A/N Thank you all for the reviews they really mean a lot! And sorry for the wait but revision and exams have taken up most of my time.

October 1915

Aramis was sat huddled his dugout to escape the rain, and was clutching a letter from his mother desperately. He was soaking up the news of the everyday running of the farm; he missed the simplicity of the farm and longed to be standing beside his father watching the animals. His mother had asked after him and Aramis had already decided to avoid answering in his next letter, he had changed after his first time going over the top and he did not want to concern his mother with what was happening to him. Aramis had been helpless to watch as his friends had fallen all around him and he could do nothing except keep walking forwards, he had become angry when they had ended up retreating back to their starting positions believing that his friends had died for nothing.

He smiled softly when his mother mentioned Isabelle and Anne, two girls who had been in school with him and Porthos, his mother mentioned how they were enjoying being able to work in a Munitions factory reveling in the fact that they were being allowed to do a 'man's job'. Porthos often teased him about the girls, Isabelle made no secret that she liked Aramis more than a friend she had even kissed him before he got on the train leaving Kemble. Aramis had thought he saw sadness etched on Anne's face seeing Isabelle kiss him, although the look was soon gone and Aramis passed it off as wishful thinking. For while Isabelle was a dear friend to him, Anne was the one person he could only imagine living the rest of his life with.

He was drawn out of his thoughts when some rations were thrust into his face; he tucked his letter into his pocket and thankfully took the food from Porthos' outstretched hand.

Porthos sat across from him and sent him a glare, "You really need to stop forgetting to line up and collect your food. You're lucky the cook knows I'm not getting seconds and knows I'm just making sure you eat"

Aramis shrugged and swallowed before answering, "I was reading a letter Mama sent me"

Porthos rolled his eyes, "Your Mama will be horrified to learn that you would rather read her letter than get something to eat"

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her" Aramis responded dismissively.

Porthos growled and pointed a finger at him, "If it happens again I'm writing to your Mama and telling her you're forgetting to eat. Let's see how dismissive you will be then"

"You wouldn't" stated Aramis frowning,

"Try me" goaded Porthos, he grew serious and added, "You can't go hungry Aramis that will only lead to trouble"

Aramis rolled his eyes but nodded anyway and continued to eat. He promised himself that he would try to remember to line up, he was easily distracted but he did not want his mother to worry about him not eating. Should Porthos ever write telling her of Aramis going hungry he knew that although he would not be standing in front of his mother, he knew he would still feel her anger directed at him through her words. Sophie d'Herblay was someone you did not want to anger.

Porthos sighed and looked out of the dugout at the muddy trench, "I hate all this waiting, especially after the German's attack a couple of weeks ago. It's too quiet and nothing to do but wait"

"Yes waiting is terrible, but it is better than traipsing through No Man's Land getting shelled and shot at. Getting wounded and having to lie in the mud for a long time before anyone comes to help you, all because everyone else has been ordered to keep moving forward" responded Aramis bitterly.

"Careful what you say Aramis" warned Porthos as he gave Aramis a worried look, "you could get in trouble for saying that"

"It is the truth" pointed out Aramis, he thought back on Jimmy Marshall who he had taken under his wing. The 16 year old had been awed by Aramis' shooting skills and had stuck close to the older boy, Aramis shuddered remembering seeing the exact moment that Jimmy had been struck in the shoulder and leg, Aramis had wanted to help but had been pushed forwards. He had volunteered to go out after the attack to search for survivors, he had found the younger boy and discovered Jimmy had died from his injuries.

Porthos leaned over and squeezed Aramis' shoulder knowing what his brother was thinking, "Jimmy died honourably for his King and Country-"

"Honourably?!" exclaimed Aramis shaking Porthos' hand off his shoulder, "What honour? We live worse than the animals back at the farm! We get shot at; shelled at and subjected to gas that kills us! And spend hours caked in mud! Tell me Porthos what is honourably about that?!"

Porthos opened his mouth to reply when a voice from the trench gained their attention, "Careful Aramis you are lucky that it was only I that heard you"

Aramis turned so he was looking up at Athos' disapproving look, "Sorry Sir" muttered Aramis.

