Author's Note: Hello lovely readers!

I know I've taken a while to update this story and I apologize for that. Still, thank you for your continuing support and your reviews, follows, and favourites!

A little announcement, some of you may know I published a new story a little while ago: "Not With a Bang", a Downton Abbey story set in the Star Wars universe. More recently, I published another new story: "Everything You Can Take From Me", a Star Wars story set in the Hunger Games universe! If you're interested, please check those out and let me know what you think, it would be greatly appreciated.

I hope you all are staying safe, washing your hands, wearing masks, and social distancing.

Enjoy!

France

March 1917

Adam's ears were ringing, and suddenly he was blown off his feet.

He landed in a patch of soggy mud, and he slowly made his way to his feet. Nothing was broken – that is, nothing he could immediately tell. His vision was slowly refocusing, and all around him was grey and brown. Dark clouds were gathering in the sky. It would rain soon, making the battlefield even more disastrous than it already was.

More explosions thundered in front of him, and Adam bent down and covered his face with his arms. The last thing he needed was to get more dirt in his eyes.

Suddenly, there was an arm on his shoulder, and instinctively he grabbed it and pulled out his gun.

But it was only Percy.

"Sir, the Germans are retreating!" He screamed above the noise. "We've been ordered back to base."

Adam could only manage to nod. In his disorientation, Percy practically had to drag back over the battlefield into the safety of the bunker. As soon as he entered, his hand scrambled for the inside breast pocket of his heavy overcoat. He frantically searched, until his hand found what he was looking for: the rose-shaped rattle Belle had given him so long ago. He rubbed it in his gloved hand, sending a silent prayer to Belle, and placed it back in his coat pocket.

In the safety of the small space, the battle felt so distant, as though it had almost never happened. He found himself some coffee and poured a cup for Percy, but nothing could match the coffee from Theron. Oh, how me missed the comforts of home. Had it already been almost a year since he'd been at Theron? Since he'd since seen the staff?

Since he'd seen Belle?

It almost didn't seem possible.

Percy dropped a stack of letters on his small desk, jolting him from his thoughts. "Dear Lord, that was almost as loud as the explosion out there," he said with a small laugh. His ears were still ringing faintly.

"I apologize, sir," Percy seemed to stumble over his words. "I didn't mean –"

"I know you didn't, Private. Say, have you received any letters recently?"

"Only a few, sir," he replied. "One sent with a box of fudge from an army friend who's now convalescing, one from an old school mate stationed in Belgium, and one from the staff. And you, sir?"

"Oh, it seems they're from the usuals," Adam replied, flipping through the envelopes. "The staff, Belle, and…" he paused, blinking a few times to make sure he read the return address correctly. "One from Ned. You remember him? Edmund Lynn? We went up to London for his wedding in June 1913." Had it really been almost four years already?

Adam remembered that day fondly – one of the first days he could truly be himself with Belle, where there had no pretense or scandal. When it had just been the both of them as they were, not as society dictated they'd be. But of course, it had all come crashing down when they had returned home to find his father there with a woman whom he intended Adam to marry. And ever since that whole nasty affair, Adam had spoken very little to his father. Even throughout the course of the war, Adam had received no correspondence – not even a word from the Earl of Villeneuve. He didn't ask after his condition, how the war faired on his end, or even how those remaining at the house were doing. Adam wasn't even sure his father knew Theron had been turned into a convalescence home shortly after the beginning of the war. Where was his father now? Was he still up in Yorkshire, training new army recruits? Or had he moved on to the battlefields on the Continent?

Was he in France, just like Adam was?

After the telegram announcing the war had come, his father had left the very next day to resume his position in the army from the Boer Wars, without so much as a word to him. He remembered coming down to breakfast that morning to find himself alone with Cogsworth. The butler had told him his father had caught the earliest train up to Yorkshire, a somewhat sympathetic look in his eye. The news had made him both anxious and relieved. After that, Adam's position at the house became unclear. Should he have stayed? But of course, he couldn't – all of the eligible men were joining up, and it was his responsibility do his part. At least, that was what he had initially told himself. But now he was wondering whether he had joined up just to avoid the situation with his father altogether, to escape from it all.

