The Road to Freedom (3/3)
Summary: Miles knew he was a fool for thinking the war in Europe would be easily won, and what starts out as a simple reconnaissance mission turns complicated when Miles finds himself stuck in The Netherlands with an injured British soldier on his hands. WW2/Soldier AU. Gaviles.
WC: 3,100 || Total WC: 6,886
Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3
In which Ave knows nothing about guns and is still clearly not a doctor.
Fun fact; ‘hier’ means ‘here’ in German, but ‘yesterday’ in French. Somehow this amuses me.
And, er, this is probably more friendship than anything else. Itried.jpg.
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Chapter 3: Survival
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“Wer da?” The voice repeated, sounding a lot closer than before and Miles shifted, positioning his gun so that it was no longer slung over his shoulder and was instead held steadily in his hands, ready to use. Gavin’s eyes tracked his movements and he frowned.
“Hier!”
Miles noticed how Gavin suddenly tensed and how his eyes shot up to look quickly around the clearing. The Brit fidgeted, putting his hands on the ground beneath him and Miles was quick to place a hand on his shoulder to keep him from trying to get up.
“What d’you think you’re doing?!” Miles hissed quietly, concern clear on his face. Gavin shook his head and gritted his teeth.
“You don’t understand, they know we’re-”
“Hier!”
Half a dozen figures appeared from the shadows of the trees, menacingly descending from the mist with guns at the ready and with serious faces and Miles, in a bid to look calm and collected, resisted the urge to frantically aim his own gun at them all; knowing that he was outnumbered but using the gun to conceal his trembling hands.
“Waffen niederlegen,” their leader, a tall man with a thick beard and sharp eyes barked, his gun trained steadily on Miles. “Wenn Sie nicht gehorchen, schieese ich!” Miles’ eyes widened and he spluttered a response.
“I don’t unde-”
“He wants you to put your gun down,” Gavin interrupted quickly, reaching over and tugging sharply on Miles’ jacket. “Do it or he’ll shoot.”
Miles looked at him, his face paling. “What?”
“Waffen niederlegen!”
“Put. your bloody. gun. down.” Gavin hissed and Miles did so, dropping his gun to the ground in front of him without a second thought. The leader stepped forward, eyeing them distastefully.
“Hände hoch.”
Miles half-turned to look down at Gavin, the Brit’s brow was creased in concentration. He momentarily looked confused before a flicker of comprehension dawned in his eyes and he raised his hands. Miles did the same, his hands shaking slightly, and just about caught Gavin’s small reassuring smile before he turned back to the enemy soldiers.
“You can speak German?” He asked quietly and he heard rather than saw Gavin’s shrug.
“A little. Not very well.”
“Zeigen Sie mir Ihren Ausweis.” The leader demanded, nodding to his men. The group stepped forward, boxing them in closer to the tree and cutting off any means of escape. Miles felt his blood turned cold and he stepped back, aiming to shield Gavin from view but the Brit smacked his leg and pushed him out of the way.
“Wir sind Soldaten,” Gavin replied slowly and carefully as he looked directly at the leader. “Amerikaner. Britischen.”
“...Do we really want to tell him who we are?” Miles asked, recognising some of the words Gavin had said. The leader barked something to the others in the group and two boys, too young to really be called men and new recruits if their haste to carry out the leader’s orders was anything to go by, stepped forward.
“We’re speaking English and are wearing foreign uniforms, it’s not hard to guess,” Gavin grumbled, watching one of the young soldiers reach down to pick up Miles’ gun whilst the other watched them like a hawk. “Well, this is bad.”
Miles fought down an incredulous reply and jumped when the leader pointed sharply at Gavin. “Aufstehen.” He demanded, his voice booming around the clearing. Gavin’s eyes narrowed as he let out a gruff laugh.
“Ich bin verwundet,” he gestured towards his leg and shook his head. “Ich...kann nicht aufstehen.” The leader scowled and a couple of the soldiers around them laughed mockingly.
