#june fowler

[mercurygray]

I just read Chapter 51 of TDS, and I'll leave comments soon. I knew Chuck's shooting would be in the chapter, and I'm sure there will be more to follow in Chapter 52. I'm glad Connie was with him, as she's such a reassuring presence and someone who can complete a job when something needs doing. But I was curious if you thought of having June in the scene or did that seem too contrived?

This is an absolutely fabulous question, and I'm going to try and articulate a real answer.

From the first time that the relationship between Chuck and June has been brought up, which was in a Thirsty Thursday drabble a loooong time ago, I've tried to emphasize that June is here for a good time, not a long time. She's not interested in the traditional trappings of a relationship - she is not a woman who needs to have a boyfriend to show off to her friends. And from the very first, Chuck has been the one who is taking this a little more seriously than she is, who really is thinking that maybe this could be something after the war. And maybe it could! But the simple fact is that he gets shot, and in the immediate aftermath of that, June is faced with a relationship that will not be fun any more - it will be work. Hard, unglamorous, possibly unrewarding work. And she is not about that.

There's this trope, in BoB OC fics, that everyone ends happily. There's a cute wedding in Austria down by the lake and they go home and the war is a bad memory they reminisce about at barbecues. When I first started writing TDS, I knew I wanted to write a bunch of relationships that would go in a bunch of different directions. Marj and Allen were going to be the only couple that made it to the end unscathed - and then Marj and Lip were sort of perfect for each other, so I torpedoed that idea and turned Allen into a man everyone is going to punch in the face the next time they see him. Lew and Kathryn, Frankie and Dave…they were all doomed from the start, and so were Chuck and June. It's not that June's a…a bad person, per se. She's just…not ready for a relationship that asks that much of her. When the going got tough, she was always going to run away, because there are people out in the world who do that, and I'm always afraid I write too many saints.

I wrote most of that Chuck and Connie scene yesterday morning, and I hope it conveys that Chuck is a genuinely good guy - someone who would, in a perfect timeline, actually give June the life she wants, someone who's not going to tie her to a stove the way her mother was. But she doesn't hear any of that - and that's what makes her eventual abandonment hurt even more.

So in the next chapter, she is going to come in, the next morning, and she is going to see what is directly in front of her - a man with a long road to recovery ahead - and it is going to terrify her, and she is going to run.

And that's why she's not in the scene, and Connie is.

[mercurygray]

For the prompt, #81 present for Chuck/June

Played a little bit on present as gift and present as 'accounted for' with this one.

It was a fine night for a phone call.

They were just finishing the dinner dishes when the phone rang, and Chuck dried his hands on a towel before going to answer it - long distance, sir. From a…a Mrs. Heffron? In Atlantic City?

Must be on vacation, Chuck thought to himself, leaning against the wall and tucking the phone into his shoulder.

And so they were - before the girls went back to school, Niamh explained, once the call came through. They were finally in bed and she was catching up on some postcards. Chuck could picture them, a trio in pigtails on the Heffron family Christmas card. Cute kids. "How's the beach treating Babe? He burnt to a crisp yet? You should have told me before you were going - would have bought stock in Coppertone."

"Very funny, Chuck." He could nearly hear her rolling her eyes. "He's doing just fine. Weather's nice, and the girls like the beach." She paused. "You wouldn't guess who we ran into this afternoon."

"Oh?" He wondered who she thought he would know in Atlantic City - Bill and Joe had both been at the hospitals there, but they'd sent him back to Letterman, since it was closer to home for him. Was it someone else on vacation - one of the old gang?

"June."

There was a crackle over the line, a terrible silence. He realized it was his turn to speak now. "Oh."

How long had it been now - ten years, or was it twelve? And her face was still as clear to him as anything. June, with her loud laughs and her jokes and the slight hitch in her step that she tried so hard to hide. Other things, too, little things - her face in an unlit supply closet in North Carolina, a church in Belgium. And then there was a break - an empty space between the then and the now. He touched the scar on his forehead absently. There were many things he did not remember, from those first few days, things he'd forgotten, or that the pain had simply blotted out. You didn't forget, Chuck, Billie had told him, months later. You didn't forget because she wasn't there.

