Wild with all regrets, p.10
Wild with All Regrets, page 10
“While you’ve been dead, you mean? Not much.” That was true.
Jamie was just smiling. “Christ, I missed you,” he whispered, wrapping his transparent arms around Lucas’s thin frame. There was something like love in his eyes, desire almost. That was more than enough to tell Lucas that none of this was real.
At the back of his mind, Lucas wondered if maybe this was a second chance for him. For them. Don’t be an idiot, Lucas. He’s not like you. Jamie had never felt that way for him, never had, never would.
1917
Part of the problem was that Jamie was so clever, and so driven; it was quite likely that he was hiding the severity of his impairment, even from Lucas. He was irritable for a start, not sleeping, barely eating, his hands shaking violently whenever he was alone.
They’d been in a shelter together, waiting out a bombing when Jamie’s facade started to crack—he squealed like a child and sobbed, clutching at Lucas, rocking back and forth, eyes staring at nothing as he rode out the worst of it. Even as the noises outside subsided, Jamie couldn’t get control of himself; he hiccupped rather than breathed, his whole body convulsing with fear.
“Jamie,” Lucas soothed, stroking his hair, trying to get him to respond, to hear. “Jamie, I’ve got you.”
But he was miles away, trapped in his nightmarish dungeon of fear. It was hours before he was lucid, before he could even see that Lucas was with him. His whimpers quieted, his heart slowed, and he looked up at Lucas as though seeing him for the first time. Jamie remembered nothing, thought nothing was wrong. All he wanted was to go back out to the men, to support them as best he could through this battle, through the next.
“Jamie, we need to talk to someone. You need some time away from the front lines. You can’t keep going on like this.”
Jamie wasn’t listening; Jamie wouldn’t hear any of it. He couldn’t accept his mental deterioration. His men needed him after all, he’d given up a lot to be here. It had to mean something, right?
So, Lucas did the only kind thing he could think to do, which was to go above Jamie’s head.
It wasn’t an easy thing for him. He’d never gone behind Jamie’s back before, never defied him, but Lucas was going to lose him at this rate. He knocked on the Colonel’s door and bowed his head as he entered.
“Private Connolly.” Lucas was surprised the man knew his name. “What is it?”
“I . . . I’m a little concerned about Lieutenant Murray.” He pulled off his hat and fiddled with it. “He’s a good man. A great man actually—he’s smart and he’s careful and—”
“Private. Get to the point please, there’s a war on.”
Lucas swallowed. “I think he has shell shock, sir. He’s not himself. He’s not thinking clearly; I’m worried he’s gonna get hurt.” Or—or hurt someone else.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, he—he keeps forgetting things— he’s panicking a lot more than he used to. I can’t get talk sense into him. It’s like I’m not there sometimes and it’s not . . . it’s not like him.” Lucas licked his lips. “I was thinking maybe he could go to a casualty clearing station to get checked out. Maybe get some help. He’s a good officer, Colonel. He’s just not at his best right now.”
“I see. I’ll look into it. Thank you for your concern, Private.”
Lucas watched as the Colonel observed James Murray. The way his brows creased when Jamie crumpled to his knees with a scream, the way he locked himself in his quarters during the worst parts of the shelling, emerging with red eyes and white skin, shaking, his back ramrod straight, his gait unnatural. The examination of his behavior was brief, but apparently it was enough.
Jamie was informed the next morning he was being sent to the Casualty Clearing Station for assessment, and with wild eyes he backed himself up against a wall. “I don’t need to go to medical!” he barked.
“It’s all right Lieutenant. There have been some concerns about you. We’re going to look you over, nothing serious, no disciplinary actions in the works or anything like that. Come along, now.”
“No! I’m fine! Who? Who told you I wasn’t!?”
“Relax, Lieutenant.” The man put his hands on Jamie and gripped him tightly. “It’s just for a check. Relax.”
Jamie’s eyes went wide, he thrashed his body to free himself. “Get off me! I’m fine! Fucking—get off me!”
Lucas couldn’t watch this. “Let him go. Please.” He touched Jamie’s arm. “It was me, Jamie. I told them. Please, please let them help you.”
