They loot the camp, motions practiced and priorities already known. Intelligence, food and medical supplies, ammunition… nothing is left behind that they can use or adapt to use.
Erich slings a pack full of stolen papers across his back, settles his rifle in place, and waits for his men to be done.
He ignores all the Reaper’s attempts at speaking.
(The Reaper can learn to be patient like everyone else.)
(Bastard.)
The march back is grueling, burdened by supplies and exhausted by nearly twenty-four hours awake.
He loses track of the Reaper at some point.
He’ll worry about it later.
They don’t stop to rest at their previous camp. It’s too close to the enemy, too open for discovery, and Degurechaff had suggested ordering the men they left behind to pack it up.
Everything is ready to go by the time they make it back.
There’s no time to rest.
They keep marching.
Erich’s running on autopilot by the time they make it back to their base camp; he’s awake enough to give the correct orders and drop off his own burden, but little else.
Degurechaff all but orders him away in her own way; it’s not an order because he’s her commander, but it’s enough of one that he takes the opening and bows out of the proceedings.
He collapses gratefully into his bedroll and lets unconsciousness claim him.
“…tay away from him or so help me, I will carve politeness into your skull!”
“So heartless! I’m just here to help him sleep!”
“Help him sleep? The last time you tried, he attacked you. Learn some boundaries.”
Erich groans and rolls over, burying his head in his blankets. He doesn’t want to listen to Degurechaff and the Reaper argue any more.
“Sir, my apologies for waking you,” Degurechaff speaks, voice low and oddly hypnotic. “The Reaper is insisting on… helping. What would you like me to do?”
“I have a name, you know!”
“I don’t care,” Degurechaff snaps back.
“Make him go away,” he mumbles without thought.
He just wants the arguing to end.
The Reaper squawks in protest and then—
Silence.
He drifts off again.
The next time he wakes, there’s enough light in the tent to indicate morning and the sound of men moving around outside means he’s slept in.
Not that it feels like it.
He sits up with a sigh and scrubs at his face, trying desperately to wake up. He feels hungover, feels like he got no sleep at all, and—
His hands are trembling.
Erich stares blankly at his hands, watching his fingers shake with an odd, detached interest.
(He struck his soulmate.)
(He struck his Reaper soulmate.)
(He’s… still alive…?)
A mug is unceremoniously shoved at him and his hands reflexively close around it, accepting it from Degurechaff — Degurechaff? When did she show up…? — before she decides to retract the offer. It’s warm, grounding, and he takes a minute to appreciate the almost-normality of holding a cup of coffee in his hands. It might not be his preferred drink, but he’s grown accustomed to drinking it over the years.
“Thank you,” he murmurs before taking a sip, then pauses as the taste hits his tongue. He blinks down at it. Takes another sip, then another, savoring the taste of almost-correct coffee. If he ignores the faint edge to it, he can almost pretend it’s not ersatz coffee he’s drinking but real coffee.
“I have no idea how Visha does it, so don’t ask me,” Degurechaff says with a touch of amusement, her own cup held in one small hand. She settles on her bedroll and watches him for a moment, occasionally take a sip of her coffee. “It’s one of her hidden talents.”
“Like her talent at cards?” Erich asks dryly, remembering more than one occasion where he came across men on the losing side of Serebryakov’s card skills. He’s almost convinced that she’s a card sharp, but he’s also never spotted her cheating, which is good enough for him.
He’s benefited more than once from her stash of winnings, after all. He’s not about to cut off one of their best means of gaining luxuries if he can help it.
“That’s not exactly a hidden talent,” Degurechaff disagrees. “Everyone who hears about it just thinks she gets lucky and that they’ll certainly not lose to her.”
Erich snorts, conceding the point. His own men had that opinion too, until Serebryakov took them for everything they were worth.
(He could have intervened, but… really.)
(He would have thought his unit more intelligent than that.)
“We’re going to need to stay here for a few days,” Degurechaff says before the silence can stretch too long. She takes another sip of her coffee and glances up to Erich as she says, “The men need rest and our wounded need care.”
(You need rest, he hears.)
“So long as we’re safe, it should be fine,” Erich concedes without a fight. He’s tired and worn and empty in a way he’s rarely been, shaken by the previous two days and uncertain how to find his balance.
A few days without having to be on the move will be a blessing.
(Now if only he can figure out what to do about the Reaper…)
He sighs and takes another sip of coffee.
He’ll deal with it later.
(Why does it feel like he’s forgetting something…?)
Erich sets aside another stack of stolen papers and sits back to massage his hand. The mage battalion had more strategic information than he expected, including the latest encryption schema, which is a distinct relief. They’re not operating quite so blind for the moment, able to listen in on enemy transmissions, and so far everything is going well.
