ii. THORPE ABBOTTS
Masters Of The Air
AMOR VINCIT OMNIA

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ENGLAND, 1943

|| AS THE CRACK OF DAWN BROKE THROUGH THE VEIL OF NIGHT—A MESMERIZING PALETTE OF COLORS PAINTED THE SKY. The ethereal glow of the sun's radiant hues clashed beautifully against the diminishing darkness. It was a delicate balance, displaying a stunning palette of oranges, pinks, and purples, as if the universe had drawn a fine line across the heavens.

High above the serene landscape, a squadron of aircraft soared gracefully. But not just any though, C-47's to be exact. Better known as the Grand Old Lady of the Skies or as the gooney bird because of their lumbering image. Many jokes aside, she was a mighty beast— two massive engines set on either side of the copilot and pilot. And was able to carry up to 6,000 pounds of cargo.

A formation of three C-47 planes soared through the sky, with no protection—moving in perfect synchrony with their tips aligned in an impeccable display of precision. The head C-47 stood proudly, flanked by two others, creating an awe-inspiring sight.

But it wasn't just their formation that caught the eye. The silver-green fuselage of the lead plane was adorned with a breathtaking work of art. A masterpiece known as "French Kiss" graced the nose of the aircraft, captivating anyone who laid eyes on it.

The artwork was truly a sight to behold. Elegant and captivating, the letters of the name were written in exquisite cursive, as if they danced across the plane's surface. Each stroke of the brush portrayed the artist's skill, effortlessly capturing the essence of allure.

The centerpiece of the artwork depicted a mesmerizing scene—a woman with flowing raven locks, her enchanting eyes gazing into the distance with an air of mystery. The artist's brush had expertly brought her to life, conveying a sense of both grace and longing. The woman's hair, cascading down her back in waves, appeared as though it would come alive with the wind. Her eyes, filled with an intangible depth, seemed to pierce through the fuselage, drawing observers into her world.

She wore a crimson beret, perfectly matching the ruby-red lips that formed a mischievous smile. Her elegance was captured in delicate strokes of vibrant colors, as if she were ready to step out of the canvas and into reality. One leg held
up whilst the other sat beneath. Her arms were stationed behind, to hold herself up. The woman's head was slightly turned to the side, as if glancing over her shoulder at the planes behind.

French Kisses metallic exterior shimmered with a soft iridescence, kissed by the first light of day. The black and white stripes on its sleek body stood out in stark contrast to the surrounding pastel palette—a bold statement against the serene backdrop. The men upon the plane had amusingly named the plane and art after their trainer and leader: Celeste. In all her glory, merely hated the very idea of it, though Arnie would disagree.

Engines of six hummed with a harmonious melody, creating a symphony that blended seamlessly with the chorus of bird songs. The sound carried effortlessly through the crisp morning breeze, intertwining with the whispers of the wind. It was a mellifluous orchestration of nature and machine, a celebration of the new day unfolding.

As the first rays of sunlight pierced through the wisps of clouds, the entire cabin of French Kiss was immediately bathed in an ethereal warmth. Celeste's trained eyes gazed out of the cockpit window, tracing the ever-changing colors of the sky.

Weeks had passed since they bid farewell to the arid plains of Texas, their hearts brimming with anticipation for England, the promised land they had been told awaited them. Alas, it was a mere presumption that the army would ferry them directly to their desired destination. How wrong they were, for fate had different plans in store for them.

As the days turned into weeks, they soon realized that their hopes of reaching England directly had been nothing but a beguiling illusion. While the 100th battalion had managed to secure a place on the front lines, earning a head start, her group found themselves marginalized, pushed to the periphery of the war theater. Instead of venturing into the heart of England, they found themselves exiled to the icy realms of Greenland. It seemed as if their group had been blacklisted, condemned to an endless purgatory of waiting.

Greenland, with its vast icy expanses, offered no solace to their weary souls. Stationed amidst the frigid wilderness, watching the days blur into one another as they awaited for the much-needed supplies that seemed to taunt them with their prolonged delay. It was as if time itself mocked their existence, stretching the moments into an eternity.

Supplies that surely took their time coming in. Apparently supply lines weren't actually the necessity in terms of the army.

