The thing was, William Rogers had not gotten a wink of sleep that night. His emotions had gone haywire. He was... he was furious. He couldn't even imagine what Ruben had felt, Adamson had obviously been harassing him for a long time if the only solitude he could find was death. 

They weren't close, not at all. But William knew Ruben only talked with him, everyone else, had pushed the young adult away. So, he had written another letter that night. The turmoil of emotions in him had been threatening to boil over. The letter was anonymous, it explained what Adamson's twisted ways had led Ruben to do, it was a warning that if people like Adamson were to train young soldiers, there would most likely be more cases like that. 

He had slipped the letter under a officers door and left hastily to wait for the car. 

His bag was light and the chain with the key had been ducked under his shirt. He stood in a group with others, he could tell they were all sleepy and dozing off on their feet, or quietly conversing with each other. But William was a stranger to that unit, and he didn't mind for the first time in his life. Agent Carter greeted them as the large trucks rolled closer, they were all commanded to climb into the back of them. Their bags were pulled close to them and there was barely any space.

Some were asleep, leaning on the back of the car or on the persons shoulder next to them. While others, the minor part of the young soldiers were deep in thought, looking out of the moving truck. The truck was so loud and shaky that William would have saluted those deep in sleep. A couple of men hit their heads against the armoured wall, grunting and waking up after hitting their heads the second time. 

After some time, he stopped apologizing after pumping into the fellow comrades whenever they hit another bump in the road. Again, they were shoved into the train, William was anxious, so he did try to converse with some random people, but most of them just blinked at him and ended the conversation as soon as it started. 

He watched the land roll by, wondering how many miles has he left behind already. As much as he wanted to express his fears to someone, his doubts and secrets, he didn't. Despite the urge to run up to someone and just ask them to take Will home, he stayed put. 

He even refused the food they were given, which he knew was stupid, but he would not have been able to keep it all down. He was a bundle of nerves, a gigantic stress ball. Or at least that's how he felt while he was being squeezed in the middle of a group of soldiers. The salty air slapped him in the face, the crispy air making his tanned cheeks redden from the cold. 

William had seen lakes and rivers, but nothing could compare to the dancing, raging sea that rolled open in front of him. He gaped at the amount of water, blue eyes bulging as he tried to keep from tripping over his own legs. He dragged his eyes away from a large amount of water, the grey skies giving the sea quite dark and dangerous look. He stepped on the bridge, following the line of soldiers onto the ship. He wanted to stop and just take in the view, but the man behind him kept bumping his bag into Wills back uncomfortably. 

His heart was beating wildly once his foot touched the vessel. 

He had been on the back of a truck and on the train the whole day, at this point, he was starting to run out of energy. The ferry moved under his feet, startling him for a second until he realized that it was only natural when you were on a machine that moved on water. 

How odd is that? 

In a blur he was guided to his bunk, he didn't unpack, but left his things and moved onto the deck, leaning on the railing as he watched some men slid the small bridge onto the ship. All the soldiers were on. His blue eyes took in the mass of men wearing average army colours, a couple of nurses among them as well as darkly dressed men who he guessed worked on the ship. The sea was enormous, and he loved it. Truly, he did. 

William saw some men walking on deck, holding cups of steaming tea or soup in their hands. He decided to follow some of them, his stomach reminding him that even though he was quite anxious, he was still in need of food. He walked over a puddle, frowning as he wondered if it was possible for the waves to get so high that they'd crash over the ship. 

Surely not.

As he snuck down the deck, into the belly of the ship, he was met with a gigantic, open room that was buzzing with life. The air seemed to be sucked out of him as he squeezed himself into the mass of people. The closer he got to the tables with food, the tighter it got. More than once he got an evil eye from someone whenever he stepped onto someone's toes or stumbled into them. Once he got to the table, he was trying his best not to climb on it just so he wouldn't be surrounded by all sides. 

