#Tom blakex will schofield

[schrijverr]

Returning Home

Will gets seriously hurt in a battle and is discharged, there he gets a letter from Tom informing him that he is still alive. When he gets back they reunite and he spends time at Toms home where they come together. Will is put for a challenge when he gets a letter from his mother calling him home, he has to go, but Tom comes with him and together they put an end to something and return home.

On AO3.

Ships: Tom Blake x Will Schofield

Warnings:  PTSD, nightmares, flashbacks, Amputee!Will, verbal abuse(Wills mom is a dick). Just be safe okay?

A/N: This is a long fic, I mean 31K words long. I also did research for this, but you can check the notes on the fic in AO3 for that.

~~~~~~~~~~

On April 8th 1917 William Schofield went back to his own regiment after having slept for the entire day before that. His insides were hollow and his eyes saw only enough to survive. Without Tom there, the world was dull and empty. He had written Blakes mother to tell her about what happened and given it to Lieutenant Blake. Now there was nothing left for him to do, nothing to live for. So, he denied the leave that was offered him for his achievement and threw himself into the war.

They were called as backup at Arras on April 9th. It’s a repeat tactic of the Somme, with Artillery bombings in the days before they arrived and an attack where they went over the trenches that followed.

Will managed to get into the trenches on the front line, he was angry and in need of revenge or a quick death. He yelled, shot, ran and dodged, all while seeing nothing except Toms last breath and dying eyes. He heard the others whisper of course, he heard them say that he had gone mad, that shell shock had overtaken him, that he was what a man with nothing to loose looked like, a warning for fresh faces. He didn’t care, he just wanted out without bringing the shame to his family that deserting would bring.

Not that he cared much about what his mother thought of him, but he wouldn’t do that to his sister and nieces. They had gone through enough.

On May 15th, one day before the attack was stopped, Will got hit with a rogue grenade. His left lower arm was gone. He awoke seven days later on May 22nd, with an honorable discharge and a letter waiting for him. He was about to put the letter away, just like he had done with every letter he had gotten, but the unknown handwriting stopped him. He opened the letter and almost cried when he saw, who had signed it. Then he quickly started reading the letter.

April 17th 1917

Dear Scho,

It’s me, Tom Blake.

You are probably wondering why a ghost is writing you, well, I’m not dead!

I was very surprised when I woke up later in a hospital room, it’s not heaven I’ll tell you that, but I was happy to be there. My mom was very surprised to see me as well when I got back sometime later. I’m glad you were able to keep your promise and write home, because that means you have survived and gotten to my brother in time. Thank you.

Also thank you for what you wrote in the letter to my mum, it’s all very flattering. I am quite the hero, I read. I also got a medal, reckon that.

We’ve also written to Joe and he’s written back. He was glad to hear I lived and told me how you had arrived at the 2nd Devons and told him I had died. He has send over my rings. I’m glad you took them and gave them to Joe and that they weren’t stolen, which was my initial thought.

He said he you didn’t really tell them how you got there, but apparently you looked worse for wear, so you have to tell me how you finished our mission and what happened next sometime. If there is a next and you’re alive to read this.

It is very strange to be back home again. It’s a familiar and unknown at the same time, but that might be since I am the only one who has returned so far, so there is no one here who has seen what I have. It’s all too peaceful, you know. Like something is about to go wrong, but then it never does. My mum worries for me, but I don’t know how to calm her.

I hope this letter reaches you in good health, or just alive. I also hope that you haven’t traded your medals for a drink yet, because you earned that for saving my life and I rather you keep them. It’s an honor, Scho, and I can say that from experience now, so ha.

Please write back if you have the chance, I’ll leave my address at the bottom of the letter.

Yours,

Blake.

Will was shaking. He couldn’t believe it, Tom was alive, alive and well. He allowed himself a moment, just basking in the good news, before he called over a nurse and asked for paper and a pen. He hadn’t written a letter is months, but now he had never been more excited to write one.

May 22nd 1917

Dear Blake,

I am so glad to hear you’re alive. I can’t believe I read what I read. It’s a miracle!

How did you make it out of there? How did you manage with so much blood loss? I really cannot believe it.

I receive this in relatively good health, but I am among the wounded as a result of the battle by Arras. I also have received an honorable discharge and I am being shipped home on May 25th and will arrive in London by train the morning after. I do not know what I am going to do once I am back home. I’m hoping I can avoid the hospital, but I don’t think I want to go home yet. As you said, being home is going to be strange and I don’t want to worry my sister like you did your mum. I hope she is worrying less now and that you’re doing better.

I am glad that you managed to get the news of your surviving to Lieutenant Blake. That must have been a surprise to him, I was very convincing when telling him about your death. I hope he isn’t too mad at me about the false information.

As of how I got there. That is a long story, let’s just say it wasn’t a smooth ride after I left you, but I don’t think I can fit it on this paper, so I will have to tell it another time.

I still have my medal I got for the mission. I also got a medal from serving at the Somme from another soldier as a good luck charm to avenge him. So I have the entire set.

Hope to see you again.

Yours,

Schofield

Will read his letter over again, it was a bit formal and it didn’t really capture how surprised and happy he was that Tom was alive nor his want to see him again, but it would have to do. He quickly copied the address Blake had given him on the envelope, just in time to give it to a messenger going the rounds.

Wills arm hurt, but he could sit and walk a bit. He was still in his blood soaked and cut up uniform, but no one had bother to give him something else to wear, not while there were also clothes to give to the many man that had to stay behind. He wasn’t in a critical condition, so he was still near the front line, instead of moved further inlands that would come when the trucks left to take them to the boats. This would only happen after they had gotten the critically wounded home.

He was still in his thorn up clothes when he went home and he only got new clothes to wear before they boarded to train for the last stretch. Most of the men took them gratefully, all feeling disgusting. Will felt disgusting as well, but the army had only given it to him now so he would arrive looking better, pure propaganda, otherwise he would have gotten it sooner. So with blood on his clothes, no sleeve and no arm he got onto the train.

It wasn’t as if he needed to look alive for waiting family. He could have his little protest, his own small middle-finger to the government that send them to this Hell. Just for him and no one else.

He also wasn’t rushing off the train the moment they stopped. He waited until the train was steadily flowing empty before he carefully grabbed his pack and made his way out of the train.

On the station he took a second to watch grateful families reunite, hugging each other and smiling all the way. He got some horrified looks, but mostly people ignored him, until he heard a familiar voice yell: “Scho!”

Will whipped around and there he stood, Tom. There was color in his face again and he was smiling, although his face slightly fell when he looked at Will, who was now regretting his silent protest in the form of his clothes. He knew he already looked like death, he hadn’t slept properly since he thought Tom had died, but add the blood and thorn up clothes and he looks like he’s supposed to, namely, like he just got off the battlefield.

One walking ghost in the middle of a train station.

It didn’t stop him, from yelling: “Blake” and waving at him with his right hand, while running towards the shorter man.

When he gotten there he didn’t think, he just pulled him into a hug and breathed: “You’re alive.”

Then he pulled back a bit and asked: “What are you doing here? Is Lieutenant Blake coming home? Is he okay?”

Tom shook his head and said: “No, I came for you. Man, I missed you, Scho. And, of course, I’m alive, I wrote you, you wrote back.”

Will rubbed the back of his head and said: “It’s not the same as seeing it. How are you?”

“How am I?” Tom exclaimed, and nodded to Wills left arm or what was left of it, “How are YOU. You told me you were ‘in relatively good health’! How’s losing part of an arm ‘in relatively good heath’?”

Will shrugged: “I can walk, I can write, I’m conscious and alive. Nothing more to ask for.”

“You’re one tough bastard.” Tom grinned, “Can’t get rid off you, now can they. Anyway, I’m good too, I can walk, I can write, I’m con- Oi”

He was cut off by a soft slap on his shoulder along with a quiet: “Piss off, Blake.”

They both laughed some more, then Blake suddenly changed subjects: “You look like shit, by the way. Why’s that? Didn’t they have some spare clothes to share.”

“They did, only they gave them to us just before we boarded the train, fucking higher-ups and their image. This is my quiet middle-finger.” Will said, with a bit of a blush, he probably sounded ridiculous.

Tom didn’t think so, he just said: “Nice, also, if you want and you don’t have to, but if you want to, yeah, I told my mum that you were unsure of where to go after you came back, so she invited you to stay with us for a while, if you’d like and only if you want to, of course, so yeah.”

For a second Will just looked at Tom and blinked dumbly. Toms mum had invited him, Will of all people, to come to their house and stay there, just because Tom had told her that he wasn’t sure where to go. His eyes got a bit wet and he thought he had been done crying, but it seemed not. Apparently a loving mother was enough.

Tom, however, choose to interpret this differently and he quickly said: “You aren’t obligated if you don’t want to, it was just an offer really, don’t worry.”

Will managed to push back the tears and chock out: “no, I’d- I’d love to.”

Tom immediately brightened as he asked: “Really?”

“Yeah, course, lead the way.” Will smiled.

And Tom did, they bought the train ticket North and had to hurry to the station. It wasn’t until the other people in the train were giving him stares that Will realized that he was still wearing his bloodied army uniform. He tried to ignore the stares, but Tom had been taken by his silent middle-finger, so when an elderly woman continued to stare at Will, making him very uncomfortable, Tom told her: “You know how the government loves to treat their brave soldiers.” he nodded at Will, “Look how they treat their brightest, that one got a few medals, fought at the Somme. He’s still alive, one of the lucky ones, one might say.”

The woman looked horrified and quickly left their little seating area. Will looked at Tom with big eyes, which made Tom laugh as he gasped: “Oh my god, you should see your face right now.”

Will frowned as he said: “Not funny.”

“Oh, come on, she shouldn’t be staring and it’s the truth right? Besides, her face when I started talking to her was priceless and very funny.” Tom said, poking Will lightly.

Will rolled his eyes, but in the end he also laughed.

After that their conversation rolled onto new topics. Until Will asked again how Tom had managed to survive. Tom shrugged and said: “Pure luck. I woke in pain, I don’t know when, it was light out, but it could have been the next day already. Anyway, I started shouting for help and shit and right at that time medical help came by, transporting the wounded from where we were headed. They found me and I went under again, next thing I know I’m in a hospital in England.”

“That is very lucky.” Will agreed.

“So how did you, I know the attack was called off, cause Joe told me, but what happened between me getting stabbed and you arriving at the 2nd Devons?” he asked.

Will shrugged and said: “It’s a long story and we’re almost at the station. I’ll tell you later okay?”

Tom wanted to protest, but before he could the whistle blew. They had arrived on their station.

On the way over to Toms house, he pointed out little things, some Will had heard of before, some new. Tom pointed out his old school, a tree he had fallen out off, a woman he used to help in the garden, the houses he and Joe used to prank the most and the small hospital, to which he vowed to make Will go to for a check up as soon as possible.

Then on the edge of town a small cluster of cherry trees, full of fruit, came in sight, next to a welcoming, home. In the doorway there was a small plump woman, with an open and cheerful smile, waving at them. Her hair, which was tied up in a bun, had the same color as Toms and Will identified her as Toms mother.

Once she saw the state Will was in, however, the smile left her face, much like it had done Toms at the train station. Will once again cursed his decision to not wear the clothing provided, but there was nothing to change now.

When they were at the door, she checked him over entirely then she pulled him into a tight hug. Will startled a bit, but allowed himself to be held, melting into the motherly warmth he hadn’t felt for years. His relation with his mother had been strained even before he had enlisted at the start of 1915. He had been allowed home twice during all that time and comfort had become a foreign concept to him.

After a while Mrs. Blake let go and quietly asked: “My dear boy, what happened to you?”

Again tears welled up in Wills eyes, he tried to blink them away, but had to wipe at his eyes when that didn’t work. He cleared his throat a bit and said: “A grenade, ma’am.”

Mrs. Blake started tutting over him, but Tom saved him by saying: “I’m taking him to the hospital tomorrow, mum, but no one wants to be couped up when they’re just released. You know how I was when I just got back.”

That seemed to pacify her a bit as she lead them inside for tea. As she put on the water she said: “Go on, Tom. Show him to your room and get him into some nicer clothes, he probably fits yours or Joe's. He might be your friend, but he’s also a guest.”

Tom showed him to his room, where two beds were standing. He said: “Me and Joe shared this room before he hit puberty and demanded his own. Real privacy prick, he doesn’t want anyone touching his stuff. Hope you don’t mind sharing.”

“Blake, we used to share a tree, I think we can manage sharing a room.” Will answered.

They both grinned at each other, then Tom left Will on his own to change. Here he stumbled upon a new problem, buttons. With one hand he couldn’t manage more than struggle to tuck in his shirt and clumsily buttoning his pants. He hadn’t realized this problem before, because this was his first time changing clothes since he had been hit.

He quietly made his way downstairs and went into the kitchen where Mrs. Blake was pouring the tea. She saw him and raised her brow in a questioning manner as she asked: “Is there something the matter, dear?”

Will blushed and said: “I don’t want to bother you, but could you help me with the buttons? I would do it myself, but…”

He felt like such a cripple, which is also why he couldn’t ask Tom. He had always kept a tough face in front of the younger soldier. He was supposed to be the more seasoned and rational of the two, but instead he had gotten the younger man hurt, almost killed even, by not paying better attention. It wasn’t his place or his right to ask Tom for help, so Mrs. Blake it was. It also would feel less intimate, which his heart probably couldn’t handle, then if it were Tom.

She seemed to understand this, so without a fuss or a sound she quickly buttoned his shirt and handed him a cup of tea to carry, before leading the way to the table, where she left the two men to talk while she puttered around the house.

When he had sat down tea in hand Tom asked again what had happened after he had gotten stabbed. So Will told him the story, leaving out as much details as he could. He told him how another unit had given him a ride to Écoust, but not how they had gotten stuck and how he had yelled at them all until they helped him. He told Tom about the German sniper in the watchtower and how that had cost him a few hours.

“You got a bullet to the head?” Tom asked, worried frown coming over his face.

“Yeah, lost a lot of hours, had a concussion and needed some stitches, but it was fine.” Will reassured him.

He told Tom about the woman and the baby and the chase, but he left out how he had strangled the young German soldier with his bare hands. He talked about the jumping and the almost drowning. He didn’t tell him about the waterfall, the petals nor the singing, but he did tell Tom about the running over the trenches.

“Are you mad!” Tom had exclaimed at that.

Will shrugged in return: “It was that or be too late.”

“You are one mad bastard.”

Then Will told him about getting stopped and having to knock out one soldier, Colonel MacKenzie and finding Joe. He didn’t tell him how he had sat and cried next to the last tree that stood in the field.

When he was done, Tom was quiet for a moment, then he took a deep breath and said: “Must have been absolute shit. Sorry, I wasn’t there to help.”

Will gave him a sad smile and said: “Wasn’t your fault, kindness is a rare thing, but a good thing. Besides, I made it, so it’s all good.”

“Still, sounds terrible.” Tom said, “What happened then?”

Will rubbed the back of his head and said: “I rejected a short leave, just too much adrenaline, I guess. After that I returned to the 8th and we were called to Arras on the 9th of April.”

Yeah, he thought, too much adrenaline sounds much better than I was so sad you died that I just gave up and hoped the war would kill me quickly.

“Wait, we left on the 6th, right?” Tom interrupted, “Yeah, we left on the 6th, so you arrived on the 7th and like two days later you’re send out again?”

“Yeah, but that was my choice. I rejected the leave.” Will said, then he continued on before Tom could comment, “Arras was terrible, loads of deaths, but it’s all a bit of a blur. I was on the front line for most of it and I’m honestly shocked I’ve survived. We were crossing no-mans land and there were grenades being thrown and shot at us, I got hit. When I woke up, arm was gone and I was discharged, that’s also when I got your letter. And you know what happened next.”

Tom nodded thoughtfully and sipped his tea. When it became clear that the silence wasn’t going to be filled by Tom, Will tried t get some life into the conversation again by saying: “But what happened, happened. It’s not important, it’s over. I’m going to enjoy being discharged and nothing can stop that.”

Tom snapped out of his thoughts and smiled: “That’s the spirit, Scho!”

And with that any odd tension that hung around them had left. The war was behind them and it didn’t matter who though who had died and what bodily harm had happened to who. They had found each other again and now they were swapping stories and jokes, just like they had done every day for the last few months.

Tom showed him the house and the lands more carefully. He got really excited when He got to introduce Will to Myrtle. She was a lovely dog, but all of her puppies had been sold already. Tom said: “You should’ve seen them, they were so cute. Totally worth getting stabbed for.”

Will couldn’t laugh about that yet, but he was glad his friend was happy. After that they ended up sitting in front of the house in the sunshine by the orchard while they petted Myrtle and waited for dinner. The dinner itself was lovely and as Will was sitting next to Tom in the charming quiet home on English soil, while Tom was telling him about that one time Joe had fallen out of a cherry tree, he realized that he had never felt more at home.

That night he barely slept. He sat on his bed and looked at Toms chest rise and fall. Tom had a nightmare at one point, but Will knew better than to disorient him by waking him up, so instead he closed his eyes and listened to the small gasps as he wished he could take this pain away from Tom and take it on himself.

In the end he fell asleep as well, the exhaustion of being at the front lines at high alert for weeks finally taking hold. He slept quite peacefully, only visited by a dying Tom, but before he could get distressed his mind also supplied him with a happily waving Tom at the train station.

He woke slowly and rested, with the sunlight dancing over his face and Tom nudging his side. Will grumbled a bit, but got up with the insistence of Tom and the promise of breakfast. The breakfast was going quite well, he and Tom had decided to pick the cherries today before his visit to the hospital.

Then the paper had been delivered, this shouldn’t be an ominous statement, but on this morning in this house it was. The Blake family got The Times, who, under Lord Northcliff ,were rebelling against the censure of Lord Kitchener. Today The Times covered the return of some of the soldiers after the battle of Arras and it seemed like one reporter had managed to snap a picture of Will right before he was found by Tom.

In the picture he was standing on the platform alone, the wistful and lonely look in his eyes was accentuated by his missing arm and bloodied clothes. His posture was rigid, but you could see the bags under his eyes like they had been drawn on with dirt.

An uncomfortable feeling came over Will as he saw his own picture in the paper. It had been meant as a middle-finger to the government, but it was a silent quiet protest, just for himself and no one else. Will liked keeping things for himself, so the fact that this was printed in a nationwide newspaper was bad. What was even worse, was the fact that the paper had taken the effort to figure out who he was, so in bold letters the caption read: Lance Corporal William Francis Schofield, awarded with The British War Medal, The Allied Victory Medal, The Somme Medal and The Victoria Cross, home after the battle of Arras

Right above the picture was a bold headline: Does the government throw away our war heroes when they leave the war?

Will cursed under his breath before immediately apologizing to Mrs. Blake, who waved him away with: “You earned yourself that slip up, dear.”

Tom tried to break the tension: “At least you got three new bottles out of it, right.”

Will pushed him and said: “I didn’t even know about half of them. I got the Somme medal for the Somme of course, the Victoria cross for our mission, but I missed the other two.”

“Only you would miss getting two medals.” Tom laughed, then it was quiet for a second. Tentatively Tom asked: “So, what are you going to do now?”

Will thought about it for a second, before saying: “Ignore anyone, who wants to talk to me about this, I guess. And write home, they know I’m here now, so might as well hear from me that I’m holed up somewhere in the North, while figuring out what to do instead of the papers. But for now? I’m going to the hospital in the afternoon and I’m going to pick cherries in the morning.”

“You are one of kind, Scho.” Tom grinned, then he got up and grabbed a coat and walked towards the door, calling over his shoulder: “You coming, Mr. Cherry Picker.”

Will grinned and followed his friend out of the kitchen.

