Welcome to part two of "Silence is Cold". Please enjoy.

I do not own Midsomer Murders; I only own the characters I made up.

--

If one looked around, all that could be seen was chaos, turmoil. However, the situation wasn't "if" one looked around, it was "when", and "where". It's a bit difficult to not look around while in the heat of battle...always having to watch one's back, and your comrade's. Swarms of "forest camo" uniforms could be seen to the sides and behind a particular English soldier when he looked, making sure he wasn't alone in this earth form of hell. He could hear explosions and shells going off everywhere around him, feel the heat of specially made military rifles being fired very close to his head, and could only watch in horror as men were blown to bits mere feet away from him, their blood spattering on his cheek.

Yes, this had become the life of this soldier, only twenty-three years of age. He'd never be able to say he'd become used to these sights, sounds and smells, even if he'd have to endure it for several more years; no one should have to become used to watching their fellow man being blown away. The young man wanted nothing more than to be back at home, or even his base, where the safety was sure to be better. He wanted to lay and bawl, forget all of the horror that he'd seen and was enduring that very moment for his country, which he loved with an intensity he could not explain. But now wasn't the time for wishing. Now wasn't the time to fall apart and cry. Now was the time to get across this wretched battle field, which stank with the smell of burning flesh, cried with the screams of wounded soldiers, to infiltrate the enemy and finish the mission. If the mission was completed, and completed successfully, the enemy would be forced to retreat where the Allies had an idea of where their base was.

"Forward, men, forward!" Our soldier screamed, his knuckles white as he gripped his semi-automatic. "If we could make it to that trench, we could wait for them to stop shelling. They'll have to reload some time, and that'll be the moment to make our move!"

"We can't belly-crawl that far!" One of his comrades yelled over the explosions. "We'll be slaughtered!"

"We're sitting ducks out here!" Our man yells, now angry. "We'll have to make a run for it, we'd be a lot safer there than here! Wait for my order!"

The young lieutenant's eyes cut across the field, watching, waiting, listening as he continued crawling, the explosions lessening as a few of the large enemy guns had to reload, while others continued firing. Soon the shells exploded just far enough away to miss the small platoon.

"Now!" he shouted, jumping to his feet and helping another as he began to run.

Though the sprint to the trench was short, it was very hazardous. Men and women not only had to watch their backs now, but their feet as well due to the holes and bodies that littered the field, and the vibrations from the explosions. The lieutenant and his comrade were the first to reach the temporary ground shelter, but didn't relax or duck down as they waited for the others. They stood and lended their hands as leverage for their buddies to get down with, not protecting their own selves until the last memeber of the reduced platoon was in the trench.

The young lieutenant walked briskly, hunched over as he overlooked his line of men and women, checking for wounded. He stopped and practically fell before one man, who's crimson blood streaked down his neck from behind his ear. "Medic!" he shouted, turning the man's head to examin the wound. Upon closer inspection he found that the wound wasn't coming from behind the man's ear at all, but from his ear. It appeared a bullet had gone through it, narrowly missing a vital area of his head.

"Is my ear gone?" the man asked, his voice surprisingly calm despite the horror going on around him.

The medic came and squat in front of him, just in time to hear the question. "No, you got lucky. Even if it was gone you'd have been lucky it didn't hit you any higher or lower than that."

The lieutenant got up and walked down the line again, this time stopping in front of a woman. He knew she didn't like to be treated any differently from the men, that it made her feel as though they thought she weaker because of her sex, but still, the young lieutenant couldn't help himself, due to his upbringing. "Are you alright?" he'd noticed a wet, bloody spot on her upper left arm, and tried to examine it.

The woman swat his hand away with a nod. "Yours is worse than mine." she winced, pointing to a bloody spot near his right hip.

The lieutenant's brows furrowed, and he looked down at himself, apparently noticing it for the first time. "Couldn't even feel it." he answered. "Must only be a knick."

Usually, he would have smiled at the thought of not feeling any pain due to a wound, but this was no time to smile. The shelling had stopped briefly, and they needed to move. He stood a bit to look over the edge of the trench, noting the sounds of rifles despite the temporary end to the explosions. "Alright," he said clearly, "This is our moment. If we run, we can make it to the bunker. They're going to be ready for a fight, but if any of them surrender, we'll take them prisoner. If any of them refuse to surrender...you know what to do. Am I clear?"

After recieving multiple affirmatives, the young man climbed up out of the trench, assisted another man out, and with both their pairs of hands, helped the rest out. The platoon then proceeded in making an all-out run for it, making it only half-way there before the explosions began again. The lieutenant could only cringe as screams from a different platoon found their way to his ears; they couldn't stop now...they were much too close.

