WILLIAM CAUGHT SIGHT of her in the corner of his eye and in just the exact same way he had seen her the first time, a figure that he passed by at first but then he just had to look back at. Except this time his neck didn't ache when he did it and the blood didn't rush out of his head when he tried to rise up.

William was against a tree but it was just as harsh as that camp bed he had been lying in not even nine months ago. It felt like a lifetime ago, he felt like Clarice had been with him for so much longer.

"Do you know her or somethin," Tom asked from beside him noticing Will's movement as he wiped his nose, "You know, like from before. Cause you look at her like you know her and she looks at you like she knows somethin."

Will would have smiled at the tone Tom used in his voice, it was like he was sixteen again and just waiting for a stolen second glance in the street and then he remembered that had been Tom's life just a couple of years ago and Will didn't feel like smiling, not even at her. His youth was over long before he came to the war and still Tom clung onto his.

She was supporting a young man around his waist as he struggled to learn how to walk with just one crutch and one leg. Will watched her, she hadn't noticed him yet and he saw a look in her eyes that he knew well; heartache. Her companion was young, too young, Will thought as she led him over to some of his platoon that greeted him like he had was Jesus resurrected, which with an injury like that, he practically was.

Clarice said something to them and the boy chuckled slightly, Will didn't need to see his cheeks go red to feel the boy blushing as he removed his arm from around her neck. She was shorter than him, so much so an inch smaller and she would have been able to rest her chin on the crutches. Will hadn't realised that before.

"You know you never talk about back home." Tom commented, not necessarily trying to get Will's attention.

"You say 'you know' a lot, you know." William turned his attention to his friend. What Tom had said wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

Tom laughed but Will couldn't really understand why, "You know," Tom said with a smirk playing on his lips, he kicked Will's bicep lightheartedly, "You're a funny one."

When Will looked back up Clarice was looking straight at him and for one moment Will's whole world that he had fixed with broken stilts and paperclips came crashing down on him. Then she did something that should have cleared the rubble away but only made it deeper; she smiled at him. She had smiled at him before and it had been like sun beams pouring in between the debris but that was a lifetime ago. Now the smile didn't reach her eyes.

Will debated about what to do for a moment but he didn't need that long, the moment she raised her hand his decision was made.

"I knew it," Tom continued as William placed his helmet to one side and began to hoist himself up, "You do know her," William brushed the dirt off his uniform, "See I have a sixth sense about these things, you know."

"If that helps you sleep at night Blake." William decided not to put on his helmet again and straightened himself up, wiping his noise on the back of his hand as he began walking away.

Clarice felt the familiar faster beat of her heart, it seemed to have been working overtime every day since she came to the Western Front and today was no exception. She felt for the contents of her pocket, it was there and she tightened her hand around it for only a second before it became unbearable and she took her hand out.

"Nurse Wallace," William greeted her presenting his hand, "Wish I could say it is always a pleasure."

Clarice regarded his hand and it was just like the last time she had seen it. His fingernails were black around the edges, callouses had formed on his palm and the dry skin stretched as he extended it; a soldiers hand. Yet Clarice knew it was a test and one she could never pass.

"Lance Corporal Schofield," Clarice took a deep breath willing the tremors that were coming to stop but her hand trembled as she shook his hand. William held on to her hand all the tighter, "I hope one day it always is."

He didn't respond but his face was grave, he tucked his helmet into the crook of his elbow and put his other hand over the pair. He looked down at her, "How long Clarice?"

She swallowed and felt the familiar prick at her eyes but she knew no tears would come, "I don't think they every really stopped."

William stayed silent and simply squeezed her hands tighter. He thought about what he would have normally done at home in this situation, he would have kissed the women's knuckles and held onto her as tight as he could. Yet he knew he couldn't, he couldn't with him being in the corner of every soldiers eye in the field. Everybody acknowledging but nobody looking except Tom, he was staring hard enough for everyone.

He held on for only a second more and then let go. Clarice's other hand grasped her right and held them to her stomach. William watched them for a moment before regaining his composure, "How do you like being on the Front Line?" He asked and as soon as he said it, he regretted it. He felt an itch beneath the collar of his uniform.

Clarice didn't mind, "It is- " She looked around at her surroundings for a second and watched Thomas Blake rather comically act as if he was not staring and noticed how Private Brewer, the boy she carried here and had found out was just shy of seventeen, mustered the biggest smile she had seen on him all week. All before she turned up to William again, "Different. I wish I could say every place I go is a pleasure."

She smiled softly at her own words and saw the right side of William's mouth twitch ever so slightly. She remembered him being tall but tilting her chin upwards to see him properly and not just a strange angle of his chin was a motion she has always been used to.

"I wish the same ma'am, but this isn't too bad a place to be." William replied.

