Hey peeps, guess what?

After you have read this chapter you will officially be halfway through this story! (I can't believe it myself.)

Just as a warning, there are occasions where bad language is used in this chapter, (given its name), but you can blame Tristan for that.

Anyway, thank you again to all those who have shown their support for my story and here's to letting it continue :)

Enjoy!


"Dammit, you fool, you bloody fool!" Kevin roared to himself, pacing up and down his cupboard sized room and pulling at his hair so vigorously one would think he would rip it clean off.

"My god," his voice dropped to a whimper as he sank to the floor, placing both hands on the wall in an attempt to steady himself, despite having already lost his ability to remain level-headed.

This was bad, really bad.

No, this was worse than bad. Disastrous would be the more appropriate word to describe this horrendous situation. He had just done what no man should do if he valued his dignity and peace of mind.

He had allowed himself to expose his biggest weakness in front of the one man you should guard it with your life around.

He'd given his weakness a name. One Blackadder would no doubt let stick within his mind, use it as a weapon to taunt him on a daily basis as he did with his surname and twitch.

There's no way he'd be able to live this down. He could just about take the daily jibes aimed at every inch of his being, but this...

This was just too much.

Before another thought could race through his mind, a sharp throbbing sensation invaded his head. Images of the trenches and Tristan flashed upon him, whizzing through his mind so rapidly, causing the man to hiss out in pain.

Curling up into a ball as if to prevent the aggressive memories from once again engulfing him, recollections of the past continued to haunt him. Sucking the quivering Captain into his sorrows, screaming to be unleashed into the out and open...


That following afternoon Darling had returned to the trenches, the sounds of bullets hammering into the boy soldiers chest still raw within his mind. As soon as he entered the shoddily built shelter, with a heavy groan the fed up captain practically threw himself onto what was supposed to resemble a bed, closing his eyes as he tried to block out the sounds of gunshots going off within the distance.

A couple of minutes later muffled voices could be heard outside of the dugout, instantly spoiling any glimmering hopes of being able to relax. Then after having concluded there would be no chances of getting a good rest, Darling stepped outside to find a group of five or so men sat together, one of those amongst the group being Tristan trying to contain some body heat between them, against the rough chill of the bitter wind brushing through their shivering frames.

"That Ernie fellow is a lucky bugger to have gotten out of this mess if you ask me," the distinct voice of Benjamin Thornton spoke out across the trench.

Although his sentence had initially earned him brief looks from the group, it wasn't until a loud grunt of disagreement from Tristan disrupted the silence, suddenly triggering genuine reactions amongst the men.

Soon afterward, everyone in the group turned their heads towards him, watching with bated breath when noticing his facial features burning with rage, directed towards Crilly's sidekick.

"Lucky to have gotten out of here?! Tristan scoffed in utter disgust as he turned to address the latter. "What, by being tied to the chair of so-called 'honor', surrounded by the clicks of guns from those sharing his special day, all while having to listen to the celebration song consisting of the words, ready, aim, fire. Yeah, I'm sure he was grateful for being the lucky bugger chosen to get out of here!"

The entire trench went silent.

"It was just a little something between me and a few of the boys," Benjamin said in a quieter tone of voice in an attempt to defend himself.

However, once he'd gathered the courage to look up at Tristan, all traces of self-defense disappeared when seeing the taller man's entire body shaking with such formidable fury, that it made Darling want to take a couple of steps backward despite being a fair bit away from him.

"Oh it was just a little something," Tristan repeated to himself as if he was a total idiot.

"Just a little something?!" He barked. His sudden change of tone that Kevin throughout all the years of knowing him had never witnessed until this very moment reverberated across the trench, instantly gathering the attention of other men close by. But it was Darling in particular who listened closely to each and every word he spoke.

"Listen, if you think that one day you're going to be getting out of here, then you're the butt of your own 'so-called little something'. You, like the rest of us, are never going home, never going to see your family again, and you'll most certainly never to come face to face with normality again. Get that into your thick skull Benjamin! It's all very well galloping off back to the past where your mother serves your favorite meal while singing various musical hits around the dinner table, but it doesn't change the fact that this is it for all of us. All your talk of getting out of here and going back home for tea and medals are nothing more than mind fogging pipe dreams, that in the end will screw you over if a bullet to the head doesn't. So do yourself a favor and get a reality check, before your ridiculous fantasies invade us all!"