He hadn’t known how meditative it could be to pick cherries, but it was quite calming. They didn’t go all that fast and they would need to go on tomorrow and maybe even the day after that, but they talked and laughed while doing it, reminding them of the long afternoons they spend together just cleaning equipment and talking.

After lunch the two ex-soldiers walked through the village to the hospital. Will noticed that more eyes followed them than when they had first arrived yesterday, but so far no one had stopped them and for that he was grateful.

Will was checked over and managed to convince them that he shouldn’t be held here, but that he could recover on his own. In the end the doctor relented and send him away with painkillers and a salve against infection along with the order to come back in a couple of days.

He met up with Tom again and together they walked back to the Blake house. They were almost there when an man, a bit older than them, stopped them and asked: “Aren’t you the lad from The Times?”

Will shuffled back a bit, feeling uncomfortable with the sudden attention from bystanders the question got him, but Tom had no such qualms. He said: “Yes, Mr. Harrow, he is and he came here to escape the noise of war, don’t start making new noise for him to suffer through. The Times called him a hero right? Well, this hero wants peace, so be a good civilian and grant him that. He fought for your country and safety, he has earned some quiet.”

Once Tom was done with his spiel, Will didn’t think he could get more embarrassed, but then an old gray man stood up and clapped. Much to Wills chagrin and Toms delight, more people joined in. Will was glad these people would leave him alone, but he could have done without the fuss.

When they got to the house he went around back with some paper and a pen, needing solitude and space to think. Tom seemed to understand this and left Will be while he wrote to his family, distracting his mother by telling her what had happened in town.

May 27th 1917

Dear mum and Polly,

It is odd to write to you from another place than the trenches in France. If you have seen The Times, you know that I am indeed home in England. Maybe this picture worried you, but know that I am okay. I am not in a hospital and I am not in danger. I am staying with Blake, a friend from the war and I do not know how long I will be gone, but know I will come back.

I wish I can find some peace on English soil before coming to face you. Hopefully you do understand this.

I hope to see you all soon. Polly, please, give Mary and Jane a kiss for me and tell them that their uncle misses them very much.

Yours,

Will

He sighed and read over the letter. His family had never been that close, especially after his leave. However, he had always been there for Polly, when husband had fallen victim to the war, and loved his nieces like they were his own.

Yet, he did not want to see them. He had, a bit after the Somme, but where his room used to bring solitude and comfort it now brought a feeling of being locked in without a good vantage point to see the enemy. And where his sister had been a rock, she now brought turbulence to his already unsure life.

His sister and mother had tried to understand, but he could see how the screaming during the night had tired them out and made them look at him differently. He knew he had changed, he never was much of a talker, but after the Somme he had barely said a word. He had scared his nieces and worried sister, until it ended in a fight.

So no. He didn’t want to go home, he didn’t want to get stuck in the middle or try and be his old self to comfort others. The people he stayed with now only knew him from after or during the war, he didn’t need to pretend and that was all he wanted.

He sighed again and looked out over the fields behind the home until Tom called him in for dinner. That evening he was quiet and turned in early.

His dreams weren’t as kind to him as it had been last night. The Somme and Arras blurred together, he heard the bombs fall all around him along with the screams of his friends and comrades. Then he saw his sister in the middle of the battle field, that was slowly melting away. She looked at him accusingly as she asked: “Why didn’t you come home, Will?”, but before he could answer, she was stabbed and fell to the ground. He ran forward to catch her and as he did she turned into Tom, who was lying next to the burning barn, gasping with fear filled eyes as he asked him if he knew the way.

He woke with a scream, terrified and not really understanding where he was. It was dark and he couldn’t see, he heard a voice talking to him, but he couldn’t make out the words. A figure approached him, so he scrambled back and raised his arms to defend himself, only to realize that he was missing part of his arm and he was therefore at a disadvantage.

Then he heard a female voice as well and a light rounded the corner, followed by a small plump woman. With the light he could also make out the figure of before. It was Tom, who was looking at him with a concerned expression on his face. His mind seemed to catch up with what was happening and his body slowly relaxed as he realized he was safe. He slumped into himself where he was sat in the corner of the room and tried to find the ability to breathe again.

In the distance he could hear Blake say: “Just go back to bed, mum. I’ll handle this. I think the last thing he needs right now, is someone he doesn’t really know.”

There was an answer and footsteps fading away back into the corridor.

Once they had heard a door open and close, Tom moved forward and sat on the ground in front of Will and said: “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe now. You’re home in England and you’ve been discharged, you will never have to go back there. It’s okay, just breathe.”

Tom slowly grabbed Wills hand and placed it on his chest, then he started to breathe deeply but calm, urging Will to follow his lead. And sluggishly Will did. He breathed until he realized he had been crying and that he had been pulled forward by Tom until he was practically sitting on the other mans lap, with his head now leaning on Toms chest to listen closely to his steady heartbeat, while Tom held him secure with his left arm.

He blinked a few times and wiped his tears away in Toms nightshirt. He swallowed audibly and in a hoarse and confused voice he said: “You’re alive? Or am I dead?”

He didn’t see Toms sad face at how broken he sounded, but he did feel it when Tom used his right hand to card his fingers through Wills hair. Tom rocked him a bit back and forth and he whispered into his ear: “I’m alive. I’m alive, don’t worry. I am alive and so are you. We’re both here, back safely in England.”

He continued the rocking motion and the carding through the hair until Will moved away from his chest and looked into his eyes. For a second they just stared at each other, then Will felt the increasing need to touch Tom, so he raised his hand and caressed his cheek. Tom blushed a bit, but held his gaze. Will smiled and said: “You’re alive.”

Tom smiled back and said: “That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

Wills smile turned into a grin that faded into a bashful look and retracted his hand from Toms cheek. He now blushed heavily too and rubbed the back of his neck while moving backwards, away from Toms lap. Then he quietly said: “Thank you.”

Just as quietly Tom replied: “No problem. Are you going back to sleep?”

Will looked outside, it was dark out, but the first touches of sunlight were tickling the treetops. Going back to bed now, wouldn’t be worth it. He shook his head and Tom nodded. “Well, then I suppose I can make you some tea. Come on.”

Immediately Will refused: “You don’t need to do that. I can make some tea on my own, you should try to get some rest, it is pretty early. Just go back to bed.”

“Nah, I probably couldn’t go back to sleep if I tried. Better to get up and make myself useful.” Tom waved his concerns away.

They changed their clothes. Will had discovered that he could just keep his over shirt buttoned up for a long way, so he could fit his head through it and wouldn’t need to do up his buttons one handed. He fumbled a bit longer with his pants, but they were done at roughly the same time, so they made their way downstairs together to start the day.

They drank their tea and ate a bit of the cherry harvest from yesterday. Then Tom suggested going  for a walk through the forest nearby, just to get out of the house and away from people for a while. Will gratefully accepted, but soon came to a new realization, yesterday Mrs. Blake had helped him with his shoelaces, this wasn’t an option now. He looked at Tom who had just finished writing a note to his mum explaining where they were in case she woke up before they were back. When he noticed Will looking at him he asked: “Are you ready to go?”

Will blushed and answered: “Uh, no, I can’t, I can’t tie my shoelaces.”

Tom looked confused for a moment and started to ask why Will wouldn’t be able to do that, when he stopped after he remembered his arm. He walked to Will and knelt down, tying the laces for him, much to Wills mortification. Yet, the man couldn’t look away while Tom knelt in front of him, helping him with something so mundane and domestic.

Tom looked up and met his eyes, then he noticed the partly undone buttons and a realization dawned on him. He grinned and started doing the buttons while he said: “Come on now, we can’t have the hero in the village looking like a slob.”

It broke the weird feeling that had been building inside Wills chest as he laughed at his friend and told him to piss off.

Tom called Myrtle over to take her with them on their walk. Then they were off, through the fields towards the woods. It felt a bit like the journey they had undertaken on the 6th, but it was very different all the same. There was the same camaraderie and the same stupid jokes and stories being shared, but there was no pack on their back, no riffle hanging over their shoulder and no lives in their hands.

By the time they came back, the sun was fully out, lighting the lands, making them cheerful and welcoming. At home, Mrs. Blake had breakfast waiting for them. She had also posted Wills letter. He was grateful to her for that, because he didn’t think he could have brought himself to post it, to face his family like that.

They ate in silence and Will was glad that Mrs. Blake didn’t mention what had happened during the night, although he did feel a bit guilty for waking her.

After breakfast they went out into the orchard again. The weather was nice and the company pleasant. While they were picking, Mrs. Blake was doing the wash, humming lightly and sometimes singing a song. It was peaceful and Will could feel the knot that had tightened in his chest during the war loosen slightly.

That night, it was Will who was awoken by Tom. The younger man had a nightmare. Will didn’t know what to do, so he did what Tom had done for him, he held him tight and rocked him slightly back and forth until he calmed down. Without realizing what was happening, Will fell asleep, still holding Tom close. Both men, slept soundly that night.

The next evening Will stood looking at his own bed, he was tired, but the idea of going to sleep was immensely unappealing. He didn’t want to face the nightmares again, to see everyone he had failed. Tom saw his hesitation, the other knew what was going through Will right now, but he also knew that Will would rather die than admit to having emotions and needing help. So he decided to bite the bullet for the both of them. He said: “Hey, Scho? Do you mind if we push the beds together? I slept way better with you close.”

Wills heart rate picked up. He didn’t want to admit to himself that having Tom close sounded very tempting, but that way Tom might realize that Wills feelings for him were a bit more than just friendship. He was still on the fence when he made the mistake of looking into Toms earnest and beautiful blue eyes. He said: “I don’t mind.”

Tom smiled at him and Will decided that it had been the right move. They moved the beds and got under their covers. Will tried to stay on his half and not touch Tom, but Tom was already asleep and didn’t have those limitations. Within minutes he had twisted himself into Wills side. Will held his breath and didn’t move. He wouldn’t dare startle his friend now, afraid of his reaction if he would wake up.

When nothing happened for an hour, Will finally allowed himself to relax. Tom felt warm beside him and the constant pressure reminded him where he was and that he was safe there. Within minutes of relaxing he was fast asleep. Next to him, Tom felt Wills breaths deepen, so he cracked one eye open and looked at his sleeping friend. He smiled at the peaceful expression on Wills face and let the darkness take him too.

After that they developed a new rhythm, in the morning Blake helped Schofield with his buttons and laces, during the day they walked through the forest with Myrtle and they helped around the house or in the village, while they laughed and shared anecdotes and at night they held each other tight in the hope of banishing the war from their dreams.

One night after they had shoved their beds together. The two of them were lying next to each other, staring at the ceiling. Will was very aware about the small space between their bodies. He was aching just to take Toms hand, but he was scared of what would happen if he did. He wanted to tell the beautiful man beside him how much he meant to him and how much he loved him and badly he wanted him to love him back.

He sighed and decided that he couldn’t, not yet. He would tell Tom when he had to go, when he was leaving anyway, so it would feel less like he had been thrown away when Tom would get mad at him. He wouldn’t allow himself to loose this until he was already going to.

They continued to do this for a few more days, before a letter arrived for Will. His mother and sister had received his letter and tracked down where the Blake family resided. With a pounding heart and shaking hands Will opened the letter.

June 3rd 1917

Dear Will,

Please come back home to us. We need to see with our own eyes that you are alive and well. Mary and Jane haven’t stopped asking after you ever since the article came out and Polly doesn’t know how to explain to them why their uncle isn’t home yet.

We understand that you need time for yourself, but we also need you here. We are your family and we want you home with us. If you really can’t part from someone you’ve gotten to know while you were there, this Blake is more than welcome in our home, just come back we need every hand we can get.

Give your nieces a male authority figure in their life, don’t leave them hanging like their father did.

Yours,

Grace Schofield, your mother in case you have forgotten

Will reread the letter many times. He couldn’t place how he felt about the letter, he knew his sister and nieces missed him, but he had never thought that his mother would worry as well. He didn’t know what to do. There was something that tugged at his heart when he thought of leaving Tom behind, but he knew he couldn’t ask him to leave his mother behind and go with him back to London. Because he knew he had to go back there. This was a cry of help from his family and he couldn’t ignore it, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to see for himself.

Crying and conflicted is how Tom found him. He sat down next to Will, closer than was necessary, with their entire sides pressing up against one another. Will got comfort out of the contact, but the inside of his chest ached with the familiarity that came with sharing a tree.

Wordlessly he gave Tom the letter to read. Tom read the letter carefully and said: “Well, it looks like we’re going to London.”

Will looked at him with pinched brows and unsure if he heard correctly he asked: “We?”

“Yeah, says here I’m invited and this doesn’t seem like something you can ignore, so, yeah, we.” he said, “Unless, you don’t want me to come, which is also fine.”

Will got a hopeful feeling in his chest, but it was crushed as he said: “I can’t, I can’t make you leave your mother behind. Mrs. Blake is an amazing and loving mother, I cannot ask that of you.”

“So you do want me to come?” Tom asked.

“Of course I want you to come. You’re the only good thing that came out of this god damned war. You’re kind, sweet and you make everything a little more bearable. When I though I’d lost you, I just couldn’t function anymore, I practically threw myself over the trenches in the hope that I would get hit and I’ve had nightmares about it ever since. Seeing you alive and well is the only thing that calms me, so of course I want you to come, but it’s just selfish.” when Will was done with his spiel he was breathless and he hoped his little speech wasn’t too revealing.

Next to him Tom had gotten a small smile on his lips, although his eyes were sad. He took a deep breath and said: “I’m going to say something crazy and you might hate me after, but I think you should hear it and think about it.”

“What are you going on about, Blake?” Will asked, not sure what the other could say to make him hate him. He was pretty sure that hating Tom was impossible.

“I think I’m in love with you, Scho. And I think you feel the same.” Tom said in a tone that said it was a fact and not something that could be debated.

Will felt like he had been punched in the chest with relief and disbelieve. Tom, beautiful and perfect Tom was in love with him. In love with Will, who was cynical and quiet, boring. Will who didn’t deserve the kindness and attention Tom gave him, but basked in it, like a plant in the sun. The sun was way more important and bright than the flower, but when it shone the flower flourished.

He quietly whispered: “Holy fuck.”

Tom couldn’t help, but chuckle at that as he asked: “You’re finally also caught up, I hear?”

“How? Why?” Will still tried to comprehend how this effected everything.

“How I noticed?” Tom asked.

Wordlessly Will nodded. A soft look overtook Toms features and he said: “I noticed you making eyes at me, was because I was constantly looking at you, Scho.”

“I did not make eyes at you.” Will said with a pout, then he blushed and softly asked: “We’re you really looking at me?”

Tom felt his heart melt for the man next to him. He tried to be so tough and uncaring about the world, but it was all a shield to protect his soft and big heart. He smiled: “Yes, I was looking at you, always.”

“So, what now?” Will asked him, finally raising his head to look Tom in the eyes.

Tom shrugged and said: “If you have me, I’ll go and visit your mother, sister and nieces with you. But for now? I’d like to kiss you if that’s okay?”

Almost unnoticeable Will nodded and Tom leaned forward to meet his lips. The kiss was tender, but it was also desperate. They needed to feel that the other was here, that they were here and that this was okay. They needed this more than they needed oxygen. Tom deepened it, biting Wills lower lip and slipping his tongue into his mouth. It wasn’t needy, but caring. Neither felt the need to do more, except got lost in each other.

In the end they broke apart, because they needed the breathe, but both still held the other tight.

When their breathing was even again Will said: “If you want, I’d love to show you my home and introduce you to my nieces.”

“Then we’ll do that.” Blake said firmly.

“I do have to warn you.” Will said, “My home is way different than this.”

“I don’t mind. You can’t scare me away, Scho. I love you and now you’re stuck with me forever.” Tom told him.

Will couldn’t deny the gymnastics his heart did when Tom said that. He could feel his cheeks darken and he confessed: “I love you too, I hope you will want to stay with me, because I will never let you go.”

Tom smiled and they got lost in each other for a moment. They were pulled out of their little bubble by Mrs. Blake, who yelled: “Boys, dinner is ready!”

They startled away from each other, then Tom smiled sadly and said: “We’ll have to keep it a secret forever, you get that, right?”

Will nodded: “Yeah, it is quite sad. We’ve both lost so much for this country and they won’t even give us a bit of peace or happiness. But if secrecy allows me to be near you forever, I’d kindly take this secret to my grave.”

Tom nodded, then helped Will into an upright position, before they walked to the house for dinner. Mrs. Blake cried that evening when Tom told her he was going with Will to London, but she understood that Will had to go back and also understood that Tom wouldn’t give up his connection to the war, not yet. Tom had a hard time adjusting when he came, his stories would be a gruesome and no one would get why it was funny, which made Tom sad, he loved making people laugh and relating to them, but he couldn’t, not when they didn’t understand why he laughed at those things, that he laughed because otherwise he would break. So he had become quieter, not talking unless he had to. When Will came it was like he had transformed overnight back into himself, constantly smiling and chattering on about one thing or another. So she understood, but that didn’t mean she didn’t cry.

That night it took both men a while to fall asleep, neither wanting to be the first, who said goodbye to the small kisses they shared.

The next day, after Tom had said a lengthy goodbye to Myrtle and his mum, he and Tom were on the train going back South. Not towards boats to take them to France, but to family and London. Which in Wills eyes was the same, they were headed into battle and he was mentally preparing himself for the battlefield that was his home and family.

On the station, four women were waiting on them. One was a older, with gray streaking her stand-blond hair and lines accentuating her stoic face, the other was in her twenties with a light blush on her face along with a smile, at her feet stood two twin little girls, round seven-years-old, who were both giggling and when they saw Tom and Will they ran towards the latter while shrieking his name.

Will dropped his stuff and knelt down in order to hug both of the girls. One in purple said: “Uncle Will, uncle Will, what happened to your arm?”

Will smiled and carefully answered: “Well, there was this man, you see, and in the night he stole it.”

The one in pink asked: “He stole it?”

“Jup.” Will concurred, “I didn’t even notice it until I woke up. He had just grabbed it and ran away with it to sell to the highest bidder.”

Both girls got big eyes of disbelieve, but before Will could go on he was interrupted by the older woman, his mother. She said: “Will, you got to stop feeding them all that rubbish. They are too young for this type of talk. We don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s good to see you too, mother.” Will said as he got back on his feet.

Then he turned to his sister and smiled. They gave each other a hug and Will kissed her cheek as he said: “It’s so good to see you again, Pol.”

He looked back at his mother and nodded. There was a quiet tense atmosphere in the air for a second, but that was broken when Wills mother shook his hand and tightly said: “It’s good to have you home.”

It seemed like both Polly and Will relaxed slightly after she had done that. Then Will turned to Tom, who had quietly been watching the family reunite, and said: “This is Blake, uh, Thomas Blake. We were in the 8th together.”

Tom shook Mrs. Schofields hand first and said: “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Schofield. You can call me Tom.”

He then shook Polly's hand before turning to the twins and asked: “And who might these lovely young ladies be?”

The two girls giggled and the one in purple said: “I’m Jane and that’s Mary.”

Mary looked away bashfully, but still waved at Tom. Jane showed no bashfulness as she asked: “How do you know Uncle Will? Did you see the man who stole his arm?”

Tom laughed and said: “I didn’t see the man who stole your uncle Wills arm, sorry, he only told me later that it had been stolen and I know him from the war. Me and him were buddies together in France.”

