Look, they actually called them "a skeleton of an army" and it's gonna have a lot more meaning than any of you realise. (Unless I just gave it away with that, but whatever)

Word Count: 1,602

a skeleton of an army

When Martha had brought up Valley Forge, Lafayette had felt yellow.

Xey despises the feeling of yellow. It is a depressing colour for xem, even if the rest of the world thinks it a happy one,

Xey had thought that once, too. Back in xeir old life, when xey had been a 'him', if only for the lack of other options.

In that life, xeir brain hadn't been as weird back in that life, but Lafayette actually quite likes the way xeir brain is messed up this time. Seeing—well, not really seeing, not technically—colors with many sounds. Names, letters, word, and noises; there were few sounds that Lafayette did not associate a color with.

And this yellow—an obnoxious and bright one, yet far from the shade that was called neon—was one of the worst.

The warmth of the blanket and the taste of the chocolate give him a feel of turquoise, which already helps to get xem away from the yellow.

But now that Alex's friends were here to help all of them deal with the cold, they spread some light pink.

And light pink is a very happy color. People should use it more often.

Lafayette shakes xeir head to clear xeir thoughts. They need to focus on helping Alex right now.

Nevertheless xey is more than glad for the hug xe receives from Oscar, Walter, and AJ once they have explain why that is so important and terrifying for the three of them. It spreads the pink and removes the yellow.

They hug xeir father, too, after asking permission from the man.

"Thank you, boys, but let's get back to the topic at hand, shall we?" he proposes after a few seconds.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," AJ replies. "Any ideas?"

Walter shrugs. "None beyond telling your teacher."

"Which Alexander doesn't want to do," xeir mother reminds them.

"Let's file this away as last possible option, then," Oscar suggests. "Because that seems preferable to him pulling through this alone."

"It can be our last resort," George agree reluctantly.

Alex sits alone in his room, hiding under his blankets and attempting to feel warm, when it occurs to him that, actually, how dare he?

How dare he sit here covered in blankets upon blankets and with a full stomach at that? Sure, all of the people who had been with him at Valley Forge had since died and most of them probably had not been reborn along with him and the others, but that didn't mean that no one was suffering. Hadn't he himself suffered like that before he had gotten to the States again?

It is a more sudden realization than it should have been, but Alexander finally grasps how good he has it in this life.

And this would not continue any longer, he swore. Alexander would stop eating more than he required—to his shame he has to admit that he has acquired a small belly in the time he has been with the Washingtons—and he would begin to donate what time and money he could spare to help the people less fortunate than him.

It is the least he can do, honestly. He cannot expect others to help him rise and not provide the same for others, he thinks as he determinedly throws his blankets away, places the no-longer-hot chocolate on a random shelf that wasn't completely covered in books and papers—or at least not yet—and gets to work.

The first thing Alexander does is to write a list of all the soldiers that died back at that horrible place. He had written almost all—if not all—of the letters informing relatives that their son (husband, nephew, father, brother, grandson, uncle) had died in their fight for independence. All those soldiers deserve to have their names and heroic sacrifice known.

The fact that they had not died in the battlefield but instead in the Winter quarters—if it could even be called that—that doesn't make their sacrifice worth any less. Quite the opposite, actually. Their dedication to what were little more than ideas at that point had been more than admirable.

And if he is going to do this, then he is sure as hell going to do this correctly.

Ronald Scott Amundsen—a moment should be taken to admire the irony of his middle name in this life—is quite familiar with the cold. How can he not be, when he had been the first to reach the geographic South Pole in his last life—a fact that he is rather proud of. He likes to think that he has a right to do so as well.

The point is, Roald—he liked his norwegian roots, thank you very much, even if they were more metaphorical than reality at this point in this life—knows the signs when someone is suffering from the cold or even horrible memories of it.

He himself had liked his journey and gad thought the cold more than worth the honor that begin the first people to reach that place, but he had realized even then that not all of his crew had shared that way of thinking.

Some of them were plagued by the cold so much that they felt the need to move into the warmer areas of Europe once they returned from their quest—or journey? Was it the way to the destination that had been the goal? Sometimes Roald isn't sure.

