The late afternoon sun cast long shadows of dark shade across the sand, the glare was blinding and the heat was scorching.

It was only now the commandos were waking up, thanks to the night mission completing wrecking their sleep schedule.

The bags under Pheasant's eyes were heavy, his eyes squinting from the brightness even under the cover of the cookhouse tent. His head was fuzzy and groggy and he felt almost hungover, getting flashbacks to puking on Soap's boots from downing half a bottle of baileys in an evening.

As he made himself a coffee, stirring sweeteners into the drink, he felt a presence near him.

Glancing over his shoulder he saw Roach and decided to make the first move, "hey."

Roach ignored him like he wasn't even there.

Pheasant wasn't going to push it any further, he was starting to give up on trying to make things 'right' when he done nothing wrong.

But he did notice a change in Roach. Roach didn't look away in disgust, his gaze merely dropped to the floor almost dejectedly. The anger that once flared in them upon sight had subsided, replaced by a sense of sadness and...was it a hint of regret?. Pheasant got the impression that before they didn't speak because Roach hated him, now it felt like they weren't speaking because Roach hated himself.

He'd noticed this look a few times, but never knew what to make of it till now.

Still Roach had to do more than just look sorry.

"Whatever," Pheasant sighed tiredly as he grabbed his coffee and walked off, as he pulled up a sandbag in the rec room his eyes landed on an acoustic guitar.

"Sweet," he chimed as he snatched up the guitar, diving through his pocket for a fifty pence loose change, using it as a pick as he began to play songs at random.

"Seen that padre yet Ed Sheeran?" Riley asked as he walked into the coolness of the air conditioned rec room, escaping the dry heat of Urzikistan.

Pheasant muttered, "fuck's sake," under his breath.

"Take that as a no then," Riley said before patting his subordinate's shoulder, "get on it."

Putting down the guitar to swallow down his still boiling hot coffee he heard Brigg's familiar Leeds accent, "ay up, thought I heard a guitar," he exclaimed as he burst through the doors, eyes landing on the guitar by Pheasant's feet.

"Bloody mint tunes mate, you'll have to teach me," Briggs said as he approached Pheasant, who was wiping off where the coffee had stained his upper lip like a moustache.

"Some day," Pheasant smiled warmly as he slammed his empty coffee mug down on the table and stood up, facing the Loiner.

"What do you mean someday?," Briggs teased, "every day out here could be my last, I could die before you get the chance to teach me," Briggs wore a playful smile as Pheasant jokingly slapped the side of his head, reflecting the man's smile.

"I've gotta go see a man about a dog, and a woman about Jesus," Pheasant explained with a light chuckle, picking up the guitar and holding it out for Briggs, "knock yourself out," he said as Briggs took the guitar from him. 

Heading over to the small church on the FOB, identified by it's steeple, which was had cheap whitewash walls that were crumbling, inside was rows of seats and a cross that was nailed overlooking the alter.

"Padre?" Pheasant called out, noticing an echo.

"Call me Mary, Mary Greenstock," a short blonde headed woman appeared from round a corner.

"Hello Mary, Mark Greenstock," Pheasant beamed cheekily, Mary only rolled her eyes and giggled.

"Very good," she admitted, "I guess I was asking for that one."

"I gotta admit I don't really see the point in seeing you but my Captain insisted," Pheasant said as he rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck, a look of embarrassment overcoming his features. Biting his lip, not making eye contact.

"And why did he insist?," she asked, she took a seat and gestured for him to sit across from her, which he did.

"I killed someone for the first time last night. I done it to protect my team, and I'm not sorry I done it. It was the right thing to do. But the Captain said it's good to not let it 'fester'," he explained, raising air quotation marks around the word, "whatever that means."

When Mary didn't speak he continued, feeling like he well and truly was back in counselling.

"I guess all the training in the world can't prepare you for your first kill. No target makes you smell the iron in blood when you shoot in between the eyes. There is no look of fear in a target's lifeless eyes."