"We need that bomb, now!" he bellowed. The bunker door was mere yards from them now. He came to a skidding halt on the concrete entrance of the bunker, pausing for a moment to yank on the handle of the thick metal door. It was locked. "Damn it! I said we need that bomb!"

The words had barely passed his lips before their explotions expert was before him, pulling the lethal weapon from his pack. Sticking it right in the center of the thick door, he made sure everyone was clear, including himself, of course, before pressing the button to the detonator. Nothing but debris laid where the great door had once been when the job was done, allowing a nice gaping hole for the soldiers to enter. Their rifles at the ready, they made their way down the long, dimly-lit concrete hallway, their bodies tense, ready for anything.

An enemy soldier lept through one of the sturdy doorways, pistol in hand, finger on the trigger, shouting and aiming right for the young lieutenant. The lieutenant only twitched his finger on the trigger, however, eliminating the threat without trouble, and continued on through the door. Several similar events like this occured, sometimes two or three enemy soldiers jumping out, one more intelligent one putting his rifle around the corner instead of his body, as he pulled the trigger. Shooting blindly, though, sent his shots to the walls instead of the Allie soldiers, allowing them to get rid of the problems quickly as they made their way to the big guns.

The lieutenant rushed into the main room, firing his rifle at the ceiling in warning. "On the ground! On the ground now! I want you away from those guns, and any other weapons you have kicked away from you, or I'll shoot!"

Upon seeing the number of platoon memebers, the largely out-numbered enemy ground bombers did as ordered, stepping greatly away from the big guns, and kicking away any weapons on their person before getting down on their knees, their hands behind their heads. The lieutenant smirked victoriously as his platoon members trained their weapons on the prisoners, and began walking about the room, looking for any supplies they could take. However, the young lieutenant wasn't expecting that there'd be an enemy soldier hiding among the boxes of ammunition, and wasn't expecting him to be holding a grenade in his hand. The lieutenant's smirk quickly fell from his lips as horror entered his eyes, and he back peddled as the pin was pulled from the grenade.

--

The military hospital back at Base wasn't as frantic as anyone would think. They actually hadn't had much wounded today, save for a few squad members that had just been brought in.

"We'll start with the worst wounded." A military doctor told his nurses, walking briskly as he sorted out the worst wounded from the least. One particular patient caught his eye, one much more badly wounded than any of the other patients, and frowned. "Why isn't he already on the operating table?! He's bleeding to death! I want a stretcher here pronto, and him in the operating room immediately!"

The Army doctor squat down by the bed quickly, ripping the sheets off of the naked, bleeding, brutally wounded man, and frowned. His right leg was badly stabbed with shrapnel, some of it sticking out, and some of it burrowed deeply into the flesh. He had a knick in his right side, near his hip, that wouldn't be much worry or trouble to repair, but his abdomen and chest were badly littered with fresh, open wounds. The doctor frowned deeper, if possible, and shook his head as the man's body was transferred from the bed to the stretcher, before being carried off to the operating room. His wounds wouldn't be difficult to clog up and repair, but they would leave massive scars, and the man would most likely be shell-shocked or tramatized when he woke.

It was also disappointing for the doctor because the man was so young, hansom, and most likely had a young wife or girlfriend back home, waiting for him. Not that the doctor was homosexual in any way, but he could tell a handsom face from a not-so handsom face. He donned his white coat and elastic gloves as he reached for his tools, opting to start on the shrapnel in the man's leg while another doctors cleaned and tended to the wounds on his chest. He glanced at the handsom man's face, noting the ink-black hair, intelligent looking eyebrows set just right over closed eyes, the well-shaped nose and lips, and strong jaw. "Does our patient have a name?" he asked, removing the first piece of shrapnel.

A nurse furrowed her brows thoughtfully as she turned to the dog tags that had just recently been removed from the victim's neck, and read aloud, "Jerry M. Williamson."

--

I couldn't help but notice that the closer I got to Midsomer, the whiter my knuckles became on the steering wheel. It had been five years since I'd been here...in this dangerous place that I used to call home. I was being bombarded with memories that I thought I'd forgotten, or wished to have. Of course, it was nothing that I hadn't expected.

It didn't appear that Midsomer had changed much, as was also expected, which was good and bad. It made me wonder if any of the people had changed...or the danger. Better or worse? I'd have to see. I also began to wonder what people would think of seeing me for the first time since I'd left. No doubt there would be some gossip going on, but hey, it was Midsomer, after all.

"Mummy?"