Lieutenant Murray stopped struggling, and he looked down at Lucas with cold, distant eyes. Without a word, he let himself be loaded into a vehicle.
Lucas’s heart ached as he watched him leave. He briefly considered shooting himself in the foot so he could be with Jamie while he recovered, but realized such a plan could spectacularly backfire. Angie would see right through such a stupid wound.
Instead, he waited and prayed that Jamie would come back, his mind whole again. Jamie was temporarily replaced with some young upstart who lacked the experience and the character to lead anyone into anything, and morale had plummeted.
“Nice work, ass! Getting Murray carted off, yeah? The hell you thinking?”
“New guy’s a piece of work. Gonna get us all killed cause Connolly’s a rat.”
“Murray was doing his best! Alright, he’s a bit of a princess sometimes, but . . . Christ, rich boys are just . . . fragile. No shame in it, no need to ship ’em up to casualty clearing just for that.”
Lucas kept his head down and bore the fallout. These men didn’t know Jamie like he did, they didn’t know how much he’d changed in Belgium.
Even so, he too was suffering terribly with Jamie’s absence. He ate alone, he slept alone; he just bided his time until Jamie came back. Christ, something funny would happen and his first damned instinct was to run over and tell Jamie about it. Obviously, that wasn’t possible. Now, more than ever, he did his best to survive, knowing how badly Jamie would take it if Lucas were killed in his absence.
God, he missed him. War was no fun without Jamie; nothing felt like it had a purpose anymore. Whenever he had a free moment, he fretted about him—how he was, if he was getting better, if he was angry at Lucas for doing this. Shit.
It took a few weeks, but soon enough Jamie was declared once again fit for service and returned to his old squad. Lucas’s heart leaped when he saw him.
“Heya, how—”
Jamie wasn’t smiling at him; he gave Lucas a distasteful look.
“What is it, Private?” he asked coolly. Jamie had never called him private before. Hell, he’d never called him anything other than his name or some equally friendly pet name. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, Jamie hated him.
“I . . . I wanted to see if you were feeling better,” Lucas stammered.
“It would appear I am, otherwise, they wouldn’t have let me come back. Is that all?”
“Yes, Lieutenant.” It hurt. Getting beaten by his father never hurt like this. He felt like the hole in his stomach would kill him. He traipsed back to his cot and sat down, head in his hands. He’d known this was a risk; he’d known that undermining Jamie was a great way of pissing him off. But he’d made a judgment call that Jamie needed help, no matter what it cost. Still, after so many years of friendship, it cut Lucas to the core to see Jamie treating him like a stranger. He took a deep breath and tried calming himself. At least he knew where Jamie was now; at least he could protect him again. Had he been wrong? Could Jamie have managed on his own? Perhaps he coddled Jamie a little too much, worried a little too much. Jamie was a grown man, right? He could handle these things, surely.
A new round of shelling had just begun. Lucas raced to his station and prepared himself for battle. He had his rifle cocked and ready, but his heart wasn’t really in it. He peered through the muddy trench at Jamie, seeing how he reacted to the descending chaos. The Lieutenant kept a level head. He barked out orders, and people seemed to be listening to him. Good. Good.
Just beside Jamie, a soldier took a bullet in the face and went down silently, blood and brains gushing from his skull onto the Lieutenant’s boots. Jamie’s eye twitched and he stepped away, taking a deep breath but maintaining his demeanor. It went on like this for what seemed like hours, until gradually the sun began to set. Lieutenant Murray assigned a night watch and retired to his small room, which Lucas had kept spotless for him in his absence.
Lucas retired to his own little cot once more.
“Good to have the Lieutenant back, eh?” Seamus Kelly was yammering on again. Lucas tried to tune him out. He was about Jamie’s age and seemed well suited for combat. He never shut up about his blasted girlfriend, though, which had Lucas convinced that he was going to die any second now because that was a very common theme in literature as far as he could tell. He had an enviable mustache and a prominent jaw, and for some reason he’d made it his mission in life to befriend Lucas by any means necessary. Maybe he just wanted to get close to the Lieutenant.
“Aye. Have you talked to him?” Lucas replied dully, glad to harvest any little tidbits on Jamie he could get.
