CHAPTER SONG: "Once Upon a Dream" by Lana Del Rey (from Disney's 'Maleficent' soundtrack)
Joseph Blake led Molly up the porch steps of his house, having raced to the Schofield residence in his rig to fetch her as fast as he could, not wanting to leave Emmy alone and vulnerable too long in his living room. Myrtle, ever the faithful guard dog, leaned her head on the unconscious woman's stomach and whined, her ears perking up at the sound of her owner's voice.
Since it was mid-morning, Molly had the girls at school and she immediately accompanied the exhausted man in the pouring rain back to his home as soon as he uttered the words about Emmanuelle Hunterson returning back into their lives, but in a comatose state of whether she would awaken or not.
Before leaving her own house, she had been sure to grab clothing from Emmy's old room. Clean nightgowns, undergarments, stockings, fresh towels…
"I don't know what to do, Molly. I ought to fetch the doctor, but I'm not sure what can be done for her." The raven haired lieutenant opened the door for the older woman and allowed her entry into his home, gauging her reaction to seeing her dear "sister" lying motionless on the chaise.
Before he hesitantly left her side, Joe had covered Emmy with a thick blanket to keep her warm as well as preserve her modesty, the girl not appearing to have moved a centimeter from where he had laid her.
Molly froze where she stood as her hands went to her mouth in disbelief and sadness. Not many things could bring a reaction from such a strong, fearless lady, but she cared not if anyone saw her cry as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Myrtle, sensing the female visitor's melancholy, padded up to Molly and rubbed her head against the woman's dress skirt, smelling the familiar scent left on the fabric courtesy of her puppy adopted by Cici and Elle, named Bucky.
The brunette Englishwoman shakily went to the chaise and knelt at Emmy's side, her shaking hand feeling her lukewarm forehead. She looked down to see the barely visible rise of the American girl's stomach as she breathed. Blinking back tears, she turned around to meet Joe's equally devastated gaze. "I didn't want to believe you when you said she was in some sort of coma, Lt. Blake. How long has she been like this?"
"I found her lying in the front yard this morning. I've no idea how long she was out there, maybe all night. Anything could've happened…" Joseph found himself unable to finish that sentence, not wanting to blubber in front of the lady he regarded most highly as a friend. "I looked her over and she seems not to have any injuries… but I have a feeling it was the bastard Erik. She's been dressed in some scandalous clothing, hence the blanket I covered her with."
Molly looked again down to Emmy's frozen features, her fingers swiping stray curls off her forehead, allowing a thick sob to block her throat as she almost struggled to breathe. "I know about Erik… enough to know he was a danger to her. But whatever happened with him, now we can take care of her. And we need not waste anymore time. We need to get her bathed and changed; she's been outside in this rain for God knows how long."
Joe inhaled a deep breath himself, gathering himself together as he bent down by the unconscious woman's side. "Yes, of course. Mum's old room has been empty, but the bed is the biggest and most comfortable in the house. The sheets are freshly clean and haven't been used."
Molly gently removed the blanket from over Emmy, revealing the revealing lingerie, her eyes widening slightly, but repressed any comments, knowing much more was at stake with the girl's condition than what she was wearing. She leaned down and placed a brief, reassuring kiss to her forehead. "Dear sister; you're with family now. You're home."
Joe felt a warmth flow through his chest at such a tender gesture directed at the sleeping girl they were so worried for. A saddened smile played at the corner of his lips as he slid his arms underneath Emmy's body, cradling her ever so gently the back of her knees and her shoulders, holding her close to his torso. Molly helped to adjust Emmy's head to rest on his shoulder so her neck wouldn't dangle and followed the lovelorn man as he carried the slumbering woman up the stairs.
The visual of Joseph Blake carrying the girl her brother loved more with such attentive care made her heart break with sympathy for him as she realized the extent of the lieutenant's affections demonstrated in each step as he did his best not to jostle her delicate body, watching each movement of his feet to not risk losing his grip on Emmanuelle.
Molly held the stack of clothing she had brought with her, seeing Joe glance down at Emmy for a brief second every few steps, his jaw clenching and lip slightly quivering as he with-held his emotions so he could focus on making sure she would be well tended to.
