Come Home To Me

The rising wail of the air raid siren permeated the air.  Once again, the nightly storm of death and destruction was about to begin.  The ethereal cry made her cringe inwardly, knowing that, come morning, some would not be awakening with the renewing light of the sun.  

That sound was a harbinger of death.  An appropriate sound, seeming itself a dirge, both for the men who fought and died in the skies above, and for those trapped beneath the rain of lethal metal.  

Swiftly, she closed the novel she had been reading, taking time only to mark her place, then dimmed the nearby lamp to a feeble glow.  Rising from her comfortable chair, she performed a final check of the thick blackout curtains, ensuring no guiding beacon would leak out to incur wrath from above.

Her eyes fell upon the front door.  Unlocked, as it should be.  He might have forgotten his key again.  Why lock a door that only one would walk through at a time such as this?

Snatching the woollen blanket from her chair, she hurried towards the basement door.  It tended to be chilly if one sat down there for long.  She paused, her hand on the doorknob, drawing a steadying breath as she looked at the clock.  

‘Half past seven.  Where are you my sweet?  Please be safe my darling.  Come home.’  

If only she had time for a soothing cup of tea.  But no, not worth the risk of waiting any longer.

A muffled explosion, far in the distance, cut through the warning shriek, spurring her feet into motion again.  She had to move, there was no more time.  The barrage had started.

Belatedly, she realized she had forgotten her slippers, her bare soles prickling as they moved from braided carpet to the smooth bare wood of the stairs.  Where had she left them?  By their bed, of course, she had taken them off for her bath, and neglected to put them back on.  

‘How foolish.’

He would likely smile and chastise her forgetfulness.  Of course, the words would have no real bite, softened by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes as he smiled, the gentle hazel orbs oh-so-warm with affection…

At least she had the blanket.  No time to risk going back up for the footwear, even with the explosions still far away.  The simple act of hiding in the cellar until the storm had passed was a wise precaution, one drilled into the populace by a wave of radio advertisements.

Reaching the bottom of the dim stairwell, she brightened the small desk light in the corner.  No windows down here to worry about, and the sight of the shadows shrinking back to lick their wounds was comforting.  No replacement for having him here with her though…

“Don’t fear for me my love,” he always said, holding her in his strong arms.  “I will be home the very second I can.” 

An impossible task.  Might as well ask her to lift their flat upon her narrow shoulders.  Why must he stay so late?  She knew there needed to be those willing to quench the erupting fires, but… Did he really have to be one?  Must he stay past the call of his duty?  She needed him too…

The radio released a loud popping click and brief hiss of static as she turned it on, before the device fixed onto its attuned channel.  Perhaps some music would serve in place of the tea.  

“…mber, loose lips sink ships!” 

The trailing interlude faded into the lilting sounds of Schoenberg’s violins, the melody pirouetting its way through the air like a prima ballerina.

She quickly relocated herself to the sturdy chair in the corner, the one he had so carefully positioned under the strongest support beams, huddling up to bring her already chilled feet away from the icy cement.   

This piece had such a haunting, pensive feel.  The swelling highs, the crashing lows, gathering around her in stanza after stanza.  An almost mournful tune, fitting in its own right, much like the siren’s call.  She closed her eyes, opening her soul to allow the music in.  It inspired thoughts of days gone by…

____

She swung her legs back and forth, pointing her toes to scuff the tufts of grass beneath the bench.  The idle kick knocked loose a dandelion, sending scores of tiny, hopeful seeds wafting into the gentle breeze, like a flight of busy fairies.  

The sun gleamed off of her pretty white dress, the one she had begged and pleaded mommy for.  She had been forced to wait for her birthday, but even though it had seemed an eternity, it had still been a delight to open the package and try it on for the first time.  She loved the way it swished when she moved, and how the ruffles fell so perfectly around her scrawny shoulders, hiding her knobbly elbows and knees better than any of her other dresses.     

Mrs. Anderson had tried to get her to come play jump-rope and ring-around-the-rosy with the other girls, but she liked it over here better.  She didn’t like those games.  The other girls would just laugh when she tripped over her too-large feet.  Besides, the flowers over here were so pretty, joyously stretching their colourful blooms towards the smiling sun.

She took another bite of her sandwich, all the crusts perfectly removed, smiling to herself as she watched an industrious bee fumble its way from petal to petal.  

Her ears suddenly caught the sound of approaching voices, punctuated by the occasional boyish laugh.  

“And when I grow up, I’m going to join the army like my dad!” one of them said confidently.

She scrunched a bit lower in her seat, looking down at her shoes.  Danny.  Maybe, if she was quiet, the fox and his cronies wouldn’t notice her.  

Cronies, that was a fun word.  Mommy had used that one awhile ago.

She slowly took another nibble, the peanut butter suddenly seeming a bit stickier than it should, trying to make herself as small as possible.  The sound of a ball being kicked between boys was punctuated by the odd comment or hoot.  They were almost right behind her now.  

“Yeah Danny, and-”

“Hey!” Danny’s call cut off the other speaker.

There was a moment of silence, with some barely audible murmurs and chuckles, then…

“Rotten eggs, sausage links, everyone knows that Rachel stinks!”

The flowers didn’t seem quite so pretty anymore.  She bowed her head, doing her best to ignore their hoots and laughs, just like mommy had said.  Why did they always pick her?

Another bout of mutters and giggles, before a second taunting shout.

“Here you go fart face, a toothpick for the gap in your teeth!”

A stick came sailing past her vision, landing in her lap with cruelly perfect accuracy.  Her eyes flew wide as she registered the eight legged bug clinging for dear life to the end of the stick.  She immediately leaped up with a shriek, frantically beating her dress to remove the thing, smearing the dark smudges the dirty wood left on her dress, her half-eaten sandwich flying away to land in the flowerbed.

It was too much. Her dress.  The spider.  The insults.  Her sandwich.  She couldn’t stop the flow of tears, a halting sob wrenched from her lungs.  How had he even found out how much she hated spiders?  

Her tears only served to increase their merriment, the gang chortling with glee and congratulations as they ran off, booting their ball along in front of them.  

She collapsed back into her seat, sniffling as the surely equally frightened insect scurried off into the grass.  The colours of the flowerbed blurred as more tears leaked out.  Stupid Danny.  All of them, stupid.  Now she would be hungry during class too.    

A shadow fell across her, the lower light hiding the contrast between stark white ruffles and muddy stains.

She didn’t look up. “J-just g-go away!”

The shadow didn’t move, a hairy hand reaching out and holding… half a sandwich?  

She continued to sniffle, her eyes widening a bit as she stared at the offering uncomprehendingly, the flow of tears slowing to a trickle.

