#always. - benny demarco circa 1943

[wexhappyxfew]

Margie and Benny in the camps screams the prompt “you can rest now, you’re safe”. Love your stuff!!!

HI SWEET ANON!!! margie and benny in the camps absolutely screams 'you can rest now, you're safe'!!!!!! thank you for the love and support omggggg!!!! <33333 it means so much!!!! :D this prompt was just so. them. like insanely them. i haven't written a whole lot for these two....they've been hidden in the background (and are very much a duo that snuck up on me), but i've wanted to explore them more recently, especially when i put out this duo as a prompt option - and i can't say how excited i am to do more for them!!!! please enjoy!!!

always, always, always

(a/n): margie and benny you are so special to me, margie and benny you are so special to me. this was just ....i am so insanely soft for these two right now. just two people who are in a situation they couldn't entirely control, yet are living on, in the best way they can, despite it. the yearn, the ache, the want. sobbing. absolutely sobbing.

You can rest now, you're safe. You can rest now, you're safe. You can rest now, you're safe. You can rest now, you're safe. You can rest now, you're safe.

Hearing it more times than she could even count, she took double that to convince herself that she actually was. Her entire body ached, everything hurt, she felt like she was sick with three different types of illnesses that all made her head ache, her nose run and her stomach feel crummy, and to even shift her head made her dizzy.

Convincing herself she was safe on top of that took every ounce of energy left in what she could call her body. She was so thin, so sickly, she wondered how she had even survived to this point - how she had even made it.

After getting separated from Lieutenant Bradshaw, Lieutenant Carlisle, and Kennedy, she was sure she'd be gone for good until she'd run into that German family and they'd all but kept her locked in that room until the Germans had come for her.

The only thing keeping her grounded in her spiral of thoughts was the gentle hand that slowly ran down from her sweaty forehead, over her tangled, dirty-blonde hair, before starting over again, and repeating that same motion over and over as she lay there with tears in her eyes, staring at the ceiling of the bunk above her. She could hear things going on around her, quiet voices - staying soft as if being loud would bother her - and the clang of pots and sloshing of water.

Someone was cooking.

The smell made her queasy.

"How's she doing, Benny?" she heard Bucky's voice say somewhere above her. She could imagine him - hands on his hips, that cold and detached look on his face.

Bucky Egan cared for all of the crew - of course, in his own way, that is - and it seemed now, in this camp, that was heightened and when one of the crew was down, he'd make sure someone paid for it.

Somehow.

"Okay as can be for now, still burning up," Benny whispered quietly from somewhere right next to her, his gentle touch that had previously been moving across her head, gone - please keep touching me, keep me grounded, keep me alive, please, "that soup ready yet?"

"Hambone's almost done." Bucky said firmly, his voice a bit louder than Benny's making her grimace the slightest bit. Bucky hesitated it seemed before his next statement. "She say anything yet?" The room grew a bit quieter at that notion, and she heard a small, grieving sigh escape Benny.

"No." Benny whispered, "Not yet."

What was Margie supposed to make of all this?

What she had seen, what had been done to her, what she had experienced, what she had been forced to be told?

Forced to say?

Her slow, shallow breaths were the only consistent part about her entire feeling right now. And it even hurt to breathe. She heard Bucky walk away, and the hand brushing across her head returned, slow, smooth and ethereally gentle.

With what the past week had been, she couldn't remember a touch as gentle as this. There was something in her where she couldn't get the words right in her mind. She couldn't get her brain to string a coherent sentence together that would make sense in this moment. And trying to say something in this moment could be pointless.

"You can rest now, Margie, you're safe, we gotcha." Benny whispered quietly as he continued to brush his fingertips over her sweaty forehead and over her hair. We gotcha, she repeated in her head, a few times over to convince herself it was true. We gotcha.

Somewhere between 5 seconds and 15 minutes had passed, with Benny's hand still slowly smoothing back her sweaty hair, when she began to smell something reminiscent of food, and her senses seemed to come to her.

