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 :)

90. Vengeance

Chapter 90: Vengeance

He couldn't stay after her words.

Not when she was lying… not when after everything he'd done to protect her life was undone by her in seconds. He'd given everything to beat Lance, force him away from the act of raping her, yet she agreed with him. Whether it was his heart or his mind that couldn't take it, James wasn't too sure, but he knew he couldn't stay.

Gerry seemed to realise it too, even if he couldn't see inside when the words were uttered. Shuffling over in his chair, he made way for James to exit quickly, the Englishman let go from Joe's grasp without as much as a huff between either of them. James was too anguished to let out any emotion, feeling betrayed more than anything. He'd put his life on the line in a sense, when Lance was more than prepared to use weapons upon him in order to fight back but Erin still sided with him when he gave his version of the events that took place that morning. Mary might have bought it, he expected that because she would often fight for the underdog in such a situation, but his beloved should not have agreed. Quite why she didn't wish to was ridiculous to him after what he'd seen, which made him question for a moment whether he'd actually stumbled upon something far more innocent. That idea was shaken away when he remembered the distressed look upon Anna's face when she ran out to him, not that it mattered anyway.

Erin had chosen her side.

For the first time, a sinking feeling was setting in that he did not like at all. Walking away, down the Quinn's path, he wondered whether she was worth it anymore. Never once during all of his struggles did he ever give up on her, even if he had refocused on exactly what she meant to him. When he'd done all that he had only to have her turn around and make him out to be the guilty party for the scene that the rest of her family walked into, he did have to wonder. What was the point of loving her, if she would not at least be honest? At one time he would have considered the thoughts sickening. Not now though, not after the display he'd witnessed, when she was offered her escape from the American's abusive clutches. She hadn't taken it and it spoke volumes to him.

For months during his capture, and subsequent torture, her safety and his future with her was all that drove him on yet once again he was faced with it being for nothing. On Christmas Eve, similar thoughts ran through his head, forcing him towards the suicide that he was seconds away from if it were not for Joe and Michelle. He wasn't in such a dark place once again, realising that his life meant more than just whether he was with her or not, but Erin still retained a large significance in whatever that existence was. If she was content to spend her days with a man who was seconds away from forcing her into something that she did not want, he had to wonder whether there was any point in trying to stop her. Perhaps it was life's way of telling him that his love for her really was pointless… or perhaps, he thought seconds later, he just needed to get home to calm down.

Home was a long way away though, making him regret not making the trip by car. Those regrets only grew as soon as he was a hundred metres or so away from their house once more, the heavens opening. After a relatively calm morning of weather, the skies of Derry were grey once more. His mind wasn't on the weather though, pinballing around before finally settling on how he wished he'd have taken the knife with him to finish the Yank off. It was no less than what Lance deserved in his eyes, though the James Maguire in the moment would not have been considered to be an unbiased judge. One thing he was at least proven correct in was not trusting the American, though that side of the man had already been exposed the night before. Clint's injuries were not as poor as first thought at least, about the only blessing from what had been an emotional weekend. It was only lunchtime on Saturday too. Back aboard the Lyman, James having driven him there at first light once he'd recognised that the Steward's Mate could be transported safely, he was not hopeful that anything would come of what happened, nor was Clint. To be believed, there would have needed to have been overwhelming evidence against the officers, which there was not. An independent witness might have finished their careers, but James and Michelle could not be considered appropriate for such tasks.

"James!"

He recognised the voice behind him a minute later, but it wasn't the voice he wanted to hear. He wanted it to be Erin more than anyone, so that she could justify to him why she felt it appropriate to make him be portrayed as the villain in the scenario. The loving side of himself, the gentleman that he tried to be at all times, prompted his mind to consider whether she felt trapped and unable to escape. If he could give her the push to change her mind, then she might do so. It was not the woman that he loved, or at least thought he loved, though. Another member of her family was making their way over to him from behind, rushing through the rains to attempt to stop him. Anna would have been most preferable when she would without question support his story, but it was not her either. The person following was the one doing so because they were obliged to, as well as wanting to.

"James!"

He stopped for a moment, allowing them to catch up to his side. Keeping pace with him was going to be difficult in the mood that took hold over the Englishman's mind, but he would at least allow the chance for them to be able to try.

"Joe". Replying when he caught the man at his side from the corner of his eye. "There is no need to follow me all the way. I am going home where I will spend the rest of the weekend… I have no intention to finish what I started".

"We have to talk James!" Responding incredulously, Joe huffed and puffed as the younger man increased the pace once more. "Ye think ye can just beat the fella to… nearly his… death, like that! Ye can't son… ye can't!"

"I did what was right, Joe". James stated coldly, not looking the man in the eye. "I would do it again if I had to. That man-".

"That man is one of our allies, James! Ye can't just beat the fella up because he was showin' an interest in my Erin!"

A part of him wanted to scream in Joe's face that it was much more than that, but he couldn't do so. Joe was his friend after all, as well as one of the two agents of the British Government directly responsible for him. Making an enemy out of him or shouting at him in general, was not his prerogative. Working together was always their best chance of successfully navigating anything, although when it came to personal lives, a lot was being asked of them both. Erin presented a conflict of interest, even if their outlooks were aligned on her safety being priority. The older of the two walked a thin line, reminded so again that morning upon coming across the scene of James pummelling the Yank into the ground. Weighing up his family life and his professional life, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Openly siding with either would cause a rift with the side he chose against, not being able to afford to do so in either scenario. Playing the act of mediator would be his role, not that it would be an easy one to fulfil.

"Where are ye off to?" Joe enquired, panting as the pace was still high.

"I am going home, Joe… I think".

The manner in which he stated it was deliberate, the senior of the two being far too long in the tooth to not recognise what he was trying to say. It wasn't an outright confirmation about his future, but the seeds were sown as such from him. There was very little point in trying to sugar coat his meaning, even though he'd disguised it a little, because it was what his raw emotion was telling him. As they were walking on, whilst Joe digested his own thoughts, James' mind quickly harpooned him towards the future. Derry was beginning to feel less and less like a home, despite the best efforts of his own family and some of his friends. Twenty four hours earlier he couldn't have been more happy, Erin showing up at his door and the two of them nearly kissing, having enjoyed what was a fantastic afternoon with Anna. He should have known that fate would not have been kind to him for so long, not after all he'd been through in his relatively few years. As much as he might have wanted to believe that there was more to life than just the young Quinn's approval, the significance of her was once more weighing him down.

Without her, did he really need to be there?

For Michelle, he could make the argument that he needed to be. If he thought his own future was a complicated mess, James knew it was nowhere near as difficult as hers was going to be. She'd told him, as Clint drifted off to sleep in the spare room of the cottage, about the conversation they'd had before he was attacked by Lance and his friends. The banker often thought of it himself before then, without telling her as not to break her heart. Trying to forge a new path in a society that was not always so open to change, was going to be a highly challenging process. They'd all seen what happened to Clare when she admitted to her father that she was not the norm that she should be. It scared Michelle, he knew, not that Martin would be in any way like Sean. It was more what the wider public would think of her for being with Clint. Putting up with the judgemental comments of those who knew no better was not exactly a skill of hers without him at her side. She would need James for that… he knew she would. Constituting enough for him to remain in the city though, was a tall order.

In the distance, behind the two of them, they could both hear the engine of a vehicle. Having walked in silence for minutes since James told Joe that he was heading home, the details still a little vague to the older man, they were out of the main part of the city, into the first of the country roads that led to the Englishman's cottage. Instinctively, both men moved into the side of the road to give the vehicle the right of way it commanded. The two of them being ran down by a military vehicle or delivery van would have made the day much worse after all. After a good few seconds had passed, Joe, settling into file behind him, looked back over his shoulder to wonder why the car hadn't already gone by. Very quickly he noticed why, prompting him to break the silence that now existed between the two.

"Son… we need to stop".

"Joe, I appreciate that you wish to talk but can we no-".

"James! I mean it… turn around!"

Evident to the younger man that his older counterpart must have already stopped, his voice quieter as if he'd spoken from further away, he followed the instruction too. Appreciating why the order was given when he noticed who the occupants of the driver's seat and front passenger seat were, he came to a stop too, wincing in discomfort. The presence of one of the two was not a surprise, but the other was. Gently he walked back down the road, down a slight decline compared to the incline he'd been climbing up moments before. The rear passenger door was already open when he got there, though Joe was waiting for him before either man entered the vehicle. Both sets of his eyes from inside the car were on him though, eyes brimming with concern.

"What the bloody hell has happened to your shoulder!"

