Blackadder Goes Forth - All Things Equal (U)
It's funny how the things one holds as important can change in little more than the blink of an eye. Two hours ago, before climbing into the rickety motor car which was now arriving at its destination, Captain Darling would have held the same irritable antipathy for Blackadder as he had since the day he met the man. He certainly hadn't liked the command for those on the front line to go over the top, as safe and comfy as his seat with General Melchett was – after all, he wasn't as mad as his superior, and knew full well that the order was nothing less than a death sentence, a call to suicide. But he had known earlier, he told himself, known that Blackadder and his men would find a way out of this mess as usual.
Thinking about it, he supposed that was where his dislike of Captain Blackadder had started. They were both equals in rank and intellect; both cunning enough to know how to worm their way out of danger, and wise enough to do so. Darling had secured himself a comfy desk job, well out of the firing line (so to speak) by working his way up the ranks and making connections, eventually earning himself a position of safety by following the rules and keeping to the system. Blackadder, by contrast, had never been one to keep to the system – he kept himself alive by lying, cheating, and dodging rules wherever they would have lead him to harm; and all the while, he was praised for it! Held in high regard for his clever tactics, his brave methods, while Darling himself – good old Captain Darling, following the rules and doing everything properly – was shunned and brushed aside.
Funny, then, how it didn't really matter anymore. He stepped out of the car into the cool air, ignoring the almost pitying expression on the driver's face as he held the door open, and trudged the short walk to the end of the trenches. The air was cool and still, the sun still waiting for dawn just below the horizon, and the earthy smell of dew on soil rose up around him as he stepped into the trench opening. He pushed on through the crowds of soldiers readying themselves for the push – some scared, some crying; others visibly proud to fight and die for King and Country. There were experienced Captains like Blackadder and himself, old soldiers who had seen and survived many wars, and teenage boys in Private uniforms wanting nothing more than the comfort of their mothers. Darling couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with any of them – couldn't bare to let them see his own emotions as he continued through the trenches. He had to reach the trench he was looking for before dawn, before it was too late. It was only the next one along, he was sure, although it was hard to orientate himself in the twilight. Just the next one.
"Captain Darling?"
"Captain Blackadder."
"Here to join us for the last waltz?"
That was it. No witty remark, no dry insult about why he wasn't back at Headquarters pushing pencils; not a hint of malice underlying the question. He'd even called him Captain. That was the moment when Darling knew for sure that Blackadder didn't have any plans up his sleeve this time, and that he was fully aware that this was, in fact, The End. Darling muttered some nonsense about how he'd gotten bored at HQ and decided to join the push, and Blackadder's face told him that he knew full well that Darling wouldn't have been here if he'd been given a choice – after all, who would? Aside from that patriotic idiot, George, who would tie himself to an anvil and jump into the Thames if it was in the name of the king.
With a few minutes left until daybreak, the men in the trench announced their final thoughts (even George, finally, turned out to be human by admitting he was scared), and Darling pulled Blackadder to one side.
"Blackadder?"
"Yes, Darling?"
Darling wasn't quite sure where to start. He wanted to tell Blackadder that he was a thoroughly decent fellow despite everything he'd said to the contrary over the years, to apologise for all the stupid arguments he'd started, to say how much he envied the respect Blackadder got for worming out of trouble, and how he wished he had a plan to do the same again right now.
"Darling," Blackadder said grimly, breaking his train of thought. "I know."
"Do you?"
Blackadder nodded, resting a hand upon Darling's shoulder. Darling caught it in his own and squeezed it. "Thankyou." Blackadder nodded again, barely enough to notice.
"The sun's rising," he said, removing his hand with a light pat on Darling's back. "Perhaps we'll see each other again," he said quietly, jaw tight. "Afterwards."
"Afterwards," Darling agreed, knowing full well that Blackadder wasn't referring to this mortal plane of existence. As he followed the other men into the pale sunlight of their final dawn, Blackadder's warmth close behind him, he felt a strange sense of relief, almost, in the company he shared.
