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wexhappyxfew · 3 months

Text

whispering prayers into her hair

(a/n): requested by @sunny747 for Annie x Brady and ‘wrapping arms around the others neck when standing behind’. ie — annie and brady being two adorable people in a horrible situation and all their deepest thoughts seem to surface underneath a cold sun. and oh. annie wants to be a mom (distant sobbing). please enjoy this rather sad piece and commentary on two people struggling to hold onto each other in a world like this. (plz know i am sobbing !!!!) thank you so much for this prompt - quite literally has altered my life <3

Staring was the worst part.

At what was just past the barbed-wire fence; what stood between her and the world on the other side.

It had been six months and she was still standing here, still on this side of the fence, still staring at the opposite end of the threshold. Through the wires, the wood, and the dust. The world was on the other side and she was here.

Annie knew she shouldn't be out here alone - especially with the way the Germans had been ever since the British had dug those tunnels. She crossed her arms tighter over her chest and let a sigh escape her chapped lips as she squinted in the bleak sun, the warmth seeming to dissipate just as it reached her body.

Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as some of the men in the bunk room next to their groups began playing a scrap game of ball in the dust pit that could become a makeshift play field when needed. The kick-kick-kick of the pathetic ball bounced about, as the wind whistled past her ears and the sound of silence hung above. There were little-to-no animals around the place - no birds sang, no crickets chirped, there was no sign of life except for the American officers.

Otherwise, they were a dead zone.

A black 'x' crossed out a dot on a map.

"Hey, little birdie." Annie glanced over her shoulder and saw Brady coming towards her. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, his coat looking a little too big now on his form, his broad shoulders now swamped in the scarf and the wool button-up, he still looked like the John Brady from her first day on base at Thorpe Abbotts. Even with his hair a little longer and his cheeks dotted with stubble, and that scar nestled near his jawline.

He was still John Brady.

"Hi." Annie said, watching as he approached her, that lopsided smirk growing on his face, as his eyes fought to keep that grin growing.

He'd been growing quieter in the coming weeks, she'd noticed. Not majorly, not anything that would make her incredibly concerned though, she would always worry - about the crew and about Brady.

He'd say a little less at dinner, when they all sat around and were inhaling what food they had, and then when they were all sitting around, and she was tucked into her bunk, attempting to read (she never did get through any of the books or even a page anymore), she'd glance towards Brady's bunk and catch him in his silent prayer.

His lips a silent whisper, his hands clasped together, eyes and those long lashes gently shut. Everything about him calm and at peace.

And by the time she was curled up beside him, she swore he'd been whispering prayers into her hair, against her forehead and through their threaded fingers, like if he said it enough it'd get them through. And she clung to that more than anything.

He came to stand beside her, this awkward distance between them as they stood there, eyes locked on one another, this fence in between them and the world, dust at their feet, the war at their backs. Hands empty. Annie couldn't look away.

"How are you doing?" she asked him quietly, watching as his face winced slightly, like the question was more hurtful than the response, "You didn't eat much at breakfast." Which was true - his plate still had some oatmeal (they called it oatmeal) on it and he had looked withdrawn and distant. And Annie had watched, her stomach in knots.

It reminded her of when she had to get her siblings ready for school and sometimes one of them wouldn't eat - usually because they didn't feel good or were upset about something - and she'd get a pit in her stomach because she wasn't sure how to fix that. And she had felt that here. Watching Brady.

"Okay." Brady said with a nod, a stiff smile. She wanted to make him smile. More than anything. "Just wasn't super hungry." Annie caught his gaze for a moment and nodded slowly.

"I don't know," Brady said with a shrug, his smile falling, face focused on the world just past the fence, "just think this place is getting to me a bit." And she could see it in his face - just saying that, admitting that - she could see it hurt. He looked over at her and nodded weakly. "You know?"

"I do." she answered quickly, wanting to comfort him as her immediate response to the pain in his voice, "And I try to tell myself it's not. That doesn't usually work anyways, but…." Brady quirked out a small grin that faded just as fast as it'd appeared.

"You shouldn't be out here alone." Brady said quietly, hands shoved deep into his pockets, but it wasn't in a way that was scolding or even upset. Just a statement, a fact, something they all kept a conscious eye on.

"I know." Annie said quietly, her voice strained as she looked out through the barbed wire again, "I just….couldn't keep staring at the bunk room ceiling, you know?" Brady chuckled slightly, like it was some funny inside joke they'd all remember one day.

"I know." he said, voice soft, as they met each other's eyes again. He put on a hopeful smile, as best as he could it seemed. "The sun suites you, An, by the way." Annie caught his gaze, the small flutter in her chest warm, gentle and comforting.

God, the sun. So bright and gleaming even in this gloomy world that had been their ever-present for the past six months - in this bitter cold, this dull air - the sun still would shine even on days where Annie felt like it shouldn't.

"Who was your letter from?" Brady asked - it had seemed like he'd been waiting to ask her that question all morning - between his longing stares, those split second gazes where she swore she could breakdown in front of him and he'd patch her right back up. With all that, it seemed he just wanted to be there with her, to ask her that, alone.

