A/N: A double update as promised and not a single brain cell is present hahahahah! As always, let me know what you think and enjoy the drama :)
The party was still in full swing till late in the night. Kathryn had stopped for a toast with her fellow nurses when Becky hurried over to her and whispered something in her ear. The message was simple enough—Poppy was having a rough night and was ready to go.
Kathryn promised that she'd be right back, then ducked into the bathroom to find Poppy crying near one of the sinks. "No, you're not supposed to be here!" Poppy exclaimed, dabbing at her eyes with a towel.
"Well Becky said you were upset."
"Yeah, but it's your birthday!" Poppy spluttered.
"Yes, but you're my friend," Kathryn offered Poppy a hand and Poppy just stared at her for a long minute. The simple fact of the matter was that Kathryn Egan was just so damn nice sometimes and it confused the hell out of Poppy.
Poppy finally took the hand, finding herself wrapped up in Kathryn's gentle embrace. "Wanna tell me why you're crying in the bathroom, honey?" Kathryn murmured into her ear.
The younger girl just sniffled. "Maybank was bein' mean. Said that I'm movin' on too fast and—and—"
"This is the one you broke up with earlier?"
Poppy just gave a nod. "That's the one!"
"Well he's a dick." Kathryn stated firmly, grabbing a towelette and beginning to dab at the makeup that was running down Poppy's cheeks. "And he doesn't deserve your tears."
"No, I guess not."
"No, definitely not," Kathryn insisted. She fished her Victory Red out of her bag and handed it over to Poppy. "Here, put this on and we'll go back out there."
Poppy fingered the lipstick for a moment, staring between the mirror and the bathroom door with a frown. "I don't know if I wanna go back out there."
"Okay then I'll walk you back to the bunkhouse—"
"Only if you come back!" Poppy insisted. "It's your party! And you were dancin' with Buck!"
Kathryn nearly rolled her eyes. "He's just a guy."
"Yeah, but he's Buck Cleven !" Poppy exclaimed. "He never dances!"
"Okay fine," Kathryn said, taking Poppy by the hand. "I will come back, if only so you can live vicariously through boring little me."
The two girls ducked through the crowd and out into the night air. August was warm, even in London. "I hope you know that I fully expect details when you get back tonight," Poppy said.
Kathryn just gave a slight laugh. "Well obviously."
"You know," Poppy started slowly and a bit unsurely. "You're nicer than I thought you'd be."
"How do you mean?" Kathryn questioned, gaze flickering to her friend in confusion.
"It's just that you're really pretty and most pretty girls aren't really all that nice. But you're just—you. And you're always nice. You're a real friend, Kitty Egan. And you don't judge me for how many men I've been messing around with."
Kathryn's gaze softened. "And I never will."
"See what I mean?"
"I guess I do," Kathryn said, helping the slightly tipsy girl over a dip in the path. Footsteps sounded behind them and Kathryn's gaze went wide at the sight of a man approaching them. "Can I help you, soldier?" She asked sharply.
As he got closer, the smell of whiskey got stronger and she vaguely recognized him as the man that Poppy had broken up with earlier that day. "I just wanna talk to Poppy!"
Kathryn's gaze just flicked to Poppy, who stood frozen near the edge of the path. Behind them, Kathryn could see the outer edge of the mess hall and a row of parked jeeps. "I don't wanna talk to you, Maybank! I made myself perfectly clear earlier!" She insisted firmly.
"There you have it," Kathryn said dryly. "She doesn't want to talk to you."
"This has nothing to do with you!" He scowled, grabbing for Poppy's arm.
Poppy let out a screech as he caught hold of her wrist. "Let go!" She commanded, beating at his chest.
"Hey, she said to let go!" Kathryn said, shoving at him.
The next few seconds were sheer chaos and pandemonium. Because when Maybank threw up his hands to shove Kathryn Egan away, his hand collided with her head and she slammed into the nearest jeep's mirror, then hit the gravel hard—and she did not move.
Poppy Wright let out a bloodcurdling scream.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bucky Egan had just finished an encore of his performance from the other night when Crosby came running into the room, totally pale and wide-eyed. "Major, you've gotta come quick!"
Almost immediately, Bucky's gaze narrowed. "Slow down, Cros. What happened?"
Crosby was just breathing heavily and looked like he wanted to throw up right then and there. "No—I mean—it's your sister!"
Johnny Egan stormed out of the party, followed closely by Buck Cleven and a few other pilots who seemed rather concerned at the sudden and rapid change of pace. "What the hell happened?" Bucky demanded. "Use your words, Cros!" He commanded.
"She got hit by some drunk!"
The last thing John Egan or Gale Cleven was prepared for was walking into the hospital wing—finding Kathryn Egan unconscious and bleeding from the head in a hospital bed, a sobbing Poppy Wright, a panicked and pacing pilot, and two other angry soldiers in the room.
"You hit my sister?!" Bucky's gaze had already fallen on Maybank.
Maybank was never given the chance to respond—Bucky was already pummeling his fist into Maybank's jaw and Poppy was crying even louder. "I never meant to hit her!"
"It—" A slurred tone caught every single ear in the room. "It was...an accident," Kathryn blinked open her gaze, finding blood trailing down past her cheek.
"Get him out of my sight!" Bucky barked, shoving at Maybank.