“Sir.”
He looks up and frowns at the sight of Degurechaff stalking towards his makeshift desk; she’s… not quite angry, but something’s put her on edge. “Colonel Degurechaff…?”
“Was there something you forgot to mention, sir?” she snaps as she halts in front of his desk and fixes him with a flat stare.
He pauses, feeling his frown deepening as he tries to think of what she’s referring to, and—
“Fuck.”
Amusement sparks in Degurechaff’s gaze. “I take it you remembered,” she says dryly.
Erich sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “My apologies, Colonel Degurechaff. I had intended to inform you yesterday when I became certain of it, but…”
“I understand, sir. Other things got in the way.” Her lips quirk up in a tiny, wry smile, and she taps her right hand against her thigh in indication. Before he can do more than nod, though, she continues on, “Regardless, there’s currently a woman at the edge of the camp who says she’s Alexis von Rerugen and that it’s her right as your soulmate to see you.”
“We probably shouldn’t keep her waiting, then,” Erich says as he pushes himself to his feet. There’s a coil of anticipation in his stomach, a touch of relief like he’s finally able to breathe after too long holding his breath. He hasn’t seen Alexis in months, ever since the Empire started to truly crumble and he… he’s happy.
The situation is a mess, she’s in more danger here than almost anywhere else, but the mere thought of her presence is a relief.
(He finally doesn’t have to do everything alone.)
(She’s here, she’s here, she’s here—)
Degurechaff falls into step with him as they duck out of his tent, subtly guiding him towards where Alexis is. Not that he entirely needs it, not this close, not with her soulmark burning strength-determination-love all up his left side and across his back.
The sight of her is like a lantern in the darkness.
She’s wearing modified Quincy war-gear, mottled greys and stone blues instead of white and dark blue, the cloth covered by the simplest style of their armor; it’s just a chest plate, greaves, and arm-guards, but it’s more than plenty against most Hollows.
That she’s decided to don it says plenty about the current state of things beyond his reach.
She has her favored reflex bow tied to her pack and his spare rifle slung across her shoulder, with a pistol hanging from her belt. He can spot at least one supply of ammunition on her in easy reach, and he has no doubt she has more secreted away and extra in her pack. She looks as dangerous as he knows she is and—
It’s such a relief.
“Erich!” she says as soon as she spots him, her eyes lighting up and her smile growing. “It’s good to see you.”
Erich gives his wife the dry look that deserves, but steps closer and waves his men aside. “She’s who she claims to be,” he tells them as he reaches out. Catches her hand and—
Yelps as he’s yanked in, colliding with her armored chest as she wraps him in an almost too tight bear-hug.
“Alexis!”
The men snicker as they disperse, and he can already hear the rumors starting. Hopefully it won’t be too harmful to his reputation.
Hopefully.
(Ugh.)
Degurechaff coughs, a pointed indication that she’s waiting for him, and he pries himself free of Alexis’ hug with reluctance. She’s facing away from him when he turns around, hands clasped behind her back and head tilted a bit up, as if she’s praying for patience.
(He supposes it wouldn’t be the first time.)
(How she’s put up with him lately is a mystery, if he’s being honest…)
“Apologies, Colonel. If I may introduce you, this is my soulmate and wife, Alexis von Rerugen. Alexis, this is my current second in command, Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff,” he says, hoping that Degurechaff won’t take offense at Alexis like she’s taken offense to the Reaper.
(At least Alexis is polite.)
(Usually.)
“A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Degurechaff says with a nod, turning back around to face them. She pointedly sweeps her gaze over Alexis’ gear. “If I may ask…”
“I know how to use everything I’m carrying. Our family has long been a believer in training everyone to protect themselves,” Alexis says with amusement. She steps up to Erich’s side and takes his left hand in her right, pressing their wrists together. There’s layers of fabric and armor between them, but he can still feel the hum of their matched soulmarks so close together.
(He wishes she wasn’t wearing armor, even if he understands her reasoning…)
(He just… wants to feel her touch against his skin.)
“Yeah, I bet,” Degurechaff mutters, voice barely loud enough for Erich to catch.
Alexis snorts and flashes Degurechaff a sharp grin. “Got read in, I take it?”
Degurechaff stares up at her for a long, thoughtful moment, then nods sharply and turns on her heel. “Might I suggest we take this back to your tent, sir?”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Erich says, squeezing Alexis’ hand and pulling strength from her presence. “Lead on, Colonel.”
(Alexis’ presence doesn’t solve anything, but…)
(He already feels better with her at his side.)
(Maybe they can do this.)
(Together.)