Jane opened his mouth to speak up, but Elise shook her head, exasperated and a little angry, her cheeks colouring up prettily with a shade of red as she turned to head to a door at the back of the clinic.

"Bring her here, Dell," she told him. "I'll keep her in the clinic for a while, but you have to keep her with you." She said sternly, and with a grave nod, Dell entered the room as the single bulb in it flicked on with a sad sound of a tiny spark.

Jane looked on, quietly, and decided to ask questions later.

Dr. Vogler shook her head, sighing, before turning her attention to Jane, a fine eyebrow raised.

The soldier lifted his hand, and her eyes widened behind her glasses.

"Ach, ja, your hand," she shook her head, hurrying to the drawers of medical supplies next to her desk, before taking out the necessary tools. "Tavish," she spoke up as she sat down across Jane. "Thank you for bringing her here," she told the black man as she cleaned Jane's wound with antiseptic.

"Nothing to it," the man grinned, sitting down heavily next to Jane, slinging his arm around the man's shoulders in a friendly gesture. "I just know how taking care of a kid is like. Isn't Dell taking her in, or something?"

The soldier had been staring at he doctor as she tended to his cut, but when Tavish's arm landed heavily on his shoulders, he turned his head to look at him. The man grinned at him, giving him a thumbs-up.

"'Ello. Tavish DeGroot. You're a new face." He said, holding his hand out for Jane to shake.

"Sergeant Jane Doe. Retired." He replied, carefully moving his free hand to shake the man's, taking care to not move his hand as Dr. Vogler pressed a gauze against it.

"A soldier," Tavish nodded. "I was one too." He shrugged, and Jane's eyes widened. "Don't think we ever got deployed together, though."

"I don't think so," Jane replied, a little grin forming on his face. "Still, it's nice to see a fellow soldier out here."

Tavish laughed lightly. "Eh, well you're seeing most of him," he gestured at his eye patch, his grin a little lopsided, but still friendly. "Blew me eye off with a wonky grenade shot." He laughed, loud and boisterous, earning him a light smack on the knee from Dr. Vogler, who had finished wrapping up Jane's hand.

"Too noisy, Tavish, out with the both of you." She scolded, and with a little gesture at the door, she got up from her seat and headed to her desk, as the two men stood up. "Sergeant Doe—"

"Jane, please," Jane cut in, and she nodded.

"Jane," she corrected herself, "Please come back at another time; I have something to take care of." She cast a sidelong glance at the open door Dell went through, and Jane nodded.

"Care for the sick first, right?" he tried smiling at her, but he was sure it came out a lopsided half-grin.

The playful smirk on Tavish's face confirmed his thoughts.

"Ja," she replied, the silent conversation between the two ex-soldiers unnoticed. "I'll see you some other time."

"Affirmative." He replied, before turning to face Tavish, whose grin only widened. "Let's go," he urged the man, before heading back outside into the cobblestone street.

Above their heads the sun had gotten a little warmer now, a little higher in the sky than it used to be that early morning. The puddles of water from the rain the night before were smaller now, a little dried-up, but still big enough for the little children to splash around in.

Tavish stumbled out of the clinic after him, laughing knowingly as he crashed into the soldier, his arm slinging around his shoulders again.

"I see someone's been making eyes at a lovely lass," he snickered, pulling Jane along the pathway back down the direction of Dell's house. "Eh, Sergeant?"

"Negatory," Jane replied gruffly, but embarrassment began to wash over him. Dell was the first to notice… this and now Tavish—and he hadn't even met the man for more than three hours!

Tavish laughed again, happy and friendly, and pulled him along.

"Don't worry, I've got you covered, you doe-eyed lad," he chuckled, "C'mon, you have to stop by my pub."

"The pub?" Jane echoed, and Tavish nodded, letting him go to let him walk properly.

"Drinks are on me today." He grinned.

"It's almost ten in the morning."

"Aye, and?"

"Do you do this often? In the trenches?"

"Seven days, twenty-four hours a week."

"Until now?"

"Kind of a hard habit to break."

Jane smirked.

"What are we waiting for, then?"

The both of them reached the pub faster than Tavish had expected.

The pub was only a few houses away from Dell's, and had a few customers in it already, mostly families in for a late Sunday brunch with their children, or the village youth that had decided to stop by for a chat.

It was bigger than the other buildings Jane had seen in the town, half a house wider than the other homes in Teufort, with a not-quite-cramped service area, a reception, an unlit stone fireplace with still-glowing embers. The walls and the floor were lined with beautiful red-varnished wood, and hung up on the walls were framed photos of a beautiful landscape far from Teufort.

An old woman sitting on a rocking-chair looked up from her place at the corner of the pub next to the bar; where a bored-looking boy stood at, chin resting on his hand as he stared out the window with an unimpressed look on his face.

