Chapter Text
“Hi, James. It’s me. Anthony. I mean, you probably knew that already… Sorry, I’m rambling. It’s been a long day. I was just ringing to let you know that I’ve made it up here alright. The traffic was a bloody nightmare, six car pile-up on the M1 apparently, that’s why I’m calling so late. I’m guessing you’re already asleep, but I wanted to call you anyway, just in case you were up waiting. Anyway… I love you. Call me tomorrow when you get home from work? You can tell me all about this new manager you’re getting. Oh, and don’t forget to take your medication! I love you, bye, bye.”
***
Mandatory staff meetings are rare at the Button House PLC Wiltshire office (Chippenham division). It is a small office with barely a dozen employees to its name, tucked away on the ground floor of a dingy building on a dingy business park. Head office rarely visit the site, barely knows it exists, in fact, but the employees who work there chug along, get their work done, and are always on the countdown to payday.
James Hutchins joined the office around a year ago. Two years out from leaving the army, he could have been looking at a lucrative job at any number of companies. He would have gotten those jobs, too. But no. He wanted to stay close to home, and Button House had been offering a fairly decent wage, a couple of half-arsed benefits, and steady nine-to-five employment only a twenty minute drive away. He’d applied, gotten the job after a ten-minute interview with old Heather Button (who said he looked “like a nice chap”) and has been there ever since.
The thing is, Heather Button is old. So old that she really should have retired years ago. Something none of them were quite sure of had kept her here, but after a nasty fall on a patch of black ice just outside of the office three months ago, retirement could no longer be put off. She had left last Friday with a bouquet of flowers, some nice chocolates, and a whacking great pension to enjoy. She is going to go on a cruise, apparently.
“She had a good life here,” Fanny Button says from the seat next to him. She is Heather’s niece, and has been working in accounts ever since she divorced her wealthy husband. James hums a little, nodding.
“Who d’you think they’re sending?” Pat asks from his other side. Pat is relatively new, having joined the company around six months ago following his divorce. He also works in accounts, although he seems to spend more time making cups of tea than he does actually working.
“Could be anyone,” Julian says, leaning forward from behind them. Julian is the newest member of the team. He had been a Tory politician in a previous life, before the sex scandal of course. Now he handles contract negotiation for their little branch. In James’ opinion the man is utterly obnoxious, but he does have to admit that he is frustratingly good at his job.
“I just hope she will be as radiantly beautiful as a wildflower in the first blooms of spring,” Thomas, their marketing lead, sighs. Thomas possesses three things: an English degree, a trust fund, and a total lack of talent for poetry. The latter of these does not stop the man from attempting to compose rambling lengths of prose when he is supposed to be doing his actual job, though.
“Thomas…” Humphrey, their HR manager, says as he pokes his head around the door. He looks exhausted already, and it’s barely ten in the morning. Thomas grumbles out a short apology before sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’m sure whoever it is, they’ll be lovely!” Kitty exclaims with a grin from the front row. Kitty is fresh out of university, and it shows through her glaring optimism. James is oddly fond of her, though, and has taken her under his wing somewhat as she finds her feet in PR.
“As long as she not be a witch,” Mary adds sagely. Mary is an odd duck, but reliable. She puts customers at ease when she is manning the phone lines, but does not put up with any funny business from them. She and Kitty are fast friends, and have been for a long time.
“Doesn’t matter,” Robin grunts from next to Julian. Robin… Well, nobody is quite sure what Robin does. He has been at the company longer than anyone, practically since the office had opened if the rumours are to be believed. He doesn’t follow any of the office rules, seems to do no work, spends his days watching conspiracy theory videos on YouTube, and yet has still not been fired. “All managers the same. All want us to work.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” James asks, turning to face Robin.
“I don’t think anything’s wrong with that, Cap,” Pat says.
That is another thing. Nobody ever calls James by his name. They have never done so. On his first day, somebody had asked him what his previous job had been, and when he’d replied that he’d been in the army, a captain, someone else had called him ‘The Captain’ and the name had stuck. He isn’t sure if Pat or Julian even know his name.
