The Way Back Home: A 1917 Fanfic

Chapter 27: Wings

April 24th, 1917

Express to Waterloo Station

"Slow down, my love. You don't want to give yourself a stomachache." William Schofield cautioned the woman who sat opposite from him in the dining room car as they both finished their lunch. As relieved as he was to see her eating a full meal and having her hunger satisfied, he didn't want to see her become ill as she had been on the channel ferry returning to England from the shores of France.

Those two days on the boat had been torturous for his beloved Amelia and he had been by her side every minute as she suffered from seasickness, cradling her hands in his and holding back her lovely waves of Blonde hair, making sure she had water and at least some morsels of food in her rebellious stomach as she was left bedridden from the mal-de-mer.

The last thing both of them needed was a repeat of that before arriving in Surrey.

Amelia drank the last of her milk and sat the glass down by her plate before wiping her lips with her napkin. "Will, don't be so worried. Would you rather I not eat and become thin and bony?"

"Not! I'd rather see you healthy and full of energy than weak and sick like you were before." William set aside his plate on the table so he could reach over and lay his arm on the wooden surface, holding out his hand for her to hold. "I don't mean to offend you in any way, Amelia."

His voice had lowered into a soft murmur as Amelia reached out her hand and laid it within his gentle grasp. Joseph Blake's bracelet tied with Thomas' rings laid on her wrist in plain sight where he could see them, his eyes locked on the trinket around the delicate joint of her arm.

Amelia Noticed Will eyeing her bracelet with Thomas' rings tied to it. As though she were reading his mind, Amelia knew many questions were building up in her soldier's brain and she knew this topic couldn't be avoided forever and that she needed to answer his questions eventually. William raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles. His other hand, the scarred one from the barbed wire, laid atop hers, his fingers delicately stroking along her wrist where her pulse vibrated within her veins.

Such strength and fire inside this petite, lovely woman who had endured even more horrors than he could imagine from his limited perspective as a soldier and a modest Englishman.

Good Lord, he would never grow tired of kissing or caressing her as long as he lived...

And yet, despite the adrenaline he felt from his euphoric adoration of the girl sitting before him, he still felt the painful stab of fear at the thought of her suddenly disappearing and being sent back to this mysterious 21st century, and back within arms reach of that German monster of her nightmares, Kurt Jäger. This disgusting wretch of a man who terrorized and forced himself into her home and drugged her against her will... and God knows what else.

And here William thought he possessed a genuine hatred for her father, who had broken her hand when she was a small child but that hatred soon changed after Amelia told him about all the horrible things that Kurt did to her.

How badly he wanted to believe Amelia's words from earlier when she had told him she could deal with Kurt alone, when and if she would return to her era.

If she was harmed and he wasn't there to protect her... or worse...

The mere thought of his beautiful Amelia, her body devoid of warmth and motion, no breath exhaling from her sweet lips, her mouth never again forming words of love directed towards him, her heartbeat never pulsating life again through her veins... to never see her eyes open and sparkle again with their green brilliance, more stunning than the greenest hills of Flanders.