So I know I said I wasn't posting anymore until I'm back from China and Mongolia... but I just keep writing ... and my wonderful beta is beta-ing ... so here's another little one shot for you all :)
I think this was written from two prompts... 'what would happen if they decided to send Jo home?' and 'can you write a fic where the Colonel finds Jo and Miles and realises what's going on?'
so this is what I produced... hope you like it :)
..
Jo's fingers tensed around the scrap of paper in her hand, and although she was staring un-blinking at the Colonel she saw nothing. Her chest was constricting; whether it was fear or anger she didn't know. She didn't care.
A small voice in the back of her mind reminded her she was acting like a selfish bastard – more than half the men in this god forsaken place were praying for the Blighty ticket she was crushing in her fingers – but for her this wasn't a god send. It was a death sentence.
The Colonel's smile faltered after she made no response. He'd had men crying from relief when they received their tickets home, and he'd had men demanding to be let back to the front. What he hadn't seen was this; this was a face of sheer terror.
Men with shrapnel still sticking out of their limbs had brighter smiles as they were marched back to Wipers.
"Private?"
Jo's eyes sharpened as his voice cut through her daze. "Please, sir, I can't…" her voice was shaking uncontrollably, "I can't be sent home."
Colonel Brett took a moment, a confused frown forming on his face. When he finally spoke his voice was strained with the effort of sounding reasonable. "Private, you've had serious surgery - and God only knows how much of that stuff is still inside you – I doubt you'll be fit enough to return to the front for months, if ever." His face softened slightly, "You need to go home. It's the best thing for you."
"You don't understand! I can't go home!" Jo was almost shouting. "Sir," she added quickly. Her mind was racing, if she was sent home she'd be found out in a second flat. She wouldn't put it past her mother to be writing to the brass hats themselves, ensuring to point out that she was certain her rebellious daughter had been serving as a nurse. Jo knew there was more chance of the Boche deciding that they were bored of all this fighting and inviting the entire British army to Paris for zepps in a cloud than there was convincing her mother not to rat. She had to stay. "Please sir, if I can't go back to the trenches, surely there's something I could do here, at the hospital, anything!"
Brett sighed, dragging a nail across his temple thoughtfully, "This is most unusual Private, I strongly believe you should-"
"Please! I can be an extra pair of hands! I've already been here three weeks, I know how things operate. I can help Peter, I mean Corporal Foley… I can wash floor, or bandages, or I can cook – okay, I can't, but I can learn!" She was desperate. "Please, just please don't send me home!"
Brett shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I'm sorry, but you need to go home. You won't heal properly if you don't rest and we can't keep you here until you're fit enough to go back to the front line. It could be months waiting for something that may never happen, and we can't spare the bed."
"But-"
"I'm sorry Private." The Colonel's tone finished the conversation. "You'll feel differently when you're back in Blighty."
Jo didn't even register his last comment, she was leaning heavily on the back of the chair in front of her, not caring in the slightest that she was no longer stood to attention, and for a moment she was silent. This was it, she was being sent home. Her hand convulsed around the ticket, crushing it into a ball before she sent it, and the chair, flying into the wall. She didn't hear the Colonel's shouts as she turned and left, crashing straight into someone waiting outside the door. She didn't even bother to look up at who it was; she just pushed past them tripping over the duckboards as she tried to leave the hospital behind.
"Jo?" Miles swayed slightly as he regained his balance. "Jo!"
She didn't hear his shout.
He was about to run after her when the Colonel called him,
"Captain, I trust you have those forms for me?"
Miles hesitated, his eyes following Jo as he decided whether he should come up with some excuse. He watched her disappear between the trees and he sighed heavily, turning towards the Colonel. "Yes, I have them." He was ushered into the office, sparing a quick glance back at the trees. He could no longer see Jo between them.
..
Jo kept walking until she could no longer see the flat ground of the hospital. She kicked angrily at a tree, immediately regretting it as pain seethed from her side. She collapsed against a trunk, drawing her knees up to her chest feeling the warm tears rolling down her cheeks.