He found his eyes had dropped to his hands, which were clasped tightly together and not moving.

"I don't quite know how to feel. Guilty is too strong it's just...an adjustment. Yeah, an adjustment. It wasn't just the death of him, but the death of any innocence I had left. I wouldn't change a thing, it's just a new me. I'm not a boy anymore, I'm a man. And I'm trying to accept I'm a killer. But a righteous one."

Elsewhere Heaven had just crept inside where the unit's fridge was, and opened  pack of Roach's Oreos. She had a can of shaving foam in hand-and she knew exactly what to do.

Twisting the Oreos opened she ate the white part, replacing it with shaving foam as she sneakily sniggered away. It's what that homophobe deserves, she told herself. Ever since the fight Roach had kept his distance, out of disgust or shame or whatever else, and everyone had held their tongues in this cold war.

But now she had to strike back, in a small way that could be misconstrued as harmless tomfoolery should anyone higher up here about it.

She simply wasn't the person to not fight for what she believed in, if she had done that she never would've joined the commandos. She never took anything lying down, and she had to stand up for her friends. This was for Pheasant, this was for justice.

Meanwhile Pheasant and Mary were still talking.

"We lost one of our guys in our last mission, they've sent out a team to retrieve his body. I learned his name was Kevin McKidd. He had a girl back home who's six months pregnant. She hasn't got a partner anymore and his kid will only see him in photos. War is just the death of innocence, I guess, like that quote from Lord of the Flies," he shrugged simply.

"I'm just afraid of what this war will turn me into. Will one day I just be numb to everything, untouchable in the worst possible way? Become cold and twisted. Just...desensitised to everything, utterly senseless."

"I think it's a good sign you won't become cold because you're worried about becoming cold," Mary explained, "and it's normal to worry about how events will change you, but change is normal. Try not to look at it as devolution but as a metamorphosis," she continued, she looked into Pheasant's eyes and the man nodded in understanding.

"Metamorphosis?".

"When a caterpillar turns into a butterfly."

"Oh I must've bunked that day of school to get fucked up in the park," Pheasant smirked, flashing his teeth yellowed by cigarettes and coffee.

Mary entertained his story with a quiet laugh.

In the meantime Heaven had her feet up on the sofa inside the rec room, watching one of the DVD's that had been delivered to the base.

Suddenly someone caught her eye, Roach carrying his Oreos.

He approached her, extending the packet to her, "want one?" he asked in his soft spoken voice.

"No thanks," Heaven snorted in disgust, "I don't anything from the likes of you," she sneered, she wanted to tell him to offer some to the paratroopers, hoping it kill two birds with one stone, or rather prank two sets of soldiers with one can of shaving foam, but she held her tongue incase he suspected sabotage.

Roach's eyes rolled merely with frustration before he spun on his heel and sat down across from her, he picked up an Oreo and took it in his mouth, chewing before swallowing, "these Oreos taste different."

Heaven could feel panic rising in her chest, body growing rigid and paralysed with fear.

"They taste...better."

She breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Pheasant was still talking to the padre.

"I think it just goes to show we're fighting a skilled enemy if they could spot our overwatch from such a hidden place and take an effective shot. In training you're get used to to easy targets and straightforward hits. But I guess nothing can prepare you for the reality of war," Pheasant explained

"Heaven had tried to cheer me up earlier today while I was making coffee. But none of her jokes touched me, none broke down the walls I'd built up. I still feel like part of my mind is trapped in the war zone, perpetually on guard and unable to let its guard down, incase I end up like Kevin. It's not quite a feeling of fear, I just can't relax. For now it sucks but I'll learn to adjust, I truly believe that. It'll make me a stronger, better person. As fucked up as it is nothing makes me appreciate life more than death."

"Sorry," the commando blurted out, "I don't mean to talk so much."

