#john silver fic

[roosterjazz]

“For what you did to me

And what I'll do to you

You get, what everyone else gets

You get a lifetime”

I read ‘this stretch of sea and sand’ by princesskay, and afterwards I couldn’t get these lyrics out of my head. The experience manifested itself in this drawing.

[jaynovz]

In discussions about the finale of Black Sails, one of the things I often see is folks hard-focusing on Flint's fate, in an either-or binary fashion, usually presented as "Which do you believe-- that Silver killed him? or sent him to the plantation?"

Now, for posterity's sake, gonna mention a few things-- first off, that's simply not thinking broadly enough. There are farrrr more than two options here and I've come up with my share of the reallyyyyy bad ones for sure. Whatever your mind chooses, none of those are happy endings anyway, there are bittersweet, bad, and worse endings all the way down. (They are paused, they are in a time loop, and also all endings and no endings are happening simultaneously)

But also, the more cogent point is that, it doesn't actually matter what happened *to Flint* The story is... not actually about him at that point. We have transitioned from Flint as protag to Silver as protag, setting up for (the fanfiction that Black Sails has ended up making of, ugh, king shit) Treasure Island.

And so, I just, don't find it to be of particular interest exploring what we think Flint is actually doing or if he's alive for real. What is EXTREMELY interesting to explore though is how Silver's speech at the end to Madi is sort of giving Thomas back to Flint as a pacifier/comfort object, but how... Silver is giving Flint that thing in his own mind as his own type of pacifier/comfort object.

That's the REALLY chewy bit. What actually happens to Flint is not the purpose of that scene for me, of Silver's recounting of events to Madi. It's more about... projection. It's about how Silver is dealing with whatever happened to Flint/whatever he did.

And I just feel like it's missing the point to focus so hard on if Flint is alive or not.

He is the ghost of the story regardless, that's what's important. He's going to haunt the narrative for the rest of everyone's lives. No one has been untouched or unscarred by coming into contact with Captain Flint; he has a forever legacy. I'm not the first to call him this, but he's Schrödinger's Flint and he's staying that way.

But this?

"No. I did not kill Captain Flint. I unmade him. The man you know could never let go of his war. For if he were to exclude it from himself, he would not be able to understand himself. So I had to return him to an earlier state of being. One in which he could function without the war. Without the violence. Without us. Captain Flint was born out of great tragedy. I found a way to reach into the past... and undo it. There is a place near Savannah... where men unjustly imprisoned in England are sent in secret. An internment far more humane, but no less secure. Men who enter these gates never leave them. To the rest of the world, they simply cease to be. He resisted... at first. But then I told him what else I had heard about this place. I was told prominent families amongst London society made use of it. I was told the governor in Carolina made use of it. So I sent a man to find out if they'd used it to hide away one particular prisoner. He returned with news. Thomas Hamilton was there. He disbelieved me. He continued to resist. And corralling him took great effort. But the closer we got to Savannah, his resistance began to diminish. I couldn't say why. I wasn't expecting it. Perhaps he'd finally reached the limits of his physical ability to fight. Or perhaps as the promise of seeing Thomas got closer... he grew more comfortable letting go of this man he created in response to his loss. The man whose mind I had come to know so well... whose mind I'd in some ways incorporated into my own. It was a strange experience to see something from it... so unexpected. I choose to believe it... because it wasn't the man I had come to know at all... but one who existed beforehand... waking from a long... and terrible nightmare. Reorienting to the daylight... and the world as it existed before he first closed his eyes... letting the memory of the nightmare fade away. You may think what you want of me. I will draw comfort in the knowledge that you're alive to think it. But I'm not the villain you fear I am. I'm not him."

This is the speech of a man who is self-soothing, who is spinning himself a tale, who is projecting, who is coping.

and THAT is just, way chewier, innit?

[helbrides]

YOU AND ME, WE GREW UNDER A BAD SUN

in which silver and max really are twins, after electra and daughters of the dust (insp. @gayvampiredivorce)

electra - trans. anne carson / stellar siblings grow closer with age, aaron m. geller / succession s1e5: i went to market / daughters of the dust dir. julie dash / crush, richard siken / lupa, matthew nienow / cain, josé saramago

[kathrahender]

Me, before watching Cobra Kai: I swear, I hate this show so much. Why everytime I want to see a video in Youtube I have to see in the Ads the trailer of a new season of Cobra Kai? They're too annoying. I refuse to watch this show.

Me, after watching Cobra Kai: Lawrusso is now my favorite thing ever. I love you Sam, even if some people hate you. Johnny Chozen and Mike are the best. Johnny Chozen and Mike are the best. Johnny Chozen and Mike are the- Fellas is it normal if the rivals in this show look like lovers instead of rivals(cofcofLawrussocofcof) or have sexual tension (cofcofSamtorycofcof)??? WHY THERE IS SO MUCH CHEMISTRY BETWEEN CHARACTERS OF THE SAME SEX???? Kreese and Terry should kiss. There is so much angst in this show. But I kinda like it heeeelp

[whaliiwatching]

no way!!! it's Other Characters!!!!!

[major-mads]

Chapter 13: At Last

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: GUYS! Sorry for the SUPER long delay! I went out of the country for a while and had some other things come up, but here we are...the long-awaited chapter!! enjoy!

For some reason, tumblr won't let me tag more than 5 people, so I'll tag people in the comments instead!

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 9.4k

Wednesday, October 27, 1943: Stalag Luft III: Sagan, Germany: 1000 HRS

The dull scrapes of pencils, the ticking of the clock, and the sniffles of Jimmy Lambert in the far corner of the room were the only things keeping Ruth Morgan sane. She sat at her desk fidgeting with her ink pen as she stared down at the paper before her. Her eyes drifted over the page numerous times, but her mind was in no state to absorb information, even information as mundane as an analysis of characters in Shakespeare’s Macbeth.

5 Days Earlier

“We thought you were dead,” Murphy muttered from where he sat at the center table in the girls’ room. “They, uh, they said there were no chutes, ma’am.”

Frank’s brows furrowed slightly, his fingers brushing over his mustache. “No chutes? Someone saw us go down?” 

“Apparently. No one would tell us anything,” Crank added matter-of-factly, but his voice softened as he continued.” Especially not Buck or Bucky. We had to find out what happened through the grapevine.”

With Hope asleep on her bunk, the room’s eyes shifted to Ruth at the mention of the majors. She sat silently at the table, her eyes glistening in the room’s low light as she stared at the roughened wood before her. If everyone thought they were dead, she could only imagine how John must have reacted. How would she have reacted?

“John,” she shakily breathed, raising her teary gaze to the men. “How-How is he? ”

As soon as the words left her lips, Glenn shifted awkwardly in his seat and glanced at Crank and Murph, who acted much the same. Ruth’s brow creased in concern, her eyes searching their faces for answers when Frank draped his arm over the back of her chair. After a few moments, Glen sighed.

“He took it hard, ma’am. Both him, Buck, and Sparky. Bucky, he, uh…” Glen’s eyes flicked to his friend’s desperately for help, and Murph straightened in his chair, coming to the co-pilot's aid.

“Harding made him take a pass to London, but Buck went down over Bremen the day he got there, so he came back early to lead the next mission.”

“Münster was a frickin’ turkey shoot,” Crank grumbled. ”The Zig went down before us…We saw what? 9 chutes?”

Ruth’s breath hitched, and she clasped her hands tightly in her lap, her fingers digging into her palms. “Nine chutes,” she repeated softly, her voice trembling. “But Johnny? Have y’all seen him since?”

The room fell silent, the weight of Ruth’s question hanging heavily in the air. The men exchanged uneasy glances, the shadows in their eyes deepening.

Cruikshank cleared his throat, his voice low. “No. We haven’t seen him. None of us have.”

Ruth’s heart sank and a wave of fear crashed over her. Her vision blurred with unshed tears as she tried to process the news. “So, you don’t know if he’s...”

“It’s Bucky,” Crank nodded. “He’ll make it.”

She nodded, biting her lip to keep from crying. John was either evading, captured, or dead in a German field somewhere. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, not after everything they’d been through. Not after she’d told herself he was safe back at Thorpe Abbotts, convinced herself that he’d be waiting for her.

“Lieutenant Morgan?” A voice called out, but it barely registered in her mind.

“Lieutenant?” the voice repeated, more insistent this time.

Ruth continued to stare blankly at the paper, her mind caught in the memory, but when a shadow fell across her desk, she finally blinked. Her gaze slowly lifted to see one of her students standing there with concern etching his face. “Ruth, are you alright?” he asked softly.

“Oh,” she murmured, shaking her head slightly to clear the memory. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. Need some help?”

George, a 20 year old, baby-faced lieutenant with sandy hair and a kind expression, looked at her with a mixture of worry and sympathy. “You seem a bit…distant,” he said carefully. “Are you alright? Did something happen? Did the goons-”

Ruth forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and interrupted his endearing rambling.  “I’m fine, George. Just got a lot on my mind. Thanks for asking.”

He nodded, although not entirely convinced. “This class…it helps all of us so much. So if there’s anything we can do to help, please let us know.”

“I appreciate that, really. How’s your work going?”

George glanced back at the table where his papers were spread out. “It’s going well. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Her heart warmed at his concern. These young men relied on her, and she couldn’t let them down. “Thank you, George. I’ll be alright. If you need any help with your work, let me know.”

He gave her a small smile and returned to his table, leaving Ruth to gather her scattered thoughts. She took a deep breath and refocused on the task at hand, pushing her worries about John to the back of her mind for the moment. She had to stay strong. For herself, for her friends, and for the young men in her classes that clung to their lessons for a sense of normalcy.

1600 HRS: 4 PM

Ruth sat at room four’s table, attempting to organize her lesson plans, the soft scratch of a pencil the only sound in the room. No one had seen Hope since she left toward the infirmary following the 6am roll call, but it was almost time for her to come back. Murphy and Charlie Cruikshank lay in their beds staring up at the wooden slats above their heads. Glenn was off with Frank Martin checking out the garden and harvesting the last of the vegetables before winter came. The chill in the morning and evening air were sure signs it was coming, and fast.

“How was class today?” Murphy asked, sending her a half-smile from his bunk. Since their arrival, the three newcomers kept a close eye on the women.

“It was okay,” she groaned, placing a paper in her ‘graded’ stack. “I’ve got a lot of papers to grade.”

A few moments later, the echo of the siren at the entrance gate cut through the silence of the room. The men sprang to their feet and ran out the door, but Ruth remained in her seat, shaking her head with a grin.

“Ruth, you comin’?” Murphy asked, poking his head around the doorframe.

She shook her head, glancing up from her work. “No, but y’all go ahead. I’ll be fine in here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Ruth insisted, “Go on!”

With a final nod, Frank followed Crank out of the block, their boots echoing down the hallway. The room fell silent again, and Ruth took a deep breath. She picked up Macbeth, hoping to distract herself from the gnawing anxiety that settled in her chest. The words on the page blurred together as her mind wandered back to John. Between Hope pulling away and his unknown fate on top of the uncertainty of captivity, it was all she could do to keep functioning. 

The silence of the room was comforting yet heavy as the minutes ticked by, her mind drifting to the events of the past month. With a sigh, she closed her book and began to tidy up the room. Humming softly to herself, cleared and wiped down the table. With mud, dirt and everything else caked onto the surface, getting it off was a chore. 

Knock. Knock.

“Come on in.” She called, her back to the door that slowly creaked open. “Anyone interesting come in today?”

No response. The silence felt odd. 

Sighing, Ruth turned toward the entrance. “If y’all don’t start cleaning up, too-”

When Ruth’s gaze landed on the figure in the doorway, she didn’t feel her grip on the rag loosening, didn’t hear it hit the ground. All she could focus on was the man standing before her. He was battered and bruised, his uniform torn and dirty, but his eyes…his glossy blues were the same that filled her dreams, her cherished memories.

“John,” she whimpered, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper as tears welled in her eyes.

He slowly took a step into the room. “Hey, Ruthie.”

They simply stood there for a moment, locked in each other’s gaze. But then, a wide smile grew on his face and he crossed the room, throwing his arms around her small figure. Beneath his hold, John felt the sharpness of her features, the way she seemed impossibly smaller…but his mind quickly pushed away the thought because this was the moment he’d dreamed of. 

Ruth instantly returned the embrace with a choked sob, holding him as tightly as she could while John buried his face in her neck. His arms were warm and sturdy, familiar in a way that made her feel whole again.

Pulling back, he tearily grinned at her and gently cupped her face, resting his forehead against hers. “I love you,” he whispered quickly. “I should’ve told you, but I just-”

“Thank God. I love you, too,” Ruth interrupted with her own teary laugh. “I love you, John Egan.”

“I thought you were gone.”

She sniffled, wiping away a stray tear. “I know, I know. But I’m right here. I’m right here.”

Unable to hold off any longer, John kissed her gently, cradling her jaw as he connected their lips. The world melted away and they got lost in each other’s presence for a few moments until Ruth pulled away, her eyes taking in the damage done to his face. It was a mess of cuts and bruises, his right eye swollen and bloodshot. As a nurse, she was used to seeing people in pain, but seeing John in such a state caused that barrier to crumble.

“Oh honey,” she said softly as her thumb brushed lightly over a bruise on his cheek. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He nodded and allowed her to lead him over to the table where he perched atop it. As he sat down, Ruth hurriedly grabbed their first aid kit from under Hope’s bunk before returning to his side. He seemed to notice her sling for the first time and concern flashed across his face.

“Your arm, doll.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she dismissed him, unwrapping some gauze and dabbing it with alcohol. “This happened when I, uh, bailed. Broke it when I went through some trees on the way down.”

John’s saw clenched as the next question filtered through his mind before leaving his lips. His voice was quiet with a barely contained rage at the thought of her suffering at the hands of their captors. “The Krauts. They haven’t...They haven’t touched you, have they?”

