WHO: Huan Zeng and semi-NPC Benoit Girard WHAT: ANGSTY ANGST. OF DOOM. WHEN: Backlogged to late December, 1917 WHERE: FRANCE. Trenches. Somewhere. WARNINGS: Character death, SUPREME ANGST, violence, graphic descriptions of warfare, kissing Something on this list doesn’t match the others.
Everything was surprisingly silent that morning, the pre-dawn light washing everything of it’s color and leaving pale grey imitations in it’s place. Mud squelched beneath Huan’s feet, his boots sinking into the ground with every step, leaving dark footprints in his wake. The cold winter air had him shivering, and even he had a hard time ignoring it. But he had more important things to worry about then something so trivial as the weather. Before too long, he would be expected to have a gun in his hands again as he went to the front lines; he had to take care of this one thing before that.
Huan couldn’t remember how long he’d been on the Western Front. He didn’t bother keeping track of time- it wasn’t like it would do any good. There was no one he was writing home to, no one who was waiting. The war would end when it ended, and that’s all there was to it. It didn’t matter when it happened, just that it would. At first he’d been fighting to protect someone- the son of the woman he used to love. He could take bullets and grenades and bayonets for him. But he couldn’t protect Harry from poison gases and the ruthless attack of the Germans. He’d failed him, just like he’d failed everyone else in his life, and his other life. For a long time, Huan had withdrawn into himself. He took orders, and he killed without question, but he was so cold about it all that he seemed more machine then man. His comrades, unnerved by the icy man, avoided him, and it seemed like nothing would change. Until he met Benoit.
It might have been weeks or months ago. Huan didn’t remember, or care. All he knew was that somehow, slowly, the French soldier had managed to worm his way past his defenses. It was like he’d helped him to wake up from that daze he’d been in. In the short time they knew each other, Benoit had gone from being someone he watched out for to being the closest friend Huan had ever had, and for an immortal nearing his ninetieth birthday, that was saying something. For a while, Huan had been perfectly content with the idea that he would remain Benoit’s friend for the rest of the other man’s life- assuming he’d be okay with knowing that Huan was a devil, which Huan figured would come out at some point- but then things began to change. He couldn’t pinpoint when exactly it had started, but he certainly knew now that the friendship on his part had become something much, much more. He’d just been watching him as he carried some mail to a few of his fellow soldiers, seeing Benoit smile and laugh with the other men and... He knew.
Maybe if he was in a different situation, he would have had the time to wonder about his falling in love with a man. But they were in a war, and Huan knew through Chrono that life was a fragile and precious thing. He wasn’t going to just sit by the side and do nothing. Maybe it would ruin their friendship, but Huan had to take that risk. He had to let Benoit know how he felt. If something were to happen to Benoit, and he hadn’t told him? Well, forever was a long time to live with regrets.
That’s where he was headed now - to trenches the French called home. The light was still dim and the shadows covered most of the faces of the sleeping me, but Huan’s eyes quickly adjusted and it only took him a couple of minutes to find Benoit sleeping soundly. He put his hand over Benoit’s mouth and shook his shoulder until he finally woke up. “Hey, it’s me.” Huan kept his voice low enough that only Benoit could have heard him. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.” Benoit couldn’t have told you how long the War had gone on for or how long he’d been camped out in trenches. More importantly, he had no desire to. He knew better then to count the minutes that had passed or how many would happen. He’d never been a patient boy or man and time simply had to be treated as a current thing. Thinking too much of the future just made him antsy. Thinking of the past made it worse. As it stood, most days he dealt with small priorities - getting to eat, getting enough sleep, keeping those about him cheery. It was those things that mattered most and what he was focusing on when he was shaken from sleep. Instinct, as much his as Rosette’s, had him reaching out for whoever was grabbing him like this, an attack-
And his eyes opened to barely make out his Canadian friend. Merde. He sent the man as much of a glare as he could. It was difficult in the dm light and the fact that he couldn’t blame him. Positions reversed, that’d have been the best way. He gestured for some space, ducking away from his hand and placed a hand over his heart. “My heart will beat muchly,” he muttered, almost too softly for the other man to hear. He shoved his feet into his boots, debating grabbing anything beyond the knife he slept with. It’s just Huan, Rosette said, with a yawn of her own from the back of his mind. Must be important if you’re up this early, but it’s not like you’d be attacked now. The Germans are probably being smart and SLEEPING now. Benoit chuckled, half to himself before ducking out of the tent.
