Between Wars Seven Days and Seven Nights Part 1 October 1795 aptain Hughes' announcement the next morning that the Light Company would be going on a seven-day march was greeted with a mixed reaction. Many of the men were displeased with Hughes attempt to toughen them up again after six months of light duties, drinking and whoring. Some saw the exercise as a foreshadowing of the news of their subsequent new orders. Others like Sharpe and Garrard were pleased and looked forward to this break in the monotony and boredom of daily routine and a chance to get out of the barracks. But more importantly Tom Garrard saw it as a chance for he and Sharpe to once again pursue their relationship. Since Major Shee had threatened punishment for any breech of regulations after O'Malley's hanging last August, the barracks had become very quiet after dark. Tom was sure that there was still much that went on unnoticed but no one was willing to risk a flogging. Even Captain Hughes had stopped requesting Sharpe's company in the evening and though this seemed to have little effect on Sharpe, Tom wondered how his Captain liked the situation. Several times Hughes had waited for Sharpe in the evening either before or after Mess. Each time the Captain had lead Sharpe out to the middle of the parade ground and stood there talking to him in clear view but out of earshot of the rest of the Regiment. They were breaking no regulations and yet Tom felt Hughes was almost daring Major Shee or one of the other Officers to say something. Tom suspected Hughes felt as desperate as he did himself. Their brief encounter in the alleyway a few weeks earlier, whilst providing some physical relief had done little to appease Tom's need for Sharpe. He longed to hold Sharpe in his arms, to feel him, taste him, touch him. Night after night Tom was forced to lay beside his friend with the chance of little more than some furtive stoking under their blankets. Sharpe could be the very devil himself, staring back at him in the darkness with lust-filled eyes, almost daring Tom to touch him. But Tom had seen men flogged before and it wasn't something he ever wanted to experience. In desperation, Tom suggested paying for a room in town so that he and Sharpe could be alone together but Sharpe had laughed and said instead that Tom should accompany him to the brothel the next time he went. With Margaret's departure Sharpe was once more a regular customer at the Scarlet Rose. Tom had reached the point where he was considering taking up Sharpe's offer but now Captain Hughes seven-day exercise suddenly provided the opportunity he had been waiting for. Seven nights alone with Sharpe either camped out or in a billet somewhere. Seven nights away from the barracks and prying eyes. Tom was sure that he and Sharpe could find time to be together and eagerly awaited their departure. "Yer know Hughes will want me tonight." Said Sharpe as they marched side by side along the road that led along the coast. "He won't risk it." Said Tom assuredly "Not with Lieutenant Morris here. Hughes knows Morris would report him. They hate each other." Sharpe smiled and lowered his voice. "Morris won't give us any trouble, Hughes has him now." Tom raised his eyebrows in question and Sharpe continued "A week or so back he went to Morris' rooms one evening and found Ensign Hicks there playing cards." Sharpe grinned and laughed "Except Hicks was drunk and wasn't wearing his trousers and when Hughes asked him what he was doing, Hicks explained that he was paying his gambling debts." Sharpe laughed again, but Tom kept a straight face. "So you'll be going to Hughes tonight?" He asked, disappointment all too clear in his voice. Sharpe tilted his head and gave Tom a look that caused the older man to break into a smile. "Just for a while and then I'm all yours. If yer lucky Hughes might wash my hair. I know yer like that." When they stopped at midday, Hughes and Morris stood together looking over a map and not long after they recommenced their march, the Light Company came to a fork in the road. The Infantrymen were split into two groups, one group was sent inland with Lieutenant Morris and Ensign Hicks whilst the other continued on the coast road behind Captain Hughes. Tom was surprised. While the prospect of not having to worry about Morris had certainly lifted his spirits, he also wondered at Hughes motives. Clearly Hughes wanted Morris out of the way, but was it right that he had sent him off with the young Ensign. Garrard knew the type of man Morris was, knew him to be a bully and a coward. It wasn't above possibility that the Lieutenant had taken advantage of the Hicks. Surely Hughes wouldn't use Morris' attraction to Hicks as some sort of buy-off. For the first time Tom felt disappointed in his Captain. They camped that night in a small fishing village and although their numbers had been reduced to half, there were still too many men to be billeted comfortably. Hughes claimed the largest room at the inn as was his right and Tom tried to keep from scowling as he imagined his captain and Dick Sharpe snug and warm in a comfortable bed. Most of the infantrymen were billeted in the small store rooms that were used for sorting and drying fish or the boat sheds that were currently unused. It didn't take long for the Infantrymen to realise that the village seemed full of women but few men. The fishing fleet was out, taking with it most of the local men folk. By evening even more women had arrived in the village, having travelled in from some of the outer lying hamlets. All seemed only too eager to share a little masculine company. The Innkeeper brought out several large kegs of ale and set them up on tables in the village square. A huge bonfire was built and as evening fell the whole place took on a festive atmosphere. Sharpe left early with Hughes giving Tom hope that he would return early too, but as the evening wore on Tom's hopes faded. After waiting so long he doubted that Hughes would be prepared to let Sharpe go at all. Hell, if he was in the same position, he wouldn't. With a sigh he leaned back against his pack and watched the merriment, taking place before him. An elderly man with one wooden leg was playing a reel on a fiddle and Tom watched Percy Peters and Sam Rawlings dancing with two of the local girls, whirling them round, laughing and having fun. Most of the Infantrymen seemed to have found willing women who were more than happy to break the monotony of weeks spent alone without men. At the very edge of the bon fires' light, Tom could see Bill Hanson and Josh Smith talking. This was probably the first time the two men had any real chance to speak to each other, but it was clear from their body language that they were having a dispute. Josh Smith reached out to touch Hanson's arm, but Hanson pulled away sharply and gestured with his hands, clearly upset. Smith dropped his head, looking at the ground and finally wrapped his arms around himself. He looked up and said one last thing, but Hanson turned and walked away. Tom dropped his eyes not wanting them to think he was spying. He thought about getting a glass of ale, but before he could move Josh Smith came over and sat down beside him. "Do you mind if I share your billet tonight Tom?" Smith asked "I don't feel like being alone." Tom looked down at him, wondering what was on the younger man's mind. "What's wrong Josh?" he asked. Smith looked around at the dancing couples in front of them. "Everyone's having so much fun and I feel so lonely. I spoke with Bill. I asked him if he'd spend a bit of time with me tonight so that I could talk about some things with him, but he's still angry with me. He told me about Jean and I understand about that. But I just wish he would talk to me. There are things I need to talk about, but he won't listen." Smith's dark eyes gazed up and Tom looked away. "I just don't want to be alone Tom," he said sadly. Tom suddenly felt uncomfortable with the way Smith was looking at him. "What about if you and me see if we can find some girls for the evening? They could keep us company. What do yer say?" Tom asked. Smith hung his head and pushed back a stray piece of dark hair that had escaped from his queue. He turned back to Tom looking almost apologetic. "I don't like girls Tom. I'm not interested in them." "Oh" said Tom, taken back for the moment "Are you sure? I mean...if yer haven't had much to do with them it might just be nerves or shyness." Smith shook his head and looked straight into Tom's eyes. "I'm sure Tom. I've known for a while. It's one of the reasons I ran away. I knew my father would never accept such a thing and I knew I could never do all the things he had planned for me, so I ran away. I thought it would be easier that way." Tom didn't know what to say so he just nodded. He thought about finding a woman for himself, but that would mean leaving Josh Smith all alone. He wondered what Sharpe would do and knew that he would stay with a mate who needed him. "All right Josh, Dick and I are billeted down in one of the boat sheds. Yer welcome to share it. I think Dick will be back, I'm not really sure." Tom mentally swore when he realised that if Dick did come back, Smith would be there. "I'm getting some of that ale. Do you want some Joshy?" It was dark in the boat shed when Tom and Josh opened the door. Tom had a small candle in his pack and rummaged around to find it and light it with his flint. The room was hardly inviting. It was damp and cold and smelt of seawater. After a wistful look at Garrard, Smith made himself a small bed off to one side and Tom breathed a sigh of relief. After the long march that day, Tom found sleep came easily to him despite the hard ground. He was woken some time later by something warm slipping into his arms. Dick, he thought, and snuggled closer burying his nose in the soft hair. He lay there enjoying the warmth, still too far asleep to be aroused by the body that he held. He dosed off to sleep again and was awoken once more, this time by soft kisses on his neck. Tom let his hands caress the warmth he was holding and bent his head to capture the warm lips that rose to meet him. Suddenly Tom was wide awake and sat up with a jolt "Josh! Christ what are you doing?" he fumbled for the candle again and waited for the soft glow to reveal Josh Smith sitting beside him, hands clutching and unclutching the blanket, sadness in his eyes. "I'm sorry Tom. I just wanted someone to hold me, that's all. I wanted to ask you before. But I knew you'd say no." Smith looked so pathetic that most of Tom's anger evaporated. But he still needed to make the younger man see what a dangerous game he was playing. "Look Josh, I know yer don't want me reminding yer of this, but you can't go around climbing into a man's bed like that and getting all over him. You know what happened when you tried that with O'Malley." Smith swallowed and paled in the candle-light and Tom softened his voice. "Josh, this is the last thing that you should be wanting now. I would have thought that you'd be so scared you would never want to try it again." Smith brushed his hair back and smoothed out the blanket that still covered his legs. "Of course I'm scared. Every night when I close my eyes I'm back there with O'Malley and it's all happening again." He began, his small voice faltering as he spoke "But Dick told me that the only way to forget about it was to replace those bad memories with something good. He said I shouldn't let my fear stop me from finding someone who was gentle and kind. He said the longer I waited, the harder it would be. I tried to tell Bill tonight, tried to ask him if he'd hold me tonight, just hold me, nothing more, but he got angry. He's worried about Jean. He doesn't need my problems as well." Tom's thoughts were teeming "Well why didn't you ask Dick to do it. You and he are mates." Sharpe would oblige him without a second thought, Tom knew. But Josh smiled at him gently and shook his head. "It's not like that with Dick. We're mates, but I don't want him like that." He looked at Tom, the words he had left unsaid were clear in his direct gaze. ME, Tom thought, he wants ME? "Dick once told me that you were the gentlest man he knew. That he never knew how good it could be until he had been with you." Tom felt he was falling into the Smith's dark eyes. "Josh.." he began but Smith moved in closer and placed his small hand on Tom's. "Please Tom, just lay with me and hold me. Nothing more, if that's all you want. Just so that I'm not scared any more." Tom silently cursed Hughes for keeping Sharpe this night. He cursed Major Shee for his ridiculous regulations. He cursed Dick Sharpe for filling Josh's head with such ideas and he cursed himself for wanting to roll Josh over and take him for his own. He blew out the candle and gently took Smith into his arms, thankful that at least they were still wearing their uniforms. "I'm not afraid of you Tom. I know you'd never hurt me." Smith whispered as he let his hands slide around Tom's back to hold him closer. He brought his lips up to Tom's and covered then with soft kisses. Perhaps there was no harm in a few kisses, Tom told himself as he hesitantly kissed Smith back. But the hesitant touches and gentle kisses soon became more insistent and Tom felt himself becoming more aroused. I've got to stop this now, he told himself and pulled away from Smith. "Oh Tom don't stop! Will you do it to me Tom? Show me how it's supposed to be?" Smith begged, his voice trembling. That request brought Tom back to reality like a slap in the face. "Josh, yer should be asking Bill to do that, not me." Smith lay there silently, the only sound his heavy breathing. "I'll talk to Bill for you. I'll try and make him understand. Would you like that Joshy?" Tom asked, doubting that his words would really make any difference to Hanson. Smith settled down in Tom's arms again. "Yes Tom," he said sadly and Tom felt a strange confusion within. There was no denying that he wanted Josh Smith, but somehow it didn't seem right to act on those feelings when he felt the way he did about Dick Sharpe. Tom lay awake pondering over his relationship with Sharpe. He thought over what Sharpe had said to Smith. Did his friend really feel that way or had he just been looking for a way to comfort Smith and give him hope. There was so much that he and Sharpe had never said to each other, so much that they couldn't or wouldn't share. As Tom drifted off to sleep his last thought was of Dick Sharpe. Seven days and Seven Nights Part 2 Tom awoke with a start the next morning and said a hurried prayer that he had made it through the night without giving in to temptation. Josh Smith lay spread across him, his arms and legs curled possessively around Tom's. I've got to talk to Dick about this, he decided as he eased himself out from the sleeping form. Smith blinked his eyes and looked at Tom and smiled, his cheeks flushed and his hair in disarray. Tom smiled back and thought momentarily about kissing the younger man but decided against it. He didn't want to