She looked up finally, gaze travelling up a wide, overalls covered chest, to meet a pair of sad-looking brown eyes, small and set back behind a massive nose and two tiny tusks.  Short, nearly black, bristly looking hair covered all but the tip of that wide, flat nose.  The boy who sat in the back of class?  What was his name again?  The boar didn’t usually run around with the other boys, but why was he-

“Please, take it.”

Hesitantly, she reached out and took the gift (also with crusts perfectly cut away), her fingers brushing against the coarse fur on the back of his hand briefly.

She stared at him for a moment, her mouth forming a questioning O as she tried to find words.

He looked down, scuffing his feet, his nostrils quivering a little.  “I… I think you’re pretty!”      

Immediately following his proclamation, he turned on his heel and ran, head down, without looking back.  

She followed him with her eyes, watching until he disappeared around the corner of the school, attempting to understand what had just transpired.  The last, lone remnant of her tears dripped off her chin, the single shimmering droplet landing dead centre on the bread.  

He thought she was pretty?

____

She shuddered as one explosion immediately followed another, the muffled blasts sounding considerably closer, nearly drowning out the last strains of Schoenberg.  A gas line perhaps?  If so, that would cause a fire for sure.  The sound of someone’s life ripping apart in an instant.

One of the bombers must have been chased this way, they were some distance from the favourite targets.  Not that it mattered.  They would drop their death wherever they could.  

‘Please come home my love!  I need you here.’

Perhaps she was selfish, but she didn’t care.  He already did so much, couldn’t he let others take some of the burden?  To be with her?

“…reminding all civilians to please stay in their shelters.  Thank you.”  

The recording finished, leading into the opening flute trills of another piece, one she wasn’t familiar with.  Something new from overseas perhaps?  

Another distinctly defined explosion, a bit further this time, but still uncomfortably close.  How long had it been going now?  Did it always last this long?  Time never seemed to have any meaning down here.   

She rose, shivering from more than just the frigid surface she set her feet upon.  Crossing to the small table in the corner, she fiddled with the lamp switch, illuminating her little haven as much as she could.  It was no substitute for the warmth of his smile, but-

Pop!

Darkness, white flashes bursting behind her eyes from the sudden flare.  She stumbled off balance with a cry of alarm, reaching blindly to steady herself on the table… 

Only to miss, cool air rushing past her face as she fell.  Her elbow jarred suddenly, a sharp jolt arcing up her arm as her palm hit the floor, a song of pain also singing out from her left knee.

She groaned softly, remaining where she was to allow her rapidly beating heart to slow.  The gleeful, rolling piano arpeggios danced through the gloom, seeming to mock her clumsiness.

The frigid cement was leeching the warmth from her very bones.  Slowly, she crawled towards where her chair should be, wincing at the pressure on her knee.  That would be a lovely bruise for sure.   
                  
Her bare toe dragged against a rough, gritty surface as she groped about, her questing hand landing on her chair at last.  Seizing it, she pulled herself up, sharp needles of… something scraping across her foot.  Oh yes, the wood he had collected for a bookshelf, if he ever got around to building it.  She smiled as she stood.  He was so thoughtful-

She inhaled sharply through her teeth, wincing as a tiny lance jabbed into the flesh of her toe.  Stupid, forgetting her slippers.  She guided herself down into her seat, drawing her legs up and rubbing feeling back into her feet as she searched for the invading splinter.

No such luck, it was buried in deep.  No chance of getting it out in the dark.  She let out a frustrated huff, prodding her tender knee lightly.  It throbbed, pulsing in counter-beat to the swelling music.  

Pain like…

____

She leaned against the rear of the schoolhouse, tilting her head back onto the cool brick and closing her eyes against the bruised and swollen clouds above.  Twinges and pops continued to race up from her aching ankle.  Why had she done it?  Why had she fallen for their goading?

Just because Trisha had been showing off her new ballet techniques… Just because she was able to balance herself like a perching bird… 

As if the girls actually would have been impressed had she succeeded.  “Oh wow Rachel, how did you do that?”  Sure, exactly what they would have said.  No, trying to copy Trisha had been stupid.  Even if she had managed to tame her ungainly feet and pull off the move, she would still only be second best, and Trisha would have been annoyed.  

Their laughter had felt like an enraged swarm of hornets, as she watched all five sets of pristine leather shoes walk away, leaving her lying there with the wind knocked out of her and her ankle on fire.

She refused to cry.  She was a big girl now, there was no need for it.  Tears wouldn’t solve anything, except to smear the little bit of makeup mother had let her wear, covering the tiny volcanoes that had been emerging on her face lately.  She hated those.  As if she needed more to contend with.   

The bell would ring soon.  She should head back, get to her desk first.  Make sure no one had hidden any surprises in it, to get a shriek out of her when the teacher told them to take out their books.  The frogs… That had been terrible.  

Hopefully, Mr. Wesley wouldn’t notice her limping.  A visit to the nurse’s office would be mortifying.

She began the process of easing herself back to the front, brushing loose strands of stringy hair out of her eyes as she half walked, half hopped.  The bass rumble of thunder shook the sky, still well in the distance, but a gloomy portent nonetheless.  Thankfully, the pregnant clouds held off their labour for the time being.  She wished she had an umbrella for the walk home.

She halted as she neared the corner of the building, resting a hand against the structure for balance.  Someone fighting?  She could hear grunts and what sounded like blows being struck. 

“Not so tough now!”

“Ha!  For a big guy, you’re just a pussy!”

Wide-eyed, she cautiously peeked around the corner, cringing at the familiar voices.  Who was taking the abuse today?  Probably one of the smaller boys, making the mistake of crossing the “territory” of the brutes.  

Their backs were turned to her, fortunately, obscuring the view of a form on the ground.  A tall, denim pants and striped shirt clad form, huddled up with its arms over its head, two tusks peeking out from behind them.  Thick, powerful, hairy arms.  

Danny’s foot drew back for another kick, the expensive leather boots aimed for his victim’s crotch, set to cause maximum pain with least amount of noticeable damage.  She’d seen what happened to boys that got hit there.

She let out a wail, stumbling forward.  She couldn’t just watch!  How could they do this to him?  He never hurt anybody!  

“Hector!” 

Danny paused, looking towards her with a mix of surprise and annoyance, his entire posture seeming to say, “Who dares interrupt!”.  It always amazed her, how such vivid green eyes could be so frigid.  So different from Hector’s eyes, with their gaze of melting chocolate.

His two companions also turned to stare, the skinny boy… Gerald?… giving one last, half-hearted kick at the prone form.  The other two weren’t important, so long as they stopped.  

