#tare squadron

[sergeant-spoons]

19. Loose Ends

Bernadette Noel

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​ @chaosklutz​​ @wexhappyxfew​​ @50svibes​​ @tvserie-s-world​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​ @whovian45810​​ @brokennerdalert​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​ @claire-bear-1218​​ @heirsoflilith​​ @itswormtrain​​ @actualtrashpanda​​ @wtrpxrks​​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Captain?"

"Mmph."

"Berni?"

"Mmmm."

"Berni, wake up."

The voice sounded like her mother, but that didn't make any sense for a myriad of reasons. Berni was in Georgia, for one. And Mummy had been dead going on twenty years. Papa too, for that matter. Berni could remember their faces a little, but not their voices. So, who was trying to rouse her from her blessed sleep? What hurt had she sustained to her head to make it ache this much? And why did it feel like she was sleeping on split cushions and not a warm bed?

"I'm on the couch, aren't I?"

The responding voice, pushing through the fog, sounded confused, and Berni forced herself to repeat the muffled question.

"Ah, yes."

"Hrnn-"

With a great effort, Berni rolled away from the scratchy pillows pressing against her left arm, and the brief freefall and sudden impact woke her up fully. A pair of knees came into view as someone dropped down onto the floor beside her, then hands and a worried face, and it was Addie, dragging Berni back into the waking world.

"Why would you do that?!"

"Impressive," came a snorted chuckle from somewhere near the roof of Berni's spotty sight. "I don't envy your hangover, Captain."

"You shouldn't," Berni groaned, pushing herself up onto her elbows, then promptly letting herself fall back onto the floorboards. "Eugh."

"You want a tissue?"

"Hnng."

"I'll take that as a no."

"Get her a glass of water, Earl. From the tap will do." 

Earl (who had faded out of faintly recognizable shadow into full being) went off to fulfill her new duty. Addie petted Berni's hair as if that might soothe the drums splitting the inside of her head in two.

"I'll go down to the medbay and see if I can't find some aspirin. Stay here."

"As if I could move anywhere without—huh—without throwing up."

"Don't do it on the couch," Erma said on her way out. "I'll be the one to clean it up if you do."

"Where are you going?"

“Post. Ought to send my mother a letter if Ellis is coming most of the way home—and I know Ellis won't think to, so..."

Berni waved her along, too out of it to notice or return Erma's parting salute. She studied the side of the couch for a moment, then reluctantly pushed herself up to sit and turned her attention to the task of hauling herself back up onto the couch. It was a graceless, slow operation, but she managed it in the end. She sat with her legs hanging off, her feet so firmly planted on the floor she felt as though she might sink right through it. Her posture was abysmal but she couldn't care less, slouching like she was modeling a fetal circle for one of those abstract expressionists whose paintings kept popping up in city offices these days. Sink had one in his office, though it didn't seem like his style, a contrast to his whiskey glasses and manicured desks.

Joe.

His name popped into her head at the same moment Berni sat up. She fell back into her hands, groaning, tears cropping up in half an instant. By the time Earl came back into the room, the captain's trembling had devolved into shaking and her trickling into sobbing. The youngest, least worldly pilot in Berni's crew froze halfway into the room, staring at the enigma on the couch.

"Oh."

After a moment, she came over and sat beside Berni, whose attempt to hide her tears in her sleeve cuffs proved a resounding failure. Earl extended a vague hunk of bread and a squat glass of water, patiently waiting as Berni blinked miserably at the gifts.

"I've never had a hangover before, is it really that bad?"

"No- no, it isn't that..."

Berni went to take a sip of the water and promptly spilled half of it down her shirt.

"Bloody hell."

She handed the glass back to Earl and ducked her throbbing head into her hands. Earl set the water aside and tried to give her captain the bread-thing. Berni's brow furrowed.

"Is that supposed to be a biscuit?" 

Earl examined the circular slice, then broke it in half.

"It would seem so." 

"That is not a biscuit, that is the bland fucking American equivalent-"

Earl cracked a small smile.

"Well, at least you're well enough to be using the word 'equivalent' in casual conversation. I think you'll be just fine, Cap."

"I know I will." A grimace. "Other than... well, fuck."

"Other than what?"

Berni rose too quickly—

"Noth- ugh."

—and in between the spots and darkness, Earl's worried face flashed. At her guiding touch, Berni sank back onto the couch and sighed so strongly it made the tufts of the carpet at her feet wiggle.

"Berni?" Earl sounded small. "What happened?"

"We had a fight."

Had those tears never come, Earl never would have suspected anything ran deeper under the admission. She likely would have chuckled it off and never questioned the other half of 'we', assuming it to be a wrongdoer who'd pestered one of the pilots and regretfully crossed the captain in doing so. But Berni had cried—was still crying, if she was honest with herself—and so the answer could not be so simple.

"Who?"

"I hate to say it."

"Oh, come off it, Cap, I've never seen you this upset at yourself."

Berni bit back something unkind. She took a moment to check herself and nodded, acknowledging Earl's fine-tuned intuition.

"I shouldn't have had so much to drink."

"I could have told you that."

A dirty look made Earl wince.

"Right. Sorry. So who was it? And what happened?"

"... It was-"

The screen door whined and Addie appeared a beat later, a small, unlabeled glass bottle in hand. Though Berni wrinkled up her nose, she accepted it with a pointed nod of thanks.

"What is this, the seventeenth century? Who doesn't label medicine bottles these days?"

"The United States Airborne, it would seem," Addie sighed. "Go on, take two, maybe three. It'll help."

Berni complied, taking special care not to spill the water this time. She got a bit down her chin, but her sleeve took care of it, and as she leaned back on the couch, she closed her eyes. She'd hoped her girls might leave her alone if she ignored them enough, but her luck was not to be; when she peeked, she saw them exchanging a mouthed exchange. Earl, guilty of countenance, was no doubt passing on what tiptoed confession Berni had let slip.

"It was Liebgott," she said, at last, keeping one eye fully open and the other halfway. "I was hammered to bits, some git tried to feel me up, and before I could take a swing, he—Joe—went and tackled the bastard. I left, he came after me, and he was saying something about walking me home, and-"

She broke off, watching the night flooding back to her in excruciatingly blurry detail. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead.

"Oh, I'm going to throw up."

Earl grabbed the flowers out of a pot in the nick of time and held them while Berni upchucked last night's supper. As soon as she found a moment to catch her breath, the hungover captain stumbled into the bathroom and only came out fifteen minutes later. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her bottom lip was bleeding in the corner as if it had been repeatedly worried by an uncaring tooth.

"He told me he thought I couldn't take care of myself," she declared as she came into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe, not particularly caring who might overhear at this point. Addie turned from the sink, pressing the flowers in their new vase to her bosom. Earl, standing by the calendar as if she'd been flipping through it solely for something to do, sucked her breath in through her teeth. There was no need to clarify who Berni was talking about; there was no one else it could be.

"Not that I give a damn," Berni lied, waving her hand, stubborn as ever. "He's a prickly sod, anyway. It would have never worked out."

As Addie set the vase down on the counter, she and Earl shared a look that Berni forced herself to ignore. She went to the sink and poured herself two more glasses of water, downing them in quick succession as if she didn't know that would make her nauseous again. After another trip to the toilet, she sipped begrudgingly slowly at the water, trying to ease the stinging of her throat.

"What about-"

"What? About what?"

Earl shrank. Addie laid a hand on her shoulder, and the younger pilot eased, turning aside as if she knew she'd been ousted from the conversation.

"It looked like—well, how I saw it, at least-"

"How you saw what?"

"You and Joe, like you call him," Addie retorted firmly, flexing her scarred hand at her side like she only did when agitated. "You were becoming something more."

"Bullshit!" Berni snorted. "Never. What kind of example would that set?"

Addie squinted like she wanted to say something long-simmering about her captain's leadership techniques, and Berni's chest constricted with the bile of shame.

"I'm- I'm going out."

"Why? For what?"

"Coffee! And a smoke!"

"Coffee? But-"

"I want coffee, and I'll have coffee, all of it, and you, and him, be damned!"

Berni stormed out of the kitchen (as stormily as she could while clutching the side of her head and using every piece of furniture at hip height to prop herself up) and spurned Earl's sympathetic mutterings of I think she might be heartbroken.

Heartbroken! As if! 

Berni felt like spluttering at the sky, she was so loath to believe it. 

There would have to be love to lose it—which there isn't!

"And so there!" she exclaimed, only to fall back down on the couch, groaning, draping one arm over her eyes. She stayed there so long that she fell back to sleep, but she did not doze long, Erma's timely return waking her after only a few minutes.

"Good, you're resting," Erma chirped, swaying her way toward the upstairs. "I've got my letter in, now I've just got to tell Ellis... Well..."

"You've got time," Addie said, poking her head out of the kitchen. "We're not going for another two hours."

"But I've still got to pack some things for her-"

"Then get to it!"

Earl leaned around Addie, tilting her head at Berni.

"I thought you'd gone for coffee."

"I'm going, I'm going," Berni grumbled, sheer ego shoving her off the couch and out the door. She tried ferociously not to show it, but she felt absolutely miserable. Finding it hard to release the doorknob after she'd stepped outside, she accidentally slammed the door. Muttering curses under her breath, she wobbled away from it, a lit cigarette landing on her lips as her hands moved on autopilot. She knew she'd said a good deal of stupid things last night—she'd never admit it, but she was worse than even Joe in her hotheadedness—but she couldn't remember quite what, and it was driving her already-spinning head wild. Her hangover was proof of just how deep in the drink she'd gone, and to add to the misery, she couldn't pick out why she felt so poorly towards Joe. He'd insulted her honor—but what her memory told her he'd said didn't seem analogous to the bitter sting poisoning her opinion of him. This past week had been heavy on her heart, but waking up like this, knowing that something with Joe had splintered into a nothing, felt like a too-small jacket had been forced to zip shut over her scalloped lungs. She couldn't draw a substantial breath without getting dizzy—but here to interrupt her woe came Hennessy, two steaming mugs in hand, not ten feet from the porch Berni had just left.

"Agh, Hen-"

Falling into step with her friend, Berni greedily accepted the coffee and circled back toward the porch.

"-has anyone ever told you you're a saint?"

"Many times. Now listen: Private Liebgott looks like shit this morning, and I think you got somethin' to do with it."

Berni prickled. "I don't care what that smarmy git looks like any time of the day."

"Mmm. Sure. But honey-" Hennessy set her coffee on the banister, stepped up to Berni, and brushed her thumbs under her friend's eyes until the last of her tears were gone. "-he ain't worth cryin' over."

"I'm not crying," Berni replied, tearing up.

"Hey, hey- listen, c'mon, listen to me." Hennessy grabbed Berni's hands. "He ain't worth cryin' over. If he don't see the luck he's got, havin' somebody like you even lookin' his way, then fuck him."

Berni gave a harsh laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, fuck him."

"That's it! Fuck him!"

"Fuck him!"

They started to laugh, and Berni nearly spilled hot coffee down her shirt. Distracted, she stepped back, holding the mug out over the porch banister, and who should jog past just then but four of the Easy men. Joe wasn't there, thank heavens, but two of his buddies were, and as they went on their way, they shared a look that made Berni's heart sink.

"Fuck him," Hennessy said, "remember? He ain't worth it. You're leavin' today, so you ain't gotta see him no more."

That made Berni feel even worse, but she pretended it roused her spirits.

"Right. We're leaving." A beat. "Speaking of people being gone—where the bloody hell have you been?!"

Hennessy winced, and Berni bit the cut on her lip to reprimand herself for the unjust accusation. She could feel the thin trickle of blood down her chin. She made no move to wipe it away, and her friend didn't seem to notice.

"I had to go back home. My Grandpops passed on and we had this big funeral with all these long ceremonies... Lotsa cryin'... I couldn't miss it."

"Aw, fuck." Berni ran her hand through her hair. "I'm sorry, Hen."

Hennessy shrugged, forgiving.

"You couldn't'a known. I did just up and go without tellin' anybody—eh, 'cept Sink."

"No matter. You're back now."

"And staying," Hennessy reminded grimly. "Y'know, this place ain't gonna be the same without you."

"All of us, you mean. Who are going."

"Well, yeah, but mostly you."

Berni's surprise must have shown on her face. Hennessy chuckled breathily and without much humor.

"You've sure made your mark here, Teacup. I know plenty o' the guys who'll be sad to see you go. And who knows if you're ever gonna come back to us-"

"Don't say that," Berni interrupted, her voice strained. "Don't make me feel worse about it all."

Hennessy hesitated, then reached over and squeezed her friend's arm.

"Maybe someday."

"Mmm..."

Berni had finished her coffee. As she eyed the last drops in the bottom of her mug, she felt Hennessy bump her elbow with the offering of her own beverage. After a beat, Berni accepted, blowing a puff of smoke before stamping out the last of her cigarette.

"To someday."

Hennessy took the empty mug and raised it to mirror Berni's; her smile was not quite as happy as either of them would have liked.

"To someday."

The train platform was dismally empty as Tare Squadron prepared to say their goodbyes. Ellis and Erma spent a long time huddled together, hugging and touching each other's arms and cheeks and hair. Every time they wrapped up their tearful murmurs, something else came to mind and renewed them immediately; still, Berni could hardly blame them for holding up the departure. They were not the only ones bending heads together as if it might dissuade time from marching on. Délia and Earl were arguing over who should keep the souvenir snow globe they'd piled their money to buy on their Christmas trip to Atlantic City. Each wanted the other to have it. Fiona circled around their conversation, adding commentary here and there, but most often, her gaze flicked toward the steps at the far end of the platform. Each time she did not see what she was looking for, her shoulders slumped a little further; before long, she was ducking her way into Beatrice and Venus' conversation as a way to hide from whatever—or, more likely, whoever—she was missing.

Thelma and Addie were already on the train. Thelma wasn't much good with goodbyes, and where Thelma went, Addie couldn't help but follow. They'd made their farewells brief, sure to insist on the temporary nature of their parting, and boarded before Berni had even arrived. Polly, who hated this goodbye as much as everyone else but knew how to deal with it the best, wound her way through the group, offering hugs and kind words wherever she stepped. By the time Berni looked up from Polly's motherly reassurances, Fiona had gravitated toward Rosie, and together, they stood under the station sign, fidgeting with their hands and pockets, not bothering to hide how they stared down those far, lonely steps. Everything felt so off-kilter that Berni had to lean against Polly for a moment to stop the world from slanting so.

The conductor caught the captain's eye. He held up his wrist, and though she could not read the time past the sun reflecting off his watch, she understood the summons.

"Ladies," she said, "it's time."

No one heard her, so she tried a second time, and on the third, her voice broke mid-shout. Her crew's straggling conversations petered off and they turned to her one by one, unanimously dreading this moment.

"Get your things wherever you've put them down," Berni said, the words falling forth blandly as if she'd been rehearsing them all morning (she had) to make sure she didn't, for once, fall prey to emotion. "It's time to go."

It was only by the fortune of her station that her crew obeyed. What authority she'd never before failed to command was nowhere to be found today. For a beat, she wished Hennessy was here, just for one last hug, but she knew such a thing was unattainable. Hennessy had already taken too much time off for her grandfather's funeral (or so her higher-ups had said), and though it seemed a little cruel to keep her on base while half of the crew she oversaw made their official departure, she and Berni both knew there was nothing to be done about it.

"Wait!"

