Chapter 61: Love Lost, Love Found, Love Broken 6th February 1942
The Mallon household was not completely full at six o'clock that Friday evening, the youngest member of the house still yet to arrive home from work. Martin's day at work was done, having been home for just under twenty minutes by that point, nothing stopping him from finishing work on time to return to his family. His wife's day was only just beginning, Deirdre having agreed to work the night shift at the hospital that night, which meant she'd hadn't woken up until the early afternoon, in order to be prepared for it. She needed to be out for seven to get there in time, with dinner being made ready for just after six on purpose. However, it was looking like dinner wasn't going to be at the right time for some, Michelle yet to make it in.
"She's late…". Deirdre commented to her husband about it.
"Aye I know…". Martin replied, sighing. "… she won't have gone far though love, not without a good dinner in her belly".
As much as they were both worried for behaviour on nights out, Michelle always came home beforehand to give them the chance to at least know she was safe heading out. On one of the first dances she'd ever been to with the other girls, she hadn't told them where she was going and didn't come home first, leaving them worried sick. They'd berated her when she returned home later that night, staying up to give her a piece of their minds, and never again had Michelle disobeyed their ruling on it, not without prior warning. Sometimes she would eat at the Quinn's, but not without telling her parents what she was doing first.
Another five minutes passed until the front door finally opened, Deirdre's ears pricking up the moment that it did. She shot Martin a thankful smile, which he returned with a small one of his own. Happy that she'd made it back to work in time for dinner and safely, they were looking forward to seeing what she might have to say. After the previous weekend's near-argument, they'd not spoken to her that much other than with the customary good mornings and good evenings and enquiring how her day had been. There wasn't animosity as such, or Martin certainly wasn't attempting to create it at least, but both sides knew the other was annoyed, though any intervention would have to be driven by Michelle. Sticking to his guns, and making sure that his wife stuck to hers, they would wait for their daughter to talk to them about everything that'd been going on with the Americans rather than coax it out of her how Deirdre had originally intended.
They stayed in the kitchen whilst Michelle hung up her jacket, which was needed thanks to the showers that raged on and off all day. Not enough to properly soak anyone caught in them, but nowhere near light enough to get away without a jacket, it made for a bleak outlook over the city. An albeit familiar look to the place though, the everyday lives of the inhabitants of Derry were returning to normal after the initial buzz following the arrival of the Yanks. For the whole week there'd been a very different atmosphere to the city, one of hope and joy that the war might be turning in their favour. That hope was quickly extinguished by the harsh realities on the Eastern front, as Japan continued to pick off cities and territories, the Burman port taken as intended earlier that week. British interests were under enormous threat, with India not an unrealistic target over time for the Japanese, though a proper supply line would have to be established before attempting the feat.
Settling into their new barracks on land, or for the sailors, their ships that were docked at various points along the Foyle, the Yanks were gradually appearing less. They would still be allowed out at night on shore leave on a rotation basis, though that would soon be coming to an end as their training was ramped up a notch. It was a relief for the British soldiers, who were finally back to being in the eye of the local women when the Americans were unavailable. There was a certain shame attached to being with a Brit in a lasting relationship, though some had tried, but a one-night stand was perfectly acceptable to some of them. Sex before marriage was preached as a sin at church, but if Father Peter were to do a count of those who'd stuck to the teaching, he'd be left with Clare Devlin and very few others.
For once on a Friday, Michelle didn't look absolutely knackered when they first caught a glimpse of her. Although they knew she'd been working hard that week thanks to her telling them so on the Wednesday night, it appeared she'd recovered well. She'd been out the night before, they knew, though was back at a respectable time, indicating to them that perhaps she'd not been with an American that evening. The truth was different, she had been, but she was back earlier because he was the first fella she saw, and neither was willing to hang around. They'd not even been that discreet about it, using an alleyway off the infamous Pump Street to have sex in up against the wall before he returned to his barracks and she returned home, via a long walk through one of the parks. What Michelle hadn't realised was she'd been spotted leading the Yank down there by Joe, who was off to Pump Street himself. She hadn't seen him since though, a conversation waiting to be held with him should he decide to bring it up to her.
"How are ye love, yer lookin' well?" Deirdre enquired.
"Aye I'm feelin' it, Mammy". She replied, a grin on her face.
"Ye've had a good day then?"
Tilting her head to grin at her Da too, Michelle could have described her day as absolutely cracker if she wanted to, because it had been just that. There weren't too many days since the outbreak of the war which were, but that day was proving to be an exception. Entertainment wasn't something she was expecting to find whilst making uniforms for the servicemen of the country, but she'd found it when a scandal ensued on the shop floor. It was the sort of scandal that took a couple of years of off of the supervisor Meyler's life through the amount of sighing he ended up doing. Just the right amount of excitement for Michelle though, she couldn't wait to tell her parents.
"Oh aye, it was great. There was a right mess on the shop floor, so there was!"
"Mess?" Martin questioned. "Did someone drop their lunch or something?"
"No Daddy". She shook her head. "There was a fight, so there was. Fat Tina and thin Tina both have been seeing the same Yank and the fat one caught the thin one at it with the fella last night… well the trouble spilled into work too…".
Neither Martin nor Deirdre could say they were gossipers or enjoyed it, not matter how entertaining the story was supposed to be. He was already losing interest the moment that Michelle indicated a fight took place, knowing that it would be one of little significance and almost certainly over a man. Deirdre thought the same, but when Michelle cared so much about it then she wouldn't upset her by not giving her an ear to tell the story too.
"Christ, they hadn't got anything better to do?" Deirdre questioned.
"Ach they were goin' for each other's throats, so they were! It was dead funny, so it was, some of management had to come down and sort it out! Four blokes had to drag Fat Tina outside, so they did, she could not be moved!"
"Doesn't sound like she dropped her lunch". Martin sniggered.
"Martin!"
Giving a warning by his wife, he raised his hands in surrender, a cheeky grin that reminded her of his youthful days across his face. Michelle found his comment amusing though, chuckling away to herself whilst her Da was given a telling off. Deirdre's scowl was soon set on her though, but she was able to deflect it by continuing the story.
"The two of them have been suspended so they have… but that wasn't the end of it".
"Aye I bet it wasn't…".
Martin's comment was not appreciated by his wife again, who'd suddenly become quite invested in the story. She vaguely knew both of the women that her daughter referred, knowing that the thinner of the two was of a less… reputable nature. That woman shared a similarity with her own sister, both of them having disappeared to England for a while albeit her sister hadn't gone through with the abortion, as proven by James. They'd been lucky in Kathy's decision, as was the world in the thinner of the Tina's, because any offspring from her would likely have been trouble. Some people just shouldn't have been allowed to breed in Deirdre's mind, and that woman was one of them.
"Pair of eejits". Deirdre moaned, shaking her head. "No Yank is worth that much of an argument… no fella for that matter!"
"Not even me?" Martin asked, eyebrow raised in offence.
"As if you'd have ever let another woman as close to ye as ye did me". She scoffed.
"Aye, as if… but let's just… ye know, hypothetically say that there was…".
"Hypothetically… Christ Da, are ye feelin' well, that's a long word for you".