James opens his mouth to reply, but before he can say anything, the door flies open and in comes rushing a woman. She is young, wearing smart trousers, a colourful shirt and battered trainers, with mousy brown hair loose around her shoulders. Her arms are full of folders. She comes to a stop in the middle of the room in front of them, depositing her documents and letting out a sigh of relief.
“Sorry I’m late!” she says. “First the shower wouldn’t heat up, then the car wouldn’t start, then…” She trails off, giving them a small, embarrassed smile. “You don’t need to hear about all that. I’m Alison Cooper, and I’m your new manager.”
Mumbled greetings ripple through the room from the gathered staff. This somewhat unenthusiastic welcome does not deter Alison, who continues to smile at them. “I know you had Heather here for a long time, and you’re probably pretty used to doing things a certain way. I’m not here to mess with that, I promise!”
“That mean she is,” Robin leans forward and helpfully murmurs.
“But I am hoping to help you guys really maximise your potential here. I really want to get to know you all! And for that--”
“Ali, Ali, sorry!”
A young man flies through the door this time. He is wearing a hoodie, jeans and a beanie cap, and doesn’t seem to realise that there is a room full of people in front of him. He’d make a very fine soldier, James thinks to himself. “Sorry, managed to park the car. I think--”
James clears his throat. The man seems to realise that there are people there then, and stops. “Oh shit. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Alison says quickly. “Why don’t you go get set up, yeah?”
The man mumbles something, mouths another apology to the group, and flees.
“Anyway,” Alison continues, the winning smile back on her face despite the interruption. “I want to get to know you guys properly, and I thought we could do some icebreakers!”
The group collectively bites back a groan. Not icebreakers. Anything but icebreakers. Everybody knows that icebreakers are one of the worst things that can be announced in any business situation. James opens his mouth to protest after looking around and realising that nobody else is about to, but Alison is already ploughing on. “For example, that guy there is my husband, Mike. He’s starting in IT here today. Do any of you guys have spouses?”
Here, Pat’s expression becomes somewhat pained. The divorce is still fresh then, James reasons. Julian is grinning salaciously, no doubt excited to share some disgusting story about his latest fling. As far as James is aware, none of the others have partners. Humphrey does, he thinks, a French woman if he is remembering correctly. There are rumours about Mary having a long-term girlfriend named Annie, but he’s never had that confirmed. Yes, they are all single, aren’t they?
He looks at Alison as the silence stretches through the room. She really is so young. She is beginning to look slightly crestfallen underneath the grin. He glances around, suppressing a sigh. He really has worked so hard to keep his life private, as well.
“I’m married,” he says.
The reaction is instantaneous. Everybody turns to look at him. The expressions range from confused to shocked to straight up disbelief. He does his best not to shrink down into his seat.
“...To a woman?” Julian chances, being the first to speak. From around the corner, Humphrey sharply says his name. Confidence restored all of a sudden, James glares at him.
“His name is Anthony,” he says.
“You’re having us on,” Pat exclaims. “You’ve worked here for a year and none of us knew you were married!”
“Nobody ever asked,” James replies defensively.
“You don’t normally need to ask about that sort of thing, mate. You don’t have his picture on your desk or anything.”
“You’re not even wearing a wedding ring!” Thomas complains.
“What does this Anthony do, then?” Julian asks. He sounds sceptical.
“He’s in the army,” James says shortly.
“Oh, of course. The army,” Julian replies. His added “very convenient" is muffled by a sudden hacking cough.
“It really is none of your business,” James snaps.
Julian opens his mouth to say something else but Alison, sensing the tension growing in the room, steps forward.
“Thank you for sharing,” she says earnestly, grinning at him. “Does anybody else want to talk about their partner?”
Realising that this is his chance, James quietly excuses himself and slips from the room. It is for the best, he reasons, before Pat starts blubbering about Carol or Thomas starts to go on about that girl who had left him for his cousin in secondary school. He glances at his watch. Quarter past ten. Just enough time to make a cup of tea.
As he walks back to his desk, cup of tea in hand, he can hear snatches of conversation through the door where the others are still gathered. Good Lord, is the meeting still going? He can’t hear much, just the odd word: “real”, “test”, “crack”. What on earth are they talking about? Thank God he isn’t in there anymore. Shaking his head, he sits down at his desk, sips his tea, and opens up his latest spreadsheet.
