Take Me Home

~4~

The sun was rising steadily above the ocean, the water shimmering and flashing. Sitting in the sand on the seashore, Axel let the waves rise up over his feet and fall back. The gentle waves were chilly as the weather continued getting colder and colder with each day. It was getting closer to winter. He wondered if he would be home by Christmas.

Axel stood up and wiped his sand hands off on the long sleeve shirt he wore. He glanced quickly down at his left sleeve, which hung loosely from his side, no arm to fill it.

Memories flooded his head, memories of Roger's weight on top of him as he sawed Axels arm off, the way he wrapped and carried Axel off. Roger's face, panic stricken, catching sight of the German pilot who was in their path. Axel fainting. Things going dark. Gunshots. Roger's still body and Axel staring down at the German Pilot, gun in his hand.

All of that was only a year ago. It felt like yesterday.

He blinked and the memories vanished. He was left sitting on the seashore with a heavy heart and narrowed eyes. Part of him wondered if he should have been the one to die instead of Roger.

Axel kneeled down and got on his knees, his right arm holding him up as he went down. Up. Down. Up. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5...

He had mastered the one handed pushup, something he hadn't been able to do previously when he had both arms. He could only do about 25 right now but that was enough for him. He depended completely on that right arm of his.

Getting up, he slicked his hair back with the ocean water and sweat that had formed. It wasn't as long as it used to be. He had let Freya trim it down. Now, it was only an inch or so atop his head. It brought memories back from boot camp.

Pushing off the sand, Axel broke into a run. Jogging across the beach, he let his mind go blank and focused on his breathing. Running with one arm was definitely unbalancing, but he had grown used to it.

Every morning Axel repeated this routine while Freya went off to work or made breakfast or went into town. He'd wake up, eat, run down to the beach, do some workouts, run back, and from there it all just depended on what there was to do.

He was determined to stay in shape. Because he didn't know what was in his future. He didn't know if he'd get to go home. He didn't know if his family was still alive. He didn't know if he would have to join the war again. He didn't know when trouble would come their way again.

Running a steady pace up the hill that led to the top of the cliffs, breathing heavily, he continued. Sweat ran down his body as he breathed in the cool air, spotting the barn and house in the distance. Upon running closer, he spotted Freya out in her mother's garden.

Her mother had passed away due to sickness, she had explained. Her garden was left to be grown over by weeds and rot away. Since early summer, Freya had taken it upon herself to begin to fix it. Axel smiled as he ran. She was healing from losing her parents. She was healing from losing her grandparents. He would often ask her questions to get her to talk about about. To reminisce. To laugh on her memories.

But Roger was mentioned and she went cold. She shut down.

Axel found it hard to relate to her. He hadn't lost anyone close yet. He didn't know about his family. So he stayed positive and hoped. Roger saved his life. But Axel wasn't ever close to him.

Running his hand through his hair again, his fingers brushed the scar from the hammer Roger had attacked Axel with.

Axel snickered. What a day that was.

He gained speed and finished his run in a sprint, running past Freya and the garden. Stopping, he breathed heavily and turned the hose on and drank some water before turning and walking over to the garden.

Freya was kneeling down in the middle of it, her hair tied back into a ponytail. Sweat gleamed off her face as she pulled weeds left and right, seeming to not care about the dirt that spattered onto her light blue dress. The color matched her eyes and Axel smiled a little.

Freya looked up and shook her head. "You're all sweaty. Are you going to shower?"

He shook his head and carefully picked his way through the garden, approaching her. His green eyes landed on a little green plant. He leaned down and touched it.

"What is-"

"Mint. It's mint. Try it." Freya spoke up.

He hummed and tore a leaf off and placed it in his mouth, the flavor strong and reminding him of candy canes.

"Good. I like it." He said and stepped over it to reach Freya. He crouched down near her and saw her plucking weeds from the earth.

"How was your run?"

"Good."

"Good. I work another night shift tonight. So I'll have to leave at 6." She turned to him. He nodded, looking down for a moment.

He didn't like that the Americans took such a fancy to her. And that they made it so obvious. It was almost as of they had no manners whatsoever.

He sighed and looked back at her. She was pulling the weeds and tossing them out. He reached forward and brushed dirt off of her cheek.

Freya glared at him, "Hey, dont touch me when you're all sweaty." But amusement lingered in her blue eyes as he reached forward again, attempting to hug her.

She squealed and stood, running out of the garden as he stood and with a laugh chased her. Axel slowed to a stop however whenever he caught sight of a truck driving toward the house.

He called out to Freya and she turned and looked at him, just as puzzled as he was. She jogged over to him.

"Go clean up. I'll be downstairs." Without waiting for him to reply, she had turned and walked toward the house.

Axel followed and ran upstairs, quickly changing into a white shirt and jeans. He brought a comb into his hair as he heard knocking on the front door. Walking back into the hall he saw Freya go to open the door.

"Wait." He called, trying to mask his German accent with what he thought sounded more Brittish. He jogged down the stairs, smiling at Freya before opening the door.

They were greeted with the sight of a girl.

Axel studied her. The only reason he could tell she was a girl was her red lipstick and figure. But she wore military regs, her hair tied back in a bun on her head and a hat on top. She was average sized and looked in shape. Muscular, almost. Her brown eyes stared at them both coolly.

Her name tag read Taylor.

The girl cleared her throat. "This is the home that holds the enemy German soldier that was stranded on this beach?" Axel took a moment to translate her words before he raised his eye brows and looked down at Freya.

Freya looked up at him in concern. She stared at her. "Who are you?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Please answer the question. I don't have much time to waste."

Axel hesitated. She had asked about him, but she had provided so much detail. How did she know how he got there? They had only told a few people about him washing up on the beach.

He shuddered at the memory.

Freya ventured further. "Taylor. Taylor. You have your wings. You're a pilot." Her blue eyes were intense with deep thinking.

Taylor grinned suddenly, her eyes wary. "Almost there. I was Aces wife. He may have mentioned me. If he didn't, well, here I am. We got married shortly before he was..." her eyes darkened. "Shot down."

Dennis Ace Taylor. The Pilot that had almost been able to fly them to Germany. The Pilot that Roger had connections with. Axel felt sadness rise in his chest as he remembered coming across Aces gravestone.

"Okay. Um. Nice to meet you." Axel replied hesitantly. He reached out and shook her hand and Freya did the same.

(Didn't finish but I'll go ahead and publish it.)