[American Girl: Drabble] "War Correspondents" [Kit/Stirling, G]
Title: War Correspondents
Prompt: writerverse challenge #10 quick fic #3 (‘saints’ & ‘silver-tongued devil’)
Word Count: 579
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: American Girl
Pairings: hinted-at Kit/Stirling
Summary: Two young journalists report on WWII.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
War Correspondents
It was selfish of her, but most of the time, Kit was very glad that Stirling had not been accepted for military service. Mrs. Howard had been relieved, but her son had been heartbroken at not being able serve his country.
But Kit was glad, now. Because she could not have imagined doing this without him. And she couldn’t have- Stirling was the one who had suggested that the Cincinnati Register send someone abroad to cover the war effort, who had insisted that ‘Ace Reporter Kittredge’ was the only one for the job. Kit had jumped at the chance, but she’d insisted that she needed an ace photographer to write a real story.
Kit and Stirling had taken an ocean liner to England, where they began planning the stories they wanted to write, about the American efforts to aid their British allies.
But their first night in London, there had been a wailing siren, before the bombs started falling. The Blitz, they called it, a barrage of German shells that drove people of all classes into the subway- Underground- tunnels for shelter.
Kit knew she’d have been terrified if she had been alone, in the darkness of the Underground station, surrounded by frightened strangers. But with Stirling’s arm around her shoulders, she was fearless, and her pencil flew across her battered notebook, as the ground shook around them.
When dawn broke and light began to filter down from the street, Kit read through what she had written. It was nothing at all like the kind of article she’d planned to write, and it was absolutely perfect.
A flash from nearby startled her, and she looked up to see that Stirling had gotten out his camera, and taken a photograph of the people waiting to leave the station. “It’s the people,” he said, in his soft voice. “These people. They’re the story.”
“Yes, exactly,” said Kit.
The next few days were a blur of activity for Kit. She and Stirling went all over London, gathering stories of those affected by the war, then staying up to weave them into a single story.
“You really are something,” Stirling told her, handing back her draft with a grin. “I can hear every person’s voice as clearly as when we were talking to them. They make the war sound real, but hopeful- it makes me want to do something to help. Why, I’ll bet this would even get your Uncle Hendrick to donate to the war effort!”
“You think it’s that good?” Kit asked. “I could add-”
“You could get some rest,” Stirling interrupted.
She smiled. “Well, we do have a big day tomorrow.”
“And I still don’t know how you convinced the US Army hospital to let you wander around and interview people. No- yes, I do, because you convinced me to sail across the ocean to a warzone to help you do it.”
“You’re the only person I’d want with me,” said Kit, and Stirling’s pale skin flushed pink.
“Good night, Kit,” he murmured, and headed back to his own room.
The next morning, they arrived at the Army hospital bright and early.
“I won’t let you interrupt anyone’s work,” said the colonel in charge. “But when someone’s free… ah, captain, you can be Miss Kittredge’s first victim.”
“Please begin with your name and where you’re from,” said Kit.
The officer, perhaps ten years older than Kit herself, smiled from behind round eyeglasses. “Captain James McIntire, from Jefferson City, Illinois…”
Current Mood:
mellow
Prompt: writerverse challenge #10 quick fic #3 (‘saints’ & ‘silver-tongued devil’)
Word Count: 579
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: American Girl
Pairings: hinted-at Kit/Stirling
Summary: Two young journalists report on WWII.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
War Correspondents
It was selfish of her, but most of the time, Kit was very glad that Stirling had not been accepted for military service. Mrs. Howard had been relieved, but her son had been heartbroken at not being able serve his country.
But Kit was glad, now. Because she could not have imagined doing this without him. And she couldn’t have- Stirling was the one who had suggested that the Cincinnati Register send someone abroad to cover the war effort, who had insisted that ‘Ace Reporter Kittredge’ was the only one for the job. Kit had jumped at the chance, but she’d insisted that she needed an ace photographer to write a real story.
Kit and Stirling had taken an ocean liner to England, where they began planning the stories they wanted to write, about the American efforts to aid their British allies.
But their first night in London, there had been a wailing siren, before the bombs started falling. The Blitz, they called it, a barrage of German shells that drove people of all classes into the subway- Underground- tunnels for shelter.
Kit knew she’d have been terrified if she had been alone, in the darkness of the Underground station, surrounded by frightened strangers. But with Stirling’s arm around her shoulders, she was fearless, and her pencil flew across her battered notebook, as the ground shook around them.
When dawn broke and light began to filter down from the street, Kit read through what she had written. It was nothing at all like the kind of article she’d planned to write, and it was absolutely perfect.
A flash from nearby startled her, and she looked up to see that Stirling had gotten out his camera, and taken a photograph of the people waiting to leave the station. “It’s the people,” he said, in his soft voice. “These people. They’re the story.”
“Yes, exactly,” said Kit.
The next few days were a blur of activity for Kit. She and Stirling went all over London, gathering stories of those affected by the war, then staying up to weave them into a single story.
“You really are something,” Stirling told her, handing back her draft with a grin. “I can hear every person’s voice as clearly as when we were talking to them. They make the war sound real, but hopeful- it makes me want to do something to help. Why, I’ll bet this would even get your Uncle Hendrick to donate to the war effort!”
“You think it’s that good?” Kit asked. “I could add-”
“You could get some rest,” Stirling interrupted.
She smiled. “Well, we do have a big day tomorrow.”
“And I still don’t know how you convinced the US Army hospital to let you wander around and interview people. No- yes, I do, because you convinced me to sail across the ocean to a warzone to help you do it.”
“You’re the only person I’d want with me,” said Kit, and Stirling’s pale skin flushed pink.
“Good night, Kit,” he murmured, and headed back to his own room.
The next morning, they arrived at the Army hospital bright and early.
“I won’t let you interrupt anyone’s work,” said the colonel in charge. “But when someone’s free… ah, captain, you can be Miss Kittredge’s first victim.”
“Please begin with your name and where you’re from,” said Kit.
The officer, perhaps ten years older than Kit herself, smiled from behind round eyeglasses. “Captain James McIntire, from Jefferson City, Illinois…”
Current Mood:
mellow