The blinding sunlight which slipped through the crack of the curtains felt like a needle piercing through his eyes and into his brain. Oscar groaned and turned over. He wanted to sleep some more, but it wasn't going to be easy. After last night his head was throbbing and the sound of Hannes snoring across the room was like a chainsaw grinding into his head.
"Hey bro. You awake?"
Emile's voice came from the bunk below. Oscar tried to ignore him but then felt his brother jabbing his mattress from underneath. Giving up on his snooze, he flung his head over the side of the bed to confront him.
"Cut that out," he muttered. "Isn't your head killing you too?"
Emile grinned back up at him. "Course not. Unlike you I can handle my booze!"
Oscar sniffed. "Yeah, right. It's just because you threw up after the fifth round."
"Hey, it's not like it stopped me drinking did it?" Emile replied with a chuckle. "Anyway I was wondering. Did you see Miss O'Hara at the victory party last night?"
Oscar shook his head, which proved to be a mistake since it brought the throbbing in his head to a crescendo. "I remember we looked for her all over but no-one had seen her. Then of course Hannes and Walter shoved drinks into our hands and…that's about the last thing I can remember."
Emile grin widened so that it was almost ear to ear. "You don't remember your singing then? Or dancing with Aisha?"
"No," said Oscar, smothering his face with his hands. "And don't bother reminding me."
"Oh, you can bet I will!" said Emile. "But right now we should go find Miss O'Hara." He hopped up out of bed and pulled on a shirt. "I feel kind of bad that we missed her last night. We should go and see her now to make up for it.
Oscar stared at him through bleary eyes "Will she even be up yet?"
"Course she will bro. It's midday you know! She'll have been up for hours!"
"Fine," said Oscar, swinging his legs over the bed. If it was for Miss O'Hara then he would get up, despite the million hammers that were pounding away inside his skull.
They went to her room first. All they had found there was a severely hung-over Jane, who had thrown a boot in their rough direction and told them to leave her in peace. Assuming that their mentor was up and about, as Emile had guessed, they began to search all her usual haunts on the base. They checked the rec room where she often liked to settle with a book. They checked the canteen in case she was having a bite to eat. They checked the training field in case she was running a few laps.
She wasn't in any of those places. By the time they hadn't found her on the shooting range they were beginning to get worried.
They started to ask around for her. The man at the entrance gate hadn't seen her, suggesting that she hadn't left the base. Then they had sought out other Sevens and had asked every one they had come across whether they had seen her. Freesia, Yoko and Coby all said that they hadn't. Even Juno had shaken her head, saying that she hadn't seen her since they had returned from the final mission. She had been concerned about her too and the boys promised to let her know when they eventually found her.
After a full hour of fruitless searching, they took a break. They rested against the wall to catch their breath, worn out after having covered the whole base from corner to corner. Oscar fetched a couple of juice-boxes from the canteen and tossed one to his brother. As they sipped their refreshments, they scanned the yard in front of them, in the vain hope that they might suddenly see their elusive mentor walking across it.
"Where could she have gone?" Emile asked, idly playing with his straw. "It's not like her to disappear like this."
"I know," said Oscar. "It's strange." Suddenly he had a thought and turned to Emile anxiously. "You don't think she's upset with us do you? You know, about us drinking too much last night?"
"Nah, don't think she would be," Emile replied. "We've just won the War, bro. We had every right to celebrate didn't we?" A slight smile crept onto his face "I'd say if she's upset about anything it would be your awful singing."
That comment earned him a smack on the head.
Just then they became aware of someone standing across from them – a slender woman with dark hair. For a moment they thought it was Catherine and turned to her eagerly. To their disappointment – and surprise – it was Marina instead. Her expression was as stoic as ever. It didn't matter that they had finally defeated their Imperial invaders against impossible odds - a smile from her was too much to ask for.
"Corporal O'Hara, asked me to give you a message," she said. Her tone was bland, impossible to read.
The brothers exchanged glances. What could Catherine possibly have to say to them that she couldn't tell them herself? And why would she have entrusted her message to the least sociable member in the entire squad?
"Okay then," said Oscar, urging her to go on. In his gut he felt a growing sense of dread.
Marina's expression didn't change. "She said she had some things to attend to elsewhere, so she would have to take her leave from the squad."
No sooner had she finished the sentence then she started to turn away.
"Hey wait!" cried Oscar. "What do you mean 'take her leave'? Are you saying she's left the squad for good?"
"Yes," Marina replied without stopping.
"She didn't say anything else?" asked Emile. "Didn't she even give a reason?"
"No." She sounded impatient now. "That was the whole message."
"But why…"
Marina suddenly turned and glared at him with the one eye that wasn't hidden by her fringe. "I don't know," she stated with a note of finality that cut off any chance of further questions.
With that she strode away. The pair of them watched her back as she walked off, too stunned to think straight. Why would Catherine leave the Squad so suddenly and without even a word of goodbye?
It figured that Marina wouldn't ask for a reason. Oscar wondered if that was why Catherine had asked her to deliver the message for her.
After a short, bewildered silence, the two brothers slowly turned their heads to each other. "How could she do this bro?" Emile asked. "I know the war is over. It wasn't like Squad 7 was going to stay together forever. But to leave without saying a word...how could she do that to us?"
Oscar felt as dejected as his brother. It hurt that the woman who had taught them so much and watched out for them throughout the whole war had just left without so much as a goodbye hug. And yet inside he felt a sudden tug of resolve. He knew he would see her again somehow. He would make sure of it. She was just too important to him to lose from his life so suddenly.
He gave his brother a comforting slap on the back. "Don't worry Em. I'm sure we'll see her again soon," he said. "She'll come back to us, I know she will." He looked over to the hills in the distance as though by doing so he would be able to spot her on the horizon. "And if she doesn't we'll go and find her ourselves."