Danny’s expression shifted, a nasty smirk crossing his muzzle, contempt filling his gaze as she came to a lurching halt, hands balled into fists.

“Stop it!  Just, stop it!”  Naturally, her lisp made the words sound far less fierce than she intended.

 The vulpine winked at his current allies, crossing his arms over his chest, the leather of his fancy jacket crinkling and creaking.  

“Ooh, looky who’s here to save the day!  It’s little miss whistle teeth!  Or should I say, little mithhhh whistle teeth!”  He deliberately emphasized the lisp with a spray of saliva, guffawing at his own joke.  

She stood her ground as firmly as she was able to, trying to keep her trembling from becoming noticeable.  “Really tough Danny.  It takes three of you to beat someone up.  Really tough.”

He spat, a great gob that just barely missed her shoe.  “Mind your own business, bitch.”  Wonderful.  He had a new cuss word.  “Sod off, go break a mirror with your reflection or something.”

The insults slid off.  She didn’t care what they said, Hector was what mattered.  She pushed past the fox, eyes on the still-curled form, the boar now peering out warily from his defensive position.

A shove from behind sent her sprawling, almost landing on top of him.  She caught herself, barely, staring into his shocked eyes from inches away, her arms supporting her on either side of his chest.

“Ooh!  Kissy kissy!  Ha!  These two look perfect for each other!” one of the boys hooted.  The voice was different from the other two.  The wolf, the boy she hadn’t recognized.  Must be from one of the other classes.  

“Psh, yeah, rubbish with rubbish.  Have little rubbish babies together.”  Danny again, adding another wad of spit, just catching Hector’s shoulder.  Hector didn’t bother wiping it off.

A split second of silence, the moment seeming almost frozen as she locked gazes with the boar, a small trickle of drying blood trailing from his nose, one of his eyes half shut with a forming bruise.  

“Danny… don’t.”  She wasn’t sure which one said it.     

She didn’t look up, gritting her teeth in anticipation of sudden impact.  She’d never seen him go that far, but she wouldn’t put it past him, almost feeling that heavy shoe drawing back behind her.

The bell rang, shrill and startling.  Still, no blow came, her ankle remaining the only place alight with pain.  

“Psh, not worth the effort.”

She let out a heavy breath, tension and anger draining away with their retreating footsteps.  Whether it was the bell or the words that had prevented it, she would probably never know.  At least one of the boys had the decency not to hit girls.  

She pushed herself back, a little unsteadily, concern and annoyance clashing inside of her.  Hector relaxed as well, seemingly more so as she sat up, their bodies no longer a breath from touching.

“Why, Hector?  Why won’t you hit them back?  You could break Danny’s stupid face.  Why do you let them do this to you?”

He didn’t answer right away, pushing himself up and pulling a kerchief from his pocket, wiping away the dried blood and the spit.  He frowned, shaking his head, the action appearing a bit unbalanced with those pointed tusks.  Even with her on her knees and him sitting, he could look right into her eyes.  His gaze was steady, sure, even with that hint of sadness. 

“Because I can take it.  If it wasn’t me, it would be someone else.  You know what they do.  I’m bigger than they are.  If I hit them back, I’m no better.”   

His voice was so rich, far deeper than any of the other boys.  Even if it did crack and change pitch occasionally.  How could the other girls make fun of that voice?

“If you hit them back, maybe they’d stop.”  She hated this.  Hated seeing such a pure soul beaten down by THEM.

He shook his head again, wincing as he twisted back and forth, rubbing his ribs.  His shoulders rolled powerfully, appearing twice the size of her own.  “You know they wouldn’t.  They’d just come back with more of them, and then I might NOT be able to take it.”

Another peal of thunder rent the air, the mighty report seeming to shake loose the fruit of the heavens.   Fat, icy spatters of rain came first in ones and twos, then in fives and tens, before rapidly turning into a steady patter.  

He grunted as he got to his feet, extending his hand to her in gentlemanly fashion, drops bouncing off his nose and running down his sable hued fur, wet spots spreading on his shirt.  

She took the offer gratefully, managing a small smile, just for him.  It seemed even nature wouldn’t let them get away without an insult.  She didn’t want to admit it, but he was right about that last.  They wouldn’t stop.  Not like that.  

Rivulets trickled down her scalp and neck, her hair plastering down.  Her makeup was probably running, but it didn’t matter.  He hesitantly returned her smile, looking a bit uncertain as she gave his hand a squeeze.

“Thank you, Hector.”

He arched a brow, confusion evident in his eyes.  “For what?  I should be thanking you, for stopping them from busting me up even more.”  

“For being you.  For not being like them.”

He stared back at her, not letting go of her hand either.  “I… just…”

She shook her head, not wanting him to try and explain away his own kindness.  “Come on, we should get inside before we turn into walking mer-people.” 

He grinned at that.  “I think it’s already too late.  I feel like I’m growing fins already.” 

She giggled, freeing her hand to give him a good natured shove.  “Silly!  Let’s go then.” 

She took a hobbling step, the grass squishing under her foot, her clothes now thoroughly soaked through.  Pain lanced up, but she did her best to hide the wince.  

She didn’t do a good enough job.  “Rachel!  What happened?  Are you alright?”

She waved away his concern, taking another limping step.  “Nothing, it’s fine.  It was just me being foolish.  And clumsy.”

The feel of his firm grip on her shoulder made her feel small.  He was only a year older, and still his hands could wrap almost right around her arm.    

“Let’s take you to the nurse’s office.”  His hands were so warm.

“Are you going too?”  She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, leading him on and letting him help her.  

“Uhh, not for me, I’m fine.”  

She shook her head vigorously.  “Then no.  You can walk me home as repayment for rescuing you.”
 
“But-”

“No buts!”

He subsided, and she hid a small smile.  That would teach him.  She wasn’t completely devoid of pride, and acknowledging the injury like that to anyone but him would be akin to defeat.

Together, the drenched pair supported each other into shelter, leaving the wrath of the storm behind.  

____ 

That sound… was it really…?  Her ears strained to hear over the final waltzing chords, the crippling of her sight seeming to make this sense more acute.  Yes… A tremolo shriek, ululating its call of distress somewhere off in the night.  

“Fire, fire.  Flee, flee,” it seemed to say, as it screamed past, growing fainter.  Close.  Not close enough to bespeak of imminent danger, but close enough to be heard over the other, ever-present wail, and the radio that was her only friend in the dark.  

Maybe he was with them?  Rushing towards the danger, leaping into the cavorting flames, beating them back one by one…  

‘Dearest Hector… Where are you?  Come home to me, my love!’
 
