1 JANUARY 1943
MISS ALICE HARVEY
221B THE ESPLANADE
ST. KILDA, VICTORIA
ALIVE. SO SORRY SWEETHEART. LETTER WITH EXPLANATION TO FOLLOW. NURSE EDITH LOOKING AFTER ME.
MATTHEW LAWSON
Sogeri, near Port Moresby, New Guinea
7 November 1942
Matthew scratched Addy behind her ears absentmindedly; he supposed petting the cat was better than anxiously chewing on his nails or the inside of his lip, but every day after his last letter (and the biggest confession he'd ever made) passed glacially slow - heightening his anxiety over whether or not this would be the end of everything between them.
He loved Alice, he was in love with her, and stupidly blurted it out in a letter instead of face to face as you were supposed to do. It was stupid to do, but he couldn't help himself; everything was going to shit around here and he couldn't potentially face his last day without her knowing what she meant to him.
He loved Alice, he knew he would spend the rest of his life with her if she wanted it… he had to let her know; if he died out here, at least she knew where he stood with her.
Near Popondetta, New Guinea
22 November 1942
Matthew could hardly believe his luck.
Alice loved him! She didn't rebuke his confession, didn't let him down gently even if they'd been dating, instead she took his confession and made one of her own.
Alice Harvey loved him.
Holding her latest letter close, Matthew smiled as he caught a whiff of her now familiar perfume; the fluttering below his ribs was exciting - Alice Harvey loved him and he loved Alice Harvey. He could forget about the war for just this one minute as he basked in this feeling - suddenly his whole life was beginning anew and he had another reason to make it home.
Alice Harvey loved him, and Matthew pressed a ghost of a kiss to her letter before pulling out paper to respond.
How lucky he was.
Outside Japanese-Occupied Gona, New Guinea
6 December 1942
Matthew now understood the meaning of "war is hell"; it was in this very moment between the rapid gunfire, the screams of men on both sides, and the occasional grenade going off around them.
He wondered how the jungle hadn't caught fire yet with the amount of fighting they'd done in this small stretch of land; they'd already unsuccessfully tried to take this village a few days ago and this current push was looking just as unlikely as the last one. They'd lost so many already… How many more were expected to die?
On top of the absolute hell surrounding him, he hadn't received a letter from Alice since her last one a few weeks ago; he hoped everything was alright, that something hadn't happened to her, but maybe the Australian higher-ups were taking advice from their American allies and stopping mail around big campaigns.
Damned higher-ups, of all the times for them to screw their heads on straight…
Patting his left breast pocket to make sure Alice's photo was still there, Matthew let out a slow breath and took comfort in that poor abused thing - it was a wonder it hadn't fallen apart by now - when an explosion surprised all of them.
Peeking out from his cover, Matthew's mouth ran dry at the sight of men in pieces, and a smoldering crater where part of his brigade had been; Moran was trying valiantly to crawl over to their ranks - blood streaming from his leg and out from underneath his helmet.
"Help!" the man was yelling, "Help, please!"
"Damned fool, he's going to get us killed," Jones muttered next to Matthew.
"Not like they don't already know we're here. Someone should help him."
"Yeah, someone should."
Jones made no move to go and help Moran, and neither did anyone else; patting the photo once again, Matthew hoped Alice would forgive him for what he was about to do.
He ran for Moran - dodging bullets from both sides, vaguely hearing a "Lawson, you bloody moron!" from Jones behind him - and managed to get to his fellow countryman's side.
"Alright, Moran?" Matthew smiled at the man even as Moran's hands clutched at his arms.
"You're a goddamn saint, Lawson, and reckless."
"Ah, well, no one gets left behind and all that. C'mon, let's get you to the medic."
"My leg," Moran gestured to the bloodied stump and Matthew swallowed down bile at the sight of it.
"I'll just have to carry you then. Shoot someone for me as we're running, will you?"
Moran huffed a laugh, but held on tight as Matthew heaved him up onto his shoulders; steadying the man and waving to Jones and the others, Matthew silently counted a few seconds to steady himself and his nerves before dashing back towards their line.
A few steps in, something hit the back of his left shoulder - a bright, stinging pain, white-hot in a flash and burning afterward, filled his senses; his left arm hung, useless by his side, but Moran was still holding on for dear life - Matthew hoped he still lived and blocked the pain from his mind as he ran towards his men.
A few steps away, close enough that he could make out the whites of Jones' eyes, another explosion ignited behind him - the heat and force of it throwing Matthew off his feet as smaller, sharper points of pain stung all over his back and left side; Moran's body rolled in front of him as Matthew collapsed into the undergrowth, his vision swam and he couldn't muster the strength to push himself up again. Jones' call for a medic was muffled through the ringing in Matthew's ears.
It was the last thing he heard before it all went black.
Hospital, Queensland, Australia
10 December 1942
It was so white and bright when he opened his eyes that Matthew first half-thought he'd died.
The second half of that thought once he realized he was in the hospital, was that Alice was probably going to kill him.
The pain he'd passed out to hours ago (days? weeks? When was it?) surged with a vengeance and he couldn't turn his head to the left, nor move his left arm; a weight on his chest moved, and Matthew tried to smile as Addy's familiar purring filled his ears - her body warm in the crook of his neck as she curled up on the pillow next to him, and her fur silky soft compared to the sheets around him.