At first, Berni thought she'd imagined the shout. Then it came again, just as breathless but closer, and when she chanced a look over her shoulders, she was bloody glad she did. Here came Frank Perconte and George Luz and Donald Hoobler, tripping up the far stairs, waving their caps and hollering for Tare to hold up. Several friends followed close behind—Bull Randleman, Joe Toye, Shifty Powers, Popeye Wynn, and Floyd Talbert, to name a few. Those leading the charge came barreling across the platform to tackle their respective friends and partners in hugs and kisses alike. Frank went to Fiona first, then took her with him to find Berni. He made to shake her hand, but she used his grip to yank him into a tight hug instead. He patted her back, she touched his shoulder, and when they parted, she politely pretended not to see the mist in his eyes. Frank turned back to Fiona and Berni moved to greet the rest of the men.

"Fuckin' Sobel made us run the route twice just so we'd miss seeing you girls off," Hoobler gasped, grinning as a tearful Délia ruffled his hair with breathtaking affection. "Proved him wrong, didn't we?"

"You sure did," Berni laughed wetly, shaking his hand. "You're brilliant, all of you! Absolutely brilliant!"

"I can't believe you ran all the way," gasped Rosie, letting Popeye wrap her in a surprisingly firm hug. "I just- I can't believe it."

"'Course we did," Shifty said, squeezing her hand. "We had to come."

Berni glanced over and caught his eye, and when he glanced pointedly at Popeye, she understood. She ducked her head, hoping if she averted her gaze, it wouldn't be too late, after all. For them, not her—she knew full well her time had run stale with...

"Captain?"

"Yes?"

"We've still got to catch the train."

The train's final, blaring warning interrupted Ellis midway through the reminder, and the shrillness of the whistle startled all the merriment out of the group. It did not go unnoticed by Berni that Earl McClung was not among the well-wishers, and as a result, Ellis was bouncing her leg where she stood, agitated but trying to hold it in. But no matter her personal angst, she was right—they had to wrap up this send-off, and quick. The last bittersweet goodbyes came and went, and before she was ready to believe it, the train huffed and started to take Berni away. She ducked around haphazardly, trying to track down Thelma and Addie while also keeping track of the other three pilots organizing themselves and their luggage. She was standing in the hallway, directing Délia to just hand Fiona that suitcase before it fell onto someone's head, when a latecomer, equally hungover after having returned to the bar post-quarrel, rushed up to the party on the platform. With her back to the window, Berni missed him entirely. Hoobler waved a white handkerchief, Toye led a chorus of "I'll Be Seeing You", and Frank called sweet everythings after Fiona (who persisted in leaning out the window after him even after the station was out of sight), but Joe Liebgott ignored it all and kept running until he hit the edge of the platform, where he stumbled to a stop, his lungs burning from more labors than sole exertion.

"Fuck," he snapped, running his hand through his hair, catching his fingers on several aggravating tangles. "Shit. Shit."

What did he do now? He'd thrown his pride out the window to come here, and for what? To say goodbye? He couldn't do even that now. Could he write? It seemed like a bad idea. There she went, steaming off into the distance, off to the port and then the other side of the Atlantic. She probably hated him. Probably thought he hated her, too. They'd been tangled up in each other for so long only to watch it all come undone in one night. And now with an ocean between them—oh, how loose ends could fray.

"Fuck."

Hoobler came up and pursed his lips sympathetically. Joe was about to turn and tell him to shut up and leave him alone, but Hoobler tut-tutted before he could untwist his tongue.

"Tough luck, buddy."

He meant well. Joe almost punched him.

Don't. It won't bring her back.

Forcing a great deal of willpower, Joe flexed his clenching fingers and pivoted on a sharp heel.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Geez. Okay." Hoobler held up his hands defensively. "Sorry you couldn't get your happily ever after."

"Hoob, I swear to fucking God-"

"Okay!" Wisely, he let Joe leave without following. "Sheesh. Sorry."

'Happily ever after'.

What fucking bullshit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quick note: This update breaks 50k words on There Goes My Flight. Thank you so much to all my wonderful readers. I love you all so much. 💕

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dungeon: The Runaway Refinery (Prospective Claims adventure arc)

 (I’m doing something unusual with this arc, creating multiple adventure prompts that can be used in any order rather than following one particular story. If you’re interested in completing the adventure, click HERE or on the “ Prospective Claims ” tag below) 

Setup: After following valuable cut of deep-earth minerals, a dwarven prospecting settlement has discovered an expansive vein of magically infused crystal, a find which promises great prosperity if only they have the ability to harvest it. After several disastrous attempts resulting in wildly unpredictable magic, they’ve discovered the a process to carefully quarry and contain the material, allowing it to be transported and sold or worked by the settlement’s artisans. 

Things were going well till a terrible accident sent a chain reaction of wild magic through the vein, collapsing several tunnels, setting lose chaotic magics, and sending production grinding to a halt. 

Adventure hooks: 

Several groups of miners were on shift when the surge occurred, leaving them trapped in cut-off caverns with dwindling supplies. While the townsfolk work to free those trapped closest to the surface, the party is asked to delve as deep as they can into the mines in order to look for survivors. 

The surge ended up animating several key pieces of mine equipment including the ENTIRE CRYSTAL REFINERY, which has fled into the mine on rickety stilt legs. While disaster relief is the first priority, the prosperity of the settlement is reliant on wrangling these suddenly  defensive constructs back to work. 

To make matters worse the surge has released of a flight of territorial drakes, denizens of a neighboring cave system the prospectors took great pains to seal off in order to gain access to the vein. These beasts should be hunted on site as they will harry any rescue efforts deeper into the mine, and will continue to swarm until their entrace into the cavern is once again cut off. 

Challenges and Complications: 

Before the surge, the prospectors discovered that they could animate their mine carts with a simple crystal circuit, allowing them to speed through the expansive mine system and move large amounts of minerals where they needed to go. After the surge these carts have gone wild, barreling along their tracks at breakneck speed. Adventurers will need to watch for flying mine carts hurdling at them after a derailment, though repairing and stabilizing one of these constructions may allow them to save time while traversing the many caverns and tunnels of the mine. 

Aftershocks of the surge still echo through some mineral rich sections of the mine, creating passageways full of violent magical energy. Perhaps one of the insulated suits mentioned by one of the foremen could be used to traverse them, though the building they were stored in seems to have fallen to the very bottom of the dig. 

Small squadrons of animated objects patrol the tunnels, chaotically miming their original purpose or clashing with each other in brief but chaotic turf-wars. The party will need to dodge striking pickaxes, evade a marauding mill wheel, and  chase a runaway drilling machine before it causes a large scale structural collapse. 

Bossfight: The Rogue Refinery

With jagged growths of arcane crystal rending its roof and dozens of scaffold legs propelling it spiderlike through the underdark, the party will need to chase the refinery along the precarious rail lines in order to catch it and deactivate the possessed machinery inside before it tares itself apart. Possessed of the barest spark of sentience, the Refinery will flee as best it can, destroying potential paths and spitting out freshly animated minions in the hopes of escaping its pursuers. 

[lex-for-lexington]

“View of a Japanese armed freighter ("Fox Tare Charlie") after a low-level attack at Saigon, Indochina, by a PB4Y-1 Liberator of Patrol Bombing Squadron (VPB) 117 flown by Lieutenant Elder.” 3 July 1945.

(National Museum of Naval Aviation: NNAM.1996.488.027.049)

[militaryleak]

Royal Australian Air Force F-35As Train for In-Flight Refueling to Prepare IOC

Royal Australian Air Force F-35As Train for In-Flight Refueling to Prepare IOC

Eagle-eyed residents have spotted high-flying Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) training missions over Taree on the NSW mid-north coast. A local Facebook page featured images shot by a Taree resident of a Airbus KC-30A multi-role tanker transport conducting air-to-air refuelling with a pair of F-35A Lightning II fighter aircraft. Commanding Officer of No. 33 Squadron, Wing Commander Sarah…

[sergeant-spoons]

20. With Certainty & Charm

Bernadette Noel

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​​​​​​ @chaosklutz​​​​​​​​​ @wexhappyxfew​​​​​​​​​ @50svibes​​​​​​​​​ @tvserie-s-world​​​​​​​​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​​​​​​​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​​​​​​​​ @whovian45810​​​​​​​​​​ @brokennerdalert​​​​​​​​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​​​​​​​​ @claire-bear-1218​​​​​​​​​ @heirsoflilith​​​​​​​​​​ @itswormtrain​​​​​​​​​​ @actualtrashpanda​​​​​​​​​​ @wtrpxrks​​​​​​​​​​

Hello, my lovelies! Sorry for my lack of my updates on most of my fics these past few months; between periods of sporadic busy-ness, a long bout of writer’s block, and the holiday exchanges I’ve been involved in, I haven’t had much energy or time to work on these longer fics. I’ve got my fingers crossed that I’ll be getting back into the swing of things in the coming months. 🤞 In the meantime, thank you for your patience. 💕

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six months ago, on a troopship not unlike this one, Berni had been surrounded by arrogant show-offs with no regard for personal boundaries and what seemed to be a strange vendetta against any woman to outrank them. She'd punched quite a few of them and might have done worse to others had her compatriots not reeled her in, and just when Berni was starting to be of the opinion that she could never in her life work with scoundrels like these, she could not have been more relieved to discover through the 101st Airborne that not all American soldiers were quite so foul. She was even starting to like the skies of the Southern states—they were good for flying in—but then everything went to pieces and Berni returned to anger and hurt. She'd been stewing in her emotions ever since they left Camp MacKall, and that was a week ago. Unfortunately, there weren't many places to go on a boat (even a big one); cut off from her beloved planes, it was only a matter of time before the captain resorted to other, less reputable means of letting off steam.

"Keep it up, Captain! Let 'im have it!"

"Come on, Jonesy! You can't pick a fight with a woman and then lose!"

"This broad's gonna make a fool of herself!"

"Hey, hey-" The man facing Berni in their makeshift ring turned and waved down his wolf-whistling friend. "-knock it off, Mack."

Berni chuckled and readied her fists, wrapped in white cloth that was already a little bloody from her last bout.

"Ready?"

Her opponent turned back to her with a cocky grin.

"Only if you are, Captain."

Someone whistled, and before the shrill sound had even left the air, Berni took the first swing. The fight lasted a good seven or eight minutes, and that wasn't just for show. The men around them shuffled around a bit, holding up their cash as motivation for the boxers, but no one went far, and the boundaries of the ring made by the spectators' bodies remained relatively secure. It was a good, clean match, and when her rival finally ceded victory to her, Berni was impressed enough to hand him a glass of water that someone passed initially to her. He panted for a minute, sipped at the water, then came to shake her hand, a move which delighted her. He was the first of her competitors to do so, and though he was mocked for doing so, he didn't back down. Berni might have stayed to talk with him a minute and make sure she hadn't bruised his jaw too badly, but she was already being drawn away into the excited crowd. As she collected her winnings from a rather disgruntled-looking fellow, another soldier lit up a smoke and offered it to her; when she opened her mouth, he stuck it between her teeth.

"Mmm, thanks," she mumbled to the stranger, counting her cash with one hand and pinching the cigarette with the other, "you're a good chap."

"You're better," laughed the American, "you just won me a hundred bucks!"

Fiona and Délia surfaced then, drawing near as the crowd dispersed. Fiona looked a little perturbed but was trying to hide it, whereas Délia was just about vibrating with excitement. Berni glanced up, gave them a nod, and let a purl of smoke slip through her lips.

"Don't look at me like that, Fee," Berni hummed as she unwrapped her hands, rolling her cigarette between her teeth.

"Yer bruisin'," Fiona said, pointing at Berni's shoulder, forearm, and collarbone.

"Wow!"

"Augh, no, Deets, not 'wow'," Fiona protested, but Berni, smirking, shot Délia a wink, and Délia had a hard time suppressing her grin.

"So?" the captain asked, tucking her wrappings in her pocket, planning to wash them later. "Where's the fire?"

"Oh, no," Délia chuckled, "we put that out an hour ago."

Berni, chewing on her cigarette, slowed.

"You know what? I'm not even going to ask."

"Aye." Fiona cleared her throat. "Well, ah, Cap'n, it's, ah, it's Thelma."

"What about her?"

"She says ye left somethin' in her cabin last night and wants ye t' come get it."

Délia snickered, and though Fiona elbowed her, Berni had heard.

"What?" she asked, squinting at the pair, and Délia giggled again.

"Ye should go on, and go fast," Fiona said, her cheeks reddening slightly. "She said if ye don't, ye might be interruptin' somethin' ye don't want te."

"Ah." Relaxing, Berni ruffled Délia's hair as she made her goodbyes. "Don't start another fire while I'm gone, if you can help it."

"We won't."

Berni made sure to knock when she got to Thelma's cabin, and she heard a mattress creak as if two figures were moving to sit apart. When she called that it was only her, the mattress creaked again in the opposite direction, and she made sure to shut the door behind her when she came in. Thelma and Addie were cuddling on one of the cots, Berni wasn't sure whose. They seemed altogether innocent save for the way Thelma had her hand under the back of Addie's shirt and the way Addie was blushing as she admired her girlfriend's face.

"Afternoon, ladies," Berni said as she shut the door behind her, "good to see you're doing better, Coffey."

"I am, Cap'n, thanks."

Berni nodded nonchalantly, crossing to the chair where her bomber jacket hung. She'd left it there last night after a late-night smoking visit with Thelma while Addie spent the night in the sickbay with a nasty stomachache.

"You mind if I...?"

Berni turned around, holding up a pack of cigarettes, but neither of the women on the cot had heard her, too busy staring into each other's eyes, so close their noses brushed.

"Oy." Berni waved her hand, and Addie looked over, her blush deepening. "Thelma, these yours?"

"Yes'm."

Berni slipped them into her pocket, getting the sense that she (and all others) would be barred access from this room for the next hour or so.

"Hey," Thelma groaned, pointing at Berni's hand in her pocket, "those are my good smokes. Leave a few for me."

"Sure, sure."

Back out in the hall, Berni lingered for a few seconds until the lock clicked shut behind her. With her suspicions confirmed, she couldn't help a small smirk, and she hummed a few tuneless notes under her breath as she checked her pockets for her lighter. She was a few yards down the hall only to be called from the opposite direction, and she pivoted as she walked, her head turning before the rest of her body.

"Captain," Ellis called again, smoothing down her shirt, and a slight frown creased Berni's brow.

"What is it?" the captain asked, slipping her lighter back into the pocket where she'd found it.

"They've spotted shore," Ellis said, and Berni noticed only then that she was a little out of breath. "I thought you'd want to see."

Berni's smile shot wide across her face, and she hastened to her meet her fellow pilot.

"Remind me to buy you a drink next time we're out at the pub," the captain chirped, clapping Ellis on the back as they beelined for the stairs.

"What about Coffey and Duran?" Ellis asked, looking back over her shoulder at the closed door. "Should we get them, too?"

Berni snorted. "Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Best not to interrupt them."

"Interrupt them? With wh-" Ellis cut herself off, and Berni didn't have to look to know Ellis' face had just gone a bright beet red. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

They made it to the top deck within the next half-minute only to find it already crowded with Americans curious about the new shore. Berni, unphased, drove through the crowd as Ellis held on to the back of her jacket so as to not fall behind. She commanded things like "Move aside gents, Captain coming through," and as soon as the men heard her, they made way. Some didn't bat an eye, while others looked at each other in surprise, having expected one of their superiors to push past, not a slightly-disheveled, five-foot-six Englishwoman with a hundred fly-away hairs and more authority to her voice than Winston Churchill had to his. A few of the taller Americans a few yards back from the bow recognized Berni from the boxing match and were quick to escort her and Ellis to the railing. As soon as they had a clear view, the coast became apparent before them, and Berni made sure to move her smoke away from her lips before she sucked in a breath through her teeth. A smile turned up her lips, and as she slung her arm around Ellis' shoulders, she took a long drag from her cigarette.