“Not really, idiot, we had a bloomin’ battle to get through. Not much time for gabbing, really. Why? Christ, look at the state of you, you’re more of a mess now that he’s back than when he was gone!”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Would if I could, boyo, it’s been a hell of a long time, true enough. But I just mean, you’ve been pining for your pal all this time, he’s sour at ya for sending him up the loony way, go bloomin’ talk to him ’fore I smash your head in. The more time you allow to come in between ye’, worse it’ll be, I reckon, so get your melancholy ass in that pretty boy’s bunker and leave me to my thoughts. I’ve got to write to Winnie anyway, she’ll be wondering how I am, so she will.”
Lucas acquiesced and made his way through the rotten trenches to the Lieutenant’s room. The ground squelched under his feet, and he tried to ignore the idea that there were rats and worms burrowing through their belongings every night. The whole place reeked of piss, blood, sweat, and death. He hated being here. It reminded him too much of the cesspool he’d crawled out of in Dublin, and it had been so much worse when Jamie had been away.
He let himself in; he never usually knocked.
“Private, this is an officer’s quarters. You do not come in without knocking, and you need to get back to your bunk,” Jamie said, not even looking at him.
“Like hell I do.” Lucas moved behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Jamie. I’m sorry I went behind your back. I’m sorry I got you sent to medical, I was just really, really scared for you, and I didn’t know what else to do. I thought I was going to lose you . . . and maybe I already have.” He shut his eyes. “Tell me to go. Tell me to leave again, and I will.”
He felt Jamie’s warm hand envelop his own and he let himself relax.
“You shouldn’t have gone behind my back. You should have told me you were worried.”
“I did tell you, you dafty. You didn’t listen, you didn’t believe me. I didn’t know what else to do.” He spun Jamie’s chair around and knelt down in front of him, taking his hand. “What would you have done, if it were me having the shell shock? If I was having memory lapses, night terrors, panicking while on duty, and I said it was fine. If you thought I was gonna get shot, that you were gonna lose me . . . What would you have done, Jamie? What would you have done to protect me?”
Jamie nodded and gave Lucas’s fingers a squeeze. “I know you’re right. It was just humiliating. To be treated like a mental patient, kid gloves on and all . . . I worry the men don’t think as much of me anymore, but I know you’re right. I might have shot someone, I might have gotten us killed otherwise. I needed the time off; I can see that now. Thanks for looking out for me, pal. I’m sorry I was an ass to you.”
“You’re often an ass. I still choose to be with you, though, which I suppose makes me the idiot of the pair of us,” Lucas teased, pulling up a chair and sitting beside him. “So how was it? Tell me everything. I was so worried about you I was thinking about getting shot so I could make sure you were doing okay.”
Lucas, stop. He knew he sounded like a damned fool.
“It was all right. Quieter, for one. I think they were glad to see the back of me, though, I ended up bedding two of the nurses.” He laughed. “It’s not my fault, what do they expect to happen if they keep us away from women for months at a time! And besides, I’m hardly even maimed at all, the wee girls all found me quite smart, I think. Christ—I hope I didn’t catch anything.”
“You dafty,” Lucas repeated fondly. For a moment he imagined himself in Jamie’s lap, running his fingers through that golden hair. God, if only. “Just need some loose women to keep you sane, is that it?” Normally Jamie’s promiscuity bothered him, but . . . God, it was so damn nice to have him home.
“Seems like. Maybe we can have some sent to the front lines. Keep me straight. Although to be honest, I doubt they’d much care for trench life. Plus, women seem to get sick of me after a while; one of ’em slapped my sweet little face!”
Lucas laughed. “Why? What did you do?”
“Well, Shelby found out I was messing about with Abbie, and I suppose she found out somewhat directly as she walked in on the two of us, um . . . ” He blushed and shrugged. “’I think you’re as well as you’re gonna get, Murray!’ Shelby said, and she slapped me, and then Abbie must have realized why she was so cross and slapped me on the other side, didn’t even let me finish. It’s a shame, but to be sure I looked quite rosy.”
“You ever thought of monogamy, Jamie? I hear some people find that very attractive.” Christ, he was so lovely. He had missed this; his life had had no joy in it when Jamie was away.
