Ragged breaths pass my lips as I sit up in my bed, chest heavy. That stupid nightmare still won't go away, and I have absolutely no idea how to stop it besides stop sleeping altogether, which is not possible without completely accepting death.

I glance around to see the rest of the squad and note that I hadn't woken any of them up. They all seem to be perfectly fine, asleep silently in their bunks. I envy them for getting the good nights sleep I haven't had in weeks.

I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, hoping to get rid of the rising panic. The short whimper that escapes my lips is muffled as I shove my face into my hands. Then I hear someone twist in their bed, so I dive under the covers before anyone can see that I was awake.

I wait like that until the reveille in the morning. I shrug my aching shoulders and fix my bed, then pull on my jumpsuit and tie my boots. When Reznik comes in, he goes for Zombie this time. I manage not to flinch when Reznik shoves his fist into his stomach. When we do our laps, I fall back with Zombie and actually let him take the last lap this time, because I don't have enough strength to do it today. If Reznik orders me to do a hundred knuckle push-ups, I think I'll die.

P&D is the same as always: Teacup sticks with me, because we are excellent partners; Flintstone and I bitch about the smell; Oompa looks as sick as he always does when surrounded by dead bodies; Nugget almost cries over his dead sister and Zombie comforts him.

I was going to tell Zombie while we changed that I was probably going to be a major bitch the rest of the day, but opted out of it when he had to help out Nugget again. He didn't need another weight on his shoulders today.

Reznik orders us outside straight after lunch. We already know what's in store and none of us are excited. Every once in a while, Reznik makes us do an obstacle course. We never know when and we are never prepared for it. It leaves out bodies aching for days, begging for a break. But we know we have to do it, so we try our hardest and get it done as quickly as possible.

Nugget, surprisingly, is the fastest. He completes the course way before any of us do. Reznik praises him for three seconds and then starts barking at the rest of us to hurry up. I want to hit him.

My ankle twists halfway through. I gasp as tears prick my eyes, sharp pains shooting up my entire leg. Poundcake notices and helps me up and over the climbing wall, and so I help him with the rope on the other side. By the time we finish, we're in first and I'm limping due to my swollen ankle.

I'm forced to deal with it until free time, when Zombie tries to get me to go to medical again, but I mutter profanities and hobble to the bathroom to shower. It was just a little sore and besides, I twisted it once before and it was better the next day. Nothing to worry about.

When Zombie comes in for our talk, he doesn't know what to say and that much is obvious.

"I don't know what to say," he says after a moment of standing in front of me in silence.

"Let's opt for nothing," I mutter, leaning my head against the tiles of the bathroom wall. We don't need to talk about an injury that would heal during the night. A waste of the limited time we have.

"You sure you don't want to--"

"Pretty damn sure, Zombie." A pause. "It's my birthday today."

Zombie sits in front of me. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I shrug. "Didn't seem... important, I guess."

"Hey." Zombie sends me a shit-eating grin and I already know he's going to say something stupid. "Everything you say is important, Ghost."

"Shut up, sap."

Zombie bumps my calf and when I don't pull away, he moves to sit next to me, allowing my head to rest on his shoulder. A short pause. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen, now," I whisper, eyes falling shut. I swallow thickly. "I guess I just... assumed I wouldn't make it this long and now that I have... I don't even know what to say."

Zombie chuckles and his shoulders bounce. "I know what to say. Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."

"Please shut up."

He laughs and my heart flutters. I don't hear him laugh often, obviously, and the thought of me making him do it makes me feel like a giddy seventeen-year-old talking to her crush during our lunch period.

That's the thought that has me pressing a short kiss to the bottom of his jaw, then dropping my head back to his shoulder.

He sucks in a breath, shocked by the somewhat intimate gesture, but doesn't pause for long as he plants a gentle kiss to the top of my head, followed by him connecting our hands on his lap.

"You know." I pause, trying to think of a way to open up to him. I have, much more than the others, but saying more than my favorite color or my favorite animal sounds absolutely terrifying. But this is Zombie, and I know Zombie will never tell a soul. So, after a moment, I find myself sighing slowly. "Every year, on my birthday, my family and I would... we would..."

I grit my teeth and shake my head. I don't know if I can do this and I hate that I can't. Zombie has told me so many things about his past, I owe him at least this. He doesn't seem to think the same, because he gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay, Ghost."

"No, it's not," I say, moving away from him. When I stand our hands disconnect and his hand stays in the air momentarily, like a silent plea for me to grab it again. He drops it after a moment. "You tell me so much and I can't even tell you one simple thing. It's ridiculous."

"It's not."

"Zombie."

"Ghost."

