CHAPTER EIGHT. DON'T LEAVE ME NOW

"WE SHOULD PUT HIM OUT OF HIS MISERY." Schofield suggests, shaking his head.

Blake glares at his friend. "No. Get him some water. He needs water." He instructs Schofield before turning to Mags. "What can you do? You have to have something that can help him!"

"I'll look." She shook her head as she turned to dig around in her bag behind her. She can hear him comforting the pilot as Schofield moves to the water pump. This is a mistake, she tells herself. As much as she appreciated Blake's valor, he was being reckless. Who's the reckless one now, she thought, Schofield's face appearing in her mind. As she digs through her bag, a sharp pain erupts in the back of her left bicep. Mags exclaims in pain, grabbing the area. When she pulled her hand back, her eyes widened at the blood that completely covered her palm.

Turning, she yells as the German's knife plunges into Blake's stomach. Schofield turns at the sound of her shouts. He drops the helmet of water and pulls his rifle around. Aiming, he shoots the pilot in the shoulder. With a burst of adrenaline, Mags grabs the knife in his hand and thrusts it into his neck. Her eyes widen as she watches blood seep from the wound. The pilot drops to the ground as he wheezes his last breaths.

Both Mags and Schofield make their way over to Blake as he collapses onto the ground. Her stained fingers begin unbuttoning his jacket and shirt. Recoiling back, she winces at the blood that is quickly spreading through his clothes. "Will, grab my pack." She demands as she holds pressure on Blake's wound. He yells out in pain, trying to push her hands away, but she refuses to give. "Shut up, Tom. I need to apply pressure."

Schofield brings her pack and sets it next to him.

"Grab the alcohol, the gauze, and the bandage wrap." The soldier is quick to begin rooting through the pack, pulling out the items that she requested. She holds her left hand out to grab the flask. "I need you to hold him down, okay?" Schofield nods, pushing Blake's shoulders back.

"What are you doing?" Blake asks, tears streaming down his face. "Let go of me! Get off!"

"This is for your good, Tom." Mags reassures him before pulling his button-up and undershirt up. Her eyes widen at the sight of the wound. A large gash on his abdomen practically gushes blood. He'd need stitches at the least. She didn't have that. Shaking away any negative thoughts, she begins to pour the alcohol onto the wound. He screams in pain, fighting against Schofield. Both Mags and Schofield blink away tears at their friend's pain.

Setting the flask to the side, she begins quickly placing gauze on the wound in an attempt to stifle the flow of blood. She grabs the bandaging and begins wrapping it around his waist. She has Schofield help her lift Blake when she needs to wrap it around his back. Her hands quickly place themselves against the wound as pressure. "I've done all I can do." Mags' gaze moves to Schofield. Her eyes hold no hope as she gently shakes her head.

"We need to stand up." Schofield suggests, nodding his head. "We're going to stand up." His arms attempt to pick Blake up.

As Blake shouts in pure pain, Mags stops them. "You're going to open the wound even more! Put him down." Schofield places his friend back on the field. His eyes stare ahead to the nurse, looking for any sort of hope that his friend could make it out alive. Her right hand reaches out, grabbing his own in a comforting manner. She once again shakes her head.

Blake's face grows paler by the second. It's not looking good for him, they think. "Just bring a doctor here." He suggests to the two above him.

"The nearest aid station is nearly five miles from here." Mags quietly informs them. "We wouldn't be back until night and we can't leave you alone. I wouldn't be able to protect you if Schofield went, and I wouldn't be able to make it without being gunned down if I went."

"Then we all go together." Schofield speaks. His arms wrap around Blake's shoulders. In an attempt to drag him, both Mags and Blake shout at him to stop. "So, what? We're not even going to try to help him?" He shouts as he sets Blake back down on the grass.

"I did my bloody best!"

"Well, your bloody best isn't good enough!" Schofield gestures towards his dying friend. "We need an actual doctor, not some stupid nurse they picked from a hat!"

"I'd like to see you try to do my job!"

"Will you two stop?" Blake croaked, his voice gravelly and rough. Mags and Schofield grew quiet. Their gaze falls to the drenched bandaging wrapped around him. "Just let me rest here." His voice comes out in a whisper. His tone is one of utter defeat.

