The Greene Effect - REWRITE!!

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR - DANIELS

Amelia Greene -

February soon melted into March, drying up the last splotches of snow and allowing the sun to finally shine down on us in cool spring heat.

Our aching bones thawed. The boys made comments about how they could finally piss without - (that's when I cut them off.)

My birthday is nearing. It will soon be three whole years I've aged since being deployed. I'm not quite sure how to feel about that. I think I would miss the sweet fluffy taste of a birthday cake, if I could remember it.

We've shaken off all the ice but I can't stop shivering. Part of me misses how my mind could focus on nothing but the cold; now it's entirely too aware of the thoughts racing to be considered first. I have no excuse to ignore these problems anymore.

But the world makes it too easy. So let's pretend the grim reaper isn't knocking at my door.

"Greene," Howard's voice cuts crisp through the air, startling me out of my thoughts. I turn to find him in a mildly concerned state.

"Yeah?" I ask, stopping in my tracks, a heavy basket in my arms.

"Thought you'd wanna know Daniels is back."

The basket and everything inside clatters to the floor. I look at Howard in shock, as his eyes glance between the spilled content and my face.

What a fucking idiot.

"Daniels?" I repeat. "Here?"

He nods, a slight smirk on his lips. "Yeah. He was going towards Pierson's-"

He doesn't get a chance to finish before I drop the floor and hurriedly start picking up the ammunition I dropped, my hands moving in a quick blur.

Howard let's out a laugh, kneeling down as well. "I got it, Greene. Go figure them out."

I sigh in gratitude, grabbing my rifle, just in case. "Thank you, Howard, I'll be back once I clean the blood off of them."

I hear him chuckle as I take off, beelining straight for his tent. Hopefully Aiello and Stiles are there, though neither are esteemed meditators. All I'm sure of is that Pierson stiffened at any mention of Daniels - never in a positive way.

The hanging leaves of a tree whips me in the face, causing a frustrated groan to leave my throat. I had to be on the other side of the base. A few passerby toss me confused glances that I swiftly ignore; they'll understand when both men are bloodied.

I catch sight of Pierson's tent. Aiello and Stiles are just walking in, with the other two nowhere in sight.

I stop meters away when Pierson suddenly barrels through the tent flaps, no doubt shoving the two privates out of the way, and stomps off in the other direction. I look at his retreating figure in shock, wondering what the hell transpired in there.

I nearly take off after him, but a familiar low voice speaking from behind the thick tent material stops the plan.

"Daniels," I breathe, as he exits. He pauses, a small smile coming across his face. It's only been a matter of weeks since I've seen him, but it's like he's a different person now. I'm not sure I've ever seen him look so tired.

We quickly embrace, happy to see each other. Remembering Pierson's anger, I pull back to see if he had done any damage. A a leaves my lips, spotting a forming bruise on his jaw.

"Please tell me that was a horse back home, or something."

He chuckles, touching the spot and then wincing away from his finger. "The horses are more gentle."