# # # # # # #
Ten
Ever since she had come to the village of Ettau, Catherine's days had followed a very regular routine. Wake up, cup of tea, do some odd jobs in town for a little cash, hunt in the evening, dinner, another cup of tea, then bed. It was a routine predictable to the point of being boring. Just the kind of peaceful existence she had sought out here in the middle of nowhere.
However such a humdrum life had made her mind complacent and completely unprepared to cope with the events of the last couple of days. Her head was spinning with everything that had happened - the rude arrival of the brothers, the heart-breaking moonlit conversation with Oscar, the horrible moment when she had realised Emile was in danger and, of course, the brutal fight with that Imp…
That last thought jerked her awake. The Imp! Her eyes shot open, her mouth wide in a soundless cry. Then she remembered that he was dead, killed by her own hand. The danger was over now.
She found herself lying in her bed. The light was dim but she couldn't tell whether it morning or evening. Oddly she felt clean and refreshed. After the fight her battered body had been drenched with blood and sweat. Now someone had tended to her wounds, washed her face, changed her into a nightshirt and tucked her into bed.
She didn't have to look far to find out whom. Oscar was sitting in the chair beside the bed, arms folded, head bobbing to and fro as he slept. She watched him fondly for a second. Though his face was solemn, he looked reassuringly peaceful in slumber.
Been a tough day, hasn't it Oscar dear?
She watched him a few moments longer, unable to keep the affectionate smile from touching her lips. He must have somehow felt her gaze on him since his eyes suddenly flittered open.
"Hey you're awake!" he said, immediately coming down to her side. "How are you feeling Miss O'Hara?"
Catherine tried to reply but her voice came out as a weak croak. Oscar immediately reached for his flask. He helped her to sit up, then handed it to her. She drank deeply, the cool water feeling heavenly sloshing down her parched throat.
"Thank you dear," she whispered, returning the flask to him.
Oscar placed it on the bedside table so that it was within easy reach if she wanted it again. "Do you need anything else?" he asked. "I've got painkillers if you need them. And Emile is outside cooking up some food."
Catherine still felt dazed and barely heard his words. She absently cast her eyes around her cabin, noticing that the boys had done their best to clean the place up after the fight. They had swept up the broken crockery, put the furniture back in its place and hung the curtain back up so that it covered the broken window. The table had been set upright again, though her blue teapot was no longer set on it having been broken during the tussle. She felt a sudden pang at that; she had really liked that teapot.
Suddenly she noticed something odd. Her shoulder was sore. Just sore. Not excruciatingly painful as it should have been, considering the shot that had all but torn her shoulder apart. She pulled her nightshirt collar down to take a look at the wound.
To her amazement it had completely vanished. The skin there was raw and a fresh shade of pink, but otherwise there was no sign that she had ever been shot.
"My goodness," she breathed. "Did you do this Oscar?"
Oscar looked away sheepishly. "Well, the ragnaid did most of the work." He gestured at the table, on which there were three empty canisters. "We'd brought a lot of it with us just in case Emile's health took a turn for worse. Guess it's a good thing that we did."
"You got the bullet out too?" she asked, pressing lightly on the skin there.
"Sure did. Here, take a look," Oscar turned and picked up a saucer and handed it to her. It contained the misshapen slug which had been fired into her. Catherine gazed down at it in wonder.
"That's amazing Oscar. How on earth did you manage that?"
He shrugged. "Just a simple little operation," he said. "Nothing I couldn't handle." When her gaze questioned him further he added, "Well you see, I've started to study medicine."
"My goodness! Really?" she asked, unable to hide her shock. She couldn't believe it - Oscar in medical training? The boy who went queasy at the sight of a paper-cut?
"Yeah. One of the physicians at Sleepy Lakes is training me. Someday I'm hoping to become a doctor."
"Goodness," Catherine found herself breathless. She couldn't believe Oscar hadn't mentioned this to her last night, when they had been catching up. "What brought this on then?" she asked.
Oscar smiled meekly and nodded his head to the door. "You even need to ask?"
"Ah." The penny dropped. There was only ever one reason as to why Oscar would face his fears this way. "I see. You're doing it for Emile's sake, aren't you?"
He nodded. "I'm hoping that someday, I'll be good enough to fix his illness for good."
Doing it for his brother. How very like him that was. A tremor of delight ran down her spine as she pictured Oscar – normally so unsure of himself – as a doctor, healing wounds and saving lives on a daily basis. "That's wonderful," she said, beaming at him. "Gallia needs doctors far more than it needs snipers now. I'm so proud of you Oscar."
Instantly she caught herself. Stop playing the mother role to him. You've no right to play it any more. Have you no willpower?
Oscar looked away, bashful now. "You should thank Emile too. He was the one who encouraged me to go ahead with the operation. I was a little nervous about it at first."
"A little nervous? You were pissing your pants!"
Emile came into the hut, grinning impishly at his brother (who made a face at him in response). To Catherine's relief, the damage to his face had been mostly repaired. She was glad they hadn't wasted all their ragnaid on her.
"I heard your voice from outside Miss O'Hara," he said chirpily. "How are you feeling?"
"Oh, can't complain," she replied with a mild smile. "Your face is looking much better."
"Sure is," he said. "Well, couldn't leave it as it was. I'd have lost my reputation as the handsome twin!" He chuckled and Oscar rolled his eyes.
"Anyway hope you're hungry," he continued. "I've cooked up the Sergeant Potter special - vegetable soup and lots of it! It's nearly ready, but in the meantime I made you a cup of tea." He brought his hands out from behind his back to present her with a steaming cup on a saucer. "You said you wanted a cup right after the fight. Sorry it's taken so long to get you one."
