❝A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself.❞
—Josh Billings
Search and rescue missions never seem worth it, especially if there is no guarantee we'll even find anyone.
Tomorrow we'll go on our next mission, and it's the last mission I wanted to do.
Backtrack a little. Let me explain.
We returned to Valley Forge, trying to forget the spy incident. Shortly after, we got info that Nikolai Ivanovich will be visiting the main Russian base in Ukraine. Not only that, but the Russian forces that once stood to guard the Ukranian border have been pulled back to this base. This information was very easily obtained as it was televised on many Russian news channels.
It was meant for Russian eyes only, but we have our ways.
Anyway, news eventually leaked that Nikolai wanted to meet with a "very important figurehead" in their Ukraine base. Naturally, we assumed this figurehead was Thomas Castle.
And since the goal is to find and save Castle, that's where we'll be sent for our mission. In addition, we want to destroy and subdue the base. The capture of that Russian base very well may be a large step in taking back all of Ukraine.
My palms sweat and stomach churns at the thought of this mission. It's like Washington is completely oblivious of what he just ordered! Ukraine is Voyna territory! The Russians own it! We won't be able to even get ten miles close to the country without getting attacked by Russians, even if the troops were pulled back! Not to mention the base we're getting sent to is one of the most heavily armed and protected bases in the goddamn world.
How the hell are we supposed to just waltz in?! The entire fucking mission is suicide and everyone knows it. In fact, my fellow soldiers have begun writing up wills!
Lee and John openly expressed their resentment to the plan, but Washington refused to pull out. Lafayette seemed to like the mission plan.
I was in the meeting room when the Generals contacted an aide of Washington's. They argued a lot, which I expected. But what I didn't expect was the aide to say this: "As AC troops, you must be willing to lay down your life should it be demanded. No questions ask. Your purpose is to die for the advancement of the war. Accept it."
It was cold. It was harsh. But it was the truth. We were supposed to learn and accept this back during AC training. I suppose I almost forgot. Someone has to die, and it will be us. For the war...
Valley Forge looks sadder than I remember. Maybe it's just the illusion that the ever-decreasing temperature gives. Maybe it's just because we've gone down several soldiers since we've last been here. Maybe it's because I'm still worried that someone will somehow figure out I was the one who freed the Russian.
Who knows? As for now, I'm trying to act natural.
November 3, 2058.
Most soldiers have made a full recovery, including Burr and Davidson. That's excellent, considering that we're mere breaths away from our mission tomorrow.
Burr and Davidson are spending the morning explaining all the little bits of the plan to every soldier. This rundown includes crucial information regarding the communication system since we can't use radios or earpieces.
Unfortunately for Alexander and me, we were ordered to help direct something very important: About forty AC Air Force fighter planes, military jets, and transportation aircrafts landed in the large field by Valley Forge this morning. With special directions written down by Burr, Alexander and I are directing the movements and placement of... several things.
"Bullet crates go by the blue flags," I call out to the oblivious Air Force pilots carrying around heavy crates.
"They actually go by the green flags," Alexander murmurs to me, looking down the list of instructions on a clean white sheet of paper.
"I know, but it's closer to the blue flags; I don't want to make them lug it across the field," I whisper back.
"Hey, the Hawks go on the right side of the Falcons, not the left side," Alexander shouts out to one of the pilots exiting his Hawk after just parking it.
"What the hell's the difference?" the pilot shoots back.
Alexander shrugs, "General's orders, not mine."
With a groan of annoyance, the pilot goes back in his plane to move it.
I smack my forehead with my palm when I see that three pilots are pretending sword fight with sticks they found in the snow. With the exception of a few pilots, most are just lounging around, sitting on the crates of bullets, boxes of armor, and trunks of new guns.
Goddammit. These fucking Chair Force assholes are doing jackshit! I've heard Rory call Air Force troops "Chair Force", saying they're lazy sacks of shit. I didn't really believe it until now.
I know the Russian Air Force isn't like this one bit...
"I'm going to kill myself," I moan.
Alexander scoffs. "We can do it together."
I glance down at the paper Alexander is holding, inwardly shriveling like a leaf when I see how many more instructions we haven't gone through.