"Mind grabbing her a bowl?" she heard Benny asked someone; there was a following mumbling and shuffling of footsteps. Lying there made her feel almost worse than if she was actually sitting up and acting normal - and that was the thing right? She would try to act normal, like nothing was bothering her, that whatever she had just experienced had never happened and she'd try and play it off. Because that's what she usually did and she was usually pretty good at it. But lying here now, she couldn't muster that inside herself.

"You should eat, Margie." she heard Benny whisper from somewhere above her head again. The thought made her want to vomit, but she knew she did need food - just from the way her body and mind ached, and her stomach seemed to scream out for some sort of food.

"I'll help you sit up." Benny said, and she felt his hands move to her elbows. And almost as if on instinct, she flinched, turning to look up at him with wide eyes, her heart racing as she tried to control it by holding her breath, but was miserably failing.

Something behind his gaze flickered in a saddening way that made her want to go back and act like she was fine, just so she didn't have to see that shift in his eyes. But lying there, looking up at him, she knew she couldn't go back, she couldn't change a damn thing. Benny had shifted back a bit, his hands hovering just over her arms this time, his gaze steady on her own, his body evidently tense.

It was so painfully different than the last time they'd seen each other, since being back in Thorpe Abbotts. She'd been so….different. In more ways than one. And noticing that change in herself hurt more than anything.

Staring at Benny, who was staring back at her made her think that he was definitely seeing a different person from the Margie Harlowe back at Thorpe Abbotts. That made her want to be sick.

"You okay?" he asked her quietly, his voice barely above much more than a trembling whisper. Margie stared at him there on the cot, frozen in place. Her entire body seemed to go into a panic just at his questioning, at his worry. She slowly nodded. She wasn't convinced of it herself, but she nodded despite it - for Benny and for the food. He continued to watch her as she saw someone else come into her line of sight.

It was Lieutenant Bradshaw.

A part of Margie wanted to breakdown at the sheer sight of Lieutenant Bradshaw right then and there - her glorious face, covered in grime and scars, her hair pulled away from her normally bright face, her eyes still holding light despite their dulled nature in a place like this. Annie Bradshaw seemed to have that effect on people - you saw her and wanted to breakdown with sheer relief that she was right there alongside you.

"Here, Benny," Annie said, handing the bowl of soup to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder in that comforting and confiding way she always seemed to do when she could read a situation as easily as she normally did. Margie watched Annie look towards her, a far-off look in her gaze that made Margie's insides twists.

"Hey, Margie," Annie said, stepping forward and crouching beside the cot, "you doing okay?" Margie stared at Annie and tried to nod; it was admittedly a fair attempt at being confident in herself and her emotions, but staring at her command pilot made tears well in her eyes.

"C'mere Margie," Annie said, leaning forward and slowly helping her sit upright, gently touching at her shoulders and arms to help her sit up, "there you go." Annie smiled, weakly. "Sometimes you just need a good sit-up and a warm meal." Margie watched as Annie looked to Benny and nodded.

"And no doubt, you have the perfect person to be here and make sure you get your fill," Annie said softly, looking back to Margie with another one of her gentle smiles, reaching forward to squeeze Margie's hand, "you're safe, Margie." Annie's smile saddened - she had the most beautiful smile and seeing it fade hurt Margie's heart.

"Please know that."

Margie blinked away her onslaught of tears and managed a weak nod. Annie squeezed her hand extra tight before glancing at Benny and giving him a knowing look. Margie watched as Annie slowly stood to her feet, and smiled at her again.

That smile could win the war in Margie's eyes.

Slowly, Lieutenant Bradshaw faded back again to the group, getting her own fill of soup and settling in to her spot at the table. Margie looked towards Benny in the chair pulled up beside the bunk she was in and immediately noticed the grip he had on the bowl of soup and the quiet look on his face.

