Merry Christmas @typical-simplelove!! This is your secret Santa gift and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed creating it!!
Paris, France - Christmas Eve 1945
The tires of the taxi splashed through the snow and slush as the driver navigated the busy streets of Paris. Despite the late hour, the streets were still bustling with people hurrying between the decorated shops and enjoying the holiday season. There was plenty to celebrate this year now that the war was finally over and life was returning to normal.
Speirs stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and tried to roll some of the nervous tension out of his shoulders. His fingers found the folded paper in his pocket, soft around the edges from being folded and unfolded over and over.
â17 Rue De Saint Germain, Apt. 4â the single line of neatly typed words was etched into his memory from the time the secretary had handed him the paper at the regiment offices in London.
He finally had an address.
Her âlast known addressâ as the secretary had put it. If nothing else it was a start. He made a promise to her and he would search the world over to keep it.
The snow started falling heavier as they drove. The flakes fell like feathers from the sky, adding a fresh sparkling layer to the rooftops and streets. It was picturesque; Christmas Eve in Paris. But he couldn't enjoy the scenery because of the tangle of nerves that tightened in his chest with each passing minute. As the taxi continued toward his destination, he let his thoughts wander back to the night that had changed everything between them.
Mourmelon-le-Grand, France - December 1944.
His heart hammered in his chest as he made his way to Battalion CP as fast as he could without breaking into a run.
He was getting ahead of himself. He was sure this would all be for nothing. Liebgott didn't know what the hell he was talking about, he must have misheard the name or it was just a sick coincidence.
Then again, how many Serena Arringtons from Boston were there?
He willed his breathing to stay steady and swallowed down the lump of dread that had been threatening to choke him since Heffron and Liebgott had come back from patrol telling everyone about the woman they found on the road just outside the city.
âSerena Arrington. An SOE agent from Boston, or so she says.â Liebgottâs voice played over and over in his head as he reached the CP.
He bounded up the stairs, shouldering past the men milling in the hall and carrying papers between the makeshift offices.
The door at the end of the hall swung open. Nixon and Winters filed out after Colonel Sink, discussing something in hushed voices before Sink tucked what looked to be a map into his jacket pocket and hurried off toward his office.
Spiers stepped aside to let him pass with a salute.
âLieutenant Speirsâ Nixon addressed him, stopping with Winters in the hall.
Speirs swallowed hard, his throat felt like sandpaper. âSir, Heffron and Liebgott claim they found someone on their patrol and brought them to you. Name sounded familiar so I wanted to see if I could help out.â
Nixon quirked a dark brow. âThatâs right. An American. Said her name was Serena Arrington.â
Speirs felt the blood drain from his face. It must have shown judging by the inquisitive look on Nixâs face. âYou know this woman, Lieutenant?
âYes sir.â He forced the words past the bile that crept up his throat. What the hell was she doing here?
âSheâs over at the aid station now with DocâŠâ
He turned and strode down the hall before Nixon could even finish.
He frantically scanned the faces in the aid station until he caught sight of familiar golden blonde hair. She stood out in stark contrast from the men in her delicate white blouse and skirt. But he knew he could have picked her out from any crowd; an undeniable magnetism between them.
He moved across the room, heart pounding in his ears, until he was only a few steps from her.
She sat stock still in a chair, her eyes squeezed shut as Doc Roe carefully stitched a wound on her shoulder. He felt like the air had been punched out of him as he stopped and took in the sight of her. Bloodied and a little worse for the wear but somehow just as beautiful as the last night heâd spent with her.
Her jade eyes snapped open, her breath visibly catching in her chest as she met his gaze and sat forward on impulse.
âEasy, almost done here.â Doc Roe soothed. But Roeâs calming words were drowned out by the timbre of Spierâs voice, closer now.
âSerena?â he rumbled again, studying her green eyes that, not so long ago, held his entire universe.
Doc Roe followed her gaze as he looked up at Ron.
âYou know Lieutenant Speirs?â Roe questioned, trying his best to keep track of what the hell was going on.
The silence languished between them as he held her bewildered gaze; searching for something, anything to say to her. But nothing he thought of felt right in the moment.
