the soldier and the spy: we know when to kiss (and we know when to kill)
A very happy birthday wish for @doctoraliceharvey!! I suspected this might be to your liking. :)
[I was listening to this while writing it, and you all should too because it’s sheer perfection.]
This is the first full installment of my WWII AU--related ficlets and art exist here and here.
Matthew x Alice, The Doctor Blake Mysteries. Also on AO3.
“Do you think he knows she’s a spy?” The youngest member of their regiment asked while they waited.
“What are you on about?”
Looking more closely, Lawson could see where the kid could have gotten that impression. There was a certain...something, about her. Something in the way she moved, a quiet sort of control.
“She looks dangerous, I’ll give you that,” he told Will, never taking his eyes off the woman across the room. “But calling her a spy is a bit much.”
“No.” Will shook his head. “I mean it. She’s a spy. She’s one of Churchill’s girls.”
Colin saw her first, but Matthew tried not to hold that against him.
“Oi,” his friend said, nudging him in the rubs with an elbow that lacked all subtlety. “Now, isn’t that a stunner?”
Colin’s tastes were not what Lawson would call discerning, so the sleek, angular brunette he flicked a hand toward was a surprise. Matthew might’ve expected a girl more buxom, or younger, maybe. Probably blonde.
She was none of those things. Closer to his age, Matthew thought. Hair so dark he wasn’t certain it was natural--and cut short, skimming just behind her ears. She was thin, and tall.
His mouth went dry just looking at her. Clearly he’d been on his own, and surrounded by other soldiers, for too long.
“She’s gorgeous,” he agreed, nodding at Colin. “Far too much for you.”
“Well, now, we’ll see about that, won’t we?”
Puffing out his chest a little, ever the showman, Colin crossed the club to where she leaned against the wall.
Matthew watched, amused, trying to decide which was more likely: her tossing a drink in Colin’s face, or granting him a single dance out of pity. Both had happened before.
Will sidled up to him, ready to watch the tableau unfold as well. “Do you think he knows she’s a spy?” The youngest member of their regiment asked while they waited.
“What are you on about?”
Looking more closely, Lawson could see where the kid could have gotten that impression. There was a certain...something, about her. Something in the way she moved, a quiet sort of control.
“She looks dangerous, I’ll give you that,” he told Will, never taking his eyes off the woman across the room. “But calling her a spy is a bit much.”
“No.” Will shook his head. “I mean it. She’s a spy. She’s one of Churchill’s girls.”
“You mean she’s SOE?”
He narrowed his eyes, reconsidered. Watched as she lightly patted Colin on the cheek and sent him off, neither kissed nor slapped.
The stories about the Special Operations Executive force were legend, especially among new recruits. He’d heard all sorts of stories, most too incredible to be believed. And a part of him had wondered, when they were moved to London, if he might get the chance to find the rumors true.
But if any of the notorious spy-women did exist, they were very good at their jobs. Matthew hadn’t encountered so much as a whisper about “Churchill’s Secret Army” in all the months he’d been in the city. He had relegated them to the status of myth.
“Where’d you hear that?” he asked William, as she disappeared into the crowd near the bar.
“From the pretty redhead in the corner.”
Will nodded that way, and Matthew glanced over. She was pretty, and awfully young. Barely looked twenty, to his eye. No wonder Will seemed smitten.
“She’s training,” he added in a loud stage whisper. Apparently Will had wasted no time at the bar himself, Matthew thought, amused. “A is her mentor.”
“’A?’ A who?”
“That’s ‘er name.” Will nodded sagely. “Told you, she’s a spy. ‘A. Harvey.’ Mattie said that’s what she goes by.”
“If Mattie over there really is training to be a spy, you might want to think twice about taking her words as gospel truth,” Lawson pointed out.
But the part about Ms. Harvey rang true to his instincts, which he’d learned to trust most of the time. She stood out in the crowded nightclub, even as she made herself invisible. She was different.
“Mattie doesn’t have to worry about me,” Will reminded him. “We’re all on the same side.”
“Be that as it may, William, I’d be careful with that one if I were you.” Lawson patted him on the back before walking away.
He felt like another drink, and if he happened to bump into A. Harvey while getting one, then so be it.
****
Alice sipped her cocktail, wishing she had more of a taste for the fruity drinks this bar liked to serve its female customers. She would quite honestly be happier with two fingers of whiskey in a short glass, but that would stand out.
Even here, among her compatriots, she knew the dangers of standing out.
From her vantage point, she could see Matilda, practicing her seduction techniques on some poor soldier who still looked wet around the ears. They all seemed so young to her, and so full of life.
She had seen too much already not to feel melancholy about it. The war was only just beginning, she could feel it like the rumble of far-off thunder; a year of fighting and they were no closer to the end. So many more lives would be lost, ones fresh and bright like Mattie, like her new friend.
It was Alice’s responsibility to protect those she could--especially Mattie. The soldiers who frequented the bar were harmless enough, as men went, so she didn’t have much to worry about there. Matilda could hold her own.
She nursed her drink and turned to scan the crowd instead. Dancers and couples, businessmen and off-duty officers, all mixing of an evening, looking to escape.
There was very little escape for Alice. Or her whole life was one, a constant high wire act that took her further from what used to be her everyday reality. She could hardly tell anymore.
She was still sizing up the clubgoers when he stepped into view. Piercing eyes and a strong jaw got her attention first, as the soldier tapped the bar for a refill, then looked her way.
Alice had the quick, icy sense of being silently measured before he turned back to the bar.
“Thanks, Jack,” he told the man filling his glass, and Alice tilted her head. She’d been here before, but he was new to her. Apparently not to the bartender, though. A timely coincidence, finally bringing them together.