"Why, thank you Emile," she said, genuinely grateful. She accepted the cup from him and took a long sip, shivering with pleasure as the tea trickled down her throat, warming her to her soul. To her surprise, he had made it exactly as she liked it – with just a splash of milk and no sugar. It touched her that he had remembered exactly how she took her tea.
"You shouldn't be making a fuss over me like this," she said, taking another sip. She felt uncomfortable relying on them, knowing full well that she would have to eventually get rid of them for good.
"Course we should," said Oscar. "What kind of students would we be if we didn't give our teacher a helping hand when she needed it?"
Catherine bit her lip pensively. They still think they can be a part of my life she thought dismally. It had been so hard to justify her decision to Oscar the first time. Were they really going to force her to do it again?
I will if I have to. But not just yet. She was still feeling too fragile. If she even started on the topic right now she was sure she would break down in tears.
A few minutes later the soup was ready and Emile brought it in. Until her nose caught the aroma of the vegetables, Catherine hadn't realised how hungry she was. She finished her first bowl in the space of a few minutes and gratefully accepted a second helping when Emile offered. As they all ate, he sat on the foot of the bed and recounted the details of his capture and of the Imp who had performed it.
"He told me his name was Helmut Nonnenkof," he said. "He was the Commander of the Imp forces during the Marberry Shore operation. He survived the battle somehow but was stranded in Gallia. Guess he's been lying low in these mountains ever since then."
"I see," said Catherine. "And that gave him time to nurse a grudge against the squad which defeated him so soundly."
"He took me completely by surprise. He certainly didn't look friendly when he was coming up the path but I was never expecting him to just wander up and club me 'round the head!" He demonstrated the action by pretending to hit himself on the head with his spoon.
"When I was tied to the chair I thought I was done for, and that you two would be soon to follow. I mean, when he shot at you through the door I thought he'd got you. I really did. It was the worst moment of my life."
Catherine's lips curved wryly. "Come now Emile. You don't honestly think I would have walked straight up to the door if I had even the slightest inkling that an enemy was lying in wait do you?"
"I guess not," said Emile contritely. "You always have a miracle up your sleeve, don't you Miss O'Hara?"
"I wouldn't call it a miracle," said Catherine. "Just a half-baked plan and the devil's luck."
That wasn't far from the truth. The plan had been far too risky, with so many chances for failure. Yet it had been the best she could conjure up on short notice.
After she and Oscar had suspected a trap, she had approached the cabin from the rear, coming around to the front door on her belly so that she wouldn't be detected. Then whilst standing to one side of the door, she had knocked and announced her presence, hoping to goad a shot from the intruder, which would serve to both to confirm that a hostile was inside and to discharge their weapon.
Upon the confirmation of an enemy, Oscar – positioned in Catherine's own favoured sniping spot in the bush on the hillside – was to shoot the lock off the door, allowing her to enter the cabin. The idea was that with the intruder's weapon unloaded, and him assuming she had taken a bullet, she would be able to catch him off guard with a surprise attack.
She hadn't known of his close combat prowess but had always assumed that whoever the intruder was, he would be stronger than her, and would probably best her in a hand-to-hand fight. If her surprise attack didn't kill him, the plan was to remove the curtains from the small side-window which would allow Oscar to take a shot at the enemy from his position.
As she remembered that part of the plan she scolded herself with a grimace. She had messed that part up. She should have brought Oscar into play far sooner than she had, at the moment Emile had knocked the ammo box off the table. It had been a split-second decision and at the time she had thought she could finish the Imp with a decisive blow. Of course her blow hadn't killed him and she had ended up taking a ferocious beating.
Live and learn, she supposed. At least it had been only her that had suffered as a result of her impulsiveness. And no matter how much punishment she had received, she could regard this mission as a complete success because both of the boys were now sitting before her, alive and smiling.
"No, it wasn't the best plan," she admitted. "But I'm not going to argue with the results."
"Yeah," said Oscar. "Somehow we're all still alive."
"I can't believe you managed to pull it off," Emile said. "You saved my life today Miss O'Hara. You really did. But I'm really sorry that you had to in the first place." He looked to one side, scratching his cheek with a finger. It was a guilty gesture. Catherine knew she had to put a stop to that right away.
"Emile," she said. "Please don't feel that way. It wasn't your fault."
Emile stared back at her, unconvinced. "But if I'd have been more careful you wouldn't have gotten so beaten up…"
"No," Catherine stated. "There's no way you could have seen this coming." She reached out to take his hand, squeezing it to comfort him. "Emile, this was a freak occurrence. Things like this do happen in this bizarre world of ours, but we can't chide ourselves for not anticipating them. Not even I am so paranoid that I expect Imps to come knocking at my door."
She looked off to one side. "In any case Emile, we're even. Perhaps I saved your life today. But you saved mine as well."
He tilted his head questioningly. "What do you mean?"
She tapped the wooden bedside table beside the bed. "You stopped him from reloading when you knocked this table over. If he had managed to get a bullet in the chamber, he'd have had me dead to rights."
"And that's not all," she continued. She reached into her nightshirt and brought out the tiny pendant the boys had given her. Reassuringly she could feel the weight of a bullet inside – Oscar must have thought to replace the one she had fired before.
"That Imp had me at his mercy but because I had a bullet on me, I was able to fire back at him," she said. "If I hadn't had this pendant, I would have been killed. There's no question about it. You didn't just give the most thoughtful gift I had ever received on that Feast of All Spirits. I didn't know it at the time, but you were saving my life as well." She smiled triumphantly at him. "I saved your life once today, but you saved mine twice. So let's have no more guilt. Okay?"
Emile relaxed and returned her smile, looking very much reassured. "Okay. Thanks Miss O'Hara."
"Not at all Emile darling," she said, giving his hand another squeeze.
