30th May: Green, black and blue

"Sir!" Cotton was out of breath, running with Pye's rifle over his shoulder. He needed to get back, and was dreading having to report that Pye had gone missing. He couldn't cover for him any more, though - it would be obvious that he was missing and then Captain Vickery would muster the company, making sure everyone was there. And Pye wouldn't be there.

Damn. Damn.

And he ran full pelt into someone and fell back a step with a gasp.

"Pye!"

It all happened in a blur. He stumbled, he struck something very hard and solid which had not been there a moment ago and he went rebounding, hitting the ground with his back and his head. He succeeded in striking his head on the very same bump that he received when the other man struck him. He curled up over his arm, shielding the fingers and raised his legs ready to kick out and make any standing man clutch at his groin. Only, there was nobody standing and a familiar voice shouted his name.

It was starting to hurt less, and he groaned, sitting up. "..Gabe Cotton?"

He had managed to retain his footing, though he wasn't entirely sure how. Pye had gone sprawling onto his back and looked as though he was going to kick out at anyone who came too near him. He was in his shirtsleeves, and looked... He looked as though he'd taken a vicious beating, in fact.

"Where in the world did you get to? We bin lookin' everywhere for you!" Cotton got out eventually, once he had mostly got his breath back.

"Gabe?.." He relaxed and began to get up, clutching his good hand to the back of his head. "What on earth....Who.. you?" He stammered. "You all looked for me?" He asked then straightened somewhat. "...I've been in camp." He answered :"An'..by t' river earlier. You must'a missed me. I'm sorry. I'm here now." He looked at Cotton and the rifle that he was holding. It looked wet. "What you got there?" Could it be? It was too much to hope for.

Cotton nodded, slightly too stunned to respond in words. He gathered his thoughts. "We... we saw you'd bin by the river. Followed the tracks to where... Well, into the wood a bit." He held the rifle out. "Found this. We were gettin' frantic, like, not bein' able to find you, an' thinkin' we was goin' to have to tell the Captain you'd... got lost."

He couldn't quite bring himself to say the word 'deserted'. If Pye hadn't shown up, they would have no proof that he hadn't tried to desert, apart from Cotton's gut feeling, and that would hardly be something an officer would accept.

"My rifle..." Pye felt tears at the corners of his eyes, for it was such great relief that he felt at seeing his weapon, wet perhaps, but unharmed, in one piece, there. He got up and reached for his rifle, ready to cradle it into his arms almost like a child that he had thought lost.

"I'm sorry. " Pye murmured softly and shook his head. "I did not desert." He knew what Cotton must have been thinking. What they all could've been thinking. "..Gabe..I'm sorry I was worryin' you. You found it. My rifle. " He choked on his words, and his cheeks were in actuality glistening with a few tears. "I'm so sorry."

"I know. But... Well. Knowin' it in your head an' makin' other folks see it ain't the same thing." He smiled, though it was a bit uncomfortable. "Couldn't let folks think you had, could us? An' well, you'd've needed your rifle, bein' a Rifleman." He shrugged, feeling awkward. "It's all sorted now, though, ain't it?"

Pye was cradling his rifle in the ready position, and Cotton wondered suddenly if that position had been invented simply so a rifleman could cuddle his weapon without looking as though that was what he was doing. After all, he'd done the same thing often enough himself that he could recognise what Pye was doing.

"I'll need to go ter t' surgeon.. this wot' Captain Vickery ordered me." He frowned, but the rifle would not be let go. He still cradled it so close to him, afraid that it would disappear, should he look away. "..'s all sorted. .I'm real sorry I gave you a scare. ...real grateful you was looking for me. " He added and adjusted his hold just a little, feeling more embarrassed now.

"We.. better be goin'. You shouldn't have gone lookin' for me, not for this long neither!" He spoke, but could not bring himself to sound scolding. He was grateful that they cared enough to make an effort. A family, what the rifles really were. A family that looked out for each other. "Did you...happen to see a kettle too.."He asked awkwardly.

"The surgeon? I ain't surprised. You look like you've gone ten rounds with a prize fighter." Although the bruises and grazes had been treated and cleaned, and he'd probably looked even worse right after whatever had happened to him had occurred.

"I need to get goin', to see to the Captain. For sure he ain't so well turned out as he could be." He shrugged. "Aye, we found the kettle. It's a bit bashed, but it was dented already so there ain't anythin' to worry about there. It was near where we picked your rifle up." He looked at Pye curiously. "What happened, anyhow?"

