1917, SINCERELY YOURS

in flanders fields the poppies blow

WILLIAM CAUGHT SIGHT of her in the corner of his eye and in just the exact same way he had seen her the first time, a figure that he passed by at first but then he just had to look back at. Except this time his neck didn't ache when he did it and the blood didn't rush out of his head when he tried to rise up.

William was against a tree but it was just as harsh as that camp bed he had been lying in not even nine months ago. It felt like a lifetime ago, he felt like Clarice had been with him for so much longer.

"Do you know her or somethin," Tom asked from beside him noticing Will's movement as he wiped his nose, "You know, like from before. Cause you look at her like you know her and she looks at you like she knows somethin."

Will would have smiled at the tone Tom used in his voice, it was like he was sixteen again and just waiting for a stolen second glance in the street and then he remembered that had been Tom's life just a couple of years ago and Will didn't feel like smiling, not even at her. His youth was over long before he came to the war and still Tom clung onto his.

She was supporting a young man around his waist as he struggled to learn how to walk with just one crutch and one leg. Will watched her, she hadn't noticed him yet and he saw a look in her eyes that he knew well; heartache. Her companion was young, too young, Will thought as she led him over to some of his platoon that greeted him like he had was Jesus resurrected, which with an injury like that, he practically was.

Clarice said something to them and the boy chuckled slightly, Will didn't need to see his cheeks go red to feel the boy blushing as he removed his arm from around her neck. She was shorter than him, so much so an inch smaller and she would have been able to rest her chin on the crutches. Will hadn't realised that before.

"You know you never talk about back home." Tom commented, not necessarily trying to get Will's attention.

"You say 'you know' a lot, you know." William turned his attention to his friend. What Tom had said wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

Tom laughed but Will couldn't really understand why, "You know," Tom said with a smirk playing on his lips, he kicked Will's bicep lightheartedly, "You're a funny one."

When Will looked back up Clarice was looking straight at him and for one moment Will's whole world that he had fixed with broken stilts and paperclips came crashing down on him. Then she did something that should have cleared the rubble away but only made it deeper; she smiled at him. She had smiled at him before and it had been like sun beams pouring in between the debris but that was a lifetime ago. Now the smile didn't reach her eyes.

Will debated about what to do for a moment but he didn't need that long, the moment she raised her hand his decision was made.

"I knew it," Tom continued as William placed his helmet to one side and began to hoist himself up, "You do know her," William brushed the dirt off his uniform, "See I have a sixth sense about these things, you know."

"If that helps you sleep at night Blake." William decided not to put on his helmet again and straightened himself up, wiping his noise on the back of his hand as he began walking away.

Clarice felt the familiar faster beat of her heart, it seemed to have been working overtime every day since she came to the Western Front and today was no exception. She felt for the contents of her pocket, it was there and she tightened her hand around it for only a second before it became unbearable and she took her hand out.

"Nurse Wallace," William greeted her presenting his hand, "Wish I could say it is always a pleasure."

Clarice regarded his hand and it was just like the last time she had seen it. His fingernails were black around the edges, callouses had formed on his palm and the dry skin stretched as he extended it; a soldiers hand. Yet Clarice knew it was a test and one she could never pass.