His mood fell when he realized the plates with baked goods were all empty, there were only soup left. There wasn't much of it anymore, making him hurry and act like a feral dog as he grabbed the bowl and put as much onion soup in it as he could. 

The noise was making his head spin, so he tried to be as agile as possible and manoeuvre away from the table. Once he made it halfway up the stairs, he would have almost stumbled over one of the stairs if it weren't for someone to grab his bicep to keep him steady. 

Some of the hot soup landed on his tanned hand, burning it slightly. But he was too shocked over another aspect to turn much attention to the burning feeling on his skin. What made him freeze was the colour of the hand that was currently gripping William, keeping him upright. 

He blinked, looking up at the tall man with soft, brown eyes. Seeing Williams large, startled eyes, the dark-skinned man pulled his large hand away, stepping back outside to allow William through. "Sorry for touching you. You just looked as if you needed a hand." the man with the baritone voice turned away, his eyes downcast as if he expected no thank you. 

"Yeah, thanks! I would have gotten the whole ground swimming with soup." William joked, chuckling to himself as he watched the soup slouch in the bowl, making him realize the waves were hitting the sides of the ferry. The man looked over his shoulder, his dark eye twinkling and looking quite surprised at Williams cheery tone. "No problem, I bet you didn't get much of pies did you, or else you wouldn't be slurping that." his soft voice reached Will as the fair-haired boy stepped beside him, walking down the deck. "Yeah, there weren't even any crumbs..." William muttered, deciding to drink the liquid, the warm soup relaxing his tense shoulders just slightly. 

"Well, they had Kentucky Bourbon Cake earlier, but you guys came last so you can only guess why there ain't any." he chuckled, seeing Williams horrified expression. "Bourbon cake?! Oh man, life hates me!" he exclaimed, looking at the soup that suddenly looked dull. 

"Hey, now, the soup's fine as well. I'm Jack, by the way, Jack Fury." William sighed dramatically, his eyes sliding over the city lights getting further and further away. "It ain't bad, I'm Will, Will Rogers and I plan on saving the world." the dark-skinned man snorted, leaning against the railing as William slurped the last of his soup, having no care in the world that some droplets landed on his uniform. "Yeah, don't we all." Jack said quietly, the whisper getting lost in the wind. "What'd you say?" the younger boy asked, rubbing his sleeve over his soup covered chin.

"Nothing, nothing. Which camp you trained at?" he asked instead, pulling the clothes closer to his body as the wind was picking up. "Camp Lehigh, you?" "Fort McCoy, heard they're pretty strict with you lads there, the rumours say that they make you eat raw food and stay up for four days straight." William laughed, shaking his head as he finally felt good to be speaking with someone. "No, no. They feed us pudding and shower us with ale." 

Jack smiled in amusement, glancing towards William who looked rather dishevelled for a soldier. He looked fit, but he also looked like a schoolboy whose mother had been too busy to comb his hair to look presentable. Jack frowned, turning towards William whose eyes were roaming over the large ship. "If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?" Will's eyes widened slightly, but Jack might have imagined that. "18, why?" Jacks mood turned sombre, his lips in a thin line. "You shouldn't be here, kid." 

There it was, the word again, kid. William blinked, looking away from Jack as he gritted his teeth. He wasn't a kid. 

"I have every right to be here, and you shouldn't judge me for my age." his tone was more hurt than angry, and Jack loosened up, ignoring the evil eye from a pair of soldiers who walked by them, making sure to be as far away from Jack as possible. "You're right, but it just doesn't feel right." before William could say anything, a voice yelled from the end of the deck. 

"Hey, Fury! Come on, it's time for some Whiskey and Rum, it's our last day of not having crazy Germans pointing the bad end of the gun at us!" a man whose face was too far away for Will to see, yelled at Jack, his words slightly slurred. "Yeah, coming Mort!" 

And William couldn't help his curiosity, he just had to go and investigate. After all, he wasn't a kid anymore, he was allowed some whiskey, right?

I'm sorry if it sucked :( it will get better, in a couple of chapters :)