CHAPTER SONG: "Colorblind" by Counting Crows
"Emmy, they'll be departing with the ambulance soon to take you to the hospital. When the sun sets." Schofield re-entered the tent, clasping the flap closed to keep the chilled breeze from intruding.
A shiver of melancholic shock racked his spine as those words exited his mouth, reminding himself of the course of action taken with Thomas Blake, arguing with him in the safety of the trenches...
"Blake, we've got time to wait until the sun sets... we should wait until its dark."
"Scho, we've got no idea what we're walking into!"
He pushed the painful remembrance into the further recesses of his mind, keeping them subdued and able to focus on the present matter at hand: making sure Emmanuelle was taken away from this camp and her wellbeing was guaranteed in their separation.
Upon turning around, he was greeted with the sight of his American beloved sitting upright on her bed, holding the photographs from his tobacco tin, after he had left it in his chair by her bedside. Her brunette hair gathered up in an amateur bun tied with one of the strings from her loose white cotton shirt, a few stray strands framing her face, which had thankfully regained more color with her health improving.
His St. Christopher medallion hanged around her healing neck, dangled at the front of her shirt. A sweeping sensation of gratitude flowed through him at the notion that she was wearing such a precious possession of his without it being an obvious token of romantic affection.
Should anyone see her wearing it and ask her of its origins, they could make the assumption it was hers...
He noticed how she failed to look up at his entry into the tent, concern growing at the forefront of his turbulent emotions. Schofield slowly approached her bed, not wanting to startle her as she seemed concentrated on the photographs in her hands.
"Emmanuelle, what is it?" The lance corporal gently placed his un-bandaged hand upon her shoulder, alerting her to his presence.
Her vivid green eyes locked with his and he was aghast with the swirling whirlpool of emotions in their depths and the redness surrounding her irises as though she'd been silently crying to herself...
"William..." Her voice croaked with the dryness of her throat and it pained Schofield to hear such a sound coming from her throat, barely cured of its bruises. Had she not cried enough tears for one person in their whole lifetime?
"What's wrong, my love? Tell me." He sat by her side on the bed, his hands grasping onto her small wrists. Despite his question, he had an idea why she was upset.
He glanced down at her lap and saw the photograph of her, in modern day clothing and in bright Technicolor. She turned it over and showed him the date written in her own handwriting on the back.
November 11th, 1918.
"Will, I need you to tell me the truth." Emmy held her body up straight as she looked right into the eyes of her soldier. Her small fingers entwined with his much larger ones with one hand as she held the photograph of herself in the other for him to see. "If your love for me is true, then what I ask you about this picture will be answered to the best of your knowledge."
"Yes, absolutely." Schofield's voice carried an unbeatable conviction, and the time he took to respond held no hesitation. Yet, his heart dropped at the notion of her doubting what he felt for her after everything endured between them, together and apart...
He could hear the urgency and confusion in her tone, feel the trembling of anxiety in her hands and he wanted to make those feelings cease within her... He wanted to absorb the negativity violating her chance at hopefulness of escaping this war and keep them at bay at his own emotional expense.
He knew every aspect of her in his marrow and she knew just as much of him in the same capacity...
"How long have you had this picture?" She held it toward him and he held it in his hands. But his eyes only focused on her, keeping him determined to soothe the woman interrogating him even though his answers wouldn't warrant such a desired result.
"I found it in my tin only earlier today while you were resting. I was checking to see my belongings weren't soiled by the river and it was there amongst the photographs." He paused, anticipating her reaction to his answer.
Her lips were set into a frown as she stared into Schofield's eyes for any glint of deception. Even though it killed her on the inside to even think he would hurt her in such a manner.
A few long, agonizing seconds went by as she was assured that he wasn't lying to her nor had he ever been doing so.
Not him, not her hero who had risked life and limb to keep her from being another innocent casualty in this godforsaken war.
Schofield was telling the truth and his love for her was nothing short of genuine and unbreakable.
"You should never doubt what I feel for you." He had told her hours before with every fiber of his being; she had been able to feel it radiating from him, enveloping around her with only his words just as meaningful as when she had been held in his arms afterward, sitting in the shade of the lone tree in the grassy field and slumbering while the morning sun rose in the bright blue sky.
"Then...how did...?" She looked away from Schofield and back at the photograph as she took it back from him. "How did you get it? How did it get here in this time period? I don't understand what the hell is happening."
