Chapter 12 The Return
This is a bit of a fluff chapter... Not that there's any kind of romantic fluff. Rather a bit of a filler chapter. It touches briefly on the beginning of John's drinking problem, addresses some concerns he has about his mother, and finally returns him to the training facility at Sandhurst. In the next chapter he'll be reunited with Lord Grantham.
Thank you again for any reviews and comments. Any and all, positive or negative are deeply appreciated.
Per the usual disclaimer, Downton Abbey and it's characters are not mine.
John woke up questioning his surroundings. While he hadn't a clue where he was, he was all too familiar with the way he felt physically. His head pounded and his mouth tasted like the floor of her Majesty's stables.
He gagged when the bile rose up his throat as he regurgitated last night's meal…whatever it was. He didn't even remember eating anything yesterday but his stomach and his throat reminded him that he had indeed.
Bates sat up in bed and tried to piece the past six days together. He remembered he'd started his leave with such high hopes, only to have them utterly destroyed within the first two days of his R & R.
In the first 48 hours he'd managed to have uncovered his wife's supposed assault, found, fought and lost one of his best friends, nearly killed his father (albeit for a good reason), caused his wife's miscarriage, which resulted in her everlasting hatred and refusal to forgive him, ID'd his father's lifeless body and wound up with serious concerns regarding his mother's actual involvement in Shawn's death.
He'd stayed at his mother's for three nights. The days were spent helping her gather her belongings in preparation for the move to her sister Margaret's house. His spinster aunt had generously allowed Elizabeth to move in and to just pay her a nominal fee as rent towards partial ownership of the house. He didn't want to think too hard about what happened to the money he had sent to his mother the past several years. Money that would have more than covered his mum's buy-in in one lump sum. Her reply that she'd spent it on "things" made his jaw clench and his stomach roil. He didn't ask her for further details, afraid that she would tell him the truth…a truth he'd rather not know.
John was also very relieved that she was moving away from Whitechapel, not only for her safety but he had to admit for his own sanity. To never have to return to the site of his childhood, where he had endured poverty of both body and soul, brought a feeling of relief to young Sergent Bates.
He did have some regret over that last evening at his mum's when she found him passed out on the kitchen floor having spent several hours at a pub. It had been a stupid attempt on his part to make the previous 72 hours fade from his memory.
Intellectually John knew alcohol was not the answer nor the cure for all that had befallen him. He had recently become aware of a pattern developing that once he took a drink, he couldn't just stop at one. Another trait he unfortunately shared with his Da, no doubt. Like father, like son as they said. John inwardly cringed at the weakness passed onto him. Apparently his mum recognized it also and counseled him to get back to the barracks and forgo the rest of his leave.
John agreed. It would be best to keep temptation away, but on his way to the train station to catch the next one to Sandhurst, John decided to stop for a beer. Just a pint for the road, he reasoned. After all he would not be drinking any libations once he returned to school. Whether he would be deployed on his mission immediately, or continued his training, alcohol consumption in general was frowned upon there, and in fact forbidden within the walls of the academy. Any soldier student who wished to imbibe would have to step outside those hallowed halls.
John was embarrassed and disappointed in himself for giving in and going to the pub. Usually he didn't have such a hard time resisting having a pint or two. He decided to both justify and dismiss this latest failing as a temporary lapse of judgment, spurred on no doubt, by the traumatic events of the past week. The fact that he'd been in various stages of drunkenness for 4 out of the 7 days of his leave failed to register with him as proof that he had developed a problem when it came to drinking. Lucky for him that the bartender had set him up with a room above the bar to sleep off the mini bender he'd taken on.
Bates sat at the edge of his bed and stretched out his long frame before standing up. Grabbing his satchel and digging around for some clean clothes. He smiled as he remembered how his mum had insisted on washing all his clothing before he went back to Sandhurst.
"No son of mine is going to be traveling with dirty underwear in his bag. What if there were an accident? Or you got delayed or stranded for some time? You'll nowt be wearing dirty clothes. Give it hear now and away wit you."
He pulled out of his valise a pair of underwear, a shirt and socks before stripping and washing up, using the basin of water, soap and flannel in his room. Once he was dressed he sauntered over to the bed again and sat at the edge. As he bent over to pull on his boots, Bates was unfortunately reminded that his hangover was far from being gone, as his head began to pound in unison with his heartbeat.
"Must remember to not do that move the rest of the day," John muttered to himself. He sat up slowly and waited for the painful throbbing to end before getting up off the bed.
Bates dug into his pocket and pulled out his pocket watch, a gift from his mum upon his promotion to Staff Sargent six months ago. Checking the time, he knew that the next train to Sandhurst would be leaving the station in 20 minutes. If he hurried he could make it.
Grabbing his belongings, John strode out of the pub and steered himself in the direction of the train station. Once he had his bearings he sprinted to his destination and was able to catch an empty seat in a 3rd class car just as the train was pulling away.
He scanned his fellow passengers quickly. A middle class couple and their two young daughters were to his right. A gentleman who looked like he was dressed for a funeral sat in front of him.
There was one very nattily dressed young man a couple of rows ahead of John. He looked both worried and irritated with the chatter and noise taking place in the row behind him. The source of his discomfort was a group of 4 young men.
They were loud and a bit rambunctious, and John couldn't help but hear part of their conversation concerning their eagerness to get to Her Majesty's Army base near Sandhurst… how once they completed their training they were going to volunteer for the front lines and quickly beat the Boers bloody into surrender.
