#comehometome

[5raysofsunshine]

Been working on something, thought I'd share... I can't wait for her to come home to me. #songwriting #originalsong #guitarplaying #mediocremusic #music #forher #comehometome

[claireelizabeth85]

Come Home to Me - Chapter 2

John Egan x OC Female!Reader

Summary: When the idea of a past life isn't just an idea or something that is only for dreams.

Warnings: nothing

Please let me know what you think, either in the comments or if you would prefer, shoot me a message.

Part 1 can be found here

Part 3 can be found here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After visiting numerous old airfields, Lizzy and Sarah arrived at Thorpe Abbotts. Lizzy practically leaped out of the car as soon as Sarah parked. Despite the changes to the runway, with roads and gates blocking its expanse, Lizzy's sense of familiarity affirmed they were in the right place

Standing on the runway, Lizzy was overwhelmed by an intense sense of déjà vu. Imagined echoes of voices, laughter, bicycle bells, and jeeps filled the air, transporting her back to her wartime at Thorpe Abbotts. With a wry smile, she pondered if the spirits of the past lingered nearby.

Throwing the door open to the tower, Lizzy was confronted with a transformed scene—a museum. The steps she sought now lay beyond a rope barrier adorned with a stark sign: “No visitors. Stay out.” Unfazed, Lizzy disregarded the warning, she slipped under the rope and knelt before the first step of the stairs leading to the tower's observation platform.

Running a hand over the now varnished wood, Lizzy remembered the familiar creak announcing someone’s arrival at the tower. This was the first time she had memories come to her in the daylight. Reminding her of a life she has no idea how it came to be. But welcoming them with mental open arms, she remembered the many days she had spent pacing around the platform above and balcony, anxiously awaiting the return of her friends. During one mission run and fueled by the desperation for a change of routine, she had seized the opportunity to repair the step herself. As it yielded to her efforts, bottles of whiskey marked with the names of friends, a box brimming with letters penned by the lads, kept "just in case." Understanding the profound importance of this space, Lizzy painstakingly restored the step to its former state accepting the squeak.

Meanwhile, Sarah caught up with her friend, skillfully navigating through the museum's other visitors.

"If what I hope is here, it will prove I’m not crazy!” Lizzy muttered, her voice tinged with both anticipation and uncertainty. Having worked the top of the step loose with a gentle but firm force, she pulled out her phone, flicked on the torch and peered into the space beneath the step. She felt a pang of disappointment as she initially saw nothing obvious. But then, as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she spotted it—sitting quietly under a layer of dust.

“There you are,” Lizzy whispered, her heart racing with excitement as footsteps behind them grew louder. Sarah jumped up, turning to face an elderly gentleman.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you are doing! You can’t go wrecking the place! This is a museum!” Sarah jumped up trying to block the man from seeing what Lizzy was doing.

“Relax, I’m just getting my photographs,” Lizzy assured him, focused on her task at hand.

“You what? There’s nothing here!?” the man exclaimed incredulously.

Ignoring the man's protest, Lizzy reached into the space and pulled out an envelope covered in dust. The man, wearing a large badge that said “Volunteer,” and Sarah stood there in shock.

“I’ve been in this tower almost every day for decades, and no one ever said anything about any photographs. How did you know they were there?” the man inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Lizzy smiled as she dusted off the envelope. “Because I asked a very good friend of mine, a very long time ago, to put them in the safest place on the airbase for me.” She looked down at the envelope, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of the neat handwriting that read “I hope these find you, Croz.”

The elderly man tried to reach past Sarah to take the envelope from Lizzy’s hands. "They’ll have to be turned over to the museum, young lady," he insisted. Lizzy's face flashed with anger, her determination evident.

"Absolutely not. They’re mine! These are pictures of me and my friends—people I love, loved. They're coming home with me, not to the museum."

Holding a hand to her head, her brain aching for just a second as a flicker book of the best and worst years of her life, played in front her her eyes.

“How can they be? Those photos had to have been taken in the '40s.”

“This one was taken on June 18th, 1943, if I remember rightly” she smiled turning over the photo to reveal the date in neat cursive. “Bing always did have wonderful handwriting,” she mused to herself.

The first picture was of Curtis Biddick, Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal, Harry Crosby and Gale “Buck” Cleven. Lizzy stood to Buck’s right with John “Bucky” Egan, his arm draped around her shoulder. He had been saying something causing her to laugh out loud just as the camera went off.

“How is this possible Liz? Cos that’s really you! I mean short of this being some crazy prank - I can’t see how!” Sarah exclaimed, her eyes widening in astonishment.

