Take Me Home. - Dunkirk - Alex - Harry Styles

Seven.

A deathly silence fell over the boat as everyone tried to process his words. Gibson, who was leaning against the ladder was staring at the rest of the men with wide, terrified eyes.

"Don't be daft," Tommy admonished, immediately sticking up for his friend.

"He's a fucking jerry."

"Alex!" Elizabeth snapped, making him look down at her.

"What? Haven't you noticed that he hasn't said a word? 'Cause I have. He don't speak English. If he does, it's with an accent thicker than sauerkraut sauce."

"You're daft," Tommy repeated, nudging Gibson's arm, "Tell 'im."

"Yeah, tell me, Gibson." Alex looked at his dog tags before taking one of the guns that the other men were holding, "Tell me!"

"Tell him for God's sake." Tommy pleaded and Elizabeth looked at Gibson, who was being pressed further into the ladder.

"Français," he finally whimpered, "Je suis Français."

Tommy stared at him in disbelief while she ran her hands through her hair, letting out a small sigh.

He wasn't German, no. But he had spent the last day lying to them all, letting them think that he was indeed a member of the British army.

But that didn't matter. Not to Elizabeth anyway. He was just a scared young man who wanted to get out of here like the rest of them.

"A frog? A bloody frog," Alex hissed, turning to look at the rest of them as he advanced on the poor young man, "A cowardly, little queue jumping frog."

"Alex, stop it!" Elizabeth yelled, finally deciding to step in between the two men, ignoring the gun that was inches from her face, "You don't get to decide who lives and dies here. That is not on you! Now back off!"

"He lied to us!" a man from the back said and she looked at them all.

"Yeah, maybe he did. But he was scared! Just like the rest of us."

"Who's Gibson, eh?" Alex asked, ignoring her, "Some naked, dead Englishman laying out on that sand? Did you even have the decency to bury him?"

"He did. I helped him, thought it was his mate."

"Maybe he killed him."

"He didn't kill anyone," Tommy shook his head, "How hard is it to find a dead Englishman on Dunkirk beach? He was just looking for a way off the sand like the rest of us."

There was another spray of gunfire aimed at the boat and Alex instinctively moved to shield Elizabeth but she pushed him away, still standing in between Tommy and Gibson.

"Will she still float?" one of the other soldiers asked the Dutch captain.

"Float? Yes. But with less weight..."

Alex turned his heated glance on Gibson again, "And we know who's getting off."

"He saved your life," Elizabeth said quietly, making him look at her, his gaze softening, "He saved all of us last night. Alex, he sticks his head out there and they'll slaughter him."

"Better him than me."

She didn't recognise the man in front of her. She was finding it hard to believe that this was the same man who held her earlier that morning, the same man who told her that had promised that they were going to get back to England.

"That's not fair," Tommy murmured, shaking his head.

"Survival's not fair."

"He saved our lives."