Chapter Text
Prologue
Wednesday 9th May 1945
The brightness of the room blinded him, so James kept his eyes closed as he attempted to orientate himself. Through the window, the warmth of amplified sunlight spilled onto his legs and despite the pleasant temperature, a sharp scent in the air pierced his lungs as he breathed in. Quiet murmurs floated across the room, and James could feel a pair of eyes resting on him. His own fluttered open. The sun drenched the walls in a bright white light, just as it does upon snow in the winter. After a moment, he could see a little clearer and began to make sense of his surroundings. He was lying in a bed with a white iron frame; an identical bed stood opposite him, and to the left, and the right. Hospital, James thought. I’m in hospital. A nurse rushed past, her blue skirt and white apron starched as stiff as her stoic expression. He looked across to see who had been staring down onto his bed. It was not his sister, nor a nurse. It was a man. Anthony.
“Captain!” exclaimed Anthony, softly of course, as was his nature. He perched on the edge of a black wooden chair to the right of the bed. A smile spread across his face, relieved.
James wanted to say something, but when he tried to formulate word on his tongue, he realised that his mouth was too dry, his throat begging for relief.
“Anthony, water,” he managed to whisper hoarsely.
“Of course, sir.” Anthony carefully poured water from a glass jug resting on the side table.
James smiled at his use of proper address, even when there was no-one but them to hear. He tried to think of the last time Havers had used his true name, and vague snatches of memory resurfaced in his mind. How dare you! He cringed as he remembered what had taken place when he was last awake. Trying to pass himself off as the bally hero! No, he could not bring himself to think of any more events from that day.
A glass of water held up to James’ lips created a grateful distraction from his unwelcome thoughts. Taking a sip and swallowing carefully, he became acutely aware of the effort it took to keep his head up, of how his limbs seemed to weigh as much as stone. He wanted more, but Anthony had taken the glass away.
“Not too much at once, sir. It will make you feel worse,” heeded the Lieutenant. Anthony wanted to care for James, just as he had done in the ballroom, but equally, he did not want to confuse or overwhelm him. He did not think his friend was completely aware of his surroundings, and so would likely remember very little from the previous day.
“I want to know—” James began, desperately summoning the energy to speak. Before he could finish, Anthony had interrupted.
“I want to know what the bally hell you were thinking, Captain,” he scolded. “If it were up to them, they would have left you on the ground to die – you certainly made a great number of army officers angry, and if I didn’t know you to be such a well-meaning chap, I certainly would have associated myself with that party.” His brow furrowed and he returned to his usual temperate tone. “It was a bloody reckless thing to do, sir, and I should like to know your reasoning.”
James closed his eyes again. What was Havers talking about? He knew that Major Cartwright and another officer had interrogated him. Where though? And why?
Oh. Thought James. Button House. He went there to find Anthony. That’s why. He turned his head slowly to look at his companion. Havers was looking expectantly back at him. How long had he been thinking for? Overcome with fatigue, he turned away and closed his eyes.
“James?”
“I needed to see you,” he muttered, before succumbing to sleep.