9 June, Release

The wine had made Jenny dizzy. She should have remembered that wine always made her dizzy these days. But it was worth celebrating. How could Christian be sleeping through all of the excitement? "Mike. Michael Christian. Wake up." She shook his shoulder impatiently, grinning like a loon. "Wake up, wake up, wake up." And then she curled up next to him, smiling at his sleepy face. She giggled and closed her own eyes. That felt nice. Some more wine would have been nice too.

Christian smiled blearily at her. Jenny's smile seemed to light up her entire face and the glow lingered even after she had shut her eyes. Beautiful wasn't the right word; radiant -- had he known it -- might have come close, and for several moments he simply watched her. A strand of hair had slipped down across her face and, reaching out, he gently, almost gingerly brushed it away.

She opened her eyes, still smiling. She mustn't fall asleep. She had a message to deliver. "You're awake." She giggled again. Everything was terribly amusing.

She could hear other women's voices now, women speaking to other men. "We're going home!" one woman exclaimed, laughing with her man nearby. Damn, that was the message Jenny had intended to relay. Ah well. Maybe Christian hadn't heard. She could still tell him. As soon as her eyes opened again.

"Aye," he said slowly, almost laughing himself, "Hard for a lad t' sleep wi' you shakin' him, innit?"

By now the spot where the male prisoners had been sleeping was overrun by women, children, and French soldiers. It was becoming quite noisy, but in a pleasant way like a village festival, Jenny thought. Perhaps there would be a tea tent with cakes. Or maybe they would have one when they returned to the British camp. General Wellesley would come out and meet them like the lord of the manor, and would give them all ribbons for coming home. She giggled once again and forced herself to sit up. She didn't want to fall asleep and miss it. "Come on, lamb chop. Let's go."

"Go?" Christian's brow contracted in a puzzled frown as he pushed himself up. He was fully awake now, but with that awareness things seemed to make even less sense. "Wait -- Jenny, how'd you get here? What's goin' on?"

"We're leaving, you idiot," she said affectionately, putting a hand on his face. "We're going home. They're sending us back at last. You haven't shaved, Mike." She hiccupped and then laughed. "Parting gifts from the sss...soldiers guarding us, and I think I may be a very little bit drunk. Probably hoping for some sort of thanks, but no such luck, not from us, nooo. But they have some very good vinho verde. That's what they call it, vinho verde, do you know that? What a noisy rabble we are."

"Leaving?" he repeated stupidly; he hadn't really heard anything she had said after that. "You mean they're sendin' us back? All of us?"

"Yes." She got to her feet and reached out to pull him by the hand. "Up! Let's go before they change their minds." A change of mind did not seem likely, however. Their guards were attempting to organize them into an orderly group, helping the wounded and shepherding stray children. "I hope they're going to feed us first. I shouldn't drink wine on an empty stomach. Certainly shouldn't march on an empty stomach either."

Taking her hand, Christian got to his feet, swaying off balance as he turned to look at the boisterous scene that surrounded them. He watched it in a daze which had little to do with the ache in his skull, unable to shake the feeling that at any moment he was going to wake up.

While he was looking at the crowd, Jenny was looking at him with amusement. "You're really quite filthy, darling. Did you never wash at all?" She remembered that he had fallen from the ambulance into the mud. When was that? A few days before? But he did not look as if he had washed since then. "Oh dear. Do I look as bad as you? Your lieutenant won't recognize either of us. I think they're going to give us some bread!"

"Never," he replied with a glimmer of his old humor, "You look lovely, Jenny. Best hurry, though, 'fore this lot packs it all away."

Charcot was being rather careless in handing out the bread, his mind preoccupied with other matters. "Couture, d'ye see my flower mouse anywhere? No, you old goat, one piece per person. One piece, ONE! Stupid English. You hear me, Couture? Lemme know if you see her. I said ONE!"

"Alright. How many times I gotta say it? Christ, never known you to get so cow-eyed over a girl."

"She's a nice girl!" Charcot said defensively. "And she liked me. Or would have if you hadn't scared her off, and that old witch. Let me know if you see her; I'd like to teach her a thing or two."

"Me? It weren't me what tried chewin' her face off."

"Shut up!" Charcot snapped, startling a few of the British prisoners nearby. "What would you know about it anyway? You probably never even kissed a girl."

"I have so!" Couture spluttered, "Done better'n that even. An' she liked it a damn sight better'n that little lass o' yours, too."

"Oh, aye?" Charcot's flustered brain did not have time for an adequate response before one of the women interrupted. It was that blonde lass who had been with the officers a couple of times.

"Shut up and get on with it already!" Jenny said in English, which of course Charcot could not understand. She was smiling though. Like most of the prisoners, she seemed to be in a cheerful mood now that they were leaving. Well, Charcot would show Couture that he knew how to handle a woman. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and planted a kiss on her mouth.

Couture caught the rosbif by the facings before his unsteady lunge could connect with Charcot, and sent him sprawling in the dirt. "That's enough," he snapped, lowering his bayonet so that it hovered uncomfortably close to the prisoner's throat. He had had just about enough of this nonsense.

Sergent Hubert's voice rumbled out from several yards away. "Couture, Charcot, quit fooling around. You're supposed to be feeding the prisoners, not killing them. Save that for the next battle." He ambled over and hauled the redcoated fellow back up to his feet. "Here, give him his damn bread, and get ready to move out. You two just volunteered to join the escort. And Couture, leave the women alone."

Jenny slipped over to Christian's side and wrapped a hand around his arm. "Are you all right, dear? You really must stop doing that." She did not specify what exactly that was, but she gave his coat an ineffectual dusting with her hand

"Huh?" he mumbled absently, putting an arm around Jenny's shoulders as much to keep himself upright as to steer her away from the pair of Frogs.

He wasn't listening. Well, she was used to that, and it didn't really matter. The soldiers seemed to be sulking away after their reprimand, and it looked as if they were all about to finally get moving. "I think we're leaving. Let's get the hell out of here."