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Axel handed Preacher the pencils. Her mouth opened in a pretty "O" of surprise, her golden eyes wide and startled.

"Preacher," Axel said. "I have to tell you something. I'm really sorry about everything. I was an a*****e. I had no right to judge you, back at the banquet." He hung his head in contrition. "You didn't deserve that. I kick myself for it every day. I know I don't deserve it, Preacher, but I hope some day you can forgive me."

Preacher's lips thinned, her mouth a firm line. For a moment it looked like she might punch him. Then she sighed. "Axel, part of it was my fault. I'm just not good with people sometimes, and, well, you drive me crazy." She held out her hand to him. Beaming, Axel took it.

"You drive me crazy too, Preacher." Somehow, her ponytail had come undone and her glorious hair was blowing free around her face like an anachronistic shampoo commercial. It was mesmerizing.

Preacher's other hand rested on his forearm and slid up to squeeze his shoulder. "Axel, have you been working out?"

"Haarrrghh," said Axel, his daydream popping like a soap bubble as he rounded a corner and came face to face with Preacher herself. The real Preacher. She sat on the grass, looking small and sad, and he remembered the way her face had crumpled earlier. Like she might cry. He hovered, awkward and uncertain, wondering whether he should flee or say something. He cleared his throat and tried for something resembling human speech. "Sorry."

Axel found it hard to read Preacher at the best of times. Her moods changed with blinding quickness, usually to anger, for reasons that were beyond him. Still, it was obvious that she was very upset. Fully aware that he was probably Preacher's last choice on a list of people to comfort her when she was upset, Axel nevertheless could not bring himself to leave. He couldn't walk away and leave her there to cry alone.

She was definitely going to punch him, but maybe punching him would make her feel better. Preacher always seemed to get some enjoyment out of hurting him or making him look stupid. Happy with this reasoning, Axel went and sat next to her on the grass. He didn't even notice the small mound of earth Preacher had been staring at.

Now, what to say? Asking her if she was okay was out. Preacher was obviously not okay. Telling her everything would be fine was out. Axel didn't even know what the problem was. Pondering his next move, Axel stared down at his pink socks. The light was dim, but not dim enough to hide the hideous kittens of Terry Tuggle.

"If you need to talk, I'll listen," he said finally, still looking down at his socks.

Preacher leaned in to him, which was nice. She promptly burst into tears, which was not nice. Horrified, Axel stared down at the top of her dark navy head. Was his mere presence enough to drive her to tears? Axel gritted his teeth. No. That was ridiculous. Preacher was not crying because of him, she was crying because of something else, something terrible. Perhaps someone had died. It was the only thing Axel could think of. But who? Axel had never heard Preacher talk favorably about the people she'd left behind. Granted, she never talked to him much at all.

With great care, as though he were resting his arm on paper-thin porcelain instead of a person, Axel laid his arm across Preacher's shoulders and drew her into a half-hug.

Friendly hug accomplished. That was step one of comforting. That was Comforting 101. Beyond it, he was kind of stumped. He was probably supposed to stroke her hair soothingly at this point, but that seemed too intimate a move to use on a girl who loathed him. Axel fought down rising panic. He didn't know what to do next. What did he do?!

"Can I help?"

As Preacher pressed against him, Axel gathered his courage and patted her hair gently. He hadn't shouted at her and she hadn't called him a name or hit him even once so far, which was probably some kind of record in the history of Preacher-Axel communications. Stroking her hair made him feel a little more competent and capable of helping her, but her vague explanation of what was wrong brought him back down to earth. Axel stared down at Preacher in consternation. He hadn't even known she had friends back home other than Henrik and Ashley. His hair petting had paused and Axel resumed it, chewing his lip as he tried to come up with something helpful.

"Your friend was kidnapped? We can go to the garrison."

The thought of someone being kidnapped and their finger cut off was nauseating. Who would do that? Why? Why would they send the finger to Preacher, of all people? It angered him, and his grip tightened on Preacher protectively.

Preacher probably wouldn't want to go to the garrison with her troubles, would she? He had never known a girl more mistrustful of people, authority figures in particular. The fact that she had sort-of confided in him must mean she was very distressed indeed. "I'll help you look."