Major Smithers was far from pleased when he saw the state of the young man's shoulder, which barring the one wince he'd produced when he'd stopped further up the road, James had all but forgotten about. The adrenaline in his blood was going to cease soon enough though, which is when he would start to feel the injury that the Yank inflicted upon him. It wasn't exactly the first time he'd been on the wrong end of a knife, his face showing the marks of the Pyrenean confrontation he held with John-Paul, many months earlier. Smithers hadn't seen the bloodied aftermath of it first-hand, but one look at the Englishman on a wet Derry morning worried him enough. James was his responsibility after all… he could hardly leave him unattended.

"A small scuffle… nothing major…". He stopped, realising what he was about to say and smiling. "… Major".

"I am glad that you find it amusing James, but may I remind you that you quite clearly have been stabbed!"

"You should not worry, Major Smithers. I am functioning quite well at the moment".

"Of course… I can just look out of the car window at you with a stab wound and think that the world is where it should be… please do not take me for a fool, James!"

Finding himself being eyed by the second set of eyes within the car, belonging to the driver, the Englishman found an even more concerned set. Charlene, regardless of whether or not she did have feelings for him, would have been worried if she found him in that state. Yet she did still hold some feelings, even if they were considerably more watered down than they previously were. It was hard not to when he was as handsome as he was; as much as she tried to downplay how much she thought of him, it was at great difficulty to herself. She knew her place though after the man in her passenger's seats warnings to her, as well as knowing that her love was unrequited. There was only one woman that James had eyes for, and it was not her. It didn't stop her being concerned for him when he'd been stabbed though, making her want to scream at him when he resisted Smithers' words.

"I think we need to talk to Smithers, son". Joe inserted himself into the conversation. "It was a bit more than a wee scuffle, wasn't it?"

"Joe, I would rath-".

"I think we'd be best getting' in the car, son. Besides, we're gettin' feckin' drenched out here as it is, we might as well take the shelter".

Getting in the car would mean a lengthy debriefing, that would ensure that he would have to revisit some of the thoughts he'd experienced while charging away from the Quinn household. As much as it was the right thing to do, especially when there were potential consequences for him if the United States Navy demanded justice, he did not want to have to. In front of Charlene and Major Smithers at least, it was quite embarrassing in his mind. Joe had been there on Christmas Eve, almost giving him a free pass when it came to gathering an insight into the Englishman's thoughts. He knew he could open up to Joe in time, although he was not naïve enough to realise the position he would be putting him in. A set of divided loyalties that were an unfair burden for any man to carry, the banker knew it would increase the guilt upon his conscience if he were to talk to Joe about the incident in more detail. Telling someone was imperative eventually though. He'd already managed to convince himself internally that he would not allow falsehoods to spread about what happened, unwilling to be shown in a negative light for stopping Lance's brutal assault.

"James! Get in the car!"

When the Irishman's words didn't work, it was the turn of the Irishwoman. Charlene was not going to allow him to stand out in the pouring rain any longer without that shoulder of his being seen to. She didn't care if she had to get out and stuff him into the back of it, he was going with them and in her mind it was final.

Smithers glanced back at her with a brow raised, though she ignored the message that he was trying to convey, focusing on her staring match with the Englishman. They could discuss her feelings for him, as well as her professionalism, another time.

Sighing loudly, it worked too, James accepting defeat.

"Alright… but just to my cottage. I am more than capable of tending to my own…". Pausing, he winced again, the pain finally catching up with him. "… wounds".

"We will be discussing whatever it is that has happened". Smithers stated, his seriousness rather evident in the facial expression he pulled. "I think you know that I will have to write a report about this… and where that report will end up".

As far as he knew, Joe and Charlene were none the wiser as to why they were divesting their time and effort upon him truly, the idle threat from Smithers being for his ears only. The King would no doubt want to know of an incident like the one he was involved in less than an hour earlier. What his father would think of him was unknown to James, like the man himself was, though he did not stop to ponder about his reaction. From what he'd been able to gleam from Smithers, the King cared for his first born son that he could not openly acknowledge. Worry would be a certainty. Whether pride or admiration for what he'd done would be felt, if the truthful story was to be presented in full, was another thought to add to the long list when it came to the father that James did not know.

Yielding to the authority of those around him, James clambered in rather ungainly for a gentleman, hitting his head on the way through. He barely felt such a blow considering the pain he was now in from his shoulder, which was really beginning to ache. It had stopped bleeding from what he could see, but there was still a gaping open wound there where there should not have been. As soon as Charlene pulled off, Smithers turned around, ordering Joe to check the damage to the young man's shoulder, not caring that they were in a moving vehicle. It wasn't too far of a drive until they reached the cottage, but the majority of it was spent with the Englishman once again insisting that he did not need coddling. The other two men in the vehicle thought differently though, Smithers more so than Joe. The Irishman was still half distracted by wondering how he was going to balance his differing lives and loyalties, strong thoughts that he could not simply shake off.

James found himself quite lucky that the reaction he knew was coming, did not do so until the car was stopped on his driveway, next to his cherished red Morgan. The story that driver and front passenger received was the same one as Joe heard from inside the house, the false one that Lance poisoned the minds of those around him with. Somehow the older man knew that it wasn't completely the case, but in the absence of James expanding the full picture, he could only tell the Major what he knew. Both he and Charlene were stunned at the explanation, the former having to ask for Joe to repeat himself, not quite able to believe what he'd heard. Smithers was being told his fellow countryman nearly beat a man to death for kissing a woman. Erin Quinn's significance upon James' life was not lost upon him, but he'd never taken the young man to be one who would act so jealously. Charlene was outraged if anything, when she couldn't even get a look in on his affections. From what Joe was telling them, he was willing to kill a man for kissing the annoying blonde whereas he would not even accept as much as a peck on the cheek from her. Erin didn't deserve him, though she would not speak her mind when Smithers would reprimand her for it.

As soon as the two of them began to ask further questions, he took the opportunity to exit the vehicle, hoping to be able to get into the cottage and lock the door behind him. He wasn't really ready to delve any further than he had done, wanting to see to his shoulder and perhaps go to bed. There was so much for him to think about, to assess his own state of mind before they did so for him. At the back of his mind, the question still remained as to whether there was any point in loving Erin any longer. He knew he would have to confront it properly but not with the audience of that lunchtime, except from Joe, though there was little chance that he would be allowed to tell the older man alone, not when Smithers needed to report the exact details back up the chain of command. All of the way to the top.

"James, slow down!"

Correctly guessing what he was trying to do, Smithers wasted no time in pursuing him, to ensure that he could not escape so easily. As much as he did care for the young man and could sympathise with him not wishing to speak of the truth of whatever it was that really happened, he couldn't just leave matters there. If there was to be a knock-on effect, which when the victim was an American sailor, he was certain that there would be, then it was he not James who would have to manage the consequences. The Yanks could begin to ask difficult questions if they were reactive rather than proactive, a chest of secrets being left somewhat out in the open. Smithers would not let him get away without knowing more.

"James!"

When his fellow Englishman did attempt to shut the front door behind him, Smithers firmly denied the escape. Joe and Charlene were out of the car too, but the two of them were a few paces behind, both walking quite nervously for different reasons. Without the presence of the Major then they would have been prevented from discovering more, which was exactly what they needed to do.

"Major, I appreciate your concerns…". James addressed him, turning to meet his eye. "… but now is not an ideal time. I am more than willing to assist you in your report… but I must insist you allow me time to compose myself!"

"You haven't got time, James! If I am to prevent a diplomatic incident with our American allies, I need to act now! Not later on today, tomorrow or next week. Now!" Smithers shouted at him, forgetting himself a little. "So I must apologise for following you into your home, but we will discuss what has happened whilst you address your stab wound. All of us are coming in and you will tell me".

Rarely finding himself to ever need to be so authoritative, Smithers was showing why he was so highly regarded by Lieutenant Colonel Menzies. Other men in the same role would have baulked at the thought of having to fiercely bite back against the son of the King whereas he did not have any fears at all. He was trying to prevent a disaster from occurring, that would be embarrassing for his own country as well as the Americans. A man from either side fighting each other over a woman did not shine the light on either flag kindly, less so on the British one when that fight was a rather one-sided affair. If the Yanks discovered that he was being looked after by the Intelligence Services though, their suspicions as to who he was would increase. Britain could handle the fallout from a regular airman fighting over a woman with an American sailor. The illegitimate heir to the throne, a Vice Air Admiral no less, bludgeoning a junior Lieutenant for kissing that woman… that was not a public scandal that could be allowed to happen.

