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 :)

91. Out of Time

Chapter 91: Out of time 13th February 1943

The trees swayed in the clement wind, a light breeze in the early hours of a new day.

Pavements were doused with puddles, the overnight rains leaving their mark upon the landscape of the city, that was still mostly sleeping, few venturing out into the chilly air.

Birds were out tweeting though, a precious melody for a time where the sound of music in any form was a gift from God himself, as opposed to the sound of gunfire and projectiles that the soldiers fighting on the front would hear.

There was the sound of shouting too. Shouting from inside of the Quinn household, where life had started rather early that morning. Where the atmosphere was far from the serenity of what lay beyond their front door.

"YOU ARE GOIN' NOWHERE ERIN!" Mary bellowed, her shout echoing off the walls of her eldest's bedroom. "YE'LL STOP THIS NOW!"

"Ye don't control me, Mammy!" Erin growled back, furiously stuffing another blouse into the tight space of her bag. "This is my life and I'm not carryin' on livin' here! I have a future!"

"Catch yourself on Erin! Ye think he won't drop ye the second he goes home to one of those wee American girls!"

"He… he loves me!"

"Aye… right. He loves ye does he? How sure of ye are that!?"

They'd been at loggerheads ever since Mary caught her daughter that morning, foiling Erin's plan of a silent getaway with just a note to cover her. She wasn't going to stay at the house any longer but was too frightened to tell her parents the hard way, face to face. Instead, she would do what she thought she was best at; hide behind honeyed words that papered over what she really wanted to say. It should have been so simple to just leave when she was twenty two years old, a fully grown adult even if she did not always act like it. Her mother just couldn't stay uninquisitive though, hearing the bumping from the bedroom down the corridor and investigating. It woke Gerry too, though with his limited mobility he was yet to join his wife, although the sound of crutch meeting carpet could be heard getting closer. He certainly was not fond of the argument he was curling his ears around to listen to.

"He's invited me back to America… he… he wants to spend the rest of his life with me! I'd say that's quite damning evidence, Mammy!"

"Ach does he now? These Americans are all full of shite, love!"

"Not Lance!" She argued back. "He understands that there's nothin' for me here! I have a future that could be… anythin', Mammy, not just workin' in a factory until I get myself pregnant!"

The words stung Mary, lashing her skin as if struck with a whip. Her daughter was not exactly incorrect about the choices that the future would present if she stayed in Derry, where there was a lack of upward progression for a young woman of their family's financial disposition. Starting a family of her own was the more tried and tested route, unless she entertained a lonely life away from the pursuit of love and duty. That was not the sort of life that came without being sneered at though, something that the family as a whole would wish to avoid. Becoming the subject of gossip around the church community was never ideal for any family, especially those who wished to remain in good graces. Tumbling down into the depths of becoming social pariahs was hardly an advised route.

"Yer family's here! The family that has raised ye and loved ye for all yer life!" Passionately, Mary defended her position. "I'm not lettin' ye throw yer life away for some pretentious Yank sailor, who could ruin yer life by leavin' ye there!"

Mary didn't know just how much the Lieutenant had already done so in a sense, manipulating and trapping her daughter into a vicious cycle that she could not break free from. Despite her other daughter's efforts to present the truth of the weekend prior to her, her explanations fell on deaf ears. She only saw what she wanted to when she arrived back with Gerry and Joe, witnessing James pummelling Lance into submission. She hated the American yet would not see him be killed because the Englishman that she thought to be a gentleman, could not control himself. It appeared she'd misjudged him to be a gentleman, as no man in their right mind would attack another so viciously. If only she'd listened more closely to Anna, believed her rather than giving Erin the benefit of the doubt.

Scared beyond straight herself when she'd been anything but certain about running away up until the very second she was caught out, Erin's emotions were already worn beyond breaking point and the sun was barely up. Light might have shone into her room, but it did not shine on an escape from Lance's clutches, which she was steadfastly walking into by kowtowing to his eloquently elocuted dream. The future he'd sold her under false pretences, that actually did not exist in the slightest when he thought so little of her. As she always did with the Lieutenant though, the blonde bought his story, convinced so easily by his soothing words. Each syllable held a venomous bite when he spoke, leaving her without an antidote as his poison infected her delicate mind. She might have even stopped herself if it were not for her Mammy, who forced her into honesty about why she was packing a bag as dawn set over the skies of the North West. A point had to be proven to her… she would not back down and revere her any longer.

Taking a step closer to her mother, she made sure to radiate all of the anger inside of her, so that the message would be received loud and clear. Stray blonde hairs were beginning to cover her eyes, but Erin did not care. She had a future to live.

"I'm willin' to take that chance, Mammy… to get away from you!"

"What's goin' on?"

Gerry's interruption couldn't have come any quicker, for Mary's heart and her conscience. Caught up in her rage, Erin hadn't really thought about just how much her words would hurt her Mammy, but they lacerated Mary. Her daughter wanted to run away because of her, to live her life with an American who none of them truly trusted. She'd tried to push her away from him on various occasions, but she should have listened to her husband when he warned her what the consequences would be. It was all dawning on her far too late though, unless Gerry could rescue the situation with his usual tact and diplomacy. He was all that there was standing between them losing Erin for good.

"I'm leavin', Daddy…". Erin answered confidently, until she caught his eye, when her confidence dipped. "For good like… to… I'm goin' to America".

"Right".

"RIGHT!" Mary yelled. "IS THAT ALL YE HAVE TO SAY… RIGHT!? Stop her Gerry… she can't!"

For a brief moment he considered his options, catching the eyes of both wife and daughter in the few seconds of contemplation that he required. Stopping Erin would do him more harm than good, with there being no guarantee that he could when he was on crutches. A physical threat did not exist, which left him with only his words. There were worse people that could have been left to diplomatically negotiate such a scenario though, Gerry having plenty of practice thanks to years of abuse from Joe. Erin leaving would hurt him, would make him feel as if he was a failure as a father yet at the same time denying her would make him feel the same way. Her grand ambitions were not new to him, unlike his wife, well aware that Erin had always felt a calling to see and do more. One of the two would be left disappointed.

"Erin…". He addressed her, as she huffed, stopping in front of him and crossing her arms in front of her chest. "America is… is a long way away. Are ye sure ye want to go all that way with Lance. It's a massive commitment".

"I… I…". For a half-second she floundered under his stare, before recovering. "I know that Daddy. I want to go with him, so I do! He's offerin' me a new life away from here where I can be more than I could ever be here!"

"Life's not so bad…".

"Aye, it's not like we're on the frontlines fightin' the Nazi's but America is full of possibility. I can't have those possibilities stayin' here!"

The Southerner sighed, knowing that she was not exactly saying something that was not true. As her Father, he wanted what was best for her, wanted for her to live her dreams. If she were to stay in Derry then she would be correct. A life of family and duty would await her, albeit without the American Lieutenant that none of them trusted. If it was with any other man that she was leaving with, he would have allowed her to leave with question, but the niggling doubts about the man's trustworthiness remained. He'd not made any attempt to rescue him from the Foyle when he was drowning, and he was not completely bought by the explanation that he'd received to explain what happened the weekend before. It could have been his favouritism for James speaking, but somehow Gerry did not believe that the young man would attack the Yank without good reason. On the other hand, it was not enough to deny her the dreams she wanted.

"I know ye can't love. I don't want ye to go but…. I can't stop ye".

Erin's eyes lit up, finding acceptance from her Da when she thought she would be stuck in her room forever, locked away from the world of dreams she wished to live. It was not the case though, because he wasn't going to be like her mother and try to stop her from exploring every possible avenue of freedom. Mary was just as astounded as her daughter too, though for very different reasons. Many other women, some even her close friends, often described Gerry as hen-pecked sap but she always defended him. Now though, she could not, because he was accepting their Erin's choice without as much as a reprimand. It left her quite furious that her husband decided to display fallibility at a time when he needed to show just how strong a character he really was. Dark scarlet lines streaked across her eyeballs, her fury channelled towards him.

"GERRY! WHAT THE HELL'S THE MATTER WITH YE!" Mary cursed, hearing Anna's footsteps approaching after. "YER NOT SUPPOSED TO AGREE!"

"Love, I think ye need to calm down…".

"CALM DOWN!?" She bellowed incredously. "I think ye need to wise up, Gerry! This is our daughter! Ye can't just let her leave to go to America with that… lily-livered Yank bastard!"

"Mammy!" Erin seethed back, trying her best not to reach out and slap her mother in the face. "Don't talk about him like that!"

