ᴘᴀɴᴅʟᴇ & ᴋɪᴊᴀɴɪ ᴡᴡɪɪ

[Pandle]

{{ Sorry for the delay, it's been a nightmare week D: beautiful post.

"Forgive me," the words fall from between my blistered lips as the figure retreats from beside me, the hollow of his warmth withdrawn, the settlement of the car as it adjusts to our lonely positioning. I fancy myself at home, in the pallor with Haines on the piano, his fingers dancing slowly over the keys as his eyes stray to mine. I image that he sways softly to the rhythm of his own tune and I, I sing in delicate notes that flutter throughout the house. I picture the sunlight hanging in our chamber like spilt honey, warm, comforting, reassuringly English. And there is bird song, beautiful melodic songs that cannot be captured or remade by humans. It is over, the war, and we are left to love one another as if that is all there has ever been, all that will be.

The door slams shut and with it the picturesque hope dissolves. Such a lonely world to inhabit, war. It is darkness. It is hatred and loathing and the human race at its worst. It is pain, it is suffering, it is sorrow with unrelenting agony, but there's is something far more terrifying that all of that. There is hope.

Even as I lie slumped in the back-seat, shivering from exhaustion and emotional turmoil, eyes blankly travelling with the smear of shadow that is Haines, my father's saying comes flooding to the forefront of my cranium, pressing itself against the back of my aching eyes.

"Hope is a dangerous thing, it can kill a man."

Hope was more than dangerous, more than a murderer, it was a soul-destroyer. The car sinks with the entrance of the soldier and there is a distant sound of rising panic, of spluttering engines. This, it occurs faintly, should not be so. There should be movement, they should be driving and fast. Somewhere nearby are Germans with tanks and guns, the enemy ready to kill. The night burns with the heat of Calais, of the soldiers and civilians lost inside its walls and we sit in the eerie glow of light doing nothing. There is something wrong.
"I'll be fine-" the car leaps forward without warning and the jarring shock of it brings inflamed agony to the wound. With a whimper of suppressed horror I fall back against the upholstery, sinking into the hands of oblivion.

The car jerks and jumps and finally splutters to a halt. It arouses me from the depths of the unconscious world and with a cry I sit up in time to witness Haines wriggle free of the vehicle. He has given me an order to stay. Naturally I do not. I struggle, fumbling with the door handle and lurch out into the blissfully cool night as feet charge toward us, guns trained on us and bullets empty into the air. Bewildered, confused and utterly lost by this change in events I lean against the car, wincing, screwing eyes shut against the internal pain of moving.
"Haines, Haines," There is conversation and there is movement. "You need your wound treated, please, let me help you Haines." I feel dreadful, as if I am death itself, stumbling blindly around the bonnet of the car toward the Captain, hoping to collide with his body soon, to find refuge in his limbs...

[Airmid]

((Thank you kindly my lovely... You know I love all your posts -3-))

Haines

The Captain continued his small face-off with the other men around him, charcoal eyes hardening into a stiff glare, as his head slowly turned to meet the faces of the men. It was tense. Testosterone was high, and tempers were on edge. All it would take was one wrong move, and the Captain would lose the small shred of respect that he'd managed to earn from his brazen attitude. The glances were brief, but meaningful. They did respect the newcomers authority, but looking at the state he and his partner were in, the respect could easily be misconstrued as pity. But Haines would give them a tongue-lashing later. All it took was one shoulder to drop slightly and the slight upturn of the corners of his lips to put the men at ease. Some gave the Captain a nod, and spared Janet a concerned glance before retreating to their posts, others began preparations for the nurse and Captains departure, whilst the lieutenant and two other soldiers relaxed their posture and stayed with the two. The entire escapade was done and dusted within the space of 10 or so seconds.

Haines opened his mouth, in order to find out the lieutenants name and then perhaps barter for some food and drink, before something in the soldiers eyes alerted him to a new development. A tall blonde man, standing to the right of the lieutenant was the one who Haines had been looking at, when his eyes darted to the right, before hi expression instantly changed from neutral to shock and then to worry as the brown orbs followed the movement that Haines was now aware of in his peripheral vision. Blankly, the Captain turned to face the movement, but the feeling of a body firmly crashing into his own told him everything he needed to know. "You need your wound treated, please, let me help you Haines." Janet slurred as she slumped against his body, immediately Haines forgot about the other soldiers standing before him, and wrapped an arm around Janet's shoulder, gently pulling her closer to his chest, at least to give her some warmth. The other ran through her tangled hair, brushing it from her eyes. Haines looked down at her for a second of two in worry, before turning his attention back to the men before him. Thankfully, the trio obviously did not find their strange display of affection discomforting, as they remained impassive, even with the lieutenant raising an eyebrow and sending the Captain a friendly smile. The four men nodded to each other in a silent agreement, before Haines began to continue with the business at hand, still keeping his strong arms wrapped around the nurse.

