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hesbuckcompton-baby · 6 months ago

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Damage Gets Done - SAS: Rogue Heroes x OC - Chapter 12

AO3

Summary: A week after her brush with death, tensions run high as Diana is forced to attend a dinner party at her father's house

Relationships: L Detachment x Platonic!OC, Reg Seekings x OC

Warnings: Descriptions of injury/violence, language, period-typical misogyny, Diana and her dad have a bad time together

Word Count: 4.5k

Tags: @20th-centu-fairy-girl @6thofapril1917 @dcyllom @footprintsinthesxnd @regseekings @roseszirnheld

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Diana squinted against the afternoon light, feeling grains of sand ping against her sunglasses as her cigarette smoke dissipated on the breeze. Her face was a mosaic of the greys and reds of still-healing bruises, a scab flaking off her bottom lip. There hadn't been much in the way of conversation for the past week, save for their last jolly, which Stirling had forbidden her from attending and refused to relent even as she raged and yelled and stole his best bottle of whiskey. Looking back on it, the tantrum embarrassed her - but she figured no one would hold it against her if she blamed it on head trauma.

"Alrigh' there?" Kershaw's familiar scouse drawl sounded as he clambered up to the top of the walls that surrounded Jalo, coming to take a seat beside her.

"Fucking bored," She tutted, knocking her heel against the wall over and over with each swing of her leg. He held out his flask, and she accepted with muttered thanks, the water warmed by the desert heat but sufficient to soothe her dry throat.

"Eh, Stirling's just doin' what he thinks is best for ya," Dave shrugged, nudging her knee with his own so that her leg would stop moving. "Y'did almost die out there."

"Except I didn't. I could've, but I didn't - I didn't even break a bone. I smashed that guy's head in with a metal pipe until it was nothing - I won."

"Yeah, well. That you're a bit calm about that is probably puttin' him on edge, n'all."

"He hired killers, he can't stand me down because I am one."

"You're not the same as you were at the beginnin'," He pointed out, scratching at the sand that caught in his beard.

Diana sucked in a deep breath, her shoulder bumping against his as she looked out across the desert, squinting in the sun's glare as her eyes trailed the rise and fall of the dunes. None of them were the same anymore. After everything that had happened, it was no wonder.

She'd thought she was going to die the night of their first jump, dragging Eoin's body over the dunes, every muscle in her body begging for reprieve in the freezing desert wind. She'd thought the guilt would tear her apart when she couldn't save Jock. But when she thought of her last mission - of Schulz's stupidity, which had almost killed them both - all she felt was anger.

"Still got you though, haven't I?" Diana asked, piercing the long silence. She felt his arm wrap around her shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and for perhaps the first time since her brush with death, it didn't hurt.

"Course you do."

Letting out a faint chuckle, she leaned against him, shoulder digging against his rib cage. It was safe here.

"Stirling wants to see ya," He added.

She scoffed. "Then he can come get me."

"Di," Dave groaned. "Don't be a shit."

A long, low hum of dissension escaped Diana's throat, brow furrowing. "Right, fine," She upturned his flask, gulping down the last of its contents as she shrugged Dave's arm away before scrambling to her feet. "See ya later, ya stinker."

"Love you," He sang, voice thick with mockery although they both knew it to be true. As she began to walk away, she felt his hand grab at her heel, a guffaw escaping her as she wobbled slightly, neither seemingly concerned by the sheer drop on either side of the wall.

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"Stirling," Diana barked as she wandered into their makeshift command, tucking her sunglasses into her breast pocket.

"Afternoon, Diana," Stirling flashed a smile. "Looking less and less like a Picasso painting every day - that's good!"

"Eat shit."

David smirked, the crease tugging at his cheek as he looked up from the papers and maps strewn messily across the table. "I've received word from your father," He stated, leaving space for her to let out an irritated groan. "He wants you back in Cairo - hosting some party or something, wants you to take some of the lads with you."

"Oh, for f- I am not leaving the line to go to a dinner party."

"Okay, well - you do know we're not actually on the line, don't you? Sort of the point - doesn't matter. The point is, I'm not letting you come on another Jolly until you take some proper time off."

Diana ran a hand across her forehead, pinching her brow as her eyes screwed shut. "David. I am going to strangle you until you are dead."

"Yes, I'm sure that'll help. Now take a car and piss off - that can be an order, if you want."

She raised her hands for a moment, seizing the air as if strangling an invisible person. With an exasperated huff, Diana turned on her heel, marching straight back the way she'd come.

"Take Riley and Almonds with you!" He called after her as she muttered incoherently. "Oh, and Seekings!"

"Fuck you!"

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Reg tugged awkwardly at the sleeves of his dress uniform as they stepped into General Hannigan's house, the expanse of hallways all at once familiar and completely foreign in the evening darkness. He'd been here only once before, never venturing beyond the foyer, and as they passed the main staircase he spied that portrait of Diana he'd seen the last time. Her curls ironed out and neat, eyes forgiving and passive, her expression contorted into a soft smile that he'd never once seen adorn her true face.

