Hello, guys! Thanks so much for the favs/follows, I really appreciate it. And shout outs to FlamePumpkin32, immysaurus, 'Guest' & catlikecupcakes for your reviews, I love you all, poppets!

Forgive me if Captain Nicholls is OOC at all; I've only seen War Horse twice so far. That said, I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)


Time Knows No Boundaries ~ Chapter Three

No light, no light
In your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day
You can't choose what stays and what fades away
'No Light, No Light' – Florence and the Machine

.:*:.

Martha snapped her head around with a poorly disguised yelp of fright. Her heart beating painfully fast in her chest, she drank in the sight of the tall, uniformed man standing calmly behind her, his hands clasped behind his back, looking for all the world as if he had always been there. A couple of shocked silent seconds spiralled in the air between them for a moment before Martha let out a petrified scream that was so loud, it was small wonder people living in the next county did not hear it.

Both the man and her cat jumped nearly a foot in the air at the abrupt sound; Blossom, not taking kindly to the noise, hissed and jumped off the sofa in fright to go and hide under a cabinet. How did such a small person make such a loud noise, James briefly wondered. Martha flung herself off the sofa in a flash, stumbling over the coffee table as she went, and spun round to face the stranger from the opposite side of the room, shaking violently from head to toe.

"Who are you? What do you want?" she babbled in a panicked voice. "How did you get in here? Look – just – just - take whatever you want, alright? Just don't hurt me, please!"

Had Martha been of sensible mind, she should have just remained calm and rung for the police. But there was no time for that; this intruder could have either murdered her on the spot or managed to escape just as unnoticeably as he had entered by the time the police would have arrived.

"No, please, Miss – I beg of you - !" James started, trying to make himself heard over the young woman's hysterical rambling, holding up his hands as though in surrender. "I promise that I mean you no harm!"

Martha's eyes darted around, trying to locate something which she could use for a weapon to fend him off with...Television – no. Chair - no. Table lamp...Possibly but no. Then her eyes lit upon Elliot's cricket bat that was propped up in a corner of the living room. She and Elliot weren't living together per se but he stayed over a lot and many of his belongings had ended up making themselves at home here. Martha seized the cricket bat and gripped the solid wooden object in both hands, ready to beat the stuffing out of this potential lunatic if he came anywhere near her.

"If you mean me no harm, then why the hell are you in my flat?" she demanded, trying to stop the tremor in her voice and failing appallingly.

James tried his best to keep his patience and composure in check. Being an officer of higher rank, he was far more used to getting things done by issuing orders and commands. This situation, however, required a different tactic. He needed to remain calm and make the young lady feel at ease; the way she had pinned herself against the wall, cowering, it was as though she was expecting him to suddenly charge and attack.

Martha's heart continued to pound at such a great volume, it seemed, that she swore he could hear it from where he stood. This man...There was something very familiar about him when he had spoken, and she was afraid why. It was exactly the same voice that had spoken to her at the antique shop, had whispered to her in dreams and made various remarks to her over the course of the week, including that one the night before. Only it was much clearer and more distinct. Much more real.

When he failed to answer her, she stepped forward a little, gripping the cricket bat's handle even tighter and asked, "Well?"

"Please, Miss... " he began, "I must apologise for entering your home in this unseemly fashion, it was not my intention to frighten y– "

He had made to approach the young woman but found this was a fatal mistake.

THWACK!

He found the rest of his sentence cut short as he felt something extremely solid and heavy collide with the side of his head. Taken completely by surprise by this unexpected move, stars winking in front of his eyes, James felt himself become acquainted with the wooden floor. Martha, losing her head completely in her panic, plainly not listening to a word which he had just said, thought he was advancing on her to attack her. So she did the first thing that came to mind: she just swung the heavy bat as hard as she could at the stranger's head.

Trembling from head to foot, she snarled at him, "Either tell me why you're here or get out now! Otherwise I'm calling the police!"

James rose back to his feet with all the dignity he could muster, unhurt but feeling somewhat dazed. He warily eyed the bat in her hands which she was now pointing at him like it was a sword. He tried to evaluate the situation as a soldier. Technically, he was the intruder so she had the perfect right to defend both herself and her home but did she have to have hit him quite so hard? While it may not have been nearly as dangerous as a sword, the bat still made a formidable weapon (as he had just experienced, he thought with a wince). And how could they speak to one another rationally when she seemed hell-bent on beating him senseless? That blasted cricket bat was a posing problem which needed to be disposed of.

