A/N: Just a little something that belongs to the Beyond The Sea 'verse but won't actually fit into any of the sequels and so, like Never Grow Up, I'm posting it as a standalone (no really, a standalone oneshot).
_The Travelling Soldier_
He takes her hand in his as they walk. Folds it into both of his and then tucks it up over his elbow.
They walk like this to church, to town, to the movie theatre when they can. On warm days the ring on her finger catches the sun and his eye and he is glad for the expense of it.
She deserves the best things he can give her.
They have been married for almost half a year now and he still smiles when he thinks of it. Is sure he will always smile when he thinks of it, that this woman on his arm has promised herself to him for all her life.
At times he worries he will wake up one morning and find he is still there in France, head deep in a muddy trench and her letters still addressed to Mr. Carson.
He has told her this, told her a good many of his fears and worries now and like always, she has tried to help him.
But sometimes he sees the soft smile on her face as she talks to Anna and Daisy, hears the firm command in her voice in the servant's hall, feels the contented sigh she breathes into the skin of his neck at night and cannot understand what he has ever done to deserve this life he has, their life.
"You're thinking again, Charles."
"I am always thinking, my dear."
Her fingers squeeze at his arm. "Worrying, then."
His head tilts, and she hums at the silent admittance. "You really must stop that, you know."
He smiles because she is right and because he knows she does not think he will ever do so and her exasperation makes her accent thicker.
He will keep her exasperated all his life if he can, if only she will continue to talk to him like this.
"I just feel as though things will not be the same when I get back."
"Things change, Charles, everyday something changes."
"But not us."
"Oh I would say we have changed a great deal over the years, Mr. Carson."
A sheepish grin and a tightening of his arm to pull her closer to his side.
They are at the car now - walking around the house and not through it has given them only a few extra minutes, but he treasures even the smallest moment spent with her, although he does his best to keep that to himself at least.
"And once again I find myself surrendering to your point of view, Mrs. Carson."
He wishes he could taste the smile on her lips, kiss the smugness from them and take some part of her with him to London.
She reaches out, tucks a handkerchief into his breast pocket, runs fingers so soft against his cheek. The gravel crunches beneath their feet.
"Smart man." He catches her fingers, places a kiss there, the only one he can afford in view of the family and staff. "It's only for a few months, Charles. We've survived far worse, my love."
He accepts her whispered words, but cannot help wanting one more promise from her.
"Write to me."
She smiles, eyes soft and glistening. "I always do."
End.