encourage him any more than he had already. Tom stretched, "Come on, we'd better get up. I didn't hear any bugle, but the suns already up." Once outside they realised that very few of the infantrymen were awake. The village still showed signs of the previous night's revels. Several infantrymen were unconscious in doorways and the street was littered with bottles and even some articles of clothing. "Captain Hughes isn't going to be pleased." Tom murmured. He wondered where Bill Hanson had ended up. Certainly not with some local girl if he had turned Josh down. They found Hanson asleep at one of the tables at the Inn surrounded by glasses. Tom was loath to wake him but then he thought about how Hughes would react if he came downstairs and discovered his Sergeant in a drunken stupor and shook Hanson until he growled and opened his eyes. "What's going on?" Hanson asked squinting at Tom who shrugged, "Don't know, but the sun's long up and there's no sign of Hughes. Most of the lads are still sleeping." Hanson stared up at the ceiling to where their Captain's room would be "Did Dick come back last night?" he asked and Tom shook his head. "Well then I'm not going to be the one to go up there and knock on the door! We'll just have to wait." The Sergeant set about waking the other Infantrymen and finally Sharpe appeared followed not long after by their Captain. Hughes wasted no time in setting out on the march again, but offered no explanation or censure about the lateness of the hour. They stopped for a break in the early afternoon and Hughes bought a sack of apples from a passing farmer. As Tom sat beside Sharpe slicing his apple with his small knife he wondered how to bring up the subject of Josh Smith. They were resting, away from the others leaning against a low stone wall. Tom had told Josh that he needed to talk to Dick alone and the younger man had nodded and smiled his understanding. Tom looked at him, stretched out under a large tree with Peters and Rawlings. "Listen Dick, about last night." Sharpe turned to him and before Tom could continue he said quietly "Hughes asked me to fuck him last night." The knife in Tom's hand slipped and sliced across the top of his fingers. "Shit!" Tom swore as bright red blood welled up from the cuts. Sharpe grabbed his hand. "Here let me see. Is it bad?" Tom pulled his hand away and stuck his fingers in his mouth, then pulled them out and looked at the cuts. They weren't deep, but were bleeding heavily. Sharpe grabbed a cloth from his pack and began wrapping Tom's fingers. "So did you," Tom demanded. "What?" Sharpe asked without looking up, still intent on his bandaging. "Fuck Hughes." Tom said a little too loudly and Sharpe stopped. He slowly raised his head and stared into Tom's brown eyes. "Yes." Sharpe answered quietly. Tom dropped his gaze and looked away not wanting to think about what Sharpe's answer meant for the moment. Last night he had battled his own desires in some vain attempt to stay faithful to Sharpe, to show his friend that what they shared was special to him. But what use had it been. The one unique gift that Tom could give to Sharpe had been offered by another and Sharpe had accepted. Tom stared out at the water, squinting into the reflected sunlight, rubbing at his eyes. Sharpe sat beside him, silently waiting. But Tom couldn't speak. "That's why I didn't come back afterwards. I thought I'd better stay." Sharpe began again, when it became obvious that Tom wasn't going to reply. "Hughes wasn't himself. He was upset about something, I didn't know what was wrong." Tom shrugged "Hmmph. Was he upset before or after yer did him? Maybe he didn't like it!" he said harshly but Sharpe refused to be baited. "It was before. And he knew what he was asking for. He said he'd done it before, but not for a long time. No, there was something else on his mind. He called me Davey once, and then was really sorry, but he wouldn't say any more. Usually he likes to talk afterwards, but he was so quiet last night." "Bloody Hell." Tom muttered as he looked back at Sharpe for the first time. Sharpe didn't look defensive, in fact Tom could see that his friend was worried. "He wants me again tonight. I think he planned this march for a reason and it wasn't just for us to get away together for a while." Sharpe finally added. Tom nodded. "Well if he wants you then that's all there is to it." He bit his lip considering his next words. "Josh wanted me to sleep with him last night." Sharpe raised an eyebrow and grinned a little "No harm in that, is there Tom." Tom frowned. "He meant more than just sleeping. He said you told him to find someone to do it with so that he would forget O'Malley!" It was Sharpe's turn to frown "I meant Bill Hanson! Did he ask you?" Tom nodded "He asked Bill first, but you can guess what his reaction was." Sharpe looked at Tom with a penetrating gaze, the faintest smile about his lips. "So did yer? Did yer do it?" "NO! I didn't. I didn't think it was the right thing to do." Tom said feeling angry again. "Josh's all right now and you know what to do. Just take it slow Tom, that's all." Sharpe said still smiling. "Christ Dick! There's more to this than just the right way to do it! Don't you ever think about feelings! Aren't you worried that Josh might need more than just a quick fuck? That he might need someone to care for him? Someone to show him a bit of ...." The word 'love' died on Tom's lips and he glared at Sharpe. "A bit of caring!" "Well yer care about him Tom, yer his mate, just like me. It's not like you can only care for one person at a time is it?" Said Sharpe. "Besides, yer want Josh, yer might as well admit it to yerself. I bet yer get all hot and bothered when he comes onto you like that." Sharpe gave a little grin, but Tom could tell that Sharpe was quite serious. "So it wouldn't bother you if I did it with Josh?" Tom asked and he looked into his friend's eyes to find out how he really felt about the situation. "Tom, we're mates, you and I, best friends. It doesn't really matter who we do it with, because it's more than that with us, much more. That's what yer keep telling me Tom, isn't it? You never get jealous when I go to Hughes, so I shouldn't mind if you want to do it with Josh." Sharpe blinked and then looked away nonchalantly. Tom smiled to himself. That was certainly some speech, coming from Dick Sharpe, who rarely spoke about how he felt. He wondered if now was the right moment to tell Sharpe that he was damned jealous of Hughes and even more so now. Surely Dick must know that, Tom thought as he nursed his cut fingers. It suddenly occurred to Tom that perhaps Hughes was after more from Sharpe too. Perhaps Hughes was looking for love and caring but didn't know how to ask it of Sharpe. "Well what about Josh? What if he gets attached to me like he was to Bill? He's still very young Dick. He's likely to fall in love with anyone who looks at him." Tom said warily. Sharpe laughed "You make him sound like some lovesick fool of a girl Tom." "Fall in." came Hanson's call and the Sharpe made to walk away towards the gathering Infantrymen. But Tom held Dick's arm causing the younger man to stop "So is it only foolish girls who fall in love, Dick? Is that what yer think?" he asked. Sharpe lowered his eyes and then looked away, hiding his feelings again. "No, I didn't mean it like that Tom. I just don't think you should worry about it so much. You've always got to think everything through to the end! It will be all right with Josh and Hughes, you'll see Tom." Sharpe whispered quickly as they started walking again and fell into line. But Tom doubted that. They stopped for the evening in another small village, slightly inland this time. Hughes arranged for a keg of rum for the Infantrymen and then disappeared into the Inn with Dick Sharpe. Bill Hanson was left the task of allocating billets and was clearly annoyed by the Captain's behaviour. "This whole march is a charade for bloody Hughes to get away with Dick Sharpe! Christ, what a bloody waste of time! Couldn't he find somewhere in Southampton to fuck him if that's what he wanted? Why did he have to drag the rest of us out here to sit on our arses and wait while he did it!" Such an outburst was uncharacteristic of Hanson and Tom guessed the reason was his Sergeants concern for his wife. "Jean will be all right while you're gone Bill. The other women will look after her." Said Tom as he sat beside Hanson who was drinking rum. "She won't be all right Tom! She's probably going to loose the baby and I should be there with her." Replied Hanson as he downed another glass. "Well drinking won't help Bill." Said Tom gently but Hanson rounded on him "Just piss off Tom. You've got no idea what it's like." Now definitely wasn't the time to talk to Hanson about Josh Smith, Tom thought, as he moved away to sit with the other lads. He knew that some of Hanson's words were true. Hughes had no good reason to drag them all out here if it was only for him to spend time alone with Sharpe. Their Captain was running a grave risk and was also in danger of alienating the men who respected him. "Do you want to turn in Tom?" asked Smith in a small voice "I don't feel like drinking all night." Big brown eyes stared up at Tom causing him to hold his breath for a moment before he looked away. "Yeah all right Joshy, I guess so." Not tonight, don't ask me tonight, Tom prayed as he and Smith walked through the quiet darkness to their billet. The town seemed strangely silent after the laughter and music of the previous night. Too tired from last night or happy to get drunk on rum, Tom surmised of his fellow Infantrymen as he pushed open the door of the small disused stable. Lighting his candle Tom surveyed their billet. It was draughty and dusty with old straw littering the floor. Tom wondered if Hanson had deliberately given him the worse billet in town as some sort of spiteful revenge on Dick Sharpe. "Tom?" came Smith's small voice as Tom kicked the straw into a pile in the first stall in an effort to make a bed. "Tom, Dick said I should ask you again tonight." Bloody Dick Sharpe! Tom rubbed his face before turning to look at Josh Smith who stood nervously in the small stable looking dejected. "Look Josh," he began but Smith interrupted. "It's all right though Tom, I understand now. You see I worked it out." Smith wrapped his arm around himself, his voice faltering slightly. "Bill doesn't want me because of what O'Malley did and I can understand that, I can. I thought you wouldn't mind...I mean, Dick told me about what happened to him and you didn't seem to mind that. But I guess it does matter, so I'm sorry I asked." Tom put his pack down and crossed the floor to stand in front of Smith. "Dick had no right telling you who to ask and who not to ask. It's none of his business," he raised his hand and caressed Smith's face gently suddenly remembering the bruises that had covered it the morning he had found him. The sadness Tom could see in Smiths eyes tore at him. Why fight this if it was what they both wanted? "As for the rest, well what O'Malley did to you does matter, but only because I'm so afraid of hurting you or frightening you. But I guess if you trust me enough to ask me then I'd be a fool to say no when I want you so much." Smith smiled up at Tom and touched his hand "Thank you Tom," he replied. Tom bent to kiss Smith's lips, his hands caressing Smith's smooth face. He's still so young, Tom thought with a pang of guilt and pulled away. "Come on, it'll be all right," Tom said as he looked around and suddenly felt sad. It shouldn't be like this, on the ground in a dirty stable. Tom thought of the feather bed that he and Sharpe had shared in Flanders the first time they had become lovers and wished he could have a place like that for Smith, somewhere comfortable and clean. He looked at the younger man who was watching him, waiting. "Let's see if we can make a bed over here Josh," he said indicating the furthest stall and set about knocking down the cobwebs. Tom piled the straw up and placed his blanket over it. Smith stood in the stall doorway hesitantly, the reality of what was about to happen finally sinking in and leaving a hint of fear in his dark eyes. "I'll leave the candle burning, Josh so we can see each other." Tom said, trying to make Smith feel comfortable. He set the candle on his tin plate to prevent any accidents. "Don't waste it Tom," Smith said nervously. But Tom smiled, "It's all right, I can get another." What else, Tom though, his own nerves starting to get the better of him. "I've got some musket oil with me too," he said fishing it out from his pack and placing it in easy reach. But the look on Smith's face told him that the younger man had no idea what the oil was for and Tom suddenly wondered if Dick Sharpe had really told Smith much about the actual mechanics of it all. Perhaps all Josh Smith knew was what O'Malley had shown him on that fateful night. Tom took a deep breath. "It's to make it easier, Josh." Smith just nodded, and walked over to sit beside Tom on the blanket. "If you want to stop, just say so Josh. I don't want to hurt you, but it always hurts a bit. I told yer that before." Tom fumbled with the buttons on his jacket as he undid them. "We'll take off all of our clothes, it's nicer if you can feel each others skin. We can put our greatcoats over us to keep warm afterwards." Boots and belts and jackets and socks and stocks. It seemed to take forever but finally the two men were down to their shirts and breeches and Tom leaned in to kiss Josh, deciding the rest could wait a while. Smith was nervous, so different from last night and Tom suddenly felt nervous too. "We'll go slow, Josh. We've got all night." Said Tom asking himself what on earth he was getting into. He rolled onto his back and pulled Smith to him, conscious of the fact the younger man might panic if he felt trapped beneath him. Slowly Tom slid his hands under Smith's shirt. Tom felt Smith's heart pounding wildly and wondered if it was from fear or arousal. He pulled Smiths dark hair undone, marvelling at the way the curls sprung up once released from the tight queue. Tom's own hair would hang limp when untied, but Smiths hair seemed alive. Shirts were discarded and Tom began working on Smith's breeches, caressing him first through the course fabric and then sliding his hand inside to tease at the sensitive flesh. He felt Josh respond to the touches and quickly removed their breeches before Smith could think. They lay there, side by side, skin to skin, mouth to mouth. With hands that trembled slightly, Tom let himself caress Smith's slim body, his skin so soft, hardly any muscle to him, Tom thought, not like Dick. Smith's legs and arms were thin and finely made with barely any body hair. Not unlike a girl really, but not rounded Tom thought. Tom took his time, letting their passion build toward the one inevitable conclusion. Tom tried to remember how Sharpe had approached him the first time, the touches he had used. Tom had trusted Sharpe. He'd had no cause to be