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Schofield slowly laced his fingers together, staring out into the English countryside. He was old, 98 to be exact. He had survived through two World Wars, the flu, and countless other things. And yet, he still lived. Lived, while countless others had died. He reflected on that fact over the years, more often than he liked. And it leaves a bitter taste. He sometimes wished he hadn’t made it this far, outliving his beloved sister, nieces, and really any other relative he cared to be with. He'd spent years being alone in this house, haunted by memories of the past.
He sighed, closing his eyes as a faint breeze blew through the screen. Today, he hadn’t thought of the war. It was nice for once...
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Schofield opened his eyes. He is leaning against a tree, the wildflowers surrounding him bobbing in the breeze. He slowly rose to his feet, concerned as to how he had gotten here. Glancing down, he is shocked to find out he is dressed in his old uniform. He quickly looked around for the trenches, the men huddled together in clumps. Scent of smoke, rotting flesh on the wind or the loud clash of pots. But the land around him remained silent, the earth untarnished by the effects of war. He turned back towards the tree, heart aching. When he returned from delivering his message to the Second, he never sat by that tree again. It hurt too much. It made him think of Blake.
He began wandering to where the trenches should have been. His head then turns in the direction of where the German line had been, and is greeted with a sea of tall grass and more flowers. Past that, the copse of trees and behind it-
Schofield stumbles, memories of the farm flashing behind his eyes. Blake's scream of pain echoed in his head. He cried out, in anger and frustration. Why was he here? Was some higher being punishing him, and for what?? He suffered through years of silence, going through the motions because what was the point? And now he was here, back to his younger self and stuck in the past.
He stood in that field for god knows how long. Afraid to move, afraid that if he did it would trigger more memories.
After what felt like ages, he let out a long sigh. Nothing had changed. Schofield begrudgingly let his feet carry him towards the trees in the distance. He knew where his feet were carrying him. As he made his way across the field, he kept his mind blank. He didn't want to remember.
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As the farm came into view, he noted that like the land around him, it bore no marks from the war. The walls surrounding the cherry trees no longer crumbled and destroyed. The farm house without holes in the sides, cows grazed peacefully near the pond. And despite it's peaceful setting, he still felt dread creeping into him. This is still the place Blake died.
Cautiosuly pushing open the door that lead to the cherry trees, he peeked inside before taking another step. Petals floated lazily down around him as he weaved around the trunks. Reaching out a hand, he caught one of the silky petals. He held it up, and stared at its light shimmering color, and felt a sudden calm fold over him.
"Hey, Scho."
Schofield froze. He slowly turned to look behind him, and there standing among the trees is Blake. And his heart stops.
Blake is dressed in simple, loose clothing. His hair is longer too, it fell around his face in dark wavy curls. The other grinned, the corner of his eyes crinkling. "I've missed you." He said, and began walking forward.
Schofield broke out of his stupor, and rushed forward to pull the other into a crushing hug. He gripped onto the back of Blake's shirt, holding him like a lifeline. Blake lifted his arms and returned the embrace. Schofield felt tears start to well up in his eyes, and he buried his face into the crook of Blake's neck.
"Blake.. Blake your real. You're here how, how. I missed you, missed you so much-" he babbled, the sudden shock at seeing Blake after all these years made it hard for him to string together coherent sentences. Blake squeezed him tightly, and rose a hand to rub Schofield’s back soothingly.
"Hey, it's alright Scho. I'm here, I’m not going anywhere.”
Schofield only held on tighter, and let out a wet laugh. He hoped this isn’t a cruel joke, a dream that he would soon wake up from and return to his cold, empty house.
Blake gently pulled back to peer at Schofield, and smiled.
Schofield wiped at his tear streaked face and let out another short laugh. “You're not a dream.” He murmured, more of a statement than a question.
“No… not necessarily.” The two grew silent, and then it slowly dawned onto Schofield.
“I’m dead..” He mumbled. Blake nodded, giving him a sad look.
“Yeah.”
Schofield nodded after a moment, surprised at how well he had took the fact. As Blake opened his mouth to say something else, a loud bark echoed from the direction of the house. And a moment later, a large dog bounded through the trees toward them. The Border Collie streaked by Blake and launched itself at Schofield, and the two tumbled to the ground.
“Myrtle!! Take it easy girl.” Blake exclaimed with a laugh, and pulled at her collar to relieve Schofield of the attacker.
Schofield sat up, and rubbed the back of his head. laughter began to bubble up in his chest.
“So this is Myrtle?” He asked, and reached out a hand for her to sniff.
“Yeah, she made it here along with my mum and Joe.” Schofield nodded. Joe had died three months after the day he delivered the message. It hurt him almost as much as when he lost Blake.
“Your sister too.” Blake added softly. Schofield jerked his head back in surprise.
“She is?” He breathed.
Blake reached down to scratch Myrtle behind the ears, nodding. “Yeah, her daughters too.”
Schofield tangled his fingers through the grass underneath him, heart swelling. “Can we go see them..? He asked, voice just above a whisper.
Blake smiled fondly down at him, and held out a hand that Schofield gratefully took. Neither pull their hand away once Schofield stood.
“Yeah, and you're all welcome to stay here with us. If you want.” Blake said as the two start for the house, Myrtle trotted after them.
Schofield squeezed Blake’s hand. “I think i’d like that.”