"She's right you know, little bro," said Oscar, as he wiped up the last bits of soup from his bowl with a piece of bread. "It wasn't your fault at all. In fact if we're going to blame anyone for this it should be Marina."
Both of them looked at him oddly, so he explained. "At Marberry Shore she was ordered to snipe off the commander. That is to say, our friend Mister Nonnenkof."
"Really?" said Emile. "So how come he was still alive?"
Oscar cringed. "Well, the thing is…she missed."
There was a moment of incredulous silence. "Marina missed a shot?!" cried Emile, as though unable to believe such a thing were possible.
"Hey, give her a break," Oscar said. "She was firing from long range through a cloud of smoke! It was an impossible shot to begin with. And besides…" He spread his arms. "She didn't exactly miss. While she didn't hit the commander, she got the guy next to him right in the forehead."
"Of course!" Emile suddenly shouted, snapping his fingers. "Klaus! It was him!"
"Klaus?" Catherine asked. "Oh yes, I remember Nonnenkof mentioning that name during the fight."
"Klaus was his right-hand man," said Emile. "He told me that he was sniped from afar during the Marberry Shore operation. If Nonnenkof saw him die then he must have been near him and if he was such a trusted comrade then it makes sense they would be fighting side-by-side in the battle. The guy Marina shot must have been him."
"And it was his death that got him really riled up?" said Oscar.
"Yep. More than anything he wanted revenge against the sniper that killed him. Guess that means we have Marina to thank for today's happy little incident." Emile tutted like a disapproving parent. "Honestly, that girl! Leaving us to take care of her leftovers!"
"I think we can forgive her this one," said Catherine. "She downed so many enemy soldiers and saved so many lives that I think we can let this one slide."
"Yeah," said Emile. "After all that Helmut guy wasn't so tough!"
"No, of course not," said Catherine, sombre all of a sudden. "Just a sore loser who couldn't leave the war behind. Just a fool who didn't realise how lucky he had been to survive it and let his experiences ruin him." Her smile had dulled to a faraway frown. "I could never accept someone like that taking your lives, or my own for that matter."
Her sudden seriousness quelled the conversation for a few moments. But as per usual Emile was on hand to lighten the mood again.
"Still," he said, "After all the hassle we've been through today, the least Marina owes us is a round of drinks!"
That had all three of them chuckling together – even Catherine couldn't stop herself from tittering behind her hand. Now that everyone was smiling again Emile stood and started to collect up the empty soup-bowls. "Did you get enough to eat Miss O'Hara?" he asked. "If you're done I'll get Oscar to start washing up."
Oscar turned to him. "What?"
"It's only fair. I did the cooking after all…"
Before Oscar could protest, they heard a gunshot outside the cabin. It was followed by a gruff demanding voice.
"You in there! Get out here right now! We're having a little talk with you!"
The three of them stared at each other in shock. In an instant the light atmosphere had fled the room. Catherine instinctively reached for her rifle before realising it was propped against the wall across the room, rather than by her bedside where she normally kept it. Oscar picked it up but instead of bringing it over, held on to it himself. Meanwhile Emile headed over the window and gently pulled the curtain aside to take a look outside.
"Who is it?" Oscar asked, trying to keep the panic from his voice.
Emile let the curtain fall closed again. "Looks like some of the townsfolk," he murmured grimly. "They're armed and don't look happy."
There was another shot, causing all three of them to flinch again. The voice sounded out once more. "Get out here! Don't make me tell you again."
Catherine threw the covers off and started to get up, but Oscar stood in her way to stop her.
"Stay there Miss O'Hara. I'll go see what they want."
"Oscar…" she started but he had already turned towards the door.
"Em, stay here and watch her," he said as he turned the handle. Before either of them could stop him he had headed outside.
***
There were four of them, heavy-set men, each one carrying a shotgun and a grim expression. Oscar recognised one of them as the old bartender who they had spoken to when they had first arrived. He felt naked walking out there in front of them – with only a sniper rifle at his disposal he was all but defenceless at this range. If they opened fire on him the best he could hope for was to take one of them with him.
"What do you want?" he asked, trying not to sound as intimidated as he felt.
The barman slowly stepped forward. He was chewing a wad of tobacco and regarded Oscar through cold eyes.
"You killed Helmut Nonnenkof?" he asked, in a tone that demanded an answer. He gestured with his gun at the sheet-covered corpse, which the brothers had dragged a distance from the cabin to be disposed of later.
"We did," said Oscar, speaking as levelly as he could manage. "But please understand that he attacked us first. We killed him in self-defence."
"I told you before," the barman murmured. "I told you we didn't want no strangers here bringin' war to this town. But what do you go and do? Before you've even been here a day, you go and kill one of our own."
"It wasn't our fault!" Oscar cried. "I told you, he attacked us first!"
His words went ignored. "Mister Nonnekof was a gentleman," the barman continued. "Kept himself to himself and always paid for his beer. Men like that are welcome here. Warmongers like you ain't."
He turned his head and spat out the tobacco. "We want you out of town. Both you and that woman."
"What, Miss O'Hara too?" Oscar asked incredulously. "No way, you can't evict her! This is her home and she's done nothing wrong!"
"You gonna make things hard for us?" the barman asked, cocking his gun. The other three did the same, the sounds combining in a series of satisfying clicks.
"This isn't fair!" Oscar yelled. Even though he didn't want Catherine to stay in this lonely place, if she was to leave he wanted it to be on her own terms. Not by being run out of town by this band of thugs.
"How can you call us warmongers?" he shouted. "That Nonnenkof guy was going to murder us! And we're not the ones who are trying to bully someone into leaving by showing up with guns!"
"Oscar, that's enough."