To truly get away from his life at Theron.

It was something the old him would have done – the Adam that gambled away all of his money and fooled around with girls.

But he had something at Theron to go back to: Belle.

"Do you think London is as grey as it is here?" Percy pondered light-heartedly, returning his thoughts to the bunker.

Adam laughed. "Oh, London's much greyer, I should think."

"I'll, uh, leave you to it, sir," Percy said, nodding towards the letter before leaving the bunker. In a sense, Adam was happy Percy had acquired other friends during his time as his batman. He couldn't imagine being in his company all day and all night in these conditions could bring the ex-footman much joy, despite the fact they had known each other before the war.

Adam turned his attention to the letter and tore it open using a rather dull letter opener. The parchment was folded quite tightly and stained – from coffee or tea, he assumed.

Captain Adam Savoy –

Adam,

You've done quite well for yourself, so it would seem. Made captain in under three years of service, well done, you. I've only just been made lieutenant, myself. Although to be fair, I've been almost two years on the front, so make of that what you will.

Before you ask what has taken me so long to write, I must tell you how hectic everything has been since your little escapade at the altar (I do hope everything has worked out with the woman you really love). Perhaps you might've seen a bulletin in the papers, but Caroline had given birth to twins in January 1915, and of course she wanted me in England to be there for her and the children. I, of course, wanted to join up right away, but the pregnancy and subsequent birth kept me at home a little longer. And perhaps she was right – being with Caroline during that time and seeing my children for the first time was truly… I can't even find the words to describe it (attached are a set of photographs of the children, the girl we've named Rose for Caroline's mother and the boy we've named Edmund, but we call him Eddy).

I hope you're managing to keep your spirits up, despite the harsh circumstances. As I write this, I desperately want a cup of coffee that doesn't taste like dirt, and a slice of Mrs. Oliver's chocolate torte. I imagine the conditions here in Germany are no better than in where you are in France. Mud and grey skies for as far as the eye can see.

I've just been called to conduct a patrol, so I'm afraid I must leave you with this. Best of luck in France, and I assume you're wishing me luck in Germany.

Your friend,

Lieutenant Edmund Lynn (Ned).

Adam read the letter over twice and tucked it in a small wooden box where he kept all of his correspondence. The attached photographs were small, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. There were two that displayed separate portraits of the children, and a third that was a family portrait – Ned standing with one child in his arms, and Caroline sitting in front of him with the other. The photograph almost reminded him of those taken of him with his mother and father, when he was no older than an infant. Adam remembered one particular day, sometime after his mother had passed when they were still living at Theron, when he made his way up passed the servants' quarters to the attic at the very top of the house – a small room littered with old objects and decorations that no longer had a place in the rooms of the estate. It was there he found old dusty albums full of photographs. They were mainly serious-looking portraits of his parents, and the occasional candid of him and his mother playing on the grounds of the house, or of her pushing him in an intricate pram, but those were quite rare. The photographs reminded him of the those the family would receive from the royal family every year in a Christmas card – stern faces and strait backs. His father had found him, of course, after hours of searching, and promptly dragged him back down to the nursery. He wasn't allowed to go to the attic again.

Blinking away the memory, Adam tucked those away in the letter box as well. Were those albums still in the attic, he wondered. Perhaps he should write to Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts in order to find out, perhaps to send him some of those photographs in their next letter.

Commotion was growing outside the bunker, and Adam decided to use the little time he had to write back to Ned, telling him of all that had happened since they had last spoken. After the letter was sealed, he began a second letter to the staff at Theron.

All too soon Percy returned, telling him it was time once again to go out into the fray.

It was perhaps a week later when a new squadron of soldiers was transferred to their base. Adam could tell right away they were not new recruits. Their faces were worn, weary, and many had dark circles under their eyes.