I take a deep breath, preparing to go wild on these lazy motherfuckers. But just as I do, I see a pilot sauntering over to Alexander and me. He looks quite spiffy with his AC Air Force uniform and sunglasses. I feel small tingles travel up my spine when he takes off his pilot hat, tucking it cooly in his pocket. He stops a mere foot in front of me, a confident smirk adorning his model-like face.
"Hello, beautiful," he says in his deep, somewhat-sensual voice.
"Umm, hi," I reply, surprised by how shy my tone is.
"What do you want?" Alexander asks curtly, his words dripping with venom.
The pilot glares at Alexander for a moment, then back at me. "We were just wondering where you want the crates of fuel."
"Right," I perk up, snatching the paper from Alexander. I skim my hand down the list, searching for the keyword. "Ah! They go by the Hawks."
"Thanks," the soldier says, sounding like he doesn't really care. I bite my lip nervously when he pulls off his sunglasses, sensually biting the temple tip. "What's your name?"
"(Y/N)."
God, I should not have answered that.
"What a beautiful name," the pilot says, grazing his thumb over his lips while looking down at me. "I'm Sean."
"Nice to meet you," I hesitantly say, glancing at Alexander. He appears focused on every movement this Sean man makes.
"What's your rank, beautiful?" Sean asks, seeming to not mind or even notice my Russian accent.
"I'm-"
"She's a Specialist," Alexander answers for me.
"Is that so?" the pilot smirks. "I could have sworn you were an Officer since you just made my privates stand in attention."
Oh my God!
I take a sharp inhale and try to keep calm. Did he really just make a military pick up line?! Why to me of all people?!
"Get the hell out of here," Alexander aggressively orders. Sean is not intimidated.
"What are you? Her boyfriend?" Sean retorts.
"I'm her brother. Now fuck off," Alexander says.
Both men puff up their chests. God, what is wrong with men and having to act all tough? Can't they just... not?
"Alexander, knock it off," I murmur, grabbing onto his arm and trying to pull him back. He's as stiff and stern as a boulder. "Alex, please."
"Let a guy mess around with a girl," Sean says slyly.
"Find another girl. This one is off-limits," Alexander growls.
"Ah, so you're the possessive and protective type," Sean chuckles. "You know, she'll eventually get tired with your behavior. She'll up and leave for some freedom."
"So, we're fightin' like middle schoolers now, huh?" a voice calls out from behind me. Alexander and Sean leap away from the other and we all turn to see who has interrupted.
It's John Laurens... Thank God.
John is one to talk. He's almost always arguing with his other Generals like a middle schooler! But I don't say anything; I'm too grateful for his appearance to bring that up.
"Who are you?" Sean asks, his tone suggesting that he sees himself as the superior one here,
John could absolutely destroy Sean and everything he believes in, but he keeps his cool and flashes a demeaning grin.
"I'm General John Laurens of the First American Army AC unit."
Sean remains silent, a somewhat embarrassed gleam in his eyes. John waits for a moment more to see if Sean is going to respond, but when he doesn't, he scoffs and shoots a deadly glare at him.
"I assume you are no one. Look, I've just spent some time speakin' to your Air Force General, and he said y'all were the best-behaved pilots in the AC. I trust he wasn't lyin'."
Sean stiffly shakes his head.
"Good. Now fuck off and do what you're supposed to be doin'."
With that, Sean gives me one final look, then he turns away to join the rest of his friends. I hear them create a plan to find other girls to talk to. Well, I guess I wasn't special. I'm just available. The closest girl to them.
I release a sigh of relief and spin to face John. "Thank you, John."
"What was he doin' to get Alexander so riled up?" John asks. I bite my tongue, realizing John hadn't been around to hear what caused Alexander's rage.
"Nothing," I say quickly. "Nothing at-"
"That fucker was flirting with (Y/N)," Alexander cuts me off.
John's eyes widen in shock, his jaw dropping to the floor. "No shit."
"I was going to floor that fucker," Alexander growls.
"God, I should've let you," John shakes his head. "Are you okay, (Y/N)?"
My insides are swirling with discomfort. "I mean, I'm fine. It's not like he did anything to me."
"Still," Alexander murmurs, "he deserves a sword up the ass."