C-47's were the horse of this arrangement. 3 of 900 that were to be stationed in England. It was a miracle that she had bagged such a trip—It took a whole lot of convincing and making up scenarios for them to finally let her leave Texas with her boys. Her practically begging, pleading with her superiors was not a lovely sight to see—especially when they were very much older men.

But Celeste stood her ground, not letting up in her argument that she rounded in her mind over countless hours. Exclaiming that the new boys over in England would need someone as skilled as her to train them. And Celeste would like to make sure her buddies didn't get themselves killed. By her logic, this would ease up more available men to fight.

But atlas, even with a reward to go, she was told to kept herself out of the men's way over there. Whilst its annoyed her, Celeste knew she'd would never be treated as one of the boys, most didn't even like having women share the work. Her father James pushed the agenda as he was stationed not far from the base. Even with her strong attitude toward following rules—James knew his daughter and she'd find a way to get herself in combat.

Her childhood was far from ordinary. As the sole heir to a wealthy family, every aspect of her existence was steeped in opulence and refinement. It was an endless parade of formalities and etiquette; the incessant chorus of "lady this" and "lady that." Yet, Celeste grew weary of the pomp and circumstance, longing for something more and here she was..

"Hey," a voice crackled in.  The young pilot's nervousness radiated through the radio, his voice trembling with anxiety. "Is that our base up ahead?" Without answering, Arnie lazily glanced downwards, wings perfectly aligned with theirs—observing the C-47 plane flying just beside theirs. California Sun was written in dark block letters upon its nose.

The pilot, a young lad, appeared apprehensive—a newbie fresh out of training— assigned about a week ago to the squadron. Barely even 20 and yet here he was, driving the massive bus of the sky. Though he wouldn't be there for long as he was to be immediately transferred to the 100th upon arrival. Which evidently was much worse.

The young man held a firm grip on the control stick— forehead glistening with beads of sweat. It was clear that it was his first time venturing beyond the familiar skies of his home. England, with its varied landscapes, urban canopies, and charming countryside, was a world entirely unknown to him.

Yet instead of the boys, this time Celeste jumped in, replying reassuringly, "Yes, yankee, that's our destination. You're doing great. Just stay calm." His eyes widened, hesitation lingering in his voice as he muttered, "But that's not my..."

Before he could finish, Celeste swiftly silenced the feed— heart pounding in her chest. She had heard rumors of German spies infiltrating and monitoring every transmission or merely she was tired of his complaints. Either way, Celeste couldn't risk jeopardizing or missing vital directions from the tower.

Her hands returned to gripping the stirring wheel, her palms slightly slick with sweat. But it wasn't about the mission, but more her mother's side of the family. The memories of her childhood flooded her consciousness. She had spent countless summers at her aunt Beatrice's lovely apartment , nestled amidst busy streets. Years had passed since Celeste had visited, and a mix of excitement and apprehension gnawed at her.

She imagined the lecture awaiting her from her formidable grandmother, who still held strong to the old traditions. Celeste's departure from their town to pursue her dreams in anthropology had strained their relationship. A pang of guilt settled in her chest.

The cockpit hummed with the sound of engines, a low and steady rumble that filled the silence. The glow of soft instrument panel lights illuminated the confined space, casting a warm ambience. The flickering dials, switches, and buttons created a mysterious dance of shadows on Celeste's face, adding to the surreal atmosphere.

The smell of aviation fuel lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of coffee from the thermos sitting nearby. It was a comforting aroma, a reminder of countless flights she had undertaken before with the boys. Celeste lazily adjusted the sheepskin collar of her jacket—tucking the silk scarf deeper into her coat—feeling its warmth against her neck.

As they marked their final steps in the journey, the peaceful silence was interrupted once more—a voice cracked over the shared intercom's between planes, " Man, I thought they were going to keep us there forever." Jackson's tone dripped with sarcasm. His plane danced to the left, beside Celeste's. Of course, it was named "The Booby Trap." The young brunette wasn't in the least surprised by it - that was Jackson. The typical Bostonian with the average sense of humor.

Arnie scuffed in response, shooting a subtle glance over to Celeste. "Yeah, I highly doubt that, not with her attitude," he muttered. With a flicker of annoyance in her eyes, she shot him an icy look. "Perhaps, if it wasn't for my attitude," she countered, her voice laced with exasperation, "we would still be in Greenland."

