A/N: QLFC. Captain of the Wimbourne Wasps. Prompt: Your OTP dealing with a mental illness.
August 1914 - London.
"Lily, would you like to go to the fair this weekend?" asked James.
"The fair? Oh, James, I would love that," replied Lily.
They'd only married the previous month, and were still in a state of marital bliss. They lived in a little two-up-two-down in South East London. Lily was the daughter of a market trader and a seamstress. James was the son of a military man—an army Captain, no less; his father had earned his commission and worked his way up to Captain during the war on the Northwest Frontier. James' mother had died of pneumonia in the winter of 1900, leaving her husband to raise their four-year-old son alone. James had spent a lot of time in the care of maids and governesses. His father had been less than happy when he'd met Lily and found out that she lived on the wrong side of the river, but after meeting the young woman, he found that she was in fact the perfect person to keep his wayward son in order. As a wedding present, he'd bought them the house they now resided in.
"Well, get your glad-rags on, Mrs Potter, and I shall happily escort you to Hampstead Heath this coming Saturday," said James.
"Thank you, kind Sir," said Lily, mock-curtseying. "Now, you can help me peel the potatoes for dinner."
James looked at his wife in mock horror. Lily rolled her eyes at him.
"James, dear, do remember that we promised to split all jobs down the middle," she said as she started moving towards the scullery to use the deep, well-worn Belfast sink to fill the pan she was carrying, full of peas she'd just finished shucking.
James chuckled and moved towards his wife, a good-natured grin plastered on his face.
Finally, the weekend arrived. Lily was dressed in her best dress, and a boater was pinned to her dark red hair. She'd fetchingly coiled it around her head with the use of now invisible pins. James was in his best suit and had a soft trilby sat atop of his black hair.
"M'lady," said James, offering her his arm. "Might I say how beautiful you look today."
Lily laughed. "You don't look so bad yourself; best foot forward then, mister."
"Come along, missus."
James and Lily took a slow saunter towards the tram that would carry them to Hampstead.
As they drew closer to the fair, they could hear the music blowing on the soft breeze. They looked at each other and grinned. This is where they'd met two years ago. Lily had been here with her older sister and father. James had come alone, since he had been sixteen and a working boy. He felt he had been grown up enough.
It had been whilst she was queuing for the gallopers that James had bumped into Lily Evans in the literal sense of the word. Some young bloods had gone charging past James, causing him to stumble sideways straight into a girl with long dark hair and bright green eyes, causing her to almost fall over in turn.
"Are you okay?" James had asked.
"I'm fine, thank you," Lily had said, grinning at the young man standing before her.
"I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you?" James had queried.
"Honestly, I'm good," Lily had replied.
"Miss," James had said quietly as he noticed the pointed looks the older girl beside her was giving him. He made to move off.
It had been later, at the swings, that he'd run into her again.
"Hello again," James had said, trying his luck.
Lily had given him a small smile. "Not stalking me, are you?"
James had moved his hands up and out as if fending off an attack.
"Excuse me, but I'm not in the habit of stalking anyone!" James had replied, his hazel eyes twinkling with mirth.
Lily had proceeded to eye him from head to toe. "In that case, you help pull the cord and get this swing moving."
"M'lady," James had replied, bowing.
"Nevermind any of that butler stuff, get in here," Lily had said, suppressing a grin.
Once James was aboard, he had vigorously started to pull the cord, and the swing moved into action instantly.
"May I have the pleasure of your name? I'm James."
"Didn't I tell you to cut the butler stuff? Also, I'm not offering you my name. You could be anyone," Lily had said as she pretended to stick her nose in the air.
This had just caused James to laugh, and pull on the cord harder, making the swing move faster, and making Lily's skirts billow up around her legs. Lily let out a small yelp of indignation.
"You're doing that on purpose, you cheeky little bugger," Lily had hissed.
"I'm not doing anything, miss, except pulling on this cord here, like you asked." James had grinned.
"Well, you can stop pulling now, you blessed fiend!" Lily had shouted .
"As you wish, miss," James had said; he stopped pulling on the cord and the swing came to a gradual halt.
Lily, once the swing had stopped completely, had clambered out onto firm ground in a very unladylike fashion. James had followed.
"You- you blessed little git! You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Lily had hissed.
"Did what, miss?"