"Don't overreact," I say while smacking the back of Alexander's head.
"We're lookin' out for you," John says, patting my head as though I were a child. I glare up at him, having half the mind to slap that attractive smile off his face.
"Whatever," I hiss. I handed John the list of instructions. "Just help us with all this bullshit."
For the next ten minutes, the three of us try to herd cats. It's difficult as all hell considering only about three pilots at a time are listening to us, but John's presence at least seems to make them go a little faster. He has that General ID Badge and not-messin'-'round attitude.
By the time we finish, we're tired as hell and we let the pilots enter Valley Forge for a bite to eat. I look at our work, smiling a little. Everything is perfectly set the way it should be to prepare for tomorrow's mission...
But my smile fades when I think of tomorrow. God, I could have done all this work only to die.
I sit down on a crate of new shields, exhausted. Alexander stands behind me, removing my helmet gently.
"We'll need a rundown of the plan," I say, glancing up at John who stands in front of me.
"I'll tell you all you need to know," John says. "But for now... I wanna tell y'all somethin' very important."
My spine straightens and shoulders perk. "Really? What is it?"
"Don't act so uninterested," Alexander said sarcastically. He un-does my ponytail, running his cold fingers through my scalp to smooth out my hair. "What is it, John?"
"As usual, I ain't supposed to be tellin' anyone," John says, lowering his voice to make sure no one hears. "But obviously I'm gonna tell y'all."
"So spill, bud," Alexander grins innocently.
"Righ'," John huffs. "So, you know how Nikolai is going to be present at the base?"
"I thought we planned our attack around his visit," I said unsurely.
"No, we didn't," John shakes his head. "We made sure to plan it during his visit, and that's what I want to tell you about. The main mission is to search for Castle and destroy the base, but our secondary mission is to find Nikolai and capture him."
Alexander's fingers briefly stop, then he continues to run them through my hair. "Intriguing."
I gape, not understanding how Alexander can reply so nonchalantly. "No way," I blurt out abruptly. "But... Are we crazy?!"
"It's Washington's orders," John says. "He thinks it will be a way to show the Voynas that we're not messin' 'round."
"But... At the very beginning of the war, President Ivanovich warned that if anything should happen to Nikolai, he'll initiate a nuclear war!" I cry out. "We're going to spark a fucking nuclear war to get some handsome Russian boy?!"
John raises a brow. "Did you just call Nikolai Ivanovich handsome?"
"No..."
"Alrigh', whatever. Technically, Ivanovich warned that if Nikolai was killed, he'd start a nuclear war. He said nothin' 'bout Nikolai bein' captured. As long as no harm comes to the Russian fuck boy, we should be okay."
"I still don't think it's worth it," I reply, crossing my arms.
"I never said it was worth it," John replies. "But that's the situation we're in."
"I suppose it doesn't matter," Alexander breaks in, pulling my hair back to re-do my ponytail. "It's the secondary mission, so it's not what we'll focus on."
"Reckon you're righ'," John nods.
I bite my lip. I know Alexander and John have gotten closer these past few days. At first, it warmed my heart. But now, it bothers me, but not in the way you'd think. It's like Alexander is stealing my thunder. I was trying to be the one to get us to Washington through John, and now Alexander is trying to get in on the action. I was the one who targetted John in the first place.
I remember it was about four nights ago when Alexander and John were having a "bro talk" during which they agreed to help the other "score" when we get back to civilian life.
God save me.
With my ponytail done, I mutter my thanks to Alexander and stand up. I'm about to go back to base, but I hear the familiar swooping sound of a helicopter. I turn back around and look up in the sky. Lo and behold, a large military helicopter is flying through the sky, approaching our field.
Hell, what is it now?
"Wotcha, mates?"
I look over my shoulder to see Lee has sauntered casually into the field. His darkly-colored eyes are set on the helicopter and his aura is just beaming with suppressed excitement. What the hell has is dick tingling?
"Hey," Alexander and I greet blankly, staring at the helicopter as it lands silently several meters away.
"Finally," Lee says, a grin growing on his face as he begins to approach the helicopter.
"Why the hell are you smilin', limey?" John spits.
"Eat my gargantuan cock, cunt," Lee calls back.
