April 21st 1940
The Captain walked downstairs, aiming to grab some food from the kitchen before returning to his work. It had been a long day of drills again. A run this morning, three laps of the house with the Eleven as a whole, then shooting.
They'd done some hand to hand combat work, as well as attempting another three laps around the house with equipment on their back.
That last one had been Havers' suggestion. He'd been talking to his sister again. Her husband had had to do something similar recently, evacuating the trenches with as much equipment as possible due to the severity of bombs.
It was always safer to come back to reclaim the territory later with more reinforcements than it was to lose three hundred men in one night. That loss could've been detrimental.
The Captain was glad that Havers had suggested it. He had even taken part himself, wanting to push himself despite his creaking and cracking joints.
The Captain undid the cuffs of his shirt sleeves and pushed them up to his elbows. Crumbs and stains wouldn't do. He was supposed to set an example for his inferiors.
He could hear singing coming from the common room as he gathered a few things to make a sandwich. It took several seconds for it to become clear enough for the Captain to recognise, but when he did, his heart sank.
"Happy birthday to Havers, happy birthday to you!"
There were cheers and hurrahs and enough noise to think a whole battalion was packed wall to wall inside the common room.
The Captain hadn't even known it was Havers' birthday today. It had never come up. But the others all knew.
He fought to stop feeling so sorry for himself. If Havers didn't want to tell him something, he didn't have to. He owed the Captain nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.
One drunken kiss in an Anderson shelter shouldn't be used as evidence of something.
It was time he enforced that thought.
They were both drunk, and scared, and far too high on adrenaline to think properly. Neither of them had agreed upon entering anything with each other. As far as either of them knew, the other didn't even remember.
It was best left that way.
The Captain was pulled out of his thoughts by a sharp feeling on the skin just below his thumb. He focused and realised that a four-inch-long gash was welling up with blood.
Dammit. He must've gotten a bit too close when slicing cheese.
He cursed under his breath and grabbed some thick kitchen paper to press to the wound before pulling away from the counter and leaving the kitchen.
He headed straight for the cupboard in the entryway that held various first aid kits.
His hands shook as he fumbled with drawers and zips, having to put down the already bloody kitchen paper to regain use of his hands again.
Thank the Lord I took left my jacket upstairs, the Captain thought.
He couldn't abide the idea of getting blood on it. Shirts, he could get blood out of, but the thick material of his jacket was much harder to work with.
"Captain?"
"Evening, Havers." The Captain called over his shoulder, finally finding a pack of bandages and gauze. "Don't mind me. I'm not making a racket, am I?"
"No, sir, not at all," Havers replied, his voice closer now. "I was just about to come and find you.
Are you okay? What are you looking for?"
"I have a small cut. I wasn't paying enough attention to what I was doing, nicked myself with a knife while making a sandwich."
"Let me see."
"That's not necessary, Havers." The Captain protested.
"Cripes, sir, that's not a small cut at all!" Havers gaped, finally standing beside the Captain.
"It's only because I haven't cleaned it yet. The blood makes it look worse than it is."
"Then you'll need antiseptic wipes and an extra pair of hands to help cover it properly."
Havers immediately began pulling packs from drawers, knowing which bags held which provisions.
"Havers-"
"If you don't wrap it right, it can get infected. If the infection gets bad enough that it can't be treated with medicine, then they'll have to take more drastic measures. It can take time to relearn everyday things. Forgive me, sir, but you hardly need more work on your plate. You're dripping."
"What?" The Captain said, taken aback by the final sentence. Havers nodded to the Captain's hand.
"Your hand. It's dripping blood."
The Captain looked to find a few droplets of blood already on the floorboards, coming straight from his hand.
He cursed again, reached for the paper and pressed it to his hand again. "I'll have to wipe that up before it soaks into the floor."
"I'll do it once I'm finished with your hand."
"You don't have to. I'm more than capable."
"You need some time off." Havers insisted. "Right, into the kitchen. Grab a seat."
"Remind me, who's the captain here?"
"When it comes to medical issues, me," Havers answered, a hint of a laugh in his voice. "I was a volunteer in the St John's Ambulance Brigade for a few years before I joined the forces."
"Were you? I didn't know that!"
"I was thinking about being a doctor for a while. But my father always wanted me to follow in his footsteps. He was in the army as well. He was a Wing Commander in the RAF."
"Goodness. How come you didn't join the RAF if that's where your father went?" The Captain asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Havers pulled out another seat and sat beside him, facing the Captain and beginning to unpack everything he needed.
"I'm terrified of heights," Havers said.
The Captain tilted his head, trying to figure out if it was a joke. "Surely, you're not being serious."
