This snippet is actually the second piece of Pros fic that I ever tried to write. It sat unfinished on my desktop for ages, before I recently attempted to tie it together. The scene is a followup to "Operation Susie" but also references "Fall Girl" and "DIAG."
Thanks to Birgit, Max and Bardicfaerie for their helpful suggestions. Any errors missed are entirely my fault. As always, comments of all sorts are welcome, and I have no problem with editing further after posting.
Characters from "The Professionals" are the property of Mark-1 Productions Ltd. I am simply borrowing them temporarily – without fraudulent intent or anticipation of monetary gain.
A Grave Reminder
By e-pony
In a comfortable bed in a well-ordered flat on a quiet side street of London, a man tossed restively in his sleep. He was dreaming of a slender girl with frightened eyes and of two desperate, hard-faced men. Whistling bullets ricocheted about them as they crouched in an abandoned railway carriage – the men rising periodically to return fire.
Suddenly, the girl stirred, pushing herself upright. "They only want me," she cried.
"Keep down!" One of the men lurched toward her, but his movements were nightmarishly slow.
The girl stood. A single shot sounded, and crimson blossomed on her chest like a blood-dark rose. She fell without a sound.
"Diana!" the moving man shouted.
Diana… Diana… Diana… The name echoed in the near-empty carriage, as the rifle's report died away.
The sleeping man groaned, as the dreamscape shifted. He stood alone now, wearing only white cotton pyjamas, his cold feet sinking into the dew-wet sod. All about him, a thick, silvery mist wreathed round bare-limbed trees and crumbling stone monuments.
x x x x
A quiet sound alerted him, and the man turned. A dark-haired woman was walking toward him through the fog.
"I've been here before," the man said.
"I know," replied the woman, reaching out her hand to grasp his, wrapping her cool, slender fingers around his pale flesh.
"S'not the graveyard we jog round or the one we buried me mum in…" he mused aloud, "or even the one where you're –" Bewildered, he shook his head. "Marikka, what're you doing here? Y-you're dead!"
She laughed, but her voice held a slightly bitter ring. "What better place for me then?"
"Am I dead?"
No, Liebchen. No," she quickly reassured him.
"Then, what am I doing here?"
"Remembering."
"Remembering what?"
"What's important."
"Well, that's clear as mud," he muttered sarcastically.
She sighed but patiently persisted. "When your partner was dying, you came here."
"Partner…Ray? Here? What're you talking about?"
"When you were there in hospital with him, Liebchen, part of you was here, too – also with him." She met his questioning glance with her own sincere gaze. "Reminding him that he was… strong, that he had things – people – worth fighting for. Worth living for!"
'And you think I need reminding now?"
"Now. Tomorrow. Always." She paused and looked away from him, past the mist-shrouded lawn and the tumbled grey stones. But whether she saw the promise the past once held or the loneliness of the future, the man could not guess.
"Today you lost the girl," the woman continued quietly. "You lost Diana. But you save lives everyday. And in this place, not so long ago, you helped to save your friend."
"Marikka, I –"
"Shhh." She placed a gentle finger against his lips. "I am proud of you, Bodie. Those wars you fight – perhaps they are no longer quite so…obscure anymore, nicht wahr?"
He grinned at her, and she returned the gesture – a tender ghost of a smile. "Sleep now, darling," she soothed. "Sleep and dream. And tomorrow, remember what you have…discovered here."
x x x x
In a comfortable bed in a well-ordered flat on a quiet side street of London, the man rolled over in his sleep. He was dreaming of a pretty, dark-haired girl with laughing eyes and of a handsome, self-assured young soldier. The streets of East Berlin were suffused with summer sunlight – worn, grey buildings subtly transformed in the soft, golden haze.
Slowly, the soldier gathered the girl in tender arms, leaning forward to gently kiss her. She yielded without a word….
The man sighed, shifting between the tangled linens. When he turned face-upward once again, his lips were softly curved into a nostalgic smile.