Finding himself trapped within a sudden onset of shock as he watched Tristan stomp past the sulking Benjamin and into the dugout, Kevin brought a hand up to his collar which he began to nervously fumble with as Tristan's words circled his mind. Each and every sentence echoing so loudly, he almost forgot where he was.

As much as he wished to deny the poignant sting behind his best friends words, the fact of the matter was, his words conveyed the inevitably honest truth of the situation whether you liked it or not.

They always did.

It was times like these that separated them into two totally different categories. Tristan was without a doubt the hard-eyed realist, while Kevin saw himself as the dreamy-eyed idealist.

He would be downright lying to himself if he said he hadn't pictured himself returning back home once or twice, the notion of it at the time seeming so real that he could almost step out into no man's land and find himself back in the familiar surroundings of Croydon. But considering how long this bloody war had already gone on for and how it showed no signs of stopping, he could feel the once happy dream of going home slipping away from his very fingertips.

Only now was he truly beginning to realize the harsh reality that his future of survival was totally and utterly dependant on the very monstrosity itself.

With his breathing heavier than before, Darling picked up his drinks bottle and took a long deep swig. Wiping his mouth once he was done, the captain let out a shaky sigh before retreating back to his bunk bed, hoping the moth-eaten blanket would swallow him up whole.


"A bottle of brandy has been stolen from our side of the trench, and Lieutenant Malone is the chief culprit."

This being the very problem he had woken up to during the early hours of the morning, which of course Captain Crilly had obtained the responsibility of informing the general of this 'incident', who narrowed his eyes at Tristan as Crilly continued to talk.

"Now, as we all know sir every man loves a good drink or two, but I have come to the conclusion that Lieutenant Malone here often exceeds those limits, which alone leads me to pointing all the evidence to it being him."

The general briefly nodded. "You make some good points there Crilly. Malone? Did you steal our brandy and kept it for yourself!" General Spencer demanded, pointing an accusing finger towards the interrogated soldier.

Darling shook his head in pure disbelief, this was just plain ludicrous. Besides, he could vividly recall Tristan saying how that particular brandy had as much taste as dried fruit that had been cremated.

"No sir," Tristan replied, looking at the two men's stern glares dead in the eyes.

All Darling could do was stare between Crilly and the general. He had never liked the man, but today was the day he truly despaired of Crilly. He was outright lying to the general in order to get his own way, and what was worse, the general was actually buying every single bit of it!

"Sir!" Darling quickly interrupted, drawing the attention of the three other men in the room.

"With your permission sir, I do believe that Lieutenant Malone is not the man responsible for the theft and that we should formally investigate all the possibilities before making such hasty decisions."

"Well if it isn't him, then who is it!" The general snapped, not once taking his eyes off neither Kevin or Tristan.

But before Kevin could even open his mouth wide enough to answer the general, Crilly butted in.

"Well since Lieutenant Malone clearly loves to express his opinions as much as a man loves to have a bit of hanky-panky, maybe we should ask him of his thoughts towards this mystery sir?"

The general willingly nodded his approval.

"So, Lieutenant Malone," Crilly began as Kevin cursed under his breath. "As the spokesperson for our part of the trench, who would you say is responsible for the internal theft?"

Tristan remained silent.

"Oh come on, you must have some idea. It's unlike you to be so restricted with your passion for using your gob for misconduct."

"I'm afraid I don't have the faintest idea on who did it. Sir." Tristan replied, drawling out the formal term of designation.

Crilly hummed in thought, causing Kevin to eye him suspiciously.

"So what would you say to the following verdict that perhaps the hun took it? Yeah, that's it, perhaps he popped out of his hole, tiptoed across our line and took our brandy." Crilly slyly suggested, narrowing his eyes at Tristan that gleamed with delight on how everything seemed to be going his way.

The general gasped in disbelief. "That's a fair point Crilly, but how can you be so sure of this?"

Darling diverted his eye contact onto the said captain, silently thanking the general for questioning the latter's motives.