Jane nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer Tom had given her. Polly said: “Sorry about her, she is very inquisitive. You don’t have to give her an answer.”

Will laughed and told Tom: “You’d say she’s the only one who didn’t inherit the Schofield Silence.”

Tom grinned as well and replied: “I’m glad she’s cured then.”

“Oh, sod off, Blake.” Will said with a shove.

Mrs. Schofield raised a brow at Will and said: “You have your tongue back, I take it.”

Instantly Will schooled his features and nodded, ignoring Toms questioning look. Jane didn’t notice the tense silence and happily said: “I’m glad uncle Will is talking again. It was boring when he was quiet all the time.”

Mary nodded silently as well, not seeing her mother and grandmother get big eyes of horror at her sister deceleration. Will looked at Tom, who had a knowing look in his eyes, when he had first met Will the man hadn’t said anything as well, shell shocked by the Somme the other soldiers had told him. Tom thought that no one should be silent for so long, so he had made it his mission to cheer the other up. He had been ecstatic the first time he had made Will laugh.

So he ignored Mrs. Schofield and Polly he told Jane: “I’m glad too, he used to be such a sourpuss, you know.”

Jane grinned and said: “I like you, you can stay.”

Tom laughed again before replying: “Thank you for your approval, madam.”

Will said to the others: “Just ignore him for a bit, he loves the sound of his own voice too much. Let’s stop crowding the station and go home.”

“Uncle Will?” Mary asked quietly.

“What is it, Mary?” Will said.

“Can I hold your hand on the way back?” she asked.

Before Will could reply Jane cut in: “No fair. I wanted to hold uncle Wills hand, now that he only has one, we can’t both hold it and I wanted to.”

“Jane.” Polly chided.

Will said: “I’d love to hold your hand Mary.” the girl in question smiled and Will turned to her sister, “And Jane, I need someone big and strong, since I only have one I cannot hold Marys hand and carry my bag. Would you be so kind to hold my bag? Can you do that for me or should I ask your mother to do it?”

She shook her head violently and proudly said: “I can do, I’m a big girl you know.”

Will smiled, his bag was small and had barely anything in it, but still he said: “I know you are that’s why I asked you.”

Besides him Mary frowned, so he turned to her while handing Jane the bag and gave her a conspiratorial wink, which made her giggle.

They walked down the street with Jane between her mother and Mrs. Schofield and behind them Tom and Will with Mary between them. As they were walking Tom said: “I never pegged you for the type.”

“What type?” Will asked, not sure if he wanted to know. Tom shrugged and said: “You know, the one who’s good with kids. With all the frowning and brooding you seem to do, can’t imagine you as the fun uncle.”

Will just rolled his eyes and stayed silent. He knew Tom couldn’t take the silence for too long and he was right, a few seconds later Tom had launched into a story about the time he and his family had gone to London to buy a carpet at the market. It was a special one that his mum had wanted really badly, but getting it home had been a disaster. With the way it was told, Will couldn’t help, but snort.

The Schofield home, wasn’t big or luxurious. It had three bedrooms, one for Mrs. Schofield, one for Polly and one for Schofield and Blake to share, while the twins slept in the living room.

Wills room was pretty bare, with a small bed and a mattress on the floor, it only had a tiny desk, a wardrobe and some books. Will cringed a bit when he compared it to Toms room, but there wasn’t much to do about. His family wasn’t poor exactly, but it couldn’t be classified as middle-class either. The city life was different than the countryside, with smaller houses and little to no toys. Will himself had dropped out of school when he could to help provide for his family by working in the factory, even though he had loved to learn and reading was his passion.

Tom didn’t mention anything about it, he just said: “I am the guest that gives me the rights to the bed.”

“My arm is missing.” Will protested without vigor, it just hit him that here they couldn’t share a bed. Back at Toms house Mrs. Blake didn’t come into Toms room and they were mostly up before anyone else. He wasn’t sure his family would respect their privacy and with the confession of yesterday along the developments in their relation, it would be different and dangerous.

Tom was oblivious to Wills inner musings as he shot back: “Nothing that will stop you from getting up from the ground.”

“Your legs are fine as well.” Will replied, not wanting to stop the conversation just yet.

“Yeah, but I got stabbed in the side.” Will said, then he mused before asking: “Does that trump almost getting blown to bits?”

“You’re already fine, so I think it does.” Will told him.

“Yeah, but it’s still healing. Technically.” Tom said without any heat.

Will rolled his eyes, but with that action he saw his mother and sister looking at them standing in the doorway, but with horrified expressions, so he said: “Just take the fucking bed, Blake.”

Tom grinned victoriously and dropped his stuff onto the bed. Will joined him in dropping off his stuff before turning back to his family and saying: “We should probably catch up?”

His mother nodded and said: “We’ll do that after dinner, when the girls are asleep, for now, lets make our guest comfortable.”

Tom piqued up beside Will and said: “Don’t worry about me, Mrs. Schofield. I’m fine.”

Mrs. Schofield gave him a look then turned back to her son and said: “I have the paper here, you should look for a job to help out now that your back.”

“Yes, mother, will do.” Will sighed as he took the paper from her, already things were starting to feel like old, sadly.

“Good, now, Polly and I are going to the store, I hope you an watch Jane and Mary while we’re gone.” she said.

Will nodded again and watched as they left. When the door shut behind them he turned to Tom, who had an odd expression on his face. He tentatively said: “I don’t want to pry, but in the letter she sounded a lot more worried. Nothing bad, of course, just unexpected.”

Will sighed again and looked at the paper in his hand, now noticing it were two. One was of today the other was The Times of May 27th with his picture on the front, he let his shoulders sag and told Tom: “Home sweet home.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tom asked a bit unsure.

He thought about it, before saying: “We’ve never been all that close. It was mostly my dad keeping us together, but when he died it went to shit. Then Polly's husband, George, was among the first who died in the war, so now it’s just me and the girls. It’s always been surviving and before I went back to France, we had this big fight.”

“A fight?” Tom inquired, but Will didn’t get to answer, because Jane and Mary were running up to them. Jane at the front yelling: “Mommy said you’re watching us, uncle Will. Is that true?”

Will smiled and said: “It is. Wanna play a game or read a book?”

The two girls looked at each other, communicating silently, before Jane said: “We wanna hear a story, but not from a book. We wanna hear about your adventures in the war.”

Will looked a bit unsure, not really knowing how he could make any story about the war kid friendly. Jane and Mary noticed his hesitation, so in union they pleaded and Will broke telling them: “Of course I will. Lets go sit on the couch.”

The two bounded away, Jane pulling Will along by his hand. Over his shoulder he shot a helpless look Tom, who was laughing at him without shame.

He was sitting on the couch, sandwiched between to eager girls who were looking at him expectantly and his mind was completely blank. He had no clue what to tell them. He couldn’t tell them about the bombs, the wounds, the screams, the booby-traps, the blood or the death. Uncertain he started: “One time I together with Blake went to, uh.”

He looked at Tom willing the other to save him from this position. Tom was the story teller, not him. Luckily Tom got the message and he filled in: “We went to get water from a pond nearby.”

Jane frowned and said: “That sounds boring.”

“It might sound it, but it was quite to opposite, because the pond was near the enemy, who had put up many obstacles to get there.” Tom said, turning the story over to a grateful Will.

“Yes, first we got to rows barbed wire. If you weren’t cautious, it would snag on your clothes or cut your skin and you could get stuck in its hold forever.” he said and both girls gasped, now invested in the story.

For him and Tom it had been a pretty routine and safe mission to check if the Germans had been poisoning their water supplies, but the two didn’t need to know that.  He went on: “Carefully we made our way through the rows. We had to be careful and help each other, pulling the wire up or down so that we could get through. We were almost on the other side when suddenly, Blake got stuck.”

It had been something minor that was fixed in a minute, but it hadn’t been fun and the cut had itched like hell while it healed, resulting in much complaining from Tom. Will decided that telling two little girls about having to pull metal out of flesh was not that good of an idea, so he said: “His sleeve had been cut open and a barb held him firm in place. Luckily with the skills of his companion he managed to get free and soon they went on to their next and final obstacle.”

Will thought how he was going to present the attackers they faced after that, it turned out they were trying to poison it, but Tom and Will had stopped them before they could and a permanent watch had been installed at the ponds right after. They had shot the attackers, which wasn’t all that nice for children, probably. Apparently he had been quiet for too long, because Jane asked: “What was the obstacle?”

Will blinked and said: “Uh, there were some people, enemies, who were trying to steal the water, so that we couldn’t get any.”

“That’s not nice.” Mary said, with a small frown.

“No, it wasn’t.” Will agreed, “So, we went up to the men and asked them to leave.”

Highly incorrect, he had opened fire the moment he had spotted them, Tom following his lead. He ignored the truth and went on, now just making stuff up: “The men didn’t want to leave and they started wrestling with each other. We fought and fought until, the two thieves were unconscious. When that was done we tied them up and handed them over to the police, who locked them up for their crime. The end.”

In reality they had dragged the bodies away from the water in order to preserve it, before filling up their canteens and making their way back to the camp to deliver their report.

The two girls seemed happy with the story both clapping enthusiastically, opposite to him was Tom, who grinned at him and said: “You’re quite the story teller.”

He grinned back: “I try.”

Then he heard from the doorway: “You’re not filling them up with nonsense again, are you?”

Polly and Mrs. Schofield had returned just in time to catch the last interaction. Before Will could explain, Jane had jumped up and ran over, while babbling: “He told us a story from his time away at the war. About the water that was almost stolen.”

“Don’t tell them war stories, Will, it’s not good for them to hear of such violence. I already told you that, don’t you listen?” Mrs. Schofield said.

“I’m not telling them just anything, it was a harmless story and heavily edited, don’t worry.” Will answered, feeling a new sigh rise.

Jane came to his defense: “Yeah, there was barely any fighting or anything, honestly I wanted to hear more about the man, who stole his arm, but you told me not to ask about it.”

Mrs. Schofield shushed her and went back to glaring at her son. Will was very uncomfortable under her scrutiny and said: “I was going to show Blake around the neighborhood, but we’ll be back by six.”

Then he left, while ignoring his mothers muttering about how there wasn’t much to show.

When the door fell closed behind them Will sagged and turned to Tom: “Sorry about them. I would say she means well, but I’m unsure, honestly.”

Tom smiled and said: “Your nieces are nice.”

Will smiled and said: “Thank you, they are the ones holding this family together right now, I think. Jane can be pretty brash, but she protects Mary without question.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Tom told him, “And I don’t mean to pry, but…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but Will knew what he was referring to. He said: “It’s a pretty long story, but my mother didn’t agree with who Polly's husband was and there was a big fight about it. I, well, I picked Polly's side and I don’t she has forgiven us. I was going to get away with them, but that didn’t work out and Polly had to go back after George died. I never really left, but I was rarely home. It’s just weird, I’m even wondering why I even came back. Maybe, maybe I hoped that- in the letter she sounded so sincere, you know.”

“I know, but we can go if you want.” Tom offered.

Will wanted to take him up on that offer so badly, to just step on the train and go back to Mrs. Blake with her warm hugs and big smiles, but he couldn’t go. He couldn’t leave his nieces and sister there, so he shook his head and told Tom: “I can’t leave Polly or my nieces behind. I already had to leave them once and I can’t, I can’t do that again.”

Tom remembered a thorn up Will in the middle of a field, telling them that having to go home, knowing that he had to go back, had been terrible, to leave them behind without being sure that he would come home. At the time Tom hadn’t understood why he had said that, but now he was beginning to form a picture. This is why he simply said: “Then we’ll stay.”

Will gave him a look of awe and said: “How are you even real?”

Tom laughed heartily at that and replied: “I am quite the catch.” then he changed the subject: “So, pranked a lot of poor unsuspecting people on these streets?”

Will smirked and said: “No, unlike you I’m a gentleman.” which earned him a shove and a sound of disagreement.

Will did point out some of the places he went a lot as a kid, but before they made it to the end of the street they got stopped by an elderly man, who said: “Will? That you? I haven’t seen you here in a years it seems, which was pretty strange since according to The Times you’ve been home a week already.”

Tom saw Will shrink into himself a bit at the mention of the article, but he smiled back and said: “Yeah, I’ve been staying in the countryside for a while.”

“The countryside.” the man laughed, “I always knew you was a quiet one, but what on earth is there in the countryside?”

“He was staying with me, sir.” Tom cut in, “I’m Tom, Tom Blake. Me and Schofield served in the 8th together.”

The man nodded and introduced himself as well: “I’m Henry Johnson. I was his boss in the factory, before he allowed himself to be shipped out.” he turned to Will and said, “Really, boy, it’s good to have you back.”

“I don’t think I’m fit to work in the factory anymore, so I’m not that much of use to you.” Will said, showing him his arm.

Henry waved him away and said: “I don’t care what shape you’re in, you came back. Not a lot of people, who can say that around here.”

“Thank you, Henry.” Will smiled, “Hey, you wouldn’t know if anyone was offering another job?”

“I take it your mother is already hounding you.” Henry cackled, “Is she happy to have you back?”

Tom looked at Will, afraid he’d see hurt on the other mans face, instead he saw resignation. He wasn’t sure what would have hurt more. Meanwhile Will answered: “She is telling me to look for a job, yeah. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” Henry scratched his beard, “she came by in quite a state when she had seen the article. She told me she hadn’t heard of you yet and that she was sure you had run off to avoid the responsibility you had as man of the house and that sort of thing.”

Now there was hurt on Wills face, it had been true that he had avoided going home, but he would never stay away forever, although waiting until his mother had passed away had crossed his mind.

Instead of explaining that he needed time to collect himself after everything he had seen, he sighed: “Of course, she’d say that. Did she say anything else about the article?”

Henry thought for a second, then he said: “Well, she did mention a reporter had come by to interview you. She was quite mad that you weren’t there and that if you were, she would have thrown you to him. Apparently he was offering money for a comment. ”

Will cringed a bit at that and decided he didn’t want to hear more, so he replied: “Thank you, Henry, it was good to talk to you and see you around.”

Tom shook Henry's hand and said: “It was nice to meet you, sir.”

“The same.” Henry nodded.

The two men walked on in silence for a second. The streets were quiet and calm, most were already home for dinner. Then Tom said: “So that was something.”

A few moments there was no response and Tom was just starting to worry when Will answered: “Jup.” he was quiet again, until: “You think we could take Polly and the girls back North? Just leave everything behind and leave? Is that a dumb idea?”

Tom mulled it over, before carefully saying: “Well, I don’t think it’s a dumb idea, but your sister needs to agree with it and you have to be sure. I would love to just start over, but you can’t just go and take people without a plan or something.”

“But you would want to, you think it is a good idea?” Will pressed.

“The idea sounds great, but also spur of the moment, Scho.” Tom said. He wanted to take this man, who at this moment looked so much like a lost boy, to a safe home, away from a family that didn’t understand him and hurt him, but he also knew that right now Will was hurt and maybe not thinking rationally and Tom just needed to be sure.

Wills shoulders sagged and he said: “You’re right. I’ll think about it some more, but please, promise you will think about it too.”

“Of course. I promise.” Tom said, then they turned back and headed towards the house.

In the house they were greeted with: “So, Tom, did you enjoy the tour of our neighborhood?”

Tom startled for a moment, then he said: “What? Uh, oh, yeah, I did, Mrs. Schofield. It’s good for me to stretch my legs.”

Mrs. Schofield scoffed and went back to her cooking. From the side Polly came out of the living room and quietly told them to ignore her mother and come sit with her on the couch. They did and watched Jane and Mary play with two dolls. Tom smiled at them and said: “You have two really sweet daughters.”

Polly smiled: “Thank you, they can be a handful, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. They’re good kids.”

Will also smiled, but stayed quiet and listened to his sister and his, well how would he classify Tom? Brother in arms, friend, lover? He glanced at Tom, who was just saying: “Yeah, I have an older brother, his name is Joe. He looks just like me, just a bit older.”

For a second a dying Tom flashed over his eyelids, but then he blinked and there was just a laughing, living Tom there. He shook his head and focused back on the conversation. Polly asked: “Are you and Joe close?”

“Yeah, actually. I signed up for the war, because he did it first you know. We live in a small town, not a lot of other kids around, so you automatically spend a lot of time together.” Tom answered, “Are you and Scho close?”

Polly frowned a bit, then she connected the Scho to her brother and answered: “Well, I guess. He was a quiet kid, you know. He liked to read and live in his own little world while I preferred to run around and be home late, but we stick together, well, we did, anyway.”

Will looked up and said: “It wasn’t my fault that my leave was over, Pol.”

Her face softened a bit and she said: “I know, but after, George, I just, I just don’t understand why you signed up too.”

“Everyone in the factory looked at me, like I had done something terrible by not signing up. They told me I should be more like George and protect my family, so I did. Simple as that.” Will said with a shrug.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Polly asked, Will didn’t respond.

The silent staring match was broken by Mrs. Schofield, who called for dinner. The dinner itself was awkward and quiet, the only words spoken were the ones said while saying grace.

After dinner Jane and Mary were put to bed, but not before uncle Will had told them another story. Will panicked and looked at Polly, who gave a sigh before agreeing, then Will turned to Tom who gave him a smirk before saying: “Why don’t you tell them about that time we found the treasure while digging the trenches?”

The treasure itself hadn’t been that exciting, it had been an old barrel, more exciting had been the fact that they had gotten shot at while digging although that was also pretty routine. While he told the story the barrel turned into a treasure chest and the shooting turned into others trying to steal the treasure. When the story was done, Jane yawned: “A lot of people tried to steal in France.” then she was asleep.

Will smiled and tucked her in again, he did the same to Mary. When he came back into the living room, his mother had already retired to bed apparently not interested in a son that has left, but Tom and Polly were already sitting there with a cup of tea waiting for him. Will sat down and Polly asked: “How much of that was true?”

Will shrugged and said: “Digging trenches was something pretty regular, we did find a barrel once, which got everyone pretty excited.”

“Yeah, they thought it’d be filled with booze.” Tom laughed.

“That they did.” Will smiled.

“And was it?” Polly asked, when they looked at her for a second, she clarified: “Filled with booze?”

“Oh no, moldy apples instead.” Tom said, “We threw them at the Germans, so in the end it was a bit of fun we got out of it.”

“And the people, who tried to steal them?” Polly asked.

“That would be the Germans shooting at us.” Will explained.

Polly got big eyes and Tom reassured her: “Don’t worry, we made it and besides, getting shot at while digging is just what happened. It wouldn’t be a war otherwise.”

Polly didn’t look reassured, but she dropped it in favor of asking: “When did you guys meet then?”

“That be end 1916, right?” Tom asked.

Will nodded: “They had just send in the fresh faces to fill the trenches after all the people who had been killed at the Somme.”

“Jup, I was as hell nervous to be there, especially with all these veterans there, but I found Scho here when I was fleeing from the noise.” Tom told her, “He had been sleeping under a tree instead of in one of the tents.”

“Outside, Will, really?” Polly gasped.

Will shrugged and said: “It wasn’t as if the tents were much better, the only difference was that you shared it with someone who had as much time for hygiene as you.”

Tom giggled and said: “You are such a princess.”

“Am not.” Will pouted.

“Yes, you are.” Tim said and poked him.

Will put up a finger in warning and said: “I will not hesitate to punch you in the face, stop it. I’m not a princess for not wanting to be caked in sweat and dirt sleeping in a small space with someone else also caked in sweat and dirt.”

“Whatever you say, whatever you say.” Tom said.

Polly laughed silently at the two squabbling together. Will threw Tom another glare, but stayed silent. Tom saw this as an invitation to continue his story: “Anyway, so he is sleeping outside and I’m walking there, when I stumble over him. He just looks at me and doesn’t say anything, so I tell him why I’m here and plop down next to him.”

“Because you have no manners and don’t care to ask if your company is wanted.” Will ribbed him.

“My company is always wanted.” Tom shot back.

Polly cut in and said: “Come on, Will, you otherwise would have no friends. You would have said nothing until you came back.”

