𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐩𝐞 - j.egan [masters of the air]

∣ 005; i c e w a t e r

. *. ⋆

A smile— rather unusual, Eloise thought— laced John Egan's features as he stared down at her. It was odd to see him smile during a time like this, just after one of the most brutal bombings Eloise had seen in a long time, perhaps ever.

But, that didn't stop him and the stupid smile that took over his face as he looked to Buck, nudging his side with his elbow.

"I told you she'd call me Bucky eventually," he boasted. He turned back to Eloise after Buck waved him off, walking over to the other men of his B-17. "You called me Bucky."

"It's just a nickname."

"That you refused to call me for a whole month."

"Yeah, yeah— whatever. Look, can you get me down to the other guys? There's other injured people I'm assuming."

Bucky nodded, the grin still on his face, "Yep— Buck! C'mon, I'm drivin' you and El down to the others!"

Eloise frowned, giving him a look, "El?"

"What? You don't like it?"

"Not really, no."

"It's staying— Buck!"

The blonde huffed, nodding to the men as he walked back over to Eloise and Bucky, walking past them toward the jeep. Eloise and John followed him, the two almost shoulder-to-shoulder as Bucky placed his hat back on his head.

"How many of us made it?"

"11 out of 21," Egan answered. "What about Claytor? Any chutes?"

Buck shook his head, "I... I uh, didn't see any."

Bucky looked down, then up to Eloise, "Did you see any?"

Eloise nodded, running a hand along her pants to try and rid the blood stains, though she knew it wouldn't do any good, "Hm? Oh— yeah, I saw a few. Not all ten. But some."

"Okay," he murmured, before asking, "Curt?"

Buck swallowed, shaking his head, "I don't know."

"El?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know either."

Seeing the looks on their faces, John sighed, "Yeah, well, knowing Biddick, he's probably sippin' on a bottle of Schnapps right about now."

He paused, looking over the face of Buck, before taking in the expression of Eloise's as she gazed behind her at the sun.

"We're gonna' get through this. Come on, you needa start believin' that."

Bucky barely moved, but nodded, his face holding the horrors of what he just witnessed. He attempted to compose himself, placing his hand on John's shoulder and letting it slide off as he walked away, "Sure, Bucky."

They watched his retreating figure, seeing as he stopped a few feet away from them, hands in his pockets, gazing at the setting sun.

"You believe it, don't you, El? We're gonna make it."

Eloise was silent for a moment. She shook her head, a dry laugh escaping her lips, her gaze returning to the setting sun, "I sure hope you're right, Bucky."

. *. ⋆

It was late in the afternoon of August 18th, almost 24 hours after the Regensburg mission. The other troops from those stationed in Algeria hadn't come for them yet like they had all been informed would happen, which put a damper on the mood.

Of course, the fact they were alive helped liven up the place.

It was hot as hell, though.

Eloise was sweating immensely, her hair tied up as she tended to the wounded in front of her.