#also knowing judy feels comforted in his presence like catch me out here crying bro i cant handle this

[wexhappyxfew]

Shannon I took you so seriously when you said readers could request as many as we wanted, so please ignore me if this is too much lol

⋆ “try and get some sleep. i’ll stay right here- i won’t let anything happen to you, i swear.”

For Judie and Rosie?? I just feel like it’s perfect for them. 🩷

This is my last one I promise

-☀️

SUNSHINE ANON!!!! you sent this in ages ago i fear, but i am so beyond excited to *finally* get to it! for any readers....remember that angsty judy x rosie piece i mentioned a week or two back? HERE WE ARE!!!!! the focuses on rosie here and judy's 'home' are probably some of my favorites aspects here - it speaks to their characters here in a *character-study-esc* way that i felt was really pleasing to read. please enjoy! thank you again sunshine anon (and i fully appreciate and love the prompt requests you sent in and could not help myself haha!!!!!) thank you again!

the world went quiet

(a/n): judy x rosie girlies HIIIIII. get ready for the angst train because we enter with judy experiencing the emotions after hearing that annie, bessie, kennedy and margie went down. for judy, i imagine it's like hearing about your sisters - especially after captain faulkner - and with emotions a young 21-year-old feels she can't handle. and rosie really helps her to feel okay with those. and that's why i just love the way they match each other here - like they fill in each other's missing parts :) [brb sobbing] please enjoy! <3

Numb.

The first feeling Judy was able to decipher out of the thousands of emotions tormenting her body right now.

Gone. That four letter word that found it's way to haunt her and torture her and tear her apart without fail; all the time. She thought after losing Birdie it'd be different.

Now, it was hard to breathe, to walk all the sudden.

The news was fresh, like a wound that wouldn't heal, like a door that wouldn't budge. And now, Lieutenant Bradshaw, Carlisle, Farley and Harlowe were all gone.

Gone.

She squeezed her eyes shut. It was a dream, she tried to tell herself, it's a dream! And without fail, it never was. Because over here, where they were now, in time, in war, it never was a dream. Nothing ever was.

After Lieutenant Montez had come in to deliver the news, the barracks were far too suffocating for Judy to cope. There were quiet tears and sobbing, people trying to put on the brave face so others didn't have to worry or suffer their emotions like some had to. And it was almost too much - knowing just that morning, Annie, Bessie, Kenny and Margie had all woken up there in that hut and thought that they'd be coming back.

So, she did what she did best when she had to deal with her emotions.

She hid.

The cockpit of Rosie's Riveters was the most apt place to curl into a ball and get her emotions under control. The window of the copilot seat provided the dreary picturesque view of the setting sun, the moody oranges and blues dancing across the horizon. Her head was pounding from crying, from the tears, from the ache of her entire body. Her stiff A2 was wrapped around her body, knees pulled up to her chest, dried tears left in residue on her cheeks and her eyes heavy.

It was embarrassing, she had thought to herself as she had stormed away from the huts and from the women, to be a blubbering mess.

But how many more times would this have to happen? People leaving, going, gone. Over and over, never to return.

How many more times would her fragile heart have to feel like this? It was embarrassing because she saw how the others would handle things - she never saw them cry, she never saw them break - and yet, she couldn't handle it. The loss, the pure feeling of it all. The grief. She couldn't take it.

And the only thing she could do was find solace in one of those B-17s, the only reason they were even able to do these runs in the first place.

From somewhere inside the stoic plane, she heard the metal creaking of someone jumping up inside. Someone had seen her retreat, had seen her make the run for it. Someone had seen her and God, what would the sight be when they came upon her. Judy tried not to be like this, she tried to hold her own. Doing so much and she broke.

Hastily, she reached up to brush at her red, tear-dried cheeks, smoothing a hand back over her head to wrangle the wind-swept hair on her head, but before she could even begin to think that she could possibly redo her braids, she heard footsteps sound against the metal of the plane and at the entrance of the cockpit.

Deep-down, she figured Lieutenant Montez had seen her run and had come looking for her - probably to try and get her to eat something or get some rest; lie down and close your eyes for a bit, honey, she'd probably say. Like a mother, like a sister.

"I'm sorry, Monty, I'm not hungry." Judy managed out shakily. She heard a small breath escape from the person.