afraid. But Josh already had memories of this, memories of fear and hurting. He gasped when Tom touched him and pulled away slightly. "Does that hurt Josh?" Tom asked pulling back to look at Smith. The younger man shook his head, "You just startled me," he whispered. Tom kissed his lips gently. "I'll tell you what Joshy, you do it to me first. That way you can see that it's not so bad. I know you won't hurt me." Tom leaned in and kissed Smith again before turning his back to him. "Like this," he said smiling to himself. "So I can feel you laying all along my back, holding me close. I like it like that." Tom reached for Smith's hand and poured some of the oil onto his fingers. "With these first." he said repeating the words that Sharpe had said once. With trembling hands Smith followed Tom's whispered instructions and Tom closed his eyes as he often did, content to enjoy the sensations. "Oh Tom!" Smith moaned as he eased inside, the sound of his pleasure causing Tom's breath to catch as he remembered that Smith had never experienced this with anyone before. The younger man set up a ragged rhythm and Tom realised that this would be quick. He let Smith race ahead of him, wanting him to enjoy this and happy to wait. Tom heard Smith catch his breath, felt him tremble and murmur his name before pulling away. Quickly he turned and eased Smith onto his back. "It'll be all right Joshy." Tom whispered as he looked into Smiths dazed eyes and quickly went to work with the oil and his fingers. "Tell me if you want me to stop," Tom whispered again as he slowly pushed. Smith held his breath and closed his eyes and Tom felt the body beneath him start to tense. "Look at me Joshy," Tom whispered desperately, and Smiths dark eyes latched onto Tom's with a look somewhere between fear and hope. His small hands suddenly reached up to take a hold of Tom's arms and Tom pushed harder, fighting against the resistance he found. Tom felt his own passion flare as he felt the heat of Smith's body encase him. He closed his eyes for a moment trying to keep his self-control, telling himself to go slow. He remembered how Dick Sharpe had held back a little the first few times until Tom was used to the new sensations. Slowly Tom commenced a rocking motion, opening his eyes to look down at Smith, watching as the first flickers of arousal sparked in the dark eyes again. Smith sighed and his fingers tightened on Tom's arms. Picking up the tempo of his movements, Tom reached for Smiths erection and was rewarded by Smith's moan of pleasure. "Tom," he gasped out before closing his eyes and arching his back in an attempt to meet Tom's thrusts. Tom felt his control slipping but fought to hold himself back, to let Smith find satisfaction from this side of it as well. He looked at the pale body stretched out below him, the skin like porcelain, so fine and perfect, glowing with a layer of sweat in the candlelight. Tom forgot about Jack O'Malley, forgot about Bill Hanson, forgot about Dick Sharpe. For a brief space in time, Josh Smith was his and his alone. Pulling Smiths legs higher, Tom bent towards the slender neck, feeling himself go deeper, hearing Smith call out his name again. His lips tasted sweat as he licked his way down Smith's neck until his tongue felt the rough callous left by the leather stock. "Oh Tom," Smith cried out again, as Tom let his teeth find the tender flesh. He felt Smith buck below him, felt his own hold finally snap and let his teeth sink in once more as he came. Tom rolled over as soon as his head cleared enough for him to move. Beside him Tom could hear Smith breathing hard. "Joshy?" his murmured and reached out looking for Smith's hand. But Smith moved and settled onto Tom's shoulder of his own accord. Soft lips kissed Tom's chest, soft hands captured Tom's and entwined their fingers together. "You all right Joshy?" Tom asked, still breathless and feeling sleep creeping closer. "Yes Tom," was the contented reply. Between Wars Seven Days and Seven Nights Part 3 It was Dick Sharpe's voice that woke Tom Garrard the next morning. "Yer'd better get dressed. We're pulling out soon. Yer wouldn't want anyone to find yer like this." Tom opened his eyes and blushed as he looked into Sharpe's green eyes. Sharpe looked away, his roaming gaze taking in the guttered candle, the discarded clothes and the bottle of musket oil before finally coming back to settle on the two naked figures huddled under their greatcoats. There was little doubt as to what had taken place here last night. Both men were sweaty and sticky and the marks left by Tom's teeth stood out vividly on the pale skin of Smith's neck. "At least yer bit him below the stock mark." Said Sharpe a little too sharply. He turned away frowning. "I'll wait outside." So, thought Tom, Dick was jealous after all? He nudged Josh and bent to kiss his forehead. "Come on, wake up Joshy," he whispered and couldn't help smiling to himself as his thoughts went back to the previous night. Smith stirred and winced as he stretched. "Sore?" asked Tom ruffling his hair and bending to kiss him again. Smith just smiled and pulled Tom down to kiss him passionately. Fifteen minutes later both men were standing with the rest of the Light Company eating a hurried breakfast before the days march. Smith insisted on making Tom's tea, fussing around him and smiling all the while. Tom felt as if every eye were on him, as if every man there knew what he had done last night. He glanced at Smith again to tell the young man to stop it but Smith grinned back at him and winked. "Christ Tom, yer look like yer just robbed a church." Said Dick when they finally set off. Tom felt himself blush "Well aren't yer going to ask me what happened?" he said. Sharpe gave a slight laugh as if to indicate that he didn't need to ask but his reply was more serious. "It was pretty obvious Tom." He said huffily. "Well you told me it was all right to do it." Tom whispered back harshly. Sharpe turned to face Tom, a strange look on his face. "But I really didn't think that you would, Tom. Y'er so self-righteous all of the time. I guess yer just took me by surprise." Tom blushed and looked away. Was that what Sharpe thought of him? They marched a bit further and Sharpe began quietly "I know you never ask me for details of what I do with Hughes so if yer don't want to tell me I'll understand. But how did it go? Was Josh all right?" There was real concern in Sharpe's eyes as they waited for Tom's reply. Tom smiled "Yeah, everything went fine." He said, too embarrassed to say any more about it. But Sharpe was waiting with an expectant look on his face so Tom continued. "He was scared at first so I thought that the best way was to let him do it to me first. That seemed to do the trick, relaxed him a bit I guess." Tom knew he was blushing and he tried grinning to hide his embarrassment. Sharpe shook his head, a big grin breaking out on his face "Why doesn't that surprise me, Tom? I have never met a man like you before, I swear. You're the one who is supposed to be showing Josh what it's all about and yer go and let him do it first." Tom knew his face had gone from red to white. "Was that the wrong thing to do? It worked out all right. I didn't see anything wrong with doing it that way." He frowned. Green eyes caught brown and held them for the longest time. "Oh Tom, I wish..." Sharpe began, but he looked away suddenly. "I wish I had met you a long time ago Tom." He finally concluded in a soft voice "There was nothing wrong with what you did. It was a real nice way of doing it." Hughes called a halt about noon at a small sheltered cove. The men were tired as Hughes had kept up a fast pace all morning and were happy to sit and rest. But despite being hot and sweaty there was a chorus of groans when Hughes ordered them to strip off their uniforms and wash themselves in the sea. "He can't make us do that!" complained Percy Peters "We'll all catch cold!" "My Ma warned me about the ocean when I was a lad. There's things in it, yer know. No good will come of it, you wait and see." Sam Rawlings wailed, clearly upset too. But Hughes persisted and Bill Hanson eventually calmed the men's fears by explaining they need only stand in the shallow water and splash themselves. It was not long before they discovered that although being ice cold, the water was quite refreshing. Tom was more than happy to strip off his uniform and soak himself in the water. After last night he definitely needed a wash. He looked over to where Josh Smith was gingerly splashing himself. With his stock gone, the bruises on his neck were now clearly visible and Tom wondered who else would notice them and wonder. His thoughts drifted back to Smith's slim form and how it had felt beneath him last night. "I'd stop looking if I were you Tom," Sharpe's voice held the faintest tinge of jealousy. Tom turned to look at his friend standing naked and golden beside him. In that moment the jealousy was gone, replaced by the wanton look that Sharpe could get from time to time when he wanted something. "So can I look at you instead?" Tom whispered and Sharpe smiled seductively "If yer think yer can control yerself," he said and deliberately arched his back and stretched his arms over his head, showing off his physique. "Tease" muttered Tom and splashed Sharpe who shivered like a cat. Moving his attention away from Sharpe before he embarrassed himself, Tom looked over at their Captain who had also stripped and was wading, knee deep through the water, directing the men to wash. "What happened to Hughes?" he asked. Even from this distance Tom could see sharp silvered scars across the backs of his legs. "How did he get those marks?" "Said his father thrashed him" answered Sharpe, his eyes on Hughes also. "Why?" asked Tom, horrified. The scars were evidence of far more than a simple thrashing. The skin must have been broken to the point of bleeding to leave such marks. "Don't know. I didn't ask him." Sharpe said absently. He reached over and ran his finger along the scar on Tom's rib cage that he had received in Flanders. Tom shivered and pulled Sharpe's hand away. But Sharpe seemed intent on teasing and took a step closer to Tom before exhaling and letting his warm breath raise goose bumps on Tom's skin. Tom knew what Sharpe was doing, what game he was playing. This was Sharpe's own way of regaining possession of Tom. It was his way of explaining that despite what he had said yesterday, he didn't like sharing Tom with Smith. Most people would use words, but Dick Sharpe used his body. Tom could feel himself becoming aroused and took a small step away from Sharpe. "Don't Dick." Tom said, his voice low. "Oh? And what will yer do if I don't stop?" Sharpe asked, his eyes hot as he reached out and lightly ran his fingers up Tom's thigh. "This!" shouted Tom and pushed Sharpe into the water. Sharpe spluttered and gasped as he stood up, water streaming from his mouth and nose, his hair flopping in his face. "I'll bloody get yer Tom," he shouted but Tom was too fast. Oblivious to the other men's startled screams and shouts of disbelief Tom Garrard dived into the water and swam away from the shore. In the receding distance he could hear Dick Sharpe's pleas to come back, that he would drown himself if he wasn't careful, but Tom laughed. He could swim and swim well and he found the salt water of the sea only made it easier. He let the coolness of the water and the strenuous activity of swimming bring his thoughts and body back under control. When he had swum far enough he floated on his back for a while, but soon became aware of the cold that immediately started creeping into his bones. Keep moving he told himself and headed back to the shore. As Tom approached the beach again Sharpe was standing with his hands on his hips obviously upset. "Christ Tom, I thought yer were trying to kill yerself," Exclaimed Sharpe breathlessly. "Yer gave me a bloody fright." Tom bent over to catch his breath. It had been years since he had the chance to swim. Sharpe ran his hand along Tom's back. "Where'd yer learn to do that anyway?" Tom looked up and smiled "When I was little, I don't remember clearly, but my Mother says I was playing with the dogs and they ran into the pond and I just followed. She said I went under and one dragged me up and then I just started swimming like the dogs. Once I'd learnt how, she couldn't keep me out of the water." Tom looked around, noting that most of the Infantrymen were now sitting in groups or stretched out drying in the sun. "Come on" Sharpe whispered with a grin and picked up his clothes and pack. Tom followed Sharpe back up towards the road. Suddenly Sharpe veered off into the long grass where they were out of sight of the rest of the Company. Dropping his clothes and pack in an untidy heap Sharpe grabbed Tom and pulled him down to the ground. The two men lost no time pressing close to each other, delighting in the feel of each other's bodies. For too long they had been denied the pleasure of unrestrained passion. Now, away from the barracks and watchful eyes, they seemed to loose all measure of self-control. They struggled briefly for supremacy, but Sharpe gave in quickly and allowed Tom to roll him onto his back. "Damned eager aren't yer!" Tom gasped as Sharpe slid his legs up in invitation. "I want yer Tom, right now, anything yer want." Something in Sharpe's voice made Tom stop for a moment and look into Sharpe's eyes. They were full of need and desperation and Tom suddenly knew that somehow this was Sharpe's way of taking back what he felt he had lost to Josh Smith. It was Sharpe's way of telling Tom that he wouldn't give him up. Well if this was what Sharpe needed from him then Tom was more than happy to give it. He replied by seizing Sharpe's mouth roughly with his own to prevent any further conversation. He let his hands explore the warm gold skin, let his mouth follow, tasting the salt left by the sea. Somewhere in his lust clouded brain Tom could hear voices drifting up from the beach, carried by the breeze, a faint reminder of the risk they were taking. With one final burst of will power, Tom raised his head again and looked down at Dick. "Maybe we should wait." Tom panted, his own need now almost as great as Sharpes. "NO! Go on Tom, don't stop, do it." There was heat in Sharpe's eyes, a green fire that burned right through Tom's soul and almost robbed him of his senses. Perhaps they were far enough away and no one would find them. Surely they would hear if anyone came walking this way. Sharpe raised his legs up even more and Tom bent down to kiss him again as his fingers went to work. A loud cough sounded suddenly. "Shit!" exclaimed Sharpe as he and Garrard struggled to untangle themselves and sit up. Captain Hughes stood behind them, his face composed, his pale blue eyes as cold as flint. He looked away as both men met his gaze. "You'd best get dressed as we will be marching again soon," he said before returning to the beach without a backward glance. "Bloody hell!" swore Tom as he pulled on his clothes. "It's all right