"I'll be damned," she said, staring straight ahead the same as a hundred others. "That's England, alright."

The pilots of Tare were some of the first to disembark the ship two hours later. They scampered down off the gangplank and ran up the dock, the others close behind, and Berni nearly kissed the soil when she felt the English grass beneath her boots. A patriot at heart, she couldn't deny her utter joy to be returned to the land of her birth. Anything to do with family was neither here nor there—she couldn't claim any substantial blood relations even if she'd wanted to—for it was more than enough to have her girls with her. Her spirits rapidly rising for the first time in many days, Berni wrapped one arm around Délia's waist and the other around Ellis', and together, they laughed and stumbled across the gravel to their waiting transport. They all knew which it was at once, the open-air bus more familiar to them than any American truck or jeep. Their driver held a sign that simply read "Tare" in neat handwriting that Ellis recognized as that of their old commander.

"You think we'll be back with the Major?" she asked Berni as she accepted a hand up, and Berni shrugged.

"I can't say for certain, but I'd sure like it to be true."

They drove for the rest of the day, arriving just after nightfall in Newcott, where they'd be staying for the foreseeable future. Their driver dropped them off and then continued north; where to, he wouldn't say. As soon as they were beyond prying eyes, Addie picked Thelma up and spun her around, cheering for their freedom. The other girls politely looked away as the couple shared a sweet kiss, then they regrouped and made for their lodgings. They marched in the door, doubting they'd know a single soul around only to be greeted by a familiar face smoking a pipe behind bushy white whiskers. They had their reunions over a late supper, and Major Harbridge could hardly catch a breath in-between all the stories the girls had to tell him. Berni spent most of the time watching their old commander, certain Ellis' guess had been right, to some extent. He looked older, and not by the six months that had passed, more like by three or four years. There was a new wrinkle on his forehead and he had to flex his hands every now and again when they seized up. His arthritis had always given him grief; Berni hoped it wouldn't take him out of the service entirely. The Major had always been so kind and open-minded with Tare, and Berni knew for a fact that their position within the ATA would be threatened without his supervision.

The Major finally told them over pudding what Berni had been waiting for. He was indeed going to resume command over Tare, but not quite in the way he had before. While Berni would remain the chief officer, Major Harbridge would act as a pipeline between the higher-ups in the RAF, Tare's work with Easy, and the two other ATA squadrons who were being outsourced by the Americans. The Major drew Berni aside as the others yawned their way upstairs to unpack and get some sleep. He wanted to know who was Flight Captain of the remaining girls, the ones who'd stayed in the States, and was pleased to hear Berni had left Polly in charge. Reassured in her decision, Berni told him further about Corporal Hennessy Honor Corsair and how she would additionally be assisting the girls under Colonel Sink's jurisdiction. Telling her she had put an old man's mind at ease, Major Harbridge shook Berni's hand and dismissed her to bed.

Upstairs, Berni expected most of her girls to have crawled into bed, but her attempt at a quiet approach proved unnecessary, as the lights were still on and everyone was crowded around Fiona's bed.

"What's all the fuss?" Berni asked, shrugging off her jacket, and Délia jumped up and drew her Captain over by the arm, chattering away in Portuguese like she did when she was excited or annoyed and forgot no one but Fiona could understand her.

"Look, Cap'n," Thelma said, tilting the newspaper in Fiona's hands so Berni could see, "we've made the front page."

The headline read "The Attagirls Are Home At Last!" with a photograph of the women rejoicing on the grass by the docks. In their excitement, it seemed they'd missed the photographer entirely, but he sure hadn't missed them. Thankfully, the article painted the pilots favorably, describing their moment of frolicking as patriotic enthusiasm and gratitude (which, for the most part, it was). Fiona, who was the only one to have read the full article so far, pointed out a few mentions further down. The author of the piece wondered at the mystery of only six pilots out of twelve returning and then made the following supposition that something dreadful had happened to divide the crew. Berni, who'd seen enough fluff pieces in her life, waved off the comments as negligible speculation despite agreeing with the description of the "something" that had separated Tare being "dreadful". She'd been expecting curiosity, but not on a large scale, and this paper was a local one, not from London or even Bristol, where they'd come into port. No doubt the author of the spread wanted to see his name on the front page; adding a bit of suspense to his article seemed to have done the trick.

"'The Attagirls'," Berni mused, eyeing the photograph as Thelma borrowed the newspaper. "I'd almost forgotten that's what they call us."

"The papers have got everybody saying it," Addie said, nodding toward the window. "Our driver, the lady who checked us in downstairs, probably even the Major."

"Look at this," Thelma chuckled, showing the continuation of the article a few pages in. "We've got star billing, sure, but the Americans aren't far behind."

Berni scanned the article and pursed her lips as her brow furrowed. Of course, the Yanks had taken up something ridiculous just as soon as the English had left. It wasn't their Yanks, per se, but still.

"Can you believe it?" Thelma snickered. "Not sure who these guys are, but they've gone and built their aircraft backwards."

Berni groaned. "Just because American doesn't mean Amerishould."

Thelma burst into such laughter that Addie had to take her out of the room to calm down so the others could get to bed. Berni was still the last under the covers, staying up well past midnight to write a letter on the day's happenings to Hennessy, and by extension, all her girls back in the States. She closed her eyes just after 01:00 hours and opened them again just before 06:00. Leaving the others to sleep a little longer, she went downstairs for a cup of coffee and was soon joined by Addie. They woke the rest of the girls about an hour later and gathered for a quick breakfast before heading out to their new assignment. It felt almost like a field day, discovering the airfield at Upottery was at least twice as big as anything they'd seen in the States. They could really work here. Ellis said they should send a photo back to the other girls, but Berni said that wouldn't fly for two reasons. First, there was no point in stirring up envy, and second, a photograph detailing an Allied airfield so close to the coast of the English Channel would never make it past the censors. Ellis assented, and the crew continued down the tarmac toward the hangar.

Major Harbridge arrived at almost the same moment they did, and he and Berni did the honors of opening the hangar doors (though he needed a bit of help from Thelma in the end, with his arthritis and all). The planes within appeared to be good sturdy bombers at first, but upon further inspection, they turned out to be the same kind of transport used by the American Airborne, Douglas C-47 Skytrains. The pilots were puzzled—why would they be flying the Skytrains without the paratroopers? Major Harbridge had an answer for them, and it was that they wouldn't be, these planes were here in storage. The planes the girls would be flying were on the other end of the hangar, where the expansive doors opened directly onto the runway. Délia took off first with the others hot on her heels; Berni took a more professional stance and walked calmly alongside the Major, though her feet itched to run and her eyes burned to see. When they arrived, Berni was surprised to see the others staring up at the medley of planes in awe, slowly realizing something she had yet to clue into.

"Congratulations, girls," said the Major, saluting the women, who saluted him right back. "You've been officially commissioned in the RAF as ferrier pilots."

It had taken two and a half years and a whole lot of grit and gumption, but they'd made it. Colonel Sink had mentioned something along these lines in that unwelcome meeting that was mostly a bitter blur to Berni. The captain didn't realize she was just standing there until Thelma came over, grabbed her by the hand, and dragged her over to a bomber, a Martin B-26 Marauder, one that they'd flown before, together.

"You won't begin your service officially until tomorrow morning," Major Harbridge informed them, raising his voice to be heard by the women who'd scattered. "Today is for getting yourselves used to flying these planes again. Captain Noel?"

"Sir!"

"I presume you'll be alright running a few drills on your own?"

A smile finally broke across Berni's face, and she saluted her commanding officer with certainty and charm.

"Yes, sir!"

"Then I'll leave you to it. Cheerio."

Berni turned to Thelma, barely able to contain her excitement, and her friend flashed a grin, offering her a lit cigarette.

"To the skies?"

Berni raised the smoke toward the hangar roof as if giving a toast.

"Aetheris Avidi!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[sergeant-spoons]

17. Misty Morning/Smoke and Mirrors

Bernadette Noel

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​ @chaosklutz​ @wexhappyxfew​ @50svibes​ @tvserie-s-world​ @adamantiumdragonfly​ @ask-you-what-sir​ @whovian45810​ @brokennerdalert​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​ @claire-bear-1218​ @heirsoflilith​ @itswormtrain​ @actualtrashpanda​ @wtrpxrks​​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No matter how hard Berni tried to smile into the washroom mirror, she still looked bleak—her girls would know in a heartbeat that something was up.

Outside the door, she could hear her crew bustling about, occupying their morning with leisure until she reappeared and sent them packing up to the hangar. Berni heard Polly, whose bed was situated nearest to the loo, move her boots to the side of the bed. The mattress creaked; she sighed. Berni could practically picture her slowly leaning over, ignoring her back problems, to methodically tie her laces. Where she might be going on her own, Berni couldn't guess.

The captain looked away from the door and back at the mirror. The bags under her eyes looked like suitcases. Her lip was bleeding from having been worried by a tooth all morning. Berni didn't know if she had the stomach to deliver the news. It hurt, to consider herself a coward, but here she was, hiding in the loo, afraid to tell her girls they'd be saying goodbye in a way they surely had never expected. 

She turned the tap on and splashed water on her face. Drying her skin with a towel, she noticed she was sniffling and frowned.

That's enough of that.

It only took her a few seconds to gather herself. She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose, then dabbed the damp towel on her cheeks to refresh her. She stared at her reflection until it started to look confident again, turned on her heel, and marched right out of that loo with the best smile she could muster.

Only Polly and Ellis saw her come in. The former was lingering by the door to the porch, tugging on her coat; the latter was toweling the sweat off her face and neck from her routine morning run. Berni ignored the glance they shared, knowing the air in the room had shifted at her entrance but pretending she didn't care, and looked around the rest of the room. Thelma sat cross-legged on her bed, drawing, but she seemed to spend more time looking at her girlfriend than her sketch. Addie was folding laundry on the end of the bed, singing to herself. Thelma bobbed her head, but Berni did not recognize the tune. If the captain leaned a little to the right, she could see Thelma was drawing the laundry basket as it filled up with clothes. She claimed she was better at objects than people, but Berni thought the few portraits she'd seen her do of Addie were spot-on (enhanced, she supposed, by love for the subject matter).

A few beds over from the couple, Erma lay fast asleep, drooling on her pillow. In the far corner, Earl, Fiona, Venus, and Délia sat in an unrounded circle, playing slapjack and laughing. Somehow, they had not woken Erma. Ellis went over to them and leaned over Earl's shoulder to watch, glancing at her sister every now and again. Seeing she had moved, Berni looked back at the door, but Polly had taken off her coat again and taken up residence on the stool by the window. She was scrutinizing the world outside, but Berni felt a prickle on the back of her neck and had the peculiar sense that Polly had pivoted only a second prior when she saw her captain start to turn her way. Stifling a sigh, Berni looked back over at the slapjack game and saw Venus and Ellis frowning as they spoke. Venus looked at Berni but immediately looked away again when she met her gaze. Before she could think much of it, a glint of light from the bed beside Polly's caught Berni's eye—Beatrice was fiddling with her wedding ring, turning it around her finger as she read a letter from her husband. Also reading was Rosie, Beatrice's neighbor, her eyes flicking across the pages of a thick novel with the quickness of lightning. Berni caught a glimpse of the cover as Rosie rolled over, tucking one socked foot over the other: Sense & Sensibility. Berni had never read it, nor any other Jane Austen book. She would have to ask Rosie what she thought of it before...

Before I leave and she stays.

Regret squeezed her heart. These brave young women would be separated come Friday, less than a week away. How could she do this to them? She started to retreat, turning back toward the loo as her eyes started to smart, but she stopped herself with her hand on the knob. She could feel eyes on her. Polly's, surely, but someone else's, too. Turning back, raising her chin as if it might convince her spirits to rise as well, she saw Addie and Venus looking her way from Thelma's bed and the slapjack corner respectively. She shot them each a smile, but it must have been a tight one, for Addie's mildly curious look faded into a frown while Venus paused the game and beckoned the players to lean in for her to say a few words, not caring that Berni was looking right at them. Addie turned and went to Erma, gently waking their dozing friend, as Berni did a quick headcount. Everyone was here, and anyone who might have been leaving (namely Polly) had paused her exit in the (correct) suspicion that her captain had something to say that should not be missed.

"Tare Squadron! Come around, I've got some news."

The pilots looked at their captain, then at each other, then at the items in their hands. Cards went flying, books and letters were set on bedside tables, and towels were slung over as the women scrambled to their feet. Some grabbed chairs or dragged the nearest footlockers over to sit on, while others crowded Polly, Beatrice, and Rosie's beds. Polly was the last to arrive with her stool and the first to guess something was wrong, although Berni was smiling, deciding to share the good news before the bad. The little brown box behind her back felt too light to be true, but she'd checked while sitting on the floor of the loo, leaning against the door and trying to wake herself up after a pitiful night's sleep—all eleven flying wings were present and accounted for.

"I have some good news," she started, and when the girls visibly relaxed, her chest tightened, knowing their reactions would flip entirely when she delivered the second half of her announcement.

"So? What's it aboot?" Fiona urged, and Berni, realizing she'd stalled, cleared her throat and continued.

"As I'm sure you all know by now, Colonel Sink called me into his office last night. He gave me this box-" She brought it forth. "-and told me it was sent from our superiors in England."

Earl leaped to her feet. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!"

Rosie was the next to realize. "Oh!"

The rest of the girls were quick to understand. Smiles lit up their faces, and Berni would have felt like the hero of the day had she not known what lay on the other side.

"Congratulations, ladies. You have been officially commissioned as pilots in the Royal Air Force."

The girls were ecstatic. Earl, Délia, and Fiona started dancing around, singing a song that only the three of them seemed to know. The others clapped and cheered and laughed, alternating between watching the trio and shaking their friends' hands. Even Beatrice accepted Thelma and Addie's handshakes (although Berni did not miss how she wiped her hand on her pants immediately thereafter). She let her girls celebrate for a minute or two, then called for their silence and stillness, which took them another thirty seconds to give. Berni opened the box, and when the newly-commissioned pilots started clapping, they did not stop until every last one of them had her flying wings pinned to her lapel. The captain anointed them in alphabetical order, and so Polly came first. There was a light in her eyes as she stepped up, but also a glimmer of doubt, and Berni did her best to pretend all was well as she pinned the first pair of wings to her second-in-command's chest.

"Congratulations, First Officer Beranová," she declared, and the applause from the crew swelled.

"Thank you." As Polly shook her captain's hand, she leaned toward her ear. "Am I right to think there's more to this?"

There was no use in lying. 

"Yes."

Nodding faintly, Polly leaned back, resumed her smile, and went back to her stool. The girls looked around, trying to remember who came next, and Earl leaped up. Berni smiled as the young mechanic leaped forward, grinning from ear to ear. It was hard to feel guilty when Earl's excitement was so contagious.

"I'm ready, Captain!"

Berni chuckled and readied the pointed end of the flying wings' pin.

"No doubt you are."

The casual ceremony proceeded as such until all of the pilots had their wings. Addie came after Earl, followed by Délia, who kissed Venus' cheek as they swapped places, and so on and so forth until Fiona rose, last but certainly not least. Délia and Earl raised a ruckus and immediately tackled their friend in a hug when she turned back around, her lapel newly gleaming. 

"Congratulations," Berni said for what must have been the twentieth time once the hubbub had quieted, "you've more than earned this."