“No. Thank God.”

He visibly deflated. “Good.”

Silence again filled the room as she worked carefully to clean the cuts marring his face. When she inspected his it further, she noted the swelling and his bloodshot right eye. “Johnny, this is bad,” she whispered, her fingers trembling as she brushed over the injury. “Can you see okay? Any double vision?”

“Sometimes, but I’m fine, doll. Really. Strong as an ox.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Ruth, I’m alright…”

“Take off your shirt, John,” she demanded quietly.

Ruth expected a half-baked joke to fall from his lips, but when it didn’t, her heart sank. He sighed, gritting his teeth as he attempted to take off his jacket. Even the smallest movement felt like murder, and all he wanted to do was lie down, but she was there. Their reunion had pushed down the pain but it came rushing back in that moment.

“Here. Let me help.”

She carefully helped him remove his A2 jacket and unzip his flight suit down to his waist, revealing a dirty, once-white tank top underneath. As she slowly lifted the tank top, John’s jaw clenched and a few pained grunts escaped his lips when he raised his arms. The sight that greeted her was worse than she had feared. His torso was a canvas of bruises, the worst of which spread diagonally across his back. The center was an angry mix of red and purple, while the edges were turning a sickly brownish green.

“Oh, God,” she breathed, her voice cracking as she stared at the damage. Ruth’s eyes filled with tears and she raised a hand to cover her mouth. John set his jaw and stared at the floor silently, unable to meet her gaze. Her hands hesitantly touched the largest bruise across his back with feather-light pressure. 

“What happened?” she asked shakily as a tear streaked down her cheek.

Should he tell her? Subject her to the horrors he’d experienced in the month they’d been apart? He’d want to know. He wanted to know what happened to her, but the thought of watching his sweet, gentle, and caring Ruth crumble as he explained that night’s events and the days that followed was enough of a deterrent.

“I think it was a club,” he replied before glancing up at her with a exhausted smirk. It didn’t quite reach his eyes but he gave it anyways. “Chump had a terrible swing, though. Could’ve batted cleanup for the Braves with the season they're having.”

Deflection. His favorite game, favorite defense. Strong John Egan, the 418th’s CO, Major in the Army Air Force, didn’t want to think about the most helpless moment in his life. Didn’t want to think about how terrified he’d been. Bucky thought he was going to die as he sputtered for air on the ground that night, warm blood running down his face. Through the ringing in his ears and the pain in his head, he heard gunshot after gunshot echo off the brick buildings. Each sent a comrade to their grave, and he knew the next was for him…

“Hey. Please don’t do that,” said Ruth quietly.

“Do what?”

“You know what.”

With a sigh, he turned his gaze back to the dusty paneled floor.  “Me and a group of guys from the 381st were taken through a town, and the people…they just went crazy. I got knocked in the head a few times.”

Ruth swallowed thickly and took his face gently in her hands, tilting it up from the floor to meet her gaze. “What else?”

“Doll,” he sighed, his voice rising slightly as he reached out and gently grasped her waist, pulling her to stand between his legs. “I don’t think you should-”

“I want to know.”

“Well, I’d rather talk about you.”

Ruth blinked, momentarily taken back. “Me?” she repeated, her voice incredulous. “Johnny, look at you. You’re the one who’s hurt.”

“I know, but right now I just want to forget about it,” John said with the purse of his lips. “Tell me what happened…how you’ve been holding up.

Her eyes searched his face for any sign of his usual bravado, but she saw none and relented, taking a deep breath as she tried to shift her focus to herself. 

“We went through a flak field and fighters…they came out of nowhere. Killed our copilot,” she admitted quietly, still slotted between his legs. Ruth reached up, her fingers gently running through his dark curls, soothing his worried mind with each stroke. “Bailing was terrifying, and then we were captured and separated…it’s been a nightmare.” she sniffled quietly. “Definitely not what I expected when I joined up. But you’re here, now, and that makes things much better. Not that I want you to be here, but-”

John cut off her stressed ramble with a kiss. It was filled with more urgency as if to assure himself that she was really there, not just a figment of his imagination, not just a dream. She pulled back gently and placed a hand on his chest, a smooth metal chain beneath her touch.

Her cross. 

“You kept it?”

“It was all I had left of you. I never took it off.”

Tears once again burned in her eyes but she quickly blinked them away. “Enough about me. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” she said softly. “I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

He nodded reluctantly and Ruth went back to carefully tending to his face. As she worked, she continued talking in a feeble attempt to distract him from the pain. “Frank’s been looking out for us the whole time, and since your guys got here last week, they’ve done the same.”

John flinched as she cleaned a deep gash on his temple. “Good,” he managed through gritted teeth. “They’re. How’s Hope? I know Buck’s in another compound.”

“She’s not good. Hasn’t been sleeping because of nightmares, so Frank and I have tried to stay up with her… but she just shuts us out. We don’t know what to do.”

Johnny frowned, concern deepening the lines on his bruised face. “Hope’s tough but it sounds like you’ve both been through hell. It just looks like it’s taking her more time, doll.”

“I know, but it’s so hard to see her like this. She won’t talk to me, John. She won’t open up. I-I don’t know how to help her,” she whispered, her hands trembling as she carefully dabbed a cut on his eyebrow.

He reached up and gently cupped her cheek. “Hey, listen to me,” he said softly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that escaped down her cheek. “You’re doing everything you can. Some people just need to deal with things their own way, in their own time.”

“But what if she never does?” Ruth whispered, her voice breaking. “What if I can’t help her?”

The major’s heart ached at the pain in her big blue eyes, and he pulled her closer, gently wrapping his arms around her waist. “She’ll come around. I know it.”

Just then, a series of rapid knocks on the door interrupted them, followed by the sound of familiar voices. “Ruth, Bucky, you two decent in there?”

She quickly wiped away her tears. John looked up, wincing slightly as he tried to sit up straight. “Come on in, you dodos,” he called out.

The door swung open, and Murph, Crank, and Glenn hurried into the room. Their eyes widened when they took in the sight of John’s bruised body.

“Shit,” Crank muttered. “Bucky, what did they do to you?”

Murphy’s face twisted in concern. “You look like you went ten rounds with a freight train and lost,” he said with the shake of his head. “You alright?”

John gave them a weak grin. “Just fine, boys. You should see the other guy.”

“If you say so, sir,” Graham grimaced.

Ruth helped John back into his shirt and into a seat, and the men sat around the table, asking John about the Münster mission, what happened to his plane, and if he knew about any of the other guys from his crew. While they spoke, her mind wandered to Frank and Hope. It was almost 5:30, almost time for supper…if you could call half a potato and a tiny sausage-looking meat stick supper.

Noticing her far-off stare, John placed a gentle hand on her thigh beneath the table and remained in the conversation, his touch offering little comfort against her worry. It wasn’t until the door creaked open a few minutes later that she could finally breathe. Frank and Hope appeared in the doorway, freezing as their eyes fell upon the group. The group’s hushed voices ceased and a few chairs scraped back as they turned to see who had entered. She felt John move beside her, turning to face the pair. 

“Hope! Frank! You’re back. Ruth’s been telling me all about you both since the crash.” John cracked a wide smile and Ruth noticed the way his eyes softened as they fell on Hope. 

 Frank stood behind Hope in the doorway, his eyes widening when his gaze fell on Bucky. He stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “It’s good to see you, Major, sorry it’s not under better circumstances.” 

John shrugged, his arm coming back around to rest on Ruth’s shoulders, “We’re at war Captain, worse things could have happened. To think that of all the camps I could have gone to I ended up back with my girl. It could have been worse, I could have been stuck in a different compound like Buck and…” 

The room fell silent and all eyes fell to Hope. Ruth held in the small gasp that threatened to fall from her lips. She saw Hope’s eyes trail to the floor, her brown eyes fighting against her emotions. 

“Ahh, Hope, I didn’t mean…” John began, his face etched with concern as he realized the weight of his words. 

“It’s fine, John. Really, it’s good to have you back. It’s nice to see Ruth so happy again.” 

Hope sent her friend a sincere smile and the blonde returned it, her shoulders relaxing a little. Ruth wasn’t convinced that was the truth, but to know Hope wasn’t about to run out on her again brought her a small amount of comfort. Everyone walked on eggshells around Hope. It was like she was an unexploded bomb that needed to be handled with such delicacy in fear of her going off at any moment. 

Hope sat herself down on her bunk, her dark eyes trailing over the group. Frank joined in the conversation and Ruth took that as her moment to slip out of John’s grasp and make her way over to her friend. 

Hope didn’t notice Ruth approaching her until the bed dipped beside her. 

“How are you doing?” Ruth asked, slipping her hand into Hope’s and squeezing it gently. “You’ve been really quiet since Gale arrived.” 

Ruth wanted to approach the subject but also didn’t want to drive her friend away further. She knew she’d have to be careful with her probing questions…one false move and Hope could close in on herself again. 

“I’m fine, Rue, really. Work’s just been busy and I’ve not been sleeping well, but I promise I’m fine,” she forced a smile that stretched across her pale cheeks. Ruth could see the dark, purple skin beneath her friends eyes and the way her skin pulled tightly across her cheekbones. She had always considered her friend to be beautiful, so striking with her dark hair and red lipstick, but now she look like a ghost of her former self. 

Ruth wasn’t convinced. Her once bright eyes looked tiredly at Hope, breaking her heart even more. 

What had become of them?

2200 HRS: 10 PM

The afternoon passed with introductions to fellow prisoners and supper, along with John’s first evening roll call. By lights out, the major was half-asleep in his chair around the table, pure exhaustion wafting off him after the journey he had from Dulag Luft. Everyone else was lying quietly in their bunks, leaving John, Ruth, and Crank alone at the table. She watched with a softened gaze as Bucky’s eyes drooped again and again. It was adorable, the way he continued to fight it, but Ruth knew he was beyond tired. She shared a glance with Crank across the table before returning her eyes to John’s half-lidded ones. 

“Come on,” Ruth patted his shoulder gently, his eyes opening wider. “Let’s get you into bed.”

John blinked a few times, trying to gather his thoughts. “Yeah, okay,” he murmured, pushing himself up from the table with a barely concealed wince. 

That afternoon, they decided he would get the bunk above Ruth’s. If their roommates were being honest, they guessed one of the beds would be empty more often than not. It wasn’t an easy task getting all six-foot-something of John up onto the second-row bunk, but he gritted his teeth and swallowed the pain as he climbed into the bed.

Charlie stood to help, but Johnny waved him off. “I’m good,” he insisted, though his voice lacked its usual strength.

“Sure you don’t,” Crank replied with a knowing eye-roll but stayed close just in case.

John gritted his teeth and tried to climb onto the second-row bunk on his own. He managed to get one leg up before a sharp pain shot through his side, making him grunt and pause.

“Let us help,” Ruth whispered.

He nodded reluctantly, the fight leaving him as he sighed. “Alright, alright. Just this once.”

Crank and Ruth each took an arm, Charlie doing more than the blonde, and they carefully helped him up onto the bunk. Only a small wince left his lips despite the ever-present ache throughout his whole body. Once he settled on the narrow mattress, he took a long breath.

“See? Easy,” he joked weakly, slightly out of breath from the movement.

Charlie clapped him gently on the shoulder before heading to his own bunk. “Sure, Bucky.”

Standing beside his bunk, Ruth’s face was slightly taller than eye level. She looked down at him with worry swirling in her mind. The cuts, the bruising, his eye, the avoidance…it all worried her. She wanted to know what happened. Needed to know. How could she be there for him if she didn’t know what he went through?

“You alright?” he asked sleepily, his face only visible from the moonlight streaming through the room’s small window. “What’s going through that head of yours?”

Ruth sighed and raised her hand to play with the messy curls hanging over his forehead. “I missed you. So much. Being here…it gives you a lot of time to think. Makes you realize what’s important. Who’s important. A part of me thought I’d never see you again.”

“Well, I’m here now, and I promise I’m not gonna leave you again, alright? I meant what I said earlier, doll. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she replied softly, kissing his cheek. “Get some rest, okay? You need it.”

Groaning, john tiredly raised his eyebrows. “Come on. That’s all I get?” 

“So needy,” Ruth smirked with the roll of her eyes before kissing him properly. “Now really go to sleep, hotshot.”

A pleased smile curved John’s lips as his eyes slipped closed. “Night, Ruthie.

She gave him one last tender look before stepping back and moving to her own bunk below his. For the first night in a month, the overwhelming sense of doom, of panic, seemed to lessen, and she drifted off to sleep easily. Bucky, however, was subjected to the same nightmare that visited him nightly. 

Smoke and flames burned his eyes as he frantically looked around him. The twisted metal of the Angel lay scattered around the field, its normal green paint charred in the blaze. John stumbled over the debris, his heart pounding as he searched for any sign of life. The plane was nearly unrecognizable, the once proud C-47 reduced to a smoldering heap of metal and fire. John’s eyes darted frantically across the field, the smoke filling his lungs. He coughed violently and his hands trembled as he clawed his way through the debris. Then, in the fire’s dim light, he saw her…but the vibrance of her eyes was gone as she blankly stared up at the sky.

“No, no, no,” he gasped, his heart skipping as he rushed to her side, but his hands passed through her as if she was a ghost. 

John jolted awake with a gasp, and his heart pounded in his chest. His heaving chest was drenched with sweat as he tried to get his bearings. For a moment, he was disoriented, and the line between dream and reality blurred. But as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he remembered where he was. The stalag. Ruth was alive. He’d seen her, held her. But the lingering fear from the nightmare gnawed at him.

Ignoring the pain that shot through his body with every movement, Johnny carefully climbed down from his bunk and lowered himself slowly to the floor, wincing as his bruised ribs protested. 

