NOW

There was hardly any light in the barn, and the little that slid through the worn slivers in the panels cast vertical shadows upon Sweet Pea's body. There was an overwhelming stench of barn animals. It was pungent; the aroma of the hay, the creatures below, and most notably the manure that caked their shoes. It was for the best and masked their own ungodly musks, he considered, for none had seen a bath in weeks. The closest was the stream five days ago, but it hardly did much.

They were in the north of France, though God knows where. Sweet Pea is fine with a map, but he hasn't laid his eyes upon one since the early days of the war. He's been wandering rather aimlessly with these mates, all just as unsure as to the next what they were looking for exactly.

Four Americans marooned across the sea in a shitty farm structure. It sounded like the start of a bad joke.

Four Americans who hadn't known one another until they were left, remnants of a battle, four survivors without anywhere to be and everywhere to be.

In the corner, Archibald (Red) was using a stick to dredge the soles of his boots, slinging the muck onto the panel boards as she slumped back, his gasps heaving and heavy. To his left was Reginald (Reggie), who was flicking a lighter on. Off. On. Off. On. Off.

He had a cadence to it, an unintended melody or whisper of a song as he stared at the flickering, fickle light from the tiny handheld flame. He'd had the last of their cigs three days before. His withdrawal was making him grumpy; not like anyone was in fine spirits anyway.

Lastly, Franklin (Fangs) slumped near Sweet Pea, his face pale and face dried with mud all the way up his neck, cheeks, and forehead. It looked as though some awful ailment had taken hold of his body and was consuming him from his feet and traveling up his skin.

Sweet Pea laid out, shifting in the hay as he tried to imagine it was soft grass. He could almost hear the sound of the cicadas in the trees, the waft of lilacs from the garden, and the breeze that tickled his cheeks. He could nearly grasp the sound with it, a bell of laughter, as dainty as a fairy, and he reached for it greedily. A girl danced on the side of his vision, and just as she turned-

"Je sais que tu es là."

The foursome was startled. Fangs kicked Sweet Pea's shin, nudging him forward. Sweet Pea felt like hitting a wall in frustration. Grudgingly, he leaned down, licking his lips as he tried to recall the scant French he'd learned before. None of the others spoke more than a few scandalous swear words or the barest of acknowledgments.

"Nous serons partis demain," Sweet Pea said apologetically, hoping she would not throw them into the cold night and allow them this momentary relief.

"Anglaise?" She guessed, her eyebrows knitting.

"Oui, mademoiselle," Sweet Pea said, and could be more embarrassed by the obviousness of his accent, but was too tired to care.

The girl vanished and he believed for a second that would be it. However, it was not long after that there was a thudding as the ladder to the top of the barn was ascended. In her arms was a basket.

"Provisions," She said in English, smiling demurely at Sweet Pea. Red, who had gone the longest without food, sprung upon it like a mad dog, uncovering the gingham blanket to reveal a loaf of bread, some cheese, and a canister of water.

"Merci beaucoup," Reggie said in a very bad accent, pushing his hair back with his hand as relief caused his shoulders to slump.

Sweet Pea nodded too, letting Red throw him a piece of the substance across the way. The girl lingered for a bit, seemingly unaware of what to do next, or what to say. There was a tense moment before she closed her jaw, leaving them by themselves.

"Mate," Fangs said, shaking his head.

"What?" Sweet Pea replied, testy.

"She was...you know," Fangs waggled his eyebrows, "I'm sure you can still catch her if you go now."

"Not interested," Sweet Pea said, easing back. His bones hurt. His feet hurt. His jaw hurt. Everything fucking hurt and he just wanted this war to end.

"You got a sweetheart back home?" Red asked. For all the time they'd spent together, they'd spent little of it speaking of their lives before this. It had seemed useless, hopeless. It would do no good to spend time memorating events that may never come to pass again.

