Petal in the Rain
Chapter 13 – Brothers in Arms
When hope and love has been lost
And you fall to the ground
You must find a way
When the darkness descends
And you're told it's the end
You must find a way
Face the firing squads
Against all the odds
You will find a way.
-Muse
The further north James flew, the bleaker the weather became. In the distance he could see the outline of tall London buildings contrasting against the orange-grey sky, as well as its dull reflection on the Thames River. Squinting from behind his goggles, James thought he could even see Big Ben rising from the heart of the historic city, a beacon for lost pilots. He imagined in another ten minutes he'd likely be flying over it.
A moody setting, yet James couldn't help but admire the morose beauty from his lonely place 10,000 feet up in the air. He shifted his eyes forward, making sure he was still following the squadron leader's Hawker, then to the side, where he saw a familiar Spitfire.
It was still eerily quiet. The gentle hum from his engine and from those planes flying around him provided the only noise; a noise which James found strangely comforting. It was almost like a mechanical lullaby, dangerously luring him into a sense of security that didn't exist.
James' eyes became unfocused as they drifted to his dashboard, tracing over the tattered tabloid photograph of him carrying the delicate frame of a pretty redhead.
"I don't want you to go," Lily said breathlessly, her emerald eyes overflowing with fresh tears as James pulled her close to his chest, resting his chin on her head as he looked out into the misty distance, willing himself to stay strong.
"I'm going to come back for you," James whispered into her ear, his voice barely audible over the soft rain. "I promise."
James' handsome face, roguishly unkempt since his recruitment, broke into a pained scowl as the memory. Ever since he had left Lily that rainy afternoon, he'd doubted his decision to join the air force. Riding in the back of the army jeep, watching the men that climbed aboard depart from their families, he wondered why he was leaving behind someone it had taken him nearly twenty years to find.
James fingered the photograph, taking it from the plane dash and tucking it into the breast pocket of his B-10 jacket. She begged me to stay and I left her…
The radio on the dashboard began to make a scratchy, fizzled noise, wheezing in and out of existence. James sighed, snapping his attention back to his plane, and banged it with his hand, making the annoying sound even more pronounced than before.
"How do muggles come up with these ridiculous contraptions?" James grumbled, inexpertly playing with the dial on the radio, which provided him with no results. "Rubbish thing must be broken."
Thinking a small spell wouldn't cause enough alarm to get he and Sirius caught by magical authorities, James reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thin, mahogany wand and tapped it on the radio, muttering: "Reparo."
It took only a second for the radio to begin working properly. A fevered voice suddenly sounded in the cockpit, "…ARE EVERYWHERE! CAN SEE FORTY OR FIFTY, FLYING ABOVE CLOUD LINE, HEADING TOWARD CITY, WE'VE GOT TO CUT THEM OFF BEFORE THEY START DROPPING BOMBS—"
"FUCK!" James exclaimed, looking up from the radio, which was still frantically shouting out instructions. He spotted his squadron leader and the accompanying troop sharply turning to the left, wings vertical to the ground below.
James' heart began to beat fiercely and sweat beaded on his brow as he pulled back on the steering mechanism and jerked it to the left, his body lurching to the right as he struggled to catch up with the rest of the fleet. He urged the plane to speed up until he was closely tailing the fleet, which took another sharp turn to the left. James looked out the window and realized he was flying right above the city…
"GUNS AT THE READY, REMEMBER THE FORMATION, TRY TO TAKE OUT THE DORNIERS AND THE JUNKERS THAT CARRY THE BOMBS, WATCH OUT FOR ESCORTS—"
The quiet was suddenly gone, along with James' daydreams. It was more like a nightmare now.
Heading straight for them were row upon row of Luftwaffe planes, all of different size and colour. Bigger planes—the bombers—were flanked with many smaller escort planes designed to protect them from enemy fire. They dotted the murky purple sky, moving ominously forward like Spartan foot-soldiers filling it with a pervading rumble which could only be likened to distant thunder.
Like a tornado, the Germans began to rip through London.
Gunfire soared through the air in every direction, like a shower of spell work, and the planes in front of James began to turn in opposite directions, left and right, up and down, in an attempt to escape the oncoming fire and find a new point of attack.
James propelled upward into a patch of clouds as a sprinkling of bullets barreled toward him, flicking the capsules covering the buttons that would trigger his gunfire up and tightening his grip on the steering mechanism. Taking a deep breath, James angled the wheel and began rapidly descending.
As he broke from the cloud cover he saw the German fleet directly below him. He began to fire at one of the largest planes, a Messerschmitt Bf-110. Other RAF planes were approaching the German fleet from opposite angles, taking shots at the bigger bomber air crafts or flying away from the main fleet with enemy crafts on their tail.
In all the confusion, James got in a few hits to one of the Messerschmitt wings before two escort Focke Wolfe planes broke off from their formation and began to ascend toward him in a wave of gunfire, the black Nazi symbol on their tails prominently contrasting their silver bodies.