"These lot have just been transferred here from Belgium," his commanding officer said, confirming his suspicion.

"I imagine it brings them no comfort knowing they're a little closer to home," Adam commented.

"Not in these conditions."

As the newly arrived soldiers passed him by into the main bunker, there was one face that caught his eye. He had to blink multiple times to make sure he was not mistaken. No, he'd most definitely seen this man before… years ago…

"You're the toff who lives at Theron… you're the one always whoring around London…"

Suddenly Adam's eyes went wide, remembering where he had seen this face before. The village fair, when Belle had been attacked

he'd fought off the assailants and brought her back to Theron. Without thinking he had put her in a guest room instead of her own. It was perhaps when he had truly started to love her.

Adam clenched his fists in order to stop himself from taking out his emotions on Gaston, and only narrowed his eyes at him. Gaston most certainly caught his eye, because his lips curled into a wicked smile.

"Fancy seeing you here, toff!"

Adam turned at the sound of the familiar voice and narrowed his eyes at the approaching figure.

Gaston found him that evening, while he was on a patrol in the trenches, and Adam fought the urge to abandon his post right there and then.

It if was possible, Gaston had become even stockier than when he had last seen him that horrid night in the village. Wrinkles had formed around his eyes and forehead, and dark circles had formed like bruises around his eyes. But something else caught his eye. His rifle was slung awkwardly around his arm, not exactly sitting well in his hand.

Gaston followed his eyesight to his arm and flashed him a sickly smile. "It never fully healed correctly," he said, moving his wrist awkwardly. "So I think I owe you a 'thank you' for that."

Thank goodness it was almost completely dark out, so that Gaston couldn't see Adam pale. The last thing he needed was a soldier hunting him on this side of the line as well. Gaston stepped even closer to Adam, so close that he could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath.

"How's Belle, by the way?" He jeered. God, Adam wanted to punch this man more than anything.

"You'd do well to remember that I am your superior officer," Adam said, trying to not let his emotions get the better of him.

"I heard you jilted another toff at the altar," he continued, ignoring Adam. "A great scandal that was, let me tell you. I can only assume it was for Belle that you did it. Tell me… have you deflowered her yet? I personally wished to do that myself but now I can hear it from the man himself –"

Without thinking, Adam's fist flew across the air and landed on Gaston's chin. To his surprise, the other man didn't cry out or yell, but chuckled.

"Ahh," Gaston laughed, clutching his chin. "You better watch yourself. Like I said… I owe you a 'thank you' for breaking my wrist."

Adam straightened his jacket. "Back to your post, soldier."

Fire started in Gaston's eyes as he made a lunge for Adam.

"Back to your position, soldier," Adam thundered, stopping the other man in his tracks.

Gaston shot him another glare but did not advance. Instead, he retreated back into the darkness of the trenches, leaving Adam alone.

For the rest of the night, he couldn't the image of Gaston's fiery eyes out of his mind.

Adam never thought he'd admit it, but he was thankful for the constant motion in the trenches. The Germans had been bombarding them for close to two weeks with no signs of letting up. His ears were constantly ringing and his head was pounding, but ever since that one brief encounter, he'd managed to avoid Gaston's fury.

And it was just as well. The thought almost frightened him, but Adam didn't know if he would be able to contain his own anger if he were to see that snake of a man again. Those horrid words he'd said about Belle were enough to drive him halfway mad.

A sudden explosion rocked his thoughts, and he didn't know if it had come from their side or the Germans'.

"Get down, sir!" A familiar voice cried from behind, and his heart burst through his chest as he was jolted backwards and into the far wall of the muddy trench. Adam screwed his eyes shut and covered his face with his arms, but not before seeing a bright flash and plume of smoke somewhere above him. Hardened dirt and rocks showered over them, and then for a moment it was finally quiet. Adam blinked and gazed over at his saviour, who was looking at him with a mix of shock and confusion.