At last, they made their way to the late Catherine Blake's old bedroom, Molly stepping ahead to hold the door open wide for Joseph to carry Emmy safely over the threshold and to the wide, freshly made bed. The white pillows were soft with down-feathers like floating on a cloud, so Emmy's comfort would be guaranteed.
Molly laid one of the pillows down flat on the mattress and backed away, allowing Joe to slowly situate Emmy on the bed and lay her carefully against the cushioning. The British woman watched Joe take additional care to make sure Emmy's head and neck were supported properly on the pillow so her body wouldn't ache or stiffen with discomfort.
"Dearest one… if you can hear me, know that you're safe now." Joe's voice cracked audibly with those few words, his ocean blue eyes conveying everything else he wouldn't and couldn't say aloud to Emmy. His fingertips stroked along her blossom blushed cheek, assuring himself that her veins still pulsed with her heated fiery blood and internal strength keeping her heart beating.
The words from Joe's letter written to Emmy ran through Molly's head…
I love you, Emmanuelle.
And those words were more evident to Molly than ever as she watched Joe lean over the sleeping woman. Before she would stop herself, the Schofield matriarch spoke her thoughts aloud as Joe stood up straight and locked eyes with her, blue against blue…
"You truly love her, Joseph." Molly folded her arms across her chest as Joe's Byronic stare met her own. "Your silence says more of your feelings than all words can express them. And yet, you stay to remain her friend and watch my brother court her, for lack of a better phrasing."
"Because I made promises to them, Molly. Will was a great friend to my brother and his efforts to save my unit has made me indebted to him. And that includes not pursuing Emmy to have for my own in respect for both of them. I made a mistake almost giving into my affections for her once. After everything she's endured with her father… and Erik…" Joe paused, swallowing back bile at the mention of the latter's unutterable name. "I cannot bear the idea of her resenting me… or even hating me forever. Although I don't believe she possesses such capability… she's too compassionate and good… I can't see her die… not her…"
Joe turned away toward the door, hiding his face so Molly couldn't see the tears shining in his eyes. The ebony haired lieutenant stood still momentarily at the bedroom threshold, stealing one more longing look at the beautiful girl lying lifelessly in his mother's bed. How terribly he missed her faded warmth against him as he had carried her upstairs, the tangled curls of her hair on his chin as she rested on his shoulder…
He sniffled, grabbing onto the wooden framing of the doorway as he unknowingly held his breath, holding back sobs that would bring him to his knees…
He needed air… He headed quickly to the stairs, calling out to Molly. "I'll head for the doctor and bring him here. We need a proper diagnosis on her condition."
The dark haired British woman heard his boot steps descending the stairs before she could think to respond, knowing she had to focus on her task at hand.
She soaked a soft sponge with warm water, and carefully undressed Emmy, increasingly disheartened at her unresponsive state, but Molly kept a classic stiff upper lip as she stroked the younger woman's fair skin, lathering her with the warm water and drying her with the softest towels. After dressing her back up in clean undergarments and a white cotton gown with matching stockings up to her knees, Molly washed out her hair, brushing through her silken curls and picking out the blades of grass entangled in her chocolate strands.
After Emmy was completely cleaned up, Molly pulled the sheets and comforter from underneath the listless woman's body and tucked them over her up to her stomach so as not to smother her with the coverlet's weight, making sure the American girl's head remained comfortably on the pillow.
All she heard were the ticking of the clock and her own pounding heartbeat as Myrtle trotted up the stairs, whining with concern as she laid on the threaded rug upon the floor. Molly could tell the canine wanted to join Emmy on the bed as a form of protecting her, but she figured Joseph wouldn't appreciate finding dog hairs all over the pristinely spotless sheets.
Molly sat by holding Emmy's hand when she heard two pairs of urgent footsteps down in the parlor, striding toward the stairs and walking up, the male voices of Joe and Dr. Wannop speaking.
"Doctor, please. I'm begging you. If you could find any way to revive her… if I need to take her to the best hospital on the continent, I shall." Joseph kept his voice barely from wavering with worry as Molly stood from Emmy's bedside, seeing the lieutenant's face slightly loosen his worrisome expression at seeing the girl on the bed dressed in more comfortable clothing and under the sheets as though she were normally asleep.