She was here. In France. At the edge of the allied advance into occupied territory. How the hell-
âRon is a friend from back home, in Bostonâ Serena finally answered, shattering the spell between them and facing Roe with a tired smile.
A friend. The word sounded hollow and wrong. Though he wasnât entirely sure what he would call them now.
They had danced around their feelings for one another for so long, tangled them into such an inextricable knot, that there was no way to know how the other truly felt. He had been her brotherâs best friend since grammar school but his and Serenaâs relationship had bloomed over the years into something neither of them could ignore.
Theyâd acted on that undeniable magnetic force between them a few times but left so much unsaid with the naive hope that things would just work out. By the time he acknowledged the depth of his feelings for Serena, it was too late. Harrison Carmichael always had his eye on her and heâd finally charmed her into a date over two years ago.
And then the war happened.
The last heâd heard, Carmichael had proposed. Speirs looked to her left hand, something fluttering behind his ribs when he didnât see a ring.
She looked up again at his familiar umber eyes as Doc. Roe finished up with her shoulder. She studied the creases that formed at the corners, infinitesimally deeper than when sheâd last seen them. Something haunted and pained dulled the rich brown; something that was never there before the war.
It was disorienting. Any change at all to the face she knew better than her own reflection seemed impossible. It dredged up the reality of how much time had passed since they last saw one another; How they had both changed.
Ron cleared his throat, realizing heâd been staring. Again.
âIâll show you to a room in the billets, Iâm sure you could use some rest after âŠâ he tailed off as the thought of how sheâd ended up here turned his stomach.
She nodded in response and thanked Roe as she pulled her blouse back over her now bandaged shoulder. Speirs shrugged off his thick jacket to drape over her shoulders. His warmth and woodsy scent surrounded her in the jacket. She pulled the collar tighter around her and let Ron lead her out of the aid station with a steady, solid hand on the small of her back.
He leaned his back against the building that served at the billet for Easy Company, shifting close but not close enough to touch her injured arm.
She pulled a small silver flask from the pocket of her dress. She took a sip then handed it to him.
He took a drink, wincing at the vicious burn that settled into a dull warmth in his stomach.
âJesusâ he huffed, handing the flask back.
âCouldnât find any good bourbon out here.â She laughed, taking another long sip before leaning her head back against the rough bricks.
He huffed a laugh, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep inhale to settle the edginess he felt at seeing here.
Her eyes slipped closed for a moment and he took the opportunity to look her over. Really look at her.
Her brow seemed permanently creased with concern, a fading bruise colored her left cheekbone and her plush bottom lip was split at the corner. It turned the warm burn of the liquor into a roiling, sick heat.
So many questions burned like embers, stoked up into a blaze by the protective instinct that always seemed to take over when he was around Serena.
âHow are you here, Serena? What the hell happened?â He blurted, his fingers itching to pull her close and keep her there.
She stared unseeing into the dark, flinching slightly from his tone. She took another pull from the flask and swallowed hard. âWhat all did they tell you?â
âSaid you were working for the SOE.â Speirs replied.
âShortly after you left for basic training, I decided I wanted to do my part too. I was selected for the SOE along with a few others from my unit. I was in London for a while before my work brought me here toâŠâ her voice trailed off and she took another drink from the flask.
âWhat happened?â He asked again, gentler this time as he watched her spine go rigid and her gaze drift up to the inky night sky.
âPlease donât ask me that.â Her voice was a strangled whisper.
A few beats of unbearable silence passed between them.
âWell, Whatever it was, youâre safe now.â The need to comfort her coiled itself tighter within him.
Serena huffed a humorless laugh. âYou know what they say Ron, never trust a survivor until you find out what they did to survive.â
âCanât be any worse than the things Iâve done.â He replied flatly.
âNo. No, I donât believe that.â She replied resolutely, turning to look at him with that penetrating gaze that both infuriated him and mesmerized him.
âWhat if itâs true?â He murmured, glancing over at her and half expecting to see the now familiar edge of fear or wariness he saw when others here looked at him.
But she looked at him with deep consideration like she was the only one who really saw him.