The contents of Clarice's pocket became like a heavy stone dragging her down as she saw how William's muscle seemed to have forgotten how to smile or how his eyes would never soften. It would never truly be the right time but if she thought like that much longer the odds are the right time will be when she meets him in Heaven.

"Ma'am?" Clarice chuckled, trying to hide her nervousness as she fidgeted with her hands, "Shall I call you sir again then Lance Corporal?"

William instinctively frowned. His Christian name was inconsequential in the war, in fact William had only been called William by one person since he left his home and she was standing right in front of him and she stopped smiling as a result.

"Will suits just fine Clarice." He told her.

"And Clarice suits nicely as well Will." She replied.

For once, it was William Schofield that was smiling. Clarice knew then that she had to give him the letters or she would curse herself forever. She wanted to live in this moment, to forget the shaking in her hands and the helmet in his, to loose herself and all the earthly things this god forsaken war had put onto them for just a moment more. She had missed his smile and it was a funny thing for her to think about but she missed him all the more now he was stood in front of her.

"You know-" William even chuckled as he said that and it caught in his throat, when did he last laugh? God knows. It caught in his throat and he coughed it out into his elbow crook which amazingly only made him laugh all the more.

"William Schofield don't you get sick on me again young man!" Clarice jocked between her own laughter, the one time she needed her hands against her stomach they were there and it felt, well, it was lovely.

The pair didn't notice the arrival of William's and Blake's commanding officer and his stern words to Thomas Blake.

William's laughter settled down and when he looked at Clarice he saw everything in his old world, everything he left behind in Britain and all he wanted to do was to stay here, he ran his tongue over his lips and drummed his fingers over his helmet, "I've missed you, and I've been wanting to say, for a while now-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Blake was banging on William's shoulder from behind. Clarice's heart began to beat at its now common faster pace and her smile vanished without a trace. She clutched a hold of her shaking hand even tighter.

"Schofield we got to go." Tom told him.

The weight in her pockets returned, now, she had to do it now.

"In a minute, can't you see I'm-" William turned and stopped talking when he saw the scorn of Sergeant Merryweather. He had deep set wrinkle frown lines and never had a particular liking for William who scrambled to put back on his helmet and salute.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I can see you fraternising with Nurse Wallace, Schofield," Sergeant Merryweather's gaze forced William to take a step away from Clarice, "But I'm afraid General Erinmore commands are frankly more important than a little bit of socialising and Blake here has chosen you to accompany him,"

Clarice could feel the tip of her nose turning red, not with embarrassment but with fear. The right time would never come in war, it had to be now.

"So I don't expect you will keep him waiting Lance Corporals." Merryweather nodded at both of them and left them immediately.

"Let's go Schofield," Blake urged him with a turn of his head.

So William was back to the real world and Clarice could only be what she was at the beginning - a figure in the distance that waved at him with shaking hands. He didn't move for a second and looked down at Clarice, he couldn't read her expression.

"Come on, Serg said its urgent. We got to go." Blake was getting impatient now and was already moving further towards the start of the trenches. Clarice was glued to the spot by the weight of the letters in her pocket.

"Don't go." She whispered and it was as if her face had not seen a smile in years. She stretched out her hands involuntarily

"Clarice I'm sorry but I've got to go," William reluctantly started following Blake, he had no idea what he was going into and it seemed like every 'see you soon' had been turned into a 'final goodbye' and he didn't want it to be like this but he had no choice, "We'll talk soon, okay."

Somehow he felt worse after lying, a feeling deep down in his stomach told him that he wouldn't be falling asleep under trees for much longer. With a final look William began walking away.

It was his turned back that set Clarice into motion, now or never. Her hands shook harder as she took out the letters that meant so much to her that frankly the thought of giving them finally to the person they were written to stopped her heart. Yet she knew she had to and she wanted to.

"William!" She shouted out but already he had been engulfed into the beginning of the trenches and the mass of soldiers. She clutched the letters and she ran blindly after them.

It was too late, she thought as she saw the faces of men she had never seen and some ghosts of the field hospital. Yet none of them were Will, none of them had his scars and his eyes.

She wanted to cry out again but knew that there was a time and a place, and the Western Front was neither of these. She stood there for a second, wondering why on earth she had let the moment pass and she tried to convince herself that she would see Lance Corporal William Schofield again, she had to.

"Clarice," The soldier in front of her said placing his hands on top of hers, "I really have to go."

She looked up at Will and nodded but she manoeuvred her hands to place the small bundle of letters into the palm of his right hand and she closed his fingers around them. William let his gaze linger for just a moment before he raised her hand, ignoring the trembles that shook his own body to the core; he kissed her knuckles and with a small smile he walked into the trenches.

Clarice followed his body with her eyes until he turned the corner and she swore she saw the slightest backwards glance as she kissed her own knuckles.