"I'll give her a look-over, Lt. Blake. And I trust from your training in medical school that you looked her over and found no external injuries?" The elder bespectacled man sat his case on the bed, pulling out his stethoscope to prepare his examination of Emmy.
"Yes, sir. There's not a single mark on her at all. Just tell us if there's anything that can be done for her. That's all I ask, please." Joseph flitted his azure gaze between the doctor and the woman on the bed.
"Just give me a moment alone and I'll fetch you both once I know for certain what befalls the girl." Dr. Wannop leaned over Emmanuelle, placing the stethoscope dial on her bosom to listen to her heartbeat.
Joseph and Molly silently left the room, cracking the door open behind them as they waited nearby in the hallway. Myrtle waited on the bedroom floor, vigilantly watching the doctor carry on with his deducing Emmanuelle's condition.
After a few painful, infinitely long moments, the doctor beckoned the anxious pair of Molly and Joe back into the room. Molly nodded thankfully to him as Joe stood before the foot of the bed, his hand clutching onto the carved wooden frame, keeping his hard stare as he awaited Dr. Wannop's confirmation.
"Lt. Blake… Mrs. Satterthwaite…" Dr. Wannop started, before Molly interrupted him.
"Ms. Schofield, please. I no longer go by my married name." The Englishwoman informed him sharply than she intended, blinking back tears as dread formed in her stomach, sitting again by Emmy's bedside.
Dr. Wannop nodded understandably toward her before meeting Joseph's storming blue eyes. "I'm afraid it seems her body is fighting to stay alive, in some sort of coma. Her brain is trapping her internally, just keeping her lungs pumping air and her heart beating less than the healthy rate. If she doesn't awaken within a certain block of time… her breath will still and her blood will congeal in her veins… and her heart will stop with her death."
"Hell… is that all you can say? There's nothing we can do?" Joe grasped tighter onto the bed frame, his knuckles whitening with his incredulity. "There's no facility we can transport her to, or any kind of medicine to save her?"
"I'm afraid not, Joseph." Dr. Wannop dropped the formalities, placing a hand comfortingly on the younger man's shoulder. "The best you can do is keep her fed with liquids and hydrated with water. She has weeks, if not a few months to remain in this state before her body shuts down. I would suggest you get a letter out to Corporal Schofield as soon as you can to let him know of his lady's ailment."
"I dare ask you… what are the chances of her waking up? Exactly how long does she have until she's revived or…?" Joseph couldn't bring himself to finish his question, not knowing if he could process what the doctor's answer might be.
Even Molly held her breath, awaiting Dr. Wannop's response, her hand entwined with Emmy's on the younger woman's stomach.
"I would estimate at the latest, the end of December with the turn of New Year's Eve. If her eyes don't open at the midnight chime of the bells, Miss Hunterson will no longer live." The goodhearted doctor looked with gentle sorrowful glances between Joe and Molly, seeing them trying with all their might to hold back their tears in front of him. "All we can do is hope she possess the constitution to stay alive."
Molly wrapped her arms around herself, shivering with an unseen chill up her spine as a sob threatened to strangle her.
A high pitched ringing assaulted her ears as she barely heard the fading voices of Joe and Dr. Wannop saying their goodbyes, with the lieutenant walking the physician out of the bedroom and back downstairs to escort him out of the house, the soldier also wanting to give a Molly a moment alone to compose herself.
She detested feeling so emotionally fragile and exposed, like one more word would shatter her into a thousand pieces. And yet she was tiring of having to be strong all the time for her girls, putting on a brave face of strict propriety.
But her sibling-related instinct led her to saying a prayer to God above for faith to keep going. As if this damned war wasn't enough for so many people to lose their loved ones…
The Englishwoman held onto Emmy's pale hand, noting how the distinct blush in her cheeks was now discolored from a rosy flame of life into a barely visible pink, blending into the ivory pallor of her unconscious immobility.
"Please, dear sister. Don't go quietly… fight with all your strength to bring yourself back to my brother. Return to all of us here who love you so. My girls need their Auntie Emmy and your stories…" Tears streamed down Molly's cheeks, dropping onto the sheets as she thought of how the Cici and Elle would be soon released from school and she would need to pick them up.
She looked up at the bedroom clock and saw it was nearing mid-afternoon and she would need to depart.