***
“Hello, love.”
“Hello, Anthony dear. How was the drive?”
“It was bloody awful, James. I had to stop at the services three times, and then I went around a roundabout four times trying to get back onto the right side of the motorway from one of them because the sat-nav decided to go on strike.”
“Oh dear! Are you settling in alright up there? I hope the room isn’t too dreadful.”
“No, it’s alright, actually. Standard barracks room, you know? It’s not a lot, but it’s only temporary.”
“Six months, though. You’ll end up hurting your back if the bed is bad.”
“Stop fussing. Now come on, how was your day? How’s the new boss?”
“She’s terribly young. She tried to get us to do icebreakers in the meeting this morning.”
“She didn’t!”
“Oh, she did. She asked about spouses, actually.”
“No, don’t tell me. Do the people you spend eight hours a day with finally know of my existence?”
“..."
“I’m proud of you, babe. You finally told them about me!”
“You’re acting as if I don’t tell anyone you exist.”
“Oh come on, you know I’m messing with you. What did they say?”
“They didn’t say anything, really. I’m a little worried that they think you don’t exist.”
“I’m sure they don’t think that, love.”
“It doesn’t matter, anyhow. You’re going to be gone for six months, it’s not as if you can come along to any of those awful office events they insist on holding.”
“Shut up, you loved that paintballing night and you know it.”
“The paintballing was an exception.”
“Stop being such a misery guts! You know you love them really.”
“I most certainly do not.”
“You know you love me, though.”
“...I do. You will come home soon, won’t you?”
“As soon as I can, love. I’m meeting the CO tomorrow, so I’ll let you know what he says.”
“Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you too. Are you sleeping at the cottage or on-base tonight?”
“The cottage. There’s some sort of event at the base today, lots of bigwigs, apparently. I thought it might be easier to get parked here.”
“God, I don’t blame you for avoiding camp when it’s like that. I heard somebody here saying we’re getting some sort of visit tomorrow.”
“Well, I wish you luck.”
“You’ve eaten, haven’t you?”
“I have.”
“And you’ve taken your meds?”
“Yes! Anthony, I am capable of taking care of myself.”
“I know, I know. I just… miss you.”
“It’s been one night, dear.”
“I know. It doesn’t bode well, does it?”
“No, not really.”
“Right, well, I won’t keep you. I need to go and get some food before the mess shuts, anyway. I’ll call you tomorrow, same time?”
“That sounds lovely, Anthony.”
“Alright then. I love you.”
“I love you too. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
***
MOD Lyneham, 2002
James huffed as he hauled the last box into the room. New postings always came with an unnecessary amount of hassle. Between packing up his old flat, putting the things that wouldn’t fit into this place or the car into storage, driving here, and bringing all the boxes not only into the building but up four flights of stairs because of course the lift was out of order, it was rather a lot of faff.
He’d been happy enough at his old posting. It had been nice and quiet, or at least it had been until this blasted war had started. Now, he and countless others were being relocated here to the Defence School of Electrical and Mechanical Engineering at Lyneham in order to sharpen up their training before being shipped out to either Afghanistan or Iraq. Nobody seemed to be able to answer him when he asked how long it would be until deployment, or how long they would be sequestered here in Wiltshire. It wasn’t that James didn’t like Wiltshire, it was just that he liked his previous base more. He knew everybody there, for starters.
He glanced around the room. It was fairly standard: a bed, a wardrobe, a bathroom, a small desk tucked in the corner. Currently, it was covered in boxes, all of which would need unpacking. Sighing, he buried his face in his hands.
A gentle knock on the still-open door startled him, making him turn around. Standing there, his arm still half-raised and a sheepish look on his face, was another man. He was a lieutenant, James quickly realised as he saw the stripes on his uniform. He was attractive, too. A strong jaw, mousy brown hair, and a light smile.
“Hello,” James said, and instantly fought the urge to kick himself at how stupid he sounded.
“Hello, sir,” the man said. He didn’t step forward, continuing to stand on the edge of the doorframe. “I noticed you were moving in, and thought I’d introduce myself. Lieutenant Anthony Havers. I’m your next door neighbour.”
