My apologies, I uploaded the wrong chapter last time-please go back to chapter 8 to read the correct chapter, then you can read the story from there. Sorry again! Check the end notes if you want the warnings ahead of time, but you will find some spoilers.

Chapter 10 Painful Revelations

Bright lights, pain, groggy nothingness, blurry movement, these were but background sensations that Roger gave no thought of, even once he was able to come to. If he had been at all conscious of his surroundings, he would have seen them change from time to time as he made his way further back, away from the front. He knew in theory that they had put up medical tents close to the front so that surgeons could perform emergency procedures before getting the patient more permanent care further back, the sturdier facilities giving the more long term care. It was at such a place that he finally came to himself, blinking in the surroundings, trying hard to get a sense as to where he was-when he was met with excruciating pain.

He must have moaned or something, because it alerted a white capped nurse to come to his side and begin shushing him while also checking him over.

'Are you in much pain, Corporal Gold?' She spoke in an almost whisper.

He could only grit his teeth, hiss at the pain and nod his head-which made it swim a little, his brain was still all foggy.

She gave him a dose of something, and he remembered nothing until the next time he opened his eyes.

This time he took in the sea of beds around him. Men in various stages of injury were his neighbors. Nurses weaved in and out of the sea, bending here, placing a wet rag there, administering something or another to one moaning man, holding the hand of one that had completely broken down in tears over something.

Roger noticed that the pain he had been experiencing was a little duller than it had been before, though still an ever present throb, pulsing in his leg. His leg! He remembered how badly it had hurt before he blacked out. Cassidy! He looked around quickly to see if he noticed Cassidy among the number-no, he couldn't see him, though that meant nothing. There had to be hundreds of beds in this room, and he didn't feel clear enough to take it all in. He then wondered how badly his leg was. He noticed some men with braces and their legs attached to a contraption that held their legs in the air. He had no such thing, so he wondered. Seeing no nurses nearby, he decided to look and see just how badly damaged it was.

His leg was gone.

Right above the knee he now saw bandages, and could feel the painful throb near the stub where a leg had once been. He wondered how he did not know it was missing as soon as he woke up, but no part of his mind could understand that there was nothing there. There was nothing there but a pathetic stump giving way to nothingness. A lump stuck in his throat and threatened to become a full blown sob. He did not know what all this would mean for the rest of his life, but he knew it could be nothing good. He would no longer have the use of it-he would forever be less of a man.

He put the covers back up, wishing he could forget what he had seen, wishing he could go back to the time when he had no idea anything was missing. He went back into slumber, because the black oblivion was better than his present reality.

A large shadow fell over his bed the next time he woke. The shadow was holding something in his hand-something small and square and…

'What are ye doing with that?' Roger groaned, realizing that the shadow belonged to Jeffries and his shape was coming in clearer, and the thing he was holding was Belle's little photograph.

'Well hello to you too. I was going to ask how you were, but it seems we've skipped the pleasantries, huh?'

Roger tried to glare back but he was only too glad to see a familiar face that it was a half hearted attempt. Jeffries' eyes smiled, but they weren't dancing like they normally did.

'Found this' Jeffries held up the photo, 'and this…' he held up a letter '...in your pocket and I pulled it out before they took and destroyed your clothes. Thought you might want it. She's a pretty little thing, that's for certain.'

'Aye, she is.' Roger didn't exactly know how to reply without hearing whatever Jeffries would want to tease him about. '…thanks…'

'And in case you are wondering-I didn't read the letter, no matter how sorely I was tempted.' He chuckled.

'How-how did things pan out?' Roger wondered how long it had been since he came-what had become of the mission…

'It's not even over yet. So many casualties on both sides, I doubt there will be much of a victory once it's all said and done. Perhaps old Churchill was right-we were too slow. Sometimes being cautious doesn't work out.' Roger could hear the defeat in Jeffries voice, the responsibility, though he only carried out orders higher than himself. This meant that the numbers of the dead and dying were high, Roger wondered how many of his own men were now gone.

'Cassidy-Cassidy, did he make it?'

The pause was horrific. Roger knew the answer before it ever left Jeffries' lips.

'I'm sorry Gold.'