The other photos included Harry Crosby getting promoted. There was one of herself and Meatball and despite the graininess, she could tell she’d been crying. It was only her with the husky because Cleven and DeMarco never came back after the Bremen raid.

The last photo was the one she had hoped for the most. It was of her and John in the officer’s club. They were deep in conversation as he held her hand in his. She knew that after that conversation, he had kissed her for the first time. That was the night her defences came crashing down, and Major John Clarence Egan had captured her heart, and she had willingly surrendered it to him.

“Oh, John," Lizzy whispered, a tear sliding down her face. "I miss you so much... so very, very much," she confessed, her voice breaking with emotion.

Wiping the stray tear from her face, Lizzy smothered down the emotions that were trying to surface. She had no idea how this was happening. No idea how she was there and here at the same time. Past lives were a thing (well there were in her head) but to see it, to see yourself in photos and to have the memories to go with them, that’s the question she needed to answer.

Placing the three photos she had in the envelope, taking a deep breath in, she looked over at the volunteer “I think I need a drink!” Pulling Sarah up to her feet, who was still engrossed in the group photograph, Lizzy led the way under the rope and toward the door. Glancing back to ensure her companions were following, she inquired of the volunteer, “Is the White Stag still open?” The gentleman nodded. “Yeah, it’s the oldest pub in the village.”

“Is Mr. Thatcher still running it?” The man seemed taken aback. “How did you…? You knew Mr. Thatcher?” Lizzy shot him a look. “Jack Thatcher, of course! We all knew him. He threw me and the lads out of there drunk more than once!” Something about the elderly gentleman caught Lizzy’s attention—his smile, his mannerisms. “I know you, don't I?” The question sounded absurd. Lizzy had never met the man, who was clearly old enough to be her grandfather.

“I don’t think so,” the old man replied, puzzled. Lizzy studied him, and suddenly, memories flicked around inside her head until she found the right one. “You're Jack’s son!” she exclaimed. “James, and your mum was Edie, who cooked the best hot pot in the village!” The old man frowned, unsure how this young woman could know about him and his family, especially since his parents had been gone for years.

“How do you know all that?” Lizzy leaned closer, meeting the elderly man's gaze. “Because, Jamie, you were the little tinkerer who hid Lemmon’s spanners, was Meatball’s best friend, and was the best baseball player this side of the Atlantic! Besides that I taught you how to cheat and swindle your way to a new bicycle for your dad, courtesy of a few obscure Yankee Baseball facts.” She winked.

“Jesus Christ,” the elderly man whispered. “Lieutenant Waterfield?” Lizzy just smiled. “Come one, we’re old enough to have a drink with each other now. Besides I’m sure I promised you one didn’t I?”

[claireelizabeth85]

Lizzy from my fic #Come Home to Me is British and being a vet myself and served with brothers and sisters of the US military - this is so accurate (of their reflection of us and of us brits 🤣 - I never went anywhere without a hot cuppa!)

During my time working with the USN, my colleagues were fascinated by the RN (Royal Navy)’s traditions so introduced “tea time” at around 10am (at home it would be stand easy, tea and toast for the officers (cos that what’s they had in the mess) or it was known as a NAAFI break if you were in the Army) and to share this little bit of home was brilliant.

I can honestly say - I would have done my whole tour with the USN ship that I was stationed on. They were the kindest, funniest, most caring bunch going. They knew how to have fun but could flick that switch to get the job when needed).

[taevisionceo]

via @GreyCaitlin @NHarvey44 on YouTube COME HOME TO ME WWI Centenary tribute song. Featured in the stunning British WWI film 'Eleven' (2018).

[loveiszha-d]

Thoughts of You, Slip Through My Mind... Wishing I Could Wind Down Time, To the Place Where We Meet Finally Outside of My Dreams... I Want Hands to Reach, Arms to Wrap Around Bodies, Lips to Kiss Like Hersheys Do... I Want My Special Moments with You. 😏💖😋😍😁💖😘 #WhoEverSheIs #WhereEverSheDwells #IMissYou #ILoveYou #ComeHomeToMe ❤ https://www.instagram.com/p/B0usSDInxK3-VpfO_WILNLvpEYvhBcWZmt7MNw0/?igshid=al7ed7hyl0sy

[reallove-truelove]

💙💋

[laauurrennnxoo]

Goddamn, my best friend is gorgeous 😍😍😍 #loveyou #missyou #comehometome (at Cocoa Beach, Florida)

[thepairofspades]

So proud of this girl. She has worked hard for a year to pay for her very own trip to #iceland !!! Have fun #myangel. #travelsafe #seekadventure and #comehometome!