"Thank you, Percy, I uh, don't know what came over me," Adam said rather sheepishly.

The private smirked softly. "You forget, sir, that I watched you eat dinner for years back at the big house. I know when's something's on your mind."

"Yes, I suppose you would," Adam smiled to himself. Percy looked at him as if waiting for a further explanation. "Aren't I allowed to have any secrets, Private Hayes?"

"Of course, sir, but we are in the middle of a war. Keeping things to yourself is generally not considered a winning strategy."

The cheeky bugger, Adam thought, the corners of his lips curving upwards into a smile. It sounded like Mrs. Potts was the one speaking to him instead of a former footman. "Remember that night during the village fair? It must have been five years ago, now, when I carried Belle, ah – Miss Deveraux – into the house after she'd been injured?"

"How could anyone forget?"

"Well, she'd been attacked by this man, Gaston, and… he's here, in this very trench."

Percy paused a moment, taking it all in. "Do you need someone to keep you from seeking revenge?" He asked, a little too eager.

"Steady on," Adam laughed. "If anything, I've been the one looking over my shoulder more and more."

"He must know he could face a court martial if he tries to attack you," Percy said.

Adam shook his head. "It's not even that. To tell you the truth, the whole thing has made me want to see her all the more."

It reminded him of his life at Theron, of the days when he could take morning rides and read all afternoon. That sort of life seemed impossible, now, like his life before the war bad been a dream and now he had jolted into the real world. He wondered if he could ever go back to that sort of life again, or if anyone in the whole of England could, for that matter.

"I miss her too," Percy admitted, taking off his helmet to clear out the dust and dirt that had filled it in the explosion. "I miss all of them – Cogsworth, Mrs. Potts, Lumiere, Plumette, Jasper…" he trailed off, setting his helmet back on his matted and messy blond locks.

"Have you no family to miss?" Adam asked. Shame suddenly welled in his chest. How could not know if his own staff had a family, or indeed a life outside the estate? In the years since his exile to the countryside, had he not once inquired about the lives of those he considered his friends? He hesitated to look at Percy, lest his batman give him a look of contempt, but he simply shook his head.

"Before entering service, I didn't have much of a family," Percy replied. "I was the youngest of five children, and my parents didn't spare me much attention… or food for that matter."

Adam frowned. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be," Percy let out a small laugh. "When I had enough of starving, I ran away and eventually became a hallboy in some dandy's estate, and that led me to Theron. Where I found a true family."

Another explosion, somewhere in the distance, shook the ground again. Percy's hand shot out and grabbed Adam's arm, pulling him away from more rubble falling into the trench. When the ground steadied and the air grew quiet again, the two soldiers started making their way back to their small bunker. If they were lucky, they'd be able to get a few hours' sleep before their night shift.

"I just hope we can get back to our family in one piece," Adam said.

"Don't worry, sir," Percy said brightly. "It's my duty to make sure you do."

As loud and chaotic as the day had been, the night was quiet and still. A wind rustled through the barbed wire that scattered No Man's Land, whistling softly. The sky was covered in stars, burning both bright and dim.

For a moment, Adam imagined he was back at Theron, out on the library's terrace gazing up at the dark sky. He imagined a copy of Lancelot and Guinevere in one hand, his index finger marking the page he'd left off and a cup of steaming tea in the other, sweetened with honey. It was odd, to see a sky so beautiful, the same sky he'd watch go by above the estate, over a landscape as dismal as the one that stood before him.

A field that was once perhaps bright green and covered in wildflowers was now brown and deformed. The pits filled with muddy water and human remains created by the near-constant bombardment made it seem as if the earth was collapsing in on itself, ready to give rise to a new world.

Gingerly, Adam pulled out his time piece from the inside breast pocket of his uniform and squinted at its face. In the darkness he could barely make out that it was only half-past midnight. He groaned inwardly as he put the time piece back, and in the same pocket felt rattle Belle had given him that warm summer morning she'd met him at the train station. It was a comfort, having it close on his person. It made it feel as if Belle was with him wherever he may go.