"Might I suggest sir that if this brandy isn't returned by nightfall, Lieutenant Malone along with one other man of your choice, can accompany him in advancing across no mans land tonight to track it down and retrieve it," Crilly said, his highly irritating ability to successfully dodge the question in hand without as much as a raise of an eyebrow, causing palpitations to the other captain's heart.

"My god, what a splendid idea!" The general exclaimed, clapping Crilly on the back. "I like your thinking Crilly! See Darling, I told you having Crilly around to assist you in your backhanded duties would benefit your troops."

"Yes sir," Kevin said, defeat evidence in his voice.

"Good, now Crilly, do you have any tactics to share with Lieutenant Malone that will ensure victory on our part?" General Spencer questioned, eyeing Crilly keenly.

"As a matter of fact I do sir," Crilly said in a thoughtful manner as he turned towards Tristan. " I highly recommend that if he sees Fritz asleep on his post drunk, that he skures him with a bayonet."

"There you have it, Malone. Advice at it's finest to take with you for your mission this coming evening," concluded the general with a slight clap of his hands.

Tristan nodded slowly, seemingly with understanding. However, Kevin had known him for many years to know that it was just code for, you bastard. The way he spoke with calm vexation in response confirming that.

"Duly noted."

"That bastard, that utter bloody bastard!" Tristan yelled after leaving headquarters, kicking a pile of dirt beside him as he seethed with fury over the current situation.

"I bet you anything that all this is to do with me reprimanding that sniveling snot rag Benjamin the other night, who then went squealing to Crilly like some schoolroom sissy!"

"Tri-" Darling tried, only to be cut off by his friend's consistent ranting.

"Now thanks to that tottering toad, Crilly has the upper hand of a situation that I can only escape from by thrusting myself out into no man's land!"

"Tristan..."

"Oh, the next time I catch even a glimpse of Benjamin Thornton, he'll find out the meaning of reprimanding but with my fist doing the bloody talking. And as for that slandering shit Crilly-"

"Nobody is going over the top!" Darling interjected louder than intended, before adding with a cunning smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Besides, I think I have a pretty good idea on who this brandy blagging person is."

Later that evening, when it was precisely ten minutes before the organized event was to commence, Crilly was half way through smoking a cigarette just as Corporal Hathaway approached him with a piece of paper clasped firmly within his hand.

"Message from HQ sir," Hathaway announced as he passed the note to the captain.

"Excellent," he chortled when opening up the note. "Tonight's excursion is going to be a blast!"

"Indeed sir."

"Ah Crilly, here at last!" General Spencer greeted moments later from his office, motioning for the captain to join the others.

"Indeed I am sir," Crilly replied with a smile while glancing over towards Darling, Tristan and another soldier who he couldn't make out the identity of.

"Now, I have officially decided which man shall accompany Lieutenant Malone in just a few minutes," General Spencer declared, to which Crilly responded to with a small smile.

"And who shall that be sir?"

"Well, I think you will agree immensely on my choice of the man who I feel is fit for the mission to reclaim our beloved brandy, being no other than Private Benjamin Thornton!"

Kevin watched as the Generals announcement instantly wiped the smile off Crillys' face, even more so when Tristan moved at an angle, revealing Benjamin who was sending frightened glances towards the blond, badly attempting to hide the fact he was trembling all over.

"Private Thornton sir," Crilly stated, spluttering as he spoke.

"Indeed it is Crilly," the general confirmed, his voice chipper like Kevin's pride of having turned the situation against his lifelong foe.

"The minute Captain Darling here informed me on how Private Thornton and the Lieutenant have gotten on so splendidly well together in the past, I couldn't bear the thought of some inexperienced, snotty nosed, half pint performing the duty of a noble soul such as the likes of Private Thornton."

"Sir, are you sure he is the man you wish to send with the Lieutenant? It's just I hope you don't mind me saying so, sir but Private Thornton is one of the best out of our men, and I'm not sure it would be wise to-"

"Sporting favorites now are we Crilly?" Darling questioned, cutting Crilly off mid-sentence, shooting suspicious looks towards the general.