Without invitation, the three of us follow Lee. John lags behind slightly, clearly bothered by Lee's very presence.
The helicopter blades move slower and slower until I can make out the individual blades rather than seeing a blur. The doors to the helicopter open and out leaps the last thing I expected: a dog.
Well, to be honest, I stumbled back a little because I initially thought it was a fucking wolf coming straight at us like prey. But I give it a second look and I see it's just a dog.
From the look of it, it's a German Shepherd with a solid black coat. It seems a little larger than a normal German Shepherd, standing tall and strong. Its tongue hangs out of its large mouth, and I catch sight of sharp teeth. God, those look like they can rip the heart out of an elephant. Over its black coat, the dog wears a tactical vest, bearing several pockets for miniature supplies. Also on the tactical vest is a nametape with the name of the dog. I don't bother looking at the name.
It's just a dog, I know that now. But even so, I find myself utterly terrified when it leaps out of the helicopter, running in our direction.
Unconsciously, I take a couple of steps back, my hand over my heart. Alexander immediately notices my discomfort. He takes my hand, holding it tightly.
"Don't worry, I'm here," he whispers tenderly. He stays by my side, and I appreciate it more than I can say. His presence alone comforts me, and my heart throbs knowing that he is willing to protect me, even if the danger is relatively fictitious.
Lee kneels down to the ground, and the German Shepherd leaps into his arms, toppling him over.
I watch from afar as the German Shepherd jumps and showers Lee in slobbery kisses, its tail wagging rapidly in excitement. It whines, unable to voice its happiness any other way. Lee, laughing and greeting the dog in a higher octave than his usual voice, has a wide smile on his face.
So, is this his dog?
"Fuckin' hell. When you said you had a special delivery, I didn't know it was your fuckin' dog, Lee," John bitterly growls.
Lee ignores him, unwilling to ruin the good moment.
"Hi, buddy! How are you? Dad missed you so much! You're such a good boy! Such a good, good boy! Yes, you are! Do you want a treat?"
The dog barks, and I find myself wincing at the loudness. Goddamn.
"Yes, you want a treat! My little boy is such a good doggy!"
"Fuckin' hell," John says, appearing to be sickened by the sight. He turns around, heading back to base. He mutters to us as he passes by. "See y'all later. I have shit to do."
I force a small smile to John, but when he's gone, the smile disappears, replaced with my apprehensive expression.
The pilot of the helicopter comes out, leaning against it. "He was a bloody good co-pilot," the pilot jokingly says.
"Thanks for taking care of him, Uri," Lee says, giving a kind grin to the pilot.
"Sure thing, Charles," the pilot responds. "Any idea where Booker is? I have some news to report to him."
Booker is an AC Air Force General, although I don't know from which country. We have Air Force troops from America and Britain, so one of those countries.
"Booker is talking to Lafayette... Find Burr and he'll show you where," Lee says to his fellow Britishman.
"Righteo. Thanks, mate."
And with that, the pilot heads towards camp, giving Alexander and me a polite nod as he passes.
The dog gives Lee a few more kisses, then it catches sight of Alexander and me. Next thing I know, the dog is running right for us.
I nearly turn to run for my life, but Alexander holds my hands tightly, standing in front of me.
"Alex!" I whisper-shout
"You're okay. I'm here."
I hold my breath as the dog gets closer and closer. I close my eyes, praying that I'll be okay. But when nothing happens for a couple of seconds, I open one eye. The dog stands at Alexander's feet, smiling happily and panting with excitement.
Alexander remains still, looking up to Lee as if asking for help. Lee saunters over to us calmly, appearing to be in no rush.
"Looks like he likes you... Are you okay, Hamilton?"
I bite my lip, figuring Lee is talking to me. No doubt he noticed my trembling body. I'm grateful, though, that he asks me if I'm okay rather than laughing over the fact that I'm scared of a smiling dog... I have a feeling that if it were Lafayette rather than Lee with the dog, he'd be rolling in the snow in amusement.
"I'm... I'm fine," I say, my shaky voice betraying me.
Lee whistles and the dog immediately rushes to his side. It's obvious that the dog is well trained. "He won't hurt you. I promise, mate."
I nod and take a step to my left so that Alexander is no longer in front of me. Nonetheless, I remain close to him and continue to clutch his hand.
