𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐩𝐞 - j.egan [masters of the air]

∣ 017; r a d i o

. *. ⋆

It turns out that there were actually sick men this time; Eloise was stuck caring for them and forced to do her other tasks for four entire days. She was completely and utterly drained, her head pounding and her moves sluggish as she stumbled back to the barrack late at night, one of the soldiers gripping her tightly by the arm to keep her up.

Upon arrival, it was obvious that none of the boys were asleep. They were well awake, though they were in their beds— their loud whispers made it quite obvious.

The soldier threw open the door and merely shoved Eloise inside before shutting the door behind her.

Stumbling into her barrack, Heath was the first to shoot out of his bed, his strides quick as he stabled Eloise by her shoulders, bending at the knees just a bit to look at her face, but the darkness of the room would make it near impossible.

"Where have you been?"

"Turns out there really were sick guys," Eloise said, her voice weak— it was shaky, and her voice was raspy, one of the reasons being that she was on the verge of breaking down into tears. She swallowed, blinking her eyes tight together, "Can you help me to my bed? I can't see a damn thing," she laughed at the end, an attempt to ease the tense environment, but the sound was watery, only making the room feel more tense than before.

"What happened?"

It was Walter who asked— he was sitting up in his bed, feet on the ground, prepared to stand if needed.

"I'm just tired, is all," Eloise shrugged off. Again, she forced a laugh, this one more stable than the last. "Barely got any sleep. Who knew soldiers could be so needy?"

Louis frowned, "Are you okay?"

"Mhm."

"You sure?" Andrew said, leaning over his bunk to look at her. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Mhm," she nodded, a shake to the confirmation. "Heath, help me, will you? I'm tired."

"Okay, yeah— sorry."

He stepped forward, gently grabbing her upper arm and leading her to the bunk— as usual, he gave her a boost, allowing her to reach the top mattress, her body making contact with the thin cushion, a small grunt leaving her lips at the impact.

She slowly got herself situated, her back turned towards the four boys.

Eloise's hands gripped the thin blanket material, tugging it over her shoulders as her body melded with the mattress beneath her, drowning out her urge to cry.

Her arms held onto her pillow, hugging it to her face, which she had entirely hidden in the cushion— her knees curled up to her body, touching her abdomen which ached with a dull soreness— she shivered uncontrollably, her eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to pretend that she was back at Thorpe Abbots in her bed.

She attempted to pretend she was back in London with John Egan sleeping comfortably at her side.

She fell asleep at the thought, hopeless dreams making way to her mind, successfully combating the horrors she had to endure while at the prisoner of war camp— her dreams, for once, successfully shifted her mind from the known fact that she was going to die in this camp or while trying to escape it.

. *. ⋆

June 6th, 1944– D-Day. The invasion of Normandy, France.

It brought a glimmer of hope to the small group of five living in Stalag Luft I.

That same day, June 6th, they had successfully finished their radio— they had heard of the news through the device, their hearts racing as Louis repeated the words of the man as he listened, slipping over the copied words as a pure, unalloyed form of relief tainted the tone of his voice.