By the fireside; evening, 26th May

He smiled across the fire at Pye, though the smile wasn't meant for the young Rifleman. "Love you, Maggie," he said, brushing her cheek softly with the back of his fore-finger. "An', well, I hope you'll forgive me for bein' clumsy with me words, times. I don't mean to be. I just ain't got the way of puttin' things that sounds nice, if you see what I mean."

"I know. It's all right." It was pleasant just to lie there with him next to her, listening to the quiet sounds of the night. By now most of the camp was asleep, and soon so too was Maggie.

She awoke because she was cold. Her limbs were tucked around her like a ball, but her skin was clammy and pricked all over by grass and rocks. Her skin. Why her skin? She was disoriented and, she realized as she looked around her, alone.

But she was not far from the others. She could hear the usual night sounds of bivouac all around her. She shivered and sat up, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Gabe?" she whispered, hoping that no one else would wake. "Gabriel Cotton!"

He blinked awake. The fire had died down, leaving him feeling chilled, but that wasn't why he'd woken. He sat up. He was alone under the blanket and he looked around for Maggie, feeling anxious, the way he had that day when he'd had to march without her.

And then he heard her voice, quiet in the dark, and he looked around for her. There was a pale shape on the ground away from the fire, and he got up. "Maggie?" he said quietly, moving towards it. "You all right there, lass?"

"Gabe," she whispered, looking around in confusion. "I can't find me shimmy."

She hadn't even got her shimmy on? "You must be awful cold," he said, reaching for his blanket and wrapping it around her gently, covering her with the warm, though scratchy, wool. "You keep that an' I'll see if I can find your shimmy, though it'll be damp with the dew-fall by now." He put his arms around her and dropped a kiss on her head. "You'm safe with me, lass, I promise."

"I threw it away," she murmured. "It was dirty and torn. No, I don't want it." She clutched the blanket around herself and curled up once again on the ground.

She was obviously confused about events. He shifted to poke at the half-dead embers of the fire. "Maggie, sweeting, you know where we are?" He sat next to her, pulling her to lean against him, slipping his arm around her blanket-wrapped body. "You had another shimmy, 'member? One that's nice an' clean, an' that's the one we'm goin' to find, in the mornin' when it gets light." He smiled at the weight of her head on his shoulder. "I love you, Maggie, sweeting."

"Oh." She shivered again, although she was beginning to warm up and wake up. She looked around with a puzzled frown during a long, silent pause. "I was dreaming, I think. What happened? Did I wake you?"

"Well, you weren't there, an' that woke me, an' then you said me name, an' that woke me prop'ly. You was just lyin' there, an' you looked awful cold." He rubbed her back soothingly. "I can brew you a cup of tea, if you want," he added. "It... it wasn't a bad dream, was it?" He remembered the last bad dream she'd had, and was thankful that at least it hadn't been like that this time.

"I don't remember," she answered, speaking sluggishly. "I'm tired. Do you have your other shirt?"

"Aye, if you don't me movin' to get it out of me pack." It was obvious she couldn't just cover herself in his blanket; it was too coarse, to start with. He got up to bring his pack over, sitting down again before unbuckling the straps that held it closed. "You... It's the one I wore after I was flogged. You don't mind, do you?" She'd done wonders in getting most of the blood out, but he didn't think she'd managed to get it all... or maybe that was just his imagination, because of how he felt about that whole affair.

"No," she murmured sleepily. "Thank you." She reached out to accept it and pulled it on without self-consciousness. It was soft and smooth against her skin, much better than the blanket. Now she would be able to sleep properly.

He smiled. Things did seem to be improving, even a little. He unbuttoned his jacket. "May I share the blanket?" he asked, unwilling to push her beyond what she might be comfortable with.

"Course," she mumbled, not able to remember whether or not her own blanket was still there.

He slipped his jacket off and bundled it up. "That'll make a pillow for us," he said, moving closer and slipping his arms around her, pulling the blanket around them both. He was almost painfully aware of the feeling of her body close to his, but she was half-asleep, and he couldn't do anything that would jeopardise what they had together. Plenty of time for that later, he thought, as her head rested against his shoulder again.

"Sorry I woke you," she mumbled, nestling against his warmth.

"It's all right," he replied, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her head under his chin, shifting a little to draw the blanket closer around her shoulders. "Was only me, this time. An' I love you."

"Love you, Gabe," she answered, her voice sleepy and distant.

"Love you too Maggie, sweeting." He closed his eyes and stroked her hair, feeling sleepy, yet wanting to know she was asleep before he would let himself drift off.

Moments later she was indeed comfortably asleep and stayed so until morning.