Tom. It's not like he's going to report us or anything," said Sharpe casually. "Maybe not, but he hardly looked like he was pleased with what he saw, did he!" said Tom with more anger in his voice than he meant. "At this rate we'll never have a minute alone together" he added as they walked back to rejoin the march. Sharpe winked at him, "Tonight. I'll tell Hughes I don't want to. You'll see Tom, it'll be fine." Tom doubted that. The problem wasn't just Hughes. Josh Smith had been following Tom around most of the day, watching him, sitting beside him. Tom knew Smith would be hurt if he announced he was sleeping with Dick tonight. If only he could work out a way to make Dick see it. By late afternoon the infantrymen had left the main road and were following a little used track that ran along the edge of the shore. "Do you know where we are going Dick? Has Hughes told you?" Peters asked, echoing everyone's thoughts. "No idea. I didn't ask him and he didn't tell me." Peters laughed and nudged Sharpe with his elbow "Too busy with other stuff, eh Dick?" Josh Smith was marching beside Tom now, his brown eyes watching every movement that the older man made. As they waited while Hughes consulted his map for the third time, Josh leaned in against Tom and slipped his arm around his waist. "Don't Josh," he whispered quietly looking around "someone might see." Sharpe, Peters and Rawlings were drinking from their canteens and talking, but Tom saw Bill Hanson look in their direction and frown before he caught Tom's eyes and looked away. "Tonight then?" whispered Smith eagerly and Tom tried to smile back "We'll see Josh, but we can't take too many risks." Hughes led them onwards again and when the sun was low on the horizon they came to a place where the land rose a little from the sea. The long grass bent and swayed in the chill breeze that blew inland making the scene before them look like an undulating ocean. There, almost hidden by the waving grass were about two dozen headstones. In the evening shadows they looked like strange ships tossed upon a green angry sea. As the infantrymen watched, their Captain walked slowly from grave to grave, searching, reading the names, tracing the weathered stone with his fingers. Finally he stood stock still, his hand halted in the act of reaching out. He sank to his knees slowly, his small figure almost lost to sight in the long grass and weeds. The Infantrymen stood silent as their Captain began to pull the weeds from the grave, slowly at first then almost frantically. "What's going on Dick. What's he doing?" It was Bill Hanson who asked the question, his voiced hushed as if not wanting to break the strange quietness which seemed to hold them under it's spell. The only sound to break the stillness was the eerie sighing of the wind as it rustled the grass. "I don't know Bill." Said Sharpe and suddenly the harsh sound of Hughes sobs came to them in the fading light. "Yer better go see, Dick. Yer'd be the best one." Said Tom softly and Sharpe nodded. "Take a break Lads." Hanson murmured but few moved, most too caught up in the drama being played out amongst the graves. Sharpe went to Hughes and knelt down beside him. Hughes turned and spoke to him before pulling out more weeds and flinging them away. They remained like that, on their knees and pulling weeds for about fifteen minutes. Finally Dick stood up and walked back to the others. "I think we'd better make camp here Bill. The captain doesn't sound like he's going any further for a while," said Sharpe quietly. "So whose grave is it?" Tom asked but Sharpe turned an angry face to him "How the bloody hell should I know. I can't read!" He turned on his heels and marched back to Hughes. Hanson set about organising a camp on the other side of the road slightly away from the graves. A fire was built and pots were set to boiling water for tea. A small tent was erected, the one concession to Hughes' rank as Captain. It was dark before Hughes returned to his men, Dick Sharpe close by his side. They retired into the tent, without food, or a light. Slowly in ones and twos, the infantrymen crept into the graveyard to try and decipher the mystery. Few of the men could read, but those who could were soon whispering that the graves belonged to the victims of a shipwreck about 12 years ago. The grave which Hughes had cried over belonged to a young man named David Hopkirk, from Ipswich. He had been aged 20 when he had drowned. "Davey." Tom murmured to himself when he finally stood beside the grave, a burning stick lighting the inscription. "Who's Davey?" asked Josh Smith who had followed Tom out there. "I don't know," was all Tom could answer. Back in the camp, Bill Hanson stopped the two men before they could bed down for the night. "You can stand first piquet tonight Tom," said Hanson gruffly. Tom was about to question the need for a piquet, but Bill was their Sergeant now and Tom bit back his words. "Sure, Bill" he conceded. "I'll fix us a bed Tom so you'll be warm when you're relieved." said Josh brightly, earning Tom a glare from Bill Hanson. As Tom stood piquet beside the graveyard, Dick Sharpe appeared at his side. "I didn't expect to see you tonight." Tom said quietly. Sharpe shrugged "Hughes is eating something at last. I told him I was stepping out for a minute. "Did he tell yer about the grave, about David Hopkirk?" Tom asked softly. He could tell that Sharpe was quieter than usual and wondered what Hughes had revealed. "David Hopkirk, Davey, was the captain's boyhood friend, and as they grew older they came to love each other. But Hughes father caught them together one time and thrashed Hughes so badly that they had to call the doctor to him. While he was recovering his Father bought Hughes a commission as an ensign in a Regiment stationed in Ireland. As soon as he was well enough Hughes was shipped off, without even being able to say goodbye to Davey. Apparently Davey's father had also found out what was going on and sent him away to a college, but Davey wouldn't give up and he kept searching until he found out where Hughes had been sent." Sharpe paused and looked at Tom "It's so sad Tom, Davey wrote to Hughes to say he was coming to Ireland and they could be together. He was older then and had come into some money or something. Hughes was waiting for him but he never arrived. The ship was sunk in a storm. It was almost a year later before Hughes found out what had happened. He thought Davey had just changed his mind. This is the first time he has been able to come here, to say his good-byes." Both men stared at the gravestone, the last reminder of the man who even after all this time could make their Captain put his heart above his head. "Hughes told me that he had loved Davey more than anyone else in his whole life. He made an oath to himself that he would never love anyone like that again because it hurt too much when you loose them." Sharpe paused again as if searching for the right words. "I told yer earlier that I'd stay with yer tonight Tom," began Dick, his voice low and serious. "I really want to. I want you so bad Tom, but I don't think I should leave him tonight." Tom knew Sharpe was referring to Hughes "Did he ask you to stay?" Tom inquired. Sharpe shook his head "No, that's the strange part. He's so upset I thought he would but he didn't." Sharpe looked back towards the white tent clearly visible under the bright stars. "I think it's the right thing for me to do Tom, just be there with him and hold him tonight." Tom smiled and nodded "Of course it is Dick. We'll have other nights." He leaned over and kissed his friend, but it was a kiss of benediction not passion. Tom filled the solitary hours thinking over the story Dick had told him. How strange to decide to go through life without love, Tom thought. But Hughes was wrong, despite his words. Tom had seen ample evidence of their Captain's love for Dick Sharpe. It was Hughes own fear of rejection that made him tell Sharpe he would never love again. Had Sharpe sensed that? Probably not. Dick Sharpe was still not very perceptive when it came to other people's emotions. He was only just getting to know his own. Yet Tom was pleased that Sharpe had put Hughes' well-being ahead of their own plans for a night of pleasure. Sharpe had grown up a great deal in the last year. Halfway through the night Tom was relieved at his post by Toby Dodds who blinked at him through eyes that were still half asleep and asked if he'd seen any ghosts on the prowl. Tom laughed, but knew that there would be many among the fifty men camped there that night who would be in mortal fear sleeping so close to a graveyard. Strange to believe, as those same men had slept amid battlefields in Flanders, but true none the less. Perhaps that was Hanson's reason behind setting a piquet, to give some sort of comfort to those who were superstitious. Tom found the bed that Josh had made for them, but there was no sign of the younger man. Tom knelt down and felt the blankets, still warmed by a body that had lain there recently. Had Hanson set Josh as a piquet too, wondered Tom? Circling the perimeter of the camp, Tom soon found Smith leaning against a tree, huddled in his greatcoat, hugging his musket. "Sorry Tom, but Bill gave me piquet duty too," said Smith with a yawn. "I think he suspects, Josh. He's trying to keep us apart," answered Tom hoping Smith would take that to mean he needed to show more caution in his behaviour. "Don't see why he should care, Tom. He made it more than clear the other night that he didn't want me!" Smith said angrily, surprising Tom somewhat. "He's probably just trying to make sure that we don't get caught, that's all," said Tom reasonably. But Smith's words started Tom thinking and as he lay awaiting sleep to come. He wondered if Bill Hanson, despite what he said, did want Josh Smith for his own and wasn't prepared to give him up to another. Seven days and Seven Nights Part 4 They were up and ready to march as dawn broke the next morning. As the assembled Infantrymen stood waiting, Captain Hughes returned to the graveyard. He knelt once more by the grave of David Hopkirk and dug a shallow depression in the earth. "He burying something," murmured Percy Peters to Sharpe and Garrard as they stood watching with the other Infantrymen. "Bloody Hell! Doesn't he know that you shouldn't disturb the dead?" Peter's hastily crossed himself. "He'll regret it. That bloody ghost will follow him now and bring him all kinds of bad luck." Sharpe rolled his eyes at Peter's superstition, but Tom wondered if there was perhaps some sort of truth in what he had said. Perhaps it wasn't a ghost that would follow their Captain but a reawakened memory of a long lost love. By midmorning the Infantrymen were back on the well worn road and by noon they had met up with Lieutenant Morris and the rest of the 33rd. "Have we got a tale to tell you lads," boasted Harry Whyte as they sat in the shade of some large trees eating their lunch rations. Abraham Avery nodded enthusiastically "You've never seen the likes of it I bet." Tom was more than happy to let the two men relate their tale but he doubted it could be any more strange than their own. "Well, first night out Morris tells us he only wants one tent put up, that he and the ensign will share. Far enough we thought and had a bit of a joke about it. But on the second night, after they'd been in there a while, out comes Ensign Hicks, shirt off, breeches half undone swearing his head off, yelling over his shoulder that he was tired of being on the receiving end of it all the time and it was about time that he had a turn." There were snickers of laughter from Sharpe and Peters. "Bloody hell, Harry, what happened then?" asked Tom. "Morris goes chasing after him, but stops when he comes across Willy Oldfield. He bends down to talk to him a moment and the next thing Oldfield is following Morris back to his tent." Whyte took a deep breath. "But that's not the end of it. The next night, pretty late, we're all awoken by this almighty crash and the Morris' goddamned tent has collapsed! Sergeant Morton just stood there too scared to do anything. Finally out from under it crawled Morris and Hicks and Oldfield, all of them stark naked! I tell you what lads, we didn't know whether to run to help or pretend we hadn't seen anything." Whyte started laughing and the rest of the Infantrymen joined in. The Light Company spent the night was in another small hamlet. Sharpe, Garrard and Smith were all billeted together in an old stone building that was used for storing grain. It was full of huge hessian bags of oats and barely piled up and put away for the coming winter months. "They'll make nice beds," Tom mused as he stretched out on one, wondering just who he would be sharing it with tonight. It was Sharpe who finally made the decision. Smith had sat next to Tom while they ate there dinner around a large campfire, his big dark eyes never leaving the older man's face. As they all stood to make their way down to their billet, Sharpe had touched Tom's arms softly and said "I'll go up with Hughes for a while Tom. You go keep Josh company. It wouldn't be right if yer didn't." Tom nodded and smiled "I'll stay awake until you come back if yer like?" But Sharpe looked away "It might be better if I stay there all night. I think you were right about Josh, Tom. It's going to hurt him now if yer turn him away." Sharpe walked away to the Inn and Tom caught up with Smith where he waited some distance away. They had hardly finished pulling their boots off when Sharpe coughed loudly at the door before walking in. "Hughes told me he was busy," Sharpe said, his voice sounding strained. He looked at the bed that Tom had made and which Josh Smith was sitting on before gesturing over to a corner behind a pile of sacks. "I'll sleep over here." Tom hesitated, unsure of what to do, his eyes following Sharpe as he disappeared behind the sacks. "Do you want to sleep with Dick, Tom?" Smith asked quietly, his small hands fumbling with the buttons of his jacket. "I know that what we did the other night didn't really mean anything to you, that you just did it because I asked you to. So I'll understand if you don't want me any more now." Smith looked away and dropped his eyes "But I want you to know Tom that I'll never forget it. I'll always remember what we did, and how good you made me feel, Tom." Tom sat down beside Smith and put his arm around his small shoulders. "You're wrong Josh, it did mean something to me. It meant a lot to me. I wouldn't have done it otherwise." Smith didn't look up and Tom bit his lip wondering what else to say "You're the only other lad besides Dick that I've done that with." Smith looked up, surprise in his dark eyes "Just me and Dick? We're the only ones?" he asked and Tom nodded. "Now I said I'd stay with you and I will. Just let me talk to Dick for a minute." Tom had no idea what he was going to say to Sharpe as he rounded the wall of grain sacks and found Sharpe already wrapped in his blanket. "I would have stayed outside a