But Sweet Pea, weary and heartsore for her, could not help it, "Yeah." He unbuttoned the first few clasps on his uniform, pulling out a stack of letters, which was never far from the beating pulse of his heart, "She's a nurse in England right now, but Lord, I'm going to marry her after this is all over."

He ran a finger over her smiling picture, fingers fumbling for the necklace attached to the side of the twine.

"Elizabeth," Fangs read the name over his shoulder, turning his head as though in thought, "What's that?"

Sweet Pea fished for the end of the necklace, pulling up the tiny heart charm, broken at the clasp. One side missing, not unlike their situation right now. Him, here. Her, there. Miles, oceans, and worlds apart.

"The best memory I have."

BEFORE

The warmth of the sun was abruptly cut off and a shadow fell upon Sweet Pea's face. He locked his jaw as he tiredly opened one eye, using a hand to shield his gaze. Above him was a very irate Elizabeth Cooper, standing with her hands on her hips and red splotches coloring the apples of her cheeks.

"My mom will have a fit if she sees you just lying here," She hissed, glaring down at him.

"Awe, Betty, didn't know you cared," Sweet Pea teased, rolling over to grab the book that was tented near him, "It's my break anyway, though."

"Yeah, like that's stopped her from yelling at someone though," She said, ignoring his gentle jab. Of course, she cared for him, though it hadn't been said out loud. At least, not in so many words.

She offered a hand and helped Sweet Pea balance as he stood. When he was straight, he towered over her, but she still managed to make him feel small with the way that her blue eyes cut through him. Her dress billowed in the wind and her blonde hair whipped around her face.

"Polls is returning, you know," She said, walking with him across the green of the estate. They walked a foot apart; a respectable enough distance, but still closer than two people of their respective status should be.

"I know," Sweet Pea said, hands in his pockets. If it weren't for the fact that he took the time to notice these things, it was also something he'd heard ad nauseam.

"She's apparently bringing home her sweetheart," Betty gave a half-humored laugh, "Though I imagine my father would have preferred she marries before the baby."

"Are we really surprised that Polly Cooper ended up putting the buggy before the horse?"

Had it been any of the other workers to have dared utter something like that, they would have been lucky to only get away with a swift slap. Betty, however, sighed.

"No, suppose not," She agreed, her voice a bit far away. She looked over at Sweet Pea, tilting her head, as though considering him in the role of...something. Sweet Pea could tell from how her eyes softened as she looked at him that it was something romantic, something quietly unspoken. She'd always been the better-behaved daughter of the two. Perhaps she was thinking how unfair it was that Polly ended up pregnant out of wedlock and the most she was likely to get was a slap on the wrist. Perhaps she was considering where 'being good' had gotten her, and maybe she was wondering what she was missing out on.

It was surely what Sweet Pea was considering. Were they not in the view of the house and if he didn't know better with every inch of his being, he might have attempted to kiss her. At this moment, she looked perfect; her lips were slightly dewy, natural rouge from the summer heat, a light dusting of freckles, and she'd tried to pin her hair up but it was already picked up and mussed by the wind.

Her fingers ran along the gold chain of her necklace, a gift from her grandmother. It had a tiny heart locket at the end. He knew it was her most favorite item, practically priceless. She often resorted to playing with it whenever she was deep in thought.

"Walk with me," She said. Though the words were a demand, the tone was a question. Sweet Pea would follow her anywhere, so she was not opposed. She was carrying a vase, something he only realized now. They made their way to the fountain near the back and Betty sat on the stone edge, dipping the vase into the greenish water. She looked like a Renaissance painting like this.

"Couldn't you have just filled it from the sink?"

"I saw you laying out and knew you were a second away from being fired if I didn't save you," Betty said, "And the algae from the water will help the flowers. Natural, microorganisms." She said knowingly. She was always on top of those sorts of things.

She set the vase, now full, next to her. Her fingers crept along the edge of the stone and she sat, as though waiting for him to do something.

"Well, come sit, why don't you?" She finally said.