The first time he'd seen the painting, it had confused him. This time it just pissed him off.

"Right, I'll be getting lost in here at some point," Jim huffed, backtracking as he veered down another dead-end corridor. "Who needs this many rooms?"

"If we don't find Di in a minute we could just leave. No one'd know we ever showed up," Pat suggested with a shrug.

As if on cue, a familiar burst of laughter echoed from further down the hall, drawing them nearer as Riley tried to hide his disappointment at finding a reason to stay. Reg tugged at his jacket again, trying to make it rest flat, uncharacteristically preoccupied as they finally found their way into the house's main hall, one wall open over the courtyard as the last sparks of sunlight filtered in, guests chatting politely in a dozen small huddles. From his spot lingering in the doorway, he found her, and for a moment his brain seemed to short-circuit.

Her hair was pinned back as neatly as it could go, red lipstick masking the remnants of her busted lip, any evidence of the beating her face had taken entirely camouflaged beneath her makeup, the sight a relief to behold. Her dress was of emerald silk, rippling with even the slightest movement, the plunging back exposing the curve of her spine and a slight purple bruise along her shoulder blade that she didn't seem to have noticed. One of the other guests spoke, and Diana's lips parted in a smile. But it wasn't the smile he'd come to know well - it wasn't the same, it wasn't real. There was a slight clench in her jaw that he could notice even from afar, a lack of ease in the way she shifted her weight from foot to foot. She was silently suffocating, and he was the only one who seemed able to tell.

Their eyes met across the room, and a wave of relief crossed her expression, gulping down the last of the drink in her hand as she broke away from the group mid-conversation, hurrying towards them.

"Oh, thank fuck," Diana sighed, smoothing out her skirt. "I was starting to think you'd bailed on me."

"Us? C'mon," Pat chuckled, subtly elbowing Jim in the ribs as he shot him a sideways glance.

"Right, well, you've got my permission to get absolutely shitfaced," She nodded, seizing as many glasses of champagne as she could hold in two hands from a passing waiter and holding them out to them. "The more the General has to fork out at the end of this thing, the better."

She was restless - speaking on an inhale, gaze darting around the room, never quite settling on anything as she bounced slightly on her toes.

"You alright?" Jim asked cautiously, and Reg was relieved to know he wasn't the only one who had noticed.

Diana raised a brow. "Hm? Oh, yeah. Yeah. Haven't seen my dad in ages, and I dunno where he is."

Pat's frown deepened. "You didn't... talk to him? After... yunno."

"Oh, nah. David sent a message when I was out, but never got anything back. It's fine, I'm fine."

Feeling his fists clench involuntarily, Reg shoved his hands into his pockets, unable to wipe the scowl from his expression. He hated this house, but he hated the man it belonged to more. It was almost painful to watch her so out of place. "Di-"

"Tie's on wonky," She breathed, cutting him off as she stepped towards him, both hands raised to fix it. As she jostled the knot slightly, her knuckle skimmed the skin of his neck, and he couldn't help but think back to the afternoon before their first jump, when he'd fixed the strap on her helmet. So much had happened since then - so much had changed - but when she stood this close, that familiar sense of awe never faded.

"We can go," He urged quietly. When Pat had first raised the idea, he'd almost gone for it. But he wouldn't leave - not without her.

Diana's hands stilled their movement, her gaze locked on the loop of his tie as she froze for a moment, sucking in a deep breath. "Can't." She shrugged, meeting his eye with another one of those fake smiles. Reg had never known her to give up - to roll over and do something she didn't want to. The mere threat of her father's presence turned her into a different person, one he couldn't quite bear to watch.

"Fayed!" A voice called from across the room, drawing their eyes. He recognised some of the men - they'd been with her at the club the night she'd been left alone, their uniforms just as well-pressed and unbroken by real combat as they had been the last time. One of the group glanced at Reg, eyes widening slightly in recognition. Ah yes, he remembered him - although the last time they'd seen each other, there had been a lot more blood.

"Gimme a minute," She muttered.

Shoulders pushed back, chin tilted upwards, Diana made her way towards the group, her practised facade of comfort entirely believable to anyone who didn't know her well. "Hey," She flashed a grin, sliding into the circle. "You guys doin' okay?"

"The General got you on hostess duties, eh?" The man to her left chuckled, his accent so distinctly upper-class that he didn't quite seem able to enunciate.

"Oh, I dunno where he is," She said with a forced chuckle. "Always working, I'm sure."

"I wanted to introduce you to my wife," He continued, breezing over her response as if she'd never even spoken. "Give you someone to talk to in this boy's club, eh? Diana, Maria - Maria, Diana."

"Lovely to meet you," Maria offered, reaching out to shake her hand, expensive bracelets jangling with the movement.

"And you, hi."

"So is it true you've been out in the desert with all those men? Running secret sabotage operations?"

"Uh, yeah - yeah, that's us."