Oscar turned at Catherine's calm voice. She had hastily thrown some clothes and her hair was dishevelled from lying on the pillow. Nevertheless she stood tall and proud as she addressed the mob.
"I was the one who killed Helmut Nonnenkof. I take full responsibility for his death. I understand your demands and will have left town by sunrise tomorrow. Will that be acceptable to you?"
The men looked at one another, nonplussed at the way she had submitted so easily. They almost seemed disappointed that there wasn't going to be a fight.
"Fine," the barman said. Before he turned away he spat out a disgusting gob of tobacco which landed on top of Catherine's bare foot. Oscar surged forward in a fury but Catherine caught his shoulder to stop him.
"Let them go," she whispered to him.
"Bastard!" Oscar yelled at the man.
The barman scowled back at him. "Least I ain't a murderer." With that he and the rest of his posse turned their backs on them and wandered back along the track.
Catherine's hand stayed on Oscar's shoulder as they watched them leave. Then the pair of them silently headed back to the cabin, Catherine stopping to clean her foot by wiping it on the grass. No sooner had she closed the door behind her than Oscar whirled to confront her.
"Miss O'Hara, how can you give up so easily?" he demanded, full of indignation. "Those guys have no right to force you out of your home. I mean, you were in Squad 7! They should be honoured to even have you in their village! And to think that…"
"Oscar, Oscar, please calm down," she said, pressing her palms downwards. "It really doesn't matter. I would have had to leave here anyway."
"Why's that?"
She paused, turned her head to one side to avoid his gaze. "You know why," she said quietly. "You found me here. That means I'll have to do a better job of hiding myself next time."
Oscar's heart skipped a beat at the dreadful implication of her words. "You mean after everything you're still going to leave us?"
"Of course I am," she said simply, sitting back down on the bed. "Did you really think otherwise?"
"But we were getting on so well…I thought…"
He trailed off when he saw Catherine solemnly shaking her head. "Nothing has changed Oscar. We still must go our separate ways. And this time, you mustn't come after me." Though she couldn't face them, she spoke with resolution. Her mind was made up.
"Huh," grunted Emile. Both of them turned to look at him.
"Just seems strange to me," he continued, regarding Catherine dubiously. "You're saying you want us gone. Yet just a few hours ago you were risking your life for us." He stared at her accusingly. "How can you say we mean nothing to you after that?"
His words caused Catherine face to crumple up with genuine hurt. "Please don't say that Emile dear. You can't say I don't love you because I do. I love you too much. Today's incident reminded me of just that. I've never been so worried in all my life
"But today also reminded me how fragile life is and how easily the pain I know so well could return to me." She hung her head, refusing to look at him directly.
"The problem isn't that I don't love you. It's that I am no longer strong enough to bear the pain that that love opens me to." She faced them now, eyes shimmering. "You know I couldn't bear it if I lost you."
Oscar took a step towards her. "Miss O'Hara, you'll never lose us. I promise you won't," he said, imploring her with his hands. "We will always stay by your side. We'll never leave you, or let anything take us from you. I'll make sure of it!"
Catherine shook her head again, her fringe hiding her mournful eyes. "I would lose you, eventually I would. I lose everyone. I could go with you now and we would be happy for a while. But then, on one unsuspecting day, something terrible would happen and suddenly you would be gone. That is the way my life works."
Emile folded his arms sceptically. "That's just paranoid Miss O'Hara."
"No it isn't," she retorted. "Just look how close I came to losing you today."
"But Miss O'Hara, you didn't lose us today," said Oscar, coming around so she could see him. "Sure, you came close but you didn't. Because you protected us just like you always have."
"Yeah," added Emile. "No matter what hardships we face in the future, we'll be able to deal with them so long as you're around to protect us."
"I can't protect you," said Catherine sadly. "I'm not fit to protect anyone. Not after everything that's happened, everyone else who I've failed to protect. My parents. My former comrades. Marsha. Cliffewick. Even you Emile. You were in my care today and I let you get captured…"
"Stop it!" shouted Oscar. "You can't be responsible for everyone Miss O'Hara! You're not a God or even a Valkrur. You're just…a wonderful person." His eyes creased up and he looked down at his hands, wringing them hopelessly in front of him. "You've always protected us Miss O'Hara. Remember the first time we met? Before that battle I was terrified out of my wits. But you came over, comforted me and told me you would watch out for me.
His face softened with fondness, the grim line of his mouth suddenly quivering. "And you always have, Miss O'Hara. You always have. And not only by protecting us, but by bringing out the best in us."
He turned his head away, staring at the wall self-consciously. "I'm a coward by nature. I've never been brave or confident and there was a time when I never thought I could be good at anything. But you came along and showed me that I could be worth something. You gave me belief in my own ability. I've always wanted to be a doctor but until I met you I would never have believed I had the strength to make my dream come true."
"Me too!" chirped Emile. "I've always been a burden for Oscar but you made me into a sniper so I could finally protect him just like he always protected me. Not to mention that without you I would never have had the courage to approach Nancy."
"Nancy?" Oscar asked, suddenly distracted.
Emile ignored him. "You remember, don't you Miss O'Hara? When we talked about her on the training field?"
"I do," said Catherine softly, playing along for now at least.
"Well, I took your advice and started talking more with her. By the end of the war we were really close, though I never got around to asking her to go steady. But that changed at the wedding of Miss Alicia and the Commander."
His eyes took on a distant sheen, his fond memories erasing all trace of embarrassment. "It was just after the reception. We'd been dancing together for a while but the hall was getting stuffy so we decided to head out to get some fresh air.
"It was a beautiful night, full moon shining, stars in the sky, crickets chirping, you know, that kind of scene. We held hands as we walked down to the stream by the residence and sat there for a while. I told her she looked beautiful and she blushed in that cute way of hers.