Sweet Pea obliged, coming round the side. He sat on the other side of the vase, a confession bursting in his chest. Summer was near over and after it, Betty would be going to college. Time was running out, he knew full well, to tell her how he really felt.

"You know I-," Betty began at the same time that Sweet Pea opened his mouth to speak. They both laughed a bit, stumbling, waiting for the other to go.

As Sweet Pea turned to motion for her, his hand knocked the vase. There was a moment in slow motion where it teetered before falling over the edge. Betty gasped, diving out for it, and Sweet Pea moved too.

He reached for Betty, to keep her from losing her balance over the side, and caught what he thought was her shoulder. As she reached down further to grab the vase in the water before it sank too deep for either to reach without going in, his fingers slid across her collarbone and snagged on her necklace chain.

He knew what was going to happen before it did, and part of him wished desperately to rewind to the moment she asked him to sit. He wished he'd made some excuse about something he had to do or gone somewhere else because this was going to end horribly.

Betty's eyes managed to flicker between her necklace and his clasped hand, in just the briefest of seconds, as they both realized he was the one holding her above the water. However, it was far too late for him to grasp some purchase elsewhere, such as one of her arms. The necklace snapped and Betty's other hand went to secure it right as she splashed into the fountain, leaving Sweet Pea dumbly holding the broken end of the necklace in his palm. The charm had split right in the middle and he was left with one side of the heart and that thin, gold chain.

There were four seconds of silence; not even the cicadas in the forest chipped. It was just Sweet Pea staring at the surface of the water.

Betty came up, spitting up water. She slapped her hand with the other end of the chain and necklace on the stone and gingerly set the vase, still intact down. At first, all Sweet Pea could see was her face, and despite the situation, he let out a half-snort of laughter.

"Do you think this is funny?" Betty fumed, lip curled back.

"No, well, a bit I-," All his words died as Betty angrily vaulted herself from the fountain, ringing her hair onto the grass below. Her entire dress, a light cream color, was practically see-through and Sweet Pea could see every curve of her body in achingly perfect detail.

Betty met his eyes and he realized how blatantly and rudely he was staring and looked away.

Betty snapped her teeth, hugging the vase close to her chest and shoving the end of the necklace into a pocket. He stared at the ground as he offered the other end to her and she snatched it as she breezed by.

XX

Sweet Pea lingered below Betty's window in the moonlight, trying to think of the perfect apology. All his words, lined up precisely.

"Elizabeth, I-," He sighed, no, too formal. He'd never called her Elizabeth. It was only when her mother was around and would have an issue with it, but when he called her 'Betty', it meant something.

"Betty, you must think my actions are quite mad today, and that would be fair-," He broke off again, toeing the gravel dirt. He should just write it out, but he'd found himself wandering and then below here.

"Betty, you make me crazy," He whispered quietly to himself, chuckling. It was simple, but the truth, "You have since we were kids. All I could think of today was laying you in the grass and fucking you senseless."

"It's not much of an apology, but I'll accept it."

Sweet Pea snapped his head up to see Betty leaning out of her window on the second story, amusement glittering in her eyes.

Sweet Pea stammered, "I'm...oh, shit, I didn't-," He shook his head, "That wasn't supposed to come out like that."

"I figured, but I've been watching you pace and mutter for the last twenty minutes beneath my window," Betty shrugged, "And I was going to save you, but I have to say I'm glad I heard that bit. It seems today is full of mistakes."

"Yeah," Sweet Pea's throat was dry, and then her words caught up in his mind, "You are?"

Betty raised a finger and closed the window. For a second, Sweet Pea was sure she was just toying with him until she appeared around the side of the house, a candlestick in her hand and a robe tied around her nightgown. She still looked beautiful.

"I am," She said, coming up to him, the light pulsating on both of their faces, "It's the most truthful you've ever been with me, Jordan Karan," She said, raising her chin to him in a sort of challenge.

"Some truths are not decent," He said.