Vaguely he heard voices and something pinched the inside of his elbow before the pain dulled and he drifted off to the sound of Miss Spitfire's purrs.
Hospital, Queensland, Australia
31 December 1942
Addy yowling woke him up and Matthew nudged her with his foot as he groaned.
"Addy, knock it off."
"Such a fierce protector you have."
The familiar voice jolted him more awake and Matthew opened his eyes to see Edith Warren standing at the foot of his bed with a tray in her hands; she gripped it so hard her knuckles were bone white, and Matthew would be a pile of ash if looks could kill.
"Addy, you know her, knock it off."
Addy gave him what only could be construed as a pout and retreated back up onto his pillow as Edith set the tray down; his cat's amber eyes watched the nurse closely as Edith switched out his fluids and started to check on the bandages.
"I could kill you, you know," she remarked off-hand.
"What for?"
Another murderous look, "Have you any idea what's been going on with Alice?"
At the mention of Alice's name, Matthew tried to sit up - the pain of his injuries (as well as Edith's hands pushing him back down on the bed) nixed that plan in the bud.
"What happened? Is she alright? Did something happen to her?"
Edith shook her head and muttered, "Unbelievable… Matthew, she thinks you're dead."
"What?"
"She's not gotten a letter from you in months, what else is she supposed to think? We've been searching for you for weeks while she's slowly losing her mind, and you've been in my damned hospital the entire bloody time!"
"I wrote to her! I did, I swear to you, Edith. The fighting got heavy and I didn't receive a letter from her after my last one and then I got hurt. She didn't get my letter?"
"Her last letter from you was the one dated end of October."
Matthew sighed and brought his right hand up to cover his eyes - it felt weird doing it with his right hand, but the left was still currently strapped down. He hadn't meant to cause Alice this much worry and the guilt of his actions churned in his gut
"Christ Almighty… I sent her another letter after that, near the end of November. I swear that I did, Edith, I wouldn't… I wouldn't just disappear like that after… after what I told her in the letter. I love her."
Something softened behind Edith's furious look and the tension in her shoulders eased up.
"Perhaps it got lost," she suggested.
"Yeah," it didn't help the gloomy mood settling over him. He was trapped here in the hospital, not allowed to go anywhere or do anything, and it wasn't like Alice would be allowed on the premises either.
"Edith."
"Yes?"
"How… how can I make this better? I can't write her, not with my arm this way, but… bloody hell it's been months since she's heard from me and I don't want to mess it up."
The nurse, and Alice's former housemate, sighed heavily; Matthew waited with bated breath as she ruminated over every possible option they had (he had no clue what he could and couldn't do in here, and he'd been unconscious for most of the damn time he had been in here).
"Telegram."
"A telegram?"
"At first," Edith nodded. "She needs to know you're alive and this is the fastest way to get her the news aside from a phone call and you are in no shape to make it all the way down to the receiver - nor do you have permission to use it."
"So, telegram."
"Yes, where you apologize and say you'll… write her a letter explaining everything."
"A letter that I can't write."
"I'll help you, you arse, you'll tell her in the telegram that I'm taking care of you so at least she's not completely surprised by different handwriting."
The gloomy mood lifted some as Edith explained what they'd do and Matthew found himself nodding along.
"I'll let you think about the telegram message while I complete my rounds. Let me know what you want it to say and I'll send it out tomorrow on my day off - but you're paying for it."
Matthew gave her a salute, grinning at the smile that cracked through her glare; she started gathering up her equipment to move onto the next bed.
"Yes, ma'am. And Edith?" He waited until she'd turned back to him. "Thank you… really. I'm sorry for everything I put all of you through, but… I'm glad there's a familiar face here."
"You're welcome, Matthew… just stay alive and that'll be enough for me… and Alice."
Watching her go, Matthew settled back on his bed - idly petting Addy as she rubbed against him for attention. He hadn't meant to worry Alice and his family this much, but he had a plan of attack and knew that Alice would let his family know - even if he planned to also give Edith enough money to send more telegrams to his mum and Vera.
Now the only thing standing in his way was figuring out what to say to the woman who feared him dead. Looking to his left (the wounds on his neck had finally healed enough he could turn his head), Matthew smiled at the faded (and now blood-splattered) photo of Alice and his worries cleared a little as he drank it in.
His time in the Lebanon sun faded the sepia photo, his frequent handling of it feathered and softened the corners; the rainforest in New Guinea weakened it further - he'd torn a corner by accident, but someone here had thoughtfully taped it securely while he was unconscious. The blood from his shoulder wound splattered across the bottom edge - thankfully missing Alice's face - but Matthew still knew this would be his favorite photo of Alice. It was his lucky charm, it had kept him alive, and he'd need it once out of the hospital - more than ever if this brush with death taught him anything.
It wouldn't matter the words he used, she just needed to hear from him and hear the facts.
(And definitely apologize to her unless he wanted to face Edith's wrath)
[On Matthew's hospital bedside table, his first photo of Alice from 1940 was propped up against a small vase of flowers]