“What does he want you to do?” Miles asked, trying to look at Gavin whilst not taking his eyes off the soldiers nearest to them. It was a difficult thing to do, and he ended up staring at the space between them as Gavin, gaze focused on the leader, replied.
“Stand up.”
Miles’ jaw dropped slightly and he turned sharply to glower at the leader. “What the hell! He can’t stand like that!”
The leader’s scowl deepened and, at hearing Gavin groan, Miles turned back to him. The Brit had sat forward and was slowly trying to maneuver himself to his feet by moving his injured leg as little as possible. Miles ducked down, the young soldier nearby twitching as if he’d considered stopping him and then thought against it, and put one arm around Gavin’s waist. The British man smiled tightly at him and brought his hand up to Miles’ shoulder, the American gripped his wrist and they shared a look before, as one, they rose.
Immediately Miles was aware of the fact that he seemed to be supporting Gavin’s entire weight and in surprise he nearly stumbled; his hold around the shorter man’s waist tightening to accommodate the strain and his heart twinging at Gavin’s strangled cry.
“I d-don’t think I c-can d-do this,” he stuttered, his good leg shaking as it tried to keep the him upright and the blood draining from his face. Miles could see a noticeable tremor in his injured leg as the Gavin tried to keep it off the ground and he turned his head, pain-filled eyes looking at Miles’. “Ugh, bloody h-hell.”
“Take your time,” Miles said reassuringly, concern growing as Gavin swayed slightly into him and he tightened his grip around the British man’s waist. “I’ve got’cha don’t worry.”
The leader snarled something at his men before narrowing his eyes at the two, no trace of concern on his face as he snapped a command at them. “Folgen Sie mir,” he turned sharply on his heel and strode off. The young soldiers closest to Miles and Gavin bristled as their comrades followed the leader, looking over their shoulders to sneer, and they awkwardly positioned their guns in a stance that Miles thought was supposed to look intimidating but didn’t suit them at all. Their eyes looked unsure and Miles could see a myriad of emotions run across their faces.
“C’mon, we have to follow him,” Gavin said, breathing heavily as he tried to scoot forward on one leg, his weight pulling heavily on Miles. Miles shuffled forward, trying to be as slow as possible to enable Gavin to move easier, but barely got the chance to take a full step ahead. Gavin barely matched him.
“This isn’t going to work,” Miles shook his head. “We’re not going to get anywhere like this.”
“Not. with that. attitude,” Gavin replied tightly, grimacing. “Ugh, b-bollocks.” His knee buckled and Miles hastened to keep him upright, his arms aching from the strain. “msorry.”
“Don’t be,” Miles shot back, holding back a groan. He turned a harsh glare, one that he didn’t know he had in him, on the soldiers who had remained with them and they jumped at the sudden attention. “If you want us to go anywhere you’re gonna have to help.”
The two hesitated, either from incomprehension or not wanting to go against their superior’s orders he wasn’t sure, and Miles glowered at them before turning his head back to Gavin.
“I could probably give you a piggyback or something,” Miles suggested softly, fighting back a grin at the indignant look Gavin gave him in return, and he sighed. “Don’t give me that look, let me help you.”
“You. are. helping. me,” Gavin groaned, getting his foot back onto the ground. He exhaled, causing the small part of his fringe that was sticking out from underneath the helmet to flutter, and looked up at Miles. He swallowed heavily. “You didn’t have to.”
Miles shook his head, an incredulous look on his face. “I wasn’t going to leave you.”
A flicker of something passed in Gavin’s eyes and he smiled sadly. One of the German soldiers, pulling away from a hushed debate with his comrade, stepped forward and took Gavin’s other arm and pulled it over his shoulders; causing the Brit to grunt at the movement. The soldier muttered something that Miles didn’t quite catch and that Gavin only hummed in reply to, before his comrade levelled his gun at them and as one they moved forward.