For a second time, James yielded to them, allowing them into the cottage. He wanted to clean up the injuries himself, but Charlene was not going to let him do so. As soon as he emerged from the bathroom will all of the necessary medical supplies to be able to patch his shoulder wound up, she snatched them from him. All the while, Smithers kept a close eye on her, wondering whether she was doing so just because she got to see him without a shirt on. The young agent wouldn't have been able to deny that it was a perk that came with the territory, however it was not her primary concern. Cleaning the wound and sewing it took priority, because above all she did not wish to see James catch an infection in the cut. Luckily, Lance hadn't managed to plunge the knife too deeply, another reason for why the Englishman was able to pull the blade out so easily. As she worked away, the questions began to rain in from all sides, but he elected to stay silent or give monosyllabic answers for most of them. It left much of the conversation to Joe and Smithers, who were getting themselves nowhere quickly.

"James, please, I need your co-operation". Smithers begged him, softly this time. "Did you attack Lieutenant Hamilton, because he kissed Miss Quinn or because of the incident the night before?"

What happened to Clint was the only time he'd elaborated at all during the session of questions being thrown at him. One way or another it would have been fed back to Smithers anyway via the Americans, most likely a report already waiting for the Major in London. Like his younger granddaughter, when he coupled together the parts of Lance's background that he knew, Joe found it to be no surprise at all. His reaction was quite the opposite to Charlene's, who had to stop her tender care for a moment in order to gasp. She didn't know Clint but was sickened that the American sailors would turn on one of their own because of the colour of his skin. Remaining unmoved for the sake of control, the overworked Major did not enjoy hearing of such incidents himself. It certainly did not inspire one's confidence in one's allies, though he would not use his power within the Intelligence networks to spread such surreptitious rumours.

"Neither". Unhelpfully, he answered again, before wincing as Charlene began to sew up the wound.

"James…". Joe warned.

"James, you are being most unhelpful". Once again, Smithers chose to tread lightly. "If you did not attack him for either, then why did you do it? I think I know you well enough to know it was not a senseless act of violence?"

He knew what the answer would do. To Joe especially, but the other two as well. Hell, he knew what it would do to him too. It was the reason why he didn't want them there to have to hear it, because once it was heard, then it could not be unheard. Ultimately, it was Erin's story to tell not his, though she appeared to have made her decision as to how she wished to approach life after, almost immediately. She did not deserve what nearly happened to her, no woman would ever deserve such appalling treatment. It wouldn't have mattered whether it was Erin, Charlene or even a woman who believed in the Nazi cause, he would have come to their aid without question. His thoughts had turned to his mother as he sat on the kitchen counter whilst his wound was sewn, knowing she'd not had a man like him there to stop what happened to her. Doctor Van Der Heijden raped her without ever showing remorse for his actions, taunting the Englishman with the knowledge just before James tipped over to his darker side and killed him.

On the other hand, it was why he knew he had to say something. Erin was trapped by the American who she seemed to love regardless of what he'd nearly done to her, leaving her in a situation where she did not have an out. It was not there for anyone else to offer, but Smithers could do something about Lance, that would force him away for good. The Americans might need placating elsewhere, James knew, but it was within their power to make a case for why the Yank Lieutenant should be sent away. If they could convince his Captain as well as their Intelligence officials, that he was not fit to dispense his duties as an officer, that he was in fact a rapist, then he could be moved on with little fuss. Erin would be ripped apart by his sudden departure, but in time she would come around to her family… perhaps even to him to.

Far earlier than he wanted to, James revealed the truth.

"I attacked Lieutenant Hamilton because…". He stalled, deep breath then taken. "Because he was in the process of raping Erin".

Everything then seemed to stop.

Smithers' gulp was almost as window rattling as the once Lance produced when his first punch was caught.

Charlene's hands ceased all movement.

And Joe…

Joe was the first to speak after a few seconds, already eyeing the door.

"THAT BASTARD!" He roared. "I'LL KILL THE YANK FUCKER MYSELF!"

Pivoting on his heel to head for the door, the outstretched arm of Major Smithers stopped the older man from doing something he would regret. The rage inside of the well-seasoned man was unlike any he'd felt during his entire life. No wonder why James wasn't keen on sparing Lance, the Irishman regretting ever doubting why the young man would act in a manner that was so out of normal for him. His precious granddaughter was being forced into a sexual act that she did not consent to, a violation of her body and his family. A list could be made of the types of people that Joe objected to, and sat atop it would be rapists. There was no honour in a man who could ruthlessly take advantage of the female body to satisfy his own perverted needs. Lance Hamilton was a dead man in his eyes; all that was left to decide was how he would do it.

As much as he might have agreed with the sentiment, Major Smithers could not let him go. Joe was acting on behalf of the British Government after all. James attacking Lance was bad enough; Joe killing the Lieutenant would damage relations beyond repair.

"No, you will not, Joe!" He reprimanded him, sick to the stomach for having to do so. "We cannot exacerbate the situation any further! We must contain it".

"Get yer mucky paws off me, Major!" Joe snarled at a man who was technically superior to him. "That's my granddaughter that Yank prick forced himself on!"

"You cannot allow your personal feelings to comprise national security! I would quite like to find this man and rip him apart myself, but we must do this properly. Charlene, I need you to speak to your American contacts immediately. Get a seed planted, make sure a rumour far from the truth explains the Lieutenant's injuries".

"Aye". She replied, James left to sew his own wound.

A breath so deep he nearly shot air out of the wrong end, he turned to face the Irishman, to give out further instructions. Once again, Smithers was displaying his abilities as an organiser, quickly knowing what they needed to do in order to deal with the situation that was presented to them. He wasn't lying either; he would have happily butchered Lance himself, if he was allowed.

"Just tell me what ye need me to do". Oddly calm all of a sudden, Joe pre-empted the words Smithers went to reply with. "And I give my word, I won't touch the fella".

"Go back to the house and make sure that there is no external interference. Keep Lieutenant Hamilton in doors out of the public eye. The less vision, the better, if we are to contain and manage this further".

"Alright… what about the Yanks? They'll turn up with the feckin' cavalry…".

"Do not disturb them from their processes unless you have to. Take over the conversation where you must… ensure that Lieutenant Hamilton does not have it his own way".

"Ye can be sure of that".

As Smithers marshalled his troops, he thought about what he would have to do. Lieutenant Colonel Menzies was back in London, and he would have to make a telephone call to him as soon as possible. He too would need to get his hands dirty in covering up the mess, using Charlene as a front to stall the Yanks whilst he worked on a way of presenting the truth to them. Being deceitful to one's ally was never the smartest of plans, but it was necessary to buy time. If they were going to convince the United States Navy that one of its officers was a heartless rapist, a rushed accusation would do them no good. The Kavanagh heiress was in the good graces of American Intelligence, so much so that he knew she would have little trouble in convincing them to back off, without revealing too much of their hand. He was lucky to have been to the area before, knowing his way back to the Kavanagh Estate where he could work in solitude, having seen Charlene and Joe head straight to her car.

That left him with…

James.

The former pilot had been silent as he called out his orders, finishing his stitching. Yet when Smithers swivelled around to face him, he did not see the young man that he knew. What he saw was a shivering, shaking mess, face pale and gaunt, eyes sullen and withdrawn. Staring out towards nothing through the window. The look could only be described in one word.

Vacant.

Or perhaps another. Anguished. That word certainly, to Smithers at least, described quite accurately the tone in which James addressed him a moment later.

"Why did she lie?"

Out of the blue, James fell apart. He was often so strong, Smithers only really knew him that way, except from his understandable emotions when his true parentage was revealed. He'd not properly seen the vulnerable side of the heroic retired member of the Fleet Air Arm before, but James did not hold back. Sobbing loudly, he shot a look of desperation to the Major, who'd not quite seen one like it in his entire life. He was used to a James crying, but that was his infant son, James. Not Maguire, the almost invincible, mythical, being, that inhabited the North West of Ireland. It was quite clear how much a certain young blonde woman meant to him, his agonising tears the proof of his seemingly undying love for her.

Smithers wasn't the sort of a man to leave another in such a state. Not more than a couple of seconds had passed when he found himself wrapping his arms gently around the young heir, holding him as he cried.

He knew there was more to the story than James was telling him, but for the man in question, he would wait for as long as was needed, for him to be able to tell him the truth.

Unknowingly, Lance had picked a terrible nest of hornets to kick.

