Welcome to part two of this fanfic! This was the most difficult, yet ultimately most rewarding, chapter for me to write so far. I'm a stickler for accuracy, and spent two hours researching troop movements, army positions, battles, locations, routes and possible timelines before settling on which area of France to use. I needed a place where both British and American troops were both involved, but also a place where there was a large-scale retreat. The obvious choice was the Marne, but I still had to decide exactly where Maura would be sent. And after that I also had to work out exactly how quickly things needed to happen.

I sure hope you guys like this chapter, because I really enjoyed researching it!

PART TWO

Barely a month after Maura returned Korsak was taken badly ill and invalided back behind lines. Without a doctor the aid station was no longer effective. After much deliberation, and several letters to both Korsak and the big-wigs of the British army, it was decided to disband Casualty Clearing Station Five. The American reinforcements went to join the newly arrived American Expeditionary Forces while the remaining British nurses received new assignments. Gwynn, because of her age, chose to return to Britain and take a position at a convalescent home for blind soldiers. Eliza and Beth, sick of being so close to the trenches, went together to a British field hospital near Paris. Maura, who still pined for Jane, volunteered to teach newly arrived American nurses.

For a few weeks she was based behind the lines, but soon tired of the monotony and the strict rules enforced by the bullish matron in charge, who felt threatened by the ballsy British nurse who had years of experience and little patience for frivolities like folding blankets. Maura applied for, and received, permission to move closer to the lines and was re-attached to one of four British divisions north-east of Paris on the Chemin des Dames Ridge. The ridge had been captured from the Germans around the same time Maura and Jane had been embroiled in the Third Battle of Ypres further north the year before. The ridge had been captured by French forces, who later mutinied against the atrocious battle conditions. 28 men were executed by the new French general Pétain and British troops were called in to take over the western part of the ridge.

It was here that Maura found herself in early March. She had a difficult time settling in. None of the other nurses were very friendly and the sector was relatively quiet. Maura found herself spending a lot of time alone. She read Tolstoy and took up sketching, although she wasn't very good at it. Before long she found her pencil stopped drawing soldiers and started tracing a sharp, angular face framed by wild, dark hair.

She missed Jane. She missed her like she'd never missed a person before. Jane was the first thing on her mind when she woke, and the last thing she saw before she fell asleep. The Boston woman's face swam before Maura's eyes when Maura dressed wounds, her gravelly laugh grating in Maura's ears as the shells fell around her, the ghostly impression of her long fingers brushing against Maura's arm in the cold spring breeze. Jane was everywhere. Maura felt a constant ache, like part of her was missing.

How could she have ever disliked Jane? Maura thought back to those first few days when Jane had arrived in Armentieres. How much trouble she'd been, and how angry she made Maura! How her blood had boiled when Jane was tardy or caused a fuss. But now Maura would have done anything to rewind the clock.

The worst part was that she had no idea if Jane had survived her wounds. All she knew was that Jane had been shipped back to America after being patched up in England. She could have died at sea from complications, or even died later on in America from infection. Even more terrifying was the spread of a new influenza strain that had just reached New York. So far it wasn't very serious, but Maura knew enough about the spread of disease to tell it had the potential to cause serious damage.

She became withdrawn and nervous, breaking down in late March after a particularly intense bombardment. She was sent behind lines and diagnosed with a mild case of shell shock. The French doctors wanted to send her back to England for treatment, but Maura erupted into a fit of panic at the very mention of leaving France. In her mind France was her link to Jane. And if she just stayed in France long enough she would find her. Not knowing what else to do the doctors kept her in a solitary ward and let her roam the sparse gardens whenever she pleased. The fresh air and relaxed atmosphere did Maura a world of good.

