Final Chapter. Reviews are excellent.

A weight is lifted from Nick's back, and then there are hands pulling him up and out of the mud. Nick barely stops to cough the mud from his mouth before he's on his knees again. Jeff tries to pull him away but he digs into the mud with his bare hands, helping to get Felix out, praying that he's not badly injured. Another soldier finally pulls the last sandbag from Felix's body and Nick reels back in horror, scrambling onto his feet.

There's blood everywhere, soaking the sandbags and dripping into the mud. Nick retches, staring at Felix's body, the taste of bile filling his mouth. The back of Felix's head is completely caved in, smashed by the back of the periscope one of them should have been looking out of when the shell hit.

I think I'm in love.

Nick turns and runs toward the latrines, slipping and falling on the boards more than once. He's amazed he isn't grabbed as a deserter but he makes it. He drops onto all fours, heaving up what little he's eaten.

Nick stays on his hands and knees, panting, with tears streaming down his face. Every time he closes his eyes Felix is in front of him, smiling shyly.

I think I'm in love.

Blood everywhere.

Hands grab Nick's shoulders and haul him up to his feet.

"C'mon Nic'las." Jeffy says softly, "We need to get back."

"No."

Jeffy ignores him, starting to walk them back toward their trench. Nick pulls out his grip.

"I'm not going back, Jeffy. I'm not."

"You'll be court-martialled! They'll shoot you Nic'las."

"I don't care!" Nick says, closing his eyes for a second.

I think I'm in love.

"I do! You don't deserve to die like that!"

"FELIX didn't deserve it!" Nick yells, pushing Jeffy away when he reaches out.

"I didn't –"

"He was a child! You," Nick points, "You..." his hand shakes. "You are a child."

Jeffy stares at him, his mouth open in surprise.

"Nic'las, you're not much than a year older than I am. You've been in here barely six months." Jeffy says quietly, almost all traces of his accent gone. "I've seen my friends die. I saw my best friend get shot by a sniper our third day here. I joined up with my mates the moment I could and out of all of us, I'm the only one left."

Nick gapes at Jeffy as he turns, walking away from Nick. Jeffy stops at the corner.

"Don't you ever call me a child."

Nick follows him as Jeffy walks back to the dug-out, staying a few steps behind him. By the time they get back, Felix's body is on a stretcher, covered up to the neck with a sheet. His face is remarkably unscathed, his eyes shut and his mouth relaxed almost into a smile. Nick swallows back a wave of tears and steps up to say goodbye.

As they carry Felix away, Nick walks over to Jeffy.

"I'm sorry."

Jeffy nods.

"I know. S'alright."

Nick takes Jeffy's arm and pulls him down, starting to set up their mess tins to boil water with and make tea.

"Jeffy," Nick says softly. "You need to write to your friend Monty and tell him what's happened."

"Oh bloody 'ell, you're right..." Jeffy digs through his pack and pulls out a letter "Felix gave me this... asked me to post it when I wrote to Monty..."

The two of them stare at the sealed envelope, Monty's name written across it in Felix's flowing handwriting.

"We can't." Nick says slowly.

Jeffy shakes his head, putting the letter back in his pack and retrieving a piece of paper and a pencil for himself. He sighs softly, and starts to write. Nick watches him for a few seconds and then finishes making his tea, leaning back against the mud wall to sip it.

Nick finishes his tea and wipes the mug out before putting it back into his pack. Jeffy smiles at him from the other side of the dug-out.

"Don't fancy going out in this rain much." He jokes, putting on his helmet.

"Not much cop for June, is it?" Nick laughs.

The two of them look up at the door as Smythe enters with two men following behind him. He takes off his helmet and runs his hand through his bryl-creemed hair.

"Afternoon chaps, all ready for the push?" Smythe asks.

Nick and Jeff nod, standing to attention.

"Yes, Sir." They say in unison.

"At ease, gentlemen, at ease. Brought you some new bods to help out. Privates Cinneide and O'Connell." Smythe tells them. "Well, best be off. Hummel can't handle this all himself."

Smythe pulls his helmet back on and is gone as suddenly as he arrived, leaving the four of them together. The taller of the two Privates leans over, holding his hand out.

"Teddy O'Connell." He introduces himself in a thick Irish accent, shaking both of their hands. "This is Sean."

Sean shakes their hands too, grinning.

"Where in Ireland are you from?" Nick asks.

"Dublin." Sean answers.

"We used to know a chap from Tipperary."

Sean nods politely, glancing at Teddy. Outside, the guns go silent, the shelling stops, and all that's left is the sound of the rain on the mud.

"I guess that's our cue." Jeffy says quietly, leading them out into the muddy trench.

They join the line of soldiers, standing in front of a one of the ladders that line the trench wall. Get up, get over, keep shooting, keep firing. Don't die. That's all. Nick laughs softly to himself. That's all. Smythe paces up and down in front of them, checking his watch every few seconds. Out of the corner of his eye, Nick sees Sean reach for Teddy's hand and squeeze it, not letting go until Smythe walks back past.

"Jeffy," Nick whispers, keeping his head facing forward, "Good luck."

"Good luck." Jeffy replies.

Over the rain pinging off his helmet Nick hears a whistle blow a few trenches away.

"This is it, lads." Smythe says, looking at his watch a final time before blowing his own whistle.

Nick's up the ladder before he can think.

His heart pounds in his ears

Rain blinds him.

He falls.