Rarely did Martin ever raise the middle finger of his right hand to a lady, but Michelle was asking for it with her comment. A playful gesture, he did so with a furrow of his brows which was comical at best, leaving Michelle howling with laughter at him. Deirdre was none too impressed with the display, beginning to become more irritated by her husband by the second. She wasn't too happy about him throwing hypothetical situations at her either, especially when it came to women. Her eyes hadn't always been on him, but she was certain his eyes were always on her, disheartened to hear of him inventing a scenario where another woman was involved, worried that there could have been or could still be.
"Well, if there was… or is another woman, then they'd need to run for it, so they would, because if I found them there'd be trouble".
"Ach come on love…". Martin tried to calm her down. "… it was a hypothetical situation. You know yer the only one for me".
Damn him, she thought to herself, Martin still having his way with words after more than twenty years. She couldn't resist but lean down to kiss her husband, who put a hand on her waist as she did, the two staying there for a moment to enjoy it. Displays of affection were rare in the house, but Martin wasn't above showing his wife how much he loved her still after all that time. Thoughts and feelings that were experienced only ever once in a while were rushing through Deirdre, who couldn't help herself but want to continue to snog the face off her handsome husband. Michelle thought very differently though, reminding them of her presence when she cleared her throat loudly next to them.
"Can ye not?"
"What?" Martin replied to her innocently after fighting Deirdre away from his lips. "This is what ye do when yer in love, Michelle".
"Ride each other in front of yer children?"
"No. When you are committed to someone, you show them that ye care by givin' them a wee kiss or having a cuddle on the sofa… or anything like that".
Instead of replying verbally, Michelle nodded to her Da to signal that she understood what he was saying. Any further follow up was stopped when Deirdre served up dinner, much to Michelle's relief, for two different reasons. The first of which being how hungry she was, having only eaten the lightest of lunches at work and having skipped breakfast entirely bar a cup of tea that morning. The second reason was one that was far more complex, requiring a thorough inspection of her own feelings to be able to explain. She didn't want to explain it to them, although the thought was more and more on her mind than ever since the arrival of the Americans. It was the word commitment in her Da's sentence, and the emphasis she'd convinced herself that he'd put on the word, which set the thoughts off for a second. Fearing staying loyal to one fella and one fella only, Michelle ran from the word as if it were the plague, which it certainly resembled in its habit of sticking around when it was not wanted. Sleeping with every Yank that she could get her hands on served to paper over the cracks of her own fears, sidestepping the problem at every possible turn.
What Michelle hadn't realised, was that the emphasis she thought that Martin put on the word commitment, was in fact deliberate. He might have told his wife that they would wait for Michelle to come to them when it came to talking about her future, but he was not going to sit around for too long. Long before, without informing either, he'd deduced why Michelle acted the way in which she did, leaving him to have to act as if he was just as clueless as his wife whenever they discussed it. Clear to him that she held issues when it came to commitment, it wasn't a tactic he wanted to have to resort to, but when she did not say a word in return and only nodded, it confirmed any doubts that he might have been wrong. His daughter's source of unhappiness being known to him for so long, he'd only not acted on it sooner out of the fear of a severe argument developing between the two. With her behaviour beginning to spiral out of control, as he'd discussed with his wife the weekend prior, he could wait no longer.
Throughout the consumption of dinner there was silence, Michelle doing her best not to look her Da in the eye at all. He didn't try any more than usual to get her attention, though Deirdre was doing her best to get either to find out what was going on. Aware of the atmospheric change around the table from the playful nature of them kissing and Michelle's intriguing work story, she'd not picked up on the emphasis her husband placed on the word commitment, nor noted Michelle's reaction to it. Instead, she was left wondering whether her daughter really was offended by the two sharing a kiss in front of her, without being able to understand why. To her right, Michelle was facing an internal battle not to say something to her Da when she desperately wanted to. So many times she'd thought about telling them the truth of her fears, only to shy away at the last second without the guts to do it.
That evening didn't appear as if it was the right one either, because once again when she went to find her voice as dinner finished, there were no words ready to come out. Confidence wasn't something she ever lacked, worrying her greatly when she couldn't find the means in which to express her feelings. Difficult conversations were ones that she tended to avoid if she could, especially when it came to fella's when it was with her parents, but she knew she couldn't run forever. Michelle Mallon, the loudest, most brazen young woman in the whole of Derry… and she couldn't even talk to her Ma and Da about something like that. She was more ashamed of herself than anything.
Martin wasn't giving up that easily though, and ever the quick thinker, he'd concocted a plan in his head to draw Michelle to the table… so to speak, considering she was already there.
"So, ye headin' out tonight love? Is there a dance on or the pub?"
He'd asked in a tone that was not unlike any other, but his eyes never left Michelle's, locked in as if he were attempting to look into her soul. Dislodged mentally by the way in which her Da approached with his question, Michelle hesitated for a moment in answering. When she'd woken up that morning, her plan for the night was to go out into the city and find herself another Yank, preferably a new one, and look for a quiet spot to ride him. The same basic plan as every other night bar the first one once they'd arrived, it was fairly easy to follow despite the deteriorating number of American servicemen being present at night in the city. One of the most good-looking young women in the whole of Derry, there would be a queue a mile long if every lad who admitted to wanting her, lined up in an orderly fashion.
That was the plan in the morning… but plans could change.
Plans were going to change.
"I… well… no actually". She replied, nerves making her teeth chatter. "Clare's not been feelin' too well this week and Orla wanted a night in with Marie".
Quick to justify her reason for not going out, Michelle cursed when she stopped and realised she'd forgotten one friend. Before she could rectify the mistake with another lie to explain why Erin wouldn't be able to go out either, Deirdre cut in to ask anyway, necessitating the lie to be created and giving her an extra couple of seconds to think about one which her mother would buy. It wasn't easy to guess what Deirdre would accept though, capable of surprising her family by changing her opinions and attitudes towards things at the drop of a hat.
"Ye could still go out with Erin, love…". Deirdre took her to task about the night. "I'm sure she'd appreciate it with just the two of you".
"She can't!" Michelle rushed into a response. "Mary's been actin' all funny this week about the Yanks apparently and won't let Erin out on a Friday night now. Strange, so it is but aye".
Mary Quinn was acting up all week when it came to the Americans, but only to lay down the law with Erin so that nothing untoward happened with any of them. To the matriarch of the Quinn family, they were trouble and brought more with them, the thought of an unwanted, out of wedlock child being brought into the family sickening her. However, she hadn't told Erin that she wouldn't be allowed at all, a total fabrication on Michelle's part. Martin listened to every single excuse that she gave, and although he could appreciate Orla's reasons for not going out, it was very clear that the other two were lies even if that was the truth.
"Right…". Martin spoke up first, his tone indicating that he didn't buy her reasoning. "That's a shame for ye love".
"Aye well… I… I…".
Floundering under a pressure which wasn't completely there, but wasn't non-existent either, Michelle first glanced over at her Mammy. Deirdre wasn't at all sure why she was struggling to speak so much, frowning back at her to confirm her lack of understanding when their eyes met. She was about to tell Michelle to spit it out, but her daughter's eye-contact changed over to her husband, who was fully aware of what was going on. If Michelle wanted to talk, he'd created the perfect setting for her to do so and he was ready to listen to her, even if it took all night. Finally, under his stare, the young Mallon decided to stop fighting her conscience and open up. She couldn't take another minute of the fears that she was holding without having someone else who could listen, and hopefully understand them.
"It… it isn't actually Da…". She told him, confidence returning to her. "I… I wanted to talk to ye… both of ye… about something".
