Archibald reached for him. “Please don’t leave me.”
Frank’s heart ached. “I won’t. Just getting you some water.” He turned back, kissed Archibald's forehead and squeezed his hand, then walked the few steps to pour a glass from the pitcher.
He set the glass on the side table and climbed into bed. Archibald curled up around him, hugging him tightly, as if afraid he would vanish.
“I’m here,” murmured Frank, rubbing Archibald’s back, tears stinging his eyes. He held Archibald close as he fell into an uneasy sleep. No, it wasn’t fair at all, for any of them, but what could they possibly do about it? All he could do was love anyway, defiantly, and with his whole heart. He kissed Archibald’s cheek, wishing he didn’t have to pretend, wishing that they could be together forever.
Frank woke early in the morning, Archibald snoring softly by his side, one anchoring arm thrown across Frank’s chest. Even though they had far more room here than in their usual bunk, it seemed they couldn’t help but sleep entwined in one another’s arms.
Carefully shifting free, Frank got up and kissed Archibald’s cheek. He slipped downstairs to get coffee and breakfast, wondering just how much Archibald would remember of the night before.
By the time he returned, Archibald was out of bed and in the en suite, shaving. Frank set out the food and adjusted the pillows so it wouldn’t look like two people had slept there, then he stepped into his own room to muss up the bed. Probably no one would notice either way, but it was better to take precautions than to have something so small catch them out.
In his own room, he rinsed his face in the washbasin and shaved, changing back into his cleanest uniform. He glanced at himself in the mirror before heading back into Archibald’s room.
Archibald sat at the table, looking only slightly worse for wear, sipping his coffee. Frank sat down opposite him and took a bite of his breakfast. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
Shrugging, Archibald pushed his eggs around the plate. “I’m afraid I don’t remember much about last night, but I’m assuming alcohol was involved.”
Frank watched him, feeling like Archibald was lying, but letting it be. “General Whitestone made sure you got back in one piece.”
“I’ll have to thank him,” said Archibald. “Thank you for getting coffee and breakfast.”
“You’re welcome,” said Frank, aware that Archibald was holding himself apart in preparation for their day.
They made it to the meeting site after a second cup of coffee for Archibald. Frank handed him his case and watched as Colonel Brown elbowed him. “Bit of a rough night last night, eh?”
“I don’t recall,” said Archibald icily. One of the other officers chuckled. Frank’s hand flexed. He knew that decking an officer would only lead to more problems, but it was tempting.
Fortunately for his willpower, they quickly vanished into another room. Frank made his way over to where most of the aides were waiting. Nearly all of them were officers, giving Frank looks that told him he didn’t belong.
Frank ignored the looks and sat down in a quiet corner. He pulled out pen and paper, writing a quick letter to his family. He felt like a fraud for doing so, but knew he had to keep up appearances, too. They both had their duties.
When he was done, he pulled out a book and tried to read, doing his best to ignore the curl of guilt in his stomach. Why shouldn’t he be allowed to find happiness in the middle of all this hell? And more importantly, didn’t he and Archibald deserve it?
Frank scrubbed a hand through his hair and tried to push those thoughts away. They would have whatever time was allotted to them, and not a moment more.
The meetings wrapped up just as Frank was starting to think about lunch. Archibald nodded to him and they headed out side by side. If not for all the uniforms, it could almost feel like they were in Paris before the war, before all the violence and death and destruction. Not that he’d ever walked the streets of Paris with a man like Archibald.
They walked to a nearby cafe, sitting down to a good meal. With other soldiers around them, they stayed quiet as they ate, though there was comfort in Archibald’s presence.
“We’ll stay one more night and head back in the morning,” said Archibald as they finished.
“Did you get everything resolved, then?” asked Frank.
Archibald sighed. “As much as we ever do.”
“I hope it’ll be over soon,” said Frank, though in truth, part of him hoped not. Ending the war would mean going home and losing what they had together.
Archibald nodded, the look in his eyes telling Frank he felt the same way.
Finished with lunch, they took a walk. It was nice to see children playing in the streets, to be reminded that civilian life went on. It was still eerily quiet compared to the trenches, but that was how it should be.
They reached a small market, and Archibald glanced around. “You should buy your wife something.”
Frank nodded. Appearances, after all. “Yeah, and the kids.”
Archibald reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash. “Here. I'll meet you at the fountain when you’re finished.”
“Thank you,” said Frank, hesitating, but accepting it. It didn’t feel right to buy something for Julia with Archibald’s money, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He walked away from Archibald and browsed the stalls, finding a bottle of lavender perfume. He bought a smaller one for Doris. Choosing something for Henry was more difficult, but a pen set seemed like a good choice. Seeing how much he had left, he paid for a second set to give to Archibald.
He slipped Archibald’s set into his pocket as the merchant packed everything else up in a box, along with the letter he’d written that morning. Frank carried it over to where Archibald was waiting at the fountain.
“Let’s get that posted, and maybe we can walk some more,” smiled Archibald.
“I’d like that,” said Frank.