"Name lieutenant?" Haines asked, a twang of sadness welling within his belly at the deja vu that shrouded him as he remembered asking the exact same question only a few hours ago. "Ryan sir, Lieutenant Ryan" said man replied before gesturing to the tall blonde man to his right and the shorter and dirtier blonde man to his left, "These are both privates Carroll, sir, brothers sir" Ryan introduced. Haines noted the thick northern accent of the lieutenant and briefly wondered whether or not the young man had lived in a village or city. It was a strange thing to wonder, but wonder it he did nonetheless. Still clutching Janet, Haines absent-mindedly rested his cheek against her forehead, "Ryan, Carroll's" He acknowledged the trio with a hard glance, "This woman is tired, and needs tending to. Not one hour ago she was shot in the stomach and at least needs something to drink, a necessity which I have been unable to provide..." The captain trailed off bitterly. The shorter of the two Carroll's looked at Janet, safely tucked under Haines' chin in interest and astonishment, piercing green eyes roaming over Janet's bloodied figure before speaking up, "There is clean water and somewhere to rest inside the barn" He spoke, jerking his head in the direction of the large barn. Haines looked at the barn before nodding and turning his attention to the nurse.

"Janet..." Haines began gently in an attempt to get her attention, "We need to go to the barn and have a small rest after today's excitement," The soldier grinned at the thought of even a few moments rest, before beginning to guide the dazed nurse towards the barn door. The three followed them, Lieutenant Ryan walking side-by-side with Harley while the Carroll's walked behind. Haines was acutely aware of the fact that he and Janet were being watched, although he doubted that the watcher was interested in himself. Harley had always been a one to jump to conclusions and so immediately decided that he did not like the Carroll's much and tightened his grip around Janet ever-so-slightly.

The barn was fairly small compared to most, and it was more a bedroom come dining come living area for the soldiers that had been stationed there. But the were benches pushed up against the wall which caught the Captain's eye in excitement. The man sunk down onto the bench, still attempting to keep his grip on Janet as he did, before leaning his head against the cream-painted brick wall behind. Lieutenant Ryan gingerly sat down next to him, obviously hoping to use this time in order to pump the Captain for information on Calais. The Privates both chose a different bench to share, perpendicular to Haines' own bench, but closer to Janet than himself. Haines still felt uneasy about the two of them, but decided not to request their leave, instead choosing to ignore their presence and focus on Ryan, who seemed oblivious to how tense Haines was.

((It's short, I know T-T But I didn't want to write too much without you))

[Pandle]

{{ Oh yes, that post was so small xP, honestly that was a darling of a post.

His limbs procure the trembling extremities of my wreckage, towing me into the harbour of his embrace so as I might sink into the shallow waters of his touch. The half light of the distant wreckage lingers beneath the hoods of my eyes and as they close rockets of apricot and peaches twist into the pool of my mind. With that the mist descends, drowning the seawalls and the curious onlookers who attempt to perceive the storm-battered lifeboat. All is not submerged, though the tempest smothers and attempts to drag the cargo of conscious back into the neverworld a greater force acts upon them; raindrop tapdancing, caressing strokes against cheeks, the first strand returned to its port. Haines, lifeguard and hero, wrestles the darkness from my frame, brushes death and misery from my shoulders and damaged hull.

"We, we were going to dance," words tickle through my larynx, unsteady in themselves, certain that they want to be free to crawl about his eardrums and yet uncertain of how they might arrive there. They are not the only creatures unsteady on their feet, as the soldier grips my crippled, battered torso we begin our migration through the night air. It is cold and the French landscape rolls away around us, our escorts are visible only because their masses are blacker than the surroundings and there is a sense of alert about them all. Especially Haines. His body is tense, the muscles of his chest tight, his arms protectively around my shoulders as he steers me. His actions are soft and it is not by his touch that whimpers of regret and agony splinter but by the razors of poor health care in the raptured wound of my stomach.

I know, even as we trail out through the land, that we approach the sea. I can hear its lullaby beckoning to me, the whispers of demons and sirens sent to plunge unfortunates into the murky depths. Its body groans with the strain of wind and night, its swelling breast rising and falling against the shoreline, the onyx waters unstoppable, untamable. In that moment of blind stumbling our gazes meet, the path of our wandering, marauding spirits shifting in the absolute. This is the world without limits, to murder in the name of honour is no longer a crime, to defend yourself extends to the eradication of entire countries. The limitless lands. And there sits the ocean, patient, careful, all these years it has focused its war on the coast, it was worn at its beaches and its cliffs, it has forced the land into retreat and still it works. Tirelessly. Honourably. It does not command the assistance of a third party, does not entangle more than there should be to its war.

Sinking into its unending embrace is no option, not tonight. Good men have perished, honest men, women and children have been lost and they, the scum of this battle, have intruded where they were not welcome. The passion is hot as it burns, like liquid silver it boils and broths, foaming, hardening. War is not a time to fall under the submission of hopeless thoughts, it is a time to rally against the opposition both in mind and body. Let there be blood and sorrow, let there be explosions and running, let there be life. Let there be death. Let there be love.

In the barn the world beyond is muffled as if cotton wool has been stuffed abruptly into our ears. The sea is nothing more than a memory and the wind a dream. We, Haines and I, collapse side by side onto structure. More company moves around, three males, each donning a uniform only too familiar. There is no comfort to provide them with just as there will be none for the families of those whom have fallen.