"Aw," Maria tutted, seeming surprisingly disappointed by her answer. "You know - you're so pretty. You could really do some good in the Red Cross, I know some people there if you'd ever consider it."

Diana's eyes widened slightly, her friendly smile dissipated. "Right, well. My field of expertise is more about making sure people don't recover. And I'm bloody good at it."

The atmosphere had shifted, an awkward tension thick in the air. Maria's husband - whose name she had entirely forgotten - let out an uncomfortable chuckle.

"Well. One woman out there with all those men, I'm sure she's doing her bit to keep morale up. We should be grateful for that."

The circle let out a chorus of approving laughter, smiling at the foul joke. Diana's jaw clenched, glare burning a hole into his skull.

"What the fuck is wrong with you." She said flatly, the titters of amusement quickly dying.

"Oh, come on Diana," He scoffed. "It was a joke. All in good fun."

She let out an obviously false chuckle, stony expression unwavering.

"Hm. Nah. Get out of my house."

"Oh, really, now that's not-"

"No, no, you're done talking. Now get the fuck out of my house, before I break your nose in front of your bitchy wife and all these posh twats you call friends."

The man blustered, shoulders stiffening. "Your father wouldn't-"

"S'not about him. If I have to tell you one more time, I'm gonna hurt you."

Maria stepped forward nervously, face flushed bright red in humiliation. "Sweetheart let's go," She spoke quietly, a gentle hand on her husband's arm.

"Your father will hear about this," The man threatened, following his wife's guidance as they trailed towards the door.

"And he won't be surprised, now keep it moving."

She hadn't realised she'd been raising her voice until he was gone, and suddenly the people around her were all staring. Almonds shouldered his way through the crowds in her direction, a genuine smile creasing her cheeks as she noticed him, letting go a breath of relief.

"You alright, love?" Jim asked warmly, slinging an arm around her shoulder to covertly steer her away from the other guests.

"Fine," Diana smiled up at him, demeanour immediately calm. "Just not gonna let people say nasty shit about me in my own house."

"Good on ya. Dickheads."

"Exactly," She nodded, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze.

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Diana didn't stray from the company of her comrades until the dinner bell rang and they were swiftly ushered through to the hall, where a huge dining table lay set with far more pairs of knives and forks than Reg had any clue what to do with. She searched for her place, pausing as she finally found her name tag. Her father had taken the head of the table, of course, and placed her at his left. The others were further down the table, out of earshot in a contained cluster of three, far too far away for her comfort, rows of officers and wives separating her from them. Reaching forward, she seized the placard, about to rearrange herself when a familiar voice stopped her dead.

"Ah! There you are!" Her father chirped, firm hands on her shoulders as he approached from behind, pressing a quick peck to her cheek.

"Been here the whole time," She chuckled with faint unease, taking her assigned seat as the table began to fill up, watching her window for escape vanish. As she lowered herself into the chair, she glanced down to where the others sat, catching Reg's eye as he stared back at her, his brow pinched in a frown. She seized her glass of wine, taking a hasty gulp.

"I saw Stirling's telegram this morning, I've just been worried sick," Hannigan shook his head as he sat down, giving her hand a squeeze.

She did not reciprocate. "He sent that a week ago."

"Oh, come now," He scoffed slightly, batting a dismissive hand. "You know how these things get buried and misplaced. The important thing is you're alright."

No thanks to you.

If I had kept to your training, I would have died a week ago.

And you wouldn't have known until today.

Diana slid her hand out from under his, seizing her cutlery with both fists, clutching so tightly her knuckles whitened. As dinner began, the room slipped into a hum of conversation, a wall of noise that she couldn't pay attention to over the rapidly increasing thump of her heart.

She was fucking angry. It was an anger that had been simmering a long time, pushed to the back of her mind where the bubbles couldn't bother her, where she didn't need to stir the pot. It had been there so long she'd gotten used to living with it. But now it was boiling.

"Y'know, you wasted my life," She stated calmly between bites of steak, not so much as sparing her father a glance.

"Pardon?" He asked, but by his tone she could tell he'd heard her all too well.

"You wasted my life," Diana repeated quietly, fighting to keep her voice from trembling. "teaching me things that didn't matter, and that never would've saved me. You didn't keep me alive but you bloody well made sure I almost died."

Her father took a sip of his wine, as unconcerned as if he were dealing with a toddler's petty tantrum. "I made you a soldier, Diana."

"You made me inhuman. You made me a thing," Blinking rapidly against the tears welling in her eyes, she dug the handle of her fork hard into the table. Her voice had barely risen above a whisper, too soft to draw attention away from any of their guests' conversations. "I can't have normal relationships with people, I can't live a normal life because of what you did to me. There is something... something seriously fucking wrong with me, and that's your fault."

He stared blankly back at her, visibly unmoved in a way that made her want to tear out her hair, scream at the top of her lungs - make a scene, make him say something, do something.

"I saved your life."

"You stole my life."

