"I thought you were dead," Vera Claythorne said, tears dripping to the floor. "I thought I'd killed you."
"Thank God, women can't shoot straight," Phillip Lombard joked. "At least, not straight enough…" he placed a hand over the wound in his side, where moments ago Vera had shot him in a fit of suspicion that he was the real U.N. Owen. Oh, how wrong she had been.
"I shall never forget this," she said, hands not even daring to grace the rope marks on her neck from where she had nearly been hung before Phillip saved her.
"Oh, yes, you will," Phillip said, sitting down on the loveseat and smiling up at her. "You know, there's another ending to that Ten Little Soldier Boys rhyme."
She sat down next to him, knees weak.
"One little soldier boy, left all alone. We got married - and then there were none!"
Vera's shaking hands found themselves clasped in Phillip's. He held her close, his own heartbeat unsteady. From outside, there was the sound of a boat horn, and she let her body relax, falling into his arms and pressing her face into his chest to quiet her shaking breaths.
For a moment, there was silence. Warm, soft silence, very unlike the cold deadness of the house around them. Vera realized that, in the stillness of everything, the gentle creaking of the house was actually very relaxing. It seemed almost funny, that she would notice it now, when everything was over.
"Do you hear that?" She asked Phillip. He nodded. "That creaking...funny how I never noticed it before."
"That's exactly what I was thinking," she smiled. She shifted, wrapping an arm around his waist, and that was when she remembered that he was bleeding. "Oh God," she said, pulling back and sitting up. "We need to get you taken care of." Looking up at Phillip's face, she noticed he was looking paler than usual.
"The boat will be along soon," he said floatily.
"Yes, but until then, we need to stop the bleeding," she said, trying to ground him. He was in shock. They were likely both in shock. Could she even do this? She'd only been a governess, she knew how to deal with childhood scrapes, but nothing this serious. Oh God, what if he died because she did something wrong?
She snapped herself out of it. No. She could do this. She'd very nearly just died on her own, wrapping up a wound shouldn't faze her. She kept this thought in her mind as she stood up and placed a hand on Phillip's shoulder. "I'm going to find some bandages," she said loudly and clearly. He nodded, turning to look out the window.
Approaching the stairs, Vera knew the first and most important place she would have to look: Dr. Armstrong's room. The thought of entering the space of a dead person was...not appealing, to say the least. She took the walk to his room to pep herself up. He likely wasn't even in there, she told herself, if Justice Wargrave was to be believed.
She passed the rooms of her acquaintances and it was all she could do not to cry. Mr. Marston, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers, General MacKenzie, Ms. Brent, Dr. Armstrong, Mr. Blore...almost none of them had deserved to die. No, she thought, reprimanding herself. As horrible as Marston and Brent had been, they still had not deserved to be murdered lawlessly. She thought these things, though in her heart perhaps she did not believe them. She could not excuse the careless murder of children, not after…
She came to the door to Armstrong's room and, after a moment, opened it carefully. She looked around, as if expecting someone to jump out at her. She shuddered at the thought of Wargrave rising from the dead one last time to hang her once and for all, then steeled herself. She walked into the room and over to Armstrong's desk, feeling more than a little guilty as she rifled through for medical supplies. Finding nothing in the desk, she moved towards the closet, only for her foot to catch on something and send her crashing to the floor. Letting more than a few tears loose, she rolled over, groaning when she realized she had tripped over Armstrong's medical bag. She picked it up, straining a bit, and carried it downstairs, ignoring the pain in her foot.
Phillip was still alive and awake when she got back, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She set the bag on the couch next to Phillip and stood in front of him, getting his attention. She noticed his shirt was unbuttoned.
"You'll have to get to the wound to wrap it," he explained. He had left his undershirt on, and Vera could see the blood soaking it. Her hands were shaking, but she nodded and grabbed as many bandages as she could find out of the bag. She pressed on the gunshot wound and, with Phillip's help, tightly wrapped the bandages around his midsection. It wasn't professional, but it would hold until-
"Hullo!" called a voice from the doorway. Vera screamed, jumping in surprise. The door opened and a portly man stepped in, tipping his hat to the almost empty room. "'Ere to pick up!" He noticed Vera and the bloody Phillip. "Good Lord!" He shouted. "What happened here?"
"I'll explain on the way back," Vera said. "We need to get help."
"Right on, lass! No 'esitations from me!"
While Vera collected her and Phillip's belongings, the man - whose name was Naracott - helped Philip to the boat. Vera thought about gathering the belongings of everyone else, but she didn't have enough time, and what would she do with them? The only thing she did stop to grab were two soldier statues off the mantelpiece.
"Two little soldier boys, sailing in a ship," she said to the empty room around her. She walked over to the body of Justice Wargrave, still lying on the floor near the noose that was supposed to go around her neck. "One tried to kill us, but damn him, we lived."
