After a few days of being monitored in Camp Winston Pheasant, Heaven and Riley were given the all clear to be flown home to England where the rest of the team had landed three days prior.

Pheasant's mother, Pauline, picked him up from Brize Norton, Briton careful not to disturb the twenty five stitches running down the left side of his face when she hugged him.

"They'll be out within a week," Pheasant said as he looked down to his shorter mother, who he dwarfed by a good three quarters of a foot.

His mother only smiled and nodded, tears of joy welling in her eyes, "all that matters is you're here with me, I've got Marlene in the car waiting for you."

"How's the best girl in the world doing?" Pheasant exclaimed excitedly as he rushed over to Marlene, who was all curly white fur like a cloud, a exuberantly lolling tongue and a furiously wagging tail, as he scooped her up in his arms and let her lick all of his face, knocking off his green beret as they smothered one another with kisses.

They loaded up in the car, the suspension almost buckling under the weight of his military equipment, and Pauline began to drive them home.

"Did you have fun out there?" she asked, her eyes skirting from the road ahead to her beloved son.

"Yeah, we did," Pheasant said, smiling as he remembered Riley stepping on an IED and joking he was gonna play dance dance revolution on it when one of the guys told him to stay still.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" she pried.

He knew she wouldn't see the humour in gallows humour, so he decided to leave it, "I can't think of any off the top of my head. But we did have fun."

"Well that's the main thing," Pauline smiled.

"You kill anyone?" she asked.

Pheasant only sighed.

"What?" she asked with a laugh.

"It's just one of those things you don't ask."

"But did you?".

"Mum, drop it."

"Do you feel ashamed of it or something-".

"No, I don't feel ashamed of serving my country. Not just my country but Urzikistan too, I'm helping save them from a dictatorship. I'll never feel ashamed of doing the right thing. Someone has to do the dirty work that helps the world stay clean."

"Fair enough," Pauline said in tone that was half defeated, half proud, "I didn't mean to offend you."

"I know you didn't."

"I'm not asking," she began, Pheasant sighed, "but if you have killed anyone you're still my son," she emphasised.

"Glad to hear it," he smiled as they drove past a MacDonalds, "mum stop here, I haven't had proper food in months," he exclaimed with an excited grin, practically drooling at the sight of the yellow arches.

"Maccies is proper food? What the hell do they feed you on tour?" she asked with surprise.

"Trust me if you had to survive on rat packs and MRE's you'd kill for a maccies too," he explained.

Pauline quirked a brow, "they feed you rats? No wonder you want a maccies."

"No, rat is short for ration pack," Pheasant couldn't help but laugh, but equally he felt the gulf between him as a soldier and her as a civilian widening, which he would've felt sad about, but right now his stomach controlled his brain so all he felt was ravenous, insatiable hunger that demanded appeasing.

"Oh I understand now," his mother laughed as she pulled into the drive through, Pheasant called out what he wanted and then sat scoffing it down on the drive home, filling the small car with the smell of grease and fried chicken, a smell that made Pauline'a nose wrinkle and curl with disgust.

As soon as they reached home Pheasant was ready for bed, to sleep through the rest of the afternoon, walking up the stairs and into his mother's accommodation he collapsed on the bed, Pauline tilted his head so his stitches wouldn't be disturbed and left him to sleep.

The next morning Pheasant's eyes creaked open, adjusting to the morning light filtering in through the blinds, there was a knock on his door and he told them they were welcome to come in.

As the door opened Roach walked inside, wearing a black turtleneck jumper and baggy grey jeans, his eyes skirted along Pheasant who was swathed in blankets, and Roach couldn't help but see him as an enigma, or perhaps a dichotomy. Cocooned in fleecy blankets that hugged his weedy frame, yet he had a plethora of stitches embedded in the side of his face. Soft yet hard as nails, fragile yet unbreakable.

"Sorry mate I totally spaced your visit," Pheasant said with a sleepy yawn as he sat up in bed, letting his legs dangle over the edge, "just let me get changed and I'll be right with you."

Roach nodded, closing the door as he exited, immediately Marlene was sniffing around his ankles, tail wagging excitedly.

Roach found himself looking at Pauline. Worry lines, from years of raising a child as a single mother and then, adorned her forehead. Her eyes were deep wells of wisdom, and were refreshingly bright and lively-flickers of rebellion flared within them, a force of nature that refused to be tamed.

Roach noticed Pauline was staring at photos of a young girl no older than ten, wearing pigtails and a birthday pin yet something about her seemed off. Her eyes were dead and dull, belonging to a morticians slab and not a children's birthday party.

Pheasant never mentioned having a sister, Roach thought to himself.

"She's sweet looking," Roach commented,

"She's not here anymore," Pauline said, her voice filled with a sweeping tide of sorrow, "but I have a son now."

"Oh, so she was born before Pheasant?" Roach asked, looking to Pauline with sympathy welling in his deep, dark eyes.

"She was Pheasant."

Roach only listened quietly, sensing she needed to speak as he waited with the patient of a saint for her to speak. "She was called Hannah. She started to testosterone when she was fifteen, had all the surgeries she wanted by nineteen, but she was never Hannah, nor really. She was always Pheasant, a he, and it took me a long time to accept it. I was so sad for how I knew the world was going to treat him, he'd already been bullied at school so much. But day by day he became the man he always was deep down, I lost a daughter and gained a son, and I couldn't be more proud of him. It's not been easy for any of us, but we've all made our peace."