"I'm tired of decency," Betty insisted, "I just want something real." She pulled his hand and he followed, once again. She brought them to the gardener's shed, where he spent most of his time picking up his materials and putting things away. He dropped his sack by the door, following her inside. There were a little workbench and table. She set the candle down on a ledge in the window and, perhaps meaning to or perhaps not, let herself be cornered against the edge of the oak counter.

"This thing has been breathing for years," She murmured, pushing up the sleeves of her robe and taking down her hair from its pins, "And today it hit a breaking point by the fountain, wouldn't you agree?" She reached a hand up, tracing his cheekbones, "You knew before I did."

"No, I don't think so," Sweet Pea disagreed, not wanting to move an inch, "You just…"

"I feel as though I was ignoring it. You never did, did you?" She asked, "All those days and I just…" She swallowed hard. Her fingers reached his hair and she ran her nails through the black short waves, her eyes glowing again, like before.

"You know what I mean, don't you?" She asked in a small voice.

Sweet Pea nodded, and gently, Betty took his hands and placed them on her hips, pulling him up against her. She nodded once, waiting for him.

Sweet Pea meant to just kiss her softly, a gentle peck before he was in over his head, but one touch was far too addictive. It went from chaste to passionate in mere moments; Betty clawing to bring him closer, pushing herself onto the table and Sweet Pea pressing as much as he could without collapsing her, grabbing to help her sit. Once she was, she was closer to his height and wasn't craning up to kiss him anymore, which only encouraged her farther.

She bent her knees, bunching up her nightgown to slide back near her lap, locking her ankles together at Sweet Pea's back. As he held her head and kissed her hard, his hands slid underneath the flimsy fabric, not daring any further until Betty let out a breathless, soft, pleading and grasped onto his belt.

This wasn't how he imagined it. He had thought about this moment for years, but never did he think it would happen in the dirty and sooty shed that he associated with long, hard hours. He thought it would be more romantic or at least a bed.

"Make good on your apology," Betty whispered, feeling his hesitance, "We'll have all the time in the world for other things."

And that was enough for him; the acknowledgment that this was not simply Betty trying her way with the worker boy before she'd be bounding back up and finding a husband with someone more her status. It was the promise shining in her eyes, the certainty that she would find him later and they'd do this again, and again, and again.

She dug her nails into the back of his neck as he pushed forward, gasping a bit and pulling his lips down to kiss her. She bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he started to move, her body quivering.

"You okay?" He asked, his voice breaking the heavy breathing and the tension held in the air.

"It's fantastic, oh, God," She exhaled in one, "I didn't think it would…" She gave him a quiet smile and a nod. She wiggled against him, nearly causing him to finish completely.

The robe had fallen off her body and lay as a barrier to the harsh grit of the table now. One of her sleeves was slipping off her shoulder, baring her creamy white collar bone and the edge of her breasts to Sweet Pea. As she tilted her head back, letting out little breathless sighs, Sweet Pea kissed the space where her neck met her shoulder.

There were a sound and Betty shot up, pushing down on Sweet Pea's shoulders for him to stop.

"What?"

"I thought I just saw...maybe...I'm not sure…" She said, pulling the robes over her figure again, staring down the window over Sweet Pea's shoulder. He knew it was not that she was embarrassed to be seen with him, it was more so that there was a very short list of people that he hoped had seen them.

"It's probably nothing," Betty said after a moment, "I think it's just the windowpane playing tricks on me."

NOW

Dirt exploded over Sweet Pea's head and rained down upon him as he shoved himself down into the trench. His fingers fumbled as he reloaded, but they were sweaty and he couldn't quite get it sitting right. The entire world around him was screaming; the air was screaming, the people around him were screaming, and the enemies and the weapons were screaming. His ears hummed and buzzed as he puffed out the earth that landed on his shoulders, finally clicking it into place.

He flopped over on his stomach, rapidly firing off three times, hoping he made his target. He was a pretty shitty aimer, it was his perseverance and size that had kept him apart from the rest. Especially now, as he shook so hard he swore he would begin to vibrate if he continued, his aim was pretty terrible.

