Grace barked with laughter at his turn of phrase.

"Roland, you can't order to do anything! You may be my lover, but you're not my husband, you don't own me!"

He rolled his eyes just a touch, and she almost snapped another reprimand at him, but for the guilty memory of doing the same to him on more than one occasion.

"If I were married to you I hope I wouldn't own you either," he replied firmly, taking the wind momentarily out of her sails, only to restore it fully with his next remark, "That we go to bed together is not relevant, that I am your commanding officer very much is."

"Roland-..."

"Grace," he cut her off, "Colonel Perbright made it clear. You are to take your leave pass this weekend and you are to make use of it."

She expelled a long sigh.

"I've never in my life heard of anyone being order to take a leave pass."

"That's because no one works as hard as you do, Grace," he told her calmly, "The colonel is concerned for your health. I'm concerned."

"You know I'm fine," she replied sharply, "You if anyone knows the extent of my physical fitness."

She was trying to throw him off, and she had to credit him, he held himself together remarkably well in the face of her remark.

"If not physically, mentally, then," he told her, "It can't do you good to be here all of the time, and always around the same few people-..."

"I'm always with you," she replied, "I'd say that sustains me more than anything-...Unless you want rid of me for the day?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Of course I'm not," he told her, meeting her eyes, seeing that she was joking, rolling his eyes at her again.

She barely repressed a slight laugh.

"Grace," he said, "Seriously. Take the pass. Go to town for a day. Take in some different air, et something they don't serve in the canteen. I'll give you some money to buy yourself something you like."

She snorted.

"I thought we'd established that you're not my husband?" she asked, smiling.

He smiled too.

"Take the offer or leave it," he replied, "But I'll make sure there's someone there to drive you. So I know you've actually gone."

She clenched her jaw a little through her smile. He was not going to let this one go.

...

But in spite of her resistance, Grace admitted to herself that she could happily take a day off. She could happily take several, but for the work she knew there was to be done, and for her suspicion that if she was not there things would not be done properly.

But as she had been ordered, she inwardly grimaced at thee word, it seemed foolish not to take advantage of being offered what she actually wanted. She moved around her tent with her usual efficiency, dressing herself for the first time in a long while in her civilian's clothes rather than her uniform. Her grey skirt and jacket were looser than they had been when she'd last worn them and her blouse hung a little off her shoulders. She checked her hair in the hand-mirror one last time; she could not help but notice that her usual nurse's cap hid the slight grey tinge beginning to show and she felt the lack of it now. Picking up her bag, she left the tent, making her way towards the front of the camp, where Roland had told her the car would meet her.

It was quiet, as quiet as it was possible to be in a military hospital, it was early morning and there were few vehicles about. She could hear a running engine though, and saw the car ahead of her. A soldier was sitting behind the wheel. Presuming it was her lift, she followed the eager hum of the motor until she drew level. And stopped, her hand resting on the leather of the seat. The man behind the wheel was Roland.

"What th-..."

"Don't say anything, Grace," he told her quietly, "Just get in. I'll explain on the way."

Wordlessly, she slipped into the seat beside him, placing her bag by her feet, looking at him enquiringly as he began to steer the car towards the road.

"Roland, there's no century on the gate," Grace pointed out as they drew near.

"I know," he replied, not taking his eyes off the road ahead, "I told him he could stand down for five minutes. The chap was freezing."

"Roland-...!"

"Check the date on your leave pass, Grace," he told her.

She picked up her bag, extracting the document, unsealing the envelope it came in. It was a two-day ticket.

"Roland," she breathed, "You can't ask me to believe that Colonel Perbright signed this."

"He doesn't have to," he indicated briefly to the line at the bottom, which bore his own signature, "He only signs mine. I had to remind him that I haven't yet taken a day of leave, but I managed to persuade him in the end."

She looked at him intently.

"You planned this, didn't you?" she asked him.

"Of course," he replied.

She gave him an incredulous look.

"No one knows that we have left together, Grace," he told her.

She was silent.

"I want to spend some time away from the hospital with you," he told her softly, "Some time when we can be ourselves. When we can be together. When we can sleep in a bed that's big enough for the two of us and not have to worry about being overheard."