---

Quite how she'd survived the rest of the weekend was a miracle that Erin couldn't understand. It was Tuesday evening, and she was still welcome at home as well as still holding a job. The very foundations of her life were just about intact, even if everything else was crumbling around them. After what happened on Saturday, she held every thought that she would be out on her ear if anything close to the truth was to be believed. As much as she wanted her family to know what Lance had nearly done to her, she just couldn't say the words. He would destroy her reputation if she was to betray him, something that she simply could not do. There was so much self-sacrifice in what she was doing, but it was the only way.

The immediate aftermath was a blur in many ways, from the moment James stormed out of the house. Erin hurt him, she knew was going to from the very moment she chose her path. After they'd come so close to rekindling what they once held the day before that, it was blow that even a man as strong as the Englishman would not be able to simply take and move on. She hadn't seen him since, but from what she'd understood from her Granda, it was not in her best interests to speak to him for a while. Later on that night she could not hold back the tears when her head hit the pillow, very much aware of what her actions were doing. One of the kindest gentlemen on the earth was what James was, and she was betraying him whilst also protecting them, to hide the truth of the child they'd lost together. His reputation wouldn't be damaged by the comments that would come when the public found out about her losing the baby, the only reason in her mind that could justify her course of actions. It wasn't out of love for Lance… that was gone. She just couldn't tell the American that or he would ruin her, the ultimate position of power that he'd been allowed to work himself into because she was too blind to see his manipulations until it was too late.

Almost as soon as James left, and Joe followed, Anna set out her own defence of the Englishman, which meant another rift would have to be opened. Her accusations were almost identical to James', eyes wild with fury at her older sister for simply falling into line with the Yank. She didn't know about the baby though, the most critical factor of all in her logic. Mary might have shown care to Lance at first, but when her younger daughter began to level her own broadsides at the fella, the mask began to slip. Reverting to type around the injured man was too far for her to go. However, her eyebrow could raise at what was being said, and it very much did. Erin didn't want to have to call her sister out as a liar, yet there was little choice for her to do so. The two of them furiously battled verbally whilst Mary tried to keep Lance awake until further help arrived, having dispatched Orla to the docks after she returned just a couple of minutes later, into a scene she didn't really understand. Anna did well not to slap her older sister when she defended Lance so fiercely, Erin understanding if she had done so too. She deserved being struck for sacrificing so much just for him, but such was the hold he had on her, there was nothing she could do about it.

The main argument that the younger sister led with was the set of ripped clothes, leaving Erin to have to come up with an excuse on the spot for them. That was the point at which Mary stopped treating Lance, almost as if she believed Anna wholeheartedly for a few seconds. Completely terrified that her mother would throw the injured sailor out onto the street where he was free to pass on the truth, she quickly set about convincing her that there was an innocent explanation to her clothes being ripped. Believing her blouse to be worn, needing replacement despite the evident lack of being able to due to the war, she'd taken it off to cut up, in order to use as bandages when Lance was clearly injured. Anna argued the truth that the blouse was ripped before the injuries were inflicted upon the American, but Erin shut her down quickly. She even brought the now-bloodied knife into the equation, truthfully exclaiming that it was the Lieutenant's knife that tore into the fabric of blouse, bra and knickers respectively. Once more she defended him, telling her mother that the knife was only used by Lance in self-defence against James, and nothing else.

After minutes of arguing, Mary declared that she'd had enough. It was when Erin's heart sank, watching Lance grin out of the corner of her eye when he appeared to sense a chance of finishing the job he started. It would be a different type of destruction, mental rather than physical, but he would have a revenge of sorts. Luckily for him, her Mammy chose to believe her and not Anna. Since then, the two sisters hadn't spoken, neither attempting to engage the other whilst they tried to live under the same roof. Meals became hostile battlegrounds that Gerry despised, but he was trying to focus on his recovery, limiting his ability to play negotiator whilst he experienced his own pain. As well as Anna falling out with Erin, she was barely saying two words to her mother either. After what she saw as betrayal from them both, she would only talk to her Da or Granda, or Orla if she happened to be in the house. Lance Hamilton had practically destroyed what was a perfectly balanced, loving atmosphere.

At work, although she remained in employment, the experience was little better for Erin. Michelle beat her to the factory on the Monday, promptly directing management to assign her somewhere else, away from her and Orla. She'd antagonised so many people around her with her actions, that she was running out of allies to turn too, assigned to a section with a group of women she barely knew and didn't really like. If Clare was still alive, she'd have somehow kept the group together, yet with her gone, they lacked a sensible voice to bring them back down to reality. Orla couldn't mediate between her and Michelle, lacking the skills for it and that left the two of them on none speaking terms. Erin made one attempt at getting to speak to the woman she'd for so long called friend, but was promptly, and probably deservingly, blanked.

Orla remained on neutral terms, but the cousins were not spending any time with each other. Electing to walk most of the way home with Michelle, on the Monday evening, it left the blonde alone with her rapidly depressing thoughts. She'd cried then, out of the eyeline of anyone that would interrogate her for her tears. Losing a best friend, a sister and… and whatever James could be classed as in her heart, in just a matter of days, was earth shattering. She felt stupid, stupid for how she'd allowed herself to become enthralled by Lance, realising far too late that he didn't have her best interests at heart as she assumed. He only thought of himself it seemed. Yet still she could find sympathy for him, even if it was not love. Why she felt guilty when he was the one who assaulted her, she could not find the answer for, but neither did she attempt to bury those thoughts. The events of the weekend were all her fault.

Desperately, Erin required a fresh start, but where that beginning would come from, remained quite the mystery.

Another oddity was unravelling on that Tuesday evening too, as she walked towards a building on the edge of the docks, which had been commandeered by the American Navy. There was some truth to what she'd convinced herself that it was, not wanting to walk home in such misery alone again without being able to get something off of her conscience. The same conscience held multiple options as to where it could ease some of its burden, but at least two were out of the question. The Mallon household would be a pit of fire, Erin knowing that Deirdre and Martin would side with their daughter when they cared for her like they did. James' cottage was out of the question too, most definitely only because her Granda insinuated that he wouldn't wish to see her. It didn't have anything to do with her worries that if she went there again, she might make a move that she could not come back from without it ruining the dangerous secret that was scratching at the surface thanks to Lance.

One of her other two options was at home. Her little sister's antagonistic behaviour towards her was to be expected; she absolutely adored James and knew how shocking a betrayal it was. That was even before their argument ensued, Anna on the losing end when she was so often used to successes in her short life. Mary's odd neutrality should have been a help, but Erin was far too wary of how much sway Anna held over her Da for her to attempt reconciliation. She might have still been on speaking terms with him, but one of Gerry's better skills was to express himself facially. Without having to verbalise what was bouncing around in his mind, he told Erin where he stood with his eyes. Siding with the younger of the two sisters, without feeling the need to confront her about it, he was letting her know subtly that he did not believe her. Ever since he'd heard about Lance's lack of attempt to help him when he began to drown after the train crash, he would not trust another word that fell from the American's lips. Consequently, through his daughter, he stayed true to his beliefs. She just could not risk losing him too.

It left only the American himself, for whom Erin had managed to convince herself that she needed to apologise to. Her Granda arrived back at the house that Saturday just moments before what was almost a rescue party arrived, complete with an ambulance that they'd borrowed to transport him in. They wanted to treat him outside to start with, but eventually Joe managed to convince them to do so inside, which sounded preferrable when the prying eyes of the whole street would be upon them if not. Erin hadn't seen her fella since, blocked from being able to when she attempted to on the Sunday, because he was being interviewed by officers from his own side. She'd ran into Charlene there too, though the two did not speak. Musing very briefly at the time, due to her own distraction, she surmised that the beautiful heiress must have found herself a Yank fella. Good on her was what she thought, too tired at the time to question why she was there any further.

Upon walking into what was a makeshift hospital, it was largely quiet. There were no crowds of doctors and nurses standing around, nor were there many sailors present, other than a few who were delivering supplies. When asked who she was there to see, the sailor behind the makeshift front desk gave her a wary eye that she could not understand, though the man did point her in the right direction. There was a chance that Michelle was there too, if what had happened on the Friday night really did. It was still quite the unknown to her, although she'd overheard that lunchtime that the dark-haired woman was spreading all sorts of stories about what Lance did that night. Erin didn't want to admit that she believed her, but after what the American put her through a day later… it no longer seemed unfeasible.