Martha was watching him as a series of emotions played across his face. When she saw he was approaching her again, she raised the bat threateningly, hoping that it would fend him off. When it didn't deter him, she made a wild swing at him again but she stumbled and nearly fell flat on her face when she did not make contact with anything.

She stared around at the space in front of her. He was gone! Wait, where did he go? She looked wildly around the room but he was nowhere in sight. Then she suddenly let out a shriek when she felt the cricket bat being tugged out of her grasp by an invisible hand.

Using her distraction of his sudden disappearance to his advantage (being deceased did have its perks after all, he thought wryly), James had made a move to remove the bat from her grasp. Martha let out a gasp but it didn't stop her from attempting to put up a fight as she stubbornly tried to keep a hold on the bat. However, it was a no-brainer about who was going to triumph in this "duel"; even as a ghost, he was much stronger than she was and it did not take much for him to easily disarm her.

Martha stumbled slightly under the force of him snatching the bat from her clutches and letting it drop to the floor with a clatter. Martha stared with large frightened eyes as her "weapon" was now lost to an apparently invisible opponent. She yelped when he suddenly materialised in front of her again. How did he appear so suddenly?

Still not wanting to give in without a fight, she made to hit him with her bare hands though this did not go according to plan either as he caught her wrists easily. Reflexes kicking in, he then twisted her around so that her back was rammed against his chest, moving his arms to pin her own down so she was unable to hit out at him or be tempted to throw something at him. Martha let out another gasp of shock; as soon as they made contact, the first thing she noticed was that he was extremely cold. She wriggled against him, desperate to free herself, letting out small whimpers of protest.

Nicholls felt so horrible for being in this position; whatever did this poor girl think of him now? His attempt at trying to calm her wasn't going well at all. In fact, all he seemed to be achieving was to frighten her even more.

"Come, hush now," he murmured to her softly in a reassuring tone, feeling like he was trying to calm a skittish horse rather than a young woman. He always did have a certain rapport with horses. Women, on the other hand, were a different matter. "I can promise you that you have nothing to fear... "

His smooth, gentle voice reverberated through his chest and the feeling of it made Martha shudder but it seemed to have the desired effect. Despite everything, she found herself calmed somewhat by this man's tone though she wasn't ready to believe what he said was true. If he was a crazed lunatic, she didn't want to antagonise him any more than necessary. Realising that she was in no way his equal physically, she stopped fighting him and stilled herself, breathing hard. She felt furious with herself for being so weak and pathetic, and cursing the fact that she was short and that she should have taken up those self-defence classes with her friend, Cath.

"Do you believe me when I tell you I am not going to harm you, Miss?"

Martha closed her eyes and lowered her head in defeat. After a moment, he felt her relax just a little in his arms but he did not relinquish his hold on her. His eyes travelled the length of the room, taking in the assortment of odd furniture in the morning sunlight streaming through the window, his mind full of questions.

"Where on Earth am I?" he muttered, unwittingly voicing one of his queries aloud. This prompted Martha to open her eyes and let out a sarcastic snort.

"This is my flat, I thought I made that perfectly clear," she answered through gritted teeth.

"Well, I have never seen dwellings such as this before..." he murmured, as though he hadn't heard Martha's retort.

Martha dared to raise her head as she listened to his words. His manner of speaking, it sounded so formal and old fashioned. She dared to peek at his hands that were keeping her firmly in place. He appeared to be wearing brown leather gloves and she noticed the sleeves of a jacket belonging to a very old fashioned-looking uniform. She wished he would let go...he felt strangely...cold.

"Um...would you mind letting me go?" she asked in a small voice, "I promise I won't hit you again."

James' face coloured, remembering what close proximity they were in and released his grip. In stark contrast to his coldness, she had felt so warm. He could not quite remember the last time he had such contact with another human being. All he knew was that was a very long time.

"Forgive me for my actions," he apologised, clearing his throat in embarrassment. "What must you think of me?"