The line on Niamh's end crackled - rearranging the phone cord, most likely. "Yeah, she - she's managing a restaurant here, at the boardwalk. Doing real well for herself, she said."

"And she - she looked okay?" There was a pause on the other end of the phone. "You don't have to tell me she was ugly, Niamh." Still trying to stick up for the underdog, aren't you?

Niamh made a noise indicating what she thought of having to tell the truth. "Yeah, she looked okay. Older, you know, just like - all of us."

He wasn't sure what that would have looked like, for June. "Married?" He played idly with the phone cord, the wire bumping against his own hand and the circle of gold on his own finger.

"Wasn't wearing a ring."

Chuck nodded to himself. "She wasn't ever the kind."

Another noncommital noise from Niamh's end of the line. "She - she asked about you." Chuck couldn't help the deep breath he took, picturing Niamh's face as clear as day. "Don't you make that noise at me, Charles Grant, I'm a grown woman and I know how to mind my manners. Told her you were out in Cali, that you were doing well, that you'd …found someone. She said to say hi, from her. That she hoped you were doing okay. Couldn't look me in the eye about it, though, could she?"

He had to laugh. "How could she, with you staring daggers at her?" She'd made the same face at David Webster, more than once, and anyone else she thought was being an idiot. He could see that face plainly, too.

"I was never," Niamh shot back, and he heard, very distantly, as if from across a room, a "You were so!" from her husband.

"And dinner was okay?" Chuck asked, trying to bring them back to the matter at hand.

"Dinner was fine." Niamh assured him. "It was a nice restaurant. Anyway, just wanted to - wanted to call. Pass it along."

"I'm glad you saw her."

She took a deep breath, and he could imagine her nodding. "I should go - stop spoiling your evening. Tell your wife hi from me," she added. "Tell her she's a gift and a treasure."

"Will do," he promised with a smile. "Same to Babe and your girls. Good night!"

He laid the phone back in the receiver, catching his wife's eye. "Something I need to know about?" she asked, quietly curious.

"Just someone we used to know," Chuck said with a shrug. That was all it was - all it needed to be. There were dishes to be done, and lunch to be packed for tomorrow. Atlantic City could stay where it was - everything he needed now was right here.

[mercurygray]

Hi Merc, could I interest you in no.28 'undress' for darling Billie and.... CHUCK 😄😉😏 Juno xxx

Fair warning: this one is sad.

She hated this hospital room more than she could say.

The end the war, the end of all of it, and still he'd ended up here.

She took a deep breath and rounded the corner, smile fixed on. "Hiya, sunshine. I'm here to make sure that shirt gets changed."

She was never going to get used to seeing Chuck like this - the out of focus smile, the eyes that struggled to adjust to see who it was. It took her feet out from under her every single time. He was getting better; she could see that every time she came. Sitting up more, following people around the room, listening when people talked. He was still there, still inside, even if his body wasn't quite ready to return.

She did a quick check of his dressing, probing with delicate fingers to see that the wound was draining and the dressing wasn't in need of a change, too. He made some small noise and she tried to smile. "You know I don't trust anyone, Chuck. Just want to make sure they're doing right by you. Can you help me and sit up a bit?"

He did as he was told, his body moving slowly, so she could unbutton his hospital pajamas and slide the shirt over his shoulders to swap it for a clean one.

"J…J…"

"Sorry, buddy. June's not here," Billie said, as lightly as she could. Where she is I couldn't tell you, either, and I'm not sure I'd want to, even if I knew. "She'd tear me a new one if she saw the two of us in here, though," she said, trying to be cheerful. "Me on your bed and taking your shirt off."

A hand grabbed her wrist, holding on as tightly as he could, jerking her towards him to grab her attention. She couldn't help but meet his eye - startlingly blue, and - sad. His face wasn't quite as expressive as it had been before, but he could still stare down a tank. His lips struggled to move the way he wanted, grasping for the shape, the sound, and she waited, trying to be patient while he found the word. "D…d…don't." He spat it with intention, his hand still holding her wrist, and she knew. Don't try to keep making it sound like it'll be fine. Don't keep lying to me like everyone else is. Don't think I can't handle it.