She could almost see it, feel it, hear it.  The flickering, dancing flames of hell, appearing as twisting demons with charring touch.  Waves of heat, parching clothing, blistering bare skin and frying hair, whisking the moisture from her mouth like arid soil absorbed the rain.  Thick, acrid smoke, replacing the life giving air and scorching the walls of her throat and lungs.  Crackles and pops, the sizzle of burning wood, the crash of falling beams, the shrieks of the sirens and the dying…

All the while, Spitfires and Hurricanes chattered with Stukas and Messerschmitts in the inky theatre above, flitting about each other in a deadly dance to determine the fate of those below.  Graceful, she supposed, in the way that a lion pounced upon its prey, as one metal bird ripped another apart, sending the victim screaming down to meet its demise on the streets below.

Her feet itched with the desire to leap from her chair, the spear of fire from the splinter dulling into unimportance.  She wanted to go to him, pull him back to her.  Lose herself in his powerful arms.  Bury herself against his wide chest, listening to the reassuring sound of his heartbeat while his comforting voice murmured in her ear, telling her that all was well.   

She trembled.  ‘Please, darling…’ He was so close!

He might as well be across the ocean.  

She hugged her knees, resting her forehead on them, the pulse of pain from the injury beating down to a dull ache.  She breathed deeply, controlling her heartbeat with steadying inhalations.  Musty scents assaulted her, the chill air bearing them up from the corners like an ensnaring net.  They should just pack and go, flee to the countryside.  Then they would be together.

He would never do it, and she would stand on the ashes of their home before leaving without him.

Bing Crosby crooned from the radio, filling the blackness with warbling tales of love and devotion.  The words stirred her thoughts.  Only forever indeed, if he would just come back to her…

She wrapped her armour of cloth tighter around herself, clinging to its soothing warmth as it gallantly fought back the icy darkness.  The feel of the thick fabric between her fingers brought a smile to her face, recalling the first time she had seen this particular blanket.  He’d planned everything so perfectly…   

____

She gave a practice twirl, watching in the mirror as the hem of her skirt spun with her, before settling into flawless layers once again.  Perfect.  She’d managed it without a single stitch out of place.  

Hopefully he would like it.  She had saved for a month to buy this dress!

She smoothed the soft fabric once again, breaking into a grin at its lovely sheen and silken texture.  Yes, he would like it.  He always seemed to notice things, whether it was something different she had done with her hair, or one of the bracelets she had convinced mother to lend, or sometimes he would just PRETEND something was different or new.  Just to take the chance to give her a compliment.     

Well, bashful, almost embarrassed compliments at least.  So honest and sweet though.  It was adorable, watching him get all tongue tied about something.     

She frowned, attempting to draw the last few strands of hair into place.  Why was she cursed with locks that refused to cooperate?  Such stringy, lifeless tresses.  Certainly not Rapunzel’s flaxen streams.  

It was as good as it would ever get though, the ribbon braided into it holding the majority in some semblance of order.  That colour went with the dress well enough, so-

“Rachel!  There’s someone at the door for you!” 

She flew out of her room in answer to her mother’s summons.  He was here!  Musn’t keep him waiting!  Now she’d find out what his “surprise” was, and-  

Flying was a mistake.  She very nearly turned it into crashing, one oversized shoe catching the other as she rushed down the stairs.  She bit back a shriek, grabbing the railing to prevent the tumble, heart beating double time.  Those shoes… ick.  

Nothing to be done about it though, she just had to cope.  In her size, options were limited.  At least they were better than men’s shoes.  Oh god, the time she had been forced to wear THOSE…  He was the only one who hadn’t poked fun.  

“Rachel?  Are you alright dear?”  Her mother’s auburn-haired head poked around the corner, eyes filled with concern.  She must have heard the thump.  Why couldn’t she have hair like mother’s?  It was the same colour certainly, but- 

Hector. 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine!”  She used marginally more caution on the remainder of the steps, passing her startled parent like a fast moving breeze with places to go.  “Bye mum, I’ll be back before it gets dark!”  That promise had been squeezed out of her, but she didn’t care.  Back before dark was far better than not being allowed to go… wherever they were going.  It didn’t matter.  It was with him.

Her mother’s reply barely registered.  Some kind of generic parental admonishment.  She slowed before crossing into the entrance hall.  Musn’t seem like she was in THAT much of a hurry to greet him.

The door still stood open, like some magical portal to untold possibilities.  Had mother invited him in?  Probably, but knowing him, he would mutter something about “not wanting to intrude”.  

He stood on the porch, hands in his pockets and gazing up at the sky, shifting as if a bit uncomfortable.  Why was he wearing that jacket?  Silly boy, he’d keel over from the heat in that!  It was fetching though.

He turned at the sound of her footsteps, his large muzzle and curving tusks making the motion seem more ponderous than it was.       

“Hello, Rachel, are yo-” He cut off, mouth half open comically, like a thief had just stolen all his powers of speech.  His eyes widened slightly, flicking all the way down to her shoes and then back up again, settling on her face with a look of incredulity.  “Um, wow!”

She giggled, grabbing a layer of skirt and giving it a flaring shake.  “Like it?  I hope it’s alright for wherever we’re going.”   

He seemed to latch onto the words, using them to boot himself out of self-imposed muteness.  “Cripes, Rachel, y-you look terrific!”  He snapped his jaw shut, his hazel eyes locked on her, lapsing once more into stupefication.  She had to resist the urge to laugh aloud.  That expression made it worth every shilling.

She opted for the small, secretive smile of approval instead.  Let him wonder exactly what she might be thinking.  “Thank you.  You’re looking rather handsome yourself!”  She punctuated that with a coy, half examination.  Had she sounded too interested?  He already looked warm, a bead of sweat on his brow.  She’d have to subtly convince him he was striking enough without it.  Or maybe not so subtly.  No sense in overheating!  

Enough idle chit-chat.  “So, are you going to just stand there?  Or are you going to tell me what your “surprise” is, and where we’re going?”     

He jolted, once more finding his tongue.  “Oh, right, umm… Well, I thought we might go for a little picnic outing.”  

She joined him on the porch, closing the door firmly behind her.  “That sounds lovely!  Where?  Hyde park?”  The park was close enough to walk, and they could buy something to eat along the way.

He shook his head, breaking into a grin, the expression turning his eyes to warm, dark pools. “Not exactly.  I wanted something a bit more special than that.  We’re going out to the country!”

She blinked, now feeling like the tongue-tied one.  “The country?  Umm, Hector, a little far to walk, don’t you think?”  