"Well, I did just clobber you over the head with a cricket bat, I think that makes us even," Martha answered, her mind and heart rate starting to relax a little now that their confrontation appeared to be over.

She stepped a little away from him, regarding him warily. She raised her head so that she was able to get a better view of him and found herself unconsciously studying his features. She took in his short, neatly combed golden hair, his pale and drawn face. It was a very good-looking face, what with his high cheekbones and strong jaw line. Handsome, in fact. Not that that mattered. He could have looked like a Hollywood movie star but that wouldn't have stopped him being a total nutter. He was very tall, six foot by the look of him; lean, broad-shouldered and powerfully built (as she had just witnessed). Right at this moment, he was staring at her with the most startlingly piercing eyes, bluer than a sky in June. But his eyes...there was a gaunt, haunted quality about them. They looked empty, shadowed, and lifeless. Like a light had been switched off from behind them. It was as though those eyes had seen horrors that no human being should see.

Martha's eyes swept over his person. His apparel was...intriguing, to say the least even if it looked strange in this environment. Martha doubted she could name half of what he was wearing but all the same, he looked very distinguished in it. The khaki-coloured military uniform fitted perfectly on his lithe frame. If he was a burglar, then he was the most impeccably dressed burglar she had ever seen. As she looked, she noticed there was a ragged, scruffy hole in the chest of his jacket, just over his left breast pocket. For some reason, the sight of that ragged hole gave her unpleasant shivers down her spine.

James, in his turn, studied the young woman. The first most obvious thing about her was her height. At a petite five foot two, the top of her head only just reached his chest. She had a head of flaming red hair which tumbled down her shoulders and looking very dishevelled at the moment from where she had been sleeping and no doubt from their skirmish just now. But in the morning sun, it looked glossier than a thoroughbred's coat, framing a pale, heart-shaped face; a scattering of freckles on her rather long nose and on her arms.

He couldn't honestly say that she was beautiful. More interesting-looking than beautiful. But it was her eyes that held his attention...the most enchanting pair of sage-green eyes he had ever found himself lost in. They were intense but there was a great warmth there, even with the dark purple shadows beneath them. She was also wearing a loose shirt which bore the words, "Do I look like a morning person?" and strange, shockingly tight trousers, both in the most garish shade of pink that he had ever seen on a piece of clothing, clashing harshly with her vivid hair. It all added up to the fact that he never in all his life (or afterlife), ever seen a woman like this before.

A couple of minutes passed as the pair silently assessed one another but it was enough time for an awkward tension to form in the air.

Hating the silence, Martha asked in a slightly shaky voice, "W-Well, if you're not here to burgle me, or murder me or whatever...then why are you in my flat?"

"I fear I do not understand the situation entirely myself, Miss," James confessed, "I only wish that I did."

"It was your voice I heard in the shop, wasn't it?" she asked even though she knew perfectly well that it was. At his nod, she said, "Why? Were...were you stalking me or something?

"No, of course not!" he answered, his blue eyes widening, sounding shocked at the suggestion.

Martha suddenly remembered something. "Wait...did you say that pocket watch is yours?"

"That is correct. It did indeed used to belong to me. Those are my initials."

"Well, if that's all you wanted, you only had to say - "

A chance would have been a fine thing, James thought drily.

" - if you want it back so badly, go ahead and take it."

James let out a sigh, even though there was no breath in him to exhale. She still did not seem to understand what he was despite his little display of disappearing and appearing.

"I'm afraid it is not as simple as that," he told her gently.

"Why not?" she demanded, feeling unnerved by this mysterious man and frustrated at his lack of satisfactory answers. Then she added impatiently," Look, who are you?"

"My name is Captain James Nicholls of His Majesty's Cavalry - " The words 'His Majesty' felt strange to her ears but Martha stayed quiet to let him continue. "At least...I was when I was alive," he added almost to himself.

"Alive?" she squeaked in alarm, her eyes huge. "What the hell do you mean 'when you were alive'?"

"What I say..."

"Are you telling me that you're dead?" Martha asked derisively. From her tone, it was obvious she didn't believe him and thought he was deranged and James inwardly winced at how bluntly she uttered it.

"Since you put it like that...yes," he said.

