CHAPTER SIX.   NOBODY HOME

HER FEET DRAGGED AGAINST THE GROUND. Her wide eyes took in the destroyed artillery that the German forces had left behind. "Look at that," Blake speaks, breaking the silence, "they destroyed their own guns." Ammunition and cannons are abandoned in the field, destroyed beyond recognition.

"They destroyed their own trenches, too." Schofield mumbled, taking in the surroundings.

Furrowing his brow, Blake glanced back at his friend. "What do you mean?"

"I think they wanted us to go that way." Schofield spoke with a grim tone. From behind him, Mags stared towards the dismantled weaponry on the ground. "They wanted to bury us." It sounded true, but were the Germans that smart? Did they really plan all of that, knowing they would go that way? Maybe they just set it all up. Maybe they're watching them. Maybe they've been watching them from the moment they left the General's bunker and they're watching them at this very moment. She shook her head - no point in believing such conspiracy theories.

A noise startles the trio. Both Blake and Schofield turn, ready to kill whomever appears from the rubble. A fat rat scuttles out from underneath a dead German soldier. The group lets out a collective sigh of relief. "Bastard rats." Blake mumbles under his breath as they continue their trek.

Mags lets out a soft sigh. A soreness begins to form throughout her spine. She stretches the muscles, hoping that maybe that would provide her some relief; it provides very little support. Her feet begin to ache. She wasn't used to walking this much. Standing, she did with little issue, but being on the move constantly for hours on end was new to her. It didn't help that she was almost killed in a German bunker. A piece of honey blonde hair falls into her face, tickling her cheek. With a huff of air, she blows the piece away.

"So, Mags," Blake starts, eliciting an eye roll from the nurse, "do you like peaches?"

Her eyebrows furrow. "I'm sorry?"

"Peaches, do you like 'em?" He repeats the question.

"Uh..." she chuckles, shaking her head, "I could take 'em or leave 'em. I don't really hold strong opinions towards peaches."

"Well, I hate them." His voice fills with disgust, surprising her. She'd never heard him speak on something so strongly. "I think this world would be much better off without them."

Mags' steps fell in line with Schofield's. "Should I even ask?" She whispered to him.

The soldier shrugged his shoulders. "He'll tell you that he 'just does.'" His fingers formed air quotes.

"Why do you hate peaches so much, Blake?" She asked. Her bottom lip was taken by her top row of teeth as she pushed back her laughter.

"Just do." Blake shrugged his shoulders.

Both Mags and Schofield shared playful glances. He gave her an unspoken 'I told you so' which she nodded at. Her eyes glance down at his hands; they're still shaking madly. Pity and guilt consumed her. Guilt at what? None of the events were her fault. But there was still an inkling in her that told her she should've done something different. Maybe she should've pulled him away from the tripwire. Maybe she should've made them leave sooner without looking around.

"Hey," Blake speaks up again, "did you hear that story about Wilko? How he lost his ear?"

Mags smiles. She had heard the story from Amelia.

"I'm not in the mood." Schofield shakes his head, keeping a watchful eye out. "Keep your eyes on the trees, top of the ridge."

"Bet he told you it was shrapnel." Blake knows his friend. He knows his friend can't resist a stupid and funny story.

After a moment of silence, Schofield's brow furrows. "What was it then?"

Another wide smile grows on Mags' lips as Blake recounts the story that Amelia had rushed to her tent to tell her. Patient confidentiality be damned, this was war. "Well, you know his girl's a hairdresser, right? And he was moaning about the lack of bathing facilities when he wrote to her - remember those rancid jakes at Arras?"

Schofield nods in response. His face forms a wince in memory of the smell.

"Anyway, she sends him over this 'hair oil.' Smells sweet, like Golden Syrup. Wilko loves the smell, but he doesn't want to cart it around in his pack, so-" As he continues the story, they make their way down a small hill. The area looks nothing like the one they had just been in. There's grass covering the entire area. Ruined buildings litter the ground ahead. "He slathers it all over his barnet, goes to sleep and in the middle of the night he wakes up, and a rat is sitting on his shoulder licking the oil off of his head!"

Both Mags and Schofield begin to laugh. She had to give it to Blake, he was a much better storyteller than Amelia ever could be. "Wilko panics and he jumps up and when he does, the rat bites clean through his fuckin' ear and he runs off with it!" They're all laughing together. A much deserved moment of peace and pure happiness. "Oh, he made a hell of a fuss, yelling and screaming." They make their way down the small hill, taking in their surroundings. "Best of it was he put so much bloody oil on himself that he couldn't wash it off! He was like a magnet. Rats left us alone, but they couldn't get enough of him. Poor bastard."

In the sky, two planes fly above them. They're heading the opposite direction they had just been flying before they entered the trenches. "Heading back home," Schofield mumbles, watching them, "wonder what they saw."

"Best not to dwell on that." Mags speaks quietly, but her words are more than heard by the men.