while but it's bloody cold out there Tom," he said with a weak smile. Tom knelt down beside him "Look Dick, I'd rather be here with you..," Tom whispered close to Sharpe's ear. But Sharpe hushed his words "Shh I know Tom, I just heard what Josh said. He wouldn't understand, would he? He might think that you just used him like O'Malley did, that yer didn't really care about him." Tom smiled at Sharpe but it was a sad smile "You see I DO understand Tom. I understand what you were trying to warn me about. This is probably my fault and I'm sorry." Tom reached out and touched Sharpe's cheek "No, it's no ones fault, it's just a bloody mess. When Josh goes to sleep, I'll come over here for a while if you like." Tom hesitated, suddenly unsure "That is if you want me to after...well, I think Josh is going to want to.....but I guess I could say no........umm" Sharpe smiled warmly then, "Tom, I'll have yer any way I can get yer," he said with a grin and winked. It wasn't easy making love to Josh Smith knowing Dick Sharpe could probably hear everything. But Smith didn't seem to mind that fact that his friend was only a few feet away listening and was happy to have the first go. Tom hoped that the younger man might wear himself out and was surprised by Smith's enthusiasm, insisting that Tom have a go too. It didn't take Smith long to become aroused again either and Tom found himself once more becoming entranced by Smith's breathy sighs and soft moans. Perhaps it was also the fact that Tom knew Dick Sharpe was waiting for him that fuelled Tom's passion to unexpected levels. Whatever the reason, Tom found it increasingly difficult to stay quiet and to go slow with Smith who was still new to all of this. Tom closed his eyes, and listened to the sound of his blood pounding and Smith calling out his name and he knew that somewhere in the darkness Sharpe was waiting for him and he clamped down his teeth to keep from calling Dick's name as he came. "Oh Tom, I love.." began Smith as they lay side by side in the darkness catching their breath. But Tom silenced him quickly with a finger to his lips. "Don't say it Joshy!" Tom said, his voice hard. "But Tom I.." Smith began again before Tom rolled over and kissed him, sorry for what he had just done, but desperately trying not to complicate things any more. "Don't say it Josh. Not now, not after this." Tom looked down into the dark eyes staring up at him. "It's easy to say it when you feel good like you do now. Just think about it a bit more, a few more days." Tom brushed the dark hair back from Smith's forehead, trying to wipe away the frown that was there. "It will keep a bit longer if you really feel that way." He added softly. Smith nodded solemnly and rolled on his side to sleep. Tom curled against his back, wondering how much Dick had heard. He waited patiently, listening to Josh's breathing drift into the pattern of sleep, trying to keep himself awake. Finally Tom rose and walked around to where he could see the dim shape of Dick Sharpe laying under his blanket. As Tom lay down next to him, Sharpe turned slowly and just lay staring at his friend in the near darkness. "I thought you might be asleep?" Tom asked, suddenly aware that he was still naked and thinking perhaps he shouldn't have been so presumptuous. Sharpe said nothing for a moment but reached out his hand and ran it down Tom chest. "Yer did that real well, Tom." Sharpe's voice was husky and low. "You heard? I tried to keep quiet, but I guess I got carried away." Tom said as the first faint stirring of arousal began again. "Not just heard Tom, I was watching yer." Said Sharpe and he leaned in quickly and kissed Tom hard before he had a chance to reply. Tom discovered that Sharpe was naked under the blanket too, naked and ready. "Bloody Hell Dick!" Tom gasped when Sharpe finally released his mouth from the searing kiss and Tom was able to draw breath again. "I'll tell yer something Tom," Sharpe said leaning up and over Tom "I don't like sharing yer with Josh. I know I said it didn't matter, but it does. Yer mine!" and with that Dick Sharpe flipped Tom Garrard onto his back and set about proving it. There was a wild look in Sharpe's green eyes that Tom hadn't seen before and he struggled for a moment. But Sharpe bent and kissed him softly, his lips sliding down Tom's mouth to his throat, all the time murmuring 'mine' against Tom's sweaty skin. Finally Sharpe lips settled onto a patch of skin low on Tom's throat. He licked it then bit hard with his teeth, taking Tom unawares. "Yer mine!" Sharpe growled again and Tom felt a wave of heat rush through him as Sharpe continued to lay claim to his body with hands and teeth. Tom pulled Sharpe against him and gloried in the feel of the strength and hardness of the body that pressed him into the dusty sacks of grain. Sharpe was his equal in height and weight now, perfectly matched in power and yet Tom happily submitted to Dick Sharpe, enjoyed it, wanted it. Dick Sharpe was right, Tom WAS his. Sharpe's touches and kisses became more frenzied as if he sensed Tom's complete surrender and stove to possess every part of Tom's body at once. With few preliminaries Sharpe drove himself into Tom, both men gasping as if taken by surprise. "Yer mine!" Sharpe gasped out at he thrust again and again into Tom, the forceful strokes eliciting a strange combination of pain and pleasure. "Yes!" Tom shouted oblivious to anything else but Sharpe. "I'm yours!" he sobbed as he came, the sound of Sharpe's own cries echoing in his ears. Tom wanted to sleep, but something kept nudging him. "Here, are yer all right Tom?" It was Sharpe's voice full of concern that roused Tom and he blinked his tired eyes at Dick's face looking down at him. "Hmmm," he murmured and closed his eyes again. "Yer sure you're all right Tom?" Sharpe asked again "I got a bit rough with yer I think." Sharpe gave a small laugh "Now I understand why Hughes used to get turned on if I'd been with someone else. I never understood it before, but I do now. It's strange, I didn't think I would." Sharpe tilted Tom's face up to look into his eyes. "But yer mine Tom, not Josh's and I don't care what he tells yer!" Tom rolled onto his side and leaned into the warmth of Sharpes arms, as he became aware of a lingering ache in his body. "I'm all right Dick," Tom whispered, his voice sounding tired, "but about before, what you heard and..saw..I.." "Oh Tom, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have watched you, but I couldn't help it." Tom shook his head "It's not that Dick, hell I saw you and Hughes once in Flanders. That time in the barn when I was sick." "Yer did?" asked Sharpe sounding surprised "Did yer like it?" Rather than upset, Sharpe sounded quite pleased by Tom's revelation. "Well it certainly gave me a lot to think about." Tom said truthfully "But that wasn't what I wanted to talk about Dick. It's about what Josh said, at the end." "Oh that." Sharpe's voice sounded flat, all interest gone. "Look, Josh doesn't understand what love is really about yet. He just thinks he .." Tom hesitated not wanting to say it "loves me. It's not real Dick. He told Bill Hanson the same thing." Sharpe held Tom closer, his lips hovering just above Tom's head. "So how do you know when it is real Tom" he asked, his voice soft. Suddenly Tom was lost for words, "Err, well I guess you just feel it," he said replied, aware that his words sounded lame. Tom had waited a long time to hear Dick speak about love. But now when Sharpe had, Tom found himself too embarrassed and afraid to take the conversation any further. Cursing himself for his own cowardice Tom closed his eyes and settled onto the warmth of Sharpe's chest. "Wake up Tom, yer can't stay here. Yer better go back over to Josh." Sharpe's voice woke him again. Josh! Bloody Hell, Tom thought, and suddenly wondered if they had woken the younger man before. He'd never be able to explain this if they had. Reluctantly Tom left the warmth of Sharpe's body and made his way back across the room. Smith was still asleep when Tom crawled in under the blankets and lay down quietly. But Smith stirred and rolled over to hold Tom tightly, "Can I do it again Tom? Just one more time?" he asked in a sleepy voice as he ran his hand insistently down Tom's side. Bloody Hell, thought Tom Garrard sleepily. It was going to be a long night. Between Wars Seven Days and Seven Nights Part 5 "Wake Up Tom, it's time to get up!" came Smith's small insistent voice. "Not again, I'm too tired," muttered Tom as he turned over with a moan. Smith giggled a little and began again, shaking Tom persistently. "No Tom, it's morning, you've got to wake up." Tom Garrard opened his eyes and blinked. "It's still dark." He said confusedly. "Yes, but the bugle will sound any minute" Smith smiled, and licked his lips "I thought we might have time for," he didn't finish but rubbed his body enticing against Tom's. "You didn't get a second go last night, Tom, when I woke you up. I thought you might want to do it this morning?" "Josh, I'm buggered! I couldn't do it again if I wanted to." But even as Tom spoke his body had other plans. Smith just smiled as his hands moved over Tom's rapidly hardening erection. "Well just once more, Joshy, but yer've got to keep quiet this time. We'll wake Dick up for sure." Smith bent to kiss Tom's chest and stopped. "Oh Tom, I must have bitten you last night. I don't remember doing it but there's an awful mark on your neck. I'm sorry." Tom blushed, knowing the mark had been left by Dick Sharpe. "It's all right. Yer mustn't have noticed doing it, happens sometimes. Don't worry about it Josh." By the time the Light Company was assembling in ranks, Tom Garrard was wondering how he was ever going to make it through the day. "I'm amazed yer still on yer feet Tom!" Sharpe whispered with a wink to Tom beside him. "It's only because I can't bloody sit down!" Tom said with a scowl, but he added a grin when he saw a look of concern in Dick Sharpe's green eyes. "Listen Tom, I got a bit rough last night. I shouldn't have done that." Sharpe said hesitantly. Tom smiled "It's all right Dick. I enjoyed it." But Sharpe frowned a little and refused to meet Tom's eyes. "About last night Tom, well, there's some things we should talk about. Not now, but when we have a bit of time alone." It was Tom's turn to look concerned. "What sort of things Dick?" he asked worried by Sharpe's unusually serious countenance. "Just things Tom." Sharpe replied, a slight annoyance beginning to creep into his voice and Tom decided it was better to let the matter rest for the moment. The day turned cold and by the afternoon there was a strong wind blowing that sent the dark clouds scudding across the sky. At least there was little chance of rain, Tom observed, as the Light Company made camp in a large field. In some ways a night in the open was just what they needed; too public for Josh to want to get up to mischief and yet private enough for Tom and Dick to whisper quietly together in the darkness. "I need to have a word with Tom, Josh," Dick began as they spread out their blankets and greatcoats to make themselves comfortable. Smith looked a little downcast "Why? Doesn't the captain want you Dick?" he answered petulantly. Sharpe frowned a little. "I don't know if Hughes wants me or not! I want to talk to Tom, that's all." Tom busied himself with his blanket knowing that sooner or later they would have to work this out. Perhaps they should discuss it now before jealousies became any worse. Tom opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Sharpe's whispered curse "Oh shit!" Tom looked around to see Captain Hughes walking towards them. "I need to speak with you for a moment Dick, in my tent!" said Hughes, deliberately ignoring both Garrard and Smith. For a moment Sharpe looked like he might say no, but Hughes had made his request sound enough like an order that he couldn't refuse. "Yes Sir," Sharpe replied. He turned to Tom saying, "I'll be back!" before following Hughes to his tent. Josh lost no time in bringing his blanket closer to Tom's and settling down beside him. "We can't Josh!" Tom said as Smith wrapped his arms around Tom tightly and wiggled closer "Anyone could see us here." "I'm just cold Tom. It's so windy. I just want to get warm, that's all. I'll move when Dick gets back, I promise." Smith looked at Tom with his big dark eyes and something inside Tom melted. What harm was there in holding him, Tom thought. Probably half the Company was sleeping side by side tonight in an effort to keep warm. As he listened to the silence slowly descending on the camp, Tom felt Smith's small hands working their way into his breeches and he groaned. "No one will see Tom." Smith said rubbing himself against Tom's leg so that the older man could feel his arousal too. "Bill and I did this all the time in Flanders and know one ever caught us." Tom hesitated for a moment and gave in without a fight. Perhaps it would be better just to do it and then Josh would go to sleep. He reached for Smith and captured his mouth, before rolling him over slightly and sliding his hand along his erection. Smith moaned and thrust up as Tom kissed him again. "You bloody bastard!" came Bill Hanson's voice loud in his ear. Suddenly, Tom was dragged up and Hanson's fist slammed into his face. Pain shot though Tom's mouth and nose, only to be replaced by something far worse as Hanson kicked him in the groin. Tom fell back to the ground, spluttering and gasping in agony, blood bubbling from his mouth and nose. "You couldn't keep your bloody hands off him could you!" Hanson shouted and Smith's frantic objections were drowned out by Hanson's scream of rage as he kicked Tom in the ribs. Tom desperately rolled up into a ball, trying to protect himself, unable to breathe for the moment, his chest aching, his mouth awash with blood, his nose broken and bleeding. "It was my fault Bill, not Tom's. I'm to blame. Don't hurt him!" Smith's frightened cries drifted to him through a red mist of pain as Tom fought to get up. "My fault!" he muttered through his bloodied mouth, suddenly worried that Hanson would turn his fury on Smith. But Hanson struck Tom again in the face and then kicked him in the kidneys. Josh Smith was screaming desperately now, calling for help and Tom could do nothing except lie there and watch, as Hanson's big boot came swinging towards his head and the world went black. "It's bloody obvious what was going on, John" Lieutenant Morris's voice drifted to Tom through a blanket of pain. "It's well know that Garrard is a sodomite. Hanson became jealous when he caught him buggering Smith, or what ever the little trollop calls himself. Just string the lot of them up and be done with it!" Tom moved and the world swam around him, his stomach churning. He lay still again and tried to open his eyes, but one was swollen shut. The other blinked open, but Tom's vision was blurred and he could only make out the warm glow of a lantern not far away. "I am sure Sergeant Hanson would report any inappropriate behaviour among