Cruel Summer

Chapter 10

A/N: I ARRIVE TO MERCIFULLY DROP THIS IN YOUR LAPS AND THEN RUN AWAY TO CLASS HAHA. Anyways....GIMME ALL your thoughts on this one lol! I'm READY!

Meg was absolutely convinced that her father had some sort of insane scheme up his sleeve. Why else would things be going the way that they were? The minute she had been cleared for active training duty and to go to London, twice a month—her father had volun-told Bucky Egan to take a weekend pass, forcing the two of them to spend a horrendous 2 hours in a car together.

He drove, as he always did. That part didn't surprise Meg much. What surprised her was the way that the two of them sat in silence the entire time—unable to form a sentence, unable to speak, unable to even think fully through their complicated past together.

Their arrival in London on a fine Friday afternoon was quiet—and when Bucky went out that night to go dancing and drinking, Meg didn't find it an odd thing. His room was across the hall from hers—and they had been put up in a hotel, courtesy of the SOE and her father's meddling.

Her Saturday morning was spent in the confines of a classroom setting, a woman named Sandra sitting across from her. Meg had never much been a leader before she went over to Europe. Out of necessity, she learned to take up more air, learned to be the center of attention, to be the one that everyone constantly had eyes on.

But Sandra wasn't that type of a lady. No, she'd fit into a different sort of spying archetype. Meg sat across from her, a blank expression on her face. "Agent Westgate, I'm going to be asking you a few questions. Do you need a moment to compose yourself?"

"No, ma'am."

"Very good then. If I told you that in the room adjacent to us, your younger brother, Benjamin, is it?" Meg started in a light tone. "If I told you that he was going to be beaten until you gave up information, how would that make you feel?"

The look on Sandra's face said it all. She was more surprised by the rapid and sudden shift of tone and pacing than anything else. "Ben? He's—he's not here, he's—"

"In the countryside? Mmhm, interesting. And if I told you, your mother was picked up straight from her grocery run and brought here to be tortured?"

Sandra had little chance to reply to Meg's questions, feeling bombarded and easily overwhelmed. And when she had burst into tears, panic filling her features—it was only then that Meg Lewis let up.

Meg stared at her for a long moment, before withdrawing a tissue from her pocket and handing it to her. "There, there, Agent Westgate. They're not here."

"They're—they're not—"

"I wanted to see how you last under pressure," Meg admitted in a tone of slight guilt. "Because I can guarantee you that the Nazis, wherever you're going, they will not be as kind as I am. They will find out who you are, they will torture the people that you love, and they will do unspeakable things to you. And you have to be prepared to not give your family up. And to not give yourself up. Is that understood?"

Sandra took a moment to compose herself before steeling her shoulders. "I'm ready to try again. Hit me with it."

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Bucky Egan hadn't found anything that Friday night worth spending time on. But Saturday afternoon, spent in a particular pub and bar—he found himself approached by a pretty blonde dame. She had sharp cheekbones and a smile that made him feel like something was sparking. In the back of his mind, perhaps if he had been more sober, he'd recognize the fact that she looked an awful lot like Meg Lewis.