Finally, she seemed to strike a nerve. Hannigan jabbed a finger in her face, elbow coming down upon the table with enough force to make the glassware clatter, drawing the eyes of those sat nearest.

"Why you ungrateful little-"

Before she'd quite had time to think, Diana was on her feet, seizing the bottle of wine between them and hurling it will all her might. The thing skimmed past her father's head, only narrowly missing, and striking the wall with an ear-splitting shatter, a blood-like stain of red splattered across the white-washed bricks.

The room fell silent.

She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, eyes wild and frantic.

"You should be grateful that all I'm doing is leaving. Because if I see you again, I swear I'll fucking kill you."

She didn't know if she meant it. All she knew was that she needed to go. Her footsteps echoed in the deathly silence that had descended upon the room as she made for the door, fighting for every breath as she found it suddenly hard to even stay upright.

Reg had watched her cross the room, catching Pat's eye the moment she disappeared. He nodded. With that, he was on his feet, chair scraping noisily against the tile as he wordlessly followed, praying he didn't get lost in this huge, terrible house again.

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He found her upstairs, trailing after her as she marched into her bedroom. She'd torn out her hairpins, curls poking out messily at various angles. In her hands, she carried the portrait from above the stairs, having snatched it down on her way past.

"Di-" Reg called as she crossed the room, each step steeped with fury, a grunt escaping her as she reached the balcony and threw it, watching as the painting span through the night air, its wooden frame shattered and splintered as it slammed against the tiles in the courtyard below.

When she turned to face him, her eyes were red and watery, sniffing as she wiped harshly at her cheek.

"I'm not- I'm just-"

"You cry when you're pissed. I remember."

Diana let out a breath, the closest she could come to a chuckle. She wasn't certain anyone else knew that.

Looking around, she took in the bedroom as if for the first time. She was back in the room she was raised in, the four walls always feeling too big for her body, too old for her age. It had never changed, yet she had never grown into it. Her body needed to be somewhere else - needed to be free.

The cuffs of her dress were too tight, clinging to the skin of her wrists in a way that suddenly made her squirm. She reached for the buttons, fumbling frantically, her hands too shaky to catch a hold of them.

A warm hand pressed against her own, prying her fingers away with restraint and practised softness. Reg Seekings' hands didn't work gently. Not for anyone else. He saw to the buttons without a word, plucking them from their holes one by one until the fabric's tight grip on her was released. Big hands and calloused fingers looked almost silly against the delicate silk. Something in her chest tightened.

Diana glanced up, meeting his eye, and for a moment she was frozen.

She had been in love before. But she had been loved too. She knew how to tell when a man looked at her with adoration.

She was looking at it now.

...Oh.

Slowly inching forward, Diana cautiously raised her hands, arms lifted as they wrapped tentatively around his neck, pulling herself into an embrace. Her body pressed flat against his, her cheek resting on his shoulder, each movement hesitant and steady as if approaching a cornered beast, begging it not to bite back.

After a moment of pause, she felt his arms enclose around her, the fabric of his sleeves brushing against the bare skin of her back.

She could hear his heartbeat when she stood this close. She knew not to mention how fast it was.

"What happened then, eh?" Reg asked quietly after a while. Diana took a deep breath, her chin poking him in the shoulder as she fidgeted slightly.

"He's a bastard."

"Got it."

She let out a snort, giving his shoulder a squeeze. After another moment of prolonged silence, she pulled back, feeling his arms slip away from her. "Alright," She nodded. "You should go find Pat and Jim and head back."

A frown creased his brow. "You're not coming?"

"I'm gonna catch up, I got something to do first."

"Right," Reg nodded, hands in his pockets as he took a few awkward steps back towards the door. "Don't do anything stupid, yeah?"

Diana shrugged. "You know me."

"That's the problem," He grinned.

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The hospital wing was dark when Andrew Schulz was stirred suddenly awake by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, the click of a lamp turning on making him squint in the sudden light.

"What the-" He spoke groggily, raising a hand to rub at his eye. His bedsheets were tucked up to his shoulders, shirtless for easy access to the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso. He didn't feel the cold, for he'd never gotten used to the Cairo heat in the first place, sweat beading along his brow.

"Diana," He sighed, recognising the figure as his vision readjusted to the glare. She was slouched in the chair beside his bed, curls piled atop her head and out of the way, a men's dress shirt hanging creased and untucked past her hips. She'd washed her makeup away, the evidence of her beating still etched across her face, not quite faded yet.

"Evening," She placed a cigarette between her lips, foot resting on the edge of his bedframe as she struck a match, puffing a cloud of smoke with her first drag.

"How did you get in here?"

Diana shrugged. "I know people."

"Jesus, I'm so glad you're alive, you're-"

"Oh, shut up, Andrew," She tutted, shaking her head slightly. "I'm not here to bond over you almost getting us both killed."

"Then why-"

"I'm here to tell you that if I ever see you again, it'll be me doing the shooting. And you won't be waking up in a nice hospital bed, I promise you that."