"Swung the swing like that to make me show my legs!" Lily had said, giving James a piercing stare.
"I did not," James had scoffed. "I had no idea that would happen!"
Lily had stared at him intently, trying to read his face, trying to see if he was telling the truth. James had schooled his face into an innocent expression.
"I don't entirely believe you," Lily had said, drawing herself up to her full height, her arms crossed over her chest.
James had studied the young lady in front of him, and he liked what he saw very much. He had tried to give her a tentative smile of recompense.
"If I've upset you in any way, then I apologise," James had said. As he made to move away, he had heard the young lady speak.
"Lily, my name is Lily."
He had looked over his shoulder at the girl and had given her a small smile. From that point on, Lily had hid from her father and sister and spent time getting to know James.
Both Lily and James enjoyed their day out together at the fair; a wealth of memories flashed through their minds, and smiles of remembrance were shared. Though it wasn't to last, as Britain had declared war on Germany.
1st July 1916 - Battle of the Somme.
James had been in France for little over a year. So far, it seemed he was living a charmed life. The only injuries he'd sustained had been small nicks where bullets had grazed his shoulder and shins. They'd heard whispers that it was the Somme for them, and the Somme it was. The first day opened with a roar of guns. Every nerve shattered as men climbed over the top for King and country. James had been given the rank of Sergeant just before they left Albert. He quickly earned his commission due to the officer mortality rates.
A machine gun clattered, causing many men to fall as they fanned and peeled across no man's land. Mill bombs and stick grenades were hurled. James' detachment commander, Lieutenant Remus Lupin, threw himself on a grenade. James could only watch in horror as it blew his guts out. Not long after that James felt a pain so intense in his legs that it felled him. An unseen hand had lobbed a stick grenade, and James was blinded by its fiery light.
Mrs Potter,
It is our sad duty to inform you that your husband, Sgt James Potter was wounded in battle. More details to follow.
Lily had been busy making new curtains when the telegram arrived. The boy who delivered it scarpered as soon as he'd handed it over to her. With shaking hands, Lily had slowly torn the envelope open. Her heart beat a tattoo in her chest as she removed the bluff sheet of paper and read. Her legs gave way and she collapsed to the ground, but tears didn't come; for the moment, she was just grateful that he was still alive.
A few days later, a letter was delivered with details of what had happened to James and which hospital he was in.
Dear Mrs Potter,
As you are aware from the telegram we sent you, your husband, Sgt James Potter, was wounded in battle. It is our sad duty to inform you that your husband has lost both of his legs and may possibly have been blinded—as to this injury, only time will tell the extent of the damage. Your husband is currently in the Auxiliary Military Hospital, Hampton Court, Middlesex. You will be able to visit him if you so wish.
The letter was signed by someone in Whitehall. Lily sighed; now she knew the full extent of James' injuries. This was going to be extremely hard work, and she would have to get one of her neighbours help her move their bed down to the parlour for the time being, until James could be fitted up with artificial legs—she'd already had a telegram from her father-in-law, assuring her that no matter what the cost, he would make sure his son got the very best treatments available.
Two days later, and Lily set out to go and see her husband for the first time since his leave in March. The whole journey there, Lily was extremely nervous; she had no idea what kind of mood she would find her beloved James in, whether he would even want to face her. Upon arrival, she took a deep breath and moved towards the reception. Once she'd given her name and said who she was there to see, a nurse escorted her through the overflowing wards. The smell of antiseptic and death hung in the air around her as they walked.
"Here we go, Mrs Potter. He's sleeping currently, and we're yet to hear him speak. We don't think any damage was done to his throat, so perhaps when he wakes, see if you can get him to respond to you," said the nurse before leaving to attend to other patients.
It was then that Lily noticed the huge cradle over James' now missing legs. Tears welled up in her eyes; before, she hadn't been able to imagine it, but now that she was here, and seeing it with her own eyes, she felt sick and extremely distraught for her husband. She sank down into the seat beside James' bed before her own legs gave way beneath her. Once she was comfortably settled, she reached out and took one of James' hands between her own and waited for him to wake.
He began stirring about an hour after Lily arrived. Instantly she was on her feet.
"James? James? It's Lily. I'm here," she whispered.
"Li-ly?" rasped James.
"Yes, yes! It's me, James," Lily said softly.
"Where am I?" asked James hoarsely.
