A time like no other

by Warks1999

It was an ever changing world, but a world that would soon be at War, with consequences that would devastate families forever... their family included. A new adventure, setting the characters back in time to World War II. Enjoy :)

74. Shattered from the past

Chapter 74: Shattered from the past 6th September 1942

Crying subsided eventually.

Dragging himself into bed after his tearful session, where the stark reality of the life ahead of him practically assaulted the wee English fella, James slept soundly. Tiredness won the battle with pain, though it was perhaps a joint effort on both parts to be able to get him off to sleep. The soft mattress of his bed was a long overdue sensation for his mistreated body, so long left to sleep on painful beds in both Taranto and Rome. Even the bed in Mantet, for the couple of nights he'd spent there, was nowhere near as comfortable as the one in the master bedroom of his cottage. There were no dreams or nightmares for him either, a reprieve when his life appeared to be a living nightmare now that Erin had moved on from him.

It really wasn't fine.

However, James Maguire was a robust young man who thought of everyday as a new chance. From the moment he woke the following morning, at around quarter past six, the only intention he held other than visiting church that day, was to attempt to forget about his sobbing session of the prior evening. The task was going to be easier said than done when the object of his love would be present at the church that morning, but he did not need to sit anywhere near her nor interact with her. Giving Erin up was not something he was considering, even though he'd already lost her to the American if he thought about his situation properly. He could still fight for her, nobody would take that conviction away from him, but to do so openly was out of the question. The classic stiff upper lip of the English gentleman would have to be on show, but he would do what he needed to. It was simply another test of how far he could push himself, tests that only ever seemed to increase in difficulty as time went on.

No time would be wasted though, not when he wished to be able to get out on time for church on his first mass back. Breakfast was the opening task of the day, another test of his culinary skills with the rationed bacon being on the menu alongside some toast that morning. Greedier men might have delved further into their rations, but his experiences trudging through France taught the young pilot to be thrifty with his food supply. There was no guarantee of eating out in the countryside of Vichy France, where he was the enemy to the common man. There would be no such trials and tribulations on a mild September morning in his cottage, an acceptable meal starting his day off well. As he washed away his plate from the morning meal, he cast his eye out over the garden, something he'd not done the evening before. It too was in a reasonable state, perhaps more surprising than the state of the house, not overgrown whatsoever. Whoever was taking care of it for him, had done a fantastic job.

The second task on his agenda was a quick wash. After the difficult visit of his Aunt and Uncle in the evening, he'd not gotten around to freshening up despite wanting too. Feeling too tired to have the energy to lumber himself into the shower, he instead decided to head to bed, where the tears flowed rather than the running water of his shower. With more time he would have taken a more relaxing bath, but although he'd gotten up in plenty of time to be able to go out to church, he still didn't want to hang around. Rather than taking the car, and therefore wasting precious resources, he decided to that he would walk to church. It wasn't an overly long journey to the house of God, though he couldn't afford to leave too late when he also wished to enjoy the scenery on the way there. As a man with little belief in God or religion, he'd thought about not attending at all, though would do so in order to make an appearance for his family. There was also a chance to reconnect with old friends should any present wish to talk to him. Understanding the shock of those present the afternoon before, James was left wishing for more friendlier greetings the day after.

Cleansed with the pure water that ran down his skin, it was the most relaxing wash experience he'd held in years. During his time as a captive in Italy, he grew used to the bucket and sponge operation that both Professor Molinari and Doctor Van Der Heijden allowed. It might have been a quick wash but it was still the best one for a long time that he had the pleasure of having. The air was not particularly cold, the weather threatening to be quite warm again, not nipping at him as he retreated to his bedroom to get changed. With just a towel wrapped around his middle, he could make out the mark stained on him forever courtesy of his mother. The swastika that falsely told anyone who saw it that he was a Nazi, when he was anything but, was one mark on his body that no amount of showering could ever remove. It was perhaps the only consolation he could find, if he searched for it, for Erin not being with him. She wouldn't have to deal with the shame of seeing the mark on his body… no one would.

In just his boxers, James stood in front of the wardrobe, seeing which suit he would wear. There were a few absentees from the collection of garments that he could remember, though was more than happy to see his clothes being put to good use when he didn't need them. There was no point in good shirts going to waste in his abandoned wardrobe when worse ones were being worn into the ground by other men. Choosing a navy blue attire for the day, with matching trousers, he was beginning to lay the clothes out onto the bed when he heard a knock on the front door. His mind immediately jumped to the thought of who his conscience wished to see there, yet somehow James knew it wouldn't be Erin that would be coming to visit that morning. Sighing at the interruption to his diligently planned out morning, he didn't dally in going to see who it was in her place. Almost jogging over to the door, he opened it to find a presence he wouldn't have considered even after five minutes thought. She wasn't at all who he thought he would find.

Charlene Kavanagh was stood at his door, her cheeks turning a shade of red that he did not know was possible once he opened it.

"Charlene…". He enquired slowly, out of surprise.

"James". Almost shyly, cheeks still burning, she replied. "You…".

Trying to understand what she was saying, James drew a blank at why she was so nervous around him. He barely even knew Charlene, other than beyond a couple of short conversations and greetings when he'd been in the city before the war. She was of a high social standing, one of the wealthiest people in Derry by all accounts, though she was nowhere near his standing in comparison. Like Erin, she was a blonde as well, though on the fairer side when it came to hair colour. She was the same young woman that his former love compared herself to religiously, though like his cousin, James would argue that Erin was far more beautiful than the woman at his doorstep that morning was. It was only when Charlene used her finger to point directly at him, that he realised the problem. His uncovered, intensely muscular chest, could make even the most happily married women heat up.

"Oh… yes. Quite. Please come on in, take a seat in the kitchen… I… I will be with you in a moment".

"Aye…".

Unable to help herself, Charlene giggled when his back was turned. She was yet to find herself a match to marry, although there were plenty of young affluent men that desired her, taking advantage of her status as a single woman to admire James. She'd always been respectful towards him despite him being English, a reason to dislike him if anything, and even considered him somewhat handsome. His stock rose in her eyes that morning when confronted by his virtually naked body, with only a pair of boxers standing between her and his modesty. Even with the scar on his face he still looked the picture of health, an image of a man she would certainly hold no qualms of keeping in her memories for a lonely night…

Virtually sprinting off in the direction of his bedroom, James was completely mortified by the events of moments prior. His response to her was one done out of complete nerves, in a panic to try to defend his actions which were truly indefensible. After having spent so long isolated in captivity, where it did not matter whether he wore clothes around others or not, especially after his introduction to Doctor Van Der Heijden during the demeaning lice inspection, he forgot his gentlemanly standards. The James that resided in Derry before the war would never have answered the door in just his underwear, not when there was a chance that a young woman would be outside who would be scandalised by his appearance. Charlene certainly appeared to have been shocked, leaving him to consider words for an apology to her for his inappropriate behaviour.

Charlene made herself comfortable in a kitchen that she knew well. She didn't spend vast amounts of time at the cottage, which was officially passed into ownership of her family after James' death, though that was for paperwork purposes only. They owned it in order to maintain the property in case of his return, falling to the duties of their staff to look after it. She'd put the gardener to work outside, conveniently using the cottage for a tryst with the man that was short lived. He was of low standing but, if she was to use the literary accompaniments of Michelle Mallon, was a pretty good ride. Taking her work seriously, when it became too much to maintain their dalliance, she called it off and he was moved on to a different property of the Kavanagh's at her instruction. No questions were ever asked by her father nor by Smithers. Since the tryst ended, the only times she would go into the cottage were to write reports to the Captain, finding it far easier to concentrate sat in the kitchen when she knew she would not be interrupted.