"And then…she let me kiss her."
Catherine and Oscar both gasped in unison, their eyes gaping at him like full moons. Emile's cheeks reddened and he tried to cover them with his hands.
"We've kept in touch since. You know, writing letters and stuff. I told her I'd come and visit her when my health was up to it. And she said that she's really looking forward to it."
His eyes, full of genuine gratitude, met Catherine's. "I have you to thank for that Miss O'Hara. I never would have approached her if you haven't given me that little push."
Catherine's expression remained constant, neutral. If Emile's words had touched her she wasn't showing it.
There were a dozen more questions that Oscar wanted to ask his brother (they were twins after all – he couldn't believe he had kept such a secret from him). He put them to one side for now. There were a bigger issue at hand and he felt they had an advantage to press.
"Don't you see Miss O'Hara?" he said. "You're done so much for us. You taught us how to shoot, given us confidence, defended us on both the battlefield and at the base. You took such good care of us. So don't say you can't protect us."
Even as he said spoke, something clicked into place in his mind. How had he not seen it before? It was as though he had finally found a piece of the puzzle that had been in the pile right in front of him but had eluded him until he had picked it up by chance.
"That's right. You always did take care of us. But, when it comes down to it, we never took care of you."
He stepped across so he was standing right before her, his face alive with his sudden realisation. "That's right. It's shameful, but we never looked after you the same way you looked after us. If we had done you wouldn't have come out here to be alone would you?"
He screwed his face up, disgusted with himself. "I guess it was just too easy for us to see you as an unshakable mother figure who couldn't be fazed by anything. We forgot that you were human too, with you own doubts and painful memories."
"Oscar, don't. It wasn't your responsibility to …" Catherine trailed off as he carried on talking.
"There's nothing I can say to make up for not seeing that side of you. But I promise you Miss O'Hara, if you come with us now that will change." He suddenly grabbed her hands and held them in his own. "We'll take care of you just as you've always taken care of us. We'll defend your happiness just like it was our own base camp. So come on Miss O'Hara. Say you'll stay with us."
Something seemed to falter in her then. A trace of uncertainty flickered across her features. She suddenly looked like a little girl who had been offered a ride on the pony of her dreams and wasn't sure if she dared accept it. For the briefest moment, Oscar thought they had convinced her but then the defeat flooded back into her expression and she hung her head again.
"I know you would do your best Oscar," she said. "But still…I can't."
"You can Miss O'Hara!" Oscar insisted, clutching her hands tighter as he pressed her. "I know you can."
"No. No I can't! Stop it!" Catherine ripped her hands out of Oscar's and turned away from him. "This isn't fair!" she shrieked. "Stop trying to change my mind!"
Taken aback, Oscar drew away. This wasn't the scolding tone of a teacher. It was the petulant demands of a spoiled teenager desperate to have her own way.
"Listen to me!" she said. "My decision is final. I have to live alone from now on. It was a heart-wrenching choice to make but I put a lot of thought into it and decided that this was the way things had to be. How many times are you going to make me tell that to you? Why can't you just respect my decision!?"
Her knotted fists gripped the duvet tightly. She looked ready to rip it in half in sheer frustration.
"I've told you over and over. The time I spent with you boys was wonderful. But those days are over now and we must part." Her shoulders relaxed a little and she closed her eyes. They barely heard the next words she spoke.
"I can't let myself be vulnerable again. That pain…that dreadful pain…"
For a moment there was silence. Then Emile stood bolt upright. When reflecting on it later, Oscar wasn't sure what had set his brother off. Perhaps it was the realisation that their final chance to bring her back with them had finally dribbled away. Whatever the case, he had stridden across the room, leaned in close to Catherine and started to scream in her face.
"Oh Miss O'Hara, will you shut up about your pain!?"
She gawked at him, mouth helplessly opening and closing like a fish. Both she and Oscar were too stunned to react. Emile stared her down, his body heaving with the anger that he was struggling to contain.
"You've suffered a lot Miss O'Hara. But in case you haven't noticed so has everyone else! In tough times like these, people die and lose things that are special to them. That's just the way things are. But what's the point of even living if we spend every day worried about the pain the future will bring?"
He flung a trembling arm behind him, gesturing at his brother. "Look at Oscar! He calls himself a coward but he's actually the bravest person I know since he stands by his weak sick brother no matter what! See that scar on his head?" He patted his own temple, in the place where his brother's scar was. "He got that wrestling with a pit bull which had attacked me! And he's becoming a doctor for my sake alone even though he can't stand the sight of blood! Hell, he even signed up with the militia and fought in a war, just so he could protect me!"
His voice lowered, took on a tone of fondness. "He did all these things even knowing that he could lose me any day. With my health we never know when my body will finally give up for good. But Oscar's not worried about the pain of losing me. He stands by me no matter what because he cares for me. Because we make each other's lives worth living."
He shoved a finger into her face, voice rising again. "I guess you can't see things Oscar's way. Instead you're more like Nonnenkof. You said earlier that he was just a fool who let the events of the past destroy any hope he had for a happy future. But how are you any different? All both of you did was to come to rot in this god-forsaken wasteland, dwelling on painful memories and letting them keep you from moving forward with your lives.
"Those memories drove him to a pointless attempt at revenge but in your case the one the memories are harming is you yourself. You're so afraid of getting hurt that you won't even risk building another life for yourself with those your love.
Eyes blazing, he leaned towards her, fists clenching and unclenching. "If you want to stay here and rot like that pathetic Imp then we can't stop you. You were the closest thing to a mother we ever had and losing you were be the worst thing that has ever happened to us. But nevertheless we'll learn to live with it. We'll try to move on and live our lives as best as we can without you. I don't know how, but we will. Because we have the courage to face the pain. Unlike you."
