Before You Start A War

Chapter Seventeen

"Harry," Niall calls after a few minutes of silence. Harry has lowered himself down to sit next to Niall, who has taken his time to sit back up, groaning from the pain in his abdomen.

"Hmm?" Harry responds, blinking back into reality, as he had gotten lost in his mind, trying to think of how he's going to assimilate Niall into their company without facing aggression the moment he leaves the cellar.

Niall reaches over and grabs Harry's hand; he doesn't entwine their fingers, he just lets Harry's hand lay limp in his own. "One day at a time, yeah?"

Harry shakes his head, "I should've never left that map in here."

"It wasn't an ideal way to get me out of here, no, but it worked, didn't it? I'm free now."

Harry sighs, "Not really, Niall. I have no idea how my comrades are going to react to you, and especially when word gets around that you're becoming a soldier, they'll go crazy." He bites his lip harshly, only stopping when he tastes blood. "I was going to do this slower, more delicately. I was stupid."

"You weren't. Look, no matter what way we went about it, the outcome would've been the same. Their reaction would be the same even if it took until the end of this war for me to no longer be held prisoner. They will always have something against me."

"All because of a goddamn coat color." Harry adds unhelpfully.

"Exactly. But soon, I won't be wearing this coat anymore." Niall fingers the frayed and dirtied grey coat he's used for warmth ever since been doomed to the underground bunker. "I'll be wearing one just like yours, and theirs. I'll be just like you."

Harry sniffs, "But they'll always remember you this way."

"Memories can be forgotten, and views can be changed." Niall tries. "It'll be fine, Harry. I'll be alright."

Harry stays silent for a moment, his fingers mindlessly drawing patterns in the dirt. He can feel the sun from the opened cellar doors beating against his back, warming him up uncomfortably. After a minute passes, Harry stands up and dusts the dirt off, offering a hand to Niall to help him to his feet. Silently, the two work together to get Niall up the stairs, as his legs are weak and he's still hurt from the kicks delivered to his abdomen. He didn't have to do too much walking or standing while alone in the cellar, but now he can feel just how little energy the hardtack provided him with.

"We'll pitch you up in my tent for now," Harry offers as he lets Niall lean against him, walking him across the camp and over to his tent. He knows lunch has yet to finish, so everyone will be gathered around the fire and benches, which they have to pass on their way to the tents. He hopes no one gives them trouble as they pass.

"Don't you already share with someone?" Niall inquires, feeling Harry's body tense up against his own. He lets his arms fall and walks, unaided, as they pass the men; some of the men look over with curious gazes, but are brought back into their conversations by their comrades and forget about them.

"Yeah, but he'll just have to deal until we get you a tent of your own. It shouldn't take too long for it to up, probably within the next few days." Harry hopes, at least, that the corporal with actually treat Niall to the luxury of his own tent and clothes and weapons, and not just throw him out to fend for himself. He hopes Niall will be treated like a soldier by more than just himself.

"Are you sure he'll be up to that?"

Harry shakes his head, "No, but again, he doesn't have a choice. Not if I have anything to say about it."

Instead of responding, Niall just nods his head. He hoists his bag up higher on his shoulder, making sure not to make eye contact with any of the other soldiers gathered around.