"It wasn't easy for any of us when we were in training together," Roach began as his eyes moved from the photo to Pauline, "a lot of the lads would mess with his locker and bed right before inspection so he would get a bollocking, they would tamper with everything to try and make him fail or quit. But he was strong, he proved he was one of us, a man. He never gave up, and that won us over," he explained, Pauline nodded as she mulled over his words.

"I'm glad he never gave up. He's had be strong all his life, I imagine the military naturally called to him, is he a good soldier?" Pauline inquired, looking to Roach with eyes full of fear and hope.

"With all due respect ma'am," Roach began, "all commandos are better than good. We're the best."

Pheasant opened his bedroom door, wearing an oversized grey hoodie that swallowed his lanky frame and ripped blue jeans, two odd socks on his feet.

"We were just talking about you," Roach smiled.

"Back when I was miss steal your man? Before I upgraded to mr steal your man?" Pheasant joked.

"Something like that," Roach beamed as he awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Did you two wanna take Marlene for a walk? She hasn't been out yet," Pauline asked.

The two men nodded, Pheasant grabbed her lead from the kitchen counter and Roach couldn't help but laugh as the dog jumped up and panted with all the excitement of a child on Christmas Day.

"Have you two got any war stories?" Pauline pried.

The two men looked to one another, their expressions saying everything before their attention turned back to Pheasant's mother.

"You had to be there," Pheasant said simply, Pauline looked at him with pointed disappointment.

"Did you shoot any bad guys? Did you kill anyone?" she asked, a weird kind of thrill taking over her.

"Mum," Pheasant began, "curiosity killed the cat. Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to."

For a moment they all stood in silence in the kitchen.

"She's a good girl," Roach remarked, desperate to break the awkward silence, as Pheasant clipped Marlene's lead on.

Pheasant chuckled, "she winks too, watch her eyes."

"Really?" Roach asked with surprise, his eyes immediately darting to the dog's own ones.

"Really," Pheasant repeated as they caught a lift down to the bottom floor of the tower block, Marlene in tow.

Stepping outside almost immediately Pheasant was lighting up a cigarette, taking in a deep inhale as if the cigarette was a lifesaver, before exhaling the toxic smoke of sweetest poison.

Roach turned to Pheasant, "why didn't you just tell her you'd killed?".

"Wouldn't you of done the same as me?" Pheasant asked, looking down to the smaller Roach with eyes that were a mixture of sadness and hollowness.

"Fair point," Roach admitted.

"You don't feel ashamed of killing though, do you?" Roach asked after a brief burst of silence, save for the sound of their shoes hitting concrete.

"Nah," Pheasant shrugged off with a smile, "just another day at the office."

"Fair enough, if your idea of a day at the office involves guns, body armour and heat so hot you think you might melt like the wicked witch," Roach laughed in amused delight, Pheasant laughed along with him, heartily and deep.

"Forgive me if this isn't my place to ask but when did your dad drop out of the picture?" Roach asked, he remembered on the days off from training or active duty Pheasant never spoke of his father, not even when he had a good couple of beers in him.

"He was never in it mate," Pheasant answered truthfully, "he was the typical white dickhead that just saw my mum as exotic because she was black. He ditched her when she told him she was pregnant," he explained, Roach only nodded quietly along as he listened in intently.

"You remind me so much of my first counsellor y'know?" Pheasant remarked.

Roach giggled, "what about them?" he inquired.

"Just how you listening quietly and when you do speak it's so soft and quiet, it's kind of adorable," Pheasant smiled, Roach reflected his smile.

"Come 'ere," Roach said as he threw his arms around Pheasant's shoulders, having to stand on his tiptoes to reach up to the lanky, weedy man.

Roach stared into Pheasant's eyes. Roach's eyes were silently begging and pleading, like waves eroding the cliffs of Pheasant's resistance and steadfastness.

"No Roach," Pheasant said as he squirmed out of Roach's arms, "I know what you wanted to do just then, and...it can't happen."

"We're both off duty, it's fine," Roach tried to persuade him, speaking with dismissiveness.

"Roach?" Pheasant asked with a slow, steady seriousness.

"Pheasant?" Roach asked back, hope igniting in his eyes and a smile that spread his lips.

"Learn to take no for an answer."

"But you slept with that Coldstream guard while on duty, why's it any different with me?" he asked, his voice growing more desperate with every word.

"I regret sleeping with that guy, I was desperate and he was there, and I want to be a professional-and you should too. Nothing can happen between us, not while we're both in the same unit. The unit comes first."

"I have a unit that I'd like to make come, it's a big unit," Roach said, grabbing at his crotch, earning a laugh from Pheasant.

"Very funny. But it still can't happen," Pheasant said in monotone, "are we cool?" Pheasant asked.

"Yeah, don't worry I get it. Forget I ever asked," Roach said before his eyes slid over to Marlene, who winked at him.

"Hey she winked," he exclaimed in a loud outburst, pure joy filling every word. This was the Roach Pheasant loved-childishly innocent and easily amused, a sharp contrast to his brutal job.

He could see a future with Roach, Roach had always been there for him, but whether as a friend or a partner only time could tell.