He felt uneasy. An unnerving feeling spread through him as he turned and met a dark pair of eyes watching him from the window. His breath caught in his throat as his heart continued to pound. Hope watched him sympathetically. Her own eyes were rimmed red and her small frame looked childlike in her oversized coveralls bunched up against the window. The pair exchanged no words as John shuffled closer to Ruth’s cot. Leaning against the post of Ruth’s bunk, he fixed his eyes on her sleeping form. She looked so peaceful, her chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. He reached out hesitantly and lightly brushed a strand of hair from her face. Bucky had watched her for what felt like hours when she finally stirred. 

Ruth’s eyelids fluttered open as if finally sensing his presence, and she blinked sleepily, her eyes focusing on the figure sitting beside her bed. 

“Johnny?” she whispered, her voice heavy with sleep. “Why are you on the floor?”

He pursed his lips. “No reason. It reminded me of my lovely cell back at Dulag Luft.”

A small sigh left Ruth’s lips as she watched him in the dim light. Through the bruises and the bravado, she saw a wounded man…one wounded physically, emotionally, and mentally.

“John.”

The silence that followed was filled with Murph’s quiet snores.

“I, uh, just wanted to check on you,” the major murmured after a moment, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap, his eyes stuck on them. “To make sure you’re okay…That this isn’t some messed-up dream.”

It was then that Ruth remembered what the others said…He took it hard. But what all did that entail? Did he go out and drink himself away every night or did he pick up his old habits with women? She didn’t know, but what she did know was that he was there, they were finally together.

“Hey,” she whispered, sitting up and reaching out to him. She gently ran her hand through his greasy curls. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

John’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, and for a moment, she saw raw vulnerability in them, but the strong facade quickly returned. He thought back to the long nights in the Officer’s Club, sitting around the bar with a drink in his hand, just trying to drown out the memories that followed him everywhere. John couldn’t go to Dickleburgh, couldn’t bear Tommy asking about Ruth, asking when he’d see her again. The first and only time it happened, Buck and Kidd looked at him warily, unsure whether he’d crumble or explode as Tommy stared up at him with his signature toothy grin. John simply took a big gulp of his pint and clenched his jaw, telling Tommy she’d be gone for a while. He didn’t remember much after that moment, but he remembered waking up the next morning with one of the worst hangovers of his life. He awoke knowing he couldn’t face Tommy or the memories that mercilessly replayed in his mind. 

He nodded and softly took her hand, running his thumb over the top of it as he spoke. “Yeah. I know. It’s just…They told us the Angel went down. Said there were no survivors. We - uh - spent the past month thinking both you and Hope were dead. I-” 

Bucky trailed off and looked away from Ruth, his gaze focusing on the dusty floor beside him. He couldn’t stop the burn in his eyes at the thought of the past month. He was no stranger to pain, to loss. Losing his father was heartbreaking, as was losing man after man as the war went on. But Ruth? Losing Ruth was the worst pain he’d ever felt. And to think, Haussmann was the reason he knew she was alive after all that time.  

“Johnny, look at me,” Ruth murmured as she softly turned his face toward her. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone. I wish more than anything I could’ve made it back to you.”

He blinked away the tears glistening in his eyes and took a deep breath with a nod. “Me, too, doll. Me, too.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, both soaking in the loving gaze of the other. Ruth noted the flecks of grey in his blue eyes. The grey reminded her of the clouds that almost always hung in the sky around The Grove and Thorpe Abbotts. A dog’s bark in the distance broke their trance, and Ruth lightly tugged on his hand.

“Come here.”

He hesitated but then slowly climbed onto the bunk, wincing quietly as he did so. Ruth made space for him, which wasn’t much, but they managed to fit. He lay on his back and she nestled herself on top of him, her body conforming to the limited space they had.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly, her eyes searching his face for any signs of discomfort.

John nodded, his mind finally able to rest with her in his arms. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No, Ruthie, you’re not hurting me. I promise.”

She carefully laid her head on his chest, her ear over his heart. The steady rhythm was comforting, a reminder that he was alive and here with her. That she was alive. Tears welled up in her eyes again as she clung to him.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, sitting up on his chest and peering down at him. “I was worried sick about you. I couldn’t focus in class…”

“Class?”

Ruth’s lips formed a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I-uh,” she sniffled quietly, “teach English to some of the other kriegies.”

With a huff of air and a shake of his head, he relaxed against the straw pillow, staring at the wooden slats above him as a faint smile grew on his face. Since his capture, John had thought about how much his life was changing. The freedom he cherished would be gone, and no one knew how long he’d be stuck in the camp under German rule. But then there was Ruth, already stepping up and helping out where she could, not wallowing in self-pity like he had already begun to. 

“What?” she asked, sitting back up on his chest.

“Just you. You’re just amazing. Even here.”

Ruth blushed and her eyes dropped to his chest as she absent-mindedly traced patterns on his shirt. “It helps me feel like I’m doing something, you know? Like I’m not just sitting around, waiting for the war to end. It gives me purpose.”

“At least you’re able to do what you love. Those kids back home were lucky to have ya, and now these guys are, too.”

“It’s not the same, but it helps. And they seem to appreciate it,” she said, looking up at him. 

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “I bet they do. Doesn’t hurt that you’re gorgeous, either. You never stop amazing me, doll.”

She shook her head, smiling. “I don’t know about that. It gets my mind off of everything, though…Got my mind off you.”

He stared at her for a moment, really looking at the woman before him. She’d been through hell and was more worried about him than herself…him, who up two weeks prior had been sleeping in a warm bed in England while she was being forced across Germany. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Johnny murmured, tightening his hold on Ruth as his arms wrapped protectively around her. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

His question brought back a memory, and Ruth found herself being transported back to Thorpe Abbotts, to the night of Dye’s party when he’d asked the same thing. Everything was so different then. In that small hall bathroom in the Officer’s Club, John had also asked her to come to London with him. 

Oh, the things that would never be…or at least wouldn’t happen in the foreseeable future.

Her hand found its way to his cheek as she spoke. “You didn’t have to do anything, remember? I love you. Don’t let anything tell you different.” 

A few seconds passed before John sighed and looked up at the bunk above him. “You know, when I thought you were gone, I-I didn’t handle it too well. I drank…A lot. Went to London on my own, hoping to get some closure, but it…it didn’t help.”

Ruth just watched him, trying to keep her own emotions in check. To her dismay, almost everything she’d guessed had been true. The strong man she knew was reduced to someone who needed alcohol to get through the day, to go to sleep at night. He went on to tell her about London, the mission, and his interrogation, but he kept the most brutal parts to himself. She was already worried and didn’t need anything else to stress over. 

“But I do owe that Nazi chump one thing. He let me know you were alive, even if he didn’t realize it.”

“What?” she asked with furrowed brows. “How?”

“I didn’t tell him anything. But as I was leaving, he said something I wrote in my last letter to you. Told me the ‘Yankees always end on top…’ probably to try and rile me up, I guess. I knew that meant you went through there if he knew that.” 

Chuckling, Ruth shook her head. “Wow. Who’d’ve thought?”

“Speaking of the Yankees,” John began with a twinkle in his eye. “They won the World Series.”

She playfully groaned and turned away from him with a poorly hidden smirk. “I did not miss hearing crap from you about the Yankees, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, come on, doll. You know you missed it,” he teased as he turned onto his side and pulled her against him wincing slightly as pain shot through his ribs. “Don’t even deny it.”

A loud giggle involuntarily escaped her lips when he wrapped his arms around her again. The sound lifted a weight off of Johnny’s shoulder’s. It was a sound he’d heard night after night, memory after memory, and hearing it after believing he never would again eased his mind in a way he couldn’t describe. Ruth could’ve sworn she heard Frank gag from a nearby bunk, but he made no other complaints. 

They stayed like that for a while, both caught up in their thoughts. Ruth thanked God for keeping John safe, for sparing him and bringing him back to her, even if he was bloody and bruised and they were both prisoners of war. Bucky burrowed his face in her neck and breathed her scent, felt the warmth of her skin, the way she fit perfectly in his arms. She was alive. They were together. And in that moment, he promised to do whatever it took to keep her safe. 

“I love you,” he whispered after kissing her neck gently. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying that.”

“And I’ll never get tired of hearing it. Goodnight, hotshot. I love you.”

With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of her presence wash over him. “Goodnight, slugger.”

This time, sleep welcomed the major quickly, and for the first time in over a month, it was peaceful.

Two Days Later: October 29th: 0530 HRS: 5:30 AM

Bang. Bang.

“Aufstehen! Get up!”

The clacking of boots furthered down the hall as the occupants of room 4 slowly awoke. Ruth sat up with a yawn, running a tired hand down her face as John gingerly hopped from the bunk above her and kissed her cheek.

“Mornin, doll.”

“Morning,” she groaned, sliding on her boots and getting bundled up for the morning appell. Ruth layered her sweaters and flight jacket then wrapped her scarf around her neck. She glanced over at Hope on the bunk beside her and noticed the way her friend pulled her own scarf tightly around her neck. Taking a closer look, Ruth also noticed the redness around Hope’s eyes. Everyone knew Hope was struggling, and each time she shut down any conversations about it, Ruth became increasingly worried. In the almost month they’d been at the camp, Hope went from a little closed off to completely isolated…or maybe she just wanted to be away from Ruth? The blonde didn’t know, but she did know that it hurt her heart to see her best friend in such a state. 

Everyone quickly got ready and filed out the door for the morning roll call. It was almost always the same every morning and afternoon. The goons went down the line checking everyone was accounted for until they were satisfied. On special occasions when they felt extra cruel, the kreigies were forced to stand in their lines for hours. Luckily, that had only happened once since the girls arrived. As the chilly air turned colder with the passing days, Ruth wondered how long anyone would be able to stand exposed to the elements. It would snow soon, no doubt.

After roll call, everyone headed to the mess hall for breakfast. John threw his arm over Ruth’s shoulder, tucking her into his side. “I could eat a horse right now. I know you’re hungry, and you know I’m always hungry.”

He paused, waiting for her response, but Ruth didn’t hear a word he said. Her attention was too caught on Hope’s lonesome figure behind the group to notice he was speaking. Hope stood still, almost in a trance-like state as she stared at the mud in front of her. Bucky followed Ruth’s line of sight and sighed quietly, an understanding smile on his lips.

“Go on,” he said, squeezing her good shoulder gently.

Finally breaking from her stare, Ruth peered up at him, her brows drawn in concern. “I’ll just be a second.”

“You’re fine, doll.”

He nodded and kissed her temple. Everyone else seemed to notice the few stragglers and stood beside Bucky. Taking a deep breath, Ruth approached her friend, praying this would be the time she’d finally open up. But even as she stood three feet in front of her, Hope didn’t move. 

“Hope?” 

Hope’s tear-filled eyes snapped up to meet Ruth’s and quickly scanned the group beside John. A sudden redness crept up to her cheeks as Hope realized all the eyes that were on her. Frank appeared next to Ruth and reached out for Hope.

“You okay, Hope?” Frank asked, brushing his hand against hers. But before he could grasp it, she withdrew her hand and turned to avoid the other’s watchful eyes. Hurt flashed on his face for a moment until he reined in his expression, concern painting his face once again.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” she insisted. “I’m just tired. Lots of patients to see today, so I’ll head over to the infirmary.” She pushed past Ruth, moving through the group toward the infirmary. Ruth shared a helpless glance with Frank before following. 

“Hope! Hope, wait!” Ruth called after her, clutching onto her friend’s arm when she reached her. “Hey, you have to talk to me. Please don’t shut me out,” the blonde pleaded.

 “I’m not shutting you out, Rue. I’m busy, alright? I have things I need to do.”

Ruth’s grip remained firm on her forearm but Hope pushed her arm away. “Just go back to John, why don’t you? He’s waiting for you, so you should just go.”

Ruth felt a sharp pang in her chest at the words. The accusation, the resentment, it cut deep. After all they’d been through, this is how they were treating each other? She had been doing everything she could to be there for her friend, but it seemed like no matter what she did, it wasn’t enough. Ruth’s voice trembled as she responded, trying to keep the hurt from showing too much.

“Please, Hope. Please just talk to me.” Ruth bit her lip to stop it from wobbling as tears slowly filled her eyes.

All Hope did was step further away from the blonde. “I can’t talk to you about it. You won’t understand,” she replied plainly, pushing her dark hair away from her eyes. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks as she took a breath. “I should check on the men in the infirmary.”

Without another word, she continued down the muddy path to the infirmary block. Ruth’s watched her friend’s retreating figure until she disappeared from view. The ache in her chest was almost unbearable.

You wouldn’t understand.

What wouldn’t she understand? They’d been through the worst experience of their life together, ended up as prisoners of war together. What wouldn’t she understand? Ruth didn’t know what she was supposed to do now. She’d tried everything she knew to do.

John stepped beside her and placed a hand on her back. “I’m sorry if I’ve-”

“No, it’s not you,” Ruth interrupted, her voice breaking as she leaned into him. “You haven’t done anything. I-I just don’t know what to do. She refuses to talk to me. It’s like she’s shut me out completely.”

His hand moved to wrap around her waist, his warmth a small comfort in the cold. “Seems like you’ll have to wait for her to come to you, Ruthie.”

“I just wish there was something more I could do,” she nodded, resting her head on his shoulder.

The rest of the day passed the same as the past 35 they’d spent in the dreaded Stalag Luft III. That night, however, Hope never came back to their room. As the hours ticked by and Ruth, along with the other men, arrived from their jobs around the camp, everyone became increasingly worried. 

“Has anyone seen her?” Ruth asked frantically, running a hand quickly through her hair. “She’s usually back by now.”

Just as John opened his mouth to speak, the door opened and in walked Frank, soaked to the bone with a barely concealed frown. Glancing out the window, Ruth realized it was pouring.

When had it started raining?