"MERLIN'S SHIT!" James shouted in alarm, one of the bullets going through the glass in his cockpit and lodging in the leather of his seat above his shoulder.
James yanked on the steering and sent his Hawker into a 360 degree roll to the right in order to pull himself out of enemy fire. Plunging into more cloud cover didn't help, for when James straightened out, ready to maneuver back into an attack position, he looked into his rear-view mirrors and saw the two fighter planes closely following him.
Bullets began to rain over the head of the cockpit, making high-pitched snaps as they soared by, and James swore when a few scraped against his wings, peeling back strips of the metal. Moving the plane erratically from side to side, trying to make it more difficult for the planes behind him to get a clear shot, James wracked his brain to try and formulate a plan.
The battle had barely begun and his chances of survival already seemed slim. Another bullet skimmed the glass above James' head, making it further crack: "BUGGER!"
"OI, POTTER! DO THE WOOLLONGONG SHIMMY UNTIL I GET UP TO YOU!"
James's eyes widened as he looked down at his dashboard and saw Sirius' concreted, yet frazzled face appear in the little mirror that had been tacked beside the radio, "SIRIUS? WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT—"
"SHUT UP AND DO AS I SAY!" Sirius ordered raucously. His little image was looking forward, hands trickily managing the steering in his Spitfire; James guessed he was seeing out of the magical mirror on Sirius' dashboard. "JUST PRETEND WE ARE PLAYING QUIDDITCH!"
"YOU ARE ONE SNEEKY IDIOT, BLACK!" James shouted back, his crazed voice carrying a hint of amusement. "HERE IT GOES!"
Though he wasn't on a broom stick, James attempted to pull off a difficult high-speed zigzagging maneuver that was used by Chaser's in Quidditch to throw off other Chasers. Jerking the plane to the extreme right, then left, than up and down, James was able to confuse the Wolfes to the point where they struggled to get a clear shot.
"IT'S WORKING!" James exclaimed in wild relief, though he was beginning to feel slightly nauseous from the erratic movements. "Can you get a clear shot?"
"I'm on their trail…I don't think they see me because of your spastic flying…I might hit you if I take a shot...dip down, then do the Porskoff Ploy and I'll get them as you ascend again," Sirius replied, his little image breaking into a mischievous grin.
"When did you become so smart?" James demanded comically, though his concentrated face looked strained as he slanted the plane dangerously downwards, the two German planes on his trail, then abruptly sloped it back up again, causing the pressure in the cabin to rise and his ears to pop.
"I've…always…been…SMART!" Sirius roared, shooting rapidly once James' plane soared above his so that the two planes following flew into the gunfire without even realizing it.
Both Wolfes burst into flames, one of the fuselages crumpling in half because of the on-board explosion, and spun toward the ground, leaving a wake of angry black smoke. The display was surreal, yet horrifying.
"YES!" James bellowed exuberantly, hooting with triumphant laughter as he leveled his plane alongside Sirius'. "I knew I put you on the Quidditch team for a reason!"
"YA BABY!" Sirius hollered in excitement, his smile brilliant on the mirror on James' dashboard. "What do you say we go kick some Nazi ASS, Jamsie-boy!"
"I'm thinking a Parkin's Pincer next!" James responded. He was scared before, and there was still a degree of apprehension, but with Sirius fighting beside him and the adrenaline of his first take down pumping through his veins like an euphoria elixir, James was eager for more. "Let's sandwich that Dornier!"
"Now we're talking!" Sirius grinned, his school-boy eyes shining with thrill. "I'll take the right—"
James and Sirius dipped back below the cloud line, expecting to find a similar scene as the one they just departed from minutes ago, but the dreary grey and purple had diffused to black and orange.
London was on fire.
The city was blotched with orange-red fire that emitted opaque, polluted smoke. The air was a sooty black mess, the ground patched with destruction. The faint ringing of sirens floated from the city and mingled with the roar of plane engines. The RAF was in a frenzy, attempting to attack the German bomber planes and dodge oncoming gunfire from the escorts.
"Merlin…" James whispered, the excitement that had coursed through him dissipating and filling with horror at the fiery scene before him. The dogfight was barely registering in his brain; all he could see was the devastation on the ground, the smoke swirling around Big Ben, the Thames reflecting the fire that burned on its shores…
"Potter!"
It was as if a thousand small spiders had crawled down his spine and left a trail of ice. He wasn't sure if he was breathing or if he ever could again. James was paralyzed in terror.
Lily is down there.
"JAMES, COMMON MATE, PAY ATTENTION!" James could hear Sirius' voice, but the sound was diluted, as though his ears had filled with blood and it was blocking out all the noise and commotion. "YOUR GOING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?"
She's down there by herself…she isn't protected…there isn't a bomb shelter in the school…I've got to get down there now…I should just apparate…
"JAMES BLOODY POTTER, WOULD YOU SNAP OUT OF IT AND—!"