“Exactly.” Tom said, smirking at Will over the fact that the others sister was taking his side and not Wills. It earned them both a small glare, but Will didn’t protest. Tom then said: “I just talked until we both fell asleep and after that I just bugged him until he talked to me.”

“What was the first thing he said to you?” Polly asked, curiously.

Tom grinned and said: “He told me to piss off.”

Polly exclaimed: “Why would he do that?”

“Because the fucker wouldn’t stop talking about cherry pie and it was making me hungry.” Will defended himself, making the others laugh.

Will looked at Polly and Tom laughing and thought to himself: I wish I could live in this moment forever, laughing with the people I love about something stupid. He smiled softly and listened to Tom telling Polly a bit about the daily routines and after that about Myrtle and her puppies that he got to see when he got home. His happiness was burst when Polly asked: “So, did you come back together?”

It was an innocent question, but the memories of April 6th and 7th were not something Will would ever forget. Holding a dying Tom and having to leave him behind while thinking he had died was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Not even mentioning the collapsing cave, the head shot, the chase, the river, the bodies, the top of the trench, getting stopped and almost not getting listened to.

Tom immediately noticed him retreating back into himself and grimaced. Polly now also noticed the change in the atmosphere and asked: “What happened? What did I do?”

Tom gave her a sad smile and said: “We were send on a mission together. He, I, uhm. I got stabbed and was assumed dead, Scho finished the mission without me and only found out I was alive more than a month later. We looked each other up once he was also back on English soil.”

“Oh, I’m, I’m sorry.” Polly said unsure.

“It’s alright. You didn’t know.” Tom reassured her.

“Yeah, it’s alright, Pol.” Will managed to choke out, then he said: “I’m gonna go, yeah.”

And then he stumbled off to bed, collapsing on the mattress in an exhausted heap. He didn’t look back to see if Polly or Tom followed him. He also didn’t undress, just collapsing and laying there, still afraid to close his eyes.

Meanwhile Tom and Polly shared a concerned look. Tom sighed and said: “He told me what happened, but very globally without much details and even with that I don’t know how he survived all that. You shouldn’t take it personally that he doesn’t want to talk about it. I can now joke a bit about getting stabbed, but when it happened, I thought I was done for. Schofield, he was there, held me until I passed out from the shock, although at the time we both assumed the worst. You don’t just forget something like that.”

It pained Polly to hear a bit about what her brother had gone through, knowing that she couldn’t do anything about it. She felt the tears well up, so she quickly wiped them away and said with a shaky voice: “Well, that was enough for tonight, wouldn’t you say. Let’s just go to bed.”

Tom saw in her the face Will made when he didn’t want to talk about something, so he let her be and said: “I think that’s a good idea. I’ll check on, Scho, before going to bed, don’t worry.”

Polly nodded and went into her room, while Tom did the same with the room he and Will shared.

He saw Will lying there, still fully clothed and sighed. He sat down on his bed and grabbed Wills foot unceremoniously, then he started to untie his laces. Will had kept his eyes focused on the far wall, obviously not looking at Tom, from the moment Tom had walked in, but now he slowly turned his head to Tom and quietly asked: “What are you doing?”

“I’m making sure you’re not going to bed fully clothed, you dumbass.” Tom replied.

“You don’t have to do that.” Will said.

“I know,” Tom said quietly, “but I want to.”

So Will let him. He let Tom take off his shoes and unbutton his shirt, helping him out of it in the process, then he stood quietly while Tom helped him step out of his pants. Tom also helped him into a nightshirt before forcing him down and draping a blanket over him.

Distantly Will felt embarrassed, but he also didn’t care. He didn’t expect the emotional sucker punch of coming home and the question of his sister. He felt a bit like he had done, when he had first read his discharge notice, afraid and out of his element. He remembered to whisper a small goodnight, before Tom nodded off, but then he stared to his ceiling waiting for sleep to take him. He longed for arms wrapped around him, but he knew it was too dangerous.

That night Schofield slept terrible. His arm hurt even though it was no longer there and nightmares followed him the entire night, just bad enough to rouse him every hour, sweating and breathing erratically, but not bad enough to wake up Tom with him. He was glad for that last fact, but when the shadows in the corner formed corpses or enemy pilots with sharp knifes, he always had to stop himself from caving and waking the other for a bit of comfort.

When he was awoken again at five in the morning, he decided to stay away and wait for Tom to wake up. He sat up and leaned against the wall, looking at the rise and fall of Toms chest. He didn’t notice the sleep taking him again until he woke up to the sound of traffic outside.

He blinked and tried to connect the sounds of war to the peaceful room, when he gotten to that point a new fear gripped his heart, the bed was empty. He quickly got of the mattress and shoved his legs into his pants, while tugging off his night shirt and leaving his hastily put on shirt hanging open, not even bothering with shoes. He threw open his door, startling Polly, and asked: “Where’s Blake?”

Spurred on by his urgent voice, she quickly said: “He’s getting us bread.”

The answer threw Will for a loop and he asked: “Why is he doing that?”

“Well, mother couldn’t and I needed to get the girls to school, so you would have to do it, but he offered to go instead to let you sleep. He said you needed it.” Polly explained.

Will let out a breath of relief he didn’t realize he was holding. Polly then noticed his state of dress and said: “Button your pants and shirt. You’re not a heathen and our guest could be back any minute and you know how mothers feels about dressing properly..”

He looked down and swallowed, he hadn’t wanted to tell his sister or his mother about his shortcomings, but it didn’t seem like he had a choice. So he awkwardly asked: “Could you do it?”

Polly gave him a strange look and he looked down to the ground as he said: “I can’t- I can’t do it, not anymore, so I- I need you to do it.”

He bit his lip and met her gaze. She had a look of pity and understanding in her eyes and Will wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but he couldn’t, so he stood there and waited. After a second Polly put down the broom she had been holding and walked over to him. She hadn’t helped him with his buttons since he was seven and she ten. The silence was tense and when she had buttoned his shirt she asked: “Should I, should I do your pants as well?”

He shook his head and forced out: “I can manage, thank you.”

She nodded and they both stepped away. Polly went on with sweeping the room and Will stuffed his shirt in his pants and buttoned it up. He went back into his room for socks and his shoes, deciding that stuffing his laces into the side of the shoe instead of asking Polly to do them was good enough for now.

He walked back in and helped Polly set the table, it was awkward and neither met each others gaze or said more than necessary. It was broken by Tom, who came back and either chose to ignore the tension or didn’t notice it. He greeted Polly and told Will: “Look who decided to wake up.”

Will blushed: “You shouldn’t have let me sleep or done my tasks, you’re a guest.”

Tom shrugged: “Yeah and you helped us with my mothers orchard, so I think it’s only fair that I help out here too. Besides I have a walk everyday according to the doctor, so it was good for me.”

“Still.” Will argued weakly.

“Scho, drop it. When I woke up, you were sitting upright, like you had fallen asleep while sitting and you still have bruises under your eyes. I slept well, for a change, I can use that to let you sleep for a few more seconds too.” Tom said with an air finality.

Will dropped it, ignoring Polly's pitting look.

They ate breakfast and Will asked what Polly was going to do now. She said: “Mother is already her job, she had gotten yesterday off to pick you up and I only have to work later. I have a position at the hairdressers, but they open at noon.”

Will nodded, he felt bad that both of his family members had to work, because there wasn’t a provider anymore. He should provide for all of them, but as a cripple he didn’t know if he ever could.

Tom asked: “Do you like working there?”

Polly shrugged: “It’s alright, I suppose. I earn well, so I’m saving up until I can get a house for me and my girls. I was hoping at the countryside. Living there seems like a dream. Me and George always fantasized about opening an inn together, you know.”

Underneath the table Tom poked Wills calf with his toes. He hadn’t forgotten the conversation of yesterday. Polly didn’t notice and Tom said: “Then you have to come up and visit my mother one day. She always wanted a daughter, sadly she got me and my brother. She’d love you and the girls.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Polly smiled, “So what about you? What are you two going to do today?”

Will didn’t react, still deep in thought. His confession to Tom had slipped his mind with everything that happened after, but now he was reminded again. The way the busy streets made him uneasy, the way it smelled made him sit on edge and the way the walls of their tiny flat closed in on him. He wanted to go, go far away from here, but he couldn’t, not without a reason.

He sighed and looked up. It was only then that he noticed Tom and Polly's expectant faces. He blinked a few times and asked: “What?”

Polly rolled her eyes and Tom teased: “Dreamer.”

“Shut up, I was just thinking about-” Will cut himself off, but Tom knew what he meant.

Will turned to Polly and said: “I think mother wants me to look for a job, but I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know, Will?” Polly asked, concerned.

“I don’t know if I want to stay.” Will said quietly.

With a broken voice Polly asked: “Why? Why do you want to leave us again?”

“I don’t want to leave you, Pol.” Will said, equally broken, “I never said that I was going to leave you and the girls behind, but” he paused to think, “but I want to go to the countryside again, maybe leave mother here, just leave all these bad memories behind, you know. We could live with each other and the girls and they could get away from here, go to a place where they can run and play outside without someone there to drive them over. Don’t you want that?”

She floundered for a bit, before saying: “I don’t know, I really don’t know. You’re asking a lot here, Will. I have a life here and we can’t just leave mother behind.”

“You thought different about that one time.” Will shot back.

“Yeah, when I could afford to. Back with George, right now, I don’t know.” she said, “She was my back up here, when you were both gone. It was just us, for years.”

“Has she changed, has she changed at all.” Will asked, a bit aggressive, but he had to know.

Polly looked thorn and she said: “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” Will asked.

“I don’t know.” Polly answered again.

“Well what do you know?” Will yelled.

From the side Tom was following the conversation, he wanted to step in and help deescalate the fight, but it wasn’t his place and he didn’t know where to start and what they were talking about, not completely. Polly spat back: “I know that she was here, Will. Here. Where were you?”

Will looked like he had been hit by a train. He shut down, his eyes glazing over and his jaw setting. He answered coldly: “I was getting shot at in the hope of sending money home. Today I’m showing Blake London and I’ll see for myself if things have gotten better, since you can’t.”

Then he got up and pulled Tom with him. He pushed Tom out the door first, but before he shut the door behind him, he turned and said: “I still don’t want to leave you and I’ll keep my promise. Just think about it, okay?” then they were gone.

Will didn’t say anything and Tom decided it would be best to leave him on his own to get his thoughts and feelings in order. He did follow behind, while Will unknowingly went to his old hiding place he had used so many times in the past. There was field, more a small square, behind one of the factories in the district. A bunch of metal had been dumped there and left to rust, overall people left it alone, which was exactly why Will liked it so much.

When they got there he breathed in deeply. Then he grabbed a pole and threw it with all his might while letting out a scream. After that he dropped to his knees and started crying. Within seconds Tom was by his side, pulling him into a hug, while rocking the both of them back and forth. Slowly the sobs raking through his body stopped and he started to breathe normally again.

Tom maneuvered them into a more comfortable sitting position on the ground and waited until he was done with crying. After what seemed like an eternity Will hiccuped: “I’m sorry, you didn’t need to see that.”

“Hey, ho now, no need for that.” Tom said, wiping away the tears.

Will calmed some more and Tom asked: “Want to tell me what that was about?”

Will shook his head and said: “I’d rather not.”

Tom sighed then said: “Will, you got to let me in. You can’t bottle everything up forever, so please, talk to me.”

It was the please that broke him. He wiped away the fresh tears that had spilled before saying: “My mother, she- she isn’t a nice person, okay. She was strict and we could never really do anything without her say so. She hated my dad too, always fighting with him. She couldn’t even bring herself to cry at his funeral. She had wed him in the hope to get rich, but his business failed early on in their marriage.”

Now that he started he couldn’t stop it: “At first she took it all out on him, but later she also took it out on me and my sister. She was never beating us black and blue or something. She would yell, tell us she never wanted us and that we ruined her life, you know. My sister cared for me for most of my youth, because my mother didn’t want to.”

He took a deep breath, before continuing: “I was so happy when Polly found a husband, George was a good man, a commie, but a good man. Mother was not happy about it, but my dad had given them his blessing, she hated him even more after that. George wanted to leave town, they had these dreams of a house in a small village, where they’d run an inn together.”

He smiled softly at the memory and hugged his knees. He was leaning into Toms side, but he didn’t dare to look at him. So he went on: “Mother didn’t want them to go, especially after my dad died, she told them that I wasn’t fit to be head of the household and that George was supposed to do it, but we all suspected that she wanted George to stay, because he came from a well off family. There was this fight, my sister and I had planned to run away with George and the girls together, so I supported her in the fight, but it never came to pass. My mother had stolen the money we needed to get away. They had nothing, except Georges home and if George wanted to keep my sister in the house away from my mother, he had to enlist. And I had to stay behind with her. She hated my guts too, so I made myself scares after that. When George died, I knew Polly would have to go back, so I enlisted as well, but it wasn’t enough.”

Silent tears were still spilling over his cheeks. He breathed for a while until he gathered his bearing enough to proceed: “I didn’t want to visit my mother during the war, but Polly begged me to see her, she wanted to know that I was okay. So I went home during my leave. I wasn’t me, not anymore, especially not then. I scared them all more than anything. I was supposed to stay two weeks, my mother decided that was too long for me not to earn anything, so she send me out to find a temporary job. Polly protested and they fought, hard. That’s when I decided to go back early, which me and Polly fought about. She didn’t want me to go and I wanted to get away from there again. I told everyone who asked that I had been called back early.”

Then he was done, the story he was telling had been holding him together, but now that it was over he broke again. He was falling apart in Toms arms, but the soft, soothing voice that whispered sweet nothings in his ear held him together.

Once he had calmed down a bit again, Tom said: “We can leave right now. Just hop on a train and go.”

“I want Polly to come, her and the girls. I can’t leave them, I know how it felt.” Will said.

“Then we’ll stay, but promise that no matter what she says, we leave tomorrow.” Tom said, “I don’t want your mother anywhere near you, not if I can avoid it.”

Will looked at him with awe and asked: “How are you so perfect?”

“Because I have you.” Tom said and pecked him on the nose, “So do you promise?”

Will looked unsure, he said: “I don’t know, if I can, Tom. I have to be sure, she’s still my mother and if Polly doesn’t want to go I have to stay until she does. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. You say I have a big heart, but so do you. We’ll stay, but think about just going tomorrow, yeah?” Tom asked.

Will nodded and smiled: “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for.” Tom said, then he got up and went on: “I remember something about you showing me London?”

Will rolled his eyes, but allowed Tom to pull him to his feet. Then they went to the center of town and just goofed off in random stores, trying to find the most ridiculous item there. People looked at them strangely as they walked through town, but that only made them laugh harder.

It was near the end of the day when they got stopped by a man with a small notepad. He said: “Excuse me, but are you Lance Corporal Schofield?”

Confused Will answered: “Yes, who’s asking?”

“Harold, Harold Bishop. I’m with The Times and I wanted to ask you for a comment.” the man introduced himself.

Wills expression hardened and he curtly answered: “I have nothing to say.”

“Nothing about the treatment of our soldiers? The treatment of you?” Harold pressed on.

Will gave him a glare, he had a lot of opinions, but mostly he wanted to be left alone, so he said: “It’s a war. It’s naive to think no one would get hurt that I wouldn’t get hurt. I had my reasons and they are none of your business.”

Harold looked a bit shocked at the reaction, but sprung back into action when the two tried to walk away. He asked for just one quote about it, but Will ignored him. Tom saw they were attracting a crowd, he also saw that Will hated everyone right now. That’s why he turned to the man and said: “I think he said that it was none of your business.”

“And who are you?” Harold asked him.

“Lance Corporal Blake.” Tom answered.

Harold's eyes lit up and he asked: “Would you care to comment on the treatment of the soldiers.”

At first Tom also want to turn him away, but that wasn’t the objective right now, the objective was to leave the man without a story so that he would leave them alone. So Tom said: “I do, actually. I was stabbed, yet, two medics carried me for miles to an aid post where they saved my life. Like he said before, it’s a war, people get hurt, but everyone there is trying their hardest to get everyone home in one piece. So I’m going to ask you again to leave us alone. If you want to know so bad how we are treated you can enlist and walk into no mans land and see what happens.”

Harold was speechless. Tom gave him one last look, before grabbing Wills shoulder and pulling him away through the crowd that parted for them. They walked fast and silent until they were far enough away. When they were, Tom said: “That guy was an asshole.”

Will snorted and Tom went on: “Me on the other hand. I was pretty slick don’t ya think? Stopped that guy with just my words. Do you think I would do good in politics?”

Will raised an eyebrow at him and said: “You’re too kind, everyone would walk over you.”

“But you could protect me, right?” Tom said, “We’d be a team. I could do the talking, you’d be the common sense.”

With an eyeroll and a shove Will told Tom he was an idiot. Tom grinned, he knew he could be an idiot, but he made Will laugh and that was the final goal. Although it didn’t help much, because they had just turned into the street on which the Schofields lived and immediately Will quieted down.

Tom nudged him with his shoulder, wishing he could take the other mans hand. When Will looked at him, he said: “Hey, it’s going to be okay. And if they’re shit we leave and just roam the streets tonight until the stations open and we go in the morning. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time we didn’t sleep all night.”

Will smiled slightly as he thought back to many sleepless nights next to each other huddled in a trench while they got shelled and shot at, nothing to do except hope it would end and just talking to each other trying in vain to drown out the noise.

They were now in front of the door. The two shared a look, then Will squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.  Will pushed open the door and they entered the house.

Inside it was strangely peaceful. Mrs. Schofield was standing in the kitchen, while Polly was peeling potatoes and Jane and Mary ran around in the living room. The peace seemed to be broken by their return. The oldest of the women glared at them, while the other ignored them with hunched shoulders. The only ones that weren’t deterred by the strangeness of it all were the twins, who came bounding towards them. Jane yelled: “Uncle Will! We didn’t see you this morning, but that was okay, cause uncle Tom waved us off instead!”

Besides her Mary nodded enthusiastically. Will smiled down and asked with a smirk: “Uncle Tom?”

“Yeah,” Mary replied seriously then her sister continued her sentence, “he told us a cool story, so he is our uncle now.”

“That’s nice.” Will said, “How was school?”

“Boring.” Jane said instantly, but Mary answered: “I liked it. We did the table of seven and eight and after lunch we read in this book about a girl who got lost, but it was in this magical world and she met all sorts of weird companions like a lion and a scarecrow and I don’t know what happens next, because we’re going to read more next lesson.”

“That sounds very interesting, Mary. You’ll have to tell me what happens next when you find out, alright?” Will said.

Mary smiled and nodded happily. Then Will turned to the adults and asked: “How was your day mother?”

She pursed her lips and said: “Hopefully as productive as yours. Did you find a job yet?”

Wills muscles tensed up and he had never been more glad that he hadn’t unpacked yet, so that he and Tom could grab their stuff and leave if they needed to. He made eye contact with Tom who nodded and quietly moved closer to the room they shared. Will then answered: “I didn’t, we explored the center of town instead.”

Mrs. Schofields eyebrows shot up and she remarked: “Are you ever planning on making yourself useful or are you and your friend going to leech of us for forever?”

“No, we will go soon and leave you to your own again. Don’t worry.” Will answered, fighting to keep his voice level.

Sharply she said: “Where will you be going to then?”

“Back North, to Blakes home.” Will told her.

“And does his mother allow you to sit around like a useless lump.” Mrs. Schofield said with disdain in her voice.

Tom answered this one: “My mum allows any friend in her home for however long is needed, besides out in the field anyone could use some help. Especially now that most of the men are gone.”

Mrs. Schofield hummed, but didn’t comment. Instead she said: “Lets talk about this later, when the children are asleep.”

