3

It wasn't long before Tom re-appeared. But instead of having the Colonel in tow, he was holding a crisply folded uniform.

"You'll need to change into this. Trust me, you'll feel better once you're clean and in dry clothes." He set the pile down at the end of the bed. "If you need help I'll be here. I can wait outside or turn around - whichever you prefer."

I felt guilty for misjudging him so much. "Thank you." I tried to sit up but pain shot through my side.

Instantly his arms were on my shoulders supporting me, "Careful there."

I smiled my gratitude at him. "I'll be fine," I reassured him. My voice was shaking with the pain but I gritted my teeth and with his help managed to sit up against a pillow.

He laid the shirt on the sheets in front of me and passed me the water and a cloth. "I'll just turn around," he decided for me with a small smile. "Don't worry, I'm not Miles, I won't look."

I managed a breathy laugh and as soon as his back was turned I pulled the remainder of the shirt off not even bothering to undo it. I just let the buttons rip. It was ruined anyway. It was a little tricky unwinding the linen strap from around my chest, but I finally managed it. It felt wonderful, the warm water cleaning the past months' grime away from me.

I didn't allow myself to divulge in the luxury long, so I carefully wiped down my arms, all the while careful to keep the bandages dry. I was washed and changed without too much discomfort. Thankfully the morphine I'd been given earlier was still working.

Tossing the ruined uniform onto the floor I relaxed into the comforting feel of the clean clothes. "I'm all done," I called to Tom and he turned around, picking up the discarded uniform as he did and folding it with the blood soaked linens.

"Much better," he smiled. "I'll get you into theatre soon – you'll feel a lot better with the shrapnel out of you."

I smiled back. "Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me, it's my job." He scribbled something on the clipboard avoiding my eyes.

"That's not what I'm saying thank you for," I said quietly.

His eyes met mine for the first time since I'd told him. "It doesn't- I mean..." He was clearly trying to figure out his wording as the screen shifted again and Miles sauntered in.

"Oh, good. You're all ready." He grinned. "I'll get that shrapnel out of you in no time."

"Oh no, no, I'm doing this one." Tom turned to his friend with a gleam of mirth in his eyes.

"Are you stealing patients from me, Captain Gillian?" Miles squared up in a mock challenge.

"No more than you," Tom answered smoothly.

"Touché," Miles conceded with a laugh, "If you insist."

I met Tom's eyes briefly as Miles left. I didn't say anything but I hoped he could read the thanks in my expression.

..

I was taken off to the operating tent fairly quickly after that, and, following a long and painful half hour, I was back in my bed - fresh bandages around my shrapnel free stomach and my ribs bound tightly. Tom had been right. I already felt so much more comfortable now the debris had gone.

It wasn't pain free, but I was now able to sit up without assistance. It may have taken me five minutes, but at least I could do it.

The ward had fallen quiet as each man settled under the comforting words of the nurses. It was growing steadily darker outside. And inside. The only light came from the few candles placed strategically around the tent.

I sighed; I wasn't in the least bit tired. I waited until the nurse was preoccupied with another patient and I shuffled my way to the side of the bed and lowered my feet into my boots. I didn't bother do them up (I don't think I would have been able to if I had wanted to) but I made my way to the flap at the side of tent, leaning on the bed posts as I went.

I wasn't trying to leave; I just needed some fresh air. I stumbled around till I found an unoccupied bench, half hidden by the shadows, and with a fair amount of difficulty I succeeded in lowering myself onto it. My stomach muscles protested strongly at the lack of support and I ended up compromising and sitting on the ground with my back supported by the bench leg.

The air was warm enough as I sat staring at the sky. I could see the stars, which was something I never could see in the trenches. There, the sky was always lit with some explosion or other, or else it was filled with a thick smoke that clouded out sun and stars alike.

"Hello, what are you doing out here? Are you alright?"

I squinted through the dark to see Miles standing over me. I hadn't even noticed him approaching.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," I bit my lip, hoping he wouldn't see, "just enjoying the beauty of France at night." I wasn't sure if that was supposed to sound sarcastic or not.

"It is the place," Miles replied slowly with a grin across his face. Not that I could really see him.

"How did you get here?" He asked after a while and for a moment I feared Tom had told him the truth.

"Same as everyone else." I tried to shrug.

Miles laughed lightly, sitting down next to me, leaning on his one raised knee. "I meant here, here: this bench, ideally placed for its remarkable view," he winked.

"Um, I walked?" I wondered what he was expecting me to say.

Miles was staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite read in the dark. "You mean to tell me," he began, shuffling closer, "that this morning you were treated to a 4 pounder at your feet by dear old fritz, and then after what I can only imagine to be a hellish journey, you had said 4 pounder removed from your side in lots of little shiny pieces, only to drag yourself out of bed to walk a hundred metres so you could sit on the floor and admire the French scenery?" His tone was light, almost impressed. "In the dark," he added, almost to himself.

"Well, it is the place," I repeated his words.

He let out a loud laugh. "I quite like you, private."

"Jo, please." I corrected.

"Joe it is, then," he grinned.

I really wished he'd stop doing that. He was gorgeous enough without smiling like that.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

I caught myself, realising I'd been staring at him far longer than I intended to. I swallowed, turning my eyes back to the sky. "Like what?" I asked innocently, biting my lip in a desperate attempt to keep my voice steady.

Miles was laughing. "Don't worry, I know how unfairly attractive I am, but my looks won't fade just because you aren't looking," he joked, flashing me a smile that made me thankful I was already sat down.

"Why deprive myself from looking at someone so damn cute?" I mumbled to myself with a roll of my eyes at his endearing self-confidence.

"What was that?" Miles had turned his attention back to the sky.

"Nothing. Just commenting on the beauty of France at night." I turned my head to look back at him. There was just something beautiful about the way he was. The way his eyes followed the patterns the stars made in the sky was so enchanting.

"So, Captain. Why did you join up?" I asked, pushing my voice to sound lower.

"They just couldn't manage without me." He flashed back another of his charming smiles. "Poor Tom – Captain Gillian – simply wouldn't be able to manage without my superior skill."

I found myself laughing – completely, not just gritting my teeth and forcing a smile. "What would England have done without you?" I agreed.

"Well, I believe-"

He was cut off by a shout and the sound of footsteps running across the wooden boards. The muffled yelling told us it was one of the patients having a violent reaction to something.

"I suppose we should probably get you back to bed soon before someone realises you're missing," the sounds from the ward prompted him. "We'll give them a minute to calm down," he added, as the yelling increased in volume.

I nodded once before laying my head back against the bench. I didn't want to leave and, judging by Miles' tone, he didn't want me to leave either.