the men, rather than take matters into his own hands. Isn't that right Sergeant?" Hughes voice sounded strained and tight and Tom struggled to open his one good eye to see what was happening. "Yes Sir, it was a private matter sir." Said Hanson. "Was Private Smith involved, Sergeant?" Hughes asked "No Sir, he was just sleeping nearby and we woke him. He tried to stop the fight." "I see." Hughes answered, an element of relief in his voice. "Christ, John! You're not going to believe him are you?" Morris interjected but Hughes voice cut across his objections. "That's enough Charles! I have no reason to think he's lying." Hughes turned his attention back to Bill Hanson. "You do understand that you will be punished for fighting Hanson? You will loose your Sergeants strips! Did Garrard strike YOU at all? Was it self defence?" There was silence for a moment and Tom became aware of Josh Smith's quite sobs behind him. Striking a Sergeant was a flogging offence and Tom suddenly feared that perhaps Hanson would seek further retribution. He tried to get up again as he heard Hanson answer, "No Sir, he never touched me," in a broken voice. With one last effort Tom raised his head from the ground and tried to speak, but all he could manage was a cough, as blood and spit ran out of his mouth and nose. "It was my fault Sir, I started it," Tom finally mumbled, the words slurred. He tried to focus on Hughes but his vision kept swimming. He spat more blood from his mouth. "Don't take his stripes please Sir. It was my fault." Lieutenant Morris snorted but Hughes ignored him and bent down beside Tom Garrard, his hand covering his mouth as if shocked by what he saw. "How did you start it Tom? It looks like you've come off the worse for wear." He said gently. Tom tried to sit up again and felt his stomach heave. He closed his eyes and fought down the nausea. "I said some things about his wife sir." Tom lied, hoping somehow to save Bill Hanson the indignity of loosing his rank. "I shouldn't have done it. A man's got a right to defend his wife." Hughes stood and looked away. "Regulations are made for a reason and I can't allow fighting. You'll have to hand in your stripes Hanson and both you and Garrard will be on extra duties and confined to the barracks for a week when we return." With a look on his face akin to triumph, Charles Morris strode over to Bill Hanson and ripped the white stripes from his sleeves, the very same stripes that Jean Hanson had proudly sewn on not six months earlier. "So how are you going to explain this to your wife eh, Hanson? I bet she'd love to hear how you and Tom Garrard were fighting over who was going to have a sixteen year old boy!" Morris smiled and twirled the stripes in his hand for a moment before turning to Hughes. "What do you want me to do with these now? Perhaps you'd like me to give them to Dick Sharpe? Surely he's earned them by now John?" Hughes ignored the jibe and snatched the white strips of material from Morris' hand. "You're dismissed Lieutenant, I'll deal with that tomorrow." As Morris strode angrily away Hughes turned to Hanson "You're dismissed too Hanson, and make sure you stay out of trouble. This matter is over now. Do you understand? I'll not have it taken any further." Bill Hanson nodded his head and walked away, his shoulders stooped, clearly broken by what had happened. Captain Hughes bent down to Tom once more. "Can you sit up Tom?" he asked and brought the lantern closer. "Don't think so Sir." Tom muttered. Josh Smith was now beside him wiping his face with something and Tom became aware of blood running down his head and onto his clothes. Hughes peered closely at Tom's eyes, holding the lantern up and moving it back and forward. "If he'd kicked you any closer you would have lost your eye. Can you see out of the other?" Tom waited a moment while another wave of nausea passed "Not well Sir, I can't seem to focus on anything." Hughes clicked his tongue and felt Tom's head gently. "How many times did he kick Tom in the head?" Hughes asked Smith "Just once, I think. I grabbed hold of Bill then and tried to stop him. The sentries came not long after." Tom tried to turn his head to see how Josh Smith had fared but Hughes held his head tightly as he continued his examination. "If we were at the barracks I'd send you off to the surgeon. I think you have a concussion and that cut needs stitching. It's bleeding heavily. Which one of the lads does the simple stitching?" Hughes asked. It was usual for at least one of the infantrymen in each company to be proficient in basic first aid whether from spending time working in one the Regimental hospitals or because of a natural talent. "Sergeant Watson used to do it Sir," Tom replied, wishing for the first time that Watson was still with them. Tom winced as Hughes raised his shirt and slowly felt along his ribs. "Badly bruised, but nothings broken. They might be cracked though. Your nose is broken. You should get someone to straighten that. Where else did does it hurt?" "Everywhere," Tom said truthfully and his stomach heaved again and he vomited on the grass. "Try and rest tonight Tom, don't drink anything but water or tea. No alcohol or you mightn't wake up in the morning. I'll give Dick a needle and thread and he can see if he can find someone to stitch your head." Hughes turned to Smith who sat there silently "What about you Smith? Do you think you can do it?" But Smith just turned away and shook his head. "No Sir," he whispered. When Hughes had left, Smith began again to clean Tom's face of the blood and muck, but Tom grabbed his hand and held it tight as he tried to focus on the younger man's face. There were tears in Smiths eyes and a huge purple bruise already stood out starkly on the side of his cheek. But "Joshy," was all Tom could manage to say as the world swayed around him again. "Lay down again Tom, here's your blanket." Smith made a pillow with it for Tom's head and then pressed the bloody cloth Tom's head once more. Pain shot through his head again and Tom tried to pull away. "It's to stop the bleeding Tom, there's blood everywhere. Please keep still until Dick comes. He'll know what to do." Tom vaguely wondered where Dick was, Dick and the rest of his mates, Harry and Percy and the others. If he was dying they should be there. But he wasn't dying was he? He was in Flanders and he'd been shot, yes that's what had happened hadn't it? Perhaps they should call for his mother because she always knew what to do when he hurt himself. He opened his eyes to see if she was there but it was Dick Sharpe's face that he saw in front of him. "Oh Christ Tom, yer look like shit. Yer a bloody fool! What did you think you were doing?" Sharpe's voice was hard, but his eyes were filled with concern and fear. "It wasn't Tom's fault Dick. He said it was too risky but I coaxed him into it. I'm to blame." Smith said in his small voice. "Well then perhaps yer should go and tell that to bloody Bill Hanson before he tries to kill Tom again. Tell him the truth about what you and Tom have been up to and how it was you who did all the asking!" Sharpe almost spat the words at the younger man. "But I want to help Tom, Dick." Smith pleaded sitting back a little with the bloody cloth clutched in front of him. "Well I'd say you've bloody helped enough! Go sort it out with Hanson, then when we get back to the barracks yer might like to explain it to his wife!" Sharpe turned away from Smith and examined Tom's head wound. "I'm sorry Tom, I really am. I never meant for any of this to happen." Smith said quietly and he walked away. "Dick, don't let Josh go like that. Bill might turn his anger on him next." Tom tried to sit up again, but couldn't. Sharpe looked at his head again and then at the needle he held in his hand. "If Bloody Bill Hanson was angry with Josh he would have beaten him up and not you. No, Josh will be fine. Bill's not about to repeat this and risk a worse punishment. Here, I can't do this Tom. I can't stitch yer head. I'll have to get someone else to do it." Sharpe looked pale suddenly, pale and worried, Tom thought as he lay in the dark waiting. Dick had taken the lantern that Hughes had left and in the darkness, Tom began to loose consciousness again. "Can yer do it?" Sharpe's voice drifted into Tom's dream. Yes, thought Tom, I can do anything for you Dick, anything. But another voice answered Sharpe, a voice Tom didn't recognise and he struggled back to reality to see another fair haired man staring at him. "You'll have to hold that lantern closer, and it would be best to splash some spirits on it first. It will sting to be sure, but I doubt he'll feel it too much." The fair Irishman touched Tom's head wiping away the blood and hair and Tom struggled to remember his name. O'Neill, Seamus O'Neill another of the new recruits who had arrived with Dick's friend Jack O'Malley. A quiet man who kept to himself, but the rumour through the barracks was that he was wanted in Ireland for murder. Tom blinked when he remembered that and tried to sit up. "Easy lad," O'Neill whispered as he took splashed something onto Tom's forehead. Tom gasped and then clutched his aching sides. "Dick," he cried out in his delirious state, trying to warn his friend that there was a murderer here with them. But Dick came closer and gently held Tom still as O'Neill commenced stitching the cut. "Shh now Tom, it will be over in a moment and then you can rest. I'm here with you now. It's all right." As the pain in his head escalated again, Tom let reality slip away. Seven Days and Seven Nights-Part 6 Tom awoke sometime during the long night to find himself bandaged and cleaned and laying on Dick Sharpe's shoulder. His head felt strange, as if the world was tipping to the side. His body was one massive ache and as he drew a deep breath Tom felt his ribs protest. Probably cracked again, he thought, remembering the sensation from his injury in Flanders. Carefully Tom lifted his hand up and felt around his face. His nose felt tender, but relatively straight again. His teeth were loose and his top lip torn and swollen. There was a bandage around Tom's head, covering whatever damage Hanson had caused and Tom wondered where the gash was and how bad the scar would look. He spent the rest of the night in broken sleep, plagued by uneasy dreams that he couldn't remember. The morning dawned overcast and cold with a promise of rain. But that was the least of Tom Garrard's worries. He knew at once that he wouldn't be able to march today, hell, he strongly doubted that he would even be able to stand up. Sharpe stretched and moaned a little before gently sliding his arm out from underneath Tom. "'Morning," Tom whispered and his lips and mouth pulled and cracked again spreading the taste of blood through his mouth. Sharpe rolled onto his side, the look on his face telling Tom the extent of his injuries. Sharpe raised his hand to gently touch Tom's split lip and swollen face. "I was worried about you last night." "I'm all right now." Tom whispered in reply and tried to sit up. But a sudden wave of nausea caused his stomach to heave and he vomited into the straw. "Oh Tom," Sharpe shook his head "yer not all right. Just lay there and I'll get yer some tea." But another fear suddenly lanced through Tom. "Where's Josh, Dick. Is he all right?" Sharpe nodded. "I checked last night. He was with Bill Hanson and they were just talking. I got Percy to move his things over near them to keep an eye on what was happening." Sharpe smiled faintly "Christ Tom I would have thought you'd have more bloody sense than to try and fuck him in front of the whole bloody Regiment. Yer always telling me to think about things, but yer just as bad. Where's YOUR self control?" Sharpe stood up and ran his hand across his face. "Yer've been thinking with yer bloody prick!" he said and walked off to get the tea, leaving Tom somewhat bewildered. Is that really what I've been doing, Tom asked himself. He had always prided himself on his steadiness, his level headedness. Last night was just a mistake, a bad mistake that had almost cost him his life. The reality of what could have happened sunk in and Tom found he was shaking. How had it all become so complicated? After seeing how ill Tom was, Captain Hughes consented for him to ride in the small wagon used to carry the tents and supplies. For Tom, the agony of being bumped over the ruts in the road was almost as bad as marching but at least the rest of the Company didn't have to stop each time he passed out. Tom found it strange that none of his friends came to see him but decided they were probably too shocked. Rumours must have been flying around the camp last night. When they stopped at midday Seamus O'Neill came by to check on Tom. "Thank you for fixing my head." Tom said nervously as O'Neill unwound the bandage and peered at his handy work. "Don't be thanking me for that, I only stitched it back together. The cut is right through yer eyebrow, a bloody mess it was and all." O'Neill allowed a small smile to reach his lips. "But I did a fine job on straightening your nose, if I do say so." "Do you know something about doctoring O'Neill?" Tom asked, feeling slightly in awe of the Irishman now. "Now where ever did you get that idea man? I was a butcher at the slaughterhouse. I've got a strong stomach, that's all." O'Neill wandered off laughing. "Why did you choose him Dick?" Tom asked when Sharpe brought him some hot tea. Sharpe shrugged. "I'd heard around the barracks that he did a bit of stitching." Tom snorted "Well I heard he was on the run for murder." It was Sharpe's turn snort. "So was I Tom, but that didn't seem to bother yer." Sharpe winked "Come to think of it Tom, they could have strung you up for the same thing." Tom blushed. "Well that was different Dick," he began but Dick interrupted him "Don't be so quick to judge him Tom, he helped you out without any questions. By now he must have heard the rumours but he still came to check on you. Don't be so hard. None of the other lads have been brave enough to come and speak with you." Tom felt chastened. Sharpe was right. He had been too quick to judge O'Neill. By mid afternoon a fine rain was falling and Hughes stopped the march early when the Light Company arrived in a small farming village. Once again billets were in short supply but Tom was more than a little surprised when Dick told them they were billeted in with Smith and Hanson. "Who ordered that?" Tom asked as he sipped his tea. He had been unable to keep any solid food down that day and still felt nauseous. "Bloody Sergeant Morton!" Sharpe groaned. "Must think it's quite a joke, either that or he's hoping we will all kill each other. He's a mate of Wardell's," he added by way of explanation. "Do you think Bill will still be angry?" Smith asked hesitantly. He had been quiet all day, saying little except when spoken to. Sharpe shook his head. "No, he's learnt his lesson." Peters and Rawlings finally came over and sat with the three men as they ate their supper. No one spoke at first, each waiting for the