"Roland!" she exclaimed, shocked that he was saying this out in the open, even if they were alone, "I don't suppose you did think of where we're going to sleep tonight?" she asked.

"There's a hotel in the town," he told her, "I wrote and made a reservation."

"Did you tell them we were married?" she asked curiously.

"I had to," he replied.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Alright," he admitted to, "No one asked. I wanted to."

She raised her hand a little, resting it over his on the steering wheel, gently brushing the back of her hand with her thumb.

"Roland," she murmured, "I don't know what to say."

There was a pause for a moment.

"You are happy, aren't you?" he asked tentatively, "That I've made these arrangements?"

"Oh, Roland," she replied softly, "I'm ecstatic. Just, surprised, as well."

He smiled.

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Well, you managed it very well," she told him, "I had no idea at all. I would have never put up such a fuss about the leave pass if I'd known."

"I know," he replied quietly.

It was a clear morning. The sun was peering over the tops of the trees to their left as he drove through the crisply cold air. Her hand still rested on top of his on the wheel. She did not need to tell him how much she loved him in that moment, it was ebbing out of her and into him where their skin met.

...

"When do you think the war will end?"

He turned to her in surprise, her question came out of a long spell of silence and hee had never known her to be preoccupied with speculations about the future, when she could make herself useful in the here and now.

He frowned.

"Why do you ask?"

Her eyes were fixed on the blue water of the river, reflecting the evening sky, flowing past the white stone bench where they sat together. He held her hand in his.

"I'm wondering how long it is until we can spend every day like this," she told him, turning to meet his eyes, "Together. Openly."

"Grace," he murmured softly, brushing her face with the fingers of his other hand, kissing her lips, "If I only knew when, I would count down the days."

She smiled, her eyes were bright in the darkening air. Their faces lingered closer together.

"Thank you for this," she told him quietly, "Today has been wonderful. It's been the happiest day of my life."

His hands caressed her neck.

"I want to give you this every day," he whispered.

She touched the back of his hand.

"One day," she told him, "And I will try to do the same for you."

"You are my happiness, Grace," he replied.

She leant forwards again, kissing him. His hand was in her hair, the other reaching around her body to pull her closer to him.

"Roland," she murmured in his ear as their lips parted, "I want to go back to our hotel."

...

He was carrying packages. He had bought tow bottles of red wine and white silk blouse for her to wear the next day. The hotel was quiet as they made their way upstairs. He was making her feel a little light-headed, that was the only explanation she could offer for the fact that a moment later, under the guise of relieving him of some of his load, she took one of the bottles from him, removed the cap, raised it to her lips and drank. His eyes met hers, watching in awe. Some of the red liquid lingered on her lips, and he stopped on the stair, leaning in to kiss it off. She shuddered, parting her lips under his. They leant in close to each other, her wrapping her arms around his neck. Not caring that he was still hold their shopping, he scooped her feet up without warning her so that he carried her in his arms. She let out a yelp of surprise and then a laugh, that sounded like music to his ears. She was light enough to carry up the stairs without difficulty and he guided them to their room. Her forehead rested against his, her eyes closed, holding a bottle of wine by the neck. She looked so contended and peaceful and beautiful.

He put her down only to unlock the door to their room. She laughed, stumbling across the threshold, undoing her shoes and kicking them off.

She offered him the bottle of wine and he drank from it too, putting down on the dressing table with the rest of their things before pulling her into his arms. He picked her up again, carrying her to the bed and placing her on it. She held his body close to hers.

"Oh, my darling," he whispered, her face cupped to his.

"I know," she replied, because she did.

His hand tangled in her hair, pulling it down. They gasped against one another's lips as they kissed, holding each other tightly and frantically undressing in alternate motions. He kissed her neck repeatedly, pushing her out of her blouse, unhooking her corset.

Rolling her onto her back, he worshipped her breasts with his mouth and his hands. A moment later he looked up into her eyes.

"I'm insanely in love with you," he told her.

"I know," she murmured to him again, "I am with you."

His fingers slipped between hers, holding both hands, pushing them against the bed.

"I'm yours," he whispered hoarsely, "Yours."

Her eyes welled with tears and she reached up to meet his lips.

"As I am yours," she told him softly.

He slipped inside her and her head rolled a little to the side as she moaned. He kissed the hollow of her neck.

End.

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