The marines scrubbed their faces of the camouflage paint till the sinks of the barracks were coated in green, black and brown. As the rest of the recruits retired to bed Pheasant and Roach were tasked with staying up and making the sinks spotless for the inspection tomorrow morning.

As Roach handed Pheasant a clean tissue paper the man noticed Pheasant's hand lingered in his for a second longer than would be purely necessary.

Deciding to ignore it they went back to cleaning, on their hands and knees wiping away the spillage.

"How the fuck did you get to be the best at camouflage and concealment?" Roach asked him.

"It's simple. As long as you know how a face shape and how to break it up it's a piece of piss," Pheasant explained with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. 

"You'll have to teach me someday," Roach said, Pheasant nodded before the tissue paper slipped from his grip. 

They both went to pick it up, hands touching once again.

Roach looked to him, blushing as he wore an awkward, little smile. Pheasant looked into his eyes, looking past the dark surface and into the emotion. The eyes were the window to the soul after all.

And his were soft, but scared. As if afraid to admit some feeling that had been lingering and gnawing away at him for some time.

"There's a lot I could teach you," Pheasant said in his usual manner of speaking, cooly confident. 

Pheasant's words hung in the air for a moment, before reaching for Roach's head, fingers skirting along his smooth skin in a tantalising touch before drifting through a head of sandy hair. It was the most peculiar colour, somewhere between blonde and brunette.

And Roach's eyes, his eyes were deep reservoirs of almost black, like an eclipse, with flecks of hazel. Warm and inviting.

Slowly Pheasant began to lean in, parting his lips ever so slightly before they touched Roach's own.

Suddenly Roach pulled away, looking to Pheasant with confusion and embarrassment.

"I-I, um," Roach attempted to find the words as he stayed frozen, tongue tied, "I'm not gay."

Pheasant's eyes widened with mortification, "you're not?!" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Why, do I look gay?" Roach asked.

"Well, you look...not straight."

"What does that mean?".

"Well," Pheasant began, "you're very into your grooming, and you kinda just have that...that look."

"I...see what you mean," Roach said, his shoulders dropping as he sighed heavily.

"Don't worry about making things weird," Roach lifted his head with a friendly smile, "I'll just take it as a compliment," he explained, Pheasant nodded in agreement.

"Okay," Pheasant reflected Roach's smile with warmth, "friends?" the man asked, extending at a hand.

"Friends."

_

Roach parted the dreads from Pheasant's eyes as he slept. Roach's eyes moved over to the window, judging by the soft light filtering in he would hazard a guess it was just about dawn break.

Pheasant's piercing blue eyes opened, sensing Roach's gentle touch, he looked up to his friend and all the sadness and terror from last night had been drained and emptied. Replaced with an emotion that was near indecipherable, a mixture of fortitude and sombreness with a faint trace of numbness.  

And Roach had no clue what to make of it.

Pheasant closed his eyes and snuggled closer to Roach, knowing that when Pheasant needed a hug he was at his breaking point, having been strong for too long. Roach had often been his shoulder to cry on and right now he would do anything to ease the pain of his best mate. The closeness was nothing but being a good friend to someone who, over the course of the selection process, had gone from a stranger to someone he was prepared to fight and die besides.

Pheasant just wanted last night to all be a bad dream, but deep down he knew it could never be that. But he also knew it would hurt less over time, and just like with everything else in his life he would overcome adversity because he was a born fighter.

He looked to Roach, his eyes vulnerable yet unwavering, "we never speak of last night again."

Roach couldn't help but ask, "do you think talking to someone might he-," before he was cut off viciously.

"And ruin my career for being under a shrink's care?! Fuck that Roach, fuck that!", Pheasant snapped harshly, Roach only sighed and threw his hands up.

"Fine. I'll put the kettle on, you want some coffee?".

"Sure. Leave it on the side, I'm gonna go running," Pheasant said as he trekked upstairs, he untied Roach's jacket from his waist and saw where he'd strewn his ripped trousers and boxers, causing a grimace to tighten on his lips. He shoved them out of sight, changing into a new pair for boxers, his jogging bottoms, black shirt and socks before jogging downstairs, his old clothes from last night time in his clenched fist.

"Aren't you sick of running from the training?" Roach asked as Pheasant reached the last step, earning a mildly amused chuckle from the man.

"Never too sick for running. It'll clear my head."

"Fair enough, rather you than me!" Roach exclaimed as Pheasant entered the kitchen, shoving his old clothes in the bin, before he slipped into his trainers while he could hear the kettle still boiling. Escaping out in the still sleeping village of Lympstone the man found it peaceful to jog down the quiet roads. He could feel with every step he took himself growing stronger, more resilient. He was ready to be a soldier, to have an adventure that would mould him into a better person.

Pheasant was ready.

After running for ten minutes he turned his back and began to slowly jog back to the flat.

As he did he noticed a broken bottle on the floor, not dissimilar to the one Roach had smashed over the head of the rapist. Suddenly he could feel the cold rust of the dirty skip as it dig into his skin, the rapist holding him down, breath came to him in short bursts as adrenaline flooded his system-was it from the exercise or the memory?