others to say something. Tom was happy to sit quietly. He found chewing food painful, not only for his mouth, but his whole head and his stomach felt queasy after only a few mouthfuls. It was Peters who finally broke the strained silence. "Did yer know that there's more talk about what you lot have been up to than about Lieutenant Morris's tent accident or Captain Hughes' graveyard visit?" Peters looked at each of his three friends waiting for someone to say something but they all remained silent. "So what's the story? What really happened? We're all mates here." Smith dropped his head, his face very pale "It was my fault. Tom was just trying to help me get over what.." Smith bit his lip and looked up at Peters and Rawlings. "What O'Malley did that time. Bill misunderstood what was happening. Tom was just comforting me, that was all. It's not what everyone is thinking." Smith stood. "I'm sorry it had to happen," he said quietly and walked away into the twilight. Peters looked at Rawlings and they both looked to Tom. "Is that what really happened Tom? It's not that we don't trust Josh, but he lies all the time. We'd believe you though Tom." Peters waited for Tom to reply. "Yer want the truth Percy?" Sharpe asked and Tom could see something smouldering in Sharpe's green eyes. "Well, while I'm off with Hughes, Tom does Josh so he doesn't get too lonely. Josh is more than happy because Bill won't do it to him because he's married. Only problem is Bill got a bit jealous and when he caught Tom and Josh at it he lost his temper. But it's all sorted out now. Bill's going to share. That's why we are all billeted together tonight. We're going to have a great time!" Sharpe's face was deadly serious and for a moment Peters and Rawlings just stared. Finally they started laughing. "Christ Dick, you almost had me believing yer. Yer such a joker at times!" Peters spluttered out. Tom joined in the laughter, but Dick Sharpe looked away. Sharpe had just finished making Tom comfortable in the dilapidated barn when Bill Hanson walked in. There was an uneasy silence as the three men stared at each other for a few minutes. It was Hanson who broke the stalemate. "How are you feeling now Tom?" he asked, his voice hesitant. "My head hurts, I can't see properly, my ribs are cracked, I've got four teeth loose, my nose is broken, but at least I've stopped pissing blood!" Tom said, his voice low with anger. Hanson dropped his eyes and looked away. "I suppose an apology would be useless. Josh told me what has been going on, what you and he.." the older man hesitated and struggled with for a moment with his emotions. "I had no right to get angry like that, to loose my temper with you. It's none of my business what Josh does. Why should I care? I have a wife and a family. Josh shouldn't mean anything to me." The last words were spoken with such desperation, such guilt, that Tom felt his anger slipping away. "But you do care Bill," Tom said softly. He suddenly felt sorry for Hanson. "There's nothing wrong with admitting you care for Josh. You and he can still be mates. There's nothing wrong with that." Hanson looked up at Tom. "But it's not enough. Not enough for him and not enough for me." Hanson implored as if Tom somehow held the answer to all of his problems. "Well you should have thought about that back in Flanders, Bill." Sharpe said harshly. "You were the one who made the decision to get involved with Josh. He didn't know that you had a wife and children. You knew what you were risking. Don't try to blame everyone else for your own mistakes!" Tom could only stare at Dick Sharpe, surprised by his outspoken anger. "Yer too quick to lash out with yer fists. It will get you into trouble one day. You'll do something that you regret." Sharpe paused a moment and walked slowly across to stand in front of Hanson and continued in a voice quiet and deadly. "And if you EVER touch Tom again, I'll kill yer!" Before Hanson could reply, the door was pushed open and Josh Smith walked him. His uniform and hair were wet, the latter straying from it's queue. The three men looked Smith up and down taking in the unbuttoned jacket and untucked shirt. "What have you been doing Josh?" Bill inquired, asking the question that was foremost in their minds. Josh smiled weakly "It's all right now Bill. Everything is going to be all right. Lieutenant Morris is going to give you back your stripes." He smiled again as he looked around at the three shocked faces in front of him. "Why Josh?" Sharpe asked warily "Why would he do that?" Tom felt his stomach sinking. Not that, surely not that, he thought to himself. "It was easy, Dick. He made a deal with me." Smith turned his dark eyes to Hanson "Now you won't have to worry about telling Jean. I fixed it for you Bill." Before Sharpe could react Hanson crossed the small space and struck Smith across the face with the back of his hand, a stinging slap that sent Smith rocking back on his heels. "You little whore!" Hanson shouted and raised his hand again but Sharpe was suddenly beside him, holding him, restraining him. "Leave him alone! He did it for you!" Sharpe screamed at the older man. Hanson fell silent and turned toward Sharpe with a look of such vehemence that Sharpe let go of him at once. "This is your fault Dick Sharpe. You're the one who has filled Josh's head with stories of what you got up to in the gutter with the rest of the buggers that you called yer mates! You've made him want things that he had no business getting involved with. But this! This is the worst of it! You've taught him to trade himself to get what he wants. You've taught him to be a whore just like you!" Bill Hanson spat onto the floor at Sharpe's feet and stormed out of the barn. Tom stood up slowly and walked across to where Sharpe stood still and silent. His green eyes seemed lost for a moment but he turned them to Tom with such a look of hurt that the older man reached out and wrapped his arm around Sharpe's shoulders. "Do you think he's right Tom?" Sharpe asked, "Do you think I did that?" Sharpe looked pitiful, reminding Tom once again of the lost young man he had befriended in Flanders. "No. Bill's just angry and he's trying to hit out at anyone but himself." Tom said quietly but he couldn't help remembering Dick's words to Josh Smith last night. "I'm sorry Dick." Smith said quietly and both men turned their attention back to their friend. The bruise that Hanson had given him last night now mirrored in red on Smith's other cheek. "Are you all right Josh?" Sharpe asked "Did Morris hurt you or get rough with you?" Smith just shook his head, but his dishevelled appearance made a lie of his denial. "It will be all right again when Bill gets his stripes back. Everything will be all right then." Smith said again. "Morris isn't going to give him the bloody stripes Josh!" Sharpe said raising his voice "Yer a bloody fool if you believed him!" Sharpe walked away and sat down on a pile of straw "Yer should never believe them Josh. They'll tell yer anything to get their.." Sharpe trailed off and shook his head as if it were useless to continue. Tom's head was spinning again and he carefully made his way to the nearest pile of straw before sitting down with a thud. "I just wanted things to be like they were before." Smith said, his small voice sounding pathetic, "Like they were before O'Malley," he whispered sadly and walked away to the back of the barn where he lay down alone. Sharpe brought Tom's blanket over and proceeded to make him a new bed, fussing a little but never meeting Tom's eyes. "You should go to him Dick," Tom whispered looking over to where Smith's small figure was quietly sobbing. But Sharpe shook his head "He's got to learn Tom. Yer can't protect him from everything. If Josh does these things then he has to learn the consequences. It's for the best. He won't forget it in a hurry." Tom closed his eyes as Sharpe lay down beside him, thinking again how unfeeling Sharpe could be at times. But that was how Sharpe had survived, how he had managed to crawl out from the gutter in which he had been abandoned and to seek something better. Perhaps Sharpe's way was best. Turning so that he could lie on Sharpe's shoulder, Tom asked the question that had been on his mind all day. "What was it that you wanted to talk to me about last night Dick?" "Christ, was that only last night? It seems like a week ago." Sharpe replied with strained humour in his voice. He turned slightly so that his lips were next to Tom ear. "It was about what I said about you being mine." Sharpe said, his words sounding like a caress to Tom's ears. "Yes," Tom breathed, happy to in the circle of Sharpe's arms and listen to him talking. He felt a sleepy contentment settle in his soul, something that kindled a warmth in his heart and Tom knew at that moment that everything would be all right between them. "I was wrong!" Sharpe's words jolted Tom. "Wrong?" he asked, bewildered. "Yeah, I shouldn't have said it. I can't own yer any more than you can own me! Men just can't be like that with each other. We can be mates, best mates, and we can be...lovers," the word sounded strange coming from Dick's mouth and Tom realised then that Sharpe had thought long and hard about what he wanted to tell Tom. The younger man had chosen his words carefully, wanting Tom to understand what he meant. "But we can't spend the rest of our lives together Tom, not like men and women do. We can never have that." The words were hard, but Tom knew they were true. It was fine to dream about such things, but Sharpe was right. "We won't always be in the army Tom, why you've only got two or three years left before you are discharged. You won't want to sign up for another eight years. You'll want to find a wife and buy that farm that you're always thinking about." Tom tried to nod but his head ached so he just murmured something that he hoped sounded like an affirmation. "I've been thinking a lot about things these last few days Tom. Thinking over all of the things that have happened and I think I know what love is all about now." Love, thought Tom, perhaps he'd misunderstood Dick after all. Sharpe brought his hand up and brushed Tom's swollen face. "I know what you've been trying to tell me Tom. About love," he said softly. "You do?" Tom asked smiling. Sharpe nodded down at him. "Yes. Love isn't about sex. Oh that's a part of it of course, but there is so much more. You can love someone without the fuc..er..sex. That's not the most important thing." Sharpe continued. "No, but it's fun," Tom whispered feeling warm again. "Well Tom, I understand now that I love Margaret, really love her, not just want to, er, want her.." Sharpe was struggling over his words again. "Margaret?" Tom repeated unable to believe his ears. Sharpe was talking about Margaret? "Yes Margaret, and I'm going to ask her to marry me when she comes back again." Sharpe added softly. Tom's head was spinning, but it wasn't from the concussion. "Marry her?" he asked again. "Are you all right Tom? How's yer head?" Sharpe asked suddenly concerned. Tom could only look at his friend and blink for a moment. "I'm sorry Dick, I don't feel so good. I know you're trying to tell me something really important, but could we talk about it later." Much later, much later, Tom begged silently. He could feel his eyes misting over and he didn't want Dick to see him cry. It's the concussion; he lied to himself. That's what was making him feel like this. "You rest now Tom. We'll talk again tomorrow." Sharpe said and he brushed a kiss on the top of Tom's head. But Tom couldn't sleep. He lay awake listening to Josh Smith's sobs and letting his own tears flow down his face. Dick couldn't marry Margaret, Tom realised, not because of any selfish reason on Tom's part, but because if Margaret knew the truth about Dick Sharpe she would never agree. But how was Tom ever going to get Dick Sharpe to understand. Very late that night, Tom heard Bill Hanson returned. Tom was about to wake Dick in case there was trouble, but Hanson had returned to apologise. It was brief and to the point. He refused Smith's offer to share his bed. Between Wars Seven Days and Seven Nights-Part 7 We must look a sad and sorry sight, Tom thought to himself the next morning as he looked at Smith with his red eyes and bruised face, Hanson with his stooped shoulders and bandaged fists and Dick Sharpe scowling at anyone who came too close. No wonder most of the other Infantrymen were keeping their distance. But one person walked brazenly towards the four men as they sat drinking their tea. Lieutenant Charles Morris stood and waited while they stood to attention, all the while toying with the white sergeant's stripes that he held in his hand. "I thought you would be interested to know what I'm going to do with these." Morris smiled, waving the white cloth about. No one spoke, but Tom could see a faint look of hope on Smith's face. Could Dick have been wrong? "You know, I really was expecting a little more entertainment from you Smith. You were quite a disappointment. I thought Sharpe would have taught you a few tricks after all this time." Morris sneered. "The only thing you're any good at, Smith, is making a lot of noise." Morris frowned and smirked. "Isn't that what O'Malley said too?" Smith's face drained of colour, and he looked away. "Of course I'm willing to let you have another try, maybe tonight?" Smith shook his head without looking up. Morris laughed a little. "Well maybe Dick Sharpe would like to take your place?" Morris turned to Sharpe who stared at him with eyes full of hatred. "Perhaps not, it might be quicker for you to go straight to Captain Hughes. After all you seem to have his...ear!" he said laughing. Turning to Hanson he waved the stripes again. "You might like to ask your wife to come and see me when we get back, Hanson. I'm sure she and I could come to some sort of arrangement." Hanson made to move, but Sharpe grabbed a hold of him. "Don't do it Bill," Shrpe said in a low voice. "Well I'd better go and give these to our new Sergeant. Harry Whyte will be pleased with his promotion." Morris laughed and walked away. "I'll kill that bastard one of these days!" muttered Sharpe. "You'll have to wait in line, Dick." Hanson replied. One more day and one more night before they would be back in Southampton. Tom sighed and prepared for the day's march. He felt a little better. His head was steadier now unless he made any sudden movements. His back and ribs only hurt if he moved the wrong way and his mouth was healing. It was his vision that worried Tom. He could open his other eye now, but things still looked out of focus at times. Tom marched for as long as he could, but by midmorning he felt faint again. "I'll go see Harry and ask him if you can ride in the cart." Dick said with a hint of bitterness in his voice. "No I'll speak to him, Dick." Tom replied, dreading the thought of even facing the man who had once been his close friend. Harry Whyte was already wearing the hastily stitched stripes and looked rather pleased with himself. He