She didn't even know why she continued to defend Lance, but it was the idea rather than the person that she was standing up for. The man himself mistreated her, she knew it too, yet still she believed that he was going to change, to be able to give her the life that she wanted. One where she would be free to write poetry, to become a name that would be remembered throughout the ages, a chance she would never have if she stayed in Derry. That wasn't even the main point in her mind though; it was still ensuring that her Mammy didn't gain victory over her that was important to Erin. To the average man or woman, it would be insane to think running away to another country during wartime would not be going too far, but to her it was the right thing to do. After all, they were not a family who lived by the averages or conformed to normality.

"I'll talk about him any way I want under this roof, Erin!" The law restated, Mary's hands went to her hips, her head nodding. "A roof that ye'll keepin' yer head under for as long as I say!"

"Mammy…".

The precious little voice of Anna rang out from behind her parents, an unusually shy offering from her. However, woken with a start from shouting that appeared to be coming from her sister's room, she was scared. Her immediate worry was that Lance was in the house, which would mean she would have to run because he most likely would not treat her too kindly. As she'd gotten closer though, it was the plan for her sister to run that was causing the commotion rather than her own. Thankfully, the American wasn't there when she first peered into the room, just before calling out to her mother, whose face spoke a thousand emotions when it was turned down to her. Nervously her hands fidgeted, unsure of what else to say or do.

"Go back to yer room, Anna. I'll talk to ye later". Mary tried to sound sweet, but failed miserably, the words falling from her mouth as grunts.

"Is Erin alright?"

"I SAID… to yer room!"

Glancing up to her Da, Anna was quite terrified of what was going on, when it seemed to stir up so much hatred within her Mammy. No doubt Lance was somehow involved, given that he always was, but from the snippets she'd caught on her approach, she thought she heard it said that Erin was leaving. The two of them had not spoken properly since the events of the week prior, but the last thing that she wanted was for her Sister to leave. She loved her, dearly so, and would miss the bond that they shared, which she'd been planning on reforming that weekend anyway. Her plans would have been at the expense of justice being served, but one of them was going to have to concede to bring them to the table, and it wouldn't be the stubborn narcissistic blonde that she knew to be her older sister. It seemed that she was already out of time when Erin would not stay in the city any longer.

"Go to yer room, Anna". Gerry commanded softly, shuffling awkwardly so that he could bend down to look into her eyes. "Everythin' will be just fine. Yer Daddy won't let anythin' happen".

"I… I don't want Erin… to go…".

She choked up, showing an emotional side to herself that the seven year old often kept well-guarded. Not one for wearing her worries on her sleeves, apart from on the rare occasions like that one where she was exposed, sniffles could be heard. Mary was just in the way, blocking her view of Erin, who she would have otherwise ran to, to cling onto in order to stop her leaving. Something stopped her though, and even a young girl as smart as her could not quite put a finger on what it was. Her heart didn't quite appear to be in it, almost as if it was following Gerry's thought process into what to do. Neither of them wanted to see Erin leave, but both appeared to be able to accept that they might have been resigned to it. It was quite the contrast compared to Mary, who stubbornly stood her ground as she always was going to.

"Ye see what ye've done, Erin!" Erupting, Mary held nothing back. "Yer wee sister's stood there cryin' because ye think more of a dirty Yank than ye do her!"

"That's not… ye can't say that, Mammy!" Erin shot back, tilting her head to try to find Anna. "This isn't about Anna! This is about me!"

"Well what a surprise, everythin' always is when it comes to you!"

"Mary!"

"No Gerry. If ye won't stop our daughter from makin' the worst decision of her life, then I will! Yer not leavin' this room, Erin and ye'll not be seein' that Yank!"

"CATCH YOURSELF ON! I'M LEAVIN'… NOW!"

The challenge was laid down, the gauntlet being prepared to be ran by the young Quinn, defiantly standing up to her mother's protective cloak. Mary couldn't stop her, yet she did not know it, showing the source of daughter's stubbornness by standing in her way. The chances of their confrontation becoming physical were extremely high as their stares fixed upon each other, eyes narrowing likes two predators stalking their respective prey. In the physical condition that he was in, Gerry was in no place to try to stop them and nor was Anna, who was at a significant height and muscular disadvantage compared to her mother and sister. The voice of a reason in a house of overly dominant personalities he was though, prompting Gerry to speak up before the situation exploded.

"We have to let her go, Mary".

Making his position clear again, without needing to shout as loudly as either of them had, it was his wife that was going to consider herself the loser. Gerry's earlier position may not have been clear enough, but he was prepared to stand by the decision. If Erin wished to spread her wings to fly from their nest then it was not their job as her parents to prevent her from doing so. She was in her twenties, not her teens, at an age where there was still so much of a future that could be explored, that did not fall into the traditional roles that their daughter appeared to be trying to avoid. It wasn't as if she hadn't thought about portraying the image that she should in the past, but then she'd lost a child and gained a manipulative, evil American by her side, losing a better fella as collateral damage. Should she not have lost the child that James had blessed her with over three years earlier, the American Dream that she was subscribing to, simply would not have existed.

"I… I'm not stayin' here, listenin' to this!" She let out a demon-like growl in response. "Get yerself dressed, Anna, we're goin' to yer Aunt Sarah's! Don't bother sayin' goodbye to Erin… she doesn't care!"

"But… but I don't want to!"

"Anna!" Mary turned fully to face her, pointing her finger so harshly, it felt as if she was being stabbed. "I've had enough trouble out of… her… this mornin'! Don't make me get the wooden spoon out!"

With the fear of the kitchen utensil making its presence known, the younger Quinn daughter's resistance was going to have to end. As much as she loved her sister, there was seemingly no way of stopping her leaving, and their Mammy did not want to be around for when she did. There would be too many tears, too much anger… too much emotion. Anna herself might have been able to handle it, but remaining protective of her youngest, Mary would not expose her to it. She was incredibly smart yet still just a child; her mother would not cruelly allow the weight of watching her sister go off on her Atlantic journey, to weigh her down. She didn't even try to get another look at Erin either, accepting defeat with a nod, scurrying off to her room to comply with her Mammy's orders.

Mary too walked out of the room, following Anna, though not without scowling at her husband first. They would have words later on once Erin was gone, words that would most likely be heard three streets away as all of her unhinged fury would be poured upon him. Alone with a daughter that was about to leave his life for good, there was a mile long list of things that he could say to her, final words of wisdom or warning. He hated that the life she was leaving for was with Lance, the devious Yank that he did not trust, but was about to entrust his daughter's hand to. Without failure, Gerry had always thought that the hand he would place his Erin's hand into would belong to an Englishman, fate clearly seeing it differently. It was going to be the life that she wished to live though, and if it made her as happy as the prospect of it seemed to, then he was in no place to stop her.

"So…". He uttered lightly, flickering the best smile that he could to her. "Yer… yer really goin' to go".

For a second, Erin hesitated, rubbing her eyes to reveal that the words of her family affected her more than she might have wished them to do. There was even a slight sniffle too, as she desperately tried to mask how hard of a decision it truly was. With her mother no longer in the room for her to draw inspiration to fight back with, suddenly the reality of the situation hit her square in the face. Departing Derry meant leaving behind her family that still loved her, no matter how much she frustrated the living daylights out of them. They would go through brick walls for her together if it was needed, the sort of love that she knew, deep down, Lance could not offer. Would not offer. The allure of a fresh start in a land where there was so much opportunity, however, was too loud for her to ignore. If that meant ignoring her senses, then so be it.

"A-Aye… aye…". Erin eventually replied, once again rubbing her eyes. "I'll stay at the hospital for a few days with him and then… when he goes, I go".

"I understand". Admitting in another sigh, Gerry's heart ached, but he continued. "I suppose ye won't want us to wave ye off?"

"I… no… no I'd rather ye stayed away. And I don't know what time we're leavin' yet anyway and then there's th-".

"It's alright, Erin". He hobbled forward, placing a hand on her arm. "Ye don't want to be reminded of us right before ye go. Ye want a clean break and for that… well, we have to stay away".

She nodded. Words wouldn't come, not when she was once again surprised by how her Da understood everything as if he were reading her mind. He couldn't have been completely that was, as he was yet to mention just how terrified she was, a feeling that was coursing through her veins more than any other. There were other thoughts too, of one person in particular, that she was battling against, something else that he was yet to pick up on. As much as her Mother and Sister infiltrated her thoughts, it was to a man that the voices inside her once again attempted to drag her too. It would be the last time that she found them to sway her that way though, because there would soon be a sea between her and the desire of rekindling with James. They'd gotten so close to doing so eight days before, but that was as close as she was going to allow the two of them to get.

"But there is one thing love, that I need to make clear".

Gerry brought her out of her trance, although it was into a conversation that she did not want to have. There was always going to be a condition to her Da allowing her to live her adventure in America, fearing what it could be. Perhaps he would jokingly ask for a postcard, she thought, a humorous one to attempt to balance out all of the horrendous ones that the rest of her mind conjured.