"War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength, men you don't desire truth, not of this nor of Calais." Hollowed of language I take refuge in the shoulder of my hero, nursing an aching and battered body, knowing of survival and of pain, of the history that runs so quickly up behind us, that sweeps in front of us whilst we, unknowing blundering apes, attempt to avoid it.

[Airmid]

Haines

And so the inevitable barrage of questions were thrown the Captains way. In all fairness it was not exactly a barrage, more like a tentative onslaught. Haines could understand why Ryan was so concerned by what had happened, seeing as Calais was so close to the army port. The Captain gathered that all Ryan and his troop knew was that; the city had been taken by the Germans, no details, no nothing. Yes- Haines could understand Ryan's apprehension. Everyone in the room knew that if the Germans knew of this port them the small group would most likely be overthrown. However no-one had the courage to say such a disastrous notion. Throughout the conversation Haines managed to explain everything that had happened. Of course he left out the intimate details, mostly regarding the moments after Janet had been shot. Instead, he remained impassive and objective. The soldier was also acutely aware that Colonel Jenkins might want to station him elsewhere, even if the lying, lecherous, disgusting pig almost ensured Janets death. After all he was a Captain, and no matter how much he wished it weren't so his duty was to the War, and according to his superiors, nothing else.

"How many do you think there were, sir?" The intrigued voice of Private Logan Carroll broke through Haines' musings. Logan was the shorter of the two Carroll's as well as he elder. He was the one who irritated Haines the most, and the Captain was not even sure why, which was the worst part. Haines shrugged before scratching his jaw "I really don't know, enough to overpower an entire city and training camp" The Captain answered grimly whilst picking some dirt out from under his nails. The rest of the soldiers made an equally unhappy noise at the response. The silence after that admission seemed to stretch on forever. That is until Janet broke it. The phrase that she mumbled was shocking. It silenced the group of males completely.

What did she mean? Haines' brain was still fuzzy from the bomb explosion previously, making what Janet said seem like a puzzle in itself. Every other word seemed like an oxymoron, which only confused the Captain even further. The rest of the soldiers just dismissed what the nurse said as the mutterings of a tired, confused and distressed young woman. But Harley could see there was some sense underlying what she said. "Ryan, is there are telephone for me to contact Colonel Jenkins? No doubt he was already aware of what had happened, but he would obviously want some first-hand explanation of the event" Haines reasoned, looking at each of the soldiers meaningfully. "There is one that is linked to England, but I cannot remember who will pick up on the other end" Ryan answered evenly, gesturing to the wall behind him where an elderly looking wall telephone was stationed.

The Captain eased his and Janets bodies away from oneanother, hoping that she had the energy to sit up without his support, before striding over to the wall-phone and eyeing the ancient looking machine before ripping the receiver away from the main box and holding it up to his ear. The dial-up tone immediately was chiming away in Haines' ear, no doubt making an obnoxious ringing noise to the person on the other side. Not three rings in, the Captain heard the somewhat relieving sound of Colonel Jenkins on the other side. "Ryan, what is it ?!" The colonel barked down the line, causing Haines to flinch ever-so-slightly, "Sir, it's Captain Haines Harley" Haines corrected hesitantly. There was a thoughtful pause which Haines dared not to break before Jenkins replied "Ah- Harley! From the newspaper! Yes, yes, I remember you. Captain, your reason for phoning me had better be important, I am to be attending General White in a few moments" Haines could hear the irritation in the colonels voice, which in turn irritated the Captain further, "Infact, sir-" Haines began, emphasizing the 'sir', " Calais has been taken by a surprise attack from the Germans, myself and a small garrison of soldiers attempted to fight for time, however failed. Nurse Wilson was recently shot in the stomach and needs medical attention immediately and the only group of survivors that I know of are the men keeping the port, sir" Reported Haines to his colonel.

This time the pause was longer. It was almost satisfying that Haines had managed to silence the man so. It was almost a full minute before Jenkins spoke once more, "Calais has been taken..." He repeated numbly before considering those words, before falling silent again. "...And Nurse Wilson is gravely injured you say?" Again the colonel seemed to be talking to himself more than anything, however Haines answered anyway, "Yes sir, I was thinking that myself and the rest of the soldiers here would take the boat back to the island of Jersey, I know of a hospital in Saint Helier I can leave her in before waiting for further orders" The colonel considered this silently once more, Haines could hear the distant shout of voices in the background of Jenkins, most likely the other men in the room had heard what Haines had told Jenkins and were flitting about like chickens in order to inform superiors and plan a counter-attack of some kind. "Yes, I think you and Ryan's group should go to Jersey...you will be safer there. Harley, when Wilson is better, I want you to tell me" Jenkins ordered with an air of finality, Haines thought that it was a strange thing to ask, and the order put him on edge, but he could not defy the colonel, "Yes sir" The Captain answered coolly before placing the receiver back on the hook.

