The Ghost of Him |WWII Frerard AU|

-22-

I'm not sure how long it's been.  Seconds, minutes, hours.  I've lost track of time.  I've been counting the cricket songs, been keeping track of how many times an owl hoots or a wolf howls amongst the trees surrounding our camp, and none of it is helping me relax enough to fall asleep.

I'm beginning to think trying to unwind is a fruitless task.

Jon hasn't rolled back over once, his breathing completely rhythmic and stable as soft snores rumble in his throat.  I have no idea how he managed to fall asleep so quickly, but good on him, I guess.  I just wish I could pass out as easily as him.  I can never get my mind to turn off.

Frank has his back to me, too, and he hasn't moved since Jon started snoring.  I'm stuck in between the two of them, wide awake and completely restless, while they sleep.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't really, really frustrated with myself right now.

In an attempt to occupy my racing mind, I try counting sheep.  Some of them leap over the little fence into their pen with ease, while others seem to have a bit too much wool weighing them down; to make everyone happy, I make two separate pens.  One for the springy sheep, and one for the apathetic, exhausted sheep.  Now all I need is a herding dog, and my sheep ranch will be complete.

This is what happens when I'm dead tired and left to my own rampaging thoughts.

I might as well be trapped in a waking nightmare.  If this is really what camping out in a stalemate is going to be like, I should just pack my bags and go home now.  I can't sleep.  I can't get my brain to turn off.  I can't relax, and rest is exactly what I'll need in a situation like that.  Without rest, I can't think straight.  My body aches.  Everything is amplified to be ten times worse than it needs to be, and I'm afraid that not being able to shut my mind up and go to sleep is what's going to be my downfall.

Who would've thought that insomnia would be the thing to take me down so easily?

I really need to stop thinking so much and calm down.  I'm only irritating myself more and more as the minutes drag on, and before I know it, I'll see the sky start to turn pink and orange on the horizon.  I'll be dead exhausted for our full day of fun-filled camping activities, and I don't think anyone wants to see me when I'm sleep deprived.  It's not a pretty sight.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, I shift, trying to get comfortable on the hard ground, but as soon as I move, Frank starts to roll over.  Great, now I've woken him up with my incessant grumbling and fidgeting.  We don't need two sleep deprived people on our team.

Struggling to keep his eyes open, he looks up at me, his arm tucked underneath his head to use as a pillow.  "What's on your mind, Way?"  he asks, his voice groggier than I've ever heard it.

I can't stifle a scoff as I stare up at the fabric of the tent, gently billowing in the cold breeze.  "Too many things,"  I tell him.  "I can't get my brain to shut up.  It won't let me relax, and it's driving me nuts."

"I know how you feel."  Frank takes a deep breath, forcing his eyes open so he can look at me.  "I've just been drifting off every so often.  I have no idea how Jon's passed the fuck out over there."

As if on cue, Jon lets out a violent snore, nearly knocking our whole tent down in the process; it doesn't take long for Frank and me to exchange a glance and almost burst into a laughing fit.

"How is he sleeping so hard?"  Frank says in between restrained giggles, amusement glimmering in his eyes.  "It's cold.  The ground feels like cement.  There are wolves out there in the forest, and this dude's sawing logs without a care in the world."