Molly stood, her knees slightly buckling from sitting so long and bent down to place a consoling kiss to Emmy's forehead. "You're in good hands with Lt. Blake. And I'll return shortly with Cici and Elle; they miss you so much."
She looked down and saw Myrtle, who hadn't moved from her position on the rug, guarding Emmy's bed. The Labrador whined, standing up and slowing Molly to pet her ears, before the dark-haired woman went to leave the room.
At the same time, Joe came back up the stairs, meeting Molly at the doorway. "We'll need to alternate feeding her and giving her water. Are you sure it's a good idea for your girls to see Emmanuelle like this?"
"It'd be wise for you not to question the choices I make when it comes to my girls, Lt. Blake." Molly snapped, turning sharply as she reached the top of the staircase. "You've no children to care for, so you know nothing about how I'm raising them on my own. Emmy will never truly know your love for her unless you say them aloud from your own tongue. If you can imagine her having your children…"
Immediately she trailed off, regretting the words as soon as they exited her mouth.
Joe remained silent, his jaw clenching in repressed undecipherable emotion. Finding no words to respond to the older sister of Corp. William Schofield, the remaining Blake brother nodded briskly to her and turned his back away, going to join Emmy at her bedside.
Molly opened her mouth to apologize to the bereaved man, guilt spreading like an acidic stain on her mind, but she refrained from saying the sentiment. "Cecelia and Giselle have a right to see their Aunt Emmy and nobody will tell me what I can or cannot do in regards to them. I'll show myself out, Joseph."
The exhausted lieutenant listened to her heeled footsteps descending the stairs, then the eventual opening and closing of the front door as she left the house. He pushed back the internal turmoil Molly's words had stirred in his mind as he focused on Emmy lying still within the white sheets, so tranquil and tragic she was.
Joe sat upon the edge of the mattress, exhaling a shaky breath as his vision blurred with stinging tears. He was now alone again with the inert body of the woman he adored with all his aching heart, and the heavy silence of the room threatened to mock him in his grief.
Now that he had a few moments of privacy, he could expel the increasing sadness crushing him with every second he looked upon Emmanuelle Hunterson's comatose form, her only movement the faint rising of her stomach as she breathed… just barely showing signs of life.
His trembling arms slid underneath the unconscious girl's upper back and shoulders, gently lifting her off the pillows so he could just hold her, rocking her back and forth in his arms. Emmy's flowing mahogany locks hanged down to graze the linen pillowcases, her chaotic curls barely dry from Molly's washing the mud out of her tendrils. Her head was cradled to Joe's pectoral, her petal thin cheek against the rough threaded fabric of his woolen shirt. Broken sobs shook his sturdy body as his fingers stroked through her hair, Dr Wannop's words cracking through the forefront of his mind.
She had until the last stroke of midnight upon New Year's morning to awaken, or she would die.
Tears streamed down his stubble coated face as he looked down at her features… The pink of her cheeks and red of her lips were fading, paled into an ashen, colorless white. As though the blood in her veins was already decreasing in heat, the fire within her slowly dying out…
Joe pressed his forehead to hers, their noses brushing as he became more disheartened and mournful as he continued holding the brunette American girl who unwittingly had him at her mercy.
To fill the deafening silence, he talked, if anything to keep possession of his sanity before he went mad with grief and bitterness.
"Emmy… slumbering angel. I beg of you to forgive me. Whatever that monster Erik did to you… to make you fall under this curse and trap you in this sleep… Don't allow death to claim you so easily. I'll send word to your Will and until he returns to your side, you won't be alone in this fight. I'll do anything to see you open those eyes of yours that bewitched me with their beauty when we first met. I'll sever any vow I've made before at the cost of my own dignity and pride… even if I'll be damned in the end."
Joe choked up, gulping back as he held her still in his arms, his hand cradling the back of her head and neck. His thumb traced along her curved snow-white cheek…
And he heard Tom's voice again, guiding him through the confession he knew must be made to keep Emmy anchored to the side of life.
"Joe… Molly's right. You must tell Emmy aloud how you feel. Your love for her is strong enough to keep her alive. Her soul and yours each are one half of a whole being. It's like the fairy tales Mum read to us… love overcomes death and evil."
The lieutenant listened to his brother's ghostly words floating through his ears, his calloused thumb caressing her cooled blooming rosebud lips.