Axel listened to Preacher's story with mounting horror. It was all alien to his experience. In his world the garrison helped people with problems, or at least they were supposed to. He wanted to join the garrison, and he would never have laughed at such a story. But then he thought back to that conversation in the ditch, to how he had snarled at Preacher and told her she'd deserved a beating, and he had to admit that perhaps -- just perhaps -- that wasn't entirely true. If he'd never met Preacher, he might have thought differently about gutter brats. He might have been one of those garrison officers who would sneer and say it was somehow Dollface's fault. Axel's brand of idealism didn't allow for much wiggle room where people like Preacher and Dollface were concerned.

The moment of introspection made Axel feel uneasy and ashamed. He'd always thought of himself as a good person, but now he wasn't so sure. It was an ugly truth, like flipping over a rock and unearthing a giant centipede. He felt unclean.

"You're right," Axel said at last. "Before I met you, if I was in the garrison, I would've laughed it off too."

Preacher was right about him. He wasn't good enough for her. He could be as nice and pleasant as he wanted, but inside he was nothing but mixed up morals and sneering prejudices.

"We can look anyways. One by one. We can check them all."

Amazingly, Preacher hadn't stormed away. Even more amazingly, she was still interested in his help. He felt like some kind of grotesque vermin, but he had a chance to prove himself to her. Maybe. Well, okay, probably not. When Preacher managed to collect herself she would most likely resume hating him. But still, there was a chance that he had a chance.

The thought of visiting a brothel made him feel queasy. Axel had never been to a house of ill repute, but he was sure if he and Preacher went looking for this Dollface character, it would be a miserable and embarrassing experience. People would probably make lewd suggestions. Urgh. And Preacher was right: the military wouldn't be too keen on it.

"We could wear disguises," Axel said, using his brilliant tactical mind to come up with a scheme that would undoubtedly succeed. "We could dress as, um, Dollface's parents!"

The immense stupidity of his plan sank in even as he was speaking, but he couldn't seem to stop the words. Axel sighed. He had a heartache and now a headache.

"I'm sorry, Preacher, I don't know. You can come up with a better plan than me. But I'll do anything."

Just don't hate me.

He waited for a long moment, but Preacher didn't move. Her breathing was slow and even. Asleep. Axel sat still for a while longer, but Preacher didn't wake up. In fact, she nestled into him further. Sound asleep. Either he could shake her awake or attempt to carry her back to Lusche without waking her. Remembering those dark, dark circles under Preacher's eyes, Axel decided to carry her. It wasn't yet curfew. If he left soon he might be able to get her back before the rest of her dormmates returned.

Axel stood slowly, careful not to jostle her, and then bent to pick her up. Preacher had always been a slight girl. When she'd jumped on his back and tried to claw his eyes out she'd been easy to lift. Now in his arms she was even lighter than he remembered. Had she been eating well enough? As he lifted her she curled into him, one of her hands fisting in his tear-soaked shirt, but she did not wake. Axel started back towards Lusche. He was conscious of the tiny mound of earth behind them, looming over them, casting them in its shadow. Preacher left an ugly world behind when she joined the military. Somehow, it had tracked her down. It was a disturbing thought, an infuriating thought, but Axel could think of no real solution to Preacher's problems. He could only carry her back to bed.

Dithering on the doorstep, Axel listened closely at the door before he stepped in with Preacher in his arms. He had never been in Lusche before. Sneaking in like this made him anxious. Thankfully, the dorm was quiet and empty, its occupants still back in the mess hall after a long day working in the Peace Garden. After a few moments of poking around, wondering which room was Preacher's, Axel spotted a blanket on the floor in one of the rooms. A familiar sketchbook and lumpy doll sat next to it.

She slept on the floor?

Frowning, Axel carried Preacher over to the bare bed and set her down. She rolled over, making a small noise of discontent as he gently pried her hand from his shirt. Preacher safely in bed, he gathered up her things from the floor. The damn floor, cold and hard and depressing. The sketchbook was propped up beside her bed. After some hesitation he put the doll in next to her and draped the blanket over her. She looked as sweetly peaceful as he'd ever seen her, even with the dark hollows under her eyes.

"Good night, Preacher," Axel said quietly. He backed out of the room and shut the door as gently as he could. When he tip-toed out of Lusche, the sounds of people approaching from the mess hall floated to his ears. He was half-tempted to wait by the door and warn the girls not to wake Preacher, but that might lead to awkward questions. He would just have to hope Preacher's dormmates had the sense not to bother her. Axel slunk away towards his own dorm. The finger weighed heavily on his mind. They would have to do something, but what?