After the first week of being alone, the women quickly settled into routine. There were a few tense moments, but it was otherwise uneventful.
Lucy puffed away at a cigarette as she watched Anya's finger nimble pluck over an old blouse, well, shirt. One of the boys' shirts Wicki had given her. "You could just-" A daring glance was cast at her, and the older woman fell momentarily silent, knowing the girl wouldn't part with it. "Just a suggestion, dear."
With her blue eyes softened, Anya went back to work, muttering her apologies just loud enough for her friend to her. The lingering feeling of doubt crept into her mind as she ran the needle through the thin white fabric, mending with little second thought.
-In Britain there was more important matters being taken care of.
Aldo cocked a brow at the man in front of him, "Operation what?"
"Keno," Fenech corrected, seeming agitated with either the man's uneducated accent or confusion. "You will attend a German movie premier and-"
"Blow up the theatre." Stiglitz said, shrugging, "no problem."
Wicki nodded his agreement, "I take we will have an escort."
"That's correct, Archie Hicox shall be accompanying you."
Smithson let out a breath of relief, pleased, no over-fucking-joyed that he didn't have to be a part of this. From the look on Omar's face, the younger man agreed with him.
"Hicox, huh?" Aldo was fiddling with his snuff container. Not a good sign. "He on the level?"
"Of course," Fenech replied, seeming some what offended by the remark, "I wouldn't put any one incompetent in a position of such importance, Lt."
The Southern man didn't seem to buy that, but strayed from the topic none the less. "Anythin' else we should know?"
"You will be accompanied by Bridgette Von Hammersmark-"
"The actress?" Wicki asked, shocked as his dark brown eyes widened, "what's she got to do with all this?"
"Well, Miss Von Hammersmark has been kind enough to play nice with the enemy. She's one of our top spies within the SS."
Hugo didn't seem to pleased with the idea of putting all their faith in some actress, but Omar and Smithson were hardly paying attention.
"So," Omar leaned over, whispering, "you ask her?"
"Ask her what?"
"You know," The man's round face eyed him playfully, "to come back with you."
"You want to talk about this now?"
"Of course."
Utivich shook his head, "no I didn't ask her."
"Why not?"
"I don't know, wasn't the right time I guess."
Omar rolled his eyes, "well, when is it gonna be the right time, because-"
"Are we boring you, gentlemen?"
The pair turned to face the British man, both blushing slightly as Donny piped up. "Don't know 'bout them, but yer borin' the fuck outta me, sir."
-
The days continued to drone by, and Anya found herself struggling to master the basics of knitting. Her fingers had always been naturally nimble, but this was ridiculous. Lucy eyed her technique with pity as she continued to darn socks.
The girl would be lucky if she ever completed a blanket. "Everything alright, Anya?"
"Ja." She nodded, the action more confidant than she actually felt. The Brit supposed it was stubbornness rather than honesty. "Ven-"
"Two more weeks," Lucy answered, already knowing what the question would be. She smiled teasingly at her, "don't you enjoy my company?"
"Ja, I do, is just…" A helpless shrug was given rather then an answer and the older woman put a hand on her shoulder.
"It'll be fine."
-
It was that very same day Zimmerman was struck down and killed.
The men buried him just outside a courtyard, in a grave just deep enough not to be considered shallow. They gathered around and uttered a few things they remembered about him. The only thing that came to mind was his wife, Ruth, and how they hoped they would be happy together in death.
-
Smithson paced back in forth as he remembered how close he had been to being killed. It could've just as easily been him; they were standing only feet apart. He raked his hands through his hair, tangling them painfully.
"Finally going to do it then?"
He spun to face Wicki. Nodding he swallowed the lump in his throat, "I have to."
"No you don't," he reasoned, smirking, "you just want to."
"I do."
"You love her?"
A nod.
"Why can't you say it?" The man asked.
Smithson sighed, "I don't know. I do, I just…nobody in my family really says it. My dad never did. My mom never does. Miriam says it all the time-at least she did when I was still home."
Wilhelm made an understanding noise. "You think they won't like her?"
Utivich chuckled, "I know they won't like her, I don't really care whether they do or not. It's just…she hasn't said it to me either."
"So?"
"So, the guy can't say it first, it doesn't work like that.
Wicki gave him a pointed look, "Donowitz tell you that?"
"Maybe."
"Never take advice from Donowitz. That's just stupid. If you love, tell her. Before you end up with a hole in the head like Zimmerman."
-
"'Ow did you and Greg be meeting?"
Lucy had gotten used to odd use of pronouns and verbs, but she smiled at the topic. "We went to school together." Anya stared at her, expecting more details that she seemed happy enough to give. "We went to high school together, he was in my math class."
The young woman smiled demurely at her, "vere you sure?"
"Was I sure what, dear?"
"Z'at he vus your one."
Lucy blinked at her. "Not at first. At first I thought he was an idiot, but I suppose that's how most couples start."
"And zen?" Her blue eyes peered innocently at the woman as she continued to unroll wool from its spool.
"And then everything just…fell into place I suppose." Lucy smiled contently. "Why?"
"I vus just vondering."
"About Utivich?"
A fine blush line her cheeks as she dropped her gaze. "Ja."
"I thought so. He's a sweet kid." The Brit nodded, "cows don't like him though."
The girl's giggle bounced off the walls as she recited the story to her.
A/N: sorry for the lack of updates and anya/Smithson! But its essential they be apart for a bit. If any of you guys can give me tips for writers block, it'd be appreciated.