1917 fanfiction ''The Aftermath'' (Complete)

''The Aftermath'' Fanfiction story part 2

January 16, 1919

Schofield stares at his old uniform, the pain shown in his face. He wore it to every battle he went in, not knowing if he'd ever make it out alive. He stares at the brass wound stripe on his left sleeve and touches it, same for the old Lance Corporal chevrons adorn to it. There used to be holes in it, more than he'd ever meant to cause, but his wife managed to sew it before the funeral. He touches the fabric. He hears footsteps behind him as he turns around, facing his wife in her black dress. She wears a hat with a concession of some subdued paler mauve colour. She walks over to him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

''I am beyond relieved that you are back with us.''

Her hand trails down his back. He looks over his shoulder at her. He doesn't know what to say, which makes her turn around him to stand in front of him. She looks at the patches on his uniform. He made a promotion from Lance Corporal to Corporal.

''I love you to the depth and breadth and height, William. There is nothing like distance to stoke my proudness and love for you. Your absence only made my heart grow fonder.''

His expression is slightly conflicted, but he forces on a smile. For her. She kisses his cheek as she cradles the back of his head. She feels the scar and looks at him.

''Oh William...''

He moves her hand away; she feels the scar on the palm of his hand. She turns his hand the other way and gasps slightly. Her eyes meet his. He has a lot more explaining to do, but he shakes his head. Now's not the time. She nods understandingly. She helps him with his uniform and watches him. Her eyes beam a little.

''It makes you even more handsome and dashing.''

He gives her yet another small smile as she squeezes his hand. She then leaves him be. He sits down on the bed and feels weird being at home, wearing his uniform. In front of his eyes, he sees the bloodied battle of the Amiens happening. He hears gunshots, sees shrapnel flying everywhere. Hundreds of men get hit by his command. He led them into dangerous and deadly situations. He thought he was ready for the task at hand, that he could do what Joseph did, but he couldn't. His hands tremble slightly as he breathes heavily. Though the voices of his daughters snap him out of it as they run inside. They both take one of his hands and pull him outside. It's time to go bid farewell to Blake. As they arrive, Joseph stands in the doorway of the church, thanking those who come for their presence. He looks tired, his eyes filled with sorrow and misery. Though when he sees Sco, he can't help but smile. They shake hands as Joseph puts a kind hand on his shoulder. He kisses Sco's wife's hand and kneels to greet the girls.

''I will go find us a seat'', she tells him with a kiss to the cheek.

She takes their daughters' hands and walks away. Sco scans the church, there aren't that many soldiers present. Only a couple he recognises from Joseph's division. Then he spots Sergeant Sanders. Even he came to show his respects. He turns back to Joseph.

''I know it may be a lot to ask, but you served with my brother in the time I never saw him. Could you say a few words about him?''

That leaves Sco baffled. He hadn't prepared anything; he couldn't bear the thought of talking in front of people he didn't know if it wasn't him giving orders. But seeing Joseph's hopeful eyes makes him unable to refuse. He nods, his hand trembles again, though he hides it from Joseph.

''Thank you, Will. It means a great deal to me and my mother. And to Tom.''

Tom. Hearing his first name made it all too real. He always called him Blake; it was common to do so during war, calling soldiers by their last names. Joseph closes the church doors behind them as he guides Sco to the front. Sergeant Sanders looks up as he recognises Sco. They briefly shake hands before he sits down. The funeral celebrant stands in front of the church, next to an empty coffin. On top of it stands a black and white photo of Blake, next to it the family photo Sco withdrew from his left pocket when he was dying. He swallows as he can't help but stare at that photo. Of course, this one wasn't the one Blake carried. He put it back where he withdrew it from, covered in blood. If only he knew what had happened to Blake's body. As the funeral celebrant talks on, he shifts his focus back to the empty coffin and hears how the man starts to speak about the kind of guy Blake was to his family and friends. He hears the soft sobbing of Blake's mother; Joseph holds her hand. He hears the word 'Lance Corporal' and looks back at the man who presides over the memorial service. It doesn't take long after that before Joseph takes it over. He stands in front of the coffin as the funeral celebrant steps aside. He sighs deeply before he takes a small note from his pocket.