Beside him, Percy was becoming restless in the cool night air, concentrating more on a loose threat on his jacket that on the other side of the field, where the Germans were making camp in their trench.

"I've seen you stand completely still and poised during an hours-long dinner service, and yet during a watch shift you can't help but fiddle," Adam laughed, adjusting the strap holding the rifle over his shoulder.

"At least there was gossip to listen to and trays of food to be served during a dinner service," Percy huffed, pulling out the loose thread completely. "Here there is nothing, one must stand at attention. Besides, Theron's dining room was much more pleasant to look at than this drab wasteland. The livery was more comfortable, too. No damp socks in damp boots."

"Relax, Private," Adam replied. "Only three hours to go."

Though he couldn't see it, Adam was sure Percy was rolling his eyes towards the stars. "Even a Theron dinner service didn't go on for this long," he groaned.

Adam laughed. "Sometimes it felt as if they did."

As the night wore on, the sky changed from its deep black to one mixed with the flickering firelight from both their trench and the Germans' trench no more than a few miles away. The wind had died down, but the air was still cool, sending chills through Adam's uniform. Not for the first time, his thoughts drifted to those men who stood in his position, across the battlefield. With the war's end nowhere in sight, morale among the troops had waned. Did the Germans feel the same way? Surely, they would rather be at home with their families than here on this cold and muddy field.

Footsteps, loud as gunfire in the silent air, broke through his thoughts. The next watch group was here to relive Percy and him.

"Well, if it isn't the toff," a voice tore through the darkness, and Adam's blood froze in his veins. The chill was soon replaced with an overwhelming heat, and suddenly Adam was thankful for the cover of night, for Gaston couldn't how red his face was becoming.

Beside him, Percy quickly realized who the man was, and instinctively clutched the strap of his rifle a little tighter.

"Good evening, Lieutenant," Adam said cordially, though he'd much rather knock the man's teeth in with the butt of his rifle. He gestured to the position he'd been standing in for the past four hours. "The watch is yours."

Adam made to leave, but Gaston blocked his way by pressing the side of his rifle across Adam's chest. He looked at the man, dumfounded. "Christ, man," he breathed. "What in God's name do you think you're doing?"

"I don't think you want to leave yet, toff," Gaston jeered, still holding his rifle across Adam's chest.

"I've had enough of this," Adam hissed, and made to push the man's gun out of his way. Gaston was quicker, moving his rifle and pointing it directly at Adam's chest. Instinctively, Adam back away and he found his hands raising in surrender. "Lieutenant, think very carefully about what you're doing. At the very least, you could receive a court martial for raising your weapon at a fellow officer," he slowly, hoping to ease the tension.

Suddenly, Adam felt the presence of someone behind him, but dare not take his eyes away from Gaston.

"Let me run and get help, I think I can make to the trench." It was Percy, whispering in his ear. Adam shook his head. There was another man beside Gaston with another gun, watching everything unfold. No doubt he would shoot Percy should he run for help. He realized also, a little selfishly, he did not want to be alone. If this was to be his end, he did not want to be alone on the mucky battlefield.

"I have thought about this, toff," Gaston bit back, his gun still raised at Adam. "Every day since that night."

"It was five years ago," Adam snapped, his heart racing.

Gaston's finger hovered over the gun's trigger. "And yet my arm remains permanently damaged. I was lucky to be accepted by the War Office at all."

"I did what I did to protect Belle from your wretched actions," Adam replied with disgust, unable to think of how Gaston had attacked her.

"And now she'll have no one to protect her," Gaston hissed, and Adam's eyes went wide as he made to pull the trigger.

A scream tore through the darkness.

Adam ducked impulsively, and as the cry of the bullet rang into the night he felt himself pulled backwards onto the wet field. Tentatively, he opened his eyes, and everything around him was misty. Struggling to breathe, he panicked and scrambled in an effort to sit up. Something was blocking his lungs, it was the bullet, shot straight into his chest.

