13th June, afternoon - Guards' camp

Christian's smile disappeared. "Aye. She's back."

Fisher's grin spread wider. "She's back, eh? Well, maybe the 'tenant will share us the leftovers, eh? Always a bit left in the bottom of the pot."

'Shut it.' At least that's what he'd meant to say. But somewhere in between thinking it and saying it, his fist ended up connecting squarely with Fisher's jaw.

Fisher went sprawling backwards, unable to balance himself with his arms full, and he landed on the ground. "What- what- I didn't mean it!" he exclaimed. "I didn't go to steal your job or nothin'! I'm sorry!"

Christian's face flushed. What the hell had gotten into him? "No, it ain't--Shite, I'm sorry, Fisher," he put out a hand to help the other man up. "Just.... don't talk about her like that."

Fisher scrambled to his feet, stunned. He gathered up the blankets and shirts he had dropped and then walked quickly away, rubbing his jaw as he went and keeping his head down, not wanting to catch the eye of anyone who had witnessed the incident.

Christian cupped his hands around his face, drawing in a long breath. His head was pounding horribly. Just as he was resolved to go and find the sergeant -- he at least would know what was going on-- another thought occurred to him. Fisher was going to make up the bed. The bed Jenny was sleeping on.

Cursing, he turned in the direction Fisher had gone. "Fisher? Fisher! Dammit," he started to run to catch up with the other man.

Fisher jumped at the sound of his name. "What do you want?" he cried. What more could he want from him now?

"You can't do that. The bed, I mean." He wasn't making any sense. He tried again. "There's someone in the tent."

Fisher scowled, confused and irritable. Someone was in his lieutenant's tent, without the lieutenant or himself there? "Who?" he demanded.

Christian hesitated. He felt as though he should lie, but didn't see what that would accomplish. "Miss Ross," he admitted reluctantly.

Fisher's facial expressions changed from annoyed, to confused, and finally curious. Well. Christian was a dark horse! But he was not about to say anything about it. "Oh." He settled for handing Christian the bundle of clothes and blankets. "Guess you may's well take these." Christian could make the bed himself.

Christian stood there, staring ruefully at the pile of blankets in his arms. Now what? Swallowing a sigh, he started back toward the tent. He could hardly make the bed with Jenny there, but he was damned if he was going to carry the things around with him.

Outside the tent he paused, shifting the bedding to one arm, and silently lifted the flap. Then with equal caution so as not to disturb anyone who might be within, he slipped inside.

Jenny was not asleep. She turned her head, expecting to see Woodmarsh, and a surprised smile briefly flitted across her face when she saw that it was Christian. "You're back!" she said, sitting up. "Forget something?"

Christian very nearly dropped the blankets. "Didn't mean to wake you." He set the bedding down with inordinate care. "Not exactly. Got these off my replacement. Poor bastard was all set to come charging in and strip the cot."

"He would have had a shock then." She smiled. "You didn't wake me though. I wasn't asleep. Do you think Woodmarsh has any tea?" She looked around the tent, noticing perhaps for the first time that it was rather emptier than usual. Probably many of his belongings were now in the hands (or bellies) of the French. "Or maybe someone else? I would love a cup, more than anything else in the world."

Christian appeared preoccupied with the small stack of blankets, but after a moment he nodded and got slowly to his feet. "I'll see what I can find."

"Bless you, dear. Tell them it's for Woodmarsh and make enough for yourself too."

Once a safe distance from the tent, Christian let his composure slip, spitting out one curse after another in a strained undertone.

Tea required water which required a kettle which he didn't have. It also required a fire which required wood and flint and steel and tinder, none of which he had. Most importantly it required tea. Which he didn't have.

Something to put it in would also help; no doubt Woodmarsh had acquired some auxiliary tableware in his absence, but that meant going back to the tent. The oversight might amuse Jenny and he didn't think he could bear to be laughed at just then.

*

He returned some time later with a tin cup, full -- relatively speaking, for he could not seem to avoid misstepping and consequently sloshing the scalding liquid over his hand -- of tea. He owed the captain's batman a favor after this. He smiled faintly at the memory: what a sorry pair they had made.

"Alright for me to come in?" he called, pausing with his hand on the tent flap.

Jenny sprang forward and opened the tent flap herself. "Yes! Come in!" she exclaimed. "Oh you got some, you angel! Michael Christian, you can do miracles. The lieutenant does not deserve you!"

Starting in surprise, Christian bit back a curse as the tea splashed over the rim of the cup and followed her inside. She seemed animated, almost familiar again and he was utterly at a loss. Wordlessly he handed her the cup.

She took it from him carefully, having noticed with some concern (and a touch of guilt) his curse as it spilled over his hand. She raised the cup to her mouth, but only far enough to feel the steam rising from it. "Nice and hot. I'll let it cool down a bit." She set it down on a battered old table that seemed to have taken the place of Woodmarsh's campaign desk. Some French officer must have a lovely new desk then.

"I lost the earrings you gave me," she said, following her own train of thought. "Well, didn't lose them but traded them for some food and clean clothes." She looked awkward, almost embarrassed.

Earings? Earings. He clutched at the change in topic like a drowning man might grasp a rope. He remembered them; how could he forget? Poor Jenny, what a bloody idiot he had been.

"Glad they could be o' some use," he said with a tentative smile, "After all the trouble it caused you."

"The trouble what caused me?"

"Gettin' needles stuck through your ears weren't no trouble then?"