Ryan was looking at the Captain with interest. "Jenkins wants all of us back on English territory, so we're all going to Jersey lieutenant" Haines explained to which he received a curt nod, "The boat should be ready within the hour sir" Ryan hastily added, before hurrying off to tell his men what was happening. Tall and short Carroll followed without a word. Haines sighed, before placing himself back on the bench next to Janet.

[Pandle]

It is peaceful in the sanctuary of the harbour, here the howling tempest cannot breach the well-maintained defences, months of practise, years lost at sea to the misery of agony had braced me to my duty. Even as the next hurling wave of pain came thundering down, pounding in its explosive rage against the segment of defence, I held strong and true. The waters were little more than spring tides, the vessel of significant cargo bobbing at ease on its surface, towed and tied to the safety.

There was a song, an old song of times gone by and wars once won, it had been the seabirds who first told of the tales and seconded by the fishermen. The common populace who rowed about the ocean with their nets cast about them, hoping and believing that they possessed the necessary skill to entrap the fish. How wrong they were. That common populace. There was no skill, there was only luck. And they were out of it. When the rich wage war it is the poor who die. Lesson one, the boldest and the simplest of them all.

The sanctuary was failing. The harbour of temporary protection crumbling under the weight of memory and recollection. I was trained to infiltrate, to spy, to gather information and feed that which was false to the enemy. Not to fight, not to love, not to bare the force of murder as innocent men, as good men, suffered.
"They died." I am standing outside the restaurant, there is sunshine and Haines, in his uniform, the pride and the affection in his very essence, in the innocence of the hour. How could it have been so? How could their minds have been so unaware of the ruin to come?
"All of them," each and everyone "they came to help, and they burnt."

Haines is absent, his presence beside her vanished as he attends to the business of his duty. He, I have come to discover, is never off-guard. Clutching absently at newly created stitches I rise, slowly and unsteadily forward, ill at-ease on the bench where I had been propped alone against the wall.
"You should not have told him where we would be," the phone returns to its post and the whisper trickles forward like silk. A hand, dirtied with filth and blood, brushes against his arm. My eyes, curious as to what word came from the opposing end, linger against the Captain's.

"I, I have not been honest with you, I wanted only to keep you safe," there is a fire in my belly, it flares at the temptation to giveaway beneath desire, to lose myself in the world of giving him all, of giving him every ounce of information she had promised to never tell, that she had been trained now to tell of. Instead I seek a retreat, returning to the bench and to its comfort as my mind falls and spins with the wreckage of the taking of Calais.

Our company departs and for the first time we can sit together, upright, neither of us dying, rather we survive.
"You intend to go back to the war effort, don't you? Even after all that you have seen, all you have suffered, you are prepared to go back." I am surprised to find myself so needy as to his reply, so desperate to hear it from him, to learn of his intentions. Of the plans for his future.

Of my own.

[Airmid]

Haines

The unwavering rocking that came with their boat was beginning to make Haines feel ill. By now it was late in the day, and the sea was beginning to roughen up. With lacking compassion it slapped against the side of the wooden vessel that the port had been issued with, occasionally stirring a groan or creak of protest from their transport. The rest of the crew seemed unaffected by the motion, even Janet looked to be coping fairly well. The ferry that Haines had taken over to France in the first place had been big enough that you couldn't even feel the rocking of the boat. Or if you did, it was very slightly. For a moment, Haines reminisced on his deployment to France, and noted how differently it contrasted with their current journey. It seemed those few years were more like a lifetime ago considering everything that had happened.

That morning the sun had been shining and everyone was in good spirits. Charles had even been much more tolerable that day. The group of young men had yet to experience what true war was like. Haines had known some action in the air force. But a very small amount until that day he'd damaged his vision. But even he- who had some grasp on the horrors of war had been on a high that day. This ferry ride however, seemed the complete opposite. Not a single soul was talking; the only form of communication being when the captain of the ship would shout orders for the rest of the crew to follow. Everyones' spirits had been dampened by the German raid. And ever since Haines had spoken to Jenkins, the soldier had noticed an uneasy feeling that had settled deep in his gut. Partly, because the Captain didn't trust the colonel, but mostly because Janet had said that he 'should not have told Jenkins where they would be' and Haines was painfully aware that his nurse knew more about some things than she was letting on. During their escape from the invasion, Janet had breathlessly confessed that she was some kind of spy, meaning that there were a few things she was hiding from the Captain, but Haines would have to tentatively quiz her at a later date.

Her groggy voice interrupted Haines' chain of thought, causing him to swivel his head to look in Janets direction. She was safely tucked under his chin right now, so all Haines could do was squeeze her shoulder to let her know that he was listening. The Captain refrained from answering her question for a minute or so, in order to form the best response. But he could find none. Instead opting to shrug his shoulders in defeat, "I suppose I have to Janet" Haines sighed, "This war will not stop for the two of us, no matter how much we would want it to" He continued, his voice lowering to a quiet murmur. The Captain reflected on how utterly unfair this bloody war was. In the beginning, he had been as eager as any of the other twenty-something-year-olds who had joined, but now all the tired man wanted was a moment to sleep.

