FanFic100: #064 Fall
He can’t believe he actually made it. Years of war and he made it through alive. With scars on mind and body, but alive and now - months after the official end of the war - he’s finally going back home. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen then, so maybe he’ll come back to rebuild the country they had bombed into oblivion so successfully. It doesn’t lack a certain strange irony… like this certain encounter two days ago didn’t lack a certain strange irony. Trying to get rid of the memory of this encounter, he stares out on the air field, waiting for his plane to get ready.
However… he doesn’t really see the air field and the plane… what he sees are the corridors of the Palace of Justice in Nuremberg from two days ago. Since his flight was to take off from near Nuremberg he’d had decided to go there and see if they really brought justice to the Nazis they could actually catch. After all, it had been Göring’s Messerschmitts that had cost him a lot of men and caused him a lot of trouble.
He’d expected a lot of people to be there, maybe meeting some of the men he had graduated from West Point or served with… but not to see the one woman again he’d wanted so desperately to forget. And if it wasn’t enough that she suddenly appeared in a corridor, with a stack of paper in her hands she also wore… a WAC service uniform. With Captain’s insignia on her shoulders.
She’d been too busy with reading one of the papers and he’d been too dumbfounded to react at first and so she nearly ran into him… or he into her. He really couldn’t believe what he saw right there, because shortly after Leipzig, his Scribble had left the unit for good, never quite being able with coming to terms with what she saw at Buchenwald. Or so he’d thought.
But before she could bump into him, she managed to look up and he’d realized he’d never seen her like this before… with shorter but still artfully draped hair, a clean face and… make-up. She’d needed a few seconds to recognize him herself but when she did, a smile had grazed her face. A smile that… scared him a little. It had looked… artificial, as if it was part of her make-up. He’d expected her to greet him with something like “Hey, Tankie, long time, no see.” but all she’d said had been, “Major… what a surprise.”
Silently sighing, he rubs his hand over his eyes. Back in the corridor, he’d wanted to tell her that he’d missed her ever since she left, that he’d been terribly worried about her, what with the Russians on the lose in East and Central Europe and lose Werewolf units and everything, that he’d tried to reach her… but all he’d said had been, “Likewise… Captain.”
His answer had had a distinctive edge of irritation to it because in that moment… a slight feeling of betrayal had started to develop. If she’d joined the WAC after leaving his company, she would have never made it as far as Captain so she must have already been a WAC when she became attached to them. And she never fucking told him. In fact… she made him believe she was a civilian, took liberties he’d never have allowed any officer… and now he finally also understood why she had been so insulted that she nearly left the company when he had forced her to stay behind before their last big operation in the Ardennes, claiming a woman’s and a civilian’s place was certainly not in combat.
To his surprise, the next thing she’d said to him in the corridor had been, “I know what you’re thinking now and… I’m sorry for never telling you, sir, but… I had my orders.” For the first time since he’d met her there, he’d had the feeling that behind the make-up and the uniform and the professional façade there was still his Scribble.
It hadn’t made the irritation at having been lied to fully go away, but at least it had taken off a little of the doubts that she had been just pretending. He’d… actually been afraid that the strangely detached and distanced person there in the corridor was the real Laura Cadman, not the Scribble who’d laughed and suffered with them… who’d been so shaken up about Buchenwald that she’d let him hug her in plain sight of everyone.
“Of course,” he’d just said, trying not to let it shine through again how much it riled him up - all of this, in fact - although all he’d wanted to know what the hell was happening here. What she was doing in Nuremberg, why she was suddenly wearing the WAC uniform, what her orders had been… but he’d known she wouldn’t have told him anyway.
He stands up, under the pretense of having to take a few steps to stretch his legs but in truth it’s more like trying to get away from that conversation. They could have easily ended it there, acting as if they were two distant acquaintances who just happened to see each other again for a few minutes. But… not even then had they been able to fully gloss over the bond between them that had formed during the time she’d accompanied him and his men. Maybe it had been just for the sake of that bond, maybe it had been because she cared for him as much as he still cares for her that she had smiled again and said, “So… finally out of the dirt?”
He’d rubbed his neck and given her a slightly sheepish smile. “Yeah… gonna leave in two days. Guess they’re already preparing the party of the century at home or something.” And then, out of an impulse, he’d added, “What about you? Surely someone is waiting for you as well?”