"What's his name?" Alexander asks conversationally.
"Hermes," Lee says happily, giving the dog an affectionate pat on the head. The dog (Hermes) looks up to Lee upon hearing his name. He licks Lee's hand.
"Bred military dog?" Alexander inquires.
"Not bred," Lee shakes his head. "I got him during AC training and I put him into military dog training after graduation."
Ha, I know all about that. We were given dogs for AC training. Then, for our final test, we had to shoot the dog. Little did we know the guns we were given were empty. After that, we had the choice of keeping our dog or putting it up for adoption.
I later learned that only one person in all of AC history kept their dog. Now I know that Charles Lee is that man. He kept Hermes after trying to shoot him...
"Not to brag, but he has a couple of medals," Lee says like a proud dad, motioning towards Hermes' vest. It bears several medals for all sorts of achievements and brave acts, and all next to a pretty little British flag patch. "He just came back from a civilian break after going on a mission with lots of other military dogs."
"So why is he here now?" Alexander asks.
"Well, we're going to use him for the mission."
As Alexander and Lee converse like friends, my eyes drift to Hermes. He's a handsome dog... I heard someone use that term to describe a King's pooch in a movie.
While I can see it's long, sharp teeth (which look more like the teeth of a wolf than anything), Hermes looks like a good dog. He sure does seem affectionate of Lee. And if Lee says Hermes won't hurt me, I suppose I should trust him.
There's no need to be scared...
But still, Lee said Hermes was enrolled in military dog training. Depending on the breed, they learn different things. German Shepherds, in particular, learn how to sniff out bombs, protect targets, hunt down targets, or act as a distraction. But one thing all dogs learn is how to kill.
Hermes, as cute as he appears when he smiles, and as adorable as he is while he rolls around in the snow, has been trained to rip out the throat of people. If Lee somehow catches me being the traitorous bitch I am, he can send Hermes on me.
So no, there's no need to be scared of Hermes... yet.
I slowly pull my hand away from Alexander's and focus back on their conversation. It doesn't interest me. From the bits of their conversation I catch, it sounds like Hermes is here to sniff down any trace of Castle. We've been shipped a box of several of Castle's belongings, so while on our mission, Hermes will hopefully trace some air particles with his scent.
Intriguing... But I miss John.
I wait patiently, and eventually, we begin heading back to camp. When we enter, I see that the soldiers have finally been released from Burr's plan explanation. Now, the soldiers are mingling with the pilots, making friends and comparing our different patches.
I see Peggy talking happily to Burr. Vincent and Rory stand not that far away from them, but Vincent is glaring enviously at Burr.
Burr, for the first time in forever, is smiling. His teeth, perfectly straight and white, seem to light up the room. He smiles brighter when he sees Lee and Hermes.
"Hey, Charles." Hermes leaps towards Burr, jumping on him and licking him affectionately. "And hello, Hermes."
"What a cute dog!" Peggy exclaims. She pets Hermes, who licks her hand. She looks at the name tape on his vest. "Hermes? Aww, what a cute pupperino!"
"Never met a bloke who didn't like Hermes," Lee murmurs pridefully over to us. He joins Burr, whispering about something private.
Rory and Vincent join Alexander and me.
"Why the hell do we have a dog now, yeah?" Rory scoffs.
Alexander is about to answer, but Vincent beats him to it.
"It's for the mission I presume, perhaps to sniff out any trace of Castle."
That goddamn intuition of his.
"You'd be right," Alexander nods, a hint of resentment in his eyes.
"How'd you know?" I drone.
Vincent shrugs. "It's obvious to me."
Rory laughs. "'Course it is."
They quickly engage in a conversation, and a part of me wants to disappear. There's a spark of joy in the air. It's like everyone forgot that we're being sent on a suicide mission tomorrow. We're going to fucking die tomorrow, and they'd rather privately curse Burr or gush over Hermes.
I hold my breath and do something I almost never do: I depart from Alexander. I slide away slyly, trusting that we'll regroup later.
There's one person I know who won't have this happy air to them: John.
Oddly, I'm craving mutual negativity. I need someone feeling as shitty as me to know I'm not alone.