"Oh she's right.." Jackson replied, before Arnie started in on something utterly different to what was being said. Their voices filled with excitement as they began debating about something trivial—most likely the women they would meet. Completely engrossed in their argument, unaware of the fact that Celeste had tuned them out completely.

As they continued their flight over the British hillside, the conversation fading into the background withArnie passionately defended his viewpoint to Jackson. She had been through countless missions with them. Through China and now here. And yet, they hadn't changed a bit.

The gorgeous landscape beneath her, with rolling hills and quaint villages, provided a moment of respite amidst the tension. Lost in her thoughts, Celeste imagined the tales the hills could tell. Stories of ancient civilizations, mythical creatures, and heroic adventures. There was no waging wars going on; no bombs, dropping distant gunfire. Everything was at peace with the world or so she had thought. Back to where she was in China on ancient grounds, and buildings belonging to the Qing dynasty. Amidst her love for airplanes, Celeste always had a spirited mind for the unknown and ancient.

These people and history didn't talk back to her nor did she have to worry about caring on conversation. She could be in her own little world without a care. Of course, that was all shattered when the Japanese came. Witnessing the destruction of valuable artifacts, ones that told of time before.

Her eyes lightened upon seeing plenty of rockstone walls. Anyone in the ancient world knew the walls could hold valuable secrets. With one hand gripping the plane's stirring wheel, Celeste fumbled with her breast pocket, her heart pounding with anticipation. Her fingers danced nervously, pulling at the fabric until finally, with a triumphant sigh, she retrieved a small, weathered notebook - a treasure trove of her own making. This notebook held sketches, maps, and cryptic notes she had painstakingly gathered throughout her journey.

In the corner of his eye, Arnie caught a glimpse of the small notebook in her hand. A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Seriously? Again," he remarked, knowing exactly how her brain intuitively. "Oh hush," Celeste snapped back, her mind consumed with excitement. She flipped through the pages of her notebook, frantically trying to found a blank page—to pinpoint the exact location of the rock walls before her. She had been longing for an opportunity like this - a chance to explore the remnants of a forgotten era, to unravel the enigmatic stories etched in stone.

But, from her not paying attention and having a good grip upon the wheel—a jolt shook the aircraft. Celeste's mind flustered as the world around her tilted—the sensation of weightlessness enveloping her. She gasped as the open book slipped from her trembling fingers—tumbling down before settling gently in her lap.

Realizing the urgency of the situation, Celeste swiftly snapped out of her trance. Clutching the book between her thighs—its pages rustling, while her right hand instinctively reached for the steering wheel. Determined to maintain control she had before, Celeste steadied her trembling grip and set her sights on leveling the plane.

Celeste didn't fully look over at him, but through the corner of her right eye— Arnie wore a dismissive expression—a brow slightly raised as if he was a father about to scold his child. She then shot a passive-aggressive sly glance before her gaze darted across the array of dials and gauges. The altitude indicator veered perilously to the right, mirroring the aircraft's tilt. "Celeste if you weren't so infatuated with finding ancient artifacts, the plane wouldn't have reacted in such a way."

A exasperated sigh escaped her Rudy lips, but Unbeknownst to her, the microphone was still on, and Jackson couldn't resist adding his input. "Celeste, Arnie, you guys good up there? I just saw the wing tip of the famed French Kiss." The proud officer swallowed her pride, " Yes we are fine Jackson." But Arnie was quick to respond, " No, she was off doodling in her book again." " Oh. so the enforcer of rules is breaking one herself?" Jackson chimed in right after Arnie—his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"No, I did not," Celeste sneered, her frustration mounting. She clenched her teeth and instinctively nibbled on her lower lip. "Nah, I think you were.." Frankie added in—after being quiet for so long. Before Celeste could defend herself, a booming voice crackled over the intercom.

"Attention, this is tower..." However, only fragments of the message reached Celeste's ears, the interruptions caused by Jackson's incessant nagging. Growing increasingly exasperated, Celeste swiftly reached for the transmit button on her neck. "Apologies, sir, please hold for a moment," she said, her mind reeling with a burst of frustration.