The hospital was able to patch up Phillip. Luckily, Vera hadn't managed to hit any vital organs. It would take him a bit to regain his strength, but he would live. Vera found a nearby hotel and booked herself a room during the six days Phillip spent in the hospital. Half of those nights were sleepless, and the others were interrupted halfway through by nightmares of nooses and suddenly dead bodies. She had finally managed to sleep in one morning when she heard a knock on her door. Outside was Phillip, fully dressed and holding a small parcel. Vera's eyes went wide and she stumbled back. "Ph-Phillip!" She squeaked. "You...you're alright!"
Phillip laughed. "Of course. I made it off that blasted island, I made it through my surgery, and my reward is making my way to a lovely hotel with an even lovelier woman inside of it." He gently took her hand and kissed it. He couldn't help himself. The half-asleep, messy hair, nightgowned Vera in front of him was just as breathtaking as the put together woman he had met on the island more than a week ago.
Vera blushed, both at his affection and at her disheveled state. She turned her attention to the parcel. "What's that?"
"Oh!" Phillip held it out. "I picked up some tea and mugs on the way over. I figured some tea would warm you up for conversation." he laughed at his own pun.
"That's sweet of you," Vera said. "Let me tidy up."
"Oh, don't worry about that," Phillip said. "I need the comfort of a messy home after six days of sterility."
"Well, at least let me tidy myself up," Vera smiled, walking off to her room. Phillip walked over to the kitchenette, boiling some water on the stove. He was surprisingly deft at preparing tea for an ex-army man, but he believed anyone who didn't know how to prepare a proper cup of tea couldn't consider himself an Englishman. He set the mugs of tea on the table and rested a couple of coasters on top to steep them. He turned around as Vera came back into the room, hair done and even a bit of makeup on her face. She was wearing a dark green dress that looked loose and soft. He immediately wanted to run his hands all over it.
"Done already?" She asked, a little surprised. He smiled. "Now now, a gentleman doesn't leave a lady waiting."
"Since when are you a gentleman?" she laughed. He strode over to one of the chairs and pulled it out. "Your chair, madame," he said with a fake french accent. She laughed louder. Phillip's heart skipped a beat at the sound. He hadn't heard that sound since they had first arrived on the island. He remembered, quite vividly, the twisted way she had cackled hysterically after the death of Mr. Rogers, nearly collapsing, her hands clutching whatever was in her reach-
"Phillip?" Vera said, snapping him out of it. He looked down and saw he had been squeezing the chair tightly, his knuckles white.
"Just trying to make sure I've got a good grip," he joked, smiling and letting go of the chair. Vera sat down, taking her cup of tea. She stopped short when she noticed the pink heart painted on the side. "What on earth…"
Phillip smiled. "I thought you might like it." He tried to come up with a line that summed up how long he had spent trying to decide which mug fit her loveliness the best, and failed miserably, choosing to stay silent.
Vera stirred a couple of extra sugar cubes into her tea. "Phillip, I...I need to ask you something. Back on the island...after you saved me, you...you mentioned getting married, and I...I need to know if you were serious. It's not that I don't like you! I find you very attractive, it's just-" she blushed at her blurting- "we've only known each other for a week, and we met under poor circumstances, and I don't want to rush anything…" she trailed off, unsure of what to say next. She looked at Phillip almost fearfully. He only smiled and reached out to hold her hand.
"I'll admit it was a little soon to make a proposal. Blame it on the blood loss. However, I feel you should know that I think you are a lovely lady, both in heart and in body, and to lose you after all we've survived would be...a damn shame, to say the least. I do believe that I said that out of nothing but love, and perhaps possibly a fear that I would not survive the next few hours. If you are not comfortable with being with me, I will gracefully leave and you will never hear from me again. But if I may add in my opinion, I feel as if we should at least try to be together, even if only for a little while. No islands, no murders, no crazy judges, just you and I against the hands of fate."
Vera hesitated, but then spoke. "That's...awfully poetic…" she paused again. "You find me...attractive?"
Phillip laughed. "Vera, please. I'm a warm-blooded man. To not be attracted to you would be a biological failing." He sipped at his tea. "Yes, I do find you attractive. Even without the makeup. Even messy-haired and in your nightgown." He smirked when she blushed.
"I do think I would like to try going along with you," Vera admitted. "Odd as you are."
They both laughed, and both felt oddly relieved.
That night, Vera tossed awake from a particularly bad nightmare. On an absolute whim, she gathered her blankets around herself and made to move into the hallway, only to crash into someone wearing a fluffy, dark blue bathrobe.
"Vera!" the figure whispered. "Phillip?" she responded groggily, recognizing the voice.
"Couldn't sleep either?" Phillip asked.
"Not at all," Vera yawned.