She didn't know what else to do, so she just sat there. A light mist of rain was perpetrating through the woollen khaki and Jo could feel her skin shivering with the cold. A bitter voice in the back of her head was cursing this stupid country; it was supposed to be August but all it ever seemed to do was rain. She pulled her muddy hands further inside her sleeves. She wasn't ready to go back yet.
So she just pulled her knees tighter to her chest. She didn't even move when she heard footsteps approaching through the squelching mud behind her.
She heard the scrape of wool against bark as they sat down beside her, and then she felt the warmth of Miles' arms around her as he pulled her against his chest. He didn't say anything; he just sat there, gently trying to coax some warmth back into her shivering arms.
Eventually Jo lifted her head slightly from his chest, twisting her neck to look at him. "When," she swallowed, her voice thick. "When they find out about me, you and Tom have to deny that you knew anything. They'll believe you, and make sure Kitty keeps quiet too. Promise me!" Her voice was still shaking as she looked up at him with red, puffy eyes.
Miles didn't reply, he just lowered his head so that they were a breaths distance apart and lightly brushed his lips over hers, a silent refusal. He lifted his head just a fraction and Jo's head instinctively tilted up as she tried to find his mouth again.
She whispered, "Don't stop."
The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile and he willingly caught her lips in rapid, broken kisses. His hand cupped around her chin as he ran his tongue over her bottom lip, deepening the kiss. She pushed herself onto her knees, her hands running over his cheeks and neck, all the way to his hips as she sought to be as close to him as physically possible. She traced the contours of his muscles, committing every single detail of him to memory.
..
Colonel Brett was sat in his office staring at the forms Miles had brought him.
Joseph Coleman
He had been healing well, and it was true that they needed all the help they could get; the men were coming in faster than they could clear the beds. Everyone was working non-stop, everyone except the surgeons; it seemed that as soon as the men that were going west had gone, and the ones who weren't were healing, they had little to do with their time. Perhaps if he gave them a rookie to sort out he'd keep them under some sort of control. Anything to stop Miles playing golf in the early hours of the morning – if he found one more golf ball that had ended up somewhere it shouldn't be he was going to be giving someone a Blighty bullet himself.
He sighed, was it the right thing to do? To allow a soldier to stay in France when he should be on a boat to Blighty? No other Colonel would allow it. He sighed again and stood up. He had to do what was best for Coleman, and to do that he needed to know why Coleman was so adamant not to go home. He needed to sort this out properly. He pulled his coat around his shoulders and ducked out of his office, heading in the direction he knew Coleman had gone.
Roland stepped into the shade of the trees, squinting to try to see the private. He mentally cursed the British Army for putting its soldiers in Khaki; it just made them so tricky to find. Though he supposed that was rather the point.
He walked for about a minute until he saw the green of a jacket, but he stopped. It wasn't Private Coleman; that was an officer's jacket.
Roland rolled his eyes fondly. Miles, of course it was Miles, and he wasn't alone. He gave a light laugh of disbelief, he couldn't believe that the man's relentless flirting had actually paid off; last he'd known Miles was still trying to tease a smile out of Miss Trevelyan, and he was certain – if the gossiping was anything to go by – that Captain Gillian had beaten him to it, by at least a year.
Any other day he would have turned around and walked away, but he couldn't leave Coleman out here, and he would need to talk to Miles anyway. With a sigh, hinting towards resentment, he picked his way through the damp leaves towards them.
"Captain," he cleared his throat to get Miles' attention.
The man's head snapped up and he practically jumped away from the nurse, fixing his jacket and tie as he did so, not that he could do much for the mud stains on both his uniform and face. "Sir!"
"Don't mind me," Brett waved a hand dismissively, "I don't notice anything. I just need to find Private Coleman. He came this way."
Miles glanced sideways, a guilty twitch itching its way onto his face. Roland couldn't remember ever seeing the man quite so uncomfortable, he would even go so far as to say flustered, that's when his eyes fell on the person stood next to the Captain; it wasn't a nurse. He realised he hadn't noticed them before because their uniform blended into the woody green of the trees.