By the time she felt well again the Germans had broken through on the Somme almost all the way to Amiens. In two weeks the Allies lost over sixty-five kilometres of ground. Sixty-five kilometres they had spent the last three years viciously defending. Less than a week later the Germans launched the Lys Offensive further north near Ypres. All the ground the Allies had bled for for most of the previous year was over-ran in twenty days of fierce fighting. The ground that Jane had been shot on was lost in a matter of days. This news caused Maura to lapse once more into despair, but this time she struggled harder against it. She wanted revenge.

She had her chance in May. There were rumours of German troop movements on the Meuse River and the British and French troops there were being reinforced with American units. Maura was hastily declared fit for service and pressed back into action once more at Chemin des Dames. Here she was placed further back from the frontline for fear of a similar breakthrough like what had happened on the Somme and in Belgium.

It was here, on the morning of the 27th of March, that the Germans launched a large scale attack preceded by a fercious bombardment. The British had massed all their troops on the ridge, expecting a full frontal charge from infantry. Instead they were annihilated by artillery which was then followed by poisonous gas. By the time the specially trained German stormtroopers arrived they had very little to do and were able to punch through a large gap in the Allied lines, capturing thousands of Allied soldiers in the process.

Maura's aid station disbanded in panic and scattered to the wind. By the afternoon she found herself bumping along a rutted road in a field ambulance full of gas cases, retreating ahead of the relentless German advance. They crossed the Vesle River near Reims and didn't stop for nightfall, fearing the Germans were right behind them. It was slow going. It took three days to drive 60 kilometres south-west with gunfire and artillery hot on their heels. On the 30th of March they bounced into Château-Thierry just ahead of the retreating French 10th Colonial Division.

Here they were met, much to Maura's surprise, by American troops. She knew something was strange about them long before she heard the accents. Their foreign uniforms were a dead giveaway, but she was more intrigued by their fresh faces. They didn't have the same haggard appearance of the weary British troops. Her ambulance was greeted by a smartly dressed young medical officer who cheerfully directed them to a makeshift aid station on the opposite side of the town. Here the nurses and doctors wore impeccably clean uniforms and wide smiles. They took the gas cases from the back of the field ambulance, but also gently ushered Maura and the driver into the tent. Here Maura was given water and half a loaf of bread by a curly-haired blonde woman who also checked her over. The nurse briskly informed Maura that she was suffering from extreme exhaustion and prescribed bed-rest. Her formality was incredibly alien to Maura. It was hard to believe they were so close to the front. She could have been in a hospital in New York.

Maura neglected the sleep in favour of wolfing down the bread. When she'd swallowed the last bite she took great gulps of water, spilling it down her front. A few of the nurses stared at her and Maura knew she must look a sight. But she was long past caring.

The food bolstered her and she made her way towards the tent flap, waiting until the blonde nurse was on the other side of the tent before making good her escape. The street outside thronged with troops moving towards where the Americans were setting up their defenses on the riverbank. Maura stepped to the side to stay out of their way and began walking in the opposite direction.

She passed neat rows of ammunition boxes and supply crates with webbing thrown over the top of the stacks to disguise them from the air. Further up the road a small unit of Americans rested under tall trees. Some called greetings out to her, one asked where she was going. But Maura gave him a tight-lipped smile and shrugged her shoulders wearily. She kept following the trees, not knowing where her feet were taking her, almost blind with exhaustion. Just as she was ready to give up walking and look for a place to sleep another aid tent came into view. A nurse ducked under the flap in the entrance and came up hunched over a match, attempting to light a cigarette. Her long, unruly hair fell in the way and the woman cursed in a deep, rustic voice.

Maura stopped dead in her tracks, not knowing if the voice was real or if she was hallucinating. The woman straightened, drawing at the cheap fag through thin, pursed lips, and turned. Mid-puff her gaze settled on Maura. For a second the woman paused, a look of shock dawning on her face. Then she choked on the smoke in her lungs and spluttered.

"M-m-Maura?!"

Jane's eyes seemed to grow larger and larger until they filled Maura's vision, enveloping her like deep, dark pools until all she could see was black. She never felt her legs give way. Never heard Jane's shout.

All she knew was that familiar abyss.