"Ah, now sporting favorites is highly frowned upon as Darling here has quite rightly pointed out," the general added, his very words melting away any traces of confidence formerly present within Crilly's demeanor.

"No sir, I was just merely pointing out that perhaps a man with less of a reputation should be accompanying the Lieutenant in such a principal matter."

Before the conversation could go any further there was a soft knock on the door, which the General answered with a quick "come in."

Seconds later the door opened, Hathaway emerging with half the bottle of brandy tucked into his right arm, the general's office boy walking behind him. Both Crilly and the general cast him looks prompting him to explain.

"Sir, as you know this bottle of brandy was stolen from us in the early hours of this morning. Shortly after your plans for tonight's excursion, we caught a pair of as you would call them, spineless little frogs with half the bottle on their person, attempting to blow their own toes off to work their ticket home."

General Spencer stayed completely motionless as he listened to Hathaway informing him on the report of his findings. When Hathaway was finished the general ran a hand over his forehead, seconds later turning towards the two Captains, his facial expression neutral.

"Well Captains, this newly sprouted nugget of information has certainly changed things it seems, has it not?"

"Yes sir," they both replied in unison.

"Therefore, I am declaring that tonight's excursion no longer in action, Willaim, inform those involved immediately!"

Moments after the office boy left to fulfill his latest task, General Spencer focused his attention back to the four soldiers. "Looks as though you've had a lucky escape gentleman. So Malone, Thornton, you may resume your duties and report back to the trenches, as can you Captain Crilly and Captain Darling."

Without hesitation, they all made their way out of headquarters. Tristan and Kevin being the first ones to leave, then Crilly and Benjamin who followed suit. But it wasn't long until a certain someone decided they had some unfinished business to attend to.

"How did you two manage to slither out of that one!" Crilly demanded, glaring daggers towards the two smirking soldiers in front of him.

"The same way you managed to slither us into it," was the simple answer Kevin gave in a conceited tone.

Crilly growled, clearly having one or two more things he'd like to say on the matter. However, he soon thinks better of it and leaves without another word.

Watching as their nemesis stomps off into the distance, Captain Darling and Tristan only get enough time to share a look of triumph before being interrupted once more.

"Compliments of the General sir," the office boy Willaim announces as he hands over the bottle of brandy: that less than five minutes ago was to determine Tristan's fate to a hesitant Kevin.

"He specifically instructs you to drink responsibly."

Kevin tutted. "Drink responsibly? To half of our men, that would mean getting so totally and utterly pissed that one could easily be mistaken for a corpse that litter these trenches like measles."

The Generals office boy sighed in response, his silence serving as a gesture of understanding.

"Drink responsibly eh?" Tristan repeats once he and Darling were alone. "Or what he really means is, don't spill it."

Kevin looked at the bottle once more before allowing a small chuckle to escape him.


"You wish you could have done something to prevent Ernie's death don't you?" Tristan abruptly asked one evening during their time on patrol, his question catching the captain off guard.

Kevin opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, though no words came out. Instead, he could only focus his mind on the strange behavior his friend had been exhibiting, ever since the heated confrontation between him and Benjamin Thornton a couple of days ago.

Even now Tristan's current act of pacing up and down the dugout with such intensity he could be easily mistaken for the General himself, was out of character from the easy-going, witty person, he knew him as. Even more so when he began to aggressively slam the army baton within the palm of his hands as if he were to swing at anyone who tried to approach him.

After a minute or so of silence, Tristan answered his own question.

"I understand, Ernie was just a kid who like every other man here had the over glorified so-called honor of joining the army thrust upon him, only to find himself one of thousands to meet their 'justified' heroic fate. "

The way Tristan's tone became sharper as his response went on didn't go unnoticed by the captain.

Gulping as he yet again struggled for the right words to say, Captain Darling could only study his friend's facial expression, which could only be described as the portrait of morose. Seconds later Kevin found himself reaching out to pat his friend's shoulder, only to be drawn back to the present by a sharp head motion.

"You've got that questioning look on your face," Tristan blurted out, directing a stern glance towards the latter.

"Um well," Kevin began only to come to halt soon afterward as his ability to speak did a disappearing act, mentally cursing himself when his speech showed no signs of returning.

