Chapter Text
With the surrender came the need to clean. The Captain found himself faced with the prospect of packing away the closest thing to a home he'd ever known.
Before this, it had always been a cold, empty flat and army barracks.
Button House had become something more to him. And now it was over.
The surrender was a good thing. It meant an end to the destruction and devastation that humanity at war caused.
It was an end to almost six brutal years of families being ripped from each other, children losing fathers and brothers and uncles. Mothers lost sons and husbands.
And now, it was over.
The Captain couldn't help but watch with a sense of nausea as his fellow officers celebrated. The radio blasted Glenn Miller as they gathered up any lingering threads of their existence into boxes to be given back to the War Office.
I should be happy .
I should be celebrating, too .
Why can I not get the feeling of dread out of my stomach?
"Captain, could I speak to you for a moment?" A familiar voice asked. The Captain turned and saw Havers standing behind him.
The Captain still wasn't used to the idea of Havers being real.
He'd returned from North Africa only six months previously, injured from his time abroad but desperate to keep serving his country.
The Captain vividly remembered the day Havers had returned and how it had felt so earth-shatteringly perfect to have him back. How it had stolen his breath away, and how it had been stolen from him every day since.
He hadn't realised quite the nature of his feelings for Havers until the Lieutenant had announced his departure and had waved goodbye at the gate.
The Captain had panicked. His usual method of trying to bury his emotions failed him this time.
He had naively thought he'd learnt his lesson from previous experience, his teens and early twenties filled with men who daren't stay.
Each one had broken the Captain's heart.
He didn't blame them, of course. But it was never easier to bear.
But the Captain had never anticipated the slow, creeping adoration for Havers that had snuck up on him since their service at Button House had begun.
Havers had been gone for four and a half years, during which the Captain had also briefly been abroad.
It had been hard on them both. But the Captain cared for him still.
The sound of training rifles letting loose blank rounds filled the Captain's ears.
When the ringing stopped, he loosened his fists and unclenched his jaw.
After eighteen months of fighting in Belgium, the sound of guns was still a sore spot for the Captain.
He was lucky that the transfer had only been temporary. They'd had nowhere near enough senior officers on the front lines.
The Captain had only been back in England, back at Button House, for a few weeks, and his old unit had seemed relieved to have him back.
Some of them had evenly quietly confessed that the Captain's replacement hadn't been as up to standard as the Captain had been.
Whoever it was had been promoted far too quickly, in their opinion.
"Captain!" Someone called. The Captain glanced over to one of his junior officers, and they pointed towards the gate.
Other officers began to take note, and the shouts of joy erupted from their mouths.
The guns were laid to rest, boots pounding on grass as a swarm of green fabric sped towards the gates.
No, they swarmed to a person at the gates.
The Captain only realised he was moving after a few seconds. Curiosity filled him, his eyes unable to make out the figure's features amongst the sea of other bodies.
When he finally came to himself, the crowd had parted to allow the newcomer to greet his old commanding officer.
"Good afternoon, Captain." The man saluted.
There were purplish-blue bags under his eyes and horrors untold hidden behind familiar brown irises.
But with the bags came the obvious signs of time abroad under harsh sun.
A fading sunburnt nose, freckles dusting the skin across the bridge and along the first few centimetres of his cheeks.
Cheeks that were rosy red from the brutality of England's biting cold winter winds.
"My apologies for the sudden arrival. There was no time to warn you. If you have space for me, I should very much like to return to my duties here. Wherever my skills are needed, even if my old post is not available. It would be an honour to be back, sir."
"There's no need for formalities, Lieutenant." The Captain said. "Your old room remains untouched. We can discuss your return later. Your old post is waiting for you when you're suitably rested."
Havers relaxed, allowing a small, tired smile, and the Captain's heart stuttered in his chest. "Thank you, sir."
He began his walk to the house, and the Captain called his name once more.
"It's good to see you again, Havers." The Captain said. "We're all glad to have you back."
Havers beamed. "It's good to see you too, Captain."
"Yes, Havers, of course." The Captain said, allowing his mind to focus on the present. The two of them left the room, wordlessly aiming for the Captain's office.
When they were safely tucked inside, Havers shifted nervously.
"Is everything alright, Lieutenant?" The Captain asked.
"It's a small matter, sir. I apologise if it's too forward or presumptuous." Havers replied. "I assume you will be returning home soon, as all of us are."
"Yes, I've got lodgings on the south coast." The Captain said. "Why?"
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Captain, but we have become good friends over our time here, have we not?"
"We have." The Captain confirmed.
"Well, I - I thought perhaps we could keep in contact." Havers continued. "A few of us have exchanged addresses so that we can send letters to each other, you see. I was wondering if it would be agreeable for us to do the same?"
The Captain faltered, uncertain of how to respond.
"Of course, I completely understand if it's inappropriate, sir." Havers quickly amended. "I'm very grateful for everything you've done for me the last few months, and I - I thought that ... well, I must've assumed wrong. I apologise, sir-"
"No, no, Havers, you don't have to apologise at all!" The Captain interrupted. "I would very much like to keep in contact."
Havers visibly relaxed, a small, relieved smile flashing across his face.
The Captain tried to ignore the fluttering in his chest when he saw it.
He wasn't successful. He never was.
But it was the thought that counted, he was sure.
Havers fished out a piece of paper from his pockets and handed it to the Captain.