"It's not bad." Benny said with a small smile growing onto his lips before disappearing, "The soup. That is. It's….there could be worse."

He attempted another smile and Margie could feel a sense of comfort overwhelm her being - the realization that she was surrounded by people that wouldn't let her get hurt nor even hurt her. She wasn't back in that room, she wasn't there, she was with the people from the 100th who were like family. She was with people that cared. She was sitting right there with Benny. She was safe.

Watching Benny made her feel a jolt of guilt suddenly - he was sticking his neck out for her, trying to get her to feel better and more comforted in anyway and all she could do was sit here and stare, motionless.

Looking to Benny again, she watched a small smile grow encouragingly onto his lips and she couldn't help herself - she managed a small smile back. Sure, her face was a little more hollow, her eyes sunken in, cheeks gaunt, but she could see a fondness grow in Benny's eyes - just knowing she had smiled a bit.

Margie looked down at the bowl of soup, wringing her hands together in her lap, and slowly nodded. He was right - there was so much more that was worse than a bowl of soup.

For a moment, sitting there with Benny across from her, the matter of a week changing her into this new enigma of a person, it was almost like she was meeting Benny again for the first time - with that charming look in his eyes, that warm smile, his easy-going comfort that was like wrapping a warm blanket around yourself on a stormy day.

But he was still Benny DeMarco.

And he was still sitting there in front of her.

Still looking at her like she didn't feel like a completely different human being.

"Here," Benny said, stirring the soup with the spoon, before pulling some of it up into a spoonful and holding it out towards her, "let's just get some of this in you." Margie watched him and slowly nodded again, parting her lips the slightest bit and allowing him to drop the soup in her mouth. Whatever it was, it really wasn't horrible. That or she was just more hungry than she had originally thought.

Benny sat there with her, in that quiet and content silence, listening to the general chatter and clanging of dishes and people behind them in the bunk room, spoon-feeding her the soup until it was virtually gone.

Margie took down the last spoonful and then looked to him, her body feeling the slightest twinge more alive than she had been just a few minutes ago. She watched him turn back to the table behind him to place down the empty bowl, before he turned back to look towards her again and smiled.

Ever since she had tumbled in here, clinging to Major Cleven's jacket, tripping over her feet, in hysterics, reaching blindly for comfort, Benny had been there. Immediately by her side, now gingerly smiling, watching her like she was a precious being, like she didn't look like she had just been six feet under. Eyes welling with tears, Margie wrapped her arms around herself and bit back her lip.

"Margie…." Benny whispered softly. She could tell he wanted to reach out and touch her, hold her, let her know he was there, but the last time that'd happened, she'd flinched and he had retreated, looking defeated and deflated all at once. Looking up at him, Margie nervously tucked her lose hair behind her ears and met his gaze through her red-rimmed eyes.

"Thank you, Benny." she whispered quietly, her voice sounding dead to the ears - he still smiled.

God, Benny DeMarco would always look at her like that wouldn't he?

It seemed at the sound of her voice - she was actually speaking, she could actually get her thoughts coherent for once - that the realization made his entire body freeze. Margie did want to reach out towards him - she yearned for a touch that she knew wouldn't hurt her - but her thoughts would trail back to her past week of life and she'd retreat into herself, wishing she could cocoon her body into a ball.

And it seemed he wanted to do the same, watching her with such a desperate and pleading look - but he seemed to be thinking the same - she'd flinched the last time. He would hesitate. Margie stared at the space between and then looked at him again.

"Truly." she whispered, her voice sore, "Thank you." Benny's hands twitched, like he was about to reach out just to try to find a way to hold her. But he held himself, he watched her and slowly nodded, jaw slightly slack.

"Always." he said quietly.

Always, always, always.

And when someone said always - Margie believed them. Despite this war, this death, this terror, the grief, the horrors of it all, the blank promises of safety or normalcy or life - she would believe them.

She would believe him. In him.

Always, always, always.