Purposefully avoiding looking at Huan, he made a point of making use of space with more free air. He stretched, groaning a moment later. “What’s your reasons? I like my sleep.” Despite the tone, he gave the other man a smile as he said it. It was difficult to keep angry with him for a variety of reasons. Sticking with the fact that his grumpiness was too constant to react to anything other then amusement was the easiest answer. Admitting that his comrade had become more then that would just lead to trouble. And Benoit, despite his usual loudmouth tendencies, knew when to keep some things quiet. You had to in these situations. Huan caught Benoit’s wrist in his hand before the other man could grab or try to injure him. He’d expected this- most soldiers had that sort of reaction. Once he saw that Benoit had recognized him, he wasted no time in stepping back a little from his friend, giving him the requested space and ignoring the glare that was sent his way. He was pretty used to those glares when, especially early in the morning. A small corner of his mouth twitched when he heard his friend’s English- sometimes it payed to have a devil’s hearing. Benoit’s English was a lot better then most of the other French soldiers’, but it still amused Huan a little. Well, as much as anything really amused Huan.
He shifted awkwardly where he stood, occasionally moving his feet to a new spot so that they wouldn’t get stuck in the icy-cold mud. “It’s... Personal,” he muttered carefully, glancing around a little nervously to make sure no one else had woken up. He didn’t want anyone to see them or overhear what he was going to tell Benoit. Because if they did, it’d be both their heads. And even if Huan did need to tell him this, he wouldn’t drag the other man down. Besides, just telling Benoit that he wanted to tell him something was making him feel on edge. He was well known for being tight lipped about himself, and when he did divulge information, it was usually at the prompting of someone else. The fact that he was willingly trying to share was very, very strange for him.
“Actually, would you mind if we went somewhere more private?” Huan was still fidgeting and glancing around. Not once did he look directly at Benoit. It would have made things all the more complicated for him if he did, because then he’d really start to think about what he was about to do: risk the best friendship he’d ever had on a one in a million chance that maybe Huan wasn’t the only one who felt this way. “It’s usually pretty deserted behind the canteen right now.” It didn’t take an inspector to realize something was up with Huan. More then usual. Once in the breaking sunlight, with more to see with squinting eyes, there wasn’t any missing it. Benoit’s smile stayed in place, but inwardly he was worrying. “Personal?” The way he phrased it, the way he refused to meet his eyes wasn’t good. Carefully, he moved closer and put a hand on his forearm. “And no, that is fine.”
As they walked in the direction, Benoit snuck more then a few spare glances at him. Huan was taller, by a bare few inches, but it didn’t change the feeling of looking up to him. Strange memories, but the man always had the air of being older then he looked. Feeling, would be better. It wasn’t an impossibility, but Benoit hadn’t ever been the sort to assume things of others. He let people be as they were, most generally. People were more comfortable that way - and it meant they were less likely to push in return to him.
He released his arm once behind the canteen, shoving hands into his pockets. “You’re not deserting, are you? Might attack you if that is your plan.” Teasing again, but it didn’t stop the slight edge. What had him like this? So occupied with glancing around, Huan didn’t notice Benoit approaching him until his hand was on his arm. He jerked his head to stare at it in surprise, his eyes a little wide. But he didn’t say anything, and he certainly didn’t pull away either. Selfish, maybe, but Huan had always known himself to be a selfish man. What could a little more hurt? Besides, it reminded him of a lot of Chrono’s memories- taking Rosette by the hand and leading her somewhere. But Benoit wasn’t Rosette, even if he did remind Huan of her at times.
The trip there was too short, in Huan’s opinion. Yes, he needed to do this- he’d hate himself if he didn’t. That didn’t mean that he didn’t dread it all the same. He felt a little relieved, and a little disappointed when Benoit let go of him. Immediately he cursed at himself- what was he, seventeen? “If I was planning on deserting, I’d probably be a little more subtle about it.” It was difficult to tell if he was kidding or not. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair a couple times, ruffling it and making it stand up in about a half dozen different directions. He wasn’t good with words- he never had been, and this his long stints of avoiding people certainly hadn’t helped things along.
