A/N So my imagination decided that what The Crimson Field lacked was cats... I did a bit of research and discovered that it was quite common for cats to live in the trenches and things with the soldiers so why not at the field hospitals too? cue a longer than expected piece of fluff with kittens...

Cats in the crimson field

Peter had simply whispered that he had something to show her when she had a moment and to come and find him in the mess. That on its own was enough to pique her curiosity and as soon as she could, she went and found him. She was so relieved that he had decided to forgive her for their conversation in the woods but also that he seemed to be following her advice and wasn't being so obvious when he sneaked off to the dunes. She'd only seen him once and he could easily have been out collecting wood or checking his snares anyway. It was nice to be back on speaking terms with him and now he was sharing a secret with her! How exciting!

When she entered the mess, Peter got up and met her, giving her a conspiratorial grin and indicated the tent flap closest to them.

'It's outside, or rather, I should say they're outside.'

He refused to give any further clues despite her indignant exclamation that he couldn't just leave her hanging in suspense and her best efforts to pry the information out of him. Captain Gillan had said just the week before that her chatter was more effective than some torture instruments he'd read about but Peter was clearly immune by now which was most inconvenient. Peter led her towards the storage crates, an area she was fairly sure they weren't supposed to be in and they slipped through a tiny gap in the crates to where a single box was tucked away, the lid slightly raised and scratched.

'If it weren't for the fact that Soper's so fat, I reckon they'd have been discovered by now. I was just down here the other night…' he flushed slightly and turned away from her and she didn't need to ask what he'd been doing, 'and I heard some squeaking so I slipped through and saw them.'

He lifted the lid and they were met with the accusing stare of a skinny cat with three bundles of fur attached to her side. Kitty clapped her hand to her mouth to muffle the shriek she could feel rising to her mouth.

'Peter! Kittens! I love kittens! What are they doing here and what can we do to help them?'

Peter hid a grin. He'd had a feeling this was the final peace offering he could give Flora to signal that he wanted their argument to be completely forgotten and he'd been right. Flora was now on her knees, ignoring the dust that would be marking her skirt, and cooing happily at the kittens. The cat was regarding her steadily and had apparently decided that Flora wasn't threatening enough to bother about.

'They're so small and she's so skinny,' exclaimed Flora, 'can we give her some food?'

'Already thought of that,' Peter produced an unidentifiable chunk of meat from his pocket and unwrapped it, smirking at the cat as her head shot up as the scent of food washed over her. Peter put the food down near her head and watched as she gently dislodged her offspring and moved to start eating, ignoring the indignant squeaks this move provoked. One was squeaking more than the others and Flora moved to pick it up, looking cautiously towards the mother to see if she would allow this. The tiny bundle fitted in the palm of her hand and she stroked it softly, feeling the fragility beneath the soft fluffy fur. She watched as it sniffed carefully and stretched, squeaking all the time.

The mother finished eating and greeted Peter, nudging his outstretched hand and allowing him to stroke along her back before she returned to her children, Flora hastily putting the kitten she had been holding back where it had come from and watching the mother examine it before licking gently over its head and settling down again. The kittens wriggled blindly, seeking the warmth of their mother and Peter and Flora stood, moving slowly away so they didn't startle her.

They looked down, watching as the mother yawned and tucked her head down, clearly preparing to rest.

'What shall we call her?' Flora asked. 'Do you think we can keep them?'

Peter sighed. 'I don't know if we can keep them although I know that there are cats being kept as mascots down in the trenches – one of my patients was rambling on the other day. I was thinking, there's a mark on her fur that's sort of butterfly shaped…'

Flora looked where he was pointing and sure enough, a butterfly shaped mark was visible, especially if you squinted and turned your head.

'…So I was thinking maybe Butterfly?'

'I like it but I think she's a French cat. She has an air of nonchalance that no English cat could carry off. What about Papillon? It means the same thing but I think it gives her some French sophistication.' She smiled. 'It suits her don't you think?'

'Papillon it is then.'

The cat shut her eyes and her ear twitched. They left, slipping through the crates and back into the real world, grinning at the thought of having a secret that no-one else knew.