Returning to her presence, James wore a look of guilt and embarrassment. Charlene could understand why he would feel that way, knowing that he was a gentleman, but she also didn't think he had anything to embarrassed about. A man with a figure such as James' shouldn't have been ashamed to show it off, gentlemanly nature aside. Her morning was most definitely brightened by it, altering her opinion of him whilst her brain fought to remind her that she was present that morning in a professional capacity only. Then again, fully aware of the growing relationship between Erin Quinn and Lieutenant Hamilton, it wasn't as if James was taken. Admiring him was no crime when there was no one to offend. That was why she chose to smile at him when, fully clothed, he took the seat next to her at the table. She wanted him to feel comfortable around her as he would be seeing a lot more of her in the future, whether he wanted to or not.

"Charlene…". He spoke her name as his hand went to his heart. "… I profusely apologise. I…".

"Ach don't worry James, ye didn't traumatise me ye know…". She chuckled, watching him soften. "But ye should probably think about wearing clothes when ye answer the door. If that was one of the Nuns, ye wouldn't have been so lucky".

Bursting out into copious bellyfuls of guffawing, the pair of them struggled to compose themselves for a number of minutes. He'd not laughed properly like that in years, not since the days of lying-in bed with Erin discussing the world whilst recovering from afternoons of sensual love making. When he'd barely spoken to Charlene during his original spell in the city, he didn't know of how incredibly funny she could be, regretting not having gotten to know her better after just a single comment. Any woman who could forgive his extremely ungentlemanly act of answering the door in just boxers, was one who was going to be a good friend. There was something more about the young Kavanagh though, he could sense it in her body language, a difference between her to others. Finding it impossible to think what that difference was, James instead allowed himself to enjoy their shared amusement, before she spoke again.

"I don't think anyone thought you'd ever come back, ye know". She engaged him, smiling once more. "A lot of people were upset when the news came about you and David. I always thought he was a nice fella… you too".

"David was a far greater man than I will ever be. For Orla to lose him… I… I cannot begin to imagine the pain she has suffered". Voice weakening, emotion threatened to take over as it seemed to be doing more often.

"Aye but she's tough, I reckon. That wee girl of hers looks like a grand little one, so she does… I never thought Orla would manage as a Mammy… but she has".

Although she'd withdrawn herself from Erin's life, and as a result her family and close friends' lives, she still found out some information about them through Emerald Two. They'd never been able to take their eye off of the girls fully, despite the orders from London telling them that they were no longer of relevance. It was understandable to her though, maintaining silence with London on the matter when it caused no harm to be done. Equally, she'd seen Orla out and about with Marie in the city on numerous occasions where she watched a diligent mother nurture her child. The young widow was a symbol of strength to other young mothers who'd lost the fathers of their children to the war. Life could go on without them.

"I can see that she has done…". James trailed off, thinking of the shy young girl he'd met the day before. "Anyway, I hate to be impertinent, Miss Kavanagh, but I must ask… why have you given up such a splendid morning to come to talk to me?"

"I wanted to see how ye are".

She was not going to admit to the real reason if she couldn't help it, her instructions from London being not to unless it was impossible to do anything else. Although she wasn't friends with him previously, it didn't look too out of the ordinary for her to turn up to see how he was, as they were not enemies either. Quite why those in the Intelligence Services were interested in James was a mystery, but she knew better than to ask questions. Menzies would never tell her the secret nor would he instruct Smithers to do so either, as it was information that she did not need to know. The less people that knew that James was the illegitimate son of the King, the better.

"That is very considerate of you. I am pleased to have returned home and to find my cottage in such pristine condition. It is remarkable in fact". He replied, gushingly.

"Well it's not been too difficult ye know. I've quite enjoyed looking after the place… I can see why ye'd like living here… it… it's peaceful".

"It very much is…".

James' mind wandered off for a moment, gazing over Charlene's shoulder to the back garden. He still couldn't quite believe the condition that the garden was in either, delighted by the presence of the birds in the trees, chattering away. Summer mornings waking up to the sounds of tweeting were amongst some of the fonder memories of his summer in the city three years earlier, as well as exploring the wooded areas at the back of the property that eventually bordered onto the Kavanagh's land. Exploring the path of the stream at the bottom of the garden could take him miles out further into the country back then, though soldiers were now using some of the grounds he once walked on for their training. The fresh air hadn't gone away though, a pleasant change from the stuffy conditions he'd been used to in captivity, when fresh air was at an absolute premium. Much fresher than the air in southern France too, though that air was only sullied by the rancid heat of his own actions. Actions he still did not wish to think about.

"So how long have you been working for the British Government, Charlene?"

Coming to his senses, just as she'd followed his gaze to the garden, the young blonde was caught completely unaware by his comment. Her best laid plans to follow the instructions she received from London were out of the question, James having deduced her identity far quicker than she could have ever imagined. Unless he'd been told by Smithers, she thought to herself in the proceeding seconds, but Menzies' message did not say that he would be expecting her. What she didn't know about him though was his ability to read a situation and respond accordingly. She'd given away the game herself without realising. James didn't know that it would be her that was coming as such, but he did know something else.

"Our good friend Captain Smithers told me that one of his operatives was assigned to look over the cottage". James explained, a wry smile appearing on Charlene's face. "I must say, I did not think that it would be you".

"Who were ye expectin' then? Sister Michael?" She snorted in response.

"In truth, I do not know. It does not matter though because now you are here, I need to thank you. You have done a supreme job of watching my home and land for me. I cannot thank you enough".

"Ach… it's… it's just me job". Blushing again, Charlene was disgracing herself with how she acted around him.

Understanding her nerves when he'd successfully managed to guess why she was there, James did the gentlemanly thing and stayed silent for a moment, to allow her to recompose herself. He didn't want her to feel too uncomfortable around him, not when they'd most likely be seeing more of each other due to who they both were. Smithers made enough implications to suggest that he would never be completely free of the shackles of his parentage, not while his father was alive at least. The Intelligence Services would always have to keep an eye on him despite the Englishman signing away any claim to the throne that he may have put across. His life could not be left to manage itself, and with Charlene being their primary operative locally, it would be up to her to make sure that James was monitored. Strangely, he didn't think he would mind that too much. After all, it was apparent that the young woman held a decent sense of humour, which he was already coming to appreciate. There were worse people to have in that position, that was for sure.

"I'll always be around ye know…". She broke the slightly tense air after a minute. "I've been told I have to be".

"You have been assigned as my minder?" James chuckled, raising an eyebrow at her. "I can only apologise that you will have to be around me and my… Englishness, for a lot longer than you may have wished".

"Ach it's fine, at least I don't have to have Erin around me doin' it".

Bemoaning the young Quinn who she knew was no longer with the Englishman, Charlene's thoughts were selfish due to the amount of time she'd lost being forced to put up with her whilst James still served in the Fleet Air Arm. In her time with the Intelligence Services, she'd come a long way from acting as a messenger service between Erin and London, still remembering how much effort it took from her to put up with the narcissistic blonde's presence on a regular basis. What she'd forgotten was how recent the pain of losing her to Lance was in James' mind, only reminded when she saw the brief strained look on his face. James blinked it away just as quickly, but Charlene didn't miss the emotion that she saw in his guise. There was genuine anguish from the young man over losing her, leaving Charlene to rapidly offer a flustered apology, not intending to have distressed him.

"James… I… I didn't…".

"You did not mean to offend me, I know". He offered a soft voice, even a spark of a smile. "You have not".

"Look I know I might not see eye to eye with her but if you… well… you know… I…". She continued to stammer. "Jesus, I've put me foot in it, haven't I?"

"No".