Infact what he really wanted was to be able to prevent this war from happening. Both sides had already experienced a Great War, and there was absolutely no need for another. He wanted his friends back. He wanted to have met Janet under different circumstances. He didn't want to fight anymore. It was too tiring and mind numbing; looking at the men beside him and wondering if he would ever see their faces again. Each time that morbid thought entered his head, his stomach twisted into a painful knot, and the Captain's heart would break again. He had no strength left in him to keep repairing himself.

[Pandle]

"The war doesn't stop because we want it to," our fingers collide in the stratosphere, his face glistens with moisture for the crossing tosses us to and fro and my captain, sweet captain, blanches at the motions. He has yet to find his sea-legs, my captain. I can hardly blame him, the man is a pilot and a soldier, not a Navy veteran, not as these men who sit so solidly beside us are, he is not even like I am. He is trust and solace, he is comfort and certainty and he is honesty. In the niche of his shoulder it dawned on me, like the quiet before a storm. We are two polars, he and I, brought together by chance and sooner or later we will vanish into the gunpowder and the rubble, rebelled by one another. By the weight of ourselves. He is honesty and I am lies. One atop another, endlessly filled with nonsense and make-believe. Rootless, limitless, desperate to his solidarity.
"But I dream that it might."

Haines is hurting, his heart aches and the drowsy numbness that pains my senses is absent in him, he feels too much. He is heartbroken, not by love, not this time, but by the injustice of it all. Of the war, of us, of Colonel Jenkins and Calais. Of everything that isn't as it should have been. I can see it in his face, the burrows of his brow, the crinkle of his nose. They're the same features my father wore for years. The injustice of an early death. The end to something glorious and the absolute that consumes you whole.
"There is a house built out of stone, wooden floors and window sills, tables and chairs warmed by all of the hope. It's a place we'll feel alright. We will be alright, Captain." My hand rumbles forward through space and grazes off his comet, catching his fingers. I righten myself beside him, and though we are but drowned rats in the storm with France lit up behind us; the army of fire pillaging the night, we are still together. He and I.

Gingerly fumbling my hand along his spine it peaks at the mountainous region of his shoulder, and settles as my left hand takes to the nest of his hand. The heavens are struck with a thunderous howl and a spear of burning, alabaster snakes down, plunging into the breast of kicking ocean. It withdraws and hurls its banshee cry in retaliation and our vessel rocks and sways precariously as the war between fire and ice, between water and air, rages on. It would be easy to think that violence was in our very nature for it is in our foundations.
"You were going to take me dancing, Captain." Soft songs whisper into his lobes, the heat of life pressing against the fragility of his own. On the centre of the ships deck we sway against the turbulence, cocooned in our sphere of peace and everlasting hope. I love him. I know it as the songbird knows when to sing, as the sun knows it must rise and fall each day.

I know that I love Haines Harley, and that I will die for him.

[Airmid]

Haines

If only Haines could feel as certain that the two of them would be okay like Janet was. Although her insistence that the two of them would make it through this hellish nightmare was comforting to say the least. His response was just alight sigh, leaning back into the wooden frame of their small boat. The captain would never articulate this to Janet, but he had a strong feeling that the two of them would not be all right. Perhaps this uncertainty was a result of bonding with other men and women and forgetting that there was a war occurring. That bond would have to break soon. Maybe he was paranoid. But it was easy to mistake paranoia for caution. Haines would describe this constant feeling of dread as caution from now on. Keeping a smart psyche. That was exactly what he was doing. And he was doing a good job too. From the corner of his eye, Haines glanced down at Janets lap, watching with curiosity as a hand snaked and intertwined with his own fingers. The soldier immediately gripped this new found stability. It seemed to primal. Holding onto another's hand for support. Instinctive even. Had his ancient ancestors held hands during times as hard as these? The gesture seemed so natural Haines did not doubt this.

His nurses' next statement almost caused Haines to retract his soaking hand from her own in slight shock. He had promised that hadn't he. The captain debated whether or not to reclaim his hand for a moment before deciding that he did not want to, and that he should not. But she was correct. He had promised to take her dancing. Another experience he was unable to provide for her. Another failing on his part. Haines knew that he should not feel as disappointed in himself as he did right now. He was even surer of the fact that Janet did not blame him for that. She was a big girl. Or rather- a brave woman. And although the Suffragette movement had been going strong for a while now, something which many young women Janets age would be glad to join, Haines did not get the impression that she felt he owed her anything. It would have meant to have been a joke. But the Captain could not help but think deeper. There were many things he was 'supposed' to have done. He was 'supposed' to be a senior RAF pilot. But that had gone pear shaped. He was 'supposed' to be in the trenches with his fellows; blasting any Germans that dared to attempt an over-the-top raid. And to top it all off. he was 'supposed' to have taken Janet dancing. "Yes, I suppose I was..." Haines grinned, tightening his grip around Janets hand a little. "Perhaps another day. If the War does not stop for us, it will stop for someone" Hanies continued thoughtfully, "Perhaps then we can dance" The captain finished with a grin and slightly raised eyebrow.

...