Will let out a little sigh of relief, this would give him time to think about how he was going to defend them, and replied: “Sure.”

Then they lapsed into silence, none of the Schofields were good at talking and today, after everything he had heard, Tom didn’t really feel like trying to make small talk with them, so he kept quiet and watched Will as he watched his nieces. There was a smile on his face, it was small but it was there, tugging on his lips and Tom silently hoped that Will would be able to keep on smiling forever.

The dinner was also silent, at the start Jane had tried to start up a conversation about the story she and Mary had come up with for their dolls, but when it became clear that none of the adults were going to listen, she huffed and ate her dinner in silence as well.

It was after they had tucked the two girls in that the played civility was thrown out of the window. Mrs. Schofield turned to Will and said: “What on earth is the meaning of this?”

Will decided to play dumb, so he asked: “About what? My tea?”

Tom had to bit on his cheek to stop the snort of laughter trying to escape. Mrs. Schofield was not as amused, she spat: “No, about you leaving. What are you thinking?”

Schofield scratched his head and said: “I’m thinking that the city is stressing me out and I have to go. I don’t want to be here and I think I am old enough to decide where I go. I wanted to leave before the war and you didn’t want me here then, so I thought you wouldn’t want me here now. I am going and you cannot stop me.”

She frowned and said: “I did not want you here and if you’re going to be like this you don’t deserve to be wanted here. If you are old enough to decide where you go, you are old enough to take some responsibility for your family. We can provide for ourselves now, but you need to help your family as well. So man up and get a job.”

“No.” Will answered, “I do not need to deserve to be wanted. I am leaving this city and going to the countryside. I won’t leave my family, because I will gladly take my sister and nieces with me. It’s just you I have a problem with and after everything I am not going to put up with you anymore.”

“I am not something you have to put up with, I am your mother.” Mrs. Schofield snapped back.

“Well then you should have fucking acted like one.” Will said, he was now committing to this. He didn’t want to stay here, his mother was still the same and now he had somewhere to go. He had wanted this since he was little and now he was going to do it, he hoped he could get his sister to join him and otherwise he would have to come back later for them. This was where he left and it felt exhilarating.

“I don’t want you in my house if you go.” Mrs. Schofield said.

“Then I’ll leave now.” Will retorted.

“You’re a coward.” Mrs. Schofield told him.

Will threw up his hands and said: “I don’t care. What do you even want from me? You don’t like me, why do you care if I go. You managed fine while I was gone, you don’t need me and I am happy to be gone.”

“You’re happy to turn you back on us.” Mrs. Schofield snarled.

“No, happy to turn my back on you.” Will told her carefully.

“You should have died in those trenches. You spineless fool.” she spat at him.

“I did die in those trenches, we all did. I’m not a spineless fool, I’m a fool who signed up for a useless war and I’m a fool who decided to come back here when I clearly should have stayed gone. I am leaving this place, I don’t care if it’s now or tomorrow, but I am gone.” Will all but roared back at her.

Tom decided that this was his time to move, so he pulled Polly from where she had been frozen next to him and took her to her room. He said: “Have you decided if you want to come with us, because if you do I suggest you start packing now. I can help if you want, but we have to move.”

Polly looked at him with wide eyes. She said: “I don’t know what to do.”

Before Tom could answer two girls sprung into their mothers arms and Jane said: “We’re scared, mommy. She’s yelling like before and we don’t like it. We always have to be quiet and she yells at us when you’re not here and that’s scary. She’s scary.”

Both were crying and Polly tried to soothe them, while she did that she locked eyes with Tom and said: “Lets start packing, quickly.”

On the other side of the door the argument was raging on. Mrs. Schofield yelled: “You’re as useless of a man as your father was. Always were a coward.”

Will seethed: “My father was a good man, the only thing he did wrong was staying silent and listening to you. I am not going to do that, not anymore.”

Will had been silent for most of his life. He had been silent when his mother spat insults as easy as she breathed when he was a child, he had been silent when his father died, he had been silent while the shells fell all around him, he had been silent while his fellow soldiers screamed in agony, he had been silent until he had met Tom and now he wasn’t going to be silent again.

“Are you hearing yourself? You’re hiding behind doing the right thing, but in reality you’re just scared. Just face that fact instead of hiding behind a war.” she yelled.

“I’m not fucking hiding!” Will screamed, “I came here and I faced you. I hoped you changed and I was willing to give you a fucking chance, but you’re the same. A greedy witch who doesn’t deserve a family.”

“If you leave you will never see any of your inheritance. Not one penny.” Mrs. Schofield countered.

“And you won’t see any more money from me. You’re going to die, alone and no one is going to care, because you made sure you aren’t a person people care about. I’m going to walk away whether you like it or not and I’m not going to regret stepping out that door, but you are.” Will said with a cold voice.

From the corner of his eyes he saw Tom with Jane on his back, bags in hand, next to him Polly also carrying some bags and a scared Mary on her hip. The two small girls were crying, but Polly looked determined. They were standing by the door, ready to go, so instead of waiting for his mother to reply he turned away and left, ushering Polly out the door before allowing himself the satisfaction of slamming it shut.

The small group hurried down the street before they granted themselves a second to breathe. Will turned to Polly and said: “You came.”

She smiled watery at him and said: “I did.”

Will slumped into himself and swayed forward. Without any hands free, Tom stepped in front of him to catch him once he toppled over. For a second he allowed himself to rest his head on Toms chest. Neither man saw Polly’s look.

Then he straightened himself up and said: “I did it. I wasn’t silent.”

“I saw. Finally used all those banter skills I trained you with.” Tom teased with a smile.

“Asshole.” Will said, but a smile played over his lips. He then turned to Polly and asked: “What made you decide to come?”

“My girls, they were so scared of her and I know what it’s like to be scared of her and I don’t want that for them.” she answered.

“I’m glad you did.” Will whispered, afraid that if he said the words too loud they might float away and disappear into the sky.

“I’m glad I did too.” she whispered back. Then she looked over the empty dark street and to the girls, who had fallen asleep after all the crying, and asked: “So what is the plan now?”

Will shrugged, the plan had been to stay awake all night, just walking around, but with two children and a woman not used to that sort of thing with them the plans had changed. Luckily Tom knew what to do: “We’re going to the station and we’re going to sit on a bench. You and the girls are going to sleep, while me and Will keep watch. The station opens at seven o’clock, so we’ll leave then. We won’t have to wait for long until we can leave.”

“Outside? All night?” Polly asked with a concerned frown.

“We have blankets in our stuff.” Will said, “You can use them. We’re pretty used to this kind of thing, so we’ll manage. I know it sucks, but tomorrow it’s over.”

Polly sighed, she had made her choice and there was no going back. So she allowed Will to take Mary from her and let herself be led to the train station. There was indeed a bench and she was parked in the middle of it, flanked by Will and Tom, who each held a girl in their lap. Their bags were set down by their feet and blankets were spread out over them.

Sitting up, Polly found she couldn’t sleep. She looked at her brother, who was watching the world around them with a calculating gaze. She turned to Tom, who was slouching a bit, but his eyes just as attentive. She didn’t want to think about what they could have seen that turned them into these alert beings. Tom caught her looking, but misinterpreted her gaze.

He said: “Don’t worry, we’ll watch over you. You know this one time we were on watch from twelve to three, but the guys who were supposed to release us never showed, turns out they had died in the surprise attack that afternoon and no one had bothered to find a replacement for them. So we’re sitting there and they don’t show and we’re not allowed to leave our post. It becomes clear that they’re not going to relieve us and I get ready for even more boring tired hours, but then Scho here nudges me and he has a pack of cards. Now I tell him we’re not allowed to have distractions while on watch, but then he looks at me and with a smirk he tells me that we’re technically not on watch anymore and that they should be glad we’re even there. That night we stayed up playing cards until the six o’clock watch came. We were never caught with our cards.”

Will leaned forward so that he could look at Tom and said: “That’s his long way of saying that it’s alright. We’ll keep watch.”

Polly smiled: “Thanks, but that’s not what’s keeping me awake right now.”

Concerned Will asked: “Then what is?”

“Is it true?” she asked.

Both boy frowned in confusion, so she elaborated: “What you said to mother, about having to go because the city is too stressful.”

Will cringed, which was answer enough, but he still said: “Yes, it’s the noise. The cars sound German planes flying overhead, the people like the shouting of Germans while they attacked and I can feel this boys throat under my fingers when I hear the fire of the factories crackle.”

He had gotten a distant look in his eyes as he thought back to what happened, he didn’t even realize what he had confessed until Polly said: “You strangled someone.”

She didn’t sound accusingly, but Will looked down guiltily anyway and said: “I was on a mission. There was a German soldier, I had to get past him, I tried to be peaceful. I told him to be quiet after I’d pinned him to a wall, but he started yelling when I removed my hand. There was a fight, I lost my rifle and knife. He died still trying knock me out.”

“Was it worth it?” she asked softly.

“Depends on how you define worth it. The mission saved 1600 British men, but I still see his face in my nightmares.” Will replied, equally soft.

Tom now recognized the story as their mission of April 6th, he placed it as probably Écoust. Will hadn’t told him how they found him when he was trying to get away from the town after he had met the woman, but he bet that this was the guy. He himself thought it was worth it, the killing of this man saved Wills life and with that also Joe's life and the rest of the Devons, in his book that was a good thing. Polly still looked conflicted, but she didn’t comment any further. Tom didn’t blame her, she hadn’t seen war, she couldn’t know how small a moment between life and death could be.

After that she tried to make herself comfortable on the bench. She curled up in Wills side and laid her head on his shoulder, but she couldn’t fall asleep. She looked at Will and said: “Remember when we were little and I used to tell you that rhyme until you fell asleep when you had a nightmare?”

Will nodded and she asked: “Could you tell me the rhyme, just so I don’t have to focus on my thoughts?”

“Of course.” Will said, and in a soft voice he started reciting:

“They went to the sea in a sieve, they did,

In a sieve they went to sea:

In spite of all their friends could say,

On a winter’s morn, on a stormy day,

In a sieve they went to sea!

And when the sieve turned round and round,

And every one cried. ‘You’ll all be drowned!

They called aloud, ‘Our sieve ain’t big,

But we don’t care a button! We don’t care a fig!

In a sieve we’ll go to sea!’

Far and few, far and few,

are the lands where the Jumbles live;

Their heads are green and their hands are blue,

and they went to sea in a sieve”

By the time he came to the end Polly was asleep, breathing even and calm, her head sagging down. Tom and Will said silently for a few minutes, until Polly’s sleep was so deep, she wouldn’t be woken by their voices. Only then did Tom dare to ask: “How are you feeling?”

Will rubbed his face and answered: “I honestly don’t really know. I thought I would feel happy and elated that I managed to leave, especially with Polly and the girls, but I don’t know. I feel empty, I guess, tired and a bit done.”

Tom nodded and said: “If it helps, I’m proud of you for going.”

He reached over Polly to take Wills hand and squeezed it for a second. He felt Will squeeze back and the other said: “Thank you. You know I never asked if your mum minded me coming over again.”

Tom shrugged and said: “My mum would take in anyone. She wanted to have a five kids at least, but then my dad died and she never loved again, but she would want this. She already loves you, sometimes I think more than me. It’s gonna be fine.”

Will blushed and said: “She doesn’t love me more.”

“Yeah, she does. She told me that you were precious and that I should look out for you. She only told me and my brother that about the other. And according to Joe, she used to say it about dad. Also she gave you her homemade hot chocolate and that’s a secret Blake recipe.” Tom said and grinned, “Sorry, Scho, but you’re a stayer.”

Will wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. Mrs. Blake was the sweetest woman he ever had the pleasure of meeting and he desperately wanted her approval, so the fact that she liked him was enough to make him smile like an idiot.

“What are we going to do, though?” Will asked, “Me and Polly can’t stay at your house forever, people will talk and we do need a job, or at least I do, to help your mum and thank her for everything. But I don’t know what I can do with this useless arm.”

“Calm down. It won’t help if you worry yourself into a grave.” Tom said.

“How can you be calm right now?” Will asked.

Tom said: “I’ve always seen the future as bright. We made it out and got discharged, we’re going to my mum and a town where everyone who could help in a field has gone and harvest season is coming up. We can help, you can help, even with one hand. We might even get your sister that inn she always wanted and people won’t talk, really. We just have to be careful.”

Will shook his head. Of course, people would talk if he and his sister stayed at the Blake house for the rest of their lives. It wasn’t normal and people would notice, but if Tom believed then maybe he could too. Just so everything wouldn’t be so bleak. He said: “We will.”

Will could feel the silence nag on him, he didn’t want it to be quiet, because then his thoughts would be able to take over, but he also didn’t feel like talking. It was as if Tom could read him like an open book because he said: “Did you hear about Russel and the barrel?”

Will shook his head and prepared himself to listen. Tom smiled and started: “Well, Russel hated doing a food run, but he had pissed off Sargent Sanders so he had to. He was grumbling about it when someone, I reckon it was Atkins he is one rascal, gave him the bright idea to hide. Russel hears this and finds this an amazing idea. He decides to hide in a barrel, but he doesn’t do that the smart way.”

Will smirked and asked: “Is there a dumb way then?”

Tom nodded enthusiastically and said: “Course there is. Instead of standing in it and crouching, like a sane person would do, he just sits on it and allows himself to sink down. Problem with that is that you can still see his feet and hands, Russel is quite a tall fellow and those barrels aren’t that big, but also you can’t get out. He got stuck.”

Will snorted quietly, careful not to jostle Mary in his arms or Polly on his shoulder. Tom grinned and went on: “But that’s not the end. Because Sargent Sanders finds out Russel is hiding from him and didn’t do as he was told. So now is Russel not only stuck, but also in deep trouble. It takes a while, but Sargent Sanders find him and, man, is he mad. So he starts yelling and Russel, telling him that he’s as useful as a cowshit, no, that cowshit is more useful, because that at least fertilizes the fields. Meanwhile Russel is trying to defend himself, but his voice sounds all funny since he’s still stuck in the barrel. Sargent then realized Russel is stuck, so he kicks the barrel and it falls, Russel still in it. Then he starts to roll the barrel and you know how Russel can get on trucks and carriages, yeah?”

Will nodded, he has seen Russel on a truck, sadly he was sitting next to the man when everything had gone wrong. He grimaced at the memory and continues to listen to Tom: “So Russel vomits all over himself as the Sargent is rolling him towards the edge of camp. Then he says ‘I’ll come for you tomorrow, keep watch’ and walks away. Russel spend the entire night in that barrel with the vomit, just watching the tree line at the West.”

“Are you serious?” Will asked.

Tom nodded: “Yeah, Scott told me when we were cleaning the Mess together. He witnessed the entire thing. Says they had to break the barrel to get Russel out.”

“Unbelievable.” Will said, with a head shake.

“I know right.” Tom answered.

The mood had brightened significantly and the two fell into comfortable conversation along with equally comfortable silences, alternating each other. As the night progressed there is less conversation and more silence. By the time the sun starts rising and the first people start their days both boys are nearly falling over from exhaustion.

Will decided to wake Polly up, before too many people could see her asleep on the bench and judge them. She blinked groggily and said: “Ugh, my neck.”

Tom and Will laughed, effectively shaking enough to wake Jane and Mary. Mary looked around with a confused look and Jane asked: “Why are we here?”

Polly answered: “We’re here to catch a train. We’re going on an adventure.”

“Really?” the two asked in unison.

Polly nodded then she stretched and yawned. Instantly the two men copied her. Will blinked tiredly and Tom stated: “I’m going to sleep so hard on the train.”

Will mumbled his agreement and Polly looked guiltily, the two had stayed awake to watch over her and her children. She apologized, but Will told her it was okay and that he was going to buy them some breakfast. Then he left her and Tom on the bench with Jane and Mary to pack up the blankets.

She looked at Tom and asked: “How was the night?”

He gave her a smile and said: “I was alright. Me and Scho just talked for most of it, reminded me of the war a bit, which was nice.”

“Nice?” she asked.

Tom shrugged: “Most of it was horrible, but sometime we would have nothing better to do except sit around and wait. I never realized how much of war was just sitting and waiting, but it’s boring. So we would sit next to this tree, it was our tree because we always sat there, anyway, we would sit against our tree and talk or play cards. Well, I would do most of the talking, but Scho would throw in a comment here and there and after a while he told me a bit about himself. Like that he came from London and that he was the youngest sibling. Didn’t pin him for that, so that was kind of a surprise, but it was nice you know.”

Polly could get that the talking had been nice between all the violence, but she couldn’t understand how it was nice when they also could have slept for the entire night. Then again, she didn’t wake up in sweat, panting over ghosts that haunted her. Polly just nodded and pretended to understand. Luckily Will came back with a bit of bread, which they ate before heading to the station and buying five tickets up North.

In the train Tom and Will fell asleep immediately. They were sat next to each other and in their sleep Will rested his head on Toms shoulder, while Tom rested his on the top Wills head. Polly gave them a bemused look, but she couldn’t delve to deep into the touch, because Jane had just stated that it was boring that the two had fallen asleep and that sleeping was for the night. So Polly had to stop her from waking them up.

They were almost near Toms hometown when Wills brow furrowed. The furrowing of his brow was soon followed by the tightening of his lips and then by the grinding of his teeth and the twitching of his fingers. It was only because Polly was watching him that she noticed this and she was just wondering why her brother was tensing up in his sleep when his eyes shot open and he gasped for air.

By shooting up, he hit Tom, who was now also awake and looking around dazedly. He rubbed his cheek and tried to find what had woken him up when he saw Will. The man had his eyes shut tightly and his chest was heaving, but still he wasn’t breathing. Within seconds Tom was also on the ground and by Wills side. He grabbed the sides of Wills head and said: “Scho, Scho, Will! Listen to me, it’s not real, whatever you’re seeing it’s not real. You need to breathe for me, Will, or you’re going to pass out.”

Polly didn’t know what was happening, one second ago her companions had been sleeping peacefully while Jane and Mary were pointing out things that rushed by and now there was a panicking Will that Tom was desperately trying to calm down. Jane and Mary had buried themselves into her sides as they watched their uncle with wide eyes. Polly did the only thing she could and held them as close as she could while she prayed Will would be back to normal soon.

Tom was still trying to soothe Will and wiling him to breathe. He had taken Wills hand and put it on his chest while was breathing in deeply. His other hand still holding Wills face. He asked: “Can you open your eyes, please. Will, open them for me.”

“I can’t.” Will choked out.

“Why not?” Tom asked, glad he had finally made a connection with the other.

“Dust.” Will cried, “Can’t breathe.”

A penny dropped in Toms mind and he started saying: “Yes you can breathe, there’s no dust. You aren’t in those tunnels, you’re in the train. You’re in England. There are NO collapsing tunnels, just me and you with a lot of air that you can breathe. You’re not in the tunnels, you’re here. Just open your eyes and you can see it for yourself.”

Wills breathing steadied a bit and he managed to open one eye. When he saw Tom, Tom did his best to smile at him and pointed at the blue sky outside the train window. As Will saw that his breathing calmed down even more and he repeated to himself: “Not in the tunnels.”

Tom nodded and agreed: “Jup, just in plain old England.”

Will sagged and Tom caught him and hefted Will back onto the train seat. He would much rather hug Will close and card his hands through the dark blond curls while he whispered soothingly into his ear, but that would be too dangerous in this public place with his sister nearby. So he had to settle on making Will comfortable against the side of the train carriage.

When he was done with that he turned to Polly and the twins and smiled reassuringly. Jane tentatively asked: “Is uncle Will alright?”

Tom nodded and said: “He is, just got scared and needed to be reminded where he was.”

“Why did he forget?” Jane asked.

“Sometimes when you sleep, you see memories and when you wake up, you sometimes don’t realize that you aren’t in your memory.” Tom explained, Jane still looked confused, so Tom decided to try something else, “Have you ever fallen asleep in class and when you woke up, you thought you were in your bed at home, because that it where you usually sleep?”

Jane nodded and Tom said: “Well, it’s kind of like that. You understand.”