Admitting shock, Charlene did not quite understand why James was not reprimanding her. Everyone knew that he'd been in love with Erin, that the two of them were together just before the war, and almost certainly in love. Proper love rather than a teenage romance, the sort of love that would have resulted in a happy future for any couple unless something of the magnitude of another world war began. Those circumstances did occur though, ripping Erin away from him. He should have castigated her, despite her being a guest in his cottage, told her to mind her tongue and perhaps even ask her to leave. Instead, he was understanding, gentlemanly and even kind. That was the gentleman that many in the city knew though. A persona that once was not just a front to mask what lay underneath. Respected regardless of what it was for, Charlene found herself heightening his value in her esteem for a second time that morning.

"Erin has moved on and I am happy for her and her new partner. Your opinion of her does not offend me". James clarified.

"Right… aye. So ye've seen her then?"

"Yes, all of her family and my own. They look well, considering we are living in a time of war".

"We've been lucky here, James". She explained to him. "The Germans only came one night and it wasn't that bad compared to Belfast. A lot of people died though but then again, look at what's happened to London".

Casting his mind back to a time when he could enjoy the city she spoke of, James didn't want to think about what it looked like now. He'd only been back once since moving to Derry, when called to Admiralty House with David, before the bombs started to fall on the capital. He wondered whether his own home would have been safe, a house that was no longer in his possession, sold on by the Crown when there was little chance that he would return. Derry was his home now, not London, and it would remain so unless he chose to move on. Those were decisions for long in the future though, an uncertain future that he only saw as dark clouds on a bleak horizon.

"Yer even luckier, James…". Charlene continued, her eyes piercing into him. "Ye must be a grand pilot or some sort of hero for a man like Smithers to be keepin' an eye on ye".

She didn't know the half of it, nor would she ever do so, prompting James to smile to himself internally at her lack of knowledge. Sat before her was the heir to Britain's throne but so very few people knew who he was, that it would always function as a humorous secret to him in a way. Almost like a private joke with himself only, that he could find the funny side of despite the overriding feelings of pain when it made him think of his mother. In another life, he would be sat upon the throne one day, a key figure in not just Britain but the entire world. Although the monarchy may not have been what it once was, there was still power and prestige that came with the role. He wasn't an egotistical man that required a power trip such as that though, the reality of his situation being a far more comfortable life to live with, one without such expectations and pressure.

"I have thanked him for taking care of my affairs. You must understand that I too am surprised at the lengths he has gone to and continues to go to, on my own behalf".

"And ye don't even know why?"

He raised his hands in surrender.

"Charlene, if I did, I would shout it from the roof of the cottage!" Cheerfully exclaiming, he hid the truth well. "One could suppose that my actions during the war have improved my standing in the ranks of officers and gentlemen. Perhaps it is my reward that I am able to start my life at home again supported, rather than alone".

He might have thought his argument was enough to convince her, but Charlene wasn't at all buying the argument that he put across. She'd always wondered why he was so important to keep an eye on from the days that she would meet up with Erin to tell her about him, a highly irregular business to say the least. Servicemen wrote home every so often to inform their loved ones of news, and though censored, it often gave them an overview of where their partner was. The Intelligence Services' claws were into James long before his successes in the war could qualify as a legitimate reason for their interest. She knew better than to question him or them though, moving the conversation away from that part of his life for good measure.

"So, I'm goin' to be comin' to see ye every few days. Like you said, yer goin' to be supported now and if ever ye need anythin', ye only have to ask".

"That is most kind, Charlene…". He smiled, finding her grinning back at him. "But do not trouble yourself with visiting so often, I would not want to become a burden on you when I am sure you would rather be elsewhere".

"I have my orders, James". She responded, reminding him of the job she needed to do. "And besides yer… yer not a burden. A fella like you isn't a burden on anyone".

A part of him wanted to tell her that he was most likely a burden on Erin, which his return certainly was when she did not know how to handle it, but he did not allow himself to fall into that trap so easily. The occasional thoughts of his beloved were not helping his conversation with Charlene, especially when she was a blonde too. He would have given anything for Erin to have been sat next to him in the kitchen in Charlene's place, though he would have been holding her hand and telling her how much he loved her if she was there. There would have been a ring on her finger too, the promise of a union that would bind them together in the eyes of those who needed to see it. However, it was Charlene not her that sat in front of him, though she was constantly straying from the bounds of professionalism around him. The Englishman had that effect on a lot of women though… it was nothing new to him to see her almost swooning for him.

"I am not sure that is quite the case, but I thank you for your words nonetheless". An enthused James nodded as he spoke.

"Don't do yerself down, James. Yer a cracker fella, so ye are… any woman would be fortunate to be loved by you".

The birds appeared to stop tweeting outside, the world at war silencing the guns and the slaughter for a second as their eyes met. Charlene tried, tried ever so hard not to say what she had done, but she couldn't help herself. How she hadn't seen it before when he was in the city prior to the war, she did not know, angered at herself for not taking the opportunity then when she'd first thought of it a couple of minutes earlier. Erin ended up beating her to the fella, but with the young Quinn trying a taste of America rather than going back to her wee English fella, a glimmer of hope appeared. James wasn't just a good-looking fella for an Englishman, the young agent only ever saying that to mask how she really felt. He was more handsome than any man she'd ever laid eyes upon… a dream for a single woman such as her, who didn't need an excuse to spend time with him. If he wanted her there everyday, she would not complain. She…

She didn't know what to do when James took her hands, which had been resting on his kitchen table, into his, squeezing them as they kept eyes upon each other the whole time.

"Charlene…". The Englishman sighed, trying to prize words from his dry throat. "I think you are a beautiful young woman with an allegiance to Britain that should be both commended and celebrated. Any man would be fortunate to have you, I am sure of it…".

Her heart soared at his words.

It might not have been within her assignment, but she was willing to sacrifice her perfect record if it meant being with him. Smithers and Menzies would have to put up with it. It was destiny after all, two of Derry's most wealthy residents courting, being the perfect matches to each other when their allegiances were linked so closely.

"But that man cannot be me".

Pop!

The bubble of love she'd created around him burst.

She shut her eyes, furious with herself for getting carried away. Furious at him too, for not seeing her as someone who wanted to care for him in more ways than her job allowed her too… and because there was another who he saw as better than her.

"Ye… ye still love Erin, don't ye?"

Her gut reaction was to bring up the young woman that she despised, not finding that she cared how it made James feel upon a second mention of her name. At it, James let go of her hands, huffing loudly, turning his head away from her. Charlene might have brought her up out of spite for having her advances rebuffed, but she'd also struck emotions that the pilot couldn't deal with. Having spent the prior evening crying over losing her to Lance, he could not deny that he still loved her, with all of his heart. Any other man would have accepted Charlene to be with, she was a gorgeous young woman with vast wealth and connections that went far and wide. She wasn't Erin. That was the same for all of the women who'd ever tried to stir him before. Jenny… Olivia… Giovanna… and now Charlene. They were all, with the exception perhaps of the first, kind-hearted, beautiful women that no man in their right mind would pass up except him.

He only loved Erin Josephine Quinn. The woman he'd fought for… that he'd given everything for.

"She has moved on. I am happy for her, as I have already said".

Unconvincing and dejected, James' words were shallow in Charlene's eyes, but she would not call him out on them. She didn't need a crystal ball or the ability to travel in time to see that he was aching from having watched another man take Erin away from him. Although she too was stung from his rejection of her affections, the professional agent of the British Intelligence Services within her shouted louder. Watching over him to ensure that his life was progressing smoothly, most of all without danger, she could still comfort him platonically when he was clearly upset.

"Don't hurt yerself, James. Yer too good of a fella to lock yerself away because of Erin. Forget about her, there's more to worry about in the world than that… than her".

