#oc: elaine byrne

[thesullengrrrl]

We'll Meet Again - Chapter 1

When retired time traveler Elaine Byrne accidentally goes back to 1941, she meets Robert Rosenthal on the eve of his enlistment.

Author's note: I wrote this fic few weeks ago and I only now had the guts to post it here in Tumblr. Thank you to the lovely people who read and commented my work in AO3. If you prefer to read there, I got you...here's the link. I've not written for a long time, so I hope you will enjoy this. Thank you! ❤️

Chapter 1: a time traveler walked into a bar

For the past three years, Elaine Byrne avoided being alone in dark enclosed spaces or visualizing vivid sceneries with her eyes closed. Whenever she feels bad about life, she smokes in the nearest smoking area or writes it down in her journal.

However, this time it was different. 

This time she forgot that she’s not supposed to go inside the restaurant’s cold room on her own. It was Friday and the chef was chewing her ear off over a wrong order. Her energy was already depleted and all she wants to do is go home. Almost instinctively, she went straight to the cold room to shed some tears. 

As she walked back to the dining area, faint jazz music could be heard. It grew louder as she continued on, and Elaine does not remember a band being hired that night. A male waiter almost bumped into her, half-shouting, “Hey! You can’t be here!” She took note of his uniform. It was a shirt with a bow tie, black pants and a white apron covering half his pants. 

The sight of her destination surprised her. 

It was the same dining area, with stage and piano in it, except that the people now are wearing clothing from a bygone time. Men were in suits, women in knee length dresses with slightly defined shoulders. The upholstery and furniture are no longer the same color. The air was filled with smoke and the smell of alcohol and sweat made her gag a little. 

She has done it again. The very activity she avoided for the past three years. With this realization, she went to the bathroom and luckily, it’s still in the same place where she remembered it.

Picking the last sink in a row, she opened the faucet, and splashed some water on her face. When she finally faced the mirror, her mouth fell open. Besides from the water droplets falling from her face, her makeup is not her usual. She now has a redder lip and defined eyebrows. Her brown hair is now curled and pinned in ways she would never do. 

She took some paper towels on the side and dabbed her face in it. This time, Elaine took a longer moment to observe the image in the mirror. Aside from the makeup, she finally noticed her change of clothing. No longer in her trusty vested white polo and black slacks, but now she’s donning a dark red dress with slightly puffed sleeves and triangular cut outs on the collar. It was slightly figure hugging, which highlighted her curves that were often lost in her waitress uniform. Elaine held up her hand and touched the mirror’s surface. It’s me. This makes me feel like Peggy Carter minus the combat skills.

She was about to go when she heard heels clicking towards her direction. For some reason, she locked herself in one of the stalls and someone started sniffing and a vague ‘There, There’ could be heard. 

“Oh Mabel,” a high pitched voice said. “At least he let you down gently and did not lead you on. You know Beth in Accounting? Her man just left her without a word!” 

“That’s because he’s just feeling sorry for me!” Mabel cried. “I already thought about the wedding we could’ve had, Jo.” 

Jo audibly sighed. “Mabel, you know you were only seeing him for three weeks, right?” 

“He’s dreamy and nice! A lawyer! And my cat even likes him!” 

Mabel’s own statement made her cry even more. 

“I know, but at least he let you down gently. He has a point. You don’t have to wait around for him anymore,” Jo comforted. 

The two women she was eavesdropping kept quiet for a little after that. Then she heard the faucet running and paper towels being ripped off. A few clinking more and she heard someone exhale loudly. 

“Are you ready to say goodbye?” Jo asked. 

A sniff. “Okay, let’s go, Jo.” 

“That’s more like it,” Jo replied. Their heels started clicking away from the bathroom. Elaine waited for a minute or two just to make sure they weren’t coming back and she emerged from her stall. 

She gazed at the mirror one last time and exited. Inhaling the strong scents of tobacco and alcohol, she scouted for a place to sit in. It was hard to see who’s sitting alone or not at first glance, so she slowly dragged her feet, hoping for the one.  

Instinctively, she touched her side and thanked the heavens for its pockets. She reached in and instead of a phone, she felt a small notepad, a pencil and coins. Helpful .

Finally, she saw her target.

The one was a lone, mustachioed man with a half-empty glass of beverage in front of him. He seemed to be in deep thought while his fingers were tapping the table in tune with what was being played on stage. He looks nice. Taking a deep breath, Elaine strode towards his table and pulled a chair beside him. He was startled with the sound of chair legs against the floor.  

“What–” 

“Hi there,” Elaine greeted, flashing her best smile. “Great night?”

“It was until I heard the news,” the man replied. She was about to ask what was the news but he beat her to it. 

“The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.” 

“Oh, that’s what it is,” Elaine realized. “A woman in the bathroom was crying because her boyfriend was enlisting.” 

The information made the man perk up and turned to her. “Was she blonde? In a purple dress?”

“I don’t know. I was hiding in one of the stalls.”

This amused the man beside her. “What? Why were you hiding?” 

“I was having a moment, then I heard them come in. They were coming in fast, click click click, so I hid. Then someone started crying and I didn't want to intrude, so I stayed there.” Elaine explained.

“‘They’?” he asked. 

“Yeah. Two women. Jo and Mabel,” she shared. 

“Ah, yes. They were with me earlier. Mabel wanted to go home, so I guess it’s official now.” 

Elaine scrunched up her nose. “Ah, that sucks, man. Too bad her cat loves you.” 

“Hmmm. Yeah, Mr. Giggles.” 

“Although,” she started. “You do know you could be in a relationship while overseas, right?”

He shook his head. “I can’t afford to have any distractions. And I don’t want life to pass her by because she was waiting for me. What if I never return?” 

“What if you do?” she countered. “Have a little faith.”

“How do you know that?” 

She kept quiet, feeling like his question was rhetorical. He has a point. When he’s on the battlefield, the chances of him coming back are slim to none. 

As the band played another tune, the upcoming war entered her mind. This man is enlisting in the army tomorrow to fight Nazis. Jesus Christ, what was the closest thing she could experience to that? The thing that came to her mind was nothing compared to going to war on the other side of the world.

“Oh well. You’ll meet other women,” she assured him. Then she proceeded to scan his appearance. “You’re tall, handsome, and that pornstache would definitely rake in the girls.”

“Porn-what?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

Elaine closed her eyes at her words. Her hand went to her head, scrunching her eyes to think of what to say. Of course, the day she dreaded finally came. The day where her weird attraction to 70s mustaches will be her downfall. 

“Never mind. It’s your mustache,” she corrected, motioning his face. “And those baby blue eyes? Ridiculous.”

Her companion was about to answer when a blond man came to their table. 

“Good evening, Miss.” 

It took her a moment to realize that a man standing on their table was referring to her. She smiled at him. The man she was with eyed the stranger with suspicion. “Hello there.” 

“The tune’s pretty swell, can I dance with you? Miss…?” 

Elaine scanned the man’s appearance. He was tall and thin with wide shoulders and almost white hair. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties. Who are you supposed to be, Draco Malfoy?

“I’m Elaine,” she introduced. You are?”

“Albert.” 

For a moment, her mission of attempting to know which year she was in felt futile. What’s a little dancing when you’re time traveling? Without taking a second look to her companion, she nodded and took the man’s hand and made their way to the dance floor. With their hands on their proper positions, they started swaying to the music. 

They were having a nice conversation until the guy started to lean in for a kiss. She managed to avoid this and his lips landed on her cheek. The reek of alcohol from his mouth made her wince. She gave him a fake smile, hoping that all of this will be over soon. They swayed once again, but this time she felt his hand moving from the small of her back to her butt and grabbed it. 

Her eyes widened and pushed him away. This made a mini domino effect on the other couples on the dance floor, earning them weird looks and glares.

“Back off,” Elaine warned. 

This did not deter him and took it as a challenge instead. 

“Aww, baby, you’re feisty. I like that,” Albert taunted, cornering her like a prey. 

Elaine took short breaths to calm herself, her right hand slowly turning into a fist.

Suddenly, a loud thud of falling tables was heard. The music stopped. 

“Fight! Fight!”

He rushed where the scream was. He was observing her in a distance to somewhat guard her, as if she was someone he needed to look after. The man she was dancing with did not seem trustworthy enough for him, especially when he saw his companions laugh at them for some reason. 

The blond man was bleeding out of his nose while she was grunting in pain.

“Fuck you!” Elaine yelled.

He went to her and took her hand. “What happened?” 

“That asshole,” Elaine growled, pointing to the man on the floor, “was feeling me up!”

A small crowd gathered where they were. One older man lunged at Elaine’s curly haired companion and started throwing punches. He missed and continued pursuing. Elaine jumped into the brawl, attempting to break them apart. Few patrons, probably thrilled with this sudden turn, dove in as well, unknown whether to pull her out of the commotion or punch the other guy.

It continued on for a few minutes until someone blew a whistle.

The crowd departed and it revealed a portly, semi-bald man with a whistle hanging on his neck. 

“WHAT ON EARTH IS HAPPENING HERE?” he roared. Those in the brawl slowly detached themselves from each other. Everyone was in varying degrees of bleeding and pain, most especially that man who felt up Elaine. 

The portly manager glared at all of them then his eyes filled with recognition. “Robert? Is that you, boy?” 

Elaine looked at who he was referring to. 

It was the lonely, mustachioed man who broke up with Mabel. His name is Robert.

He does look like a Robert, Elaine thought. The carefully gelled curly hair, neat mustache, smell of manly perfume with hints of tobacco and alcohol…It’s like she was transported to a 1940s movie with Cary Grant as the lead star and she’s the fast-talking femme fatale. 

“Minty!" Robert smiled and shook hands with the man as if there were no two slightly injured persons in front of them. The manager pulled him from the floor and when they stood up, he towered over Minty.

“Minty, I’m so sorry about the mess. This guy made moves on my friend and she just defended herself. I had to jump in,” he explained.

“Picking fights already? Save some for those Nazis!” Minty exclaimed. He snapped his fingers and two broad men appeared. He ordered the troublemakers to be taken outside the club.

Robert only smiled sheepishly. Minty seemed charmed by this and asked both of them to follow him. Elaine looked at him suspiciously. “Where are we going?”

“I know him, don’t worry,” he assured her. 

The trio entered a small office. The walls were painted red and there was a sturdy table that is the main piece of the room. It has a matching leather chair behind it and several crates of alcohol stacked up to the ceiling. Papers are haphazardly piled up and a clothes rack near the window. It felt like a claustrophobic’s nightmare. 

“Sit down, sit down, kids,” Minty motioned to the two leather chairs in front of the table. The two sat and Elaine’s eyes laid at the calendar hanging behind Minty. 

DECEMBER 1941

Ah, fuck. Wrong guess! All of the numbers on the first row were crossed except for number seven. They watched Minty pour three glasses of whiskey (or scotch?) and gave them one each. 

“What’s your name, doll?” 

“I’m Elaine. Elaine Byrne.”

“So, how did the two of you meet?” Minty asked, eyeing the two of them. 

“Um–” Elaine started. Robert covered her hand and started talking. 

“We only met tonight. Mabel stormed out when she found out I was enlisting. Told her I don’t want her waiting for me while I fight.” 

Minty nodded in understanding. “I wouldn’t take it away from Rosie to meet a girl after breaking up with one!” 

Elaine glanced at the two men curiously. 

“Why is that, Minty?” she questioned. “Is Rosie here a player?” 

This made Rosie blush a little. Minty shook his head. 

“No, doll, he’s a lawyer! He sweet talks for a living!” 

Elaine turned to her companion. “A lawyer, huh? Interesting.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Rosie confirmed. “Although, I don’t sweet talk anyone, Minty.” 

“Tell that to anyone who would listen, Rosie.”

“Why is he called Rosie?” Elaine wondered, looking at Minty. “Is it the rosy cheeks?” 

“Ah, it’s because of his surname. Rosenthal. Only friends and family are allowed. That’s why I only called him that in here,” Minty informed her. 

Elaine listened to the two men catch up with their lives. Rosie confirmed his enlistment tomorrow, and Minty seemed to be worried about his young friend. Rosie is a strapping young man of twenty-four and Minty said that America joining the war will be a bloodbath. 

“I will be fighting for my people and country, Minty,” Rosie solemnly reasoned. “These people we will be protecting, they can’t fight for themselves, can they?”

“You seem like you made up your mind quite fast,” Minty observed. Rosie only nodded. 

The three of them sat in silence. Elaine was feeling a bit uncomfortable with it, so she downed the glass of amber liquid given to her. She coughed a little, for she rarely drinks this type of liquor. Call her childish, but she would rather sit happily with her colorful drinks with an umbrella in it than pretend to be like Don Draper. “What is it, whiskey?”

“Scotch,” the older man confirmed. “Too strong for you?” 

Elaine agreed. “Yeah.”

When she finished the drink, Rosie stood up. “We better be going now, Mint.”

“Say hi to your mother for me,” Minty told Rosie. He nodded. 

“Thank you for the scotch,” Elaine said, waving Minty goodbye. The two made their way back to the dining hall. They did not see Minty smiling at the sight of them.

The band was playing something more slow, and the atmosphere felt like no brawl happened. However, it felt more somber. Maybe it’s the music that the band was playing. The dance floor seemed shinier, the lights dimmer, and couples are dancing closer than ever. It was probably the news of the Pearl Harbor attack that made them rethink the time they have. 

For them, it’s only the beginning. 

For Elaine, it’s only looking at the past at a closer look. Beyond the bigger picture that history books offer. She is no longer reading these big events in a book, but the individuals that will soon be affected by this attack. 

For a night, she’s one of them. 

Rosie was observing her as she watched the dance floor. Her hair is still quite a mess after the brawl and yet, the out-of-place hair strands seemed to be framing her face instead. She seemed oblivious to any of the music being played, but then maybe she’s not a fan of jazz and prefers something else. 

This strange, pretty woman felt like trouble. Minutes within meeting her, and he was already fighting in a brawl for her. He never did that to any girl he went out with. He felt guilty about what happened between him and Mabel and maybe he’ll think about it tomorrow still. 

But he cannot deny wanting to get to know Elaine more after tonight. 

“Let’s dance, Rosie,” Elaine invited, extending her hand to him. Rosie gazed at her hand, thought about it, and took it. She pulled him into the dance floor, slightly squeezing in among the sea of couples. He placed his hands on its proper positions and she did the same. Slowly, they swayed along, closer than ever.

“Is it okay if I call you Rosie? Minty said only friends and family are allowed to call you that,” she wondered aloud. 

“You’re already calling me Rosie anyway, so go ahead.” 

“What were you thinking about earlier?” 

“When?” 

“When I asked you to dance, you’re deep in thought. Any thoughts you want to share?” 