"It's Lieutenant Rosenthal, Judy." the voice said. Judy's eyes widened as she shifted, glancing over her shoulder, only to find him standing there on the one-step entrance into the cockpit, arm leaned up against the pilot's seat, a blanket in his hands, and the quiet look on his face that told her everything she had needed to know.

The instance Judy found herself looking at him, her eyes began to well with tears. And then her face crumbled and her body didn't seem to care who was around, as the tears began to streak down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry." she managed out quickly, shaking her head and looking back up at him, "I just….couldn't stay in the hut. After….the news…." Her voice came out croaky, like a frog almost and the second she had started to think about them again, she felt a cry crawl out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Judy." Rosie said quietly, "I had just heard…." She looked up at him and tried to smile in thanks, but in became a watery whimper instead. Rosie was quiet for a moment as they watched each other.

"Lieutenant Montez told me." he said, his voice light as a feather, "I'm sorry." She sniffled and nodded.

"Thanks, Rosie." she managed out, before biting back her wobbling lip and staring forward towards the window of the cockpit, before her eyes welled with more tears, "I'm so sorry." And there she was, the cry from her lips like that of a wounded animal, soft and bleak. It hurt. Something like this had never hurt so much. It ached; deep down inside her, dark and harrowing.

"Here, Jude," Rosie said quietly, stepping up inside the cockpit, his large form crouching, looking rather cramped in the space between the pilot and copilots' seat, wrapping that warm blanket around her shoulders, "it's okay." He wrapped his arm around her then, rubbing his hand up and down her arm gently, back and forth, over and over.

And suddenly, the world went quiet.

The voices torturing her mind, the thoughts pulling away at every breaking edge. Everything went quiet. And he was so warm. Shuddering breaths left her lips as she shut her eyes, pressed into the side of his A2, tucked underneath his arms, listening to the low beat of his heart.

For a moment, it didn't feel like she was in this nightmare - instead she thought about home. Her special place at home, in the open field up on the hill her and her siblings would race up. The long grasses tickling their faces, their bare feet and their hands, the daises that grew in bountiful bunches swinging in the early afternoon sunlight, the hymn of the birds and the bugs lingering in all the eves of the trees and the little river that ran down the hillside.

The feeling of sun-kissed skin and that blue dress she always wore, the sound of her siblings' laughter as they'd lay in the trees, tripping over the roots, jumping off the rocks, splashing in the tidal pools with the mud and the large-leaf plants that overgrew.

The smell of fresh rain having fallen, leaving dew before on every bit of upturned root, leaf and tree. The sound of her mother's voice in the kitchen, singing sweetly and softly a Polish song that she grew up on, as she rolled dough and cut it into pieces.

The pure joy that the kitchen was always filled with, despite what little they had. Her father coming back from town each day, with a few more animals than they'd had the day before, maybe a goat, or a chicken - getting their cow the one day was like striking gold! She remembered what it felt like to sit at the kitchen table and eat with her family every day, cleaning off the dishes with her mother, drying them and placing them in their wooden cabinets. The way their front porch faced the setting sun and she'd sit and dream and dream about her future.

She had been so happy. She had been so care-free. She had been so different from the person she had wanted to be. But she was who she was, now, in this moment.

Cracking her eyes open, she found that she was curled into Rosie's side, the tender touch of fingers and fabric somewhere near her cheek as she glanced upwards and found half of Rosie's head facing her way, and his hand tucking the blanket under her chin.

Without second thought, one of his fingers came to the corner of her eyes and brushed at what she could only guess was a stray tear. And then he smiled at her, so lovingly, so full of care that she was sure that wherever she was, wasn't Earth. And he didn't even say a word to her.

Letting her sit there in his embrace, curled into his side, quiet and withdrawn.

He didn't say a word.

He stood there and watched her quietly, adjusting the blanket a few times here and there, meeting her gaze every few moments and offering a smile that she felt throughout her entire body. When she had found her voice, it was hoarse and creaky, but raw.

"I'm so sorry, Rosie." she found herself saying quietly, her eyes welling with tears slightly. And he instead tilted his head and watched her.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said, his hand against her shoulder, moving back and forth, "absolutely nothing." And she nodded because she believed him. She watched as he slowly retracted, sitting himself down in the pilot's seat, swinging his legs over the side to face her, leaning forward and allowing her to get a full view of his face and his eyes - without the crusher cap, without the mental preparation of preparing for a mission. It was simply Rosie Rosenthal in front of her now. Judy watched him with tired eyes and swallowed nervously.