"It's my family's address. I'll be staying with my parents until I can afford to find my own place. My old home was bombed pretty badly." Havers explained.
There was a slight pink tinge to his cheeks as he did, slightly embarrassed at the thought of going to live with his parents again as a grown adult.
"You've no wife and children to return to?" The Captain queried carefully.
"No, sir. Haven't settled down just yet." Havers said sheepishly.
"I assumed ... I shouldn't have done. I'm sorry."
"It's okay, sir," Havers said. "Would you mind writing your address down as well?"
"Yes! Yes, of course!" The Captain said, turning away quickly as he tucked the paper into his pocket.
He scribbled the address of the lodgings he intended to move into and passed it to Havers, who thanked him.
"I should get back to packing. I have a train to catch in an hour." Havers said.
"Good idea." The Captain said. "Well, I look forward to keeping in contact, Havers. And thank you. For everything you've done here. And abroad as well, of course. You're an asset, and I don't know how we coped without you here."
Havers flushed and ducked his head sheepishly.
"Thank you too, sir," He said. "I'm very fortunate to have been working under such a brilliant CO. Things here wouldn't have gone half as smoothly if not for you."
They shared a gentle smile, and one of the indescribable silences passed between them. Endless words neither of them knew how to say passed along the ocean distance between them.
Unspoken. Uninterpreted. Both too afraid to do anything that might involve taking the risk.
Havers excused himself after a few moments. He always left first, the Captain had observed. As if he were anticipating that he would say something incriminating if he stayed a moment longer.
Or perhaps he was afraid of what the Captain might say if he were to linger.
It would be Havers' moral responsibility to report him of course, if he ever found out about the Captain's feelings.
The Captain found himself feeling a little lighter now that he had some way of contacting Havers again tucked away in his pocket.
Good friends. That was what they were, and that was what they would remain.
The Captain could live with that, and eventually, his heart would stop yearning for Havers, just like it had with all the others.
~
It was cold and bare in the Captain's new lodgings.
He was currently in the small town of Lewes, not far from Brighton. It was nice enough. A large house that had been converted into four smaller flats.
The lady who rented to the Captain allowed him to stay for a docked price.
She said it was on account of his part in the war effort, but the Captain was convinced it was because she was desperate for someone to take the room.
His bed was far too big for an unmarried man, and it creaked if he shifted too much. The small kitchenette lent itself to basic meals, and the bathroom was ... something else entirely.
But it was enough to live in until he found somewhere better, he supposed.
Perhaps the Captain could take up a part-time job somewhere to gain a little more cash, find better rooms to rent.
All thoughts for another time, he supposed.
A knock sounded on his door, and the Captain answered it.
"Mail for you." Lana, the girl who lived in the flat across the landing from him, said. She carried a small child on her hip, with Lana's blue eyes and bright red hair.
"Thank you." The Captain said, taking it from her.
"I'm Lana, by the way."
"Yes, I know." The Captain said. Lana frowned, and the Captain flushed a little. "I heard someone yelling it the other evening, and then your door slammed. I assumed it might've been you. It's nice to meet you."
He stuck his hand about, and Lana smiled, shaking it.
"You served, right?" Lana asked. "You're a captain?"
"Yes, how did you know?"
"When you arrived, I saw you from my window. The uniform. My dad had a patch on his shoulder like the one on yours. Were you anywhere abroad?"
"I did most of my time here at home, and some in France." The Captain said. He looked at the child on Lana's hip, eager to find something else to talk about than France. "Who's this little one? Your boy?"
"Yeah. This is Charlie." Lana said, beaming happily at the child. "His dad is still stuck abroad. That's my brother, that you heard yelling the other night. He's been helping me out since Charlie here was born. Money's better down here than up north, and our parents are both buried, bless them. So Jacob's been staying with me. His eyesight is bad. Too bad for him to serve. He gets a little frustrated sometimes."
The Captain nodded. "Well, you make sure he doesn't get too comfortable with yelling, hm? We wouldn't want to cause any upset, would we?"
Lana looked at him. "It's nothing like that, sir. Don't worry."
"Of course not." The Captain said, electing to agree with the young woman out of politeness' sake.
"Whoever wrote you that letter must be important. You've barely been here a week, and whoever it is is already desperate to talk to you."
The Captain looked down at the letter for the first time and realised immediately who it was from.
There was no other handwriting like it. The delicate loops, careful strokes of a pen as if the writer were scared of pressing too hard.
Havers.
"A friend. Someone I served with." The Captain explained.
Lana nodded, immediately understanding where the line had been drawn. "Well, it was nice to meet you properly too, Captain. Have a nice afternoon."
"You too." The Captain said, watching as she turned and walked back towards her own flat. "Lana?"
She looked back at him.
"If things ever become more than just yelling with Jacob ... you're more than welcome to come over here. I can't guarantee my conversation will be thrilling, but I've been told I make a smashing cup of tea."
Lana laughed lightly. "Thank you, Captain. I'll be sure to put your skills to the test sometime."
Both parties retreated inside their individual flats, and the Captain locked the door behind him before even daring to look at the letter again.
With only a moment's hesitation, he went straight for the bedroom, deciding to open it there instead. At least there, he could be sure it was safe.
There was no danger here. He knew that realistically.
But the anxious part of him was always wary of who could be around.
And a letter from Havers was something he was desperate to have all to himself, especially now that they were no longer being censored by the military.
Once safely tucked inside his room, the Captain sat on his bed and gently extracted the letter.