He sighed. “You won’t let this go, won’t you?” 

“Nope,” she smiled. “I want to hear it.” 

“I was thinking about what you said. That maybe I’ll come back from the war alive? Have a little faith?” 

Elaine glanced at her side, suddenly feeling shy. She was only trying to encourage him to take a chance on romance during the war. She did not realize he would pick on it and discuss it further. 

“Well, going to war alone seemed like a sad thing to do. Sure, it might be invigorating for you as a man, getting in combat and all, but what happens when you’re all alone in some trench?” Elaine explained. 

“I can write letters home,” he reasoned. 

“But can you share what you’ll see in the field with them?” 

“I can’t share it with my imaginary girlfriend either, Elaine.”

With no answer to give him anymore, she rolled her eyes. Rosie caught it and found it endearing.

“Speechless? No rebuttal?” Rosie challenged.

“Shut up, Robert.”

“So it’s Robert now when I annoy you?” he teased.

“Yes, Robert,” she pointed out, trying to hide a grin. 

Rosie pulled her a little closer and she felt his hands get a little sweaty. She tried not to chuckle, but her body reacted before it was too late. The band played another new song, and when she glanced at him, she watched him mouth the words.

“Do you know this song?” she asked. 

“We’ll Meet Again,” he replied, looking down at her.

“I doubt that, Rosie.” 

Rosie chuckled at her. “Silly. I mean, it’s the title. We’ll Meet Again.” 

She rested her head at his chest, once again embarrassed by her blunder. “Oh god. I’ve been just an embarrassing person all night, am I?” 

“This is the most interesting night I’ve had for a while. Don’t worry about it,” he assured her.

She only nodded. She took in his scent, and wondered if he noticed it. I hope he didn’t. But maybe he did. My inhale was pretty obvious. As the song went on, Elaine thought of why she is here at this very moment. She could’ve been back in Minton’s by now by going back where she came from—in the cold room. 

Instead, she stayed and now slow dancing with a man she just met. 

Elaine stopped time traveling on purpose three years ago. It was once an exciting thing to discover at eighteen, but now at twenty-six, it felt like an unhealthy coping mechanism. She made mistakes on those travels and made her run away from her life. She stayed far too long in some places and saw the consequences blow right up to her face. 

However, tonight, she did not time travel on purpose. 

And there must be a reason why it happened.

The song finished and everyone clapped. Rosie and Elaine removed their hands from each other and joined the crowd. Backing away from the dance floor, they sat in an empty booth.

As she stared at Rosie, she knew she had to go home. Rosie felt her eyes at him and they spent a good few seconds memorizing each other’s details, like taking a photograph. Elaine took in his blue eyes and the styled curly mop of hair, while Rosie gazed at her hazel green eyes and a small scar on her forehead. She wondered how it would appear if not styled with sticky gel. Rosie blushed a little at the intensity of her gaze, smiling shyly at her. Elaine chuckled at how ridiculous and romantic it all must have looked like. 

A gentleman with a big camera managed to capture this romantic scene. The blinding flash  surprised the two, making them jump in their seats. The bulb was still smoking.

“I’ll send it to Minty once it’s developed!” the man with a camera said. “You’re one good looking couple!”

“That’s one big camera,” Elaine observed. “That flash almost blinded me!”

He laughed at her observation. “Will they ever make a flash bulb less blinding?”

“I don’t think so,” she answered, smiling.

They settled for a moment and Rosie waved at a waiter. The waiter was quick at his feet and reached them. However, Elaine grabbed his arm to stop him. “I need to go home now.”

“Oh, is that so?” he asked, a slight disappointment in his tone. The waiter seemed to sense this and looked at Elaine. She lifted her head to dismiss him, which the waiter did.

“Yeah, it’s quite late and I’m on opening shift,” she reasoned. It was true though. 

“If that’s the case, I’ll take you home,” he declared. “Where do you live?” 

He can’t take you home! You don’t live in 1941, girl!

“Just a few blocks away, but I’ll be fine. I’ll walk.” 

He looked at her with disbelief. “Elaine, I’ll walk you home. Or at least call you a cab. You can’t walk by yourself at this hour after what happened.” 

“I can. I can throw in a punch, you know.” 

“Elaine, no.” 

The way Rosie said her name made her melt a little. That deep dulcet tone with a hint of concern (or was it disappointment with hardheadedness) made her rethink about her decision to leave. One more drink can’t hurt, right?

“Fine. But first, I need to go to the ladies’ room,” she said. 

“All right. I’ll wait here.” 

Elaine made her way to the ladies’ room, her heart beating so fast it’s the only thing she could hear. This is the moment she leaves him. It has to be. Damn that dulcet voice for making her doubt. When she reached the ladies’ room, she took the notepad and pencil inside her pocket and quickly scribbled. After that, she folded it neatly and got out. She waved to the same passing waiter who almost took their order earlier.

“Yes, ma’am?” the waiter said. 

“Can you pass this to the gentleman with the mustache?” she requested, pointing him to Rosie who was chatting with an elderly man.

“You mean Rosie? No problem, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. When the waiter was out of sight, she made her way to the turn. She wondered if she would take one last look at Rosie. But she decided against it. 

The storage room was there, waiting for her. Sighing, she took one last look at her surroundings, checking if she was being watched. Then she slid the door and entered. 

She murmured and closed her eyes.

Moments later, there’s knocking at the door. “Elaine! Get out! I need some supplies!” 

Maybe we’ll meet again, Rosie.

“Coming, Bunny!” 

—

When Elaine left to go home, the new busboys were left after they cleaned up the place. They sat to rest before actually going home. One of them, Jerry, was looking at the wall filled with pictures and memorabilia from old patrons and past owners from different decades. Their jazz club had been open since the late 1930s and it could feel like a museum sometimes. 

While he was scanning the frames, one picture stood out to him. It was a photo of a couple in a booth, staring at each other adoringly. The picture seemed like straight from a movie scene, which made Jerry think if it was a screenshot from an unknown movie of the time. 

He leaned in closer and noticed the woman in the photo. She looked like one of their waitresses. Elaine! But the woman in the photo was with better hair and of course, wearing vintage clothing. She was gazing at the mustachioed man as if studying him, and the man was doing the same to her. They looked cozy and adorable.

“Hey Bunny, look at this,” Jerry called. The woman he was calling came to him almost immediately.

“What is it, Jer?” she asked. 

“She looks a lot like Elaine, no?” 

Bunny leaned in as well to check the photo. “Oh yeah, she does. Maybe her grandma or something?”

“Maybe,” Jerry replied. 

“We’ll tell Elaine tomorrow,” Bunny said.

What the two failed to notice was the small inscription at the lower right edge of the photo. It said:

Rosie & Elaine, 1941

[thesullengrrrl]

rosie: hey babe what's wrong? you haven't touched your slice of jello encased ham

[thesullengrrrl]

this isn't a trampoline!

hello friends, this elaine/rosie drabble has been sitting in my drive for a while. an attempt at something new, if you will. hope you enjoy!

“I like that it’s big,” Elaine commented. “It’s beautiful. Looks clean too."

“It might not fit,” Rosie countered.

“We could just squeeze it in.” 

He sighed in exasperation.

“If we squeeze it in, wouldn't it be difficult for you? Also, can you imagine the noise you’re gonna make just to fit that in? You keep saying, ‘To the left’ or ‘Oh no a little bit more to the right’? Remember when—”

“Yes, yes, I remember! All right!” she hissed, trying not to cringe at Rosie's impersonation of her voice.

“Mrs. Paulson would probably hit the ceiling with her broom again.”

“That’s because I told you to shove it to me and you’re afraid I’ll break or something.”

“Your head was so close to the wall!” 

“I could've taken it!”

“Come on, it might be hard for both of us,” Rosie pleaded, holding her hand.

“At first, but then imagine what we would feel afterwards. I mean, sometimes it’s not about how long or big it is, Rosie," Elaine coaxed, sliding her hand on his arm and looking up to him. "It’s about how comfortable it would be once you're there. Once we’re there…” 

“I’m not sure if I want to splurge on something you’re just going to jump on and on until you’re tired and ready to pass out.”

Elaine’s jaw dropped. “‘Jump on and on’? This isn't a trampoline. What—”

The salesman finally cleared his throat loudly, after listening the conversation between the couple for several minutes now. Rosie looked behind him, his face red with embarrassment, while Elaine recognized the scandalized look in the man's face. This man had enough of their ribbing.

She flashed a smile and said, “Oh, we’re just wondering if the mattress would fit through our doors. We live in a walk up, you see. And it’s just us who’s going to carry it since we only live a few blocks away.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit steep for us?” Rosie whispered.

“I’ll pay half, remember? It’s my mattress, too.”

Rosie turned to the salesman. “Could we have one of your men deliver it to our place instead?”

[thesullengrrrl]

what if this rosie with this elaine??? (in another life???? jk)

bucky setting them up and he sends these pics to each person and bunny judging rosie's overalls. rosie getting pissed because of all the pics bucky could send he sends this. elaine half-judging and finding him cute at the same time. gaaaahhhh

[thesullengrrrl]

We'll Meet Again - Chapter 2

Elaine receives a letter from an old acquaintance.

Author's note: Hello! Thank you for the likes and reblogs and comments for my last post! Here's another chapter for this story and here's the AO3 link if you prefer reading there. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 2: across the universe

RAF Thorpe Abbotts

Late October 1943

Rosie slowly turned the door knob of their barracks. He had spent most of the night in the officers’ club, talking to the men, drinking with them and he did not notice the time. It’s Saturday tomorrow, he justified. At least he could sleep in a bit, even for an hour or two.

As he entered, he struggled to gently close the door to not wake up the others. His head started to feel woozy from the drinks he had and sat down on the nearest chair so that he wouldn’t stumble. He closed his eyes and sighed. He may be tipsy, but he wasn’t ready to turn in. Not yet. 

Aligned on the barrack entrance were two tables, one on each side. Rosie’s gaze turned to the other table across him, and there was a small pile of to-be delivered letters on it. He wrote his family and friends a few letters every week to give them updates of his daily life, but never about his missions. The last letters for them were mailed yesterday. Was there a person left to write? 

He thought of Mabel, but according to his mother, Mabel already has a sweetheart. 

He wondered if Mr. Giggles liked her new man. 

A sense of longing for home slowly crept on him. He remembered the good old days that seemed to be a lifetime ago. Him at his family home, his mother greeting him when he got off from work, horsing around with his siblings, the commute from his home to the law firm, the loud music from various jazz clubs he and his co-workers visit, Minty and Minton’s, Elaine…

Elaine. Few days ago, he received a parcel from his family. It consisted of two scarves (one white, one dark blue with pale polka dots), letters from different family members wishing him luck, a letter from Minty, some smushed chocolate bars, and a few photos (it had a small note attached saying, “You might forget our faces!”). 

After opening the ones from his family, he opened Minty’s letter for last. As he read the letter, he could smell the faint alcohol and smoked cigars, transporting him back to the last time he was there. 

Minty was right, he thought. It was indeed a bloodbath. Sometimes he would feel bad for the mechanics who had to clean the interiors of each plane that lands. Aside from the engine problems and several cosmetic issues with the planes after it had been gunned, they had to see the amount of bullet cases and blood scattered on its floors and walls. 

They had to clean away what's left of the dead men. 

I also sent a copy of a photo of you and your girl there. The last line of Minty’s letter made him pause. What photo? Which girl? He felt something inside the envelope and pulled it out. It was a photo of him and Elaine, capturing the night they met. They were looking at each other quite intensely, as if the camera caught them in an intimate moment.

His younger self looked serene, almost. As if he had not heard the Pearl Harbor attack hours before this photo was taken.

Elaine was smiling at him.

He turned the photo and saw Minty’s scribble: 

Thought you might need extra inspiration. I still have a copy in here, in case your girl comes around. Drinks are on me when I see you two. –M

That photo now resides in his bedside table, tucked inside a copy of Of Mice and Men. One day, the photo slipped from the book and Pappy picked it up. He took a good look at it before Rosie started to reach it from him. His co-pilot did not easily give it up and the two ran around their barracks for two minutes before Pappy gave it up. Few men gave them weird looks—Pappy was laughing while Rosie was glaring at him when they got back inside. 

“Why didn’t you tell us you have a girl back in New York?” Pappy asked, his tone teasing. “I have to hear Bailey talk about his wife every damn time and here you are just hiding someone!” 

“I’m not hiding her,” Rosie defended as he tucked the photo in one of the pages instead of the usual sleeve. “We’re just friends.” 

“And yet I find you looking at that picture at night.” 

“Hey! I don't!”

“Sure, Rosie. Sometimes, you look as if you are a war widower when you look at that picture.”

Pappy only chuckled at him and went on his way. Rosie had never been so embarrassed being seen at those vulnerable nights. When he tells Crosby about the whole thing (which includes her French exit), he cannot decipher whether his friend felt bad for him or wanted to laugh at him. Either way, Crosby suggested he write to her, even just to say hello. 

Rosie thought it was ridiculous. Why would he write to someone who just left him without saying goodbye personally? What kind of person leaves someone with only a note? 

Before he could stop himself, he opened the drawer to get a pen and a clean sheet of paper. Luckily, there was. Opening the night lamp, he uncapped the pen and the words started spilling. He didn't even read what he was writing and just overlined the parts that he felt were wrong to say. It’s late at night, he's slightly bloated with alcohol, and he’s…yes, lonely. He hasn’t heard from the woman for almost two years, he’s most likely not going to hear from her again, so what’s the damage? Nothing!

When he was done, he sealed it, placed some stamps and laid it on the pile of letters to be sent tomorrow. 

He let out a sigh of relief. It was cathartic. Maybe he could stop thinking about her.

Tonight, even for tonight, he was able to finally let his feelings down on paper. When he finished, he slowly walked back to his bed to avoid crashing into someone’s bed frame. Without changing his clothes, he laid down and stared at the ceiling. He let himself be lulled by the air and his eyes followed the lines in the ceiling. 

Few breaths later, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

—

The next day, he heard the rustle of the next bed’s mattress. He opened one eye and saw Pappy fixing his bed. “What time is it, Pap?” 

“Eight. Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

Rosie jolted upright and walked to the table near the doors. The small pile of to-be delivered letters were gone. 

“The letters here, where is it?”

“Gene got them an hour ago!” Pappy replied loudly across the room. “Why?”

He leaned his head on his hand and groaned audibly. Pappy’s eyebrows furrowed and walked towards him.

“What’s the matter?” 

“I think..." Rosie trailed off. "I just sent a letter that I wasn’t supposed to send.” 

“Like those unsent letters in your drawer?” 

Rosie’s head shot up. “You saw those?” 