"Thanks for the blanket, Rosie," she managed out quietly, "you don't have to sit here with me, if you don't want to. I just needed to get away from it all for a bit."

"It's okay." Rosie said with a quiet smile, "Just didn't want you to have to be alone, that's all. Look," she watched as he reached into his own A2 and revealed a book in his grasp - The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, "even brought a book." Judy's eyes widened at the sight of it and suddenly, she felt a bit of weight lift from her shoulders. Sitting up a bit, she sniffled to herself and caught a glimpse of Rosie's eyes and the cover of the book.

"On the Steinbeck kick?" she asked him, a small smile escaping her as Rosie met her gaze and chuckled quietly.

"Seems like it." he said, "Finished up Of Mice and Men, just….left it in your barracks, too." She looked at him and felt her eyes glow with a smile a bit. He smiled wider.

"Lieutenant Montez let me in." he offered her.

"Thanks." she said quietly, before offering a small smile, "Really, you don't have to stay." Rosie looked at her, that tender look on his face and shook his head.

"You're apart of my crew now," Rosie said quietly, tapping his fingers gently against the book cover, as if a tune had just struck his mind, "a pilot does what he or she must do for the safety of the crew." Judy cracked a smile at his words.

"I'm safe." she offered him and he chuckled at her words.

"Well, it's the beginning of November, and pretty cold, and you're holed up in the cockpit of a B-17 with nothing past an A2 and no blanket." he said back, before nodding to her, "Wouldn't consider it entirely safe in my book." Judy watched him before managing a small laugh at his words, snuggling the blanket - most likely his blanket from God knows where - up around her more and looking to him.

"Thank you, Rosie." she said, barely above a whisper, her tone genuine, and slightly broken, before she met his gaze again, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." he said, "I'm an open book." Then he smirked, tapping on the book again and she found herself chuckling again at his words.

"You're too funny," she said softly, reaching up to brush some of her hair behind her ears, wiping at her eyes before letting out a breath, "if you had known what to expect from all of this, would you still be a pilot?" Gently, she tucked herself against the back of the copilot's chair and watched him with wide, curious eyes.

She got the sense the question had knocked Rosie a bit off guard because he looked at her with a slightly surprised face and did that cute little thing where he smiled slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling, before settling his jaw.

"Well," he started, glancing out the front of the cockpit window, growing quiet for a moment, "I don't quite know." He looked back at her.

"Even if you knew what you'd expect from the war? All the death, the emotions…the bloodshed?" Judy asked him, watching his eyes grow with adoration and pride as he looked to the mechanics of the pilots chair - the wheel, all the working and running gears and mechanisms. Rosie reached forward, gently stroking his hand along the top of the wheel, landing on the middle, metallic part of the bottom of the yoke and sighed.

"I would." he said, a finality to his statement as he gave the wheel a gentle pat before looking over at her. Judy could only stare at him in a mesmerized state.

Knowing someone like Rosie Rosenthal was a leader in the 100th Bomb Group would forever make her feel safe and protected. Knowing he'd do it all again, despite the knowing, the reality.

And that's when her eyes welled further and it hit her again. Like waves crashing on a shore. Over and over. As if she was standing there, trying to get back up and she couldn't. It hit her over and over, drowning her in the salt.

The sacrifice from their leaders, from the people risking their lives day in and day out. Rosie continued to watch her softly - he remained so calm, so stoic, so…..filled with an authority and steadiness that she felt she could never muster. Whenever she had seen him the few times through the interrogation room or after they'd been released, he always seemed to have a sense about himself and what had happened and how to carry himself going forward.

"Here," Rosie said leaning forward, holding out his hand, "give me your hand." Judy slowly placed her hand forward into his own - she had to hold back the small laugh at the sheer size difference. His hand was warm, too, soft, a steady presence. He clasped his other hand overtop hers and then looked at her.

"There's no one way to learn it, but I'm sure you saw it with Captain Faulkner and Lieutenant Bradshaw," Rosie said quietly, "even if they aren't here, they still are people that would do anything to keep you safe, keep you alive and keep you moving forward. And they'd do it all over again to know their crew was safe. You know that." Judy sniffled. She nodded.

"In my eyes, knowing how Lieutenant Bradshaw was with you and the crew?" Rosie started, "I don't doubt she's still alive. Her, Carlisle, Farley and Harlowe. I don't doubt it." Judy managed a smile.