âI know it isnât true. Because I know that who we are and who we have to be to survive this can be two very different people.â
He hated the way those words sounded coming from her. Hated the way the warmth in her eyes dimmed, like a cloud passing in front of the sun. Hated that she understood that feeling that gnawed and twisted in his chest every single day. She may not have jumped into Normandy with him, but she was fighting this war all the same. She knew all too well the indelible marks that war left on a person.
Despite the weight of it all, there was no pity or disgust or fear in those jade eyes as they watched him, only a deep, quiet understanding that soothed him to his soul.
Her cold fingers laced between his, her thumb tracing softly over the rough skin of his knuckles. He released a shuddered breath he hadnât even realized he was holding. He missed her touch so much it physically pained him.
Silence settled between them again as another question burned through him until he couldnât contain it any longer.
âHowâs Harrison? He ever enlist?â Speirs asked, forcing a casual coolness in his voice even as he triple checked her left hand to make sure the ring really wasn't there.
âProbably still working for his father if I had to guess. I havenât spoken to him in a year, not since we ended the engagement.â
He couldnât help the rush of selfish relief as she confirmed his suspicion that they werenât together. He watched her closely, waiting for sadness, or even anger to show in her expression, but it never came.
âNever liked him much anyway.â Spiers murmured, watching the cigarette smoke twist and writhe in the night air as he tried to hide his smug satisfaction.
âYou donât like anything enough for that to be a fair test.â Serena smirked, bumping him playfully with her good shoulder.
God, Heâd missed this. Missed the simple intimacy that could only come from someone whoâd known you for your entire life.
He missed her. Desperately.
âHeâs a fool to let you go.â He muttered, taking another long drag of his cigarette to try and dislodge the weight of guilt that settled in his gut. Heâd been a fool too.
âI guess it was really me who let him go.â She mused.
His heart stuttered against his ribs.
âI couldnât love him, not like he deservedâŠbecause I never stopped loving someone else.â
Her cold fingers laced between his, her thumb tracing softly over the rough skin of his knuckles. He released a shuddered breath he hadnât even realized he was holding. He missed her touch so good, it bordered on pain.
Her eyes lifted to his and the unmistakable plea smoldered in her gaze. âI never stopped.â
The gravity of her words slammed into him like a mortar blast as he held her gaze in stunned silence.
Then without any warning or pretense, or even considering the consequences, he kissed her.
He kissed her until they were both breathless, making up for all the times it should have been him kissing her; for all the times they may never have.
The thought alone was a punch to the gut.
Speirs hadnât let himself consider the prospect of tomorrow since theyâd landed in Normandy. He accepted that he was already a dead man and dwelling on tomorrow was a damn waste of time when you probably wouldnât even survive the next hour.
He wasnât leaving anything unsaid this time, not when this could be the only time they would have.
He felt her body melt into his touch and for a brilliant moment every doubt and worry dissolved with the caress of their lips and the warmth of her body against his. He let his body tell her more than his words ever could.
He threaded his fingers into her golden strands and held her there for what could have been hours before he finally broke the kiss. He lifted her to her feet, careful of her injured arm, and led her into the billet.
As soon as the door shut he reached down to cup Serenaâs face in both his hands. Speirs tilted her chin up and kissed her hard, feeling her body relax fully into him.
He traced his thumb over her plush bottom lip, savoring the softness of that familiar perfectly bowed pout. Something snapped into place between them at that moment, all the hesitation of the last several years dissolving away as his tongue slid delicately over the seam of Serenaâs lips. She kissed back, sucking his bottom lip and nipping it just hard enough to send a thrill of pain and pleasure down his spine. Speirsâ fingers found the hair at the base of her neck, gripping tightly to hold her head back, exposing the elegant curve of her throat.
Serena was breathless, completely lost to the tugging fingers tangled in her hair and the press of warm lips to the column of her throat as pleasure and anticipation coursed through her veins,
âI love you, Serena.â He whispered in her ear, his breath caressing the sensitive skin of her neck. âI think Iâve loved you since that summer you turned 15.â
She pulled back, looking up at him with wide, searching eyes.
âThatâs the first time youâve ever said it.â
His brows knit together as he thought back to all the times it had been right there on the tip of his tongue, so obvious in the way his whole being lit up when she was around. But he never dared to give that feeling a name until now.