"Watch the ridge lines." Blake instructs as they continue their trek.

There's a silence among the group. Mags stares down at her hands. The whiskey flask in her pack begins to weigh her down. "We slept together." She breaks the silence. Both soldiers stop in their tracks, turning to look at the girl. "You asked about Lieutenant Leslie and I. Well..." She trailed off, her cheeks forming a bright red blush against her pale skin. "I was stationed with one of his companies, and we were pinned down in the bunkers. His troops were stuck in one section while Leslie and I were in another. I thought I was going to die in some stinking hole filled with mud and water and-" She stops herself. Glancing up, she takes notice of the men listening intently. "I didn't want to die a... a virgin, y'know."

"I knew it!" Blake exclaimed with a laugh. His laugh carried on for a few moments. It put the nurse at ease to see him so easygoing towards it. She had sworn to Leslie to take that secret to her grave, but the two soldiers gave her a sense of ease. She felt she could trust them. "I fucking knew it. I mean," Blake turns to her with furrowed eyebrows, "him out of all people?"

Letting out a scoff, Mags rolls her eyes. Her fist collides against his bicep in a playful punch. "I said that I thought I was going to die! And he's not ugly. He's very attractive when he isn't covered in sweat." The two shared a deep laugh.

From behind them, Schofield couldn't help but smile as the two traded jokes. "I mean," Blake's voice brought him back to the present, "you'd've been better off with Schofield there."

Glancing back, the nurse smiles politely. "Well, maybe if Schofield had been there, it'd have been a different story." Blake laughs heartily, turning to look towards his friend. He can't help but notice the soft blush of embarrassment that crosses Schofield's face.

Another silent moment fills the air. The roar of the planes are a mere hum as they fly further and further from them. "Well that's your medal sorted then." Schofield breaks the silence, clearing his throat.

"What do you mean?" Blake asks.

"'Lance Corporal Blake showed unusual valor in rescuing a comrade from certain death' blah, blah, blah." Mags smiles as he continues. The proud smile that forms on Blake's lips is enough to warm the heart of even the coldest people.

"You reckon?"

"I do."

A pleased and proud smile grows even wider on Blake's face. He'd get to shove it in his older brother's face all day when he saw him. He could finally hold something over his brother for once in his life."Well, that'd be nice. Especially since you lost yours."

Mags glances up to see Schofield's eyes dart between his friend, the nurse, and the ground. "I didn't lose mine." He finally speaks.

"What happened to it, then?"

"Why do you care?"

"Why do you not?" Blake asks. Ooh, checkmate on Blake's part, Mags thinks to herself. She knows better than to involve herself in conversations like these. They were friends, clearly. And she didn't know them that well. She had seen them here and there in the camp, - the two were practically inseparable - but had never had a reason to speak to the two.

"I swapped it with a French captain." Schofield finally answers.

"Swapped it? For what?" Blake asks.

"Bottle of wine."

Mags wants to laugh. Is it a joke? Did he really trade a medal for a bottle of wine?

"What did you do that for?" Blake asks, his voice accusatory.

"I was thirsty."

"What a waste." Blake's tone holds more venom with that remark. It surprises both Schofield and Mags. Apparently there were two things in this life that Blake hated: peaches and giving away medals. "You should have taken it home with you. You should have given it to your family." The other soldier remains silent. The nurse looks up towards him. His entire body is tense and his eyes are misty. "Men have died for that."

"Bloody lot of help that did them." Mags snorts. She's quick to freeze. Both Schofield and Blake stare at her with wide eyes. Maybe they had forgotten she was even in their company. She had been so quiet that her presence was easily forgettable. "They're dead. What's a dead man going to do with a piece of tin with a ribbon on it?"

"Well, if I got a medal, I'd take it back home. Why didn't you just take it home-" Blake is cut off when Schofield snaps.

"Look, it's just a bit of bloody tin!" He swings his arms in exasperation. "It doesn't make you special. It doesn't make any difference to anyone."

"It's not just tin." Blake speaks, his voice quiet. "Like she said, it's got a ribbon on it."

Mags giggles.

"I hated going home." Schofield speaks, his voice quiet and withdrawn. "I hated it. When I knew I couldn't stay. When I knew I had to leave them, and they might never see me-" He stops as tears fill his eyes.

Her mind flutters back to her family. Her mother's screams when she told her that she had signed up to go help with the Queen Alexandra's at the front lines. Her sister's cries still echoed in her mind. Her hand curls into a tight fist. The look of pure rage and hate in her mother's eyes as she told Mags that she was never welcome back still haunted her every minute of the day. A tear slipped down her cheek the more she dwelt on it.

"What's wrong, Mags?" Blake's voice pulls her out of her daydream.

Shaking her head, she roughly wipes the tear away, scratching her cheek with her fingernail in the process. "Nothing, sorry. Just thinking." Clearing her throat, she jogs to catch up with the two men as they continue their trek through the broken terrain.