They took turns sneaking food to Papillon and discovered that she had an amazing appetite and she quickly began to put on weight which relieved Flora, she'd been worried that Papillon wouldn't be strong enough to look after all three kittens but it seemed that they were surviving quite well. They managed a week of sneaking rations before Flora got found out. Of course it was Kitty, who sees everything and very rarely comments on it, who asked Flora curiously what she was doing with the food she'd been sneaking out. Flora decided to let her in on the secret. One more person couldn't hurt could it, and Kitty was very good at keeping secrets – Flora barely knew anything about her life before becoming a VAD, just that she was glad to be out of England.

Kitty melted at the sight of the kittens, just as Flora had known she would and Papillon took a shine to Kitty too, allowing her to tickle behind her ears for much longer than Flora was ever permitted to. By then the kittens had opened their eyes although according to the animal encyclopedia Flora had managed to borrow from the Colonel, they couldn't really see things properly yet and that was clear from the way they staggered on little stumpy legs into the sides of the crate as if they were continually tipsy. Flora and Kitty spent quite a while with the cats, laughing happily before realising that they should probably get back to their duties.

Peter wasn't too pleased that Kitty had been let in on their secret but Flora pointed out that it was less suspicious if there were more of them sneaking food out and he gave in. It's not as if he could do anything about it anyway.

The kittens started becoming a lot more playful and as they were wandering about a few days later, Flora asked Kitty, who had become a daily visitor as well, whether she thought they should have names yet. They all had different markings which meant that they'd always been able to tell them apart but now they were starting to develop distinct personalities and Flora had already started thinking up names for them.

One was almost completely white with a grey patch over his ear and a grey tail. He was the boldest of the three, always wandering the furthest from his mother on his tiny legs but still running back to her at the slightest noise.

His sisters were a lot less adventurous. The pale tortoiseshell one would play with her brother but preferred to sleep while their sister stuck close to their mother at all times. That kitten was an almost carbon copy of her mother, mainly white with a few dark and ginger patches though none that formed recognisable marks like Papillon's butterfly yet.

By then the kittens were about four weeks old and were enjoying being more independent and inquisitive. They would happily curl up on someone's lap while Papillon trotted off to catch a mouse or two – now she wasn't stuck with her kittens all the time, she was less reliant on their food donations though she still happily wolfed them down. She'd started feeding the kittens some of her catches too and on this developed diet they were growing stronger and quicker than ever.

It was inevitable that they got discovered eventually and when it happens, it was of course the fault of the male kitten, who had been testing his boundaries for several days. Although they couldn't watch over him all the time, Papillon was pretty good at keeping him from wandering out of the maze of crates and into the camp itself. Papillon's appearance had been unremarked in the hospital, there were normally cats hanging around, displaced from their homes and hunting in the woods. But kittens actually living in the camp were another matter and they'd been hoping to conceal them for longer. However, the adventurous kitten was too curious and one day when Papillon is off hunting and Kitty was playing with the kittens, he slipped past her and the next thing she knew she heard a familiar voice.

'Well hello there. What are you doing in these parts?'

It was Miles and she released a sigh of relief that it wasn't Sister Quayle or Soper.

She stuck her head out and hissed, 'Miles! In here!'

There wasn't much room but he slipped through, holding the purring kitten and looked startled to find two others with Kitty.

'Well this is unexpected. Are you raising kittens as a side job or like me have you just stumbled on them?'

'I suppose you could call them Flora's, Peter – Foley I mean – found them and he and Flora had been looking after them and when I found out, I helped too. No-one else knows.'

He put the kitten down and smiled as he rubbed up against his boots.

'He's a nice little fellow, are these his sisters?' he asked, indicating the others, one curled up in Kitty's lap and the other in the box.

'Yes, their mother's off hunting. They don't have names yet but she's called Papillon because of a marking on her side I think. We're having trouble thinking of names for them, so any suggestions are appreciated really.'

Miles settled next to her and they spent the next few minutes playing with the boy before he tired and curled himself up on Miles' shoulder as he leant against a crate.

