Just so that people know, I am NOT killing Mary or Bert. They will get together, but it WILL be a rather...interesting road to get there. Please read and review if you are of a mine to. It always gives me a warm fuzzy feeling to find reviews.
(London, 1923)
Matthew and the others winced as they listened to Michael relating Bert Alfred's story. "Sounds like he got too close to a shell." he commented with a sigh as the young man paused to take a drink. "They hurt your ears like fury when they went off and just about blinded you."
"Scared me like the devil the first time I heard it." Tom said fervently as James and Davy nodded their agreement while Michael prepared to continue.
"I can't even imagine it." Michael said honestly, shaking his head as the others were lost for a moment in their own memories of yesteryear. "And for poor Bert, that was only the beginning. While he was under so they could perform surgery, he had many dreams..."
(France, July 1916)
He could hear carousel music in the distance. A yellow road stretched out in front of him as far as he could see and the sun shone brightly above him. He looked down at himself and realized that he was wearing a colorfully striped jacket with white flannel pants, a crisp white shirt and he plucked the hat from his head to find that it was a straw boater's hat.
Smiling to himself , Bert hurried along the path and stopped when he rounded the corner. There she was; Mary Poppins.
She looked just the way he'd remembered her from six years ago, not so much as one dark hair out of place on her practically perfect head.
Bowing low, he extended his hand to her and she curtsied gracefully before placing her delicately gloved hand in his. He pulled her into a slow waltz, dancing to the song the carousel song that was playing and she smiled back at him like she always did when they were having a jolly holiday together.
As they danced, he was aware of a pain starting to grow in his right leg but he fought it, not wanting to let go of Mary Poppins for even a second. Surely he was strong enough to power through it. Eventually it receeded and he continued to twirl gracefully until the sun seemed to be going down.
Everything started to grow dark and he could feel Mary's hand fading right out of his. "Don't go!" he begged, but to no avail. She was gone, leaving him alone in the darkness.
He called her name desperately over and over, looking this way and that but she didn't come back to him and he fell to his knees.
He was entirely by himself; no one could save him from this. Not his unit, not his fellow sweepers and not his old friend Mary Poppins.
Taking a deep breath and struggling to his feet, Bert blundered forward with his arm outstretched in front of him so he could feel for trees or anything else to hold on to.
As he kept bravely walking on, a whistling noise came from above him and he froze. He knew exactly what that sound was, and what it meant.
Heart in his mouth, Bert ran as fast as he could, knowing instinctively that he wasn't going to be nearly quick enough to escape.
A bright light seared his eyes and he was flung up into the air like before but instead of hitting the ground, he continued to fall into the never ending darkness, arms and legs pinwheeling as he tried to slow his descent. He only fell faster and faster until he was slammed into the earth, head reeling as he tried to marshall his scrambled wits about him and get up.
While he lay there, stunned and shivering violently, the darkness began to face slowly and as it did, he could hear someone saying him name softly but it sounded like the voice was coming from very far away and it wasn't one that he recognized.
Bert tried to answer, but his mouth was dry and felt like someone had stuffed it full of soot. He was ale to make a small noise though and the voice called for a doctor excitedly.
He came to the realization that his eyes were closed and tried to open them. It took about three tries before he was able to manage it and he was a little startled to find three staring at him.
One of them was an older man who was wearing a white coat that was stained with things Bert really didn't want to think about and the other two were women, obviously nurses. "Good afternoon, Sergeant Alfred." the doctor said softly as he came and stood closer to Bert's bedside. As this distance, he could see that the physician had light brown hair. "My name is Dr. Richards and I will be looking after you during your recovery."
Nodding muzzily, Bert tried to sit up but the two nurses immediately pushed him back down with surprising strengeth. Obviously he wasn't the first to try it. "You've had a nasty shock, deary." the older woman said firmly. "You just lie here for a bit yet."
He wanted to protest that he was really okay but his mouth was so dry he couldn't get the words out. They seemed to be stuck in his parched throat like a large cobblestone.