“I was looking for a pen,” Pappy explained, walking towards him  with his arms raised. “Then I opened your drawer and saw those letters tied up. Is it the same woman?"

He nodded. 

Pappy clapped his shoulder. “Rosie, you obviously wanted to talk to that person. Maybe she’ll write back.” 

Maybe he needed to talk to Crosby. And also request for a lock and key for his drawer.

 

Late October 2026

Brooklyn, New York

When their schedules align, Elaine and Bunny meet up at least twice a month. The two women first met in Minton’s as waitresses. They were initially off with each other, with Bunny thinking that Elaine is a bit rude, while Elaine thought Bunny was too loud. They were once assigned two consecutive closing shifts and since then they understood each other.

Today was different. After a meeting, she opened her phone and saw several calls and messages from Bunny, asking to meet with her as soon as possible. This worried Elaine and thankfully, she was allowed to go early.

Few meters away, she spotted Bunny being served by a waitress. Two drinks–one green one and the other pink colored drink. She jogged and finally reached their table.

“Hey, Bun,” she greeted, kissing her friend’s cheek. 

“Lane,” Bunny replied. “I got you this strawberry smoothie.” 

Elaine sat and caught her breath for a moment. Her friend across from her, sipping her green drink.

Bunny is a 5 foot woman with a commanding presence. Her black hair is usually in a ponytail whenever at work and on a messy bun when she’s out from her shift. Her hoop earrings glittered a bit under the afternoon sky.

She is the opposite of Elaine, who stood 5 foot 5 inches, with slight medium built and wavy (now lighter) brown hair. 

When Jerry discovered the photo in the wall of frames, Bunny talked to Elaine about it the next day. She first tried to deny it, but Bunny made her admit the truth. They had been working together for a year at the time and this was the first time she told a friend about her ability. 

As they sat outside a cafe with their indulgent drinks, Bunny slipped a sealed manila envelope across the circular table, her hot pink nails distracting Elaine for a moment.

“Wow, THAT is pink.” Elaine teased. “Is it Barbie themed?”

“Ha ha,” Bunny replied, rolling her eyes. “But yes, I’m tired of those dark colors.”

“What’s this?” Elaine wondered, eyeing the envelope. “Is this why you wanted to see me?”

“Yes. Duke says it’s yours.” 

Elaine opened the envelope and revealed another smaller envelope. It was yellowing but the red and white borders are still prominent. 

Her eyes widened as she read the names written. At the top left side of the envelope, it wrote: 

Robert Rosenthal

USAAF Station 139

Thorpe Abbotts

Norfolk, England 

And in the middle part, it said:

Ms. Elaine Byrne

c/o Mr. H. Minton

206-210 West 118th Street

New York NY10026

United States of America

She took the letter. “Duke? The janitor?” 

Bunny nodded. “Yeah. Lenny, the new manager, made him clean the scary room, you know the one that was locked after we pried it open? He went through boxes and boxes and then he saw this. That room was like a fire hazard with all the papers and empty bottles of alcohol."

Minty’s room, she thought. It has always been filled with papers and some alcohol.

“And he remembered my name?” Elaine wondered.

“He’s like the oldest person there, so he almost knows everybody. Since you no longer work there, he remembered we’re friends so he gave it to me,” Bunny answered.

“He does remember everybody…” she observed.

“Where did the letter come from?” Bunny asked. 

“England,” she answered while reading it. “Rosie.”

“ Oh. Rosie… ” her friend sang, prolonging the man’s name. “You know, I never really liked the nickname. The name Robert is so hot though. You could call him Robbie when he’s—” 

Elaine crumpled a napkin and threw it at her friend. “Bunny! It’s like thinking your grandpa’s hot! Or Ernest Hemingway!” 

“What! He was good-looking, and so was Ernest Hemingway! I googled pictures of him and his pictures during those Nazi trials? I get why you…miss him.”

“I don’t miss him.” 

“Right,” Bunny said, sipping her drink while staring at her. “Says the woman who stole the picture.” 

Elaine frowned at her friend. “You know I had to. The staff won’t stop talking about it!” 

“Where did you keep it then? In your journal?” 

“No,” Elaine lied.

Bunny leaned in. “Don’t tell me you had it framed like a war widow and gaze at it longingly at night? Under your pillow?” 

She laughed at Bunny’s cliché. Bunny joined her, the mental picture enough to crack her up. She knew how her friend can be sentimental and she’s not too far off from not doing it. 

“No, I kept it in a journal,” she admitted.

“Don’t you want to read it now?” Bunny asked, pointing at the letter.

“I think I’d rather read it on my own…” Elaine remarked.

“Oh come on,” Bunny groaned. “I want to read an actual letter from a World War Two pilot!” 

“Can’t I just send you a pic?” Elaine asked. 

“No, I want the real thing.” 

Elaine rolled her eyes. She knew Bunny would not stop hovering over her and the letter. She handed it and her friend excitedly took it from her hand. The letter was gently ripped to the side until it opened. Bunny carefully pulled out the letter and started reading. As she scanned the page, Bunny’s expressions changed from somber to amusement and…confusion.

“What is it?” Elaine asked. 

“Were drunk letters a thing before?” Bunny asked back.

“I don’t know…why?” she replied, browsing the menu.

She took the letter from Bunny and her eyebrows furrowed with the scrawly yet still (surprisingly) legible writing. 

Dear Elaine, 

Where are you? It has been two years and yet! And yet I still think about you most of sometimes. Like tonight, I’m writing to you. I already sent my family and friends letters so my letter quota is done this week. I thought of writing to Mabel but So here I am writing to you. 

Elaine stopped reading after that paragraph. She did not want Bunny to see her reaction towards the whole thing. After all, this letter is for her, right?

“That’s a drunk letter, bitch!” Bunny commented as Elaine folded the letter and placed it back in its envelope.

“I think I would cry if a guy wrote to me like that. Some guys can’t even spell properly, and autocorrect exists!” Bunny continued. 

Elaine chuckled at her, remembering her friend’s failed dates. 

“I just don’t understand how this reached me,” she admitted. “I mean, I basically ghosted him. Left him with a note that I made a waiter give to him.” 

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bitch move.” 

“I know. But what am I supposed to do? Explain to him that I didn’t mean to travel back in 1941?” she said. “‘Hey Rosie, I’m the ghost from your future!’”

“Or maybe you could just shut up, go back to 1943 and just tie the loose ends. Give the guy some closure! Give you some closure!” 

Closure. Rosie’s future has already been written and Elaine is sure as hell not a part of it. However, she’s not going to deny (not in front of Bunny at least) that sometimes, she thinks about him. Did he walk the same streets? Was there like a place like Minton’s where they exist (or existed) together but in different timelines? 

The name Robert Rosenthal is one name she tried her best not to type in her internet search engine ever since she met him. There was a certain romance in it, about someone being a mystery, whose memories were just hers to keep. She liked it that way.

“You’re going to England on those dates, right?” Bunny reminded her. “Are you going to see him?”

The question snapped Elaine back. “What?”

She gave Elaine a look. 

“Sorry, I zoned out. What was it?”

“You are so far off. I said, you’re going to England to see your dad on those dates. Are you going to see him?”

“Hmm. Decide for me?” 

“Nope.”

“I don’t know. Really. Tell me what to do.” 

“You know what you’re going to do.” 

“What? Oh come on, don’t let me be stupid.”

Her friend snickered. “I know you know.”

Elaine’s jaw dropped, not knowing whether to laugh or strangle her friend. “I don’t know, really.”

Bunny’s phone started ringing. She took the call and Elaine continued to look at the letter, feeling its battered texture and even smelling it due to curiosity. It smelled like old paper, stuffy and a little bit of alcohol in there. 

Did Minty hold on to this letter on purpose?

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Wait for me. Alright. See ya.” 

“What is it?” Elaine asked. 

“Lenny wants me there early for God knows why! I should go, baby.” Bunny declared. “Bring me a souvenir, yeah?” 

Bunny stood up and gathered her things. Elaine took her hand playfully, pulling sad faces. “Bunny, will you decide for me…?” She laughed and gave Elaine a kiss on the cheek, the sticky strawberry scented lip gloss can still be felt.

“Bunny!” 

“You know what you’re going to do!” Bunny screamed when she reached a certain distance.

When her friend disappeared from the street, she placed a few bills for tips and took off. 

There’s nothing more urgent than a letter from an old acquaintance…from the 1940s.

While walking back to her place, she thought of the letter. The last time she time-traveled was almost two years ago, when she met Rosie for the first time. Before she left Minton’s, she stopped herself from going back to ask Minty about Rosie's whereabouts. She felt bad doing the French exit even though it was the right thing to do. 

Few blocks later, she reached her apartment and went straight to the elevator. When the doors were closing, she heard a man’s voice. “Hold it!” 

She pushed the open button and she saw a man rushing to enter. He was panting, and catching his breath. She observed the man, who was wearing an olive button down shirt, jeans, and white sneakers. He has a thick mop of curly hair, seemingly deliberately messy and his light stubble is like a more prominent 5 o’clock shadow. He has rather sharp features, especially around the jaw and chin area, but he exudes an approachable aura. Like if you borrow something or help you reach something, he would do it with no questions asked. 

She has seen him a few times in the building and sometimes in the coffee shop nearby, but never really had a moment with him until today.

The man towered over Elaine, and when he saw her looking, he smiled.

“Hi,” the man greeted.

“Hey,” she greeted back, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You haven’t pushed a button,” the man observed. Elaine immediately pushed her floor number. 

“Yeah…uh, what’s yours?” 

“Fifth. Same as you,” he answered. 

When the elevator pinged, the man motioned his hand for her to go first. She thanked him and headed to her door. As he passed her by, he said, “Thanks, Elaine.” 

He was living a few doors down from her. 

“How d’you know my name?” Elaine hollered. 

“I met your mom a few weeks ago. She asked me to fix something in your window,” he explained. Must be the window that has a weird sound in the hinges that I always forget to oil.

He walked towards her and extended his hand. “I’m Brian, by the way.” 

She shook his hand. “I’m Elaine, but you know that now.” 

Brian smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I hope that wasn’t creepy or anything.” 

“It wasn’t but I’m gonna ask my mother about you.” 

“Okay, all right, good point. See you later,” he said, unclasping his hand from her. She observed him until he entered his door. Better safe than sorry, she thought. 

She placed her keys in the catch all bowl in the hallway and made her way to the couch. She took the letter from her bag and started reading it again, this time slower and at the comfort of her own home. 

Dear Elaine, 

Where are you? It has been two years and yet! And yet I still think about you most of sometimes. Like tonight, I’m writing to you. I already sent my family and friends letters so my letter quota is done this week. I was thinking of writing to Mabel but So here I am writing to you.

This war has been going on for too long. Too many brave men we had to mourn over and then still fly the next day. Some friends I made in the base are now gone and I don’t know if they’re dead or in some POW camp. Their absence is most felt at night, when the once full officers club is now half-empty. Some barracks now sit empty and too neatly, as if no one stayed there.

One time I had to tell a girl from the Red Cross that the man she danced with the night before died the next day. I couldn’t even look at her properly. It was awful.

I wish I could talk to you. I tried to have a little faith like you said, but sometimes I’m losing it. Can you help me find it? Tell me, how are you? Again, where are you? Are you still in New York? Partying in Minton’s? Minty said he hasn’t seen you Assigned to some base? Are you in the Red Cross? Are you a nurse? I don’t think you are because you might punch them once they touch you On the Pacific side of the war? Are you still there?

One morning, I thought I saw you in the base’s Red Cross clubmobile, giving away doughnuts and hot coffee. Same brown hair, pinned like the last time I saw you, alongside with red lipsticks the women wore.

When I blinked, I realized it was someone else. I hate it.

If you find yourself across the pond in England, I’ll be in Hammersmith, London from November 5 until 7. An officer recommended that I stay in Brooke Green so that’s where I’ll be. He also told me about the Hammersmith Palace Palais where he said they play jazz most nights.

I’ll meet you in Hammersmith Palais at 6 o’clock on November 5.

Please come. I want to see you If you could come, then great! If you don’t reply, I’ll never write again anymore. I promise. Tonight just felt like a good time to release whatever I’m feeling.

Yours,

Robert Rosenthal  

PS. I don’t know where to send this so I’ll send this to Minton’s. I hope this reaches you. If it doesn’t I’ll blame Minty. Or the postal service first.

The letter is similarly aged like the envelope. She inspected both envelope and letter and she found that it was resealed before it reached her. Probably there was another letter but it was for Minty. Either way, the history of the letter and how it reached her was fascinating. This may be the first time she received a letter from the past despite time traveling for quite some time. Has there been recent developments in the field of time travel? 

However, she considered Rosie’s invitation. It has been almost two years since they saw each other and yet, there’s a letter inviting her to London. Didn’t he think of her as rude after she left him with a note? She basically ghosted him without any chance of him reaching out. What is this, fate's cruel trick? For what? She left other people from the past like this as well, but how come her departure from Rosie seemed horrible? 

Elaine laid the letter on her lap and stared at the ceiling for a while. She listened to the slow hum of the AC and the sound of her breathing, wondering what her next steps would be. 

She took her phone and searched the address where the letter was written from. USAAF Station 139, she typed. 

RAF Thorpe Abbotts. She clicked on some photos and articles and found it was an old air base used by British and American forces during the Second World War. Was he a pilot? 

Then she typed his name in the internet search engine. Seconds later, a man in his uniform appeared, most definitely Rosie. His mustache was shaved, but his eyes had a certain twinkle in it. Bunny was right, he was handsome. He did become a pilot. A squadron commander, whatever that means! (But it sounds impressive.) Exhaling loudly, she clicked his name and read the concise version of his life. 

What a life you had, Rosie. 

Should I still be a part of this? 

Laying her phone on the couch, she walked to her window and lit up a cigarette. She observed the sunset, its various hues of pinks and oranges illuminating the city. People are rushing on their way home, while others are taking their lovely time. Elaine imagined him among the people, perhaps the man who was wearing a suit with a leather suitcase.

She continued smoking and letting tons of possibilities pass her through.

Elaine knows what she’s going to do.

[thesullengrrrl]

rosie: i think you should call me daddy. the baby calls you mama and then calls me 'wosie'

elaine: i called you that last night

rosie: that's different

elaine: okay...is daddy going to scold me some more?

rosie:

[thesullengrrrl]

We'll Meet Again - Epilogue 2

Months after the Nuremberg trials, Rosie still has one final person to face.

A/N: Hello! Thought you've seen the last of this little old fic haha. Here's another epilogue because I wanted to explore another ending with these two idiots (affectionate). You can read it here in AO3 :) Thank you for being here and I hope you enjoy this. Now on to the chapter! 👀💜

Chapter 8 - 'til there was you

December 1946

Brooklyn, New York

“You can’t keep staying here on weekends, Bob.”