He had to break his bond of silence, if only for her to show some signal that the stubborn, fire-blooded maiden who had entranced him with her unpredictable attitude and drive to help those she cared for was inside this motionless body upon the bed like a storybook princess…
He inhaled a deep breath, his fingers stroking Emmy's drying hair where he noted that even her vibrant mermaid tresses had dulled in their shine, a muddied brown similar to the rain puddles in his front yard.
And still, her splendor was unequaled in his eyes…
"All I wanted was to keep my principles and my vow for you, dearest one… But I can no longer if it means it'll bring you back to us… to me. For I cannot live without you… without my soul's other half. And that's why I must tell you forthright what I've left unspoken for so long. I love you, Emmanuelle."
He released another sob as more tears spilled down his cheeks, a strange relief flooding his chest at his declaration to her. And he continued to talk…
"I know I've told you as much in our letters back in France… but I couldn't let myself be so selfish with you and Will. I've loved you since your arms held me back at my camp and I cried on your petite shoulder. Pure compassion radiated from you and I was done for. The way you challenge me and argue with me… and you made me laugh and smile and hope… Your unbreakable courage and irritating temper… "
Joe found himself chuckling at those last words, remembering how she would have her unorthodox witty comebacks back at the hospital and her visits to the Blake house, her references he didn't understand to things from her era of 2020, but the excited way she spoke made his heart race with admiration and bewilderment.
"I always have… I've desired you and dreamt of you since we parted in France. The sound of your voice carries more beauty than all the music by the world's greatest composers. Every word from your lips I've hung onto to hear what you'll say next. You need not return my affections, as your heart belongs to Will… but I beg you to wake up. I dare break my vow with a kiss to your lovely visage…"
His lips lingered a centimeter away from Emmy's mouth, tempting and plump in their alluring honeyed sweetness. Just one brush of her lips he had yearned to taste… that he had almost been compelled to steal against her consent those months ago in France… and he had nearly lost her trust…
Joe stopped himself from giving her that kiss, even though he had every opportunity before him to take it anyway.
Alas… he couldn't do that to her, debase her in such a sordid manner. Emmy was not his to kiss… not even to display such passion for her would Joseph stoop so low to risk her resenting him.
He froze, pulling away from her luscious lips and instead, he delicately laid her head back on the soft pillow. Joe closed his eyes, holding back more tears, leaning down toward her face again. He softly imprinted a gentle and chaste kiss in the center of her forehead, above her smooth brow, the touch of his lips to her ivory skin containing all the tenderness emergent within him every time she was in his presence.
Joseph withdrew his lips from her forehead, a deep breath inflating his lungs as he saw her lovely features remain still in sleep.
He needed to take action and write to Will before anymore time was wasted.
Joe leaned up, straightening himself upon the bed beside her as he stroked away a few curls of hair from her cheeks, contrasted sharply with the bright white of the pillows cushioning her.
Before leaving her side momentarily to fetch writing supplies, he petted her cheek, whispering again those guiltily relieving words to her. "I love you, Emmy. I'll love you forevermore, my dearest one."
Two tears escaped down his scruff prickled face, trickling down his jaw… and each of them landed on her closed eyelids, bathing her butterfly wing lashes.
Joe wiped away his remaining tears as he stood and walked out of the room to search for pen and paper with which to scribe a letter for Will Schofield, intending to return shortly and keep vigil at her side, to guard her and make sure no harm befell her…
A moment after he departed from the bedroom, Emmy's eyelids moved with the slightest twitch, her breathing hitched and her scarred ring finger moving with a spasm before she fell completely lifeless again…
.
.
"Mummy… is Aunt Emmy dead?" Cici innocently asked as she sat on the opposite side of the bed next to the unconscious woman.
"No, darling. She's sleeping, like the princess in your fairy tale book 'Sleeping Beauty'. She's very tired from her journey she made to get back to us." Molly gently explained to her daughter, holding a dozing Elle in her arms against her shoulder.
"Oh…" Cici answered, her young mind not quite understanding the concept, but still keeping a politely serious attitude with the adults around her. "When she wakes up, will she tell us more stories? She was gonna tell us about Peter Pan!"
"Perhaps she will, if you ask her nicely, sweet girl." Joe reassured the child, a soft smile coming to his face for the first time since the early morning.
