not paris
May 1945.
Zell am See, Austria.
«So it’s an Airborne exhibition. They have one of every allied combat plane that got used in the war. You’d be like a technical advisor, make sure they get everything right.»
Paris. Don Malarkey remembered another time when he had dreamed of Paris. Seemed like ages ago, now, didn’t it? In reality, it had only been a few months since he had planned that leave with Skip and Penk by his side.
He’d have thought that when his chance finally came to see the city, he’d be a lot happier. But when Major Winters told him about his reassignment, the only real emotion he could remember feeling was regret. He’d have thought he’d be happy, glad, and excited.
But he also thought that when that time came, he’d have his friends by his side. Now he just couldn’t wait to get as far as possible from the war that had taken everything from him.
Get over yourself, Malark!, he told himself, in a voice that wasn’t exactly his. (It rarely was, these days - his inner voice sounded more and more like one he hadn’t heard since that fateful night in Belgium.) Stop being so freakin’ melodramatic! The war is practically over! You’re goin' to Paris, for goodness’s sake!
Faye Tanner’s letters (sweet, sweet Faye. «We could honeymoon in the Poconos for a month!») felt terribly heavy in his pack, even more so than that damned Luger. He still had to write her back - he’d do it on the road.
Don looked around the room he’d been staying in one last time. From the window, he could see the cab already waiting for him. He was pretty sure he hadn’t forgotten anything - not that his heart would break if he lost part of his uniform, or even his souvenirs or his loot. He already felt detached from this life, the life he had had for the past three years.
He’d said his goodbyes to the guys the night before. They’d all been happy for him, proven by many hard claps on the back. Don smiled. His friends were the only thing he would really miss, but he had made plenty of promises to meet again, once they were all back to the States.
He was ready to go, now.
***
«The driver will drop you at a hotel of your choice, and, hum, I don’t think we’ll see you back here anytime soon.»
«I won’t let you down, sir.»
***
The ride from Zell am See, Austria to Paris, France took a good twelve hours. Honestly, Don could barely remember it - he had tried to write back to Faye, but had started to feel nauseous before his pen had even touched the paper, so he gave up and ended up sleeping most of the way. It had been quite early in the morning when he left, and now (he checked his watch), it should be about 7PM - or so. His legs felt like cotton.
As soon as the car stopped, he opened the door and stepped out.
Almost immediately, he started to feel incredibly hot - his woollen uniform had been warm enough under the shining Austrian sun, but here, his shirt was already sticking to his back and pearls of sweat were forming on his brow. Instead of the solid street he was expecting, he found he was standing on… sand?
Yeah, Don’d never been to Paris, but he was pretty sure the weather wasn’t supposed to be quite that different from Austria. (Or from the rest of Europe, for that matter.) He also couldn’t see the Eiffel Tower, which was, he had to admit, really disappointing-
What the fuck… was that a palm tree?