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Red. The color stretched as far as her eyes could see.
Molly stepped out into the field of red. A shiver passed through her as the spring breeze touched the flowers at the hem of her white lace dress. They bent against her bare legs, brushing her skin with soft petals that felt like the touch of a million dead men. She swallowed and took another step. It was so quiet. All she could hear was the wind rustling through the field of poppies and her own pounding heart. The red flowers swayed to their own rhythm, dancing over the bodies they found root in. Molly could still see them when she closed her eyes, but the world had moved on. The valley was green again, returned to the purpose of agriculture and beauty for which it was designed. The ground however, was stained forever as though by divine appointment. The color red would never depart the green fields of France. Though the people might forget, the Earth never could after soaking up so much blood.
She walked, her hands outstretched so the poppies slipped through her fingertips, her dress making a slight furrow in the wildflowers. The ground sloped gently down and then back up and Molly could sense the old trench line under her feet. These weren’t natural hills, they were barrows. At the top of a steep grassy rise another field of white drew her eye. Hundreds of thousands of crosses overlooked the peaceful valley.
She wondered if hers was there.
It wouldn’t have her name on it, though there might be another further north that did. She doubted a simple signal woman would be afforded a military burial though. A twinge of guilt for the boy she’d exchanged places with pulled at her heart. The lad had deserved a proper soldier’s farewell. She had robbed him of that by taking the name Patrick O'Donoghue.
Molly sighed, glancing up at the cross laden hill and closed her eyes.
There was another cross up there she had yet to face. She felt his ring on its chain around her neck and it suddenly felt the heaviest burden she’d ever had to bear.
It was time. It was long past time.
She had mourned long enough.
Molly headed up the rise, tears already beading in the corner of her eyes.
Last Edit: Sept 28, 2013 15:41:33 GMT -5 by Deleted
The air around them seemed to still as Jullian watched Molly for a moment, not being able to resist the thought of how beautiful she looked even though he knew how mournful she actually was at that moment. Unlike him she could visit the remains and scars of the battles she had fought. His were at sea and couldn’t be placed PERFECTLY on a map like hers. Thing was as he stood there he was starting to feel that he could not help her, though he really wanted to. This was a need to be alone moment, and yet he felt some kind of connection was keeping that from happening, whether it be romantic or otherwise.
He shouldn’t be thinking any of this however. He had just met her and she was obviously still in pain over a past she could not forget no matter how hard she might try. She hadn’t told him exactly what had happened other than it had to do with the first global war that had taken place way after his time. That very fact seemed to boggle his mind and even more when she had explained the technology. He had seen better Tech now that he lived fully in 2008…but the very idea they had gotten to that point in such short of time was staggering.
With his mind going in every different direction because it couldn’t seem to figure out how to help Molly it took him a minute before he noticed her heading up towards a hill full of white crosses. They seemed to be marked in such a way that…..Jullians eyebrows raised in surprise then set into an understanding look. They were graves, she was looking for a specific one. He followed her, staying a bit behind her to make sure he didn’t mess with her thoughts or currently feelings but close enough so that she knew he was there for her if need be.
He was behind her. Ever since their first meeting she could feel his eyes on her. His flirtatious manner and his insatiable wit made her melt every time he looked her way. If she were honest, he made her feel more alive than she had in years, but she wasn't ready to be honest. She needed to do this alone, but somehow him walking a few meters behind gave her comfort. She needed comfort, especially today. She just wasn’t sure he would look at her the same way when she was done.
Molly stopped at the top of the rise and sighed. She turned her head to look back at him and tried her best to not look like she walked over her own grave. He didn’t know. He couldn’t possibly know. To him this place was just a memorial of events still long in his future.
Yet, he was here. He must have followed for her, and she was glad he had.
Her voice was barely a whisper.
“We didn’t have a cause like you. We weren’t fighting for freedom, or even territory. At least the second war had a purpose, but mine…they told us it would end war. It would be so bloody that humanity would sicken in its blood lust. They were wrong.”
She raised her head and surveyed the landscape, countless white crosses overlooking hills stained with blood.