Annie watched him, biting back her lip as the cold rushed over her cheeks. Something in the way his face was strained, like it pained him to even beg the question, knowing her response would hurt either way - knowing her response would hurt him, because it hurt her. The ache never dulled in a place like this.

"Dad." Annie said, her voice a whisper; quiet and shallow.

Seeing her dad's handwriting had sent her into a new dimension - she was sure of that. She couldn't remember the last time she'd even gotten a letter since being back at Thorpe Abbotts. So seeing his handwriting there, loopy and scratchy had made her heart ache in a way that she knew wouldn't fade in a lifetime.

You're mother isn't doing well, kid. She's really sick now, won't eat much or drink much, keeps saying something's tugging her arm. She's calling out for you. Don't know what to say. Keeps saying it's my fault you're gone. She's going down the tubes.

Annie looked to Brady, who was watching her in that unspoken way where it seemed everything and nothing was on his lips, that vulnerable glint of his gaze destined only for her, the want to reach out towards her.

They were always reaching towards one another, she thought.

In every lifetime there was, she was reaching for him and so was he.

But stood out here - in the open - with the eyes of the Germans on their backs, waiting for them to pulsate into the barbed fence just to shoot them, to make a run for it, she couldn't risk it. Instead, watching him made her yearn for every bit of him and more in those other worlds, those other times.

"What was he saying?" Brady asked quietly, tightening his jaw a bit, noticing her evident quietness. Annie sniffled and crossed her arms together in front of her and shifted her shoulders.

"Mom's probably going to be gone soon." Annie whispered quietly, looking at him, "She keeps asking for me. She's blaming Dad. For me being here. For me even joining up in the first place probably. It's…..it's basically a shit show."

"Annie, I'm sorry…." Brady whispered shifting towards her, that unspoken distance when they were outside the bunks room seeming to make a reappearance as he froze and then watched her as she stared back at him.

"It's okay…..it killed her." Annie whispered quietly, nodding, "Having to take care of us kids. Her and my dad…..one night, they were talking about it all. She never wanted to be a mother. She never wanted any of that. But that was what she got and that was her life and she drowned herself in cheap liquor to get rid of that pain." Annie looked at Brady with tears in her eyes. "I didn't want to end up like her."

Those inches between them pushed on her stomach like a heavy weight; it hurt, physically hurt. Annie glanced up behind his head towards the guard station, before looking back at Brady and his crestfallen face.

What hurt was, there were no amount of words a person could say take it all away, to magically get Annie back home to watch her mother's passing, to be there with her family.

War didn't care, the Germans didn't care, life didn't care.

Despite being dealt the short straw with a mother who wanted nothing to do with her, Annie still wanted to be there for the end of her life. She still had that want to be there for a mother who was still her blood. And that want made the guilt explode inside her chest and suffocate herself nearly to death.

"It's why you joined up," Brady whispered quietly, looking down at her, "in the USAAF. You didn't want that life."

"Yeah." Annie whispered back with a nod, "I'm sorry, you probably came out here to want to talk about anything else rather than this." Annie reached up to wipe at her eyes, but Brady only gave her a smile and watched her.

"You know I came out here because I wanted to be with you, you know that?" Brady said with a sad smile, "Now, c'mon, you got me interested now. What was it like? Joining up for yourself?" Annie watched him and couldn't help but smile a bit.

"It was probably the proudest I'd been of myself in my life, to be honest." she said, "Especially after the war broke out and I had enough money to get myself doing something more than farm work. I flew a few planes with kids from school. At the fair. Little things, but enough to make me want to do it more." Annie smiled up at him. "And sometimes they say you can't do something and usually that's enough to make someone do it."

Brady seemed to step forward and cut off that silent agreement to not make contact when outside the bunkhouse or in daylight hours - and he didn't seem to care.

For a moment, they just took to watching one another there, listening to the sounds around them, the chatter of voices in the background, the shuffling of feet, the linger of stale air. It was consuming, but yet, when looking at Brady, she didn't quite mind the sudden presence and stillness of the world around her.

"I remember seeing a poster," Annie said quietly with a smile, "in the local market. Surprised something like that even made it up, that's to say, even got put up in a market in Mankato, but….I saw it and." Annie looked to him. "I knew what I wanted to do right then and there. Then I signed up. 'Your Fight Too Sign'. Must've gotten the masses out because of that." And Brady juts smiled at her that wide grin, standing there like he couldn't look away from the sight of her. Despite where they were, despite it all, he could still stand there and look at her like that.

"What about after this?" Brady asked her, "Where you going?"

"I always wanted to be a mother." Annie said quietly, her heart squeezing as Brady's head tilted to the side and that certain, pained look erupted across his face as his fingers trailed to the side of her cheek. She nodded.

"You will be." Brady said quietly, encouraging smile on his lips, "When you get out of this. That guy's a lucky son-of-a-bitch." Annie watched him, her big eyes exploring his face before settling on his gaze again.