The rest of the voyage would pass uneventfully. Now and again something would stir the crew members into action; scurrying about the small vessel as they tied ropes, untied ropes and turned wheels. But whatever these things were that caused the group to run about, it was invisible to Haines. He long accepted to let the men who knew what they were doing take care of the jobs they specialised in. Maybe ask questions later, but not very often. The wooden boat docked into the small port of Jersey after just forty-five minutes of travel. Although the wind was howling, bringing the uncomfortable stinging sensation of small rain droplets, the sight of a habitable quintessentially British town brought a grin to Haines' face. Before long, the boat had been roped up to the dock, and the soldier were filing from it. Haines was eager to finally stand on solid ground, however made sure Janet was following him, before stepping from the barely sea-worthy thing onto land. The instant change made the Captain feel green instantly. His inner ear was confused, the fluid inside still thinking that he was floating on rough waves. Haines noticed a man and a woman waiting near the edge of the docks, both dressed in white. They were stood next to ambulance. The woman, who Haines assumed was a nurse of some kind, was desperately trying to hide a roll of gauze down her dress to keep it from soaking due to the rain. The middle-aged man, noticed the couple, and immediately made eye-contact with Haines, before waving the Captain and his nurse to see him. With a rough tap to her side, the doctor gestured to the two that were making their way slowly along the dock. Said nurse jumped into action, scurrying along the slippery and unstable planks of the dock to meet Haines and the injured Janet halfway.

"We were informed of your arrival and ahhh- goodness me-!" The elderly nurse began, her eyes decorated with crows feet widened slightly at the sight of Janets injury, however she continued on after a moments hesitation, "Mr Colonel Jenkins phoned us some time ago, requesting medical attention to be met with you upon your arrival into Jersey" the nurse finished in a professional tone, her fingers dancing over he bandages, eyes only for Janet. The nurse reached forwards in order to take Janets weight if she needed the support, something which Haines was not about to contest. Like he'd pondered earlier; 'Let the professionals do their job. They know more than you' The Captain supposed this was going to be his new mantra from now on. The elderly nurse looked at Haines for a moment, eyeing the seemingly healthy man up and down, "Do you require any medical attention ahh-" She began, intelligent eyes searching for some form of identification. "...Captain?" she finished, looking Haines seriously in the eye. The soldier thought about it for a moment. A few cuts and bruises here and there were nothing compared to a bullet wound. He was fine. The Captain waved her away before turning to Janet. "Lieutenant Ryan informed me earlier that he secured us accommodation for the night" He began, "Would you like me to accompany you to the Hospital Janet? Or shall I meet you back at..." Haines searched in his lapel to find the small scrap of paper that he had scrawled the address of the hotel Ryan had booked a room in, 1345, Don Street, St Helier. The Captain offered the scrap to Janet incase she wanted to go and get some medical treatment without him before meeting him at the small house.

[Pandle]

We dance to gunfire and sirens, in our own way. Each of us twisting and twirling, caught in the pivots that could leave us dazed and confused, leaping and lifting as we hunt for a partner in the crowd, a partner we might dance with forever. There's no time for music and the orchestra is missing, so we make do with the wail of incoming aeroplanes and the groan of buildings as they crumble. It's beautiful in its destruction. Agile bodies moving in synchrony; a flock of birds in the sky. Shuddering shoulder to shoulder, we move and we forget. But the dance cannot last forever, sooner or later the performers must rest. Only here, on this dance floor, resting is a permanent conclusion. Haines is not so faithful in his believe that we will last long enough for the band to play. I can see it in his eyes; they fall past my face to the ocean and its turbulent waves, sinking there with all his hopes and dreams. My hand itches with the urge to cup his cheek, to kiss away this dark and wretched sheet of music so we might dance on, unseen, unheard, unhurt.

None too soon we reach the docks of our new port. I can't name it, the thought is like an eel and my hands, as I attempt to grab it, slip. I suppose that it cannot be important, else I would not forget it so easily. Yet the frustration builds in me regardless, and I hope that it might return to me like a salmon to the sea. Haines leads me, his steps equally as unsteady as my own. I figure that we must make for a strange sight: a sea-sick captain and a wounded woman. There is no humour in this world though, not anymore, and so nobody laughs and nobody comments. Even I cannot bring words to my lips. The world is leaning precariously on its axis, the planks beneath our feet no longer flat but upright, rearing toward our faces -some part of me is aware that this cannot be the case, that I am either falling or about to do so, but it has no time to flare up inside my cranium and warn me. It's by sheer good luck that somebody is there to take the weight, I know without being told that my legs aren't up for walking let alone standing. They're tired. I'm tired. We've been dancing for what seems like a lifetime and the chance to rest is nearing.

It's there. The edge of the dance floor, so close I can touch it, I let my toes brush against it and feel the absolution that awaits. The emptiness of the world, the endless falling. I draw back sharply from it, colliding my spirit to Haines' words as they finally penetrate my drums. He's asking me a question. I know it from the way they both look to me for an answer.
"Go and rest," I answer him, summoning every ounce of strength just to whisper it to him. "I instruct you to, as your nurse," it's the only thing I can do to flicker a smile over my face. It draws the last of my reserves to do so, and the woman holding me is left to take nearly all my weight in reply.