“I understand.” Jane said.

“Good.”

Polly said: “I think, uncle Will, would like a bit of water when he wakes up again. Could you two maybe see if you can find any?”

The two girls nodded eagerly, happy to help and ran off without a fuss. Once they were gone Polly turned to Tom and worriedly asked: “What the hell just happened?”

Tom sighed sadly and said: “We saw a lot, back in France. Sometimes when we sleep we dream about things that happened, bad things, if you wake up from it, it’s sometimes really hard to snap out of it. Will gets hem more often than me and it sucks every time, but there isn’t much we can do about them.”

Polly gasped: “That’s terrible. What did he remember?”

Tom debated if he should tell her, then decided that it would be best if he did now so that she wouldn’t make Will relive it again when he woke up. He said: “During that mission we were on together. We had to go through the German tunnels. It was a trap, they had destroyed the trenches so we would take that route and than they laid down a tripwire with explosives. It went off and Scho ended up under the rubble. I pulled him out and started running while everything was collapsing around us. Scho couldn’t see a thing, dust in his eyes, he also couldn’t breathe properly. Must have been scary, hearing everything fall, but not being able to see and having to trust that I was pulling him out of there and that I wouldn’t leave him in there to save myself.”

Polly had gotten a bit white as Tom told her about their near miss at the start of their journey. He knew Will had faced a lot afterwards, but Tom also still dreamed about it and he couldn’t imagine what that must have been like for Will.

It seemed that Polly didn’t know what to say, so Tom told her: “He doesn’t want to talk about it, no one does. If I were you, I’d leave it alone. I know you’re curious, but I don’t think you want to hear.”

They were then interrupted by Jane and Mary, who had gotten hold of a cup of water and were proudly showing it to the adults. Tom took it with a thank you and sat back down next to Will. He softly shook his shoulder and after a few shakes the other woke up. Tom offered him the water and Will took small sips as Tom said; “Hey, there. Welcome back. How are you?”

Will took another sip and gave him a thumbs-up, not in the mood to talk. Tom nodded and said: “That’s good. We’re almost at the station and then just a small walk home. Think you can handle that?”

Will put down the empty cup and nodded. “Great.” Tom said, “Maybe mum will have baked cherry pie. She always does after the harvest, she didn’t get to do it before we left, but maybe she did now. Wouldn’t that be nice. A slice of pie and then to bed.”

As Tom talked the color returned to Wills face and by the end of it he had a small smile on his face. He now also noticed the others and ducked his head in embarrassment. Jane noticed and gave him a hug as she told him: “I will carry your bag, uncle Will. Don’t worry. Those memories won’t get you, just like school.”

Will frowned confused and Tom let out a small laugh. Mary was now also hugging Will and said: “I’ll help too.”

“Well, aren’t you two little helpful and loving ladies.” Tom proclaimed.

Jane and Mary beamed at him and let go of Will. Then the train rolled into the station and everyone was distracted by gathering their stuff. Will still was a bit unstable as he stood, so Tom handed him the lightest bag. Will noticed and gave him a glare, but didn’t argue.

Polly and Tom took the rest of the bags and when they were on the platform, Jane and Mary demanded that Will gave them the bag, so in the end he was carrying nothing, which Tom was grateful for. He knew how exhausted those attacks could leave you and he didn’t want to strain Will too much after that episode, especially when they had slept so little.

As they walked home Jane and Mary took great joy in pointing out things like the small windmill, the grain fields and the church. Polly was also just breathing in the fresh air and smiling. She had always wanted to visit the countryside and now she was here, with her brother and her kids, the only thing missing was her husband, but she could feel his spirit with her.

Tom and Will were just concentrating on setting one foot in front of the other. Both of them were tired and if they weren’t used to walking while dead on their feet, they would have collapsed a while back.

In the end they did get there. Tom surprised Mrs. Blake a lot when he threw open the door and yelled: “I’m home and I brought company!” without realizing she had been in the hallway by the front door.

Once the initial shock was over she flew around his neck and hugged him close. Then she let go to hug Will just as tightly and she said: “It’s so good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Blake.” he answered with a tired smile.

“And who are the other guests?” she asked, while turning to Polly. She introduced herself as Polly did the same with her and the kids, who had hidden themselves behind her skirt.

Tom quickly explained: “We kinda ran and I am going to explain that better, but me and Scho stayed up for the entire night so we’re going to take a nap and when we wake up I’m going to explain this properly. I promise. Sorry that we barged in.”

Mrs. Blake didn’t mind. She said: “If they’re friend, they’re welcome. Besides, I just baked a cherry pie and these two little misses look like they could eat a slice, isn’t that right?”

Jane and Mary smiled shyly before nodding. They, along with Polly, followed Mrs. Blake into the house while Tom and Will went upstairs to sleep for a few hours. When they got into the bedroom Tom noticed that they had forgotten to separate the beds again, he also noticed that the sheets were different, which meant his mum had seen the beds. He blushed and hoped Will wouldn’t notice. He didn’t, instead just collapsing on the bed and toeing off his shoes, before immediately falling asleep. Tom shrugged and joined, letting the darkness take him as well.

Meanwhile downstairs Jane and Mary had eaten their slices of cherry pie and had gotten permission to explore the backyard, which they eagerly did. Mrs. Blake and Polly were still sitting in the kitchen with their tea and Polly apologized again: “I’m so sorry for the intrusion, we don’t want to be a bother. We can go to an inn or pay you for our stay.”

“Don’t even think about it, if you feel that guilty you can help around the house, but I would never ask you to pay.” Mrs. Blake answered.

“Are you sure?” Polly asked one last time.

“Yes, I’m sure. Will and his family are more than welcome here and I am sure you have a reason for the sudden arrival.” she said.

Polly nodded and explained: “Our mother wasn’t all to keen on Wills behavior when he got back. We both have always wanted to go and I guess the war or Tom finally gave him the confidence to stand up to her. She threw him out after that and I decided to go with him, instead of staying behind with her.”

“Oh, my poor dear.” Mrs. Blake said, “That must have been a horrible experience, I’m glad my Tom was there to take you here.”

“Yeah, he’s been a real help and it’s nice to see that Will finally has a friend.” Polly agreed.

Mrs. Blake nodded, then she said: “They are quite close, aren’t they.”

Polly sighed in relief and asked: “So you noticed as well? I mean, I don’t want to assume things, but they’re never too far away from the other.”

“No, they stay close.” Mrs. Blake replied.

“Is that going to be a problem for you?” Polly asked, “Because I’m willing to talk to him if it is, we wouldn’t want to overstep any boundaries after you’ve so kindly taken us in.”

“It isn’t a problem at all. Will gave me my Tom back.” Mrs. Blake elaborated, “He was so quiet when he came back, lost the liveliness he had always had and had all those nightmares. His stories that he always loved weren’t as well received and he turned into himself, but then he got that letter from Will and he was in a right state. All bustling about and telling me about his friend and how he should come and visit, because he didn’t want to go home yet and needed some space and we had space. Then when Will arrived he was such a gentleman and soon Tom didn’t have nightmares anymore.”

“I can’t imagine Tom being quiet, if I’m being honest.” Polly said, then she asked: “When did you figure it out?”

“I’m afraid that I only started thinking more closely about it when they had left. Here let me show you.” Mrs. Blake said and she got up.

Polly followed her up the stairs to one of the rooms at the start of the hall, the door hadn’t been closed yet and she could see Will and Tom on a bed. Upon closer inspection she saw that is were two beds, pushed together. Will was on the right, lying on his back. Beside him lay Tom, he was also sprawled on his bed, but he had his right arm tucked under his head and he was looking towards Will, even with his eyes close.

They were about to leave again when Will scrunched up his nose and started to move. Both women held their breaths and watched as Will rolled over in his sleep. He rolled to the left and ended up with his arm thrown over Tom and his head neatly slotting into the space on Toms chest under his chin. The arm that had been tucked under Toms head moved once Will had settled in. It came down to give Will a side hug. Their legs were now also getting tangled together and both sighed a bit in their sleep, before lying completely still again as if nothing had happened.

Mrs. Blake smiled and quietly closed the door and the two walked downstairs. When they were on the bottom of the steps she turned to Polly and asked: “So, when did you start looking more closely?”

Polly thought about it for a second, then she said: “I think I started looking right after we left home last evening. Will was swaying a bit on his feet after the fight with our mother, Tom had his hands full, but he still caught Will with his chest, letting him rest there for a second before we moved on. It was confirmed when Will had a nightmare on the train. Tom was there to calm him down, luckily. I wouldn’t have known what to do. He was so tender as he did. Made me think of my husband, you know.”

“Is your husband still away at the war?” Mrs. Blake asked.

Polly shook her head sadly: “No, he died back in 1914. They said he died as a hero, I got a medal send home.”

“Oh, you poor dear.” Mrs. Blake said as she pulled Polly into a hug. Polly leaned into it gratefully, she could understand why Will wanted to go back to this place, this comfort and this warmth.

After that they talked, well, Mrs. Blake talked for most of the time while Polly made little comments and listened. They didn’t wake the boys up for the lunch, which Jane complained about a lot, but Mary nodded silently and said that she understood. The two girls loved that they could run outside and the trees, the two blabbered on and on about until they were allowed to go out again. Mrs. Blake and Polly then set up everything for the night. The Blakes had a big house, so there was room enough for the small family in the guest room, where there were two beds, one single and one queen. Polly decided that the twins could share one and thanked Mrs. Blake again.

Only when dinner was ready were the two soldiers woken up. Polly decided that it would be best if they didn’t know she had seen their sleeping arrangement, so she just knocked at the door and yelled: “Make yourself decent. Dinner is ready.”

Inside the room Will and Tom slowly came to their senses, they had slept quite well and the bone deep exhaustion now was replaced by contend sleepiness. Tom was the first to wake properly and he smiled when he saw Will frown and burrow farther into his chest as he groaned about a few more minutes. Tom ran a hand through his curls and said: “We need to go downstairs, love. We don’t want them to come investigate what’s taking us so long.”

Will opened one bleary eye and whined: “Why.”

Tom poked him and rolled him off his chest. “Because, love,” Tom answered, “that’ll be a bit compromising. So go on, up you get.”

He pulled Will up by his hand and smiled at the small yawn. Will looked around the room and blinked slowly a few more time, his brain seemed to catch up with everything and he sighed as he stood up. Both boys checked themselves over. They were still clothed, so they didn’t have to worry about that and they decided that shoes weren’t necessary for dinner, so they made their way downstairs.

They had just started dinner when Tom said: “So, I should probably explain why we just showed up, uhm, just all together. Like, so soon.”

“You don’t have to explain, dear.” Mrs. Blake said, “Polly and I talked, she explained the whole thing, I’m glad you’re all okay and here.”

“Oh, good.” Tom said, he hadn’t really thought about what he was going to say to his mother, but the fact that he didn’t have to surprised him a bit, he gathered up his thoughts and asked: “So, what did all of you do while we were out?”

Jane perked up immediately: “Me and Mary played outside, you have trees and it’s amazing, so we pretended to be princesses of the forest and there was a dog, Mrs. Blake says her name is Myrtle, and she was lovely, so we petted her. Then there was lunch and we weren’t allowed to wake up two up, which was boring, but that was because you two were tired and Mary understood that, I didn’t, but I suppose Mary is right, probably. After that we played outside with the dolls, they’re now on holiday and they’re think about moving to the countryside together.”

Tom nodded, bit confused by the wordvomit that was thrown on him, but Will just laughed, he had gotten used to hearing rambling he couldn’t really follow when he befriended Tom. Mrs. Blake knew what to say: “Really, on holiday? Where are your dolls from then, dear?”

Jane bounced a bit in her seat when she realized there now was an adult that wanted to listen to her stories, so the rest of the dinner was filled by her excited chatter. Tom let his gaze glide over the table and rested his eyes on Will, who was smiling softly at his niece. It suddenly hit Tom that he hadn’t seen Will this relaxed since before he got the letter from his mother. Will felt him looking and met his eyes, when he saw the loving look Tom gave him, he smiled back and blushed, before ducking his head and refocusing on his plate.

After dinner Polly put the girls to bed, deciding that that had been enough excitement for the day, while Tom and Will did the dishes. Will washed, slowly and careful not to break anything, and Tom dried and put everything away. As Tom was putting away a plate he asked: “What are we going to do now? We got our whole lives ahead of us, but what do we want to do with it?”

Will furrowed his brow as he mulled over the question. After a few seconds had passed he said: “I thought we could look for job, earn some money to help around the house. I hope I can eventually afford to give Polly her dream and maybe have a small house in the woods or in the village.” he took a breath and glanced around, “Maybe share that with you, if you’ll have me.”

Tom beamed at the words and looked around quickly before throwing his arms around Will. He pressed a quick kiss to Wills cheek and said: “That sounds like the best plan. I’d love to share a small home with you.”

“One day.” Will said, “We have a lot to do before we can get there.”

Tom rolled his eyes, but agreed: “One day.”

Then they heard a noise, so Tom quickly let go and went back to the drying. Not a moment later Mrs. Blake entered the kitchen, she smiled at the duo and started helping putting the dishes away. When they were done with the dishes, Mrs. Blake shooed them to the living room and started making tea.

Will and Tom took the couch, where Myrtle also joined them, while Polly and Mrs. Blake both sat in one of the big chairs. They quietly sipped their tea for a few moments, then Polly said: “The girls are out like lights, seems all the new experiences and the excitement made them tired.”

“I’m glad they like it here.” Mrs. Blake smiled, then she went on, “It seems like only yesterday that Tom and Joe were that small, but now they’re both all grown up.”

“Mum.” Tom said in a warning tone, but Mrs. Blake went on: “When they were little they used to run around the orchard and pretend to be explorers of the jungle. It was always so cute. This one time Tom here climbed into a tree, pretending to follow an unique animal.”

Toms eyes got big and he started to stop his mum, but she went on happily: “And he got stuck up there, he knew how he had gotten in, but not how he would get out.” Tom groaned and Will couldn’t help, but chuckle a bit at his misfortune, “Luckily Joe was there to help him, always so thoughtful and kind, always wanting to help.”

Mrs. Blake got tears in her eyes and Polly put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Tom sighed and said: “I’m sure, he’s okay, mum. You know, Joe, he’s always fine, I promise. He’s going to come home alive, I’m sure of it.”

Will kept himself away from the conversation, he knew he wasn’t the most eloquent with emotions. Although he shut his eyes softly at Toms words, he knew the younger man couldn’t make that promise. The war was an ugly thing that only took and never gave. Joe might be a good fighting man with the will to survive, but that may not be enough. Tom always did believe though, he believed in the good they did, in their survival, their future, but it almost wasn’t enough, he almost died in Wills arms and Joe, Joe could die as well. That was the reality, the reality no one ever really wanted to face.

Mrs. Blake calmed down a bit and wiped away the tears, she apologized for her sudden outburst, but Polly quickly said: “Don’t apologize, it’s hard to miss someone like this, with all the uncertainties and unknowns. I get it, but you just have to trust in the other. They do what they have to do and they’re trying their hardest to come home, all we can do is wait for them.”

“Aren’t you a wise one, dear.” Mrs. Blake smiled.

Meanwhile it was suddenly hitting Will that Polly had also been through a lot while he was fighting in France. She had been alone, with just their mother for comfort when the word of Georges death reached her and Will had gone there too. He had gone to the place her husband died and he had rarely written her, leaving her without reassurance that he was still alive, that he hadn’t been taken by the war like George had.

Mrs. Blake excused herself: “I think I’m going to turn in for tonight. I’m quite tired.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Blake.”

“Goodnight, mum.”

“Yeah, goodnight. Mrs. Blake.” Will checked back into the world.

“Goodnight, don’t stay up too late.” Mrs. Blake said, before disappearing up the stairs.

Will was still turning Polly's words over in his head, so after it had been quiet for a few seconds he said: “Hey, Pol, I’m sorry for not writing you more.”

She looked startled for a moment, then she asked: “Why do you that all of a sudden?”

Will shrugged: “Just never realized- with all of my own stuff that you’ve probably also been scared all by yourself, just here.”

Great that was just great, very well said Will, Will thought to himself. Luckily this was Polly and she knew what he meant. “I know,” she said, “but it’s not just you. I mean, I don’t know what you’re life has been like these past years, so I guess we’re even on that front.”

Will chuckled, but didn’t verbally respond, Tom did. He said: “I can help you with that, ask away.”

Polly raised her eyebrows, but didn’t argue, instead taking him up on the offer: “Well, let’s see. What did you eat?”

“All sorts of things, really. Mostly meat and vegetables.” Tom answered, “Stuff like tinned corned beef was pretty popular, but we also had mutton broth and potato pie from time to time. Most of it was disgusting”

Polly nodded: “And did you sleep in the tents?”

“No,” Tom shook his head, “I did at first, but they stank, so when Scho told me he just slept outside and it was fine I did as well.”

“And it really wasn’t uncomfortable?” Polly asked.

“Of course it was, but there’s not a lot of other options.” Tom shrugged.

Will piped in: “It wasn’t that bad, Tom just likes to overreact.”

“Not true.” Tom huffed.

Will raised an eyebrow, not gracing him with an answer. Tom turned to Polly and said: “I’m not overreacting, everything was at least mildly uncomfortable, but maybe it was all that bad. Everything was just damp from the dew and cold.”

“At the end it wasn’t, waking up with the sun was kind of nice.” Will argued.

“Yeah, that was indeed pretty nice,” Tom agreed, then he got a smirk on his face and said: “but I distinctly remember you complaining for a few more minutes every time I tried to get you up.”

Polly laughed: “At least that hasn’t changed.”

Tom got a glint in his eyes and Will felt where this was going, but he was too late to stop the question from tumbling out of Toms lips: “What was Scho like when he was younger? Beside the quietness. Did he do dumb shit? He must have, right?”

As an older sibling, Polly immediately sensed the opportunity to embarrass Will. She got a matching glint in her eyes and answered: “Well, he was a quiet kid, I think he read the entire library by the time he stopped going to school.”

“Wait, you didn’t finish school?” Tom asked.

Will shrugged: “My dad got sick, so we needed the extra money, now can we please not do this. Polly, I’m begging you.”

“Hmm, let me think about it.” Polly didn’t even pretend to think, “Nope. Anyway, he read a lot of books and he also read Dracula, do you know it?”

Tom nodded as Will groaned, only encouraging Polly to go on: “So little Will read this book and thought it was real. God, he was so scared that they were coming to get him, when he was done he hid in my bed for three nights in a row, it was adorable.”

“Are you serious?” Tom giggled, not believing that tough-as-nails-survived-the-Somme Will had been that scared of a simple book. Will pouted and said: “I was young, okay. Are you done laughing?”

Tom schooled his features, but Polly continued: “But it doesn’t end there.”

“Nooo, do you have to tell that?” Will, honest to God, whined.

Polly ignored him: “We were at Mass and the preacher is telling us about the danger of Satan and his vile workers when he suddenly get up and loudly asks what he should do when a vampire comes after him. I thought mother would die from anger, all that blood rushing to her head, meanwhile dad is not a help at all, because he thinks it’s all hilarious. The whole church was looking at him and the preacher was so confused.”

“Oh my God.” Tom wheezed.

“Yeah, I know, but it get better.” Polly said.

Out of breath Tom asked: “How can it get better?”

Will has just shut his eyes and laid down, defeated. This was the only time he had spoke up and said something, ever and it haunted him still. Why Polly though it was a good idea to bring this up ever single time was beyond him, he only knew he hated it every time she did. He mused that that probably was why she kept bringing it up, but he was willing to ignore the thought in favor of going back to dying of embarrassment.

Unaware or uncaring of Wills defeat, Polly said: “Will misinterpreted the preachers confusion, so he starts to explain what vampires are and how he had read that they feared the Lord, so if one was after him if he could come to the church for weapons against them. Then as he is still standing there, the preacher explains to him that vampires aren’t real, meanwhile the whole church is just staring at this small child, who interrupted Mass to ask about vampires of all things. It was the talk of the neighborhood for weeks.”

Tom was laughing, but he managed to say: “That is amazing.”

Will grumbled a bit, but if his pain would make Tom laugh like that he supposed he could be in immense pain for the rest of his life. He kept up his grumpy attitude as he said: “I preferred this conversation when it was just questions about the war.”

“Come on, don’t be such a sourpuss.” Tom grinned and ribbed him in the side with his elbow.