Schofield shakes his head as tears threaten to fall from his eyes. "We can't. We have to find the Second. Remember?" Mags watches in complete sorrow as they talk. "Your brother, we have to go now."

"You can start on without me." Blake waves him off. "I'll catch up."

"You can't stay here." Schofield begins to move behind Blake once more. "We have to move, alright?"

"Don't you dare pick him up again, Will." Though her voice is quiet, her words speak volumes. "You're making his wound worse every time you try and pick him up."

A scoff escapes Schofield's lips as he shakes his head in disbelief. He drops to the ground, still holding Blake in his arms. "Your brother." He reminds his friend. "We have to find your brother."

Blake's breathing becomes jagged. It's clear he hasn't got much fight left in him. "You'll recognize him. Looks like me... just a bit older."

Schofield's eyes meet Mags'. They plea for help. Hers hold nothing but grief and pity. Behind the soldiers, the barn crackles as the flames begin to die out. The burnt wood begins caving in on itself. "What are they? Are we being shelled?" Blake asks, glancing up at the sky.

"The barn's collapsing." Mags answers, taking Blake's left hand in hers.

He squeezes it tightly. His gaze turns to her, and she can barely stomach seeing him in such an awful state. "I've been hit. What was it?"

"You were stabbed." Schofield answers for her.

Blake's eyes widen as his free hand begins searching for the wound. When his hand lands on Schofield's, it stops. His gaze turns back to Mags. "Am I dying?"

A fat tear drips down her cheek as she nods. "Afraid so." A sob racks her body. She couldn't hold it back much longer.

The young man nods slowly. The shock is quickly followed by sorrow. I'm actually dying, he thinks. But there was so much he wanted to do. Firstly, he wanted to hold his medal over his brother's head. Then, he wanted to finish his bottle cap necklace. Then, he wanted to take Mags and Schofield back to his mother's orchards and show them just how beautiful they could be. He wanted to go back home and meet a nice girl, fall in love, and have a family. But, he supposed, maybe that just wasn't in his cards.

His right hand reaches up and pats the pocket on his jacket. Schofield reaches over and pulls out a wallet. "This?" He asks.

"Inside." Blake responds, his voice growing weaker.

Schofield opens the wallet. Photos and a letter are folded up inside. He pulls out the photo of Blake's mother and his brother, Joe. Upon showing it to his friend, he nods. Schofield places the photo in Blake's hand before pressing it to his chest.

"Will you write to my mum for me?" Blake asks. Another soft sob shakes Mags' body.

"I will." Schofield nods.

"Tell her I wasn't scared."

He nods in response. A short silence fills the air, other than Mags' soft cries. "Anything else?"

"I love them." Blake whispers, a small smile on his face. "I wish that... I wish..." He trails off, the smile dropping. "Talk to me. Tell me you both know the way."

"We know the way." Schofield responds, his eyes glancing up to Mags, who's wiping away her tears. "We'll go southeast until we hit Écoust. We'll pass through the town and out to the east, all the way to Croisilles Wood."

"It'll be dark by then." Blake faintly speaks. His voice is near gone.

Both Mags and Schofield shake their heads. "That won't bother us. We'll find the Second Devons, we'll give them the message, and then I'll find your brother. Just like you, a little older."

They both stop when they realize that Blake has stopped breathing. His face is free of any pain or tension. The lines on his face have disappeared. Another sob racks through Mags' body as she squeezes Blake's now limp hand. Schofield looks up at Mags to see her utterly distraught. He'd be lying if he said it didn't surprise him. He watches her pull Blake's hand up and press a gentle kiss to the back of it.

Schofield begins rummaging through Blake's pockets in search for the letter from the General. Pulling the letter, he winces at the blood that stains half the page. He quickly stuffs it into his jacket pocket. His gaze moves back up to Mags, who simply stares at Blake's corpse, tears steadily streaming down her puffy and red cheeks. Pulling the map out of Blake's pocket, he tries to see through the blood that completely stains it, making it near illegible. With a huff, he tosses it to the side.

He leans over, pulling Blake's hand out of Mags'. Pulling the rings off of his fingers, he stuffs them into his jacket pocket. "What, we're looting his corpse now?" Mags scoffs, roughly wiping away the tears that trailed down her face. Her eyes look at him in pure disgust.