She loved a good coincidence.
And she was just restless enough on this particular Saturday night to be open to some company.
He knocked back his drink and left the glass on the bar, looking her way again.
“Matthew Lawson,” he said, answering a question she hadn’t yet decided to ask. “18th Brigade.”
His accent was Melbourne, which made sense if he was from the 18th. Alice had grown used to the international mix of soldiers stationed in London these days, but hearing one from her home region still caught her ear.
She tried not to think about the years before she landed in London. Now was no reason to start. Alice offered him a smile and a nod, and didn’t reply.
Matthew was intriguing, but she could find a lot of intriguing men in the city, if she chose. What she wanted was something more, something truly surprising. Maybe even a challenge.
She was good at her work, but it kept her apart from people.
She was, in fact, good at her work because it kept her apart from people--which made it even more tempting to seek connection. Like putting her fingers to the fire; just enough to warm her up, not enough to get burned.
It was the threat of the flames that made it fun.
“What’s your name?” Matthew asked, sliding his hands into his pockets. He was looking out at the club instead of at her now.
Okay, so she was tempted. He struck her as a man of iron-clad control, the type of soldier who was well on his way to becoming an officer before the war was over.
Men who prized their control were more interesting; Alice enjoyed watching the slow loss of it as they gave in.
Espionage was not just a duty for her, but a calling. What she had always lacked in traditional beauty, she knew she made up for with a willingness to use every tool at her disposal.
Alice took two steps forward, and leaned in just a bit too close. She brushed her mouth against his cheek before she answered, in a whisper only Matthew could hear.
“What would you like it to be?”
She expected raised eyebrows, possibly roving hands. It was an invitation as much as a challenge.
He didn’t move a muscle, and that surprised her.
Matthew of the 18th Brigade looked down his nose at her, lips quirking slightly, before he removed his hands from his pockets. “Longer than one letter, would be a good start.”
Alice held back her own smile. Apparently his regiment was as gossipy as all the others; she should have known her reputation would proceed her.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Matthew, but more than that is strictly need-to-know.”
He lifted a hand, running the pad of his thumb along her cheekbone. “And if I said I did? Need to know.”
“I would ask why.”
“Naturally suspicious,” he observed, with a nod that felt like approval. It was odd to enjoy that, but some part of her did.
Alice took his hand in hers, removing it from her cheek. “Reasonable, in my line of work.”
“Mine too,” he agreed. “Despite what you’d think from meeting that lot.”
Her eyes moved past him to the men he’d come in with, and there was a glint of amusement in them. “They seem nice enough. Friendly.”
“So they are."
“What about you, Matthew?” She laced her fingers through his and held on. “Are you...friendly?”
“Not many would accuse me of that,” he replied, his voice low enough to add a rough quality to it. “But I have my moments.”
“Do you?” Alice’s gaze measured him, held steady.
He smiled. “How about a dance, Harvey?”
She pursed her lips at the question, considered correcting his use of her last name. It was somehow both overly familiar and too formal at the same time. But to mention either would show that she cared, and why should she? She had only just met this man.
Let him call her what he liked, Alice decided. At least he wasn’t as predictable as he looked.
“Alright,” she agreed, letting him lead her to the dance floor with the hand he was still holding.
He had a proper waltz form, probably from the same lessons she’d gotten at school. And he moved with a lot of grace for a man of his size. It drew her mind to darker places.
Alice pressed herself closer to him, dancing the sort of modified waltz they could only get away with in a city club like this. It wasn’t over the line, but it was certainly suggestive, to be moving together in the small square of space. Her hand in his warming up along with her blood; his fingers on her hip flexing automatically, making her jolt.
The music was faster than their dance, but neither of them noticed, focused so narrowly on each other.
“You know,” Matthew murmured, his lips against her ear and his fingers grazing her hip, “it’s impolite to come armed to a respectable establishment like this one.”
She didn’t falter, keeping time to the music as they continued to dance. She couldn’t tell if he had felt the blade strapped to that spot, or perhaps the pistol tucked neatly inside her garter, when he first pulled her close. Not that it much mattered, either way. She never went anywhere without both.
“That’s the trouble with soldiers,” Alice told him. “So obsessed with propriety and rules.”
“Propriety doesn’t interest me,” he countered, hands gripping her hips a little harder--almost possessively. “But rules make the world go round.”
“I only follow rules that I agree with,” she said, arching an eyebrow. The song ended, and Alice moved to leave him.
Lawson didn’t release her hand as she stepped away, forcing her to pause instead and turn toward him. He moved back into her space smoothly, one hand gliding up the bare nape of her neck.
“I suppose we have that in common,’ he admitted with a quick flash of a grin. “Just don’t tell my CO.”
“That’s unlikely,” she assured him, her own lips curving. Not quite into a smile--Matthew had to wonder what a true smile would look like on her face. Would it soften the angles? Or would it just sharpen them more?
The slight amusement faded as Alice allowed her own hands to roam. She liked broad shoulders in a man, and he filled out his uniform well. She couldn’t say much for certain about who Matthew Lawson was yet, though she had always been good at quickly sizing up a person.
But for her purposes, for this one night, she thought he would do nicely.
Knowing that he was watching her, Alice drew her eyes down his body, letting them linger as she took in his uniform all the way from his pressed collar down to his scuffed boots.
When she snapped her gaze back up, deep blue eyes meeting his bright ones, she absorbed the shiver down her spine, the flush that spread across her fair skin. He possessed an intensity that was rare, and compelling.
Yes, she thought, resting a hand against his chest, he would do quite nicely indeed.
“So, then, Lawson,” Alice said briskly, with the peculiar lack of inflection he was already fascinated by.
“Your flat or mine?”