On a Wing and a Prayer

Memories

December 1943, Thorpe Abbotts, England

Hugh lay sprawled across his cot, legs dangling over the side and he swung them repeatedly, knocking Rosie's leg with each swing.
The dark haired man had sighed disgruntledly at first, glaring at his fellow pilot who seemed oblivious to his actions and read over a letter over and over. It wasn't until an hour later when Harry entered the hut that Rosie decided to let his annoyance be known.
"For heaven's sake, will you stop it with the leg swinging? There's more of a draft in here than when I'm in the air," Rosie huffed, standing from his cot and moving to sit with Harry on the opposite side of the room.
"What?" Hugh asked, turning his head, pencil between his teeth as he gawked at Rosie. "What are you on about?"
Harry's chuckle interrupted Rosie's next complaint, "What are you reading, Hugh?" He gestured to the crumpled piece of paper in Hugh's right hand.
"Oh, this?" Hugh glanced down, his dark eyes trailing over his scrawling handwriting, "It's nothing." He sighed, rubbing his thumb over his sister's name written at the top of the page.
He'd received a letter from his parents that morning and despite a few questions regarding his own well being, they mainly spoke about Hope. Despite both the Armstrong siblings being very different in character they got along far better with each other than their own parents.
Hugh remembered the long summer days back home when they would sprawl out in the field of wildflowers behind their house, or paddling in the river that ran along the base of the hill, or the long evening spent in the hayloft, laughing or reading in comfortable silence. Hugh missed the simplicity of those days with all his heart.
He'd sent Hope a letter last week, it was brief because he wasn't sure what to say. The relief of knowing that his sister was in fact alive and okay despite everything had been the greatest relief. Although he couldn't imagine what she must have been going through, he knew his sister and he knew nothing could truly break her.
As he stared off into space, Hugh didn't notice Rosie and Harry standing behind him, reading the letter over his shoulder.
"How's Hope?" Harry asked, glancing anxiously at Rosie as they both shared the same look. They too had been relieved to learn that both nurses and Frank were alive, having seen how heartbroken Hugh had been after the terrible news they weren't sure how much more he could take.
"She's fine," Hugh mumbled, closing the letter he'd received from his sister. It was dated from last month and despite knowing that she had been 'alright' then, he couldn't help the anxious feeling that built in his stomach at the uncertainty of her current state.
Rosie, sensing the anxiety building in the room coughed loudly, "Well Gentlemen, shouldn't we be heading off, I don't really want to spend my 48 hour pass sitting around here with you sad sacs."
Both men chuckled at Rosie's eagerness. He'd managed to convince his two friends to join him at a jazz club in London and they had willingly obliged.
Hugh stood, grabbing his cap and jacket from their hanger on the wall. "Will there be women at this club?" He lit up a cigarette, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
Rosie rolled his eyes, "Yes Casanova, there will be women there." He shoved Hugh lightly, sending him tripping out of the door.
"Alright, I was only asking."
Harry grinned, watching the two men spar playfully.
"I'm telling you, Croz. You should have seen him at the flak house. Couldn't keep his eyes off anything with a pair of legs," Rosie dodged Hugh's hand coming up to hit the back of his head. "I'm just saying, think he could do with some female company."
Harry nodded, quickly grabbing Hugh's arm before the play fight could turn into anything more, "Come on you two bachelors, let's find you some ladies."
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December 1943, Stalag Luft III, Germany

Hope sat in silence, reading her brother's words carefully. She couldn't believe that she finally had a letter from him, despite being a considerable few weeks out of date, just knowing that he was thinking of her made everything a little more bearable.
She clutched the page close to her chest, blinking back the tears that seemed determined to fall. Hugh had been a constant throughout her whole life, and while she was grateful he didn't have to suffer as they did, she missed him dearly.
Rolling over on her small cot, she tugged the rough, wool blanket up to her shoulders, shivering beneath the thin material. Her eyes fell upon the other sleeping forms around the room, nestled in silence other than the soft snores from Frank.
Hope's eyes felt heavy as they fell on Ruth, her light hair tousled and her mouth slightly ajar as she slept peacefully in John's arms. A deep sadness fell over Hope, a heaviness that had weighed her down ever since John's arrival and it seemed to weigh even heavier now.
Rolling over, she muffled a quiet sniff in her pillow, concealing her grief from the otherwise peaceful room. The picture of Gale and Hugh that remained by her bedside smiled back at her, their wide grins had encouraged her to drag herself out of bed each morning, and it bought comfort on nights like these. The image brought back memories from the party all those months ago: the lights, the music, the laughter, Gale's lips against hers...
Hope pressed her eyes firmly closed, squeezing them tightly as the silent tears escaped down her reddened cheeks. For now she only had her memories and they would have to be enough.