Havers seemed invincible, an impenetrable force of bravery. Everything a respectable member of the forces should be.
"Oh but I am." Haves nodded, cutting some bandages with a pair of small scissors from one of the packs. "My father took us all on a holiday to Snowdonia when Louisa and I were children. He wanted to take us up Mount Snowdon itself, and I wouldn't have a moment of it. I collapsed right in the middle of the trail, burst into tears, and my mother had to carry me back down again while Father and Louisa carried on to the peak. We stood by this lovely lake and ate some of our picnic until I calmed down. That was the nice part of the day."
"How old were you?"
"Gosh, only about seven or eight," Havers said. "But the sight of being so high up seemed ever so scary. It stuck with me my whole life, and I get awfully shaky whenever I think about going abroad by plane. It has to be by boat, or I can't go at all. It's like I freeze up and can't breathe if I even consider it."
"It's that debilitating?"
Havers nodded and held out his hand. "If you don't mind passing me your hand, sir, I'll get it cleaned up now." The Captain put the paper aside, letting Havers take his hand and start wiping it with a small square of an antiseptic wipe.
He hissed slightly and heard Havers murmur an apology. The Captain gave himself a few moments to enjoy the feeling of Havers holding his hand, fingers gently cupping it. His pinky was pressed up against the pulse point in the Captain's wrist, and he was sure Havers would be able to feel it slowly picking up.
But his hand was warm, and fit just right, equal parts firm and gentle. It was Havers all over.
"What about you, sir?" Havers asked absently. "Any silly fears like me?"
"I'm deathly afraid of the dark." The Captain responded immediately.
"What brought that on?" Havers asked, glancing up into the Captain's eyes for a second, a small smile on his face.
"It was a childhood fear. But my brothers made it worse when I was about ten years old. They snuck into my room when my back was turned and I was playing, turned the lights off and plunged me into darkness. I screamed the house down, and they held the door shut, leaving me trapped in there until our parents came to help."
"Siblings are little terrors, aren't they? Here, hold this in place," Havers pressed the gauze against the Captain's skin and he used his free hand to keep it in place while Havers gathered the bandage.
"Louisa is younger than me by three years, and she would always get away with everything."
"I would've loved a sister rather than two brothers." The Captain said wistfully. Havers grinned and shook his head.
"You wouldn't be saying that if you had one."
There were a few seconds of silence and the Captain watched in fascination as Havers deftly wrapped the bandage around his thumb, stretching it and expertly covering the entire cut a few times over.
"Happy birthday, by the way." He said when Havers was almost finished wrapping his thumb. "I would've organised something nice with the others if I'd known."
Havers delayed in finishing the task, looking up at the Captain. "You heard the singing?" The
Captain paused before nodding slowly. "Was that what distracted you?" The same response came.
"I should've asked before, but it never came up. And it would've been incredibly unprofessional. I didn't want to cross a boundary-"
"It's okay, sir." Havers interrupted. "I understand. I didn't want to put any pressure on you. That's why I didn't say anything. I know you're busy, and birthdays aren't that important in the grand scheme of things."
"I'll endeavour to make it up to you next year." The Captain promised. "I promise."
Havers smiled sadly. "The war might be over by that point, sir. What then?"
"Then we shall have to keep in contact." The Captain said. "If that's appropriate and ... agreeable for you?"
"It's more than agreeable, sir." Havers nodded. "When is your birthday, if you don't mind my asking?"
"5th November."
"Bonfire Night?" The Captain nodded. "You joined us last year when we had a few drinks in the common room. You never said anything!"
"It wasn't important. And being with you all was like a birthday celebration anyway. Even if you didn't know I share a birthday with the night we celebrate a failed coup by burning a recreation of the mastermind on a bonfire." The Captain shrugged, a small smile appearing.
Havers grinned. "Well, I'll endeavour to remember yours as well, sir." He finished wrapping up the Captain's thumb, tied it off and began to pack things away.
"Thank you, Havers." The Captain said.
"It was my pleasure, sir."
"Were you really coming to find me when you left the common room?" He asked after a pause.
"Of course. I was going to bring some cake up for you. Offer a drink, that sort of thing. Would you like to come and join us? We hardly see you anymore. Well, I do, I know. But it'd be nice for everyone else as well."
The Captain hesitated, unsure as to whether his presence would be too much of a burden.
He felt the weight of his existence so heavily, and he hated the idea of some of that weight being transferred onto other people. He would much rather carry it on his own.
But it was Havers' birthday, and the Captain looked at him, saw the small glimmer of hope in his eyes.
How could he say no to those eyes?
"Alright. Just one drink."