“All of this, every hill, past the horizon for a thousand miles—scorched earth, barbed wire, and men hiding like rats in tunnels dug through the remains of their comrades—utterly pointless.”
Molly forced her feet forward again, walking along the perfect rows of mute witnesses to horror long past. There was probably few left living that had seen what she had, in this time anyway.
The stones were impeccably maintained, though the words were still worn down by time and the elements. It took a while to find what she was looking for, but when she did it hit her like a bullet.
Her knees squished into the damp grass and her tears flowed freely even with his eyes on her. She could barely bring herself to look up at the cross.
Duncan, James N. (Major) 2nd Cavalry, Ypres 1880-1914
“Hello, my love. “ Her voice cracked.
Molly leaned forward, slipping the chain with his ring over her head, and pressed her quivering lips to the cold granite.
At first Jullian ran forward as he watched Molly fall to her knees in tears before a cross. She seemed to know the one whose final resting place was now in front of her. The resting place of a soldier like she had been, someone who had fought in a pointless war but had died believing they were serving a great cause. He wanted think it was such a waist to die in such a way, but then he looked at Mollys reaction, the ring around her neck and how she pressed her lips to the grave. It hadn’t been pointless to her and as he reached her, standing over her with a hand resting on her shoulder he read the name on the stone cross and started to realize what he was seeing.
“Molly….I am….” The word sorry seemed so empty at that moment. No, he knew her pain, had seen Jennifer, the woman he had loved, die in battle as well. He knew better then to use simple words to show feeling of sorrow. So instead he sank down next to her and gathered her in his arms. No matter if she had feelings for him or not. Those things did not matter at this very moment. No, all that mattered was that he knew her pain and that he wished to show her this. He wanted her to realize that she was not alone in her struggle of pain and agony. Right now though, the stories of his own personal pain would not be enough, for now she needed to be here, and he as well. He needed to be here with her, helping her through a pain that none should ever live….in these fields of Red and white, he had to be her stone foundation so she did not fall into its pleasant callings.
His arms wrapped around her, his strength cradling her. She felt his fingertips in her hair and the base of her neck and lowered her face into the slope of his neck. Molly breathed in the heady mixture of leather and sea salt, letting her tears drip down to trail beneath his cotton blouse. He still dressed his era where she liked to explore fashion through time. His long leather coat seemed to envelope her in warmth, protecting her from death’s chill.
Whether it was appropriate to find such comfort at her husband’s grave didn’t seem to matter.
Molly found her own fingers wind tight into his hair as another round of sobs burst from her shaking form. She didn’t like to cry around others. She’d learned to harden herself in the army. After a while the waves of tears stopped coming, but she stayed wrapped in him for a moment longer, not wanting to ruin things with the inevitable explanation. She wasn’t sure she could get through the story.
Her fingers loosened on his hair as she slipped slowly away from his warmth. She let her arms flop almost useless around his shoulders and stopped, not daring to look up with raw eyes.
Jullian held her close, letting her latch onto him as she seemed to dissolve into emotions grasp. He could only imagine the things that were going through her mind as she let go of everything just then. The name seemed to burn from the white cross into his mind. The name of the man that Molly had once loved but now was dead; he would never forget this man, simply because this man had such an effect on her. For now though what mattered was her and the fact that she was now clutching him for support was deffinatly not lost to him at all. No, not at all, however it was not exactly appropriate to think about such things at that moment.
Instead he listened, allowing her to speak, but still stroking her hair softly to let her know that he was focusing completely on her. She was all that mattered at that moment. Her beauty, her pain, her words…all of it was all that mattered.
Molly leaned forward again, resting her head on his shoulder so she could look out across the expanse of stone crosses. There seemed no end to them, memorials of two wars. She took in a deep, cleansing breath, feeling him strong against her. His fingers running through her hair soothed her aching heart and relaxed her enough to tell her tale.
She poured her heart out to him, told him everything about James, how they met, losing him and the baby, the accusations that sent her running to the front, the name she stole from a dead boy, the battles she fought and their challenges, being swept away by the Doctor…her entire life, every hidden detail, she laid bare for him. He became her anchor as she surrendered herself to rest in his arms.