Schofield remains silent as he pulls off Blake's dogtags. "Help me lift him." He whispers as he pushes himself off the ground. His legs are weak and shaky. His arms wrap around Blake's as Mags wraps her arms around his legs. Together, they pick him up and carry him over to a small patch of long grass next to a pond. Blake is heavy, even with both of them pulling their weight.

Setting him down, Mags kneels next to Blake's body. She pulls out the blossom he had given her just an hour earlier. With a sniffle, she places the blossom in his hand. Behind her, Schofield gathers up her pack and his rifle. Her fingers wrap around the bottle cap necklace around Blake's neck and pulls it off. She quickly stuffs it into her jacket pocket before Schofield can return to her side.

"Grab his rifle." He instructs her.

"No."

"Mags, just grab the fucking rifle."

"Fuck off." She hisses. A sob escapes her lips as she rests her hand on Blake's still chest. "Why do I even need that blasted thing?"

"Because you'll need to defend yourself."

"I can't shoot."

"Looks like you'll need to learn quickly, then." He holds out the extra rifle towards her.

Her fingers gently wrap around the rifle. The item feels foreign in her hands. With one wrong move, she could kill herself or even Schofield.

"You two alright?" A voice grabs their attentions. Schofield spins around, his grip on his rifle tight. "It's alright. We're on the same side." The soldier chuckles. Two privates round the house. Their eyes move to the body next to Mags. "Jesus, what happened to him?" Both Schofield and Mags remain silent. "We saw the plane crash. Was that it?" Schofield simply nods.

"Go fetch his things." Another voice speaks. Both privates agree before moving to grab Blake's helmet. "Was he a friend?" The man asks. Both Mags and Schofield nod in response. "What are you two doing here?"

"I have an urgent message for the Second Devons. Orders are to stop tomorrow morning's attack." Schofield explains.

"Where are they stationed?" The man asks.

"Just beyond Écoust."

The man's eyes turn to Mags. "And you're with him, I presume?" She nods, remaining silent. "Alright then, come with me." He turns and begins moving back towards the house. Both Mags and Schofield remain by Blake's side. They couldn't leave him like this. Couldn't they, at least, bury him? "Come with me, Corporal, Nurse. That's an order." Schofield simply looks up at the man. "We're heading through Écoust. We can take both of you some of the way."

"Sir." Schofield responds quietly. He pushes himself off of the ground and holds Mags' pack out to her. "We have to go." His voice is gentle and quiet. Shaking her head, she pushes the pack away. Tears continue to spill down her cheeks as she refuses to move from Blake's side. It feels like betrayal, that she should stay with him as long as she could. "Mags-" His hand begins to squeeze her shoulder before she shoves him back.

"Fuck off! We can't just fucking leave him like this!" Her shouts surprise the soldiers nearby. If she weren't so angry, she'd have been embarrassed for acting so childish. But she didn't care. "I don't want him here, rotting next to some fucking dog and some fucking German piece of shit!"

"He was my best friend!" Schofield shouts back. Their glares are sharp towards each other. "How do you think I feel, huh? He was my best fucking friend and I loved him! Who are you? You're just some fucking nurse they threw us with! You didn't even know him."

"At least I'm not willing to leave him at some bum fuck, middle of nowhere farm where that fucker stabbed him." Pushing herself off of the ground, she moves quick to shove him back.

"Don't fucking touch me." He snaps as he shoves her. Stumbling, her feet catch against Blake's stiff ones. Her body slams against the hard ground.

With a soft sigh, she looks over at Blake. She already misses him. If he were here, they wouldn't be fighting like this. He would've stopped the fight before it had even started. But he wasn't there. He was dead. He was rotting as they stood there. Pushing herself up on the ground, she pulled her knees up against her body. Tears spill down her cheeks as she hugs her legs tightly.

Approaching her, Schofield crouched in front of her. His hands rested on top of her knees, grabbing her attention. "Mags, we have to go. If we don't then he died for no reason at all. His brother will die and so will yours, if we don't get there on time." It almost hurt him to see her bloodshot eyes glance between him and his friend. Letting out a deep sigh, she roughly wiped away her tears.

She nods and slowly pushes herself off of the ground. Her fingers wrap around the strap of the bag. "You ready?" He asks.

"As I'll ever be." Mags wipes away the tears that had yet to dry and follows Schofield and the captain.