Oh, God.

Oh, God, no.

Adam felt around in the darkness of night, but all he could feel was wet – whether it was blood or mud, he didn't know. Light-headedness and nausea coursed through his stomach up to his head, and Adam clenched his teeth at attempted to get up again.

He couldn't see Gaston or the man that had been with him, but maybe he could make it to the trench and get help. No, not maybe. He had to make it to the trench. Belle's face raced through his mind.

He had to see her again.

As Adam sat up, he felt something slip, slide down his chest.

It was blood.

He was being drowned in blood.

But no, Adam realized. Using one had to prop himself off the ground, he used his free hand to reach for his chest. Instead of touching a pool of blood, his hand found a head.

A head of blond locks.

No.

No.

Please, Lord, no.

Adam rolled the body over from his chest into his arms and found himself staring into the eyes of Private Percy Hayes.

His batman.

His footman.

His friend.

The panic renewed in Adam's chest.

"Percy!" Adam cried, feeling, praying, for a pulse in his neck. But he was still as the night air. "Percy!"

Mud squelched somewhere in front of him, and the shouting of voices echoed in the distance.

"Stupid boy," Gaston muttered, now almost standing over Adam and the body of his batman. He raised his gun again, but this time Adam didn't hesitate. He grabbed the rifle still slung against Percy's back and raised it. Without a second thought, he pulled the trigger.

The space between them lit up in smoke.

Adam's ears rung as something sharp ripped through his leg.

He'd been shot.

But Adam had got Gaston as well. The force from the bullet at such a close range had sent the man staggering back towards No Man's Land.

More shouts emerged on the battlefield, from both sides.

Clutching his shoulder, Gaston was advancing on Adam again. But before he could get close, an explosion lit up the black sky, its rubble knocking the man to the ground face-first into a pit of muddy water.

There was no time for reprieve, for their commotion had started the battle once more. Despite in the agony in his leg, Adam picked up Percy and struggled towards the light of the trench. His breath was ragged, and a mixture of sweat and blood and mud drenched his body. Percy was slipping from his arms, but Adam refused to drop him. He could not leave him behind to be destroyed in the oncoming battle.

Percy deserved so much more than that.

Adam's ears were still ringing from the gun shots and explosions, and every step he took closer to the trench sent a blinding pain up his leg.

It seemed so far away; everything seemed so far away. Adam felt as if he had been running for hours.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash light up the sky followed by a deafening roar. Within seconds, Adam was blown off his feet into the darkness of the night.

The sound of the china saucer shattering against the wooden dining room floor seemed to tear through the whole estate.

Belle didn't know what had come over her.

It was late in the night, most of the house and its convalescing soldiers had gone off to bed, and she and Plumette were clearing away the dishes from the men's tea in the dining room. But a cold chill had ripped through her body, sending the saucer to the floor. She gripped the back of a chair to steady herself, but she couldn't shake the odd feeling that lingered at her fingertips and in her chest.

"Are you alright, Belle?" Plumette asked, racing up beside her with an alarmed look. "What happened?

"I don't know," Belle breathed, her head still felt a tad dizzy. "I suddenly felt terribly cold."

A beat passed between them.

"I just think I need to sit down a moment," Bell added.

Plumette nodded furiously. "Quite right." She pulled out another chair from the table and eased Belle into its velvet upholstery. "Don't worry about the saucer, I can clean that right up. Oh, let me fetch you a glass of water."

Before Belle could say a word in response, Plumette was already out the dining room's servery door. Sighing, she rested her down in her arms against the massive oak table. Her thoughts wandered to Adam, as they often did, somewhere in France on a cold battlefield.

Silently, in the quiet solitude of the empty room, she sent out a prayer for him.

She prayed for him to be alright.

Wherever he might be, Belle hoped he heard her.