Despite the fear, despite the powerlessness to change anything, and despite the great unjustness of the whole situation, he felt a small sense of acceptance in finally being able to stand beside an equal – here when it mattered most of all.
Thinking about it, he supposed that was where his dislike of Captain Blackadder had started. They were both equals in rank and intellect; both cunning enough to know how to worm their way out of danger, and wise enough to do so. Darling had secured himself a comfy desk job, well out of the firing line (so to speak) by working his way up the ranks and making connections, eventually earning himself a position of safety by following the rules and keeping to the system. Blackadder, by contrast, had never been one to keep to the system – he kept himself alive by lying, cheating, and dodging rules wherever they would have lead him to harm; and all the while, he was praised for it! Held in high regard for his clever tactics, his brave methods, while Darling himself – good old Captain Darling, following the rules and doing everything properly – was shunned and brushed aside.
Funny, then, how it didn't really matter anymore. He stepped out of the car into the cool air, ignoring the almost pitying expression on the driver's face as he held the door open, and trudged the short walk to the end of the trenches. The air was cool and still, the sun still waiting for dawn just below the horizon, and the earthy smell of dew on soil rose up around him as he stepped into the trench opening. He pushed on through the crowds of soldiers readying themselves for the push – some scared, some crying; others visibly proud to fight and die for King and Country. There were experienced Captains like Blackadder and himself, old soldiers who had seen and survived many wars, and teenage boys in Private uniforms wanting nothing more than the comfort of their mothers. Darling couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with any of them – couldn't bare to let them see his own emotions as he continued through the trenches. He had to reach the trench he was looking for before dawn, before it was too late. It was only the next one along, he was sure, although it was hard to orientate himself in the twilight. Just the next one.
"Captain Darling?"
"Captain Blackadder."
"Here to join us for the last waltz?"
That was it. No witty remark, no dry insult about why he wasn't back at Headquarters pushing pencils; not a hint of malice underlying the question. He'd even called him Captain. That was the moment when Darling knew for sure that Blackadder didn't have any plans up his sleeve this time, and that he was fully aware that this was, in fact, The End. Darling muttered some nonsense about how he'd gotten bored at HQ and decided to join the push, and Blackadder's face told him that he knew full well that Darling wouldn't have been here if he'd been given a choice – after all, who would? Aside from that patriotic idiot, George, who would tie himself to an anvil and jump into the Thames if it was in the name of the king.
With a few minutes left until daybreak, the men in the trench announced their final thoughts (even George, finally, turned out to be human by admitting he was scared), and Darling pulled Blackadder to one side.
"Blackadder?"
"Yes, Darling?"
Darling wasn't quite sure where to start. He wanted to tell Blackadder that he was a thoroughly decent fellow despite everything he'd said to the contrary over the years, to apologise for all the stupid arguments he'd started, to say how much he envied the respect Blackadder got for worming out of trouble, and how he wished he had a plan to do the same again right now.
"Darling," Blackadder said grimly, breaking his train of thought. "I know."
"Do you?"
Blackadder nodded, resting a hand upon Darling's shoulder. Darling caught it in his own and squeezed it. "Thankyou." Blackadder nodded again, barely enough to notice.
"The sun's rising," he said, removing his hand with a light pat on Darling's back. "Perhaps we'll see each other again," he said quietly, jaw tight. "Afterwards."
"Afterwards," Darling agreed, knowing full well that Blackadder wasn't referring to this mortal plane of existence. As he followed the other men into the pale sunlight of their final dawn, Blackadder's warmth close behind him, he felt a strange sense of relief, almost, in the company he shared.
Despite the fear, despite the powerlessness to change anything, and despite the great unjustness of the whole situation, he felt a small sense of acceptance in finally being able to stand beside an equal – here when it mattered most of all.