A penny dropping moment occurred for Deirdre when she realised what Martin had done, though she wasn't a complete fan of it. In many ways he'd manipulated Michelle in order for her to talk to them despite his intentions being honest in wanting her to open up. She wasn't completely naïve though, and Michelle was always going to need a helping hand when it came to getting something off her chest. Her daughter didn't do difficult conversations, especially when it came to sex and relationships. She could still remember the day where she gave Michelle the talk, how awkward it was between the two of them for hours afterwards. A stark contrast to how she could be around her friends, where she would happily mouth off about her sexual conquests to anyone who wanted to hear them. Which was precisely no one.
"What do ye want to talk about love?" He enquired, smiling sweetly at her.
Deirdre stopped what she was doing, tidying up the place, in order to take a seat and be part of the talk too. Risking being late for work by her actions, she frankly didn't care when her daughter looked more vulnerable than she'd seen her in a long time. The last time they'd conversed with her in the same manner was just after James left, when her behaviour towards him required their intervention when it became clear she was taking her hostility towards him too far. That day they'd won out in the end as parents, though in person James never got to see the outcome of the work they'd done with Michelle. He'd seen her letter to him though, which had to be enough for them unfortunately.
"I… I…". Michelle stumbled her way through the start. "Feck...".
"Take ur time, Michelle". Deirdre offered her kinds of wisdom.
After a further deep breath, which seemed to exhale all of her demons along with it, Michelle properly opened up to them about her fears.
"Well, I know ye wanted to talk me last week Daddy and we never got the chance, right?"
"Aye I did love, but I could have waited". He responded calmly.
"I can't wait Daddy. I… I have to be honest with ye". Michelle still fought her nerves, which returned on a new wave of fear. "I suppose ye wanted to talk to me because of what's goin' on with the Yank lads?"
Both parents slowly nodded, encouraging her to do all of the talking, indicating that they would wait until afterwards to make any comment. She was the one who wanted to have the discussion when they were prepared to wait, even if beneath the surface, Martin ensured that it was a hurried along discussion. They wanted to hear all of her thoughts anyway, so that they could come up with their own pieces to say to her after, comfort and reassurances being their objectives. Michelle's happiness was all they sought.
What they were not prepared for, was her bursting out into tears before she said another word. Michelle cried very rarely, almost always confining her tears to funerals or times of great depression where there was no other choice. The latter was appropriate for that evening at the dinner table, the fears that plagued her mind finally let loose, but with them a hoard of tears that she didn't know existed until they seeped out. Rushing to her aid immediately, Deirdre threw her arms around her daughter, almost pulling her off of the chair in order to embrace her. Tears came to her eyes too, as they almost always did whenever Michelle was upset, caring for her so dearly. Some parents would give their children the cold shoulder by twenty-one, but that was not the Mallon way. They were a family who acted as one whether Michelle was one, twenty-one or forty-one. Her and Martin were always going to be there for her as long as they drew breath.
"Oh Michelle… what's wrong love…". Soft words dropped from Deirdre's lips. "Tell us…".
Trapped in her mother's embrace, Michelle could only just about see her father's facial expression, which surprised her. Instead of being one of confusion, he was offering her a soft smile, but more importantly a proper chance to have her say. He was not going to talk over her nor was he going to rush her into speaking. She was lucky to have Martin as her father… she'd thought it many times before but was validated in those thoughts once again.
"I'm scared Mammy, I… I'm scared and have been for ages and I…". She sniffled and sobbed her way through the explanation. "... I di-… I didn't know who to tell or… if… if I should…".
Michelle let the emotion out a little more before she continued, not missing the exchange of worried looks between her parents. She knew exactly where at least her mother's mind would go to, and quickly stopped sobbing in order to reassure her that it wasn't that. After everything that happened in the past with her Aunt Kathy as well as plenty of other friends of her mother's who'd followed similar paths, that wasn't why she was upset. New life in fact terrified her so much that she was always additionally careful with every fella that she slept with, to the point of finding a book at the library which listed alternative methods of contraception, one which must have been snuck in there given the nature of it.
"I'm not pregnant or anythin', if that's what yer thinkin'".
She turned her attentions to Deirdre, who let out a sigh of relief when her daughter spoke. If she was honest to herself, she never thought her daughter was in the first place, but after she'd burst into tears proclaiming she'd been scared for some time, it suddenly became the prime candidate for what was wrong. However, with it not being an unwanted pregnancy, she couldn't work out what it was unlike Martin who was sat in front of them waiting for Michelle to confirm to him what he already suspected. There was no such sigh of relief dropping from his lips when she spoke, nor did Michelle look over at him to gauge his reaction either.
"I… I've been doin' what I've been doin'… b-because… I… I… I'm scared of holdin' onto a fella. I… I don't know what to do, how to be a good partner or… wife. When I see a fella… I like the look of him but I don't normally go back for the same one… and now the Yanks are here and there's so many of them I… I guess I just wanted to cover myself so no one asked any questions".
There were few times where she'd indeed slept with the same fella more than once, the most notable being the Proddy lad she'd met up with for a time when James first came to Derry. She'd quickly became bored of sleeping with him, but there and then it highlighted a massive problem to her. Aside from sex, when she was with a fella, she didn't really know what to do. Trying to have a conversation with the Proddy lad was tough, as he was both thick as two planks and boring, but with the Yanks she found the same problem again. A couple of the fella's from America were clearly quite clever when they spoke to her before the deed was done, but afterwards she'd always sneak out from wherever they were or run off, her mind blank as to what else to say. One day she would have to settle down with a fella and marry, because that was how it was… and she was terrified of the day more than any Nazi or Japanese.
Her thoughts aired, her cries still echoing in the warm kitchen of the Mallon house, lit by the candles that Deirdre prepared earlier in the evening, Martin knew it was his time to do his duty as a father. Michelle was not going to leave the dining table without knowing how loved and supported she was, and how much that both he and Deirdre would help her. Pain might have been required to be able to force herself to say it, but he was glad to finally listen to the truth from his daughter rather than being left to make inferences for himself.
"Ye've nothin' to be ashamed of love…". He started slowly and considerately, correctly guessing one of her feelings. "… ye've taken a course of action that anyone in yer position would have when they're scared. I am not goin' to shout at ye for it or tell ye that ye were wrong".
"Yer… not?" She whispered her surprise in return whilst her mother stroked her hair gently.
"Of course, I'm not love. I wish you'd have come to us sooner but I don't think any less of ye because of it. I understand why yer worried, the future can be overwhelmin' so it can, especially when it comes to marriage… and startin' a family".
Hiding away behind her mother's arms, where she was drying her eyes without Deirdre having to instruct to, her heart almost caved in when he mentioned beginning a family. Despite having shown incredible motherly instincts towards Anna and Marie during her years, she felt that her ability to do so was only because they weren't her own flesh and blood. The responsibility for their safety and wellbeing did not lie with her, instead with Mary and Orla respectively. That being said, there were times during Orla's pregnancy when she would look at her and David with jealous eyes, thanks to the affection he lavished upon her. She wanted to find someone who would treat her so well but the quest to find that fella was unsuccessful. Sadly, she knew, some of the fella's she'd been with perhaps would have been just as caring, yet she'd never given them the chance to show it.
"We're here for you Michelle ye know". He started again, reaching out to hold her hand. "Me and yer Mammy were scared when we knew ye were on the way. You remember don't ye love, the nights where we both got upset because we didn't think we'd do a very good job?".
