Niamh woke with a start and wondered if she had been dreaming. Darkness cloaked her bedroom, barely even a hint of moonlight coming through the open crack in the thick curtains. She sat up when she heard the noise that had awoken her again. It sounded like it was coming from Alfie's room. Concern filling her, Niamh climbed out of bed, dragging on her dressing gown to fend off the cool chill in the air, and padded across the hallway. Pausing outside Alfie's door, she heard it once more and her concern grew.

"Alfie?" she rapped on the door gently. "Alfie, are you alright?"

There was no answer but she could hear the ruffling of the bedsheets and incoherent mumbling. Chewing on her lip with indecision, Niamh eventually gave in and pushed open the door. The sound of pain that left Alfie's mouth coupled with the pure anguish on his face was enough to physically hurt Niamh's heart. She tried calling out to Alfie again but he continued to flail and murmur, his brow furrowed as his dreams played out a scenario that obviously was uncomfortable for him. With a gentle hand, Niamh tried to shake him awake and she gasped when he suddenly sat up and wrestled her to the floor where his hands wrapped themselves around her throat. Niamh clawed desperately at Alfie's hands and kicked her legs wildly in an attempt to get him off of her, but his heavy frame easily overpowered her until white stars danced in front of her eyes. Alfie's own eyes were open and looking at her but they were vacant. The lights were on but nobody was at home and Niamh was terrified that he was going to kill her without even knowing it. Just when she thought she was going to pass out, Alfie blinked and let go of her as though she was scalding hot. Flinging himself in the corner of the room, he cowered like a frightened animal and despite her own fear, Niamh crawled towards him.

"Alfie," she croaked, her voice strained and sore.

"Go away," he muttered, turning his head away from her.

"Alfie please," she whispered, reaching for his face and forcing him to look at her.

He squeezed his eyes shut as Niamh's thumbs brushed against his cheeks tenderly and he wanted nothing more than to lean into her embrace. Opening his eyes, they flickered down to her neck and his heart lurched when he saw the angry red imprints of his fingers marring her clear skin. He lifted his hand to touch them and Niamh flinched ever so slightly, but enough for him to notice.

"I'm sorry," his voice cracked.

"It's alright," Niamh reassured him, giving a wobbly smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She wasn't upset with him though, more just shocked and trying to process what had happened over the space of mere seconds. "It was an accident. It was my fault for trying to wake you up."

"I could have killed you."

"But you didn't," Niamh answered. "You didn't. But you know, if being married to me is that bad you could just ask for a divorce, you don't have to kill me."

That drew a reluctant bark of laughter from Alfie and Niamh impulsively leaned forward to kiss his cheek. Pulling back, she stood and held her hand out to help Alfie up. Without saying another word, she disappeared downstairs as quickly as she could, returning a few moments later with a cold glass of water that she handed to Alfie with a smile. He sat on the bed, lifting the drink to his mouth with a trembling hand and downed the whole thing in just a few gulps. Lingering by the door, Niamh was about to bid him good night when he spoke.

"I was back in the trenches."

Walking back over to the bed, Niamh sat down beside him and took his hand. She didn't speak; there was nothing to say. Usually when a person was upset, they could be reassured and soothed when the other person expressed that they understood how their situation felt, but Niamh would never ever understand this. No matter the hours she had spent sitting just like this with Arthur or Tommy, even sometimes John, while they battled nameless and faceless enemies who now only existed in their memories yet haunted them from beyond the grave. They had spoken to her a little of the things they had seen and experienced, but she knew that the worst things they held back; both because they thought her too delicate to hear such horror but also because to speak of things that were still too raw was impossible.

"There was this one night," Alfie murmured, his eyes looking forward, seeing something that Niamh couldn't. "We were asleep and the lad what was meant to be on lookout nodded off as well. He was only a fuckin' kid, freezin' cold and starvin' like the rest of us, but the Germans took the opportunity to sneak across the line and into our trenches. They never shot, would have been too noisy, so they fixed their bayonets and I dunno why I woke up but I did. I opened my eyes just as he was about to skewer me. I can still see the look in his eyes; the fuckin' hatred in them and you know what? I don't even think the hatred was directed at me, it was directed at himself, and I understood it, you know. 'Cause afterwards when I'd wrestled the gun off of him and stabbed him with his own bayonet, I felt that hatred in myself as well. Fuckin' crazy aint it? Crazy to hate yourself for killin' a bloke what tried to kill you first. Only this weren't like me and the fuckin' Italians, or me and your brothers in the past, this was different. This was two young kids away from their families and lives fightin' for their countries 'cause that's what was expected of us. There's no honour in killin' a man what aint truly your enemy."