So yeah. He is familiar with the signs of someone suffering from memories of the cold. People tended to shiver a lot and be notably more quiet among other things.

It is no real challenge for him to realize that the Latino boy called Hamilton—who is a mere year below him—is showing several of the symptoms during lunch.

Were it not for the boy's friends, Roald would have gone to Hamilton's side right then and there, but the boy looked well cared for, so he decided to let it be for the moment. Hamilton had his friends, after all, and so did Roald. It was highly unlikely that the boy would appreciate his attempt to help should there be no serious issues.

He did, however, promise himself that he would intervene if there were still some signs by the next day. Should there be a real problem, he would never forgive himself if he ignored it.

Not after Scott and his crew had died. He would not make the same mistake twice, after all.

Oscar, Walter, and AJ head to Alexander's room after a while, with Lafayette trailing behind them.

Walter is the first to knock on the locked door, while Oscar is listening to the list of a scratching pen.

"Alex?" AJ asks. "Can we come in?"

They do not receive an reply, but Lafayette makes xeir way to the front, opens the door and storms in.

"Mon frère, you cannot let ze yellow consume you!" xey exclaims as xey run over to hug Alexander "Laissez-nous vous aider, s'il te plaît."

AJ frowns. "Yellow? Why yellow? I don't understand what yellow has to do with anything."

Oscar shrugs. "Neither do I for that matter, but I'm not sure this is the relevant thing here.

"Todo lo contrario," AJ argues. "Every single little thing is important when trying to care for someone."

"That may be the case," Walter acknowledges, "but you could directly as xem," he points out.

Sueing this Alexander and Lafayette have started to grin and have let go of an arm each.

"She, right now," Lafayette corrects. "And I have Synesthesia. Has it truly not come up yet?" she asks her brother with a frown.

Alexander shakes his head. "Don't think so. I certainly don't remember all of us talking about it."

AJ raises an eyebrow. "What exactly is 'it'?"

"It's called Synesthesia," Alexander repeats once a few seconds have passed..

"Yes, she already mentioned that," AJ deadpans.

"As I was saying before Austin," the boy in question loudly protests that he is to be called 'AJ', "rudely interrupted me, it's a phenomenon where a person's senses are mixed. Like hearing colour, tasting sounds, or, in Laf's case, associating color with pretty much every sound."

"I could have explained zat myself!" Lafayette exclaims the very moment Alexander stops talking.

"Then why didn't you?" Alexander challenged, raising an eyebrow at his sister.

Lafayette actually stomps her foot on the ground. "I was trying to zink how to say it en anglais! Ce n'est pas facile!"

"Which is why explained it when I realised you currently weren't able to," Alexander argues, throwing his hands in the air. Then he winches and brings his arms back down. "I'm sorry, that sounded bad."

"No worries, mon frère," Lafayette says, hugging her brother.

"Yup, you're definitely siblings," Oscar confirms.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Walter questions, clearly offended, causing the rest of the room—with the notable exception of Alexander to laugh.

Alexander's lack of amusement quickly sombers the group up.

"We're here to help," Oscar clarifies, even if he's fairly sure that that is obvious.

"I know," Alexander sighs. "And that's exactly what I don't deserve."

The other four all protest, but Alexander is not hearing any of it. He just maneuvers them out of the room, shuts the door again, only he locks it this time.

"Well, that went wrong," AJ states, brushing some of his hair aside.

"I know! And it looked so good for a while. I really thought it would work," Walter admits.

"We will figure something out," Oscar promises, locking arms with the other boys. AJ offers Lafayette his other arm before the girl has a chance to complain.

Guest: I was writing this the very moment you reviewed, funnily enough.

Translations (in order, but only Google Translate this time)

Mon frère - My brother

Laissez-nous vous aider, s'il te plaît. - Let us help you, please

Todo lo contrario - Quite the opposite [this one is Spanish, in case that was not obvious]

en anglais - in English

Ce n'est pas facile! - It's not easy