"I remember them well". Deirdre confirmed, her own heart suffering under the weight of the memories.
"We got through Michelle with the support of our families, this family always does. And it doesn't matter about what ye say to a fella, love".
"But… but how do I talk to them about anythin' or show them that I love them other than… well ye know".
"Go for a walk with the fella or sit and read together… not every aspect of a relationship needs to be physical, Michelle and when ye find the right fella, they will love you more for it and ye'll always find something to discuss then. Sex isn't everything".
Her cheeks went a little rosy coloured listening to her father mentioning sex, but Michelle valued him for ignoring the awkwardness on what must have been a sensitive and difficult topic for him to broach with her. His support was already so valuable in her life, but to have him reaffirm with further advice meant so much more than she could have imagined. The answers were obvious almost, when she thought about them, yet stuck in her ways in thinking that a relationship was driven by the acts committed in the bedroom, she'd not seen them. Retreating in time within the confines of her mind, she chastised herself for being angered by Erin's relationship with James, as she would have been able to see for herself how a healthy, loving relationship didn't have to be completely physical. The two of them might have been eejits, but they were eejits who understood each other, caring so deeply about one another.
"But Michelle, me and yer Mammy are worried about ye with these American lads…". Martin informed her honestly. "We don't want ye gettin' yerself into any bother".
"I'm goin' to stop, Da". She sniffled.
"I don't think yer Da meant that ye needed to stop altogether love…". Deirdre began, before she was stopped.
"No… I know, but… I need to have a break and try to find myself the right person. He might still be a Yank but… I want to find a fella to talk to first not just… well… ride".
Prouder than ever of their daughter, Martin and Deirdre couldn't help but break out into juvenile laughter at the comment, which Michelle joined in with. If sex was a topic between generations at the Quinn, McCool or Devlin house, the scandal that would arise would be worthy of newspaper coverage, but at the Mallon house, they could find an element of humour from it. Their bond was equally as strong as any of their friend's families, but it showed markedly different between the four walls than the rest. Deirdre returned to her seat after a couple of minutes, though she really didn't have the time when she needed to get ready for work.
"So yer goin' out with the girls then?" Martin put the question to Michelle, a wry smile on his face.
"Was there ever any doubt, Da?"
Chuckling, he admonished her audacity in jest before waving her off to go and get ready. Deirdre retreated off upstairs to get herself into her uniform ahead of the walk to work, leaving Martin to tidy up in the kitchen and think about his daughter's future. Whether it was the true turning point for her would remain to be seen, but Michelle's decision to be honest about her feelings to them was at least a step in the right direction. There would be trials and tribulations throughout, he did not doubt it when she was a fierce character, made in her mother's image. Deirdre was a right firecracker in her youth, more so than even her sister Kathy, though their trajectories had quickly changed when both fell pregnant within a short time of each other.
"Bye Da!"
Michelle's shout was the first to come, ready in what must have been no more than five minutes. He would see her later on, he knew, because that night she wasn't going to be sleeping with anyone at all. For at least one night she'd keep her word, he knew, but for how many more, he did not know.
"Bye Michelle, love!"
Calling out from the kitchen where he was finishing up, Martin still couldn't suppress the wide smile that was slapped across his face. It was what made him a far better father figure than some, Sean especially, he thought to himself, not that he liked to compare himself to his friend. Where the Devlin patriarch would rule harshly, and at times unfairly, he was kind and considerate to the women in his life, listening to them rather than putting them down. The unspoken respect within the house meant that they still looked to him to make the decisions and have the undisputed final word on matters, but he would always listen to wife and daughter no matter what. He learnt more from them that way than ignoring them.
Walking through to the living room, he found his wife at the bottom of the stairs, making her way over to the coat stand to retrieve her jacket. What Deirdre hadn't realised was that her husband thought a lot differently when it came to what she was doing, instead rushing over to her. She caught him out of the corner of her eye but was defenceless when he swept her up into his arms, taking the air from her lungs as he did. He hadn't pulled that move in years, his wife more surprised that his back was able to still hold her weight. Not that she was any bigger than she was then of course…
"Martin!" She slapped his chest, giggling with rosy cheeks. "I need to get to work".
He answered with a deep kiss that took away any breath that wasn't stolen when he swept her off of her feet seconds earlier. With one hand taking her weight, his free hand was already working away at the buttons of her uniform, the wee white ones falling like flies as he began a crusade all the way up her body.
"Martin!" She yelled at him again, but far more breathily. "I mean it, I… I don't have time".
"Well we'll have to make it quick then…".
Deirdre Mallon didn't squeal as a rule, but she couldn't help it when her husband began to run up the stairs while she was in his arms. The crafty, handsome fella that she claimed as hers was taking full advantage of convincing Michelle to go out for the night. Their talk of the old days when they were young brought back memories that were tough to relive, but also those of happier times… and memories that he wished to recreate to when he thought of them.
Their poor bedroom door didn't quite know what it had done to deserve the abuse it received when he practically barged it down to open it.
Albeit if the door thought it was having a bad night, the bed springs were going through hell…
Hanging around.
So much of his time in Italy could be described that way, without the activity being pleasant in any way. Ever since he'd first woken properly, discounting the delirious dreams during the early days of his recovery in Taranto, all James had done was waste time. Time that could have been spent back home with those that he loved, instead stolen from him so that he could experience multiple rounds of torture, forced to suffer because he didn't know the answer to questions about himself. A sad merry-go round which he could do so little about.
The ultimatum regarding Michelle stung him all week. Without the answer available to the Doctor's question, her fate looked to be sealed. In his head he tried to work out how they'd get the message to their agent within Derry to tell them to kill her, but he didn't enjoy thinking about that at all. It could have already been sent before Kurt revealed his options to him anyway and she would be killed regardless of what he said. The agent was almost certainly female, James could guess as much, though their identity remained a mystery to him. He couldn't exactly say he knew anyone within the city that held Nazi tendencies but learning that Professor Joyce was a Nazi took him somewhat by surprise, so anything was possible.
Throughout the long week, he'd tried to think of a lie that would be good enough to placate the Doctor with, but if truth were to be known then he knew that there wouldn't be any that were anywhere near good enough. Doctor Van Der Heijden required an answer that he simply could not give, because James himself did not know why he was so supposedly important. A selfish voice inside told him that it was because he was such a good Pilot, but the Doctor would never accept that as the true reason, having already hinted as much. It would have been an honour if that were the case, yet even he could see that there must have been something more to it than that. For whatever reason he was important, he did not know. Other ideas came and went in his head, nothing sticking that he could approach the Doctor with. It was only a matter of a day before his time ran out and James didn't have anything at all.
What was even worse, was that he didn't have that day as he thought.
He was hanging around but this time in a more literal sense.
The hangman's noose would have been preferrable but equally would have failed the objectives that Kurt held in regards to keeping James alive. Lieutenant Hartmann had arrived at his cell during the early evening, just after he'd finished dinner, once again alone. Anticipating another beating courtesy of the man who couldn't control himself, Hans was instead far more restrained than usual. Kurt's orders were clear, and not wishing to annoy his mentor as he had the week prior, he completed them without so much as a violent touch upon the Englishman. James was sat on the chair in the corner when he walked into the cell, at first being ignored with the Lieutenant going straight over to his bed. He could only watch on, deciding not to comment himself, as the young man removed the bed from its position, dragging it out slowly into the middle of the room. He'd then attempted to taunt him in German but was ignored.
