Title: In Sequence (2/2)
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: The Great Escape, the movie
Pairing: Danny/Willie (angstiful); Danny/OFC
Disclaimer: Do I own the rights to film footage showing John Leyton shoving Charles Bronson up against a wall? No? Still MGM/UA's, then.
Summary: Danny's denial doesn't hurt just himself.
Notes: As a coincidence, Julianne's last name, Strafer, happens to be an alteration of a term for a kind of aerial attack (strafe), which comes from the German strafen, 'to punish.' I didn't intend it, but…
Also, if the idea of a person 'vibrating' disturbs you, take it up with Neil Gaiman.

Willie, as is probably appropriate, treats Maggie no differently and adores Julianne, who prefers to be known by her family name, Strafer.

Danny does not know what to think of the young woman who has been welcomed into his daughter's life. He likes that she makes Maggie happy, appreciates her sense of humour and the warmth of her regard for him, but he does not know if he likes her.

He thinks it is more that he does not appreciate what she represents, which is his own shortcomings.

It is one night, when Maggie has Julianne over for dinner and invites Willie as a distraction, that things go wrong.

Danny says very little because he has nothing to say, but Maggie misconstrues it as dislike, hissing to him afterwards, "I know that you don't like Strafer, but you don't have to be so obvious about it!"

"I do not hate her," he states, somewhat confused, but she does not believe him, if her snarl of, "Pull the other one – it's got bells on," is any indication.

She and Strafer secret themselves on a couch in a room with no doors, to preserve some propriety, and leave Danny and Willie to stare at each other in silence in the kitchen.

After a bit, Willie says neutrally, "I think she feels as though you don't accept her the way she is." It isn't a non sequitur.

Danny does not stand, but it is a difficult thing to resist. "I accept her. I only think her life will not be as easy."

After he finishes those words, he can almost see Willie's skin flush with anger twenty years in the making. "I've heard that before," Willie says, voice abstract. "Where have I heard that before, Danny?" His hands clench on top of the table, and the flush of fury beneath his skin makes Danny's reply of, "Long ago" choked.

"Not as long ago as I think you want it to be," Willie says, and when his gaze meets Danny's, his expression is too still, revealing nothing of his thoughts except a burning anger.

Danny looks away. "I do not remember how long ago," he says calmly, breathing deeply as though he is buried again and trying to calm the fear. He runs fingers along the edge of the table, lines etching into the pads of his fingers from the pressure.

"Maybe I didn't hear it, then," Willie says, as much of an apology as Danny is likely to ever get on the subject, and he stands. "I'm off," he says calmly.

Danny lets him go and does not bother to chase Strafer out, though he does ask that she sleep in Michael's old room.

Michael visits and says little, but it is patently obvious that he thinks nothing of Strafer. He neither likes nor dislikes her, and Strafer seems to take it better than Maggie does.

Perhaps it is because Strafer's own family does not know and would not approve if they did.

Michael spends some time with Willie and repeats none of what they speak beyond a sketchy explanation of, "Talking about her a little," meaning Elisabeth. Danny does not envy them the time. He finished mourning Elisabeth some time ago, and now only remembers her with a gentle sort of fondness.

Danny and Willie set one evening a year aside to remember the war before they put it behind them again for another twelve months. It is not official. They only sit across a table from one another and say nothing, closing their mouths around the words they might say because remembering is too painful and it is impossible to do otherwise.

This year, Willie does not sit, and instead asks, possibly but not likely rhetorically, "Why are we doing this?" His eyes are impossibly blue, fixed on the end of the cigarette that he's lighting.

"Maybe because we do not think to do anything else," Danny says, and Willie turns to look at him as he adds, "We don't think of forgetting."

The expression on Willie's face makes him wish Maggie were there to distract him. He has not been so attuned to Willie's moods since Elisabeth, so finely tied to another that he vibrates with the other's emotions.

He wonders if he would need to say anything at all to express himself, had he chosen the other way, and stifles it, but he can see the knowledge of the thought in the slope of Willie's back as he leans against the counter.

"It could've been different," Willie says quietly. "But perhaps, like you seem to think, it's better this way."

Danny does not refute the words, and Willie stands to walk out the door – walk out the door and close another one behind himself, from behind which Danny will never be able to speak to him like this again.

"I think," Danny says, before Willie can quite reach the door, "that as things are, they are not better, but could be best. If you wanted to."

Willie's response is slow enough to make Danny wonder at his thoughts and to leave him time to notice the quiet, half-secretive smile on Willie's face.

"I think," Willie says, echoing him, "that I want to."