Room 4’s occupants looked at the man expectantly. “Hope? You seen ‘er?” echoed Cruikshank.

Frank nodded slowly and closed the door behind him. “Yeah,” he breathed, “She, uh…She collapsed from exhaustion. Dr. Edmund is looking after her.”

“What?” Ruth blurted as her eyes widened in disbelief. Her whole body was on edge, the news sending shockwaves of panic through her. She could only imagine Hope laying in a scratchy bed surrounded by sick and injured men, forced to stay there for who knows how long. 

Collapsed? Exhaustion? Had something happened?

Before anyone could ask Frank further questions, she grabbed her jacket from her bed and pushed toward the door. “I need to see her.”

“Wait, Ruth.” Frank stepped in front of the door, a guilty look in his eyes as he blocked her path. “She doesn’t want visitors.”

Undeterred, she side-stepped him while pulling her jacket over her good arm. She needed to be there, had to be there for Hope. This wasn’t a time to let her handle things herself. “I’m not just a visitor, Frank. It’s me.”

But just as her hand reached the door handle, he put a hand on her shoulder, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. It was almost like the words pained him…like every syllable was a shot straight to the heart. “I know it’s you. She doesn’t want you to see her.”

Ruth froze, turning to stare at Frank as his words sunk in. “She doesn’t want me to see her?” Her voice wavered, and a mix of disbelief and hurt flashed over her face. “Why? Why doesn’t she want to see me?”

“Ruthie-” John started, taking a step toward her, but was interrupted.

She stepped out from under Frank’s hand on her shoulder and threw her arm up in the air. “No,” Ruth said, her voice raising as her frustration boiled over. She’d played this game the past few weeks, and enough was enough. “Why? Why doesn’t she want me there, Frank? Can you please tell me?” 

The outburst caught everyone off guard, the sharpness of her tone a stark contrast to her usual demeanor. Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise as he watched the scene before him. His heart ached for her, knowing how much she was hurting, and he felt a pang of helplessness. He always admired her quiet strength, her resilience, but seeing her like this…so vulnerable and desperate…it broke his heart.

Frank looked pained as he tried to explain. “She thinks she’s protecting you. She doesn’t want you to see her like this.”

Ruth’s shoulders slumped as the fight drained from her. “I’m sorry, Frank,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “Thanks for, uh, telling me.”

All eyes followed her figure as she walked to her bunk and laid down, turning her back to all of them. She didn’t know how much more of it she could take. Things were so much easier when they had each other, and in isolating herself, Hope had accidentally isolated Ruth as well. Without the other, they were the only woman in the camp. 

Frank and John exchanged a glance, pure helplessness evident in both their eyes at the situation. They couldn’t make Hope talk to Ruth, and the fact they couldn’t do anything hurt more than any punishment either of the men recieved in captivity. 

Sighing heavily, Frank ran a hand through his dripping hair. “I wish there was more we could do,” he murmured.

Johnny nodded, glancing back at Ruth’s figure across the room. “Yeah, me too.” His voice was thick, and the usually talkative Major struggled to find the right words. “It’s tearing her apart, Martin. I’ve-I’ve never seen her like this.”

“Hope’ll come around, eventually. She has to.”

“I hope you’re right,” Bucky replied softly as his eyes remained fixed on the woman he loved. “I really hope you’re right.”

Thursday, November 4th: 1500 HRS: 3 PM

The days passed slowly for everyone in room 4, especially Ruth. While Frank was able to check on Hope in the infirmary, no one else was allowed to visit…this didn’t stop Ruth from trying, however. But to her dismay, she was turned away by Dr. Edmunds before she could even make it through the door. 

She attended class as normal and went about her days, but a dark cloud of worry loomed over her mind, consuming her every thought. Even as she wrote on the chalkboard behind her, she wasn’t fully present. If her students could tell something was wrong, they didn’t comment on it. They just copied down the notes in the notebooks the Red Cross sent them in their packages. 

“So, Lady Macbeth,” Ruth said as she scribbled the character name on the board,” She is an example of character archetype?” 

Her eyes flitted across the room, scanning each of the young men’s faces. Some were searching through their notes to find the answer while others stared at the board in thought. A hand flew up in the front corner of the room, and it brought a smile to Ruth’s face when she saw it was George. 

“Go ahead, George,” she gestured to him.

“Is she a femme fatale?”

“Great job. Lady Macbeth is a great example of a femme fatale. Now can someone besides George tell me what a femme fatale is?”

Before anyone could raise their hand, a knock sounded through the classroom. “Come in,” she called.

A few of the men gave her a wary look, unsure of who would be stopping by in the middle of a lesson. Since Ruth started teaching a few weeks prior, they hadn’t had any visitors. She thought it could be John who’d said he might pop in sometime to see her. Who stuck their head around the corner, however, was the last person she’d ever expect.

Hope.

Did she finally want to talk? After all that time?

Ruth glanced at her watch and placed down the chalk. 

“I think that’ll be all for today. Make sure to read up to Act 3, scene 2, and we’ll go from there in the next lesson.” 

The men packed up quickly and exited the room, sensing the unspoken tension between the women. Ruth leaned against her desk, arms crossed over her chest as she waited expectantly. To say she was surprised to see her friend in her class was an understatement. In all the time she’d been teaching in the camp Hope had never once visited. 

Relief and frustration bubbled up inside Ruth. Of course, she was happy to see her friend, but Hope treated her poorly and her words cut deep. She didn’t quite look annoyed but Hope knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t exactly pleased that she hadn’t allowed her to visit the infirmary. 

“I’m glad to see you’re up and about again,” Ruth replied plainly, a faint smile on her lips. This was her best friend, but she felt like a stranger now. “You had me worried, Hope…had me worried for a while now. Since the crash, you’ve not been yourself, and I understand that but…” she cut herself off, pushing herself away from her desk and moving to a table a few feet away from Hope.

Hope kept her eyes trained on the floor, unable to meet Ruth’s, embarrassment clear on her reddening cheeks as the tears building in her eyes threatened to fall. 

“I’m sorry, Rue…” she mumbled softly. 

Ruth sighed, moving closer and standing before her. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I know things haven’t been easy for you, but things haven’t been easy for me, either. We need each other, and you pushed me away…pushed us all away.” 

Tears welled in Ruth’s eyes, too, and Hope felt a choked sob slipping from her lips, “I failed you, Ruth. I just keep failing and disappointing you.” 

Sympathy easily overpowered Ruth’s frustration, and she tugged Hope into an embrace. Hope’s head fell against the blonde's shoulder and she felt Ruth’s arms encasing her as she cried. It was the most relief she’d felt in months: to truly cry…to release all the emotions that had been bottled up for the past month. 

“I’m so sorry, Ruth.”

The two women remained still, each clinging to the other as they cried over the events of the last few months. Neither of them had truly faced what had become of them but it was good to finally share in their grief. To face reality together.

Ruth pulled back, rubbing away the stray tears that streaked down her pale cheeks. “Hope please tell me what happened. Frank said you collapsed from exhaustion and didn’t want anyone to visit. I tried to anyways but Dr. Edmund said you weren’t up for visitors.” 

She wanted answers…needed answers as to why Hope quite literally shut her out.

Hope bit her lip, seemingly caught in a battle within herself. A few moments passed until she shakily spoke. “Well, I’ve not been sleeping too well for a while now but I’d finally finished the letter to Gale that Edmund promised to pass onto him,” she began, inhaling sharply between each sentence. “I went to the infirmary earlier, I couldn’t sleep and I wanted Edmund to have it as soon as possible. I went to the infirmary to drop it off and there was this man there…”

Hope gulped.

“He was a patient and was as good as dead, but…”

Ruth couldn’t help the emotion that clawed at her throat as Hope spoke. Her friend’s voice sounded so broken and painful as she relived the events that Ruth didn’t know what to say. What could she say?

“He grabbed me and he tried too… Well, he didn’t manage it. Edmund said it was all the shock of that and the sleep deprivation that my body finally just gave up. He put me on bed rest. Frank only found out because I was unconscious when he arrived and Edmund let him in.” 

Hope let out a long sigh, reaching to take Ruth’s shaking hands in her own, “I didn’t want you to see me so broken, Rue. I’ve always promised that I’d look after you but all I do is keep failing and letting you down.”

Ruth shook her head, fighting to keep her lip from trembling, “You haven’t failed me, alright? You’re the strongest, most talented, hardest working person I know, and you’re the most incredible nurse. I wouldn’t be here without you. Thank you for taking care of me, but it’s my turn to take care of you. You just have to let me.” 

A painful wail slipped from Hope as she sobbed once more, surrendering to her own grief. How had she been so blind to the pain she’d caused her friend? 

“I love you, Rue, I love you so much and I can’t lose you.” 

Ruth’s hand smoothed down Hope’s back, “I love you too, Hope. And don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” 

Tag List: @xxluckystrike @precious-little-scoundrel @bcofl0ve @violetdaze25 @docroesmorphine -> will tag rest in comments!

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[wexhappyxfew]

the waiting game

(a/n): HELLO FRIENDS!!!!! how is everyone?!?!?! it has been a minute since i've been able to put writing out but! i finished my summer internship and took a vacay too and i'm back to do some more writing! :) i have one more prompt to put out that is taking me some time to rewrite/edit, but i wanted to start with putting out a piece for annie x brady for AGES AGO!!!! i wrote it maybe back in march/april and it never got posted so, i cleaned it up and wanted to put it out!! PLUS it features annie x brady being adorable beans and some cameos from other Silver Bullets members just being their normal, chaotic selves haha. so please enjoy that!!!! :D

Algeria was hot as fuck.

The belly of Silver Bullets could only provide so much shade as they waited for the 12th to show up.

Too hot inside the fort, too hot outside the fort, the strip of shade providing what it could, especially with the sun moving from east to west and the atmosphere simply being one thing - hot.

Annie lounged beneath the shaded nose of the plane, leg bent up with her other leg crossed over top, aviators over her eyes as she stared at the smoke from her cigarette, curling upwards towards the bright blue sky, half covered by the nose of the B-17. Her shorts were filled with sand, her tank top a size too big and equally covered in sand and parts of her skin were either dried out or burnt and peeling. A lot of the others were in a much similar or slightly worse state - sun burnt, sweating and coarse sand all over; anywhere you could think and it was there. Something kicked at her foot.

"Hey, you alive?" Annie looked up and found Francis there, aviators and that stupid hat Major Egan was also walking around wearing on his head.

"I am in fact living and breathing," Annie said, and then placed the cigarette on her lip, "you look ridiculous." Francis smirked and then came and settled down on the ground beside Annie and sighed.

"This was all his idea, if I must say," Francis said as Annie passed her the cigarette and she took a puff, "you know as they say, if you wanna look stupid, look stupid together." Annie snorted and glanced over towards Francis.

"So, any update?"

"None. Absolutely nothing. Oh, someone from Brady's crew is trying to train a goat to stand on its hind-legs. Otherwise, no, no news."

"Great." Annie said and glanced back towards the nose of Silver Bullets, her mind drifting briefly to that glance her and Brady had shared a few nights ago after landing, his eyes soft, his face worn with exhaustion, the slight smile on the corners of his cheeks, "Who the hell is training the goat?" Francis let out a snort and sighed, picking up a handful of sand and dropping it to the ground again.

"I don't know, I think one of their waist gunners," Francis said nonchalantly, "Brady's encouraging him. Either way, it was funny as hell trying to see those two trying to tame a goat. It was a treat, that's all I gotta say." Annie chuckled and took back the cigarette and blew out a puff. Her mind wandered - everyone was hot, a little moody, waiting for some fresh water, or a meal that wasn't hot as anything. The waiting game was only fun so many times before you were waiting to lead a horse to water where it wouldn't drink.

"We get water?"

"Yeah, some," Francis said, "I think Mari and Judy are helping Benny to pass some out. Want me to grab you some?"

"Nah, I can get it." Annie said and then slowly sat up, her head swimming a bit from the mixture of sweat and equally, heat exhaustion.

"No you're not," Francis said, "honey, you're burnt up like a fried pepper. Stay here." Annie pulled a face.

"It's just a little bit of sun-burn, I've had worse." Annie said and Francis shot her a look, even from behind the aviators, that told her to stay still.

"Don't start moving around, alright, I'll be back." Annie watched Francis leave, before lying back down on her back and staring up again at the nose of good ole Silver Bullets, before shutting her eyes. A few minutes of shut-eye might be worthwhile.

"Annie." Her eyes shot open and she found Brady standing there above her. Eyes widening rather dramatically, she flushed a bit and shifted.

"John, hey." she said, suddenly realizing her fetal-position-like posture there on the ground and blinked a few times before, slowly sitting up, head swimming and then getting to her feet, to which Brady placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her, which made her hiss, the sun-burn burning a bit from his warm hand.

"Oh, shit," Brady said, immediately removing his hand, "I just wanted to steady you-"

"No, no, thank you, it's okay. You're okay, thank you." Annie said as she glanced towards her shoulder, at the skin beginning to peel up, grimacing a bit as she looked towards him, "Sunburn that's all." Brady looked at her through his own aviators and she suddenly took him in there in front of her - shirtless - not exactly something she was complaining about or should even be thinking too deeply into.

It was hot. The sun was brutal, you basically wanted as little layers on as possible, and they all smelled generally, not too great. But Brady being shirtless was yeah….definitely a sight worth glancing at considering the circumstances where everything was simply draining.

She flushed deeper, and hoped it would pass off as heat exhaustion if anything as she watched Brady cross his arms, the evidently toned muscles of his arms extending far greater into her line of sight than she would've thought.

"You need me to get a bandage for it or something?" Brady asked her, "Some water to pour on it?" Annie stared at him and then wised-up and shook her head.

"It's alright, really, no worries," she said, and then cleared her throat, "how's it going? What's up?" Brady smiled and then shook his head.