Finally, he turned to Benoit, his dark eyes focused intently. “Do you trust me?” It was all he could think of to ask. Benoit took that as a joke - he was an optimist at heart. Any sign for Huan being in fact alright, would be lept upon. Minus the literalisms, as he doubted the stoic man would appreciate it. “Good to know. I will remember that.” A little more humor in his tone, but that was simply how he was taking it. He kept waiting for him to go on though, beginning to feel the signs of impatience get in. He hated waiting, even if this couldn’t be more then a few minutes. It was made worse by how he wouldn’t look at him. Was there a problem? Had he done something? His mind raced through the past, actions and moments since their friendship had grown. No. He’d been careful. He’d not run away and he hadn’t acted too-
“Trust you?” The question shouldn’t have surprised him, yet Benoit found himself blinking. There was only a half moment’s pause before he spoke again, concern unmistakable in his tone. “Of course. You don’t need to ask. Comrades, yes?” Huan’s stomach clenched at the words and the worry in his voice, feeling guilty that he’d been the one to put that there. Yes, they were comrades. But now Huan was about to betray that trust they’d been building up over weeks and weeks. He shouldn’t have asked Benoit that. It was a stupid, foolish question! Huan could have kicked himself.
“Of course we are,” he said, but his gaze had fallen to Benoit’s shoulder instead of his face as he said that. Some comrade he was. He took a couple of deep breaths, each time starting to say something, and then stopping himself. He couldn’t do it- he couldn’t get the words out. He was just too scared to say it. “Horsefeathers!” The curse was just a hiss as he ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. ‘Don’t be such a ninny! Just do it!’
Later on he wouldn’t admit it, but his hands were shaking a little when he put them on Benoit’s shoulders. He could do this. He could do this. But what happened next wasn’t at all what he’d planned on- nervous instinct had taken over. “Please don’t hate me.” And then he was kissing him. It was all over in just half a second as Huan’s nerve left him and he pulled away, his eyes still squeezed shut as he waited for the blow he was certain he was going to get. That almost escape of a reply did little for Benoit’s nerves. His breath intaked sharply. Don’t panic, Rosette advised. But even she sounded a little nervous. Look, you don’t know what’s going on. We can’t panic, Benoit, we can’t... The curse startled them both, ending any reassurances. That was an expletive there - couldn’t be mistaken for anything else...Even when his hands moved to Benoit’s shoulders. So finally the man was looking at him. Excellent. Benoit was so distracted by his proximity and the sudden change that he missed what he said. Only the faint realization of what Huan had said hit him before his lips crashed towards his.
No matter how much Benoit had been freaking out, he hadn’t expected that. Rosette went completely silent as the rest of his mind blanked. Huan was kissing him. Huan was kissing him. Huan was ...pulling away? A hand went to his arm to stop him, instinctively. Why had he- ‘Oh, stop with the questions,’ he berated himself. At this rate, he was only making things worse.
Still, there was a long moment of silence where Benoit could do nothing more then hold on to Huan’s arm and try to think. His mind refused to cooperate, remaining in that haze of surprise and disbelief - and admitted, delight in what had just happened. If he was being that secretive - if he’d just kissed him - if he’d pulled away- and he hadn’t done anything- And there, his old instincts kicked in and he grasped Huan’s shoulder. “Forgive me. You caught me - ah, how you say? Off guard?” Before any other interruptions or panic, Benoit tugged at Huan and kised him. The span of time between Huan pulling away and Benoit finally speaking up had to have been the longest in Huan’s life. Benoit’s hand was on his arm- to stop him from running while he processed what Huan had just done? Or to keep him from going anywhere while he got ready to hit him? The second seemed a little more likely as Benoit was a pretty rambunctious sort of man. And Huan would have deserved all of that and more. It was stupid and reckless and selfish, but he still couldn’t regret it. He just wished that Benoit would do something.
His eyes snapped open in surprise. What? Where was the screaming? The hitting? The- And then something Huan had barely dared to hope happened. His own shock kept him from doing anything for a split second. Was Benoit really kissing him? But his eyes were still wide, and he could see quite clearly that he was. He closed his eyes again and carefully kissed him back- chapped and cracked lips moving gently against Benoit’s. One hand went to the other man’s neck, his fingers brushing against his jaw, while the other remained on his shoulder.