"Okay, you're just freaking me out now..." Martha murmured, backing away towards her door, as though intending to shoo him out of it like he was a stray cat. "Can you just go?"

But before she had even touched the door, there was a jaunty tap-tap-tap from the other side. Flinging it open automatically, she found it was her friend, Cath, who lived in the flat downstairs. A vivaciously friendly girl, Cath was always happy to stop and chat or lend Martha some emergency milk or sugar if ever she ran out.

"Hey!" she chirped. "I was just on my way out to work but I heard you screaming – are you okay? Is everything alright?

"There's a man – " blurted out Martha.

"What?"

"There's a man in my flat and I don't know how he got in but he's talking gibberish!" Martha said all in one breath.

"Oh my God – " Cath dashed past into the flat, her dark eyes roaming the living area. "Where?" she asked in a hushed voice, looking all around.

"There!"

Cath frowned. "I don't see anyone..."

Martha stared at her incredulously. What was she talking about? He was standing right there!

"He's...right there," she said uncertainly, even pointing him out to her even though it shouldn't have been necessary. She looked back at her friend quizzically. "Can't...can't you see him?" she asked.

"See who?" demanded Cath, staring at her. "Martha, are you feeling alright?"

Has the whole world suddenly gone crazy? How could she not see him? Unless she was lying? But why would she do that?

Cath had now walked right into the flat, staring all around in search of a person who was only standing a couple of feet away from her, so she could hardly fail to have noticed him. James watched the whole exchange calmly, waiting patiently for Martha to discover the inevitable for herself. Cath was getting closer and closer to him; any minute now she was going to collide straight into him. But still she continued walking as though completely oblivious to his presence and he didn't even move. Martha was about to call out a warning to her but what she saw next made her voice die in her throat and nearly caused her to faint...

Cath had just walked... straight through him. Martha's jaw dropped.

"There's nobody here, Martha...I think you must've been dreaming."

But Martha was hardly aware of what her friend was saying; she was too busy gaping at the mysterious stranger, who seemed entirely unperturbed that somebody had just passed through his person as though he were nothing more than a mere shadow. He cleared his throat quietly.

"I think I may be right in thinking that not only can your friend not see me but neither can she hear me..." James glanced at Cath and judging by her lack of reaction, it proved his theory correct. He continued to address Martha, "I think it may be wise if you were to follow her lead and just tell her you were dreaming."

Martha closed her mouth and in spite of herself, she heeded what he suggested.

As casually as she could, she said to Cath, "Uh...d'you know what? You're right. I must've dreamt the whole thing. Ignore me...I haven't been sleeping very well recently – " At this she threw an accusing glare at the ghostly stranger, who bowed his head slightly, looking faintly abashed at her words. "I must just be missing Elliot, that's all."

Martha was surprised to find that her voice remained quite steady as she said all of this and hoped she had sounded convincing enough so that Cath wouldn't think she was going mad.

Cath, however, smiled understandingly. "Of course you are," she said, patting Martha's arm comfortingly. "But he'll back in no time, you'll see. Oh, that reminds me! Here..." She delved into her handbag and pulled out a little brown opaque bottle half filled with what Martha could clearly see were pills. "Elliot mentioned you weren't sleeping well. Why don't you try taking one of these to help you sleep?"

"What are they?" Martha asked, eyeing the bottle warily.

"They're these tranquiliser thingy-ma-bobs. Don't worry, they're not dodgy! They're prescription and everything!" Cath assured her, spotting Martha's alarmed expression. "I got them off my old gran. They're for calming you when you're stressed. I take them when I'm on my period. It's okay, they're dead mild...I mean, I still throw random objects, only...loads slower." She grinned mischievously at her friend.

"Um...no thanks, Cath, I think I'll pass if it's all the same to you."

Cath shrugged unconcernedly. "Suit yourself!" she said cheerfully and put the bottle back in her bag, "Anywho...I've got to dash off. I'll see you later...and get some proper sleep!" she added firmly, just like Elliot had done and she click-clacked off down the hall in her high heels.

"Fat chance of that," Martha muttered under her breath as she shut the door and turned to stare at the ghostly captain, who met her gaze evenly.

There was a few seconds of strained silence, that awkward tension returning in full force, before he asked gently, "Now do you believe me?"


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