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He wasn't sure if he could call it a goodnight sleep. The last thing he knew before he opened his eyes were hours ago when he closed it. He didn't have any bad dreams thankfully. But the next thing he knew, his throat was killing him. His lips was dry like a desert, while he could feel as if peels of flesh inside was dropping. He didn't drink a single drop of water ever since last night. But his mind disproved of him getting out of bed. His arms and legs were still screaming in pain. It was quite a day yesterday. Carrying equipment up the long hill, charging through the trenches, wrestling with an Imperial before having to run for his life in an artillery barrage. It was way more than any training could help him. But nevertheless, Michael still found himself crawling over to the door to the food tent for a drink. Even if it was just a sip of pure tasteless water, it still felt like he was ascending to a higher plane of existence. It was a good distraction to the war he was placed in.

He returned to his bunk after a few minutes. Franz was still asleep, but Lucia wasn't there anymore. Did she leave while Michael was still outside? But looking over to her bedside - the empty box of ration - Michael couldn't help but leak a smile. At least she was taking care of herself. Michael had been quite worried after all that trauma she had been through. Some people would be broken to the point that they had to be fed by the other soldiers. It was that harsh. But perhaps Lucia hadn't gone through that much. And hopefully that was the extent of it. 

After gathering his tools and guns, he gave a quick reminder to Franz before heading out in a hurry. Initially, he thought that he would soon be chastised by the cocky officers or his fellow soldiers of higher ranks for his tired and exhausted look, but in fact, no one was different from him right now. The bags in their eyes, the dry and bruised lips, the bandaged arm or legs that still soaked with red hues. Instead, the feeling came from somewhere else instead. As he was about to arrive at the train station, the squad passed through a small town, or rather what remained of it. Some houses only had half of its mass remained, while the rest flooded the street in a huge mess that nobody even bothered to clean them up. The collateral damage had been moved over to the side of the town, with coffins lining up neatly where it should be. And those who were left...

Michael wasn't sure to have his sympathy given to these innocent civilians or similar shots return fired for their ignorance towards what happened to their loved ones. Nevertheless, he continued the march towards the station. He could feel the gazed stabbing into his back, but he did not care. He did not care about their hatred. He was trying to do this so that he could return home safely. 

Soon, he arrived at the station, where he was supposed to be transferred away. But before he was allowed to board the train, someone shaped the entire squad into place, into proper line and formation. He knew this drill too well though, but wondered what did they have to say after all of that. 

What turned out wasn't entirely unexpected. A bunch of propaganda rhetoric about how heroic they had fought up there. Yeah, tell it to the squad instead, those guys who were half dead already. What followed next was the promotion of the person Michael most dreaded in his entire life. So now he is capable of making certain promotion to other people in the squad. The lucky ones - not so sure if it was lucky or not - chosen was Daniel and Jean. He didn't understand the basis behind these choices anyway. It seemed random anyway. But he didn't care less. 

After the whole ceremony, the formation was dissolved as everybody soon boarded the train. And following suit the course, Michael also made his way to one of the wagon. As he made his way, however, he saw again the girl he had spent a deal of time taking care of the day before. She was making her way up to the wagon two ones from his. She was the only one to board. Oh yeah, Middleton did call her to the cabin. His cabin. His heart sank just as the reminder crossed his mind. What the hell was he up to with her this time? He had called her just before the artillery hit, and what now? He shuddered to think what he was indoctrinating her all this time. 

He simply shook his head once, before entering the wagon. He turned left into the room at the back of the wagon, two cabin from Jean and the entire group as he settled down onto his seat. Once he did, he began going through his guns again. The bolt had to be oiled, the muzzle had to be clean, the magazine was also clear of dust. They were all done already. He didn't need to check again. But he did. A few times before he finally stopped. 

[color=bf00ff]"I hope she could retain herself."[/color]

He didn't want another cold heart.
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