"You're in a hospital in Middlesex, darling," supplied Lily.
She heard James sigh a little.
"I love you, James," said Lily as she leaned over him to kiss his damp forehead.
"I love you too," said James, an edge of pain in his voice. A second later, and he was drifting off again.
A nurse materialized beside Lily a few minutes later to tell her that visiting time was now up. Lily gave a small inaudible sigh and leant over her husband, placing a gentle kiss on his brow.
After weeks of haunting the hospital, James was finally allowed to come home. Lily had had her next door neighbour, Sid Harper, move their metal-framed bedstead downstairs into the front parlour. Her father had built small ramps up the front door step, and one down to the kitchen so that Lily could maneuver the wheelchair he would have to use.
Finally, a military ambulance pulled up outside, and Lily, who'd been watching from the parlour window, darted to the front door and pulled it open, ready to receive her husband.
Once he was comfortably settled, Lily left James to settle into being home again. The bandages were finally off of his eyes, and he could see shapes and shadows, but that was the full extent of his sight currently. The Doctor had told him that it would likely take anywhere between six months to a year for his eyes to heal as his eyeballs had been scorched slightly.
In the weeks that followed, James' behaviour changed. He became quiet and withdrawn. He refused most meals despite being emancipated enough from his time in the trenches and in hospital. He seemed to just stare off into space for hours at a time. Whenever Lily tried to talk to him, he would just ignore her, or would fly off into a temper.
One day, James seemed to be having a very bad day. Not only did he start ranting and raving, but he actually smacked Lily across the face. Lily had fallen to the floor in shock and disbelief. Never once had any man hit her before, not even her father. Lily scrambled backwards and got to her feet.
"How dare you!" Lily growled.
Giving him a disgusted look, Lily ran from the parlour to the kitchen to get a cold compress to put on her face. Once she was alone, she let the tears fall.
Later in the day, when Lily took James a cup of tea, she found him staring out of the window, but not really seeing the street; he seemed to be seeing inwards. She placed the cup down beside him and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. He slowly turned his head to look at her, and her right eye had started to swell.
"Lily?" he asked as if confused by her presence.
"I'd just thought I'd let you know I'd made you a cuppa. It's on the table there," said Lily coolly.
Lily made to move away, but James grabbed her by the wrist.
"Lily, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, for my outburst earlier; I can't seem to control it. You deserve so much better, a better man than I, a man that is whole and deserving of you," whispered James.
Lily took a silent deep breath and looked down to see tears pouring down his cheeks. Any annoyance she felt towards him vanished in an instant, and she collapsed to her knees in front of him and wrapped her arms around him. As far as she was aware, this was the first time he'd cried, ever. Lily held him as he let go of all the heartbreak and misery within.
James' behaviour carried on in much the same way, with anxiety and headaches becoming new symptoms, as well as occasional vomiting, but Lily, instead of trying to soothe him, had learnt to turn a deaf ear and let him get it out of his system. She never entirely left the room; she would stand by the door, just in case he threw up. She'd spoken to her own Doctor and he had told her that there was little they could do for him. Perhaps once James had been fitted with artificial legs and he became properly operative again, she would see an upswing in his mood. For now, she would have to grin and bear the fact he had what had been termed shell-shock.
In the months that followed, James' behaviour became more and more erratic. The rages he experienced became longer and longer. Lily was at her wits end with it all; she had no idea how to handle him anymore. She tried inviting his best friend, Sirius, over to see if maybe seeing a different face would make any kind of difference. But in the end, Sirius left the house in tears. James had hit him below the belt by accusing of him of not being a real man because he hadn't fought for his country like James had—but Sirius couldn't have; he had a heart condition that prevented him from volunteering.
Nearly a year after being shot to pieces, James' mind completely broke. He became a mute, and he seemed not to hear or see anything. Lily had ran from the house in fright when she couldn't get him to respond to her in any way, shape, or form. She'd picked up her skirts and, in a very unladylike manner, ran all the way to the Doctor's surgery. Upon returning to the house, and after examining the man, the Doctor declared him to be unsound of mind and arranged to have James removed to an insane asylum. Lily was distraught. He may have survived life in the trenches, but at what cost? The man she had known was lost to her now, and there was nothing she could do about it. As he wasn't dead, she would not be free of him either. She would be tied to the shell of the man she had loved for the rest of their lives.