"I know what you're thinking," Tristan filled in for him when picking up on Darlings sudden awkwardness.

"You do?" Was all he could think of to say. But it was enough.

Tristan sighed. Those shoulders which usually carried his confident demeanor that laughed in the face of fear slumped, his entire body having given in to displaying the mental exhaustion felt by each and every man around them, causing the man to collapse into the mud. His facial expression was pretty much the same, however, beyond the exhaustion and prolonged anger towards the war lay a speck of sadness, lingering within the very corners of his creased eyebrows and pursed lips.

"A bloody wonder isn't it? How we claim that all the men we kill are for the glory of our king and country, to make him proud to be our leaders. But yet all I feel in the midst of the so-called glamorous action is this numbing pain that grows as each day passes. I am constantly haunted by images of those I've seen lose their lives and of those I've killed. Every time I hear a gunshot I'm instantly back to the moment I ripped the life away from a young German lad who couldn't have been older than twenty. All I did was watch as the light faded from his eyes, the hand that gripped his gun, the only weapon he was armed with sliding from his grasp and I'm supposed to be pleased about that!?"

Captain Darling couldn't say a word, his throat felt as if it had closed up completely.

His mind was now back at the moment Tristan had come face to face with an enemy soldier just mere inches away from potentially ending his life, and in a mixture of profound shock and fear, he'd shot him on the spot. He had kept the incident to himself for a further few days before confessing to the Captain when he stumbled across the body whilst having his so-called meal.

Everything Tristan had said was hitting home a lot harder than he imagined it would, and it was bloody heart wrenching, to say the least. So instead he listened, absorbing his every word, reflecting on them in his mind.

"How can I feel proud to be a soldier when in reality all I am is a murderer?! In the eyes of those leading us, see it as a deed done for the benefit of our country, but that doesn't soothe my soul, nor does it repair the gaping holes torn within my conscience, to me, its just a pointless act of murder for the sake of hatred. Back in headquarters, the men we kill and who get killed are just more casualties of war, but they're wrong! They have a family back home, who will always remember and cherish their existence, the very thing we've taken from them. What right do we have to be the ones that get to live on and they don't? All those who lie dead because of us and yet were still alive, the monstrosity of it all is just too much, a-a-and I don't think I can handle it."

Kevin closed his eyes just as Tristan finished his rant, trying his best to figure out what to say in response, one he knew his friend would be seeking for.

"You're right, all this killing and hatred, it doesn't make sense," Kevin admitted softly, diverting his gaze to the ground.

"Sense? Wheres the sense in any of this!" Tristan yelled, his voice wavering a little. Swiftly turning to face the other way, he's unable to look at Kevin in the eye. The Captain hadn't seen Tristan in such a vulnerable state since the devastating betrayal of his fiance Fiona.

Despite his efforts to conceal his bundle of emotions, Kevin knew for a fact Tristan was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

After recalling the numerous occasions Tristan had supported him throughout his life wobbles and self-induced mishaps, now it was time for the roles to be reversed.

"Listen!" Darling commanded, grabbing Tristan's arm to make him look at him in the eye.

"We may not be able to take back all the suffering, killing and sorrow amongst the men who have served this godforsaken chaos, but we shan't allow this war to destroy us and everything we've worked so damn hard for in our lives, do you know why? Because we have each other! That's right, we have each other to lean on when it becomes unbearable to handle as we always have done in the past, we have each other to prevent ourselves from going insane amidst the disarray, we have one another to ensure we survive to live the way we wish to when this godawful war has ended. This knowledge will be the very reason why we shall live through this and do whatever the hell we want to once its over!"

"I mean we could go on to live as Hermits, alive and happy in a cottage somewhere if we wanted to!"

Tristan cocked his head at the mention of hermits, accompanied by a wheezing chuckle, prompting Darling to mumble something about it sounding better in his head.

Looking up at the Captain, Tristan lets a watery smile escape him. Moments afterward his chuckling transforming into genuine laughter, having understood the point behind Kevin's rambling.

Darling breathes out a sigh of relief as he watches Tristan stand back up from his defeated position, glad that his best friend was back on form.

