Hi everyone - my first drabble actually up here... I promise I'll get to commenting on everyone's work soon! *is a very bad mod*
Rating: R for thematic material.
Summary: Meditation on a relationship between two characters in my original historical novel RAF.
Arthur Fairbanks, captured RAF pilot, struggles to survive the horror that is Buchenwald... with unexpected help. (A previous version of this drabble has been posted elsewhere...)
He is not sure what he has done to deserve hope in this hell.
His world has been turned upside-down in many ways since the bullets screamed through his cockpit (he wishes now that they had destroyed him instead of just metal), but this is still the most earth-shattering moment of all – when he is laughing and joking with his enemy. It takes a while for his mind to wrap itself around this, but when it does it is accepted completely, as though life (or what now passes for life) had never been without it.
Somehow the black and goose-stepping uniforms of his captors are no longer as nauseating, no longer force him to choke against the razor-wire fence when they come for him, because he knows that there is one who wears it who cares. And when that one comes to his side to tend to his new round of bruises, slip a mauled and censored letter into his pocket, or simply offer him a cigarette in silence – then it is perhaps just a little – a little – a little bit easier to forget who and where he is.
And there is certainly enough to forget. He is desperate for it. He prays for it, even though he hasn’t prayed properly since he forgot his childhood. If ‘forgetting’ gets confused with ‘death,’ he really wouldn’t mind. Death was just a minor inconvenience in here.
He only hopes that if he gets another chance at the world outside, he won’t consign those few moments of pinpricked light and a shared cigarette to oblivion as well.FIN