"I...I was just about to...see if you needed any comforting. You took a hard hit on that island, it's natural to worry about you."
"I was worried about you. If I'm this tired from mental strain, you must be suffering worse than I."
"Goodness, what a pair we make. Come with me, I believe my bed is bigger than yours, and I wouldn't want to impose on your room."
Vera, too tired to argue, nodded. She leaned against Phillip as he shut her door and they walked back to his room. Phillip, ever the gentleman, let Vera climb into the warm, soft bed first. She nearly fell asleep on the spot, except for the gentle nudging of Phillip to move over and give him space. They lay a good few feet apart, facing each other.
"Why were you up?" Vera asked.
"Couldn't sleep," Phillip said simply.
"I haven't been sleeping well either, admittedly."
"How could we? After all that."
"Yes, after...oh God, Phillip, I feel so…"
"I know, Vera, I know. It's something I've felt before."
"Then...how? How do you get through it?"
He snorted. "You don't, not really. After awhile the nights blend into one another, and when you finally realize you've started sleeping through the night it's too late to feel guilty about it." He innocently looked at the ceiling. "Human contact doesn't hurt."
She laughed, "Good night, Phillip," and rolled over.
About two hours later, she jolted, and rolled back over. "Phillip?" She whispered, her face wet. He opened an eye in a way that suggested he hadn't been sleeping at all. "Vera?" he whispered back.
"May I...hold your hand?" she asked. He held his out, and she took it in hers, heart aching at how warm it was. He cupped her face in his hand and stroked her temple gently with his fingers. "Another bad dream?" he asked. She nodded.
"It felt too real. I needed...I wasn't sure if-"
"It's alright, Vera. I'm here. We made it. Everything is going to be alright." He held his other hand up against her face, and she melted into it.
"Thank you, Phillip," she said, and closed her eyes again.
The next morning, Vera awoke wrapped in blankets to the smell of scones and tea. She sat up in bed, blinking at the light coming from the window next to her. She groaned slightly, her eyes unprepared for such an early assault.
"Morning," Phillip called from the kitchenette. Vera nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked around. She was in Phillip's bed. In Phillip's suite. She had slept in Phillip's bed. With Phillip. With Phillip?
"Goodness, Vera. I can already see that brain of yours working overtime." His hand came down to rest on her head, gentle but warm and soothing. She melted into it, eyes closing, and he chuckled. "My my, you really were tired. It's nearly the afternoon and you're still sleepy."
Vera's eyes popped open. "The afternoon?" Phillip smiled at her. "You seemed so tired, I decided it would only be polite to let you stay in bed for just a little while longer. How are you feeling?"
She rubbed her face with an open hand. "Mildly better. Though, I will admit, I am still rather tired." She looked up at him. "What about you?"
"Well...well. I'll admit I could have used a few more hours myself. But the sun woke me, and I thought I might as well try to prepare something. Even if that something was premade scones from the bakery down the street. Feeling hungry?"
Vera's stomach chose to answer that question, and she blushed, wrapping the blankets around herself. Phillip chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes." He held out a hand to help her out of bed, and she accepted. Once she was standing, she took stock of her appearance. "I should get dressed," she said, covering one side of her face with her hand.
"Nonsense," Phillip said. "I only bothered to put more than a robe on for your sake. Were it entirely up to me, I would be lounging around by the fireplace, curled up in my robe and reading a good book." He ran his hand down her bare shoulder. "Would you like my robe? I understand the gesture may be a little forward, but I don't want you getting cold."
She nodded, and sat down on the bed, taking a moment to fully wake up. Phillip retrieved his robe and draped it around her shoulders, and she stuck her arms through the sleeves, noting that she was enveloped by the soft expanse of cloth. She padded to the kitchenette, taking a seat at the small table next to it. Phillip placed a hot mug of tea and a warm scone in front of her.
"This smells amazing," Vera said. "Thank you, Phillip."
"Of course. Anything for a lady." He sat down across from her with his own brunch.
"So, what are your plans?" Vera asked. "For...well, at least for now. I assume you have a job to go back to."
"Nothing huge, mostly office work," he admitted. "After the army, I'm not qualified for much."
"Ah," Vera said, looking intently at her tea. "I suppose I'll have to find my way back to the agency and...how am I going to explain this to them? That there never was a Mrs. Owen? I certainly can't go in and tell them what happened on that island. We haven't even told the police yet." She looked up at Phillip fearfully. "Should we tell the police?"
"I'm afraid we'll likely have to. That was another reason I was up so early. Narracott informed the police about the bodies on the island. There was a man at the door today, asking me if I would be willing to talk about what happened. I told him I and the other survivor could see him tomorrow." He looked at her. "Will you be alright with talking about what happened? I don't think we are in any kind of trouble, and it's not as if we can file charges for anything, considering Wargrave is dead, but...the law is important. And, besides, I'm certain at least one of the people on that island had someone expecting them to come back, be it family or simply coworkers."