A tear streamed down from each of her eyes. Her hands grasped tightly onto the picture, clenching her fists and she felt the urge to rip it to shreds in anger.
Schofield moved his hands from Emmy's wrists to her hands, the edges of the pictures slightly cutting into his skin, insuring an addition of markings upon his palm as he tried to comfort her.
"Emmanuelle, I swear I have no idea how this picture of yours came into my possession." He took her face in between his hands, gently wiping away her tears with his thumbs. Her skin was heated with the pressure of her anger boiling within her and expelling through her tears. "But, please know that I won't leave you alone in this. We'll figure out what's happening together. And I won't retract the vow I made to protect you."
Emmy's hands loosened around the picture, leaving it wrinkled, but the image of her still intact. Inhaling a sharp breath to calm down, leaning forward to press her forehead to Schofield's. Exhaling through her nose, she closed her eyes, basking in the soothing presence of the man she loved. Their breathing synced with each other for several seconds, allowing their respective silence to speak for them.
Schofield's arms wrapped around her as he pulled her close, adjusting her to sit upon his lap; they were in the privacy of her tent and he was willing to let propriety be damned for these last few moments with her before their separation.
Emmy's hand reached up to his face, her fingers stroking his prominent cheekbone. She leaned up and pressed a grateful kiss to his lips, which he returned with all the tenderness that could exist within a human being.
She pulled away from him carefully, wanting more, but something in the form if an idea came to her slowly organizing mind. She pressed another gentle kiss to the skin of his neck that wasn't covered with his uniform collar, just below his jaw-line.
Her own lips curled into a satisfied smile at the sound he made, a growling sigh as she ceased kissing him. Though he was an honorable soldier and her courageous champion, he was still a man with basic needs. And she loved him all the more knowing he had forsaken any opportunity given to take advantage of being isolated with her for the majority of their journey.
"I love you, William Schofield. And that means I have to protect you too." She tore her eyes away from her Lance Corporal's face and to the date scribbled on the back of the picture, the ink blotched with her fingerprints from handling in such a careless manner.
"What do you mean, my love?" Schofield asked, his voice soft with concern with what may be going through her mind.
Bracing herself to stand up, she placed her booted feet on the grass, placing her hands on one of his knees to push herself into an upright position. Balancing on both legs despite the injury to one of them...
Schofield sat on the bed, his prepared hands cautiously reaching forward to catch her should she stumble.
"Give me your lighter. I need to burn this picture before anyone else sees it." She held out her hand, hoping against all odds he would listen. "This date that's on the back of it, you know I can't tell you what it means. For all I know, it could be meant to distract you and keep you from surviving this war, imagining if I would come back to you...if I ever find my way back home."
"When you find your way back, Emmanuelle." He stood up to his full height, towering over her slight frame, but knowing there was little hope in disobeying her. "If we don't know how this picture of you came to be with my personal artifacts, we can still take it as a sign of faith that you'll soon be home and you can return to your mother like you wanted."
He instantly wanted to bite back his words at mentioning her mother, knowing it was a sensitive subject for her. She hung her head and dropped her outstretched hand; before it could hang limp at her side, Schofield took ahold of her delicate hand, his lips softly kissing her knuckles before moving to do the same to her fingers.
"I don't want to upset you, my love." He attempted to assure her that this picture was meant to be more of an olive branch of things to come rather than a foreboding omen. "But this picture of you will be your way of protecting me without you being placed in actual danger."
He gently pulled her close so that she was leaning against his chest, her jade eyes looking up at him with deliberation of his words.
"What do you mean, Will?" She asked, the picture still clutched in her free hand. Her other hand was held still by one of Schofield's, wrapped in white scraps of bandage and healing, both his and hers joined together upon his breastbone, above his heartbeat. She worked in memorizing the feel of that rough brown fabric and how she had comfortably slept against it while in his arms.
"I mean that if I hang onto this photograph of you, I promise to keep it safe where it will be cherished with the other pictures of those I love. If...if I should begin to lose myself and dare forget the reason for even enlisting... all I'll have to do is look upon this image of you, smiling and innocent. I'll be reminded that there's still beauty and kindness in this world, something worth fighting for."
Emmy pondered his words to her, filled with staggering reality and context of his perception of being a soldier. And if she could possibly cope with the knowledge that from this point forward, she would be one of his motivations for staying alive for the next nineteen months until this dreaded war was over...