Thinking was utterly abandoned. If this was some kind of trick or prank that Benoit was pulling on him, leading him on before he got back at him for what he’d just done, the though never occurred to Huan. He was too wrapped up in what was going on right here and now. The amount of people Benoit had kissed could be counted on one hand. Experience, frankly was limited to secondhand knowledge of the jeers and crude talk with fellow soldiers during late nights. It didn’t stop his actions though or prevent him from acting naturally - if admittedly awkwardly. If Huan wanted this, then Benoit wasn’t going to let the moment pass. There was a line on letting regrets occur. Messing this up now, would be something he couldn’t live with. His eyes remained shut, a hand rest on Huan’s shoulder and focusing nothing other then this moment. And not letting Huan pull away again.
Finally though, Benoit had to though not far. A brow arched, though he was breathless. “Had my money on liking women there,” he said, barely keeping back a laugh. Even if Benoit had wanted to pull away very far, Huan probably wouldn’t have let him. He was more then a little short of breath himself, but a smile was spreading across his face. White teeth were stark against his skin as his grin grew the widest it had been in years.
“So did I,” Huan admitted to Benoit with a small shrug. He’d never thought he’d fall in love with a man, but sometimes things just weren’t in your control. And to completely frank, Huan didn’t care at all. He was far too busy just trying to wrap his mind around the fact that yes, that really had just happened. “Funny how things work out. Isn’t it?”
In an ideal world, they could have stayed there for hours. Talked about what was going to happen between them as they worked out their feelings. Awkward stammers and blushes between a few more fumbled kisses. But this wasn’t an ideal world. The sun was getting closer and closer to actually rising, and they couldn’t be caught here. The lingered behind the canteen for a few more moments, but they couldn’t risk much more then that before they had to get back to their daily routines, which included huddling down into the trenches and throwing grenades at the enemy lines - close enough that they didn’t even need to walk in no-man’s land to attack them with the deadly explosives - and praying they didn’t get hit themselves. But they’d been lucky so far when they fought together, and after all the bad things that had happened in Huan’s life, surely now was when things would really start looking up.
Glancing at the man next to him as he picked up a grenade from the wooden box next to him, he couldn’t help but smile despite what he was doing. Things were definitely looking up. He pulled out the pin and lobbed it as far over as it would go. Four, three, two, one-
Boom!
The sound was sick and far more familiar then it should have been, but that familiarity helped to keep Huan from thinking about it too much. He reached down for another, listening to the explosions all around. Someday, he and Benoit would get out of this war. Maybe Huan would even stay in France with him. His French right now was poor and sparse, but he could learn. Or maybe they’d go back to Huan’s home in Canada. His lips twitched at the thought. Canadian-French was a whole other kind of bird from natural French. Perhaps it’d be easier if he just stayed in Europe. Being somewhere new would probably do him some good after all. From the moment of that sketchy kiss, Benoit was on high. More then once, he was grabbed by the arm, reminded to get back into reality. He didn’t care. Not that he was in a trench far from home, likely to die at any moment. Not that he hadn’t seen his family in ages. He was in a chipper mood, more so then usual. Almost oblivious to what was around him. Nothing else mattered - not when he could share a smile with Huan beside him, or think of the future. He was a man for the moment, but it didn’t change the thought. Because there was trust, as he threw grenades and ducked, as gunshots rained on about them. There was trust that they’d survive and make it out of here.
He’d never have admitted it left him oblivious though, not even if he’d had the time to look back. It didn’t matter with the bliss of those last hours, even with the hell they were in. That feeling, made it worthwhile. When the blast came, louder then the usual ones and with a shout in English to pull back, he didn’t listen. He only took advantage of the moment, hauling up to sling another grenade, wiping out those Germans with an almost cheeky smile in Huan’s direction. The second blast came, burning hot and hard before he could think of where he’d been hit or how. Only the mindblowing pain, worse then any injuries he’d accumulated before.