Billie took a breath. "Okay," she said, agreeing. "No more." She took a breath. "She's gone. Didn't leave an address or anything. She -" she stopped, wondering how much she wanted to let him have and how much he could take. "She came once. While you were ...still out. And then she left."

They should have seen it coming. How many times had they heard her talk about Jersey City, about too-small apartments and too many kids and dead-beat uncles who couldn't provide, about how she wasn't going to let herself be tied down to a life that didn't have room to breathe? She'd always evaded the end of the war, always skirted around talk about kids and houses and marriage and settling down, talking instead about being here for a good time, not a long one. And this could have been the biggest, longest settle there was.

Or not. But now she'd never know.

Chuck nodded at that, his face pained but resigned. "I'm sorry," Billie said, knowing it wouldn't fix a damn thing in the world, hating the words and the hospital room and the blue of the pajamas, hating everything that had gotten them from there to here. June Fowler, you picked a hell of a time to start running away from things.

[mercurygray]

This might be a little angsty, but you wrote a drabble about June and Chuck, and we haven't heard much about them, so maybe they're not hooking up anymore? So how about 50. a goodbye kiss that says ''i don't love you the way you love me, and i'm setting you free''

Kind Anonymous Friend, I love this prompt to bits and pieces and I love that you're looking out for Chuck and June - but I think if I write this, I might give away something good from later on in the story!

[mercurygray]

Could you please do a characterisation for June?? xx

[Send me the name of a character I write, and I will give you the top ideas/concepts I keep in mind while writing that character that I believe are essential to depicting them accurately.]

Another character I don’t spend a lot of time with!

June grew up in a large family with a small house. She is not a stranger to making herself heard. As one of the younger siblings, she is also good at making people laugh and has a razor-sharp sense of humor.

June was treated for polio when she was younger. She made a full recovery and retained the use of her legs, but spent several months in a sanitorium and is used to physical therapy. Physical fitness is important to her - being seen as weak scares her and reminds her of those months she spent in the hospital feeling helpless.

She is not afraid to tell people what she thinks, but also values her privacy a little, and doesn't share everything with her teammates.

June lives in the moment and doesn't necessarily have a plan for the future - she is determined to make the most of every day and lives her life accordingly. Her early hospital stay made her aware that we all have to die some time. In the same vein, she is quick to form friendships, but less quick to lay down roots to permanent romantic relationships. Change is comfortable for her - permanence is not.

Before joining the army, she worked as a waitress and a short-order cook in a diner. She thrives in fast-paced, almost chaotic environments and enjoys having to make quick decisions.

[mercurygray]

Hiya Merc! I wanted to introduce you and your lovely girl gang to one of my lesser discussed residents of Grisham Hall: Vera Elliot, previously aspiring actress of the theatre who fulfilled her lifelong dream of travel with a little bit of help from the American military.

Vera drew on the starlets of her childhood to build a loud and fire-filled persona. She used the past stars as stepping stones as Vera rose to some semblance of fame in Norfolk and Richmond for her drama and voice. She joined the USO circuit to usurp the All-American Girl image, abandoning the shows halfway through the tour to stoke the fires of resistance in Europe. Contradiction is Vera's fuel.

Just as fire is uncontrollable, it's warm. Vera fiercely defends her friends, taking the girls of Grisham as a surrogate family with her role as the dutiful lieutenant who isn't afraid to throw the first punch. She refuses to be forced down into a box, constraining against her nature. Her ambition is to obtain greatness for nothing other than the thrill of applause and a chance to leave her little corner of Virginia.

Vera sounds like she's got a lot of stories to tell about that USO tour! I'd be interested to hear how she made it home.

As I read this description, I'm thinking a lot about June. June, who is unapologetic about what she likes, and loud about what she loves, and can be a little theatrical, even if she's not really a theatre person. June doesn't much care for boxes, either, although that might be to her detriment - she's a little scared of getting tied into a relationship before she's had her change to live her life, too. I think she and Vera could find a lot to talk about about growing up in small towns and wanting to make something of yourself.

Vera is from No Ordinary Time, which I believe is over here on Wattpad!

