Things We Lost in the Fire

[simplememes]

Mutual Healing Shipping Meme

Healing doesn't come quickly, whether the need comes from physical or mental wounds. But you're trying regain your strength - and yourself. People, as a general rule, are kind, or at least not outright inflammatory to you, it seems. Still, you just can't connect with them. No matter how nice, how caring, they don't understand. They've never experienced anything like what you've gone through, or they're not like you in a way that lets them see what you still go through; they have no frame of reference. Sure, they have sympathy, but it's not the same. So there's no real connection, despite any friendliness. It's so easy, then, to feel detached... ...until you meet them, in this place of both death and healing. They may not have been through the exact same struggles, they may not be exactly the same as you, but they know what darkness is light. How they handle this fact may be better or worse than how you do, yet you can see yourself in their actions. And for once? There's connection; more than that, too. Slowly, you can feel yourself opening up towards them, and then, falling for them. Is this something your used to? Will you fight your feelings, or will you jump at the opportunity to be with someone who can begin to get you? You may have little choice in the matter, as your instincts may just reach out to be with whatever compatible contact you can get. That's better, in the long run, though. Who else could have wounds like yours? Essentially, it's what it says: a "romance," in the loose definition, or "shipping" meme for characters who have been through the wringer or have hangups. Reply with your character, preferences, and any info you want to include. Remember, the more information, the more taggable you are. Respond to others. Thread.

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[utselet]

It will take more than an accent, she knows -- her whole life is changing now -- but the rich sound of his laughter makes her smile all the more, so she purrs: "Aye, Tommy Shelby."

She folds her hands atop his chest and lays her chin atop them, so she can lie against him again while still looking at him. "Your family..." She hedges. They must know something, to know he's been staying here. Do they know he plans to show up with a woman -- an alien, a war prisoner, to say nothing of whatever else she's been -- in tow? If he hadn't been sure she would be coming along? "How much have you told them?"

[bleak_midwinter]

He cards his hands through her hair, getting his fingers tangled in her dark curls. He's not thinking of anything before she asks him that, just of the softness of her skin, the pretty flush of her cheeks.

"I told 'em we met in the first camp, that we fell in love there and continued doing so when I was transported to the next one. I've told them you're a nurse, and that you're brave and that I love you."

[utselet]

Her eyes flicker at nurse, but she can't blame him for saying it. It's certainly the easiest version of her story to tell, even if it's also the least true. It's not enough to make her smile falter.

"I want to see those letters," she half-teases. "When we get there. So I know what they're really expecting of me."

[bleak_midwinter]

"We'll tell them later, together. Say it wasn't safe to write anything else." He tucks some hair behind her ear and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"You won't have to lie. I promise."

[utselet]

This time, her smile does fade a little. "Tell them what?" she asks softly, sitting up.

"That I was a spy?" That would be one thing, but-- "That they made me spy on you and your friends?" She swallows, her throat tightening. She looks down, picking at the blanket. "Or should we all talk about what happened after you left?"

[bleak_midwinter]

His own smile disappears completely, feeling slightly whiplashed. He sits up as well, puts a gentle hand on her jaw to get her to look back at him.

"I meant that you were a spy. The rest of it- that's our business, Nina. Please- trust me? I'm not trying to hurt you."

[utselet]

She shakes her head, though she leans into the touch, closing her eyes.

"You don't think they'll want to ask more once we tell them that? Spying -- so exciting, so interesting. That was why I chose it. Nursing is... typical. No one will ask about it." No one ever has before, anyway.

[bleak_midwinter]

He bumps his forehead against hers. "We won't tell them if you don't want to. But I thought you'd like to be honest with them. They're family, now."

[utselet]

She blinks her eyes open and looks up into his at that, her own wide. That's a big jump to make -- she loves him absolutely, has every intention of going home with him, but there's still a lot between this and becoming a part of a family she's never met.

Like... meeting them, for one thing.

"I--" she stumbles, unusually, caught off-guard. "I'm not even sure what I'll tell my family yet," she manages.

[bleak_midwinter]

"Would- Do you need to think about that, first?"

He draws back a little, frowning, his hand still on her jaw.

[utselet]

"Assuming they're alive?" Which she doesn't, not really, and although she keeps her tone relatively mild, there's a telltale waver at the end that belies her lack of faith.

But if they are... "Then-- yes, I don't think I should tell your family anything I wouldn't tell my own."

[bleak_midwinter]

"Good," he says, nodding once and then pressing a kiss to the corner of her eye. "It's your story to tell, love. I won't tell them anything you don't want to."

[utselet]

"Thank you," she murmurs, closing her eyes, though she still manages to look a little nonplussed. "I'll... We can work on it. What to say." Even if they tell them the truth, that doesn't mean it won't require a little crafting. She's not sure how they -- how anyone -- would take it, unvarnished.