When he was asked to put his hands in the air again, James began to wonder what was going on. A verbal exchange was at least possible this time after he'd revealed his proficiency in German to his captors. Another taunt was thrown the way of the Lieutenant whilst he tied the Englishman's hands, but once again Hans did not rise to it. He was not going to lose the mental battle with the prisoner again, determined not allow the Pilot the satisfaction of another victory over him. All the while he did, it began to demoralise James, who was suddenly losing any hints of control that he'd held in the room.
All Hans did was ensure that the hanging around continued… in a rather more literal sense than previously. He'd led James over to where the bed once was, only to untie him again whilst he stood beneath the bar. James did wonder when he was tying his hands as to why the Lieutenant seemed to not tie them quite as tightly as he expected, finding the answer a few seconds later. Asked to raise his hands again, he did so, with Kurt arriving at the room at the same time. Without a word to either his Lieutenant or prisoner, just a nod to Hans being all that was required, he took the rope from him. Using all of his strength, the younger of the two Nazi's was able to lift the prisoner up whilst the Doctor tied him to the bar, the knot being excruciatingly tight in comparison to the one Hans had done a few minutes earlier.
When he finally let go of the prisoner, Hans was able to move back to stand next to Kurt and admire the view. James really was hanging around, of off the bar that he'd normally use to complete pull ups. It was a sturdy piece of equipment, having to be to hold the full weight of the Englishman for a sustained period of time like it would be that evening. The room was light up with lanterns that the two men brought with them rather than candles, placed at both sides of the small alcove where he would normally sleep. Instead of sleeping and exercising in the spot he was in, James knew he was about to face a punishment that would most likely prevent both from happening. Hung up like an animal's carcass in a butcher's shop, he was defenceless against whatever was to come.
"We have to stop allowing you to hang around, James". Kurt joked, finally saying something to him.
"Hanging around? This is just a bit of fun, isn't it?" He jested in return.
"Your sense of humour remains! It is good to see, my favourite Englishman".
Being Kurt's favourite was a title that he did not want yet could not wish upon any of his fellow countrymen either for that matter. The Nazi doctor looked as menacing as ever in the lamplight that evening, gazing upon his strung-up prisoner with the usual sinister cogs of his mind turning away all the while. His own plan for how the evening would go was already formulated in his head, as far back as a few minutes after he'd left James the week before. The first stage required on him being able to trust his Lieutenant around the prisoner alone again but given that James did not have so much as a scratch on him, his trust was well placed in Hans. He expected that the orders would be followed though, after lecturing him even more thoroughly on their journey back into Rome that night. Hans promised his mentor and commanding officer that he would not fail again, not being a man who fell into a habit of breaking his promises to any of his friends and family.
"You were to give me a week, Doctor…". James enquired with him. "I have counted the days since your visit, and I think you are here a day earlier than planned. One would have thought you would not make such a stupid mistake".
"One…". Kurt replied, spitting the word out. "… one should not make such assumptions. You are quite correct that I am a day early but why should I tell you the truth?"
"Just as I thought…". James mumbled.
"Remember your place, James. You are a prisoner of war; you have no power here. If I decide to give you less time to answer me, then that is what I will do. Understood?"
Kurt's lecture ringing in his ears, James' heart began to sink. He was going to have to condemn Michelle to her death, his conscience already wallowing away in self-pity knowing that she would die because he did not hold all of the answers for a change. When he'd managed to get through most situations in life with ease, finding talent for even the most mundane of tasks, his own existence and subsequent importance proved to be his match. He'd finally found a challenge that he couldn't overcome after a long time of sailing through tasks without breaking sweat. Time was up for both he and Michelle, but he couldn't care less about his own life when hers was going to be taken because of him. There was no lie that would suffice… not this time…
"Understood, Doctor".
"Very good, my boy…". He mocked his prisoner, the sinister grin appearing in all its glory. "Now, I think you might have something to tell me, am I correct?"
James started to wonder whether Kurt was in fact a mind reader, because by the look on the man's face, he could tell that the Nazi knew what the answer would be. When he'd denied knowing it for weeks, weeks that would soon be bordering on months, a sudden betrayal of himself and everything he believed in would have been unlikely. However, the smile was born out of the knowledge of the pain and suffering he could inflict on his prisoner without lifting a finger on him or utilising any device of torture. Anguish was a far greater weapon than the rack.
"No. I do not know anything more than I have already told you, Doctor. I am merely Captain James Maguire, 815 Naval Air Squadron".
A cackle was drawn from Kurt, leaving James fighting back the tears to apologise in his head to Michelle for seeing her off to her death. Another woman who'd gotten herself close to him, though at arm's length with her animosity, was going to die for the simple act of knowing him. Whoever he was, and for whatever reason he was so important, he certainly did not want to be that person anymore. If all that it did was kill his family and friends or those who bravely put their lives aside to help him, he wished to be someone else entirely.
"Oh James, I have seen you in many lights, natural or unnatural… but I never saw you as a killer, especially when it came to your family".
"You are a sick man, Doctor". He snarled, losing an ounce of control to the Nazi.
"No James, I am in control, and I make the decisions. How many times do you need to be reminded of that? Perhaps Michelle's death will teach you that lesson…".
The tears that he was fighting were in the corners of his eyes, but James had to shake them away. If he was to openly weep in front of Kurt, then the Nazi would gain a level of control that he would never be able to wrestle away from him. An unreligious man at heart, he did not seek prayer or guidance from a higher deity to forgive him from condemning Michelle to an untimely demise. A smart man, he knew, would only look for that forgiveness within themselves rather than the house of God, where the lines of right and wrong could be changed to suit quite easily. Except when he looked inside himself, he found the same questions that he could not answer Kurt, waiting for him. Who was he? Why was he so important? Why did Britain need him back so desperately, out of the hands of his captors?
Michelle was going to die for that hidden knowledge.
"You know, my spy told you about some of her friends and… I suppose yours…".
As much as his grief for what was about to happen to Michelle was consuming him, it was brushed aside when a threat to the love of his life was revealed. If the Nazi spy knew much about Erin, then they would surely know about their relationship from back before the war began. His instincts to keep her safe kicked in, watching Kurt closely as he spoke, whilst the Nazi watched on with a glint of mischief in his eyes. Hans stood behind him expressionless, James oddly thankful that he was not taking pleasure from what was being said. Unbeknownst to him, the Lieutenant had already suffered the death of a family member during the war, his brother, and could not find any amusement in even a man he hated losing a member of his family. There was still good in Hans' heart, even if it was often outweighed by the bad.
"Clare Devlin… she sounds quite the perfect woman. Very nervous but very much a good Catholic from what our spy tells us. A girl who can get scared by her own shadow, coming from a home where the father makes the rules. A proper house, I would say. Is that an accurate description of Clare, James?"
He wanted to keep her safe too, even if Erin's safety was more important to him. Missing the cheerful yet nervous young blonde, he wished to be in her company again, where he knew he would find good conversation and a friendly ear to talk to. She was one of the most loyal young women he'd ever met, valuing her friendship with the rest of the girls above anything else. If there was one person who deserved not to be dragged into the mess that he was creating by not knowing who he was, it was most certainly her. Once again though, the Nazi spy within Derry was quite accurate with their information, leaving him to answer the Doctor honestly.
