Part 1

 

"You talk like a leader, and walk like a follower." I said, chasing after him into the whipping  breeze, gravel crushing with tiny crunching noises. They stung my bare feet, and the wind was biting the skin exposed by the tank top and shorts but I couldn't find it in myself to care.

 

"Go back inside”, was all he said as he continued walking, ignoring me again. But this was it, I didn't care if he was trying to protect me or not.

 

"No. Turn around and face me." I said it with as much conviction as I had left.

 

When he kept walking I had to fight the overwhelming urge to deflate with disappointment. But then he stopped dead in his tracks.

 

Whipping around with an expression close to anger, he shouted, "You don't know me. You don’t know a damn thing about me. Stop acting like you do." He'd quickly advanced on me during his dialogue, spewing rocks behind him that caught in the wind and flew off the roof.

 

He was less than an inch from my face, but I wouldn't flinch. I couldn't, not now. Not after I'd already stood up to him, it would break principle.

 

I kept an even gaze locked in his. Every insecurity stacked away made the anxiety ball in my chest grow ever more present. But there was a flicker behind his pupils. A flicker of defense, that's what this is. This explosive reaction he bursts out in, a defense mechanism. It means I'm right, he has been fighting this whole time.

 

It was as if I had chipped away the cement in his brick wall securing his secrets, and pushed it in ‘till it fell.  My weak glare lessened to to a pitiful gander, and with a snap, he had pushed the brick back into the wall.

 

"Stop pretending that you aren't hurting." My voice was so soft it gave me chills, and for once, I knew it wasn’t just because of the wind.

 

"Stop acting, like I don’t know ." I said gingerly, turning to face him fully, "Because you know that I do. I know you better than you know yourself."

 

His face sobered up, and it seemed like he couldn't keep from analyzing my irises. Anywhere I glanced his pupils seemed to follow.

 

"You are the person that should be leading us. But you just”, I had to keep from exploding, “Walk around following everyone else's orders."  

 

He squinted, giving me a difficult look. He swallowed hard and rested his forehead on mine. He looked at me just under his eyebrows, forcing his already dark and handsome exterior to brood even more.

 

"We need a leader." I stared earnestly at him, borderline begging. He sighed as if he were debating a taboo topic in his head.

 

"I won't be the person to stand back and delegate while everyone else is fighting. I don't give a shit, even if it means that we have someone else taking care of things. I will be on the front line. End of story." He used a rough tone in his last words, they blew past me and it felt like a scrape down my legs and arms. It felt abrasive, despite my knowing that he wasn't trying to be, he never tries to be.

 

Taking notice of my now growingly dejected demeanor, he made the same, trapped, constricted sigh as he ran a hand over his shaved head. He stepped back, the wind returned in full force, knocking me a step back, and chilling my body like ice down the spine.

 

"I care about two things." He said, almost so quietly that I almost didn't hear it over the wind.

 

"I care about getting the job done", he looked back at me for a moment, and turned away again. He rubbed the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger. "And I care about protecting you."

 

With that he just began to walk away. I can't remember if it was the wind or the worry that glossed over my eyes. But I do know that when I shivered, and released the quietest of gasping breaths from crying, he stopped again and turned around. He hadn’t even made it more than a few yards.

 

I stood with arms crossed and an expression of disdain, and hurt, and sadness, and pain. A woeful look. A face of trepidation.

 

He set his jaw tight and walked back briskly, tearing off his jacket and pulling it snug over my bare shoulders. He kissed my cheek, wiping away my tears in the process. And just as soon as he had come back, he was gone again. Halfway down the stretch of gravel land, head never detouring from the walkway in front of him.

 

"Just come back safe", was all I could choke out. But I knew he heard me, because he clenched his fists as he walked away.

 

I stayed there for I don't know how long. Till the pale blue sky revolted and grew darker and darker till it was black. Till my stomach growled and twisted, and then gave up. Till someone came up to retrieve me. And even then I had no desire to return.

 

But when the biting, thrashing wind increased and escalated to rain, they came out again. I didn't mind the rain, despite the way that the droplets pelted on my skin like bullets. They stung my face as I sent the messenger away again, I simply pulled up the hood of his jacket. I almost shuddered with with an emotion I couldn't place when the musk clouded around and filled my air space. Then the hail started, small round ice chunks made small bruises on my hands and legs.

 

The messenger returned one more time. "You have to come in now." I couldn't tell if her voice was meant to be soft or stern, something told me both. She seemed shocked when I conceded, as if she hadn’t been expecting a submissive response.

 

While reluctant in my heart, sometimes the body needs the mind to establish priority. She tried to help me up, but I threw away her hands.

 

I stood, albeit shakily, but I stood on my own, walking into the doorway and down the stairs. Solemn expression and weak, terribly trembling hands pulling the jacket tighter around my thin, and lightly clothed body. I picked up my head and walked on. Back into the briefing room, when the group of people awaited.

 

Some of them had faces of anger, neutrality, sadness. Regret. Some had faces of worry. Worry. Their faces weren't fateful as mine had been before. But it was the expression of anxiety, wasn't it? Maybe I was less panicked, and more terrified.

 

Terrified of him, myself, his truth, mine. Terrified of what had happened, what could happen, what was happening. Terrified of the whole situation. Terrified of myself. Just terrified.

 

The General opened his mouth to speak, cold, dead beads of eyes trained on my movements like a vulture to its prey. Just as the first syllables grazed past his lips, I spoke out of character for the second time in a day, this time stronger, and sterner.

 

"I’m going to basic training"