She wraps herself around him again, settling back down. "When do you want to leave?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"It depends on you," he admits, going back to stroking her hair, glad for the change in subject. "Do you want to keep travelling and then stop, or take a breather, go on after?"

[utselet]

"Mm..." She hums, considering. "Do we have the money to stay here for a while? Just the two of us?" Because suddenly, it's seeming like his family is going to be rather involved, and while she thinks she can learn to adapt to that as much as she has to everything else, she'd like some alone time first.

"We can make sure we still like each other," she teases gently, kissing his shoulder.

[bleak_midwinter]

He huffs out a soft laugh, trailing his fingers over the gentle knobs of her spine, feeling her skin warm underneath the fabric of her dress.

"We do. I could pick up a few odd jobs, extend our stay when we're not ready to leave yet, eh? Make sure you really know for sure how much you like me."

[utselet]

She shivers at the brush of his fingers, shifting against the touch, though not away. Her skin is no longer bare underneath the way it used to be -- she had used to wear nothing at all under her dress when she went to meet him, and now he can feel the slide of a satiny slip beneath the fabric -- but she can feel his hands just as well, and her skin is no less warm now than it used to be.

"I like you right now," she says softly, looking up to catch his warm, tender gaze. She smiles and leans up to kiss him again, with just a little more intent in it this time. "I almost forgot how handsome you are."

[bleak_midwinter]

"Pity your cousin couldn't include a photograph, then," he murmurs, twitching a smile up at her. "You should see me in me dress uniform, love."

[utselet]

"Ooh." She grins. "And when do I get to see that?"

She tugs lightly at his shirt, then tells him, sincerely: "You should see me in a proper dress. With my hair done."

[bleak_midwinter]

"Let me take you out tomorrow," he says, suddenly, reaching up to cup her cheek again. "We can buy you a dress, and we'll find a place to dance. Eh?"

[utselet]

She blinks, then brightens all at once, beaming. "Dancing," she echoes. How easy a thing to forget: that they can go dancing now. "I didn't think I'd ever go dancing again," she murmurs, but happily, gratefully.

"What kind of dancing do you do?" she asks, just as suddenly climbing out of the bed, reaching a hand out to him. "Come. We'll practice. We're both..." She hesitates briefly over the word, then decides on: "...rusty, yes?"

[bleak_midwinter]

He laughs, delighted at her sudden spirit, her sudden need to stand up and do something. She's been locked up so long- he understands that feeling very well. He lets himself be tugged, still laughing as he puts a hand on her waist and holds out his hand for her to fold hers into.

"Very rusty," he agrees. "I'll need hours of practice, I'd say. Here-" He starts humming something, something upbeat but not so upbeat that he'll have to swing her around- there simply isn't enough space in the little room for that.

[utselet]

She is, of course, a natural. It's clear that she wasn't lying about having once been a dancer, but she's so light on her feet that it hardly even seems to matter, as if she must have been out on the floor and in the spotlight from day one. She is a little rusty, but only in her mind -- she forgets steps here and there. Her feet and her body know how to compensate, and though she wavers at times, she never stumbles.

As it becomes easier still and starts to require less concentration, she lets herself relax into it, lets her mind go clear so she can just feel all the joy and the sense of freedom that's been bubbling up in her ever since she saw him at the station. It's broad daylight -- or starting to shadow a little, now -- and they're dancing, could dance for hours if they wanted to, will put on pretty clothes and go out to dance amidst other people tomorrow, and there's not a damn thing anyone can or will do about it. She feels like she could dance for hours sustained by the power of that one thought alone.

[bleak_midwinter]

Tommy is less of a natural, but he's a young man who grew up with the idea that dancing is the ideal way to court women. He's relatively light on his feet, stumbles once or twice but his grip on her hand is firm and he leads with confidence.

It's amazing. He hasn't felt this happy and light in years, not since before the war. He wants to tell her every thought in his head and wants to listen to every thought in hers- he wants to swing her by the waist and tell the world that they belong to each other, and he wants to stay with her in this room forever.

Eventually he gets tired, and he puts a hand between her shoulder blades and gives her just the slightest dip as the corners of his eyes crinkle with laughter.

[utselet]

"Oh--" she lets out a tiny sound of surprise, but she laughs and lets herself be dipped, arching gracefully into it. She wraps her arms around his shoulders as she comes back up, still beaming. She could honestly keep dancing for ages, even now, but she can sense that he's grown a little weary.

"What next, my darling?" she asks, pulling herself closer to kiss him very lightly. "Shall we sit? Shall we eat? You could show me nighttime in Strasbourg."