A tear rolled down Niamh's cheek. Not just for Alfie but for all of them. The boys who went to war and came back men before they were ready to. She often thought that it was a fate worse than those who had lost their lives. At least those souls slept in peace now beneath fields of poppies that grew crimson like blood.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Alfie's voice was thick with emotion and his hand clutched hers as though he never wanted to let go.

"You didn't. I'm upset for you but not because of you," she said. "Does that even make sense?"

"I aint worth bein' upset for, love."

"I think you're worth it," Niamh told him, her eyes searching his for some clue that he felt the same way about them as she now did.

Alfie's lips were against hers in a butterfly of a kiss before she even realised it, and when he pulled back to look at her she leaned forwards and joined them back together. Alfie's free hand cupped her face, tilting it backwards as he deepened the kiss and ran his tongue gently across her lips. When a mewl left Niamh's mouth, Alfie groaned and pushed his tongue inside flicking against her own. When they finally broke apart again they were both gasping for breath, and Niamh put a shaking hand to her lips as she tried to process their unexpected kiss.

"I'm sorry, that was outta line," Alfie apologised.

"You're my husband," Niamh murmured.

"Yeah but that don't mean I can treat you like a piece of meat, 'specially not when we aint discussed bein' more than what we agreed to in the first place," Alfie ran a hand over his face in exasperation. "I aint a soppy bastard or anythin' like that and I never expected to be marryin' someone I actually liked when I agreed to this deal with your brother. But then that first night when we was chattin' I realised that I meant what I said when I agreed to us tryin' to be at least friends. But then we came back here and everythin' between us just started to change bit by bit and I thought perhaps it was only me what noticed it or even wanted it."

Niamh blinked because she wasn't certain she was hearing things correctly. Alfie liked her. He liked her not just because he was forced to out of necessity. She suddenly felt all giddy; a bit like Ada when she used to moon over Freddie back in the day and drive them all mad. This wasn't real, surely. She was having feelings for a man she didn't really know; a man who had double crossed her family. But this man was her husband and would be until the end of her days, so was it really so wrong?

"I noticed," she smiled. "And I wanted it too; I mean I do want it. But I suppose I just didn't know how to say it, and I was frightened you didn't feel the same."

"Maybe I should have had one of my little night time episodes a couple of weeks back then we could have avoided all this tiptoein' 'round each other like idiots, eh?" Alfie smirked. "Or we both could have just grown a pair and behaved like actual grown ups."

"I've never had to tell someone I liked them in that way before," Niamh admitted. "Well, apart from when I was three and I told Arthur I was going to marry him."

"Well all that incest and what not is alright with your lot aint it? You know, gypsies," he grimaced.

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes. "Like I just said, I was three."

"Hmm," he hummed in disbelief. "So you say. 'Here's where I find out down the line that you were actually thirteen or somethin'."

"Stop it now," Niamh chuckled. "That's disgusting."

"You're the one what brought it up," he grinned. "Actually I'm a bit disgusted about what I'm married to."

Niamh punched Alfie playfully in the arm and when he reached out to take her face in his hands, she smiled up at him. Suddenly feeling emboldened by the look in his eyes she leaned forward and kissed him. Before she could pull back, Alfie pulled her onto his lap and kissed her in such a way that her lower stomach began to ache, but not in an unpleasant way. Subconsciously she ground herself against him and when she felt something hard against her centre, she knew what it was and strangely she didn't feel afraid or even embarrassed.

"Alfie," she whispered, breaking away from him. "I want you to touch me."

"Niamh," Alfie murmured. It wasn't that he didn't want to; of course he fucking did, but they had just sorted things out and he didn't want to drive another wedge between them. Sharing a bed together was one thing, but this was something altogether different. This would change things permanently.

"Please," Niamh bit her lip as she took one of his hands and placed it on her thigh, where her dressing gown had ridden up and he could feel her soft skin.

Alfie swallowed thickly as his hand traced up her thigh, disappearing beneath her dressing gown.

He was only a man after all, wasn't he?