Another round of rousing celebration. Ellis and Addie urged Berni to put on her own wings, and Berni realized she'd all but forgotten she was a captain through and through now. A smile crept onto her lips, and she reached into her pocket to retrieve her wings, having stashed them away in order to surprise her crew this morning. Beatrice piped up a question about Tare's service from here on out, and Berni was distracted enough that replied without thinking.

"Ah, yes, about that..."

The girls went quiet, and when Berni looked up, she found them all staring at her. She cleared her throat and licked her lips, feeling the expectant silence turn from awkward to worried.

"We're being reassigned."

She was expecting an outburst, but they said nothing. Half of the girls gaped while the other half frowned and/or squinted at their captain, trying to make out if this was the first half of a joke.

"To England," she added, and that conjured the reaction she was expecting.

"Wha'?" Fiona asked, the 't' at the end of the word more absent than ever.

"We're being reassigned to England," Berni repeated, trying not to let on her concordant upset.

"Why?" Earl begged, the bouncing of her leg now produced by anxiety rather than excitement.

"To deliver planes to our boys in the service, the same way we always meant to."

"But where?" Thelma asked, seeming only half-aware that her hands had begun to shake.

"Back in England. We'll likely be flying over occupied territory, and-"

"When?" Beatrice interrupted Berni's rambling with a gasp, clutching her pocket bible to her chest.

"We're leaving Friday."

"Friday?" Erma was distraught. "But it's Monday already!"

"I know," Berni said, trying to present a sympathetic smile though she was just as gloomy as the rest at these new developments. She considered telling them how she had bargained with Sink for Friday rather than Tuesday (tomorrow) but decided against it.

"What about Easy?" Earl asked. "Where are they going?"

"They'll be staying here for... I don't know how long. And..." She dipped her head, preparing herself to break the worst of the news. "Some of you will be staying with them."

"Some?"

"Half."

Nothing Berni could have imagined could have prepared her for the looks of shock, betrayal, confusion, and sorrow appearing on the faces of the girls she loved so well. They looked utterly gutted. She wasn't sure what she could possibly say to make the pill any easier to swallow; to her relief, Addie rose, followed by Polly. They went around, hugging the girls and kissing them on the forehead as they murmured reassurances. Berni knew they were no less shell-shocked by this news than the rest, they were just better at hiding it—or, more accurately, at tucking their emotions aside for the time being for the sake of their friends. They would deal with their distress later. Berni made a mental note to check on each of them before they went to bed. It would not do for one of the two strongest women in the squadron to cry herself to sleep, having reserved no mercy or encouragement for herself.

"Who's leaving?" Ellis asked, putting on a brave face. "Who's going to England?"

Berni swallowed. Her crew waited with bated breath. Earl grabbed Polly's hand. Thelma wrapped her arm protectively around Addie, staring at Berni as if challenging her to separate them. Beatrice started to whisper a prayer and Erma joined in.

"You are, Osbourne. And Tulach and Corte-Real-"

Fiona and Délia looked relieved.

"-as well as Coffey and Duran."

Thelma relaxed. Addie leaned her head on her girlfriend's shoulder, rubbing soothing circles on Thelma's back.

"So I'm not going, then?" Venus asked.

"What about me?" Beatrice chimed in, appearing almost insulted.

"And me?" Earl piped up.

"We're staying," Polly confirmed, quieting them all. "The four of us, and Osbourne—Erma, that is—and Glass."

Berni looked over at the Osbournes. Erma had gravitated toward her sister as she realized they would be separated. She looked about to cry. Ellis had her arm around Erma and was rubbing her shoulder, but there was a look of relief in her eyes that Berni had not seen from any other pilot. Maybe Ellis was more homesick than Berni had thought. More likely was that she would rather see herself and not her sister flying in the danger zone. Sitting beside them, Rosie had retreated into her book, her head bowed at such an angle that her glasses kept sliding down her nose. She wasn't reading, just flipping through, hiding. A tear fell and splotched a page. She stopped and stared at it. Berni took a step forward, then shuffled back almost as immediately when eleven sets of eyes turned on her. Right now, her crew needed her guidance, but she knew it was only a matter of time before they realized she was the one who had split them up and blamed her for their rupture. She scuffed her boot on the floor and tried to come up with a word of consolation. Polly beat her to it.

"You kept our flight pairings the same," she pointed out. "That will be good."

The response was lukewarm at best. Quiet hums and fair nods were all the girls wanted to offer. Fiona and Délia, whispering together, shot guilty looks at Erma and Ellis. They either did not see or were gracious enough to pretend they hadn't. Beatrice rose abruptly, her chair scraping on the floor.

"I..."

She fled out the back door, her heels stamping across the wooden floor. Erma turned to watch but did not follow. Venus caught the screen door before it shut and hurried after Beatrice, ignoring that she was only wearing socks and the ground was still damp from the early morning mist. The temperature had dropped overnight and the humidity rose with it; Fiona remarked that the fog was almost as bad as on the moors back home in Scotland, but no one save for Berni, Earl, and Délia registered the words she was speaking.

"Captain?"

Berni turned and found Polly standing beside her, fidgeting with her sleeves.

"Yes?"

"Who will be..?" 

Polly trailed off, looking at the three emblazoned stripes on Berni's cap where it was tucked under the captain's arm. Berni understood.

"You will. You're being promoted to Flight Captain in my absence." Berni tried at a smile but failed to push the sadness out of her eyes. "Congratulations, Beranová."

Polly looked a little stung.

"Excuse me..."

She went to get her coat and was out the door before Berni could think of something reassuring to say. Her throat felt tight. Earl tugged on her sleeve and when Berni turned, she closed her open mouth as if deciding against the question she'd meant to ask.

"You'll get a little extra training," Berni told her, grasping for a shred of positivity, "in whatever field you want."

"With the technicians?"

They both knew Earl had been sneaking into the seminars for months. Berni reached out and ruffled her hair.

"Absolutely."

Earl turned away, and as she walked back to Fiona and Délia, her shoulders seeming lighter, Berni released a breath she had not realized she was holding. Earl halted as if a thought had given her pause, then turned back around. She had not gone far and so made no move to return to Berni, seeing she already had her commander's attention.

"Captain... what are we ought to do now?"

"Ah..." Berni looked around and saw only Earl and her friends were paying attention. "How about we go into town for the day?" She raised her voice. "I'll buy us all lunch."

No one moved. Erma and Ellis were sunk in quiet dialogue and had not heard. Thelma and Addie had gone back to the former's drawing and the latter's pile of laundry. Out of everyone, they seemed the least bothered by their imminent deployment, perhaps even thankful. Beatrice, Polly, and Venus were long gone into the mist. Rosie took her book and went back to bed, slipping under the covers without a sound. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks, and she tried to hide her face behind her book. Erma and Ellis saw, shared a look, and went to sit with her. That left Earl, Délia, and Fiona to accept the captain's invitation. Délia was the first to rise, exclaiming that a distraction might ease the thought of their upcoming departure. Fiona, as Berni had expected, agreed and went to get her fleece poncho. Sadness overtook Earl for a moment and she had to sit down, but it was only a few seconds before she sprung back up, energetic as ever but missing the spring in her step.

"Alright, let's go."

On the Northern edge of Camp MacKall, the not-so-merry quartet came upon a cheerful trio. Frank Perconte and Joe Toye were standing watch—Captain Sobel had been forced to cancel the usual morning march due to the weather—and George Luz had stopped by for a chat just before the pilots appeared. Frank was the first to catch sight of the girls, and a grin split his cheeks.

"If it isn't my favorite captain!" he exclaimed, taking Berni's hand to shake. "How's it goin', Cap?"

"Ah... Well..."

Frank didn't seem to notice her hesitation, for as soon as he realized Fiona was there, he was completely distracted. Luz came over next. Toye, after glancing about for a sign of Sobel, was the last to leave his post.

"Holy smokes!" Luz exclaimed, staring at Berni's chest, and Berni almost smacked the grin off his face before he went on to say, "You got your wings!" He looked at the other girls, his smile broadening. "You all did!"

As Luz swept his cap off in a bow—"Hats off to you, ladies!"—Perconte gave a cheer and spun Fiona under his arm. Laughing, she fell against his chest, and when he tucked his arm around her waist to steady her, he kept it there. He looked at Berni as if he was concerned he'd crossed a line, but she winked at him and his smile returned.

"Lookin' real snazzy, Captain," Luz congratulated. "Those wings are almost as nice as mine."

In despite of her woes, Berni laughed. She blew on her knuckles and polished the insignia pinned just above her breast pocket with a careful touch, although she knew it would hardly make a difference in its silvery sheen. Luz grinned and saluted her.

"Now, if only we had you instead o' Sobel..."

"Sorry, Luz," Berni chuckled. "I'm better in the air than on the ground."

He tut-tutted. "A damn shame, Captain. A damn shame."

"Congrats," Toye said, stepping up to shake all the pilots' hands. "It's about time, huh?"

"I'll say," Earl laughed, having to look up a full foot to return Toye's rare smile. "Not that all the news is good, but, um... that bit is."

Fiona and Délia's temporary smiles dropped. Frank frowned, brushing a ginger spiral off Fiona's cheek, but she would not look him in the eye. Luz turned to Berni and blinked, slowly realizing something was awry.

"What's the other news?" Toye asked, seeming surprised when Earl withdrew her hand.

"Um..."

"And where's the rest o' you?" Luz looked around curiously. "Last I checked, there were twelve of you lovely ladies."

"Well, um..."

Earl looked to her captain pleadingly, and Berni stepped forward.

"I'm afraid we've got-"

"Captain!" came a cry from just down the road, and everyone, Berni especially, turned to look. "Captain Noel!"

"-bad news...."

Donald Hoobler's shadow quickly turned into the man himself. Leaping out of the mist, he offered a quick hello to Délia but had a hard time looking away from Berni. Another Easy Company trooper trotted up, his chest heaving, and Berni recognized him as Eugene Jackson. He seemed disappointed at the present party until he saw Earl, then he went toward her and grabbed her hand. She looked at him in astonishment and leaned away just a little. Berni, suspicious, squared her fists at her side.

"Is it true?" Jackson asked Earl.

"Is what true?"

"Are you leaving?" Hoobler asked, his look of dismay growing when he saw Berni's hesitant smile fall. "You are. You're leaving."

Luz, the last one left smiling, sagged.

"No," he protested. "No way."

"I'm afraid it's true," Berni replied. "Not all of us, but yes. We're leaving."

"I'm not," Earl piped up, and the tension in Jackson's posture eased. "I'm staying here with you all. Well, with Polly and everyone, but... You know what I mean."

"What the hell?" Toye asked, his voice gruffer than usual. "The fuck's the colonel thinking, sending you away?"

"I appreciate the sentiment," Berni said, "but it wasn't Sink's decision."

"Then who?"

"Our higher-ups in the RAF, back in England." Berni shrugged. "Nothing we can do about it. Half of us are leaving on Friday."

"Are you?" Frank asked Fiona quietly, and when she nodded, he looked even more upset. "This is bullshit," he complained, louder. "What'd they bring you here for if you're gonna leave before we even get overseas?"

"I don't know, Frank!" Berni cried, feeling her face go hot. "I don't have a fucking clue!"

All eyes had turned to her at the outburst. She unfurled her fists and shook out her hands, ducking her head.

"Sorry," she said, quieter. "Sorry. I don't know."

"No one's happy 'boot it," Fiona said, coming over to stand by Berni, putting her hand on the captain's shoulder. "We don't want t' leave."

"We don't," Délia seconded, "but there is no choice."

"We're going into town," Berni said, breaking the silence that ensued, hating how her voice wavered. "You're welcome to join us, if you'd like."

"We'll walk you in," Hoobler volunteered immediately. "Can't stay out long, though, Sobel's gonna run us into the ground this afternoon 'cause he had to call off the march earlier..."

Berni squinted at him. He tilted his head at her, puzzled.

"What?"

"I can't believe it's taken me this long, but I'm just now realizing how much I despise your commander, Private."

Hoobler snorted a laugh, and the other Easy guys reacted quite the same.

"Surprise," he chuckled, "Sobel's a, uh—what is it you Tommy girls call him? A git."

"Eu dizia-lhe para ir chupar na quinta perna de um cavalo," Délia growled, and Hoobler pointed at her, nodding sagely although it was obvious he had no idea what she'd just said. Fiona, meanwhile, was trying not to laugh.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Berni wondered.

Luz gestured for her to go on. "We sure do, Captain."

"Fuck him."

Luz, along with the other paratroopers, looked surprised. "What?"

"You heard me. Fuck Sobel."

Berni looked down the road and was surprised to see the town visible on the horizon. The mist was clearing up, it seemed, but their spirits would not be so easily lifted. Still, she would do her best. For her girls and her friends and—if she was being honest—herself. Having the lads along for an hour or two would provide a morale boost at most and a distraction at least.

"I'll vouch for you," she decided, turning back to the waiting group. "I can write up a bogus report about a drill in the country that I needed men on the ground for, or something like that." 

She reached for the pack of Lucky Strikes that Luz had just drawn out of his pocket, and he was quick to hand her one. She tucked it between her lips and checked her pockets for her lighter (the new, unadorned one she'd bought a few weeks back, needing a replacement for its ornate predecessor, now Thelma's).

"Come with us. We'll get lunch, my treat."

As Berni lit up her cigarette, she stole a glance at Fiona, Délia, and Earl. They looked excited, smiling for the first time since the news of Tare's separation broke. Hoobler and Luz were onboard with the idea as soon as Berni had proposed it. Although Toye and Jackson shared an uncertain glance, they agreed once Frank came up and slung an arm over each's shoulders.

"You heard the captain. Fuck Sobel. And who could turn down free lunch?" He flashed Berni a grin. "We've still got somethin' to celebrate, 'member?" A nod at Délia, who—out of the girls—was standing nearest to him. "Look at them fancy wings. We got some genuine pilots here, fellas."

A few muted cheers were raised, and the spark of celebration was almost enough to brighten the mood—almost. Berni nodded over her shoulder, rolling her cigarette between her teeth.

"So? Are you coming or what?"

Frank looked at his buddies. "Fellas?"

"We're in," Hoobler agreed, offering Délia his arm. "Shall we?"

She took it, then hooked her other arm around Fiona's.

"Sim, nós vamos."

The nine of them started down the road together. Berni kept an eye on Eugene Jackson; just as she'd expected, he saw Hoobler and Délia and tried the same with Earl. She didn't notice at first, but when she did, she grabbed his hand instead and pulled him ahead of the group. They ran until they reached a large oak that overhung the road about a quarter mile away and stopped to wait for the others, still holding hands. Her concern fading, Berni turned to ensure everyone else was still with her and saw Frank had come up to her side. He thumbed at his belt loops and hummed around one of Luz's cigarettes.

"I think I'll get myself a nice reuben."

A smile crept onto Berni's lips, if only for a moment.

"You go right ahead and do that. And Frank?"

"Yeah?"

Berni glanced behind them, then leaned toward Frank's ear.

"Thank you."

He didn't reply, but when he raised his hand and clapped it on her shoulder, his stride a little more sure, she understood he was glad to do what he could as her friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[sergeant-spoons]

16. Six-By-Six

Bernadette Noel

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​ @chaosklutz @wexhappyxfew @50svibes @tvserie-s-world @adamantiumdragonfly @ask-you-what-sir @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert @holdingforgeneralhugs @claire-bear-1218 @heirsoflilith @itswormtrain @actualtrashpanda @wtrpxrks​

Sorry for the lack of updates the past few days! This chapter took me ~5 hours to write and another 6 to create the header (thanks, ADHD). I’ll hopefully have a few updates for other fics up over the weekend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I still think you're full of shit. That was a fixed race!"