Andrew's brow furrowed, expression contorted in confusion. "But I don't-"

A yelp of pain bit through his words before he could finish, mouth hanging agape as he looked down to where Diana had dug a finger into his dressings, pressing hard against his still-tender wound. "What the fuck?!" He whined, too frozen by the sudden pain to push her away.

"Stop hanging around with teenage girls and stop being a fucking idiot. 'Kay? Because I'm sure your commanding officer back in the great Motherland would love to hear all about what you've been getting up to."

"You wouldn't," He grunted, face drained of all colour. Seizing her by the wrist, he yanked her away, letting out a sigh of relief as the pressure on his wound was alleviated.

"I don't think you want to bet on that, do you?"

Andrew gawped at her, sweat running down his face. Diana held his gaze, expression hard and unreadable, staring back just long enough to make him squirm.

"Right," Slapping a hand on her knee, she pushed herself up onto her feet, taking a drag of her cigarette. "Nice chat."

"That was it?"

"Did you want me to stay?"

His jaw clenched. "No."

"Excellent."

Diana turned to go, but just before she could abandon him completely she paused, plucking her cigarette from between her lips and extinguishing it in the glass of water on his nightstand.

"Oh, you fucking bitch," Andrew groaned.

"Enjoy that," She nodded. Then she was gone.

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Johnny Cooper bolted upright with a start, the seemingly endless void of the midnight desert doing little to keep him awake and on his guard. A beacon of light rolled over the dunes, headlight splitting through the night as the car's engine rumbled, pulling up towards Jalo.

Only one car. His grip on the rifle tightened.

The door swung open and closed with a thump, a single figure stepping out and clambering up the sandy slope towards him.

"Hey, Johnny," Diana called calmly. She was still little more than a silhouette, but he relaxed at her voice.

"Hey," He called back, sliding off the edge of the low wall he'd been perching on. "Made it back eventually then."

"Yeah, yeah," She batted a hand, getting close enough that he could make out her features in the dark. He heard the sand crunch underfoot as she trudged past him towards the tents.

The footsteps paused. Johnny turned his head.

"Hey Johnny?" She asked.

"Yeah?"

"... D'you wanna give me a hand with something?"

#fic | damage gets done #oc: diana #sas rogue heroes #sas rogue heroes fic #sas rogue heroes oc #sas: rogue heroes #reg seekings #dave kershaw #sas: rh #reg seekings x oc #jim almonds #pat riley

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 3 months ago

Text

Damage Gets Done - SAS: Rogue Heroes x OC - Chapter 14

AO3

Summary: After some less-than-welcome command changes, Diana receives a much needed visit from an old friend

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.4k

Tags: @20th-centu-fairy-girl @6thofapril1917 @dcyllom @footprintsinthesxnd @regseekings @roseszirnheld @hellofanidea

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July, 1943

Jaspreet Nadar

Cairo, Egypt

Dear Jaspreet

I know I've said it before, but thank you again for watching the flat while I'm away. Buying one in the middle of all this certainly wasn't the best idea I've ever had, but I suppose I just like knowing it's there. I'm also aware that my collection of belongings over there is rather sparse and eclectic - when I was robbing the old man it became something of a hit-and-run situation, and my instincts got the better of me. Feel free to ignore all the taxidermy fish.

Apparently I’m still in the will. I assume it’s some weak attempt at trying to make me forgive him, but that’s not happening. If by some miracle I manage to outlive him, I shall certainly enjoy taking the money.

We're somewhere along the Suez at the moment - not far from home, really. Certainly the closest I'll be for a long while now. Not sure how I'll like Europe - I imagine I'll be cold for the most part.

Little to report back on 'you know who'. He keeps brawling with one of the new recruits, not sure what that's about.

I think often and deeply on what might become of me once this is all over.

Write back soon, or I probably won't receive it for quite some time.

Diana

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The smell of salt filled the air on the banks of the Suez, and Diana could taste it on her tongue as she thumbed the corner of her book, foot dangling over the edge of the wall as her toe brushed against the surface of the water. Withers had been sitting beside her a moment ago, a half-eaten pile of dog treats left in the grass as proof of his disappearance. Fraser must be around here somewhere, then.

To whom could she admit being frightened? The anxiety had tugged at the back of her mind for weeks, the promise of advancing to Europe always lingering on the horizon. Simply by being here, these men had gone further than she ever had. Even now, she was little more than a stone's throw away from the place of her birth in the grand scale of things. She'd only flown once, and it had been the worst night of her life. The ocean seemed the stopping point of her entire world, the thought of sailing away from here to foreign shores secretly terrifying, as if she were an ancient explorer charting the unknown.

Diana Fayed never seemed afraid. But until now, she had always been home.

The others wouldn't understand.

"Come on! You English fucker!"

Her serenity and contemplation swiftly dashed, Diana looked up from her book with a sigh, squinting as she glanced behind her. There was no need to search for the source of the noise. It had scarcely ceased for the last week.

