29. going away to war au

Seagulls cry as they whirl around the masts of a tall ship, moored but never truly stationary, ever moving with the ocean waves. It is on this dock that two figures stand, quite stationary, in stark comparison to the active scene around them. One is dressed in navy whites while the other wears air force green. Sailors scurry around the two, hurrying to and from the ship, but not without first stopping to salute the man in white. He acknowledges them all, professional to a tee, but his focus remains on the striking woman in green.

They've been standing there for some time, not speaking, just looking at each other. The man, for his part, is observing how the vast expanse of the sky matches her baby blue eyes. They practically blend into the air around them, only discernable with the startling contrast of her pale face and dark hair.

(She has always belonged in the sky.)

The woman is doing much the same, taking her time in trying to identify every color in the man's mostly green eyes, emphasized by his navy whites, finding as many shades in them as there are in the waters of the ocean.

(He has always belonged on the sea.)

They stand here now, having each been called up to defend their respective portions of their country, the daunting sky and the raging sea. He, captain of a navy vessel, and her, star pilot in the air force. The war has showed no signs of stopping and their future has never been more uncertain.

"You'll be safe?" Liz asks, the first to break the silent bubble they've been wrapped in.

"As safe as I can be," Red answers quietly after a moment, as honest as he can be, upholding a promise he made never to lie to her. "And you?"

Liz gives him a small smile. "The same," she quirks an eyebrow. "Mostly."

The corners of Red's mouth twitch. "Try not to do too many barrel rolls."

Liz chuckles. "I'll do my best." She returns then to gazing into his eyes, regaining her earlier rapt attention. "And I'll keep a weather eye on the horizon."

Red nods slowly. "And I'll think of you at every sunset," he murmurs quietly, and Liz's throat tightens.

"I'll miss you," she whispers, all she can offer him without wrecking her fought-for composure.

It is enough. He steps forward, heedless of the sailors milling around on the dock and on the deck of the ship, enfolding her in his strong arms. She hugs him back fiercely and they remain like this for a long moment, holding each other.

(They said their real goodbyes last night, tangled in the sheets, trading tears and kisses, words of adoration and declarations of love whispered between them. But those things are theirs, and theirs alone, not to be shared with the sailors and seagulls around them.)

They pull back from each other by silent, mutual agreement, both their eyes a little damp, working to pull themselves together. It takes but a moment.

"I'll see you," says Liz, strong again, squaring her shoulders in that display of strength and fortitude that Red is always in awe of.

"I'll see you," he agrees, tucking his white hat under his arm out of habit, shifting into sea captain mode, making Lizzie's eyes twinkle in amusement and appreciation.

They don't specify a time when they will see each other next. Not "soon" or "later." Because there is simply no guarantee of that. It's the harsh reality they live with each and every day.

(And, if the worst happened, they would both be comforted by the fact that they have loved each other with their whole selves and no regrets. Their whole hearts.)

So, with one last, searching look at Red, Liz nods and pivots on the spot, striding to the car parked off the dock, the one he drove here and the one she will drive away to the airfield. Red takes a moment to watch her go, her back straight and her confidence pulled like a cape around her, and then he turns to walk up the gangplank to his ship, without a glance over his shoulder.

(Because later, he tapes a picture of her to the window in the bridge, right above the ship's wheel, so he can think of her as he gazes out to sea, steering his vessel into battle. And at the same time, a hundred miles away, Liz is taping a picture of him to the windshield in the cockpit of her fighter jet, so she can think of him as she flies high in the air, confronting enemies in the sky.

They are two halves of one whole. She is the sky and he is the sea.)

And they will see each other again.

When the war is over.