But what else could he do?

Reggie crawled over the barrier, eyes shining like a mad god. He was the most ferocious of the Americans that Sweet Pea had met like Ares himself had come down and placed the need for bloodlust within his skull. He was terrifying.

But despite this, he was not immortal.

Sweet Pea crouched, reaching out for him, gasping, but it was too late. He watched the bullet hit Reggie right between the eyes and the light had left his gaze before he hit the ground.

Sweet Pea felt frozen in time and stood without thinking.

The two bullets whizzed through the air before he could think about what he was doing, the sound carrying over his ears as he had the sense that maybe he should duck.

The first one only buzzed him, skimming his ribcage. And as Sweet Pea stood there, thinking that holy fuck, it hurt even to be clipped by a bullet, the second one arrived a millisecond later.

It was like he'd never truly known physical pain. One moment he was standing thinking he was experiencing it, the next he was in hell. It was like someone had doused his left leg in gasoline and set it on fire. He was burning up; he was in sheer, unending agony.

He stumbled backward, catching a glimpse of his leg, but could see nothing in this momentary glimpse.

He couldn't feel it. Where there had once been the acknowledgment of his veins and muscles that a leg was there, it was simply missing now. He could feel the weight of it still, but it sat attached to him uselessly, only hurting as he was dragged over the rocks and stone.

Someone had grasped underneath his arms and was pulling him backward. He made a weak noise, panicked and flailing limply.

"Red! Red!"

Sweet Pea exhaled out, blinking and craning his head, "...Fangs?" He asked softly, his mind more like soup than a working part of his body.

"Stay with us, buddy, fuck...what were you thinking?" Fangs said, patting his cheeks as he set Sweet Pea down, "Red! Over here!"

The ginger bounded over the army men, staring wide-eyed at Sweet Pea's body.

"Oh, damn."

He sat down and began to unbuckle and unlace. As he pulled apart Sweet Pea's jacket, Sweet Pea saw blood welling and soaking through his clothes.

"You...a doctor?" Sweet Pea mumbled. His fingers were feeling funny, prickly.

"Uhm, sort of," Red said.

"My letters," Sweet Pea said in a rush, his words all jumbled, "Save my letters." He said, trying to claw for them, keep them untouched and pristine from the blood that traveled upwards.

"I'd rather save you, bud," Red said, but took a moment to save them, placing them in the right pocket of Sweet Pea's pants.

Sweet Pea flopped back onto the dirt, wondering how he hadn't passed out yet. Probably shock, he figured.

Red touched his leg. Sweet Pea howled, and then his world went black.

XX

"Oh, God, you're still alive."

The world was rocking. He felt nauseous and wanted to throw up. His whole body was tensed and sore like they'd been pulled into place for hours.

Sweet Pea felt someone pouring water down his throat. He greedily accepted it, until his windpipe protested and he sputtered it out, sitting up and rubbing his temples.

He was in a moving caravan. The stench of death and decay was heavy around him. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a horror show of injuries; men with eyes blown out of their sockets, men without jaws, and men with parts of their chests all but carved out.

Sweet Pea looked down to see his leg wrapped, but the bandages were dirty brown, caked, and crackling.

Sweet Pea turned to see Fangs sitting next to him.

"What...where…"

"We're in a medical van, taking us to an outpost. We were pulled from the battle." Fangs explained with a grimace. At Sweet Pea's knit brows, Fangs held up a bandaged hand. He unraveled it just enough to reveal only two fingers left, "Can't fire a gun like this," He said.

"Reggie?"

"Not on this caravan," Fangs spoke, but his eyes were dark, and this was confirmation.

"Red?"

"Still alive, still kicking. God bless him," Fangs said, "Patched you up best he could."

It all rushed back to him at once. Sweet Pea patted around in a frantic trance and only calmed once he felt the package of letters in his pocket. Fangs had pressed him down, eyes wild.