Mrs. Rosenthal is tired of seeing her son being in her house on Saturday mornings—reading the newspapers, bringing his cases or helping her with plumbing or other chores. 

Don’t get her wrong, she’s glad to have a man in the house after her husband’s death, and Bob was reliable. But when her son got back from the war and the trials, she knew that he had to settle down. He can’t live by himself in his bachelor apartment at this age forever.

“Are you seeing someone, ma?” Rosie snickered, flipping a page from his copy of Frankenstein. “That’s why you want the apartment all by yourself?”

“You know there is no one who could replace your father,” Mrs. Rosenthal answered loudly, as if Rosie’s blunder offended every ancestor they had. “But you are almost thirty. I am running out of nice girls to pair with you!” 

“Well…I think I haven’t found her yet.” 

“Your sister is engaged, Robert!” she huffed. 

His mother and her endless matchmaking. A week after he got back from Nuremberg, she slowly executed her plan. He was his mother’s plus one at every party, dinner, and gathering. And at each event, a woman of his age would ‘bump’ into him, or an older woman who would claim to be his mother’s friend would introduce their daughter to him.

Rosie was a gentleman to every girl introduced to him. He talked to them, listened to them, and yes, asked them out on dates. However, it all stops at the second or third date—the girl speaks too loudly, or can’t banter well, those who take it too seriously, bad breath…some of these may seem petty which, sometimes he feels bad about. They’re all interesting women, but something isn’t clicking with him. 

He once contemplated moving to another state then maybe he could find someone. His mother freaked when he told him. 

“Bob, haven’t you met anyone in that wretched club of Minty’s?” Mrs. Rosenthal questioned, sitting beside him. “There has to be someone attractive in there!” 

There was once someone attractive to him there, all right. He could still remember her in that red dress in his mind as if it was yesterday. Her telling him how she eavesdropped on his ex-girlfriend crying over him, her face as she yelled expletives to someone who tried to touch her, and how she extended her hand to ask him to dance. 

Sometimes, he would ask Minty if she visited. The old man could only shake his head and tell him that he’s expecting the woman as well. 

“Minty told me you met someone before the war,” Mrs. Rosenthal told him. 

“I think you’re spending an awful time with Minty and his wife,” Rosie deflected, now too distracted to read his book and laid it on the nearest table.

“I saw the picture, Bob,” she revealed. “Sandra showed me.”

Rosie gave her mother a nervous look.

“She’s pretty, but is she even American? She doesn’t look like one to me.” 

“Yes, as far as I know. Although she may have an English father?” Rosie told her in an unsure voice. “But she’s from New York. Also a Catholic, if that helps.”

Mrs. Rosenthal dreamed for his son to marry a nice Jewish girl from their neighborhood. However, at this point, she’ll humor her son to whoever he fancies. Until probably when she meets this mystery woman. 

“Is she nice?” 

Rosie frowned. “Why do you ask?”

“Can’t a mother be curious about a woman who caught her son’s attention?” Mrs. Rosenthal countered. 

“Well, she’s…different. She is pretty, of course, but there’s something I can’t pinpoint. She swears a little, she can be casual about things that it made me a little worried when we were in England—” 

“Aha!” Mrs. Rosenthal exclaimed. “You saw her again during the war?” 

They did more than that. 

Rosie just walked into his mother’s trap. “Yes, ma. Then she told me it would never work between us, so it ended there.” 

“Then what did you do?” 

“I let her be and told her maybe I’ll see her in New York,” Rosie answered. “And she said that maybe she’ll see me.”

“And…you didn’t seek her out?” she asked. 

“No…” Rosie trailed off. 

“The war’s over, Robert,” Mrs. Rosenthal reminded him. “Did you not even, I don’t know, try?” 

“I don’t even know where to seek her out,” he complained, placing a hand in his temple. “All I got is her name.” 

“Sometimes, a name is all you need,” Mrs. Rosenthal commented, finally standing up, and letting her son connect the dots.

************

And seek, he did. He asked his friends around if they knew someone named Elaine Byrne. When reading the newspaper, he would scour the engagements, weddings, and obituary sections. Nothing. No Elaine Byrne. 

It was a fool’s errand. A person who doesn’t want to be found will never appear. He stopped asking around. But he continued to read the newspapers, with a little prayer that her name would pop out. 

One time while he was on his way home, he stopped by the deli to get dinner to take home. While lining up, she saw a woman with the same build and coat as her, choosing what bread to buy. Rosie could’ve sworn that her eyes widened at the sight of him before she went back on the bread items.

The cashier’s voice tore his attention away from the woman, and he rushed to dig into his pockets to pay. When he turned to see if she was still there, the ring of the door’s chimes filled the air. She was gone. 

For a moment, he let himself believe it was her. He entertained the tiniest possibility that she may be on his side of the city, bidding for her time to appear.   

************

Minty rang Rosie about a new band that would be performing in his club. Without any date or engagement to go to that night,  agreed and found himself in Minton’s one Saturday night. 

It was a win-win for both men—Minty knows that the man knows his jazz, what sounded good, while he gets to enjoy new music. Rosie sat there almost like a newspaper critic, his back leaned to the chair, his fingers tapping at the table rhythmically. 

“What do you think, Rosie?” Minty asked. 

“They’re pretty good,” he simply replied. “Maybe it’s because they’re starting out, but I’m looking for something, maybe a bit more stronger sound? I don’t know, maybe I’m just being nitpicky.” 

The older man snorted at his last sentence. “You’re being nitpicky, all right. I asked around and they think this band’s got it.” 

Rosie only nodded. 

“Did your mother set you up on a date again?” the older man asked, knowing the laments of his mother whenever they invite her to afternoon tea.

Rosie shook his head. “I think she gave up.”

“For now,” Minty shrugged, earning a laugh from the younger man. 

“She’s worried that your sister Hannah will get married before you,” he said. “She is engaged right?” 

“Yes, to David Bergman. An accountant in some insurance firm,” he informed him. “He’s nice, a gentleman. Ma likes him.” 

“Haven’t you really found anyone, boy? How about that girl, Elaine?” 

Oh, Elaine. For some reason, he held on to the flimsy promise of ‘maybe’ she told him that day they said goodbye at the train station. Every mission, he told himself that if he comes back alive, she’ll be in New York waiting for him. It was silly and untrue and yet, effective. He did come home alive.

“She’s long gone, Minty,” Rosie whispered, swirling his glass. “You know that.” 

“You’ll never know who’s going to walk here next,” Minty told him. “Speaking of, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” 

The younger man gave him a grim look. “Come on. Not you too, Minty.” 

“What? Have you seen anyone you like?” he asked, his hand pointing to the crowd. “Just say the word, and I’ll have a waiter send a drink for them.”

“Minty, when you say it like that, it sounds like I’m a brothel.” 

He laughed at him. “Now, boy. I’m not sure if that girl has arrived, but—” 

“Mint, I’m tired of seeing anyone, all right?” Rosie cut him off. “I know Ma’s getting tired of it too. How many Jewish girls could there be that Ma hasn’t set me up with?” 

Minty ignored him and suddenly stood from his seat. 

“Ah, there she is! Over here, doll!” He yelled, waving at someone behind him. Rosie did not bother to turn at whoever that is, knowing that he would only be disappointed at the end of the night. Why is everyone up to his business when it comes to dating? 

He drank from his glass and continued watching the band who’s now performing a slow love song. 

“Minty, I’m sorry I’m late,” the voice said. “I fell asleep, can you believe that!”

His eyebrows furrowed, wondering where he heard that voice before. 

“I was about to ask Sandra to knock on your door. Never mind, you’re here. Sit, sit,” Minty assured the woman. 

When he heard the scrape of the chair, he turned and saw her. The neatly styled brown hair with curls, the red lips, the hazel green eyes, and the thin scar below her hairline…the smile he knew so well, that it felt like he was back in 1941.

It couldn’t be. How could it be? 

“Is this seat taken?” 

Minty smirked at Rosie’s dumbfounded reaction. “Don’t gawk at her! She’s asking you a question!” 

“Um,” Rosie cleared his throat. “No, it’s all yours.” 

Elaine nodded and sat beside him. Minty told the two that he’ll be back with the drinks that he promised Rosie. 

“Hello, Rosie,” she greeted. “It’s been a while.” 

“Yes…it’s been a while,” he agreed, still couldn’t believe that she was here—in flesh and blood. 

A waiter came and served them two glasses of martini. Elaine thanked him and went back to Rosie, who was still looking at her. “I’m not gonna disappear until like midnight, you know.” 

Rosie blushed. “I’m sorry, it’s just…you’re here. I can’t believe it.” 

“Well, you better believe it.” 

Jaunty music from the band filled the atmosphere. Couples started gathering on the dance floor. Elaine smirked at him. 

“Don’t tell me I’m gonna have to ask you on this one?” 

************

At a distance, in a corner table a few meters away from them, were Sandra, Mrs. Rosenthal, Hannah Rosenthal and David Bergman. Minty made his way over to them after instructing the barkeep to give drinks to the two. He sat beside his wife. 

“How’s the spying so far?” Minty asked as he kissed his wife’s cheek.

“That’s her?” Mrs. Rosenthal asked, careening her head to take another look at the woman who’s now chuckling with her son. 

“Oh, ma! Judging her this early?” Hannah quipped. “Looks like they’re having fun already.”

“She's a little bit eccentric, with all those records she has been playing at weekends, but a nice girl,” Sandra informed them. “One time, she made us lasagna as a thank you. It was good, Rose!” 

“It looks like they’re about to dance,” David added, sipping a drink. 

They watched the two make their way to the dance floor and gradually move with the beat of what the band was playing. Hannah always thought that her brother didn’t really know how to dance—she always thought he was a bit too heavy for it, but with her, he moved smoothly. It’s like he knows to do it with her, for her. She snickered when the woman twirled him, then they laughed. 

Oh, brother.

“Have they known each other for long?” David asked Hannah. 

“I think they know each other long enough to be that comfortable with each other.” 

Rose watched her son laugh and dance comfortably with the woman, and that may be the first time she saw him that way with anyone. 

She once asked herself if her matchmaking had gotten rusty with her son. With this scene before her, now she knows why it never worked for him. 

Robert was waiting for someone.

“She looks good with your brother,” Rose finally commented. “I hope she truly is.”

************

The band now played a slow tune. Rosie rested his arms where it should be, and Elaine followed suit. They slowly swayed to the music, now only looking at each other. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Rosie breathed.

“I am,” Elaine confirmed, chuckling softly. “And we’re in Minton’s again.” 

“We are.” 

“Minty said you just came from Germany, how was it?” she asked, genuinely curious. 

“It was…riveting, scenic…a bit intense,” he replied. “I can’t believe I got in and interrogated Hermann Göring and his cohorts.”

“Bombing and prosecuting Nazis? Your mother must be kvelling.” 

“Learning Yiddish now?” he wondered.

“Don’t get all flattered,” Elaine warned him playfully. “It’s the only word I know.” 

“How have you been?” Rosie asked. 

“I moved above the club three weeks ago,” she told him. “Sandra and Minty are great landlords. Well, I’m their only renter.” 

His eyes widened at this information. “You’ve been here for three weeks now? So it must be you in the deli—” 

“Picking bread?” she completed his question.“That was me. I just wasn’t ready to say hi to you at the time.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. I did hurt your feelings, remember?” 

Rosie nodded, now understanding. “Well, if it helps…I’ve forgiven you. You weren’t certain, a war was going on…I get it now. Don’t worry.” 

“All right, then,” she smiled. 

He pulled her closer to him, and she rested her cheek on his shoulder. Rosie missed her, especially when he finally got to the base. Their pictures were tucked in the same copy of Of Mice and Men. When the war ended, he cut off his favorite strip and placed it on his wallet. He told himself that he would remove it the moment he marries someone else. 

“So I guess I don’t have to walk you home every time,” Rosie mused, smiling at her. 

“Every time?” Elaine wondered. “I don’t understand.” 

“I, uh…I know it’s quite early for tonight to say this but can I see you after tonight? Tomorrow?” 

Rosie swallowed a lump of his throat. He was nervous about asking it, since what if she already had a boyfriend? But then, Minty wouldn’t make them meet if she’s attached, surely? What if she says no? 

Elaine removed her hand from his hold and placed a finger in between his eyebrows. “You’re thinking this too much.” 

“Well, yes, I mean…I had to ask.” 

She nodded. “Right. But before I answer that, can I talk to you about something? This is really important before we make any steps after tonight.” 

He felt a bead of sweat form on his temple. His stomach warmed up. What is it this time? Would she break things off again? Did he get her pregnant in England? And do they now have a 3-year-old sleeping alone above the club? 

“Don’t worry,” Elaine said, rubbing his arm. “We can talk in the alley, it’s pretty private there.”

He exhaled and agreed to be led out by Elaine through the kitchen. Some of the staff said hello to her and she greeted them back. Luckily for them, there was no one in the alley. It was only her, him, and the empty trash cans. 

“I need you to not ask questions until I finish my story, okay?” Elaine instructed him with her hands on her waist. “Just listen to me. And I’ll answer your questions later, all right?” She stared at him with such a serious face, probably the most serious he could remember.

Despite feeling a bit scared with this Elaine in front of him, he nodded and motioned for her to continue. 

She exhaled and started. “I’m…I’m a time traveler, Rosie. I’m from 2029. The night we met, I wasn’t supposed to be there. I got there by accident. Then two years later, your letter came and I wanted to see you, so I went. Then we said goodbye. And now, I’m here.”

He waited for her to laugh, to tell him that it was just a joke and ask him to get back with her inside. Instead, he was met by her uncertain gaze—whether it’s fear or anxiety, he can’t be sure.

But the laughter never came. 

Rosie could only hear his heart pounding on his ear. All the questions he had in his head came back and it dawned on him—her casual attitude, her swearing, her actions that seem a bit out of place…all because she wasn’t from here. 

“Did you go back for me?” he asked, his voice a little shaky from what he just heard from her.

Elaine nodded in confirmation. “Yes.”

“Are you going to leave again this time?” he pressed.

“If you’ll have me, then I won’t,” she answered, trying to keep her voice steady.

Silence fell between the two. 

Elaine kept a straight face, but Rosie could see in her eyes the anticipation of what he was about to say. Fear? Rejection? 

“Then that’s all I needed to hear from you, Elaine Byrne,” Rosie declared, striding towards her and enveloping her in his arms. She returned the embrace, her face at the crook of his neck. 

“I missed you, you know,” Rosie whispered. “For a moment there, I thought you were going to tell me I got you pregnant.” 

Elaine chuckled against the crook of his neck. “No, we’re safe in that area, don’t worry.” 

