AU: Assasins!verse… Let's just pretend Captain Nicholas Worthington and dear Lena existed in WWII, m'kay?

Just Dance

It had been a bitter winter. He couldn't remember the last time he had a warm meal or shower. He had lost men – good men. Men who would never have a chance to see a future. Their faces haunted and tortured his dreams. When some junior member of his staff told him about a dance happening that evening, he could barely summon the strength to care. What was the point of music and fancy steps when everyone was just going to be killed?

Crashing on his bunk, he rifled through the mail which had piled up in his absence. Pulling out the telegram marked not only, 'Confidential' but also, 'Urgent,' he ripped it open and began reading his instructions. The coded message seemed deceptively easy. He needed to intercept a Greek agent who was local for the next two weeks. She had pertinent information for Italian positioning.

Sighing, he decided the dance might be a good idea – and the only chance he would have of interacting socially with the opposite sex for the next few months. No doubt this 'Leda Theodorakis' was in her late forties and had a mustache. Showering, he pulled out his dress uniform and polished off his shoes.

"He goes nothing," he said to the empty room.

Walking through the late March chill, he breathed in deeply – spring was coming. Ducking into the dimly lit tent, he went to the bar. Knowing they wouldn't have much of a selection, he longed for the stocks of finely aged whiskey at his estate – far away from here. Knocking back a shot of something that made his eyes water, when his vision cleared he looked to the dance floor and sighted a particularly lovely woman. Legs for days, a radiant smile…now, why couldn't that be Leda? he wondered. Local talent like hers was lost in the remote village.

Sensing her dance partner had less than a clue of what he was doing, Nicholas waited until the song ended and walked up to her. Bowing slightly, he took her hand and said, "Captain Nicholas Worthington, at your service.'

"My service?" Her slightly accented voice asked.

"Yes, ma'am." Barely recognizing his reaction, he realized he was grinning.

The sounds of the song – a fast paced Benny Goodman tune – stopped further conversation and by the end they were both breathing heavily. He dipped her low and didn't let go of her hand as he pulled her off the dance floor – taking her outside, where the stars twinkled overheard.

"Where have you been all my life?" he asked.

"Think a line like is going to work on a girl like me?"

"Had to give it a try."

"Got a light? Smokes are hard to come by these days." She licked her red lips as she asked the question and Nicholas had to wonder about her particular word choices.

He produced a pack and said, "Rationing and all, mind if we share?"

"Not at all."

They silently shared the cigarette. He asked, "Didn't get your name, sweetheart."

"Didn't tell you, Captain Worthington."

The way she said his name put him on alert and feeling a bit daft, he asked, "Leda?"

"Wondered how long it would take you to figure that one out. You British lads need to work on your intelligence…maybe that's why things ain't so swell out there."

Cursing his luck, that he would be instantly attracted to the one woman in all of Europe he shouldn't get involved with, he stood up sharply, saluted and said, "Captain Nicholas Worthington, reporting."

Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "That's how it's going to be, huh?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Her green gaze held his a bit longer and she said, "Your choice – now show me back to your excuse for a room and let's get started."