"Don't get excited, geez! You need to stay calm." He said, "Your side isn't much of a concern. You probably wouldn't even need stitches, but there's a scar. Your leg?" Fangs ran his fingers through his dirty hair, "That's the concern."

Sweet Pea felt tired again. Just as he was dipping off to sleep, Fangs was shaking his shoulder.

"Let's stay awake, okay?" Fangs said, trying to keep his tone casual, but there was something really scary behind it, "Talk to me. Tell me something."

"Like what?" Sweet Pea forced out, thinking that the darkness of sleep felt so much better right now than this.

Fangs slapped his cheeks again, "How'd you end up here? Sign up young? Wanted to do something for your country?"

Sweet Pea snorted, viciously laughing, "Hardly. It was either this or jail."

Fangs was silent for a moment, "I didn't think you'd…"

"I didn't do anything," Sweet Pea enunciated with a hard edge.

"Tell me about it," Fangs insisted, "Tell me about it, fuck, and stay awake. We don't know each other."

"So spill my darkest secrets?" Sweet Pea surmised.

"Who am I going to tell?"

Sweet Pea cleared his throat and Fangs handed him the canteen. He wanted to slurp down all of it but only took half, no idea how close they were to a hospital.

"Remember that girl, the one I'm trying to get back to?"

"Right, yeah. Remember, you have to make it home to her," Fangs said with a tinge of relief. If Sweet Pea had someone else reminding him of Betty, it would be harder for him to slip away.

"Exactly. Well, we only got to sort of admit our feelings, in person, once…" Sweet Pea retold the entire story about the day the necklace broke in as much detail as he could recall. Fangs listened the entire time, urging him on and wiping the sweat from his forehead. The car rumbled through the night, and the men around Sweet Pea moaned. Maybe some were listening. Maybe they were all inches from death.

Sweet Pea kept talking because Fangs kept nudging him through.

"I didn't know if someone saw." Sweet Pea said, "But we kept going. I wasn't going to stop and she didn't seem like it either. We thought it was fine. I lingered around the grounds after she went back in, but as I was heading back home- after locking up- the cops pulled up."

"Shit."

"Mrs. Cooper claimed I had been stealing. I said 'Why the fuck would I do that', but they opened my bag and there were hundreds of dollars worth of silver and jewelry in my bag. The fuck if I know where it came from, but I had an idea. And as they were pushing me into the car, Polly was standing there, watching with no surprise. Mr. Cooper looked surprised, but didn't try to help."

"Who do you think saw you? The mom, the dad, or the daughter?"

"Not Hal. He'd be after me with a shotgun. Never figured out who between the other two."

"And Elizabeth?"

"They'd tried to keep her inside, but she came out yelling and throwing fingers and sobbing. She asked how they could believe I'd do that. I mean, I was rough around the edges, but I wasn't a thief. Her mother just tried to tell her to go back inside and I think she sort of knew at that point. So she ran up to me and kissed me. The last thing she did was slip half of the broken necklace to me and asked me to keep her heart safe."

"Shit."

"Yeah." He paused, "Two months later after I was thrown into jail, she started writing, once she was at college. I haven't seen her since then."

"And how long ago was that?"

"Four years. My sentence was longer, but they said if I joined and survived, it would all be wiped clean. I was rotting in that cell and all I wanted was to be able to have the best chance of giving Betty a real life together, so I said sure. Look at me now, half-dead anyway…"

"Hey, no, you're going to be fine." Fang said, grabbing his shoulder firmly, "You hear?"

"Mhmm…" Sweet Pea said, resting a moment.

"Tell me about your childhood."

"You're going to do this all night?" Sweet Pea asked, giving a raw laugh.

Fangs was completely serious, "If I gotta."

XX

Time spent in hospitals was boring. Most of it was just a cycle of sleep, wait for a nurse to come by, eat, and then perhaps start it over again. Most of his bedmates were near death or comatose, so there wasn't exactly lively conversation to be had.