"Look you Scotch cunt, I like a row as much as anyone else-"

"Mornin'," She chirped, thumping her book absent-mindedly against her thigh as she walked past the developing brawl without so much as a glance.

"'Eya, duck," Kershaw grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulder as she stopped beside him. He chuckled along at the sight before them. Diana stared blankly, unimpressed. She glanced over as Dave shook hands with Riley, her brow arching in question. "Bets. Want in?"

She snorted loudly. "Tryna get me in trouble? Nah, you're alright."

"Well, it's not like he'll find out," He shrugged, digging his knuckles against her shoulder in a teasing sort of way. In the month-or-so since Diana had accidentally let slip about kissing Reg, Dave had been little shy of insufferable. She supposed it would have been naive to expect anything else.

"What's this even about at this point?" She sighed.

Pat shrugged. "… You?"

Dave and Diana both turned simultaneously. "What." She asked flatly.

"Well, I mean, it's just a guess. But the whole thing only started after McDiarmid hit on you in that bar back in Cairo."

Her eyes narrowed, gaze slowly returning to the two men in front of them, who were currently being pulled apart to stop them from biting each other's throats out.

"Is that what that was? I just… assumed he was high on something."

Dave let out a bark of laughter, the arm he'd slung around her shoulder tugging her slightly closer. "I wouldn't rule it out!" Diana chuckled, poking an elbow into his side.

"Right, we're running late," She declared, wrapping a hand around one of his fingers and giving it a tug, his arm sliding off her shoulder.

He snorted. "When's that mattered?"

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As the men filed casually into the tent for their briefing, Diana wandered up to Paddy's desk, passing the major without a second glance as she approached and began to wordlessly flip through the files he'd left lying on the table. For as long as she could remember, her father's house had always been littered with military files, left open in the afternoon sun for any prying eye to read. The word 'classified' had never meant much to her.

"Afternoon," Paddy stated pointedly.

Diana hummed, turning the page. "Hey."

"Would ya put that down?" He pressed.

"Almost done."

He stepped closer, arms folded across his chest. "You're not allowed to read those… Maybe y'are, I dunno. What rank are you even s'posed to be?"

She shrugged. "Dunno, I don't pay attention," With a sigh, she tossed the file back onto the desk with a soft thud. "Not like I have anyone to tell all these military secrets to anyway. You think I'd hang around with you lot if I had other friends?"

The faintest of smirks tugged at Paddy's lip, the kind that would have been unnoticeable had she not known him for so long, and he tilted his head towards the rows of chairs, which were now mostly occupied, gesturing for her to sit. Having run out of reasons to protest, Diana obliged, taking the empty seat next to Dave as she scratched at the scar on her arm. A lasting reminder of their last airfield raid and the bullet fragment she'd taken as penance, the skin pulled taught and itched when it got hot - which, out here, was always. Reg was sat behind her, legs outstretched beneath her chair. Reaching out with her foot, she knocked her heel against the toe of his boot and felt him softly kick her back. She resisted the urge to smile.

As Paddy began to speak, any attempt at authority from the man seeming farcical to her, Diana rubbed a hand across the back of her neck, uneven tufts of hair brushing her skin. Each time her hair had begun to grow back in the months since that first chop, she'd pruned it back with a vengeance, cutting slightly shorter each time until she more closely resembled one of those old silent film stars, chic in a way that was simultaneously boyish. Last week she'd gotten drunk and debated the merits of shaving her head. That had struck her as a bit much.

"Yeah, well sardines live in the ocean by Sardinia, Paddy. Looks a lot like a map of Sicily to me, lad," The swell of laughter alerted her to the fact that she'd stopped paying attention, glancing up at the map with a squint.

"Looks like a pig's head," She pointed out flatly, rummaging in her pocket for a cigarette. Finding two, she held one out over her shoulder without sparing Reg a glance, and felt him pluck it from her grip with a muttered 'thanks'.

"That is exactly right - Capo Murro di Porco," Paddy affirmed, and Diana found herself resisting the urge to cringe every time he spoke. She never thought she'd miss the old, infuriating Paddy, who bickered with her like a child and shot gazelles when he got pissed. Then again, there were many things about their time in the desert she was beginning to miss.

David Stirling, you dumb fucking bastard.

Kershaw held up a light, their shoulders bumping together as she leant towards it, a white plume of smoke rising from the tip of her cigarette.

"Whatcha thinkin'?" He uttered.

"Whole thing seems like a plan to get us killed," Diana whispered with a shrug.

"… Same as usual, then?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Because!" Paddy's pitch rose to a yell, quieting the muttering that had begun to fill the tent. Diana and Kershaw leant back in their seats. "Our next mission is utter fucking madness. So we will require the services of mad men."

"Thank you, boss," McDiarmid's distinctive tone rang out from somewhere behind her. "And on that note - I would love to go home, by the way, Sergeant Happy-Face."