He didn’t reply with words, merely gesturing in a grand sweep towards the street.  She followed with her eyes, settling upon… Did he really mean THAT?! How on EARTH had he managed to get that?

“You have a car?!”  Incredulity stained her voice, making it rise to that shrill pitch she hated so much.

His smile nearly split his face it two, a hint of pride in his expression.  “Yeah, I managed to convince dad to let me borrow the Morris for the day.  He said he’d wring my neck if anything happened to it, and that I’d have to work off the petrol costs, but when he heard why, he said I could!”

She felt like her eyes were going to fall out of her head.  They were actually going out to the country together?  He’d done all of this, for her?  

He looked uncertain, shifting from foot to foot and rubbing the back of his neck with a bashful look when she didn’t speak right away.  “That IS alright, isn’t it?  You want to go?”

She tripped again, this time over her words.  “Yes, yes!  Oh Hector, I’d love to!”  She clamped her mouth shut before she said anything more, composing herself.  So much for coy.  

He didn’t seem to mind, offering his arm with a smile.  “Well then, your carriage awaits, my lady.”

She giggled at the formality, taking his arm like the queen he was portraying her as.  “We are most amused, good footman.  Pray, lead me to my conveyance!”  Inside, she was skipping in circles like a child with a new bag of sweets.  

He chuckled, playing the role with a bow, before leading her down the steps.  The sun danced playfully off the gleaming windows and cherry paint of the vehicle, even the whitewall tires seeming to have just rolled out of the showroom.  Had he washed and polished it for her as well?

She surreptitiously gripped his arm a bit tighter than was necessary as they walked, corded muscle evident under the thick fabric.  Arms that felt like they could snap her in two, yet treated her with the most delicate of sensibility.  Was that cologne he was wearing?  The spicy scent tickled her nose as he reached in front of her to open the car door.  Barely a hint of it, yet just enough.  

She smiled up at him as she slid into the passenger seat, sinking delightfully into the tan leather.  “Good, you may now have the privilege of driving me.  On with you, on with you!”  She waved her hand in a shooing gesture, feeling a bit giddy.  This was so unexpected, it almost felt magical.  Like at any moment, she would wake up to find she had fallen asleep in class, and Danny was making rude noises behind her.  

His baritone laugh shattered the illusion.  No, she couldn’t dream up a wonderful sound like that.  “My lady’s every wish is my command.”  He shut the door, his merriment drifting in through the open windows as he crossed to the driver’s side.           
She glanced into the back seat, taking note of a large hamper nestled comfortably on a blue, neatly folded blanket.  He really had thought of everything.  

Her new bra pinched irritatingly.  But, at least it accented the little chest she had.  It was worth it, for him. 

The springs of the seat put up a protest as his muscular form tested them.  He turned towards her, and she wasn’t sure which was warmer; the sun beating down through the windshield, or that beautiful smile.  It didn’t matter what anyone else said.  As far as she was concerned, when he smiled, the world could end and she wouldn’t notice.

“Are you sure you have everything you’ll need?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”  

‘I have you,’ she wanted to add. 

She couldn’t help another girlish giggle.  “Although, I think you do not require your heavy livery, my noble footman.  I can’t have my driver fainting from the sun.”

It took him a moment, perplexity flickering over his face in place of the smile, before the light bulb went on.  He chuckled, looking a bit rueful, fiddling with the fancy brass buttons on the lapels of the jacket.  “I suppose it is a little hot for this, isn’t it?”

She put on her best thoughtful face.  “Hmm.  Not if our picnic is in Siberia.” 

His baritone merriment felt like an embrace.  “I think dad really would strangle me if we went that far.”  He looked grateful to shed the garment, tossing it carelessly on the seat behind them.  

“Right then.  We’re off!”  He turned the key with a grand flourish, the car grumbling to life from its slumber, somehow seeming to yawn and stretch.  To her, it was the grandest of limousines, perhaps the queen’s even.  

They didn’t speak much as they drove.  They didn’t need to.  The rumble of the engine told them stories of freedom.  Their enchanted steed whickered and snorted, bearing them forth to adventure and wonder.  

Everything that was drab and dull about the buildings they passed now seemed exciting and new.  The people walking in the streets were more like old friends than complete strangers.  Her world was a brighter place when he was in it.  There was no place for sadness, for cruelty, for tears.  Only joy and light, gentle touches and tender words.     

The wind whipped freely through the open windows, as flats and schools, shops and offices gave way to trees and fields.  A never ending stage of green, canopied by brilliant blue, the expanse above populated only by reclining forms clad in purest cotton.  There was a sailor, and a motley collection of swans and geese.  Was that a tiger, crouching to pounce on unsuspecting prey?  Or was it a tumbling acrobat, stretching for the trapeze before a gasping audience?

Fresh, clean air chortled in her ears as it picked apart the careful arrangement of her locks, ruffling them into a surely wild mop.  She didn’t care.  She realized she was humming something, rather tunelessly.  She wasn’t even sure what it was.  Just an untainted outpouring of her mood.  She silenced the sound.  It was probably rather irritating.  

He glanced over.  “You don’t have to stop.  I like it.”

“Really?  It’s not even a song, it’s just…” 

He shrugged.  “So?  It means you’re happy.  I like it.”

It felt like her heart had been replaced with a miniature sun.  From anyone else, the words might sound like soulless flattery.  From him, it was gospel truth.

They glided over several more rolling hills, before he pulled off onto the wide shoulder, near a large copse of trees. “This looks like a good spot, we have some shade if it gets too warm.” 

“It’s perfect.”  It could have been an empty lot, and it still would have been perfect.  The peaceful locale just made it more perfect. 

The engine clicked and popped as it settled with a groan, their loyal steed earning its rubdown and bucket of oats for the safe passage it had given them.  Hector whisked the blanket and hamper from the backseat, shooing her out the door playfully as she attempted to help.  “Come on, let’s find a nice place to set this out!”

Birds and bees sang their summer song as she stepped from the car, the scents of wildflowers and rich soil tinging every deep inhalation.  Waves of heat bathed her skin, the rays pouring across her brow making her wish she had worn a hat.

The longer grass crunched under her feet, each individual blade standing out with perfect clarity as they bowed down for her passage, Hector following behind her, lugging the hamper and blanket.  The grass called to her.  The moment her feet touched the shorter, more lush stalks, she kicked out of her shoes, delighting in the feel of the cool greenery caressing her bare skin. 

She left the hideous footwear where it lay, dancing across the meadow like a curious butterfly, wishing she too could step delicately across the petals of the flowers.  She couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled up.  She didn’t try.  She felt ten years old again, losing herself in the glory of this unspoiled moment.

