Chapter 19 Hamburgers and Iced Tea

Roger should have fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the ruffled pillow. There was nothing wrong with the room or the bed. The hotel might have been the only one in town and its interior looked like something from the twenties, but it was very neatly and cleanly kept and the owners had been rather nice as well. No, there was nothing wrong with any of that. His mind was too awake with thoughts of their meeting that it was too much for sleep to tempt him.

Something was horribly wrong. Reading her letters he had dared imagine Morris to be bitter and resentful-but to think that he made her sleep on the couch and not use the abundance of electricity that he saw in that house to write her letters, was so much worse than anything he had imagined thus far. She had no room that belonged to her, and he could see the discomfort on her face when she heard Morris shout for her. The old, whole Roger would have paced and if he had things of his own be tempted to throw a thing or two. The blessed limb was free from its shackle at the moment and he was still not exactly an expert at pacing yet with the contraption, thus he was stuck with all these thoughts fighting for dominance in his head. He had always been worried for his little friend, now he both itched and dreaded to know it all.

Sleep finally claimed him, and it was a sleep from such a state of worry and exhaustion that he did not even know if he dreamed.

He had brought so little with him. The same nurse who had brought him the books had offered to use some of his money to buy a few things he would need before he was discharged. Most had family and friends who would do so, and since one friend was still in the middle of Italy at the moment and the other was not even allowed to sleep in a bed, he was left with a sympathetic nurse to go and fetch things for him. In the end, she had bought for him a couple shirts, pants, suspenders, and a dark tie, as well as a few essentials he would need to travel. It was an awkward fit, clothes always seemed to be that way for him, but it wasn't the uniform that was more than needing a wash, so he would make due.

He tried not to let nerves get to him too much while he readied himself. Every step to the eating establishment (which weren't very many-the place was next door, literally a handful of steps away) he had to push away the nerves. She had been wonderful. Any of the pity or disgust that he had been expecting had been non-existent, instead she had seemed to accept the way he was with hardly a hesitation or second thought. He had been sure it was there when he had heard her gasp at the realization that he had lost his leg that he would find her wanting to distance herself as much as possible, instead she had reached out and touched his hand. It had shocked his system to be touched in such a way. It was not in the sterile way of the hospital, or even in the sympathetic way a nurse would pat him on the hand a time or two-this was, well, it was the touch of a true friend, and he hardly understood it.

The diner seemed to be from the same decade as the hotel. A counter lined the length and breadth of one side of the building, small booths lined the other side. Sitting on a stool would be nigh on impossible and he would dislike the visibility, so he chose a side booth to wait. He fiddled with his napkin, and watched as a waitress came and asked him what he wanted to drink and then watched her as she left when he told her he was waiting on someone. He fiddled with his tie a moment, and then shifted his cane to make sure that it wasn't in anyone's way. He tried not to look at the time-it would only allow a million little worries to overwhelm him. They seemed to be present in the back of his mind, anyway. There was the anxiousness that she would not show because she had only been kind and had not wanted to offend by declining his offer to meet. Then there were the worries that the overbearing brother would somehow forbid her to come. He could feel the minutes pass, even if he did not deliberately look. She was late-how late he did not know, and his heart sank with the knowledge.

Then all at once she was there-at first all he could see was the yellow dress she was wearing. It was simply made-a small collar at the top, buttons down the front, and a belt at the middle-no matter its simplicity, it was the perfect color to match the sunny personality he had conjured when he partook of the warm rays she shared with her words. When she spotted him her face brightened, which couldn't help but bring a smile to his own face.

When she got closer he began to notice other things. The strain around her eyes, and the redness of her face-hair falling in damp looking curls. She looked tired, worried…she was such a wee thing.

'So sorry I'm late', she smiled widely despite the way her breaths came out short and she sat tiredly in the seat.

'It's no matter.' He answered, not really knowing what else to say. The waitress had noticed her entrance and came over to ask what they wanted to drink. She asked for ice tea and so he asked for the same-she asked for a burger, so he asked for one too. She seemed momentarily distracted by her surroundings.

'It hasn't changed much.' She spoke quietly.

'You haven't been here in a while?'

'Mmmm, no, not since Granny left, I guess. It's so strange-to be here and for her not to be.'

He tried to give her a small comforting smile-not that he was any good at that sort of thing, but she did seem to cheer a little when she saw it.

