Per Ardua Ad Astra // G. Lee

I

A/N: This is basically just to satisfy my obsession with the RAF. Please enjoy, don't forget to comment and vote! 

Wing Commander Gwilym Lee walked into the village pub and sat down at one of the tables near the door. He and some of the other officers of his Squadron had a rare night off, and they were going to spend it getting as drunk as possible without getting an official reprimand. Gwilym knew his limits, of course. He'd joined the RAF at 18 and had learned his way around drinking in the force the hard way. Now, as the most senior officer out that night, he knew he had to be the responsible one. He was pulled from his daydreams by some of the younger officers sitting down at his table, drinks in hand. He thanked them, and took a sip from his pint. He had no idea which beer the boys had bought him, but he liked it. He looked over to the bar to see what beers they had on offer, and then his eyes met hers. He stopped breathing for a moment. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but it was more than that. She was smiling, laughing with her patrons, but she had sad eyes. Eyes that told him there was something more to her than just a pub landlady. He didn't know how long they were there, eyes locked. It was her that pulled away first, startled from her daze by an irritated man trying to get served. It was a few more seconds before Gwilym was pulled from his.

"Just ask her out, sir" one of his junior officers said. Gwilym said nothing, he just gave the younger man a stern look.

She was on Gwilym's mind for the rest of the night. As he sipped his pint, he could only think of her. He wondered what made her so sad, he wondered why she ran a pub in a small village, when she could probably have a better career. He wondered what was keeping her in such a small place, when she deserved the world. Maybe he could show her the world.

The other officers kept badgering him, egging him on, telling him he should just ask her out. It wasn't that simple, of course. His career in the RAF was his life, and he knew that whoever he dated and eventually married would have to understand that. He would go wherever the force took him. Maybe she would understand, as far as he knew, that pub hadn't changed hands in the nearly 20 years he'd been at the base on the outskirts of the village. He was sure he'd probably been in there before, seen her before, but this time was different for some reason. He knew he needed to talk to her before the night was over.

As last orders was called, Gwilym knew this was his final moment. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was walking towards the bar. He caught her eye and smiled.

"What can I get you, Wing Commander?" She asked, walking towards him. He was immediately impressed. She knew her RAF rank insignia.

"Your phone number" He found himself saying, with a smile. She grinned back and grabbed the pen that was in her hair and a napkin from the bar. She scribbled her number on it and gave it to him with a smile.

"I hope to see you again, Wing Commander..." she trailed off, realising she didn't know his name.

"Lee. Gwilym Lee, Miss?" he asked.

"Margaret Coleman" She replied. He quickly rested his hand on hers, before he turned on his heel and walked out the door, grinning like an idiot.

The next morning, Margaret was woken by her phone vibrating on her bedside table. She picked it up to see a text from an unknown number:

'Dinner tonight? Wg Cdr Lee x'

She smiled widely as she quickly fired off a reply.

'If I can get someone to cover the pub, you're on. Margaret x'

This made Gwilym smile very widely indeed, prompting some funny looks from the other officers in the mess. He couldn't wait until that evening.

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