"You are quite right, Charlene". He chuckled but in the most melancholy manner. "There are a lot of problems to be concerned about. At least I have your friendship to count upon".

Whether he was stating it to her or asking her, she did not know, but Charlene chose to reply believing that the latter was implied. Although James might have been unwilling to upgrade that friendship to anything else as she hoped he might, she could accept being friends with the young Englishman. The heir to the throne wasn't the worst fella to have as a friend.

"You do. And we have something to do together, if you are willing to help?"

"We do?" A confused James, at war with his emotions, enquired suspiciously.

Fifteen minutes later, as Charlene walked out of the cottage, James knew all about the little problem that they needed to solve. The problem that wasn't really little at all, a very large problem. The spy that he knew the identity of, that was still lurking in the city and knew of his return, would pose a problem to not only him but Britain too. Any Nazi that was found on home shores would have to be dealt with quickly, ensuring that they did not recruit others to their cause. Ireland was almost the perfect place to recruit potential Nazi's, who did not even have to strongly believe in their cause to be accepted. For many, the chance to gain some form of vengeance on Britain, was a strong enough pull to fall in with someone like her. She needed to be dealt with permanently.

Menzies was correct too.

James agreed to help.

Although some danger did still exist for him in what he needed to do, Charlene would be there as backup to ensure that his life was not risked. If anything, she would give hers to ensure that he lived, that was the instruction that she was given anyway. Should complications arise, James was the priority, not her. However, the two could both agree that the Nazi spy would have to be dealt with sooner rather than later. The more time that they were given, the more likely they would find means to be able to do harm to the young Prince. No one knew what instructions the spy was given but Hitler may have desired revenge on the man who'd killed one of his closest friends; it was a chance that they could not take in leaving the spy active.

Away from the world of espionage and secrecy, the morning was still in its infancy, the sun only just showing above the trees in the early light of the day. James and Charlene were not the only two people in Derry who'd deliberately got on with their day early. Like the two of them, Erin also wanted to be up early, holding an ulterior motive of her own. As she cried herself to sleep the previous night, she'd somehow convinced herself that talking to James immediately was her best course of action. It wasn't right to hold onto the knowledge herself any longer, unfair to both her own conscience and to his. She owed him that at least, even if she could no longer be with him.

Evidently, it was not early enough.

Through her eyes it was that Charlene was viewed exiting the cottage, Erin stood back by the trees alongside the rolling fields of the countryside. Of course it would be her, it made sense that it would be when both she and James were wealthy.

The burning green eyes of jealousy reared within her, fists balling up at the sight of the two talking outside of his cottage. He loved Charlene Kavanagh… and although she might not have wanted to admit it, Erin discovered feelings of hurt she'd not quite ever experienced. Not even when she saw Jenny as a rival for his love.

She couldn't stay any longer.

Only when she turned to run, did the tears start to flow again…

---

Sunday morning mass was often a tepid, boring affair, especially when Father Peter would go on and on without really preaching the word of the Lord. He was more than likely trying to catch the eyes of all the married women that he was having affairs with, Michelle once concluded, though her friends did not particularly agree with that assumption.

However, the mass on the first Sunday of September that year, broke the norm. There were hushed whispers throughout the crowds, rumours spreading like wildfire when a certain individual appeared in the back row. Usually, James would sit with the rest of the Mallon's, just across from where the Quinn's and McCool's stood, but he knew he wouldn't be able to. If Erin was just across the aisle from him, he would have never been able to take his eyes off of her, the beauty that she was to him. Yet he would have also found pain if he'd done so, knowing that although she was right there in front of him as she had been the summer before the war, he could no longer reach out to take her in his arms. That honour now fell to Lieutenant Lance Hamilton, and all that he could do was put up his mask that spoke of his happiness that she'd found someone to love her. A statement of affection that contained so little truth from so many different angles, its existence was painfully bitter for all involved… but it was what it was.

His return was always going to make tongues waggle, when most considered him to be another dead man lost trying to fight the tide of Nazi aggression. He'd been prayed for by some, albeit being English made others decide he was not worthy of their prayers, remembered fondly by others. James was never supposed to have come back, but there he was, in the back row on his own that day, with more eyes on him than he wished for. After being delayed by Charlene, he purposefully arrived at church later than planned, to avoid having to talk to too many people. Isolating himself was not his intention for the long-term, but in the short-term, he did not wish to have to deal with the number of questions he would receive from those at church. It would be too much, too soon, when he was still trying to come to terms with the loss of the woman that he loved.

The only stroke of luck that he received that morning was Father Peter not mentioning his name during his sermon, when he could have easily done so. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve the man's generosity, but he could only be thankful that a scenario where hundreds of people turned to look at him did not occur. There were already enough eyes on him anyway, in particular on the scar across the left side of his face was lighting up many an eye, male or female. What he didn't know was that Father Peter did not dare annoy him anyway, too worried of the consequences if Michelle let slip about what happened between them. James was a lot stronger than he was, as well as battle hardened. Not even the cloth could protect him from the fury of a gentleman.

As soon as mass was over, he made his escape before anyone could catch up to him, ducking out to the left to wheel around to the graveyard. He didn't know where the grave would be, but James knew both he and David would have been laid to rest there, empty wooden coffins holding nothing at all. One of the two was deserving of having a spot laid out for him at least, David's grave one day hopefully containing his remains, if they could retrieve them from his grave on the Molinari estate in Taranto. The Englishman's needed to be removed though, a process which he was going to do himself that morning regardless or not of whether he obtained permission to do so, he bullishly thought to begin with. It was a stain on his honour to have his name marked over a plot that he could stand over himself, very much still part of the mortal realm. It didn't take him too long to find his supposed grave neither, his heart heating when he noted that they'd put his grave next to that of his best friend. If he'd have actually died that night, it was what he would have wanted, as well as what David would have, he could say with certainty.

"Hello old friend".

Looking down at the inscription, a wave of pride came over James. The two of them achieved so much together in the Fleet Air Arm, more than either of them could have ever imagined. There were the days of training when they would constantly excel as a pairing, to the raids they'd conducted in various locations. Rhodes, Benghazi… there were so many wonderful memories from their Mediterranean adventures, ones that James would treasure forever. If only David was there to treasure them with him though, that was what he was going to miss. As old men they could have sat in their chairs comparing notes on their best days gone by, looking back on wonderfully long lives with their families. Taranto changed that, but it didn't stop James from dreaming of what could have been every so often.

"I cannot believe I made it home, David, but I did". He huffed out a laugh, hands going into the pockets of his navy suit. "I am sorry it has taken me so long to speak to you again but, that is the war I am afraid. As you know, we can never expect to retain contact with anyone when conflict runs our lives".

Talking away to the headstone, it wasn't quite the same as the night he'd gone to visit the grave that actually contained David's body. That night he was not free, held under the watchful eye of Professor Molinari, who was still operating as a decent man at that moment, before revealing his true intentions for the Englishman later on. He'd not been given much time to say anything that night, whereas he now had as long as he wanted when back home, as much as hours he could stand there and talk if he needed to. There was little left for him to talk about that would require such length of conversation, but with David there was no chance of receiving any hostilities in return. A dead man could not coolly shrug him off or fail to show any kindness to him. Dead men held little choice other than to listen. There was something he'd said that night though, James remembering as he stood for a moment in silence, his hands coming out of his pockets to rest in front of his waist.

"If you remember, I made a heartfelt promise to you that night in Italy. I promised you that I would return home to look after Orla and Marie for you. That is a further promise that I intend to keep my old friend".