If she could keep him alive... what she would sacrifice for this man...
She leaned her cheek against his chest, their hands still locked. His heart continued to vibrate underneath the thick layers of his uniform. Her eyes closed and she smiled, finally coming to a decision for him.
"William, if it really means that much to you, having a picture of me, then you can hold onto it. Although, it likely doesn't hold as much value as your St. Christopher medallion." She raised her head up, looking into his eyes of misty blue. "Part of me thinks that this is just a crazy dream I'm having...and I'm gonna wake up any minute in my hotel room in London. And I'll be sad that you were just in my imagination, my honorable knight in a soldier's uniform."
Her free hand reached to caress his paled cheek again, Schofield closing his eyes in quiet bliss. This woman was going to send him into a downward spiral he knew, but he failed to be concerned. How he despised the concept of being apart from her, but he knew that God had placed her in his path for a reason... and he had to do the right thing by allowing her safety to be prioritized above his own happiness.
Her words caught him off guard within his thoughts. The image of Emmanuelle in her hotel room in a bustling city of London... She had been in England before somehow coming to this year in Flanders. Perhaps if he asked her now while they were alone, he could decipher if she recalled anything significant prior to being transported to that farmhouse.
"Emmy, before we're parted, I need to ask you." He took her hands in his before leading her to the bed so she could sit and rest her leg. "Before you awakened in the farmhouse, do you remember anything that may have importance to your arriving here?"
He tried to word the question carefully as he knelt before her on the grass. Schofield was hesitant to release her hands, knowing their time was running out to be together...
He awaited her response, gently stroking both sets of her tiny knuckles with his thumbs.
"I, um..." She cleared her throat, as though it were drying up. Schofield reached over to the barrel being used as an improvised table and grabbed the tin of water before placing it in her lap. Her trembling fingers unscrewed the lid and she drank a few gulps before regaining strength in her voice. Schofield's caring gaze never looked away from her face until she placed the water back on the barrel...
He waited with everlasting patience for her to speak again, never wavering to see what he could do to ease this situation for her...
"Before I arrived at the hotel that night...I went to a museum all about this war." She paused again, aiming to carefully work around any details. Any dates or information from the future, if he knew anything, even the meaning of the date written on the back of her picture, it could compromise his survival.
She had read enough books and watched enough television to know the potential chaos of time-travel and interacting with people from the past.
Hell, just by giving her heart to him, she was compromising his very life and she knew she had to be ashamed of it...
"Yes..." Schofield spoke, encouraging her to continue. His un-bandaged hand moved up toward her face, his fingers brushing away strands of her hair straying from behind her ears. To glimpse her for these last few moments before she was taken away from him...
He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked with her hair tied up, though exquisite as she was with it flowing down her back and before she had even properly bathed.
"I...I was in the gift shop and I was looking through a book with pictures of various soldiers from the battalion in this camp." She inhaled a deep breath and exhaled, gathering the drive to keep talking. "In one of the books, I saw a picture of you and Joseph Blake. You were telling him what happened to Tom and giving him his brother's belongings."
Tears welled up in her eyes at the memory just hours ago of Schofield's hand shaking that of Lt. Blake's, a noble gesture of gentlemanly thankfulness. She managed to blink them away and she fought the impulse to leap into her Lance Corporal's arms and bury her face into his neck like a frightened child would seek solace from a parent.
But she had to keep a brave face, but she didn't know how much more strength she had within her for the day remaining.
She could feel the distress radiating off of Schofield at the sight of her desiring to cry, but she held it all back. Emmanuelle kept recounting her tale of woe...
"I went to buy the book and leave the store before it closed...and I saw a picture of someone in the glass cabinet at the checkout desk." She paused again, trying to read her soldier's face for any indication that he was put off by her recollection. But he stayed with her, listening to every word she said.
"Who was it you saw, sweetheart?" He used that term again with her, implying without saying aloud that his concern was increasing, like a code word used only between the two of them.
"It was a picture of a woman...in a wedding dress from this decade." She inhaled another breath as she dropped the figurative grenade in his lap, anticipating his rage at her that she was insane. How she prayed to God for him not to push her away now.
"Who was the woman?" Schofield asked her, his voice low almost in a deathly silent whisper. His large hands held her upper arms as gently as possible, lightly squeezing them in reassurance.