"That's what I came to ask you, but now you have me considering scrounging bandages." he said, placing his hands on his hips, "Don't mind stepping up to the plate."

"Don't be telling that to Kennedy, she'll start a ball game in this heat and next thing you know we'll all be burnt." Annie said with a smirk and Brady chuckled at her words. She tilted her head to the side and considered his help - he was already standing in her presence, he didn't need to do much else.

"I'm fine really though, save the bandages. For a serious issue." she told him with a small smile and he shook his head.

"It could get worse." he told her, face falling to a pinch of worry that you had to see if you squinted, crossing his arms again - really nice arms, "C'mon, let me find something. Hey…..Stagliano!"

Paulina Stagliano, ever-the-presently-always-pissed person she was, sat under one of the wings of Silver Bullets sat up and lifted her aviators, her curly hair that was out of its usual braids, looking like it'd been just dumped in a bucket of water, sticking to her cheeks, glanced at him.

"What the hell do you possibly want me from me, sir!" she hollered, voice bouncing off the nearby metal of the plane.

"Bandages!" Brady called back, "For your pilot!"

"That was a little unneeded, John," Annie said, giving his shoulder a shove and he turned to her with that wide grin and shook his head, "really, the girls know I'm fine, that's what matters."

"You're their pilot. And also one of the 100ths, I'll look out for ya, alright?" Well, there was no use arguing anymore at this point. Paulina came hauling over with a few packs of bandages she kept at the radio station in the fort and smacked it into Brady's hands with a grumble.

"Why you always gotta say it like that? Because you know I'll come running, sir?" Paulina murmured crossing her arms.

"Because I know you like to carry extra things with ya - bobby pins, bottle caps, postcards and figured you also had bandages."

"Right." Paulina said and then deadpanned, "Sir, why the hell you need bandages."

"Not me," Brady said, "Bradshaw." Paulina looked to Annie and then smirked.

"Right, Mr. Chivalrous." Paulina said, "Lieutenant Brady, when did you become such a softy-schmuck." Brady gave her a look.

"Ask me again during business hours."

"News-flash, Lieutenant, we are on business hours." Brady glanced her way and Paulina raised a brow, "Just make sure you wrap the bandages real nicely, okay? No need getting infections in this hell hole. This is my pilot we're talking about." Paulina sighed and shook her head, squinting into the sun, "For Christ-sake." And with that, Paulina was wading back over to her spot on the ground. Brady turned to look back at Annie and found her looking after Paulina.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Annie said quickly, "just….worried about some of the women. Like usual." Brady chuckled and then flicked through some of the bandages in his grasp.

"Well, you don't have to worry anymore at the minute. Let someone else worry about you for now." he said and she glanced at him, "You need help putting these on?" Annie stared, and then shook her head.

"Nah, I got it." she said and took the bandages, "Really, you didn't have to get these, I'll be fine-"

"Annie, if you say you'll be fine, one more damn time, I'm actually going to lose it." Francis said coming over with two canteens filled with water, "Lieutenant Brady, pleasure to see you here." Francis said glancing at him before looking back at Annie, "You gotta take care of yourself better. I can't be playing co-pilot and single-mother out here."

"I'm fine, Francis, really, I'll throw some bandages and water on to cool the burns down and we'll move on from this. It'll heal." Annie admonished and watched as Francis side-eyed, glancing at Brady before looking back at Annie.

"I will hand-apply those bandages on Annie I swear to-"

"I'll take care of it." Brady said calmly, cutting in and taking the bandages out of Annie's hands and one of the tins of water from Francis' grasp, "Go sit down for a bit, I'll help her out." Francis looked from Annie to Brady and then nodded.

"Alright, then." Francis said and then glanced at Brady and pointed a finger at him, "Wrap it tight, Brady, I don't wanna see exposed bits of sun-burn, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Brady said, snickering as Francis wandered away and lied down beside Bessie on the ground.

Brady turned to Annie and then poured water on his hands before opening up the bandages. Annie suddenly took in the fact it was the two of them; it always ended up being the two of them somehow - like back at base, when the night got long, and it was the last of the group at the bar; it was the two of them. The one night the group had gone out to look at the stars, sharing cigarettes, stories and drinks, the last of the group had simply been the two of them, a few glances that had Annie second-guessing a bit too much for her liking. It was always the two of them.

Annie caught a glance at his bare chest in the golden, honey sun again and looked away, her cheeks, if they weren't already burning from heat exhaustion or sunburn, flaming red.

"So, liking Algeria?" Annie asked him as he began to work. Brady chuckled and glanced up at her, overtop the Aviators and smirked.

"It's hot as anything, so….not my favorite, but…I'm not dying so, can't complain." Annie laughed.

"Got that right." Annie said quietly and she watched him smile as he gently placed the bandages on the sunburn and then continued to do the same until the majority of the sunburn was mostly covered, and then pressed down the edges before looking at her. He was standing so close to her, and she was sure she must've smelled like sweat, metal and blood and almost wished she was still lying on the ground, in fetal-position with Francis bugging her about the water.

"Handy-work, huh?" he said softly, "You need some water?"

"Thanks." she said as she took the canteen from him and took down some water, before pulling down the canteen and then looking at Brady, who was staring her down from her angle.

"I appreciate the concern over my sunburn," she said with a small smile as she screwed the canteen lid on, and Brady offered a quick smile, "but, your boys okay?"

"Yeah," Brady said, "Jacobs was trying to train a goat." Annie laughed.

"I heard."

"Francis?"

"Yeah." Annie said with a laugh, "So, how's that going?"

"Eh, could be going better," Brady said with a laugh, "funny though to watch a grown man chase around a goat with a piece of bread, trying to get the goat to stand on its hind legs." Annie laughed, before looking at him with a smile. That look, it made it her stomach twist.

"You managed to get any rest?" she asked him quietly; no one could really sleep it seemed just because of the circumstances, so when someone did, it was a small victory for the 100th it seemed altogether.

"A bit." Brady said, "Keep ending up with sand all up my nose when I get up though, you?"

"Here and there," Annie said, "it's why I was so surprised to see you, to be honest. I was half-asleep."

"Sorry 'bout that." Brady said quickly, with a grin and Annie laughed.

"It's fine, really, it's….it's nice to see you." she said and they fell quiet for a brief moment, Brady smiling at her with one of those closed-lipped grins he usually wore. Something seemed to shift between them. Brady took a small step closer and dropped his voice to the point only she could hear.

"Saw your plane take some hits flying out here….everyone okay?" Are you okay? His eyes begged the question.

"For the most part." Annie said managed quietly back, "I just think we're all glad to have made it. Thought at first we'd be going down somewhere over Italy - one of the engines….it's that stubborn third engine is always crapping out but…." Brady watched her, as the two fell quiet, the tension in the air between them overwhelming and suffocating. She couldn't help but take in a few shaky breaths, watching as he stared at her, their aviators suddenly the only thing between them it felt.

"Listen, Annie, I've been meaning to ask you-"

"Hey! Guys, it's the 12th!" Annie and Brady looked around the front of Silver Bullets, and there they were - the 12th. Coming in, like rolling thunder, dust kicking up all over the place in the far distance.

"Well, looks like we'll be heading home." Annie said, glancing over towards Brady with a small smile. The look on his face was hidden with something else she couldn't quite decipher, but instead he smiled and crossed his arms.

"Heading home." he echoed.

Heading home - wherever that seemed to be these days.

[heycarrots]

Happy Tuesday, Black Sails Nation!

As was requested by @billie-bones, I’ve listened back through 18 hours of interviews and compiled a list of every fic mentioned on the podcast.

This list is categorized by episode and includes ratings and summaries, as well as direct links to the fics, themselves. I’ll tag as many authors as I can, but I may not know the tumblr accounts for everyone. If you see someone who’s fics are referenced and you don’t see them tagged and happen to know their handle on here, you may want to send this on to them, that way they know which episode they’re mentioned in and can listen to hear the fic discussed if they so choose.

Some fics got multiple mentions across several episodes and so, to streamline, I’ve listed them only under the first episode in which they are mentioned, so there are no duplicate listings.

Edit: This will be a living document, updated with each new episode with any new fic recommendations. If you’re an upcoming guest and want to compile your top 5 and prefer to mention fics that haven’t been mentioned before, this list will be a valuable resource to cross-reference.

I want to thank my dear @tiofrean, partner in crime and all-around badass extraordinaire, for taking my bare bones list of titles, authors, and links, and filling them out with summaries and all the details you may want to know before committing to a fic. She also broke down every series referenced into its individual parts, since ratings and details will change throughout a particular series. She did this without me requesting it because she’s simply that awesome. Not only has she donated cover art commissions for several episodes, including the upcoming-coming Episode 13, but she helped with this project, which took several days, just for that part, out of the goodness of her heart. You sincerely fucking rock!

And without further ado, here is the Reading Between the Lines Podcast: Fic rec Masterlist!

@lupismaris @jaynovz @etoilesombre @tiofrean @b1uetrees @aisalynn @vowel-in-thug @jadedbirch @justadearie @lurkerdelima @r0b0tb0y @primal--scream @stele3 @twofrontteethstillcrooked @citrinekay @tahiri-veila @bisexualpirateheart @reluming @flintfag @mycapeisplaid @redwhale

Once again, if you don’t see your friend’s account tagged and they are on this list, please tag them or send this to them.

Sincerest thanks to all of our listeners! When you listen to the podcast, you’re supporting so so many people in this fandom!

Preview of Tora’s next episode art featuring Flint and Vane:

[cobra-wives]

serious philosophical question; should one of us kick the bucket?

small comic page thingy for the INSANE fic that is zelotypia by @terrence-silver - i definitely recommend giving it a read! so much interesting perspective on that ponytail-kreese-twig trio goodness; and terry’s inner workings and detestment for everyone that john loves more than him!

[lurkerdelima]

“So, John- may I call you John?”

He nods, almost imperceptible. Blue-gray smoke from the cigarette in his left hand drifts towards the ceiling.

“John. Why don’t we start with you telling me a little about yourself?”

“What would you like to know?” He takes a drag from the cigarette and exhales through his nose.

“Well, I mean, everything. Whatever you want to tell me. It’s not every day I get to interview a vampire.” Hawkins pushes the recorder a little closer to Silver; wouldn’t want to miss anything. “Maybe start by introducing yourself.”

A chuckle, wry, tired. Enough of a smile to catch a gleam of fang, even in the low light.

“My name is John Silver,” he says, enunciating carefully, “and I have a long fucking memory.”

[jaynovz]

Silverflint “In Peril” Fic Rec List

Hi guys! I got an anon a few weeks ago requesting Silverflint recs with the prompt: “one of them being in danger/peril/kidnapped (or anything akin to that) and the other going just above and beyond to save him. something with the vibe, if you hurt him i'll kill you.” 

There were hmmm not as many as I thought with the EXACT getting rescued parameter but I compiled some similar ones as well. Enjoy.

--

Affinity by Magnetism_bind

Summary: Silver spends his time while captured by Hands thinking of Flint and ignoring his feelings for the man.

It's a little harder to do so after Flint rescues him.

Notes: Oneshot, 4.6k, definitely the best and most faithful example of the prompt as submitted. Silver is held hostage and brutalized by Israel Hands and Flint rescues him.

Another Way by x_etoile_x

Summary: Silver doesn’t get the chance to turn back and attack the Spanish soldiers when he and Flint are captured on the warship, so he needs to come up with a different plan. Things get out of control. A retelling of their time on the warship at the beginning of S2, in the aftermath of this.

Notes: Long fic, 29k. Fantastic story on many levels. For the list, first chapter has a direct fulfillment of the prompt--Flint is in danger, Silver goes above and beyond to save him.

Fifteen Men in September by ballantine

Summary: Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum! Drink and the devil had done for the rest Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

A Black Sails origin story for the song.

Notes: Long fic, 34k, just a fantastic read. There is a pivotal scene where Silver kills a man on Flint’s behalf and then further scenes of both of them in peril, Silver gravely ill. Very much the “going above and beyond” and “if you him I’ll kill you” vibe.

we were never meant to survive (but what if we did) by explosiontimothy, inwardphae

Summary: Since you still haven’t told me your name, I shall call you Jonah. You are so obsessed with sea and water that you’d make a home out of the belly of a whale if only it meant not to touch foot on solid land ever again. What if you get stuck there? I’d be forced to make my way to you and drag you out, cut the whale’s skin with my knife like a shark with its teeth and carve my shape out of it. And yours. There are two fighters, on opposite sides of the time war. They have never met but they know each other's names. But names are powerful, untamed things when they are spoken out loud. So they don’t call each other by their names, ever. Until, one day, they do. The Silverflint Time-Travel AU no one asked for, but you're all getting anyway.

Notes: Long fic, 46k, big concept sweeping crossover with the book This is How You Lose the Time War. Without spoiling, this story very much embodies “going above and beyond to save him.” Top tier.

darkness in his fingertips, eyes just the same by Jaynovz

Summary: A desperate fear is welling up in Silver. Flint, injured? How grievous a wound must it be to keep Flint from a battle? To prevent him from heading up the rescue party? Flint, who Silver had seen take a warship with a shot shoulder, Flint, who shrugged off injuries from raids with an annoyed grimace as if they were minor inconveniences. Silver’s heartbeat is too fast and too slow at the same time, ice creeps around him from all sides at the stark reminder that Flint is mortal. The man who would sneer at God, who would sail straight into a tempest, who seemed to control reality with his demons… Silver has seen Captain Flint bleed, yes, but it’s never mattered like this, never truly hampered him.

And on the heels of this fear is something far less enfeebling, something Silver embraces: a dark vortex of rage.

Notes: Oneshot, 4.3k. A reaction to in peril. An alt canon take of early s4 where Billy injures Flint at the Underhill Plantation. After Silver returns, he murders Billy for the insult. “If you hurt him, I’ll kill you” exactly.

frail and fragile bars by Ajaxthegreat

Summary: “I think you fuck,” Silver says. By which he means, with great intent: I think you are human. I know you are human. I see you.