"She's really pretty, isn't she, Uncle Joe?" Cici got down from the bed and walked over to the lieutenant who was perched on a chair. The little girl went to Joe and was lifted up to sit in his lap, his fingers softly ruffling her golden brown hair.
"I think she's beautiful." Joseph whispered, familial warmth spreading through his chest as he looked at the slumbering woman on the bed and Cici rested her head against his heartbeat.
He would admit to developing a soft spot for those little nieces of Corporal Schofield's…
"Mama, can we put flowers in her hair? She loves Uncle Joe's flowers in the back yard." Elle sleepily suggested, raising her head up from Molly's shoulder.
"You'll have to ask since they used to be his mother's flowers, girls." Molly told both of her children, glancing to Joe who continued to hold Cici upon his legs.
"I'm sure your Aunt Emmy will love you giving her flowers, Giselle." Joe answered, resting his chin on top of Cici's head.
And everyone got to work preparing the room for Emmanuelle's vigil. Molly watched the girls from the kitchen as they picked cherry blossoms in a basket. Joseph rearranged some of the furniture and retrieved most of the candles out of storage as the moon and stars began to rise, placing them on both sides of the bed to allow room to stay by Emmy's side.
After the candles were situated, Joe was sure to give her some water and later broth, lifting a clear glass, then the spoon with the bowl to her lips and upon her tongue to where both liquids flowed down her throat…
Molly and Joseph worked together to light the candles while Elle picked some pink blossom petals to sprinkle on Emmy's body. Cici worked to weave the remaining blossoms into the woman's curls spread on the pillow, entwining each flower securely into the strands with her tiny fingers.
When both children were done, Molly and Joe marveled with silent pride at the girls and a deep sadness at the unresponsive spring goddess asleep in the bed. Joe could imagine her laughing with the children and also braiding flowers into their hair…
Not even Persephone herself compared…
And as a final touch, Cici pulled out a red rose from the basket, catching Molly and Joe by surprise. In memory of his mother, Joe had begun planting a small rose patch in the garden before leaving for France again. And they had finally started to sprout properly over the summer.
"Sweet Cecelia, may I have the honor?" Joe asked the curious child.
She wordlessly handed the crimson flower to the soldier and climbed down from the bed by Elle and their mother.
Joe carefully pried open Emmy's fragile fingers and placed the rose within them, laying both of her hands upon her stomach. He hoped the children didn't see the tear from his eyes that fell upon the rose's petals…
All the candles illuminated the room with a golden glow of light and everyone remained silent in mourning and prayer, their heads bowed before the girl who had changed their lives.
As Joe did his best to keep his emotions together in front of the Cici and Elle, he heard a reassuring sound in his mind, eerily alike to his dear mother's voice.
"My dear Joseph, do not weep so. A ray of hope there still may be. Remember she lies not in death, but just in sleep. And from this slumber she shall wake, and the spell shall break."
.
.
October 10th, 1917
Meanwhile, over a thousand miles away in Flanders, dreaming of his missing beloved was Lance Corporal William Schofield, his tattered uniform scratching his skin as he lay on a mattress in the relative safety of an English bunker, trying to catch up on sleep.
Unfortunately, this dream had formed into a nightmare, borne from Will's learning of Emmanuelle being kidnapped by Erik Baumer… and his rising determination to rescue her…
William came upon the large mansion-like house where his Emmy was being held captive, although the location he knew not where.
He held his sharp bayonet close as he felt the ethereal presence of Tom Blake guiding him further toward the imposing structure. Only the house was surrounded by a field of barbed wire, entwined around blood red roses with thorn coated stems, as though to mock him with their beauty, and reaching to impale him.
His scarred palm throbbed as a shiver ran up the corporal's spine at the sight.
"C'mon, Scho. Now's not the time to hesitate. Your girl's waiting for you… your Emmy." Tom spurned him forward, encouraging him to confront the hazardous barrier guarding the fortress where she was imprisoned.
Without responding verbally, Will began to slice through the wire with the bayonet, dodging all the sharp points he possibly could, with the occasional scratch to his uniform protecting his skin.
"You're almost there, Scho. She'll be in your arms again in no time." Tom's voice filled Will with a foreign sense of almost optimism, and he could feel her near, like fire searing his blood…
At last, they made it through the barbed wire and Will forced the door open, not wasting time with uncertainty. He shouted out for his opponent to face him, bayonet held ready.