"They missed the part where it described her as a better woman than either of us two or Lieutenant Hartmann over there could be as men". He replied, stoically and stoutly defending Clare.
"I do not doubt that James, we are bad men. Hans has killed, you have seen that… I am going to be responsible for many deaths in the coming years and you… you have just killed your cousin. I am sure little Miss Devlin is far superior to us".
Kurt began to pace around in front of him again, every step being more menacing than the one before it, as it always was. As he did so, for the first time James began to feel the strain that his body was under from hanging like meat on a hook. His arms were being stretched like they were on the rack, muscles under severe pressure to keep him where he was. The most agonising part of all was that when he looked down, he could see that his feet were not that far off of touching the ground, but far enough for him not to make any stupid attempt at putting the tips of them onto it. His arms would have still hurt even if he could touch the ground with his feet, but it would have stopped the pain that his stomach was under as he was stretched. A weaker man would have already begun to scream in the position that he was in, but the muscular built Englishman was left wincing instead.
Far from finished with mentally hounding his prisoner, Kurt began to talk again, moving away from Clare and onto the next victim…
"What about Orla? I know all about Orla!" He roared with delight, James' eyes narrowing on the Doctor. "She is a very special woman to you, isn't she James?"
"She is a friend, nothing more". He responded gruffly.
"Just a friend? She was the wife of your best friend, James… I would say that the two of you were much closer than you are suggesting. You know, it might be better that I tell our spy to kill her as well as Michelle because she might come here and kill you. I cannot have that!".
Clearly the character refence of Orla was not entirely accurate, James thought to himself, as she wouldn't so much as harm a fly. Although it was possible that the Doctor was making an inference about her that was incorrect too, the Pilot quickly added to the tsunami of thoughts in his head whilst he hung from the bar. She would have been within her rights to eliminate him as much as he knew she would not, the guilt of David's death one of the heavier guilts on his conscience, which were only appearing to mount up the longer his captivity went on. All of those that he cared for were being strategically used against him, an act that was as callous as it was clever.
"I do not blame her, Doctor. Her husband died on my watch, if you care to remember". He huffed out angrily. "His death will haunt me to my grave".
"You are too hard on yourself James, Mr Donnelly died doing what he'd signed up to do. I am sure his wife would see it the same way… you seem to have failed to grasp that I was not being entirely serious".
"Taking death lightly again, are you?" A scoff fell from the Englishman. "It was Professor Molinari's downfall, and soon it will be yours".
"Be quiet, James…". Kurt sighed out the order, frustrated rather than angry. "The position that you are in does not take kindly to predicting the death of those in far greater ones".
The control of the room was overwhelmingly in Kurt's favour, that hope was quickly diminishing in James' aching head that he would even regain any footing. The only hope that he held left, resigned to dying in Rome when the Nazi's were finished with him, was to go out having won a mental battle with those who were to torture him. An unbroken man going to his grave with an honest, if broken, heart was the man that he wished to be. Sadly, the anguish he was suffering from knowing that his actions were about to kill his innocent cousin were eating away at his mentality. He was strong mentality… but just how far that strength extended was being put under rigorous examination that night. His breaking point was closer than it had ever been.
"This spy you speak of…". Finding his voice again, James engaged the now silent Kurt. "… who are they? You have no intentions of releasing me, so you may as well tell me their identity".
"And give you the satisfaction?" Kurt raised an eyebrow, having come a stop in front of him. "Do you really think I would allow that?"
The dark chuckle that followed his words only heightened the Doctor's control over the room. Lieutenant Hartmann was still silently standing guard behind him, not called up to complete any form of punishment on the prisoner. Once again when James sought his eyes, he did not find any hint of pleasure being taken from the torment that he was witnessing, but neither did he find remorse. Hans displayed body language that indicated that what he was seeing was just another normal day in his assignment to Kurt, there being nothing special about the hell that they were putting the young Englishman through.
Surprisingly, Kurt made the decision to change his mind before anything else could be said between them, pulling James away from trying to read the Lieutenant.
"Actually, I have to ask for forgiveness from you myself, James…". Kurt began with a demonic chortle. "You are quite right. What harm does it do in me telling you when you will never return home? Which is what makes it even more perfect!"
"Perfection is a quality that you will never achieve". James retorted strongly.
"Such fight still James!" Kurt reached up, slapping him on the side. "I will give you the name of our spy and let you hang there knowing who the killer of your cousin is… and you will have to retain that knowledge without being able to do anything to stop Michelle's death…".
Foolishly, he'd not considered the impact on his own conscience. Hoping for a name so that he could at least go to his death with knowledge of who'd betrayed not only him, but the city of Derry and the rest of Britain, he'd ignored what it could do to him. Classic James, he thought to himself, always thinking about everyone else… the greater good… before himself. Michelle's killer was about to be revealed; his stomach lurched with nausea.
When Kurt spoke the name aloud though, James couldn't help himself but start to laugh uncontrollably. He'd already worked out that it was a woman rather than a man, thanks to some of the explanations that Kurt had given, intricate details that could only be discovered by reading between the lines of what was said. He'd come to the conclusion that it could be one of two women that would fit the role of spy, and now, if necessary, killer, yet neither name was given to him by the Doctor. The name he was given instead was of someone that he did know well but also knew would never have the strength nor the resources, to harm his cousin. He almost couldn't believe what he was hearing, the laughter out of disbelief from what he was told. If Kurt thought he was in control when it came to ordering Michelle's death, he was sorely misled…
"You mock me again James… I do not appreciate being mocked by the likes of you". Kurt growled. "You will tell me the reason for this laughter now!"
Shouting at his prisoner, it was the Nazi's turn to cede some of the control of the room back to James. At his lowest ebb when all seemed lost, hope disappearing in front of him faster than a damaged ship could sink, the Doctor inadvertently handed him a path back into their mental battles when he was already about to mount the podium of victory. Back in the game, so to speak, James struggled to contain his amusement to deliver an explanation.
"I… I am sorry, Doctor…". He struggled to speak still, howling with a round of chuckles. "Ha! Oh… you must have been sold a lie, I'm afraid to tell you".
"Explain yourself!" Kurt demanded, Hans beginning to stir with his gun behind him.
"The woman that you have just named… she would not kill anyone. I am sure she could be described as many things, but not as a killer".
James' assumption that he was in control was an obvious one for all of another couple of seconds, until a familiar demonic grin appeared, Kurt's lips fully curved up. Hans was smiling too, finally showing the emotions he'd deliberately held in order to fulfil Kurt's wishes of luring James into an emotional trap, which he'd walked directly into. Assumptions were dangerous to make, and James was finding out the hard way, his face turning from joy to concern within the space of a split second, his control over the room lost.
"Of course she is not… I was never going to get her to harm Michelle anyway…". Hearty laughter came from Kurt this time as he spoke. "It was incredibly fun to make you think that I would though. You must hate me, James!"
"Hate you? You are my dearest friend, dear Doctor, I could never hate you".
Putting up a fight, the tone of the Captain's voice was the sort that was put on whilst reading a child a story, a fairytale. There was no fairytale story to the position that he was in though, aware that there would be no happy ending, no matter how much teasing he would have to endure first. Stripping back the predicament he found himself in, he pushed away his foolish thoughts to come to the conclusion that when the war was over, he would just be another name forgotten, consigned to a number in a book of how many British men were killed. If he was that important, his death would have to be forgotten by his own country, which if going by the Derry Journal was accurate, they already had.