"And I want you to know that I'm here for you, too," Rosie said, "they're out there. People in the 100th don't seem the type to let the war get the best of them. But, for now, you're safe, you're here, and I want you to know that." Judy softly gripped his hand at his words and nodded.

"Please don't leave me." she whispered, eyes glassy with tears. It didn't take less than a second for Rosie to place the book down and move forward, wrapping his arms around her form. He held her with such understanding, such certainty and calm that she never wanted to have to let go.

Tucking her head into his neck, she squeezed her eyes shut and focused on him in this moment. He was such a massive person it seemed in comparison to her, his broad shoulders, his tall figure, cradling her like a wounded animal. And he was so inviting, so welcoming, so warm and forever one of the friendliest people she'd had the pleasure of meeting. And if anything, he was kind and he understood.

Maybe he never fully got to the story on Birdie Faulkner, or never would entirely understand how hard it was to get the group moving forward again with a replacement pilot, but he understood loss and what it meant to show up.

His hand gently grazed her back, over and over, up and down again overtop of the blanket, while his other arm cradled the side of her head, his thumb brushing her hair, tickling at her ears. Judy tested the waters.

"I don't normally breakdown like this," she whispered quietly, sniffling to herself, "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Judy," he said quietly in her ear, a small smile at the end of his words, "let's keep this blanket on you, you're freezing." She felt him pull it up higher over her back and then she couldn't help the small smile that was brought onto her face. Despite her puffy eyes, the dryness of her throat and the helplessness that seemed to pool in the pit of her stomach - she was smiling and it was because of Rosie Rosenthal.

"You know you're not alone, right, Judy?" Rosie said quietly and her face fell as he held her, "Montez told me you had come out here…..and….well, admittedly, she had told me to leave you alone. She knows you well, but….I came out here anyway, figured I-"

"Thank you." Judy whispered quietly, achingly, a stray tear leaking out of her eye as she took a deep breath in, "Thank you." She heard him let out a breath from his nose, almost like a bit of laughter and gave her a warm squeeze. She found it easier to speak when she wasn't looking at his face. Because looking at his face made her want to cry.

"The last time we lost someone - Captain Faulkner…" Judy started quietly, "I could barely get myself to function when I was alone. Usually, when I saw someone - Bucky or….maybe Blakely - someone higher up, I could get myself to function. Act like I was okay. Even when I wasn't." Rosie's hand slowly continued to move.

"And people would always say 'I'm so sorry', over and over. It got to the point where I'd go to bed, and just….I don't know, try to get a hand on my emotions?" Judy said, questioning even her own mind, as tears welled in her eyes.

"It was just so hard." she choked out, gripping onto him tighter as her chest heaved against him, "I'll be honest, you make me feel safe enough to cry, that's why I'm like this." It was the most honest thing she'd said in days it felt. And she hoped it wasn't overboard.

"Really?" he asked, almost as if he were surprised. Judy swallowed nervously.

"Yeah," she whispered quietly, "because you've taken care of me before. And I know how much you care for your crew, for the others. And I know you wouldn't judge me for this now." In her mind, she wanted to shut up, stop blabbering. But it was the truth. It always was.

With Rosie, it was the truth.

Slowly, she pulled back to look at him and found that same worried look written on his face.

"It's probably too early to ask, but it's who I am by heart - are you hungry? At all?" he asked her and she let out a small laugh, her stomach twisting in a sour manner, as she gripped his shoulder gently.

"Not really." she said quietly with a shake of her head. Rosie nodded, the corner of his lip turned upward at her as he glanced back at his chair.

"Well," he said softly, looking back at her, "how about you try and get some sleep then. I'll stay right here - I won't let anything happen to you, I swear." Judy eyed him tentatively as he pulled away - his warmth disappearing - as he sat down in the pilot's seat again and looked towards her.

"How'd you know I was sleepy?" she whispered out, feigning offense, the smile on her face doing her no favors.

"Your eyes." he said with a smirk, picking up the book, and opening up to a page he had doggy-eared. She watched him as he looked down to the book, his eyes tracing over the words in a fluid manner before moving on to flip to the next page and repeat.

And slowly, she felt the heaviness and exhaustion take over, her mind filled with quieted thoughts for the time being and the warmth of the blanket.

And she let herself fall asleep, right there in the copilot's chair, right next to Rosie Rosenthal.