"Congratulations."

Gwen glanced up – William stood, awkward, in the doorway. He was smiling slightly – one that she had presumed he tended to reserve for Daisy, on the rare occasions the girl gave him to smile.

Such a silly little girl, taken in by Thomas's snake-oil when this sweet, goodhearted young man was before her.

Then again, he could be called fool, too – still mooning over a girl who didn't notice him.

And, by the same token, she could say the same for herself.

A chain of fools.

"Thank you." She replied quietly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, glad it was the end of the day. He sat down beside her at the table. "There's some tea in the pot."

He poured himself a cup – in truth, both should have gone back to their rooms, but tonight it was acceptable to be restless.

"It's difficult to be pleased about it. After...the news." Gwen said thoughtfully, quietly.

She wouldn't be the only one leaving – she knew, without asking, that William would sign up. Probably with the first wave. It was a very William thing to do – filled with noble innocence, trust, faith that all would be well, so long as you did your best.

She hadn't realised how jaded she was to this world of theirs until that moment.

"You did well, you should be proud." He said simply, hand resting beside hers on the table, briefly brushing clumsy fingers against hers. Everything seemed so black and white in his world. "On any other day – "

"But it isn't any other day, William." She said gently, looking at their fingers, not quite intertwined, but almost close enough. "It's the day when – when war broke out."

"That doesn't take away from your hard work." He replied stoically – he was determined to be proud of her, it seemed.

She chuckled, turning her head, giving him her full attention – his face was the image of resolve, nothing would change his mind. She entangled their fingertips, squeezing their hands together. "You're a noble soul, William Mason."

He looked at their hands, almost as if he hadn't realised it was happening, met her eyes. He opened his mouth, about to speak but the words dying on his lips, until finally;"I'll miss you."

"You can write to me. If you like." She felt almost shy, suggesting it to him like this – almost brazen.

He nodded. "I'd like that. Won't be the same, though. It won't be..." He leaned closer to her, almost experimentally, as if he weren't sure what was really happening here. "It won't be like this."

"No." She replied quietly, feeling his breath against her face, very aware of his pulse against her fingertips as she moved her hand against his neck. Her eyes closed as her forehead rested against his, fingers stroking his pulsepoint, the weight of everything crashing down on her shoulders – and his, too, from the way that suddenly his arms locked around her, clinging to her as if she were about to disappear. As if him holding her could somehow keep her there, keep him there – or maybe just keep them together.

"Nothing is like this."

It was as if someone else had said it – she couldn't imagine such words coming from William, but there they were, apparently. Then again, she couldn't imagine William being so bold as to kiss her (let alone like this, with promises of more, with tongues, with fingers moving across her body) – in fantasies it had been her leading him, tempting him. He had been chaste but willing, she had been temptress.

In truth, it seemed that he was far from chaste, his intentions far from innocent – as if he had discovered what he could have, what he could possess. She gasped against his lips, against his touch, not certain of what this was, of what it could be – barely thinking, only able to want;

"More."

He pulled back, breathing heavily. "I – Gwen, I – I don't know what – "

She shook her head vehemently. "Don't apologise. If you apologise, I'll never forgive you." She smiled slightly, her heart still raging in her chest, her body aching for something it hadn't realised it had been missing.

"...Daisy." He said finally, and she realised that was his apology.

She stood up, forcing a smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. "You'll be happy together."

"It won't be like that." He said it slowly, thoughtfully (and was she imagining sadly?)

"No. I don't suppose it will be."

He caught her hand with his, and she wondered if that was an apology too. "I'll write to you." He was standing now, tugging her into what should have been a chaste embrace.

Except that she could feel something there and his lips were against hers and her hands were exploring and her body was moving and his fingers were tracing her form and nothing else imaginable was like this.

They never did say goodbye in public.

...am I the only one who ships this, out of interest?