"No name. No past. No future." Only the face of a young woman, black-haired, blue-eyed—and her name.Bee.
Griff grimaced. "Well you are here now, thank god. Drink up. Eat. More as you feel better. Tonight and until I sort your reappearance, you'll billet with me."
He nodded. "I don't wish to be a burden, Griff."
"Burden? We thought you dead. Gone. So a burden you are not. I’m damn thrilled to have you with me."
"I want to go home, Griff."Bee needs me. I need her. “I've got to go quickly.”
"And you will. We will. As soon as I can get the duke to issue my orders."
"You're going home, too?" Alastair took another sip of the strong liquor.
"I am. I was promised leave for Christmas, but given no dates. Now that I see you, and your needs, I'll press Wellington for orders. You can't go anywhere in your condition without help."
"I made it here, didn't I?"
"Nearly six months after Waterloo? Wherever you've been, whoever helped you survive, it's a miracle. I'm taking you home. As soon as I get papers."
"I'm not arguing with you." Alastair let his eyes drift closed. He'd made it. Didn't think he'd ever see Griff again, or even a British uniform, let alone home.And Bee.
"You're a scarecrow. We'll have to get you a uniform. Borrow one from a man here. We'll find someone your height. Can't go home in those."
He looked like a pauper. Smelled like one too.
"I've two rooms in the Hotel Rivoli," Griff rambled on while Alastair munched on the soft white cheese and the crisp bread. "Old but warm. The service from theboulangeriedownstairs is excellent. The bed is big enough for two, but you'll have it all to yourself. Ah-ah. I insist. From the looks of you, you need it."
"I must tell you I don't sleep well."
"Hell, Alastair. None of us does."
"I mean I have problems sleeping. I wake up at all hours. Walk the floor. During the day, I have times when I sit and my mind is blank. I rock, they tell me. Just sit and rock."
"Battle madness."
Truth was, his thinking was not right. He had dark moods, impulsive needs to walk the floor. Bright light made him angry. Loud noises too. He was better than he had been, or so said the attendants. But he was not repaired. Not whole. If he ever could be. "Is that what they call it?"
"You're going home. With time and peace, you will grow well."
"I hope you're right. One man said he'd seen another man like me, but he used to wake up screaming and break everything in sight."
Griff put a hand to his shoulder.
Alastair tried to smile, but the taut pull of skin from the slash to his left cheek prohibited that. He took another satisfying swallow of the brandy and felt the rush. Putting it aside, he didn't wish to lose any detail of this conversation to alcohol. He took in the bustle of the other officers. Two more colonels. One Horse Guard. One Grenadier. A general who had managed to survive. All whole, unscarred. "I'm simply happy to see a face I know."
"I’m happy to seeyourface.”
“Had it not been for the kindness of that sergeant, I'd not be sitting here with you. I don't even know his name. Never will."
"I can't imagine...." Griff sat taller and blinked away his tears. "We'll go soon. I'll persuade Wellington of the urgency."
"I don't wish to make trouble for you, Griff. I can wait. Now that I'm here, I feel more myself. Besides, it looks like you have your hands full."
"We do." Griff sat up, inhaling deeply, taking his cue from Alastair to talk of other issues. "The Germans and the Russians have taken part of the City. We all try to keep the peace, but there's no love for us here. And the people are starving. Tired of war."
"Aren't we all."
Griff grimaced. "We've lost so many."