"And I think you've lost the plot, Duran!"

"What! The captain and I beat you by ten seconds, fair and square!"

"Hah! You wish!"

As the ladies of Tare Squadron came streaming into the barracks after a long but productive day of flying drills (interspersed with a few non-sanctioned races), Hennessy appeared and disrupted their flow. She tugged Berni aside and glanced at her clipboard as if to affirm something she already knew quite well. Addie and Thelma, curious, followed.

"Colonel Sink wants to see ya."

"Why?"

"Yeah, why?" Thelma echoed, and Addie nodded, frowning lightly.

Hennessy shrugged. "Dunno. Seemed pretty important, though."

Berni shared a curious look with Addie and Thelma, but none of them had any guesses.

"Alright. While I'm gone, why don't you all head off to supper—unless this meeting's a long one, I'll meet you there."

As her fellow pilots delivered the recommendation, Berni grabbed her uniform cap off the bedpost where it made its home, nodded to Hennessy, and made her way down the stairs and out the door. She didn't rush down the path, but certainly did not take her time, either. It would be quite a bold thing to keep the colonel waiting for long. He was, after all, her superior while in America. His summons (unlike most other officers'), she was much inclined to heed. She passed a few friends from Easy Company on the path, and when she let slip who she was on her way to see, they seemed excited. Apparently, a rumor had gotten loose that Tare was being promoted, or something of that ilk. Now even more curious and confused, Berni bid the paratroopers a quick adieu and hurried up the steps to Battalion CP. Sink's office was on the second floor, so she quickly said her hellos to the receptionist and took the stairs at a quick pace when she was waved along.

Knock-knock-knock.

"Who is it?"

"Captain Noel, sir."

Colonel Sink's tone changed just slightly as he called for her to enter, and Berni was reassured to think he was pleased to see her. His good mood meant good news, surely. She pushed open the door and shut it behind her when he gestured for her to do so. His office was spacious, with several armchairs and not one but two desks (the nearest of which seemed unoccupied). Berni felt a twinge of envy. Her own office was in a small room built in the corner of the hangar and was not even remotely as nice as this. She had little time to spare for jealousy, however, for the colonel stepped forward, took her hand, and shook it firmly.

"First off," he drawled, "let me offer my congratulations to the fine pilots of your squadron."

"Uh, thank you, sir." Berni blinked, wondering if she'd missed a memo. "We've been working hard."

"That you have. Which is exactly why-"

He turned around to his desk, reached past a neat stack of paperwork, and picked up a pin emblazoned with silver wings.

"-you have received your official flight commission from the Royal Air Force."

He stepped forward again. Berni, whose surprise was quickly bleeding into delight, tried not to smile too wide as he pinned the Flying Badge to her uniform above her left chest pocket.

"Congratulations, Cap'n."

"Thank you, sir." Berni grinned when the colonel turned his pack, picking up a small box that she assumed held the flying wings of the other eleven Tare pilots. "It's an honor."

"You're a mighty fine crew," Sink praised. "I'm proud to be the one deliverin' the news."

"Thank you."

"Sit," he urged, "and have a drink."

She took to one of the armchairs past the uninhabited desk while Sink retrieved a flagon of amber alcohol from a cabinet against the far wall. As he poured two glasses, Berni looked out the window and saw the sun was close to setting. She'd left the barracks at around 16:10 hours and had spent only five minutes on her journey to the office and another five within it. Although the winter was coming to its end, dusk still fell early; the days would yet take time to lengthen.

"Brandy?"

"Yes, please, and thank you, sir."

Sink poured them both each glass and handed one to her. She murmured her thanks. He nodded, then strode to his desk and leaned against it, facing her. She got the impression he took up this position only when important matters were at hand, so she sat up straighter in the armchair and tried to smooth out some of the wrinkles in her trousers with a not-so-subtle reach of the hand.

"Cap'n," he began, "your unit has accomplished a great deal during your time with the Airborne."

"Yes, sir."

"I must say, I am grateful that you've stuck around so long. The discipline and hard work of the young women in your unit have set a splendid example for my men."

Berni smiled, pleased.

"Thank you, sir."

Sink took a slow breath, then released it.

"Unfortunately, I've received word from your superiors in England that your time with us is about to be cut short."

Berni's smile fell.

"Sir?"

Sink eyed her almost apologetically.

"Tare Squadron is being deployed back to England."

The colonel readjusted the angle at which he leaned on his desk, allowing Berni a moment of quiet to process. Her thoughts were whirling, her emotions crisscrossing and confusing her.

"You're being sent back to deliver planes for fighter pilots," Sink explained. "As I understand, that was your original training objective."

"Well, yes, but..."

Berni was at a loss for words. Sink gave her a second more, then dipped his head.

"I'm afraid that isn't all the news."

"It isn't?" Berni cleared her throat, anger flaring up at herself for the way her voice trembled. "It isn't, sir?" she tried again.

"No, it isn't." Sink tapped his pointer finger against his brandy glass as he held it. "Here's the kicker—not all of Tare will be going."

Berni outright gaped. Sink looked displeased, so she tried to steady herself with a sip of brandy. She managed instead to spill a few drops down her shirt and further embarrass herself.

"Sorry," she mumbled, and Sink sighed.

"I know this comes as a surprise, but-"

"What do I need to do, sir?"

Something that might have been a smile crossed the colonel's lips. The look in his eyes seemed to read 'Now that's more like it'.

"Pick your five best pilots," he told her. "You've got a long haul ahead, Captain Noel."

The first thing that came to Berni's mind was not her pilots, nor Hennessy, nor even her beloved planes, but the men she saw every day, those who she'd come to like and admire throughout her time in the States. She thought of her friends in Easy Company. She thought of Frank Perconte and his jokes, of Donald Hoobler and his thick-as-thieves friendship with Délia, of Bull Randleman and Earl McClung and their affection for the Osbourne sisters. She thought of who they'd be leaving behind.

She thought of Joe.

"Five," she blurted out. "Just five."

"Yes." Sink tipped his drink at her, then took a sip. "Half your girls will remain here in the States under the command of First Officer Beranová. She'll be promoted to Flight Captain in your absence."

So Berni would be one of the five leaving. That made sense. She'd assumed as much. Still, hearing it aloud didn't make it any easier to digest.

"That's- that's a good choice, sir. Polly—Beranová, that is—won't let you down."

"I'm glad to hear your endorsement."

"And, if I understand, sir, I'm the one who picks who stays and who goes. Other than Beranová, of course."

"That's correct."

"... I see."

As Berni went silent, Sink crossed to the liquor cabinet and refilled his glass. He did not offer to top off Berni's, for she'd only sipped at it once since accepting the drink. She tipped it to her lips now, but it tasted bitter. Forcing herself to swallow, she set the brandy on the slim table beside the armchair. Sink returned to his desk and leaned on it once more.

"Sir?" Berni tried to smile, afraid she looked too glum. "Are we ever going to come back to the Airborne? My girls and I."

"That, I don't know," Sink answered, and she could tell he was sorry for his lack of knowledge. "I can tell you this much: once the 5-o'-6 is sent overseas, the pilots still here will either come with us or return to the five o' you in England. It all depends on where our boys are deployed."

"I think I understand."

He nodded for her to elaborate.

"If you go to the Pacific, our girls will come back to us, but if you're headed for Europe..."

"All ten of you will fly for us," Sink affirmed. "I've made arrangements with your superiors overseas as such."

"Why, sir?" Berni blinked, momentarily wishing she had the stomach for the brandy. She could use an alcohol-induced confidence boost right now. "If you don't mind my asking."

"My men trust your pilots," he told her without batting an eye. "If you're flyin' the planes that take us into combat, I have no doubt they'll feel secure in their mission and prepared to take on the enemy."

"That's, um..."

Berni was suddenly aware that she felt like crying. She forced back the tears and cleared her throat.

"That's good to hear, sir. No, not good, it's encouraging. Well, of course, it is good, but..."

Sink looked like he might have been amused if their discussion had centered around a more favorable topic.

"There is one more thing," he said. "The women who stay here will be offered lectures in certain skills—such as parajumpin' or mechanics or medical aid—with some of our men in the 5-o'-6."

"Oh. Well, that bit ought to cheer them up."

Sink smiled halfheartedly. They both knew it wasn't much of a fair separation. While half the squadron went to fly military aircraft through an atmosphere fraught with bombings and dogfights, the other half would stay in a training environment and learn new skills not offered in their RAF training.

"I have just one more question, sir."

"Shoot."

"When is our... departure-"

She was about to say 'exile' but caught herself.

"-scheduled for?"

"April 2nd."

Berni blanched.

"But sir, that's Tuesday."

"It is." 

"And today—well, tonight—is Sunday." 

"Sunday, March 31st," Sink agreed.

Berni fell quiet. The colonel leaned forward a few inches, turning his glass of brandy just so that Berni could see his fingerprints fading on one side. 

"Will that be an issue, Captain Noel?"

Berni swallowed a fiery exclamation—“Are you taking the piss?”—and thought up a more polite answer.

"I expect the girls will need more than a day to prepare for such a startling thing."

Sink sighed. "How long do you expect them to need, Cap'n?"

Berni seized the opportunity of the inquiry. "Give them until Friday, sir. Then at least they'll have the week."

A frown from the colonel worried Berni he would not concede. She would have to press harder, for her girls' sake.

"Now, why would they need the week?"

"Well, sir, we've only been with the 506th the last five months," she said as tactfully as she could manage. "You're uprooting them entirely. And what's worse, only half are going and half will stay."

"That's worse, you think?"

"Yes, sir. My crew has trained together for over two years. Splitting them up is like—like splitting up Easy Company to send half to the Pacific and half to Europe."

The colonel considered this. He took another sip from his brandy, hmmed to himself, then leaned back on his desk and gave a decisive nod.

"You have until Friday. I'll reschedule your tickets."

Though Berni was hesitant to push him in case he should rescind his agreement, she asked one last question. 

"Our tickets, sir?"

"For the train." Sink set his glass down in the ring of condensation it had created before. "You'll travel down through South Carolina to Charleston, then leave from the port on a ship to England."

"I see."

Sink tapped his smallest finger against the rim of his desk. Berni felt as though he was done with the conversation but would not dismiss her until she excused herself.

"I think that's all I need to know, sir."

"I think so, too."

Sink set his brandy down, and Berni rose, meeting him halfway across the room. When he shook her hand, the gesture was far heavier than it had been a half-hour before when she first came in. There was a sense of finality to it that made Berni's stomach twist into a knot. She was glad she'd missed supper, for she had no appetite and didn't think she could have forced even a bread roll down if she'd tried. She retrieved the little box of flying wings from where she'd inadvertently left it on the seat of the armchair and put it in her pocket. Colonel Sink dismissed her with a salute (which she returned) and she walked out of the office on stiff legs. As soon as she'd shut the door behind her, she ducked her head and smoothed her hands over her face, releasing a shaky sigh.

"Fuck," she whispered, the last coherent word she would speak for the rest of the night.

Ten minutes later, seated at the cramped desk in her hangar office, Berni grabbed a ream of paper and searched for a pen. When she uncapped the latter and ink splattered over the desk and speckled her hand, she didn't curse like she normally would. She just sighed, grabbed a tissue, and wiped away what she could. The ceiling light hanging half a foot above her when sitting (and so close it was a hazard to her head when standing) provided a meager glow, just enough for the evening. It was dark outside. The light from the standing lamp she'd dragged in here just two days ago would be too bright for this time of day. She rose, stooping to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling light, and drew the blinds on the window. Returning to her seat, she found a pencil on the floor she thought she'd lost. She set aside the pen and tapped the pencil on the side of the desk, thinking. She had a great deal to think about and very little time to set it all straight.

It was just after 2:00 in the morning when she decided she was done. Exhausted, she pondered going to sleep in this very chair but convinced herself not to. She took a long drag from the third cigarette she'd smoked while mulling all this over before dragging herself to her feet, picking up her finalized list, and going over it one last time.

Polly, it had already been determined, would captain the States-bound six while Berni was in England. Berni could not imagine a better choice. Accordingly, those here to stay had been chosen as such:

Polly, Earl, Erma, Rosie, Venus, and Beatrice. 

Earl, as much as she would miss her friends Fiona and Délia, would hate to pass up the chance to join the technicians and learn more about the (literal) mechanics of the war effort. And she would not want for friends, for she already had one in Eugene Jackson, one of the younger paratroopers of Easy Company. More seriously, Berni considered her too young to face the war. She was barely eighteen; Berni had not been concerned when she found out Earl had faked her age when enlisting, but actually engaging in the dangers of their service was another thing entirely.

Erma would be pleased to attend classes with the medics. She, along with Polly, already acted as a caretaker within the crew. Also, as resident baker, she would play an important role in keeping morale up. More importantly, she could step in and guide Earl and Rosie while Polly was busy with her new captaincy. And Erma was just getting to know Bull Randleman—Berni didn't want to take that happiness away from her so soon after finding it.

Rosie would enjoy working in Battalion CP. Because of her notable navigational skill, she had already been invited into the Intelligence office twice by Lieutenant Nixon. Just a few days ago, he promised Berni that the offer still stood, should Rosie reconsider. And she, like Earl, was friends with someone—or, more accurately, someones—in Easy. Berni was a little nervous about leaving Rosie behind without the shield Berni's swinging fists provided, but the captain was soothed knowing Polly and Erma would look out for her, as well as Shifty Powers and Popeye Wynn.

Venus would serve perhaps the most personal function of the six left behind. She would take up Berni's mantle—or perhaps it would be better to say her fists would. About a month and a half ago, just after they arrived at Camp MacKall, Venus had taken an interest in boxing. She'd asked Berni to teach her how to punch and kick (which Berni, of course, agreed to) but soon made friends with a few men in Fox Company and traded afternoons of mock fighting with her captain for nights of sparring in a boxing ring downtown. Berni knew she was itching for a chance to show off to the other girls what she'd been learning. And Venus, more so than anyone else in the crew, was hardly troubled by change. She wouldn't think much of it whether or not she went back to England.

Beatrice would be almost pleased to stay, Berni thought. She had said time and time again how much she liked the local church, and she would not be pleased to leave it so suddenly. A grouchy Beatrice made for a grouchy crew. She would be disappointed not to have the chance to see her husband, but Berni wasn't too hung up on that point. She seemed to be getting on just fine without him. Sure, she spoke of missing him and wrote frequently, but she never cried over the distance between them. If she wasn't so prejudiced against Thelma and Addie, Berni would feel bad for how she and the other girls teased Beatrice and called her 'Wifey'. And speaking of: it was probably best to get Thelma and Addie away from Beatrice's judgmental looks for a while.

So that was Polly's crew. The other six would leave with Berni. These women, with the exception of Ellis, had been picked as pairs. It was unthinkable to separate Thelma from Addie, and nearly as wrong to consider Délia without Fiona. And so, those set to leave for merry old wartorn England were as follows: 

Ellis, Thelma, Addie, Délia, and Fiona, as well as Berni herself.

Ellis would be glad to return to England. These past five months, she'd been the most homesick of the crew, more so than even Beatrice. Recently she'd begun to look to the east, where the Atlantic awaited beyond the horizon, with a gleam in her eyes that was never quite happy. Also recently, she'd had another spat with McClung, but this fight seemed more of a rupture than a bump. They had not spoken in a week. Even Erma could not pry out of her sister what had gone wrong. Oh, Erma... Though the sisters bickered more hours of the day than not, Berni knew they would miss each other dearly. Sending one to England while keeping the other in America was one of the hardest decisions she'd ever had to make.