"...I fell." Pye murmured and turned , having no need to go to the river now. In truth his canteen had been filled first and then he meant to fill the kettle for tea. But he could not ask Vickery for permission for a stroll along the river without having a good reason for it.

"..Think t' captain's gone ter see the General." He continued. "He did look dressed up..pretty well and officerly like. " He hesitated.

"He might, but there ain't no way he'm dressed well enough to go seein' the Gen'ral." He paused to look at Pye. "Why's he got to see the Gen'ral, anyhow? He might be the captain of a company of the 60th, but he'm still only a captain."

Heaven knew who'd helped the Captain to dress, but Cotton was fairly sure they hadn't got him looking as smart as he usually did.

"...he's goin' there on my account." Pye frowned. It did not make it sound any better. "T' General....had seen me when I was returning with Mister Broderick." He was already keeping pace in the direction of camp, alongside of Cotton. If they walked they would do two things at a time. One of course would be the talk, and the second simply getting from place A to place B, where they had to be.

"I don't know what they will talk o'.. but I really wish captain Vickery needn't go there."

"What? What in the world have you done to come to the Gen'ral's notice?!" The shock was plain in Cotton's voice. "Even for us Riflemen, that can't be good." He took a breath and carried on walking, though he had paused in his stride because of the shock of hearing that General Wellesley wanted to see the Captain about Pye.

"You an' me both, pal," he said in something more like his usual tone of voice.

Pye flinched and withdrew some from Cotton, when the other man reacted so violently to the revelation. "I've done nothing, but he had seen me..and ...I insisted that I should be fit for duty. He asked...what happened and I tole him i fell. But.. I don't know if he did not believe me. But... but to want to speak about me. I'm not important at all Cotton! Not ter t' rifles. I am learnin' still so I'm not pullin' t' same sort of weight you are. It's.. rather terrifyin' too.. It's t' General. He oughtn't worry 'bout riflemen..."

He sighed, and quickened his pace again. If only Wellesley would have forgotten about it by the time Vickery arrived and perhaps would only say - oh, who? Don't know a man by that description, you're dismissed - .

"No, you'm right there," Cotton said. "He'm about the most scary man I think I ever met, worse than Squire, even. The way he looks at you..." He frowned thoughtfully. "Jus' how bad are you, anyhow?" he asked, trying to think of why, precisely, the General would be interested in Pye and his current state of health.

"The Captain'll cover for as best he can, y'know," he added. "At least, if he knows the worst, he can, well, know what to say so's it ain't so bad." Well, hopefully, anyway.

"I only got this a bit cracked.. all t' rest.. is a faint'y brush o' bruise. Nothing more. Yer can barely notice it, really." In the unlikely event that the person looking was also blind.

"Did you talk with t' General 'fore now? " There, the camp was becoming less and less like one, and more and more like a collection of regiments , many men standing in their lines.

"You think I'm blind?" Cotton asked, amusement touching his voice. He nodded. "The afternoon of that trainin' day, after the target shootin'. Hadn't even realised he'd bin there, watchin'."

He shrugged. "Look, mate, I got to make sure the Captain's as neat as a new pin afore I let him go anywhere. Don't you go wanderin' off where you oughtn't to be, all right?"

"Please hurry, Gabe ter have t' captain..... And....."Pye turned quiet at what else he might have asked as a request to Cotton,and only gave him a quick nodd. "I will see you later.. by t' surgeons." It was where he would be. From dawn till dusk unless the surgeon would tell him different. "...I will only stay there. Not goin' anywhere.. now.. go, Gabe!"

"All right. I'll see you, Zack. Don't go gettin' in any more scrapes, will you?" He grinned at the other rifleman before heading across to see to the Captain, trying to come with any sort of reasonable explanation for why he'd been missing himself that wouldn't get Pye into any more trouble.

"Straight ter t' surgeons. So if he won't.. I won't." He grinned at Cotton and carried his rifle off like it was the greatest treasure. And so went to tend to it too when he went to pick his kit and his chick. He checked the animal still there before struggling to do all with one hand. He regretted that Cotton might have near gotten himself in trouble for his sake, and similarly the others that had gone in search of him, he decided to make good with the promise. Part of this was to stick with the greater number of people, and part of it was , heading straight towards the surgeons' once he had picked all of his kit. The rifle of course was carried and tended to at all times, coming to the point of near apologising to it for letting it face the peril on its own.