random ww2 drabble
Odd....how a day one had both been looking forward to and dreading at the same time, came around so quickly. The war was over, peace was established over Europe. But in her torn, wretched heart, no such thing could, or probably would ever, be achieved.
Her husband was alive. She did not know in what state - but he lived. He’d be here in a little over two weeks, give or take. Kit was elated at the prospect. She had missed Richard terribly and with each passing day the pain of being without him had dug a little deeper into her soul. Until that one day...when she’d met a German officer (or so she’d believed). He was handsome, kind, he spoke to her in a way no-one had ever bothered to before and what’s more, he’d listened - intently and to every word that left her mouth.
And he had helped in her mission, once Eric had revealed his true purpose. They had conspired together, done terrible, awful things in the name of justice. Then once they’d cleared away the evidence and ensured no trace of the now-missing man could be tied in with them, they’d taken baths together....warm water easing aching limbs and washing away the stains of their sins.
Now she had to say goodbye to him, to send him away. It was the right thing to do, for both of them, and for her husband. But it was hard. Damn hard because maybe, in another life, this man was the one she was meant to be with.
Unfortunately, neither of the had the pleasure of choice, however.
She stood on the grand, marble staircase and she should be happy, she supposed. There was no other female operative who’d held such success, been more lauded than she and the meeting they’d just left had earned her not just the thanks of the nation - albeit under terms of strictest secrecy - but the chance to start over however she chose. And like a sentimental fool, she had chosen to return to her old life of perfect wife to a much-decorated serviceman.
“I’m going back home. To Yorkshire” she told him, statically and without a shred of the emotion that clagged and clawed at her throat. “This is.....our farewell”.
Damn! He stared at her as if doubting her words, eyes wide, trusting that any second now, she’d say something to negate the previous proclamation. But then, realisation set in and Eric’s eyes drooped, his perfect, beautiful mouth stretching into a grimace. “You don’t love me. You never did. I was just your weapon” he threw back, only the fire in his pupils displaying the emotion behind his accustation.
“No Eric. No. You were......you are, so much more than that to me. But I’m married. What we did...what I did, I believed I was widowed when....”. She couldn’t explain, even to herself. “I have to go.....my father is still up there, talking to the bigwigs. But he told me to meet him at the car. I’m sorry. I do love you but.....”.
She couldn’t...just couldn’t. It was too much, too heart-wrenching, too hard.
Her head dropped and tucked itself into the space between his head and shoulder, as it had done so often over the last three years. Her safe place. Her refuge. And without a word more, his hands released hers and went to her shoulders, giving Kit the strength to do this. To end it...them...once an for all.
“I’ll never forget you. Never stop loving you. I’ll never not miss you” she whispered into the material of his jacket. And then, she peeled herself away and ran down the remaining stairs, tears held back but only until later when she would be alone again.
@ericbrandonrp