I shook my head and smiled softly at the small voice, and looked in the rear-view mirror into the striking blue eyes that stared curiously at me. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"Mummy, what's the matter?"

I furrowed my brows, but didn't allow the soft smile to leave my lips. "What makes you think something's the matter?"

"You look like you're trying to hurt the steering wheel, and you had your eyebrows pulled close. You do that a lot when something's the matter." he said worriedly.

I raised my eyebrows up, impressed. My son had inherited quite a few of my traits, which included extreme observence...especially for a five year old. This also was a good and bad fact to me, seeing as how many people were both impressed and worried by it. "I was just thinking about the last time I was here, baby. Nothing's the matter."

"What happened the last time you were here, Mummy?"

With his observence also came a large amount of inquisitiveness. But really, what five year old isn't inquisitive? I sighed as my eyes flicked to the road, and then back to the rear view mirror. "A lot of things, darling; I'll tell you some other time. Look, we're here!"

Ben's house hadn't changed a bit. The front lawn was still lush, and green, and from what I could tell through the fence, so was the back lawn. Two cars occupied the driveway as usual, with the addition of one more when I put the car into park. Quickly unbuckling myself, I made my way out of the car and to the backseat, where I unbuckled my son from his car seat and hoisted him up onto my hip. He smiled handsomly and stretched his little legs before wrapping them around my waist, and then placed one hand over my shoulder while his other latched onto the open collar of my purple blouse.

I was only part-way up the concrete walk-way when Ben came out of the house, grinning, his arms open wide to hug us for the first time in a year(the last time being when he'd come to my college graduation). I eased Toby to his feet carefully before I was pulled into a tight embrace, my body squished against Ben's body, my face painfully pressed to his neck. "You're here...You're actually here!" he said happily, as though trying to convince himself.

I chuckled, and with a slight struggle freed my arms from between our bodies to embrace him back. "Dad! I'm happy to see you! You've barely changed at all."

True at that. Five years hadn't done too much to Ben's looks. He did look a bit older, yes, but not badly. His brown hair was a lighter shade, and there were a few more lines in his cheeks when he smiled, but he looked great otherwise. His strength was certainly still in tact, too.

"I've missed you." he murmured, acting like he wasn't going to let up on his hold.

"I've missed you too," I smiled, "But, you're choking me."

Ben didn't let me go until he gave me one last squeeze, and then cupped my cheek once my feet were back on the ground. "You've grown up." he murmured warmly, his thumb beginning to stroke my temple. "You're not that teenager I sent to college anymore."

I affectionately covered his hand with my own, practically beaming at him. "I'm not the only one that's done some growing." Effortlessly, I lifted my son up into my arms, stroking his blonde locks out of his eyes. "Toby," I said softly, "Remember Papa?" Toby had been four years old the last time he'd seen Ben...he should remember him. Who knows? What do four year olds think of other than toys, sand boxes, and their mummies?

Toby held Ben's gaze only for a few short moments, before burying his face my neck.

Ben chuckled as I did, and reached out to pat his back while I stroked his hair. "Don't be shy, baby." I murmured against his forehead, "Say hello to your grandfather."

It took a bit more coaxing than that, but eventually I got him to look up, his brilliant blue eyes shyly looking into Ben's brown ones, while he lifted his little hand and moved his fingers in a little wave, before hiding his face in my neck again.

"He'll warm up to you." I sighed, "He got the shy trait from me."

Ben only smiled, gave Toby one last pat on the back, and walked to the trunk of my car. "So, how have you been?" he asked casually, grabbing my luggage, and Toby's. "Do you like living near campus?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "But...I don't know...it gets tiring after a bit. A majority of college kids there don't drive as safely as I'd like. I usually try to stay off the road and walk wherever we need to go; besides that, it keeps us fit."

"Good, good." he nodded. "Nothing wrong with a little break...especially when you come to stay with your old man."

I rolled my eyes. "I've told you, forty-two is not old. What does Jess think when you say things like that?"

He laughed as we slowly made it up the walk-way. "She says the same thing you do. Remember that she's only forty, though."

"Is Jess here?"

"She's at work; same job and everything." he gave me a side-glance once we reached the door. "She's got a nice dinner planned out for you...but, judging by how late she'll have to work tonight," he said, glancing down at his watch, "We'll most likely be eating out, and the bill will be taken care of by me...as usual."