"It's okay," Mary soothed, "it's good to talk."

"I guess nothing build up morale and rivalry like having a teammate killed. Maybe that's a cynical way of looking at things but everywhere does seem shaken up by the mission. Riley's a good man for telling me to see you, he does a good job of looking after his men. Riley's the best Captain we could've asked for, even if he is a bloody Rupert," Pheasant ended the last of his words with a flourish of low chuckling whilst the padre listened with ears perked.

"To go back to the enemy I killed. I fought bravely to protect my team, and I killed him because it's what I was trained to do and I can't let my team down. I didn't hesitate, I done what I had to do. It's dog eat dog, or soldier kill soldier."

"But maybe I should respect them, for having the guts to stand and fight us instead of fleeing or surrendering. Or empathise with them, as I'm sure they think they're right and we're wrong. But, then again, maybe I shouldn't."

"Are you asking for my permission if you're allowed to respect and empathise with them?" Mary asked.

Pheasant only sighed, running a hand through his dreads, "maybe, maybe not," he answered honestly, "the moment I killed the enemy I'd never felt more effective as a soldier, because that's what I'm supposed to do, and the moment I heard Kevin was killed I'd never felt more useless, because soldiers protect one another. And the enemy I killed died honourably, died trying to protect his team. So I guess I wouldn't be human if I didn't respect that and empathise with him."

"But deep down," Pheasant said, "I done my job."

"I'm a soldier but I can't help how I feel, I think it would be weird if I didn't respect the enemy. We're all killers, we knew what we signed up for. But I feel no guilt, no remorse. Because, like I say, it's kill or be killed. It's as simple as that, when I find myself having doubts I remember that fact and it grounds me instantly, it's almost mindful."

Mary flashed a smile as she nodded, "it sounds like you have a healthy way of looking at things. I have to ask, when you use terms like grounding and mindful, were you ever in therapy?".

"I was in counselling, that's therapy right?" Pheasant asked, Mary nodded. "I used to self harm and be quite sad. Mostly due to substance abuse and gender dysphoria. But I'm better and never been happier."

"You're trans? I never would've guessed."

"Yeah I've had top surgery and been on testosterone for a few years now so most people don't know."

"What substances did you abuse?".

"Anything and everything. Drugs and booze were easy to get on the estate."

"I grew up on an estate too, it was hard but at least it taught me to defend myself. You have a posh voice for someone from an estate."

"Everyone says that," he laughed before he got to his feet, "well I think we've had a nice chat but I have to teach Briggs how to play the guitar."

Mary only smiled, standing up she gestured for the door, "it was lovely to get to know you."

Pheasant nodded before walking out of the church and onto into to heat and sand of the base, heading over to the cookhouse to make himself another coffee, grabbing himself a late lunch of sweet and sour chicken.

Inside of the rec room, where Riley was playing a heated table tennis match against Smith and Roach was destroying at Call of Duty, Briggs had given up on trying to be the next Jimi Hendrix while Ghoul struggled to play a tune, "this is impossible," he huffed in frustration.

"I told ya, fookin' impossible, yet you took the piss," Briggs snapped, "now it's time for me to take the piss outta you. You're a vacuum mate."

"A vacuum?" Ghoul inquired.

"You suck mate," Briggs quipped.

Ghoul rolled his eyes and uttered a snort of laughter, "fair play, I've never heard that one before."

In the midst of the three commandos taking the piss out of one another Pheasant arrived, seeing the guitar in Brigg's arms where he'd left it.

"Hey guys," he announced cheerily, wearing a smile as warm as the Urzikistan air, "hows the guitar going Briggs?" he questioned, sitting down next to the man.

"Shite, Leeds United are losing three nil and I've sliced up me bloody fingers trying to play this stupid bloody thing," Briggs groaned as he shoved the guitar into Pheasant's hands.

"Riley said you got a KIA yesterday, you lucky bastard," Cermac remarked.