'No' He shook his head. Cassidy couldn't be-couldn't be gone, couldn't be dead. He was too young, too full of life and hope, and well, he ought not to be dead, he couldn't be dead. Roger felt a pain in his chest and a ringing in his ears that rivaled the feelings experienced after the explosion.

'The explosion-it hit so close. Shredded your leg, I'm so sorry old man, and shrapnel hit Cassidy in the chest. He-he died a few hours later, but before he passed I heard he worried over you actually. He thought a lot of you'

Roger could only be silent. To try to say anything would result in him breaking down like that man did earlier. He wished Jeffries would go so he could wallow in his sorrow alone, but that would have been a very unkind thing to do to someone who had actually come to comfort him. So, he didn't say anything at all for a long time.

Jeffries sensed his need for silence and finally clasped his shoulder. 'I'll be around for a little while. My time is not exactly my own, but I'll stop in and check on you. You need anything, let me know. And if you feel up to a letter by the time I get back, I'll help send it for you.'

Roger tried to nod, he wasn't sure if that's what he did or not, but Jeffries did leave and despite his best efforts, there were some tears that escaped before the nurse came and checked on him.

His dreams were horrific things after that. The explosion happened over and over again, and every time it was his decision to pull Cassidy along with him, trying to outrun the explosion that caused the death of the lad. Sometimes he was the one who killed him himself. No matter what, the thing that always woke him up, gasping for breath, was the image of Cassidy's chest bleeding out and all Roger could do was watch it happen.

Wakefulness was hardly better. He tried to eat when they gave him a tray, he tried to keep a civil tongue in his head when a nurse or doctor asked how he was or checked on him. He hated hearing about how well he was doing and how such improvements had been made in terms of artificial limbs that he would have a long and fruitful life once this was all over.

He didn't deserve to have it. His life should be Cassidy's. Cassidy was the one with a mother to care for, that loved him and he loved in return. He had siblings to bicker with and provide for. Cassidy should have gotten the chance at a fruitful life. There would have been no one to mourn or care if he lived or died.

Well, that wasn't entirely true, was it?

Roger picked up Belle's picture and fiddled with it between his fingers. Perhaps she did care, and would hate it if he had died. But what of it? Such a beautiful lady would want nothing to do with a wiry ex-soldier with only one leg. She would never want to be what he had begun to wish she was. She could never care for him like that, and if she ever found out what had happened, she would be glad they had never made any sort of declaration (those young boys would so often get engaged on short notice and he wondered how many would return home to girls who would then realize it had been a mistake-or the guy for that matter).

Jeffries wanted a letter, he remembered. He asked one of the nurses for pen and paper and began to write Cassidy's mother-it was the least he could do. She would get a cold, cruel telegram that would tell her nothing of her son's bravery. That was something he must do, no matter how difficult it was to do so. He shook as he did so, in a way that wasn't from the medicine he was taking (though that didn't help).

Mrs. Cassidy,

I had the great honor and privilege of knowing your son. While his life was cut off too soon, he lived his life with great dignity and bravery. My last image of him was the look of determined bravery as we realized we were surrounded. My lieutenant also tells me that his last concern was for someone else and not himself. He was a good lad, and a brave one. He often spoke of the love and concern he had for each one of you. I consider him one of the best of men and will never forget him for as long as I live. If there is any other way I can assist you in the future, please do not hesitate to write.

Yours sincerely,

Roger Gold

He pulled out a month's pay and tucked it into his letter. He knew that the lady would get something, but he remembered Cassidy's worry over his mother and taking care of her. He ran his hand over his face and let himself breath in the sorrow he felt.

A day or two later he handed his letter off to Jeffries.

'This is not to your girl.' Jeffries said dryly.

'This is true. I-I felt compelled to speak to Mrs. Cassidy. The boy was a good lad, and she's a right to know what sort of son she had and that she could be proud of 'im.'

Jeffries nodded his head in understanding. 'It's a good thing. But the girl in that photo is going to be wondering when she doesn't receive a letter from you soon.'

'Better to wonder than to know the truth.' Roger muttered.

Jeffries crossed his arms. 'What do you mean? She won't be happy that you're alive?'

