We'll Meet Again - USUK

Chapter 4

It happened so gradually that Arthur barely noticed it. It seemed that one day his pub fairly swarmed with American soldiers, and the next, the place was almost empty. Of course it had not been that sudden, but when Arthur looked around one sunny afternoon and noticed how few men in uniform were in the pub, he was shocked. Somewhere along the way he had become used to the Americans. And now that there were so few, he couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of sadness... and along with it the awareness of what this sudden emptiness implied. But that was too painful to think of.

Not a day had passed in the last week without Lieutenant Alfred Jones turning up at the bar, grinning cockily and proposing some new and exasperating way to waste Arthur's time. And of course he spent every night in the pub with Arthur, talking and laughing and grinning and winking and even bloody singing. But Arthur had done everything in his power to resist the blinding, magnetic, undeniable attraction the American held. There was no point being drawn in by Alfred's charms. Any way this mess ended, it was going to be bad. But that didn't mean that Arthur could stop himself from spending every moment he possibly could with the handsome, cheerful, bloody frustrating pilot.

And now Arthur stood behind the bar, mindlessly polishing the same glass he had held for the last twenty minutes, trying to convince himself that he was not waiting for a certain American fighter pilot to walk through the door this bright, sunny, endless afternoon. He risked a moment to turn away and place the glass in the case. Almost immediately he heard Alfred's voice behind him.

"Howdy sugar, are you rationed?"

Arthur spun around, smiled widely, then immediately tried to suppress his delight. "I beg your pardon? I've no idea what you're talking about." The smile quickly fell from his face at the look on Alfred's. It made Arthur feel suddenly ill. "Whatever's the matter?"

"Busy this afternoon, is it?" Alfred made an attempt at a grin, but his eyes weren't sparkling, and he didn't lean easily on the bar like he always did. He did not even ask for a bourbon. Arthur poured one anyway.

"Rather steady, I suppose... what's wrong?" Arthur refused to be driven off the subject.

Alfred hesitated. "Come have a drink with me." His eyes, his voice, his fidgeting hands - they all told Arthur that something was different. This was not a regular visit. Arthur nodded slowly, even as his stomach turned slowly cold.

"Very well. Take a seat and I shall be with you in a moment." Arthur turned and put away a few bottles, grabbed a cloth to wipe down the bar top, and tried unsuccessfully to quell the growing dread in his gut. Eventually when the bar top was sparkling clean and nothing remained to delay him, he headed over to the table by the second front window with a glass and a full bottle of rum to sustain him.

They sat in complete silence for a few minutes, tension building, until finally Alfred spoke. "Well, we're... we'll be heading out tomorrow." Alfred placed his glass down and looked into Arthur's eyes. Arthur looked away. Another silence.

"Where?" asked Arthur finally. He tried not to think. Tried not to feel.

"We're stationed somewhere in Italy. There's a landing planned at Anzi... Anza..." Alfred laughed humourlessly. "I can never remember those Italian names."

"Anzio," said Arthur, his body going numb. He tried to swallow. He had known this day was coming, but somehow he had thought they would have a little longer. He shook his head, trying to make sense of it. "That's sudden."

Alfred shrugged. He looked apologetic, his normally cheerful face disturbingly grave. "They don't give us much warning. We knew we were leaving soon though. It's not unexpected."

"I suppose not." Arthur looked past Alfred at the wall. He willed himself to focus on it. There were a few cracks. It would need to be repainted. The noise of the pub washed over him and turned to static in his head. When Alfred spoke it seemed to come from far away.