"Erik! Where is she? Show me Emmanuelle, now!" He yelled, anger and adrenaline coursing through his body.
He looked around through the entryway, not seeing either Erik or Emmy. Tom set forth to aid him in investigating where she was being kept.
"Follow me, mate. She's closer now than ever." The younger Blake brother gestured for Will to head for the foyer and back toward the master bedroom.
Dread and darkness filled the room as the air was sucked out of Schofield's lungs… His observant blue eyes searched for any sign of her or his enemy he sought to defeat. His gaze landed on a bier slathered in glowing white, incandescent and hypnotizing…
There she lay, dressed in an ivory gown flowing around her entire body… Completely motionless as a corpse in preparation for burial in a coffin.
"Emmy…" Will choked out her name in a broken whisper. His bayonet slipped from his shaking hands to the floor as he quickly ran to her side, dropping to his knees.
He surveyed the sight of her, noting her thinly pale complexion contrasting with her dark ribbons of brunette hair splendidly swirling around her head and shoulders, her cheeks pink of blossom and lips shaming the roses twisted into the barbed wire forest outside.
Romeo's lines to Juliet rang through his head as his hands hovered over her: "…beauty's ensign yet is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks."
She appeared to be attired in a wedding dress, a complimentary veil covering her upper body and a bouquet of wilted black roses in her folded hands. Devastated and disgusted at Emmy being on such display while her wellbeing was at stake, he gently removed the veil from over her, tossing it to the side as well as the horridly morbid flowers.
Will carefully took her into his arms, holding her close and protectively. He heard no inhaling of breath into her lungs, nor did he feel warmth of blood in her cheeks as his fingers stroked her face.
Tears stung his eyes as he cradled her securely to his aching chest, burying his nose into her glorious tendrils of hair. Heart-wrenching agony spread like wildfire in a drought-kissed meadow, feeling her frigid and lifeless against him, taking in the pallor of her skin, now de-colored into an ashen grey.
He felt Tom's mournful presence beside him as he wept over the woman he loved… whom he had been too late to save from the evil snake that had tormented her for months and he had been powerless to protect her from…
His soldier's instincts alerted him to the sinister shadow of Erik lurking behind him, gleefully watching the younger man grieve and bawl over little Emmy. Will laid her back upon the bier, wanting more than anything to scoop her up into his arms and whisk her out of this hell-hole…
He turned away from her insensible body, rage boiling in his veins as he saw Erik standing with a lecherously confident smile on his face. Will stood firmly on his feet, bending to the floor to grasp onto his bayonet, planting himself defensively in front of where his love lay.
"You… give me one bloody reason why I shouldn't tear you apart, you bastard!" Will held the pointed end of his bayonet threateningly toward the monstrous foe facing him, seeing the smugness in the older man's icy blue eyes, devoid of empathy.
"There's no reason for violent intentions, Corporal." Erik smirked, glancing behind Will at Emmy's restful form. "Doesn't she look lovely in the dress I picked out for her? Did you really think yourself worthy enough to give her such luxury?"
Will advanced closer to Erik, bracing himself should the taller man try anything. Remembering his army training, his eyes locked hold of his target, straight at his figuratively nonexistent heart. "You believe this a game? She's the woman I love, and you're about to learn what that means!"
The grief-stricken, vengeful soldier gripped onto the weapon as Erik carelessly step closer to him, an unnerving, shark-like smile of contempt creeping onto his face. "You don't have the stomach to kill me… you've the soft weakness of an Englishman; why you failed her. How she cried and wailed for you in her last few moments, begging for her brave hero to save her."
A guttural yell of primal fury erupted from Will's throat as he drove the bayonet straight into Erik's chest, striking the exact bulls-eye of his heart. Blood pooled through the fabric of his shirt as Will watched his enemy's face freeze with surprise, disbelief and slowly suffocating death.
Will heard Thomas' voice from behind him, a ghostly murmur as though in a chanting narrative poem. "Faithful blade stay swift and sure, so evil may die and good endure."