"If this doesn't work out for ye with Lance and ye decide to come back… ye can't come back and live here with us. We won't just welcome ye back with open arms. Ye've really hurt yer Mammy and yer Sister, so ye have".

Unexpected it was not, though hearing it from her Da made it all the more real. If there were any complications, then the family home would not be just there for her to walk back into and live in. The front door would be shut, the back door locked and the windows bolted. Should the American odyssey that she was preparing to live through come to nothing, the path she would forge after would be one entirely alone. At least at home that was. Whether James would ever accept her again was not something she wanted to find. It was all hypothetical though, relying on everything falling apart with Lance, which it would not do. She told herself that anyway, even when the truth was staring her straight in the face. He wasn't in it to care for her… neither would she reach America. They were releasing her not to her future, but to her death.

"I understand, Daddy".

Breathing out a shaky breath of understanding, the final hurdle was cleared. The first day of her new life was truly about to begin. Looking up at her father though, stood in her doorway on his crutches, she wasn't going to go without giving him one final embrace. It was his compassionate understanding that was freeing her from the city that held sway over her future, holding the door to a brighter tomorrow wide open for her, unlike her mother who had tried to fit every lock and bolt she could over it. Doing so gently as to not knock him over, Gerry found himself assaulted by a mop of blonde hair that wrapped itself around his torso, his arms automatically coming around her too. He promised himself that he would not cry, the familiar feeling of cold tears scratching at the corners of his eyes as he gently kissed the crown of her head.

It would be the very last time that he ever held her in his arms. Dream or no dream.

"I'll miss ye…". He whispered. "We all will".

"I… I'll miss ye too… really". She whispered back, sniffling once more. "I… I should get myself goin'".

"Aye…".

As they pulled apart, they both felt but did not comment on just how cold the room seemed to have become. The separation that she was undertaking in leaving her family behind was basically complete, not intending to drop by the house next door to explain her to decision to her Granda or Orla. They would have to hear through her parents, which would no doubt see Gerry in a world of trouble with Joe, the fault being pinned on him for her departure. Erin didn't quite want it to be that way, but it would not be her problem for much longer. The trivial fights of the family that her heart truly adored even if her head sometimes told her differently, would become consigned to the past. An era of prosperity, and hopefully peace, would await her across the pond. She certainly wasn't aware that her actual future now she'd made her choice, still remained in the city, albeit as a discarded corpse in a disused shed behind a repurposed office building turned hospital.

Mary and Anna did not resurface again, anguishing her greatly in her sister's case, despite how frosty the atmosphere had been between them. Faced with never being in the presence of such a magnificent young mind again, it was yet another sacrifice that she was making to go to America with the lying Lieutenant. Once so close that there were few sisters that could claim to be such genuine friends, not at least being able to explain herself was a bitter pill to swallow. Wallow in self-pity about it, she would not, but a lone tear made its way out of the corner of her left eye, dribbling down her warm cheek as she looked down the corridor to Anna's room. There wasn't even the hint of movement and when she felt her Da's hand on her back, Erin knew that it was time to leave.

Her mother's lack of appearance she could cope with, her anger still high with the woman that raised her, for having the audacity to attempt to stop her. Ignoring the complimentary thoughts that told her just how much her Ma had done for her during her life, and how much she would continue to do so despite their differences, Erin was not going to miss the constant nagging and sneers. No longer would she have to put up with the racist views of her Mammy towards the Americans, rather ironically coined by her when Lance was far more of a racist than her Ma would ever be. Inside her though, remained a flame that continued to burn for her family, despite the bridge that was now wedged between them. There was still the remnants of a footpath back to the other side should she change her mind, as if she were to break down there and then, there was no doubt that they would take her back.

Back was not the direction that Erin wished to go in.

She was a progressive young woman who only wished to push forward, to explore the possibilities of where her life could take her. If that meant abandoning all of the love she'd ever felt, for a man that valued her so low that he'd been prepared to rape her mercilessly, showing a flagrant lack of remorse throughout, in her head it was worth it.

When she walked out of the house, down the garden path, she did not look back once, even though she knew her Da would be waiting there for her to do so. She knew that her Mammy and Anna would be watching on from the upstairs window too.

Erin Josephine Quinn's time as a young Derry woman with a caring family was over though.

A new woman would arise from the ashes of a woman held back by the society around her, to follow a path to success in the land of opportunity, where true freedom could be felt.

At least that's what she believed.

Lieutenant Lance Hamilton and his friends, had something very different in mind.

---

She might not have looked back but whilst traversing the streets of Derry, for what was going to be the final time, Erin couldn't help but cry. She had to cry, the power of what she was doing being overwhelming, when she was casting her eyes over her home. Once she was in America, it was very unlikely that she would return.

That was why she didn't immediately go to Lance's side, but to the graveyard. There was someone she needed to say goodbye to properly before she went, someone who wouldn't talk back to her because gravestones did not reply. Clare was still cold in the ground compared to most around her, but it was to her that her fellow blonde went to, with a few final words before she was America-bound with Lance. Somehow it felt as if there was a degree of closure to going to her friend's grave, closing a chapter of her life with about the only friend she had left, even if she had been deceased for weeks.

The headstone was relatively untouched, as it should have been, unlike some of the others which had marks left on them by some of the local birds, who were not quite as respectful of the dead. The name "Clare Devlin", shouldn't have been written on such a stone at such a time, but that was the reality that they'd faced ever since the day that her father took her life. If she were still alive, one of her enormous cack attacks might have been enough to stop Erin from trusting in Lance, but gone were the days were there would be a guard to her sanctity. Clare's death had destroyed her friendship with Michelle when she was not there to stop the two's personalities clashing. There was so much that could have been prevented if she were alive, yet unfortunately that line of thought would never be able to be explored.

"Well Clare… it looks like I'm goin' to live my dreams". Erin chuckled, but a sad laugh not one that she could draw joy from. "I never thought I'd leave this place but… it looks like little ol' me's gettin' a chance to experience America!"

The thought of the other side of the pond was entertained in her mind for a moment, the joy of possibilities flowing through her mind. Those positive thoughts were the ones that she was finding herself clinging to, almost as an escape from the overpowering negatives that were sat waiting for her whenever she delved deeper. In a constant battle with herself, it was only the thought of such possibility that kept her moving forward. In America, there would be room for her to become a writer without it troubling anyone, without the judgement of a community that would expect her to get married, pregnant and raise children. It was not as backward as Ireland from what she knew about the place and Lance had plenty of money to keep her propped up with too. Yes, there might be marriage down the line, but it was a distant thought. He didn't seem keen to rush when he was offering her the world. An offer almost too good to be true.

The words of Sister Michael of all people, the fearsome headmistress that had always tried to advise her, decided to pick their moment to resurface. It must have been the thoughts of a future marriage, she thought, that prompted them to return to her conscience, stood out in the morning breeze in front of the grave of her fallen friend. She'd made Erin truly think about what she wanted in life, and whether she could see herself living it with Lance. Convincing herself was always easy, yet doubts were creeping in again because there were facts that she was ignoring, that would have told her the truth. Lance didn't have any thoughts of marrying her, let alone seeing her safely to the United States and her mind tested her once again with the sentiments. Could she truly see herself spending the rest of her life with the American Lieutenant? Did she want to share that life with him?

What she wanted though, came up against what she had to do. If she didn't go with him, he would almost certainly spread the truth about the child she lost. As much as she might have wanted to ignore it, that was the real reason why she was leaving.

She couldn't afford to stay.

"I… I didn't really think about why I came here but… but I felt I needed to. I wish ye could come with me ye know… maybe even we could have bought Michelle and Orla… even James. Aye, the five of us would have had great fun, ye know".

The five of them as a group was something that they'd not seen, nor would they get to see. They'd have to make James an honorary Derry Girl for it, but she could see how he would have fitted into the group. Another voice of reason for them, another voice that she would be losing by going to America. They were thoughts that she could not entertain though, not without running out of tears when it inevitably broke her. His sway within her conscience was far too great for hr to examine once again, when the next step on her path needed to be taken. He'd been the most important cog in perhaps the best few months of her life just before the war, but his time was over. The Englishman would become just a supporting actor in the play that was her life, his lines already all spoken, his exit written.

"Well I… I guess that's it then, so it is…" She breathed out nervously, looking away from the stone. "I… I miss ye, Clare. I hope if yer lookin' down that ye'd… ye'd understand what I'm doin'. I know ye know how I feel… deep down like… how I really feel but like you I… I have to just go along with it".