I began to chuckle at the irony of it all; that's how it usually ended up happening at my flat near the campus. I'd come home, tired from work, pay the babysitter, and then end up walking to the nice little café located in the campus book store. The only difference was that it was me and my son alone, and me alone paying the bill. Now, that chuckle that I'd begun to lose? It immediately lodged in my throat when the front door opened. I hadn't set foot in the house for five years, but absolutely everything was the same, and that "Welcome Home" sign from when I'd been released from the hospital was hanging up in the kitchen. Oh...the memories began making my chest hurt. That day that I'd been released...the few days after and the argument that happened between me and...

No. I wasn't going to allow myself to fall weak in front of my dad and son. I'd come for an enjoyable holiday, and I wasn't going to turn into that fragile teenager again. I looked around and smiled, then looked down at Toby, who was looking around with that same curious look on his face that I'd had the first time I was in Ben's home. "What do you think?" I asked him, placing a kiss on one of his temples.

"It's bigger than our flat." he cooed, as though it were the most amazing thing in the world.

I chuckled as well as Ben, and he eased one of the suitcases down to pat Toby on the head. "Let him explore, get used to the place; he can't hurt anything."

"You'd be surprised." I quipped, setting my little lad on his feet.

Like a shot, Toby was running through the house, looking in every room in the house, crawling between pieces of furniture, and so on. He stopped once, which was in front of the glass door that led to the back yard from the kitchen, and seemed glued. "They have a giant dog, Mummy!" he squealed. "And a little one, too!"

"You got dogs? When did you get dogs? What kind?"

Ben's feet shuffled a bit, and he seemed a bit reluctant to look me in the eyes as he set our luggage down. "I...got a dog when you left, because it was too quiet, and, even though I had Jess with me, I was lonely. I came home one day aaaaand," he shrugged his shoulders, "There was a dog here. Two of them, actually. Jess is very tender hearted toward puppies, you see. She got the one for me, and then saw the other, and..."

I furrowed my brows playfully at him. "What kind of dogs? Wait, let me guess. You look like a German Shephard or, a Labradore person."

He chuckled. "Not quite. Come here, I'll show you."

I picked Toby up and held him on my hip again, not knowing how big the dogs were or how gentle they would be to a small child. Ben opened the door once Toby was out of the way, and closed it again behind us once we were out on the back patio. Almost immediately, a large, black and white spotted Great Dane stood up on its hind legs and placed its paws on Ben's shoulders. Another dog, a small Corgi, yapped and nipped playfully at Ben's feet. I felt my eyes become wide and round. The dane was nearly as tall as Ben on its hind legs! It looked like it could eat Toby for a snack!

"This," he laughed, pointing to the dane, "Is Remmy, and this," he stooped to pick up the little corgi, "Is Lady."

I quirked a brow. "So...Remmy is the dog that Jess got for you?"

"No. Lady is the dog Jess got for me. She bought Remmy for herself."

I started to laugh, thinking he was joking, until I saw the look on his face as he talked to and scratched the little corgi. A gigantic dog for a very slim, curvy woman, and a little dog for a semi-muscular police officer. Yep. One happy family.

"You can put him down, you know." Ben nodded as he motioned to Toby, who was squirming slightly in my arms. "They're very gentle with children; sometimes the neighbors bring their kids over to play with them."

I looked at Toby reluctantly, then to the gigantic dane, and then back to Toby. "Do you...want to play with the dogs, Toby?"

Toby's eyes widened, and he grinned. "Yes! Put me down, Mummy!"

I did so slowly, and actually followed him as he approached Remmy. I kid you not when I say he looked like a chew toy compared to the enormous dog. I stood and watched, my eyes trained on the both of them like a hawk. It seemed Remmy was a gentle giant as Ben had said, for he laid down in the grass and deliberately allowed Toby to climb atop his back and sit there while he scratched that hard-to-reach-place behind his ears. While Remmy was enjoying his bit of attention, Lady decided that she'd been rather left out, and pranced up to the two and placed her front paws on the dane's shoulder, who didn't seem to mind a bit. Upon noticing Lady, Toby crawled off of the dane and took off at a flat-out run, laughing and giggling as the the little corgi chased him down, while the dane continued to lay in the grass and watch.

I couldn't help the smile that graced my lips. It may have been a dangerous place when I'd lived there five years ago, and it may hold a few painful memories, but it was home. There was just something about the way my son was enjoying himself, the way his laughter floated up to my ears as I watched, that just felt right. Maybe I should have raised him in Midsomer after all.

Ben draped his arm around my shoulders, and watched Toby play with the dogs before bringing his happy gaze to meet mine. "So?"

I nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I don't mind staying for a bit; it's nice to get out of that cramped little flat, and out into the country."

With a satisfied expression, Ben pulled me closer, and looked back out at Toby. "Welcome home."