Their safety was paramount in his aims, providing at least one outlet away from the dejection he felt from the ending of his relationship with Erin. Or her ending of it. Orla was a great friend regardless, one that he hoped that would remain his friend even when her cousin may not want her to. The daughter that she'd raised, who he spoke to briefly the afternoon before, was a wonderful young girl, that was nearing three years of age. She was not only well spoken but well kept too, seemingly wanting for nothing despite the rationing of the time. Although she might have been a distracted, sometimes eccentric young woman, Orla appeared to have gotten a fine grasp on motherhood during his time away. It wasn't going to be the Englishman's job to interfere with her parenting, but if there was ever anything he could do, he would make sure to offer himself to her.

"Your daughter is… stunning, David. Orla has done a fantastic job for you, and I know you will be ever so proud of her!". James gushed the praise on her. "Marie is going to grow up in your memory, all the better for it, I should say. She has a hero to look up to in you, even if you cannot be there".

Intently focused on speaking to the stone in front of him, James didn't hear the footsteps on the dry ground behind him, navigating their way through the stones. There were four different sets of them, a group coming up to join him beside his fallen friend's grave. He only noticed their presence when the smallest member of the group came up alongside him, in what was her first visit to her father's grave. Orla was yet to take her to the grave, but Marie knew what her Da's name being there meant, having had it explained to her by her Mammy. That meant when she saw it for the first time, she did not cry nor did she say anything all. She simply looked up at James, whose eyes contained a tidal wave of unshed tears for his friend. With a leg there to cling to, Marie offered him comfort by hugging it, nearly forcing the tears out when he looked down to find her there. He'd been back not more than a day and his best friend's child already found herself to be comfortable around him. In that sense, he couldn't have asked for much more.

Behind her, Orla, Sarah and Shane were the other three that came over to see him. Correctly guessing where James would go as soon as mass was over, it was at Orla's suggestion that they go over to see him. She wanted to go straight over, before James could get to speak to the grave of his friend, but she'd been stopped by Shane. Her parental maturity slipped for a moment, forgetting that James would want a few quiet moments with her dead fella. He might not have lost as much as her, when David was the love of her life, but he'd still lost the best friend he'd ever had, as well as a valued colleague in the air. Shane understood it better though, proving once more that he was the correct balance to even up with Sarah, who also would have gone straight to James. He could respect that James would need the time to himself.

"Morning…". James addressed them all, ruffling Marie's hair with his left hand. "I… I wanted to come to see him. It felt right".

"Aye yer a grand fella, so ye are, James". Sarah replied first, smiling at him. "We're all happy to see ye back, so we are".

All of them were most delighted, even Shane who didn't know him at all. From what the firefighter heard about James though, he was one of the most gallant men that any of the family had ever met. A cousin to Michelle, who was completely different in personality to the Englishman, he would have expected trouble from him without knowing how different they were. There were similarities between the two, when the Belfast man thought about it, the pair of them both being men of action rather than words. Firefighting may not have been the same as flying a fabric covered biplane into the middle of the Italian Fleet, not that it mattered. Both were vital public servants that the country relied upon for a variety of different reasons.

"This is my partner, Shane…". She introduced the two men. "Shane… this is James who well… ye know".

Sarah's awkwardness was understandable to him, knowing what she was going to say before she stopped herself. He was most likely going to be referred to as Erin's fella or Erin's dead fella, the fella that once fell in love with the attractive blonde, that still was in love with her if he was honest to his heart. As hard as it was for the two of them in their own separate ways, James could respect how difficult it would be for her relative to address him or be anywhere near him. Returning to Derry should have been a glorious march to the future that he wanted, the one with Erin beside him for the rest of their days, which actually turned out to be a disastrous slog. They were coming around to the idea that Lance was Erin's fella now, James' arrival only making the lines blurred as to what they were supposed to think.

With Shane at least there was a blank slate though, absolutely nothing awkward in the firm handshake that they shared upon being introduced. Shane wasn't exactly lacking muscle and neither was he, a powerful combination as their hands met in the gesture.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Shane". James spoke first, just as they were ending their shake. "Anna told me about your engagement yesterday. I have to apologise that I have no gift for you, but please accept my warmest congratulations for your future together".

"Ach don't worry about that fella…". Shane replied, swiping his hand away. "I'm happy to finally meet you. Everyone speaks so highly of ye, ye know, so… to meet ye after everything that has happened, is my pleasure".

"Your praise is unwarranted, Shane, I fear my reputation may have been exaggerated. To make your acquaintance is just as much of an honour for me, if not more".

The two were both gentlemen, engaging in a conversation where neither wanted to admit to being more so than the other. James realistically won out due to the accent that he brought to the table, a refined English accent sounding far quainter than a refined Irish one. The gentlemanly battle was soon brought to an end though, thanks to Marie, who'd finally detached herself from James' leg. The little girl was glancing over to her Da's headstone every few seconds, memorising the details in her developing mind, whilst still keeping an ear on what was being said above her. Deciding that it was time to interject before they went any further, she turned her attention to James, wishing to tell him something.

"James, Shane's a cracker fella!"

Her little voice may have been tame, but it broke the air around them, Shane breaking out into an immediate smile. Children may not have been something he was blessed with during his life, but his partner's grandchild was completely adorable. Her heart at such a young age was so accepting, especially with the tragic circumstances of losing a parent before ever really knowing them would form a part of her life forever. Like James, he thought she was such a credit to her parents, a reflection of both of them in her personality. Caring and understanding like David, free and innocent in the same way as Orla. She was perfect.

"I am sure that he is Marie…". He crouched down next to her. "And you are a cracker young lady, too".

"Say thank you to James, Marie". Orla immediately commanded, doing so softly.

"Thank ye James!"

Throwing her arms around the pilot, he wrapped his big arms around her tiny back, not holding her too tightly as to not hurt her. With muscle like his, he could have very easily squashed her if he wasn't careful. Looking up to the other three, their faces only displayed joy at seeing him with her. The grins on their faces told him that they would not shun him, when they just as easily could do so because of how awkward his return was. Shane's rejection would have been harsh though, but where Sarah and Orla were concerned, he wouldn't have blamed them. Orla would have had to deal with so much grief from losing her husband, that seeing him again may have been too difficult if he reminded her of David, given how much time they'd spent together in her presence. Sarah would have no doubt been leant on as both her daughter and niece tried to cope with the loss of their loved ones, and she should not have felt pressured into accepting him again, he thought. All of them did want him around though because at heart, they thought the Englishman walking back into their lives unannounced was a positive, not a negative.

"We best be gettin' off home, love". Sarah spoke to Shane, continuing to keep her eyes on Marie who was hugging James. "Come on Marie, come to yer Grandma now… yer comin' home with us, so ye are".

"Oh…". She replied, pulling away from him. "But what about Mammy?"

"I'll catch up, don't worry my wee angel. I just want to have a chat with our friend James here".

Marie took a final quizzical look at her mother before seeming to understand what was going on, shuffling over to Shane with a specific look in her eye. She wanted to be carried by the man that she saw now as her Granda, even if he technically wasn't. Technicalities were irrelevant to a two year old girl who wished to be escorted home on the shoulders of the burly firefighter, to see out down the road a lot further than she could by walking down it herself. Orla moved across in front of James, occupying the spot that Shane was in previously, the two of them watching them all walk off towards the exit to the road. As soon as they were a decent distance away, James found himself nearly pulled to the ground as Orla practically leapt onto him. A tender embrace that he did not expect in the slightest, it brought him to laughter when she gave him a smacking great kiss on the cheek.

"I'm so glad yer back, so I am". A cheerful announcement, Orla eventually began to let him go, allowing James to stand up again.

"I am not sure that I deserved that but thank you none the same". He continued to chuckle, rubbing at the spot where she kissed him.

