They had travelled to eternity, at least, that's what the last weeks had felt like for the young soldier. The sun didn't seem to shine anymore, the air was always thick with dust, gunpowder and the smell of rotting corpses. After having lost count of how many enemies he had shot down, William was starting to feel more and more quilty. But in the mids of a battle, he would scream for strength. He would force his eyes open and face the evil. He would time and time tell himself that all this, killing other humans, sons, brothers and fathers, was so that people like Rosa could feel safe.

Because memories of Rosa kept him alive, kept him sane. But even the knowledge that Rosa was safe from the ugliness of the world did not give the young soldier a night of rest.

After another horrendous gunfire, they had reached a small village that was too difficult for Will to pronounce. He knew that all those houses, small shops that stood now broken, shattered by the bullets, had mere hours ago belonged to the germans.

He leaned against one of the tanks, face covered with grime and dirt, clothes smelling of this awful stench that came with war. His stomach was grumbling, a small shaking vibration still running up and down his arms. A void opening in his chest, threatening to swallow his humanity. And in the centre of the endless abyss there were those grey eyes, the young soldier, the first Nazi he had seen.

"I reckon you were too tired to realise you had so generously offered me the last cracker." John said, placing the last kracker on the tip of his tongue as he pushed some loose dark coloured curls out of his green eyes, knowing he had to cut his hair soon if he didn't want it to start bothering him in the most anxious situations. "Or maybe, you're just a lying thief John, a little egotistical Brit." the older of the two narrowed his green eyes, leaning closer to the smirking boy. "You little— Captain!" John suddenly exclaimed, eyes widening as he saw the taller man approach.

"Unpack, find shelter for the night, the house in the east, the red one with white door go there. The patrols have looked over the village, all nazis have been taken hostage to be sent to the war prison. John, you tell Hoare and others where we crash. Rogers, with me." Carter had a cold undertone to his voice, and William had already realised it was always like that after or before the bullet rain. Michael Carter's eyes would change, the calm demeanour would turn and every time William would glance at Captain Carter, he would see the determined solder who had already left his soul to the battlefield.

Without bothering to answer, he jogged to catch up with Captain Carter, making sure to keep just enough distance from the brooding man. He hadn't seen much of Captain, but he knew the man was keeping a close eye on him and often pulled William close to him whenever they were in the middle of the battle. In all honesty, everything was starting to catch up to William. Things were... painful. 

He had met new people, and the next day they were gone. and it hurt, it hurt more than he had imagined. 

"I cannot have your death in my conscience, Rogers." Michael's voice was dark and instead of seeing the tiredness in it, Will mistook it for fury. His blue eyes blinked up in surprise, making Michaels inside squirm in an overbearing quilt. How could he have allowed him to be there for so long? What sort of Captain allows underage soldiers into battles? Shame on his name, shame on his title, shame on him. Michael watched how the large, innocent eyes seemed to glow against the dirt and grime that covered the youthful face. Dirt and grime that shouldn't be there for another few years, or ever.  

“B-but sir, let me prove it to you! I'll do anything you want, please, don't send me back!” William didn't know what he wanted, did he want to stay and let his reality turn into nightmares or was he just willing to go home and explain everything to Mrs Davis? No, he was stuck. And he hadn't found a trace of his brother either. Michael narrowed his eyes, standing stiff as he refused to allow sleepiness to cover his eyes. “No, you've proven yourself enough, its time to go home, soldier.” his voice softened just slightly, but his eyes were guarded, they kept flickering behind Will, towards the dark windows and broken buildings and women, children and men who still buzzed around in sombre mood.

“But you need me.” was Williams pathetic excuse, the aftermath of their previous battle was making his chest tighten and eyes sting. It wasn't that he didn't want to leave, it was more like he was afraid to. Of course he hadn't been with the Commando for as long as they had been together, but within those short days –or actually, those were the longest days of his life–, he had finally started feeling united again. “No, we don't. The next town, there is a train station, that's where our paths will go separate ways.”