He couldn't tell. He stopped to catch his breath, shaking his head as he kicked the bottle and watched it shatter in the middle of the road as it landed. He felt power and control rush back to him.

Pheasant's was nobody's victim. He was a survivor, a warrior. He knew it time the open wounds would turn to scars and he would stop hurting and start healing. He couldn't be hurt if he didn't let them hurt him.

Pheasant jogged back to the flat, ringing on the doorbell where Roach invited him back inside, greeting him with a mug of steaming coffee.

The pair crashed on the sofa, picking up their controllers as they began to frantically game away with the unbridled energy of rabid dogs.

Then, deep into the gaming session, Pheasant put his controller down.

Roach looked to him, "you okay mate?".

Pheasant sighed in defeat, "lets go down to the police station and do that rape kit."

Roach merely nodded, switching off the Xbox and leading Pheasant into his car, as Pheasant sat down the man nibbled on the cool steel of his dog tags-a nervous habit of his. Roach put an arm on Pheasant's shoulder, "it's gonna be alright," he soothed, Pheasant offered a weak smile.

Pulling up opposite the police station Roach and Pheasant climbed the steps and entered the station in front of them they saw a hysterical woman shouting at the police officer behind the reception.

"My brother was brutally attacked last night, outside the local gay club!" the woman screeched, Roach immediately knew where this was going so he turned to Pheasant, who had vanished into thin air.

"Pheasant?" he called out, he left the station and found his friend shakily failing to light a cigarette as he sat on a step, futilely blinking back tears.

"Forget it. I'm not reporting him, if I do that he'll report you for GBH and you'll be locked up for years. If I stay quiet he'll stay quiet."

Roach merely grimaced as he sat down besides his friend, "I'll stand by you no matter what mate, you're my brother in arms now."

Pheasant smiled for the first time since the rape. Warm and genuine and overcoming.

"Brothers in arms for life," he agreed.

"What do you say we go play Call of Duty again?" Roach offered, his smile sparkling with delight.

"Sounds good to me," Pheasant said, as Roach stood up he offered his hand to Pheasant, who merely swatted it away, "fuck off, I'm no dozy fucking pensioner that needs help getting up."

A smile made the corners of Roach's eyes crinkle with delight. He was getting his friend back-his ironically posh sounding voice that desperately needed a washing out with soap from all the swearing and sarcasm.

Back at the flat this time Pheasant made Roach a brew and made himself another coffee. As they sat in front of the screen bantering about suddenly Pheasant came up with a brilliant idea.

"Wanna play truth or dare?" he asked, "you're a quivering pussy if you say no."

"Well, when you put it like that, I do wanna play truth or dare," Roach replied answered.

"Ill go first," Pheasant said quickly.

"I dare you," Pheasant hesitated for dramatic effect, "to dye your hair pink."

"Fuck off!" Roach erupted.

Pheasant smirked at him, "a dare's a dare."

"I'll only do it if you streak in the local pub," Roach retorted, causing Pheasant to laugh his head off.

"Sure, lets fucking do it! Who cares if I end up on a list!" he exclaimed, earning a hysterical bout of laughter from Roach, both ended up silently wheezing on the sofa at the ludicrousness.

"But we've gotta do it late so no kids are around, which means in the meantime we can buy your hair dye," Pheasant beamed triumphantly, the two loaded up in Roach's car and picked up some hair dye essentials and some Dutch courage.

Soon enough the time had come and both their heads were warm and fuzzy, swimming in a flood of alcohol induced confidence and carefreeness.

"Target acquired, I'm going in hot...and nude," Pheasant said as he stood at the bottom of the steps, he stripped out of his clothes under the cover of darkness and then sprinted up the steps and into the bustling crowds and warmth of the pub.

Roach doubled over seeing the reactions of people; some were laughing, others were averting their eyes but the ones that really got to him were the terrified ones.

And before Roach knew it it was over, Pheasant was running out the fire exit and Roach three him his clothes, which he hastily changed into as he stood shivering in the bone chilling cold.

The two walked back to his flat, singing 'for he's a jolly good fellow' at full volume as they drunkenly finished off the last of Pheasant pack of cigarettes.

"I always forget you'll do literally any dare, fingers crossed you don't end up on a list that last one eh," Roach snorted with laughter as he nudged Pheasant, nearing knocking the teetering man over.

"It would be so worth it," Pheasant laughed as they reached the door and Roach fumbled for his keys, "lets do some shots once we get in, got any absinthe?" Pheasant asked.

"I'll check, I think we have vodka but I'm not sure about any absinthe," Roach said as he successfully unlocked the door after a short struggle.

Pheasant immediately jumped over to the CD player, putting on Mayhem as Roach searched his fridge for absinthe, "we've gotta be up 0600 to ship out tomorrow so we can't party for too-" Roach began explaining before he walked into the front room-seeing Pheasant passed out on the sofa, snoring loudly.

Roach merely pulled a blanket over Pheasant before retiring to his own bed.