Thelma and Addie would not survive such a vast separation, and Berni meant that in all seriousness. She feared that Thelma, forgivably reckless, would seek a bar to cope with the absence of her beloved and drink herself into such a stupor that she'd out herself to the wrong people. And Addie, sweet Addie, would simply die of heartbreak if anything befell Thelma. Additionally, it would be a smart move to extract Thelma from American society. The longer she stayed, the more likely her mother was to find out where she'd gone. Berni could only deflect Mrs. Duran's letters for so long. If she left, not even Polly would hold the authority to keep back mother from daughter, and for Thelma's sake, that simply could not happen.

Délia and Fiona would suffer in more ways than one without each other. Alone, they were laudable; together, they were a force to be reckoned with. Setting aside the skill of their captain, they were the best pilots Tare had by a long shot. They'd been working as a team for years, long before they even joined up with the ATA. And above all else, they were the best of friends. Splitting them up would be a tremendous mistake, and as much as Berni would like to keep them here with Earl (Buckley) and their many friends in Easy Company, their skills as a duo were undoubtedly needed overseas.

No decision came easy. Berni had to consider long-standing flying partners, decide what camaraderie would stand the test of time and distance, and imagine who would be able to collectively keep up their morale in the absence of the other six. Splitting up the Osbourne sisters was rough to even think about, but even worse was the idea of distancing Addie and Thelma (which Berni had decided against, in the end). She'd managed to keep the flight pairings consistent, which she predicted (and hoped) would be better for everyone. Earl would still fly with Polly, Délia with Fiona, Erma with Beatrice, and so on and so forth. The only major difference was that Rosie, like Thelma, would sometimes have to third wheel with another two-person crew when Polly was running drills or busy with other regimental work.

Berni, finally satisfied (with her list, not with the division of her squadron), tugged on the cord to the ceiling light and left her office in darkness, rubbing her eyes. She was tucking the paper list into her chest pocket (just beneath her new silver wings), smoking the last of her cigarette, when she tripped over something in the shadows and fell. Mumbling sounds that might have turned into cursing had she not been too fatigued to muster the full words, she got back to her feet, grabbed her flashlight from her pocket, and turned its beam upon the offending tripper-upper. Blinking against the glare reflecting off the metal rungs before her, Berni realized it was one of the truncated ladders they used to get up into the planes. In fact, judging by the oil rag slung over its upper handle, this particular ladder was the very same she'd used just last week to climb up into the Douglas C-47 Skytrain with...

Joe.

Berni sighed and pinched her nose. She didn't mean to think of him, but he kept stealing into her thoughts. She really ought to tell him to stop that. Even if he really had no control over it. She was going to miss him, wasn't she?

She was going to miss him a lot.

Berni gave a physical start. She nearly dropped her flashlight. Turning it in her hand, still staring at the ladder, she felt for the switch and turned it off. Darkness fell. Even the lights high on the ceilings of the hangar did not reach this lonely corner.

Damnit. Damnit!

She clenched her jaw, too tired to swear aloud.

You're not supposed to be fond of an American, Berni, she scolded herself. You're not even supposed to like one! And especially not as the captain of Tare! It's your responsibility not to...

Not to fall in love.

She sighed and spat out the last of her cigarette, grinding it with the heel of her boot until its smoldering remains mixed with the hickory earth.

Fucking shit.

Berni leaned her head into her hands for the second time that night. Running her fingers through her hair, she groaned and stayed there for a good few minutes. Finally, she rose, pushed the switch on her flashlight with her thumb, and made for the side door on the opposite end of the hangar.

I need sleep. Or maybe a beer. A few beers, even.

She yawned, then yawned again.

Fucking fine. 

Annoyed, she kicked at a pebble in her path.

Sleep it is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Image of Dale Dye as Colonel Sink is a stillframe from @lyselkatz‘s GIFset, linked here.

[sergeant-spoons]

18. From Pride to Prejudice

Bernadette Noel

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​​​ @chaosklutz​​​​​ @wexhappyxfew​​​​​ @50svibes​​​​​ @tvserie-s-world​​​​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​​​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​​​​ @whovian45810​​​​​ @brokennerdalert​​​​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​​​​ @claire-bear-1218​​​​​ @heirsoflilith​​​​​ @itswormtrain​​​​​ @actualtrashpanda​​​​​ @wtrpxrks​​​​​​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thursday evening had come at last. No more delaying the reality of their departure; the sun that had just finished setting would rise again in twelve hours and conjure goodbyes instead of good mornings. Berni was putting off tomorrow as forcefully as she could. She'd taken the whole squadron out for drinks one last time before they were parted, and though she had not spoken of this aim, she intended to treat the night like a bacchanalian celebration. She told herself that if she drank enough, she would be able to forget everything they were leaving behind.

Even Joe.

She grimaced and downed the rest of her second beer in one fell swoop.

Especially Joe.

Beatrice didn't drink, but she'd come along for a little while anyway to show her support. She was about ready to go by now, just past sunset, and Erma and Ellis had decided to walk back to the base with her. Polly offered to drive them and then take the car back to the pub for the others, but they'd declined, wanting to enjoy the warm night air of North Carolina (for the last time, in Erma's case). Venus had volunteered herself as a bodyguard, fingering the brass knuckles in her pocket, and Berni had been glad to send her along, simply telling her to be careful if decided to come back alone.

"Save me a spot at the bar," she'd said on her way out the door, and since her departure with the other three girls, no one had walked through the pub door, either in or out. That was thirty minutes ago; the pub was nearly as empty as Berni's glass. The bartender, who'd seemed bored at first, was now engaged in an avid conversation with Thelma about his recent visit to the Metropolitan Museum up in New York City. Thelma stood with her hand in Addie's back pocket, and Berni was glad to see the pair relaxed enough to engage in physical affection that clearly blurred the line between platonic and romantic. Addie half-stood and half-sat on a stool, one foot on the ground and the other swinging nonchalantly. She listened to the conversation, nodding here and there, supporting her girlfriend's interests even if her personal knowledge of fine art stopped with "it's nice to look at". Meanwhile, a few seats down, Délia was playing craps with Fiona and Rosie while Earl flipped through Rosie's copy of Murder in Mesopotamia and commented on the cleverness of the mustachioed protagonist. As Berni watched, Rosie seemed to lose another round and got up to stretch her legs. Berni moved to join her, and they strolled around the vacant pub in companionable silence for a minute or so before the captain decided on something to say.

"Glass?"

Rosie looked up at her. "Yes, ma'am?"

Berni, endeared, almost reached out and adjusted the slight crookedness of Rosie's glasses. Instead, she fixed the turn of her sleeve cuffs and asked, "How did you like that book? The one you were reading a few days ago."

Rosie blinked. "A Rose for Emily? Or Evil Under the Sun, ma'am?"

"No, I don't think so... It was an older one—Austen, I think."

"Oh! Sense & Sensibility." Rosie considered the original question. "I thought it was good. I liked it. I do prefer Pride & Prejudice, though."

"Oh? Is that another Austen?"

"Yes'm."

"Why do you like it?"

"Well, ma'am, it's a good story. And, um, the main love interest, well..." Rosie's cheeks started to turn the hue of her name. "He makes a lot of mistakes at the start, but he changes, for the better, and not just because he thinks it's going to get him the girl. Do you know what I mean? He's a good man, a very good man, and you don't meet many of those these days... Well..."

She glanced aside, bashful, hiding her face behind her hair. They'd come back to the bar by now and took seats on two adjacent stools. Giving Rosie a second to settle in, Berni waited, but Tare's best navigator still did not resume their exchange. Her captain reached out and patted her knee, and she hesitantly looked up.

"I'll see if I can get my hands on a copy."

"You will?" Rosie froze in the middle of tucking her hair behind her ear, utterly amazed.

"I have to," Berni insisted. "How could I overlook a glowing recommendation like that?"

Rosie started to smile. "It's a good romance. Especially when your own love life is a bit of a mess."

Berni was taken aback. She almost asked what on earth her typically meek companion was implying, but before she could, Rosie slapped both her hands over her mouth and uttered a strangled squeak.

"I meant myself, ma'am!" she cried, her face even redder than before. "Sorry! I'm sorry!"

"No offense taken," Berni soothed, taking Rosie's flailing hands to hold until she calmed down. "But what was that about your love life being a mess?"

Rosie looked like she might combust from embarrassment. To her good fortune (and the detriment of Berni's curiosity), Polly saw and swooped in.

"Captain, can I speak to you for a minute? I have something on my mind."

"Of course." Berni winked at Rosie. "Don't go anywhere, love. I want to hear all about this mysterious romance of yours."

If she had been able to, Rosie likely would have melted right into the bar. Earl grabbed her hand and dragged her back over to the craps game, chattering about needing to beat Thelma's winning streak, and her endearing naïveté gave Rosie the time to compose herself before rejoining her friends.

"Is there something bothering you, Beranová?" Berni asked once she and Polly had found a quiet spot at the other end of the bar.

"Other than you leaving? No, nothing is worse than that." Polly, motherly as ever, reached out and clasped Berni's hands between her own. "I will miss you."

Berni softened, wrapping her friend in a hug. "I'll miss you, too. But we'll meet again. And you'll do just fine with the girls here—no, you'll do better than fine."

Polly tipped her head, accepting the encouragement. "It is about the girls that I've been thinking..."

"Go on."

"If I'm going to be Captain while you're gone," she wondered slowly, "then who will take my place... for me?"

"Who will be your standing First Officer?"

"Yes."

"That's up to you now." Berni touched Polly's shoulder. "I trust your judgment. Whoever it is you pick, I'm sure it will be the right decision."

Polly thought for a moment. "I think I already know who. I believe—and I mean this as kindly as I can—Osbourne is the only sound option."

Berni nodded, understanding she meant Erma since Ellis would be coming overseas. Out of the girls staying behind with Easy, Erma was certainly the best choice. Earl was too inexperienced, Beatrice was too bossy, Rosie would flat-out refuse such a promotion, and Venus, though a skilled pilot, was not grounded enough to lead.

"Agreed," Berni replied, "I'd pick the same if I was in your position."

Polly tapped her fingers on the bar, thinking, then tutted her tongue. "If only she hadn't left already. I would like to tell her as soon as possible."

"She'll be ready to step up the minute you ask her," Berni reassured. "I wouldn't worry about her needing time to adjust."

"I expected as much." Polly accepted the two beers the bartender slid to her on his way past and handed one to Berni. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"Your new First Officer."

Berni wilted. "Oh, Polly, don't say it like that. You'll be my right-hand woman come hell or high water, you know that."

Polly looked sad but sure. "I know."

"Well, if you must make me decide... Coffey."

"Perfect."

"Perfect?"

"Perfect. If I'm being honest, she's the only one I'd want to take my position."

"For now," Berni reminded.

"Yes, for now." Polly took a sip of her drink, considering. "But do we really know how long 'now' will be?"

Berni shook her head, hiding her sorrow in a long dredge of beer. "No idea. It could be two weeks. Two months. If worse comes to worst, maybe a year."

Polly winced. "How long could it possibly take to train men to jump out of a plane and pull a cord?"

Snickering, Berni scolded, "You know there's more to it than that."

"Right. To jump out of a plane, pull a cord, and shoot Germans."

Berni grimaced. "Somehow, that simplification seems worse."

"Doesn't it?" Polly sighed. "Dobrý Bůh, it's quiet in here."

"Not for much longer!"

Berni nearly fell off her stool.

"Jesus, Frank! Where did you come from?"

"The door." He grinned as she rolled her eyes. "Thought we'd come to give you a proper send-off party."

"'We'?"

He turned, and as if on cue, the flourish of his hand introduced a flood of men in olive uniforms and bright smiles. They poured through the doors, hollering and grinning at the pilots. Berni was swept off her feet almost immediately and found herself lifted onto the shoulders of one man she recognized and another she didn't. Laughing, holding onto their heads to keep herself balanced, she looked around and judged that the whole of Easy Company must be here, and twice that. Floyd Talbert looked up at Berni through the bangs she was pushing over his eyes and told her that when they let slip of the plan to sneak out tonight, several dozen troopers from their brother companies pledged their attendance. After all, who could resist a night of fun, especially if drinks were to be had? The men cheered her on before getting distracted by the other pilots, and Berni was flattered and humbled that they had all come out just to wish the girls a warm farewell. As Berni praised them all, Talbert introduced her to Pat Christenson, a mutual friend of his and Liebgott's.

Joe.

Was he here tonight? Had he come to support them? Berni scanned the room and quickly spotted him in the group that had swarmed Fiona and Délia. He had a cigarette perched in his smile and was waving two crumpled dollar bills as if he wanted to bet on their craps game. They accepted and picked up the dice, and a grand cheer went up with several other soldiers placing their wagers. Rosie had slipped away out of the ruckus, book in hand, and was just about to escape to a booth in the corner when Earl grabbed her hand. Well-intentioned, Earl tried to tug her back toward the game, laughing with delight, but Rosie shook her head, eyeing the crowded space with dread. Before Berni could ask Talbert and Christenson to let her down so she could tactfully send Rosie on her way without hurting Earl's feelings, two Easy troopers stepped up. As Berni watched, Shifty Powers offered Rosie his arm while Popeye Wynn gave Earl, easily convinced, some excuse Berni could not hear. Shifty and Rosie took a turn about the room with Popeye at their side, and when they settled into the shadowed booth Rosie had originally been aiming for, she appeared much more at ease.

"Captain!"

Berni looked down to see Venus waving up at her. "Doherty!"

"What're you doing up there?"

"Enjoying the view," Berni laughed, then remembered her position and patted Talbert's head. "You lads can let me down now. This can't be all that comfortable for you."

Christenson was eager to let her down, but Talbert jokingly protested, even going so far as to catch Berni bridal-style in his arms when Christenson lifted her off him. He shot some vague profanity after his friend, but Christenson waved him off, beelining for the bar.

"How 'bout a beer?" Talbert offered, setting Berni back on her feet before she even had to ask him to. "I'll buy."

"And I'll drink," Berni accepted. "I'm only a little tipsy, and considering tonight's occasion, that's a right crying shame."

"I'll see around, then, Captain," Venus said, shooting her a grin. "Enjoy yourself, won't you?"

"I don't think I'll have a problem with that, Doherty—but wait! Did you come back with all these blokes?"

"I did!" Venus' smile grew. "Met them on the road just around the bend from the base, and when I figured where they were going, I turned right around and came with them. After I made sure Wifey and Osbournes 1 and 2 made it back to the barracks, of course."

"We sang a whole song to her," Talbert informed Berni proudly.

Venus snickered. "They sang 'Don’t Sit Under The Apple Tree (With Anyone Else But Me)'. You know, the one that goes on forever about waiting until they come marching home? Sung by the blokes who haven't even gone to war yet?"

Berni burst into laughter, but not because of Venus' teasing, and Talbert made a face.

"What?! It's a romantic song!"

"Did you even listen to the lyrics?" she laughed. "Or, hell, the name of the bloody song? 'Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me'—and you had, what, fifty of you singing it all at once?"

"Well... fuck!" he blurted out, and the 'f' had gotten stuck whistling behind his lips as if he'd tried to think of a retort but gave up. "Fuck, you're right."

Berni and Venus shared a laugh, and Talbert moped until Venus leaned over and kissed his cheek in good humor.

"One of them kept admiring my brass knuckles," she said proudly, showing them off on her fist. "Who was he again, Floyd?"