She started to wipe her tears but Rosie took her hand and wiped it with his handkerchief. She smiled at him and led him back. They were greeted by sly looks from the staff. Rosie was embarrassed, while Elaine just brushed them off and pulled him until they reached the main hall. A pair of glasses with fresh cocktails were waiting for them. 

“You do know that we’re being spied on?” Elaine revealed. “One o’clock, behind you.” 

Rosie looked and there were the spies—Mr. and Mrs. Minton, his mother, his sister Hannah and David. He rubbed a hand on his face. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Rosie groaned. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him, rubbing his shoulder. “I think we should go over there. Say hi.” 

He agreed and she led him to the older adults’ table. Mrs. Rosenthal smiled at Elaine, studying her like a hawk as she interacted with the others. Sandra asked a waiter to add more chairs for the couple, while Minty called for more drinks. 

Within a few minutes, everyone was having fun. Hannah seemingly found an older sister with Elaine, and they ended up dancing together on the dance floor along with David. The trio looked silly, but they were the ones having the most fun. 

Rosie moved his gaze to his mother, who caught him in time. She smiled reassuringly at him. 

************

Days following that night in Minton’s, at exactly 5 o’clock, Rosie would rush out of the firm to make his way to fetch Elaine at the Times’ office. A smile would form in his face when she appeared at the lobby. Then, they would walk arm in arm and tell each other stories of their days. 

Usually, they would wind up in St. Nicholas Park, where they have a usual bench and simply talk or share a sandwich. Sometimes, when it’s their payday, they would visit a nice restaurant they’ve read about. Rosie learned her interest in stand up comedy, while Elaine suggested visiting hole in the wall jazz bars that her workmates recommended to her. 

This has become their routine for the next few weeks.

One night, when he walked her home to Minton’s, Elaine said something that surprised both of them. 

“So, we’re here,” Rosie said, pulling her closer to him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?” 

He gently pressed his lips against hers. When they parted, she smiled at him and patted his cheek. “See you tomorrow. I love you.” 

Both of their eyes widened at what she just said. Rosie then slowly smiled at her, both delighted and amused with Elaine’s sudden consciousness about it. 

“You love me, Elaine?” he smirked.

“Yes, I love you,” she confirmed. “I know it’s probably too early—” 

“I love you, too.” 

**********

Rosie popped the question two weeks after Valentine’s. It was snowing and the two of them were rather too comfortable on the couch to move or venture out. They were reading on the opposite side of the couch with a blanket over them. 

She was reading his copy of Persuasion, while he was reviewing a case that he took home. Seeing as she was too busy reading and writing at the book, he stood under the guise of getting some water.

When he sat back, he was nervously twiddling at the small box inside his cardigan pocket. If it comes to worst, if she rejects him, it would only be the two of them. 

Rosie watched her flip the pages, her eyes concentrated on the book. Pushing the possible scenarios from his head, he cleared his throat. “Elaine. Will you look at me for a second?” 

“Yeah, sure.”

She put the book aside and when she turned to him, a small black velvet box greeted her. Her eyes widened, her mouth fell open at this sight of him. He opened the box and it revealed a thin gold band with a round opal stone. The ring contrasted the black velvet box and showed faint different colors.

“Will you marry me, Elaine Byrne?” Rosie asked, his voice was calm yet with a hint of nervousness to it.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I am sure,” he nodded. “All I know is I love you and I want to spend the rest of my days with you.”

“You know I’m not going to be a housewife,” Elaine countered. “I’ll stay at my job.”

“I know,��� he smiled. “You like being a copy editor. I’m not going to make you stop working unless you want to.”

“We'll have different opinions on things. We’re gonna be arguing on small things, big decisions, all that jazz.”

“As every couple does every once in a while. I mean, we just argued on which brand of laundry soap to use,” Rosie reminded her, smiling at the memory earlier today.

“What if I want to visit my parents? Or Bunny?” Elaine asked, her voice slightly shaking. 

“Then I’ll wait for you here,” Rosie assured her. “Or follow you, if that’s allowed.”

Elaine seemed to be moved by his words and held his free hand. “You really thought about this, huh?” 

“I didn’t get to say anything last time, remember?” Rosie said, kissing her hand. “So…will you, Elaine? Marry me?” 

This time, Elaine finally nodded. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Robert Rosenthal.”

Rosie slipped the ring in her finger and Elaine wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his lips with hers. She never thought that one night of accidentally time traveling would lead her to him—the man she would want to spend her life with. 

He pulled back from their kiss, both breathless and excited. “We gotta stop before we have a baby before the wedding.” 

Elaine laughed, and motioned him to rest on her chest. He did and she ran his fingers through his hair, a favorite thing she liked to do whenever they cuddled. 

“Where do you want to get married?” Rosie wondered. “I mean, we have to save up if you want a church wedding.” 

“I don’t think your mother will want us to get married in a Catholic church,” Elaine said. “You’re her eldest son, I’m sure she’d want you to get married in a traditional Jewish ceremony.” 

“Well, you’re the bride-to-be,” he replied, taking her hand. “‘Happy wife, happy life’, as I heard those old lawyers in the firm say.”

A bulb lit in Elaine’s head. “I got an idea.”

************

New York Post

March 12, 1947

Mrs. Rose Rosenthal of Flatbush, New York is pleased to announce the marriage of her son Mr. Robert Rosenthal to Miss Elaine Byrne, the daughter of Mr. Harry ‘Hal’ Byrne of Kensington, England and Mrs. Alice Halford of West End, Connecticut. The two were wed in the New York County Courthouse on March 11, 1947. 

After reading the announcement, Elaine folded the newspaper and laid it on the table. She saw Rosie watching her, and raised an eyebrow. 

“You like what you see, Mr. Rosenthal?” she asked. 

Rosie carefully laid his cup of coffee and leaned his back on the chair. His eyes trailed on her, pleased that she’s wearing his pajama flannel top over her body. Her hair was tied in a messy ponytail, with some strands falling on her face, framing it. 

“Is this what you always look like in the morning, Mrs. Rosenthal?” he countered, his eyes with a hint of wonder and teasing.

“Yes, regretting things now?” 

“No,” he shook his head, smiling. “I think you’re spectacular.”

[thesullengrrrl]

baby wants, baby gets

"Oh yeah, that's it," Elaine groaned, her head falling back against the couch. "Hmmm...so good!"

She looked at her husband whose expression is a mixture of surprise and adoration and disgust.

"Rosie, I think this is the best we've ever made."

Her cravings were fairly normal in the beginning—chocolates, apples, spoonfuls of peanut butter (she had her own jar), that noodle soup from a specific Chinese restaurant three blocks away...until the bump started showing.

Ice. Sauerkraut. Olive oil drizzled over vanilla ice cream. Pickles with cheese and hot sauce. Almost everything with hot sauce.

And now...a half-eaten sandwich with potato chips as a filling and the other small plate was filled with slices of pickled onions.

Rosie swallowed as she offered the sandwich to him. "Baby, you should try it. The pickles just cut through the greasiness of the chips..."

"Don't worry about me," he told her instead, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I want you girls to eat more."

"You really think we're having a girl?" Elaine beamed. "I always thought you were hoping for a boy."

"Really?"

"Don't men always wish for a boy? To continue their name, something like that?" she answered, finishing the last bite of her sandwich. "Men from your time, mostly. I think."

"Well, yes," he nodded. "But I don't know, I have this feeling we're gonna have a girl. Little Laney crawling around, chasing dogs or running around the house..."

Her heart warmed. "I hope the baby has your eyes."

"No, I want the baby to have your eyes," Rosie protested, kissing her hand. "Sage eyes."

"I think I like your ocean eyes better," she retorted, smiling. "Then your curls...our baby's gonna be so cute."

"Have you come up with names yet?"

His wife shook his head. "Although I'm vetoing Robert Junior for a boy. I don't want my hypothetical son to have a name that sounds like he has a mortgage upon birth."

Rosie let out a laugh, imagining a frowning baby staring at him. "You don't want my child to be named after me?"

"That's my kid too!" she protested. "So no, no Robert Junior, Robert. I swear, if I see the birth certificate and it says Robert Junior, I will stand from my bed, all bloody and have you change it."

He raised his hands in surrender, knowing his wife might actually do it. "Okay, Robert Junior no more. But maybe for a girl..."

"No!"

[thesullengrrrl]

ROBERT ROSENTHAL & ELAINE BYRNE

“Girl from the future,” Rosie softly called as he planted kisses on her shoulder. “Tell me about it.”  “What about it?” she answered, shifting herself to face him. Sheets now forgotten, their naked skin against each other. Tracing the line of his arm, Elaine continued. “The technology? Music? Do you wonder if jazz will still be around?”  “None of that for now…” he trailed off, gently tracing her jawline. Against the soft light of the afternoon sun, with her hair covering her chest and shoulders, he wanted to take a picture in his head and keep it for rainy days.

"What then?" she asked, her eyes with a hint of curiosity.

“Tell me about our future. You and me.” 

Masters of the Air (2024) // The Worst Person In the World (2021) // Sidelines by Phoebe Bridgers // Normal People by Sally Rooney

[thesullengrrrl]

We'll Meet Again - Chapter 3

London called, Elaine Byrne answers...without warning.

A/N: Someone's going to make an appearance here because I love that character and I want him to be here. Hope it won't take you out of here or something. Thank you for reading and let me know what you think. AO3 link is here if you prefer reading there. On to the chapter!

Chapter 3: somehow, somewhere

Hammersmith, London

November 2026

Hal Byrne never really drove around London. He always considered this city as a walkable one, and driving is just another way to add more in his carbon footprint. However, her daughter is in his city and sure as hell he would spoil her, even if it means he would get honked at by fellow drivers.

His passengers were the loves of his life—his partner David and his only daughter, Elaine. 

“Hal, you know you could go faster,” David urged him. 

Hal groaned. “I’m fine, dear. Just talk to Laney.” 

Elaine and David shared a look.

“I offered to drive but he wouldn’t budge. He said he wanted to drive you just like he did in New York before,” he shared. 

“Dad, you only drove during the summer when we went upstate,” she revealed, smiling. “We always took the subway.”

“Laney! Not fair! I was trying to show—” 

“Watch the road!” the two shrieked. Hal managed to smoothly turn the car, and the building was already on sight. There was no parking in front of the hotel, so Hal went to the nearby park where there were other cars parked. When he was properly parked, they got out of the car. 

Hal opened the trunk and pulled his daughter’s suitcase. 

Elaine watched David and her father tag team on locking the doors and closing the trunk. Both of them are in their 50s, and she does not miss the looks of women whenever she’s walking with them. David has worked as an art director, while her father Hal, works as a professor in Oxford. 

The three of them walked towards the hotel, while David was motioning ‘stop’ to oncoming motorists. A doorman opened the door and welcomed them.

“Laney, darling, I’m going to see you on Monday, all right? Call me or David if you need anything,” Hal reminded her daughter as they stood in the lobby. 

“Dad, I got both of your numbers with me,” Elaine repeated to her father, waving her phone. They had spent the first two days of her stay in a house in Norfolk where they attended a will-reading of Hal’s great uncle.

They both received a reasonable sum of money and a few books—copies of some classics and modern poetry books. The money was directly deposited on their accounts while a box of books was given to them when the reading ended. Elaine was a little touched by this act. She did not realize that across the pond, there was an old relative that thought of her despite the passing of time and distance.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us?” David asked. “We’re happy to have you, you know.”

“I’m sure. Don’t worry about me,” Elaine assured them. 

Hal hugged his daughter. “All right, darling. Your old men won’t bother you and your secret boyfriend anymore. I’ll see you on Monday. Keep safe and call me.” 

Elaine laughed. “If I do, you would’ve met him by now.” If you only knew, dad. You could write about this. “I’ll be fine. Love you.” 

“Love you too, Laney.” 

Elaine hugged David too, saying her goodbyes. 

Hal and David walked back to the exit and Elaine watched them until they crossed the street. She will always be thankful that her father found someone to love and loves him back. 

She went to the reception to check herself in.

“You’re all set, Ms. Byrne. You’re in room 215,” the kind-looking woman told her while handing her the key with the hotel fob in it. “Enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

She took her duffle bag and headed to her room.

--

It was spacious enough for two people, she thought.

She hung her coat at the back of the door and strode across the room to inspect it. The bed was decently sized with clean sheets and pillows, and fresh towels at the foot of the bed. The walls were sage green and white. It has a small wooden study table and chair near the window. She opened the windows and it has a good view of London. It wasn’t very high, but enough for her to have a scope of it. The wardrobe was spacious. She tried to place herself in it and was comfortable. Perfect, she thought. Next, she visited the bathroom and was pleased that it had a tub. It was also accented with green checkered tiles, which added to the charm. 

Putting the towels on the nearby chair, she laid down on the bed. In a few hours, she may or may not see Rosie. She hoped for the former. It has been a long time and an apology is something she needed to say. 

It was only 3 in the afternoon. Rosie told in his letter that they’ll meet at 6 in the evening in the Hammersmith Palais. Wherever that is, she’ll figure it out later. For now, she has to settle her place at the other side of time. 

Wearing her coat back on and empty duffle bag, she entered the wardrobe and moments later, opened it up to find room 215 now with different interiors. The room was now cozier with printed curtains and plain cream walls. The desk was now in front of a window, and a few steps from it was a vanity and a stand lamp. A reading chair in burgundy was adjacent to her bed, which is now smaller than her present one. This is good enough, she thought. 

She tiptoed until she reached the outside. Room 215 is not her room at this time, at least not yet. When a bellboy almost bumped into her, she just smiled at him and walked to the nearest elevator. She tried not to look as if she’s a woman on a mission. 

The elevator pinged and as she walked to the reception, she spotted a tall figure in an olive army dress uniform, writing in the hotel’s ledger. Could it be…?

Elaine went to the nearby lobby chairs to observe who it was. She picked up a newspaper to hide her face, which she found funny but who cares. When she heard keys jangling, she lowered the paper and it was too late. She watched the backs of two tall men in olive uniforms walk beside each other and carrying duffle bags. Damn, I didn’t get to see their faces! 

The elderly man beside her cleared his throat. “Miss, could I…?” 

She turned to him and he motioned for the paper she was holding. Elaine gave it to him and walked towards the reception. 

“Hello. I’d like to check in please,” she requested. The young man in a gray, buttoned hotel uniform smiled at him. His name tag has THOMAS written on it.

“Only for the night, ma’am?” he asked. 

“No, until Sunday, please.” 

“Very well, sign your name here and payment,” he instructed. Elaine did as she instructed and paid upfront. 

As she wrote, she said, “A friend stayed here and she was in room 215. Lovely view, she mentioned. Can I request that same room, too?” 