"No, Michelle can live for all of her troubles. She will probably be carrying the bastard child of an American soldier before long, I am told".
"American?" James, confused, enquired with his captor.
"Oh of course, you do not know! America have decided to try to win the war for you thanks to some… encouragement from our Japanese friends. They will try but… they will lose".
"Well the war is over then…". James snorted. "America have far more power and resources than your pathetic Nazi regime have. It is not even a fair fight".
"You underestimate the power of will of the people who serve us, James. The Americans are far from home and distracted by the threat of Japanese invasion. They cannot hope to win this war for you, no matter how much they try".
Walking away from his prisoner, Kurt allowed James a few moments to let the knowledge of America's involvement in the war sink in whilst he started to whisper some orders to Hans. The Doctor himself was playing a dangerous game, because he in fact agreed with his prisoner despite what was being said. He'd begged The Führer to urge Japan to leave America out of the conflict, instead suggesting that they allow them some European land in a deal that would see them still prosper without stirring the superpower that sat next door to their Eastern friends. The resources James spoke of, the might of the American industrial machine as well as the growing population, always concerned him where it did not concern others. The military commanders that Hitler sought advice from might have been confident in isolated battles against American troops, but each battle would carry a cost that would have to be replaced by fresh soldiers. Germany could not replace soldiers as quickly, and as frequently, as America could.
The Doctor was not going to allow himself to become depressed by his own games though, instead moving over to retrieve James' jacket, which he was not yet wearing that night despite the temperatures being low. Hanging from the bar next to him, James' mind didn't dwell on the American involvement in the war for long, confident that they'd turn the tide in the favour of those who stood for democracy and not butchery like the Nazi's. Instead, it was on Erin, who the Doctor failed to mention as a friend of Michelle's. The spy couldn't have known that Orla and Clare were Michelle's friends without knowing Erin was too, the girls being pack animals, he knew. She could have only been forgotten on purpose, which he desperately wished was not the case or because she was no longer friends with them. In her grief, perhaps she'd upset them, he thought and now they were not a group anymore despite the tight bond he knew they shared. Or it was worse… she could have d…
He could not think it, not without crying. So he cut the thoughts off before they went too far.
One detail Kurt glossed over himself when he first brought James to Rome, was searching the young man's possessions. Professor Molinari made it clear to his friend that James didn't have much, but it was never really of interest to the Doctor when it came to torture. He knew there were some from when they'd stripped him down on arrival, but he'd thus far made no attempt to discover what they were. He'd held the Englishman in his care for a couple of months though, and it was finally time for him to take a good look. A lot changed from the first day he'd met the young man back in Taranto, the bodies of Giovanna and the Professor himself at the Doctor's feet, the blood on Hans' hands. It was out of necessity that he required a search of the Pilot's belongings.
The first item that he retrieved from the inside pocket of the only jacket James now held, was Mary's wooden spoon. James couldn't think of anyone more unworthy of wielding the weapon other than Adolf Hitler himself, a utensil designed to be the arm of choice for the Derry housewife, not the Nazi Doctor. There was an element of worthiness that went with holding a wooden spoon too and neither of the men who he shared the room with that evening could be considered worthy. Kurt's face appeared to light up at finding the item, which confused him for a brief seconds before his mind engaged with him again. Of course, Kurt knew…
"I have been warned about this!" He chuckled. "Though I did not expect you to have a spoon of your own James. Pah! It is useless without a strong Irish woman to wield it".
"Why don't you bring yours down here, Doctor. Hans can put you in the chains and she can hit you with it… I suspect you would enjoy that".
"I am going to have to disappoint you there James, I am a giver not a receiver".
"How will my heart cope?"
Putting on a show in front of the Nazi, James was only doing so to mask his own fears and buy himself some time. There was only one other item in the pocket of his jacket, one which he did not want the Doctor to get his hands on. The image that gave him the strength to withstand the punishment that was thrown at him on a regular basis, the reminder of what exactly he was fighting for. Fighting for Erin Quinn, to love her and hold her again like he wanted to, to finally spend the Christmas together that he'd promised, but was yet to deliver. She was yet to be mentioned at all by Kurt, but when he knew about all of her friends, he must have surely known about her too… and more than likely about them.
Tossing the spoon onto the bed, which was lazily placed in between Kurt and his Lieutenant, Kurt's hands ventured into the pocket again, just how he feared it would. He deliberately kept his eyes on James as he did, though the Englishman couldn't understand how he would know what he was looking for. Kurt didn't, of course, but when he'd first made eye contact with the young man, sensing his fear, he knew whatever else was in the jacket pocket was something which James did not want him to see. After a couple of seconds the photograph was shining in the lamplight of the Italian night, to illuminate the perfection that James saw every time that he gazed upon it. Returning to the face of the Nazi was that all too familiar sinister smile. James' strength was being tested mentally as much as it was physically, and suddenly the latter pain paled into insignificance when he worried for Erin. Kurt might have teased him with threatening to kill Michelle, though the woman he said would do the job was far from adequate, but the Doctor was a difficult man to read. For all he knew there could have been more loyal Nazi's in Derry… perhaps ones that were suitable to killing than the one previously suggested.
"What have we here…". Kurt began, James shivering inside. "Ah, there you are James, looking very handsome, it has to be said".
"You'll forgive me for not taking that as a compliment when it comes from you".
"Such cruelty when I look after you". Tutting, Kurt shook his head. "Here I was thinking that we were firm friends… never mind…. but who is this that you are with?"
More so than ever before, Erin came under the spotlight and his duty to protect her with his life if necessary was thrust forward to the present, rather than being a lingering thought towards the back of his mind. He could not allow the Doctor to utilise her to bargain for answers that he could not give. Terrible enough that he'd tried to use Michelle, his heart would break if Erin were to so much as be scratched by the Nazi's. She was everything he had, and everything he wanted… he would keep her safe, always. If that meant having to deny all feelings for her, as difficult as it was to swallow when he so much as thought about it, then that was what he would have to do.
"It is just a photograph". James answered distantly.
"Oh yes it is a photograph, James…". Kurt chuckled, echoing his amusement through the partly lit room. "But what does it show? That is what I want to know".
His silence only seemed to draw Kurt in more, the Doctor standing right in front of him, looking up into his eyes. Uncertainty was filling James' mind, but one thing was very clear. Kurt knew exactly what he was doing, and all James could do was try to convince him that the information he'd received was wrong. The tactic was tried and failed before though; there was no chance he would be able to succeed. Kurt Van Der Heijden was not a torturer by trade, but an unrecognised master in planning and manipulation that was only heralded by Hitler, he'd got James exactly where he wanted him, revealing the ace of his hand.
"Erin Quinn… does that name mean anything to you, James?"
His blood ran cold. Ice cold.
Kurt knew… his spy had given the Nazi's the information about her, her name being dragged in with the rest of them, but hurting him more than any, even his mother. He'd prepared for Kurt knowing, he thought, but when her name dropped off the tongue of the Nazi stood before him, it proved to be nowhere near enough. Protecting her was the key, the key to her life and to his, even if it meant giving his to save hers. To his credit, James managed not to show the fear bubbling away inside him to the Doctor, though there was no way in which he could have missed the gargle that came from James' stomach once the pit of his fears was realised. Control was no longer his when Kurt mentioned Erin by name.
