The hospital was quiet- or, at least, quieter than usual- planned operations over for the day, patients being tended to by the nurses and VADs, the next convoy not due for several hours. Thomas was in his and Miles's sleeping quarters, transcribing some notes from surgery on his typewriter. His cheek was still stinging from that slap, much as he tried to ignore it. He knew he had deserved it. Her reasons were fair; his words unnecessarily harsh. He had been surprised by the immediacy of the slap, though, as if it were not a simple response to his words but a reflex. That said, he hadn't planned on grabbing her, either. Hadn't planned on reaching out to her again; hadn't planned on holding her, close enough to hear her breathing.
Thomas sighed deeply. He couldn't possibly concentrate on his Carrel-Dakin notes now. His mind was full of Kitty: her eyes, her lips, the vast absence remaining when he let go of her…
"There's no need to be quite so rude to Miss Trevelyan, you know," announced Miles as he walked in and perched on his chair, picking up that copy of Tarzan.
"What?" snapped Thomas. He couldn't have overheard some of their argument earlier- could he?
"You could at least humour her. You know, the "do", tomorrow."
Thomas breathed a sigh of relief.
"I came here to work, not to… make friends."
"And yet here we are!"
"That was completely unintentional." replied Thomas, letting slip a half-smile.
"You must admit you have a tendency to snap."
Thomas ignored him, busying himself with the typewriter ribbon.
"And it can come off as… aggressive, no, it's just- it could be upsetting for a young lady in a foreign country surrounded by strange men!"
"Miss Trevelyan isn't exactly the sensitive type." growled Thomas. Could they not just leave this?
"Maybe there's a reason for that."
Miles's voice had become somehow less jovial than usual.
"Miles, if you're trying to get at something, could you please just come out and say it?"
"You must promise not to tell anyone."
"We're not bloody schoolgirls."
Miles paused for a second.
"When Miss Trevelyan and I went into town that day- I don't know who it was that she met. I feel now I should have known something was going to happen. She was even colder than usual in the car; on edge."
Thomas looked up to see Miles with his hand against his forehead, rubbing his brow as if he didn't quite know what to say next, or how to say it.
"There…was an incident. A violent one. I heard crying in the corridor, I had no idea it was her until-"
Thomas felt his heart drop into his stomach. Fuck. Everything, of course, made sense. Her coldness, maybe, that could have passed, but the way she'd slapped him so furiously, the fear in her eyes when he'd moved to touch her, how she'd flinched when he tried to kiss her that night- that same night.
"I didn't know whether to tell anyone- Thomas. Thomas?"
Thomas looked up, realising he had not heard anything Miles had said after "a violent one".
"I'll keep it in mind."
Miles nodded, and went back to his chair. They would likely not speak of it again.
Thomas's mind was still full of her. But now it was her crying, her defenceless. How terrified she must have been in the hotel, with whoever that man was. How he, Thomas, must have made that fear so much worse.