There was a loud, perfunctory crack. The abruptness of it, coupled with the silence of Sirius' voice, made James flinch and duck his head; he'd almost forgotten he was still in the air. He looked up, sweaty hands grappling the Hawker's steering apparatus, looking to see if a bullet from an enemy fighter plane had ricocheted off of his windshield, but found the glass was unblemished.
More alert, James surveyed the battle happening all around him and made a split-second, desperately selfish decision. "Sirius? I've got to land and get to Lily; I need you to watch my back."
Silence—filled with the growl of engines, the systematic chug of bullets being spewed from machine guns, and the pitter patter of distant bombs connecting with the ground—followed James' request, making him feel ill. The tingling along his spine was only getting worse. He looked at the mirror on his dash, knocking it desperately with his fist, but didn't see Sirius' scrunched up face.
"Sirius?" James questioned, awkwardly crooking his head to the right, where Sirius' Spitfire was supposed to be flying; the scene that met him was, possibly, more horrifying than the previous.
The camouflaged body of the airplane, which only momentarily was agilely maneuvering amongst the clouds, was barreling towards the English Channel as fast as gravity and velocity would allow, a swirl of smoke issuing from the tail. The silhouette of the jumping dog Sirius had painted was perpendicular to the earth, leaping to its fate.
"NO!" James bellowed, distraught, his eyes widening and his heart hammering so fast it was ready to leap out of his chest. "I'M COMING, SIRIUS!"
James pulled up hard on the throttle, his knuckles a searing white as he angled the plane sharply downwards toward Sirius', which had begun spinning out of control. He grit his teeth together, an aggressive growl resounding as the sudden pressure change made his ears pop and pushed hard against his rib cage.
The bulb in the pressure gauge began to flash red and a quick warning beep filled the cabin. James took no notice, his intense brown eyes, swelling with frantic tears, fixated on the doomed plane before him.
I can't lose him…my brother…
Again, James' surroundings had disappeared. He wasn't up in the air anymore, manipulating a mechanical bird toward a watery death; instead, he was holding onto his memories like they were diamonds.
James was running down a hallway with big windows that allowed the afternoon sunshine to fill the space with its yellow brilliance. He was only a child, dressed in exquisite play clothes that had dirt and grease smudged all over them; his sopping trainers were leaving muddy shoe prints all over the Persian carpets. James was laughing uncontrollably, dashing down the corridor with a young Sirius in his wake, who was running after him with a garden snake clasped in his chubby hands. They both darted into a closet at the end of the hallway, collapsing into the mess of brooms and sponges in a fit of giggles.
"I think we lost them!" James gasped happily, tears of mirth running down his flushed cheeks.
"You bet we did! What do you say we put this wee fella in your parent's bed?" Sirius was cackling madly, his hair haphazard and his face alive with a smile that was missing a few teeth. "We can blame it on the house elves!"
James beamed at his dirt-spattered counterpart, taking the snake from Sirius and examining it. "You know, we make a good team. I've never pulled such pranks in my whole life. My mother will be furious when she finds out what we did to her tentacula!"
"Of course we do. We're best friends, aren't we?" Sirius replied matter-of-factly, rummaging around in the closet. "Help me find a bucket, I've got an idea."
James paused thoughtfully, watching the boy grope his way through the cleaning supplies; he was too bewildered to help him look.
"Yeah…we're best friends."
Sirius didn't notice, preoccupied with the reptile he'd re-appropriated, but James' pre-pubescent face communicated pure elation, a grin spanning from one ear to the other.
He had never had a friend before.
James didn't falter or hesitate; he didn't second guess his choice, fearing consequence. Sirius' Spitfire was nearing a thousand feet at an alarming speed, James close on his tail. The smoke billowing from the gunned-down plane made seeing nearly impossible, but James didn't care.
James unstrapped his safety belts, pulled out his wand and pointed it at the cockpit's roof. "BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"
The glass shattered into a million tiny shards. James was instantly flung backwards out of the plane, which he dimly saw swirling towards the ground alongside Sirius'.
Unperturbed by the ear-splitting whooshing in his ears, or by the fact he was free-falling toward his death, James inclined himself forward so that he was diving head-first toward the water. He felt no fear; his movement was controlled, his drive unyielding. Mustering all his strength and determination, James exhorted his wand arm forward, struggling to battle the heaviness that threatened to force his arm back to his side, pointing his wand at Sirius' plane.
At that moment, nothing else existed or mattered except Sirius.
"ARRESTO MOMENTUM!" James shouted, a silver spell gushing out of the tip of his wand and spurting, quicker than any muggle bullet, through the smoky atmosphere.
Come on Sirius, you can pull through this…we are going to be alright…
All he had now was hope. James closed his eyes, saying a quick prayer before he pulled the cord that unleashed his parachute.
Author's Notes
This chapter was exhilarating to write! I hope it wrenched your heart as much as it did mine. Thank you for continuing to Read & Review!
Much love,
pratty-prongs-princesse