So apparently you people are excited for this! I have to admit, I've become rather fond of a few of my minor characters as well as Bert and Mary so it's fun to revisit them again. As always, read and leave a review if you have a mind to.


Bert turned and saw the expression on Robby's face. His friend shot him a venomous look and he sighed. "Robby, let's go talk." he said softly, snagging the back of Robby's coat and steering him out a side door.

"You planned that, didn't you!" Robby demanded, whirling around to face him.

"Yes, I did." he returned calmly. "Matthew's father and Olivia's know each other and I thought that if she makes a friend who can show her that not all men are going to talk her down, she'd be willing to give everyone a chance. Even you."

Robby gaped at him for a moment before closing his mouth. "Oh. I...I'm sorry." he sighed.

"The other thing is, Robby, you have got to ease off her for a while. I know you care about her, but she's got a lot of pressure from her family right now and if she feels like you're pressuring her too, she won't even rethink her stance."

The other man nodded slowly. "That makes sense. Maybe my trip to America will be good for everyone."

Bert's eyebrows climbed. "Trip to America?"

Robby nodded, looking more cheerful. "Yes. There's a theater group in New York who want to turn "What The Sweep Saw" into a play and I've been invited to come and help them do it!"

"That's great, Robby!" Bert said, feeling a bit relieved. If Robby was in another country, then he really would be able to let Olivia have a bit of space.

"I thought so." Robby beamed and for not the first time, Bert had to question how deeply his feelings for Olivia really ran. If he had left Mary, nothing would have put him in a better mood. Then again, Robby rarely ever spoke of how he felt about things. He offered great advice if it was needed, but he would never initiate a serious conversation on his own. Even after almost 8 years of friendship, he wondered just how well he really knew Robby. Or if he ever would.


Olivia gazed at Bert's drawings, impressed at how he had been able to capture the frenzied feeling of what was going on in a still medium. "He's amazing." she commented and Matthew nodded his agreement.

"He always was." he said fondly. "He had a little book and was always drawing at night when it was quiet."

"What sorts of things did he draw then?" she asked curiously. She had only known him from the hospital on and was curious to know a little of Bert before his injury.

"Bits of everything." Matthew reflected. "Sometimes it would be something that someone asked for, like the Bridge or Big Ben. But one of my favorites was a little scene he'd drawn out of his own imagination. There were four penguins setting up tea on a little white table."

"It sounds charming." Olivia said, smiling at the thought.

"It was. I've always thought he should turn it into a children's story." Matthew said as they moved along.

He stiffened suddenly and Olivia looked at where his gaze was. In front of them was a small drawing and it was of Matthew himself. He was sitting on a wooden crate, shoulders hunched and chin resting on his left hand. In his right hand was a pencil and across his lap was a book with paper on top of it. "He didn't tell me about this one." he said softly.

"What is it of?" she asked. She could hear the underlying grief in Matthew's voice and wanted to know. Perhaps if he spoke of it, he could begin to let go of it.

His hazel eyes turned and caught her in their depths. "Whenever someone in our unit died, I took the responsibility of writing to their families myself instead of letting someone who had not even known their sons at all do it."

He looked away for a moment. "I had to write far too many of those bloody letters over the years."

She could tell that he was trying to quell his emotions and in that moment, she impulsively squeezed his arm. He smiled gratefully at her and placed his hand over hers for a moment.

At that moment, Adam came over with Mary Alfred and Olivia could see immediately that something was wrong. Pulling away from Matthew, who followed rapidly behind her, she looked into Mary's face. "Mary, what is it?"

The older woman looked stricken and Olivia realized that she had come from the section of art that carried a warning. "Do you want us to find Bert?"

"Yes." she said softly, her lower lip trembling.

Matthew immediately strode off into the crowd and returned with Bert moments later.

"Mary love, shall we go?" Bert asked gently, taking his wife's hands into his.

"I would like to leave, yes." she answered and he looped his left arm around her. "We'll see you lot later, Olivia, Adam, Matthew." he nodded as they moved toward the door.

As the trio watched them go, Olivia reflected that it was nice to have had Matthew's help. She just hoped that Mary would be all right."