William was angry, he ticked his jaw, balling his fists as he glared up at the stoic man. “Do you understand me? No more games, William. You will go to Brooklyn, to home.” there was a beat of silence as they kept their eyes locked on each other, but as much as William tried to keep his guards up, it was nearly impossible when the Michael Carter stared down at him. Will looked away as if the dark soil that bled death was the most interesting thing.

“I said, do you understand me?” Michaels tone commanded to be heard, it almost forced the sentence that had thrilled into William, out. “Sir, yes sir.”
As angry as he was, he could not stand against a Carter, Captain nevertheless. “Go find Lawford and others, you are dismissed.”

With those words, Captain Carter walked away from William.

The young soldier dug his nails into his calloused palms. He looked down at his balled fists, seeing the crimson blood running down his wrists, the back of his hand in phantom rivers. He closed his eyes shut tightly, taking in a shaky breath as be tried to push the face of a young German soldier out of his mind.

Blond hair, grime-covered, oval-shaped face, grey eyes, a dimple on the left corner of his pale lips and blood on the side of his temple. Another face appeared, older, wrinkles on his face, blue eyes...

No, go away, go away, go away!

“Will?” he snapped his eyes open, seeing tired-looking Elliot holding food boxes. “I'll help.” he rushed out, hiding the red of his eyes that made him look weak and pathetic. No one else was ever crying. And neither was he.

He took one box from Elliot, falling into step beside the older man. Their dirty boots sunk into the soil that had been made wet and soggy by the rain, hundreds of footsteps and tanks that rolled over the grounds that now had been conquered by the Americans.
“I heard we will be moving out at six, so I reckon we get some needed sleep in a soft bed. I know Theo will probably rather sleep on the floor that in the bed of a German.” Elliot said, his voice still timid and held no trace of tiredness that almost shone from his ashen face. The only thing truly visible were his eyes, and Will thought he didn't look any different. “Yeah, yeah I think you are right. Haven't slept in a proper bed for so long.” he could see the amusement in Elliot's dark eyes, realising his mistake immediately. “Well, I know you've been here longer and I, well, I-” “Don't fret, Soldier, I know what you mean.” he chuckled, opening a door to a fancy house.

The moment Elliot opened the door, William detected the soft sound of a piano melody carrying through the ghostly corridors. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he eyed the corridors. The red wallpaper had bullet holes in them, the ground had pieces of debris and broken glass crunching under their heavy footsteps. He could see golden candle holders and delicate looking vases standing and through some odd miracle, not yet broken nor stolen.

He came to the conclusion that the house must have belonged to someone of wealth, but it all seemed useless now. When all that was left, were holes in the walls, broken furniture and shot in windows. William forced himself to look away and blankly stare the back of Elliot's head. The sound of peaceful piano grew closer as they stepped into a living room (he assumed it was that, considering the table, elegant chairs and piano that sat near the broken window.)

“Time doesn't exist, but clocks do.” they stepped into the room, immediately the smell of fried eggs and cigarettes reaching their noses. Williams blue eyes landed on the tall, wealthy-looking woman who seemed to be in her early forties. Her eyes were light and hair as well, she looked tired and the clothes a bit wrinkled. But who really seemed to catch his eye was the young girl with long, curled hair. She was currently pouring a drink to Theo and Pappy, her eyes guarded as they flickered up to who he assumed was her mother. “What is it about time I'm hearing?” Elliot asked gently, placing the box on the dining table.

“Mister Swamp here claims that time itself is irrelevant” Hoare mumbled, throwing a card on the table as he placed a half-smoked cigar lazily on his cracked lips. “Because it doesn't exist, now does it? it's an illusion we have created for ourselves because mankind is a group of damned freaks.” the brooding man muttered, a sly smirk on his lips as he made his move with the Queen of Hearts.

William eyed the strange girl, wondering who were they. Her hair was the colour of fresh honey, her waist was narrow and her face was pale, youthful. She was wearing a dark blue dress that hugged her curves.

But what else caught his attention was John who had seated himself behind the grand piano, seemingly to ignore everything around him as he played a tune that was so familiar to Will, yet he couldn't identify that song.