“I’m not normally such a Casanova, you know! It’s extenuating circumstances! It’s not often I’m around women these days as it is, let alone when I’m apparently ‘suffering from mental duress.’” He shrugged, smiling at Lucas. “She didn’t even give me her surname. Guess she didn’t want me to write.”
“Is it possible you’re crap in bed?” he teased.
“I suppose you might be right, Lucas!” Jamie laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll have to ask the next one to critique my performance.”
Or you could sleep with me. I’ll give you a full report. But of course, Lucas didn’t say that.
“And how have you been, pal?” Jamie said pleasantly, slipping out of his chair and taking a seat on the floor beside Lucas. “Taking care of yourself?”
Obviously not. Lucas had bags under his eyes; his hair was a mess; he’d probably lost five pounds since the last time they saw each other.
Jamie tsked. “Have you been checking your feet, at least? Lucas, what am I going to do with you?” Jamie’s smile was warm and radiant as he nudged himself closer to his friend.
Lucas’s mouth went dry as he watched Jamie’s strong fingers work the knots of his bootlaces open, pulled back the tongue, slid the leather down and over his ankles. “Jamie— you don’t have to—”
“Nonsense.” Those blue eyes flicked up, encased as ever by the thick reeds of golden lashes. “We’re meant to check each other, no? Make sure we don’t get the dreaded trench foot?”
Jamie’s fingers slid up Lucas’s calf and hooked under the rim of his sock, slowly drawing it away from the pale flesh of Lucas’s distal appendage.
“Sod off!” Lucas almost kicked him, not wanting Jamie to get a whiff of his sweaty toes. “Jamie—!”
But Jamie only silenced him, a long finger to his soft lips, the edges nipped up in a smile. “Hush now. What are you worried about?”
“It— I haven’t had a chance to clean off and— I don’t—” He could feel his blush deepening, Christ, how embarrassing.
“Lucas.” Jamie’s hands skimmed down Lucas’s calf, to his ankle, up and over the arch of his foot, stopping at his toes. “There is no part of you that repulses me.”
Lucas wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t sure if his heart was beating or if he’d died while Jamie had been away. Was this heaven? Did heaven involve feet?
“Jamie,” he whispered.
“Lucas.” His beautiful eyes were dilated, his fingers fanned out over Lucas’s sickeningly pale leg. He licked his lips and moved his hands over to the other boot, starting the process once more.
Lucas could hear his heart in his ears. His blood was draining from his head in some unproductive direction; he could barely think straight. The knot flicked open, those hands, those hands . . . !
“Jesus, knock it off.” He stood abruptly, though his words lacked their usual bite. “Check your own damn feet, idiot.”
The spell was broken, and Jamie just smiled. “My feet are dainty and lovely, thanks.”
What the fuck had that been? Lucas didn’t want to know exactly what Jamie thought about him, if he knew deep down what he was. Jesus, he didn’t even want to think about it. It’d be like Danny all over again. He’d lose everything, everything that mattered. No, it was better to leave it unspoken. It wasn’t perfect, but they were together and that was all that counted.
As much as Lucas trusted Jamie, as much as he adored him, he knew better than to arm him with a secret like that. To encourage him when his mind wasn’t sound— to take advantage of him— Jamie would hate him, think him disgusting. He’d get him kicked out of the army, thrown out of the flat; he’d never want to see him again. It wasn’t worth the risk. Lucas didn’t want to jeopardize the only relationship in his life that mattered to him over something as trivial as love.
1912
Lucas awoke the next morning still tangled up in Jamie’s arms, hard as he’d ever been. Damn it. He dislodged himself and wished for the millionth time that he had some modicum of privacy; how was a man supposed to masturbate like this? He didn’t need much time, so he went into the communal hallway and wanked ferociously. Christ, lucky Jamie was a deep sleeper; that could have been problematic otherwise.
He went back into the house and realized they had almost nothing for breakfast; couple of eggs, bit of bread for seven people. Damn it. Maybe he could make some tea instead, since that would be better than nothing at least. Hell, he should have robbed Jamie after all, saved himself the humiliation of being a bad host.