"Well I couldn't really do that yesterday, so I couldn't. I'm not sure everyone would have been too happy, ye know".

"Yes… quite".

James' amusement ceased, his mind casting him back to the image of Erin stood there holding Lance's hand. She would have been raging if Orla went any closer to him than she had done, not that she would have shown it in front of her American fella. He knew her too well to know that her internal feelings would often be far different to what she might have said on the outside. Erin would also never be able to hold back her feelings on matters indefinitely, always having her say on things whether it was required or not.

He missed her. He loved her…

"She'll come back to ye, ye know". Orla, upbeat as ever, tried to cheer him up. "Mammy did a card reading when Erin wasn't around. It pointed to you bein' the fella Erin was goin' to marry, so it did".

Smiling was all he could manage. If only card readings reflected reality and were not superstitious nonsense, then his mood would be lifted from the melancholy state it was in.

"Erin already appears to have found someone better…". Self-lacerating, James castigated himself yet again. "Perhaps he was the man in the readings".

"Ach no, it was definitely you, so it was". She confirmed with a hint of sass in her voice, before her body language changed to a nervous stance. "But I've not come to talk about Erin… I… I wanted to know about David. About what happened… that night…".

Oddly, reliving what was one of the worst nights of his entire life, was easier to do than to talk about his love for her cousin. The dark night in the skies over the Italian port, the nerves that he'd felt on being the man tasked with leading such a dangerous operation, the realities of what was achieved that night hadn't quite hit him as much as it did stood over David's grave. Orla's eyes spoke volumes of hope as they glowed back at him, the young widow wishing to know exactly what happened to her husband, the father of their child. The official notice that the staff officer brought with him on Marie's first birthday, the day which she found out that she'd lost her love, didn't hold such details, the only man in the world knowing the full story being James. James who was supposed to have died with him, taking that truth to the grave too… but now he was not dead, she knew she had to know.

An obliging James would never say no to her.

"We'd dropped our first torpedo and I was trying to get us around for a second run…". He recounted the story, just as he remembered it. "The Italians were fighting back with their anti-aircraft guns and we… we couldn't get away. The aircraft was hit on the left side and I knew the damage was… was awful but… but then David… David told me that he'd been hit too".

He'd never forget the scene that confronted him when he'd looked over his shoulder, David's chest a sea of blood from where the flak pummelled him. His voice on the radio was strained, his body already drained of energy from desperate attempts to respond to what had happened to him. He didn't have time to help put pressure on the wounds with a Fairey Swordfish to control, a task made harder when the aircraft was uncontrollably jolting to the right, losing altitude steadily whilst he'd wrestled with the controls. In the initial moments after seeing the state David was in, he knew he'd never get them back to the Illustrious alive, but didn't tell his friend that. Machine gun rounds were pumped into the Irish airman too, not that he knew it at the time, David slipping away whilst they were still in the air.

"I tried my best to get us to safety but… it was hopeless…". He continued, Orla nodding her head in understanding, tears dribbling down her cheeks. "We were hit again and I just couldn't do anything else but try to land in a field that I'd seen in the distance. I thought if I got us down then we could be taken prisoner and a Doctor could perhaps save David. I… I wasn't quick enough".

It took some feat, although when his skills as a pilot were considered, it was somewhat standard, to be able to pilot an aircraft so damaged to the ground, and James managed it that night. The aircraft was on fire by that point, flames beginning to overcome the fabric that covered it. He knew he needed to drag David away immediately, because even if his friend was destined to die that night, he wasn't going to let it be via burning alive. The Irishman was still alive when they landed, with messages for the future that he needed to pass onto his commanding officer and best friend before he passed on himself. He even found time to humorously comment on their situation, despite his gravely injured state, James remembered with a slight curve of the lips.

"He made sure to tell me how much he loved you but…". James's voice broke, as Orla wept in front of him, hearing how David was thinking about her until the end. "He died in my arms. I am so sorry, Orla… I should never have allowed him to come with me that night. I… I should have stopped it".

"No…". She replied through her tears. "My… my David d-… d-died, doin' his job. He… he knew the risks and ye did yer best, James. Don't get yerself upset because it's not yer fault…".

"Orla, I was the pilot. I… I should have… well… I could have… done so many things differently… I… it was my…".

"Stop". She put her hand over his mouth. "Don't James. David wouldn't have wanted ye to be like this".

Orla's sniffled thoughts were absolutely correct, he knew. David would have wanted him to stoutly watch over his family for him, not attempt to take blame for a death that could not be avoided when at war. Every man going into battle, regardless of which nation they represented, were aware that they might not live to see the next morning. It was but an occupational hazard to warfare, death the price for changing the world or fixing problems within it. The Nazi's were the problem on their hands, and through their Italian counterparts, David was killed, not because of the Englishman's inability to shield him from what happened. Choosing Swordfish to attack the Italian Fleet came with an enormously high potential casualty rate, but in accepting the mission from Admiral Cunningham, James knew at the time that there was no guarantee that they'd walk away from it. He hadn't fired the fatal shots though… that blame lied with the Italian gunners, and them only.

"I owe it to David to look after you… I … I promised him". Starting to speak again, James reached into his pocket, handing her a handkerchief to dry her eyes with. "Orla, I promise you, I will always be there for you and Marie, whenever you need me. Whatever for".

"Th-Thank ye, James. B-but… I just want to be friends ye know… when David said look after me, I don't want ye to think… ye know… I'm not there to replace Erin".

"Oh no… Orla… I…". Embarrassed, he defended himself, hands shaking. "I did not mean that I wish… I only meant that I want to look out for you, to make sure you can raise Marie safely and happily. I am deeply sorry if you thought I meant I wanted to be with you".

"No need, James". Wiping away the tears, she was almost chirpy in reply. "I just wanted to be sure, that's all. And… Thank ye, again for telling me. I… I am glad you were with him".

James was fiercely glad too, thinking on that as Orla quietly said farewell to him, rushing off to be able to catch up with the rest of her family. Breathing out as he watched her vanish off into the distance, through some of the crowd that still remained towards the front of the church, he turned back down, not to David's grave but his own. Crouching, he wondered what the best way to remove the heavy headstone would be, not completely trusting that brute force would do. It couldn't stay there any longer, that was for certain, although having a word with Father Peter first before desecrating the graveyard was probably a better idea. Even when it was his own grave supposedly and he's previously thought moving it there and then was paramount.

He was going to see the Father that morning though, but when he rose to his feet again and glanced behind him, there was someone stood between him and the church that made the task very difficult.

Erin.

---

She was still so beautiful. More beautiful than she even was the day before.

Wearing one of her better dresses for the occasion, not something she did every Sunday, Erin stood with her hands clasped in front of her, watching him. Looking back at her, James could only be left stunned by her beauty, as he so often had been during their summer together. That summer was so long in the past though, that the memories were being moved aside for her at least, new memories to be made with her new fella. The memories that he should have been enjoying with her, that were so cruelly taken away from the both of them. Fate was not allowing them a happy reconciliation, the pilot being believed to be dead for so long that she'd been unable to wait any longer. Lance was the man by her side now, America taking over from Britain in her affections. Their time was seemingly over.

However, it didn't stop her from moving towards him as he looked on, transfixed by her mesmerizing appearance to leave the Englishman in a dream-like state for a moment. There was a part of the future that kept him alive whilst held prisoner, that showed visions of her walking towards him upon their reunion, except that walk always turned into a run where she would leap into his arms, professing her undying love for him. The thought of her coming back to him to spend the rest of their lives together, kept James alive for so much longer than any other man would have been able to last for, yet now the world was telling him that he should have submitted to the wounds he received, and truly died. A dead man did not have to watch the woman he believed to be the love of his life, gallivanting around with her new sailor fella.