Lying back in his bed, resting after being soundly beaten by the Englishman, Lance's mood hadn't been as poor as he thought it might have been. A lot of pride had been lost in losing so decisively, even if it didn't drive all of his friends away. Apart from Lieutenant Commander Reeves, who seemed to be avoiding him from what he could gather. Clinton Johnson didn't appear to understand the concept of silence, forcing the senior of the four officers into having to defend their actions to the Captain, which meant he was not allowed out on shore leave. They knew they'd have limited time to go ashore anyway when it would not be long until they shipped out to join the conflict proper. Reeves' time privileges were completely evaporated. Baker and Lloyd had visited him quite regularly though, the latter of which had only left five minutes before he saw streaks of blonde hair approaching from afar. Sharing the room with three other men, two of whom were ill with fever and one having been injured in an accident, he was the furthest back from the entrance, allowing him time to prepare before she opened her mouth.

Grinning impishly because she was subservient to him, he was recognising the power he held over her. He'd driven her mental reserves so far into the ground, that she was almost bound to him. It was a victory in itself, one that he could be proud of as the grin grew wider the nearer she came towards him. Lance had Erin exactly where he wanted her… again.

This time the name of the game being revenge.

"L-Lance…". She could barely say his name, the name burning her tongue as it rolled off. "How… how are ye?"

"I'm not dead yet". He huffed, wincing at how much it hurt, jaw broken. "Even if that English bastard did his best to kill me".

The hatred he held for James was never stronger, though a lot of it was jealousy now. He was jealous of how strong and how able a fighter James really was, especially after he'd dismissed him as a coward to Anna. There was nothing cowardly about the banker, who'd given him the beating of his life, only stopped from killing him thanks to the mother of the woman in front of him. Lance couldn't fight like that, not having the muscles nor the brains to be able to conduct himself in such glory when in combat. He was weak compared to James, the disparity between them exposed in its entirety four days earlier.

"He… I… I don't know…". Erin fell over her words again, unsure of what to say to him about James. "I haven't… seen him, ye know".

"I ain't surprised… but I was startin' to think you weren't gonna come and see me".

There was a demand in his voice, one that caused the breath in the back of her throat to hitch in fear of him. Lance might have been smiling at her after he spoke, but underneath that gaze, she knew the real man that lay waiting. A man who did not deserve her after what he'd so nearly done to her yet had her because of the emotional games he'd played against her, without her even knowing. The Lieutenant really couldn't care less if he hadn't seen her again, but there she was presenting herself with another opportunity to be manipulated, falling right into his hands. It was almost as if she enjoyed it, he thought, although the expression written across her face told him very much that the thought was wrong. Utterly trapped, vulnerable to a vulture like him, she was a sitting duck for his tricks.

"I… I was… I swear!" Nervous worry evident in her voice, she raised it, alerting the other recovering sailors in the room to their conversation. "I… I… t-tried to on Sunday but… but they wouldn't let me in, so they wouldn't. With work and well… home… I… I haven't been ab-".

"Don't worry, Erin. I knew you'd always come back to me".

He spoke the words as if he cared, but he really did not. It was all part of the wider picture for Lance, who was more than happy to act if the situation so required it. Wrapping her around his little finger did call for him to pretend to care, though he was nearly betrayed by his stomach when she smiled almost lovingly at him. She must have been more of a sap than he first thought her to be when he saw it, if she still held feelings of love for him after he came seconds away from violating her. Erin, feeling eased by his words, elected to perch on the edge of the bed, finding Lance more than willing for her to do so. She was making it all rather easy…

"I… I came because I…. I wanted to see ye and…". She stopped, looking away and taking a deep breath to steady herself. She could do this. "and… and I wanted to… to say s… s-so….".

Could she?

The voices from within screamed at her to abort her plan, to turn herself back towards the one fella in her life that she could guarantee would not treat her the same way. James would not hurt her like Lance had. Despite all of his talents though, from what she knew, there was nothing he would be able to do to stop Lance from spreading the truth about their lost child. She was going to have to apologise to the Yank because it was all that she could do, placate him as much as possible to ensure that his silence prevailed. Her control over him was non-existent though, as much as she might have thought her diplomatic acts would aid her cause. Holding the power to ruin her reputation with just a few words, the American knew he could simply do it without feeling any remorse, anytime that he wanted. There was nothing that Erin could do that would stop him… but he could make her feel that way. It was all part of the plan that was his revenge.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Lance. I… I should… we should have…".

Again the voices berated her, this time being more successful. Erin simply could not finish a sentence that she truly did not believe herself. She didn't want to be with Lance in that way, not wishing to give her body to him at all. There was enough of an implication for him to understand at least, seeing the spark of recognition in his irises, spearing her heart just a little more. He was not the man that she wished to spend the rest of her life with, the damning words of Sister Michael ringing true in her mind. Looking at the broken body of the American sailor, jaw and nose broken, eyes blacker than she'd seen before, she did not a future. Lieutenant Lance Hamilton was not going to be her husband, father to her children, if she were to ever have any. The Nun, as she always was, became proven to be infuriatingly correct. Sister Michael in all of her wisdom wouldn't be able to navigate a way out for her in the situation that she was in though; no one could.

"You got me hurt real bad, Erin. You did…". The games truly began, Lance stifling a cackle when she whimpered. "… but you couldn't see what James was gonna do. That damn bastard belongs in the wild with the other beasts. He ain't no man, Erin… you can do better than him".

"I… I didn't ask him to…".

"I know". Softening, moving from one end of the spectrum to the other, he played her again. "And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for scarin' you. I… got myself so damn angry because I thought… I thought he was mistreatin' you, you see".

"A…A-Aye… he… he wasn't…".

"That might be right but I did not know that at the time. If I came over as… a little strong, I do apologise, Erin. I usually let my mouth fight my battles…".

Anyone in their right mind would have jumped down his throat at such an obviously flawed statement, the Lieutenant lying through his teeth as well downplaying the sexual assault he'd very nearly committed upon her. Even in her heightened state of emotion, Erin was just about prepared to herself thanks to her battling conscience, until she picked upon the veiled threat of his last words. His mouth was his weapon, not his fists. The Saturday prior proved he was hardly suited to hand-to-hand combat, but against anyone, it was the power of his word that saw him through. Whether or not he would hold his tongue was beginning to become the soundtrack to her thoughts and therefore her life and if he was to go into battle about that particular subject, it was only the blonde that would lose. Sat in last chance saloon between the towns of rock and a hard place, Erin was truly isolated, just like he'd been.

Unlike Lance, she could not even summon the slightest bit of bravado. She was practically his slave. Oh how he knew it too…

"Th-Thank… thank ye… I… it was all my fault… I made ye angry… I… I should have been honest with ye". She struggled again, but Lance let her to continue without interrupting. "I was with James ye see but not… not like that. He was… he was lookin' after Anna for Mammy…".

"You should have said…". He even laughed a little, easing her again. "I wouldn't have been mad at you for that. Your mom should know better than to trust him".

"I don't think Anna will be goin' there again". Erin offered up, scraping up a tortured smile. "I know I won't be".

The smile dropped rather abruptly after she finished, unable to disguise it from a knowing Lance. Rage brewed inside him, though he did not find himself so surprised. Quite clearly, she still loved the Englishman, even if the narcissistic bitch couldn't see it herself. That was how he saw it and her. An often loud and quite brash young Derry woman, completely clueless about what she truly wanted. It made playing her for a fool even more entertaining for the despicable American Lieutenant because she was just that. A complete and utter fool.

"He's doesn't love you, Erin… he's just using you".

Lance sensed his chance to really put the proverbial knife into James, where the literal knife did little to no damage at all.

"I know James' type. He left you to fight in the war but… I bet he has a woman somewhere. I see it with my own boys. Their girls back home… they don't think about 'em".

Erin's cheeks reddened, not through embarrassment, but from the battles that raged inside her. The thought crossed her mind at the time, having once spilled over on one of her days spent at the Kavanagh mansion, during the strange spell in her life where Charlene seemed to want to be friends with her. She remembered confusing the city of Alexandria for a woman who James might have been having an affair with, running from the mansion when she realised her mistake. Remembering that she nearly referred to him as her husband that day, it seemed like so along ago, almost a lifetime away. Perhaps he did have another woman, someone who he met while he was stationed in England, a love that he cared for. He did not give any hint that there was, but why would he if he was hiding it from her? Yet at the same time, he surely would not have tried to kiss her just a few days earlier, if there was someone else?

Concerned that he'd hit the wrong note for a moment, Lance decided to take over the conversation once again. The crafty Englishman was so powerful, it seemed just the mention of his name was almost enough to overpower the American.

"Look Erin, let's not think or talk about him. Let's talk about us".

Flinching at him hinting that there was a… them… Erin's throat began to dry, the air feeling as if it was being sucked out of her. The very same man that was merely seconds away from degrading her completely just a few days prior, was now talking about a future between them. She would listen though; she would have to. His hold on her was far too great for her to turn her back on him. In the context of their relationship, he was the omnipotent presence.