A lazy smile curved Serenaâs lips and she leaned in close to him. âSay it again.â
âI love you, Serena.â He rumbled.
âI love you too.â She sighed as he captured her lips in another searing kiss.
Speirs guided her to the far side of the bed, insisting that he sleep between her and the door. Serena agreed without argument, finally surrendering the exhaustion from the past few days. She sank into the warmth of his chest, listening to the even thrum of his heartbeat. His fingers danced over the gentle ridge of her collarbone and down the smooth skin of her arm, trying his best to avoid the bandages.
âWhere were you before this?â He asked quietly.
âHere, in France.â She replied, not elaborating any further.
âWill they send you back?â The thought of her being sent back behind enemy lines made his chest clench painfully. He understood the value of her work, the vital role that agents like her played in the war and the edge they provided to the allied forces. But the urge to put her on the next ship to the states was nearly insurmountable.
âYes.â She replied. He could hear the resolve in her voice.
She huffed a wry laugh. âYou know I canât tell you.â
âI have to know youâre safe,â the edge of desperation ringing in his voice.
She didnât respond for a while, focusing instead on the steady beat of his heart reverberating behind his ribs. Memorizing the rhythm of him.
âWe always find our way back to one another don't we?â She murmured.
He couldn't tell if she sounded hopeful or defeated.
âI guess we do.â He murmured, pulling her closer and soaking in the feel of her in his arms.
It was quiet for a long time after, neither willing to shatter the fragile peace that had settled between them.
Speirs woke the next morning to the first tepid rays of sunlight, stretching his arm out to find nothing but cool sheets beside him.
His pulse spiked as he sat up, quickly searching the room. He was alone.
He flung the wool blanket from his legs and noticed the small folded paper flutter to the floor. He picked it up and unfolded it carefully, reading her neat handwriting.
âFind your way back to me. I love youâ
Paris, France - Christmas Eve 1945
The Taxi pulled away and he was left in front of the large limestone building. Warm golden light spilled from the windows onto the street, beckoning him inside and illuminating the placard above the main doors. â17 Rue De Saint Germainâ
He nearly ran up the steps, eyes scanning the polished wood doors until he found the one marked with a brass 4.
He knocked on the door as gently as he could manage, heart beating in his throat. Heâd thought of nothing but this moment for so long. Her words from that note had pulled him through countless miserable nights.
âFind your way back to me.â
Heâd found his way. He survived a war and pulled every string until he managed to track her down to this apartment. It occurred to him as he waited at the door that he never thought of what heâd say to her when he found her.
The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow but there was no sound from behind the door. He knocked again, listening for any movement on the other side.
Icy dread seeped through his veins. The secretary had said it was her last known address. What if sheâd left? Gone back to the States maybe? What if she was never here at all?
Footsteps sounded and the metallic thump of a lock turning pulled him from his thoughts as the door on the other side of the stairs opened and a young woman stepped out.
âBonjour madame.â Spiers called out, getting the young womanâs attention.
âBonjour.â She replied, smiling kindly at him.
âDo you know who lives here?â He asked, pointing to apartment 4.
The womanâs brow furrowed in confusion. He racked his memory for the rudimentary phrases he remembered from his time in Normandy and Mourmelon-le-Grand.
âTu les connais?â He fumbled over the words and pointed back to the door.
Relief flooded through him at the sound of her name. She was here. He found her.
âSheâs at the cathedral.â The woman added in broken English âfor herâŠâ the woman searched for the word. âHer husbandâ
Spiers felt the air rush out of his lungs as the words landed like a blow to the ribs. The relief he felt moments before now souring in his gut.
âI see.â He backed away from the door, his feet moving on their own accord toward the staircase. âMerci.â
âJoyeux NoĂ«l, monsieur!â The girl called cheerfully down the hall but he hardly heard her over the pounding blood in his ears and his heavy footfalls on the stone steps; hollow and defeated.
He felt⊠numb. That was the only word that came remotely close to describing the wretched hollowed out feeling. Not a comfortable numb like morphine. No, this was the kind of numb that felt like being exposed to the bitter cold for far too long. Burning and aching before finally settling into a dangerous numbness that if allowed to go on, would prove fatal.
