Okay folks. I wanted the impact to be big and apparantly it was! I looked up statistics from World War I and as much as I wanted Bert to come back all fine and dandy, he wouldn't let me do it. So I picked something I actually have some experience with. My Grandpa Glenn was in a motorcycle accident as a young man and had his right leg amputated below the right knee. Sound familiar? So in a way, he inspired this. Believe me, I did NOT want Bert inhaling hydrochloric acid like some poor guys did. I felt bad about dropping that bomb on you, so here's the next part!

(London, 1923)

"He lost his leg?" Matthew repeated, feeling almost sick to his stomach. It was so hard for him to picture the healthy man of his memories without such an important limb.

Michael nodded and paused to have another drink. "Yes. He has no right leg below his right knee and even now, years later, he still gets some ghost pains from it even though his foot isn't there anymore."

The four military men sat in stone silence for a moment. What could they even say? Here they were, completely whole. It almost didn't seem fair somehow. "Blimey." Davey finally commented. "S'hard to imagine someone you used to know without a working leg. How in the blazes did he cope with it?"

Michael grimaced and bit his lip. "It was very hard for him in the beginning." he admitted. "At home, he'd been a chimney sweep as well as just about everything else and above all else, he loved to sing...and dance. You should've seen him back when I was a kid with all the other sweeps.

"I wish I could have." Matthew said softly as he took another sip of his ale, but it didn't taste as good to him as it once had. It had a sour flavor to it now.

"Me too." James nodded as he looked at Michael. "What did he end up doing?"

Chuckling, Michael cleared his throat. "He let himsef wallow for a few says until a visitor managed to pul him out of it."

(France, July 1916)

Bert lay on his cot, staring up at the ceiling. He had been informed that he would be going back home in a couple of weeks, but what lay ahead of him? He used to go through his life drifiting from day to day but with his leg, he realized with stinging clarity that he couldn't simply exist like that any more. He needed a plan.

As he lay and considered his options with ever increasing despair, a strange creaking noise caught his attention and he forced himself to sit up slowly, curious to know what it was.

Nurse Sims had wheeled someone over in front of his bed and Bert was startled to see that the young man sitting in the wheelchair with a cheerful smile on his face was missing both of his arms!

Trying to be polite and not stare, Bert quickly focused his attention on his visitor's face, feeling human for the first time since he'd been told about his leg.

"Didn't wake you, did I?" he asked, a note of anxiety creeping into his tone and Bert quickly shook his head.

"No no, not at all. I was just 'aving a look up at the loverly ceiling we got 'ere. I'm Bert Alfred."

The younger man grinned and nodded his head. "Nice to meetcha, Bert! I'm Robert Graves but everybody calls me Robby. I'd offer to shake but all I have are ten toes and I haven't bathed yet, so you wouldn't want to be shakin' those!"

A startled chuckle escaped Bert before he could think about it and he quickly clapped a scandalized hand over his mouth, his eyes wide. Being in the army had given him a bit more of a cynical sense of humor but he saw that Robby was laughing too.

"No need to take on so, mate. Might was well try to find the humor in it since I'll be like this for the rest of my life."

Robby's tone was matter of fact and held no hint of self-pity or even anger and Bert was suddenly and deeply ashamed of himself. Sure, he'd lost a foot but if Robby could look on the bright side in his condition. then so could he.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we?" Bert answered in the breeziest tone he could manage. "You can't shake 'ands and I can't dance."

It was a little strained, but Robby could tell that he was trying and offered him an appreciative grin. "Doesn't matter. Girls love an injured bloke."

Snorting, Bert shook his head. "No girls for me, mate. I'm gonna 'ave enough bloody trouble trying to figure out what I'm gonna do when I get 'ome. Can't still be a chimney sweep, see."

"You'll find something, Bert. The one thing I've learned in this war is that when you're down and you least expect it, something good comes your way."

He was privately dubious of this, but was too polite to contradict. Still, Robby gave him a knowing look, as though he knew what Bert was thinking. "Just takes a spot of time is all. You up for a stroll in the lovely dirt garden, as me and the boys have dubbed it?"

Before he could protest or agree, Nurse Sims had brought over a tall, padded cruth. Eyeing it hesitantly, Bert gingerly took hold of it and slipped it under his right arms, standing up shakily but doing it on his own, a triumphant expression on his face.

"Atta boy, Alfred!" another soldier cheered from the bed directly across from him and Bert shrugged sheepishly, chuckling as he took a couple of wobbly steps. It was hard, but his dancer's balance was helping him to compensate rather well.

"I'll think I'll take you up on that little garden party, Robby if the offer still stands."

Robby nodded, grinning widely at the sight of Bert standing. "It certainly does, Bertie Boy. C'mon."

Rolling his eyes and groaning at the nickname, Bert clomped along behind the wheelchair. With every step, it was getting easier to manage the crutch and by the time they reached the doorway, he was "walking" rather well, even if he said so himself.

The sun was out and as he emerged from inside the makeshift hospital that he had been stuck in for days, he breathed in the clear air deeply. It was nice to feel warmth on his face again.

"S'not a bad day." Robby commented thoughtfully as he looked upward. "Seems like Mister Sun's decided to grace our olive lives with a bit of yellow for a change."

"Cor, listen to you, Mr. Poet." Bert teased gently as he lowered himself onto a board supported by two sturdy piles of rubble. His left leg was already tired from having to support more weight than it was used to.