"I'll put you on a boat myself, mate," Reg barked back from his seat. Diana rolled her eyes, shooting Dave a glare as she noticed him slip some cash into Riley's hand.

"What?" He shrugged.

"Fuck's sake."

The bickering was rising in volume all over again, the atmosphere growing more tense by the second. She didn't have to turn around to know precisely what Reg was doing - she knew his brow was pinched the way it always did when he was roused to anger, knew his knuckles were clenched and whitened, his shoulders squared and perpetually prepared to throw a punch.

"You're like a wee kettle, boilin' with anger!"

"Shut your mouth!"

A low groan escaped her as the men behind her bolted to their feet, jostling her chair as they fought to restrain Reg and Jock, to keep them from attempting to tear each other's throats out for the second time that afternoon. If she'd slept better the night before, Diana might have been more inclined to tolerate their quarrelling. But as things stood, it was all rather intolerable, the beginnings of a headache blooming in her temple.

With a grunt, she pushed herself to stand, arms swinging casually at her sides as she strolled towards Paddy's desk, arching a brow as she seized his revolver. He tilted his head with a slight nod. Pausing a moment to check the chamber was loaded, Diana tilted the barrel up towards the ceiling, a deafening bang flooding the tent as she pulled the trigger. In an instant, the uproar had ceased, the room falling still. Diana stared up at the smoking hole in the canvas, plucking her cigarette from her lips, a cloud of smoke flooding her nostrils as she inhaled.

"Right then," She muttered, dropping the pistol with a clatter on the table. "Carry on."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A lawn table sat wonky in the uneven grass at the water's edge, Diana's foot against the crossbeam keeping it from rocking. She tossed a date into her mouth, squinting against the sunlight as it glinted on the water's still surface.

Another fucking Stirling.

It was bad enough that she'd lost the first one - a tolerable one, one she'd actually liked, although it may not have always appeared that way. Now here came another, wanting salutes and order and respect like some fucking toff. Like her father. Like every officer that had ever come into her house and looked down on her for as long as she could fucking remember.

Perhaps she was sulking. She could have gone off with Dave or Pat or Johnny. Or Reg. But instead, she was sitting here, watching a cargo ship trundle past, its bow splitting the blue and sending ripples splashing up against the wall at her feet.

She'd never been allowed to sulk in her youth, back when it was still a quaint folly for children afraid of not getting their way. It was unproductive, and that was one thing her father had never abided by. Any time spent sitting around was time that could have been spent on something more important.

Diana found she rather enjoyed sulking.

Her brow furrowed as she bit down on another date, the honey she'd slathered them with sliding smoothly down her throat as she swallowed, overpowering sweetness a balm against her discontent. The sound of a car pulling up somewhere behind her did not disturb her trance, the hum of engines almost constant and entirely unremarkable in camp.

"Oi!"

She paused, her mind taking a moment to recognise the familiar voice. But once it had, she swivelled in her seat, a grin displacing her irritated scowl as she bolted to her feet, a bubble of laughter escaping her.

Jaspreet's red-painted lips were parted in a grin, bright eyes hidden beneath sunglasses, heels wobbling slightly in the uncut grass. Her dress draped over her shoulders, hanging shapelessly around her in a style that was almost twenty years out of date, but suited her just as well as everything else always seemed to, half-covered by a painted silk robe that rippled with each movement and pooled in the crooks of her elbows as she held out her arms for an embrace. "Holy shit," Diana chuckled, going for a hug without hesitation, squeezing with her forearms to avoid ruining Jaspreet's clothes with the honey that stickied her hands.

"You got my letter?" She asked, eyes squeezed tightly shut, the thick scent of jasmine flowers filling her senses as she breathed in.

"Didn't trust the post to get my reply to you in time," Jaspreet grinned. "Thought I'd be better off coming myself."

"Ah, the joys of unemployment," Diana teased. "C'mon," As she turned back towards the table, she seemed to notice for the first time that there had been two chairs all along, as if even in her irritated search for solitude a part of her had never wanted to be alone. Jaspreet sat down opposite her, painted nails plucking a date from the bowl and tossing it into her mouth. She had sat with her back to the sun, and as she noticed Diana's squint, she took off her sunglasses and slotted them onto her face without a word. There was a silent communication between them as Diana leant forward to receive them, the tinted lenses an appreciated shield against the glare.

"So," Jaspreet began, pausing to lick a smear of honey from her fingertip. "How is it?"

Her chest heaved as she sucked in a long, sharp breath, nodding slowly. "Uh… Yeah… Yunno, you expect - hanging around with a bunch of unwashed men in the desert - that they're gonna smell, but it still surprises you. I mean it is just so-"

"Diana."

She hesitated, brow raised over the rim of her glasses. "… Mhm?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

Diana leant forward, shoving a handful of dates into her mouth all at once. "Oh, God, we don't need to talk about Reg," She shook her head, speaking around the food. "If you tell me you drove all the way here to talk about that, I'm throwing you in the canal."