For a moment he'd truly believed in what he'd said to Tristan as an act of comfort to be possible.

As much as he despised to think about it, he couldn't help himself from thinking, what with the madness of this war driving everyone stuck in the trenches day after day to insanity, how long would it be before either one of their dreaded demises became reality?


It had been just after sunrise when Captain Darling and his company became victim to an enemy invasion.

Soon they are firing at the Germans charging towards their trench, witnessing many of his own and enemy soldiers fall to the ground, some twisting in agony as death devours them. As the fight for victory continues to slaughter through the lives of hundreds of men, a proportion of them finding themselves suffering from various injuries ranging from a bullet in the leg or arm to gut wounds, leaving those affected subjected to a prolonged painful death.

With every minute more the attack went on for was a constant reminder of how not every bullet would miss, as yet another soldier collapses to the ground having taken his last breath. Yet they had to press on, firing blindly at the Germans. Yes, some of his men would make it, but luck wouldn't be on their side forever if even such a thing existed. No one knew who would be next to fall to the ground and never to rise again. But what he did know was that for most it was only a matter of time.

That thought alone for Kevin at least was the true meaning of fear.

Perhaps Tristan had been right all along.

After what seemed like a bloody eternity, the fighting eventually stopped. Those remaining of Kevin's company having to move to safer trenches as a result of losing yet again another significant amount of men.

"You know, some would say were the lucky ones," Darling said over his frantic heavy panting.

"Luck?" Tristan retorted in between deep breathes, "what the fuck is luck?"

"Well gentlemen," came the voice that could only worsen the situation. "I'll tell you what luck is, it has bugger all to do with anything. If a bullet has your name on it there's nothing you can do."

"What a ray of sunshine you are," Tristan mumbled as Crilly continued to natter on.

"But if not, all I can say is it's only a matter of time before your turn to snuff it grabs you by the ne-"

Crilly's sentence was abruptly cut short when a bullet from out of pure nowhere struck him through the center of his helmet, causing the man to drop to his knees before collapsing right beneath Kevin's feet with a huge thud.

It was at that moment when Kevin stumbled over his footing, landing in Tristan's arms who caught him in a mixture of protecting himself and preventing the captain from falling to the floor. Seconds later leaping out of the Lieutenants grasp when catching sight of a small square object lying in front of the dead Captain's hand.

Picking it up off from the dirt, Kevin flipped the item over to find it was a photo of a young lady with two little boys who looked to be around six or seven, one stood either side of her. To the right was Crilly himself holding a baby girl in his arms, smiling fondly towards the camera. Kevins facial features instantly softened when realizing that the smile he wore in the photo wasn't the usual snarky, sinister one he'd often presented to him, this was a genuine smile based out of pure love and cherish towards his family.

"Captain Henry Crilly was a father," Tristan spoke aloud for the pair of them, while Kevin could only open and close his mouth as if he were mimicking a goldfish.

Both men could do nothing but stare at the terrifyingly still shell of a man, who less than a minute ago was happily taunting them. The very man who had bullied him throughout his life was now just another body amongst a long line of fallen soldiers, lost to the destructive wrath of war. Leaving his family with an empty void that was to never be fulfilled again.

As both Kevin and Tristan begun the process of recollecting themselves, Kevin clutched at his chest when a sudden feeling of constriction enveloped him, soon attracting Tristan's attention when he heard a gasp of pain escape from the Captain's mouth.

"Captain, are you ok?" He asked, voice laced with concern.

"I-I will be," Kevin answered with a heavy stammer, before rushing past the Leuitenent with attempted grace.

Once certain he wasn't within company, Captain Darling allowed himself to crumple to the floor, the pain in his chest having intensified. It was only after ten minutes or so did the feeling finally subside, leaving him a little out of breath. Gathering the strength to get up off of the floor, Kevin dusted himself over multiple times as he thought about the chest pain that occurred. Something he had a feeling he would be experiencing more often.

Looking towards his left, the Captain let out a world heavy sigh as an abrupt thought entered his mind, demanding to be heard.

Kevin detested the use of strong language even at the worst of times, but just this once he had to let himself say it.

What the fuck is luck?