Elaine saw it first. The keys of the room for room 215 are on the board behind the man. She let the man check it, so as to not tempt anything.

“Well, you’re in luck, ma’am. It’s empty and now yours,” he replied as he plucked the keys from the board behind him. He slid the ledger back to his view and read where she wrote.

Handing it to her, he said, “You’re all set. Have a wonderful stay, Miss Byrne.” 

“I will, Thomas. Thank you.” she grinned and went back to the elevator. 

Now with a secure line from both times, she laid down on her bed for a moment. It wasn’t as soft as the one in the present, but that will do for her. A clock on the bedside table said it was fifteen minutes to four. 

After a long drive from Norfolk to London, a nap is in order. 

---

It was 5 in the afternoon and Elaine was done showering. Her hair demands a little bit more of time now, since she got it a tad lighter two weeks before. Bunny taught her how to take care of it, and now she’s detangling her hair, groaning. The shoulders of her navy shirt are slightly drenched as she combed. The price of looking presentable, she thought. 

Fifteen minutes before six, and she was ready.  The brown box coat fit snugly on her and its big pockets were enough to bring her essentials—some powder, lipstick, a hanky, and mints. Her phone was locked in the hotel’s provided safe. One more sweep of red lipstick across her lips and she was all set. She opened the wardrobe and entered inside.

---

Hammersmith Palais

November 1943

Elaine reached Hammersmith Palais at exactly 6 in the evening alone. While walking, she caught a glimpse of herself in a nearby store window. Her navy dress with slight puffed sleeves draped well on her, her heels did her legs a favor, and her hair felt a bit too formal for her liking, but she liked the contrast of her hair against the dark dress. The red lipstick was the main highlight of her outfit, she observed. I look good! 

Thankfully, it is only a few blocks away and with other people walking with her, she’s safe. 

In 1943, she had to show up and trust that he would show up as well.

Men and women started lining up ten minutes after she came. She started searching the lines if he was there, maybe he lined up already to save time. But he was not there.. She shifted her weight on each leg and wrapped her coat around her more as the wind breezed in the area. I should’ve written to him. Damn it, why didn’t I try to write from the future to the past?

Twenty minutes later, she decided to line up. She still continued to scan the area as the line moved. When she finally reached the doors, she took one last look at the area to see if he was there. Still no Rosie. Maybe he forgot. Made other plans.

When she entered, the lively jazz music welcomed her and the guests, signifying a start of what might be an exciting night. 

There was a stage at the end of the room, a bar and tables and chairs on each side of the dancefloor. There was also another area upstairs where guests could sit, dine, and observe dancers. Couples gathered on the dancefloor, dancing, touching, some fully making out under the dim lights. The ceilings were decorated with lights and different flaglets of assorted colors.

Elaine couldn’t help but get absorbed in the excitement. This place felt like its own country, as if there was no war going on outside the walls. 

As she sat at the bar and nursing a tall glass of beer, she heard the chair beside her creak. As she turned, she saw a handsome brown haired man in an olive army uniform. The US and winged pins on his lapels gleamed. His hair is tousled due to the humidity of the room making it shine too. His sparse mustache is evident, like a teenage boy’s first mustache. Why do some men not commit to an actual mustache instead of half-assing it! Be better, men! 

She did not realize she was staring until he came up quite close to her face and grinned.

“Hi there,” Elaine greeted, a little off guard. 

“Oh, an American!” the man observed. “That’s new. Where are you from?” 

“Brooklyn,” she shared. “How about you, sir?” 

“Manitowoc.”

“And where is that?” 

“Wisconsin!” the man declared, a little bit too proudly. “I’m John Egan. People call me Bucky.”

She shook the man’s extended hand with a smile. “I’m Elaine. Elaine Byrne.” 

Bucky motioned his hand towards the dance floor. “Wanna dance, Elaine Bird?” 

“I said Byrne,” she asserted. 

“Ah, I heard ‘bird’. That’s what I’m gonna call you now. Wanna dance, birdie?” 

This charmed Elaine enough. “All right, John Egan.” 

He finished his clear shot and paid for both of their drinks. Then he extended his hand, which she accepted and they went off to the dance floor. There was still space to move around, so they stood adjacent to each other and started moving to the beat.

She took a glance at the sidelines, checking any signs of another American uniformed officer. Nothing.

Rosie can go find me on the dance floor.

---

When three lively songs ended, thankfully, the band turned into more somber music. 

Bucky smoothly slid his arm at her back, while she struggled a little to reach John because of his height. She thought he must be around over six feet. The two caught their breaths for a moment then they moved in closer, almost cheek to cheek. Elaine felt a bit feminine with this tall, broad man towering over her, swaying with her to this soft music. She avoided John’s gaze, feeling a little shy. He must have sensed this and started talking. 

With his deep voice, he asked. “What brought you to England?”

“A will-reading,” Elaine answered, without thinking.

“Whose?” 

“My father’s old uncle. He asked me to come with him because his partner couldn’t make it, so here I am.”

“And…what brings you to this side of town?” John questioned, this time his breath near her ear. 

“I’m meeting a friend…” Elaine trailed off. “But that friend seemed to have forgotten, so here I am. Dancing with you.”

“Good thing he forgot,” John replied, winking at her. 

Elaine felt the corners of her mouth pull a smile and shook her head. Bunny would’ve liked Bucky.

“Say, what brought you to England, John Egan?” she asked, deciding to match his energy.

“My job,” he answered. “I’m a pilot.” 

That explains the game and air of arrogance, she thought. “Ah. That makes sense.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You have this air of casual confidence, you know? Like you can do anything,” Elaine observed. “And you will do it even though someone tells you not to.”

John’s eyes widened by the observation. 

“That’s…something. Well, I’m not God.” 

“I know.”

“By the way,” she started. “Any chance you know a guy named Robert Rosenthal?” 

His face turned from surprise to recognition. “Oh shit, you’re Rosie’s girl from New York?” 

“What?” 

John let out a half-laugh. “Few days ago, Rosie and Pappy—that’s his co-pilot—were chasing each other around the barracks because of a picture. It was a picture of him and some girl…” 

She raised her eyebrow. 

“Or so I’m told,” he added quickly.

Men gossip. They’re just better at hiding it. 

“That’s what he’s been saying? I’m his girl?” she scoffed.

“No, he didn’t say that,” he immediately jumped in. “It’s just assumed since Rosie…he’s a pretty focused guy. He never really danced with anyone and when we saw the picture, we thought maybe you’re the reason why.” 

“So you really saw the picture?” 

He was about to say something when he stopped moving and his head jerked up. “Wait, I think I saw someone.” 

He moved them near to the sidelines, to the tables and chairs until they were only a few meters away from a certain table that was a little crowded with women chattering. Breaking away from each other, John held her wrist and led her to the table he was spying on. A couple of excuses to the women later, it revealed a uniformed man, nursing a glass of amber liquid, hunched and seemingly defeated.

“Rosie!” John called. “You came!”

Rosie? Is it him?

Bucky pulled a chair before the man and motioned for his new lady friend to sit on. Then he followed suit. The man before them raised his head and it was actually him! 

Elaine trailed her eyes on his features, now slightly worn, bulked, and a little heaviness on his shoulders. His curls are now a bit tighter (too much pomade, perhaps) and his eyes now have dark circles compared to the last time he saw him. 

Rosie’s gaze remained on Bucky and slowly, he turned to her. His mouth parted, and the two did not notice until Bucky placed a finger under his chin to shut it. 

“Rosie, you didn’t tell me your girl is coming!” John laughed. 

“I didn’t…” Rosie trailed off.

“I wanted to surprise him, actually,” Elaine cut off, finally speaking for Rosie who was still visibly confused from everything. He only nodded and then drank the remaining liquid in his glass.

“Really? Well, boy, you really were surprised, huh?” Bucky observed. “So how’d you meet?”

He waved at a waiter, and ordered a few drinks–six shots of vodka and three glasses of scotch.

“Robert and I met on the night before he enlisted for the army,” she shared. 

“Robert, huh,” Bucky observed. “In the base, he’s called Rosie.” 

“He looks a little unfriendly right now, so Robert it is,” she replied, smiling weakly.

“Robert is in a bit of a sour mood, all right?” Rosie shot back, his voice cutting against the loud music of the band.

His tone startled the two for a bit. Bucky knew this man to be usually collected, but tonight it didn’t seem like it. Elaine on the other hand, just looked at him.

Rosie felt his cheeks warm up, and swirled his glass while looking at the two. “Sorry.”

The trio fell in silence. Elaine stared at Rosie, wondering whether to apologize or just go. Rosie, embarrassed by his sudden raising of voice, avoided her gaze.

Bucky suddenly felt tension in the air that could be easily sliced by a hot knife. He planned on charming Elaine tonight, and if luck is on his side, maybe sleep with her. After all, he doesn’t encounter American women outside of the base often. 

However, from the scene in front of him, luck isn’t his. Instead of wallowing, he turned to the band and focused on the energetic music being played and people in the dancefloor—a complete contrast to the current situation.

Elaine started to think about the situation she is in. She’s here in 1943, surprising the guy she ghosted two years ago and now he’s somewhat agitated. What was she thinking? Who does she think she is, just popping down in miserable ol’ England, expecting the guy she ghosted will be happy to see her? Without writing to him earlier? 

The band is as lively as ever and they should be, it’s still early! She noticed both men were now intentionally avoiding her. Bucky was itching to dance with the way he was moving, while Rosie was out of sync with his finger tapping. Then, he took one of the five shots of clear liquid (probably vodka) and drank it.

Her gaze shifted between the two men, waiting for someone who would talk. Until she gave up and downed two shots. It’s not called liquid courage for nothing. 

 She cleared her throat loud enough to catch their attention. 

 Bucky saw it as his cue to leave. 

 “Alright," he started, standing up. "I'm gonna go. I think you two have things to talk about."

 Rosie and Elaine watched him make his way to the bar while greeting people around him. She glared at him, while he just looked at her, his eyes glassy. Getting uncomfortable, Elaine took Rosie’s glass and finished it. 

 She winced at the taste. 

 “That’s scotch, you know,” Rosie commented. 

 “I know that now,” she croaked, the scotch still burning on her throat. “Can you tell me why you’re late?” 

 He sighed. “I fell asleep when I got here. I didn’t realize until there was this man knocking on the door, asking for someone named Nancy.” 

 “And you’re not with anyone named Nancy?” 

 “Of course not!” he defended. “Now, were you dancing with Major Egan?” 

 “He’s your boss?” Elaine asked, unbelieving. 

 “Yes, is that hard to believe?” 

 She turned and saw Bucky talking happily with a blonde woman. “Honestly? Yes.” 

 “Were you dancing with Major Egan?” 

“Why not?” Elaine challenged. “You were late and he found me. He asked me to dance, and I didn’t want to look like a sad woman in the bar.” 

Rosie tsked. “I should've found you first.” 

“You found me now.”

“I’m really sorry, Elaine. I set it up and I’m the late one.” 

“To be fair, I didn’t write to you,” she reasoned. “But we’re here now. What are you going to do about it, Robert?”

He remembered how she used his legal name when she was convincing him to find a girl while he’s on the battlefield. Elaine smirked at him, daring him. 

 Rosie stood up and extended his hand. “May I have this dance, Miss Byrne?

 She grinned at him and took his hand. “Yes, Mr. Rosenthal, you may.” 

The band started playing In the Mood, which made the crowd howl in excitement. They joined the other couples on the dance floor, jovial and excited.  Elaine watched Rosie dance with enthusiasm despite being a bit out of the beat. 

 She grinned at him and continued to dance.

 When In the Mood ended, a slow love song played. Rosie pulled her closer, almost cheek to cheek. Elaine inhaled deeply, noting for a second that this was real. 

 She’s there, and he was there. Close to each other. Holding each other. They danced in silence for a while, just relishing each other’s presence after a while of not seeing each other. 

 “I heard you’re a pilot now,” Elaine told him, breaking the silence. 

 “How’d you know about that?” 

"I asked around…I was waiting for quite some time, you know,” she teased, a smile obvious. Rosie groaned.

 “Well, yes, I’m a pilot now,” he confirmed. 

“Fancy man,” she teased. “You’re probably seducing young village maidens with your aviator glasses, promise of America…” 

“No, I’m not. I don’t even wear those glasses,” he stated. “If I was, then I wouldn’t be here.” 

“Charming me now, are you?” 

“Is it…working?” 

Elaine slapped his back and laughed.

“How about you? What have you been doing for the past few years?” Rosie asked. 

“I work as an assistant now in a publishing house,” she shared. “I tried being a nurse, but they wouldn’t have me. I couldn’t do a tourniquet. One time, I vomited at the same time as the patient. We shared a vomit bowl. It was very intimate.” 

Rosie blinked. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding.” 

“Just the publishing part is true,” she confirmed.

He chuckled, perhaps in relief or humor. “Oh good, because I don’t think I would trust you as a nurse.” 

“Right call. Even if it’s a thinly-veiled insult,” she grinned.

Rosie moved his head so that he could see her face. It still looked the same, except with her now longer and lighter hair. The thin scar below her hair line is almost invisible under the lights. 

“I’m glad you made it, Elaine. Honestly, I wasn’t sure you’ll be here. Writing to you is shooting for the moon and I didn’t really expect it to reach you,” he admitted. 

She nodded. “I didn’t expect I’ll hear from you, ever. But I had to come, Rosie.” 

“Why?” 

“I wanted to apologize for what happened. It was rude and I could’ve been more graceful. I’m sorry I left things that way.”

He smiled. “We’re even. Like you said, we found each other now. What are we going to do about it, Elaine Byrne?” 

She rested her head on his chest. “This. Just this.”

At a distance, Bucky watched the two slow dance to the music. He turned to the bartender who’s name was Rick, saying, “Called it.” 

“He stole your girl,” Rick commented. 

“Eh,” he replied, a cigarette dangling on his lips waiting to be lit. “She’s his before we met, Rick.” 

The bartender could only shake his head.

---

The two left the Palais nearing midnight. They wanted to say goodbye to Bucky but the bartender told them he exited minutes before. Elaine did not miss the meaningful look of the bartender. Fair enough, he did see me downing drinks with one guy then leave with another.  

“Where are you staying?” Rosie asked. 

“Brooke Green. How about you?” 

“Brooke Green, too.” 

Rosie offered his arm to her. She eyed him suspiciously but with humor. What’s next? Is he going to tell me he’d lasso the moon for me and make me swallow it until the beams flow out of me? 

“Elaine, you’re staring.” 

Her eyes widened. “Am I? Sorry. What are you doing?” 

“I figured since we’re staying at the same hotel, we should walk together,” he answered, lifting his offered arm. 

“That's so corny,” she commented.

He shrugged. “That’s me, I guess.” 

