The Ghost of Him |WWII Frerard AU|

-40-

I'm not quite sure how or when I fell asleep last night, but I do know that when I'm woken up by a tap on the head, I'm instantly greeted with the worst neck pain I've ever experienced in my life.

Waves and waves of pure torturous agony shoot down my spine when I open my eyes and see the bright morning sunlight shining through the leaves.  My clothes are still damp, my hair frizzier than ever, but that's the least of my concerns right now.  I'm more worried about the fact that I might have broken my neck.

I can't bite back a yelp of pain when I try to move, my muscles burning like a raging fire.  I'm not sure how this is possible, but I think I'm in more agony than I ever was at training camp.  This is excruciating, completely ridiculous for just getting some shut-eye.

Well, at least I feel relatively rested, right?  I suppose I have that going for me.  All I have to do is ignore the extraordinary neck pain, and I'll be golden.

Another light tap on my head snaps me back to the reality at hand.  Blinking away the heavy sleepiness left in my eyes, I glance up and see Frank standing over me, knocking on my helmet with the hilt of his knife.  Thankfully, though, he seems rather amused.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead,"  he remarks, his lips curling up into a small smile.  "We're having a meeting to discuss what our next plan of action is, I guess.  Everyone's itching to get started."

It takes me a moment for his words to click inside my sluggish brain.  Falling asleep like that after, what, maybe two days, really threw me for a loop.  Rest is great and all, but now I'm even more tired than I was before I passed out.  It's a strange sensation, really.  I feel rested, but I don't feel rested.  It's weird.  I don't know what to think of it.

Okay, I definitely think I need more than a few hours of sleep.  I sound like a crazy person.

Wincing as another wave of pain shoots down my spine, I try to move myself into a standing position without collapsing.  Even my balance is off.  "Don't tell me I'm gonna be the last one to show up,"  I grumble, rubbing my shoulders in a feeble attempt to ease the burning aches.

Frank shakes his head.  "Nah, I'm pretty sure Ray and Jon are still passed out over there,"  he replies with a laugh.  "Besides, you needed the sleep anyway.  I was starting to get worried about you.  You looked like a zombie."

I can't stifle a scoff as I shuffle to join him at his side.  "Thanks for the self-esteem boost there, Frank.  I'm completely confident with my appearance now."

"You're welcome, zombie."

I'm almost tempted to hit him now that we're back on good terms, but I'd rather not push my luck.  I'll stick to mocking his face behind his back for the time being.

I try to stretch my neck as the two of us leave the small forest and return to the clearing where the rest of our company sits.  Most of them are awake and ready to go, but just like Frank said, both Jon and Ray are still passed out on the ground near the bushes.  Jon has his head leaned back against a tree, his mouth wide open and drool trickling down his chin.  Ray is face-first in the dirt, his snores muffled by the ground beneath him.  They both look just as drained and exhausted as I feel on the inside, and I almost don't want to wake them up.  They look so terribly, terribly peaceful when they're knocked out like that.

But alas, we have to keep things in motion.  Quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, Pete volunteers to wake the two sleepers up.  He creeps over to them while the rest of us watch on, and then the tranquil morning silence is immediately shattered by his loud shrieks.