Tear stained, and face streaked with mud – which he noted matched the mud smeared into Miles' face – the person stood there was definitely Coleman. His mouth formed an 'o' as something in the back of his mind clicked into place.
All three were still.
Then Brett opened his mouth. "Private Coleman, I need to see you in my office. Immediately," he ordered, "and Captain, tidy yourself up. I'll need to see you straight after." He added turning away before either of them had even finished their salutes.
His mind was racing as he walked back towards his office; no wonder Coleman didn't want to be sent home.
Roland had barely been sat in his chair a minute before there was a hesitant knock on the door.
"Yes?"
He looked up as Private Coleman's appeared round the door before shuffling in to stand in front of the desk.
"It seems to be your lucky day, Private," Roland commented, glancing up from a sheet of paper in his hands. It wasn't important, he didn't even know what was on it, but he felt like he had to seem to be doing something.
"Sir?" Coleman stuttered, fidgeting nervously and failing to stand to attention properly.
"I've decided that if what's best for you is to stay here as an orderly, then that is what will happen," he announced with as close to a friendly smile as he could manage.
He could visibly see the relief washing over the Private's shoulders. "Thank you, thank you sir!"
Roland held up a hand. "Of course this will depend on whether Corporal Foley and the Captains are happy to take you under their wing, so to speak. You will be helping them with whatever needs to be done, whenever it needs to be done."
Coleman nodded. "Of course sir."
"Does your mother know?" Roland asked suddenly, his eyes not leaving the sheet of paper in his hands.
Jo felt her voice catch in her throat. What was it he was asking her? Did he know? Or did he only know what he had seen? She couldn't decide which would be worse.
"You were brought here by your brother, correct?" The Colonel continued.
Jo nodded. Then added "Yes sir," as she realised he wasn't looking at her.
"I think it's good for family to stick together," as he said this he finally raised his eyes to meet hers. A pointed expression in his face, that wasn't evident in his words.
He knew.
"Yes sir," Jo agreed as she had been taught to agree to every officer. "Thank you."
Roland smiled, a genuine warmth flowing from his face. "Just remember that not everyone will be as obtuse as I am," he warned her.
Jo nodded again, all the fear draining from her. Her eyes fell on the chair that was still lying on its side. With a sheepish grin she dragged it upright, tucking it back under the side of the desk. "Sorry."
"You should have told me," he said quietly, his voice gentle.
"I didn't think I could have," Jo admitted. "I thought – I didn't want any trouble."
Brett sighed. "I know, I understand." He suddenly sat up a little straighter, the commanding tone back in his voice. "You're dismissed Private. I'll talk to the Captains and the Corporal and get this sorted out officially. Not that I can see any objections coming from Miles."
Jo blushed slightly as she saluted. "Yes sir."
"One last thing…"
Jo paused, her hand on the door.
"Clearly Miles knows, does anyone else?"
Jo hesitated again, but looking at his sympathetic face she knew she could trust him. "Tom knows, and Kitty, but that's all."
The Colonel nodded curtly. "Let's keep it that way shall we?" he gave a brief smile before flicking his hand to indicate she was to leave.
..
Miles was teetering on the edge of the decking outside the door of the Colonel's office. He dragged his palm across his forehead, a mixture of sweat and rain beaded on his temple, running down his fingers. He shook his hands out for what felt like the hundredth time and shifted his weight through his feet again, this waiting was infuriating. He could feel his mind twisting with the anticipation of what was happening; he had no idea how the Colonel would react to this – he didn't even know what the Colonel thought had happened.
He perched himself awkwardly on the wooden railing, tapping his fingers along the side, then pushed himself back onto his feet swinging his arms around in an attempt to relieve the anxious stress for just a moment. It didn't work.
The door was glaring at him, and he glared back, willing the wood to give way. All of a sudden it did, and it took him a moment to realise that it wasn't because of sheer will power, but because Jo had opened it. She smiled at him quickly, her cheeks still slightly puffy and mud stained.