“Pleased to meet you, lieutenant,” James replied, giving him a smile. Coming forward, he offered his hand. Havers took it. “I’m Captain James Hutchins.” He looked over Havers again. He looked smart, even in standard-issue fatigues. The beret in his hands, however, caught his eye. “Say, are you REME?”
“Yes, sir!” Havers laughed. “I’m a vehicle mechanic, but I dabble in avionics from time to time. What about yourself?”
“I’m an armourer,” James said. Havers raised his eyebrows a little, but didn’t say anything. “I very nearly went into vehicle mechanics, though. I find it fascinating.”
Havers smiled then, and James could have sworn that his eyes were sparkling. They stared at each other, smiling, for far too long until Havers finally cleared his throat and looked away.
“I’m not sure if it’s of any interest to you, sir, and if you need to unpack, don’t feel as though you have to say yes on my account,” he said. He sounded nervous, his words almost jumbling and bumping into each other. “But apparently they’re doing coffee and cake down in the mess, if you’re interested in raiding it with me before all the good cakes are gone?”
“I’d love to, lieutenant,” James said, and stepped out, shutting his door behind him.
Little did James know that that would not be the last time he saw Anthony Havers. After they had spent a good two hours drinking copious amounts of tea and stealing the best cakes right from under the noses of the Majors and Lieutenant Colonels who were dotted around the mess, they had gone back upstairs and said their goodbyes. James had spent the rest of the night lying on his bed rather than unpacking, sternly reminding himself that just two years ago it was illegal to be gay in the army and that Havers was most likely straight anyway. He’d fallen asleep thinking about him, though, and woken up thinking about him, being disappointed when he emerged from his room and didn’t see Havers there.
The training, it turned out, was not a refresher course as they had been told. It was, in fact, training intended to turn them all into all-rounders. It certainly explained why everybody here was an officer. The stern-faced Colonel had announced to them that they were to be paired off, and they would work on one skill a day. For now, they were to go and ‘get to know each other’ once the pairings were announced.
James sat, anxiety building in his chest as the Colonel rattled off the list of names and who they would be paired with. He recognised a couple of the names, but only in passing. He’d very much kept himself to himself in basic training, and it was a trend that had continued for his entire time in the army--all sixteen years of it.
“Captain Hutchins!” the Colonel called. He jumped up, glancing around. “And Lieutenant Havers!”
There he was, standing up on the other side of the room and giving him that lovely smile again. There was a warm feeling growing in his chest just looking at it, and he forced himself to squash it down. Of all of the people he could have been paired with…
The two of them made their way to the back of the room as the Colonel continued to call out names, slipping out of the room together. James was suddenly very, very aware that he knew nothing about this base, and could hardly tell you where the bathrooms were, let alone where anything else was.
“Fancy seeing you again, sir!” Havers said with a grin.
“Yes, quite,” James said, attempting to give Havers a smile of his own.
“What’re the chances, eh? Not only are we right next door to each other, but now we’ve been paired up for training!”
My lucky day, James thought to himself.
“I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to teach you, Lieutenant,” he said instead. Havers frowned at him then.
“Oh, I don’t know about that, sir,” he replied. “From what I hear, you’re the best in the business.”
“Really?”
“On my life, sir. I’ve been told that if you want a gun fixing, you’re the man to go to.”
James felt himself flush with pride, and just a tiny bit of embarrassment. He was indeed good with guns. He’d always been interested in them, ever since his father had first shown him a hunting rifle when he was just six years old. He’d fixed his first, an old Bren gun his father had been given by a buddy, when he was eleven, and it had grown from there. He’d always been interested in vehicles, especially those from the Second World War, but his talent lay with guns.
“Thank you,” he managed to stammer out after a moment. Havers smiled at him again, that damn smile that kept making him feel so fuzzy inside. “I must say, I’m very much looking forward to getting my hands on a tank.”
“There’s nothing better,” Havers said, nodding his head sagely. He glanced back at the doors. “Do you… actually know what we’re supposed to be doing right now?”
“Honestly?” James said. Havers nodded. “I haven’t the foggiest idea.”
“Thank God it’s not just me,” Havers said with a heavy sigh of relief. He glanced around again before turning back. “Do you think they’ll know if we just go and have a cuppa?”
“It’s a good thing I already unpacked my kettle,” James said, and smiled.