'We're not sure what to do about them actually,' Kitty confided, 'I mean Papillon is a pretty good hunter but the kittens are still quite young. Every day it's getting riskier to keep them here, imagine if it had been Quayle instead of you… but we don't really know what the rules are about pets here.

He shrugged. 'I'm not sure there are any. I can't see them doing any harm, they might actually help some of the patients, we'd just have to check with the Colonel. I like this little man, I might adopt him if he hasn't already adopted me!'

The kitten on his shoulder was more relaxed than Kitty had ever seen him, he clearly liked Miles.

Just then Papillon came back and she greeted Kitty before coming over to Miles. He stroked her and she lay happily between Miles and Kitty, accepting their occasional strokes before moving off to the box and demanding the return of her children with an impatient yowl. Kitty hastily handed over hers before helping Miles as he removed his. They watched the kittens curl up next to their mother and exchanged grins.

'I'll talk to the Colonel in private. I'm sure it'll be fine.'

Kitty sighed in relief. It had been lucky that Miles had discovered the secret really, she didn't know how else they'd have tackled the problem of what to do now the kittens were expanding their territory.

Within a few weeks, the cats were an established part of hospital life. Once the Colonel had met them, he agreed that they could be moved out of their maze of boxes and into the VADs tent – luckily none of them were allergic to cats, though Rosalie was annoyed at being kept out of the secret. The cats roamed freely around the hospital, they were only banned from the operating theatres but they quickly learnt where they were most welcome.

The Colonel, having learnt that they were unnamed, had asked for the privilege of naming them and came up with Greek deities which he felt most represented their qualities. The shy tortie was called Hestia after the goddess of hearth and home, the other female, Athena, because she had a wise air about her and the boy was called Ares after he viciously killed a feather much to the amusement of the watching people. Miles secretly called him Tarzan though and as the kitten had adopted him completely, pretty soon the whole hospital called him that.

Papillon was often to be found curled up in the shade by the mess tent, ignoring the soldiers around her and stalking away if they got too close. She accepted caresses from only a few people, those who had found her and those with authority, meaning Matron and the Colonel. She seemed to know that they had the power to allow her to live happily in the hospital and so gave them the respect they deserved. Much to everyone's amusement, she and Sister Quayle hated one another and avoided ever being in the same room.

Sister Quayle had been the one objector in all of this, claiming that the cats were a waste of food better given to people but she had been quashed rapidly as the Colonel pointed out that since Papillon's arrival, the amount of food that had been damaged by mice had dropped hugely and that anyway, the cats were perfectly happy eating scraps from the kitchen and hunting for themselves. The sister had tried banning the cats from the wards but that hadn't lasted long, the patients liked having them around and would bribe them in with treats and lavish affection on them. A particular favourite was Hestia as she was happy to just curl up on a lap and stay there, radiating warmth and comfort. Tarzan spent most of his time with Miles and while he was still small enough, would travel in his pocket, head sticking out and enjoying the view as Miles strode around doing his duties. His favourite place to curl up was still Miles' neck and Thomas had often had to stifle a laugh when he'd discovered Miles with Tarzan draped across him, both sleeping deeply and occasionally snoring.

Athena was an altogether more aloof kitten. She very rarely went into the wards, preferring to spend her time with the off duty VADs and also hunting. She was soon a better mouser than her mother and would often spend whole days out in the woods chasing birds and rabbits that were still far too big for her to actually catch.

She adopted Kitty as her favourite human and once she realised that Kitty and Thomas spent a lot of time together, she developed an affection for him which was baffling to all. Thomas had no time for her and would frequently tip her off chairs and beds when he discovered her. In spite of all of this, she would worm her way onto his lap in the evening, only to be swiftly ejected as soon as she had settled. Miles couldn't understand it until he came back to the tent late at night and discovered not only Tarzan waiting on his bed but Athena curled up on Thomas' chest with his hand placed protectively over her slim back. Thomas obviously tolerated her far more when no-one was looking.

So yeah, that's something I think there should be more of... If you've got any ideas for mischief these cats could get up to, please suggest it and I might write it ;)

If you'd like to see what the kittens and their mother look like and some of my other kitten inspirations, i have a tumblr for my writing inspirations at curlyheadcanons :)