"We all do," John replied. He looked up to the stars, feeling the vast space surrounding them. It had been so long since he'd first learned what they stood for....

Charlie nodded gently. "John?"

John looked back at Charlie. "Yes?"

"I made a mistake."

John nodded quietly, letting Charlie know he was listening.

"I...I don't love her, and I never will.", he said quietly.

John nodded again. He was no expert at this at all, he reflected. "We all make mistakes," he said quietly. "Sometimes they turn out well enough, and sometimes they don't."

"This won't turn out well.", Charlie stated.

"Can you be that sure?" John asked, glancing at him.

"John, I am sixteen. I don't want to be a stupid father."

John shook his head. "Charlie, it's not the child's fault. It don't even know you're its father..." He paused. "And someday, it might need a father."

"You don't know anything.", he stated, "The child will have a damn mother and that's all he needs. I'm just a kid! I can't do any good for the stupid thing if I try." He folded his arms and sat down in the grass, drawing his knees to his chest.

John shook his head again, more firmly. "That's defeatism, Charlie," he spoke up, in a firmer tone than before, looking at the younger man. Years of instinct screamed against this, him lecturing a white man, but he knew it had to be done. "You've been thrown into a situation no one should have to face, that's true. But you can't give up. You got to start shouldering responsibility, like you shoulder your musket out there on the field!" He pointed to his own weapon, leaning against the tent pole nearby. "If you thought you could be out here and do a man's work, that's what you've got to do. There's no hiding from it."

He paused, looking at Charlie, half expecting the other soldier to hit him now.

Charlie narrowed his eyes, glaring. "You don't understand! Nobody can understand and I hope she has a damn miscarraige! If Lewis wasn't so bound by his stupid ethics I'd ask him to do it!"

John met his glare, again, his self-preservation screaming at him to stop this insanity, before he got hurt. He didn't even think he cared now. "You're right. I don't understand. How could I? But you have got to stop blaming the world for your own mistakes! Look!" He pulled his shirt back, revealing the old whip scars all along his back. "These weren't given to me because I made a mistake. They were given to me because I was who I am." He looked at Charlie again, his gaze smoldering. "Just how you feel about your child."

"I don't care!," Charlie snarled, his eyes burning, "I don't care! I just want to leave!"

John held his gaze. "Then leave," he stated coldly.

He waited, half expecting Charlie to react, to put him on report, something. Despite their age difference, the lieutenant had a much higher rank than John and the advantage of a different skin color as well. John knew he should have kept his mouth shut, but he couldn't just stay silent.

Charlie felt hot anger burn inside of him. Who the hell was John to tell him what to do? He narrowed his eyes and abruptly stalked off, heading back towards his tent.

John watched him go wordlessly. Pulling his shirt back on, he smothered the campfire and moved into his own tent for the night.

The Next Morning

Moze groaned, waking up to a splitting headache and a cottony mouth. Putting a hand on the side of his head, he slowly got dressed, the slightest sounds painful to him as he did so. Coffee would help. He nodded in greeting to Buford, looked at the ground, embarrassed. "I usually don't drink, sir.", he explained quietly.

...

Charlie sat up, his eyes damp. Could nothing go right in this damn world?

Next Morning

The bugle sounded, waking the soldiers. John sat up in his tent, pulling on his uniform and stepping outside. Kneeling next to the ashes of his fire from the night before, he set about stoking it up again.

Buford looked up at Moze and gave a small nod, putting a hand on the man's shoulder even though he didn't say anything.

------

Raven came bounding across the camp, almost tripped over his front feet in his hurry as Neil came running after him. It was a game to him, being able to outrun the soldier as he turned to looked at him, panting as his tail wagged. When Neil came closer, he bounded away again.

John finally got a small blaze going. Carefully, he added a few more twigs to keep it lit. He looked up, seeing Chamberlain nearby. "Mornin', Colonel," he nodded, saluting.

Moze nodded quietly. Despite the pain of the hangover he spoke up. "Sir, is there anything you want me to do for you?", he asked softly.

Chamberlain looked up at him and returned the salute, shivering slightly even though it was warm outside. "Good morning John."

-----

Shaking his head, Buford lit his pipe. "You should rest a little, we aren't moving out right away this morning."

-----

Raven turned around and raced back towards Neil then, leaping up and putting his front paws on Neil's legs. "Raven!" Neil protested, "You're going to get dirt all over my uniform!"

There were footsteps behind him, followed by the familiar voice of Luther. "Morning you two."

Taking his paws from Neil's legs, Raven bounded over to Luther to greet him.

John nodded. "Yes, sir." He paused slightly, recalling the events of the other night, biting his lip slightly.

Moze cast him a gentle, thankful glance, realizing that Buford did, in fact, not live under a rock and had probably already realized that his aide could hardly process what he was saying. He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing the coffee and feeling the warmth flood through him.

Also nodding, Chamberlain helped himself to a cup of coffee and sipped at it, not sure what else to say.

------

Buford nodded, watching him in silence as he smoked his pipe.

"Sir," John hesitated. "It's Charlie, sir. He's...changed."

Moze grimaced and put the hand back on the side of his head. The coffee honestly wasn't helping him much. "Sir...do you mind if I go get something from the surgeon?", he asked softly.

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