Notes: Long fic, 21k. A very excellent story overall, and for this list specifically, it features Flint taking a sword to protect Silver in battle and Silver murdering the man responsible.

how we could be brought here by love by mapped

Summary: A 4x03 AU where Flint receives a minor injury in the battle of Nassau Town and Silver is very shaken by it.

Notes: Oneshot, 3.7k. Not a rescue so much as Silver’s intense reaction to Flint being hurt. I think it fits the vibe.

in over our heads by Jaynovz

Summary: Set at the end of 2.1.

The remaining Walrus crew want Silver flogged.

The experience creates some altogether unexpected outcomes.

Notes: Mid-size fic, 13k. Silver is flogged, Flint is very affected by that, takes care of him after, and they both learn a lot about each other ahem. “If you hurt him I’ll kill you” vibes definitely feature.

please do not let me go by natlet

Summary: Vulnerability, it turns out, is a blade that cuts both ways.

Notes: Series, 5 stories, 39k words total. An overall excellent series of Silverflint fics, however the one I’m thinking of for this list is the fourth, all pale and panting, where Flint is gravely ill and Silver goes above and beyond to take care of him. 

--

As always, let me know if you have a suggestion for an inclusion and I’ll give it a look. Thanks.

[tiofrean]

Do you have some recs for recent silverflint modern AU fics? Thank youuu

Hello there! <3

I sure do! Question is, what do you mean by recent? I got all of the interesting ones (interesting to me) from the last uh... three years? I rarely read unfinished ones, though, so there may be gems I haven't approached yet!

Disconnect (QueerCrusader) - It's a modern influencer AU with Silver and Flint being very in character (I think). There's some emotional constipation, a little bit of drama, and fluff. I really like how Flint and Silver work in this one, how they are reluctant to be together even if it's inevitable. Good, smooth writing, although it's long (totally worth it, tho! The length is a bonus IMHO). Unfinished as of yet, but it's probably the only unfinished one I can recommend <3 (Oh! BTW, it's HOT and totally deserves its E rating!)

Red Wine & Pick-up Lines (Evil_Keshi) - a sweet, humorous, short AU with a very cute twist and horrible pick-up lines. I loved it the moment I've read it. Definitely recommended! The rating is Teen and Up.

Ye Go To Be Kitten Me (Evil_Keshi) - short and sugar-sweet. It has a cat, a grumpy James (grumpy only for show) and an adorable domestic scene between them both. The rating is Gen and it's absolutely adorable!

The sweetest devotion, hitting me like an explosion (Jaynovz, Brinnanza) - Flint is a baker, Silver is a busker, parrot is a parrot. James is too grumpy for his own good, Silver is definitely irritating, but they make do in the grand scheme of things. Very good portrayal of them, and the spicy scenes are spicy :D The rating is E. It's a long one, but definitely worth it. There's heartbreak, there's angst, there's comfort, and there's fluff.

I Want Us Both To Eat Well (Claypigeons) - A short but sweet (and FUNNY) au with Silver being completely incompetent in the kitchen and Flint rescuing him from burning the whole apartment down. And cooking for him. Entertaining and fluffy. The rating is Teen and Up.

One Tall Latte With The Oh-shit Flavor (Tio_The_Walrus) - The first part of a longer series, each of them oneshots that can be read as stand-alones. Silver works in a cafe, James has a boat. There's a tiny bit of drama across the series, as well as a lot of comfort, a tiny bit of hurt and angst, some humor and a lot of parrot (although the parrot is there only from the second part onward). Rated Explicit.

I hope some of those fit your reading style, Nonny! <3 And thank you for the ask! It was a pleasure to go through those again (and leave some open for a re-read!)

[threshergm]

My Halo: The Series pitch The Silver Timeline 2.0 Character Notes

I was generally pretty satisfied with what we got in season 2, but after a lifetime of watching sci-fi television, I know it could have been so much better. So I decided to take a crack at writing Halo: The Series my own self.

I had three goals in writing this.

Preserve as many of the actors and characters from the OG Silver Timeline as possible.

More closely adhere to the story elements of the core canon than the OG Silver Timeline did.

Make the Halo universe accessible to people who have never picked up a video game controller in their lives, while also not pissing off the long-time fans.

A point that I disagree with from many longtime fans of Halo is that they ought to be the "main audience" of any Halo adaptation for TV. But I disagree with that. Any "main audience" for a successful TV series has to be the average TV viewer. We therefore need to make the story of Halo accessible to the average viewer.

What I came up with was something of a cross between Halo, Stargate: SG-1, and the 2003 Battlestar Galactic reboot; and I think it satisfies all three of my goals above.

The biggest single change to my characters is that THERE ARE NO STUPID PELLETS IN THIS UNIVERSE. The Spartans are still going to be confronted with their humanity, but the narrative mechanism driving this will be something that actually happens in the core lore: the Spartan program being made public later in the war for morale reasons.

Silver Team

The Master Chief [Pablo Schreiber] - He's an amalgamation of the John we see in OG Silver Timeline season 2, plus a heavy leavening of the books. He's laconic, but not the silent protagonist of the games. Like most Spartans, he struggles to socialize with anyone outside the immediate sphere of their operations. But due to his exploits and leadership, he's looked up to and we see him become the legend he's regarded as by the rest of humanity.

PO3 Kai-125 [Kate Kennedy] - She's Kelly's personality, Linda's job, and Kurt's amiable gregariousness. She's Silver's sniper and secondary medic. Definitely the most human of the Spartans of Silver Team. Silver will wordlessly drop into a trench filled with beleaguered Marines, while Kai will grin behind her helmet and shout, "Morning, boys!" We'll see her lifting Warthogs on a bet, playing knife games with Marines, and even flirting playfully. We'll also see her crying quietly in a deserted compartment, after those Marines are killed on a mission. "If we can't protect them, what good are we?"

LTJG Vannak-134 [Bentley Kalu] - He's basically Fred. Dry and acerbic wit, but frequently unintentionally charming. Silver's deputy leader. The most Spartan-like of the Spartans, but with a very soft spot for kids. Team demolitions and heavy weapons expert. Giving him Jorge's backstory here; he's from Reach and speaks Hungarian. He'll have Jorge's death, too. There should be a subtle-but-obvious something going on between him and Riz. Lots of meaningful glances and lingering touches.

WO2 Riz-028 [Natasha Culzac] - Linda's personality and Kelly's job. She's the intelligence and communications specialist for Silver Team and primary medic. She's the most socially awkward of the Spartans, but probably the most hungry for human interaction; she just doesn't know how to be around non-Spartans. Has her little quasi-relationship with Vannak and shares his soft spot for kids.

The Pillar of Autumn Crew

Captain Jacob Keyes [Danny Sapani] - CO of the converted colony ship the Pillar of Autumn. In his 50s and should be an admiral by now, but an unspecified scandal early in his career has kept him sidelined to backwater postings throughout the war. But he has his friends and allies still, not least of whom is his estranged wife Doctor Halsey. His daughter is his shipboard science officer, but that relationship is concealed from the audience for a while.

Commander Tom Lasky [Actor TBD] - Rescued by the Master Chief from the ruins of the Corbulo Academy of Military Sciences in the opening days of the war; represents those who grew up with the war, having never known service before the Covenant. He has absolute faith in the Master Chief. He's married to another UNSC officer, a Chyler Silva, serving at FLEETCOM on Reach.

LCDR Miranda Keyes [Olive Gray] - Science officer aboard the Pillar of Autumn and only child of Captain Keyes and Doctor Halsey. Goes by the last name of Keyes, but can sometimes have a strained relationship working under her father. Torn between her innate aptitude for science and the desire to be a serving line officer and command warships like her father.

Cortana [Jen Taylor] - Ostensibly a gift from Doctor Halsey to look after her estranged husband and daughter, Cortana's real mission is to find evidence in the Outer Colonies of Halsey's hoped-for "latchkey discovery" that can turn the tide against the Covenant. Initially willing to sacrifice anything and anyone to obtain leads or the thing itself, she quickly learns to value her crew and humanity at large, and isn't willing to spend lives unless absolutely necessary.

Marines and ODSTs

Sergeant Major Avery Johnson [Bokeem Woodbine] - Senior NCO for the regular Marine battalion we see deployed groundside in the pilot episode; he takes on the same job for the scratch combined Marine/ODST force aboard the Pillar of Autumn after the evacuation from. Brash, boisterous, and always joking; he's pretty much game and book Johnson. Often comic relief and always quick with a one-liner.

Corporal Talia Perez [Cristina Rodlo] - The everyman character meant to be the audience viewpoint and represent the lower enlisted ranks. A wide-eyed draftee private when we first meet her, she spends a lot of time as a fire team leader and we watch her grow into a hardened Marine. A devout Catholic and extremely virtuous; everyone's little sister and her fellow Marines are extremely protective of her. Absolutely going to be the one we torment the most, mostly to take advantage of Rodlo's acting range.

Major Antonio Silva [Anson Mount] - Commanding Officer of an ODST company, absolutely hates the Spartans due to a fatal incident between some of his men early in his career and a teenage John-117. Old buddy of Ackerson, but possibly an asset of Parangosky. Playing both sides. Definitely not a white hat, but he has his reasons.

WO Carol Rawley aka "Foehammer" [Actor TBD] - Dropship pilot of Pelican Echo-419. NEEDS FURTHER DEVELOPMENT.

The Covenant

Makee aka "The Reclaimer" [Charlie Murphy] - Abducted early in the war (probably from Harvest) at the age of 6, she was raised up in the Covenant religion and is a true believer. As such, she hates her humanity, and her arms and thighs are covered with cutting scars. To the Covenant, she's a "Reclaimer" or "Blessed One," told that she alone can activate Forerunner technology. It's a lie, meant to allow the Prophets to make use of her in the least politically and theologically damaging way possible. Her one friend is Fleetmaster Var 'Gatanai, whom is responsible for her.

Fleetmaster Var 'Gatanai [Actor TBD] - Commander of the Fleet of Solemn Accord, primary artifact hunters for the Covenant. Is a respected leader amongst the Covenant and one rung below the High Council. Commands over 100 ships and thousands of troops. Often personally leads ground troops in the field. Is rare among high-ranking Sangheili in that he has only one wife. Honorable warrior, and a believer in the Great Journey, but not a vicious fanatic. Has a daddy-daughter relationship with Makee.

Commander Rtas 'Vadumee aka "Half-Jaw" [Actor TBD] - Fleetmaster Gatanai's right-hand Elite and all around bad-ass. Commands special operations troops. Lost half his mandibles to a bare-miss by a Spartan sniper some years ago. Doesn't hold a grudge.

Prophet Truth [Actor TBD] - Complete cynic, master politician, and absolute asshole.

Back on Reach

Colonel James Ackerson [Joseph Morgan] - A career soldier who went intelligence later in the war after leading Ranger units against both Insurrection and Covenant. A dick, but not without a heart, and certainly not a coward. He genuinely believes that humanity can fight the Covenant to a standstill - if they use the right tools in the right way. He sees Halsey's Spartan-2s as a waste of resources; techno-saviors too precious to risk, when humanity needs effective soldiers it can spend. Hence his Spartan-IIIs [which are teenage volunteers, not children].

Doctor Catherine Halsey [Natascha McElhone] - The self-loathing genius polymath who oversaw the creation of the Spartan-2s because she saw no other option. ONI was going to have its super-soldiers one way or another, and wanted automatons at that. At least she was able to fight for them and help them retain some of their humanity. Lingering guilt over this is probably why she treats the Spartans like they're her children - and why she's estranged from her actual daughter Miranda and husband Jacob. Politically, Halsey knows that the Covenant can't be beaten in the traditional sense of the term, and that humanity's only hope is a so-called Latchkey Discovery - something out there in the black that will change the game and give us the edge. She believes that Halo is that very thing, and that we have to find it first or else all is lost. And she's right.

Admiral Parangosky [Shabana Azmi] - She's the unaccountable, power mad spook; the very personification of the State run amok. Charming, quiet, almost grandmotherly - and utterly amoral in her pursuit of power for herself and ONI. It is not at all clear if she cares whether or not humanity survives the process. But at the same time, not ineffective in Humanity's defense.

Admiral Hood [Keir Dullea] - The poor bastard at the top of the heap, overseeing a losing war, and trying to keep all the plates spinning. A professional Navy man to the core, he's just trying to keep humanity alive. Wherever he throws his weight behind is the faction in the Reach/Earth political dog fight that will win.

[finngualart]

found myself on a long car trip with @queer-crusader the other day (funny how that goes... vague tumblr aquaintances one day and road trip buddies the next) and we talked about mythology and Black Sails and casting gods as BS characters and i found myself thinking about Silver and Flint as Loki and Odin seeing as how they are all gifted storytellers-liars-manipulators-seducers and i missed them!!! so here they are <3

[major-mads]

Chapter 12: A New Normal

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: interrogation time boissss!!!

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 6k

October 13, 1943: Dulag Luft: Frankfurt, Germany:

As John Egan slouched into the leather chair in his interrogator’s office, everything ached. His eyes, his head, his ribs, his back…everything. On top of all this, the Lieutenant before him was offering him a drink like he was an old friend, not a prisoner of war who’d already faced unimaginable horrors in the last few days alone. 

Not a man who lost everything he had to live for. 

John raised his glass, unflinching as his sore muscles cried in protest. “Here’s, uh, mud in your eye.”

The fact that Haussmann didn’t know the phrase brought him a sense of satisfaction. The most he could have in his situation.

“So, where shall we begin?”

Putting down his glass, Bucky’s eyes stared at the cup as he spoke bitterly. “How about I was in a town and someone shot four of the guys with me.”