And so I'm off to find John. It took me a while, but I found him hanging behind one of the barracks. I joined him and we were prepared to be negative together.
Strangely enough, when we were together, all we could do was be positive and feel happy. We made each other happy. Despite all the bad shit, we found something good in the other.
♙♟♙♟♙
"Some British asshole asked me if he could get Eliza's number," Peggy growls, stumbling onto her bed.
It's late at night, maybe around eleven o'clock, and the barracks are dark. Rory, Alexander, and most everyone else in our barrack are asleep. I'm laying in bed, but my eyes are wide open. However, I'm covered with my blanket, so Peggy must not see me.
I watch secretly as Vincent, who had been playing a game on his phone, looks up to Peggy. "No way."
"Yes way!" Peggy cries out. "God, I might as well just disappear! My parents should have stopped at two daughters. They would have been happier!"
Vincent sets down his phone and strides over to Peggy's bed, patting her head gently. "Don't say that, Peggy." He is sure to keep his voice low so that he doesn't wake Molly Pitcher, who sleeps on Peggy's upper bunk.
"But it's true."
"No, it isn't."
"I doubt they even care about where I am! They're probably more excited about attending the premiere of Eliza's new starring movie, or asking Angelica how she's going to vote on a bill in the House. They couldn't care less about me."
"I can assure you they do," Vincent says kindly.
"They sure as hell don't show support!"
"Peggy, do you expect them to fly over and get a gun to help you fight, or carry a sign with your name on it, or what?"
"I know but..."
"They invite you home all the time, Peggy. Every time we get back to civilian life, they try to reach out to you."
"I know, but..."
"They want to see you! Despite what you may think, they truly care about you."
Peggy puffs up her cheeks like a chipmunk, then she lets it all out in mild frustration. "Everyone likes my sisters more than me, and I'm sick of it."
"I don't like your sisters more. You're my favorite, Peggy."
"Well, I shouldn't be. You know Eliza had the biggest crush on you for the longest time," Peggy huffs.
Vincent chuckles. "No way."
"Yes way."
"So I could have been going out with America's number one actress right now."
"Hey!"
"I was just joking, Pegster."
"Anyway, you should have just been friends with my sisters. Then you wouldn't be stuck with me."
Vincent frowns. "I'm not stuck with you, Peggy. I choose to be with you."
"No, you don't."
Vincent emits a long, low sigh. It's almost longing. It makes my senses tingle uncomfortably. I listen closely as Vincent begins to tell quite the odd story.
"Let's see... It was the first day of my sophomore year in high school, second period AP United States History class. That was the first time I saw you. Being as smart as I am-"
"Very humble."
"-I was able to find out you were a freshman judging by your lost gaze and small frame."
"So what?"
"My first thought was: what the hell is a freshman doing in a sophomore class?"
"I got accepted early."
"I know that now, but my second thought was: how could someone so beautiful exist?"
Peggy pauses for a long time. From my small view, I see her giving Vincent a wide-eyed gaze. She appears confused, but intrigued, like a person who sees an ominous light glowing in a pitch-black room. The light seems to dance in front of her, moving to inaudible music. It hypnotizes her and beckons her towards it. She can't see where she's stepping, but she wants to touch the small light. She wants the light so bad. And so she ventures on.
"Continue."
Vincent nods, leaning a little closer to her. "Your poofy hair that you'd tie up during tests, your bright eyes, your pink braces."
"Hey, we don't talk about the braces. Those were dark times," Peggy blurts out.
"Right. Anyway, I couldn't help but find you utterly fascinating. The way you'd answer every question the teacher asked, the way you volunteered first for every presentation, the way you'd do way more work than needed."
"That's just how I am," Peggy shrugs.
"I know," Vincent nods. "And I found it appealing in every way... It took me a whole month to work up the courage to talk to you."
"You shouldn't have."
"I wanted to, Peggy. I really wanted to. God, I'm glad I did. And I noticed a lot of things you maybe don't notice about yourself."
"Pfft, sure. Like what?"
"Lots of things... Your laugh is more like a wheeze than anything. When you get embarrassed, you start biting your nails or playing with your hair to distract yourself. And when you're tired, you'll completely block out anything anyone says and find the closest thing to sleep on."