“I can ask some more questions if you want.” Polly said, “For example, what was strangest thing you saw?”

Both thought about it. Tom said: “Hmm, that’s a pretty hard question.”

In Wills mind memories of dead cattle, dead soldiers in impossible positions, rats the size of his head and the abandoned baby flashed by. He said: “I don’t think you want to know.”

“Why not?” Polly asked.

Will didn’t know what to say, maybe that everything strange he had seen was violent, because violence was the only thing there? But that sounded a bit dramatic, he had seen Tom there, so it hadn’t been that bad. Tom said: “Because, Scho isn’t, what one would call, a positive thinker, but I know a good one! I saw one guy get shot in the chest and just walk away from it unharmed. That was pretty strange.”

Polly’s eyes got wide and she asked: “How did he do that?”

“Turns out he had a cigarette case and it stopped the bullet, it was some sort of miracle.” Tom explained.

“Oh yeah, I think I heard that.” Will said, “That was Main, right?”

Tom nodded: “That was him. Lucky bastard.”

“Do you know what he did with it?” Will asked.

“No,” Tom shook his head, “but I reckon he sold it, I mean, I know a lot of guys who’d see that as a good luck charm.”

“I don’t know, maybe he kept it for himself.” Will said.

Tom shrugged: “Maybe he did, yeah.”

There was a lull in conversation, until Polly quietly asked: “What was it like? The fighting, I mean.”

“Polly.” Will said, in a tired and warning voice.

“What is it, Will?” Polly said, “No one talks about, they’ll talk about the food or the things they did when they were free, but no one is talking about what made them wake up screaming or stop writing. No one is talking about and how can I ever understand what you went through if you don’t tell me what happened to you? I just want to know what changed everyone and everything that’s all.”

It was quiet in the room after her little speech. Will was silent, he didn’t know what to say, he didn’t want to think about, he didn’t want to remember and he most definitely didn’t want to try and find the right words to talk about it. Tom struggled for a bit before saying: “It’s really hard to find words to describe it, most of it is just confusion and fear.”

Tom moved his hand as he tried to find better words, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t often that Tom didn’t know what to say. Will could feel himself drifting away and he tried to ground himself by focusing on Polly and her awaiting face. There was a mixture of concern, determination and fear for knowing on her features. Will could feel his own face harden as he said: “The only word to describe it is terrible, okay. Now, drop it, please.”

Polly lifted her chin, she got up and said: “I’ll drop it, but only for now. It isn’t healthy to keep everything in. One day you’ll tell me something and I’ll be waiting for that day. Goodnight.”

She walked out of the room and both men were just quick enough to call a goodnight after her. When her footsteps had disappeared up the stairs, Will allowed himself to slump into Toms side, resting his head on Toms peck right over his heart. He listened to Toms stead heartbeat and watched as Tom rhythmically stroked Myrtles head.

After a few moments, in which his muscles relaxed bit by bit, Tom opened his mouth: “She took that well.”

Will let out a small huffed laugh, then he adjusted himself until his head was lying on Toms lap and he could look the other in the eyes. He smiled and said: “I think you’ve been a bad influence.”

Tom gave him a look and asked: “Have I, now? How come?”

“Well,” Will answered, “You never know when to shut up and stop asking, she used to be also quiet, like me, maybe not as bad as me, but you know, not talkative. Then you showed up.”

Tom laughed at that, then he said: “I am happy I cured her then.”

“Cured her? Cursed her, more likely.” Will grumbled without any heat.

“You don’t mean that, love.” Tom said, “I cured you too. It’s almost hard to imagine how quiet you were when I first met you.”

Will nodded silently, back then he hadn’t said a word, believing it was useless to form connection with people who were doomed to die. He still preferred to listen, but by befriending Tom he had become better at talking and storytelling, or that’s what he liked to think.

Will was playing the evening in his head and he suddenly blurted out: “I called you Tom, do you mind that?”

“Of course not.” Tom answered, a thought seemed to cross his mind, “Do you mind that I called you love?”

Will blushed at the nickname, he had noticed how it unconsciously slipped out of Toms mouth and the fuzzy feeling it gave him was something he didn’t want to loose, so he hadn’t mentioned it. He shyly said: “No, I don’t mind.”

Tom hummed happily and smiled down at Will. He was brought out of his trance by an unhappy Myrtle, when Will had started talking he had accidentally stopped petting her head and now she was protesting with an unhappy sound. Both men made eye contact, then they started laughing. Tom went back to petting Myrtle as he told her: “You are one impatient dog, aren’t you. Yes, you are. Getting grumpy the moment the attention is gone. Well, don’t worry, I got a lot of affection and attention for you, yes, I have. Yeah, good girl.”

They continued to lie on the couch until three in the morning. Neither man wanted to face the nightmares sleeping would bring and both were still rested enough from their nap that day. In the end they decided to go to bed, because they had been nodding off on the couch and it was a bad idea to sleep like that in the open.

Tom was already in bed, but Will was standing by the foot of the bed and asked: “Shouldn’t we move the beds apart, just to be safe?”

Tom looked at their bed, which consisted of the two beds shoved together. He thought about it, but then shook his head: “Nah, no one will come barging in for no reason and if they do we can tell them it is so that the room is less crowded. We need space, we’re used to that kind of thing now with all the fields we used to sleep in.”

Will looked unsure, but he crept into the bed none the less, not even pretending to go to sleep on his own side. Instead he crawled into Toms open and waiting arms and allowed himself to get tangled up with his partner in everything. He was about to drift off when he heard Tom whisper: “I’ll protect you from the vampires, don’t worry, love.”

If Will had more energy, he would have gotten up to argue, but now he cracked one eye open to glare at Tom. Then he said: “I hate you.”

Tom smirked and said: “No, you don’t.”

Will inclined his head in such a way that he could softly kiss Tom then he sighed: “No, I don’t.”

And with that both fell asleep.

The next morning Tom startled awake with a small gasp, it was around 6 o’clock and his dreams had been haunted by an accusing dead brother. With his sudden movement he had also woken up Will, who was blinking groggily as he asked with a sleep heavy voice: “Are you okay?”

Tom sighed: “I think so, just a nightmare, don’t worry.”

“If anyone knows how shit nightmares can be, it’s me. So are you okay?” Will said.

“Yeah, I’m fine, really. Just worried about Joe that’s all.” Tom replied.

Will nodded and tried to find some way to comfort Tom without giving him false hope. In the end he settled on saying: “Joe can handle himself, I wasn’t there for long, but I saw how capable he is. If someone is making it out alive, it’s him.”

“Thanks, love.” Tom smiled and settled into his pillow again.

Will watched Tom stare at the ceiling without noticing it, he was too deep in thought. Will bit his lip and asked: “Think you can sleep some more or do you want to get up?”

He could see how relieved Tom was that he proposed the option first. He said: “I’d like to get up, but you can stay here and I can call you for breakfast.”

“No,” Will shook his head, “I’ll join you.”

They got up. Will put his arms through his shirt and put on his pants, then he waited until Tom was dressed enough to button his shirt and put on his socks. Tom tied his own shoelaces, while Will buttoned his pants and shoved his feet into his shoes, not bothering with the laces.

No one was downstairs yet. They puttered around in the kitchen making tea for themselves. They drank in silence, just soaking in the morning and the others presence. When they had put their cups by the sink Myrtle came running up to them, glad that her morning walk buddies were back. Tom tied Wills laces, while Will wrote a note, then they walked out the house and into the sun, making their way to the woods nearby.

When they reached the woods, Tom slipped his hand in Wills, giving him a small smile that the other returned. The sun was barely filtering through the leaves and the birds were just starting to chirp. Myrtle darted around their legs, seeming content. Tom filled the air with pointless chatter, pointing out random birds, flowers or trees, Will nodding along.

They reached a small clearing and Tom threw a stick for Myrtle. They waited as she bounded after it, Will now tentatively said: “Hey, Tom, I’ve been wondering, uhm, are you okay?”

Tom raised a brow at him and asked: “Why are you wondering that?”

“Well,” Will rubbed the back of his head, “I know I’m not dealing the best, I mean, I’m doing better and everything, but I still have nightmares and stuff and I know you have too and, I don’t know, I just realized that I haven’t been there for you the most, you know.”

Toms expression softened and he pulled Will into a sideway embrace. He said: “I’m doing fine, Will, don’t worry. I’ve been having some nightmares, of course, but it’s honestly not so bad. Everyone reacts different, I guess I’m lucky.”

Myrtle came hurdling back, with a different stick than Tom had thrown. Tom took it from her and praised her as he threw the stick away again, watching her run away. Will leaned his head on Toms shoulder and said: “Okay, just tell me if it gets bad. Promise?”

“Promise, love, promise.” Tom murmured before kissing his crown.

“Thank you.” Will sighed as he soaked in his lover.

When Myrtle had gotten a stick three more times, they turned back and walked home. They were still walking hand in hand, it had become a habit for them to walk with Will on the left so that Tom could grab his hand whenever he wanted. Will loved it every time, when he could feel Tom slip his fingers between Wills and how perfectly it fit time and time again. Sadly they had to let go when the reached the edge of the woods and walked back into civilization.

At the Blake home, Mrs. Blake was waiting for them outside waving something white. When they got closer they could see it was a letter and when they were within hearing distance she yelled: “Joe, it’s from, Joe!”

Tom smiled and started running, Will and Myrtle following his lead instantly.

He took the letter and started reading it aloud

June 6th 1917

Dear mum and Tom,

I hope that when you receive this letter everything is alright. I’m fine, everything here is mostly the same, bad food and no beds.

Last I heard from you you told me Lance Corporal Schofield was staying there. You told me about the paper debacle. How is he doing after all that? Hopefully better than when I last saw him, although it is hard to get worse than that. Good to know that he heard you’re alive, Tom. Say hello to him from me. You also mentioned that he lost his arm, how did that happen?

Your words of encouragement are really good to hear out here. It seems like spirits dampen with every day that passes, but I have hope that we’ll be home soon. We’ve been fighting for so long, there must be an end in sight.

I honestly don’t know how to go on from here, there is not much to tell. The only things worth mentioning would only serve to upset you and I don’t want to frighten you. It’s nothing too bad, just war and the monotony of life in the trenches. Who knew war involved so much waiting?

You also mentioned that all Myrtles puppies have been sold, I hope she isn’t too upset about it. She always had a soft soul and in these quiet moments I miss her company.

Anyway, how are you all over there? Did a lot happen since you last wrote or is life there as easy as I remember?

I hope to hear from you soon,

Yours,

Joe Blake

When Tom was done he looked up with a smile and said: “This letter is only three days old! He must be fine. That’s great!”

Mrs. Blake smiled back, tears in her eyes, and replied: “He is, oh he doesn’t know how well timed his letter is. I was so worried.”

After a beat of silence Tom asked: “Hey, mum, is it alright if I write my own letter? We can put it into one envelope of course, but it might be nice for him if he got two letter instead of one and a lot has happened since we last wrote him.”

“No problem, dear.” Mrs. Blake said, the boys didn’t see her knowing look.

Tom have her a quick hug and a thanks, then he rushed into the house to gather his stuff to write back. Will hurried after him yelling: “Tom, you still have to eat.”

Mrs. Blake heard a “Later!” coming from up the stairs and she rolled her eyes fondly at her energetic boys antics. She gave Will two plates with breakfast for the both of them to bring upstairs, which he took gratefully. Before he went, he turned around and asked: “Where are Polly and the girls? I just realized I haven’t seen them.”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. They’re out to the market. I needed some stuff and they wanted to explore the town.” she told him.

He nodded and murmured a thanks before hurrying up the stairs.

In the room Tom was sitting at his desk, focused completely on his writings. Will took a moment to admire him, then he quietly walked forwards and put down the plate, holding his own in his hand. Startled Tom looked up and smiled guiltily. Will shook his head fondly and moved to the windowsill to sit there and eat as he looked out over the orchard. Tom took this as a sign of forgiveness, because he went back to his letter while absentmindedly nibbling on his toast.

He found that it was quite hard to not spill too much about his time with Will and how things had progressed, so he looked his letter over when it was done.

June 9th 1917

Dear Joe,

It’s amazing to hear from you again! We were just starting to get worried, so your timing was perfect.

Yes, Scho is still staying with us, but we’ve been to London between letters. It didn’t pan out the way we planned, so now his sister, Polly, and his two nieces, Jane and Mary, are staying here as well. It’s become quite lively around here, if you’re not here soon we might replace you. I’m joking of course, you’re presence here is missed, but don’t worry we have left your room alone.

It’s going well. We’re pretty close, since he’s living in my house now. We’re sharing my room, like we used to when we were younger. Because he can’t and doesn’t want to go home, he’s decided on staying here. We’re going to see if anyone needs a hand and is willing to pay for it.

You also make me curious about the state Scho must have been in when he showed up to the 2nd Devons, because you make it sound like he was on deaths door. And Scho isn’t much of a sharer, so I’ll never get the real thing out of him. He told me briefly that his journey had been anything but fun, which was to be expected. Yet he never told me the extend of his injuries.

As for the paper thing, it seems like he’s mostly okay now. He did get harassed by some people on the streets and a reporter and his mother also seemed to have opinions about it. He didn’t like the attention, but I made sure the reporter wouldn’t have a new story, so it mostly died down again, thankfully.

He did loose his arm, the lower part of his left one to be precise, as far as I know it was a rogue grenade in the battle of Arras. But I don’t know specifics, so you’ll have to ask him when you see him.

I hope everything is alright with you and that you’re not in unnecessary danger. I know you don’t want to worry mum, I didn’t either, but it sounds like things are still rough there. I also know this is selfish, but when the Germans attack, please, make sure you’re not an easy target.

As for the monotony, I know what it feels like. But I’m sure there is some entertainment, maybe a bit too vulgar for mum. God knows I won’t tell her any of the stories that went around.

Myrtle is quite alright. Me and Scho are up pretty early every day, so we take her to the woods. She loves to chase sticks, but she still can never seem to bring back the right one, so on that front she’s still the same. She is also missing you, don’t worry, she hasn’t forgotten about you.

Mum will also be writing you, she knows much more about what’s been going on in town, seeing that we only got back yesterday. Mum had baked a cherry pie, which was awesome. I forgotten how good it tastes. You’re honestly missing out.

That’s it from me, I want to end by saying that you’re doing great work out there. Don’t let the rest get you down, it’ll get better and you’ll get home soon. Hold on and stay strong.

Yours,

Tom

He turned to Will and asked: “Do you want to read to check it?”

“For what would I check it?” Will asked, shifting his attention from the view to Tom.

Tom shrugged: “If I haven’t said too much or something. I don’t know.”

Will thought for a moment, then asked: “Do you want me to read it?”

Tom looked at his letter, he felt a bit bad for asking his brother about Will on April 7th, but he couldn’t help himself, he was just too curious. Yet, he also didn’t feel like hiding stuff from Will, so he decided in saying: “Well, I don’t know. I did talk about you and I asked him a quick question about our mission, so if you want to read and tell me if it’s okay, then that would be nice, but I won’t force you.”

Will stopped for a moment at the mention of their mission. He got up and leaned over Toms shoulder and quickly scanned the letter. Tom shifted a bit under his scrutiny, feeling guilty about how he had phrased that bit of the letter. Before Will could say something, Tom softly said: “Sorry.”

Will gave a kiss to the top of his head and answered: “It’s okay, I know I’m not the most talkative around. It’s good.”

“Really?” Tom asked, just to be sure.

Will nodded and collected their plates, he walked out the door and called over his shoulder: “I’m going out to see if I can find a job. Are you coming?”

Tom quickly scrambled about, folding his letter and putting it in an envelope, where his mum could put her letter as well, before getting down the stairs. Downstairs Will was already waiting for him with a smile at his hurried movements. Tom gave him a light shove then he quickly told his mum what they were doing and handing her the envelope.

They walked down the road and Tom said: “It’s now the time for haymaking, but we only have two farms here that do, so I don’t know if they need a hand, but they also have sheep there and it’s time to sheer those, so we can also try our luck with that. Otherwise we have to see if anyone is hiring, but I don’t think so, we mostly grow wheat, but the sowing season is over and it still has to grow before they need much help.”

Will hummed then asked: “What did you do? Before the war, I mean?”

Tom said: “Nothing much. I finished school then I signed up for the war effort. I was thinking about studying, but now the idea of sitting for hours in stuffy benches in confined spaces, seems terrible, you know.”

Will nodded, but inside he was wondering what Tom was giving up. Will himself had loved school, well, English. Reading and twisting language to create worlds and stories had been something magical for him and he had been quite sad that he had to drop out to go to the factory. But he knew that he could never have that and it did seem less appealing after everything, so he did understand, but he also felt a pang of sadness for the Tom that could have been if the war had never happened. A small, selfish, part of him piqued up to tell him that if the war hadn’t happened he would have never met Tom and he felt guilty how sad the idea of never meeting Tom made him, even with the circumstances it was under.

In the end their efforts were fruitless. The farms hadn’t needed help with the hay and they told them that for the sheering of sheep you’d need two hands. Tom might get a temporary job, but for Will there was no such luck. Tom felt guilty about it, so he told the farmers he’d come back later with a decision.

They were now sitting on the fountain in the town square where it was relatively empty, just a few people milling around and the elderly man, who had clapped for Tom now almost two weeks ago, sitting on a bench in the shadows. Will was staring at the sky, worrying about what he should do now. Tom noticed this and tried to comfort him: “It’s going to be alright, okay. There are lots of other things to do in a town and I’m sure someone needs help and could use a guy.”

Dejectedly Will said: “Yeah, a guy with functioning limbs maybe. I never really thought about it, I mean, sure it sucks, but then I found out you were alive, so it was a bit better and then I realized a lot of people had it far worse. Some didn’t come home other can never see or walk again, so really I shouldn’t complain, but this sucks. How can I help my sister or your mum when no one will even hire me? Face it, Tom, I’m good for absolutely nothing.”

Tom was stumped. He had never seen Will like this, sure he had seen moments when self-loathing was interwoven with what he said, but never this explicit. He didn’t know how to react to make it better and he didn’t want to upset Will even further. He made an aborted movement as he tried to find his words. Before he could the elderly man from he bench had gotten up and walked over, he said: “Hello, I didn’t mean to interrupt or eavesdrop, but I couldn't help, but overhear your conversation.”

Will looked up, a small spooked yet hopeful expression on his face. The man went on: “I’m Charles, Charles Lester from Lesters Bookshop and I think I can help you out. I am getting old, you see, and I need someone who can write, see and has two legs, you seem to fit in the category, do you not?”

Will nodded: “I do, but…”

There was a lot he wanted to say, like he couldn’t carry a lot with one hand, he never finished school, he might be a waste of time in the end, but before he could tell Charles why he shouldn’t be hired Tom jumped in: “He does, thank you so much, sir. He is pretty smart, a hard worker and he can walk that’s for sure. You won’t regret it.”

Charles smiled and said: “That sounds promising, you can come in tomorrow at eight if you accept.”

Tom elbowed Will in the side and Will quickly answered: “I’ll be there, thank you so much, Mr. Lester.”

“Just Charles is fine.” Charles tipped his hat and waved goodbye as he started to make his way down the street.

Will looked at Tom and asked: “What just happened?”

Tom smirked and said: “I was right, someone could use a guy.”

Rolling his eyes Will replied: “Yeah, yeah, you were right and I was wrong.”

But he couldn’t stop smiling, he had a job and not just that, he had a job in a bookshop. He always wanted to be in a place with lots of books, maybe he could even read a bit at the job or earn enough to buy some books for himself, this was almost too good to be true. Tom saw Will smile and decided that he was going to make sure nothing would make him stop smiling.

It wasn’t a lot and there was still a lot wrong in the world. The war was still raging on in France, Joe wasn’t home yet and he might never be, their love was still illegal and their families may never accept them. But right now things were looking up, this was the start of their new life, the first brick in the wall that would become the rest of their life.

No, it wasn’t a lot, but for now, it was enough.

[schrijverr]

Quiet

Will had always been quiet, this is the story of how he found and lost his voice again through a happy boy in the middle of an awful war.

On AO3.

Ships: implied Blakefield

Warnings: Canon character death, suicidal thoughts and war