You, she thought, I want you to be that lucky son-of-a-bitch. And she couldn't seem to form the words, tell him that all she ever wanted was right here in front of her, but that look in his eyes, the war standing around them, she couldn't. Making promises that she wasn't sure would come true or not.

"Do you want kids?" Annie asked him quietly, watching as Brady smiled just as the word 'kids' left her lips. She managed a watery smile. "You'd be such a good dad. I know that."

"I do." he said with a small smile, "Always have."

"I know you'd be a good one because that one time I got way too drunk, you made sure I got into my bunk and had water and ate the next morning. You even let me use your sunglasses. And you didn't have to, but you did it just because." Annie said with a smile, watery grin, "They'll be lucky." Brady watched her inches from her face, seemingly taking a minute to simply watch her and then nodded.

"They will be." he whispered back, before licking his lips and smiling at her, "Why do you want to be a mother?" Annie watched him.

"My mother told me I wouldn't be one. A good one." Annie said quietly, watching as something shifted in Brady's gaze - from soft to protective in a manner of seconds that was enough to make her heart race, "But it means I can selflessly love this child that is my own. Nuture them into their life, fulfill them with all that is goodness and love that I never got myself. Give them a better life than what my own childhood was. I can give them what they deserve." Annie smiled. "I get to be the person I never had." The emotion swirling in Brady's gaze was enough to make her smile, eyes welling with tears, and reach out towards him and brush his cheek fondly.

"That's what growing up is sometimes, not for everyone," she said, "being the person you never had when you were little." Brady seemed to lean into her touch a bit as they stood there, cuddled in jackets and wool sweaters and warm hands, underneath a cold and frostbitten sun, staring at each other like it was their last time together ever again.

"What are you going to do if we get out of here?" she asked him quietly.

"We will." Brady said back to her, clenching his jaw, "We're getting out of here. One another or another." Annie stared at him. "I'll be heading back to New York, most likely." Annie cracked a smile at him.

"With your parents?"

"Yeah." Brady said, "I'll try and get my gig back teaching. Play some more music." Brady watched her. "I can finally take you on a date." Somewhere in that string of words, Annie felt her body shutter to a stop and all she could do was stare back at Brady with wide eyes, slightly glazed over and frozen as she watched him.

"A date?" she asked him quietly and Brady grinned instantly, and nodded.

"A date." he said quietly back, "You and me. Where I grew up. In the mountains." Annie couldn't help but watch him with some much awe in her eyes - despite how battered and bruised they looked, he was making promises that could be hard to keep in a place like this, looking at her the way he did. He didn't seem to care or mind and when he looked at her that way, she believed it would happen to.

She wanted a life outside of this and she wanted, somehow, someway, to share that with John Brady.

"I'd love that. With you." Annie said quietly with a smile, staring at him with wide eye still, taken aback by his words, his forwardness, his sudden step over that invisible line they had drawn when they had both started acting like more than just friends. When whatever 'this' was appeared more than just what friends were to each other. And they'd been just too scared to acknowledge that maybe there was something more there.

"What's it like? New York?" she asked him quietly as she stared at him. Brady grinned.

"You'll have to wait and see. It's a surprise." he said with a chuckle, "One that'll be worth waiting for."

"What about a hint." Annie said quietly back to him, "In the mountains and all?"

"Here," Brady said softly, placing his hands on her shoulders and slowly turning her towards the barbed wire fence and holding her there. Warm hands on her shoulders, pulsating through to her skin, she felt a shiver run over her as his face appeared above her shoulder.

"You see that out there? All that greenery, trees, shrubbery?" he asked her with a smile, a nostalgic twinge to his voice that made her long for the sight of where John Brady had lived and breathed as a small child - who had grown to become the person standing there with her now. What had made him to be the person he is today. Her heart clenched.

"Imagine all the birds out there, the wildlife. Frogs, birds, foxes, sometimes bears, the cicadas in the summer. Leaving the windows open. You can hear the frogs from the lake. Everything's alive." Brady said, his voice dropping, "So different from here." Annie tilted her head to look up at him. "You'd love it, Annie."

Staring at him there on her shoulder, she slowly felt his arms wrap around her neck loosely and hold her against him. Leaning back against his chest, enveloped in the warmth from his jacket and his arms and simply his body, she had never felt more relaxed in a place like this, comforted by the touch of a person who she was growing more and more feelings and thoughts for by this point in time. And someone who had seen her in far too many phases of life now than she would've thought.

Looking out past that fence, she did imagine a life in New York, near those Finger Lakes, John Brady playing his saxophone as the sun set, listening to the frogs and the cicadas and the birds, his gentle, jazzy thrum, watching his eyes glow with mirth and life, a quiet step away from war and this camp and the world. A place where she could let herself simply be. A home. With him.

And for a moment standing there, she could imagine her life where it was just the two of them, watching the sunset, listening to the world around them, being enveloped in the presence of one another. She could practically feel it, reach out and grab it with her fingertips. It was so close. It was right there.

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