Miles ran a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to read her expression. Before either of them could say a word the Colonel shouted for Miles to enter. As he brushed past Jo his hand trailed along her arm, his fingers squeezing hers for the briefest of moments before the wooden door shut between them and he was left facing the Colonel.
Sat solemnly behind his desk, the Colonel watched Miles step cautiously into the centre of the room and salute with all the confidence of a man with a barrel squared onto his head.
Neither spoke for a while, then suddenly Brett let out a laugh the stern expression relaxing off his face.
"This is a tricky situation isn't it?" Roland leant back in his chair, the wooden legs creaking with the movement. "You know that I should dismiss you both, I trust," he raised his eyebrows slightly.
Miles' throat let out a high pitched squeak and he coughed, and then coughed again trying to keep his composure. "Sir, I-"
"I should, but I'm not going to," Roland reassured him with a smile, "In fact I'm having Jo instated here as an Orderly."
Miles dropped his head slightly, a relieved smile playing across his lips. He then tilted his head back, raiding his eyes to the ceiling and taking a slow breath. "Thank you."
"I'm putting Private Coleman in your charge; you and Tom seem to have more spare time on your hands now that we're no longer a front line hospital." Roland rolled his eyes slightly. "I do trust that this won't be a problem."
"No!" Miles answered, perhaps a little too quickly. "No, sir," he added.
"Good," Roland smiled again. "Because I already have one surgeon walking around with his head in the clouds after one of the nurses, I really don't need another surgeon trailing around after an orderly."
Miles grinned sheepishly, "Of course sir."
"Just please be careful Captain," Roland's voice dipped into a serious tone for a second. "Any sane Colonel would have Jo sent home, and you put on a charge, and if this comes out there will be nothing I can do to help you."
"We'll be careful," Miles grinned, his face splitting in two.
"I doubt that very much," The Colonel sighed, a smile belying his words. "I've known you too long."
Miles' face was a picture of euphoric joy; even if he'd wanted to he couldn't have removed the smile from his face.
"You look like you've just swallowed a coat hanger." Roland leant back further into the chair. "There are, of course, a few more considerations we need to take into account. For example, we need to sort Coleman out with a place to sleep, he can't stay on the ward taking up valuable bed space."
"He could sleep in our-"
"I don't think so Captain," Roland interrupted with an exaggerated grimace.
"Right," Miles' grin became sheepish for a moment before reverting to usual. "Fair enough. We can sort something out."
"Do."
Miles rocked on his heels for a moment before the Colonel sighed and flicked his hand indicating they were done.
"Thank you sir," Miles grinned again as he saluted before turning and walking straight into the closed door. He staggered back slightly as the Colonel sighed; it had been barely a minute and the man was already acting like a distracted teenager.
Miles finally won the battle with the door handle and with a last grin he was gone, leaving Roland with his head in his hands. What had he let himself in for?
..
Ta-da!
J'espere que tu l'aimes
as always, please let me know what you thought, and if theres anything you want me to write let me know! :)
I'm currently working on Miles being made to run round the field (from the bet)
Miles on morphine (after being shot)
Kitmas proposal and basically just fluff (lots of Kitmas fluff)Jo being sent back to the front, which has gone really sad and I'm sorry!
and a few others, but I haven't quite figured out what's happening there yet ;)
hopefully I'll get them finished before I leave (which is on Tuesday) and then they can be beta'd while I'm away so I can post them when I'm back :D (which is umm.. a month after that... but then I'm doing an archaeological dig for a week so I doubt I'll be able to post then either... sometime! I will post them sometime in the future!)
(I seem to be big on brackets this evening)
This is what happens when I have an essay to do that I really REALLY don't want to do... did you know there's a word in German - I think - that's really long and basically means having-to-work-really-fast-because-you-procrastinated-for-ages-and-left-it-all-to-the-last-minute. I think we need this word in English.
I suppose we do... it's just called homework
anyhoo... that's turned into quite a long note... sorry!
If you've actually read this far you can have some cyber cookies. umm... here you go!
enjoy.
they're invisible.
I'm going now... a bientot!