The most open and honest she'd been with herself, let alone with Clare, for a moment Erin considered walking back to the house to beg for forgiveness. To throw herself at her parents feet, admit to being a fool, and hope that they would extended their palms of kindness to her. If not them then James. He wouldn't be anywhere else but at home on a Saturday morning, the walk to the cottage not that far. In his arms she would find the warmth that the love she held with Lance did not have, had never really had despite her trying to convince all and sundry that there was something there. Sparks did not fly between her and the Yank like they did between her and the former pilot. However, even his love couldn't stop the truth of their lost child from spreading. It didn't stop her mother from being right… didn't stop the smirk that she knew that her Mammy would produce. It was all her Mammy's mess really, because of her attitude.

Natural stubbornness quickly taking over, her weakness went away, to be replaced by a quiet, foolish strength. She was going to get on the damn ship in a few days' time and no one was going to stop her. Pulling her jacket up around her tighter, Erin took one final look at Clare's grave, before nodding at it and then walking away. To the new life that Lance was promising her, far away from the land of little opportunity that she was leaving.

Back out on the streets of Derry, the strength that she'd found was once again having to fend off various thoughts that invaded her mind. First off there was the thought of whether or not she should visit Ferguson Street or not, seeing as she would pass quite close to it on her way to Lance. Her Aunt Sarah and Shane were good people, who did not judge like her Mammy did. Although Mary and Sarah were alike in many ways, they were very much different on how roughly they would pursue their goals. Sarah was more than happy to let things go over her head if she wished them to, and although she could be quite random and even a little ditzy, at times, Erin would miss her. It would just delay her even further though, perhaps even too long if it turned out to break her down too. The little voices from within were screaming out every potential barrier that they could think of, but somehow, she was hurdling them all.

Again, James came into her mind too, infuriatingly so because he always seemed to do so. If she'd have foreseen the three half years or so from the day he left to fight until that very moment as she crossed a deserted street in the early morning calm, she would have stopped him from going. As late as that very morning, as the young Quinn tried to force herself out of bed, she still wondered whether or not they could have a future together. She'd forced herself to not fall to temptation yet had been so close a week or so earlier to breaking her own will. In fact, if she was honest to herself, if it was not for Anna's shout then she would have kissed the fella with reckless abandon. She might have even had the shirt off of his back if her wee sister's silence could be guaranteed. The mental image of him without a shirt on, knowing the intricacies of the body that lay underneath it, warmed her cheeks more than the brisk pace she was setting, thoughts of an almost carnal nature attacking her. It was the usual sort of pull that he held for her… but she just couldn't. Once again, shaking her head literally, Erin did not allow herself to be seduced by the temptations that the Englishman didn't even know he was offering.

She fought all of the way there, not stopping at any point though, showing off courage to herself even if some would have still labelled it as folly. The lines were so blurred with her future, of whether she was doing it for herself, for Lance, or to get one over on her Mother. There were so many factors at play, which would surely fall into insignificance when she reached the shores of what was a new world. The land of the free that lay waiting for a talented young poet like her, where she could inspire millions upon millions of people, an audience waiting to be captured. Unless that audience was millions of clones of James though, there not be such grandeur, based upon the opinion of everyone else able to read or listen in Derry. Blissfully ignorant of her apparently awful works of literary genius, that was going to be her future. America's greatest poet, raised in Northern Ireland but striking gold in the United States. She would be the trailblazer in that scenario, the inspiration for generations to come. Her upbringing would become very much distant.

A familiar uniform appeared on the horizon too her, though the back of the man was turned to her. Lance rather sweetly seemed to be waiting outside of the makeshift hospital for her, making a remarkable recovery when she'd only seen him a few days earlier, bedbound and with eyes that were not functioning as they quite should have been. James wasn't the only man in the country who could withstand such grievous injuries and be up and around telling the tales it would seem. Her American fella was just as strong as the Englishman when it came to recovery, although she was under no illusion as to which of the two would do a better job of keeping her safe. The handsome, dashing Eng-

No. She slipped again, betrayed by the little voices inside. Her future was in America with Lance now, not with James.

The intentions of the Yank though were far from what she thought they were.

Lance's plan had not changed since he'd spoken to his good friend Lieutenant Baker in the moments after she'd left that Tuesday. Baker and Lloyd both knew their roles, to wait for Lance to lead her around to the rear of the building where they would attack her, and he would join them. It would be up to the two of them to quietly subdue her, gag her most likely, Lance still not quite up to full fitness. From there on they would all take turns with her, whilst she was still alive, though whether she would wish to be as they violated her was another matter. No quarter would be given, no mercy shown upon her body when she'd failed in her usefulness to the youngest Hamilton sibling. She might not have wronged the other two specifically, but all good friends stuck together through thick and thin. Raping her would be a task they would undertake as a group, not leaving it to just Lance to commit the act.

Once they'd finished using her as a doll for emptying their horrific desires, her throat would be cut, her life draining away on the streets of the city that she thought she was leaving. She would be leaving the mortal world from those very streets instead, departing her life and their lives for good. It was what she deserved in Lance's eyes, no one caring enough to attempt to stop his crazed scheme of revenge, which was all it boiled down to. Revenge against her for not submitting to him as she should have done and revenge against James, for leaving him in a poor physical condition. There was not enough time nor was he brave enough to try to fight him once again. It was very clear that he would not win a fair fight between the two of them, the Englishman too powerful a force to stop. To get to him, he would use the same tactic as Doctor Kurt Van Der Heijden had done a year or so earlier. Truly shattering James Maguire, could only be done by hurting… or killing… Erin Quinn.

Curving her slightly chafed lips, the lack of a drink that morning being reflected across the sore, rough surface, she was going to ensure that she put on her best smile for Lance. If he saw any intention of hers to turn and run, he would not doubt brutally expose her to anyone in the vicinity. The truth had to stay buried, and if that meant keeping up good appearances then she was more than happy to do so.

He turned.

She really did not know what she walking into. The trap that was set for her was about be sprung, the blonde oblivious to the most fatal mistake of her life. There would be no James to save her this time nor would there by anyone else. Lieutenant Hamilton was going to finish what he started and her broken, degraded and ultimately deceased corpse, would be tossed into an old shed as if she were an irrelevance. Which was exactly what she was to the three American officers.

An irrelevance.

The irrelevance on their hands would have to die though and it all started with Lance.

The man who'd turned round to her…

Was not Lance.

The lips that she'd curved up suddenly dropped, as Erin became consciously aware that the fella that she thought was hers, was in fact someone else. From the back they both looked similar, sporting the exact same haircut, around the same height as well as both being officers. The man that turned to her though was older, not much older, but distinctly not as youthful looking as the Lieutenant. Embarrassed that the man must have wondered why she was smiling directly at him when he turned to face her, immediately she changed her course to a wider one, hoping to almost walk around him and praying he understood the message. Her cheeks glowed red again as she worked herself up, scared that she might have to speak to the fella that she'd thought was her own. The mortification of the unspoken confusion, unnerved her unexpectedly.

Sticking to the new course she'd chosen to follow, she flashed another smile at the man when he looked back at her, clearly realising that she wasn't there for him. One out of courtesy, that's how she chose to see it, though she didn't focus on his face for long enough to realise there was more to it than that. The officer was examining her for all intents and purposes, his look one of curiosity rather than gentlemanly courtesy. With a frown adorning his features, he was trying to make sure of something, a detail that she wouldn't know when she did not know he was even looking. From afar she'd done a poor job of recognising her fella too, because he was taller than Lance, around the same height as James, albeit far less muscular. The dark green eyes of the man were also similar to James', tools that found their job completed when he stopped looking over her body, at the moment she began to pass by him. It was then that he found his words.

"Miss Quinn?" He enquired, stopping her dead in her tracks, as he took a step towards her. "It is Miss Quinn, isn't it? Miss Erin Quinn?"

"A-Aye…". Frowning herself, brows furrowed, Erin took her turn to ask a question, rather spitting it at him. "Who are you!?"

"Forgive me, Ma'am". He answered kindly, beaming a smile to her. "I am Lieutenant Masterson off the USS Lyman. I serve with Lance… Lieutenant Hamilton. I gather the two of you are acquainted".

"He's my fella, so aye, ye could say that!" She replied, showing her patience to be waning. "What's it to you!?".

Masterson swallowed hard at her words, instantly setting fears off inside of her. She'd just made the most tremendous sacrifices of her entire life and the look on his face was telling her that it was going to be all for nothing. Something must have happened to him to have another officer waiting outside for her to arrive, standing awkwardly as if he'd been thinking about what he needed to say for far too long. That much was true; Masterton had been stood out there for an hour, based upon what they'd learned from Lieutenant Hamilton. He expected her to come to him on the Saturday morning, a more than reasonable hypothesis that was proven correct.

"I assume you are here to see the Lieutenant, ma'am?" Masterson shook off his nerves, asking the difficult question.

"No I thought I'd come by and sign up for yer Navy!" She bit back, rolling her eyes. "Of course I'm here to see him! What's goin on'!? Where is he!?"