"No". He painfully denied it, lying again.
"Then let me tell you a story about this photograph…".
James' legs weren't tied up, and if he could generate enough momentum, he knew he could attempt to strangle the Doctor with his legs. The only thing stopping him from doing so was Lieutenant Hartmann's submachine gun.
"The young woman in this photograph is Erin Josephine Quinn, born on the tenth day of December, nineteen twenty. She is the daughter of Mary McCool and Gerry Quinn, with a younger sister, Anna. She is the worst poet to have ever put pen to paper, I am assured, though she apparently was in love with a very supportive young English gentleman before the war started… does this sound… familiar, James?".
He could have shouted, screamed or cried quite easily, the further that Kurt went into his description of her. His relationship with her was not a secret to the man who'd already put him through so much pain yet was finding a new source which hurt more than the flogging. Tenfold. Loving her was the greatest honour of his life and finding that the least honourable man he'd ever met knew it, was detrimental to his strength. He had to stay strong though, to protect her in the face of such a threat.
"I know of Miss Quinn, but not of this man that she is in love with".
"Come James, you cannot tell me you have forgotten yourself?" Kurt howled, Hans laughing with him having understood the gist of what was being said. "I have the photograph of the two of you in my hand, why do you lie to me?"
"We posed for a photograph, that was all". He argued back.
"Posing for a photograph with a clear level of intimacy that is being shown. You have a strange habit of believing that I am a fool, James".
"The pose was deliberate, to annoy my dear cousin Michelle who you so kindly threatened".
Lying continuously, James was tying himself in knots to avoid Kurt's grasp tightening on him, but inadvertently he was giving him the advantage anyway. Kurt knew everything; there was no point in James trying to deny his feelings for Erin. The spy was most useful, and though they may not have been a killer as James confirmed, they'd given information that was just as valuable as any death. He was going to have fun with his prisoner, armed with the knowledge that there was someone he loved out of his grasp, and could be put into danger by him. It would be a fabrication of course, with having only the one spy in Derry, but the Doctor wasn't above lying either, especially if it broke James just a little bit more.
"Such a shame, you look so happy together. But if you are not with her then that leaves her as a single woman… so beautiful…".
Deliberately turning away from James, Kurt smiled to Hans, because he could feel the anger rising in the man hanging from the bar behind him when he described Erin in that way, without having to look. James would not allow a despicable man like Kurt to cast any judgement on his Erin, whether it was positive or negative. He did not have the right to compliment her.
"When we invade Londonderry, I am going to make sure that I am right there on the frontlines…". Kurt turned back, glaring at his prisoner in a sinister fashion once more. "… looking for her. I'll find her James".
"You have no chance of invading". He grumbled, trying hold his emotions at bay. "You'd die within seconds of entering the water".
"Oh no James, we will win, I can assure you of that. And when I find Miss Quinn… oh what I have planned for her….".
Kurt turned his head away for a moment, but Hans watched from afar as the wild look of rage flashed in James' eyes for a moment. It made him smile, though deep down within the conscience that still existed inside the young man, he prayed he would never be in the same situation with Elsa. He would defend her with his life too, if it were required, which he hoped it never would be. However, that was a future dawn that might not ever come about, shaking the thought from his head to watch his mentor complete his dismantlement of the Englishman that defied them for so long, his lucky finally drained. The evil Doctor did not hold back.
"I'll bring you along with me James… Hansi can guard you while we find her, you can even help… reunite with her".
James was so close to exploding… so close…
"At a distance that is. But you will come with us and watch when we tie her up and then well… her breasts are small… but I can cope with that…".
The Nazi was enjoying himself far too much, chuckling again as he watched his prisoner fight himself internally at every word he said.
"You'll be there in the corner as she begs me to stop but I won't James… I won't stop… I'll fuck her until she can't speak anymore… when she won't even beg me to stop because she can't… because then she'll be mine and I'll keep fucking her, watching you out of the corner of my eye as I take away everything from you. Would you like that, James?".
His breathing became seething, pure hatred being seethed out of him at every word that Kurt had to say. James could not contain his rage for much longer when Erin's dignity was being broken in front of him, her honour being destroyed by a man with none of his own. Images of her being abused were batted away quickly, his mind working for him and against him as Kurt continued to dig under his skin to wound him even more. The spectre of the brave Englishman that fought off his various torture attempts was shrinking before him.
"Then when I'm done with her… I'll give her back to you… just after I slit her throat and she dies on your lap, exactly where you want her".
That did it. The control James had kept under even the most harrowing torture was gone when Erin's life was threatened so graphically.
He thrashed on the bar, jumping around as if he were trying to get lose, amusing the pair of Nazi's stood before him.
"LET ME DOWN YOU BASTARD! I'LL KILL YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS!"
"LET ME DOWN NOW!"
"AND THERE IT IS!" Kurt shouted defiantly, ignoring James' demands to be let down, turning to jolly laughter after a couple of seconds. "I should have known it would be love that would break you! Love where everything else failed, the brave young Pilot betrayed by his feelings for this ugly… blonde… whore".
"ARGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! DO NOT SPEAK OF HER!"
He'd never experienced fury like it, the desire to want to kill another man never stronger than it was that night in Italy. The Doctor enjoyed labelling the women in his life with less than reputable titles, furthering the young man's rage towards him. He was going to kill him; he didn't know how, when and nor did he really care at that moment, but when he got his hands on Kurt, there'd be little left of the man for anyone to identify him by.
No one threatened Erin.
Unfortunately, any chance of getting to Kurt was not going to happen at all, and when the Nazi gave Hans a nod which James saw despite his overwhelming rage, he knew he was about to receive the beating that both men wanted to give him. Caught too many times lying when he didn't even wish to lie in the first place, he was going to have to suffer for protecting those that he loved, when he'd even failed at that. His love for Erin known by Doctor Van Der Heijden, the purpose of his existence began to drain away. If he couldn't protect her, there was no point in him drawing breath any longer. Breath would be taken regardless of his feelings, noticing the hammer which Hans now wielded.
His ribs were the target, two blows to each side that left him in total agony, the last one so hard that he swung round where he was tied up. That wasn't all though, as Hans remained by his side, swapping the hammer for his gun again, Kurt moved forward with a needle in his hand. If he was being put to sleep then the pain would at least go away and if it were a more permanent sleep, he was going to his grave without any more pain.
Kurt was never going to make it that easy though…
"Good night James…". He whispered to him as he emptied the contents of the needle into James' arm. "… you are mine now remember. I own you".
As the drowsiness began to take over, James couldn't think straight enough to retort with any answer, a confirmation if any that the Doctor was right. He owned James now, having the most incredible hold over him that he'd patiently kept in reserve for weeks. From the very first report he'd received from their spy as early as nearly a year before, he'd known about her. Only a man of great patience and cunning could have waited that long until taking control. He'd allowed James to think he was on a level playing field, all the while keeping an ace up his sleeve for when the time was right. The Englishman simply could not counter that.
Hans let him down from the bars and they put him to bed once it was clear that the contents of the needle had done their job.
The importance of the young man might have still been a mystery, but with his love for Erin as his weakness, Kurt knew that he could manipulate James into doing anything to save her. There was no way in which he could even kill her or have her killed, but James didn't need to know that, the threat alone being enough to keep him in line.
Until he revealed why Britain wanted needed him back so badly, the Doctor was going to have a lot more fun with his patient…