Erin might have wanted to convince herself that there was nothing in her heart for him anymore, no place or feeling, but she was only doing so to mask the lies. The truth that she did not want to face was that James was just as handsome, if not more so thanks to the scar, than he'd ever been. He looked after her, made her feel so special and… alive, during their time together, that to firmly bury such feelings was impossible. She fell hopelessly in love with him three years earlier, culminating in a bond that would not be shaken off so easily. The blonde might not have wanted to face it, but inside her heart, there was still a corner devoted to the wee English fella. That corner would be cut off though, because she loved Lance now, not him. James was no longer hers to love, not after she'd moved on.

Regardless of their feelings, the true fact of the matter was that after over three years away from each other, James and Erin were together again, with no one to interrupt them with what they needed to say to each other. Or more what she needed to say.

"Erin…". James started softly, his smile matching. "You are well?"

"Aye…". She replied hesitantly, stopping on the opposite side of the grave to him. "… I suppose. Yer not dead?"

"No".

The thick soup of tension in the air, wrapped around them tightly, consuming their breaths as they both struggled to find other words to say to each other. Desperately, she needed to make something very clear to him, the truth she could no longer deny him the knowledge of when it would affect him so greatly. She'd struggled with it for so long, consequently finding every Autumn since to be the most miserable time of the year for her. Even Christmas brought misery when his words of their festive season together, that he'd promised to her, always made her think of the special time they'd shared together and how it was ripped away. His circumstances may not have been of his own making, but they were of scant consolation to her.

Coming to their aid, was one man who definitely would not return. Unable to keep her eyes on her former lover for more than a couple of seconds at a time, Erin focused her attention on the stone. The date of the eleventh of November was one that she thought she would never forget, the day which both cousins lost their fellas. David's death hit her somewhat too, as he was once someone that she thought highly of, and always did as a friend ever since he'd began his relationship with Orla. David was a grand fella, a caring man that looked out for his family and loved Orla so very much. His legacy lived on through Marie, but there were times when his laid-back persona, with a touch of seriousness too, was sorely missed.

"He was a hero". James spoke up again, noting how she was staring at the stone. "His actions should be remembered in time as such, he… he was truly a great loss, personally and professionally".

"David was a good man. An honest fella… I can't think what Orla must have been feelin' then when I was…".

She stopped, looking away even further from James, who was trying to get her eye contact once more. She was avoiding him, he knew, but equally he did not wish for it to stay that way either. They were adults not children, adults in battle with their own consciences who knew better than to attempt to avoid each other. Somehow, whether it be through some sort of telepathy that he did not know existed between them, Erin turned back to face him. Her eyes betrayed the emotions that she felt, as though no tears yet fell from them, there was no doubt that they existed. Usually clean, absorbing irises were clouded over by a watery mist, her slumping shoulders graphically revealing how her battle with such emotion was going. It was going terribly, from the moment she'd seen Charlene leave his cottage that morning; after an initial burst of confidence, Erin was a complete mess.

"I am happy for you…". He suddenly blurted out, snapping her to attention. "And for… Lance, isn't it?"

"James…". She choked out his name in a shiver, but got no further.

"Anna told me about him. I am glad that you have been able to move on and find someone else. My… I cannot call it death but, my supposed passing… I… I am sorry for it".

"James, I'm not happy".

It was only when he watched her shoulders slump completely, her precious face scrunching up, did James recognise and remember the faces she pulled when she wasn't. He immensely detested seeing her so unhappy, having once seen it as his personal quest to rid her of such depression when they were together three years prior. At that time he would have taken her into his arms to comfort her, but such an action was no longer appropriate, even if his muscles tried to force him into. His brain still defaulted to seeing her as his lover, subconsciously, requiring the pilot to remind himself of his place. He could only offer her his lack of understanding in return instead.

"I… I do not follow, Erin… I am so-".

"We need to talk, James".

Her statement was firm, firmer than intended, but if it wasn't firm then she would have most likely fell to her knees in tears. The conversation that they were about to have, the very one-sided conversation from her point of view, was one that she'd sat on for so long. She could have told him in one of her letters to him, perhaps should have told him then when he went around a year without knowing exactly what was going whilst he was still a serving officer in the Fleet Air Arm. Finding the words to write down was just as hard as it was to find the words to say to him there and then, and even with her parents urging her to, she still did not. When he was finding success in the Med, being the hero that she saw him as at the time, a distraction from back home was not what he needed. Yet in time, those feelings had begun to change against the Englishman, despite it being her who'd withheld the information from him. For so long she'd planned to tell him though; it could wait no longer.

"Just after you left… I… I realised I was pregnant…".

…

Silence.

Nothing more needed to be said for the horror to kick in for him.

He knew her too well to know what she was trying to say, to inform him of a truth that hurt her so intensely at the time. James didn't have to ask to know that it was not successful, but she continued on anyway.

"I… I didn't know… I…". She stammered.

"Erin…". James almost wheezed her name. "You don't…".

"No… I do". Interrupting him, she was teary but defiant. "I… I told Mammy… and Daddy because they… they were suspicious. I was acting out… I… I had to tell them".

There'd been more obstacles in her life than she cared to remember, but that particular obstacle was not one she would forget. Cornered by her parents one night once Anna went to bed, they'd coaxed the truth out of a terrified Erin, who did not know what to do. A young Catholic girl, left pregnant by her English lover, she needed to marry him or else leave the family in shame. That was difficult though, when he was away training somewhere in Britain where she did not know. The worst possible circumstances that they could have faced in their love, James did not even know of them, not until that morning in the graveyard. They'd been so careful together, they'd both thought, but it appeared that it was not quite enough. Going off to fight in the war, he left her pregnant without it ever being planned for.

"I… I was going to write to ye when ye wrote to me but… but I couldn't… I wanted to tell ye in person…". Briefly she smiled remembering how happy she felt despite how scared that she was. "And then… one mornin'… I… I just knew…".

He was crying as she spoke, without realising that tears were falling from his cheeks. Pain unlike anything he'd experienced ran through his veins, that were cold and devoid of any other feeling. For three years, he went without knowing of the tragic events that she was describing to him in excruciating detail. It was his duty to have been there with her, to make her feel loved despite what was happening, yet he hadn't been. At the time that she was going through her hell, he was still learning the ropes of being in officer in the Fleet Air Arm, around the time that he'd managed one of his miracles, landing his Swordfish with no engine power at all. All the time across the Irish Sea, she was in need of him more than ever, yet he wasn't there.

"Mammy and Daddy told everyone that I was really ill and… and they wouldn't let Anna out of the house. I… I didn't go to work or… or see the g.. g-girls…".

"Erin…".

"I lost our baby James".

Their baby, their child, one of the quintessential dreams that kept the young Englishman alive. A child that was taken away as quickly as Erin realised she was carrying it. Trying to understand how she'd lost the child was impossible at the time when she could not think of a particular incident. The only conclusion that she, as well as her parents, could come to was that it was not the will of the Lord for her to become a mother at a young age like Orla. Her cousin's pregnancy was coming to an end as her should have been started, but she'd lost her baby before Orla had hers. Marie's healthy delivery, despite some initial scares, took the attention away from her mystery illness, something which she was extremely grateful for. Although for some time, it left her jealous. Orla could carry a baby the full term to a healthy delivery; Erin hadn't even managed half of that time before the child passed.