"Ma'am…".

"WHERE IS HE!?"

Raising her voice, the attention of a passing couple on the other side of the street was drawn to her as she shouted at Masterson, who tried his best to remain composed. Arguably, he was the best officer onboard the Lyman, but all of his credentials were being tested by the emotionally volatile young woman in front of him. After the morning that she'd had, Erin was hardly in the mood for being messed around by a man that she did not know, who was worrying her. Surely Lance was alive, considering she'd been talking to him just a few nights earlier. James might have done a number on him, for want of a better phrase, but she knew that the American fella was still alive and able to speak. There was no way that he could have deteriorated, neither did she think that James would have broken in to finish the job. Despite what happened a week earlier, that was not the sort of man that he was.

"I am sorry to have to tell you this, bu-".

"NO!" She cried out. "No he's not dead! He can't be dead… he was… he was fine when I saw him… well not fine but not… he's not dead… I don't believe you!"

"Would you let me finish please, ma'am?"

Offering a bemused look, Masterson was a gentleman and therefore would not become aggravated by her interrupting him. It certainly didn't help that she'd jumped to a conclusion that simply wasn't there, cutting him off before he could tell her what was really going. Lance Hamilton was not a dead man… not yet at least.

"He is alive, Miss Quinn, but he is not here". He explained in his slightly more refined accent. "He has not been here for a couple of days now".

"WHAT!?"

Erin did the only thing that she was ever going to in the situation, roaring into the poor Lieutenant's face as he delicately tried to explain what was going on. Such reactions ran in the family, a trait that was passed down from her mother to her, very much inherited on the maternal side rather than the paternal side. She couldn't believe what she was hearing from the man in front of her. A nightmare coming true, he was not there waiting for her like he should have been, to show her the door to the newest chapter of her life in a different land. Instead, another man was stood waiting to deliver the uncathartic news. Masterson couldn't be blamed for Lance's departure, deep down she knew, but he was the first face that she saw and therefore the primary canvas for her to paint her frustrations upon.

"What have ye done to him! Tell me! TELL ME!"

As she raised her voice, she also raised her hand, hitting the man across the chest. She didn't plan on doing it nor did she wish to hurt him in anyway, but her mind and body were not functioning correctly. The carpet underneath her felt as if it had been ripped away, leaving her both angered and afraid. If Lance wasn't there, there was nothing to say he hadn't spread the word about her lost child to the general public, not having seen enough people that morning to judge if she was being judged. To his credit, Masterson barely flinched, instead reaching out for her arm, pulling her around the corner so that the nosey nurses that he knew were behind him, did not get to listen in. Surprisingly to him, Erin didn't fight him, but that was mostly because she was so confused at her emotions to do so.

"Ma'am, what am I going to tell you, cannot be repeated". He was whispering now, glancing all around him to ensure they were not seen.

"Wh-What?" Erin replied, not shouting as her hopes began to drain.

"This is a confidential matter for the United States Navy. You cannot tell anyone, do you understand?"

Luckily for him, she was used to having to keep such information a secret. Back in the days when Charlene would provide her with information about James, she was always told to never pass the information on, and Erin had always kept it to herself. Nodding with water beginning to pool in her eyes, she just wanted Masterson to get it over with. The misery was already bubbling up below the surface; he might as well push her emotions over their boiling point.

"Lieutenant Hamilton and three fellow officers have been accused of assault by one of the men onboard the ship. I think you know who that man is".

She closed her eyes in a wince. Michelle was right… for once. She didn't even need to know whether they'd found any evidence that confirmed he had committed the assault; in the moment, Erin just knew he was guilty. Goosebumps marched to the fore across her body, as she began to ruminate on just how stupid she'd been. A whole friendship, built firmly across many years, was destroyed because she'd not had that moment a week earlier when her former friend came to her door shouting. Letting the dark-haired woman rip the Yank apart would have been the far better option in hindsight, the most damning weapon of self-laceration in the human armoury. Another sacrifice she'd made for him, was for nothing.

"Clint…". His name rolled off her tongue sadly.

"Mr Johnson submitted a report to the Captain and it would seem that there was an independent witness that verified his story. One of our colleagues in British Intelligence".

Normally, the thought of a British spy living amongst them in Derry would have sent her mind racing, but Erin was barely listening by that point. She was telling herself how stupid she was instead, how she managed to get herself so badly manipulated by the American that she'd not believed the clearly sincere Michelle that morning. Clint was a good fella too, always kind and polite despite having known the whole time the sort of man that she was associating with. All of her memories of the shadier parts of Lance's life were coming back to haunt her, remembering his reluctance to accurately describe his ancestral business. There was almost no argument that could be raised against it when she thought about it properly, tears beginning to fall from her eyes. Lance Hamilton was a racist thug that attacked Clint because his skin colour was too dark in his eyes.

Masterson was ready for her in that sense though, a handkerchief held out waiting. That gesture only made her cry more though, regretting how she'd treated the man in the few minutes that she'd known him. He'd done her the decency of waiting out in the cool morning wind to tell her the truth, and she'd done nothing but practically spit in his face since. She would have to apologise, but the Lieutenant was in no rush for her to stop crying. When she was ready, he would be ready to continue.

The time came a couple of minutes later, Erin rubbing her nose into the cloth, before flickering her eyes up to him.

"Lieutenant Hamilton and the other officers have been placed under investigation and the Captain decided that he couldn't trust them to fulfil their duties when we leave for combat next week. A supply ship was heading back with a bigger convoy from Scotland a couple of days ago. I'm sorry ma'am but Lieutenant Hamilton was on that ship".

"But… but why…".

"If you want my opinion, Miss Quinn…". He paused, looking for acceptance, which was received. "I believe that the Captain is nervous about our transfer. We're gonna be away for months and he can't allow this situation to develop. It's bad for morale".

"Why did he… why did he not send… send Clint away?" Asking selfishly, Erin wallowed in her melancholy.

Scratching the back of his neck, the tall Masterson cleared his throat lightly, readjusting his white collar a little too, briefly showing the skin around the top of his shoulder.

"Sending Mr Johnson away would have sent the wrong message, Ma'am". Speaking softly, Masterson watched as Erin quickly understood his point. "I am truly sorry that you had to find out this way but no one else was prepared to tell you and I thought that was wrong".

It wasn't Masterson's place to care but he could not stand by and watch a woman's heart get broken without being there to soften the blow. He'd been given a brief few minutes with the Lieutenants and Lieutenant Commander Reeves before they were forced onto the supply ship, all four of them having guilt plastered across their faces. During those few minutes, he made it quite clear to Masterson that he would not inform Erin of his departure, not caring in the slightest for the ugly woman he'd forced himself to pretend to be in love with. Lance's face was a mix of both guilt and fury, another of his plans scuppered without him even able to spread the truth about Erin to destroy her psychologically. They were isolated from the world immediately when the report came in from Clint, catching all four of them off guard. When he'd grinned and chuckled with Lieutenant Baker that the English officer coming to see them was gathering information to have James arrested, they'd not realised who Penrose really was. Major Smithers, utilising his cover name as a Fleet Air Arm officer, was in fact accompanying their Captain to ensure that they were arrested. What he billed as a gesture of goodwill between allies, was Smithers' way of removing Lance from James' life and punishing him for what he'd tried to do to Erin. In acting so violently in such a short space of time, Lance gave Smithers all the ammunition that he needed to ruin him. Clint was a very willing accomplice too.

"Did he… did he not write… anythin'?"

Her squeak almost threatened to break his usually stoic nature, Masterson unable to remember a time he'd ever heard a voice sound so… broken. The blonde woman in front of him was absolutely distraught, crying once again over the man that had abandoned her without as much as a word. Shaking his head at the quiet, painful question, he hated to be the person responsible for telling her that her dreams were dashed. That was before he even knew what the extent of said dreams were, which went far beyond her just wanting to spend time with him. Although he'd already made a mental note of the weighty bag at her feet, which she'd been carrying as she approached him.

"I can only apologise, Miss Quinn".

"But he… he said we… that I was goin' to flourish… I… I've given up everythin'…".

Weeping into her hands, every realisation possible bounced around her mind, her foolishness drummed into her by herself. It left Masterson in another awkward position, but he took a step back from her, giving her the space that she most certainly needed. She wasn't thinking about how kind he was being though, as much as she should have been anyway, lost in her own world of pain that overwhelmed every emotional defence she had left. Her words were aggravatingly correct too; she'd given up absolutely everything for the American Dream that he'd sold her, only for it to turn out to be a masterful illusion. Her Mammy really was right, smirk and all… Lance could not be trusted and did not care for her at all. When she'd made her choice, when she could have finished him off, Erin chose the wrong man. There was no way back for her…

"I think it's best that you go home, Miss. I can drive you there if you would like? I'm sure we could spare a jeep?"