She switched over channels, her grip tightening around the small radio device resting on her throat. "Jackson, would you kindly shut the fuck up? You're causing interference with the radio," she grumbled in annoyance. Jackson, always the playful one, mimicked her tone before finally switching off his communication system. Celeste quickly tuned back to the tower feed, eager for any updates.

"You have clearance for touchdown." A voice, devoid of enthusiasm, crackled through the radio. Celeste's heart raced with a surge of exhilaration. She barely had time to acknowledge the tower with a hurried "okay" before refocusing her attention on her own plane. Adjusting the microphone around her neck, she initiated a call for the other C-47 aircraft to fall in line behind her.

As the aircraft descended towards the landing strip, the first rays of sunlight began to peek through the dense canopy of towering trees that surrounded the airstrip. The golden beams cast a warm and ethereal glow over the runway, painting the scene in a mesmerizing hue of orange.

Inside the cockpit, the landing crew meticulously prepared for the imminent touchdown. Their hands glided across the control panels, their movements precise and graceful. The atmosphere was tense, yet tinged with a sense of anticipation.

Celeste maneuvered the aircraft as the wheels approached the earth. With each passing moment, the excitement among the crew escalated. Arnie kept a keen eye on the altimeter, tracking their descent with unwavering focus. With a gentle sigh, the right wheel made contact with the runway, signifying the beginning of their arrival. Arnie instinctively acknowledged the reassuring presence beneath them. The hydraulic systems hummed softly, harmonizing with the rhythmic beating of their hearts, as the left wheel gracefully followed suit.

Both wheels kissed the air for a fleeting moment, their embrace with the sky an ode to the freedom of flight, before finally reuniting with the earth. The C-47 wobbled slightly from side to side upon touching the hardened surface.
Wheels settled firmly on the ground, their metallic grooves caressing the landing strip.

French kiss taxied slowly towards the designated area, where Celeste could see the ground crews bustling around—eagerly awaiting their arrival. Children of the near by farms and town proudly greeted their planes with cheers. They were probably over the moon, having been waiting so long. Egan watched as the pilots skillfully maneuvered their aircraft towards the designated unloading area, each move executed with precision.

With a final glance from both to either side, she and Arnie began the process of shuting down the engines—watching as the propellers started to slow to a crawl—rumbling engines gradually quieted, and a momentary silence enveloped the cabin. Rendering a peaceful serenade to the morning air.

With a sigh of contentment, Celeste adjusted her officers cap after removing her headset— placing it down upon the dash. She caught glimpses of Robert and Ben out the small window. Arnie flicked the controls once more, checking they were powered down for good.

Celeste overlooked what he was doing. " How do you reckon the beer is here?" Arnie joked, in between removing his headset. Celeste merely shook her head, " I'm not sure what to tell ya. I was just a child when I was last here." She expressed frankly. With a collective chuckle shared between both friends, Celeste's smile dropped immediately from her lips. Upon taking a quick glance at her surroundings outside—Catching a rather unsavory glimpse of a certain Major; Egan. She quickly returned her sight back, frozen for moment, locked upon the dozens of gauges before her.

Upon spotting the presence of him outside her aircraft, Celeste's feelings can be best described as a mixture of annoyance and frustration. The encounter weeks ago at the bar had undeniably marred her evening, primarily due to his overwhelming confidence and arrogance. After his last poor attempt at trying to flirt and get her name, she was far from thrilled to have to greet him again.

But now, as she quickly stuffed her journal back into the breast pocket, the realization dawned heavily upon her. Not only would she have the guaranteed stress of reestablishing connections with her mother's family—she would also have to be in his presence.

The poor brunette had to do a double take—reassuring herself it was truly him. But there he was, with one arm casually resting upon a knee— sitting in the passenger seat of the Willy's jeep. his stern gaze sweeping across the crowd. The driver, a young corporal, kept a clipboard on his lap, its page filled with meticulous loggings of the goods being transported and the names of the pilots flying in.

His eyes were fixed upon the row of aircraft lined up ahead, their colossal wingspan casting shadows across the terrain. As the Air Executive of the base, it was his duty to oversee the arrival and departure of aircraft, ensuring the smooth operation of the logistics.

Not that he particularly cared for the job, he'd rather be up in that air flying missions with his men. Egan lazily glanced over at the clipboard, observing the neat handwriting and the meticulous attention to detail. Each plane's name, accompanied by its corresponding details, was meticulously marked down.