It didn’t take long to post the package, and they spent the remainder of the afternoon wandering around Paris together, heading vaguely in the direction of their hotel. It felt good to walk on proper streets, side by side. They didn’t need to speak to enjoy one another’s company, but Archibald told some stories about other visits to Paris, and Frank talked about visiting his grandparents as a child. They stayed on topics deep in the past, but there was still tension between them.
At least they had one more night.
Finally, they reached the hotel, only to find General Whitestone leaning against the wall just outside, clearly waiting for them. “I need to speak to you a moment,” he said to Archibald.
“Of course,” he answered. “Get our supper, Corporal, if you don’t mind?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Frank, stepping inside.
The man at the front desk brought out a tray when he saw Frank. Frank carried it upstairs and set it on the table, just getting everything settled when Archibald came in, looking troubled. “Thank you,” he said stiffly, as if worried about being overheard.
“You’re welcome,” said Frank, wanting to step closer, but refraining. “I’ll just take mine to my room, shall I?”
“That would be best,” Archibald said, his eyes asking for forgiveness. “I need to do some work.”
Frank nodded and picked up his plate. “It’s fine,” he said, hoping that was all right to say. “I’ll be next door if you need me. Goodnight, sir.”
Carrying his plate to the door between their rooms, Frank was aware of Archibald’s eyes on him. He resisted the urge to glance back and let himself into his room. The door closing behind him felt oddly final. Taking a breath, he put the plate aside, no longer hungry.
Obviously, General Whitestone had delivered some sort of warning. Frank scrubbed a hand through his hair. At least if they were forced to separate, he knew that Archibald would be looked after.
Safety was the most important thing, he reminded himself. He picked up the plate and carried it to the tiny table under the window and forced himself to
eat. After all, they wouldn’t get food this fresh at that front.
But after Frank finished dinner, he changed into his nightclothes and crawled between the cold covers. He rubbed his eyes, biting back tears at the bitter unfairness of it all. He pulled a pillow into his arms, wishing with every fiber of his being that it was Archibald he was holding. Tomorrow night, they’d be back in the bunker, but he worried that even there, Archibald wouldn’t feel safe enough to come to his arms.
Closing his eyes, Frank braced himself for bad dreams, wishing there was somewhere in this hard world that they could go and be left alone.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The door clicked closed behind Frank. Archibald looked at it for a few long moments, feeling ill, Basil’s quiet warning running through his head. Nothing concrete of course, just a few rumors he felt certain could be traced back to Wright. He wanted to go to Frank, even now, damn any danger, but it wasn’t just his own safety and reputation he needed to worry about.
Frank had a family to go home to. Children who relied on him. He couldn’t help his unkind thoughts towards Frank’s wife, but his children were innocent in all of this.
Archibald pulled off his shoes and crawled into bed, ignoring the food and curling up with his pillow. He should get used to this, shouldn’t he? After all, once he went home, his bed would be empty forever. He couldn’t imagine anyone else but Frank, and he wasn’t his to keep. Archibald closed his eyes and let himself remember Frank’s hands on him, tears threatening as he replayed their lovemaking in his mind. Even if it was all they had, it was worth it, worth any heartache to come.
Frank loved him. He loved Frank. Neither of them had spoken the words, but they were nonetheless true. The world might never understand, but even if he was condemned to loneliness, at least he knew that truth.
Eventually, Archibald fell into a fitful sleep, haunted by dreams he couldn’t quite remember, dreams that left him disquieted and afraid. All he wanted was to knock on the door and crawl into Frank’s arms, but how could he permit himself to do so?
Archibald gave up the pretense of sleep when dawn began to stain the sky outside his window. He got up and readied himself for the day, taking a moment to appreciate the clean water and the quiet. Soon enough, they’d be back in the mud and the drum of artillery. He ate a little of the bread from his untouched dinner, quickly packing his few things and making sure the paperwork was secured.
Frank knocked on his door as he finished. Archibald steeled himself and called for him to enter.
Clearly, Frank had slept just as poorly, but he came bearing breakfast and a tired smile. He said nothing about the nearly untouched dinner, just moved the tray and replaced it with breakfast. They ate in silence, but as they stood to go, Frank reached over and squeezed Archibald’s hand.
Archibald met his gaze and nodded, wanting to say so much and yet swallowing back the words. Frank seemed satisfied by what he saw and nodded in return before letting go and reaching for Archibald’s bag.
They headed downstairs and into a waiting car. When they’d left the farmhouse, there had been the feeling of returning to a refuge, but there was none of that now. They’d always been cautious, but they had to be even more careful now. No telling what Wright might do to get back at them. Damn the man and his thin skin.
The drive was quiet. Archibald watched the city give way to the country, watched the scars grow on the land as they approached the front. Soon enough, there was the familiar boom of artillery welcoming them back.
The car finally stopped near where it had picked them up. Frank shouldered his rifle and picked up their bags, leading the way through the familiar mud and muck.
Archibald frowned as they reached the bunker. Something felt off, even before he pushed open the door.
He cursed as he took in the state of the place. Someone had clearly rifled through their belongings. Archibald stepped inside, seeing that even his locked trunk holding classified material had been tampered with, though they’d stopped short of breaking the lock.