Annoyed he shakes his head. What a stupid, clumsy and unnecessary attempt to find out if she had a sweetheart waiting for her back home or maybe one who’d be coming back as well. During her stay with the company she’d never talked about anyone but he also never asked… because in truth he hadn’t wanted to know. And he hadn’t wanted to know in that corridor either, so his first thought as she hadn’t answered immediately and had shown all the little signs of being really uncomfortable had been that he shouldn’t have asked. However… “My parents, yeah. But they will have to wait a little longer. I still have work to do here.”
Something in her bearing had told him she took having to stay here harder than she let on - he hadn’t even thought about the fact that it might just be wishful thinking on his part - and since he could never see his Scribble suffer, he’d swallowed hard and said, “War’s over, Scribble.” He’d taken a deep breath then because he saw her tighten her lips and her knuckles turning white at that nickname and because something told him that now was his only chance. With a raspy and low voice he’d added, “Come home with me.”
He shakes his head again, aimlessly kicking at one of the pebbles on the ground. “I can’t, Tankie,” she’d said and for a moment he could have kissed her for finally using that nickname again. It was funny, he’d thought, for weeks he’d fought viciously against that name and then when he learned that she’s an officer, he’d wanted her to use it. Then the real impact had registered and he actually felt his heart break. It had been only three words and he still thinks he heard a mountain of regret and sadness behind the façade, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’d said no.
He’d wanted to tell her that they would find a way to relieve her off her obligations, that she just had to pack her things and follow him to the air field… but she’d explained, “It’s… Buchenwald. Kaltenbrunner is on trial here and Sauckel and… I got ordered here as part of prosecutor Jackson’s staff. I need to be here.” Of course. How could he have argued with that? The US Army wanted her there and so she had to be there. However… obviously the US Army had also wanted her to be in the thick of the Battle of the Bulge and they also had wanted her to see the horrors of Buchenwald and all those other things…
Maybe for the first time in his life as an officer he’d felt resentment at the Army and he still feels it. Not because of himself… but of what they demanded and still continue to demand from Laura. So… it had simply slipped out. “You gave them enough, Laura. You… almost even gave them your sanity. Don’t you think it’s time they gave something to you?” She’d shaken her head.
“It’s okay, Tankie. I want to be here. I need to see them get what they deserve for what they did. I just… I just want some peace.” He’d understood her. But that didn’t mean he agreed with her.
And because he felt her slipping away from him a second time - something, he realized, he couldn’t and didn’t want to bear again - he’d let himself go as far as contradicting her, “Do you really think seeing those monsters and hearing them trying to defend what they did will give you peace? Trust me, Scribble, you will never find peace here.” She’d bitten her lip and for a moment he’d been hopeful she would finally let him chase away the ghosts of war and genocide.
But then she’d broken eye-contact and with a halting, almost pleading voice she’d replied, “Please… just go. Don’t make me abandon my post… not you of all people. Do us both a favor and… just leave. I… wish you a good flight, Major. Please excuse me now.” Without another word, she’d brushed past him, leaving him standing there, like an idiot. This time… he hadn’t followed her because he’d been busy with not falling apart.
After that he’d turned tail and gotten away from the place as fast as he could. He doesn’t know how exactly he survived the last two days… probably only the thought that he would be an ocean away from her soon had kept him upright and so he’s more than relieved that they can finally board the plane back home. Silently he takes his place, not taking part in the excited chatter of his fellow passengers and pleased that he’s obviously unapproachable enough that no one dares taking the seat beside him.
Lost in his thoughts he doesn’t even realize that the pilot really takes his time with taking off and he stares out of the window absentmindedly. In fact… he’s so absentminded that at first he doesn’t even realize that someone just addressed him. The first thing he notices is someone clearing their throat and he’s about to snap something back, but then a female voice asks, “Excuse me, sir… is this seat taken?”
He doesn’t dare turn his head fully around but he feels his face light up in a full smile as he responds with, “Not yet… Captain.”
“Good. Someone in the US wants me to get my ass back there and I guess the brass would be offended if I didn’t take my new posting on time.” Finally he finds the courage to turn his head… and only the fact that they aren’t alone in here keeps him from kissing his Scribble. Holy Mother of God… yeah, his Scribble. The one good thing this war has left him with and he will never let her go again.