I cross my arms and turn away from him defiantly. He pokes my thigh tenderly, then sighs when all I do is tense. "Ghost, come on. You don't need to tell me anything. I can talk all day." He offers a goofy grin, like he wants me to sit down and tell him he's being cheesy and stupid so at least he can spend more time with me. I grit my teeth and look towards the showers.

"On my birthday, we used to make homemade pizzas," Zombie tells me. "I only liked pepperoni so Sissy used to make fun of me for being unoriginal." He chuckles lightly. "And we'd always get a really big, really chocolate covered cake. Chocolate sprinkles, chocolate icing, chocolate flavor."

I don't turn to face him, but I feel myself relax slightly. "You liked chocolate a lot?" I whisper breathlessly.

"Yeah." Zombie chuckles. "My favorite."

"Mine was red velvet."

I can basically see the soft smile on his face. "Red velvet?"

I glance back at him. "Yeah. We used to have vanilla ice cream with it— it tasted better." He hums in acknowledgment, willing me to go on. So I do. "We also ate pizza every year, even though the one with the birthday got their favorite meal anyways."

"It sounds fun," Zombie says, tapping my thigh again. I drop my head and hear him sigh in response. "Please come here." His hand lingers this time. It touches the scar on the inside of my thigh, dangerously close to my underwear.

"Watch it, Zombie."

He let's out a breathy laugh. And then, "Ben."

I freeze, body going rigid. What the hell was he doing, telling me his name? And not just any name, but his name name. Oh, fuck. I think I'm going to throw up. No, I'm definitely going to throw up.

"Why the fuck would you tell me that?" I ask, moving farther away from him. Irritation flickers across his face for brief moment but I don't blame him. Gentle one minute, bitchy the next. That's Ghost.

"Because I wanted you to know," he says simply. His brows are drawn together and he seems like he's thinking way too hard for the situation. I would have laughed at the stupid look on his face had it not been the current situation. His face hardens when he sees my expression. "Can you stop looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm stupid for getting close to you!" He stands and moves closer to me, trapping me against the cool tile wall. His hand moves to the spot beside my head, his face inches from mine. The close proximity leaves me breathless. "It's not stupid to want to be close to someone, Ghost. Especially you."

My eyes are locked on his brown ones, soft and determined. Our noses brush together. Those pink, plump lips hover above my own. I gulp. "S-stop."

He leans back a little, voice barely a whisper. "Do you really want me too?"

No. Yes. I don't know, Zombie. I haven't kissed a guy almost two years, and even then I wasn't very good. And now? God, I'm fucking terrified. I haven't been this close with a guy since the ones in the gas station, but those were stolen kisses that didn't count-- that didn't make me feel safe. Not like I imagine Zombie's kisses will feel like. Comforting. Warm. Soft.

"No," I whisper. He nods, a tiny little nod that somehow lets me know that he is also afraid. His lips brush mine, gentle like I thought they would be, and moving slowly. My stomach twists with nerves. My hands move to his waist, gripping his shirt with my hands. It's one of the rare times he has one on. He presses his body a little close to mine. "It's okay," I whisper against his lips. "It's okay, Ben."

Zombie finally kisses me then, like his name is something that stirs some sort of emotion inside of him. I guess it is. It's a personal thing, something so personal I can't even think about saying my own name. But he did. Because he trusts me completely.

When he pulls away my head moves forward, chasing him. He chuckles and kisses me once more, far quicker this time. My head is spinning and I have to lean forward and lay my head on his shoulder to catch my breath and sort my thoughts. His hands rest on my hips, another intimate gesture. When I look up, he's smiling at me. My heart leaps in my chest.

"Stop looking at me like that," I whisper, averting my eyes. He's the only one that can make me feel so weak and so strong at the same time.

"Like what?" He holds a teasing smile.

My cheeks burn and I grow irritated suddenly. "Like you're going to kiss me again, Ben."

His pale cheeks tinge pink as he licks his lips. "Why do you say it like that? With every syllable."

"There's only one syllable in Ben," I whisper, fighting off a smile. I still can't get myself to smile, not even for him.

He sighs in annoyance, though his lips are turned up slightly. "You know what I mean, Ghost."

I do know what he means. I feel like I have to treat his name with care, like if I say it too fast or too slow or not enough then it's going to disappear. Like some long forgotten memory. Like my own name.

"Not yet," I whisper, taking note of the question in his eyes. "Not yet."

"Okay," he says. "But don't stop calling me Ben. I. . . I like it when you call me that."

His cheeks flush like he's embarrassed about it. I can't help but reach up and kiss him again, soft and slow. His eyes are still shut when I pull away, his mouth parted. I smile. "Okay, Ben."