The carriage ride home was long and Mary knew that she should say something to ease her worried husband's mind, but her own thoughts were whirling with the images that she had just seen. Dead men, men with missing limbs and perhaps worst of all, men who had been burned.

And these were just a small fraction of the things that Bert would have seen during the war. If she was sickened by the few drawings she had seen, she could now begin to understand just why it had taken him so long to piece his life back together. And why Matthew, Olivia and Robby were still working at it.

They arrived and as they climbed out of the carriage, she lightly squeezed Bert's hand. His frown softened a bit, but he still wasn't completely at ease yet.

Silently, the pair made their way to their room where they prepared for bed, but Mary couldn't sleep. As soon as Bert's breathing had evened out, she slipped out of bed and went to the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair and looking out at the sky, a hand on her stomach.

As she rocked back and forth, she tried to to push the images out of her mind. She was so intent on this that she didn't heart the soft thump of Bert's crutch until his hand touched her shoulder. "Can't sleep?" he asked softly.

"No." she admitted and he sighed as he took a seat in the window.

"What's on your mind, love?" he asked, his bright blue eyes holding her gaze.

"How...how can you not dwell on it?" she asked and he took a moment to consider the question carefully before he answered.

"It took time." he said, a sad smile on his face. "And sometimes, the nightmares still come back as you well know."

And she did know. To this day, he would still wake up at night, trembling and in a cold sweat.

He went on. "But having you, Jerry, Sarah and this little one coming gives a new meaning to my life. In a very real sense, you saved me when you came back to London."

Reaching out, he pulled her hand into his. "I love you and while I can't make what you saw go away, I can promise to hold you so that you won't be alone."

His words made her eyes well up and she cursed this part of being with child. She was so much more emotional than usual and she hated the feeling of not being in control of her emotions.

"I would like that." she said quietly and he got up, crutch tucked under his arm.

"Then shall we go to bed?" he asked.

"We shall." she agreed, allowing him to help her up from the rocking chair before returning with him to their room. He seemed to know that she wanted him close and wrapped his arm snugly around her, shoulder serving as her pillow as his other hand rested on her stomach.

"Good night, Mary." he said softly.

She put her hand over the top of his. "Good night, Bert."

As she closed her eyes, she hoped that it would indeed be a good night.


Matthew set his cap down on a chair, sighing as he hung his uniform up and made his preparations for bed. This evening had been good and he was glad he had gone.

He was very glad to have met Olivia. She was obviously intelligent and kind and he had enjoyed speaking with her, as well as her younger brother Adam.

His only wish was that the other women he encountered could have her level of understanding. All they wanted to hear about was how glorious or honorable the war was. And he wasn't the sort of man willing to lie to them. His father had insisted on complete honesty and integrity and he wasn't willing to break that in order to appease someone who was only after his money and title any way.

Sitting down on his bed, he turned out the lights and fell into an uneasy slumber.

It was raining, and a charge was expected to be conducted later in the day. As he sat with his rifle on his knee, he could hear the crackling of leaves from behind him and tensed.

As the sound came closer, he moved to his left and waited. A German scout emerged from the clearing as as he tried to circle back around, his foot hit a branch.

Swearing under his breath, he tried to hide himself but it was too late. The soldier took aim at him and he was able to use the tree as cover. Not wanting him to draw attention to his position, he took his own gun, bayonet attached and lunged.

The metal drove home, driving the breath from the soldier and as he fell to the ground, a look of surprise crossed his face. Matthew wrenched his bayonet, now bright with the life blood of another human being and watched as the light faded from his enemy's eyes and his breathing stopped forever.

His rifle joined the soldier's body on the ground as he fell to his knees and retched into a pile of leaves, knowing he would never be able to forget this man's face.

Jerking awake, Matthew rubbed a hand over his face before getting up and wrapping a bathrobe around himself. It was no good to try and go back to bed so he would spend tonight sitting up as he always did when this happened.

Opening the door softly to his library, he went over to the bookshelf and began to look through his collection, wondering what to read. His fingers drifted over the spines of the books until he came to the spot reserved for the Royce and Bertie series.

Smiling faintly, he picked up "What The Sweep Saw", deciding that he would much rather reread a familiar story tonight.