Deciding to ignore her undignified response, Lance continued.

"I know what happened… shouldn't have…". Conceding so sweetly, she was drawn in by him. "… but I know what you need, Erin. You need a fresh start in life away from here. This… city… it's… holding you back. You gonna flourish in life, I know that and you know that, but you ain't gonna be the woman you wanna be in this shitpit!"

"Lance, this is my home. I…". Tamely, she argued, until he stopped her.

"For now, but it can't be forever". He told her as he sat up a little more. "You know we're shippin' out and we gotta stop back home before we go to the Pacific. I can't go with the rest of the boys so I'll have to stay back home for a while till I've recovered. You can come with me".

The thought paralysed her for a good minute or so, which Lance deemed to be acceptable silence when he could see what his offer was doing to her. Derry had always been the young Quinn's home, and though she often dreamt of exploring the wider world, they were nothing but dreams. The reality was that she was from a lower-class family, Belfast being the furthest place she'd ever been to, and probably the furthest she would ever go. Young women from the North West, Kathy Maguire aside, were not meant to have globetrotting lives. Their duties were to stay at home, have families of their own and care for the men that they would marry into their old ages. Moving to America with Lance was even more than just that though. All of the family and friends that she would leave behind, she would most likely never see again. The parents that had cared for her to the best of their abilities for so many years, would be left behind to never see the daughter they'd brought up marry and enjoy her life. And Ja-

She could not think about him.

Somehow though, she could think about how right that Lance was. How he seemed to be able to see into her soul, to know that she did require a fresh start, just as he thought. America was the land of the free, after all, a land of opportunity where she could escape the darkness of the part that remained in her home city. The walls of Derry were where her pain was etched, and not being within them or around them, would be a clean break. Lance might have come so close to ruining her, but he was now offering her a chance at freedom too, his own act of redemption. She ignored the fact that she could not see a life with him at her side, so focused upon the thought of being able to escape from the shackles of the life she was now living.

"I'm sorry, Erin, I… I didn't mean to startle you with that but… it's just a thought. I don't need an answer now… we got a little time until I go…".

Nodding, the young woman sighed, wringing her hands as she bowed her head down to the ground. So many thoughts were careening around inside her that she needed to stop, to think more clearly and write them all down if she could. Trying to find further words to put across to her American fella became very difficult, her complex set of emotions beginning to bite rather voraciously.

"JOHNNY BOY!"

The arrival of Lieutenant Baker, rather inadvertently saved her. Teetering on the edge of running out of the room, she suddenly found herself on her feet but without the wish to bolt. Baker, acting just as well as Lance had at times, hid his enormous disdain for her perfectly as he approached the bed from the entrance to the room.

"Lancey boy!" He replied, with a little less gusto than his friend, before turning his gaze to Erin. "Miss Quinn, Ma'am".

"Evenin' Lieutenant". She courteously responded.

"I seem to be honoured with guests tonight. I'm expecting the god damn King of England to walk through those doors next!"

James' father wouldn't be arriving that night, though Lance could at least dream. His friend was his preferred guest to Erin, although manipulating her once again was not exactly something he did not enjoy. He had been expecting his friend that evening, not knowing what the exact time was but Baker was most likely on time, like he always was.

"I… I was just leavin'". Erin spoke up again, addressing the newly arrived officer. "I… I'll think about what ye said, Lance. I'll see you soon, like".

"Think on it". He nodded. "I'll see you whenever I see you".

Smiling at him, the two refrained from physical contact, Erin not wanting to risk aggravating his injuries. An awkward parting, like any parting would be between a young woman and her almost rapist, she rushed out of the room, not stopping to look back and not bidding farewell to Baker either, not that he cared about her forgetting him. They wouldn't have to worry about her being around them much longer, which was the most important thing in his mind. Being able to visit his injured friend without having to see the sickening sight of her ugly smile at Lance's side, would be a vital upgrade.

"Oink Oink!" Baker sniggered. "Christ, she ain't got no quit".

"Doesn't know what's good for her, that's what it is". Lance laughed. "The stupid bitch apologised. Told me that she should have let me… you know".

"Would have cost you a lot less…".

"Alright, don't fuckin' remind me. You better be spending that damn money on my sister when you get back!"

"Hell no! That's gonna be for me and me only".

Rolling his eyes, which he could just about do without hurting them, Lance shook off the thoughts of the money that he was going to lose. He hadn't paid them as such yet, not being able to access the funds from Northern Ireland but had written them promissory notes. They trusted him though, and despite his lack of honour in other areas, he would honour the bet. The Hamilton bloodline would have to be entrusted to his siblings too, although if he did survive the war then he would certainly find himself a woman back home. A woman that was not Erin Quinn… because he'd sold her a complete and utter lie.

"You got her ready". Lieutenant Baker enquired, taking the seat she'd vacated.

"She thinks she's gonna be comin' home with me! Could you imagine if I turned up back home with her?"

"Your Mom would tell you to put her back in the pen!"

Bursting out into laughter, their evil comments about her were kept to themselves. The women back across the other side of the pond were so much better looking than Erin, that she was an eyesore to the two Lieutenants. They could joke about her freely behind her back though, the other men sharing the room not caring to listen into their harsh words. For anyone who did dare listen, it just showed how callous they really were.

"So we still doing this?"

Baker once again questioned, finding a change of expression upon Lance's face when he looked down at him. One that even made him a little nervous, the anger that seemed to flare up from his friend, nostrils flaring.

"The Doc says I can be up by the weekend". The injured man explained. "I reckon she ain't comin' back until Saturday so, I'm gonna lead her round back Saturday mornin' when she comes. You and Lloydy know what to do".

"You gonna finish what you started first?"

"You two boys can have a turn if you want… we just gotta make sure we gag her first". Dropping his voice to a whisper, Lance couldn't afford for that detail to be known. "No one's gonna check that abandoned shack out back so… we leave her in there. With any luck, nobody finds her until we're gone".

"It's damn risky, Lancey".

"She goddamn deserves it, Johhny Boy!" He seethed. "I ain't lettin' her live when she kept me fuckin' waitin' for so long and I ain't got nothin' to show for it!"

Murdering Erin Quinn may not have been the original plan, but that was exactly what they were going to do. The other two Lieutenant's didn't really have to help, yet as friends they were going to stick together. Concocting a plan that would avoid the ruse being discovered until after they left was difficult, a challenge especially when Lance was recovering from his injuries. His legs were mostly unharmed though, bar the knees which had taken a bit of a battering thanks to James' relentless assault. They were going to kill her, via taking out their desires upon her body first that was, leaving her family to deal with the aftermath of what should have been a very preventable death. The Yank shouldn't have been able to work his way into such an opportunity again after what he'd done, but Erin played right into his hands with her guilt and vulnerability. A fatal mistake had been made when she headed for his hospital room that night, one that she would not realise until the journey to her grave was already well on its way.

"By they way, Lance. There's some fella comin' with the Captain shortly. Englishman, I guess he wants to talk about what happened with that asshole, Maguire".

"Putting him in prison, I hope!" Lance shouted, as he coughed a little.

"Yeah I hope so too. Penley… Penton… what was his name?" Racking his brains, Baker tried to remember. "Pendon… Penrose! That was it… Captain Penrose, from that Fleet Air Arm that the asshole kept talking about".

"Oh-Ho! James… you stupid son of a bitch. They're gonna send him down!"

Lance was giggling, perhaps even guffawing, smiling wide.

Very much unaware of the real man that was coming to see him that evening along with his Captain, and what it actually meant for him.

---

The working week was complete, a week to forget for the young Englishman living in Derry. James' week started with him quite miserable, following on from a weekend of misery where he barely wished to leave the house after what had happened that Saturday morning. He managed a trip to church somehow, though deliberately stayed well out of the way to ensure that he did not see Erin. He couldn't look at her, not when his mind kept telling him that she was no longer worth him spending the time on. Desperately he fought those thoughts for the rest of the weekend with nothing else to think of, alone in his cottage having not seen Charlene, Joe nor Major Smithers after all of them departed the day before.