[mercurygray]

This is me, begging for a few scraps of Chuck (and June??) on this fine Thursday.. can I get an “as you wish"? ❤️

An old prompt again - sorry for the wait! 

The night was full of noises.

They'd spent so long creeping in the dark, looking for people and answers that now every snapping twig sounded like an enemy and every click and crinkle of equipment was a cause for concern. It was like being back at Mackall, those first few nights - a man had gotten so used to the sounds of home, foot traffic and cars and street noise, that to be back in the North Carolina wilderness with no noise left you unable to sleep.

The night was full of noises, and Chuck Grant could hear them all. He adjusted the hay under his shoulder and tried to get comfortable, all too aware of the sounds he was making, closing his eyes and trying to will his mind to settle when - "Chuck!"

It was June, looming out of the darkness, coming back from her stint on guard duty, kneeling down in the hay at his feet with her gun loose in her hands. Chuck sat up a little, squinting and trying to read her face. She only found him when she wanted something - and this was a hell of a time for wanting.

"What, now?"  Half of his mind had already starting doing the math on how much gear he'd have to take off or keep on to get her what she wanted, but the other half was looking around at the rest of the barn, full of their sleeping friends, and wondering if June had something she wanted to tell him about being discovered in flagrante.

"No," June hissed quickly, her eyes wide. "I thought we could just...sleep."

"Sleep." Chuck didn't believe what he was hearing. The word made sense, on its own, the concept of closing one's eyes and resting for the day ahead, but this, June asking, was bigger than that, becuase then sleep resting with someone, and relaxing, and feeling safe, and June didn't do any of those things with him, or hadn't, previously.

But after the day they'd seen, there was a first time for everything.

"Sure," he said, finally, moving over a little on the hay so there was space beside him. "Let's sleep."

She laid down in the heap of hay at his back, curling around the lump of his pack and webbing, her arm stretching so that it just found his hip. The softness of her touch surprised him, and he curled his arm up, tentatively, and let his hand touch hers, feeling her hand rise and fall with the sound of his breathing, surprised when she did not recoil or turn away.

He closed his eyes, and let the sound of her breath carry him into the night.

[mercurygray]

Sharing a drink: drunken confessions amongst the men one night from one of the paraboys who is completely, somewhat quietly obsessed with one of the paragirls

An old prompt I am just now filling! Mostly for @basilone, who’s like 95% of the reason the ship mentioned exists at all.

"Sergeant Grant, this is unacceptable. " Marj announced, swinging into the seat next to him and taking a guess at which glass was hers. " You're not dancing, "

"'m supervising," Chuck said with a slim, slightly drunk smile, which at least got a laugh from his fellow sergeant as she settled into the seat next to him and caught her breath for a moment. "Besides," he added, sitting up a little, "you're dancing enough for the two of us together."

"Yes, well, apparently there's a war on and women are rationed," Marj remarked. It got a laugh. "I haven't danced this much since I went to one of Allen's college hockey dinners. Everyone who didn't bring a date that night got a piece of Miss Gordon."

"Generous of Allen," Chuck replied. Marj nodded, remembering that night, the whirl of being spun around the room by faces too numerous to count, or even remember. You know Bob, Allen would say, years later, you met at that dinner. And all she could do was smile and nod and hope she hadn't said anything worth remembering herself.

They'd been dating for quite a while then - there wasn't any question about who was taking her home, because every time she looked back at the table, there he was, watching her with her latest partner and simply smiling. 

Much in the same way, it might be said, that Chuck was watching someone else at the heart of the party.

She wasn't surprised it had taken her this long to figure it out, which one of the guys was the reason behind the late-night meetings and suspiciously open windows. They were both being smart about it - or at least, she was, because now, three or four beers into his evening, Chuck's mask was slipping. Careful, Sergeant, she wanted to say, or someone will start seeing the hearts in your eyes. 

"June sure looks nice," she said, offhandedly, sipping her beer and watching him carefully. "First time I think I've seen her smile in a while."

Chuck's smile warmed, the simple, bold-faced appreciation of a man in love. "Yeah," he said wistfully. "She does."

Marj nodded, smiling into her beer. Oh, Chuck. You are such a goner, and she doesn't deserve you.