Chapter 24—State of Grace (MOTA Fanfiction)
A/N: Hello lovelies! This chapter is a rough one and so I must forewarn you about the disastrous actions in this chapter. Please be aware that these are actions that were not fully thought through and she's not doing mentally well. Trigger warnings for the tags are heavily emphasized here. Please let me know what you think!
Chapter Text
Girl starved of hope, girl starved of future, girl born starving, girl still starving.
That’s how Grace felt entirely.
How did you begin to describe feeling completely and totally empty inside? Hollowed out and aching bones, hungry and gnawed down to the very marrow?
How do you begin to describe the feeling of being stuffed full and feeling something fluttery in your stomach? How do you begin to describe the feeling of dry undergarments and the passing of a moon’s cycle with no change in your body?
With signs of life and the feeling of sick?
Well for Grace Spaatz, she couldn’t describe it at all. Not in the deep recesses of her mind. Not in the thoughts that she wrote in her journal or unsent letters that she felt sick over. Not to herself in quiet whispers and certainly not to anyone ever aloud. That would be the most ruinous thing that she could possibly do.
There wasn’t anyone she could trust with this information.
With this life-changing news that she had not asked for and that she did not want.
Grace didn’t feel that she had another choice.
At the moment, she was sitting in the bathroom and staring at her bloodless panties. Any other time in the month, she would have been grateful. She hated her cycle. Always found it gross and unfair that women had to deal with such things when all men had to deal with was some light discomfort if and when they didn’t get laid. Perhaps a crude way to look at things, but Grace had no naivete left within her to imagine that she could pretend otherwise.
Grace covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to choke on the sound of threatening sobs that wanted to work their way out of her throat.
No one could know.
But she couldn’t hide it forever. She knew that.
With her petite figure, it would be a miracle if she made it more than a month without someone finding out. No, this was inevitable and painful and unfair.
She had never been someone who liked babies or children. Perhaps it was because she was the youngest or because she thought that they smelled and made too much noise. For whatever reason, Gracie had never imagined herself in such a position in life until she had met Johnny Brady. And maybe that was the cruel part of the entire thing—because she had started to imagine it, started to be okay with it—
Because maybe if he had been the one to put a baby in her belly, she would want it. She’d be soft and glowing and he would rub her feet in the evenings and she would feel like a goddess.
But this was not that.
No, John Brady was sitting in a Stalag, unaware that she was pregnant with a monster’s child that she did not ask for and did not want.
And though Gracie Spaatz knew that his beliefs would surely condemn what she was about to do, Gracie Spaatz knew that there was only one course of such action.
She had to go to London.
She could pass it off as a needful trip.
She could go to an apothecary and get what she needed.
She could take it, induce a period, and be done with the entire thing before it ever even began.
And if it meant losing John Brady because of it?
Well, Grace Spaatz thought that it would be worth it.
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The trip to London was quiet. Crosby had administrative things to get done and truthfully? The man seemed relieved that she had asked for a shopping trip. It probably had more to do with the fact that Grace had not worn makeup or dressed in girlish clothing since before Christmas. That had been concerning enough for everyone that she regularly interacted with.
So any attempt at normalcy was met with sweet relief.
It was nothing against him, it was just that he happened to be entirely too easy to fool.
She had stopped at a few different stores whilst out. After all, the ruse had to be foolproof in many ways so that he would be none the wiser. Perhaps no one would be any the wiser in this entire situation.
Grace wished she could say that stepping foot in London had some sort of calming effect on her that she was doing the right thing, but it was entirely the opposite. Maybe she should’ve told her father, maybe she should’ve done a lot of things differently. Surely her mother wouldn’t have judged her and surely her mother would have held her as she wept, right?
But Grace was too far locked into her decision to be swayed by second thoughts or a safer option than some vial of a chemical that she really didn’t know enough about.
She pasted a smile onto her face when she got back into the car, finding Crosby going over some paperwork in the front seat. “I found some ribbons for Poppy and Helen.”
“That’s nice.”
“You’re not even paying attention,” she nearly snorted.
“I’m halfway paying attention.”
“Wow, you’re really good at this whole supervision thing,” Grace replied dryly to Crosby.
“Did you find anything else?”
“Just some cloth that might be nice to use,” she said with a shrug. “And some sweets.”
“Of course,” he nearly snorted.
“Well I had to find some sweets. I think I’m entitled to some compensation,” she replied.
“Probably true,” Crosby said, glancing over at her. “You’re not gonna share, are you?”
“You get your own chocolate in your monthly ration. You can suffer,” Grace insisted with an insistent nod.
“You could be nicer.”
“But I shan’t be.”
“Well I’m glad your trip was successful,” Crosby said dryly.
“Was yours?”
“Maybe,” Crosby said. “I got some intelligence that might be important.”
“Anything about the Prisoners of War?”
He gave her a side-eye. “You know I can’t tell you anything about that.”
“But if it did relate to Johnny—”
“I can neither confirm or deny, you know that.”
“So it’s not about them.”
He gave a small crack of a smile. “You’re extraordinarily good at getting what you want from people, you know that?”
“I do, in fact. Thank you, Cros.”
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Grace could hardly bring herself to eat dinner that night. She felt queasy and she couldn’t even put her hands on her stomach. She couldn’t do that. Couldn’t touch the surface that would make things all too real. She ended up just picking at her food because it was easier.
Tatty didn’t think anything of it—Grace had been picking at her food since she had arrived.
Poppy and Laura though, they had clocked the situation almost immediately. They had created a way to ensure that she ate at least something—and so Poppy nudged her with her foot. “At least the bread, please?” Poppy asked in a gentle tone.
That drew Grace from her thoughts of a thing clawing its way out of her stomach and she gave a nod. The bread tasted stale as she shoved it in her mouth and did her best to obey and be good—something she should have done a lot sooner and she knew it. Maybe if she had been good and quiet and obedient, it would have saved her.
“I’m tired,” Grace insisted, setting the half-eaten piece of bread down.
“You look tired,” Tatty said, running a hand over her sister’s hair gently. “Did you not sleep well?”
Grace just shook her head. “Not really.”
“Do you want to go back to the bunkhouse and get some sleep?” Helen asked, glancing at her. “I just finished eating and I could walk you back.”
Giving a weak smile, Grace gave a nod. “That would be wonderful. Thank you, Helen.”
Together, the two girls began the trek from the mess-hall back to the bunkhouse. Helen was quiet for a moment, glancing over at Grace. “You know, I’ve always admired you, Gracie,” Helen said in a soft tone.
At that, Grace’s shoulders tensed ever so slightly. “Why?” She asked, narrowing her gaze. “I’m just a stupid little girl.”
“No,” Helen insisted with a gentle smile. “You’re…you’ve always been so sure of yourself and that’s very admirable. It’s rare to find someone so unabashedly themselves, no matter the situation. It’s one of the best things about you.”
“Oh,” Grace replied lamely. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Wasn’t sure she could express why there was a tight feeling in her throat at the words.
“And I just think that you should know that all of us want to see you doing well and happy,” Helen added, catching her by the elbow gently as they entered the bunks. “Truly.”
A weakly genuine smile crossed Grace’s features. “Thanks,” she said softly. “It’s nice to hear that.”
In one ear and out the other.
“I’m going to wash my face and then the bathroom’s all yours,” Grace promised. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
And so in she went. And wash her face, she did. And then she drank the vial.
Helen had only begun placing curlers in her hair when she heard a thud, about fifteen minutes later. And upon finding Gracie Spaatz unconscious on the ground and unresponsive, Helen began screaming for help.
God don’t let it be too late.