Is left scrawled on a note stuck to the fridge with a heavy magnet. Before he’s stepping out the front door, patting his pocket down for his smokes. Beginning to walk, not entirely sure where he’s going but knowing he needs to move.
A/N: this popped in my head and wouldn't leave me alone...enjoy!😂
Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd
Word Count: 1.3k
October 27, 1943: Stalag Luft III: Sagan, Germany:
The loud droning sound of a siren rang in the crisp morning air as John and his fellow prisoners walked through the barbed-wire gates of Stalag Luft III. He ignored the pain in his body, the squelching of mud beneath his frostbitten feet, and the shouts from the Germans. He had one thing…two things on his mind.
Ruth. Buck.
POWs lined either side of the barbed wire path, and Bucky’s eyes scanned every soldier for a familiar face, for Ruth’s or Buck's specifically. The gaunt and hollowed men that stared back at him sent shivers down his spine and extinguished the little hope he had.
How long had these men been here?
How long would he be here?
He was broken from his thoughts by shouts and calls for the new arrivals filling the air.
“James!”
“Captain!”
“Jimmy! Jimmy, did Frankie make it?”
Just when he was about to give up his search, he heard it.
“Bucky!”
He knew that New England accent.
“Bucky, over here! Over here!”
John’s eyes flew to his left, and a smile tugged his lips at the sight of Charlie Cruikshank. “Crank!” he yelled, pointing at the pilot.
“You made it!! Crank laughed as he waved his hands in the air.
It was then that the Major finally saw more of his men beside Crank, jumping to catch a glimpse of him over the wall of men, each with a wide grin on their lips. “Murph!” John chuckled. “Glen!”
“Hey! Any of you know if Ruth or Buck made it?”
Before they could respond, a voice on the other side of the path called out to him. “John Egan! Your two o’clock.”
It was a voice he feared he’d never hear again. He turned with breakneck speed towards it and the ever-present weight on John’s chest lightened just barely as his best friend grinned at him through the barbed wire. Wait…he hadn’t smiled like that since… Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but Gale cut him off.
“They’re here, John,” he nodded, bracing against the fence. “They both are.”
Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest as Gale’s words sunk in. Ruth was alive. Ruth was here. It was a surreal moment, almost too good to be true, but somehow it was. A rush of emotions coursed through him, relief washing away the guilt and grief that had gripped him for the past month. His throat became tight as he continued with the group, sparing Buck a slightly teary, but wide smile.
Gale’s grin turned into a smirk when he yelled after him one last time. “And what took you so long?”
John’s processing was a blur, his mind only thinking of the woman he so desperately wanted to see. To hold in his arms. To tell that he loved her. To kiss her lips. It seemed only a few minutes had passed when he was released from the intake building and into the muddy compound he’d call home for the foreseeable future. The men from the 100th quickly approached him…but Buck wasn’t with them.
“Welcome to the south compound, Bucky!” Crank laughed, throwing his arms around the Major.
John suppressed a groan when his sore muscles were jostled a little too harshly and returned the hug. “Looks like you dodos made a nest for me this time.”
They all broke out into chuckles as they each greeted their friend. His eyes scanned the group in search of Buck, but they didn’t find him. “Where’s Buck?”
“He’s in the center compound,” Murphy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ve heard rumors of compound switches, though.”
He was alive and that’s what really mattered.
Nodding to himself, John took in their physical conditions, starting with the healing cuts and bruises on each of their faces. Pure elation faded into anxiety when it dawned on him what Ruth had been through since he last saw her. He’d been so excited she was alive that he overlooked the fact that she’d been shot down, captured, interrogated, and shipped to this horrid place…the same as him. Fearful questions ran rampant in his mind:
Was she alright?
Did the Germans…he couldn’t bear to continue the thought.
His expression became deathly serious, a line forming between his brows. He had to see her. “Ruth. Where…where is she? What compound is she in?”
“Ours. You wanna see her?” Glen asked with a sympathetic smile. They’d all seen the aftermath of the nurses’ supposed deaths, and for the first time in nearly a month, the major’s expression wasn’t tight with grief.
John nodded immediately and followed as fast as he could behind the group. The pain radiating through his entire body was pushed down, drowned out by the anxiety that bubbled up his chest. His mind seemed to play out the worst possible scenarios of her journey to the camp...her condition. A gentle hand on his shoulder broke him from his thoughts, and he looked up at the door to the long wooden building before him.
Charlie nodded at him, his blue eyes holding no malice over the words they’d shared before the Münster mission. “Our room’s the second door on the right.”
“Your room?” Johnny asked, his brows furrowing.
“We thought we owed it to you and Major Cleven, sir," Murph spoke quietly. "To look out for your girls.”
As his gaze drifted once again to the door, John couldn’t will himself forward. His legs wouldn’t move, his feet seemingly stuck in the mud, unable to take a step. The same what-ifs from earlier filled his mind. The uncertainty, the worry, and the past month’s guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders.
Noticing the Major’s hesitation, Frank nodded. “She’s alright, Bucky. Really.”
“Yeah,” Johnny murmured, pursing his lips for a moment. With a deep breath, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, the dim light casting long shadows along the hallway. The air was heavy with the smell of damp wood and something musty he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He reached the second door on the right, the door marked with the number 4 in faded ink, and hesitated once again.
John’s heart pounded in his ears…she was so close. After thinking he’d never see her again, hear her voice, her laugh, feel the warmth of her skin, it felt like a dream. He raised his hand to knock and the sound echoed through the hallway, the anticipation almost suffocating as he waited for a response.
“Come on in!”
At the sound her her soft voice, a shaky breath escaped his lips and his eyes fluttered shut. The crushing weight of his fears began to lift from his shoulders. All the pain and uncertainty melted away into relief and pure joy…she was real, and she was there. Finally not a figment of his imagination tricking him into believing she was alive.
With trembling hands, he turned the handle and pushed open the door, his heart pounding in his chest as his eyes scanned the room. The walls were lined with three-tiered bunk beds, and a table sat in the middle, but what stole his attention was the mess of blonde to his right. It was slightly longer than he remembered…the usually perfect curls nothing more than waves barely reaching her shoulders. She stood with her back to him as she tidied the room, wiping down the center table with one hand. The other arm hung limply in a sling.
“Anyone interesting come in today?” Ruth asked, keeping her back toward the door while she cleaned.
The words that came to John Egan’s mind refused to pour from his lips, so he stood there speechless, watching her scrub the dirt from the surface, muttering to herself when it wouldn't come off easily. A few seconds passed until she spoke again, finally turning toward the doorway. “If you guys don’t start cleaning up-”
When her gaze landed on his battered and bloody figure in the doorway, color drained from her face and the small towel in her hand dropped to the floor.
“John.”
Tag List: @xxluckystrike @precious-little-scoundrel @bcofl0ve @violetdaze25 @docroesmorphine
So I’m a little bit obsessed with #MoTA Major John Egan. He’s infected my brain and I can’t get him out!!! His smile, charm, his confidence 🥵
I have inhaled most of the fiction that’s out there about him so I’m going to try my hand and see if I can write something. If it turns out anywhere near half as good as @instructionsnotincluded’s TrueNorth or @blurredcolour’s Trust, I’ll be happy.
If anyone wants to gossip or sound out ideas with me about John- please drop me message cos I’d love to chat.