Roger shrugged. 'Perhaps, but I-I'm not the same man she wrote those letters to. Before I was the pathetic lonely soldier-something to pity, someone she eventually warmed to. Now I'm a cripple who couldn't even protect the one person I tried to save.'

Jeffries narrowed his eyes at his friend. 'This is a lot of nonsense and you know it. First, what happened was no one's fault-you made a decision in the moment and who is to say that if you would have gone a step one direction or another wouldn't have caused the same catastrophic results. Second, a girl wouldn't keep sending letters to a man she hadn't even met if she only felt pity for him-those letters were the best thing to happen to you, you know. It was obvious that you suddenly found a reason to be where you were once you started writing.'

'No matter.' Roger said lamely. 'I couldn't bear the pity now, and she is mourning her own father right now-she has burdens on her that she ought not to have to carry, I don't want to be another.'

'So you'll let her just think you dead or captured-yes, what a noble man you are. Wallow in self pity all you want to Gold, but I think you do this girl such a disservice by it.'

Jeffries took up Roger's letter and left, and Roger was left to mourn and hate himself once more.

…

Belle had become a tight ball of worries. It had been weeks since her last letter from Roger, weeks and weeks had passed and still no word. She had begun to imagine the very worst had happened and she had cried herself to sleep the past several nights. Ruby's past letter did not help.

Belles,

You will remember the soldier I mentioned, Archie? I am so happy, he has been stationed very far back, away from the action to allow his mind to heal from battle fatigue. This means that I get very frequent word from him and we are fast becoming something dear to one another. He has hinted at the future a time or two in his letters and I will not hide from you the hope that has begun in me. Me! Your wild Ruby, half in love already!

But now that I've told you of my own hopes and dreams, you must tell me. Do you still write to the lonely soldier-the corporal? You must tell me every detail. Does he still recite poetry to you, or are you on to even deeper conversations?

Your friend who misses you terribly,

Ruby

That letter had caused another night full of tears, no matter that she was genuinely happy for her dear friend. And then there were another several days of agony, waiting until she could check and see if there were any word from her friend. She checked all the papers and looked up all the names of the dead and never found his name. She would not lose hope until she saw his name printed, knowing also how long it sometimes took for those names to get put into print.

When she had a letter from a name she recognized from Roger's letter, she threw it open, rushing to read the words contained within.

'My dear Miss French,

Please excuse the invasion of privacy to obtain your address. I promised my friend that I did not read your letter, and I did not, though I may have scanned it for your name and address, I only ask that you forgive me once you find the purpose of my snooping.

I know that by the time you receive this it will have been quite a while since Gold last wrote to you and if you are half the lady I think you might be and that Gold believes you are, you're most likely worried. Gold is alive, but injured and very discouraged right now. He was wounded-I will not expose the severity of his injury, as I feel like this is his story to tell. I will say it is severe, and something permanent and it has led to him worrying that he would put an extra burden on you that you would somehow regret his opening up to you.

Will you write to him? Will you give him some much needed encouragement? He needs it more than he ever has before. He just lost a boy who he had become close to, and I am very certain he needs you right now, even if he's too stubborn to admit it.

Please forgive my impermanence.

Sincerely,

Hugh Jeffries

That night Belle cried for a different reason. Roger was alive. Alive and hurt and sad and mourning. She hurried to send a letter to the direction Mr. Jeffries' enclosed.

Author's Note: Warnings: Character death, and a description (not super detailed, I always try to keep everything around the PG range) is made of both the death and the injury of a main character.

History Stuff:
Developed in WW1, having multiple medical facilities, even if they were well supplied tents, near the front lines became a regular thing. This helped save the lives of many, so they could receive care as soon as possible. Gen. Kirk was one of the main ones to establish both this and routine care for limb loss that would be distributed throughout the Allied medical doctors, so that it minimized the infections in those who needed amputation. You can look up more about him, he did quite a lot in this field!
Battle Fatigue was a term used to describe PTSD starting in the first ww.

Story Stuff: I'm sorry! So, So sorry! It was my intention from the get go to do this to Neal (Cassidy) but I still hated to kill him off when the time came-I had a hard time even writing the chapter.
Belle's POV is only to convey Jeffries' letter. More of her side is coming next chapter