~~~~~~~~~~

Will had just turned eighteen when the war broke out. He was old enough to sign up for the war effort and he did along with millions of others. He’d always been a quiet kid, but he loved to read and he had been taken by the grand adventures the characters went on, so he hoped that this would be the start of his very own adventure.

This hope was crushed almost as soon as Will arrived on French soil. He was send to Marne to fight by the river Ourcq. Will didn’t know it was called this at the time, he had only learned that days later when they’d dug themselves in, Germans on the other side. When the battle was done, the fields turned into no man’s land and when the idea that this war was an adventure was beat out of him. He looked and only saw a new sort of slaughterhouse.

Yes, Will had always been quiet, but now, now he barely say a word.

He eventually got some friends, it was hard not to become acquainted with some people when most of your evening activities consisted of sitting around together. They talked about everything and nothing, Will learned more about people’s sex-life than he had ever wanted. He even shared some things about himself, although it was far out of his comfort zone to do so.

There was Hendrickson, who was full of smiles and laughs, with more jokes stored in his head than there was time to tell them.

There was Ryan, who had big dreams of becoming a politician and marrying a rich girl, never taking offense in the reverse marrying-rich jokes from the others.

There was Holland, who shared the silence with Will when the rambunctiousness got too much, but who also had a voice of gold that helped them when the nightmares got too bad and the days too long.

There was Graham, who was as dirty as he was religious, much to the amusements of others, but he was there to say the prayers when it seemed like their last moments had arrived.

Then there was the Somme.

Hendrickson fell in the first wave over the trenches, the closed formation proving a mistake. Ryan got stuck in the barbed wire and shot, the munition not enough to destroy them like they’d been promised. Holland blown up by their own mines that were timed wrong, too early and too late. Graham, who had bled out with his cross still clutched in his hand. And Will, the one who survived.

He survived every god forsaken day at the Somme, all 171 days he lived. He got a medal and a leave out of it, along with memories he could never forget and nightmares that would haunt him till the day he died.

His mother and sister knew he had never been a talker, but they weren’t prepared for the silence that Will carried with him.

He had been back for a few days, Lance Corporal Schofield, leading by example on the front lines when the new supply forces came. They were all fresh out of training with hope in their eyes and young unhardened faces.

Will avoided them as much as he could. He had done this song and dance before. He would sit with them, get to know their names and faces, personality traits and then they would die. And Will couldn’t go through that again, so he found a tree and made it his tree. He sat there when he had time off and he didn’t talk to anyone unless he had orders.

The new Privates soon learned to leave him alone, no one wanted to mess with the quiet one that had been here since the start. One of the longest surviving soldiers on the front and how he wished that fact was different.

Yes, everybody left him alone, just like he wanted, everyone except one.

Lance Corporal Blake, who had gotten that rank on good instinct at training before he had even arrived. He was young, just turned nineteen around Christmas. He was young and it showed, it showed in his enthusiasm, his smiles and in the stories he told. He was a goof and he lightened the mood around camp, always in for a game of cards or some small talk.

He was the opposite of Will in every way, but still he had chosen Will to follow around everywhere.

He was there next to Will when the man woke up and he would follow him to the Mess, they were assigned to dig together and to be the look out. Yet Blake didn’t get bored, he just talked and talked, with happy hand movements and open smiles. He wouldn’t look expectantly at Will when he asked a question, but Will didn’t answer, instead he would shrug and move on like nothing happened. He would even sit in silence next to Will and watch the sun go down.

Will was waiting for the day the smile disappeared and the stories ceased, when Blake would realize the hell he’d found himself in and give up on being lively or, even worse, when there was a battle from which Will would return once more, but there would be no Blake the next day, because his body had become part of the landscape while his soul went up to the heavens and all his mother would get was a letter about how brave he had been. Will hoped the day would never come.

It was early January 1917 when Will opened his mouth without having to for the first time in months. He had barely been aware that he had done it, he had only answered Blake’s question. The boy had been going on about his home and the fields when he had asked Will: “So yeah, I help in the fields in the summer. Where are you from? What do you do in the summer?”

Will had shrugged and said: “London, but not really the good part. I just work in the factory, or I used to at least.”

Normally after Blake had asked a question he would continue on talking, but now he had fallen silent. He was looking at Will with an open mouth, which Will only noticed after he looked at the other when he had fallen silent for a few seconds. He raised an eyebrow and asked: “What?”

His own eyes had grown wide the moment he realized what he had done. He had talked, but that wasn’t the thing that bothered him the most, it was what came with the fact that he had talked that worried him. He only talked when it was necessary or when he was close with someone. It hadn’t been necessary, so that only left being close.

He couldn’t afford it to be close with someone, but now he was. He hadn’t even realized it, but Blake had grown on him and now they were friends. He was friends with Blake and it was too late, when the boy died, the last piece of his heart would die as well.

His brain was screaming at him to run away, to get away from Blake and hope his heart hadn’t gotten too attached. That he could still cut his ties with the other if he ran now. He was almost turning away when Blake smiled and he realized that he was in too far. He knew he couldn’t turn away, not now and not later, his heart had gripped Blake close and wasn’t about to let go.

Still smiling and unaware of the turmoil he was causing Blake said: “That’s still necessary work, Scho. I mean, helping on the fields isn’t exactly glamorous either, but it is fun. You see, me and Joe used to go there and just fuck shit up when we were little and now those people are our bosses, but we were never caught, so they don’t know it was us. We made a game out of it: how many times can we vaguely mention the stuff we got up to before they figure it out? It’s amazing.” and Blake was chattering on once more, leaving Will to follow him, because there was nothing else to do.

He had been a quiet kid, whose silence was a shield that was now slowly being thorn down.

Three months later and Will said about one fifth of their conversations, not nearly taking the lion share, but still talking quite a bit, much to Blake’s excitement. In that short period of time Blake learned that Will had a mother who also worked in the factories and a father who had died at Verdun, but his sister had married quite a well off man and she didn’t need to work at all, she could care for her two children. Twin girls that Will loved a lot, he had jokingly commented that he was the fun uncle however unlikely that may seem, but that was also because he was their only uncle. He had surprised his friend with his dry comments and banter. Blake also learned about Wills love for books and poetry and he listened to Will softly recite them while they sat together watching the sunsets like they had always done.

It was now early April and they had fallen asleep by Wills tree that had slowly become their tree. The Sargent was waking Blake up telling him to pick a man and grab his kit. Will already knew, who Blake would pick, of course he did, because that’s what he had done since he arrived. He had picked Will and Will had followed his lead.

The mission they were send on seemed impossible and Will wanted to wait, to prolong their time together, because something deep down told him that this wasn’t going to end well. It wasn’t going to end well and Will would live, because that was all he had done, he had lived while everything collapsed around him. But Blake wouldn’t listen, he kept on walking and Will kept on following, because there was nothing else he could do.

When the rat tripped the wire he thought that his end had finally come, he vaguely felt bad that Blake would be buried with him, but an ugly and bigger part of him was glad that he didn’t have to live on while Blake died, but then there was a hand pulling him along and miraculously both made it out of there alive.

Will got a bit of hope, so far everything was going as well as it could. Maybe they would make it, both of them, with Blake chattering and he himself commenting here and there. Then they were suddenly talking about medals and Will almost said too much, laid himself bare for this boy, but he stopped himself.

He had never said a lot and he wouldn’t say too much after so long of quiet.

Blake took it in stride, he always had and he didn’t mind to continue chattering on and ignore Wills faults like nothing had happened. Will had never been more grateful for a person than he had been for Blake in that moment.

They walked on until everything suddenly went to shit. Stupid planes, stupid pilot and stupid naivety, they should have kept walking, they should have shot the pilot, but they hadn’t and now Blake was bleeding out in his arms asking the always quiet kid to talk and Will tried, he tried so hard. He told Blake he would write his mum and that he knew the way, that he would find his brother and complete their mission, but more than that he couldn’t say, no matter how much Blake was pleading.

The sounds were stuck in his throat, only exploding out when the soldiers in the truck wouldn’t help him when he had to go on, he had to.

He was focused, he just needed to find the Devon's, find Joe. Silently he was walking, but the quiet kept building up in his head until the dam broke when he found the woman with the baby. He recited a poem, it had been Blake’s favourite and he wanted to never stop telling it, but the church bells rang and he had to go, he had to keep on walking.

Not walking, running. He was running through the streets then he was flying through the air and then, then he was floating. For a moment he thought he was floating away, up to the heavens, but he couldn’t he had a mission. The boy that was singing reminded him of Holland, but Holland was dead along with Blake and soon these people would be as well. They would die if he didn’t keep on running, the mission wasn’t over yet, he could still save them.

Then as almost as suddenly as it had started the mission was over, he was standing in front of Joe and wordlessly gave him the rings that had been on the warm fingers of his brother not even a day ago. He stood there feeling empty, before stumbling over the field where he sat under a lone tree and looked out over the field. It was a sunrise and not a sunset. It was quiet and there was no chattering. He was alone and everything was opposite to normal and it would never go back.

He tried to write the letter, but the quiet kid that had found his voice again had run out of words to say.

The page stayed blank.