"Joe Toye, if I had to guess." 

He pointed across the room, rubbing at his cheek where she had kissed him, and Berni made a mental note that if she ever wanted to make the infamous flirt that was Floyd Talbert blush, all she needed was one Marsha 'Venus' Doherty. 

"He's the one with the loose collar, stands half a head taller than most everybody else. 'Cept Bull, maybe. Or Christenson."

Venus went off in that direction with a quick fare-thee-well, and Talbert and Berni turned toward the bar. They managed to find a decent spot, though they had to jostle for it. Unexpectedly swarmed by customers, the bartender looked absolutely overwhelmed, but here came George Luz to save the day. A few confident words and he found himself placed behind the bar, rushing to pour beers for his friends, always delivered with a lopsided grin and a quick quip.

"Captain Noel! To what do we owe the pleasure?" he teased with a wink, deftly sliding two beers across the bar to Berni and Talbert. "Well?" he asked without waiting for a response. "Did we surprise you?"

"Yes, quite a lot," she confessed, and he clutched his hand to his heart. 

"Agh! You wound me, Captain. You really didn't expect us at all?"

"No," she told him honestly. "I thought, with it being a Thursday and all..."

Talbert, seeing his duty was done (for the time being), raised his drink in a wordless cheers! and disappeared into the crowd, citing the craps game as his destination. Luz, meanwhile, gasped and stopped in his tracks despite the half-dozen soldiers vying for him to pour them a drink.

"What! Did you really think we'd just let you go all the way to England without saying goodbye?" He dropped the dramatics and leaned over the bar, his eyes sparkling. "You're our best girls, and our pilots, too. You know that, right?"

Berni wasn't sure when she'd started crying, but here she went, and she quickly drew her sleeves across her eyes, ducking her head. She smiled despite her tears—or, rather, because of them—and Luz kindly pretended not to see.

"I know," she told him once she'd composed herself, leaning over the bar to kiss his cheek. "Thank you, George."

He pretended to swoon. "I've been upgraded to 'George'! You hear that, Frank?"

"Yeah, I heard it," Frank chuckled, stealing Talbert's former spot, a half-drunk beer in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. "So, Captain? Don't leave me in suspense. We doin' a good job here?"

"Three things," she responded at once. "First: thank you, Frank."

"Me?" He feigned innocence, tucking the smokes safely into his breast pocket. "For what?"

She narrowed her eyes at him until he caved.

"Alright, alright, so maybe I had a hand in this whole operation-"

"More like both hands, I'd wager," she cut him off, her red-painted lips quirking upward. "And both feet."

"Yeah, yeah." But he was smiling, and she was too. "What's the second thing?"

"I never thought you Americans would ever get so attached to us," she admitted. "Or that we'd get so attached to you."

He laid his hand over his heart. "Awww."

"Oh, shut up."

He grinned. "And number three? What's that, Cap?"

She stuck her hand out and Frank, after setting his drink aside, took it to shake.

"We're friends," she told him. "For the love of God, call me Berni."

His puzzled smile leaped right back into exuberance and he beamed.

"Right, right. Keep forgettin', since you're an officer and all, but I-"

"Frank!" She took him by the shoulders and turned him toward the center of the room, where the soldiers were just about done setting up an impromptu dance floor. "Shut up and go ask Fiona to dance."

He rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating, and Berni raised a brow.

"What is it?"

"Can I ask you something? As a friend?"

"Of course, you can. Lay it on me."

He leaned toward her, swirling his finger over the rim of his glass. A glance toward the craps game confirmed to Berni what she'd already suspected: the subject of his inquiry was bound to be Fiona.

"It's about Fiona."

And Bingo was his name-o.

"What about her?" Berni asked, her ignorance only partially faked.

Frank sighed.

"I like her. A lot. Scratch that, I think she's incredible. And I wanna shoot my shot. But..."

"But?"

He turned to look her in the eye.

"This is the part where you tell me I'm not supposed to fraternize."

Berni couldn't help it: she started to laugh. Frank looked surprised, then embarrassed, and when he swatted her arm, grumbling obscenities at her, Berni bent over double, cackling. She eventually managed to straighten up, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, and patted Frank on the back.

"At least you had the sense to come and ask my permission," she lauded him, feeling a little guilty for the way he was glowering at her. "Most don't. Actually, you're the first."

Frank's eyes widened. "You mean McClung wasn't kidding when he said-"

"Shh!" Berni clamped her hand over his mouth. "You and I both know the answer, and some things are better left unsaid in a crowded pub."

"Okay," Frank agreed, or at least Berni thought he agreed; his voice was a bit muffled behind her palm. "Right," he said once freed. "So this is you saying I should go for it?"

She took him by the shoulder again. "It's our last night, Frank. You should absolutely go for it. Whatever 'it' may be."

"And this is Berni the captain speaking?"

"No, it's Berni who's tired of watching her friends make eyes at each other without doing anything about it," she corrected; still, he wavered.

"But what about-"

"Bloody hell, Frank, go kiss the girl before you've lost your chance!"

He seemed to snap out of a daze. Squaring his shoulders, he gave a single decisive nod, downed the rest of his beer, and marched off into the crowd. Berni, loath to miss such a moment, climbed right onto the bar and sat there, just able to see over most heads in the pub without drawing too much attention to herself. It took her a moment to locate Frank, and when she did, he was already at the craps game. He broke through the attentive crowd and extended his hand to someone Berni couldn't see. Fiona appeared, rising from the little oval glen amidst the leaning trees of the spectators. A cheer went up from half of those watching and Délia leaped to her feet, celebrating her sweeping victory, but Fiona only had eyes for Frank. Berni crossed her fingers and tapped them against the bar, waiting and watching until-

"Yes!"

She started laughing at her own enthusiasm, not caring that she'd drawn a few puzzled glances, watching as Frank kissed Fiona like there was no tomorrow. They broke apart, flushed and beaming, and Berni raised her fist in the air, giving a cheer. Fiona saw and blushed, and Frank turned, wrapping his arm around her waist, to see what had caught her attention. He saw Berni watching and saluted, and the captain pretended to look away as if she'd seen nothing. Frank grabbed Fiona's hand and nodded toward the back door of the pub. They left, sharing lovestruck smiles, and Berni only had time to hope tonight would not be their last as well as their first before she felt a figure push himself up onto the bar and land beside her.

"Hey, Flygirl."

She turned to him with a smile.

"Hello, Joe. Fancy seeing you here."

He smirked. "Is that a happy to see me, or-?"

"Of course, it is." She laughed at the surprise infiltrating his expression. "Oh, come on, Joe, we're friends. I'm always happy to see you."

"Yeah. Yeah, right." He cleared his throat. "Who were you cheerin' for, just now?"

"Frank and Fiona."

"Perconte? And Tulach?"

"The very same."

He gave a low whistle. "Took 'em long enough."

"I’ll say.”

He studied her expression for a long moment, and if Berni didn't know better, she would have thought he was about to kiss her then and there, right in front of everybody.

"Berni..."

But then Talbert appeared, chattering something about shots, and grabbed Berni's hand. She let him help her down from the bar as he announced there would be many a toast made this evening to the departing pilots, and he was certainly not wrong on the count of 'many'. Berni was already buzzed from her first two and a half beers, but then toasts began and she went from tipsy to drunk within the hour. At first, she sipped at her drink like the rest, but then Talbert had the idea to do shots instead, and she was quite a sight from there on out, slamming them down one after the other. Berni was no slouch in the drinking department, she could hold her liquor, but of course, she had a limit, and tonight, she ignored it completely.

"Who's this?" she asked Joe an hour later, leaning on the bar for support, gesturing to a new face she did not recognize. 

"I'm Private David Webster," the man said, offering his hand, and Berni patted his knuckles more like a grandmother than a new acquaintance.

"Ya made a good speech, y'know," she told him, raising her beer for emphasis and nearly spilling it. "Was real wordy. Didn't understand the half of it, but it was nice."

"Uh, thanks."

"How many beers have you had?" Joe asked, and if he sounded worried, it slipped Berni's notice.

"Can't remember," she mumbled. "Lots. An' even more shots." 

She started giggling, looking between Joe and Webster, and they, the farthest thing from friends, were united for an instant as they shared a look.

"Um..."

Joe waved Webster's awkwardness off. "What're you laughin' at?" he asked Berni, trying to ignore how adorable she looked like this, her shoulders shaking with laughter, relishing the night without a care in the world.

"Webster-" She pointed at each as she named them. "-Liebgott-" An explanatory and conclusive gesture. "-Liebster." More giggling.

"Are you drunk?" Joe asked her straight out, and Berni grinned.

"Positively smashed, love!"

"Alright," he said, "time to go."

"No," she reprimanded, pointing right at his face and narrowly missing poking him in the eye. She giggled again. "Oops. Sorry."

"You missed."

"Oh! Good."

She stood up straight and shook her head, her wild hair dancing in the warm light and distracting Joe from his worry for a good few seconds.

"Just one more drink," she assured him. "I can walk, an' everything. Don't need to do much else to get back to the base."

"Yeah, sure, but-"

"Go dance or something!" She waved him off. "I'll be just fine right here."

Reluctantly, Joe turned to go, only to get a gut feeling less than a minute later and look back over his shoulder. Berni was still where he'd left her, but now, there was a man with her, a soldier Joe vaguely recognized from Dog Company—no, Able. He was getting handsy, and Berni was swatting him away, her giggling swiftly turning into admonishments that seemed to fall on deaf ears. The man tried to touch her ass again and before Berni could slap him, he grabbed her wrist. Berni drew her knee back but Joe beat her to it, tackling the man to the ground. Seeing red, he swung his fists, not caring where each hit landed, taking a few solid punches himself. He was more sober than the other man, though, and managed to get the upper hand. He was sure he was about to win—which, in his eyes, meant ensuring the bastard would leave his girl alone—when Berni hauled him off the man and he was reminded by the look in her eyes that she was not, after all, 'his girl'.

She tugged him a good few steps away, and he was so surprised that she was capable of such strength and clarity when her eyes were glazed over like that that he forgot to turn back until it was too late. The man was gone, stumbling away into the crowd, holding his jaw. Joe hoped he'd broken a few teeth. His eye was smarting and when he blinked it hurt worse, but keeping it open proved a futile endeavor and so he gave in, settling for the pain but refusing to wince. Berni looked like she wanted to say something, but she just left, taking the back door out of the pub. Joe followed her, half-sure the bastard had come this way, but there was no sign of anyone but Berni there. She had stopped near the streetside entry to the alleyway, leaning against the brick wall, one hand clutching the side of her head. Joe marched up to her, pissed off, torn between chewing her out for not letting him defend her and kissing her to high heaven, but when she would not look at him, groaning against the brightness of the streetlamp in front of her, he stepped back and forced his anger to quell.

Shit, Joe, he thought, turning his antagonism inward, now you're backing out of fights for this girl. What next? You gonna ask her to marry you? She's not even Jewish.

It was a stupid line of thought, and Joe didn't like feeling stupid. He wrapped his arm around Berni's waist and guided her out of the alley and onto the sidewalk. She didn't stop or stumble once, so that was a good sign. Still, she was in no state to try and walk home alone.

"What're you doin', ya dodgy git?" she grumbled belatedly, leaning against him like she didn't really mean the admonishment. Joe wasn't expecting her weight and stumbled a step to the side.

"Walking you home."

Berni snorted. "Don't 'ave one o' those 'round 'ere." She wrinkled up her face as if she might sneeze but did not. "An' if you mean your place-" She slumped her head onto his shoulder. "-'m not goin' ta screw you just 'cause you're a real bev who took a fist to the eye-" 

She came to a halt and turned to her irritated companion, but his annoyance dipped to see her more alert than she'd been for the past hour or so. Something had sobered her, if only for a moment. Maybe it was the night air, or the way he was half-carrying her, or the state of his eye-

"Joe! Your eye!"

Yep, it's the eye. Joe grimaced.

"I'm fine."

"But..." 

She began to reach for his face and he leaned away, gritting his teeth. God knows he wanted her hands all over him, but not like this, not drunk and dizzy and meaning to baby him after a fight she herself had dragged him out of.

"Come on." 

He tugged her back into motion more roughly than he meant to and she tripped, clinging to his shoulder to keep from falling.

"Fuckin' chav."

"... I don't think I want to know what that means."

"It means-" She pushed his arm off her, walking on her own, and he let her despite a few stumbles here and there. "-you started a fight over some bloke grabbin' my arse-"

"Yeah, no shit!" His knee twinged as his next step landed hard on the road. "What kind of- of friend would I be if I-"

"Hah! Friend!" She swatted his arm, finding a much-needed respite by leaning against the railing of the bridge Joe hadn't even realized they'd started to cross. "Don't pretend you didn't wanna do it, too."

"Jesus, Berni-"

"What if I wanted him to, huh?" She was just goading him now, and they both knew it. "What if-"

"But you didn't!"

"So? I can take care of myself!" 

That was the most coherent thing she'd said since leaving the bar, and yet not even her sudden clarity of mind could prevent Joe from snapping right back.

"No, I don't think you can!"

She deflated.

"Oh, fuck right off."

"Berni-"

"Leave me alone, you- you daft git."

He pulled at his hair. "I meant drunk- fuck- you can't look after yourself drunk, nobody can-"

"And you think you're sober?"

"Yeah, I am fuckin' sober! You wanna know why? Because you're already drunk, and I didn't want some creep to do something to you!"

"Like what?" Her glower wasn't quite as effective as she probably thought it was. "Like me getting some that wasn't you?"

"Jesus!" He threw his hands up and backed away. "Find your own way home, I don't give a shit."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

They each pivoted on their heels (one more smoothly than the other) and started down opposite sides of the mildly-sloping bridge. As he stepped back onto solid ground, he looked over his shoulder. She was shuffling along, fine to move by herself but looking wretched alone. Joe's next exhalation hissed bitterly through his teeth.

"Is that the captain?"

Joe gave a start. He turned and found one of the pilots staring at him, the one with the big glasses, a book tucked under her arm. There was lipstick on her cheek from a fond kiss. The mark was red—Berni's.

Joe looked back. She was almost gone from his sight, turning the corner of the post office. A part of him wondered if he should go and make sure she wouldn't fall into the river when the road came parallel to it, but the bookish pilot was already halfway there, double-timing it to catch up to her captain. Joe pulled at his shirt, agitated, stuck in place. On one hand, he wanted to go to Berni and take care of her, make sure she ate something with starch and drank a glass or two of water so her hangover tomorrow wouldn't be so severe, but Joe was a stubborn man, and even Bernadette Noel could not coax that out of him. In the end, with Berni and her fellow pilot—Rose Glass, the name came to Joe in a slipshod flash—long gone, the bitterness clutching at his heart turned his head and feet back toward the bar.

"Fuck."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[sergeant-spoons]

15. And Yet, I Can’t Imagine

Bernadette Noel

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​​ @chaosklutz​​​​​ @wexhappyxfew​​​​​ @50svibes​​​​​ @tvserie-s-world​​​​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​​​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​​​​ @whovian45810​​​​​ @brokennerdalert​​​​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​​​​ @claire-bear-1218​​​​​ @heirsoflilith​​​​​ @itswormtrain​​​​​ @actualtrashpanda​​​​​ @wtrpxrks​​​​​​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a long weekend of heavy rain, Tare Squadron wasn't sure when they'd next get a chance to fly. Tuesday dawned with hardly a cloud in the sky, and soon it proved to be the clearest day at Camp MacKall by far. As such, the pilots of Tare spent the majority of the day high in the skies. Berni took Hennessy up for a flight that involved just as much education as it did banter. Earl strengthened her navigational skills with Polly, flying in loops far over the base and surrounding woods, and Rosie and Venus took the opportunity of their early ascent to fly several miles north and witness the first green sprouts upon the orchards in the country. While the Osbourne sisters bickered over their choice of co-pilots (they ended up flying with each other, in the end), Addie and Thelma got a head start and were aloft a full two hours longer than any other pilots, even Berni. Délia and Fiona took the good fortune of clear skies to show off a few of their tricks once Berni radioed up the go-ahead. She would be the one in hot water if something were to happen to an off-duty Airborne plane in American airspace, but she trusted their training as former stunt pilots and knew they would not damage the planes.