Vera nodded. "You're right. We do need to tell someone about what happened. The truth of it all. It's only right." She took a sip of tea. "What time tomorrow?"
"He gave me a card, said to come in whenever we were ready and to ask for him."
"Alright," Vera said. "In the meantime, I think I'm going to call the agency and tell them to start looking for possible positions for me again. Once all of this is over, I'll need a job to go back to."
"What if...could you request something closer to London? I know a place you could stay that would be comfortable."
"Phillip, are you suggesting I move in with you? So soon?" Vera pretended to be offended.
"Well, I just don't like the idea of you being so far away," Phillip admitted. "After all, what we've just been through...surely you don't relish the idea of being alone again?"
"I...don't. But...we've only just agreed to start seeing each other."
"You've got a point. So then, you'll take the flat next door?"
They both laughed. "Well," Vera said, "I suppose I could ask for positions focused in the London area, supervising some corporate head's children. And if I just so happened to take residence in a flat that was a short distance from yours - far enough away to avoid any indecency, but close enough that we could, say, meet for lunch every once in awhile - well, then, that would just be something for my job. What do you say to that sort of compromise?"
"I think it's a splendid idea," Phillip said. "Now then, these scones are going to get cold if we talk for much longer."
After a warm breakfast and a quick round of dishes (which Vera volunteered to do as payment for Phillip's kindness, though he protested she didn't need to), Vera headed back to her suite to get dressed and tidy up. She spent the next hour setting up interviews in London for secretarial jobs and governess positions, and was writing the dates down in her planner when there was a knock at the door.
"I was thinking of heading out to the park," Phillip said, already wearing his coat. "It's actually quite nice outside for once, and I could use the exercise. Care to join me?"
"I suppose I could use an excuse to get out of here," Vera smiled. "Let me just grab my coat."
The weather was absolutely lovely. A good amount of sun, a light breeze, and ground dry enough to sit on. Between the two of them and a nearby open-air market, they managed to throw a quick picnic together, happily chatting about the nice weather and their own various tastes in sandwiches. Their food eaten, Phillip lay back on the blanket, stretching himself out. Vera giggled.
"You look rather like a large cat, lounging there in the sun," she explained. Phillip smiled. "Well, meow meow. Why don't you join me?" He pawed the air at her. She laughed, and lay back on the blanket next to him. He purred, and she laughed again.
"How a man as funny as you is still single astounds me," she confessed.
"Is that the only thing about me that astounds you?" he quipped.
"You flirt!"
"I do try my best."
"Oh God, do you remember when we first met? On the island?"
"When I picked up your hat and you fixed my tie? Yes, a true sign from the gods."
"Yes, we made quite the pair then, didn't we?"
Phillip rolled over, leaning closer to her. "Who's to say we don't make quite the pair now? Lying on a blanket in the park, laughing together. A passerby might think we were actually married."
"Positively scandalous!" Vera rolled over as well, getting even closer to Phillip's face.
"Well, what could be more scandalous than such a beautiful single woman a mere few inches from my face?"
"You say that as if you expect me to kiss you on the spot."
"Oh, I would never intrude on a lady. If you want a kiss, you'll have to ask me first." He smiled, and she rolled her eyes at him. Suddenly, he looked her straight in the eyes, his face turning dead serious.
"I mean it, Vera. You are, without a doubt, the most amazing woman I've ever met. Sharp wit, sharper looks, and an amazingly beautiful laugh. If you truly want a soggy old war vet in your life, I'm all yours."
"Soggy? Old? You are neither of those things. Now, strong, charismatic, confident, generous, and the literal saviour of my life. If you have space for a neurotic secretary in your platoon, then I'll report for duty, sir!"
Phillip laughed. "Oh, Vera." He wrapped an arm around her. "I love you, you know."
"Of course I know, Phillip," she said, leaning in closer. "I love you just as much."
Contrary to popular romantic belief, kisses do not generate electricity on their own. There is no immediate explosion, no fireworks. No, the true passion of the kiss comes from the persons partaking in the act itself. The kiss can mean different things, be it "Please don't leave me" or "Be safe" or "Thank you for making dinner this evening". But, in this particular moment, the kiss Vera and Lombard shared in the park meant "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are everything my heart desires and everything my life is missing. Without you, I can't see a future for myself that makes me happy. Not only do I want you, I never want anything else."
To Vera and Phillip's complete surprise, it chose that moment to start raining.
Quickly standing up and grabbing their things, they made a dash back to the hotel. As they were leaving the park, Vera's shoes slipped in the mud and she fell crashing to the ground. She yanked off her shoes and moved to stand up again, taking Phillip's outstretched hand. She continued to hold his hand all the way back to the hotel, slipping and screaming and laughing the whole way.