"Tavish!" she called, her voice clear through the din of the pub. "Where have you been?"

"At the clinic, Mum," Tavish spoke up, gesturing for Jane to follow after him to the bar. "Dropped off Dell's little girl."

"Lizzie?" she asked, "What was she doing here? Isn't she a wee little babe?"

Tavish flinched visibly, and Jane raised an eyebrow, but he quickly forced a smile on his face.

"No, Mum, Patricia. Lizzie's a stillborn, you know."

Jane's eyes widened and the sight of that little girl's room back in Dell's house flooded his mind once more.

So she was a stillborn. He didn't lose her in the war, and yet somehow, that seemed to hurt all the more.

The room, after all, was not only uninhabited, it was also unfinished.

"Patricia? That wee matchstick lass?"

"The same girl, Mum." Tavish pulled Jane aside to take a seat at the bar, where the teen was now staring at them with disinterested green eyes. "Angus, get two bottles of Scrumpy from the back."

"Give me one good reason why I should, Tavish." The boy replied, his accent just as strong as the one-eyed man's, crossing his arms defiantly.

"Just get me the damn bottles, you little shit." The man replied back, sighing, and the teen rolled his eyes, but did as he was told, disappearing behind a backdoor. Tavish turned his attention back to Jane, an embarrassed smile on his face. "Sorry about my son, mate."

"That was your son?" Jane asked, and the man nodded.

"Well, stepson. He was my wife's son from a past marriage." He replied. "Hates my guts." He chuckled sadly. "Well, anyway. This is my pub, the Loch Ness Monster." He gestured at the service area. "It's not as big as the others I've seen elsewhere, but it'll do. There's some room upstairs—it's also an inn."

"I'd imagine you'd do well in the holidays."

"Sometimes," Tavish shrugged, "The income's fine, at least. Enough to feed my family, so it's alright. There's only the three of us, anyway."

The clinking of bottles caught their attention and they turned again to see two bottles set down in front of them, the boy already walking out from behind the bar to head to a group of young men at a table to talk to them.

"Moody teenagers." Tavish chuckled, before taking a swig from his bottle.

"Can't argue with that." Jane agreed, before picking up his own bottle.

They ended up talking about their life on the frontlines, and before long, the two men grew into fast friends, talk bubbling with light laughter and the soft haze of beer on their minds.

It had only been an hour and a half; and yet, Jane felt like he had met a long-lost friend.

It was a nice feeling.

"I should probably go," Jane spoke up after a while, setting down his empty bottle. "It's almost lunch—I'd better make sure Dell doesn't hurt himself."

"Go right ahead, mate," Tavish grinned, waving him goodbye. "I'll see you around, aye?"

"I have to find a job first," Jane chuckled, "Are you sure I can't work here?"

"Have enough hands as it is," Tavish replied, gesturing at Angus, walking around with three trays on him—one on each hand, and the other (a small ashtray) on top of his head. "We're fine here. Try the Bagges'. It's the harvest season; I think they could use a little help on their field."

"Thanks." Jane nodded, before heading back outside, squinting at the light of day that hit his eyes. Slowly he made his way back out to the street, and headed back to Dell's house—to find no one inside.

"… Strange." He murmured, opening the door next to the toy shop's, with the intention to enter the workshop, only to see the little girl's room again—

Lizzie's room, he corrected himself, standing at the doorway with a small frown on his face.

The bed frame was still unfinished, but the dust on it had prints disturbing its even surface. Jane raised an eyebrow and stepped into the room.

The dresser was half-open, nails driven out, and the vanity looked cleaner than before. The white paint was now a little brighter, and the mirror was now in its place. He turned to look back at the bed frame to realise that the planks that had been laying there were gone—there was a tape measure lying next to one of the poles.

A little smile spread across Jane's face. Dell was renovating—possibly for that little girl Tavish brought to the clinic.

He stepped outside to see a note taped to Dell's off-white refrigerator: went out into the forest for extra wood. Eat up if you like. –Dell.

He shook his head fondly, and headed back outside. Dell had a bad leg; how on Earth was he supposed to carry the wood from there and back?

Chuckling, he headed into the forest next to Dell's house—only to realise that it was the same set of trees he passed by the day before—the day he escaped from the police.

His smile disappeared from his face as realisation struck him—now was his chance to find that duffel bag.

He took a look around the area, briefly, before trudging onwards further into the forest. It didn't take him too long to find it—the bag was hanging from a tree's low branch, still zipped-shut, and covered in mud. He was going to have to hurry to get it back inside before Dell could see it.

He grabbed the bag, and hurried back into the man's house, up the stairs and into his room, where he shoved it unceremoniously into the empty closet, just as he heard the door open and shut downstairs.