Honey, Honey...

Prologue ★

1908, London

He was about 18 years old when she left Walford, and as he wiped the angry tears from his eyes, he vowed he'd never let this happen to his family every again.

He watched as Honey Edwards, just turned 16 years old, and barely above his shoulder, was dragged away by her brute of a father, her face equally tear stained as his own, but additionally sporting the tell tale bruises of an abusive upbringing. Her voice, with its sweet Posh lilt she'd picked up from her mother, was lost in the wind as she cried for him. She was his soul mate; it was a simple fact that everyone who knew them understood.

Young Jay Mitchell hated himself for not being able to protect his best friend, her cries for him diminishing as the expanse of ground between them increased. He cursed himself, thinking of all the times he'd failed Honey, or Bee as they called her, in her short life, and his only slightly longer one - the bruises, the cuts, the days long absences when she and her brother, William promised to meet him and his brothers, and only William had arrived. "Bee is ill..." he'd say, and they'd know what he was talking about.

Her infectious giggles, long curling hair and blue eyes that could rival only his own disappeared over the Square in a blink of an eye. Honey Edwards was gone.

Again he vowed, this would never happen again. His heart was broken for the girl who loved to run bare-foot through the fields, who could ride a horse to rival himself, who was well and truly meant to be his.

August 1918, The Battle of Amiens

The new troops arrived, and Sergeant Major Jay Mitchell tried to hold in a sigh of bitter disappointment. The new chaps looked as awful as he felt, their strained faces coated in dirt and blood, their cheeks hollow and eyes haunted. The rumours had been circulating that this particular group men had fought in the Somme battles, to name a few, and looking at them, Jay Mitchell could believe it.

They filed silently past him, each with the same look of resigned hopelessness in their eyes, avoiding his gaze just as he avoided theirs. This legion was supposed to boost his Corps , help with moral. How on this God forsaken earth were they going to do this?

The last man in the line, stumbled past him, frighteningly small and young looking. Jay frowned; they needed men, not children. He caught the eye of the young boy, and almost stepped back in shock, as eyes, perhaps even bluer than his own stared back at him, widening before they immediately lowered, respectfully looking down at the muddy ground.

The men disappeared around a roughly dug out corner before he could get his scrambled mind together. It may have been 9 or so years, but he would remember those eyes anywhere. What the actual fuck was Honey Edwards doing in the trenches? Jay made it his mission to find her, but she remained elusive the rest of the day, fulfilling her duties as any other soldier.

Finally, night began to fall, and Jay could hear the gunfire starting to dissipate above them, thankful for the slight reprieve from the relentless noise. He sat in the area that had been assigned as the mess, and took out the tiny picture he kept hidden in his shirt pocket. It's edges were tattered and torn, but it was her. His Honey.

It meant that she hadn't been killed at the hands of her father, as he'd feared. They just had to survive this goddamn war, and then he could whisk her away, they could pick up where they left off, and live their lives as they were supposed to be before she was torn from him.

Surely this war must come to an end, thought Jay, as he nursed his final last sips of rationed alcohol, trying to get it to last him as long as he could. He knew what the alcohol meant. It was only given to them before they were to go over the top, to steady the nerves. Jay swallowed thickly, trying to stop the bile that rose in his throat as he thought about what was to come, what he had already done. He sighed in frustration, placing the empty cup down on the make shift table beside him harder than he'd intended to.