He spat the last two words, then turned his back on her, arms furiously folded. Oscar found his jaw hanging off his face, his body useless with shock. Catherine, still sat on the bed, had turned away from them so that they could no longer see her face. When she spoke, her words were barely a whisper.
"I think you boys had better leave now."
Emile stood there smouldering for a moment longer. But then he sharply snatched up their pack and slung it over his shoulder. "I guess that's it then. Come on Osc, let's go. I think we've outstayed our welcome."
He spun on his heel and headed straight for the door. Before he stepped out he turned back one final time.
"I guess we never were your boys after all."
With that, he headed out the door and was gone.
Oscar didn't know what to do. He cast his gaze helplessly between the open door and Catherine's motionless form. Pure desperation surged through his veins but he had no inspiration to go with it. No great idea of how to rescue the situation. It seemed that there was nothing left to do but walk away.
"Goodbye Miss O'Hara," he eventually said. After everything – all the battles they had fought through, the lessons she'd taught them, all the cups of tea they had shared – this final farewell seemed horrendously anti-climatic.
She merely tipped her head to him in response. She stayed as still and silent as a stuffed dummy as Oscar followed his brother out the door.
***
No sooner had the door closed behind Oscar then the wave of guilt crashed over her like a tsunami. She tried to stand up, but her legs went weak and she collapsed back on to the bed again. She lay there with a hand clutched to her heaving chest, upset to the point of hyperventilating.
Come on now. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Tears are no good to anyone.
Once she had her breathing under control she felt her heartbeat slow again and her composure gradually return to her. But then she pinched the bridge of her nose in self-loathing when she remembered her demand for them to leave and Emile's cruel parting shot.
'I guess we never were your boys after all.'
Those words had wounded her more than Nonnenkof's shotgun had.
What a horrid way to end it with them. He didn't have to use such harsh words. She sighed out loud. But I suppose I deserved it.
That hadn't been the way she had wanted to see them off. But at least it had been efficient. She would have had to send them away eventually – perhaps an abrupt break like this was the right way to do it, rather than a dragged-out, tearful farewell. Rip off the plaster in one swift motion, that was the best way.
Anyway, they're gone now. You got what you wanted.
She took a gaze at her cabin. Now that the boys had left, it looked lonelier than ever. With her beloved teapot gone there was very little of her own identity in the place. It was a living space, not a home. A desolate room for a lonely woman to live alone and brood on painful memories for the rest of her life, never to be disturbed by the people she had once called friends. Was this what she had wanted when she came out here? This living death?
Yes. When you're living in death there's no more pain.
And no joy either.
That's fine. That is the price I will pay for a peaceful life.
She crossed the room to pick up the broom she kept propped by the wardrobe. The floor didn't need sweeping since the boys had done a thorough job of that earlier, but she was desperate for a distraction. She snatched it up and started to sweep wildly, gripping the handle so tightly that her knuckles went white.
It was the right decision. You did what you needed to do.
She carried on sweeping the same spot over and over. Her brush-strokes intensified, as though she was trying to dig up the floor rather than clean it. She pushed harder and harder, as though the task could somehow salve her conscience.
And then she felt it. Something so terrible and familiar.
It was the pain, welling up inside her so undeniably. This was how it began – the sensations were the same as she remembered. The sickly feeling of blood draining from her face, the nauseous tightening of her jaw, the sudden emptiness inside her as her soul shielded itself.
And above all of that, the feeling that some essential part of her had been unceremoniously wrenched out, never to be replaced.
Why? Where is this wretched feeling coming from?
The answer was obvious.
They're gone and they're not coming back. They're out of your life forever now. It's as though they died. No wonder you're feeling the pain of loss again.
She slapped herself on the temple. No, that's wrong! There's a huge difference between someone leaving you and them being dead forever. It's not like with Mother and Father or Marsha. When I lost them I knew there was nothing left for them. But with the boys, I can rest easy knowing that somewhere else, they will be leading happy lives.
But could she? She recalled Emile's dismal words from earlier. 'We'll try to move on and live our lives as best as we can without you. I don't know how, but we will.'
They'll be all right, even if they don't know it yet. They have each other to rely upon. They'll be fine.
Yet she couldn't convince herself that that was true. How could she say that they would be fine when they were living alone in the cruellest age that Europa had ever seen? This was the age that had brought her a lifetime's worth of grief by the age of thirty-five. The age which had seen the untimely deaths of her mother, father and best friend. The age which had stolen the places she had called home twice over.
An age where an Imp could just totter up to your door and demand your lives for his vengeance…
How can I possibly say that they'll be fine when they would have died today if it wasn't for me?
Her chest suddenly tightened and she began to panic. How can I abandon them so brutally when they are all alone in this cruel world with no-one to take care of them? Emile said I was the closest thing they had ever had to a mother. Am I taking their only parent away from them, just like my own parents were taken from me?
In protecting myself from the pain of loss, am I simply passing it on to them?
The broom slipped from her grasp and clattered on to the floor as she came to the realisation.
Without me, the boys have no guardian to protect them. And without them my own life is as worthless as Helmut Nonnenkof's corpse.
She turned around and looked at the door. She suddenly thought of Oscar, remembered what Emile had said about him before. How his devotion to his brother never wavered, no matter how close he came to Death's doorstep. How he loved him, despite the pain that was never far away.
Do I have even a shred of that courage left in me?
***
The last of the evening sun had faded away by now, making the precarious mountain path more difficult to follow than ever. Oscar wasn't paying proper attention to his footing and he slipped several times, bloodying his palms. He barely noticed the pain and picked himself up automatically each time. The emotions that were swirling around his head like frantic river eddies meant he had little mind for anything else.