Pulling her head out of her hands, exposing her burning scarlet eyes, she stared right through him for a moment, as if he was not there. Quickly though, the young Quinn regained her senses, answering the Lieutenant who was starting to believe that morning might just have been his worst since he'd shipped out to Northern Ireland.

"No… no I want to be alone…". She choked out, picking up her bag. "T-Thank you… Lieutenant".

He went to say thanks himself, but Erin had already rushed away out of his presence, practically running from the corner of the makeshift hospital where they were stood. She continued until she was out of his eyeline, where she stopped again out of the view of anyone else too. Her life was being turned on its head again, to leave her completely isolated from all of those she'd given upon for the excitement of the possibilities that moving to America brought. Lance's offer had almost been too good to be true when it was made, and that's exactly what it was. What he would have done with her, she would never find out, but it was quite clear he did not intend to spend the rest of his life with her, against what she thought from when they'd last spoken. The Yank fella hadn't even bothered to write her a note to explain himself or plead his innocence. He'd just gone, ruining her life without being able to gain satisfaction from it when he would not find out that he'd done so.

Erin didn't care about him though, not now. She was reverting to type in a sense, only caring about herself, but for once it was with good reason. There was nowhere for her left to go, the home she grew up in no longer being hers when she committed to the decision of leaving. As much as her Mammy would no doubt have loved to gloat about how truly right she was, it was facing her Da and sister again that would hurt her the most. They were well within their rights to reject her, cast her aside just as easily as she had done them when the chance of a new life presented itself. She'd not felt a hollow emptiness like it since the day she realised she'd lost her baby.

With no one left to turn to down, despite her feet once again carrying her in the rough direction of home, where would she go?

---

"I can't believe you sometimes, Gerry! Christ, what was the Lord thinkin' when he made you!"

It was a familiar beginning to a familiar scene in the Quinn household. Joe finding something that he didn't like about Gerry or one of his actions, then proceeding to give the poor fella a piece of his mind because of it. Except this time there were two major differences to the normally random and often uncalled for beratement that the Southerner faced. First of all, there was good reason for it because of what he'd done earlier that day whilst Joe was still sound asleep and second, there was no Mary there to stop him nor Anna, Erin or anyone. It was just the two of them left in the house, a dream scenario for Joe in one sense though a massive problem in another.

"Joe…".

"Don't Joe me ye broken-legged chimp!" The older of the two grumbled into a shout. "I can't believe ye'd just let our Erin walk out like that into that fella's arms. Christ, he could want to kill her for all we know!"

"He's not goin' to kill her, Joe". Gerry scoffed, shaking his head where he was sat at the dining table. "Look, it's Erin life to live not mine or yer's… not Mary's either. If she wants to seek her fortunes in America then who am I stop her?"

"Her Da, that's what! Feckin' crime it was, you troublin' my, Mary! This wouldn't have happened if Bi-".

"Ye might not have had two grandchildren without me, Joe!" Against his usual reserved nature, Gerry fought back, shouting himself. "This isn't about us! This is what Erin wanted and as her Father… I have to accept that!"

"And I've had to accept you, look at where that's got us!"

Joe's decision to venture round to give Gerry a piece of his mind was all down to Mary. After Erin had left to make her way to Lance's side, Mary and Anna didn't hang around for much longer either. The latter was rather being forced into going out with her Mother, though decided it best not to argue with the threat of the wooden spoon hanging over her. She'd immediately called in next door, almost breaking the door down until Orla managed to get down the stairs to answer it. A tearful explanation was then given to them both, as well an awake Marie who didn't really understand what was going on, raising the hairs on Joe's arms in pure fury, especially when he knew the truth about what the American fella had done from James and how naïve Gerry was being. Orla knew the truth too, but she was doing her best to stay as strong as she could for the sake of her wain. Hearing that her cousin had left forever without saying goodbye, was already making her heart feel empty. In the space of a couple of months, her friendship group had been destroyed, only Michelle left standing. She wasn't quite sure whether crying was the dignified response, choosing to hold back her emotions to be able to appear to Marie as if nothing had changed, when in fact so much had done.

Luckily for Joe though, he knew better than to storm off in pursuit of Erin. Smithers had already taken care of that part of the task for him, but he still needed to teach his son in-law a lesson. How he could have trusted the American after everything knew about him, the grey-haired man did not know. When Gerry was drowning it was not the Yank that dived into the water after him, despite being amongst the first upon the scene. There was nothing to suggest that the fella could be entrusted to keep Erin safe even before the events of the prior Saturday, which was what confused Joe the most. If there was one thing that they could all agree on as a family then it was that she didn't know what was good for her, yet the man opposite him was willing to ignore that truth and let her go almost unchallenged from what Mary had said to him. It wasn't on and he needed to know it.

"Ye've disappointed me so many times, Gerry but this… this takes the feckin biscuit, dips it into a cup of tea and throws the rest out the window! You feckin' eejit!"

"Do ye not think that's an overreaction Joe?" Gerry offered softly, returning to his normal self.

"Overreaction!? I'm bein' too easy on ye if anythin'! Erin's yer own wee daughter and yer lettin' her go off with that fella who…". Joe stopped, unable to bring himself to saying exactly what he wanted. "… attacked… her! Ye've failed her and the rest of us! Why didn't ye listen to Mary!?"

"If I'd have stopped her then she would have never forgiven us, Joe. She might have been here, but she'd hate us until her last breath, so she would. Ye know how passionate Erin gets about these things!"

"She might be dead now for all we know! Christ, ye should have stopped her… she has James for feck's sake, the wee English fella loves our Erin, so he does!"

Snapping his head around to look away from Joe, Gerry's eyes closed momentarily. Although he wasn't quite convinced that Lance would kill his daughter, most certainly believing that his father in-law was exaggerating again, he was now aware of a problem with Joe's statement. Erin didn't have James, not anymore. If she'd have gone a day earlier then she would have had the Englishman to fall back on, but not now, not when it was too late to stop him. The very fella that should have been the one to look after her for the rest of her life was not going to. Seeming to sense the uncomfortable reaction that Gerry gave him, Joe rapidly prompted him to explain it.

"What? What's up with him?" He enquired, correctly guessing the problem was to do with James.

A sigh that could have been louder than the sound of a bomber's engine was drawn from Gerry's lungs, the younger of the two drawing his attention away from the living room and back to his father in-law. The morning couldn't have gotten any worse after she'd left, but it appeared that fate decided that there was to be one last nasty sting in the tail.

"He… James…". Finding it just as difficult as Joe had moments earlier, Gerry was forced to pause for a moment. "James came round while Mary was with you's next door".

"And?"

"And… and he's leaving, so he is. Goin' back to London and hopin' to sign up to fight again from what he told me, as soon as he could I think".

That couldn't have been true. Surely not. Joe hadn't spoken to the Englishman for a few days, but at no point did Charlene or Smithers communicate to him that he would be departing for good. They would have surely known, a man in James' position having to make them aware if he was going to make such a drastic move away. Nobody could just up sticks and leave in wartime, a logistical challenge that was even more complicated when it involved crossing the Irish Sea. Albeit, it wasn't as if James owned that much that couldn't be replaced and he was also the illegitimate heir to the throne. If he wanted to return to a city where he would be much closer to his father, then he would do so.

"And ye let him go too!?" Joe huffed, grinding his teeth together after.

"It's not like I could have stopped him, Joe. I think… maybe it's best that he does. Gives him a clean break, so it does".

"Clean break! The fella doesn't need a clean break, he needs to be with Erin. Is that why he came? To see her?"

It would have taken a very stupid man indeed not to know that when the Englishman arrived that morning, all that he wanted to do was speak to Erin. The last chance saloon he'd placed himself into the night before, following on from the discussion he'd held with Aunt and Uncle, was where he was both mentally and physically. There were only so many of Erin's lies that he could still stomach, the betrayal of a week earlier eating away at the Englishman until the moment he knocked the Quinn's door. When he found that Erin was not going to be there, he turned to leave, only for Gerry to stop him and invite him inside. The two of them had kept up a good chat throughout about her, though tragically they were unable to come up with a sufficient proposal that would see him remaining. That was why he was nowhere to be seen and why Gerry was sweating buckets. He was going to have to let Joe down again.

"He did… aye. He wanted to talk to her, so he did, put it all on the line for her if that was what she wanted. Time wasn't on his side though…".

"Time and yer incompetence!" Joe yelled back. "For Christ's sake, Gerry, will ye let anyone else go before ye realise what yer doing!"

"It's not that…".

"It is that! First ye let Erin go and now James! What do ye think yer feckin' doing!? What do the schools down South teach ye for heaven's sake!"

