It's not even that she fears going back. Gallipoli in and of itself was miserable, far worse than the rainy days of France, or the deserts of Jerusalem. Even being kidnapped was bearable in a way she cannot describe, for there was not the constant booms of violence, the fretting of fleeing into tunnels and wondering if she would ever see sunlight again.

She doesn't know how to tell him any of this. She, who can usually voice so very many things.

But now that they're back in Base, in a private place that feels too claustrophobic and safe all at once...

"They didn't let us sleep," she mumbles against his chest. "The rooms always shifted, light shined in our eyes if we nodded off."