The Lance Corporal breathed deeply as he watched Erik convulse and collapse into a bloodied heap on the floor and began to drown in his own bodily fluids. Will felt no sympathy toward this coagulation of human sadism and perversion as he watched the fiend die in a most fitting method, painfully and without leniency…
After many moments, Erik ceased moving and gasping for breath, sagging on the floor as a sense of non-meaning victory flowed through Will's body… but it held no satisfaction for the Corporal as he silently turned back and fell to his knees before Emmanuelle, lying so excruciatingly immobile.
His arms held her close again, rocking her to his torso, his hand cradling her head with all the gentleness in the world, his cheek brushing hers, warmth and coolness connecting.
"My most cherished darling, forgive me. I would implore God Himself if He would bring you back to me. I love you more than my own life… I always have though my deadened heart knew it not. Reposing angel, I must see your eyes open and hear your melodic voice speak to me once more." Will whispered ever so tenderly to her, hoping that she could hear him. "You must know I cannot place into proper words, my devotion and adoration for you, Emmy."
His lips kissed her own, patient and longing in their chivalric chastity… pouring all the love within his heart into her soul… reviving her.
Will continued to embrace her as he pulled away from the bloomed flower of her heavenly mouth… he would remain holding her forever in his arms, no matter what came to pull him away.
And then… she began to stir, small moans emitting from her throat as she turned her head against Will's chest. Feeling her weak movements, he carefully slid his arms underneath her, lifting up the woman he loved to spare her awakening on that damned platform.
"Emmanuelle?" He spoke her name with soothing amazement as he watched her face twitch with motion and she began to miraculously resurface from death.
Her sweet rosy lips opened as she inhaled a resuscitating breath, the floral beauty of her cheeks returning with her restored health. Her head nuzzled against his uniformed collarbone… and her evergreen forested eyes opened to grace his own sight.
She looked up at his face stained with overwhelmed tears of joy as she reached up to touch his cheekbone, her voice sighing his name in spirited realization.
"My William…"
.
.
"Corporal Will Schofield! Is there a Corporal Schofield present?" A male voice called out, shattering the illusion of the lance corporal's dream as he shot upright on the mattress, trying to catch his breath.
He hurriedly rubbed his eyes, wiping away the disorientation of being startled awake. Battling a yawn, Will responded to the man seeking him out. "I'm Corporal Schofield, over here, sir."
His blurred eyesight was barely able to make out the man's shadowed features, only the shape of his helmet and dark green of his uniform. "Mail's come for you, Corp. Labeled as urgent, best to open it now if you can."
"Thank you, sir." Will gave the postman a salute in acknowledged gratitude and took the envelope into his hands as the other man walked away to hand over other correspondence to his fellow soldiers.
He read Lt. Joseph Blake's name on the left hand corner, and hope dared to rise in his chest as he knew this might have had something to do with his beloved Emmy's return. It had been months and he prayed every night for her safety… she was strong and there was no way she would let Erik get the best of her so easily.
He tore open the envelope and unfolded the parchment in his hands, reading each word with eagerness to know of anything back home. Along with Emmy, he couldn't wait to see Molly and the girls again.
The letter was dated September 20th, over two and a half weeks ago.
With every following sentence, Will felt his happiness evaporate into displeasure, then sadness, then internal horror…
Emmy had succumbed to the "sleeping death" upon her return; just like that cursed photograph had foretold… and come on the turn of the New Year in only a few months, she would die if she failed to wake up before then.
His shivering hands grasped onto the letter as tears of grief and heartbreak burned his eyes… the newly repaired watch she had gifted him had stopped ticking in the instant he finished reading the letter. He laid the paper on his lap, removing the watch from his wrist to inspect it.
Will turned it over, reading the words she had inscribed on the back of the watch's dial face.
"Plus que tout"
"More than anything" the phrase meant in translation from French into English. How much she loved him, she had said…
He clutched the letter and watch in his hands, his jaw clenching in determination as he rose up from the bed, dried tears soaking his dirt stained face as he went to leave the bunker and search for his commanding officer.
He had to get home to her, no matter what kind of explanation he had to give.
Those he cared for needed him… She needed him, after the hell she endured to return to her true place of belonging.
Hold on, my Emmy. Hold on for me…for us. I won't see your eyes close forever. Whatever I must do, I'll bring you back. I won't allow Death to take you away and destroy our love… or our future.