Sweet Pea had been one of those in fact. When he'd arrived in, he'd been sweaty and feverish, his leg infected and pulsing. He didn't recall much of those first couple days. He didn't even recall the choice they made that his leg, half-infested and rotting already, was better off. He scarcely recalled the removal of it, but he hadn't been able to feel that limb since he was shot, but it still felt odd to see it go.

His first lucid memory was awakening sans one leg, but feeling much chipper.

For the first few weeks, Fangs had been his bed buddy, in the cot next to him. They'd forged a bond that Sweet Pea didn't think he'd be able to break, honestly, blood brothers in every sense of the word. He doubted he'd ever find a friend like Fangs again. If they both survived this, Sweet Pea would fight that his first son deserved to have the name Franklin.

Fangs had been sent back home early, though, excused from service. Apparently, retaining only two fingers and having three blown off was a quicker fix than a leg.

"Sure, it's three 'items', but they're tiny anyhow," Fangs had shrugged, still getting used to life with one hand more like an oven mitt, "Guess I better learn to write with my left hand, huh?"

Sweet Pea had not heard anything about his own release, whether it be decided that he go back to the war, hobbling about or released into the world. He prayed the promise the judge had made was fair and that he'd never have to see the inside of a cell again.

So, now that Fangs was gone, life healing was incredibly dull.

He was halfway between the second nap of his day when a nurse walked by. The nurses here were always changing; this was a hospital right near the edge of battle, so they were rotating wounded out, day in and day out. Lots of nurses were burned out of their energy in a few weeks. It was a rough place to be assigned.

Sweet Pea almost even thought that being a field nurse would be better. There, you cared for people and they left the next day in three ways; a body bag, to a hospital that would continue to care, or back into the fray. You didn't have to form connections, you just kept going. Here, a nurse may form a strong bond with a soldier only to lose him days later. Everyone here was in a half-state, walking the line between life and death at all times. Sometimes it was quick. Often, though, it was excruciatingly slow.

He'd stopped trying to pay attention to particular nurses. Per Betty's last letter, she was farther into England, nowhere near Paris. He'd basically forbade her, though he knew that was useless. He hoped she was obeying that... the war was safe for no one.

His attempted nap was broken by a sharp gasp and the sound of a stack of bedpans clattering to the ground. Sweet Pea peeked and stiffened instantly, sitting too quickly as he stared.

The nurse and Sweet Pea looked at each other for a second, and neither spoke.

"Jor...daan…" She whispered a bit broken, but a question.

Sweet Pea didn't know if he should smile or not, but offered a tentative one, "Hi, Polly."

All his emotions about things pre-war seemed so muted now. The anger he'd felt toward all the Coopers sans Betty, that rage inside of him, had been tempered by the rage of war. He was angry a lot, that hadn't changed, but he was cursing Nazis and Germans daily now instead. He didn't know if he should be angry or shocked or sad staring at her. The only emotion that had remained a constant from his life pre-war had been the love he felt for Betty, never wavering, only growing.

Polly gathered the pans together, sitting on the bed across from him, which had been Fang's before. It had been a different soldier yesterday, but he'd died from shrapnel in his skull. Bad way to go off, Sweet Pea thought.

"It's been...I didn't think…" She stuttered, looking like she'd seen a ghost.

"How are the twins?" Sweet Pea asked, "They must be, what, four?" He asked at the same time that Polly confirmed it.

"Neary five, yeah," She said, "Dagwood looks just like his father. So, I was sure that Juniper would look like me, but wouldn't you know it, she looks just like…" She swallowed hard, "Just like Betty. They have the same little curl in their nose when they're focused," She whispered, as though she was afraid to say her sister's name.

She looked at her hands, then back at Sweet Pea.

"I'm shocked you can even be civil toward me."

"It was you," Sweet Pea murmured, unsure what to do with this information, nearly five years past that night, "I never knew, not for sure."