Benoit gritted his teeth, barely tossing the last of his grenades. It used up what strength he had left and he was tumbling downwards, before he could even start the trained countdown. Somehow, hitting the ground and hearing something crack didn’t bother him. It was just the pain, growing, consuming that occupied his mind. Even Rosette couldn’t be made out, as usual - scolding for getting himself injured. Things were a haze as he shut his eyes, trying to shut the agony out, trying to think beyond mon dieu repeated in a consistent, terrified internal voice. Even in his ecstatic mood, Huan knew to listen to the order to pull back. The soldier’s instinct was strong, and he knew that listening meant living, and living meant everything to him right now. Now he had something that made it really, truly worth it. He almost didn’t notice that Benoit hadn’t slid down to the bottom of the trench with him. By the time he did it was too late. A glance up let him catch that grin Benoit was aiming at him as he prepared to throw the grenade in his hand. Huan’s eyes were wide with horror. What was he doing?! He was-
The explosion shook everything, and debris came raining down on him. Huan covered his head with his arms but his eyes stayed locked on the smokey shape that was Benoit. Oh God. Was he hurt? He couldn’t be- he couldn’t-
But Benoit’s fall to the ground said everything. Maybe if he were someone else, he would have stood there in shock. War, however, had taught him that shock on the field meant death. Pulling himself to his feet with the help of the trench wall, he stumbled over rocks and other men to get to Benoit’s side. What he saw made him want to vomit. Already there was blood everywhere- spilling out of his stomach and pooling onto the ground. No, no, no! He placed both his hands over the wound, trying to stop the flow. But it wasn’t stopping. Instead the hot blood just spilled over Huan’s frozen hands and fingers and stained Benoit’s shirt.
“Benoit! BENOIT!” The normally quiet, soft spoken man was practically screaming, trying to reach his friend through voice alone. “You need to open your eyes!” Dirt and dust were still raining down, and Huan’s screams weren’t the only ones coming from the trench as more explosives whistled through the air. He hunched over Benoit, trying to use his body as a shield to protect him from the worst of it.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to get hurt! He was supposed to make it. They were supposed to walk away from this war alive. His knees sank into the soaked dirt, rocks digging into the flesh of his legs through his ratty uniform. A small, traitorous part of Huan’s brain pulled upon facts and memories from years of fighting. People with stomach wounds don’t live. Medicine and surgery were useless. Miracles and works of God alone could save them. But Huan couldn’t provide a miracle - he was just a devil. So all he could do was pray and scream.
“Come on! Damnit, you need to look at me! Benoit!” Huan’s screams and orders, barely were registered in Benoit’s mind. It was hard, no, not even hard - impossible - to focus on anything other then the pain. The growing, consuming pain and the fact that he couldn’t think of anything else. Nothing else mattered: not the arm that was surely bruised, if not broken, not what dug into his back, not the bitter cold. Just his stomach, tearing and wrenching, and the breaths that were harder and harder to keep at. His eyes remained squeezed shut, teeth gritted, barely holding back the tears that threatened - he wasn’t going to be a sissy now, was he? No, he’d get through if it just stopped, if it just-
As hands pressed at the wound, he couldn’t hold back the groan. “Arrête, s'il te plait-” English wouldn’t happen now. Rosette could barely be made out, not there to help him. “S'il te plait-” And there, the tears did leak as his own hands struggled to move. He was just making it worse, hurting. He grimaced, was he trying to injure him further? Was he-
No. Rosette’s voice was suddenly sharp and all too clear. Benoit, we’re- She didn’t finish her sentence and it didn’t matter. “Non! Nous ne sommes pas mourir, nous n'êtes pas!” Out loud or internally, it didn’t matter. There was no cover here. This couldn’t be - not after this morning with Huan. Not again, just like Rosette’s memories - colliding with his own even as his eyes opened then. Not dying after a sparse reuniting - merde, who was he kidding? Not Chrono, despite the resemblance. After confirmation, after love- finally- he didn’t want to die yet. A small, distant part of his mind suddenly felt both glad and horrified that he knew French, however poorly, because of his time spent in Canada. Glad, because he knew what his friend was saying. Horrified, for that exact same reason. He pressed harder on the wound, spreading out his fingers to try and cover more of the wound, grimacing at the squelching sound it made.
“You’re not going to die! I won’t let you-” but even he knew it was futile to try and pretend that Benoit would actually survive this. In a proper hospital, maybe he could. But here, in the dirt and surrounded by enemy fire, without any doctor to help... He had minutes, if that. Bile rose in Huan’s throat and he choked on it, trying to wipe away tears on his upper arms at the same time. “Oh God.” Was it a prayer or a curse? He didn’t know. Maybe it was both. “If I’d been anyone else, I could save you. Asmaria, Joshua... They could have saved you. Goddamnit! Why can’t I save you? I don’t want to be left alone again! I’m the one that’s supposed to go out fighting! Me! I can’t- I can’t do this by myself! I need you!” His expression was pained as he spoke- almost as pained as Benoit’s.