"Mammy and Daddy tried to help me but…"

Completely lost in his grief, James wept openly in front of her. Erin's heart burned from seeing him left a tearful mess, not the James that she knew and… once… loved. Still did love not that she would admit to doing so. Lance wasn't there with her that morning to help her like he had been the day before, leaving her alone to her thoughts. Thoughts that were betraying the American, telling her to move forward to embrace her former lover. Together, the two of them could cope with the pain of their lost child better, stronger as a unit rather than separated. Wounds of the past could be treated, and perhaps her life would be with him, just as she'd always hoped it would be previously. Except she fought against that subconscious nature, reminding herself for the hundredth time in less than twenty four hours that Lance was her fella… not James. She couldn't throw her arms around him without it damaging her relationship with The Yank she was now in love with.

"Why didn't you…". He began, voice strained from the tears, looking back at her red eyes. "… tell me… or tell David when he came back?"

"It wasn't you who had to go through the pain of losing a child James!" Erupting, Erin shouted through the tears. "Do ye think it's easy for a woman to tell her fella that she's lost their child! I… I didn't want to lose you if ye were ashamed of me… I couldn't take anymore!"

"I did not think…". James, angered by his careless comment, was even more distraught. "You are right… I do not know how you felt at the time, I… I should have thoug-".

"Aye ye damn right ye didn't! You abandoned me, James… left me to deal with the loss of our baby on my own! I NEEDED YOU!"

Irrational behaviour was to be expected from her, not least when explaining such a tragedy as she was, but James still did not approve of how she was speaking. He didn't even know that she was pregnant when he left, a fact which would have radically changed the outcome of the years he'd been through. His devotion to the country would have always come second to his devotion to her in such circumstances, and in another time, their child might have survived as well as David, who most likely would not have gone to war without him. James was a man of duty and honour, but he would not have fought against the Nazi tide with a child to nurture. He would have never left her side if he'd known.

"I… I had to fight, Erin". He offered his reasons tamely in comparison to her fire. "My country needed me and I wanted to fight for our future. It was in danger… perhaps it still is. But if I would have known that you were pregnant with our child, I would have stayed with you… protected you… and our child. I would have walked away from my commission".

"I don't believe you".

Her words were not delivered in a shout or a screech, done so calmly with a strong hint of venom behind them. Deliberately choosing to narrow her eyes, showing her pain through the watery droplets that still leaked from the corners, it was a scowl that he was given. Scowling at him, her mind was on the scene she'd come across that morning, when she'd originally planned to have the conversation about their lost child with him. In the setting of his cottage, it would have been a lot more peaceful to have done so, though the chances of her betraying Lance would have been much higher. Somehow when she'd woke up that morning, she didn't care about the American, just James. The Erin Quinn of six o'clock would have taken James back in a heartbeat to navigate their future together, starting with handling their past. The version of Erin that was stood by the Englishman's grave at eleven o'clock, only wished to berate him for not being there for her. Pitifully confused at why she wouldn't believe him, when that summer before the war they'd found themselves so deeply in love with each other, James was shocked. How could she not believe him? It all became very apparent…

"I saw Charlene comin' out of yer cottage this mornin…". She almost growled at him, wanting to find a guilty look on his face when she looked up. "Keen to carry on where ye left off, were ye!? Ye made me think ye loved me but… I should have known!"

There was no look of guilt in return… more one of annoyance.

"I did love you. Erin, there was never anything going on between me and Charlene… I never even expected her to turn up at my door this morning". He desperately defended himself.

"Sure didn't look like that…". She muttered.

"There was only ever you, Erin. No one else has ever come close to you in my eyes. Our summer together… they were the best months… of my life".

They were both crying intensely, talk of their love for each other forcing them into further heartache. For a brief moment though, through the fog of her tears, James saw the slightest of smiles slapped across her face when he told her the truth about their summer together. It was only for the shortest of seconds, but it was most definitely there. He was making her feel special again, just like he'd done all that time ago. That was how he saw her, remembering the small smiles that meant more than any giggled grins that she ever gave him. Signs of happiness that no other man, until the arrival of Lance it appeared, was able to coax out of her.

That was why he reached forward, to take her dangling hands into his.

"I still love you…".

"GET OFF ME!"

She yelled at him, ripping her hands away. Those were not the words she wanted to her, nor did she wish for his touch. James' touch had done more than enough to her. Confronted by the feeling of his soft, joyous skin on hers after so long, she could only force herself into rejecting it, no matter how much her appetite was quelled by it. Instantly, James was left to feel guilty.

"Just stay away from me! I… I can't…".

"Erin… please…". He begged her, fighting his tears and dismay.

"No! Leave me alone James! I don't… I can't be around you!"

"Erin!"

It was to no avail. She voted with her feet that morning, unable to be in his presence any longer without hurting herself too greatly. She'd done what she needed to do, told him what he needed to know and it would be up to the Englishman to sort himself out. He'd left her for so long… it was now his turn to be the one left to deal with such tragedy. Her body… her mind… they'd been left fragile at the time because he was not there to comfort her, after promising that he would always be there many times over their summer together. The war was a justifiable excuse, but he did not even have to fight, not when he would not be conscripted. If he was seeing Charlene then it would have made sense that he went, he was so keen to go, she remembered. At the same time though, Erin knew she would be lying to herself if she thought that way. It was simply her own insecurities that told her that there was anything between him and the heiress. Deep down, she knew there was not.

Should she have stayed it would have been too much, and already wrestling with her feelings before the day began, it would be one battle too far. Running away out of the church, which was thankfully completely quiet, the crowds having dispersed, she didn't stop nearly all of the way home. Throughout the journey, she cried her eyes out once again, for the child that they'd been denied together three years earlier. She thought she would never cry to the same extent as the day she lost the child or she lost James again, but that myth was completely shattered on a mild September morning. Life was so cruel to her… to them. The future that she'd always wanted alongside the wee English fella was gone, replaced by a sour tragedy that left marks that ran too deeply for them to be together again. Lance was her escape from the past, a new future where she would hopefully be able to forget about what could have been. He loved her so much, that she was certain of, that a new dream could be formed with him. Her certainty couldn't have been further from the truth…

Stood over his own grave though, James could not think about the future. Seeing her bolting away from him, from them as a couple, he sank to his knees, sobbing in total agony. There was yet another painful twist of fate that went against him, when he thought that there were no more left in the world that he could suffer from. Losing his best friend, his mother, his lover… there'd been a new life too, a child, that would have had the most loving parents imaginable should it have arrived safely. It was not to be, nature denying them the chance to bring that child into the world when it was all either of them would have ever wanted. It was the reason why they could no longer be together too, the pain of the memories weighing too heavily on Erin whenever she looked at him.

James could only cry.

Blinking through the tears, his mind conjured an image to remind him of something from his past. A celestial vision that mocked him, telling him that their lost child was deserving of the death it suffered before it could be brought into the world. It manifested along the side of the church, figures stood in a line parallel to the wall of the building.

He could see the children from the train station, the innocent Jewish children who were gunned down by the SS Death Squad.

The looks on their faces as they saw the hail of machine gun bullets heading towards them.

The sounds of little bones splintering from heavy calibre rounds, the cries of the last few children clinging to life before it ebbed away from them.

The smell of death that hung in the air around the vale.

He'd failed to save those children, that day, instead being responsible for their deaths by ordering for the train doors to be opened as Kurt instructed him to.

Losing his own child equalled the score he chalked up.

"I am sorry… I am so sorry…".

Whispers into the ground, where his head found itself, the young pilot doubling over from overbearing grief, were all he could muster. The dashing English gentleman was left an ungainly wreck, everything he loved falling apart around him as the past that Erin fought alone for so long, became an emotional burden shared. She didn't want to hurt him… she never wanted to hurt him, but he'd left her at the worst possible time, a delayed price paid for his unknowingly poor choice.

James… James was left with nothing. A pilot without an aircraft, A prince without a throne, now a father without a child.

Shattered love was all that remained.