"Joe…".

"No! I'm serious, Gerry! I'm watchin' my family being ripped apart in front of my very eyes and yer stood there tellin' everyone that's it's the right thing to do! I won't have you destroy what I've built for years!"

"JOE!"

Really shouting at Joe, properly at the top of his lungs, he was left with no choice. In honesty, Gerry hadn't been listening to his father in-law for the last part of what he was saying, his focus drawn to something behind the man speaking. Or rather to someone. Shaking, trembling legs, akin to those of a newly born foal presented themselves, creeping up into the kitchen through the rest of the house completely undetected. It helped their cause that the two men were arguing, but they'd still managed to pull off such a stealthy manoeuvre. Initially fuming that Gerry dare shout at him, Joe went to shout back, only for his son in-law to dip his head to indicate the new presence in the room, the older man's head whipping around to see who it was.

Who he was expecting and Gerry was not.

Erin.

She'd come back to the house she'd been told to stay away from when her decision was made, clutching the bag of possessions that were hastily collated that morning, close to her. Her eyes met her father's, finding warmth in his where there was vulnerability in her own. There weren't tears crawling down her cheeks but there most certainly had been, the very heartbreak that Joe knew was coming but had done nothing about. He'd never expected it to get that far, regretting not saying anything sooner even if he always knew that she would be safe from the Yank. He couldn't risk his cover being exposed to the rest of the family though, the price of being an agent of the British Government in the city that he called home.

"Daddy…". Erin murmured, her eyes then briefly flickering to the right. "Granda…".

As soon as she uttered his name, despite still suffering from the broken leg that inhibited his movements, Gerry was onto his feet on his crutches. He wasn't going to stand there watching his daughter shiver from the cold lack of anyone being there to protect her, the loneliness that she must have been feeling when it became clear that just about everyone had cut ties with her. Unlike Joe, he didn't know what had happened with Lieutenant Hamilton, but he could guess that the news was not positive. If the fella was dead and she was in need of grieving then he would be there for her, the foremost thought in his mind when she presented herself in the state she had done. Realising that the moment was meant for father and daughter, Joe took a step further into the kitchen, almost as if he was stepping away to allow them their time.

Frozen to the spot, the blonde could not move but it did not matter. Hobbling over to her as quickly as he possibly could, Gerry threw his arms around his stricken little girl, which was what she always would be in his eyes, even if she was in her twenties. Cocooned in her father's arms, she finally found it possible to break down again, to relive the thousands of emotions that all hit her at once as Masterson revealed the truth about Lance to her. So frightened that he would turn her away to make her cry either on someone else's shoulder or alone, once that hurdle was cleared then she finally felt as if she could spill her heart out to him. What she did not expect a moment later was for a second set of her arms to come around her from her Granda. A man who did not do such kind gestures that often, could not help himself. Even though he'd known that she would not come to any harm, it still pinched his own heart to see just how upset that she was.

They held her there for a good couple of minutes, supporting her when the rest of her body was shutting down around her. The two men didn't make eye contact once, but even despite their well-known differences, it was as if they could read each other's minds. At the right moment for them to both pull away from her they did so, although Gerry kept one hand on her arm to guide her to where he'd been sat when she arrived, taking up the seat next to her once she was back in hers. She kept her navy coloured jacket on, not that she was cold at all in the house, but because of how cold she felt within. Being accepted back into her home without any reprimand might have warmed her heart a little, but that's all it was; a little. Stood leaning against the kitchen counters with his arms folded, Joe knew he was going to have to put on his best act, even if it wasn't that much of a surprise that all wasn't well.

"Love…". Gerry started, squeezing her arm gently. "Talk to me…".

"I'm… I'm sorry… Daddy". She choked out. "I'm sorry… I… I…".

"Yer apologies can wait, Erin". He replied honestly and firmly. "I'm not the one ye need to apologise to, ye've done nothin' to upset me".

"But…".

"No". Gerry's hand lifted from her arm, held up to stop her. "Just tell me what's happened, love. Everything else can wait".

Subconsciously he looked up to Joe, who gave him what he took to be a nod of approval that he was doing the right thing. She probably should have been on her knees begging for forgiveness, but it was not the way that he conducted such discussions within his household. Gerry was a listener before he was anything else.

"L-Lance… Lance w-was… was… h-he…". Blubbering, her voice remained ever so weak. "H-he… he attacked M-Michelle's fella… he… he's been sent away… because of w-what he did".

"Is that why ye haven't been speakin' to Michelle?" Gerry asked, a nod confirming so.

"She was right and I… I d-didn't… believe her…".

Her voice broke in a whimper, her lack of belief in her mind haunting her again. How she should have listened at the time, watched for the warning signs that Lance really wasn't the grand fella that she thought he was. She could have stopped herself from making such a stupid mistake, but it wasn't to be.

"So he's gone then?"

"Aye… a c-couple…". Almost choking on her words, Erin was sobbing again. "A couple of days ago. He… he never wrote or… or anythin'… he just… went".

The reality of her poor decision making had caught up to her over the last hour or so, splintering away at the very foundations of her life. Erin Quinn might have thought herself to be a poetic goddess, but she was in fact quite the court jester, the greatest fool in the house. At every turn she was now realising how she'd pushed away the correct support, the right people and ignored the fundamental details that would have told her not to trust the American. Not even being seconds away from being raped appeared to have gotten through to her, just how poorly she'd dealt with life when he was at her side. Of course he hadn't helped, the little snide comments about her mother and James were being replayed in her head as she sat and cried, the depth of Lance's manipulations becoming ever clearer to her. The Lieutenant found a way into her heart and proceeded to rip the parts out that he did not like, leaving it barely beating in her chest by the time he was done. Contrary to what she believed for so long, she wasn't his partner; she was more his servant… and a willing one at that.

"I'm sorry love…". Her Da apologised, running his hand over her outstretched right arm. "I know ye thought a lot of the fella".

"But did I Daddy!?" Suddenly she awoke from her glum, sobbing state, jolting around to stare at him. "Did I really love him or did I just… did I just tell myself I did because… because…".

"Because yer mother hated him and ye wanted to prove her wrong? We did have that wee chat if ye remember…".

She remembered their talk in her room, when Mary and Anna were out of the house walking, when her Da remained supportive of her choices where her mother disagreed. He'd always been supportive, even so that morning when she was telling him of how much she wanted to leave, despite all he and Mary had done for during her entire life. The thrill of a new adventure was in her head then though, leaving her on a high cloud before it burst, raining her down into the puddle that she now was. His words were correct too, when her mother's dislike and disgust of all of the Americans after their arrival, spurred her on. It's just that wasn't the only reason and of all of them in the room at the time, it was the one who had to be extremely careful with what he said, that spoke up.

"He had somethin' on ye didn't he, love?" His elocution was far from graceful, but Joe was straight to the point. "James told me what really happened last week… Anna too. Now I don't think ye'd stick with that Yank bastard if he wasn't threatenin' ye… so what was it, Erin, love?"

Striking a very sore spot for her, Joe knew that he was treading across dangerous ground but for her sake, he was left with no choice but to do so. From what he'd learnt from Major Smithers and Charlene afterwards, the Lieutenant hadn't revealed his side of the real story when he was questioned, simply denying to comment. There must have been something that no one else knew, that kept her bound to him, that went far further than her simply trying not to let her Mammy win.

"I… I don't know why… I was stupid…". She floundered, looking away from them both, mortified. "I… I told him about the… about the baby. He said… he said if I didn't…".

"It's alright, love…". Gerry pulled her in close to him, kissing the top of her head as her sobs became muffled when she nuzzled herself into his shoulder. "I understand… but he's gone now… ye have nothin' to fear. He can't hurt ye anymore".

He couldn't hurt her anymore, but the damage that was already inflicted upon her was spectacular enough. It was that damage that nearly forced Joe into cursing the man's name again, only just stopping himself when he considered how little of an effect it would have. Still, he wished that he'd gone to the hospital himself to finish what James started. Age might have been against him, but it was just a number, a number like Lance's age and if the two of them were to ever cross paths again, the American's number would be up. Rather than opt for anger, he simply remained stood where he was, nodding to Gerry again that, for a change, the Southerner was conducting himself more than adequately.

"Ye know Erin, there is somethin' ye should know…". Gerry began to monologue, a weight needing to be lifted from him. "James… James came over this mornin' after ye left…".

"Oh…". Was all she could muster, quietly muttering.

"He's goin' back to London… I just thought ye'd want to know".