By afternoon, hands were starting to ache and itch, and the flying jackets that once kept them warm were starting to feel too warm for this particularly sunny day. A Carolina March was much warmer than an English one, that was for certain. The women took a hiatus for lunch, and by the time they regathered in the hangar around 02:00 hours, the headcount of those present had unexpectedly grown. Though most of the pilots did not join the enlisted men for meals, Earl, Fiona, and Venus had passed a few friends on their way to the mess hall and joined them for a midday meal. Once they'd mooched lunch from their friends in the kitchen, the trio 'borrowed' (in Earl's words) a cadre of Easy Company soldiers from Captain Sobel, citing a bogus intent to further familiarize the men with the interior of their jump planes. Berni only learned of this once the troopers had strolled into the hangar, sunglasses perched atop their sun-reddened faces and jackets tied around their waists, white shirts gritty from the morning's exercise. With a half-teasing sigh, she told Earl she'd claim responsibility if Sobel filed a petty complaint.

"I was hoping you would say that," Earl replied, pretending to wipe the sweat of anxiety from her brow, and scampered off at the summons of Rosie to check a dented rudder balance on her aircraft.

"This place is fucking huge."

"Hello, McClung."

Ellis' boyfriend startled, jumping aside just in time to avoid backing up into Berni. He quickly saluted her, but she waved him down. The rag in her hand flapped along with the motion, new oil spots noticeable on its grey cloth.

"Ellis is over there."

McClung almost smirked, then thought better of it and gave a polite nod instead. "Thank you, Captain."

Three more men in turn came up to Berni once she let McClung go, keeping hope that he and Ellis would have the sense to leave any tryst-like activities for a location outside of the hangar.

"Afternoon, cap'n."

The tallest of the men came forth with a salute, then readily shook her hand when she put him at ease. He was a sergeant, judging by the patch on his shoulder, and he seemed an agreeable sort. As he slowly gazed about the hangar, taking his time to admire each and every plane, Berni decided she liked him.

"You've got one helluva 'n office here, Captain."

Berni laughed softly as Frank Perconte, the next to approach, gave a low whistle.

"We've known each other for how long, Frank?"

"Say, uh, five months, isn't it? Shit, that's a while."

"Call me Berni."

Frank grinned, happy to shake her hand. "Oh, just wait 'til I do that in front of Sobel."

He went off with Fiona, who was keen to give him a tour, unaware that he seemed far more interested in her than the planes. Joe Liebgott was the last to saunter up to Berni, smirking as if he expected to usurp her attention once he'd caught it. Just for that, Berni grabbed his hand, wished him a pleasant afternoon, and promptly passed him along to Délia, who'd come searching for a fourth pair of hands to help Earl with her repairs on Rosie's plane. He shot Berni an almost contemptuous look as he let himself be led away, and she, stifling a grin, pouted in false sympathy. He squinted at her, she winked, and he turned away, smirking again. It was the game they played, this back and forth. No harm done. No poor examples set. It was fun, it was safe.

"Pardon me, Cap'n-" The tall sergeant politely waved for Berni's attention. "-but is there s'posed to be a light on in there?"

Berni turned to see where he was pointing and saw the beam of a flashlight dancing across the windows inside one of the Airborne's many Douglas C-47 Skytrains. That was Erma's plane, which she usually flew with Beatrice, but the one they affectionately called 'Wifey' was down for the count with a case of the flu. Erma must be working on something inside. Berni supposed it wouldn't hurt to introduce her to the sergeant, especially if she was sitting all by her lonesome up there. She told her companion as much as she hopped up the ladder to the door of the Skytrain and bade him follow. He had to duck to get through the doorway, amusing Erma, who was just wrapping up the last of her lunch. Her gentle laughter seemed to endear the sergeant, and they hit it off right away. Hennessy, who'd appeared in search of Berni, shared an amused sort of look with her friend as they witnessed smooth introductions become tentative flirting.

"Berni, I got somethin' for ya..."

"Coming." Berni nodded at her pilot and the sergeant. "Behave yourselves."

Erma laughed, and again, the sergeant's smile grew to hear it.

"We will," Erma promised and waved cheerfully to Berni as the captain returned to the ground by use of the ladder.

"What is it?"

"Coffey wanted me to tell ya she and Duran were goin' into town," Hennessy explained. "Said they both need some new grippy gloves for the stick-y things on them planes."

"Ah." Berni smiled knowingly. "Understood."

"Really? 'Cause I ain't sure what the hell that means."

"It means," Berni explained, dropping her voice, "that they're going to get flying gloves, but the errand might take a while longer than it should."

"Ahhh." Hennessy bobbed her chin up and down. "Gotcha."

"Fixed it!" came a call from the other end of the hangar half a second before Joe Liebgott materialized, wiping his hands off on his pants, his shirt stained in several places from engine oil. He looked disgruntled at his appearance but pleased to have helped, and the latter of the two emotions became the stronger when he met Berni's eye.

"Give me a tour, Flygirl?"

"Alright."

Berni scribbled a few things down for Hennessy on her clipboard, then started off with Joe at her side. They did not touch, not even by a falsely innocent brush of the hands, a separation which she both appreciated and disdained. When she detailed a few of the planes for him, not expecting him to be much interested, she was pleasantly surprised to find he had half a dozen earnest questions about each craft. He listened well to each answer she gave and was clever with his jokes when he made them. Berni had known she liked him for some time, but walking through the hangar, she couldn't deny she enjoyed his company far more than she should. When he got her to laugh at a story about Frank using David Webster as a standing body pillow yesterday, she thought she might kiss him just to get him to shut up and stop making her like him more with every joke, smirk, and wink.

"So I know you, Frank, and McClung," she mused instead, "but who's the fellow built like a tank?"

"Bull Randleman," Joe answered. "You like him?"

Berni shrugged, drawing a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket. "He seems friendly. Polite." 

"And?"

"And," she continued, comprehending the game he was trying to play, "he appears to be quite taken with Erma."

"No shit?"

Berni chuckled. "As of about twenty minutes ago, yes."

Joe grinned. "Good for him."

"Yes, and for her, too."

Joe rocked back and forth on his heels, thumbing at his belt loops. He looked like he wanted to say something, and when Berni shot him a look, he was all too happy to express the thought on the tip of his tongue.

"So, tell me if I got this right: ya like the skinny, tough guys better than the gentle giants."

She glanced him up and down, and he preened until she swatted his shoulder, stifling a smile.

"I suppose I do." 

"Fuck yeah."

"The only thing is, Joe..."

He looked almost too excited to hear what she had to say, and in a moment of doubt, she nearly stopped herself from continuing.

"You're not skinny," she decided, playing with her new lighter to distract her gaze from his smile, "you've got what I'd call an athletic build."

"And ya like that."

She raised a brow, drawing the cigarette she was about to offer him beyond his reach. Joe's smirk did not budge; still, he held up his hands in surrender and offered a not-apology.

"Just kidding."

She gave him the cigarette, and he puffed on it, content, as they came back around to the Skytrains. Berni saw Erma standing with Randleman by the water tanks and, judging her plane to be empty, stole up the ladder. Joe followed, and Berni brought him into the cockpit, for she'd promised to show him around the place back before Christmas. As she pointed out several mechanisms and their functions, she noticed how Joe extended his arm back through the doorway so as to not smoke up the cramped space. Appreciative, she took her seat as captain and posed languidly when he asked her to. He grinned, whistled, and pretended to take a photograph of her. As she primped her hair, exaggerating her self-importance, she caught a flicker of warmth in Joe's smile and felt something in her chest melt.

Do not fraternize, Berni, she warned herself, poking haphazardly at the bells and whistles of the controls. Do not fucking fraternize.

Joe didn't want to waste his smoke and so they soon left the cockpit and walked back through the fuselage only to find the ladder had been drawn away by Délia, Frank, and Fiona. Unconcerned, Berni and Joe sat in the doorway, their legs dangling toward the sawdust and cement below. They smoked and did not speak, but Berni decided they were better off that way. How they sat—hip to hip, Joe's arm reaching behind Berni to keep himself steady with his wrist bent and his palm pressed to the floor—was already a temptation. Berni pretended not to mind the embrace, but her back felt warm in every spot his arm touched, and she could not stop herself from noticing even the minutest of his movements. She waved down to Earl and Polly as they passed by, and as the former broke into an impromptu cartwheel, the latter jumped aside to avoid being kicked when Earl came tumbling down. Berni stifled a laugh and waved them along, her legs swinging nonchalantly as she leaned just a little bit into Joe's arm.

"Imagination is funny, it makes a cloudy day sunny..."

Joe, done with his cigarette, started to sing softly to himself. Berni wasn't sure he even knew he was doing it.

"Makes a bee think of honey just as I think of you..."

She turned to him just as the breeze swept through the hangar doors, open to the sunshine. Brushing curls of hair out of her eyes, she tilted her head. Joe didn't notice her for a moment more-

"Imagination is crazy, your whole perspective gets hazy. Starts you asking a daisy what to do, what to... do!"

-but once he did, he turned his singing from absentminded to flirtatious in two seconds flat.

"Have you ever felt a gentle touch, and then a kiss, and then—and then!"

He pretended to swoon against the wall of the plane, pouting. Berni stifled a laugh.

"You find it's only your imagination again... oh, well..."

He sat back up and moved his arm fully around her waist, slipping his hand into her front pocket, his palm resting on her thigh through the corduroy fabric. Berni felt goosebumps rising and looked away, pretending to be coy when in reality, her heart was starting to skip.

"Imagination is silly, you go around willy-nilly."

Joe swayed to the tune, and to keep her balance, Berni had to grab his leg and lean against his shoulder. She laughed, and as he grinned, she sat up straight only to find he'd tucked her neatly against his side.

"For example-"

He studied her face, feigning infatuation. Or, perhaps, he wasn't pretending at all. The thought silenced Berni's laughter.

"-I go around wanting you."

Her smile began to fade.

"And yet, I can't imagine..." 

Joe searched her gaze, leaning closer. 

"That you want me too?"

Half a second before Berni threw everything and its mother to the wind and kissed Joe, Hennessy popped up from the underside of the plane, shouting something about a date. Berni nearly lost her balance and fell but Joe, fast as lightning, reached out and caught her. Halfway through asking if she was alright, Joe's sentence trailed off as he met Berni's gaze. She could feel his arms around her, his breath on her cheek. She leaned back, muttering that she was fine, and though she wished he didn't have to, he let go. At once, Berni missed his arm around her; she felt a sudden chill. Joe, meanwhile, was too busy inwardly cursing himself for pulling back from her to notice.

"What's this about a date?" Ellis queried, poking her head up from the card game she'd started with McClung and Venus.

Hennessy laughed in mirth. "The good ol' Sarge over there and our darling Erma got a date, a date, a date!"

Ellis, ever the defendant of her sister, leaped up. "Not a chance," she refuted, "Erma knows better than to break the conduct of our service!"

Berni and Joe shifted uncomfortably where they sat.

"Not like you're the poster child for stickin' to the rules 'round here!" Hennessy retorted, and Ellis gasped.

"Well- well- Erma would never!"

"That ain't what I just heard from her own two lips!"

"Then maybe you ought to get your ears checked, Miss Ma'am!"

Hennessy grabbed the oil-stained rag Berni had cleaned her hands with earlier and flicked it at Ellis. She fled, and as a chase ensued and McClung laughed, Berni beckoned to the last of the trio. Venus, uninterested in the dispute, saw, rose, and came over to the plane. As she approached, Joe got up and wandered impassively around the inside of the craft. Berni drew her legs up and crossed them, trying to fill the empty space he'd only just occupied.

"Where's the ladder gone?" Berni asked, and the flicker of a smirk crossed Venus' expression.

"Hennessy took it," she responded. "Said something about you and your soldier there having some time to yourselves."

"Hmm. Very funny."

"Want me to let you down?"

"That would be preferable, yes."

Ellis went flying by again, and McClung caught her against him. He laughed, as did Ellis as she tried to free herself. Hennessy gave a shout, thinking herself triumphant, but as she flicked her weapon of choice, McClung spun himself and his girlfriend around and took the blow to his back. In return, Ellis pressed a strong kiss to his lips. The embrace was broken only by McClung ducking aside again in retribution to Hennessy, circling around and trying again to swat Ellis.

"Leave it, Hen," Berni called, coming down off the last step of the ladder.

Hennessy reluctantly retreated, voicing excuses of fooling around and fronting apologies to Ellis and McClung. As Berni approached and brokered peace between her pilots, Joe came down the ladder, watching her. He stepped aside, tugging at his shirt and mumbling a curse under his breath, only to be met by McClung tossing an arm around his shoulder.

"Thanks, Joe," McClung laughed. "Perconte owes me ten bucks now."

"Oh, yeah? What for?"

"For you not kissin' the captain."

Joe shoved him, but McClung just laughed and patted his pocket.

"You want a couple bucks? Guess it's only fair... Hey, where you goin'? Hey! Joe!"

Berni turned around at the tail end of McClung's admonishments just in time to see Joe marching out the hangar doors into the sunshine. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his gait was quick but stiff. He did not saunter, he stomped. She had the urge to run after him but did not act on it, instead turning back to the girls to find Ellis had hurried after McClung, who was, in turn, following Joe.

"Trouble in paradise?" Hennessy, who'd remained, asked, and though her tone was mostly sympathetic, the question made Berni scowl.

"Oh, shut up."

"Yikes. Disaster in paradise."

"Hen."

"Shutting up now."

Hennessy mimed zipping her lips together. Berni blinked at the gesture, strange to her eyes. Hennessy wavered, and Berni's frown returned.

"Look, can I just say-"

"No!"

"-that he can't keep leavin' you in the lurch like this!"

Berni sighed.

"There's nothing there. We're nothing. He's-"

She couldn't bring herself to say it. Hennessy, smirking, looked ready to preach, and Berni promptly turned on her heel and hastened away.

"Earl?" she called. "Earl, what's the status on that rudder balance?"

"Good as new!" piped up the squadron's resident mechanic, scampering over with toolkit in hand. "You want to come and see?"

Berni thought she heard the residue of a song sweeping in from the great outdoors. She shook her head, aggravated by the way it tugged at her heart, knowing the breeze was just the breeze and any whisper of I can't imagine that you want me too was only a wistful conjuring. Noticing Earl's confused expression, Berni switched to nodding, waving her hand in affirming synchronization with her head.

"Yes," she amended. "Yes, I'll have a look. Anything else?"

"Well, there were a few leaves caught in the access panel, so I plucked them out—oh, and the arrester hook has got a bit of rust, so I told Rosie to keep an eye on it, especially if it rains again..."

As Earl chattered on, Berni glanced back one last time but only saw Hennessy taking a puff from Randleman's cigar, the pair of them silhouetted by the blue sky and grey runway beyond. No sign of Joe.

Berni turned away and reminded herself that hope was more often than not the friend of a fool.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~