If his smile had ever left, it was back in full effect.  “Good idea then?”

She skipped back to him, boldly linking his free arm with hers.  His shirtsleeve crinkled with starch, the lingering scent of his cologne teasing her nose briefly.  “Mmhmm, you can ask me out like this anytime.” 

“Promise?”  He sounded hopeful.  Did he really enjoy her company that much?

“Promise.  I might even say yes.”

He rolled his eyes.  “I would sure hope so.  I’d hate to have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

“Is that any way to treat a lady?”

He chuckled.  “Of course not, that’s why I’d hate to do it.”

She joined in, socking him in the arm for his efforts. “Good thing you’re ever the gentleman then.”    

“I do my best.  How about here?”

She helped him spread the blanket out, half under the shade of the ashes, yews and poplars, half basking in the sun.  The best of both worlds.  

Perfect.

She settled down, hugging her knees and humming quietly as he began relieving the hamper of its contents.  Sandwiches, a wrapped container of potato salad, a small canteen with a pair of cups, and two small plates completed the spread. 

“Cordial?”

“Yes, please.”

He poured her a cupful, handing it to her with a smile.  Sparks seemed to dance between their fingertips as they brushed.  

Perfect.  

The sweetness of the cherry flavoured drink tantalized her tongue, the liquid pleasantly cool on her throat.  He rummaged around in the hamper, looking a little perplexed, finally turning it upside-down and shaking it.

“What’s wrong?”
    
He looked crestfallen.  “Bollocks!  I forgot to pack forks!”  He prodded the container of salad.  “Now this is going to go to waste.  I’m sorry Rachel, I wanted everything to be just right, then I go and do a stupid thing like that.” 
  
She giggled, poking him in the chest.  “Silly!  You brought napkins, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then we’ll use our fingers!  Forget manners.  It’s just the two of us here, right?  Who needs forks?”

He perked up, giving an approving nod.  “Ha!  I guess you’re right.  Be a little messy though, and our mums would have a fit!”

She snorted.  “Let them.”  To prove her point, she dipped two fingers in, spooning out some of the mush and popping it into her mouth.  The harmonious essence of potato, egg and mayonnaise wafted through her senses.  

He shook his head with a laugh, tossing a napkin at her and then setting a sandwich on a plate for each of them, before digging in himself.  There was no reason for it to be so funny, but it was.  Purely ridiculous, trying to juggle potato clumps without spilling any on their clothes.  They must have looked to any passer-by like two mischievous children with a bag of candy, giggling and alternating fingerfuls with each other.  

They enjoyed their meal through a hazy veil of idle chit-chat, not really discussing anything in particular, simply delighting in one another’s company.  She wanted to somehow capture this moment.  Hold it in a box forever and ever, opening the lid from time to time to release its light and joy and simplicity upon the world.  

Time didn’t matter, strolling along with a lazy gait, as the moment shifted from eating to relaxation.  A few stray ants marched determinedly along the woven desert of wool, seeking any remaining crumbs to make their trek worthwhile.  Several of them took great joy in the discovery of the potato salad stained napkins, making their best efforts to cart the entire load off.  

She lay back on the blanket, arguing good-naturedly about the forms in the sky.  A lorry, really!  It was quite clearly some great lizard of unknown temper, either roaring its rage or yawning in relaxation.  The boy needed to stretch his imagination more.

They lapsed into satisfied silence once more, her thoughts shifting and swirling like the clouds.  She sat up on her elbow, propping her head up and simply looking at him.

He turned towards her, a question in his eyes.  “Do I have potato salad on my muzzle still?”

She shook her head. “Mmm, no, just thinking.”

“About what?”

“You.  Me.  Us.”

The skin of his nose darkened slightly.  A blush?  “Us?  What exactly to you mean?”

She smiled reassuringly.  “I think you know what I mean.”  

“Y-you mean, the future, us?”

Those eyes… She just wanted to dive right in, immerse herself in those mahogany depths.  “I don’t know, you tell me.”  Teasing was the last thing on her mind now.  She simply wanted him to say it out loud.  

His cheeks puffed out as he let out a long sigh, his expression shifting, an oily slick of troubled insecurity spreading across those beautiful pools.  He sat up, folding his legs and leaning his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground.  “I… I really don’t know, Rachel.” He looked back at her, his pained look making her heart skip a beat.  What was he-

“I…” He trailed off again for a moment, and in that brief pause, her entire world teetered on the brink of falling, an endless fall into a dark, frightening abyss.  Did he not feel the same way?  Was this all a glorious, but passing, dream?

He seemed to finally collect his thoughts, determination suddenly filling his expression.  “I-I really like you, Rachel.  A lot.  I do.  I just… don’t know what’s going to happen.”  For some reason, he couldn’t meet her eyes, but the words made the abyss recede, though it still lurked at the edge of her consciousness.  He wasn’t done yet.  

“I mean, I’ll be done school soon, and… And dad really wants me to go into the service.”  He picked at one of his shoelaces, a frown crossing his muzzle.  

She blinked, unsure of how to respond.  No… Not him too.  She couldn’t even remember her father’s face.  The war had taken him before she was old enough to understand the loss.  The thought of Hector joining too… “What… What about you?  You don’t want to do that… Do you?”

He shook his head, slowly.  “Cripes no Rachel.  The thought of training and working and training more, just to learn how to kill people…”  He shuddered, meeting her eyes finally, emotions swirling in his countenance.  “But, dad’s really pushing it.  And, what if there’s another war?  The world is changing.  I-I don’t want to do it, but I might have to.”

An icy finger stroked her heart.  “It doesn’t matter.  This world, right here, right now, doesn’t have to change!  It doesn’t.  You don’t have to!”  Her lower lip quivered, a watery veil obscuring her vision.  No… not him too.  “You can’t do it Hector, please!  Hector… I-I love you!”  There, she’d said it.  She pressed onward, words tumbling from her lips, trying desperately to swat that clammy hand of fear from her chest.  “Please, promise me you won’t.  Promise!”

His hand trembled on his knee, his eyes locked with hers.  “Oh god… Rachel, I-I… Do you mean that?”

She nodded, a tear breaking free of its prison to escape down her cheek.  “Promise me, right now.  Promise me you won’t leave.”

He seemed to be struggling to not to lose the battle with his own emotions.  Hesitantly, he stretched a hand out, gripping her shoulder.  “Rachel… I love you too.  No matter what idiots like Danny may say, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.  I’ve always known that, and I h-hoped you’d…” He trailed off, struggling for words.  Once again, there was not the slightest of falsehood.    