Miles thought it was uncharacteristically kind of the German to help them, but was grateful for it nonetheless as it seemed to be much easier for Gavin to move with the support from both sides. Still, their stride was agonisingly slow and Miles was thankful for the distance that seemed to have appeared between them and the rest of the group. The two soldiers with them, however, didn’t seem to share the same sentiment if the anxious looks they kept sharing were anything to go by and as soon as they started muttering to each other Miles’ concentration turned to their conversation in hopes of understanding any of the words they were saying.
He quickly abandoned that idea as the rapidly spoken words flitted in and out of his ears in a jumble of unfamiliar sounds and intonations, his mind struggling to align them together into a form he knew and he soon stopped.
Gavin, who had been quiet since they started moving, momentarily tensed. Automatically Miles turned his head to look at him and managed to catch the brief look of surprise that crossed his features before it was gone. Gavin noticed the look, leant his head towards Miles and quietly whispered.
“I think your lot are still out here,” Gavin straightened up and caught the look of confusion that filtered across Miles’ face at that statement. “Y’know, the guys like you.” He added, eyes briefly lingering on his uniform before looking up at him with a point-blank look on his face.
Miles stared at him for a split second before it sunk in and he fought down a grin. Before them, standing straight-backed and alert, the leader waited with an unimpressed look on his face. The other soldiers who had gone ahead laughed, and the young soldier who was helping to keep Gavin upright quickly ducked out of the supporting hold and darted off to stand closer to the his comrades, muttering what sounded like a hurried explanation as he did so.
With half of his support gone Gavin stopped, and Miles was quick to hold him upright when he wavered as the other soldiers chuckled amongst themselves.
“What do you mean they’re out there?” Miles asked hurriedly. “They escaped?”
“I think those two were afraid of being found by the Americans before they could meet back up with this lot,” Gavin replied, his voice low and strained. “I’m not sure, they were speaking a bit too fast for me.”
“Ruhe.” The leader snapped at them before turning and speaking harshly to the rest of the group. They immediately straightened up and the laughter stopped, dying off almost instantly. Miles was sure that they were being reprimanded and, if the circumstances were different, he would’ve laughed at the chastised looks on their faces. Gavin shifted by his side and Miles readjusted his hold on him, slowly looking around whilst trying to come up with an idea of what to do next that wouldn’t get them shot.
The leader issued a harsh command and the group continued to walk on, with the two younger soldiers keeping a close eye on Miles and Gavin but neither of them offering to help them move.
Miles had a split second warning, the high whistling sound of a bullet coming from somewhere to his left, before all hell broke lose. Armed men, wearing the same uniform that Miles had seen daily since being dispatched to Europe and one he wore himself, rushed out in a flurry of yells and the lead German dropped instantly, roaring out in harsh German as he clamped his hands to his leg.
With strength he didn’t know Gavin possessed, especially in his current state, he found himself dragged to the floor by the shorter man as the German soldiers retaliated at the Americans suddenly in their midst. But it didn’t last long. The Germans, outnumbered and with their leader incapacitated, were quick to surrender and almost as soon as it started he was being pulled to his feet and into a tight hug.
“Where the hell did you go!” Miles instantly recognised Kerry’s voice, relief in his tone, and he laughed as he warmly returned the hug. Kerry pulled back and stared at him in concern and Miles wide smile turned apologetic. “People thought you’d gone AWOL man! I told them that you wouldn’t do that but you just disappeared without a trace and I was so fucking worried!”
“I’m sorry! I-”
“We need a medic!”
Miles spun around and immediately crouched down next to Gavin, barely hearing Kerry’s surprised exclamation behind him. The Brit’s eyes were half open and he was frowning at the soldier who had called out.
“I don’t need a medic mate,” he groaned, shifting his gaze to Miles and giving him a small smile. “Just get me up and I’ll be fine.”
Miles turned his head to look up at Kerry, realisation dawning in the younger man’s eyes before he nodded and sprinted off. Miles, noting that their group seemed larger than before and guessing that they’d been helped during the ambush, turned back to Gavin and shook his head, chuckling.