“Oh my...What town?” he asked quickly, almost too quickly.

‘It’s all a tactic. Every single word,’ John reminded himself. ‘Don’t give him anything.’

“‘Russheim, something. I don’t know-”

Haussmann cut him off, a false look of concern painting his face. “Rüsselsheim. That’s tragic. I will add it to the report.”

‘All lies.’

“Your colleagues,” he continued, grabbing a pen and paper. “The ones who were killed, if you could give me their names and rank, I can pass it on to-”

It was John’s turn to interrupt, the flashes of the men’s lifeless bodies making his chest burn in anger. “I don’t know their names. We just happened to be put together. Look, I appreciate the drink and would really appreciate a thicker blanket, but as far as what you’re gonna get from me, it’s gonna be name, rank, and serial-”

“And serial number. Yours is O-399510…Yes, I already know that,” the interrogator grinned in a way that made the Major’s skin crawl. 

“I also know that you were born in Manitowoc, Wisconsin. Married?”

John’s gaze fell back to his drink, Ruth’s smiling face appearing in his mind, her infectious laugh ringing in his ears. 

‘In a perfect world, we would be.’

An unsettling grin reappeared on the Nazi’s face as he flipped through John’s folder. “From what I hear, there’s not a wife, but there is a woman. A recent development, hmm? What is her name?”

For the first time since the Major sat down across from the Lieutenant, his words got a response. Bucky’s eyes snapped to meet his, anger flaming in them for a moment before he concealed his emotions once again. He bit his tongue to keep from opening his mouth. This man had no right to even utter her name after she was ripped from him by this scum’s people.

“Ah, yes, I found it. Ruth Morgan. Nurse, or should I say, former nurse, with the…,” he checked the file. “806th Medical Air Evacuation and Transport Squadron.”

Former Nurse…With those two words, the emotions he’d tried to get control of the past few weeks threatened to consume him, and his heart sank to the depths of his gut.

 ‘It’s a tactic. He’s trying to break you down,’ John repeated. ‘Don’t listen to him.’

John shifted in his seat with barely furrowed brows and a clenched jaw, reminding himself to breathe as the pressure in his chest mounted at the fact that this man knew so much about Ruth. 

Did Hope or Frank somehow survive? 

Did they go through here?

Is she alive?

These questions ran rampant in his mind in the small office, the sickening portrait of Adolph Hitler looming over him. 

“Squadron, 418th. Group,  the 100th Bomber Group. H for heavy, headquartered at Thorpe Abbotts.”

Refusing to give a single ounce of information, Bucky stared at him blankly as the Lieutenant closed the file, a despicable smirk still plastered on his face. 

“Are you a baseball fan, Major?”

No response.

“Certainly that’s not a national secret,” he suggested, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from a desk drawer and offering one to John, who stared at it for a moment before taking one silently.

Haussmann stood and lit his cigarette. “Sorry, they are not as good as your American brands. Lucky Strike is my personal preference.”

Bucky took a drag of the cigarette and let out a sigh, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t even know if he could roll his eyes with the constant pain that surged through his right eye. Double vision had been plaguing him since he first got knocked in the face that night in the town…Rüsselsheim, as he now knew, and only worsened after his head took a few blows.

“Baseball is still a bit of a mystery to me with all the sticks and bases, running in circles. There was the big championship last week, wasn’t there?”

Tapping his cigarette ashes into the small tray on the desk, John finally broke his silence. “Yeah, World Series.”

“Ah yes, the World Series. The New York Yankees versus the St. Louis Cardinals. A rematch, yes?”

“We were up two games to one when I went down,” the Major nodded slightly.

John thought Ruth would’ve gotten a kick out of Hugh’s behavior toward him after the Cardinals beat the Yankees in game two of the series. He could see her teasing grin and hear her lighthearted giggle that never failed to make his heart jump. Her memory touched every part of his mind, and it was impossible to go through a day, an hour, a minute without thinking of her. 

“So you are a Yankees fan. Would you like to know the outcome of the World Series?”

‘I’d much rather get outta here,’ Johnny thought, but he stayed quiet, staring at the desk. 

“Was Buck Cleven a Yankees fan?”

His gaze lifted to meet the icy eyes of the Luftwaffe Lieutenant, and he had to take a steadying breath to fight against the rage coursing through him.

“No? Yes?” he smirked. “I know Ruth Morgan was not.”

The mounting pressure in Bucky’s chest became too much, threatening to explode if he didn’t release it. “And how do you know that?” he all but growled at the man.

One side of Haussman’s mouth curled into another cruel grin and he ignored John’s question, leaning over the desk to grab a newspaper, revealing a New York Times paper from the Bremen raid. “I hear Cleven was quite the flyer. I read of his exploits in the Regensburg attack.”

Everything he did was choreographed…no word or action was wasted.

“He was your friend wasn’t he? It seems we are shooting down all the good pilots…and apparently nurses, as well.”

“I wouldn’t be bragging about killing medics,” John scoffed roughly, his nostrils flaring as his voice hardened. “Pretty sure that’s a war crime.”

“You and I both know C-47s are not marked with a red cross, Major Egan.”

Silence.

“Did you know that on your Münster attack, only one of your planes returned?” Haussman held up a finger. “One.”

Although he didn’t show it, Bucky’s mind was in shambles. ‘He’s got to be lying,’ he thought. ‘There’s no way only one plane survived…but has he said anything untrue this whole time? Has he lied at all?’

“But back to you, Major Egan,” he began, inspecting his file once more. “I regret to inform you that you are, as you say, in a bit of a pickle. We know you were originally apprehended near Ostbevern…but we don’t have you on any record as a crew member on any planes from the Münster attack.”

Lies. 

“The Gestapo would say that makes you a spy.”

Johnny’s eyes rose to meet the man’s gaze as he spoke up, keeping his voice even amid the rage bubbling within him. “They would be mistaken.”

“One thing I can tell you, Major, the Gestapo is never mistaken.”

Haussmann’s bright blue eyes bored into John’s softer, greyish irises as he stared at him before taking a deep breath. “So I need verification of your group, your squadron, and your plane so that I can confirm to them that you are indeed what you say you are.”

‘What else can they take from me?’

Bucky took a drag of his cigarette, his gaze falling back to the desk as he spoke, the smoke filling the air around him. “John Egan,” he raised his brows before tapping his ashes again. “Major. O-399510.”

“Major,” the Nazi said quietly, almost sympathetically. “May I say that you’re not doing yourself any favors? The Gestapo, they are different than me. Me, I’m like you: a flier…a man of honor. And I can understand things in a way that perhaps my colleagues from the highly indoctrinated security forces might not…I’d like to talk about Buck Cleven and Ruth Morgan, John.“

The anger within the Major simmered away, leaving only sadness in its wake…all-encompassing grief that he’d been pushing down for almost a month, reverting to his old drinking habits to numb the pain. 

“But I’d like you to talk to me as well,” Haussman continued. “The number of replacement B-17s expected at Thorpe Abbotts next week, for example.”

And Bucky’s gaze drifted back up to his interrogator, he didn’t even blink. Despite his inner turmoil, he refused to let this man get anything from him. “John Egan. Major. O-399510.”

“I see,” he nodded, raising his voice to the men outside. “Wachen. Wir sind am Ende.”

A few seconds later, two guards appeared and hauled John to his feet. He withheld a groan as his bruised body was jostled toward the threshold. Just before he passed into the dark hallway, the Lieutenant called out to him one last time.

“Oh, Major Egan, about the World Series,” the Nazi began, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. “The Yankees always end on top.”

The Yankees always end on top…

John’s eyes widened, and he felt as though the air had been knocked from his lungs as the familiar words hung in the air. His own hand had written them in his final letter to Ruth just days before she went down. His mind reeled as he was thrown into his cold, dark, and flea-infested cell.

Sitting on the small stool at the foot of his wooden cot, hope surged within him. If they’d read the letter, it meant she’d been here…

“She’s alive,” Bucky whispered, a shaky grin tugging at his lips as tears burned his eyes. “Ruth’s alive.”

October 14th, 1943: Stalag Luft III: 04:00: 4 AM

Two weeks had passed since Hope, Ruth, and Frank arrived at Stalag Luft III. To Hope, those two weeks in that hell hole felt like two years, and sleep didn’t come easy for her. She spent the first few nights on high alert, her eyes watching every movement outside the hut. She was convinced they’d be moved again, and after losing her friends in Dulag Luft, she wasn’t going to let the same thing happen again. Ruth tried to reassure her that they weren’t going to be split up again, but even she was unsure of what was planned for them. She tried to stay up with hope for several nights, but sleep eventually overtook her each time and she slipped into a dreamless slumber.

After several nights without sleep, Hope grew irritated, snapping at any minor inconvenience, but she’d been forced to bite her tongue when the guards barked orders during their morning and night appells. The stern glare Frank sent her told her now was not the time to put up a fight. 

She hadn’t meant to be so short-tempered but as she’d watched Ruth and Frank sleep, she’d resented them for resting easy. Her mind spun twenty-four hours of the day, constantly on alert, continually in overdrive. Frank had joined Ruth in staying up with Hope, taking it in shifts to try and distract her from her constant worry. 

“Do you know what happened to her in Dulag Luft?” Ruth whispered to Frank one night while Hope paced up and down the hallway. 

Frank shook his head with a yawn, “She won’t tell me what happened. When I found her, Ruth, I…” Frank shook his head, “Well, she wasn’t the same Hope I used to know.” 

After Hope rejoined them, her pacing finally ceased and she sunk onto her cot, her eyes finally growing heavy. The guard's patrols seemed less frequent that night, and Ruth watched as Hope’s eyes gradually slipped closed, her body slouched against the end of their cot. Leaning against the wooden beam wasn’t the most comfortable position, but Ruth and Frank were just thankful she’d finally fallen asleep. Once her breaths evened out and she was sleeping soundly, the pair slipped into their beds. Frank fell asleep the second his head hit his straw pillows, but Ruth lay awake, staring at the wooden slats of the bunk above her.

It was no secret that Ruth Morgan was a worrier, but Hope? She was the strong one who was always there when Ruth needed her to be. But seeing her best friend so debilitated by her fears and anxieties scared her to death. It had only been two weeks and the camp was already taking a serious toll on the Americans.

With a quiet sigh, Ruth closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, willing herself to drift off to sleep. But just as she felt herself succumb to sleep’s embrace, a sudden noise jolted her awake and she sat up in bed. It took her a moment to realize that the noise was coming from Hope’s bunk.

Ruth’s heart ached as she watched Hope toss and turn in her sleep, her brow furrowed in distress. Her chest heaved beneath the thin blankets, and her movements grew more frantic with each passing moment. 

“Hope?” Ruth whispered, reaching a tentative hand through the gap between their beds to shake her foot. When she whimpered in response, Ruth’s concern deepened, and she moved from her bed to crouch in front of Hope. “Hey, wake up,” she said a little louder, rubbing her shoulder.

No response.

Ruth shook her friend’s shoulder roughly, her worry-stricken voice filling the room. “Hope!” 

Hope’s eyes opened suddenly and she lurched forward off the end of her bunk, nearly knocking herself out on the bunk above her. 

“Hey, it’s okay.”

Hope stared back at her, her dark eyes wide and full of tears as sweat trickled down her forehead, her chest heaving against her overalls. It took her a moment to realize what was going on as Frank’s worried face appeared beside the blonde’s. Ruth reached forward, trying to brush away the hair that had fallen across Hope’s forehead, but Hope caught her wrist, squeezing it painfully. 

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, pushing herself quickly off the cot and marching towards the door of the hut, not once looking back at her friends.

Ruth’s heart sank as Hope’s words stung like a slap across her face. She watched helplessly as her friend retreated to the door. For a moment, she was frozen in shock, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

“Hope, wait,” she called out.

But Hope didn’t stop. She disappeared through the doorway without a backward glance, leaving Ruth and Frank standing in stunned silence.

Frank glanced at Ruth, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you okay?”

Ruth blinked back tears, her throat tight. She shook her head slowly, unable to find the words to express how she felt as Frank pulled her into a hug. “She didn’t mean it.”

Despite his reassuring words, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing between them. She had always leaned on Hope for support, finding solace in her unwavering presence, but when she tried to extend the same comfort, she was met with rejection. Their friendship was built on openness and their ability to share everything, and now that foundation was cracking beneath the pressure of life in the camp.

Stepping back, Frank cleared his throat and grabbed his jacket from the table. “I’ve gotta go after her. Stay here.”

Ruth nodded, her gaze fixed on the door through which Hope had disappeared moments before. A knot of worry tightened in her stomach as she watched Frank leave, his footsteps echoing faintly down the hallway in the quiet of the night. Alone in the dark room, she sank back onto her bunk.

How had things changed so quickly? Just days before they had been a united front, promising to get through their time in the camp together. But now, it felt like there was a growing chasm between them, widening with each passing moment.

She ran a hand through her hair, hurt, worry, and frustration simmering within her. She longed for the comfort of her friend’s presence, for the reassurance that everything would be alright. In that moment on her bed, Ruth decided she could no longer rely on others to do that for her, to reassure her, to get her through her anxiety. If Hope crumbled and their roles were reversed, would she be able to step up into that role? She didn’t know. But she did know that she’d do everything in her power to get her friend back.

Ruth sighed heavily and lay on her back, trying to find some semblance of peace amidst the chaos of her thoughts. She turned toward the wall, her eyes finding a small photograph propped up on the small shelf against the wall of her bunk. Oh, how she longed to go back to when things were so much simpler, to when she and Hope were happy, to when she could smile and laugh with the man she loved, to when she still had her freedom.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she whispered the words she longed to say to him even though he couldn’t hear her. “I love you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper in the silence of the room.