'Did you sleep well last night? Was the hotel alright? I know it's not the most modern thing.' She bit her lower lip-she seemed so young when she did so.

'I slept very well, thank you-though it doesn't look like you did, are you alright?' He dared to ask her, his heart pounding.

She sighed, leaning back in her seat, hands shuffling in her lap. 'I look that bad, huh?' She seemed utterly dejected.

Well, he had put himself in this one. 'Oh no! I didn't mean- you don't look bad a'tall really.' He may have put his foot in it, but he would not let the full truth slip no matter that she looked as if she might collapse any moment from exhaustion- she still was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. No, he was a fool, sure enough, but nothing could coax him to be that foolish! ' I meant, that you look tired 's all?' He almost lost his grip with his cane and had it tumbling down, he was fiddling with the handle now so much. She didn't seem upset or relieved, just lost in thought really, and he didn't know whether he had managed to make himself clear, or what.

'It-It was a bit of a long night-and long morning, I suppose. I have a couple of nephews who were in an extra mischievous mood this morning.' She smiled. He frowned.

'And that led to your lack of sleep?'

'My abrupt wake up, anyway.' And she said no more. Their drinks were served and the waitress walked away once more. Roger looked at her, hoping she would elaborate, but she seemed to have no interest in doing so, in fact, her tea seemed to now have her whole focus.

'Belle' he spoke in spite of himself.

'It's alright, Roger. Remember? Think of the past only as it gives you pleasure? Have you forgotten my philosophy?'

'But it wasn't always, I think. Not before…before…' your father's death, your move into Morris' tiny, lumpy old sofa. 'You spoke so openly about your shattered heart when your nurse friend went away. You gave no hesitation to speak on deeper thoughts you had that might be contrary to what you thought perhaps I or others around you might think. That philosophy is alright when you've got no other options-but you've got one now that would give you the ability to unburden yourself to a friend.'

Her blue eyes darted over towards him and his heart froze in his chest at the unspoken pointedness in them.

He had to wait for his answer as two plates went Thump on the table, making him jump and breathe in. It was the medical trays all over again and he looked over to see if Belle had noticed his jumpy display. She was smiling thanks to the waitress, not seeing him, thankfully. They ate in silence for a moment or two. Belle suddenly continued their conversation. It seemed to be something she had thought about in all that silent eating.

'You ask me to be more open and unburden myself, yet you've shared nothing of your own troubles. How am I supposed to be open with you when what you've gone through is so terrible that you couldn't even tell me what had happened-even in the most general of terms! I'll not burden you with my troubles when you won't tell me yours.' Belle's whole face was wrinkly with half indignation, and half determination.

'Belle, I'm sorry…'

Belle sighed. 'No, no, You shouldn't be…' tears played at the edges of her eyes and it took every cowardly bone in his body to keep from reaching out to her, the table blocking their way and all. He felt guilty as he realized that she didn't feel comfortable sharing her troubles because he hadn't been forthcoming with his. Well, if that was the case…

'Cassidy-he-he was there. The same explosion got us both.' The words were out before he thought too much of what he was doing. He closed his eyes as if that would keep the sound away-that awful awful sound from playing back in his mind, and the desperate grab at Cassidy's uniform to pull him away only to bring him closer to his death. 'Except that I came out of it alive-and he didn't.' He had opened his eyes with the last phrase, and was now attempting to swallow a lump that had lodged in his throat.

'Oh Roger.' Belle's voice was soft-sad.

He had said everything with a voice so small that the bustle of the diner had drowned out most of what he said. As public as the place was, the noise assured that the words were only between the two of them-perhaps that's what had given him the courage to say them.

'It was the surprise that never was. That battle was so bloody that though the Allies won, it took so many on both sides it hardly counted. We were too slow on the approach. We were on the retreat when I heard it-I heard it coming before it came-that horrible explosion. I thought maybe we could outrun the main impact of the explosion. It was a foolish notion, but I grabbed onto Cassidy's uniform and tried to pull him along with me-killing him for my efforts.'

It was foolish of him to have begun speaking of such things when they were trying to eat. Her burger was left almost intact with only a few bites taken out, fries were being pushed around by them both. He didn't think he could find more ways of despising himself, but here he was with another.