agreed to let Tom return to the wagon for a while and accompanied him to the rear of their short column. Tom climbed in and waited, knowing Whyte would have something to say. "I'll tell you Tom, I was bloody surprised when I heard what had happened," Whyte began, hands on hips clearly intent on delivering a sermon. "What's got into you Tom?" Tom sighed "It's not what everyone thinks Harry," he began but Whyte hadn't finished. "I knew you were heading for trouble when you picked up bloody Dick Sharpe! I tried to warn you, but you wouldn't listen! He's corrupted you Tom." "That's enough Harry. This has got nothing to do with Dick!" Tom said angrily. But Whyte had the advantage. He was a Sergeant now. "It's got everything to do with him! Why less than two years ago you were so bloody straight laced that you complained when Toby and I visited a brothel on Christmas day! Now look at you! Brawling with Bill Hanson, a happily married man, because he caught you fucking his little ... " "It wasn't like that Harry! It was a mistake!" Tom implored. "Mistake! Aye, it was a bloody mistake. Bloody Smith is more trouble than Sharpe! Christ the last man that messed with him ended up on the gallows!" Tom dropped his head. It was useless arguing with Whyte. "I'll give you one warning Tom. If I catch you playing up in the barracks, with either Sharpe or Smith or anyone else, I'll report you. It's for your own good Tom!" Whyte gave Tom one final pitying look before saying "What would your mother say Tom, if SHE knew about all of this!" As Whyte marched away, Tom leaned against the pile of stock and closed his eyes. What WOULD his mother say, Tom wondered suddenly feeling ashamed. And how was he going to explain his injuries and confinement to the barracks to Mary Chisolm? For the first time Tom began to really understand how Bill Hanson felt about his wife finding out about Josh Smith. As he lay in the back of the bumping cart, Tom began to add up the ever-increasing list of lies that he had told Mary Chisolm. They were close to Southampton that night, but Hughes stopped once again in a comfortable little town. Whyte assigned the billets and he and Hanson spent several long minutes in conversation before walking over to where Sharpe and Garrard sat with Smith. "Bill here, tells me that there really was nothing going on the other night. He thinks that the only way to prove your innocence to the rest of the lads is to show them that you're still all mates and are happy to keep sharing a billet. I've a mind to split the lot of you up, but I'll give you a chance if you think you can all stay out of trouble." Whyte waited for the others to reply. "I tried to tell you that the rumours were wrong Harry but you wouldn't believe me." Tom said, more than a little hurt that his one time friend would believe Hanson ahead of his own word. "We'll share and there'll be no trouble!" Sharpe said, putting an end to the matter and Whyte walked away. Captain Hughes wandered down to the small campfire where the four men were eating that evening. Smith and Hanson excused themselves quickly, and headed off to their billet. Tom knew they probably felt a little uncomfortable in their Captain's presence. "How are you feeling now Tom?" Hughes asked, his blue eyes holding a touch of worry. "All right Sir, but my head still aches and I can't always see clearly." Hughes nodded. "You had best go straight to the infirmary and let the surgeon have a look at you when we get home tomorrow." Hughes turned his gaze to Dick, and Tom could see the invitation in his eyes. So that's why Hughes came down. It was their last night away from the barracks and their Captain would have been hoping to have Sharpe's company for one more night. "Come up to my tent for a while Dick." Hughes said quietly but Sharpe looked away his eye's defiant. "No. Tom still needs my help. He gets dizzy and wakes up in the night." Tom held his breath, waiting to see what their Captains reaction would be. But Hughes simply nodded and stood up. "All right Dick. Look after him. Goodnight." There was something rather sad in way John Hughes walked back, a lone figure making his way through the camp where his men sat in small groups around cosy campfires. "He'll be all right Tom." Sharpe said softly "You need me more tonight. Come on," and Sharpe helped Tom stand up and carried their packs to their billet. "Not like that Bill, you've got to go slower." Josh Smith's voice could clearly be heard through the crack in the door of the old storehouse. "Bloody hell!" Sharpe cursed and turned away. But Tom grabbed the door and pulled it open when he heard Smith's desperate voice again "Please Bill, just slow down a bit." Cold moonlight flooded into the room illuminating the figures of Bill Hanson and Josh Smith who lay tangled together on a blanket in the corner, still mostly clothed. "What are you doing Bill?" Tom shouted. Hanson sprang up "Christ! I wish I bloody knew!" He crossed the floor to stand in front of Garrard as Sharpe went over to Smith who was still sitting on the floor. "I'm just doing what Josh wants!" Hanson explained, his temper starting to get the better of him. "I'm all right Tom, Bill just doesn't know how to do it." Smith said sadly. "Of course I bloody know how to do it!" Hanson spat and ran his hand through his hair. "How different can it bloody well be!" "It's not the same as with women Bill, it's not as simple." Tom began, aware that he was blushing. Bill Hanson stared at him waiting for more of an explanation. "There's, er, things you've got to do first," Tom felt his face flush and knew he wouldn't be able to give Hanson instructions. He looked over to Sharpe for rescue. Sharpe walked back to the two men. "Here," he said pulling a bottle of musket oil from his pack and dropping it into Hanson's hand. "Use this. Put some of it on a couple of yer fingers and stick them up his arse then move them around a bit. But be careful and go slow. When you've loosened him up put some on yer prick. Don't stick it in all at once, it's not like ramming a musket! Just a bit at a time. If it won't all fit, then don't force it. Once you're in there, give Josh a minute to get used to it then you should be right. You should know how to do the rest." Sharpe paused and looked at Hanson's shocked face. "But I'll tell yer now Bill, if you hurt Josh I'll come over there and make sure yer never do it again! I'll be listening!" Hanson stared at Sharpe, his face a deep shade of red, his mouth open in shock. For one moment Hanson looked as if he would throw the oil bottle at Sharpe and walk out, but he licked his lips nodded his head and went back to Smith. Sharpe grabbed Tom by the arm and pulled him through a doorway into a smaller storeroom. "Christ Dick, couldn't you have put it bit nicer?" Tom asked in exasperation. Sharpe looked at him, a tired look that spoke of things Tom had never experienced. "Tom that WAS the nice way. You should hear some of the ways I've had it told to me." They dropped their packs and Tom stopped to listen to the faint sounds coming from the other room. "I don't think I can stay and listen to that, Dick. We should have stopped it. Bills too angry. He's going to hurt Josh, I just know it." Tom was worried, but he also knew that part of his concern came from his jealousy. Josh had been his for a short time, his and his alone. Now that was about to change. Sharpe gently brushed Tom's face with his fingertips "It'll be all right Tom," he said before heaping up some old sacks and spreading out their blankets. They lay down together, side by side. Tom moved around, trying to find a position that was comfortable and didn't make his ribs or back ache. "How are you feeling now Tom?" Sharpe asked softly in his ear and Tom cursed himself. This was their last night away from the barracks, their last chance to be alone together and he was too ill and too sore to take advantage of it. Instead he had to lay and listen to Bill Hanson make love to Josh Smith in the other room. "Not too bad Dick," Tom said trying to make it true. He slid his hand up Sharpe's thigh. "You want something?" From the other room Smith's voice drifted to them "Why not take off all of your clothes Bill. We've got all night. We don't have to rush." Tom thought about what he had seen in the other room, just a blanket on the stone floor, no straw, nothing to make it nice. He suddenly remembered the feather bed in Flanders and felt like crying. "Tom, I don't think ye'r well enough. Yer not yourself. How's yer head now." Sharpe's voice was gentle and full of concern. "I'm all right," Tom said but his thoughts were still with Hanson and Smith "I'm just worried about Josh. Bill shouldn't be trying to do it when he's so angry. He's going to be too rough." "Look Tom, you've got to understand, it's usually like that with men. There's always a bit of roughness involved. You're the exception, not the rule. You're the only man I've even know who was truly gentle." Sharpe smiled and brushed Tom's head carefully. "Hell even Captain Hughes, for all his bathing me and brushing my hair, likes nothing better than to pound me into the mattress when we get to that part. It's just the way it is. You said yourself you enjoyed the other night when I got a bit rough with you. It's thrilling, exciting! Tenderness is for women Tom, not men. After all, what men do with each other is really just a step away from violence." Tom was shocked, surely Sharpe didn't really believe such a thing. "You're wrong Dick. That's not how it should be if you love someone." Too late Tom realised what he had said, what he had let slip. "Just a bit slower, Bill." Smith's voice was followed by a gasp and a groan from Hanson. Tom turned his attention back to Sharpe who lay on his side, his green eyes watching Tom intently like a cat in the darkness. Slowly, Sharpe leaned in and kissed Tom very gently on the lips. "That's right Tom," he whispered softly leaving Garrard confused. "Go to sleep now, you need to rest that head of yours." But Tom couldn't sleep and lay awake listening to Hanson and Smith. He heard Smith's moans and hard gasps. He heard Hanson tell the younger man he to keep quiet and finally heard the muffled gasp that signalled Hanson's climax. There was silence for a moment then Hanson spoke. "What now?" Hanson sounded sleepy "I thought YOU were supposed to enjoy that too!" "I did Bill," Smith replied, his voice small in the darkness. "But, well, it doesn't always happen that way." Smith's voice was hesitant. "You could always let me do it to you now," he said timidly. "That's what Tom did." Even as the words were spoken Tom knew what Bill Hanson's reply would be. "Jesus Christ! Why would I want that! I did this for you Josh, because YOU said you wanted it! I don't want to bloody do THAT!" Hanson's voice was loud and Sharpe stirred beside Tom but fell back to sleep again. "Shh, it's all right Bill. I understand. You don't have to, it's not important." Tom wanted to walk in and shake Bill Hanson but he understood the man's reluctance. It had taken Tom some time to accept such an act himself and even longer before he could contemplate trying it. "We can just do what we used to do Bill, I like that too." Smith's voice was desperate now. "I love you Bill, it doesn't matter what we do. I love you." "Listen Josh, I explained this to you before. It's just for tonight, just because you said you said you needed this, wanted this." Hanson's voice was soft as he spoke the words, trying to lessen their impact. "It stops again when we get back to the barracks. We can be mates but that's all. Jean's not well and I won't do anything more to upset her. Christ knows how I'm going to explain loosing my stripes!" "Yes, I know Bill, I understand. But I still love you Bill." Smith's sad voice trailed away. Tom felt tears in his eyes again, tears for himself and Dick, tears for Josh and Bill, even tears or Hughes and his dead lover. It's the concussion Tom told himself again as he wiped his eyes and tried to go to sleep. Tom awoke with his back aching and his eye glued shut again. "You must have bumped yer head in the night Tom, it's been bleeding again." Sharpe said from the doorway. "I was just going to get some water to clean you up. How do you feel." Tom sat up and waited for the dizziness or nausea but his head seemed much clear. "I feel better Dick," he said with a smile. "Good, I'll bring you some breakfast too." Sharpe slipped out the door and Tom listened to the silence from the other room. Where were Smith and Hanson he wondered? But at that moment Smith's small dark head peered around the doorway. "Come in Joshy," Tom said and patted the space beside him. Smith sat down beside Tom in the dim light "How are you now Tom?" he asked, raising his small hand to gently touch Tom's face in much the same way Sharpe had last night. "I feel better this morning. What about you? How are you Joshy." Smith dropped his eyes and looked away. "I'm fine Tom," he whispered but Tom could hear the sadness in his voice. "I should never have asked Bill to do it Tom. I don't think he liked." Gently Tom turned Smith's face back to him and looked into the dark eyes. "Give him time Josh, it'll get better. You've got to remember that Tom hasn't done this before. He was probably scared like you were." Tom smiled a little but Smith shook his head. "I won't ask him again Tom. I don't want to make things difficult for him." Tom brushed Smith's hair back from his face. "You'd better fix you're queue again before Harry sees you." Tom said trying to change the subject. Smith nodded but made no move to get up. "Tom, I understand now how hard you tried that night, the first time." Smith reached out and took Tom's hand in his own. "I know how much care you took. You didn't need words to tell me how you felt." Smith looked at Tom wistfully and something passed between them, something that Smith had tried to tell Tom once but would now stay unspoken. Smith stood up and walked to the door. "I know when we get back to the barracks it will be just you and Dick again. I want to thank you for everything you did Tom. I'll never forget what we shared and if you find yourself feeling lonely some nights while Dick's away with Hughes, well, you know where to look if you want a bit of company," and with that Josh Smith walked away. As they neared the barracks Tom began to worry. He wasn't looking forward to a week confined to the barracks or the extra duties. He knew the gossip would start up again once the men in the other companies heard what had happened. But most of all Tom worried about what Bill Hanson would tell his wife. Tom cast a quick glance at the older man as he marched along, his brow furrowed, his shoulders hunched. "It's his own bloody fault Tom." Sharpe whispered beside him but Tom still felt sorry for Hanson. But Bill Hanson was spared the distress of explaining to his wife. As the weary men were dismissed from the parade ground, Hannah Avery came running up to Hanson calling, "You'd better come quickly Bill, it's Jean!" The End Dec 1998