Whether the Red Cross liked it or not, they were in an unstable area. So, whether they liked it or not, troops would
patrol the perimeter of their camp as long as there were troops in their med tent. The fact that the military camp
wasn't too far away from one of the borders made it easier for the troops.
So later, Hector took off for his patrol a little early, with the food for Cheever. "Here you go, Mark." Hector said with a
chuckle, waking the poor man up. Hey, he had come out of his way, after all. Shouldn’t be for naught.
"You're a demon."
"I was hoping for the angel title. Just eat your food."
"You should get some sleep." Suzette told the taller woman next to her after she'd watched her stifle a yawn for the
third time.
"I will," Andi agreed without looking up from the tiny bottles she was counting and marking on a clipboard from time to
time. There was a long pause and then Suzette added:
"I was referring to now."
Andi stopped what she was doing and propped her chin in the palm of her hand, elbow resting on the table as she
looked at the delicate woman next to her.
"You're awfully pushy for a Frog." She commented and Suzette laughed, a light, tinkling sound like glass wind chimes.
"You're just jealous you were born in such a dreary, grey country and have never tasted anything but bland food."
Andi gave a snort and a smile at that. Her parents were English missionaries to Zaire. So, though she'd attended all
her schooling in England and spoke with one of its more educated accents, Andi had been born in Africa and her
passport reflected the duel citizenship. She'd never considered England her home. Which was why she could tease
Suzette and they both knew it was nothing more than affectionate teasing.
"You're just jealous - well, all right, France does seem more glamorous." Andi admitted, absently sliding bottles into
separate rows. Suzette slapped her hand lightly.
"I said you should be abed." She reiterated and Andi answered:
"I will." Which was about their routine and would last for at least another two hours if all went according to plan.
Suzette perked up suddenly and looked past the small desk light they had set up to read the labels on the bottles with.
"La. I see we have a visitor."
Andi looked up, made out the shape of a man's silhouette near one of the cots.
"One of the Yanks." She guessed. "We've got a couple of one of their squads that we're keeping an eye on
overnight."
"I like cowboys." Suzette stated with a smile and Andi stood up.
"I'll go check." She offered. It was what Suzette was angling toward and if the French woman did so, it would just be
giggles and an especially heavy accent and purring charm all night and Andi would have to do both their jobs and
take twice as long. Suzette, who knew it as well as Andi did, pouted attractively.
"You'll waste the opportunity."
Andi rolled her eyes.
"Which is exactly why I'm the one going over."
By the time Andi got to the front of the tent, Hector had most of the lights turned on, and was passing on the food he'd
brought to the tent to the near by patients that weren’t asleep.
"So you know what he did next?" Hector was saying to a child he was giving a roll to. Surprisingly in the child's native
language. Sure his drawl warped the language a bit, and his verb tenses were passable only at times. But he was
understandable.
"What?"
"He did what any lumberjack would do. He strapped the tree to the bear’s back and rode it all the way back to the log
town." He was telling them a tall tale from his country.
Andi paused before she stepped out into the light, edges of her lips twisting upward. Most soldiers weren't here long
enough and frankly didn't care enough to learn any of the dialects from this part of the country. Certainly not enough
of any language to be able to tell stories about huge furred creatures and tall wooded lands that must seem like fairy
tales to the people listening. It was almost as surprising as the fact that he was using the talent to tell a story at all.
The adults in the group concentrated on the food but the children - the children were more interested in the story and
they followed his every word with huge dark eyes, forgetting their food as he spoke. She'd seen great acts of
gentleness from the soldiers sent to protect these people and their right to not starve. But it always touched her heart
like a surprising strike when she witnessed it.
So instead of disturbing it, she quietly leaned a shoulder against one of the poles and loosely crossed her arms as
she settled in. Realizing she shouldn't be surprised if someone that quoted the Cat In the Hat enjoyed telling children
stories about foresters and bears.
Hector continued with his stories, at times telling heroic stories of his own unit, with Cheever adding in. Some of it was
obvious embellishments, and a lot was censored out, but hey. It was story time.
And the children and some of the old women had a good time correcting his grammar, which was only barely above
terrible.
He stopped to take a drink of water out of his canteen. "You have to eat or I'll stop." He said, mock glowering at the
children, who giggled uproariously at that as they remembered their food. He saw Andi in the corner, just out of the
light and nodded to her.