The hospital was cleaner than mine. Not that this was surprising. I'd been nursing on the front line, bunker style. Rats, corpses, amputated limbs, all of them pushed to one side. There was never time to clean or fuss about conditions. That was just the way it was. It was a million miles away from this. The floors were wood and easily swept and there were dividers between beds. Privacy was something unknown to soldiers and nurses alike when it came to the battlefield. It was like a five star hotel in comparison. It's been three days, the weather finally beginning to clear. The skies are no longer the throttled, breathless purple of a strangled man, they pale into creams and yogurts as the sun breaks through the clouds. Everything is marbled with watermarks however, and dampness hangs in the air.

"Thank you for your assistance," we stand in the doorway, the cold wind stirring my jacket, toying with our hair. The nurse smiles in turn and the doctor nods.
"You're sure that you're quite well? There's no rush, as you can see we've plenty of beds to spare-"
"I was never meant for being a patient, doctor. I have work of my own to attend, once again, thank you." There was to be no lingering. With a curt handshake in farewell I bid my retreat. I would walk to the house Haines and I had been loaned, the island of Jersey was small enough to cover in a day without much trouble and the fresh air, despite its blustery chill, was refreshing after the stagnant air of the hospital. It would have been easy to forget the war on this island, it was so isolated from the misery of the world, it was the last retreat.

[Airmid]

((Omg I now have time to write this again after I managed to delete it....it's extra long because I love you))

Haines

Haines had begun to feel better the moment, he'd started walking towards the nurse and her respective doctor. As the last wave of nausea evacuated from his system, Haines watched Janet as she was lead away by the elderly woman. At least she was in more capable hands now. The Captain was still rather apprehensive, now wishing that he'd gone with Janet to the hospital, however the sensible part of his brain, told the soldier that it was the right thing to do. He had his orders, and Janet would not like what they were. It would be better and less stressful for everyone if Haines went by himself to Colonel Jenkins. Lifting a tired hand, Haines waved the ambulance goodbye as it drove away, kicking up rain as it did so. Immediately Haines missed Janet. He'd become so invested in keeping her safe, that having to worry about himself seemed almost foreign. The Captain stood and waited on the dock, his mind blank, as he looked at the space where the ambulance had been until the faint bark of Lieutenant Ryan woke the senior officer up from his momentary day-dram.

Turning to the younger man, Haines eyed him through the dim light and bitter rain. Now that Ryan had caught Haines' attention he was busy chatting with a taxi driver whom he'd managed to flog down. Haines trotted over to the younger man, glad that he'd had the sense to get some transport before it became too late. As Haines drew closer, he could hear the voice of Ryan instructing the smoking driver, "...1345, Don Street, St Helier, my good man" Haines managed to catch, to which the taxi driver nodded with a grunt. "Wait Ryan," Haines began, clapping the man on his shoulder, "I need to talk to Colonel Jenkins as soon as possible," To which Ryan, already knowing what Haines intended to do, nodded his head stiffly in acknowledgment. Haines grimaced at the Lieutenant in apology before bending down to the eye-level of the driver, "I need you to take me to the nearest army station!" He shouted, over the rushing sound of the rain which battered their ear-drums. The taxi driver looked appalled at the notion and began to protest, however Haines spoke over him hurriedly, "The military will pay you double the agreed amount, sir. This is an important trip that I need to make now" as Haines was having to shout to get his voice heard, he was unable to convey just how important it was, that he spoke to colonel Jenkins as soon as humanely possible. Yet, the taxi-driver understood the severity of the situation, and grudgingly agreed to Haines' terms.

The Captain jumped into the back-seat of the cab, before un-doing his thick jacket which up until then had been protecting him from the cold. At that moment, the passenger seat on his opposite was wrenched open, and Lieutenant Ryan jumped in next to Haines. The soldier looked at Ryan in shock, however said nothing, instead just accepting his presence. If Ryan wanted to come, then Haines was not about to stop him. "The trip should take an hour each way mister Captain," The taxi driver began, before turning back to his steering wheel and muttering something along the lines of how he was going to be late for dinner. Haines nodded stiffly, before leaning back onto the headrest, perhaps hoping that the gentle rocking of the vehicle would send him to sleep like most other car journeys where he was not driving. After half-an-hour of driving Haines had not managed to drift away, and was becoming increasingly frustrated. Not as much as Ryan however, whose young brain was unable to cope with complete silence. It was he of course, who broke it.

"So..." He began without so much as looking at the Captain, "Are you and Miss Janet married?" He wondered, finally turning his head to look at Haines. Haines, who was still leaning his head against the rest, slowly turned to meet Ryan's gaze before answering, "No...but I think if the two of us survive this, I might ask her hand in marriage" Haines admitted easily, his onyx eyes still fixed on Ryan. They continued to stare at each other tiredly, before Ryan broke the eye-contact to gaze up at the ceiling of the car. "...There is a woman at home whom I think I will ask to marry once I return" the Lieutenant spoke matter-of-factly, "We promised that we would stay true to one another whilst I was away, and I have faith that she has kept this promise as I have" Ryan continued, a faint grin beginning to don his features. Haines continued to watch Ryan almost sadly. He would not tell the hopeful young man about the countless other stories of lovers whom had done the exact same thing, and each time one of them had broken the promise. For a brief moment, Haines wondered if; should he and Janet have met before his deployment and they'd promised the same thing, would either of them had cheated? Haines liked to think that neither of them would. But it was dubious.