Serena was alive. She was safe here in Paris. That should be enough for him; but it did absolutely nothing to soothe the crushing weight of loss in his chest.
A frosty chill swept up the staircase as the front doors opened and a woman hurried in from the cold, her arms balancing several wrapped packages as she searched through her handbag.
âJoyeux NoĂ«lâ she greeted softly as they passed one another at the bottom of the steps.
A jolt of recognition shot through him. Heâd know that voice anywhere.
âSerena?!â He turned to face her on the steps.
The woman lifted her head and a familiar pair of jade eyes met his. It was relief and heartbreak all in the same breath.
The packages tumbled to the floor as she stood frozen on the second step.
Without a word she bounded across the entryway and threw herself at him. His arms caught her easily and he held her tight against him.
He pressed his face into her blonde curls and filled his lungs with the soft scent of her; sweet jasmine perfume and something warm that was decidedly Serena. His grip tightened as he felt the tremble of her body and a shuddered sob slipped past her lips.
âItâs really you. Youâre here.â Her voice trembled as she ran her hands over his shoulders, over his chest and arms like she was making sure he was solid and not an apparition.
âYou just disappeared Serena. I didnât know if you⊠if you were-â he rasped, throat raw with the pent up agony of nearly a year of wondering where she was or if she was even alive. Even in his darkest days, heâd held on to his promise to her; he swore it had saved him more than once. During his run across Foy all he thought of was her smile, her eyes, and the way she felt in his arms.
And here they were; she was finally back in his arms where she belonged.
Except she wasnât his. Not anymore. Icy dread lanced through him as he remembered her neighbor's words.
She had been at the cathedral with her husband. His dread tangled with the acrid flare of anger; she told him to find her but sheâd moved on before he even had the chance. The dark irony wasnât lost on him that for the second time, he was too late.
He took a step back from her despite the ache in his limbs and the voice in his head screaming at him to fight for her and never let her go again.
âI- um I just needed to see you again Serena. Just needed to see that you were ok. Itâs so good to see youâre doing well.â He said stiffly, forcing the ghost of a smile onto his face.
Her brow pinched in confusion at the sudden strained distance between them.
He cleared his throat of the rough emotion threatening to strangle him. âI wonât keep you, you probably need to get back to your husband. Congratulations by the way.â He was rambling. It was so unlike him but he couldnât seem to make it stop.
Heâd led men through enemy fire, through artillery strikes, and suffered the frozen hell that was Bastogne all without hesitation. Nothing rattled him quite like her presence.
She took a step forward, reaching for him as he edged toward the door.
âRon, What the hell are you talking about?â
âYour neighbor said you were out with your husband; to the cathedral for the candlelight vigil or something.â He stumbled through his explanation.
Her husband. The word felt bitter and wrong on his tongue.
âWhat?! No, I told her-â Serena shook her head in disbelief as it slowly dawned on her what was happening.
âI should go.â He cut her off, turning quickly for the door.
He grabbed the handle to the large ornate doors but her delicate fingers caught his wrist before he could open it. He swore his heart halted in his chest as she gently guided him back to face her.
Her eyes shimmered with tears waiting to spill over as she searched his face, begging him to stay.
War was hell, but this was the worst sort of torture. He had to get out of here.
âRonâ Her voice was soft and careful as her hands gripped his arms. Even through the thick wool of his coat, her warmth felt like the only thing tethering him to the present.
âIâm not married.â she emphasized each word, holding his gaze intently. âI light those candles at the Cathedral for you.â
He was certain heâd stopped breathing. The room spun briefly and the warm, light feeling bloomed in his chest again.
âI must have lit a thousand of them in every city I was sent to during the war, but I ask for the same thing every time.â A single tear spilled down her cheek. âFor you to find your way back to me.â
He scooped her into his arms and claiming her lips in a slow, deep kiss. He held her there, kissing her with growing need until they were both breathless.
âI love you Serena.â he panted as he tipped her chin up. Her kiss bitten lips curved into a dazzling smile as another glittering tear slid down her cheek.
âI love you too.â she laughed wetly, âI knew youâd come back to me.â
He was still thousands of miles from Boston, but for the first time since the war began, he was home for Christmas.