Elaine looped her arm around his and they started walking. She looked up to him, his expression a bit more chipper and relaxed.

After a few minutes, the two reached Brooke Green. 

Entering the elevator, Rosie asked which room she was staying in. 

“I’m in 215,” she answered. “You?” 

“217. Major Egan is in 216.” 

“Right.”

When they reached her door, he stopped her from turning the knob. "Elaine."

“What?”

“I should’ve asked this earlier, but can I see you tomorrow?” Rosie invited her, his voice a little shaky. 

“Yeah, sure…what time should we meet?”

“How about breakfast?” Rosie suggested.

“No can do. How about lunch?” she countered. She wanted to have some sight-seeing in present-day Hammersmith.

He thought of it for a moment. “All right, lunch it is. We can have lunch outside if you like.”

“All right, I’ll wait for you here by lunch. Just knock.”

“Okay,” he smiled. “Slip a note if you can’t make it or something.” 

“I don’t think you’ll like that.”

“Yeah, I won’t. But I trust you,” he stated. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Elaine nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Rosie.”

“Good night, Elaine.”

He finally let go of the door knob and Elaine entered the room. She gave him one last look and closed the door. Leaning her head against her door, a smile formed in her face. 

All the messages and calls she may have received during her night out will have to wait. The future is always there, but for now, the past is a good place to stay in—for a few more hours, at least.

[thesullengrrrl]

thinking about the morning after when rosie stayed over at elaine's place for the first time. who would wake up first? would rosie wake up first, buy them breakfast and he's gone and she thought he left??? or would elaine wake up first and rosie would wake up to the smell of coffee?? would they stay in or would he go home after breakfast? aaaahhhhhh the possibilities

[thesullengrrrl]

rosie: sshhhhh we're on a church.

elaine: yeah no shit!

rosie: don't swear.

elaine: sorry...father.

rosie: that's rabbi rosenthal to you.

[thesullengrrrl]

Rosie: You know how to drive, right?

Elaine: Yes, but I don't. By principle.

Rosie: You have to learn again. What if you or the kids need to be somewhere? What if I'm not here to drive?

Elaine: Subway. Taxis. We'll walk. I need to relearn parallel parking? No thank you, Robert.

Rosie: Elaine, I already bought the car. Whose car do you think we're sitting on?

Elaine: Fine.

Elaine: Do the seats go all the way back?

Rosie:

[thesullengrrrl]

But daddy longlegs, I feel that I'm finally growing weary Of waiting to be consumed by you Give me the first taste Let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever

Both of them reached Elaine's door first. Drinks were taken, but she only seemed to be on the verge of tipsy. He watched her slot her key and when it clicked, she lingered on the door for a moment, smiling at him.

"I had fun tonight," she said.

"Yes, uh, me too," Rosie replied as he watched her move her fingers until she reached the middle of his tie. "I had fun dancing with you."

She nodded.

"Are you coming in?"

Before he could answer, she slowly pulled him inside through his tie. Lights unopened, door locked, they stopped when Rosie could feel the edge of her bed on his leg. Her eyes are on him and her fingers fiddling his tie once again.

"Will you stay...with me?" she asked, her voice almost inaudible when she reached the last two words. The drinks they had were still evident in her breath, alongside the mixture of her perfume and his, he was heady with want.

Tomorrow is uncertain, he thought. The chances of dying whenever he flies will always be high and he had accepted that. He had to, all in the name of duty and service. However...with her eyes heavy on him despite the darkness, he considered leaving, but how could he, with her in front of him?

She was there, he was there. All alone.

And perhaps, for the first time, in their short time together...they are at the same page.

Let go. "Yes," he breathed. "I'll stay with you."

And that's all she needed to hear. Pulling him with his tie, Elaine placed a soft kiss below his ear.

"Then get me off this dress."

[thesullengrrrl]

Honey, honey!

From the Soft Gestures for Comfort list, can you write the following:

Running a warm bath for them after a tough day.

Holding them close and saying, "I’ve got you," when they’re upset.

I know this might be a lot to ask, but I’ll give it a shot.

In our conversations, I’ve mentioned how I’ve been thinking about ways Elaine can comfort Rosie in a way that makes him feel truly loved and cared for. I was imagining a scene where Rosie comes home after a really bad day, and Elaine senses it right away. She runs a warm bath for him, and once it's ready, she joins him in the bath. She holds him close and gently says, "I’ve got you."

It’s not a sexual moment at all—it's about the comfort and intimacy they share. Rosie feels Elaine's soft skin as they hug, and he can hear her heartbeat so clearly that it brings him a type of comfort he never expected. The scene is intimate, not because they’re naked in the bath, but because of the deep sense of love, comfort, and happiness they share.

Hopefully I made sense. Thank you for even reading my request ☺️

Lots of hugs and kisses 😘 😘😘

Aurora, you know I love this ask!! Thank you for the request and I hope you'll enjoy this 💓

From the kitchen, Elaine heard her husband come in. None was the usual calls of her name or an "I'm home!" and instead she heard slamming of the door, his heavy footsteps the thud of his briefcase, and a deep sigh as his body landed in the couch.

She carefully sat beside him, waiting until he opened his eyes. A few moments later, when he did, she stroked his cheek. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Rosie said, his eyes remaining on the ceiling. "Just tired."

"Hmmm, would a bath help?"

"Maybe?"

Elaine sat on her knees and gave him a kiss on the lips. "How about you try, yeah? I'll fill the tub."

He nodded wordlessly and she walked back to their bathroom to run him a warm bath. While waiting, she wondered what else she could do to help him relax.

The plank that she uses for her own bath time is leaning on the side of the sink. Would he like a snack? Wine? Beer? No, we're out of beer...what soap would he like? He likes the lavender soap on me...would he like it for him? I'll just lay everything out, let him decide.

She placed their soaps that he might want to use nearby. As she went out, Rosie was standing by the door, his expression curious.

"Hi there," she smiled, rubbing her husband's arm to comfort him. "It's all filled up. I put the soaps you might want to use nearby. Just call me if you need anything."

Elaine placed a kiss on his cheek and let him go, when he caught her hand. "Yeah? Need anything?" she turned, intertwining her hands with his. "Hmmm?"

He usually knows what to say, but with the way he paused and sliding his thumb across her palm, it's almost as if he was trying to pick the right word for what he wanted to say.

Rosie finally sighed. "Join me? Please?"

Elaine nodded wordlessly and led him inside.

-----------------

Rosie adjusted his body until it completely felt comfortable against Elaine's. She has her arms around his shoulders, while he held her hand. The lavender scented water was a little too warm for his liking, but soothed his aching muscles.

Her husband indeed had a bad day. It all started with a spilled coffee, then an intern who filed the wrong documents, and the neverending meetings with clients who seemed to have all decided today to be demanding and rude. One client even decided to stop using their services.

"I'm sorry I'm laying these all on you," Rosie apologized. "I just couldn't keep it all inside. I feel like I will explode."

"You can tell me things, you know that," she responded, kissing his cheek. "Like how I tell you about the copy boys. If you keep everything inside, you'll get a heart attack by forty."

"I'm just not used to this, you know?"

"Used to what?"

"Telling you about my problems. I don't want to be a burden to you," he whispered.

"And why do you think that?"

"I'm your husband," he answered, squeezing her hand gently. "Man of the house. I should be taking care of you. Instead you're holding me and listening to me about my day."

Because God forbid men show weak feelings during this time in America, was the first thought that went through Elaine's head. A sigh however, still escaped her. If they were on a different situation, she would have voiced this out, explain how patriarchy negatively affects men, but it's for another time.

She would rather listen and comfort him right now.

"You take care of me, Rosie," Elaine told him. "And if you're not okay, you're just gonna carry it all by yourself?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Isn't a man supposed to be strong? Dependable? To be able to pull myself together?"

"Oh, darling..." She held him tighter this time, afraid that he would disperse into pieces by showing his vulnerabilities.

"You don't have to carry it all by yourself. You're not a burden to me. I've got you."

"Still..." he mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"Rosie, listen to me," she said, her voice firm. "I'm your wife. We share each other's joy and suffering. It's my responsibility to take care of you and people you love. Don't be sorry for this. Never."

He closed his eyes as he let his head fall back against hers. Letting himself savor the sensations at this very moment—the now perfectly warm, water, his wife's soft body against him, her heartbeat steady and even breathing...he felt safe. Loved.

The world demands nothing from him. It's only the two of them—soft, vulnerable, together.

"You know I love you, right?" he said.

"I know," she nodded, smiling to herself. "I love you too."

Elaine felt her husband's body relax and she kissed the nearest part of him she could reach.

They sat in silence, with only the sounds of their breathing and the distant noises of the city further lulling them.

[thesullengrrrl]

We'll Meet Again - Chapter 5

With only hours left of their time together, Rosie and Elaine try to deal with what's ahead for them.

A/N: Hi, hi, hello there. Thank you all for the reblogs, likes, kudos, comments and anons who always sends in great (and steamy) ideas/imagines! I'm glad you're enjoying this story. Here's the ao3 link if you prefer to read there. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 5: when sunday comes

The sound of his grumbling snore made Elaine’s eyes shoot up. It was still dark outside, but the dim light from the lamp on his side provided enough light to see her surroundings. Her eyes wandered toward the ceiling, then to the walls, and lastly to the man sleeping in her bed. His back is turned from her, but she can see the movement of his breathing. 

Rising and falling, rising and falling, rising and falling…

To prove to herself that this wasn’t a dream, she slowly brushed her hand on his nape, his shoulders, down to his back until where the sheets that cover him started. Her mind was only filled with him. How strong his arms were, him whispering sweet nothings in her ear, his laughter when she cracked a joke, how his facial hair felt in certain places, how he felt…

Her train of thought stopped when she noticed his skin started to dot from the air. She lifted the sheets to shield him from the chill. 

Elaine watched Rosie adjust the sheets around him and reach for his watch on the bedside table. “Too early.” 

Then, he turned to her side, eyes half-closed. “What?” 

“Nothing,” she whispered, smiling at his face.

“Go back to sleep,” he replied, now closing his eyes. “That’s an order.” 

“I’m not under you,” she murmured.

“You were earlier.” 

A chuckle escaped her. Okay, maybe spending time with Bucky taught him a thing or two and I’m not sure if I could be mad about it, she thought. She placed a soft kiss on his lips which he lazily reciprocated. 

“All right Sleeping Beauty,” Elaine commented, trying to suppress a smile from that small action. “I’m going to sleep now.” How could a grown man look…cute? Without the lines on his face, he looked younger, boyish even.

She shifted to her side of the bed and she felt him pull her closer. “Come here,” he mumbled. His warmth easily radiated through the flimsy material of her slip and she couldn’t help but to lean in for comfort.

His face rested near her nape, the pattern of his breathing slowly pulling her to sleep. 

*****

The sunlight is already lighting up the room, its rays hitting different surfaces. Rosie turned and saw Elaine’s sleeping figure—mouth slightly parted with her two front teeth peeking through, her hair splayed in the pillow and her shoulder which he promptly moved away. For a moment, he considered running his fingers through her hair, but decided against it as his hand shook a little.

The image of her pulling his tie before he could answer her question “Are you coming in?” is still stuck in his head. How could she do that? What made her decide to do it? Loneliness? Attraction? He hoped for the latter. 

When she asked him to stay, he was a goner.

Elaine stirred and sleepily smiled at him, with one eye open, almost like a cheeky wink. 

“What..?” she groaned. 

Rosie would have fallen in love right there and there. Instead, he returned her smile. “Good morning.” 

“Hmmm,” she hummed. “Morning. What time is it?” 

He reached for his watch on the bedside table. “It’s quarter past seven.” 

“It’s Sunday, Robert,” she whispered, laying her head against his chest. Then she pulled the covers over them.

He did not miss the slightly irritated tone when she called him by his first name. It made him smile in endearment. 

“We gotta have breakfast,” Rosie coaxed her. “Eggs, toast, that sort of thing. Come on.”

“Hmmm…I already had eggs last night,” she told him, making his chest rumble with laughter. “Too many eggs is bad, you know.” 

“Not those eggs,” he answered, his laughter dying down. “Come on. Or do you want room service?” 

“Yes…later.” 

“Elaine,” he gently called. “Aren’t you hungry?” 

Realizing that the man might actually be hungry, she stretched her arms and legs and sat up. With her eyes still half-closed, she croaked, “Fine. Get coffee and some bread. You figure out the rest.”

Rosie kissed her cheek and dialed the phone.

*****

A small food cart was at the foot of the bed. It included pieces of toast and muffins, ham and eggs, a pot of coffee, and a few slices of various fruits. Elaine immediately reached for coffee, while Rosie placed a bit of everything on his plate. Feeling a bit conscious, she took a piece of muffin and took a bite.

“You should eat more,” he told her. 

“I’m just warming up,” she answered. Elaine was never the breakfast type of person, but he didn’t need to know that. After finishing her muffin, she forked some ham and eggs from his plate and placed it in her mouth. “I wish it’s bacon, but this would do.” 

“I think they’ve got a different type of bacon here.” 

Elaine hummed. When she finished after a few bites, she once filled her cup with coffee and leaned on the headboard.

“What should we do today?” Elaine asked, sipping her coffee. “Stay here? Go out? Go to the park? The church?” 

“You…go to church?” Rosie asked back. He placed his empty plate back in the cart and covered it.  Then poured coffee in another cup to finish his meal. 

“What church? Are you Catholic?” 

“Sometimes, Catholic church, and yes.” she answered in order. Rosie gave her a confused look, genuinely surprised.

“Are you shocked that a good Catholic girl like me would sleep with you on a first date?” 

“A bit. I’m not sure ‘good’ and ‘girl’ though…” Rosie countered. This earned him a pillow in the face. “Also, it was a date?” 

“Yes, any objections, your Honor?” she questioned.

“No further objections,” he answered, leaning in to kiss her again. “So, what should we do today?” 

“I asked you first,” she reminded him. 

“Well, I want to spend this day how you want it. Your call, milady,” he answered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Hmmmm…” she hummed, dramatically placing a finger under her chin. “Maybe we should take a shower first, walk around and see where the day takes us. Is that all right?” 

“That seems like a plan,” Rosie said, lifting himself from her. He picked up his remaining things and went to the door. “I’ll see you later.” 

“What, you don’t want to shower with me?” Elaine deadpanned. Rosie’s mouth fell open. “I don’t think—”

She cackled at his reaction. “I’m kidding! I’ll knock at your door later. See you, Rosie.”

Rosie gave her an exasperated look before closing her door. Not even taking his first step, a deep booming voice filled the hallway. “Good morning, Rosie!” 

He stopped and slowly turned where the voice came from. It was Major Egan, disheveled and grinning at him, obviously still under the influence of alcohol. 