She felt almost as disappointed as the children sounded when he stopped his stories. Maybe it was silly for a grown
woman but it had been a very long time since she'd heard anyone tell stories that didn't start with 'I heard an
explosion' and ended with 'and that's how I ended up here'. His nod reminded her what she was supposed to be doing
instead of eavesdropping and she stepped forward, absently digging into a pocket to give a small bottle to Mark.
"Two." She instructed about the antibiotics. Then she handed a bottle of water to Hector. They reused them but at
least it wouldn't taste like the inside of a canteen. He'd brought food for everyone else and then drank out of his own
canteen so he wouldn't take anything from them. But Andi thought they could spare some cool water.
"Nice stories." She said with a quiet smile, sitting down on an empty cot while the children temporarily devoted
themselves to their food. "Though I don't remember reading most of those in grammar school."
"That's because my grandfather didn't teach your grammar school." He said with a laugh, accepting the bottle of
water and taking a big swig out of it. "Plus those are genuine American tall tales. You don't hear them much outside
the US. They're our folk tales, probably based in reality at some point, but now they're just entertainment. And they're
meant to be told, not read. You lose something in them. Though I think some of it was lost in the translation. Or my
translation in any case. But I'm glad you enjoyed."
"I did." She admitted honestly because she had. When someone worked hard at something, you paid fair and told
them so. And he'd made both her and her patients smile tonight. "And your translation was part of what made the
stories so nice. You only cursed once when you meant to have been saying something else entirely."
He laughed and shook his head. "Somehow I knew I was going to do that. That must have been when the old women
started jumping in." He said and glanced over at the old women who had gone back to eating and admonishing
children. "Sorry I woke everyone up, but the boy next to Mark heard me telling him what all happened at the
barbecue, and he woke up the one next to him and so on and so on, turned into a regular camp out."
Andi looked around at the people that were awake and chatting happily amongst themselves while they shared the
food. Grateful for those smiles even at this hour when they should all be sleeping and her face went softer. If only it
could be this way for everyone here. The ones out in their villages and the sands tonight. Everyone could be full and
happy and at peace with each other, not just the ones that had survived the dangers to reach the clinic.
"You've made them happy. And given them better tasting food than what we served here tonight. And better - you've
given them stories they can tell their family and friends when they see them next." She moved her hands to face their
palms upward. "That's healing too. I can hardly complain if you woke them up for it." She gave him a quiet smile. "But
you really can sit down for a moment if you'd like. I promise not to strap you down to one of the cots if you do and it
looks like you've got a bit of a break before your next show."
He chuckled. "Nah, I'm okay." He said. There was a dual reason for being here, to keep an eye on his friend, and also
keep an eye on the rest of the men. The Red Cross wouldn't allow troops to be stationed directly inside their camp,
but an exception was always made when inside the camp were injured soldiers.
"I know the people in here have reason to distrust soldiers, more than enough reason." He said. "So since I'm going to
be sticking around for the night, thought I'd put them at ease before they got nervous." The last thing any of the
patients really wanted was an armed soldier in their tent when they were at their weakest.
But none of them were taking any chances with any of their soldiers.
It took her a minute to realize what he was saying and she attributed that to the fact that it was late and she was tired.
When it did click that an armed soldier with no excuse to be here was intending to restlessly pace her infirmary all
night long, her eyes went wide with surprise first and the sharp bolt of annoyance and anger came several seconds
later. There were quite a few very good reasons the Red Cross didn't want soldiers that didn't need to be in their
tents. And Americans no less. Suddenly his telling stories and sharing food turned out to be nothing more than a
manipulation and she stood up. The movement covered the strange disappointment she felt. She really should have
known better.
"Walk with me?" Her voice, level and soft, made it a question but she didn't mean it as much of one. These people in
here now, watching them curiously around mouthfuls of more food than the people outside this camp probably saw in
a week, liked and trusted the soldier. And she wasn't going to endanger that impression. They needed to trust the UN
soldiers because those troops were the only thing between them and what their own countrymen were doing to them.
So she'd take this argument somewhere it wouldn't be obvious. She moved to the tent flap they'd drawn a bit more
closed for the night.