“I’m going to have to disagree,” his eyes fixed on the sluggishly bleeding wound in his leg and the tired look of pain on Gavin’s features. Gavin grumbled in reply and Miles’ brow creased in worry. “I might go and hurry that medic along.”
“Miiiiles...”
Miles shook his head and caught the eye of the soldier crouched on Gavin’s other side, the one who had originally called out for medical help. “Keep talking to him okay?”
The soldier nodded and Miles got to his feet, turning to walk in the direction Kerry had sprinted off in, before a loud shout in German rang out.
He didn’t understand the words but the intention in which they were yelled was clear, and even as he watched one of the German soldiers violently pull away from the American troop trying to subdue him whilst forcibly pulling the gun from his grip his mind was too slow to react.
The German, spinning as he moved, fired the gun until there was nothing left to fire. He screamed loudly, his incoherent words causing blank looks amongst the other Germans in their midst, and Miles watched numbly as he was harshly tackled to the ground.
“Miles!”
Miles turned at the accented shout and looked towards Gavin. The Brit, his hand gripping the shoulder of the soldier beside him so tightly his knuckles were white, had forced himself to sit up and was staring at Miles with wide, slightly panicked eyes.
“W-what?”
The pain hit him so suddenly he gasped, clamping a hand to his side in reflex and a heavy feeling appearing in the pit of his stomach as he felt his hand meet with something warm and sticky. The soldier beside Gavin yelled out something that Miles couldn’t hear through the screaming in his mind and arms caught him as he stumbled.
“Fuck! Miles no!” A voice he thought sounded like Kerry’s yelled from beside him and the last thing he remembered was Gavin trying to move towards him before it all went black.
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Miles awoke in a medical tent hours later, aching in pain but - he was told - lucky to be alive. The bullet hadn’t pierced anything major, was relatively easy to remove and he was told that with a few weeks of rest he would be good enough to return to action. Miles nodded and, as he lay there, the only question on his mind was that of the fate of the British soldier he’d pulled out of harm’s way.
Gavin’s injury was a little more complicated he was told, and couldn’t be so easily fixed on the field; not if the Brit wanted a chance of full recovery.
So he was sent back to England.
Miles did make a full recovery, kept back at a safe base until the pain from his wound faded and until he was given the all-clear by their team of field medics. All the while his mind kept churning over what had happened out in the woods. His frequent requests for information on how Gavin was doing were never answered, his superiors - perhaps rightly so - were far more occupied with the war at hand than the fate of one foreign soldier and soon Miles found himself, fully kitted out in uniform and beside his fellow comrades, launched back into battle.
And then the war ended. And they won.
Amidst the glorious celebrations, Miles found himself hurriedly tracking down as much information as he could and, before he knew it, he was stood outside of a small semi-detached house in England, his jacket collar pulled up in a feeble protection from the light drizzle of rain.
He stared down at the address that had been hurriedly scrawled on a piece of paper, despite its age the smudged writing was faded - the end result of being folded and looked at so many times - and he ended up stood with his hand poised to knock on a paint-flecked front door for perhaps longer than he should have.
The door opened, startling him, and he nearly knocked on the face of the person who now stood in the doorway.
Gavin, leaning heavily on a crutch, stared at him with a startled look of surprise on his face and he gaped, mouth opening and closing a few times before he grinned incredulously. His eyes alight in happiness.
“You’re okay! Thank Christ!” He clapped Miles on the shoulder and Miles found himself returning the grin. “No one would tell me anything!”
Miles chuckled, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “No one would tell me anything either, I had to to pull in all sorts of favours from people just to get your address...I wasn’t sure if it was the right one either. My guys aren’t very helpful at times...”
Gavin stared at him, the grin still upon his face, before he reached over and grabbed Miles’ wrist. “C’mon, let’s get you in out of the rain.”
Miles was gently pulled into the house and he couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Despite the odds they’d both made it out alive and what they’d survived through together would forge a lasting friendship between them, and here they were at the end of it all.
And that was all that mattered.