Why was it always like this? Every time he had something bright and wonderful and beautiful in his life, it was destroyed? How much did God expect him to take before he broke? Was this some kind of punishment? A test? What was he doing that was so wrong? Was this a sign to him that because he was a devil he couldn’t be a part of this world without watching everything around him be destroyed? Another choked and mangled sob shook him. Why did God make him this way if he was just going to punish him for it? Because it couldn’t have been Benoit’s fault. Benoit was too good to deserve this. And here Huan was, desperate and selfish, clinging to any hope he had that Benoit would live. Combination of sounds - his own groans and frenzied, whispers in French, the gunfire that still rained above them, Huan’s pleading - made for little help. He just wanted to hear Rosette again, get a confirmation from the one guide in his life since he was a kid that this wasn’t true. “Je ne suis pas prêt à mourir,” he plead to no one. No, he’d just had Huan, just gotten there - but the fucking pain wouldn’t end- And he was crying, fully, as much as the man who kept pressing the wound together futilely, barely fighting it now. He wasn’t ready, why now? Not with hope and a future and seeing his sisters and-
Asmaria. Joshua.
It shouldn’t have rung out but it did. Those were names he didn’t expect to hear in this moment, not now. Not like this. Not from Huan. Littered with English he could barely make out, Benoit barely caught it. Not them. He wasn’t them. But why was he mentioning them? He couldn’t be a reincarnate, could he? We can’t think about this now! Benoit, we can’t! You’ve got to listen, got to fight - Benoit, if it’s HIM, we can’t lose him like this can we? Even Rosette was the closest she could be to tears in the back of his mind, begging, pleading. ‘So much like him-’ and he reached up, stopping the fight against Huan’s hands to reach for his cheek with bloodstained fingers. “Chrono?”
Because - if it was him - even if he was crying, just as Rosette had in another life - then he was in his arms. And it was alright to die then, wasn’t it? In Chrono’s arms. In Huan’s arms. The sole person he’d truly loved, in any life. A strange smile, past the pain crossed his face and his eyes began to lose focus. Huan’s face swam before him, just as the pain began to ebb. Number. He couldn’t feel his toes - or his legs - or much at all. It was-
“Ça va, Huan. Ça va-” It was useless. Benoit was dying. And nothing Huan could do would stop it.
He grabbed Benoit’s hand with his own blood soaked fingers, pressing it against his face while he continued to sob. What a fool he’d been. What a blind, stupid, careless fool. He should have taken Benoit and they could have left that morning. Run. Hid. Escaped to some small corner of the world where nothing and no one could touch them. Huan was lost without people to love and be around, but he was always so scared to try. Now what would he do, without Benoit? He couldn’t follow him. Not where he was going.
That name, barely heard, stopped Huan short. No. No. Benoit couldn’t be- he wasn’t- Wishful thinking, that’s all! Nothing more, because if he was- Huan couldn’t even finish the thought. It would have been too much to bear, losing Benoit and her all at once, just when he’d found them.
He could see it happening. The smile on his face, the look in his eyes... Huan had seen it too many times before. Benoit was slipping. His grip on the other man’s hand tightened to a vice like grip, as if that would actually make him stay with Huan. Fuck! What should he say? What could he do? He couldn’t let it end, didn’t know how to let go.
Pulling his other hand away from Benoit’s stomach, he cupped his face instead, leaving a vivid smear of blood with his touch. He leaned over and pressed his lips desperately to Benoit’s, tasting dirt and the tang of iron from blood. When he pulled away, Benoit’s eyes were dark and unseeing- staring at the grey sky above them, forever. “Je t’aime.” It was a gasp more then a whisper as he brushed Benoit’s hair out of his face with his still dripping hands. “Je t’aime.”
It was still chaos all around him. Screaming, dying men. Explosions and gunshots. Screeching orders to keep fighting, keep fighting! Get on your feet, there’s a war going on! But Huan paid none of that any mind. He gathered Benoit up in his arms and leaned against the side of the trench, holding the lifeless body of the most important person in the world against him. Gently, carefully, he cradled Benoit’s head against his chest, rocking back and forth as he cried.