Personal prompt from an anonymous tumblr user as apart of a 300 follower celebration.

"You have got to be the most antisocial person at camp."

"What?" Ging looked up from his soup bowl, raising his eyebrow at the army's cleric.

"You're always taking your food back to your tent and I've never seen you down at the training grounds, not even once!" The cleric accused, crossing her arms, "You don't even come to the medical tent to be healed after battles. Seriously Ging, what's wrong with you?"

The swordsman shrugged, turning back to his meal. "I can patch myself up just fine, there are a lot of other people out there who need your treatment more than I do." He looked back up and immediately sighed, turning away a bit. "Cheadle, you really don't need to worry about me, like I said, I can take care of-"

"That's not the point Ging," she said, stepping forward again. She lowered her voice when she continued, the tone much less harsh. "You're not dealing with any of this very well, I can tell. I've known you for well over twenty years at this point." She sat down on his cot beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "It's okay to say you're scared and it's okay to mourn over fallen comrades, but please don't lock yourself away along with your emotions. We're all human, so please-" her voice broke, tears coming to her eyes. It was so painful to watch him put on a brave face everyday like he was unaffected by the world around him when she knew he was just as broken as she was. "Please don't suffer alone."

Ging was tense, his spoon paused, hovering over his bowl with obviously no intent to dip back into the broth. He moved slowly, setting the bowl on a night stand table before he turned back to Cheadle. He was hesitant in his motions, almost as if he was unsure of how to interact with others. Well, Cheadle wouldn't doubt that, but it was almost painful to watch as she saw emotions flicker through his eyes.

His only student had been killed in battle a week previous, his son narrowly escaping his own death. Ging had brushed it off, simply saying that he just wasn't strong enough, but she knew him, she knew that there was no way he thought that. When they would go drinking he would always brag about Kite's accomplishments, about how he had a skill that no one else had, a special talent of being able to use any weapon he picked up, about how much he loved to see the light shine in his eyes after a particularly hard battle. He would talk about how his son, Gon, made him proud of his blooming abilities and how he reminded him so much of himself when he was younger. She knew it was killing him to show that he wasn't affected, and he was fooling everyone but her.

Slowly, he fell forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face into her shoulder as he finally allowed himself to openly weep, to finally mourn. She returned the hug, rubbing his back and stroking his hair as he wept. She felt her own tears begin to run down her face as she heard Ging muttering apologies into her skin, his sobs echoing in the small space as he tried to return air to his lungs.

"I've failed them. As a father and a mentor."

"It's not your fault," she whispered, nuzzling into his head as she stroked his hair again.

"I should've been there." He hugged her tighter, curling in on himself. "I shouldn't have left their side."

"You couldn't have known."

"I almost lost my son and I didn't even visit him, what kind of father am I?"

Cheadle paused, not quite sure what to say to the remark as he continued to cry. She opted on changing the topic, a wiser choice instead of delving into a far more psychological one.

"When's the last time you've bathed?" She asked, sitting him up and brushing tears away from his cheeks.

"Two weeks ago."

"And what have you had today besides your soup?"

Ging looked away, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to dispel the water. "I haven't."

Cheadle nodded. "Stay here. I'll be right back." Ging looked like he wanted to protest, but dropped his head, consenting her to leave. A while later, she came back with three more bowls of soup and a bucket of water. Ging went to assist her but she put down the wooden pail and held out her hand.

"I got you some extra food. Part of the reason you're feeling so down is because you haven't been giving yourself the nutritional substance that you need. After you eat I want you to use this water to bathe. It'll make you feel better." Cheadle scrunched her nose at Ging, who was giving her a blank look. "What?"

At that, the swordsman burst into laughter, doubling over and holding his sides to keep himself upright. When he calmed himself down, he wiped at a tear from his eye and grinned at her. "That's the Cheadle I know."

She scoffed at him, handing over the tray of soup so she could cover up her embarrassment. "I could say the same to you. Well, unless you want me to stay, I have other things to go attend to."

"No no, please, don't let me hold you back."

She nodded and walked back over the entrance of his tent, stopping just short of the exit when Ging called for her again.

"Hey Cheadle?"

"Yes?" She inquired, inclining her head ever so slightly, her back still towards him.

"Thank you. For everything."

She felt a smile grow on her face as she bowed her head. "You're very welcome."