A hand found his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

'You cannot blame yourself for a decision like that.' Now her words were being drowned by the hum of the diner, meaning they were caught by him alone. Not that it did anything, really. He felt so vulnerable, exposed. 'In such a moment, with such a danger…'

'Mmm, Jeffries may have said the same thing-though it still doesn't help shake the guilt.'

'Well.' She spoke, sitting up straighter and looking him in the eyes-the eyes all soft and caring, her shoulders determined. 'Then you ought to believe the Lieutenant and I, then. Your thoughts were only to save, Roger, no one can blame you for that, and neither should you.' She gave him a smile and he sighed. Perhaps he didn't believe her or Jeffries, but to think that She didn't blame him would be enough for the moment.

They pushed half their food around for the rest of the time they were there, a fry or two was eaten, and their ticket and a brown paper sack was given.

'I doubt I'll have enough hands to take this back with me-I'll have all the groceries to carry back with me.'

'Errand day…' Roger remembered.

'Yes.' She smiled. She then bit her lower lip again-a quirk that signaled nervousness, he was beginning to note. 'Would you like to come with me?' Her momentary glance at his leg told him she was asking about more than his desire to go with her. He had no idea what his real length of endurance was, no matter the time spent in recovery and the work that was made to ensure that he could live a life as close to normal as possible. He couldn't think of a better way to test it, so he answered readily that he would enjoy it, and the way her beautiful, tired face lit up had yet to stop surprising him. She was happy to be with him. Then again, her joys over the past few months were few. No matter, he would enjoy this moment for what it was, and hold the image of her bright face when he agreed to come with her, forever in his memory.

They walked down the street, with him trying to make sure his step was as smooth as possible. He hated his limp and use of the cane, but he couldn't help it and Belle didn't comment on it, so he continued on.

'Belle?' She stopped and looked at him curiously. 'I plan to go-I don't know, probably Portland or somewhere-a bigger city where there's more job opportunities. Could I-Could I write to you-while I'm there?' His heart was beating erratically. He was no longer the poor, lonely soldier, her letters where her letters were part of the war effort, nor the poor injured one (well, he was still injured, but he would have to make his way in the world just like every other civilian). He could not now imagine living a life that was devoid of Belle and he had to ask her, to hope the bright smile she had for him was something he could hold onto and count as significant.

'Oh yes, I would love that very much, Roger.' She smiled, and with one that completely reached those blue sparkly eyes of hers. If the thought of writing to him was secretly something she did not want to do, she was the greatest actress he'd ever seen.

Author's Note:

History Stuff: I did a lot of fun research into the interiors of hotels throughout the 20s,30s, and 40s and then imagined that since this is a small, quaint town (and Storybrook looked like it was a place stuck in time in the show) that making it reflect the 20s would be best. Well, this chapter got about 3 rewrites and some of the details I had added in one of the first versions got taken out just because it took away from the emotions that Roger was feeling about Belle. You can google some of them and get an idea. I was seeing floral wallpaper, a sturdy, though small bed, and a quaint little writing desk somewhere in the room. The diner is very similar to what we think of when we think of a diner, but most of the 20s models I saw had the bar with stools going all the way down, long ways down the restaurant, with the booths on the other side (no individual tables) and decided to go with that model. Story stuff: This chapter is mostly fluff, though some relationship development does happen. Again, I do promise that Roger will learn and react to more of what Belle is going through, it's just becoming a slow process, lol More letters! I had this in the works for a while and I was itching to give it away when a couple of you said that you would miss the letter exchange-well, it's not quite over yet :) Roger sharing about what happened, may seem a little out of character, but it felt like the right thing to do. He sees that Belle doesn't feel comfortable sharing her troubles when he seems so in pain over his own. They're both being honest with each other (Belle will be even more so about some things in the next chapter. She may seem slightly bratty here, but let's just say she had a rough night and morning, so let's give her a little break, lol)-which though the show doesn't like them to be, I think is essential in a good relationship. I have to always walk that line between making them seem believable and in character-the ones that this fandom will know so well, and also getting them to act appropriately in the plot and story that I'm writing here. Hopefully I've done that. It may be a while before an update. Real life is about to get busy this week, and I really tried to type enough that I could just edit when I could and then still give you frequent updates. Unfortunately, it took 3 tries (writing at least 1-2,000 words per time) to get the chapter how I wanted it. My apologies! Thank you for reading, and as always, I really love hearing what you think!