"I'd often sleep on your shoulder," Peggy adds somewhat happily.
"Yeah, and it's adorable... You know you smile in your sleep, right?"
"I do not!" Peggy scoffs.
"You do. I don't think you know how cute it is."
Peggy sighs heavily, twirling her hair.
"Embarrassed?" Vincent smiles.
She immediately drops her hand, tucking it under her knee. "No... I just don't understand how you notice all those things."
"I notice everything... Especially about you."
"Maybe that's why my parents like you... They probably like you more than they like me."
"So we've come full circle," Vincent begins. "I understand that you often feel third best, and it pains me to know that you doubt yourself. Should it be in my power, you'd feel like a queen every day of your life. Hell, if you'd let me, I'd treat you like a goddamn goddess. But life isn't that easy, so all I can do is assure you that, no matter what, I will stand by your side. Through rain and shine, laughs and fights, ups and downs. I live to make you smile, and I want to be there for every happy moment. I even want to be there for the sad moments, just so I can do everything in my power to turn it around. I will devout every ounce of energy I have to you and ask for nothing in return. I will do anything for you because you are everything to me. I will hold your hand through it all until the day I die."
A long silence lingers in the air and it's all I can do to not weep. What has me so emotional?! The fact that Vincent is openly declaring his feelings to Peggy and she has nothing to say? No, it can't be that. It's something far more sinister:
Vincent, sooner or later, must be killed. He is no fool, and he will eventually know what Alexander and I are doing. He will see our lies, and when that happens, we have to kill him. No hesitance. It's strictly business.
How can I separate Vincent and Peggy?
I pray it won't come down to that.
"Until the day you die?" Peggy says softly, her first words in nearly a minute.
"Yes," Vincent nods. Through the darkness, I see his pale blue eyes glistening with something akin to desire.
"What if you die tomorrow?" Peggy asks innocently.
"I won't."
"How do you know?"
"I won't let myself die. I'll live so I can be with you another day."
Peggy laughs shyly. "Your speech was very beautiful."
"I had been thinking of something like that for a long time... I planned that for when I proposed to some girl."
"Oh."
"I... I meant every word I said. I hope you know that."
The light is so close. Peggy can grasp it. She can hold it in her palms, allowing it to temporarily illuminate the dark room she has been trapped in. She can see all the beauty in the room. She can see herself, finally able to acknowledge everything she is worth. Vincent must have been hiding in that dark room, waiting for the light to shine. Or maybe Vincent was the light all along.
Peggy reaches for Vincent's hand, squeezing it. "For once, I believed every word... Thank you, Vincent."
For a moment, I think something is going to happen. I expect a sudden movement, an act of pure passionate love. A fucking kiss! I don't know, something! This is what happens in the movie, no? Girl is sad. Boy makes girl feel better. Girl does feel better. Boy nonchalantly admits love. Girl is flattered. Boy and girl kiss. It should have been reality — and some small part of me hoped it would be so. I hoped that the movies didn't lie to me. I hoped something so pure could be true. Maybe it would have given me hope for myself. But nothing happens. And I don't think anything is going to happen. I can sense their mutual fear.
Fear of what? Losing the other? Not being accepted by the other? Maybe both.
After what I heard and witnessed, I have a hard time sleeping.
Marriage. I've thought about it a lot when I was in Russia for several reasons, the main one being that married couples got financial benefits from the government. Marriage had always been a duty to me. I had to do it to make a buck.
But now I'm imagining what it would be like to marry for love. I bite my lip as I ponder the first thing that comes to mind, hating and loving it at the same time.
(Y/N) Laurens...
Ha, not bad. God, what is wrong with me?
I shouldn't bother teasing the thought. As Peggy said, we could all die tomorrow. For all I know, there is nothing beyond tomorrow. Marriage is far out of the question... Not that I gave it much thought ever since I left Russia.
As for now, I need to sleep. With a heavy heart and foggy mind, I allow myself to drift into slumber. In my vivid dreams, I meet the masked man once again. At least, I think it is him. Those eyes, familiar and intoxicating, don't shine with hate, but instead, desire. I thought it might be a repeated dream as always — a dream where I die.
But it's not. The masked man and I don't fight. Tonight, we danced.