Frank closed the door behind them. “Wright,” he muttered darkly.
“Most likely,” said Archibald, going to his desk to try to put his work back into some kind of order.
Frank put their bags and his rifle down and came over, gently taking the papers from Archibald. “I’ll get this sorted,” he said. “I take it this was the warning last night?”
Archibald sighed and took his bag over to his footlocker to put things away. “Not exactly. Basil has reason to believe we’re being closely watched by someone unfriendly, but he didn’t have specifics. It seems such a warning was warranted.”
“Bastard,” muttered Frank, collecting the rest of the scattered papers and sitting at his table.
Suddenly, the door swung open without a knock. Archibald felt Frank tense before he even looked up. Of course, it was Wright standing in the doorway, looking smug.
“Lieutenant Colonel,” said Archibald with forced politeness, “I’m afraid I’m a bit busy at the moment. It seems my work was gone through while I was attending to business in Paris. I don’t suppose you would know anything about this?”
“Was it business or pleasure?” Wright asked, looking pointedly at Frank.
Archibald saw Frank's hand fist by his side as he clearly weighed whether or not it would be worth it to take a swing.
Archibald grabbed a blank piece of paper and scribbled a quick note. “Corporal, would you deliver this to de Paul?”
Frank took the paper without taking his eyes off Wright. “Of course, sir.”
Wright had the good sense to step aside as Frank picked up his rifle and made his way out the door, closing it behind him.
Crossing his arms, Wright huffed. “Corporal Martin should learn some manners.”
“At least he knocks and doesn’t rifle through people's things. Now really, what is the point of all of this?” Archibald straightened and faced Wright.
“Don’t know what you mean, Major,” he said.
Archibald narrowed his eyes. “If you wish to be childish, then that’s your choice. However, I do have classified material in this location and I need to make certain nothing is missing.” He picked up the stack of papers from Frank’s desk and sat down.
Wright took a few steps forward, looming over him. “You need to learn not to step on people’s toes. I don’t care what fancy public school you went to, I’m the one running things around here.”
“As you’ve made abundantly clear,” said Archibald, picking up his pen and making a mark on the top page.
“You and the Corporal seem awfully close,” said Wright.
“He is my aide and invaluable to my work.” Archibald looked up at him. “Perhaps if you didn’t feel a need to throw your weight around, you’d also engender loyalty in your soldiers.”
Wright was silent for a long moment, his jaw tightening at the insult, but finally, he stepped back. “I’m watching you. Both of you.”
“As you’ve said, yes,” muttered Archibald, looking back to his papers. “I do hope you're keeping as intense a gaze on the enemy.” He sighed and sat back. “If you truly know nothing about this,” said Archibald, gesturing at the room, “then as commanding officer, I would think a security breach that nearly tampered with classified material might be worth your concern. I’m sure you have a long report to file on the breach, your thorough investigation into it, and how you’ll prevent such a thing from happening on your watch in the future. I won’t keep you from it any longer.” Archibald turned back to his paperwork.
Archibald could feel Wright staring at him a moment before he turned to go, kicking Frank’s bag in the process.
Archibald watched him stomp out of the bunker, leaving the door wide open. Resisting the urge to make a rude gesture at the man’s back, Archibald got up to close it, shivering in the cold breeze. He put Frank’s bag on his bed and went to start the small furnace. It was difficult to have patience with a man like Wright, even if it was foolhardy to cross
him.
He put the rest of his things away and then sat down to work, rubbing his temples without thinking about it.
Frank returned a short time later, shaking off the cold as he closed the door behind him. “Brought lunch,” he said, putting the food on the table and settling his rifle in its usual place. He handed Archibald the return message and went to warm his hands by the stove. “Cold one today.”
“Yes,” said Archibald, putting the paper down without reading it and moving to the smaller table. It was comforting and familiar to share this meal with Frank here, in their little home. The memory of Paris was already fading in the chill and echo of artillery.
“Seems the world didn’t fall apart while we were gone. Or at least not any more than usual,” said Frank, taking a seat. He hesitated, then looked up at Archibald. “You get things sorted with Wright?”
“More or less,” said Archibald. He glanced away. “We need to be careful.”
“We are.” Frank reached over and touched Archibald’s hand, making him look back at him. “There’s nothing wrong with us,” he said forcefully.
“I know,” said Archibald, “but…”
“I know,” Frank echoed, picking up his fork and sitting back. “You need to be mindful of your career and reputation. I have obligations at home. Anything else has to come second.”
Archibald nodded miserably, pushing his food around. “I’ve not regretted a moment,” he said quietly.
Frank smiled and touched his hand. “Neither have I.”
Archibald sighed and pulled his hand away. “Perhaps we should find you another assignment.”
“No,” said Frank firmly. “I belong here with you. Wright doesn’t get to change that.”
Archibald fidgeted with his fork. “Of course. Forget I said anything.” He took a bite and turned his attention to his food.
“Already done,” said Frank, leaning his foot against Archibald’s under the table as he started to eat.
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