Robby shrugged, but looked pleased. "I did a fair bit of writing in school. My teachers all reckoned I was pretty good."

Bert thought for a moment to himself. "You know, you could still do it. All you'd have to do is tell it to somebody, and they could write it down for you. Maybe your teachers were right. You don't lose anything at this rate by trying, do ya?"

"Can you write?" Robby asked, eyeing him with a speculative look that made Bert want to squirm like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

"A bit." he said tentatively as Nurse Sims got the chair situated and took a seat herself on one of the benches. "I'm no great shakes at it, but I reckon if you're patient with me, I could at least get you started."

"That's all I'd need!" Robby nodded. "I'll use my considerable charms to beg a pencil and paper from the lovely nurses and you can be my scribe."

Nurse Sims snorted as Bert chuckled. "I already have a pencil and paper." he explained. "I draw a fair bit."

"Oh, so you're the bloke that draws! I've heard the others talking about how good you are. Have you done anything else in the last few days?"

Bert shook his head, his gaze far away. "No. I haven't drawn anything since I found out about this." he replied, tapping his hand on his right thigh.

Robby nodded understandingly. "I hear you mate, believe me. I wasn't exactly overflowing with ideas after I woke up and found myself unable to shake hands. Takes some time to let it settle into your mind and become your new normal."

He exhaled slowly. Robby was right; this was his new reality and he might as well embrace whatever this life was going to bring his way. "Yeah, this is just gonna take a bit of gettin' used to."

"What did you do before you ended up here?" Robby asked curiously as he turned his head, focusing all of his attention on his new friend.

"Mostly I was a chimney sweep." Bert replied, unable to keep a mournful note out of his voice. "I'd do just about anything to make a few honest bob though. When the weather was nice, I was a screever in the park or a kite seller. Even tried my hand as a delivery boy when I first got to London after me Da passed on. Wasn't more'n 15 and had to find some way of supportin' myself."

Robby let out a low whistle. "So you've been on your own for a fair while then. Why did you go to London? Did you have any family there?"

Chuckling wryly, Bert shifted in his makeshift seat. "No. When Da died, I sold almost everything I had to me name and walked as well as begged rides until I got to London. Thought I'd rather make my own way then sit round and wait for someone else to cart me off to a boy's home or decide my fate for me."

He folded his arms over his chest. "And I wouldn't say I'm alone exactly. There's a large group of us sweeps and we're all like brothers. "

"And what about this "Mary" that you mentioned when they first brought you in?" Nurse Sims asked, eyebrow arched.

Robby smirked and Bert felt his cheek getting hot. He had a strong feeling that a certain handless man was going to have a rather good time with this new information.

"Who's Mary? And don't spare any details." Robby said, winking cheekily.

"Oh yes Sergeant Alfred, do tell." Nurse Sims added, looking every bit as smug as Robby.

Sighing, Bert took a few seconds to decide what exactly he was going to say about Mary Poppins. Obviously, there were certain things he couldn't tell them. He carried her story and didn't want to betray her trust, even miles away.

"Mary's been my best friend since I was 18." he answered honestly. "She's a nanny and a smashing good one at that. But she never stays in one place too long. In 'igh demand she is."

"What's she like?" Robby prompted, head tilted to once side.

A wisful smile pulled at the corners of Bert's mouth. "She's a bit of a firecracker. Got a lot of spirit. But she's probably one of the kindest souls that I know. If you need something, she'll be there with only a couple of questions asked. And hearing her sing is like listening to a nightengale."

Nurse Sims and Robby exchanged loaded looks as he went on, almost forgetting that they were there. "She's a loyal friend and also likes to 'ave a good time like anyone else. You spend the day with 'er, and it's like going on a grand adventure. You never know as how things'll shape up, but it's sure to be marvelous."

He chuckled as he remembered an incident from when they were young involving one of her precious hats. "She's tidy too. Never likes to 'ave even on 'air on 'er practically perfect 'ead out of place."

"And you love her." Nurse Sims observed quietly.

Bert snapped back to reality, gaping at her. "She...she's my friend..."

"Doesn't mean you don't love her, mate." Robby chimed in. "And don't even bother denying it. It's bloody obvious when you talk about her how much you care."

"Have you ever told her how you feel?" the nurse asked kindly.

"No, she's made it pretty clear that she doesn't want anything to tie 'er down. Very committed to 'er duty that one. So I've 'eld my peace."

"Bertie Boy," Robby began gently, 'You can't hold that sort of thing in forever. When you get home, find that woman and show her what she's missing by not staying and letter herself share your life!"

"What could a bloke like me offer 'er?" Bert asked, frustration and doubt in his voice. "I don't even know if I'll be able to look after myself, let alone 'ave enough for 'er as well!"

"Then give yourself time to get established." Nurse Sims suggested sensibly. "Save up your money, then track her down like Corporal Graves here told you. At least, even if she says no, you tried."

Robby nodded. "Yes, that's the thing to do! Save up for a few months, prove that you're an industrious chap, then o find her, get on your left knee and propose!"

Groaning in embarrassment, Bert buried his face in his hands as Robby started to come up with grand proposal speeches, each one more flowery than the last.

"Let him be, Corporal." the nurse scolded and Bert gave her a grateful look. "Besides, it's time for lunch. In we go."

Nodding, Bert got back up and followed them in as Robby continued to make up speeches. At least he had one goal when he got to London...