The bile rose in her throat, but she pushed it back down.
And there arrived the evening hate...
"The woman was me. It was the last thing I saw before I passed out in the hotel room and woke up at the farmhouse. I saw myself in the mirror in that room in the exact same dress and wedding veil."
Schofield's eyes went wide with bewilderment as he absorbed her words, his mouth agape as though she had just explained everything to him in German.
"The picture was dated Christmas of 1918. After the date of the picture of me that you have now. The woman in the picture didn't have a name either, but she looked exactly like me. I...I don't know why, William. I...I just don't know."
She broke then, leaning forward and folding her arms around Schofield's neck. Her face buried into his shoulder as her tears soaked his uniform, her forehead scraped against the gold metal word of Surrey sewn into the coarse material he was wearing.
Schofield held her tightly to him, still shocked by her explanation of everything, but stood solemnly by his vow to her.
"Shhh, my love. Don't be scared. We'll figure it out, I promise." His whispers in her ear flowed into her frazzled brain.
Colonel MacKenzie's words from earlier came back to him as he held her close. About how if she didn't have the protection of the British Army, she would be left vulnerable to the Germans to do whatever they liked with her...
The gruesome image of her being strangled by the bastard Boche' pilot burned in his memory...
His ears perked up at the sound of male voices outside the tent, one of them thankfully mixed with that Lt. Blake's.
Schofield pulled away slightly as Emmy raised her head up from his shoulder. He kissed her forehead where it was reddened from the gold letters on his uniform sleeve.
The entry flap of the tent opened to reveal Joseph Blake, his striking face weary still from the earlier day's events, but a determination evident to his vibrant azure eyes.
Emmy silently wondered if all Englishmen had such blue eyes... But knew none had the wondrous shine of her Corp. Schofield.
"Ms. Hunterson, it's time to depart to the hospital." Lt. Blake locked eyes instantly with her as she hesitantly stepped out of Schofield's arms. A chill enveloped her despite the cotton shirt covering her torso and arms with the warming thread.
She froze in her spot on the grass, glancing back at Schofield as though asking if he thought she would be safe. The lance corporal went to gather her bag of supplies and carry them to the vehicle for her. He gave a nod of quiet approval to Lt. Blake and took a step forward while remaining behind her.
Emmy stood between the two men and she looked back at Lt. Blake as he waited for her to accompany him outside.
"Ms. Hunterson, we need to make haste." The lieutenant stepped forward to her and held out his hand for her to take. "The sooner we get started, the sooner we can get you to safety and you'll heal in a proper facility."
"Yes, Joseph." She still felt strange calling by his first name, but after the day endured, she could've cared less about formality. "I just...AHHH!"
She yelled in pain as her leg again enflamed with her injury and standing on it for so long. Lt. Blake, being closer to her, went to steady her as Schofield was also alerted to her plight.
"It's alright." Lt. Blake's arm went around her slight waist as he locked eyes with Schofield, seeing how he would react to another man placing his hands on this woman, if only to assist her. "It may not be ideal for you to walk, Miss Hunterson. One of us may have to carry you outside to the ambulance."
"That's fine." She groaned out, her arm going around Lt. Blake's shoulders. So long as the agony in her leg stopped... "I trust you, Joseph. If Will doesn't mind either."
"No, Emmy. He'll take you outside and I'll get your pack." Schofield assured her of no animosity between him and the lieutenant as Blake gingerly lifted up the young woman in his arms and made his way out of the tent.
Lt. Blake had volunteered to escort her to safety and Schofield trusted him with everything he had to do so.
As she was carried out of the tent, Emmy looked at him over Lt. Blake's shoulder. Her moistened lips mouthed to him and only for him, those divine words.
"I love you, Will."
"I love you, Emmy." He murmured softly, and she knew he meant it. Time could dare to challenge them now more than ever as her fate was now placed in the hands of his late comrade's brother.
His hands shakily placed her photograph back inside his tobacco tin and he closed the lid before sliding the container into his uniform tunic front pocket. If he wasn't able to physically protect her until he was on leave, he would at least safekeep the representation of her back in 2020. Her welfare was worth preserving, whether it was with him in this century or her own era one hundred years in this mysterious future, it mattered not.
It would be her choice and he would do everything possible to honor that as not as a soldier on an assignment, but as a man hopelessly in love.
And he daren't cause her more emotional harm by asking her to stay.