to let my mind wander, and think about home again. It was tough thinking about home, what Lindsey must be thinking without getting any letters. I couldn't send any, with moving so many times, and being busy. I couldn't find the time, without getting in trouble. I would usually write letters on guard duty, but the rules for that have become more strict than before. The officers have been saying if they catch one's eye off of what they're doing, punishment will be inevitable, and I'm not risky enough to try my luck.
Pierre still had his gun up, watching out for an animal, or enemy, with carefully trained eyes. His face was red, his hands a little shaky from the cold, even. I decided to ask, despite what my gut was saying.
"Why do you push yourself so much?" I asked, having to repeat myself so he could hear me properly.
"I made a promise," Pierre replied, "to Chuck. I said I would do my best to become an officer. It was one of the things he wanted to do, said he wanted to take charge of the camp, or his own, he didn't care. He was a leader type, and it was his dying wish for me to promise to become an officer."
I wasn't expected to get an answer from Pierre and I definitely wasn't expecting to get one that had a reason such as that behind it. "Staying out in the cold and dying from frost isn't a good way to prove your leadership skills," I said, a little sympathetically.
Pierre turned on his heel to face me, he had been a couple of footsteps ahead for a while. "I will do whatever it takes. I know what I can and cannot handle, Way, don't think I'm as weak as you are."
I was shocked by what he said, clearly, and definitely didn't like his tone. "I'm weak?"
"You can't shoot a man without feeling guilty, you can't stand the idea of bloodshed, you peace loving pansy. You complain about not being home with your family, but at least you have a family that will miss you." Pierre was glaring, his gun across his chest, which didn't sit right with me at all.
"I'm weak because I don't want to kill people?" I asked, raising my voice. I stopped also, and the wind started to pick up even more. "I don't want to hide behind a gun, would rather confront people to discuss problems rather than kill them like a coward, and that makes me weak?"
Pierre scoffed, and tightened my jaw and grip on my gun. "You think people like you? You think I like you? How about you talk that optimistic attitude and put it where the sun don't shine!"
"Gentlemen," Jared piped in, stepping between the two of us, a hand on each chest and pushing me back a step or two. I was fuming and didn't want to deal with Jared at this point in time, "let's deal with this like rational men."
"You know what, Bouvier? How about you go and do what poor, dead Chuck wants and get lost in the woods hunting animals that are hibernating. No one wants you here!" I yelled, pointing an accusing finger at him, then out to the distance. Pierre looked a lot more shocked than I expected, but he recovered quickly.
"Fine, I will," Pierre had a calm voice, which was annoying me more than it should have, "and if I die in these woods tonight, let it be on your head, Way!" Pierre started storming off, a pathetic thing to do in the middle of snow which slowed one down on their journey.
Jared slapped me upside the head, and I turned to glare daggers at him. He took a step back, maybe scared or was trying to find a new angle to hit me at. I started walking again.
"You're an idiot," Jared said, walking up alongside me. "You can't let Pierre go off on his own, you said so yourself!"
"I don't care what that bastard does!"
"He's only saying that because he's never had anyone care for him," Jared reasoned, and I looked over at him. He knew Pierre as long as I had, and they never were seen just the two of them.
"How would you possibly know?"
Jared groaned. "He just got done saying he has no family, his best friend is dead, and do you see anyone babying him as much as you do?"
"David-"
"Pierre is the same way with David, always trying to push him away, but do you see David yelling at him to get lost in the woods to freeze to death?"
"If he's as smart as he thinks he is, he'll make it back in one piece," I said, pushing past Jared and heading in what I hoped to be the direction of the camp. There were still footprints, and I just followed them. I didn't want to ask Jared if it was the right way, because he would make some remark about asking Pierre.
Why had Pierre said what he did? Was he really that devoted to his lost friend? Did he really think that of me, or was it just the conditions we were under getting to him? I stopped, and Jared seemed to know what I was doing. He smirked and I rolled my eyes.
"I can't exactly go back to the camp without him, they'll blame me for the loss of everyone's favorite person," I grumbled, turning in the snow to start walking back to where Pierre left off. I saw his trails, and I started following them with Jared close behind. I was holding my gun across my chest as I walked, but it was pointless as my fingers were pretty much frozen solid.
"Bouvier," I called out, Jared echoing within seconds as we started walking. I felt a chill go down my spine, not the cold weather or the snow, but like something bad was going to happen. I felt like we'd either find Pierre passed out in the snow even though we hadn't been separated that long and I doubted - hoped - he hadn't gotten sick already, or that he'd come out behind a tree and shoot me in the face without a second thought.
I didn't want either to happen.
"You don't have to listen to me," I started, "but just come back to camp and then we can go on ignoring each other for the rest of our lives, okay?"
"You can just be friends with me," Jared chimed in and I turned to glare at him. He shrugged, then pointed when there was movement out of the corner of his eye. It was Pierre, his face all read and his usually dark hair was covered in snow. "See, he wants to be my friend."
"Oh hush up," Pierre snapped, "I think my fingers are falling off." Pierre started walking past us, careful to stay away from the two of us at a distance, and started trudging to the camp. It was getting colder out by the second, I could feel it, and the sun was going down. I had no idea how long we were out, but all I knew was that I wanted nothing more than to change into dry clothes and sit by the fire with a warm cup of coffee.