"Fresh meat," John shook his head remembering being in a similar euphoric state when he had first volunteered for the Army. He knew what lay ahead for the lads, but thought better of addressing them and letting them know what they were about to face. Best to let them keep their boyish enthusiasm. It would disappear quickly enough once they were introduced to the reality of war.
John yawned and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure how much rest he got the night before, but he doubted it was much…maybe two or three hours at the maximum. So when the gentle sway of the train started to work its magic, Bates didn't fight it and in fact embraced the idea of catching a couple more hours of sleep.
The dreams started almost immediately. It was as though he was watching a string of scenes depicting the various events that had befallen him the past week. But there was no order to them. It started with the fight with Liam, jumped to identifying his father's body, then surprising Vera his first day home. John squirmed in his seat as the past several days of his life played out in his mind.
He was right in the middle of reliving the horror of Vera's miscarriage when voices came flooding into his dream. They were angry voices… men…shouting at one another. He thought he heard a child cry. But who were they and what did they have to do with Vera?
As the furious debate continued to press upon him, John experienced some mild confusion as the voices managed to slowly drag him out of his well needed nap.
"The atrocities are well documented! My God...where have you boys been hiding yourselves? Do you even know how to read?" The man's voice was loud and strident
"G'wan mate, you haven't a clue what yer talking about." Responded a younger sounding voice.
"Yer a coward and a traitor to your country." Another young voice piped up.
"It's an unjust war waged for immoral purpose" countered the older man.
At the mention of the word "war", John's repositioned himself so he was sitting more upright, becoming an active listener to the debate. His eyes appeared closed but he was actually watching the discussion through barely parted eyelids. He'd hoped to avoid having to defend the Boer War. It was best to look asleep so he wouldn't be brought into it.
"Will you eegits shut up, you're scaring me daughters." The family man turned to address the other men engaged in the vociferous conversation.
"Nothing you ignorant ruffians can say is going to sway me from my opinion" The well attired young man continued. "Read a newspaper or a book, maybe then you'll be able to form a well-thought out and informed opinion. Right now you're spouting off nothing more than government propaganda."
"Are you calling us stewpid? The loudest of the quartet inquired. John noticed the young man outwardly bristle at the thought and rise from his seat on the train.
"I said are ye calling me and my mates' stewpid, you coward?" He shoved the well-dressed gentleman in the back and stood rooted in place, itching for a fight.
John could see that things were about to get out of control and chose that moment to stand up and slowly approach the seething youth. His right hand was up with palm facing the angry young man.
"Now, calm down mate. There's no need for you to get violent. The man has a right to his opinion, just as you and your mates have a right to yours. " John took a slow step forward, still showing his open palm."
"And what's it to you?" sneered the young man. "You've no right to tell me how to behave. My three friends and I are headed for the army base near Sandhurst, where we're going to enlist and fight for Mother England. Save her from sniveling cowards like you and himself." The boy then spat in John's direction. It was an action that the young man was about to very much rue.
John's hand dropped to his side and his open palm formed into a fist. Drawing himself up to his full height, he took one long stride and was in the younger man's face in a split second.
Sargent Bates could barely contain his anger at being accused of cowardice by this no-nothing punk. He grabbed the young man's shirt and pulled him towards him until their faces were less than an inch apart.
"Now listen and listen well you little, little boy." John spoke softly but with a low guttural growl. "I may not agree with that other man's opinions regarding the war, but I'm not going to bully him into changing his mind. Nor call him names…not threaten him. I suggest you apologize to the man, go back to your seat and keep your mouth shut for the rest of the trip. And by the way, I am in Her Majesty's service and also headed to Sandhurst. My name is Staff Sargent John Bates, remember my name son. And you best hope you don't wind up in a platoon of mine. Do you have any questions? Have I made myself clear?"
"N-No sir… Y-Yessir." The obviously shaken youth replied. "I'll just be going back to me mates now and be quiet."
"Aren't you forgetting something?" John still held the man by his shirt as he nodded towards the well-suited young man,
"Ah, yes…well um," he turned to the man he'd had the falling out with.
"Ah… I wish to apologize for saying the things I did about you sir, and for casting any aspersions on your character. And for laying my hands on you. Please accept my apologies." He turned and looked up at John. His eyes searching for a sign that what he'd said was sufficient to have Bates release his hold.
"That's better mate." John crooned as he released his grip on the man's shirt. "Now go back with your friends and let's have some quiet. I was hoping to catch a few winks before arriving at the academy."
John headed back to his seat and as he was about to sit down glanced over towards the young family across from him. The father looked at John and touched the brim of his hat in appreciation for what the young sergeant had done. John smiled and nodded, then closed his eyes and hoped to god he'd be able to catch a bit more sleep before arriving at his destination.
He awakened just a few minutes before the scheduled arrival of the train at the Sandhurst station. He gathered his satchel and sat waiting for the engine to come to a stop.
Once outside of the station he breezily walked the short distance to the academy and stopped in front of the gated entrance to the military school.
"Well, John" his inner dialogue began. "You've arrived. I daresay a different bloke that when you left here less than a week ago." The changes hadn't been the best for him, but they'd happened and there was nothing he could do to alter what had transpired.
"My old familiar life is officially over." He said out loud. John squared his shoulders and marched up to the sentry post.
"Sargent John Bates reporting for duty."
The gate opened and with it John's new life was about to begin.