When had the distance between them lessened?  She didn’t know which one of them had leaned forward, but suddenly their breath was intermingling, the depths of his eyes calling to her, welcoming her in.  Her heart soared on wings of light, his admission of his feelings the wind that bore her forth. “Promise.”

He drew a shaky breath. “I-I promise.  Somehow, I’ll find a way.”  A slow smile spread across his muzzle.  “M-maybe I’ll… I dunno, join the fire service or something.  Help save lives instead of end them.  Maybe that’ll be enough for dad, and if there’s another war, I won’t have to go.”

She couldn’t speak.  Seconds later, she didn’t have to.  Which of them had moved?  It didn’t matter.  The aroma of his cologne strengthened, sharp and spicy.  His heart beat against hers, her hands exploring the taut muscle of his back and shoulders.     

She closed her eyes, letting out a sigh as he kissed her, her strength seeping away.  He held her up, his mighty arms wrapping about her, holding her close as their tongues danced a lover’s minuet.  His lips were so soft… 

She breathed heavily as they separated, the barest of inches between their noses, the flavour of his kiss lingering like an enchantment on her senses.  “Thank you, Hector,” she murmured, clinging to him tightly, never wanting to let go.  

“Rachel…”  The way he whispered her name made it sound like a precious gem.

Perfect.  

____

How long had it been?  How long had he been gone?  Every moment seemed to ooze by, like molasses collecting ever so slowly onto a spoon.  His smile, his voice, his touch… she could almost-

With a hissing exhalation, the radio died.  Her one friend in the night, giving up the ghost with a sigh of static.  An eerie hush, pierced only by the continuing wail of the siren, crashed down around her.  How many did that siren mourn tonight? 

Some abstract portion of her mind still formed a rational thought, cutting through her paralysis.  ‘Power lines.  They hit the power lines.’

Silence.  Dark.  Cold.  

She huddled beneath her protection, which now seemed incredibly flimsy.  Wetness dropped steadily to the frozen skin of her hand, the knuckles surely white on the cloth.  Why couldn’t she feel herself crying?  

“Hector, my sweet Hector… P-please…” she sobbed out loud, hoping, pleading for the horrible stillness to be broken by his voice.  

It wasn’t.

The silence loomed even more menacingly, teaming up with the blackness to surround her, like taunting demons rising from the depths.  Dank, oily fingers plucked at her heartstrings.  Where was he?  Why hadn’t he come back yet?  When would this end?

She felt like she had taken root, every muscle stiff and tense.  Her knee continued to pulse its warning, a tiny beacon of sharper discomfort.  She felt incredibly small, infinitesimal even.  One woman, adrift in a sea of blackness, death falling from the sky.     

“My love…” The sound of her own whispered words was hollow, and did little to chase the quiet tormentors back into their pit.         

“Despair, weep, die,” the siren seemed to call, over and over.  Her whole body shook, racking sobs shuddering forth to pile in the corners, the sounds falling dead to the floor before they could break the chokehold of the oppressive gloom.  

She couldn’t leave.  She couldn’t flee the demons in the dark.  Everything within her wanted to run.  Everything within her screamed at her to stay.  

‘Hector…’

____

She laughed, her legs kicking uselessly as he carted her up the stairs, the long hem of her gown trailing behind her, almost tripping him.  “Hector!  I CAN walk you know.”  Not that she really WANTED him to put her down, but she couldn’t let him think that!

His bass chuckle shook through her as he clutched her even more tightly, planting a kiss on her forehead.  “Of course you can, but it’s tradition after all!”     

She couldn’t stop giggling, carelessly tossing aside her veil, the filmy thing rolling down the stairs behind them as they reached the top landing.  “Oh, you’re so old fashioned!”  She squeezed his shoulder, her hand starting to roam as they progressed steadily towards the bedroom.  

“As if you mind.”

“Mmm, perhaps, my dear, perhaps.”

His laugh was so rich and pure, an absolute expression of his joy.  This whole night, everything, seemed to be represented in that laugh.  Oh, how glorious their ceremony had been!  Who needed large receptions?  

‘And now…’  

Indescribable emotion coursed through her.  She felt like some impish troublemaker had run off with her rational mind.  Giddiness ruled her.  The two of them, right now.  Nothing else mattered.  Nothing.  

She reached up, grabbing onto his tusks and dragging his head down for a long kiss.  He didn’t resist, and his unique flavour filled her senses, energy charged fireworks of euphoria putting on a grand display inside her mind.  When he wrapped her tongue with his like that…

Gently as if she were made of glass, he laid her on the bed.  His jacket sailed through the air to land, somehow quite neatly, on the chair in the corner, the air billowing out of it with a sigh.  She had already lost her shoes, and was reaching behind herself, struggling with the ties on her gown.  They had waited so long for this, and now it was here.  

He was breathing as heavily as she was, pushing her hands away and pulling her into another deep kiss.  Her hands fluttered, stroking and caressing him, working at the buttons of his shirt, scrabbling at the buckle of his belt.  Short, dark, bristly fur came into view, swelling and rolling over sculpted chest muscles.  His training had done well to enhance his already impressive form.  

His fingers walked across her back, steadily loosing her from the confines of her gown.  She shuddered into the kiss, his fingernail sending tingles down her spine as it drew a circle on her pale skin.  

One of his buttons ripped loose, eliciting a giggled apology.  He responded by tearing the rest of them away, the tiny fasteners springing to freedom in all directions, the shirt joining them seconds later.  

His fingernails again, sliding sensuously up her leg, tickling the inside of her thigh.  

Her gown couldn’t come off fast enough.  His trousers didn’t survive much longer.

“My beautiful, gorgeous Rachel…”

“Mmm, come closer and say that, you handsome boar.”  

They pressed against each other, greedily revelling in the sight and feel of each other’s bodies.  Stubbly hair prickled smooth skin.  Pools of hazel stared into her own cloudy grey.  A hint of sweat, of spicy cologne, of clean skin, his smell, wafted over her.  

She couldn’t stop her hands from questing lower, finding that special place, that place that would join them together.  Warm, pulsing flesh met her touch.  She reached lower still, gasping at the shivery sensation of fingertips sliding down her back, then continuing over her breast, along her stomach, across her bottom and thighs.  Heavy orbs rolled under her fingers, warmth surrounding her hand as she examined their fullness.  She cupped them gently, her breath coming in a gasp as he nibbled the soft flesh of her neck, mindful of his tusks.

She wasn’t ashamed to bare her body to him.  He delighted in it, caressing and loving every inch, every nook and cranny.  She inhaled sharply, feeling his hands mirroring hers.  Their lips sealed tightly together once more as he rolled on top of her, wrapping her up in the safety of his embrace.  