The wheels of fate really were not taking any mercy upon her that morning. It was another situation where she could have laughed just as easily as she could have cried, because it would of course be that morning that James decided to throw in the towel. She'd made him suffer for months, showing him the coldest of shoulders when his influence earlier in her relationship with Lance could have prevented what happened to her. Cruelly breaking the truth to him about the child she'd lost, their child, it was only as she trawled back through her mind whilst sat at the kitchen table, did she realise just how terribly she'd treated him. When she needed him, Clare dead and her heart left wounded, he'd been there for her, and for an outsider looking in, it looked as if she was taking advantage of his kindness. For anyone else just watching on, they would have drawn the conclusion that she didn't love him but was instead just using him. After all that though, after her betrayal of a week earlier, he'd still held out hope for much longer than any sane man would. However, even devotion had its limits.

"Right…". She just about managed. "That's… I guess… I can see why".

There was a pause, the air thickening brutally around them. Once again, it was the name of the Englishman that was behind it.

Erin could feel the tension simmering away inside of her body, waiting to be unleashed.

Everything she'd held back, all of the other dreams that she did not allow herself to think of, that were dashed for the Yank that betrayed her.

The what if's and the what could have been's… they were all perched on the branch she'd left them on, designed to be forever out of her reach, at a time when she required the truth that they concealed the most.

The pathway to her true emotions, that had been guarded so tightly.

Bolted shut, with no one able to open them because there was not a force in the world strong enough that could.

Strength wasn't what was needed to break it; it was compassion… and if there was something her Da had in abundance, it was that.

"You love James, don't ye?"

His words were silky, luxury linen letters forming and dropping off of his tongue. The padlock around what she really wanted to say, what she'd wanted to say for months, only once ever allowing it to become close to be broken, was smashed apart by what he'd said.

"OF COURSE I LOVE JAMES! I'VE ALWAYS LOVED JAMES!"

Finally, she'd said it, slamming clenched fists onto the kitchen table. What she'd denied herself for so long in the open, confined to a dark yet deafening part of her mind and conscience. She loved James Maguire just as strongly as she had done before the war when they were together, just as much as she'd wanted to love him when he defied the odds by returning to Derry. To her. The feelings had never gone away… she'd just buried them so far that eventually, they'd tunnelled their way out the other side.

The smart operator that he was, it was the push that her Father knew she needed, to be able to seek clarity in her life. He'd waited far too long, and in that sense, it looked to have been too late, always too afraid to push his daughter when he saw how poorly his wife had faired in deploying the same tactic. He, like anyone else with any knowledge of them, knew that the two were perfect for each other. As her Father, it was a nightmare for him to know that their love would be a tragic one that would end in unfulfillment. James was gone… and she now knew it too.

"And now… now I've… I've lost him!" She wept, hands coming up over her face. "Oh god Daddy… WHAT HAVE I DONE!?"

Her shout amongst cries forced her into his arms again, her weeping louder than it had ever been. It wasn't the first time he'd been in that position, having held her when she lost her child and on the day when they were informed of James and David's deaths. The wee English fella hadn't died though, he'd come back, but he was off once more because his final play for her affections had failed. Measuring his time, a couple of hours too short, Gerry told him that she was going to America, pushing him into making his own move across the sea, albeit a shorter one over a smaller body of water. Stroking a slither of her skin on the back of her hand, feeling how cold it was to the touch, it was already dawning on him that Erin would need him a lot in whatever the future she was going to have was. Bridges were there to be mended, relationships to be reconstructed with family and friends alike. Her acceptance of her own faults in the situation she was in, was only the first step on what was going to be a much longer journey.

Joe, however… Joe had other ideas.

With Erin wrapped up in his arms craving his attentions, Gerry hadn't noticed his father in-law sneaking out of the back door he was stood near, intent on righting the wrong he saw developing in front of him. Gerry might have been willing to concede to her point that she'd missed her chance with James, but he was not.

When he returned to kitchen, bumping and barging heard from the back door that did pique the interest of both Gerry and Erin, Joe held an object in front of him. They'd seen it before, knowing that he owned it, though unaware it was in their back garden.

A bicycle. An old, well-used bicycle it was but it was not in bad condition. Both of the tyres were still inflated that was. The crater of where a bullet nicked the frame on one of his smuggling runs, a part of his life that Smithers did not know about, merely added to the aesthetic charm of Joe's one-geared wonder. It had always been a faithful servant to him and, if luck was going to be with them that morning, to his granddaughter to.

"Go… go now love… go and find him!" He urged.

"Joe, I don't thin-".

Gerry never did get to finish his sentence, stopped by the momentum that Erin carried as she pivoted out of his grasp, to rush over to the bicycle. There was no question about it in her mind; she was going to fight for James with every fibre in her body, because he was the man that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. The words of the wise nun might not have been in her mind at that exact moment, but they were nevertheless the truth.

With only a couple of experiences of riding a bicycle in her entire life, she was hardly confident, but that didn't matter at all.

Erin Quinn had a fella to catch.

Exiting the house without another word to her Da or Granda, she mounted it on the garden path, remembering that she'd left the gate open without having to even look. Whether she would stay upright the entire way would have to be discovered on route. Her Granda was giving her the opportunity to rescue her future and with the eternal determination of a whole army, boiled down into the feelings of a young woman with a heart to realign, she was going to give it her all to get James back. That was where her life was… for the first time in years, she was heading in the right direction.

"She won't catch him…".

Back in the Quinn's kitchen, Gerry glumly reflected on what his mind told him. James would have already left for Belfast and for transportation back to England. No matter how hard she pedalled, Erin wouldn't get all the way there before he boarded, not without either seriously hurting herself or others along the way.

"I've at least given her a chance, Gerry". A reserved, oddly optimistic Joe uttered, before normal service resumed. "Now, seein' as we're in the kitchen, why don't ye make me a cup of tea ye fat lazy shite!?"

Gerry wasn't going to get it easy.

On the roads of Derry, the quiet roads of a Saturday morning where many a man or woman stayed put indoors, there was quite the sight to behold. Erin's technique on a bike could be described as a complete grind, the young woman almost hunched over the front of the handlebars, her eyes occasionally glancing to the battered stem underneath her. She wasn't a regular rider of a bicycle when the only person in the family who owned one was her Granda, but she could remember what to do from the few times she'd ridden it. Only having the one gear available did not exactly aide her quest to get to the cottage as quickly as possible, especially on the short sharp rises where she would expend an excruciating amount of energy trying to pedal her way up them. A couple of times she even got off and ran, dragging the two-wheeled stallion along with her, when the gradient became too much.

Descending down the lanes as she got out into the country, the young Quinn cried out in fear as she only just managed to stay upright, the adrenaline carrying her through safely but only just. The potent tonic ran through her veins like fire, burning her but spurring her on at the same time. She couldn't go another day lying to herself and not telling James how she really felt about him. Their near-kiss was no accident; she wanted it to happen. Deep down she'd always wanted him in her life from the moment she'd first spoken to him, the first time he'd made her weak at the knees. No other fella could ever elicit a reaction like that from her, no matter how hard they tried. There wasn't another fella who'd ever tried as hard as he had done for her, gratitude for knowing her that she'd thrown back in his face.

It was a rescue mission, of sorts.

Turning into his driveway, there was hope the closer she got to the cottage. His red Morgan was out in its normal place, parked diagonally to the right of centre, pristine bodywork shining in the weak sun. He hadn't left via car, that was clear, which meant he was more than likely still inside. Tired, dripping with sweat under the jacket that she was beginning to regret leaving on, an emotionally heightened Erin barely made it onto her feet as she came to a stop, throwing the bike that had carried her for there from her home, abandoning it further down the drive. Underneath her feet, the crunching sounds of loose gravel meeting the grooves of her flat pumps fought for control of the sound in the area with the birds in the copious trees that surrounded the cottage. She sprinted to the front door, covering the last metres from where she'd left the bike to the door, in a few seconds.

"JAMES!" She shouted as she banged on the door. "JAMES! JAMES! PLEASE LET ME IN!"

For another five to ten seconds she pounded on the door, hoping that he would relent and let her in. There was little chance that he hadn't heard her, even if he was in his bedroom at the back of the house. She shouted again too, the last of the shouts turning more tearful when he continued to not show his face nor open the door. Frantically, Erin sidestepped over to the window to her left, peering in to see if she could see him.

"JAMES! JAMES!" Sorrowful yells were pulled from her lungs, only just avoiding cracking in the back of her throat. "JAMES! PLEASE… JAMES!"

He wasn't coming to the door though. Despite his ability to perform miracles on occasion, he would not be able to open a door to a cottage he was not in. Stepping back in front of the door, turning so that her back was too it, the blonde had no choice but to submit to what her mind was telling her. All of her effort was for nothing.

"NO!"

Sliding down the door slowly, her shaking hands smothered her face to contain the latest round of sobs that were taking over her body. She'd given absolutely everything to get to him in time, to try to beg for his forgiveness and for their future, but it was all too little too late.

Erin was out of time.

He was gone… forever.