A/N: Hello and sorry to each and every of you. I had to take a long pause from this story, both to take care of other pending stories and to rethink about the ending of this one. You know what? You are about to eat five more chapters after this one. Decided what the final "plot" would be, and I'm sure you'll like it.

Now, pick your tissues, you-know-which-scene is coming... :'(

13. Bless the dead

Emie and Henry's carriage was probably to darkest-looking of all. Perkins and the rest of the reinforcement cavalry were riding ahead of the medical team, including them and another carriage rode by a priest-doctor, Father John.

Emie had fallen into a sense of nothingness that didn't change the way she felt about James and his fate. Once they had gone from the camp, she had felt as if the other half of her soul had been ripper apart from her.

Henry, on the other hand, looked as if nothing would ever be possible between them now. And he probably was right anyway.

The road was long. And it was painful.

They followed the horses' traces for approximatively two hours, until they stopped, a feel of blood in the air.

Perkins came riding next to them.

"We are almost there."

Henry nodded gravely. "Seeing as we don't hear anything, I guess it's over?"

Emie repressed a squeak.

Perkins nodded, his mouth twitching nervously. "The scouts say that the Germans are gone. But not the-" he trailed off, and Emie felt tears coming down her cheeks. "Anyway, when we're there, you know what you need to do."

Henry nodded again and, when Perkins was gone, squeezed Emie's hand gently. She turned her eyes to his, and she saw that he too repressed tears.

They remained silent for another twenty minutes.

The scene was horrid. No others words could describe what it had been. A carnage. Horsemen against firearms. Emie felt a rage grow inside of her, and she swore herself that if Jamie had been there she would have killed him.

Henry stopped the carriage and they both mounted the tent rather quickly.

Some men were still moving, bullets ripping their flesh.

"Emie..."

She followed her friend's gaze and saw that among the British soldiers, were Germans, all wounded. She shook her head. "We have to help them too, it would be inhuman not to."

He nodded and took his satchel.

She followed, putting her apron on her chest.

"I need you to help us, Perkins. Take a few men and gather the dead in one area of the field, we have to bury them. This way we'll know who is still alive."

The man nodded gravely and gestured a group of six to follow him.

Emie sighed heavily. The scent of blood, mixed with mud, made her stomach twitch.

"Emie? You'll do alright, come on." Henry pulled her gently by the hand, and they both knelt next to their first patient.

Many died in their hands, their wounds too deep to be healed, and some even had to be killed by Perkins' hand to end their suffering.

Many horses were among the patients.

But, as Emie perfectly knew, wounded horses wouldn't be of any use.

She was glad to see that neither Joey nor Topthorn were among them.

As midday rose, Henry and Emie had operated a good thirty men, both British and German, though these were easier to heal, seeing as their wounds were caused by either swords or horseshoes.

"Henry, I...need a break."

Another man, barely eighteen, had just died in her arms. His skull half opened, his chest horridly bumped.

Henry got up, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and nodded to her. "Go. Drink something and try to cut you off this shit. I'll call you if I need you."

She tried to smile gratefully, failed, and kissed his cheek, leaving a tear or two on his skin. "Thank you, Henry."

She walked away towards their carriage, sat there and closed her eyes.

Hopefully, the wind helped masking the sounds of dying men on the ground, and she found herself thinking about the previous night. James' hands on her skin, his lips on hers. A sense of peace waved over her.

It didn't last.

"Emie!" The cry was so loud she had no other option than opening her eyes and see Henry, yards away, waving her to run to him as fast as she could.

She lifted her skirts and ran all she had.

There, on the muddy ground, barely breathing, his kind face torn in pain, his chest bleeding heavily from a bullet wound near his collarbone, his leg broken, was Charlie.

She fell on her knees and grabbed the Lieutenant's head. "Charlie? Charlie, oh, tell me you hear me, please! Charlie!"

He stirred in her arms, his mouth twitching in pain.

She looked up into Henry's face.

He nodded. "I can save him. His wounds are far better than others'. I need you to take care of his leg while I try to see where that bloody bullet has touched him."

She nodded back, put Charlie's head back onto the ground, and moved to look at his leg.

Fortunately for him, the bone hadn't pierced the flesh. She grabbed the limb and tore it with all her strength, pushing the bone back into place.

An horrible crack, followed by Charlie's cry, told her she had done it.

Emie quickly grabbed a band of gaze and wrapped it securely around Charlie's leg. He would need a brace, but that would have to wait.

Meanwhile, Henry had ripped Charlie's shirt to reveal the bullet wound. All over his chest, bruises told them he had fallen hard from his horse but hadn't been trampled on.

He grabbed a scalpel and gestured Emie to make sure the patient wouldn't move. She pushed her whole weight onto Charlie's shoulders, and Henry pushed the blade into the wound, searching for the piece of metal that poisoned his blood.

Charlie's eyes snapped opened and he let out a cry. Emie tried to shush him up, wiping his forehead. His kind eyes found hers, and he seemed better. Trusting at least. She smiled softly and kissed his cheek.

"You'll be alright, Charlie."

Henry looked up, a small ball of iron in his palm. "I think you will, Lieutenant. Just stay still a little longer, I'm going to stitch you up and you'll be off."

Charlie nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."

Then his eyes met Emie's once again. "Miss Tate, I'm so sorry, we tried." He stirred.

She tutted. "I know, Charlie, that's alright. I'm sorry I couldn't save you all."

He grimaced. "I mean...James tried, you know. But Jamie wanted us to be first on line." Her heart stopped beating for a long second, all blood leaving her face. "I didn't see him fall. But I-"

Henry cut him off. "Don't move, soldier, or you'll lose your arm."

Emie left them alone, got up, and breathed heavily.

This time her blue eyes were looking for someone on the field.

After Charlie was secured into their carriage, Emie and Henry resumed their tending, until she spotted Perkins and a group of men, around a spot, their caps off.

She knew.

She slowly got up, ignored Henry's call, and walked towards them.

Two arms pulled her back. She got out of their grip, and resumed her walk, a little faster.

He was there. Lying on the ground, his beautiful blue eyes closed, as if he was sleeping. But his chest was too much...ripped apart for any chance of survival.

Emie fell next to him and stroke his bronze hair.

"James..." She looked up and let out a heartbreaking scream, before starting crying on James' face, grabbing every inch of him she could. She kissed him gently, and was lifted from the ground.

She didn't fight it this time. As much as she was driven far from him, she couldn't wipe the blood on his shirt, the trillion bullet holes in his flesh, and the look of astonishing peace on his face.

When she was put down onto the tent's table, Emie close her eyes and fell into a cloud of pain and loss.

She hoped never to wake up again.

Jeez I'm done with it! Never knew how to get on with that chapter without crying my ass off. That's why I made Charlie survive. First, because we don't know for sure he's dead in the movie, and second because I need someone to survive, if only to "lighten" the mood.

Oh gosh, my vision's so blurred I can't see a thing.

And when you know I'm listening to This land by Hans Zimmer (add it), you understand everything... :(