Athos sighed, "I am sorry about your friend, but there is no use spouting out words, loudly I add, that can lead to trouble"

"He was a boy Athos, barely 16. He had no reason to be here and he died alone surrounded by mud" responded Aramis,

Athos looked down at Aramis with sorrow filled eyes, "You are a boy as well Aramis. To me you are what Jimmy was to you"

"The difference is I am old enough to join the Army where he was not" snapped Aramis. He knew he shouldn't be saying what he was, but he couldn't help it. He didn't know how else to deal with what he was going through. He couldn't write to his mother, Isabelle or Anne for the fear of worrying them, he couldn't write to his father about it because he knew he would never get a reply because his father hated the subject of war, his father didn't even write to him, his mother said it was the war that was affecting him and his fear for his son, and he could understand that. His only option other than bottling it up was talking to Porthos where he ran the risk of an Officer hearing him.

Athos sighed and nodded at them before he continued on his walk to the Officer's dugout.

"Aramis stop with this talk!" ordered Porthos as he worriedly looked around for anyone else who might hear Aramis.

Aramis shook his head and snapped, "I've got sentry duty all night, see you in the morning" and then he swiftly stood up, he grabbed his rifle and stalked out of the dugout and through the trench slinging his rifle onto his shoulder. All the while clutching his shaking hands into fists to stop them trembling from anger.

As night fell Aramis sighed deeply and felt peace sweep over him calming his thoughts. Distantly he heard the rumble of shells and shuddered feeling sorry for the men who were on the receiving end. The cold bit sharply at his limbs and he tightened his coat around him and pressed his hands under his armpits to try and keep them warm, he wriggled his toes to starve off the numbness and looked out across at the stretch of mud separating him from the German line. He could just about make out the outline of the destroyed and frayed trees and the craters of mud created by the shells. In the daylight the sight was terrifying and in the moonlight it was just as bad, the soft glow of the moon used to comfort him as a child and now his living nightmare was tainting all the things that helped keep him calm. The barbed wire glinted in the moonlight serving as a reminder that he wasn't on his farm looking at an aftermath of a storm, he was stood in the middle of a war that had already claimed many lives.

Soon dawn came and he watched as the pink-red light stretched out across the land, he tried not to think that it looked as if the sun itself was wounded and bleeding out over the sky. The next sentry arrived and he slowly made his way back to his dug out, the cook passed him and handed him his morning's rations. He nibbled slowly at the food on his way back to the dugout for once his bitter thoughts leaving him alone in the daylight. He entered the dugout and propped his rifle against the mud wall, he heard someone shifting and turned, his gaze met Porthos' and he gave his friend a small smile. His smiled was returned and he all had been forgiven.

"Nice to see you've got something to eat. Looks like there is hope for you after all" smiled Porthos.

Aramis rolled his eyes, "Cook passed me and all but thrust the rations into my hand"

"See, it isn't only me that notices you forget to feed yourself" chuckled Porthos,

Aramis' retort was cut off by a yawn; he finished his rations and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He shuffled over to where his blanket was spread out beside Porthos', they were lucky usually there were at least four men to a dugout. Aramis pushed aside the reminder of Jimmy, the young boy had shared the dugout with himself and Porthos and the empty space was a reminder of the young boy's death that came all too soon. He knew while Porthos was sad about Jimmy's death, Porthos did like the extra room as both himself and Porthos were quite tall. They were both taking the opportunity to stretch their legs until Captain Treville assigned some other men to their dugout.

Aramis slumped down and while lying down he battled with his blanket to untangle it and remove parts of it from underneath him; chuckling Porthos reached over and straightened it out for him and laying the blanket over him, before he covered Aramis with his own blanket.

"I'm not using it right now, so you might as well" commented Porthos seeing Aramis' confused look,

Aramis smiled in thanks and closed his eyes. Just before he fell asleep he heard Porthos add as he tucked the blankets around Aramis' shoulders, "Just don't get used to having two blankets". Aramis smiled and drifted off to sleep, dreaming about the farm, his family and Anne. For once his dreams were not plagued by haunting memories; instead they were filled with the images his mother's letter conjured of a peaceful village in the Gloucestershire countryside that he called home.