But in the haze of Kathryn's vision, she was focused solely on Buck Cleven, who was sitting beside her bed and had his gaze steadily trained on her. "What happened, Poppy?" Buck questioned, gaze falling on Poppy.
Poppy was doing her best to hold a towel on the bleeding. "Maybank got drunk and wouldn't leave me alone. I wanted to go back to the bunkhouse and Kath said she'd walk with me! He grabbed my wrist and—oh God , I thought she was dead !"
"Hey!" Kathryn weakly mumbled. "I am a lot harder to kill than that."
"That's not funny." Bucky deadpanned, arms crossed as he stared at her. "Is she gonna be—"
"Well she's definitely got a concussion," Poppy murmured, gaze flickering with guilt as she peeled the towel back and winced. "That's gonna need stitches."
"No, no, no—" Kathryn instantly was trying to fight against Poppy's grasp. "No stitches—"
"You need them!" Poppy exclaimed, staring at her like she was crazy.
Bucky just glanced over at Buck. "Hold her hand."
"What?"
"Hold her hand, dumbass. She hates needles, remember?"
Kathryn wasn't really registering anything that was happening to her. All she knew is that her head hurt a lot and her heart was beating faster than she could keep up with. The sight of the needle terrified and struck her to her core—
But the next thing she knew, Buck Cleven was holding her hand and everything else just seemed to disappear. For this one moment, she slammed her eyes shut and she just held onto his hand like he was a lifeline. And maybe he was—
She let out a whimper as Poppy threaded the needle, beginning to stitch together the cut. And then her brother was humming some stupid song and what should have stretched on for an eternity seemed like it was over in thirty seconds. She didn't even realize she was still holding onto Buck's hand when Poppy finished it up.
"I'll need to get Doctor Adler to make sure everything's fine, but—" Poppy started.
"I can take you," Bucky offered, gaze flickering between his sister and Buck. "You don't mind keeping an eye on her, do you?"
"No."
"She needs to stay awake," Poppy insisted, getting to her feet. "Just until Doctor Adler can see her."
"I think we can do that. Right, Kath?" Buck questioned.
"Right," Kathryn's tone just felt very weak, even to her own ears. There was still a ringing in her ears and a sting. She barely felt the fact that her brother had leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head before walking away with Poppy.
Everything just seemed to be swimming in her vision. She turned, ever so slightly, finding that Buck's hand was still securely wrapped around hers. "This is one hell of a birthday, I guess."
He lightly scoffed, shaking his head at her. "That's one word for it." He was silent for a moment, gaze just locked onto her, and unwilling to tear his gaze away. "You shouldn't make excuses for him."
"For who?" Kathryn blinked her eyes open, confusion flitting across her features.
"Maybank."
"It was an accident."
"Doesn't matter. He still laid hands on you. It's still not right." Buck's jaw was clenched tightly and she turned onto her side to look at him more fully.
"You know that you don't deserve what happened to you, right?" Kathryn asked in a really quiet voice.
All at once, Buck looked exhausted and haunted. "Kath—"
"If I don't deserve it, then neither do you."
A beat of silence—and he wondered silently how concussed she could possibly be when she was saying stuff like this.
She sniffled and poked at the fresh stitch. "Is it ugly?"
"Is what ugly?"
"The cut!" She exclaimed. "It ruins everything! I've been told that my forehead is my best feature!"
He almost laughed—keyword, almost. Buck managed to catch himself before he did. The simple fact of the matter was that concussed Kathryn Egan was on par with drunk John Egan and the sibling resemblance was stronger now than it had ever been.
"By who?" He questioned, narrowing his gaze at her.
"It doesn't matter, it's been said, and it's true."
"It's not true." He said, shaking his head. "Your best feature is—it's your eyes and that pretty smile of yours."
For a moment, Kathryn Egan felt like she was swimming in some sort of dream. "You think my smile is pretty?" She blinked.
"Course I do."
"You're making fun of me," Kathryn said with a frown.
"No I'm not," Buck said, taking her hand in his again. There, in the dimness of night and the poor lighting of the hospital, he thought that she had never looked more like an angel. "I wouldn't do that."
"You stayed," Kathryn murmured, as if seeing him for the first time that entire night.
"Course I did."
She sat fully up, staring at him and trying to process the fact that he was actually responding to the things that she was saying. It was one thing to dance around their feelings—and they were experts at that. There was always this unspoken rule that they didn't address it. They flirted, they talked, they touched sometimes, but not like this.
"You danced with me earlier," Kathryn said slowly, gaze falling on the ground. "And you said that you thought you'd found the right partner."
"Yes." He didn't blink, didn't back down from the challenge. He understood and knew full well what she was asking.
"Gale Cleven—"
Kathryn was pleasantly taken aback by the sudden boldness of his gesture. Because surely, she would have continued to speak and ask questions that didn't need asking. He had leaned forward, hand cupping her cheek and bringing their lips to gently meet.
And for the first time in her life, Kathryn Egan felt like she was walking on clouds. This is what it meant to be flying . A warmth had lit in her chest like a candle and there was no turning this off now. Her hands slipped around his neck and he leaned closer to her—
Holding her gently and tenderly and lovingly. And when they finally broke apart, she had a dreamy grin on her face. "What took you so damn long?" She questioned.