Just ahead Emile was setting a relentless pace. He refused to wait, or even look back at him, simply striding ahead with his head down and one hand on the strap of his pack. Cleary he was in no mood for talking and they didn't speak as they made their way down the mountain.
We failed. We couldn't bring her back to us.
The disappointment was crushing. Catherine had been such a vital presence in their life, ever since they had first met her. For their whole lives they had been without a mother, yet she had slotted into that role so neatly. With all the love and knowledge she had showered on them, they had finally realised just what they had been missing all these years as orphans.
Now they would have to face up to a life without her. And Oscar was inclined to blame someone. As soon as he had caught up with his brother he grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him roughly around.
"Just where the hell did that come from!?" he yelled in his face. "How dare you talk to Miss O'Hara that way!"
Emile glared back at him, furious and unrepentant despite the tears streaming from his eyes. "It's so stupid," he said. "She's going to be lonely and unhappy for the rest of her life and there's nothing we can do about it."
"Yeah and I'm sure that little speech of yours really helped!" Oscar shouted. "Did you even want her to come back with us? It didn't sound like it to me!"
"Shut up!" Emile came back at him. "It's not my fault! Everything I said was true."
"I don't care!" Oscar yelled, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck. "You blew the last chance we had of bringing her back."
Emile gasped. His brother had never laid a hand on him this way before. His face quickly became defiant again though and he didn't bother to struggle.
"You're just lucky it's you," Oscar growled. "If anyone else had said those things to her, I would have…"
"You'd have what?" Emile demanded. "You'd have hit me? Well if it makes you feel better then go ahead!" He jutted his head at him, goading him to throw a punch.
"Boys."
The word came from nowhere. But the tranquil voice that spoke it was unmistakable.
"Boys. Please stop fighting."
The boys turned to her wondrously. Her calm instruction had quenched their anger like cold water on a campfire.
Catherine stood there on the trail behind them. There could only see her by the light of the moon and the stars and yet it was definitely her. Her short dark hair blew about her face in the calm night breeze and, as ever, her rifle was hung over her shoulder. She stood there as still and as solemn as the statues of the Valkrur outside of Castle Randgriz. Suddenly the path had gone silent, as though even the birds and crickets were anticipating her next words with bated breath.
"Emile, you were right," she said. "I'm as pathetic as that horrid Imp was."
"No, Miss O'Hara…" Emile started. She cut off his apology with a raised hand.
"Nonnenkof's painful past drove him to harm those who he believed had wronged him," she continued. "But I'm even worse than he was. For I let my past harm those whom I love most dear in the whole world." She snorted ironically at herself. "Which is rather funny really, considering that the very first time we met I told you that protecting my friends at all costs was the code by which I lived." She gave her head a disgusted shake.
"I'm a weak woman. A hypocrite. And a selfish coward. I don't deserve for anyone to depend on me. But so long as there are people who do, it is my duty to protect them with every fibre of strength in my heart and soul. No matter the fear. No matter the pain."
Her eyes flashed at them, alive with sincerity.
"And of all things, I can't…I mustn't be the one to cause them pain."
She dipped her head and clamped her hand over her mouth, desperately fighting back tears. "How could I ever leave you boys? You were the best pupils I have ever had, so eager to learn and to use that knowledge for righteousness. Teaching you gave me more pleasure that I could have ever thought possible in the middle of a war. You made me the best Catherine O'Hara I had ever been.
"In the end you were more than pupils to me. You were my boys. And I think I could live another life so long as it's with you."
She closed her eyes, hung her head in disgrace. "I've let you down so badly. I've betrayed the trust you had in me. I have no right to ask you to take me back into your lives. But if you do I promise I will be stronger. Because you boys make me strong…" Her voice cracked as the tears finally spilled from her eyes.
"And you boys…you boys," she stuttered. "More than anything, you make me happy."
She couldn't go on. On the final word she choked and the tears finally overcame her. They rolled down her cheeks in torrents, glinting in the evening starlight. Then she stumbled and fell to her knees, eyes crinkling up, palms flying to cover her face. Her rifle fell off her shoulder to clatter to the ground by her feet.
"Miss O'Hara…" Oscar breathed in wonder. Throughout her speech the brothers had listened, memorised as her heart had said its piece. They had recognised this woman. That sincere voice. Her strong, yet elegant, poise. Those blue eyes of crystallized compassion. This wasn't the Catherine O'Hara the coward who had fled to the mountains. This was the Catherine O'Hara the soldier. The teacher. Their eternal guardian angel.
The Catherine O'Hara they loved.
The sound of the rifle hitting the dirt broke Oscar out of his stupor. He ran down by her side and caught her in his arms, pulling her close with the strength of a son's love, denied up until now.
"Don't call yourself pathetic Miss O'Hara!" he implored her as she sobbed into his shoulder. "Just don't! You're not weak for caring as much as you do."
Suddenly Emile was there too, having ditched the pack aside to throw his arms around Catherine from behind. "That's right. It's the way you care so much that makes you as special as you are. How could we hate you for that?"
"Yeah," said Oscar. "You're so precious to us and we would never turn you away. We love you Miss O'Hara. You're our family."
She gasped. She was too choked up to reply but just clung to him tighter. Oscar ran a soothing hand down her back, the simple motion letting her know that no words were necessary. Together the two brothers held her tightly, protectively, knowing that from now on she would depend on their strength just as they had always depended on hers. She was more than the Catherine they had come to know now. Somehow, having seen her vulnerabilities, she seemed more human to them. They understood what lay in the depths of her soul – those fragile parts of her that she had always kept hidden inside. Accepting those made their love for her more true than ever.
Catherine continued to cry for a long time afterwards. The brothers held her until her last tear had fallen.
A/N – Been ages since I've updated…really, really sorry about that. Two and a bit months for an update really isn't on so I apologise, but I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
Epilogue up soon!