Frank walked back into the room with a sigh, tossing his jacket back onto the table. “I can’t see anything, soI’ll go back out in a little bit. I don’t think she wants to be found right now, anyways.”

“Did I do something wrong?” she inquired quietly, turning to face him. 

He ran a tired hand down his face and scratched his growing stubble. “No. I-I just don’t know what to do. I’ll wait up for her, alright? You go to sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Now go on. I know you’re exhausted.”

Bidding him goodnight with a quiet murmur, Ruth reached out and picked up her photograph, holding it closer to her chest as she gazed at the image of her and John. Their smiles were frozen in time and the sweet memory was immortalized forever. Despite her worry for her friend, Ruth finally succumbed to exhaustion, her grip on the photo never faltering as she drifted off to sleep.

Five AM came in the blink of an eye, and Ruth begrudgingly sat up, wrapping her blanket around her body when the morning chill bit at her skin. She looked over at Hope’s bunk, expecting her to be staring up at the underside of Frank’s bunk like her nightmare never happened, but all she saw was crumpled sheets. Frank was always the first awake, sitting at the table with a cup of lukewarm ersatz coffee he got from the kriegie kitchen next door to their block. Ruth stood and found Frank’s empty bunk looked the same as Hope’s.

Bright sunlight filtered through the room’s one window, lighting up the space. Frank was surely out searching for Hope, and Ruth doubted that he got even a wink of sleep waiting up for her. With a sigh, she got herself ready and sat out on the steps of her block, watching as the camp came alive with prisoners, each starving for their breakfast. The warm days had turned into cooler ones as September faded into October and Summer faded to Fall. Soon, she feared, winter would be upon them and they would have no way to stay warm. They heard from the compound old-timers of the harsh German winters, and they sounded anything but pleasant, especially as a prisoner of war.

A man walked by her with a cup of coffee and her stomach rumbled as hunger pains shot through her abdomen. Although it had only been three weeks since they began eating less-than-nutritious meals, Ruth noticed her already large clothes nearly falling off her slimming frame. They all tried to eat anytime they could, but it still wasn’t enough, even with the Red Cross packages the received once a week. In truth, the packages were the only thing really keeping the kriegies from starving.

As she scanned the compound for any sign of her friends, Ruth’s eyes caught on two familiar figures and she let out a relieved breath. She stood to her feet and did her best to put on a smile as they approached. Hope sent her one in return, but it didn’t reach her eyes…none of her smiles did anymore. Linking her hand through Ruth’s, she squeezed it gently. Ruth was somewhat pleased to see even the faintest smile on Hope’s face, even if it was forced. She’d been so withdrawn since their arrival to the Stalag that Ruth worried she was slowly slipping away before her eyes.

The trio made their way over to the kitchen window, each collecting their modest breakfast of black bread, which according to a few of the old timers, was filled with sawdust. 

“I miss the breakfast back at base,” Frank groaned as he chewed through the tough, brown slice. He was thankful he had always had good teeth, otherwise he risked losing a few just at breakfast. 

The girls nodded in agreement, their mouths watering at the thought of powdered eggs, toast, maybe even some bacon and hot coffee that didn’t taste like total crap. Ruth still kept a vivid memory of the man by the gate when they arrived who was just skin and bone. Hope had seen a man similar in the infirmary where she was helping out and told Ruth that the man was still in good spirits, but that didn’t help the fear that grew inside her chest. 

Would she end up just like him?

Hope was thankful for a job in the infirmary working alongside a few of the camp's doctors. She’d been given a sense of purpose which had been taken from her, and despite the lack of sleep and the ache in her chest, she managed to pull herself out of bed each day for that purpose. Ruth was happy for her. Hope was born to be a nurse, it was her calling and seeing her helping people again gave them all a little hope. The back and forth between Hope’s moods worried her friends more than anything. 

Ruth found her own purpose in the camp by teaching some of her fellow POWs how to read. Many of them were just boys when the depression hit and were forced to drop out of school to work the fields to keep their families afloat. So every morning after breakfast and their morning appell, Frank walked her to the Kriegie school, nicknamed Kriegie University, and she taught a few classes throughout the day. One was a basic reading class, and the others were literature studies like the ones she taught back home. If there was one thing Stalag Luft III had an overabundance of, it was books. The south compound’s extensive library was a popular spot, and it gave Ruth the perfect material to use in her classroom.

Frank took up working in one of the camp’s relied-on gardens. The girls had encouraged him to take up a study he might have been interested in, but he seemed happy in the garden. 

“You girls know I’m better with my hands, that’s why I fly the plane,” he’d told them. 

He’d supplemented his time between the garden and playing baseball which seemed to bring back some of the old Frank. Watching him play reminded the girls of the fun-loving young man he was. The war had aged them all and they sometimes forgot that Frank wasn’t really that much older than them.

After breakfast and the 6 am appell, they went their separate ways, Hope strutting toward the infirmary and Frank dropping off Ruth at the school on the way to the garden. Her classroom wasn’t big by any means and was just bigger than their room, but it sent her back to the days before the war, before she joined the nurse corps…when she poured into young minds day after day.

Her first class of the day was British Literature and around ten men slowly filtered through the door and sat at the three tables spread throughout the room. The men in this class, unlike her basic reading ones, were college students when the war broke out. Some were drafted while others put their studies on hold and volunteered. The youngest was 19 and the oldest was 21. Remembering her years in college, Ruth’s heart ached for the boys and their sacrifice of a normal life to defend their country. 

All of them had their notebooks given by the Red Cross open and ready to go when Ruth handed out the day’s text, each one greeting her with a half-smile and good morning. 

“Good morning, everyone,” she announced, holding up the book she handed out. “Have any of you read Beowulf before?”

“Don’t forget to read pages 186 through 215 before next class!”

Once the last of Ruth’s students trickled out the door, she sat down at her small desk and graded their latest assignment. Reading paper after paper, marking correct or incorrect, circling a letter at the top of the page, time sped by. Even back home, the process of grading papers, despite how pesky and time consuming it was, always gave Ruth time to think. Sitting in her small classroom, she thought of her family, her parents,  how worried they must be. It was the first thing she’d do once they were allowed to send mail again, write a letter telling her parents she was alive. Home. It was also a topic she thought of often.

Her mind then shifted to John as it often did at random moments. Ruth wondered what he was doing. Was he fully in his element, soaring through the sky in his fort, leading his men through no matter what? Sitting in their corner of the Dickleburgh pub nursing a glass of whiskey? Singing his heart out in the Officer’s Club? Whatever he was doing, she hoped he thought of her like she did of him. The devil on her shoulder whispered that he didn’t, that he’d forgotten about her the second she went down. But the angel on the other reminded her of all the times they shared, all the memories full of love and promises for the future. He wouldn’t forget about her…she wouldn’t let him. His would be the second letter she’d send.

Hope. The nightmares, the closed-off attitude, all of it. The woman she knew and loved, her best friend, was morphing into someone she didn’t recognize. What could she do if Hope wouldn’t let her in? How could anyone help if someone doesn’t let them? Soon, her brain became a jumbled mess of memories, Beowulf, worries, and everything else.

The smell of honeysuckles in early spring, Grendel, John smiling at her atop the Muggs, A+, family dinners at the local diner, 10/12: B-, Hope’s terrified eyes from that morning. 

The hours passed in a flash, and before she knew it, Ruth stared at the bare wood of her desk, the full stack of graded papers to her right. She blinked away her thoughts and glanced at her watch, cursing under her breath as 11:55 am stared back at her. 

She was almost late to meet Frank and Hope for lunch! Ruth quickly gathered her things and left the school, treading through the ever-present mud toward the mess hut. Her eyes scanned the men around her as she walked. She caught sight of one of the guards, his bright blonde hair sticking out from the sides of his cap while he stared at her, never pulling his eyes from her figure. Ruth pretended she didn’t see him. The less attention she showed, the better. Over their two weeks in the camp, the guards hadn’t messed with them at all, but they stared…they loved to stare. 

“I was about to come looking for ya!”

Frank leaned against the mess hut with a cigarette between his fingers, blowing out a puff of smoke. The unease from the guard slowly faded away at the sight of his comforting form. He wouldn’t let anything happen to them if he was near…they both knew that.

“I had a bunch of papers to grade,” she sighed, mirroring his stance against the building and readjusting her sling. “Time…it, uh, got away from me.”

He raised a brow skeptically, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Are you sure that’s it?”

“No,” Ruth whispered brokenly.

“What is it?”

“Everything, but Hope…Frank, I-I’m worried about her.”

“Something must’ve happened at Dulag Luft when we were separated. She’s been different since then. Not that we’ll ever be the same, but-”

“I know,” she interrupted. “We need to find out. If she won’t talk to me, maybe she’ll talk to you. We have to try.”

Frank ran a tired hand down his face, his eyes filled with worry. “I’ll try.”

“I don’t know what else to-”

Spotting Hope over Ruth’s shoulder, he cleared his throat and nodded her way, the pair going silent as the woman approached.

“Everything alright?” Hope asked, falling into step beside Ruth who gave her a reassuring nod. 

“Yes, I was just telling Frank about my morning, I’ve been so busy with classes that I almost missed lunch.” 

Hope was pleased to see the way Ruth’s eyes lit up as she spoke about her teaching. She would have loved to have known her before the war, before they each had a part of themselves ripped away, but seeing her now reminded Hope that they might be able to find their old selves again one day. 

Lunch consisted of thin, runny potato soup with a few vegetables from the camp garden. Frank beamed as he pointed out his effort in helping prepare the vegetables for their meal. 

“Who knew Frank was so green fingered,” Ruth chuckled, slurping the soup from her spoon.

“Well they way he used to hug those hedges back in Norfolk,” Hope jested, “It’s a wonder ‘The Angel’ never ended up in one.”

Frank rolled his eyes dramatically at the girls' antics, pleased to see they could still laugh about something. He wasn’t sure how they kept him smiling but they always managed it. He worried of course, between Hope closing herself off from them and Ruth’s endless worry he wondered how they smiled at all. There were moments when it felt like they were back in Berkshire sitting around the mess hall telling stories from their childhoods.

“Well, I always said you should have got your pilot wings, Hope. I wouldn’t have minded you as a co-pilot.” 

Hope gave him a faint smile. Thinking of perusing a different career seemed so far away from where they were.

“She’d have given you a run for your money, Frank,” Ruth giggled again, finishing up her soup. She glanced over at Hope who just sent her a small smile again. There were moments when she saw the old Hope again rather than the closed-off shell of the woman she had become. She wasn’t sure what to do, but she could only tiptoe around on eggshells for so long before someone cracked. 

“I should be getting back to my classroom,” Ruth declared, pushing back her rickety, wooden chair and stepping back. “I’ll see you both later.” 

“Be careful, Ruth. Do you want me to walk with you?” Frank asked, half pushing his chair back but she waved him away. 

“It’s not far, Frank. I’ll be fine,” she smiled at Frank but nudged her head towards Hope, trying to prompt Frank to follow through on their earlier conversation. 

Frank nodded. 

“Bye Rue,” Hope’s quiet voice could barely be heard above the noises around them but Ruth did. She sent her friend a small smile. It felt like that’s all they did now…smile at each other. 

Ruth hoped, prayed Frank would get through to her, that she’d finally open up. That she’d get her friend back. Taking a deep breath, she pushed down her fears and prepared herself for her next class: reading basics.

October 22, 1943: Stalag Luft III: 15:00 HRS: 3 PM

Ruth walked around her classroom, her boots thudding against the bare wood floors as she glanced at the test on her student’s desks. They were required to read a passage and answer a few comprehension questions afterward, but some of them were struggling. These were the boys who had little to no education, who were never taught to read or write more than basic words. Part of the 10% of draftees the government alloted could be illiterate. 

Noah Alden stared at the sheet of paper, his squinted eyes focusing on the passage, letter after letter, word after word, sentence after sentence, but his mind couldn’t wrap around its meaning. With a defeated sigh, he dropped his pencil and lowered his face into his hands. A few classmates sent him sympathetic looks, but they soon went back to their own tests. Ruth crouched beside him, his eyes raising  to hers. 

“Whatcha stuck on?” she asked quietly.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure about that?”

He stared at her for a long moment, seemingly contemplating whether to tell the truth or not. He decided to be truthful “I just can’t get it.”

“The reading part? Or the questions?”

“The reading part. See this here,” Noah started, pointing to the third sentence in the paragraph. “What does this mean?”

Before Ruth could respond, the shrill sound of a siren filled the air and the men all looked at each other excitedly, their eyes widening in anticipation. Even Noah’s downtrodden expression lifted, revealing a crooked smile on his lips.

New arrivals.

She stood to her feet. “Go on,” she grins, shooing them away with her hands. “We can finish this Monday.”

Within seconds, the six thanked her and were out the door, hooting and hollering like high school boys as they ran to the gate, hoping to glimpse a familiar face. Ruth collected the papers and deposited them inside her desk. For the first time since 1942, Ruth Morgan did what she was called to do: teach.

After going back to her room, grading some assignments, and catching up on some reading, she checked her watch. 5:30 pm. Hope and Frank were usually back by then, so she decided to search for them. Ruth checked the garden and the infirmary with no luck, but she felt as if the earth fell beneath her feet when she saw a group approaching from the gate. At the front of the group was Frank, who held a unmoving Hope in his arms. 

“Frank!”

Ruth’s mind went haywire at the sight and she ran to meet them. Was she dead? What happened? As she neared them, the other men’s faces came into focus. They were instantly recognizable as men from the 100th, but her main focus was her friend. 

“What happened? Is she alright?” Ruth sputtered, coming to a stop before him and hesitantly raising a hand to Hope’s emotionless face. Dried tear tracks streaking down her cheeks were visible from where she leaned into Frank’s embrace. 

Frank just sighed, his tired eyes falling to Hope’s  figure. “Cleven’s here.” 

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[wexhappyxfew]

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.