“Good morning, major,” he greeted. 

“Fun night?” Bucky asked, putting his key inside the knob. 

“Yes, it was…”

“Seems like a fun night. Enjoy the day, Rosie. Just remember we leave at five,” the major reminded him, winking at him. 

Rosie exhaled loudly. He could not decide what to be more ashamed of—him talking about flying in his underwear or being caught leaving a woman’s room by the same man.

Before Bucky could close his door, Rosie placed a foot at the gap. This surprised the officer and opened the door. 

“Whoa, what is it?” 

“I have a favor to ask, sir.”

*****

The two ended up in Ravenscourt Park, a stone’s throw away from the hotel. Rosie and Elaine walked hand in hand, while Rosie carried a borrowed picnic basket. It contained two bottled drinks, some crackers, their books, and a smuggled blanket from the hotel. Rosie suspected that Thomas looked the other way when he saw the peeking white material from the basket. 

Elaine picked a spot with less people around to lay their blanket in. When they left the hotel, the sky seemed a little gray for their liking but now it has cleared up. It was sunny, and the trees looked as if they’re sparkling from the light.

Both were reading, but in different ways. Wearing her white-rimmed sunglasses, Elaine was on her back and slowly making her way through her book. She thought that she could do both things—bask in the sun and read.

Rosie, on the other hand, was sitting up and seemingly concentrated on his own copy. 

This lasted for almost an hour until Elaine laid her book on her side. Rosie noticed this and laid down as well for a break. He propped himself to her side.

“Can I see?” he asked, motioning at her book. 

Elaine handed the book to him and he scanned the pages. He stopped when he reached the title page and saw the name E.M BYRNE scribbled on the upper right page. Tucking this information in his head, he asked about the title instead.

“Frankenstein?” 

“Yes…why?” Elaine retorted, lowering her sunglasses. “Any problem?” 

“I just didn’t expect it from you.” 

“And what did you expect, may I ask, good sir?” 

Rosie ignored her exaggerated fake British accent, trying not to smile at how ridiculous she sounded. 

“Contemporary authors, Jane Austen or…Virginia Woolf?” he answered. 

“I did like The Native Son,” she shared while pointing to his copy of the book. “It should be read by everyone, really. I enjoyed Emma by Jane Austen, although I think Persuasion is the one that struck me the most. Virginia Woolf’s challenging, but I got through her because I had to…classes and all that.” 

“How about Frankenstein? Why?” 

“I like how it shows what happens when a man decides to play God and deal with the consequences. Also, it’s the first classic I’ve read. You never forget your first.”

She winked at him and started reading again. Rosie laid down the blanket and smiled to himself. He turned to his side and watched her read. His slow breath warmed the right side of her face and it was distracting her. I will not be responsible for my actions if he keeps this up. She continued to read the same paragraph and on the third time, she gave up. Sensing his eyes on her, she dropped the book on the grass and faced him.

“Stop distracting me,” Elaine scolded, her tone playful.

“I’m not,” Rosie denied. “I’m just reading what you’re reading.”

Before he could do anything, Elaine removed her glasses. She cupped his cheek and leaned in to press her lips to his. His mustache of course tickled her, but it didn’t matter. He responded hesitant at first, then gently matching her enthusiasm. Rosie let her lay him on his back, half of her body hovering him. She lightly grazed her tongue against his teeth, prompting him to deepen the kiss. When she pulled away for air, he opened his eyes, heady from the faint smell of her perfume and from the kiss they just shared. The sun behind her head and it was like she had a halo. 

The bark of a dog brought them back. They were in a public park, snogging like two randy teenagers. An old man with a dog passed them by, glaring  and shaking his head at them. 

Elaine giggled and then laid her head on his chest. She listened to his heartbeat, still beating fast which flattered her. Rosie chuckled at the contrast of her today’s shyness from last night.

“What are you laughing at?” Elaine asked. 

“We’re so embarrassing.” 

“You’re more embarrassing,” Elaine started while she reached in her pocket. “You have lipstick all over your face.” 

Rosie’s eyes widened. “What?! Do I?” 

She moved from him and wiped his face instead. She stared at him for a moment. “I wish you don’t use too much pomade. I mean your hair is so…lush. I would run my fingers through it all the time if I could.”

“Do you want to see a bird’s nest again?” he answered instead, already a bit shy over her words.

She pressed a small kiss on his lips. “Yes. Your bird nest hair looks better than…whatever this is.” 

“Hey! This,” Rosie pointed at his hair, “takes a lot of time!” 

“Do you even pomade your hair when you’re flying?” she wondered, now sitting up. “What’s the point?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “I want to look presentable to the crew.”

“Is there eine frau in the air?” 

“Eine frau?” he asked.

“You know, German translation for girl.”

“You studied German?” he asked instead.

Elaine is unsure how to explain the concept of an application where you can learn any language, even fictional ones. 

“I took a class once in college. I was supposed to take French, but the class was full,” she lied instead. “I know words here and there. Nothing substantial.”

“Do you have a favorite word?” Rosie wondered.

“Kopfkino,” she mentioned. “A movie that plays in your head.”

“That sounds…whimsical. Like a made up word.”

“The German language has specific words for specific things. I think they even have a word for ‘a person with a very punchable face’,” she shared. 

Rosie wondered if this was his own Kopfkino. The setting is awfully right—bright and clear weather, them in Sunday clothes, two people reading and kissing in the park…

“This could be someone’s Kopfkino, you know,” Elaine said, motioning her hand towards their surroundings. “Miles away, there’s someone daydreaming about this whole scenario.”

“Maybe this could be ours?” Rosie suggested. 

“Is it if we’re living it right now?”

“What is this then?” 

“Hmmm,” Elaine thought. “Future memory.”

Rosie felt warm in his stomach, not with excitement but what he recognizes as worry. What happens after this? In two words, she managed to open a part of his head that he had been trying to shut since last night. He tried to ignore it by taking her hand and laced his fingers with his. 

Elaine sensed this sudden pause. She felt like she said something she shouldn’t have. Was it the Kopfkino thing? 

“So, you didn’t answer my question. Is there eine frau in the air? A female pilot?” Elaine asked, trying to sound as playful as she could.

“No, no, female pilots up there,” he informed her. “Why, would you be jealous if there were any?” 

“No.” 

Rosie’s mouth fell open in mock surprise. “That was quick.” 

“Because I can kiss you right now and your frau might need to wait a little while.” 

He laughed and watched Elaine animatedly look at both left and right and when she was sure no one was looking, she grinned at him.

“Liebling.”

She leaned in once again, this time she gently pressed her lips on his left cheek. “It means favorite.” Then his right cheek. She continued ever-so-lightly on the tip of his nose, and finally, reaching his lips. “Could also mean darling.” 

He could only hear the sound of his own heart beating. Loud. Fast. Like the first time he flew in Laredo when he felt like the skies were his.

She picked up her book and started reading again.

He liked the sensation of her hand against his, her body just sitting there as if waiting for him. Maybe he’ll kiss her again before they say goodbye. Rosie gazed at her and started counting their remaining hours together. 

His book is now lying on the grass, long forgotten.

“What are you thinking?” Elaine asked, her head not moving from her book. 

“Nothing, I’m just glad you’re here.”

Elaine placed the book inside the basket and rested her head on his extended arm. Rosie smelled like fresh laundry and specifically him. When she raised her head to look at him, he leaned in to reach her lips. 

She could always read later, but for now, watching the sky and feeling the sunlight on their faces seemed to be a better option.

*****

After their little picnic in the park, Rosie insisted on carrying their picnic blanket and holding her hand. Some older couples who passed them smiled at the two. To the people passing by, they’re a couple enjoying a sunny Sunday. 

When they passed by a church, she pulled him to stop and Elaine peered inside. The doors were open but there were only a few people praying, so she pulled Rosie’s hand and they entered. Those who were not praying are lighting candles in the candle stands near the entrance. 

The altar was surprisingly sparse, with only a huge crucifix hanging on the wall. There’s an altar table, a tabernacle, a lectern, two baskets of flowers for decor and two tall candles on both sides.

“Why are we here?” Rosie whispered. 

“The quietest place in Hammersmith,” she answered.

They walked towards the last pew. As they sat, Rosie was at a loss on what he’s supposed to do. Should he kneel? Should he interlock his fingers and pray? But when he looked at her, she was sitting silently, staring at the crucified Jesus. 

With the silence between them, the feeling of worry started to bubble up in his stomach once more. This time, he could not ignore it. Before he could stop himself, the dreaded question came out of his mouth. 

“What happens after this weekend?” he asked nervously.

The air suddenly felt heavy. Elaine knew this was coming and in her old life, all this will be solved by going back to the hotel, checking out, and going to some random pub and disappearing in their loo. But that won’t no longer work, wouldn’t it? Things always find ways to sneak up on her.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked at him.

“We go back to the real world,” she whispered. “You’ll go back to Thorpe Abbotts, I’ll go back to New York.” 

“With what happened last night, don’t you think we had something…special? That we should continue whatever this is?” Rosie countered, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Last night was wonderful,” she assured him. “And this weekend has been the best one I’ve had for a while. But Thorpe Abbotts and New York are two worlds apart. It wouldn’t work.” 

“Many soldiers have relationships overseas. They write letters all the time. Can’t we do that as well?”

Elaine was brought back to the time she convinced him to take a lover before he enlisted. But things changed, have they? 1941. That year seemed like a lifetime ago for both of them, a fantasy world they once lived in.

“And many soldiers receive a Dear John every single day across the world,” she countered. “Don’t you want to leave this weekend as it is? Your own little kopfkino when you’re all alone?”

“I don’t want this to be a little film in my head, Elaine,” he admitted. “I want to know you more, I want to see you after the war, maybe take you out to dinner in New York with all the time in the world. Minty said when we visit him, drinks are on him.”

Elaine can’t help but smile about Minty. “You don’t even know when the war will end, Robert.”

“Do you?” he questioned, facing her. “No one knows when this will end.”

It ends two years from now. “No, I don’t,” she lied, touching his hair. “But the end seems so far away.”

“Don’t you want to see me anymore?” Rosie questioned.

Elaine paused, picking her next words carefully. 

“If we continue this, we’ll only be miserable in the long run,” she started, trying to steady her voice. “We’ll write letters, I’ll ask if you’re okay and you’ll say you’re fine even though I know you could be lying.” 

“I’d rather have this weekend and leave than watch things rot between us.”

“You seem so sure of what’s going to happen,” he remarked. Oh, if you only know. 

“Because life happens. You’ll forget about me, I’ll forget about you,” she told him instead. 

“I don’t want to forget about you, Elaine,” he admitted. “And I don’t want you to forget about me, too.”

She wanted to say the same thing, but cannot bring herself to do so. It would only complicate things more.

An elderly woman has now started lighting up the candle at the left side of the altar.

“So this is the end, then?” Rosie asked. 

“I’m afraid so,” Elaine answered. “I’m sorry, Rosie.”

Rosie wanted to argue his way more, tell her that he won’t lie and write as much as he could, anything, but her silence after what he said cemented it all. 

A small part of him regrets asking the question, but given the hours they have remaining, doesn’t he have the right to know where this is going? To hope for something? He felt her take his hand and started running her finger on his palm. 

After this, they’ll be only each other’s memory.  And she wanted to take it all in, no matter how greedy it felt. Can’t she have at least this?

Rosie could only lean his head on top of hers, thinking about all the words they have said and cherishing the feel of her finger against his skin. Despite it all, he would have very much liked to hear about her days, her opinions and thoughts on certain things—like a tether to home, an another world. 

When the old lady started to put a large book in the lectern, Elaine knew their time was up. The mass will start in a few minutes. She stood up and he picked up the basket and she led him to the candle stands by the entrance. 

Elaine extended her hand. “D’you have a quarter? A penny?” 

“I think a pence…” Rosie answered, digging in his pockets. When he got a coin, he handed it to her. Elaine placed it in a coin box and took two white flaky candles from a basket. She lit it up from the lighted candles, and placed them in their proper slots. 

Rosie watched her murmur a prayer which he also joined in through silence. He took a moment to think of those who were wounded, passed on, and missing. When she was done, she looked up to him. “One’s for you.” 

“For what?” he asked. 

“If I tell you, it would be jinxed,” she answered. She pulled him towards the exit when the people started pouring in for the mass. 

They quietly made their way back to the hotel. Elaine secretly hoped he would reach for her hand, but instead, a small distance welcomed her. She looked up to him, but his face was blank with expression and only focusing on their destination. Should she ask for the time? Or crack a lame joke? 

Elaine could not decide if it was the silence or the distance that stung her.

When they reached the hotel, Rosie immediately went to the concierge and returned the picnic basket to Thomas. He apologized for smuggling the blanket, to which the man waved it all right. Elaine gathered the books and they rode the elevator together, still wordless to each other. 

In the hallway, they spotted Bucky was about to enter his room, holding a box. When he heard footsteps, he smiled at the two. “Hey Rosie, I already got the thing you—” 

Rosie rushed to him to get the box and thanked Bucky. He rushed on, slotting his key to the knob that it fell to the floor. Elaine picked them up for him. “Rosie, we should—”

He sighed and turned to her, his chest beating so fast. The reality of their farewell has now sunk in to him and he wanted to have a moment for himself. 

“I…I have to pack, Elaine. I’ll see you later.”

Slotting his key successfully this time, he opened his door and shut it a little too hard.

Elaine’s lips formed a thin line and when she walked towards her room, she saw Bucky with a confused expression.

“What was in the box?” Elaine asked him. 

“We got you a scarf for your birthday,” Bucky informed her, his expression turning to neutral. “Well…he asked me to buy it since he wanted to spend the day with you. Didn’t realize you’ll be back this early.”

The guy wanted to surprise her with a scarf. To what, strangle herself with?

“What happened, anyway?” he asked. “Lovers’ quarrel of some sort?” 

“He asked me what will happen after this weekend and I told him that we’ll go back to the real world,” she explained. 

Bucky whistled. “That’s rough.” 

“I feel horrible,” Elaine added. 

“Ah, he’s a good guy,” Bucky assured her, clapping her shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Maybe he just needs some time to think.” 

“You know him that well?” 

“Rosie talked about flying in his underwear the first time he introduced himself to me and my fellow officer,” he recounted. “Back in the base, he’s always calm and collected. I don’t think that type of person gets angry for too long.”

Elaine had a lot of questions about him flying a plane while in underwear, but for now it wasn’t important. All she wants to do is lie down in bed and think. She thanked Bucky and entered her room, their books still in her hand.

Letting herself fall down in the depths of time in her wardrobe, she wondered if there’s any song that would speak to her situation. Anything just to make her feel less alone, without talking to anyone.