"I'm just not sure it's a good idea to get all weird about some random guy when you're supposed to be focusing on - y'know - not dying. And he's fucking English at that. At least tell me he's not blonde."

"… Well-"

"You're so predictable," Jaspreet scoffed.

"No- look- it's not weird. We've been doing crazy shit for best part of two years by now, a bit of snogging isn't gonna be the final straw that sends us all for a fucking loop."

"I'm just saying - historically, you haven't handled this kind of thing… all that amazingly."

"You're just saying that 'cause you hated Andrew."

"Damn right."

"Would it help if I said I visited him in the hospital and kinda-sorta lightly tortured him?"

"You fucking what?"

"Doesn't matter," Diana waved a hand dismissively. "You haven't told me about you."

Jaspreet frowned, brow pinched.

"C'mon," Diana urged.

"Fine! Fine!" She threw up a hand in surrender. "I'm fine! … I've got this charity ball thing I'm supposed to be running tomorrow night, raising money for The Red Cross. So it'll be boring but it's for a good cause."

"Aw. You little philanthropist."

"You are such a bitch," Jaspreet chuckled, earning a hearty laugh from Diana. They tittered gradually to quiet, the ghost of her laugh still etched in Jaspreet's smile as she nodded. "But, y'know. I have plans. They're not concrete or anything, but I have them."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," She took a deep breath. "I'm not gonna stay here. Once the war's over, I mean - I'm gonna leave Cairo."

Diana said nothing for a moment, lips pressed tightly together. "Mhm… Yeah, yeah - no, that sounds good… You know where you're gonna go?"

"I was thinking Italy… or Greece, or- somewhere with history, y'know? When I was a kid, my father was financing an archeological dig somewhere outside the city, so he'd take me to visit. I loved just watching them work; just this idea that we were standing on something ancient and important. Might even go back to university and finish a degree this time."

She couldn't pinpoint precisely when, but at some point, listening to Jaspreet, she had begun to smile.

"Good for you. Seriously."

"You think?"

"Absolutely. To see through all this shit and figure out what you want beyond it, I think that's great," Diana nodded, picking absent-mindedly at her fingernails as her gaze fell to her lap.

"… Hey," Jaspreet urged, and the table wobbled on the uneven ground as she reached across it, seizing one of Diana's hands in her own. "You'll get there."

She forced a smile. The prospect of Jaspreet leaving Cairo had knocked the wind out of her for a moment, but frankly, it had been naive even to think it a problem. It was naive to expect she'd live long enough to come back here to see her at all. For some people, the future seemed a given. Hers wasn't. She wasn't sure she'd last the week.

With a somewhat bitter chuckle, she nodded, squeezing her hand affectionately. "You are… much too good to be stuck in one place."

"Right back atcha."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

As the car pulled away, Diana caught Jaspreet's eye in the rearview mirror, offering a limp wave and one final grin of farewell. Hands planted on her hips, she watched the car until it disappeared from sight, and something inside her seemed to deflate, shoulders drooping as she let out a heavy sigh. She scraped a hand through her curls, tugging them out of her face and turning on her heel towards the tents, passing her weight tiredly from foot to foot as she walked.

Reg was coming the other way, weaving between the guylines, a steaming cup of coffee in each hand. The smile that creased her cheek was involuntary, but so slight as to be hardly noticeable. He noticed.

"Hey," She stopped, pausing to give her scar another scratch.

"Was just coming to-… There." Reg nodded, pushing one of the mugs into her hands.

"Oh. Thanks," Diana smiled, taking a sip and wincing as she felt the liquid scald her tongue. "Shit," She hissed, clicking her fingers and jabbing a finger at him as another thought suddenly entered her mind. "Hey. Stop all that weird shit with McDiarmid, 'kay?"

He groaned, rolling his eyes. "He's a prick."

"So are you, I don't give a shit. It's annoying and it's loud and it's giving me a fucking headache… And Pat says you're only pissed at him 'cause he hit on me so- I dunno about that, but knock it off anyway."

Reg's mouth opened and shut like an outraged fish. "I- No- That's- Right, yeah, fine."

"Right, good talk," She cracked a grin, nudging his shoulder as she brushed past, continuing her stride. Lifting the mug to her lips, she took another sip, the temperature slightly more bearable. Yet she winced all the same.

"Oi," Diana called. Reg had begun to walk away in the opposite direction, pausing his stride to look back at her. "Did you make this?"

"Nah."

"It tastes like shit."

He frowned down at his own cup, tentatively slurping a mouthful. He grimaced. "Fuck me."

A laugh escaped her at his look of disgust. "Yeah… D'you wanna find a beer?"

Reg nodded, hesitating so as not to look quite so eager.

"Alright. Yeah."

#fic | damage gets done #oc: diana #sas rogue heroes #sas rogue heroes fic #sas rogue heroes oc #sas: rogue heroes #sas: rh #reg seekings x oc #reg seekings #dave kershaw #paddy mayne #pat riley

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