Working away at the bank everyday was a welcome distraction, but it could only do so much. The McLoughlin's and young Danny were most concerned when they saw him, noticing how his shoulder was hanging slightly limp. Thankfully, the rumour mill hadn't seemed to have ground out anything near the truth about what really happened to him, his employees not placing the two events together. From what Ian had told him, the American fella that Erin was seeing had fallen out of the back window doing some housework to help the family. They were quite surprised that he hadn't heard of his injuries, James using the opportunity to be able to feign surprise when he knew how the injuries had really befallen Lance. His colleagues appeared to have sensed that there was something up though, even Danny who barely knew him, the three of them making conscious efforts to ensure that their boss was looked after. Tommy even suggested that he undertook light duties because of the wound. He knew it would come to nothing when James would not accept rest, being the gentleman that he was, though without saying so, the wee English fella did appreciate his gesture. Showing his appreciation openly to his colleagues earlier that afternoon before they closed up for the weekend, insisting that he really did not need to be coddled, he thanked them all. Somehow, they knew better… not that any of them were brave enough to take him to task over it.

Whilst he sat eating his meagre dinner that night, once again alone in the kitchen of his cottage, James had contemplated a weekend of hell yet again. Hour after hour alone with nothing else to focus on but his feelings for the woman that he could not have, he became very much aware that he was slipping into a familiar routine. The same destructive routine that nearly cost him his life, driving him to what was the now unthinkable. It wasn't the same as then, that much he knew, but it was still an uncomfortable reminder of just how much the blonde dictated his life, without even knowing she was doing so. At the same time he thought about how much he missed her, how he was still at war with himself. Part of him trying to hold on, butting heads with the other part of his conscience that told him she was longer worth his time and effort, James' mind and body became a battlefield.

Showing how far he'd come since Christmas Eve though, the retired pilot decided that it would not define him that weekend, that he would do something about his issues. A confidante or perhaps two were what was needed, having in his mind the two perfect people for the job. As much as he would have liked to go to Joe or to Charlene, the two of them were busy enough ensuring that his involvement in Lance's injuries remained unknown to anyone but those present in the immediate aftermath of it. Joe's conflict of interest would leave it rather unfair to lean upon him too, especially as there was no doubt damage internally within the family. Anna would not agree with her sister's version of events, James knew without even having to ask. The young Englishman did not envy whoever it was keeping the peace within their family…

Michelle was not a valid option either, from the moment he learned that she'd beaten him to it that Saturday, finding herself erased from Erin's life as well. Along with her response to Lance's manipulations, it became painfully clear to him that his beloved could not accept anyone talking down the American Lieutenant. As it always did, the why escaped him, not that it mattered if she was going to support him regardless of what anyone else said. Still, it was a bitter pill to add to the one he'd already swallowed, learning of how she'd so quickly discarded her best friend's side of events that were completely true. Alert to how strong their friendship had been, how it had to be following Clare's untimely demise, it came as quite the shock that it ended so quickly. When his cousin told him her story, James could see the tears that she refused to shed, the ones that scraped at the back of her eyes. Micelle wanted her best friend back without admitting it verbally. Unfortunately, it appeared that their bond was beyond saving because Erin simply would not alter her position. That was a running theme.

His Aunt and Uncle were his two preferred candidates, who he knew he could rely on to guide him. Electing to walk over to the Mallon household rather than drive, he wondered as he strolled along, as to why he hadn't gone to them before. They'd always welcomed him with open arms since the very first day that he'd arrived in a city that was foreign to him, as well as a danger in certain places. That concern never materialised when the community around him realised what a consummate young gentleman they were getting with him, but nonetheless, his family were still there to support him. Between them, he knew how upset they were that he'd gone off to fight in the war but at the same time remembered how overjoyed they were to see him return safely, after long believing that he was dead. Opening up to them, was his best course of action.

He'd been paused in front of the door for a good couple of minutes while he focused his mind, brought out from his trance when the door opened before he'd even raised his hand to knock it. The person who'd opened it from the other side was initially shocked to find someone stood there in the dark, until they saw who it was. After facial recognition was made, there was smiles on the faces both her and James.

"James! Christ yer like a wee ghost, so ye are. Sure, ye are missing a white cape though…".

"I must have left it back at the cottage, Orla". He replied, grinning. "I did not expect to find you here this evening?"

"Ach well…".

Orla getting nervous was new to him, usually a woman brimming with a charming confidence. However, she was not quite as naïve as she sometimes led people to believe. Very much attune to what was going on around her that week, she walked a delicate tightrope to say the least. Of anyone though, when she was so well universally liked, she could tread such a delicate path.

"I wanted to spend some time with Michelle ye know…".

"I… I understand. I know it must be a difficult time for you at the moment".

Expecting a verbal response, James was taken by surprise when should stood up on her tiptoes, planting a kiss to his cheek. A friendly gesture it was, nothing more than that when she'd made her position quite clear when he returned prophesying that he would look out for her. They were friends who looked out for one another, comfortable in each other's presences, and in Orla's mind, James was very much deserving of the kiss. Anyone watching might have read more into it, but there was never going to be anything further between the two of them. He was far too respectful of the legacy of his best friend to ever cross such a line.

"Thank ye". She muttered quietly, but warmly. "Anna told me what really happened. I'll… I'll watch out for Erin, ye know. I don't really like that Lance fella anyway…".

"I know you will. Thank you, Orla. She is lucky to have you as a cousin".

"She's lucky to have you as a fella".

Her words were meant to be kind and complimentary, he knew, but they stung him too. He wasn't the man at her side anymore when he should have been, dethroned by a manipulative American that Erin seemed to wish to move heaven and earth for. He still worried for her even as far into the week as that night, yet it was most likely no longer a worry that he needed to keep. The young Quinn made her position quite clearing by lying to her family in front of him, denying the truth of the rescue he'd mounted that saved her dignity as well as possibly her life. Orla might have wished to see it her way, it was just not what reality reflected back to her.

"Somehow I do not think Erin will see me as such".

"She should but… aye…". The young mother sighed sadly. "Anyway, when are ye next comin' to see my Marie!? She wants a story off her wee hero!"

What Orla could do, and do well, was change a previously deflated mood into an upbeat one in an instant. One mention of her beautiful daughter was enough to do it, the young girl that he'd sworn an oath to protect as her father died in his arms. David's daughter was showing more and more of his traits, a sense of humour developing that the Englishman could already see would be legendary. Spending time with her, was an honour.

"How about Sunday after church?"

"Aye that sounds cracker!" She exclaimed. "Well I best be off, aye. I need to get me wain to bed, so I do".

"Goodbye Orla".

The two of them embraced for a moment, before he shifted out of the way, to allow her to hurry off home. Watching her leave, James did not register that Martin had moved into the doorway to occupy her spot, having intended to investigate the draft that Deirdre pointed out from the kitchen, neither of them having heard James' conversation with Orla. It was the banker's turn to jump out of his skin when he turned around, finding his Uncle stood waiting for him, arms folded.

"Uncle Martin… you have become rather stealthy".

"Stealthy?" He eyed his nephew with false suspicion. "I think ye've started bein' a wee bit complacent".

"Perhaps I have".

Giggling like school children, the two fully grown men both shook their hands, the older leading the younger inside. Martin went straight towards the kitchen, James following closely behind. That was until he was stopped by the arrival of a smaller figure than his Uncle, that he knew to be his cousin when she practically dived on him. He shuddered slightly as she slammed into him, arms open wide that were quickly wrapped around his middle. Looking back over his shoulder, Martin found himself to be giving them a fond smile. The relationship between the two of them was only positive now, not like it had been before the war started. Having recovered from his initial shock at being forced back almost into the wall, the Englishman pulled away, curving his lips up at the sight of her there in front of him.

"That was quite the greeting, Michelle". He chuckled. "Anyone would have thought you have been missing me!"

"Aye well anyone would have been right, so they would! But ye know… why are ye here?"

Shifting awkwardly, he gave it away with his expressions and actions deliberately, to avoid having to spell it out literally to her. Michelle could appreciate why he was doing it, picking up on it immediately, when she was still hurt from the stinging rejection of friendship she'd received from Erin. She was not as narrow-minded and narcissistic as the friend that abandoned her though, respecting that James would need to speak to someone regarding his own feelings. It was no secret in her mind that her wee English cousin still loved the blonde, although it was becoming apparent that the love was perhaps more unrequited than he'd realised. She could not be the sounding board for his thoughts though, not when her emotions were far from in check.

"I'll… I'll be in me room if ye need me". She spoke up first, though neither man knew which of them she was addressing.

"I shall come up and see you afterwards". James, taking it to mean him, replied.

"Right… Thanks James".

Nodding his understanding as a confirmation that she was free to go, Michelle bounded away up the stairs quickly to avoid getting dragged into any conversation. With his cousin excused, James continued the journey into the kitchen, where his Aunt was sat at the table drinking a cup of tea. She beamed up at him when she saw him, her pride for her young nephew shining through as it always did. Mostly a hardened woman thanks to the tough life she'd lived, Deirdre didn't find herself smiling at anyone, other than her husband, as much as she did James. Her time for him was endless when he was a hero to the family, a hero to a whole nation at a time where heroes were coming to be relied upon to defeat the Nazi menace. He might not have been out on the frontlines anymore, but the image that she'd created of him remained unchanged.