"You have to understand," Polly said, breath hitching, "How it seemed to me. I'd just returned home because I fucked up my life by having sex with someone far before anything sensible. Thank God he was of good status and agreed to marry me, but do you think I wanted to watch my sister go through that same mistake I did, with less luck than I would have?" She asked brokenly. Even if Sweet Pea understood, it was unearthing all his anger. He flinched at the obvious slight toward him.

"I didn't know what to do! My mother said she'd take care of it, but I never imagined...I didn't even know she'd slipped the things into your bag until the police were going through it." She swore, shaking her head, "I didn't think my mother could be so...callous, but I just kept telling myself that I was saving Betty."

"She's not a maiden in need of defending," Sweet Pea spat.

"Oh, I'm quite aware," Polly said, "And I realize now how...terrible I was. I was no more than a child, even if I felt so adult. And I made a mistake that ruined your entire life." Her eyes flickered to his leg, her body turning even paler.

"When did you realize?" He asked with a cold fury.

"My parents would have never let me overturn it, not if I tried. But I didn't, not until recently. Betty pretended all the rest of the summer like she'd seen the error of her ways, the perfect daughter. It wasn't until she went to college that she just fell off the map. Disowned us, and cut us away from her in every way. I don't know how she found the money, but for years we hadn't heard from her. I thought her dead, for sure." Polly admitted, "And then six months ago, I got a letter from her. She'd heard I was going out here. She asked me to be on the lookout for you. Of course, I demanded to know how that could still be what she was thinking about and, oh, Jordan," Polly's eyes shimmered, "Even at the best of moments with my husband, I have never felt the way about him that she feels about you."

"Well, you've found me," Sweet Pea said, giving a half-shrug, unsure exactly what to say now.

"I don't expect you can ever forgive me, and I'll have to live with that. I'm not sure Betty will either. She figured it out likely within three days of your arrest," Polly stood, sighing, "But do know that, for what it's worth, I am sorry. And I think you deserve a life together after this is all done."

Sweet Pea wasn't sure how to respond as she walked away, and the 'thanks' that he had died halfway on his tongue.

XX

Sweet Pea blinked into the warm light of the morning, leaning on his crutch and rolling his shoulders, his discharge papers crinkled in his palm.

The world spread out in front of him.

It was a little foggy, the moors right behind the hospital lifting up their ghostly shapes, giving him a mixture of holy and eternal thoughts.

He was catching the train to London, and then after that, a plane back home. He was so close to her, but yet so far away. His heart beat anxiously, urging him to get a move on.

There were figures coming from the mists. Most were nurses or doctors coming in for a shift, or family members picking up boxes of remains. One figure seemed to be walking right up to him, and Sweet Pea did not see who it was until they were a foot away.

And he was sure his brain was playing tricks on him.

"Oh, Sweet Pea," Betty sniffled, staring him up and down, before throwing herself into his arms. Sweet Pea felt her against him; her arms clasping his neck, her heart fluttering against his, her body shaking and at that moment, he knew that she was real. She was here.

They stayed like this, swaying in the warm muggy air, pressing his nose deep into her hair, inhaling. In the years since they'd been apart, he still had not forgotten the way she smelled.

"Polly contacted me. I've been fighting tooth and nail to get here ever since," Betty muttered into his shirt, "Thank god you're alive."

"Just a few scratches," He teased, and Betty drew back, looking at his leg. She knelt down and kissed the edge of his stump, a sort of reverence. From out of her shirt, her half-locket dangled out, catching a glint of the sun.

Sweet Pea pulled her up, taking out his own. Wordlessly, he attached the two sides back together with the pin he'd kept and then re-clasped it around her neck. Betty's fingers reached for it, and she gave a laugh, as though unused to feeling the complete locket.

"My heart is mended," She said quietly.

"Glad I went through hell to bring it back to you, then," Sweet Pea said, picking up the chain lightly.

"Silly, I wasn't talking about the locket, though I am glad it's fixed," She said, pressing her palm to the side of his face, "I was talking about you. Kiss me?" She asked. Sweet Pea leaned down, kissing her gently, running his lips on the edge of hers.

"I've never been able to say no."