Pheasant looked to him with confusion, "lucky?".

"Yeah, lucky, one of the reasons I joined the military was to kill," he admitted honestly to the shocked expressions of those around him, "oh don't lie to yourselves, you know killing makes for a badarse soldier."

"It's part of the job sure but it's not why I signed up," Pheasant said.

"Oh the pearl clutching, taking the moral high ground bullshit is old," Cermac whined, "I'm not some psycho but they want us dead so we have to kill them first."

"Now that makes more sense, that I get," Ghoul said before he turned his attention to Pheasant, "so what was it like to kill?".

"I was just doing my job."

"C'mon you've gotta give us more than that," Cermac remarked, a bloodthirsty look overpowering his face, darkening it with a sadistic edge.

"He said he was just doing his job. That's all we need to know," Heaven interjected, looking to Pheasant with compassionate illuminating her deep brown eyes, flecked with hazel, "are you okay Pheasant?".

"I'm fine," Pheasant grumbled with annoyance, "I don't need to tell anyone the gory details and I don't need coddling either, thank you very much," he snapped as he shot Heaven a nasty glare through his baby blue eyes.

"Alright, sorry mate," Cermac said as he patted Pheasant's shoulder, "didn't mean to push your buttons."

"I know," Pheasant sighed.

Then a smile warmed his features, "now I can teach you how to play guitar Briggs," he burst out cheerfully, before starting to run through the basic chords.

By the time dinner rolled around Roach had ranked up twenty ranks in a day, Smith has bested Smith at table tennis and Briggs could play a few simple tunes on the guitar. Overall it had been a good day of decompressing from the night mission, and a good way of learning to enjoy a day, even with a sense of loss hanging in the air. It was a hard earned day.

As they sat around a fire, finishing off the surplus of rat packs (ration packs) that had been sent to the FOB, chickpea curry for vegetarian Ghoul and Thai style chicken soup for the rest of them, Briggs began to play his guitar, the flickering flames of the campfire illuminating his dark skin, making his deep chocolate eyes the colour of melted honey.

Riley watched the flames through steady eyes, reflecting the orange flames perfectly in his steel blue eyes. He couldn't resists however, when Briggs started to play 'Come On Aileen', getting up and dancing-and soon everyone joined in.

Everyone, except Pheasant.

He simply watched as everyone joined him, belting out the lyrics as their moved swayed rhythmically by the fire, even their shadows were dancing.

"Come on Phezzo," Briggs encouraged as he continued to play his guitar, a massive grin on his face.

Pheasant merely watched Roach dance. The hypnotic swing of his hips, the happiness in his deep and dark eyes who's corners were adorably crinkled in delight. The smile he wore that was warmer than a thousand suns. He was free, liberated, and, for at least a moment, he was flying high on life.

"Go on Pheasant, what's stopping you?" he asked.

Love, was what he wanted to say. Despite their fight he loved Roach, and loved to see him happy. However, he suspected, Roach was only happy because he wasn't up there dancing with him. He knew he would never stop loving Roach, and that sometimes you have to sacrifice in the name of love.

Roach was in ecstasy and that was all that mattered.

Soon the artillery observers joined in the dance, as the mania died down Briggs played a rendition of Pink Floyd's 'Wish You Were Here' after saying he dedicated it to Kevin McKidd.

Lighters were out on display, the flames burning bright as they swayed through the cool and dark night air. It was a beautiful moment of remembrance, and when it finished they all stood in silence for a moment of respect.

Then, the artillery observer Captain, as noted from his rank slide on his uniform, approached Briggs, "good lad, it's what Kevin would've wanted," he said as he extended his arm for a handshake, they shook and the Captain backed away with a nod of fortitude.

For the briefest flash of time Roach's and Pheasant's eyes met across the fire. And within them both was nothing but respect and acknowledgement.

And with that they all retired to bed, whilst above it seemed the stars shone a little brighter tonight.