"James, love!" She called out to him, her hands coming away from where they were held around the mug. "How are ye!? Do ye want a cup of tea?"

"I am…". He paused, unsure of quite how to answer. "… quite well. Please, do not trouble yourself, I drank before I left the cottage".

"Ach that's a fair walk, James, are ye sure?"

He couldn't really resist her when she put it across to him so sweetly, so motherly. They were sisters, so it should have been natural that his Aunt reminded him of his mother, but for a brief moment James could have believed it was his own mother asking the question. There was a tone that the pair of them shared, a loving tenderness that was not shown often, but always done so with complete sincerity. Whilst Deirdre busied herself making him a cup of tea, as well as Martin who also indicated that he was partial to one, the men sat down and began to discuss their working weeks. Neither of them had too much to say, but there was enough discourse to ensure that by the time that the tea was ready, they were not sat in awkward silence. There would be enough of a lack of comfortability to come, the young man knew. What he didn't know was that they'd been preparing for the very conversation he wanted to have with them, since the moment they'd found out what had taken place at the Quinn household the prior Saturday.

"Yer here about Erin, aren't ye?"

Deirdre offered the first salvo, not really a shot but a starting statement. She didn't want her nephew to feel as if he had to force it himself, especially when both her and Martin understood how hurt he must have been.

"I… I am…". He sighed, a hand running through his slicked back hair as he did. "I am looking for your advice. I do believe I find myself in a bit of a quandary".

"Can I just say, Son…". Martin cut in, putting an arm around James' shoulders. "… what ye did to that fella was the right thing. Don't let anyone tell ye any different. The bastard doesn't deserve anythin'!"

"I would say thank you but… I do not feel proud of my actions. I lost control of my temper… I showed people that I care about a side to myself that I do not wish to have".

"Because ye love her, James. That's what love does to ye… and I know ye'll tell me that you'd have done it for anyone, and ye would because yer a grand fella. But ye did for Erin without question didn't ye? Ye never stopped to think if it was enough or whether it was right… did ye?"

He nodded rather solemnly to his Aunt, who'd managed to read the situation perfectly. At no point, not until after the deed was done, did he stop to question whether it was the correct course of action. In the moment, he saw that Erin was in danger and protecting her modesty, and saving her life, was his only thought. Denying his love for her, was something that James simply could not bring himself to do. It would have been a lie if he somehow did.

"That's true love, James. Ye wouldn't have done that for anyone but her… so don't ye dare start feelin' sorry for yerself because ye did the right thing, for the right person. No one can judge ye harshly for that".

"She did".

The words escaped out of him in a whimper, though he held his head high, narrowly avoiding crying. Erin's betrayal, it was exactly that, he would not see it another way now, burned the thoroughly tortured heart that beat within his chest. She should have pulled herself towards him when he'd protected her, not pushed him away as if he meant nothing to her, whilst being keen to defend the same man he'd protected her from. He'd done all that anyone could have expected him to do when he was presented with the situation Anna brought him into the Saturday prior, yet the retired pilot could only look back with a dark gaze. Beating Lance within an inch of his life for daring to defile her so brutally, was not enough for Erin. It was not the epiphany it should have been, that would have told her where to pin her hopes in holding a future.

"James…". Martin took over from his wife, speaking just as softly, almost gingerly around him. "I know yer not goin' to want to hear this but…".

"Please continue, Martin. I really do want to hear what you have to say".

"Aye… I don't want ye to think I'm trying to interfere too much but… but have ye ever wondered that maybe it's time to move on from Erin? That maybe ye… ye can do better".

Painfully knowing that he had, for reasons he was not quite able to understand, it hit him a lot harder coming from his Uncle. Being able to see it for himself was bad enough, but for others to agree with that view was worse. A part of him hoped to be wrong, that he was misreading what had happened and that she must have still held some love for him, for they would not have grown so close once more before the incident. There were rumours that he was unaware of from the very moment that the wider community realised that the two were together though, that she was doing very well for herself to be able to be with a man like him. In conversation once since his return, Charlene hinted at the same, although he'd dismissed it at the time as part of her clear agenda to explore something further with him. Up until the moment she'd betrayed him a week earlier, the thoughts hadn't crossed his mind once, but slowly and surely they were infiltrating his conscience more and more.

He could do better. But it was whether he wanted to, that remained the question…

"My mind has been… distracted, all week". James admitted, sighing loudly. "I have always saw my future with her but… but now I am not so sure. I do not know whether to hold out hope that she will expose him for what he is or… or find someone else. I love her…".

"Oh James…". Deirdre reached over to him, physically moving him closer to her so that she could embrace him. "Yer too good of a fella to get yerself so worked about her. Erin's… Erin's not a bad girl… I've always quite liked her but… but I think we both know, she doesn't know what's best for her".

"I fear she is scared by him… trapped. It is as if she cannot leave his side but then she might not wish to… I suppose. He seems to influence her far more than a man ever should".

"He won't influence her if I get my hands on him!"

"Martin!" She warned her husband. "That's not helpin! This Lance fella will get what he deserves, so he will. If not now, then when he goes to fight. Sure, I don't expect to see him again!"

"What if he takes her away? What if Erin wants to spend the rest of her life with him and he does come back? I… I cannot…".

Uttering his worst fears to the audience in front of him, James was barely keeping himself together. Her choice of the American Lieutenant over him continued to chip away at his emotional reserves, anguish rooted in his bloodstream, flowing around his body at all times. The resigned looks that both his Aunt and Uncle gave him would not have been considered helpful by many, but to him, it was exactly what was needed. They were telling him what he knew to be true, even if he did not wish to properly confront that truth during his evening at the Mallon house. He was not in control of her life and would not be able to stop her if that was what she wanted. New life in America was not out of the question upon the horizon. No one would stand in her way if that was Erin's choice.

"It's not yer life to control, James".

"I know it is not, Deirdre. I just do not wish to see her go when I know I could offer her better… when I have always offered her everything".

"Sometimes everything's not enough James. Sometimes yer better served by burying the hatchet and moving on. There's other women out there that would be charmed by ye… in fact, I think any woman would be privileged to have ye as a husband, don't ye think, Martin?"

"There's probably a queue at the door already… that scar would bring them in their thousands, I reckon…".

Chuckling, a debt of gratitude was once again owed to Martin, by his young nephew. Laughing and joking might have seemed ill-advised and poorly timed, but it was exactly what was required. James's required such a positive enhancement to the atmosphere, mostly because he was on the edge of breaking down completely.

"I think what my Martin is tryin' to say, is that you have still got so much time in yer life to find the right woman. Now I know ye've always thought it would be Erin but maybe this is life tryin' to give ye a nudge in the right direction, James. She might not be the one".

"But… I… I do love her. I have always loved her and I would not hurt her like… like he has. Why can she not see that I care for her?"

"I can't answer ye that, James". She winced at her own words, feeling the pain inside her wee nephew. "But I can tell ye one thing. What makes ye think ye can't sway her back to ye. If Erin's so easily led by that… dirty Yank… that doesn't mean ye can't talk her round yerself! And if ye can't… then don't let yerself get down because she's chosen him. Choose someone who'll love ye for who ye are… not what they need ye to be".

In all of the time he'd known her, James hadn't ever considered that it was what he was to Erin, that made her love him. That perhaps she did not love him for being the young English gentleman that he was but for the strong, attentive, fiercely protective lover that she wanted him to be. Years of his life had been spent holding her in the highest regard, but in a few seconds, Deirdre opened up an angle that burst his usually strong bubble. Did the Erin that he thought he knew truly love him or did the Erin that his Aunt was suggesting existed, just use him? If he was proven to be incorrect about her intentions, the young banker was not quite sure how he would be able to cope with how foolish he'd been. The guilt he carried for not being there when she lost their child, already felt as if it was a weight that he should not have carried.

He'd gone to his Aunt and Uncle for that very reason though. He knew they would point him in the right direction, reminding of where his heart was at the same time. Their conversation about her went on for a little while longer, but he'd already decided upon his course of action the following day, not requiring the need to sleep on it.

James would do what he always did do for Erin.

He would offer her everything, lay it all on the line for the woman that he loved.

Nothing to negotiate, no compromises to be made. That was the offer that the young Quinn was going to get, to pull her away from the abusive relationship she'd gotten herself into.

Should she not agree to it, a new world would await him.

Which she would play no part in.