One-shot
"Do you like it?" He asks in that way that makes her want to hit him, it's that I knew I'd always do it, no matter what you or mother said about it. He had gone and done it, gone and joined the army. And here he stands in front of her in his brand new uniform. She feels a bit sick thinking about it.
"I hate it." She hisses vehemently, crossing her arms and turning away from him desperately searching for her mother, she needs to leave; he can't see the tears he has caused. He's going away to war. He is just a boy. They are just children. He's not a solider, no more than she is ready to be a mother and raise a family.
"Come on," he steps forward pressing a hand to her face. His hands are large and warm and everything oh so familiar and she can feel the tears start to sting. She clamps a hand to her mouth as he pulls her to his chest towering above her. "Oh Rachel," he whispers and they hug as they have thousands of times before but as she clings to him this time, it is out of desperation.
"Don't go!" She pleads, her heart is shattering inside as she thinks of her friend Lucy whose husband had gone off to war, and never returned. Poor Lucy had heard the news from his younger brother, Jacob who has seen it happen right before his own eyes.
They had been boyfriend and girlfriend for all that of a year, he had asked her father in a mass of fear and nerves and she had giggled watching him leave from her bedroom window as he had almost fainted and her mother had had to look after him. Her father wasn't all that scary, she didn't think, not to her. And then shortly after he had asked her himself, the new of war had been sounded. Finn had always said it was going to happen. That Herr Hitler was never going to stop and the American people needed to protect themselves.
Damn him.
She freezes as the curse word hisses itself in her mind; she never says anything like that. Sweet little Rachel.
"I promise I'll come back!" He whispers into her hair, she is well aware of the looks the butcher is giving them as they hug each other in the street, Finn in his new army uniform. It's all wrong. He looks all grown up and like a man. While she still feels like a little girl.
Pulling away and shaking her head is all she can do. "You cannot promise anything." She says, her soft voice carrying on the light breeze which ruffles her hair and her brand new dress. Spying her mother she leaves him standing there, while she wipes fresh tears from her face.
Finn had written again.
Her breath comes in short, sharp, gasps. Tearing open the letter in one swift motion she unfolds his words like they are the words of god, with gentle reverence. He had now been gone for ten whole months.
My dear sweet Rachel…
Tracing the words with her fingertips she re-reads them again and again like a mantra. He's safe… he's unharmed… he's safe… he's unharmed.
She misses him greatly, like a humongous whole in her heart gaping for the world to see, she went to visit Lucy the other day. She seems too small for that big house, all alone. She had told Rachel that she may have to sell because she cannot pay for the upkeep on a widow's pension. They had cried in each other arms. Wishing for Finn her dear, sweet Finn to come home unharmed.
The war has been going for three whole years, none of which she had laid her eyes upon her Finn. He had only returned home and visited London with his new found friend Samuel or had stayed in France, his letters had changed. Now they were cold, merely informing her of his whereabouts. No 'I miss you dearly' or 'the war cannot end soon enough'.
He had changed.
She wonders if this is some sort of test?
A test of her love, her unyielding, irrevocable love for him.
She can feel the strain, not that she will admit to anyone. She misses him, but does he miss her?
The war ends on the eighth of May in nineteen forty-five.
She starts to cry and just can't stop; she grabs a pen and paper and starts to write a pleading letter, begging him to. Just. Come. Home.
It's five months later when his mother, Carole knocks on their door throwing her arms around Rachel and informing her that Finn is coming home in three days.
She doesn't cry this time.
He doesn't come to see her, even though he's home.
She's in the market for her mother that day, it's rather chilly and she pulls her coat closer to her body. That's when she sees him. It's been five years. Five years of the worst kind of tortuous, agony for her.
It takes a second or three to recognise him, his hair is different, the planes of his face seem sharper, and his once brown eyes are cold as they stare towards Church Street. But it's him.
All the hate, and animosity, and pain that has been festering inside her for those five years dissipate.
And she feels seventeen again, just having been asked by her best friend of years to be his girlfriend. "Finn!" She cries. "Oh Finn!" And even though she hasn't laid eyes on him in five years, and she doesn't even know where he's been, or what he has done, or who he has killed. Or even if he's been with another woman.
Her feet move towards him and she throws her arms around him and breathes in deeply missing his scent, but it's changed; no longer the smell of his farm. Now it's the smell of war.
He sets her back on her feet stepping away from her, his eyes don't seem to recognise her. "Finn, it's me, it's Rachel."
And then he utters words which break her heart, "I know who you are." He finally looks her in the eye, she can see the war has done. Her dear sweet Finn … her thoughts are shattered suddenly as he feels his arms around her, and it hurts because he is crushing her because he is holding her so tightly. But she doesn't mind, because it is her Finn.
Her Finn was home.