Suddenly the Lieutenant turned to look Haines in the eye once more, his expression that of utter sadness, "I think I am scared to go back home now sir" Ryan began, his gaze drifting downwards. Haines quirked an eyebrow, "Why is that then Ryan? Surely heading home is every soldiers dream, is it not?" Ryan looked back at Haines once more before answering with a shake of his head, "I don't know..." he whispered, causing Haines to frown. "I have been fighting for two years now, and for some reason, I cannot decide whether I want to go home" Ryan finished. Haines knew the feeling. Sometimes in times of quiet he would be woken up by dreams of gunshots and shouting, which often made him afraid to sleep. But the Captain would need to get over it. Instead he needed to talk about something else, "Tell me about this girl of yours Ryan" Haines suddenly spoke, noting the way Ryan's expression lightened up by just the mere mention of this woman, "She is the most beautiful woman in the world sir, apart from Janet of course" Ryan hastily added, earning a chuckle from Haines, "Her name is Daphne, and she has the longest brown hair that curls just at the end. Her eyes are a sparkling blue which look straight into you whenever you speak to her" Ryan continued to fawn, his gaze now piercing the roof of the car as he described this woman to his superior.

The two continued to chat obliviously until the taxi came to a complete stop outside the old military base. Haines jumped out, before stopping Ryan from following, "I will only be a minute or so, keep the taxi here Lieutenant" before trotting into the building as quickly as possible so as to keep as dry as possible. The reception area was completely un-manned when Haines arrived, causing the Captain to tut in disapproval. At least there was a telephone mounted to the wall. Picking up the phone, Haines was instantly patched through to a tired-sounding operator. Without waiting for her to speak, Haines impatiently told her he wanted to speak to Colonel Jenkins, before she hurriedly patched him through. "...Yes?" came the reluctant voice of Jenkins who was currently over in mainland England. "Colonel Jenkins sir, it is me, Captain Haines Harley" Haines explained, frowning at the apprehensive tone with which Jenkins answered, which deepened at the overwhelming enthusiasm to which Jenkins responded. "Ahh- Harley!" He began, "Obviously you and Miss Wilson made it to Jersey fine" he continued, "Yes sir, Janet as at the local hospital now where they will treat her for bullet wounds, and Lieutenant Ryan has managed to arrange accommodation until we arrive back in England" Haines explained, however the silence on the other end un-nerved him, "And where would that accommodation be, Captain?" Jenkins requested. The question seemed strange to Haines, and it put the Captain on edge, however he could not lie to Jenkins lest he find out the truth. "We are staying at 1345, Don Street, St Helier, sir" Haines answered reluctantly, "Fantastic Captain, I will see the two of you later then" And the line was dead.

Haines had a bad feeling about Jenkins. But it would need to wait. Both he and Lieutenant Ryan needed to get back to St Helier and find their lodgings and getting some well-deserved sleep. The ride back was much quieter than the ride over; the two officers were obviously feeling too tired for chit-chat which suited them just fine. Both men just dozed for the duration of the journey until the car came to a stop outside the small two-bedroom terrace which was 1345, Don Street. Groggily, Haines exited the car, before handing the taxi-driver an official receipt stating that the army owed him a total of £63.74. Said taxi-driver eagerly took the slip before driving away to Lieutenant Ryan's accommodation. Using the key that had been left under the 'welcom' mat, Haines stumbled into the house, his brain only wanting one thing. And that thing was a bed. The Captain crawled up the stairs and into the first bedroom he could find, which co-incidently happened to be the master bedroom. Ripping off his sodden jacket and shirt, Haines fell into bed before immediately being swept into a dream world.

.....

However much was the mind of a soldier, Haines woke up much earlier than he would have liked to. Looking at the clock it told him 7:30am eliciting a groan. He would never get back to sleep now. Slowly, Haines stood up, before eyeing the dirty and soaking shirt and jacket he'd been wearing the night before. The Captain needed something new. Brain still hazy, Haines wandered over to the cupboard and opened it. Although his head was still throbbing with fatigue, Haines still managed to look surprised when green coats and shirts greeted him inside the cupboard. They were standard issue army uniform, and they didn't distinguish him as a Captain, but they were dry clothes nonetheless. After a brief shower, Haines pulled these clothes on and marvelled at how neat and pressed they were. This house was obviously the house that many soldiers stayed in, when passing through Jersey. Now that he was more awake, Haines decided that he would meet Janet at the hospital to see how she was doing.

Opening the door, Haines looked out, and too his delight could see Janet walking towards the house. A sigh of relief exited his throat. She looked so much better than the night before. The Captain figured she would be hungry, and so instead of meeting her in the street, left the door wide open for her to enter when she arrived, before making his way into the kitchen. Due to rationing, there was not much food, but it was most likely more than what Janet was used to, and it was definitely more than what Haines was used to.