His eyes asked the final question without words.  She didn’t even have to think about it.  She had given him permission years before.  She nodded, clutching and massaging his lower back, straddling the precipice of their union.  

Pain, hot and sharp, made her bite her lip, stifling her gasp.  He halted immediately, whispering gentle apologies and reassurances, soothing the flash of discomfort away with a kiss and a tender massage.

They were one, irrevocably, forever.  She could feel him, feel his heart beat in time with hers.  Feel the intimate bond between them, forged through so much more than their recent matrimony.  Feel the pain giving way to pleasure, several inches of heated, firm flesh embedded inside her most sacred place.  

Her murmured encouragement urged him on, bringing a moment of disappointing emptiness as he pulled away, only to replaced by another surge of warm fulfilment.  More this time, deeper.  Her gasp now bore no discomfort, only a rising desire.

His body blanketed hers, covering her in safety and security.  He fit so perfectly, so smoothly inside, like their bodies had been tailor made for each other.  This rising bliss… It seemed impossible for anything to feel like this.  She wanted more.    

There was more.  

In slow, steady tandem, they met and parted, hiding nothing, sharing all.  Every push opened a new world of delight, every withdrawal remaking that world into something better.  She felt completely helpless, yet had never felt so secure.     

Higher and higher they rode the wave of ecstasy, each smooth meeting of their loins punctuated by moaning words of encouragement from her, and grunted professions of passion from him.  A trickle of sweat rolled down her spine, wiped away by his massaging hand.  They kissed again, silencing their breathy murmurings with the intimate caress.

Her entire existence seemed to rest on tenterhooks, an inch from the edge of a long dive into the ocean of rapture, seconds away from the release of the rising tension.  So close, so close… 

It almost surprised her when it came, her back arching, a cry emitting from her lungs, her legs tightening around him.  She could feel him speeding up, somehow, carrying her along as her senses were overwhelmed, his heavy breaths and gritted teeth signifying his own imminent climax.  Her thighs felt wet, sticky with her own pleasure.  

Like a fountain of gold, his essence filled her.  She could feel the warmth, the thick, heavy streams pouring into her womb, a comfortable weight, a promise.  More and more, until he had none left to give.  They collapsed to the messy sheets, panting and clutching one another, remaining locked as tightly as possible.  Her belly felt deliciously full, rounded with the gift he had given her.  

He was hers, and she was his.  Forever. 

____         

Her existence shattered.  There was noise, crashing, ripping tearing, the loudest sound she had ever heard, deafening her.  Heat, light, coming from somewhere, something.  She was blind, deaf, paralysed.  

A large crash, something falling right in front of her, would have made her leap to her feet.  She couldn’t, she was too stiff, too cold.  Choking dust filled her lungs, her shuddering coughs inaudible through the overwhelming din.  Somehow, that first, massive wall of undiluted sound had only been a half second ago.  

It was the end of the world.  

Pain blossomed, something large and sharp cracking against the back of her skull.  Vaguely, she felt herself falling, meeting the gritty, cold floor.  The world was gone.

____

 His feet hurt from running, thick boots pounding across the pavement.  His lungs burned, both from the residues of smoke and his frantic sprint.  His shirt hung limply under his jacket, drenched and clinging to his heaving chest.  He didn’t stop, didn’t slow, eyes surely wild with his fear.  

‘No, no, no…’

That last explosion, it was a final, jeering insult as the attackers turned tail.  It had been exactly the right distance away, exactly the right direction.  The dying flames had ceased to be important.  There had been no time to wait for the others, no time to do anything but run.

There was the corner.  Ten strides away.  Now five.  Now two.  He rounded it like he himself were on fire, moving as fast as his bulk would allow.  

It felt like he had run into a wall.  The sight his eyes presented him slammed into his gut, doubling him over and dropping him to his knees.  Not a direct hit, but close enough.  No leaping flames, but there didn’t need to be.  His entire life lay scattered about the street, some resting in the crater the bomb had made, some piled against the flats on either side, both of which had far less damage.  

‘No, it can’t be, no…’

Stumbling to his feet, pushing through the invisible wall, he staggered toward the wreckage, a wail ripping from his throat that filled the place of the now absent siren.   

‘Oh god, oh god, oh god…’

He scrambled over whatever lay in his path, jagged wood tearing at him, shattered brick and stone bruising him, shards of glass drawing red lines in exposed skin.  The door to the icebox lay open, contents strewn out like the aftermath of an infantry battle.

“Rachel!”  The shout was hoarse, insufficient.  Where? Where? Where? 

He tore at the obstacles in his path, ignoring the cuts that sharp corners and exposed nails opened in his hands.  Beams shifted with Herculean effort, rubble shoved aside with the force of desperation.     

Something shifted loose.  The radio, its casing cracked, the speaker pierced by a spear of wood.  

‘No, no…’

“Rachel!”

He froze, the chunk of ceiling debris he had just tossed aside landing unceremoniously with a thump and a cloud of dust.  A hand, sticking out from beneath a large piece of plaster.

He had no words, only action.  Taking only enough care to ensure more would not fall in its place, he hurled the mess away, terror lending him the might of ten men.  There.  Wrapped in a blanket, clad only in her nightwear and housecoat.  His love.  

He felt dead, listless.  His hands shook as he took hold, hoisting her gently away from this place of destruction.  Why was her skin so cold?  Her eyes… they didn’t so much as flutter.  He couldn’t even smell her, dust and grit clogging his nostrils.  A trail of crimson marred her pale brow, a stream of precious life, pouring out onto the heartless ground.  She hung from his grip limply, her head lolling to the side, before he clutched her to his chest.  

‘No, no, no, oh god, please, Rachel!’

He rocked back and forth, tears dropping to her chest as he kissed her brow, smoothing back the dust covered hair.  No, it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real.  

It was.  

His eyes squeezed shut as he pressed his ear to her chest, hoping, pleading for life.  

Nothing.  

Silence. 

He wanted to scream, to rage at the sky, to harness the sun and turn it back, relive this entire day differently.  The world was dead to him.  Nothing mattered anymore.  She was gone.

Thump.

All thoughts flew from his mind like frightened rabbits, his ear straining, willing that sound not to have been an illusion. 

Thump.  Th-thump.  

Rather than stopping, his tears only increased.  A great, unstoppable flow, an outpouring of relief and unbridled exultation.

Steadier and steadier the sound grew, a warm breeze suddenly tickling his cheek.  In, out, in, out.  A hand gripped his shoulder weakly.  A soft, hoarse voice, seeming like the most beautiful choir, whispered in his ear.    

“My love… you’re home.”