"Do you want anything?" the doctor asked pleasantly, looking at Bert.
"Water." he finally croaked and the younger nurse gently held his head up and placed a cup to his lips. He drank slowly, not wanting to spill on himself.
"Thank you miss." he told her, his voice a little stronger and she smiled at him.
"You're welcome, Sergeant and if you need anything else, Nurse Waters and I will be around. I am Nurse Sims."
He gave a small nod of his head and the trio was off to see the occupant of the bed next to him. His eyelids were heavy so he closed them and slid back into a fitful sleep.
A scream woke Bert suddenly some time later. He clutched the sheets in his hands, not understanding what on earth was going on. Several nurses rushed by and he heard one of them muttering something about "massive burns" and he shuddered. They'd all heard the horror stories about fellows who'd gotten burned and he was very grateful it wasn't him.
Taking deep breaths to calm himself, he wished that he had his sketch book with him so he could at least keep busy and not think about the poor bloke with the burns.
He closed his eyes and tried to go through his memories, deciding what the first thing he'd draw when he laid hands on paper would be. Maybe a view of London from the rooftops. That would be a good one.
His body more relaxed, he was able to return to sleep and dreamed of being up on top of the those roofs at night time, right when the sun was going down and watching the sky turn shades of purple, orange and gold. His sweep mates were there and they all stepped in time, celebrating this moment that they had to be merry at the end of a hard work day.
Two days passed and he was more alert each day. The day before, he'd gotten some paper from Nurse Waters along with a couple pencils and began his rooftop drawing of London.
Some of the more mobile patients as well as the nurses and a couple of doctors stopped every so often to see what he was doing. They were all impressed and Bert felt a sense of pride in his work.
However, there was only one thing that was keeping him from being completely content with his present circumstance and that was the fact that no one would allow him to stand up! He felt perfectly fine and had tried to get Dr. Richards to allow him to get up and start moving but he was always told "Wait another day" and he was sick of it.
Sighing, he vowed that he would try again today as he reached for his paper and the freshest pencil he had.
"You're looking well, Sergeant Alfred." Dr. Richards said cheerfully as he approached the bed,
Thinking quickly and deciding to take matters into his own hands, Bert quickly swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Some nurses gasped and the doctor started forward. He wondered what the matter was as he went to stand up, but something was horribly wrong and he lurched forward.
The physician was there to catch him, an expression of sadness on his normally calm face and Bert was about to demand an explination immediately...until he looked down.
He had an extremely comfy but ugly brown houseslipper on his left foot and on his right foot nothing...because it wasn't there.
Panic bubbled up inside of him and his breathing became labored as he began to wheeze. Where was his right foot? How was he supposed to step in time? Or go up on the railing? Or even climb up inside a chimney to sweep it without his right foot to brace against the walls of the stack?
"Sergeant Alfred, you may want to sit down." Dr. Richards said kindly as he helped Bert sit down on the edge of the bed.
Sinking down slowly, it was all he could do to focus on the other man's words as he began to speak. "We did everything we could to try and spare you your leg, but the shell had shattered your leg bone badly and gangrene set in rather quickly. In order to even give you a chance to live, we had to amputate your right leg below the knee. I...I am so sorry this had to happen.
Awkwardly patting his shoulder, Dr. Richards moved away, leaving Bert to his increasingly jumbled thoughts. What was he going to do when he got home? Jobs for a one-legged man weren't exactly plentiful.
You can still be a screever, the calm part of his brain reminded him. You still have both of your hands.
This was true, and Bert clung to that knowledge. He had both of his hands and eyes, and all ten of his fingers. He was just short a few toes.
Suddenly, tears welled up in his eyes. His dancing days were over. He'd never be able to dance with the penguins again or step in time with the other sweeps. And perhaps worst of all, he was never going to waltz with Mary Poppins again.
Digging the heels of his hands into his wet eyes, Bert tried to think of the fact that he was still alive when so many other blokes wouldn't be going home at all. In a strange way, he was fortunate and he had ro remember that. Crying over what couldn't be restored to him wasn't going to do any good.