#karalis

You laugh, the sound brittle and humourless. “That’s really what you’re going to say to me? After almost a year apart?”

It’s not the longest you have been apart, of course. Multiple tours in Afghanistan, combined with being a specialist in Explosive Ordnance Disposal, and Will’s time has always been a premium; something to be competed for, not taken for granted. It’s not even the first time that the army has refused to give you details on where Will is, or what’s gone wrong – or if anything at all has happened to him. But it is the first time they’ve left you thinking he is dead.

You don’t stop moving until you reach the table, eyes flicking across the papers spread across it without really taking any of it in. You’ve already heard all about Karalis’ nature reserve. A lifelong dream? The thought makes you want to laugh. Your pulse is thundering too loudly in your ears for you to focus on anything else.

Weeks. Weeks of sitting, and waiting, and hoping, and uncertainty. Months of chasing rumours and dead ends and classified report after classified report. Nearly a year of military officials looking at you too closely, their suspicion not even thinly veiled, all the while refusing to tell you whether your husband is dead or alive, whether there are any pieces to send back to you or a random nobody is willing to pay.

You sweep the papers from the table, the faintest glint of satisfaction rising in your chest as glasses shatter on the hard packed earth beneath your feet. Will’s hand falls to your shoulder even as Karalis insists, “Will, it’s fine–”

This time, he doesn’t let your slap hit. His hand curls around yours, holding it with a stern gentleness that makes your knees want to buckle, tears creeping at the edges of your eyes. “They wouldn't even tell me you were missing at first. They told me they couldn’t confirm anything.”

He remains silent, watching you steadily with that blank, stony look he only ever seems to get as far as work is concerned. Anger rises like a tight and brittle ball in your chest, threatening to shatter and strike the sharp little pieces too deep to be retrieved. 

“What was I supposed to think, Will? You get the call to go in. A fucking bomb turns up on the news. It goes off. And suddenly, you’re nowhere to be found and nobody is talking?” You pull your hand free from his grip. Palms flat, you shove roughly at his chest. It’s not enough to make him even take a step back.

“Love–”

“Don’t you fucking love me, you complete and utter arsehole!”

Read the full fic on AO3.