Jullian listened to Molly’s words with interest as she spoke of her past and the war and why she had even gone. It was all very odd to him at first when she tried to tell him about stealing the dead man’s name and look. For a Pirate gender didn’t matter, all that seemed to matter was influence and ability to fight when needed. Of course this wasn’t the case on land but it seemed to him the water showed more of a free look at life than those who controlled the land.
As she continued though he found himself drawn into more of the story of the times of pain and misfortune. She had said she had once been with child from this man. Should he feel a slight tinge of jealousy? No, certainly not. She not only wasn’t his but was also a women in pain at the loss that was still fresh in her mind. Yes he was holding her, yes she was clinging to him and not wanting to let go, but was this really the time to have such thoughts? No not at all!
“Your fresh pain does not seem to be something that needs to be kept in my dear. I think it would be better if you let it go as you are now and then let us go somewhere to make that pretty smile I have come to love replace the look of agony on your face.”
The pain was hardly fresh, she had kept it fresh--like preserving meat that had long since passed its use. Whenever she didn't think it hurt enough anymore she did something to drag it back to the surface.
Six years...
She stole a glance at her husband's grave and let a long sigh escape her lips and deflate her frame.
He would want her to be happy, not hold onto the sorrow. He would never have wanted her to hold onto pain.
Oh Jamie, I'm so sorry...
The Pirate was right, and as he spoke she felt her heart warming, like he breathed life into her. He'd been breathing life into her since their first meeting on that liner. It had just taken her this long to admit it to herself.
Molly swallowed the dryness in her throat caused by so many tears.
"I think..." her voice was raw. Molly turned her head back into the crook of his neck and drew in a deep breath. Leather and sea salt made her tremble but it also gave her strength.
Molly brushed her lips lightly over the stubble of his jawline as she pulled out of his embrace. It was more a thank you than a kiss, but it was all she could muster.
"I think I'd like that."
She stood quickly, her cheeks burning red against the cool spring air, and slipped the ring on its chain over the neck of the cross.
One step forward and James was behind her--though he'd always hold a piece of her heart.
Jullian found it a bit of a pleasant shock when Molly kissed his cheek. It was not unwelcomed of course but he was still surprised by the kiss while they still stood at her past husband’s grave marker. He watched however as she stood up quickly and slid a ring on a chain around the cross. Something was breaking from her. Was she letting go? Or turning in her back on the situation so she could move on? Either way he found himself drawn to help her threw it.
He stood up and fallowed her, waiting for a moment when he was next to her to offer his arm. She might still be in pain so he would take this slow. Offer his support to her and let her know he would be by her side threw anything.
Her heart raced and she felt sick. That ring had hung around her neck for so long that leaving it behind was like leaving a piece of herself.
Another step. She was dangerously close to bolting back for it, but then she'd have to face the grave again and she wasn't sure she'd survive another encounter, with or without Jullian to be there for her.
Things must end for there to be beginnings...or something like that. She'd dismissed the Doctor's saying as his usual tripe--but as usual he was right. It was still the hardest thing she'd ever done--and that included storming a bloody beachhead with a steamship and a stolen rifle.
She stopped and took in a deep breath, afraid that she would pass out from the panic she suddenly found herself in. Her fingers burrowed into her unrully red curls a moment while the world spun out of control.
Jullian stood at her side now, offering his arm as her anchor in the tempest of her thoughts. She tucked her curls behind her ear and let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. He waited for her to take his arm, like he knew how difficult this was for her. There was no pressure, just an offer of support,which she gladly took.
Molly slipped her hand around his arm and leaned against him as they walked back down the hill to the TARDIS. The sunset blazed off the wild flowers only this time she saw beauty and not blood.
They stood outside the familiar blue box they both called home just as the last of the sun's rays lit up the hillside. She tilted her head up from his shoulder to look at him with a slight curve of her lips.
"Somewhere far from here, preferably with a good pub."
Last Edit: Oct 9, 2013 19:24:45 GMT -5 by Deleted
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