The walk back to camp was silent, and I mean a really bad silence that drove me insane. I still had the feeling of something bad happening, but it was different now. I just felt like that I was going to die, but maybe that was normal for someone who had someone who didn't like them and knew how to work a gun?
As we walked into the camp, Pierre left us and went into the tent, most likely to change or plot my death, or both.
I asked Jared who should report to General Christopher that we found nothing, and he took that job, telling me to warm up. I told him to do the same, and he left without another word, going into to the tent that the officers had claimed for themselves.
I went into the tent, same one as Pierre was in, just to change into new clothes as quickly as I could, to leave and go find Ray, or talk the cook into giving me something warm, or even find someone with a small fire or a sense of body heat.
As I walked out of the tent, wearing a new uniform and all, I was rubbing my hands together for the friction to cause heat, but it wasn't working as well as I expected. I wandered around until I got to the medic tent where I knew Ray was. He was always in there, now, and I hardly saw him, which saddened me. I needed to talk to him now, though, about what to do with Pierre, he would know. Or use him as a source of body heat, either option was up for debate at this particular point in time.
Ray was in the medic tent as I thought he would be, sitting on one of the cots that was set up in there. He looked to be writing something in a journal of some sort, maybe a medical diary. He was so engrossed in his writing, I stood silently in front of him for countless moments, not wanting to disturb him, but also at the same time not wanting to stand and look like an idiot in case one of the other medics walked in.
I was about to reach out and poke his shoulder when he looked up, and jumped a little when he saw me. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked, closing the journal and tucking it by his side.
"A while."
"You look sick, are you okay?" he asked, sounding genuinely worried. A lot of people had been going to the medics lately, complaining of their sickness because they weren't smart enough to wear layers, or change out of their wet clothes. I shook my head, even though I was feeling a bit under the weather, but I blamed that more on my mood. "Something troubling you?" I nodded at that. "What?"
"Am I really a weak person? Do people not actually like me...?" I asked in a quiet voice, looking down at my feet. The ground in here was squishy and muddy, wet from the moister of the snow, no doubt.
"I like you," Ray said, sounding confused, "why do you ask?"
"Just something someone told me," I mumbled. Ray patted the space next to him on the cot and I joined him. It was nice to sit.
"Why don't you talk to Pierre about it? He'd probably kick their asses." I could tell Ray was trying to be funny, but it made the whole thing worse.
I shook my head. "I can't talk to him."
"Why not?"
"Because he's the one who said that to me," I said. "We were out hunting, and things lead to one another, and needless to say I told Pierre to get lost in the woods to freeze to death."
"Why would you say something like that? It doesn't seem like you, Gerard." Ray hit my shoulder, which actually really hurt.
"He basically told me everything I didn't want to hear, Ray. I got mad. He was caring more about his dead friend than he was about his own life, didn't realize how valuable his life was and how many people actually care about him. Excuse me for letting some anger out for once in my life!"
"You have to go find him, you can't let him freeze." Ray stood up and pulled on my arm to drag me out. I pulled my wrist out of his grasp, and glared at him.
"Jared and I brought him back, do you really think I would actually let him freeze? I'm not that much of a jerk."
"You're pretty close to it," Ray said, crossing his arms over his chest. Not him too.
"Please don't say how much you actually really hate me and anything else you've ever said to me is a lie and you want me to go die. I've had enough of that for today, Ray, I don't need it from my best friend."
"I got a letter from Christa," he started. "She told me Lindsey's been worried, not getting a single letter from you in months. She thinks you're dead, Gerard. You used to sit and write her a letter every day, and now do you even think about your family?" Ray was glaring at me, his voice rising.
"I do, all of the time-"
"Since we've gotten here, you've changed Gerard. I'm still your friend, but you're different, you have a different air about you than you did back home."
"People change, Ray." I sighed, not liking this conversation at all. "I thought for sure I could talk to you and you wouldn't get mad at me, or anything. What is it about me today that has people confessing that they secretly hate me?"
"I don't hate you, Gerard, understand that." Ray sounded like he was trying to control his voice. "Just write a letter to your family, saying that you're alive. They need it, okay, just do it." Ray pushed a paper in my hands and pushed me to sit back down again. "You have a spare minute, just write something, I don't want you forgetting about your family back home, who are praying for you to live."
I looked up at him, and he smiled sadly. I started scribbling down an apology before anything else, and then about the battle, and ending with the fight I had with Pierre at this moment in time.
It took me a while to write it all down, and an extra piece of paper from Ray. I scribbled as fast as I could, but still made sure it was readable. "Happy?"
"Lindsey is."
"What did you mean when you said 'they need it'?" I asked curiously, any tension that was in the tent was gone now as Ray stuffed the letter into an envelope.
"Christa just wrote something in one of her letters," Ray said setting the letter on a small desk nearby, "about Lindsey being different and worried about things. She didn't specify, though."
"Oh..." I whispered, looking down at my hands in my lap.
"I'm sorry if I was mean," Ray said quietly, and I shrugged.
"I seem to deserve it today."
"No you don't. Now, tell me once more about this thing with Pierre, maybe I can help you figure something out over dinner."