Celeste quickly averted her sight to Arnie, "Oh for Fuck sake." She muttered under her breath, slamming her hand against the buckle that stripped her in. "Of all the people to greet us, it has to be him." Arnie noticed her distain, knowing not just anything would get her riled up. He slowly maneuvered himself, taking a quick peek at the window before sitting down—wearing a slight smirk, " Ah, I see your buddy is here. He's the new air exec, so you better get over it princess." His voice genuinely trailed off, registering her disapproving glare—she couldn't help but feel somewhat betrayed. "Why didn't you inform me? For two weeks, you were aware of this and chose not to disclose it?" she queried, concealing her disappointment behind a professional tone.

Because of his last charade, she caught hell whilst stationed in Greenland. The commanders filled of misogyny, took this as an opportunity to undermine her abilities, joining in the teasing. They snickered and made jokes, suggesting that women were ill-suited for the demanding job of piloting military aircraft. Nor being unable to keep her own clothes cleaned and prepared. So her hatred grew tenfold.

Determined, she gathered her bag from the overhead compartment—the worn leather filled with memories of years. But just as the coast seemed clear, thinking she could slip away unnoticed— Egan's gaze fixated on her. Throwing her bag over her shoulder with an effortless grace, she made her way towards the duo, Arnie following closely behind.

Egan's face lit up with pure joy, an expression that radiated from every inch of his being. It was as if someone had finally switched on the sun inside him. He couldn't believe it. After weeks of anxiously waiting and hoping for a chance encounter with this mysterious pilot again— fate had finally smiled upon him. There she was, walking towards him like a radiant angel that had descended from the heavens.

As Egan hopped out of the jeep, his embodiment of hope and anticipation collided head-on with sheer elation. With each step closer from her, his excitement heightened, overpowering every ounce of restraint he possessed.
Egan quickly grabbed the clipboard from the unexpected corporal, his hands trembling with excitement.

As the major's eyes scanned the list of names beneath the various planes, his heart leaped as he stumbled upon her identity. Although slightly annoyed by the absence of her first name, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming surge of joy at the discovery of her last name. "Jefferson," he whispered under his breath, savoring the taste of victory.
It was something tangible, a piece of her identity that he could grasp onto.

Arnie and Celeste both stopped just before Egan, who had now tossed the board lazily over towards the corporal—a bemused smile playing at the corners of his lips. This upon noticing the large black lettering spelling her last name on yellow parachute cover.

"Ah, the lovely c-47's, how nice of you all to join us," Egan spoke, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "And Miss C. Jefferson." He added. A sigh erupted from Celeste, dropping the heavy bag from her shoulder. Dust particles danced in the air as the bag hit the ground, creating a small cloud around her worn-out shoes. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of emerald, met Egan's sapphire gaze. They sparkled like stars in the vast night sky, hinting at a hidden story within their depths.

Egan flashed his trademark smile, but the inner depth of his chest begins tightening, "Merely asking what had taken everyone so long." his sight then moving towards the nose art of French Kiss—Egan leaned in closer, his eyes tracing the delicate lines. He couldn't help but be captivated by the beauty. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he jabbed Celeste playfully, unable to resist the urge to tease her. "Is that you?" he asked, a playful smirk curling his lips.

Arnie cleared his throat loudly, knowing what was to come. Celeste often known for her strong-willed demeanor, rolled her eyes at Egan's attempt at humor. "French Kiss, very fitting to someone of such beauty," Egan added, hoping for some kind of acknowledgement from her. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, a silent passing between them. In that instant, time seemed to stand still.

There was a magnetic pull, an undeniable connection that maybe neither could deny. Yet, despite the undeniable chemistry mainly by Egan, the officer's gaze remained fixed—a veil of simmering animosity emanating from her. Her arms crossed upon her chest, she met Egan's gaze with a stern look—The corners of her lips twitched briefly, battling against the stern mask she wore. "Perhaps it is, or perhaps it's not," she replied curtly. Egan could sense the underlying bitterness in her tone, feeling a playful bit" Well, it is lovely for you all to have taken the lovely time of getting here."

Celeste then fixed her hands upon her hips—pretending to study the ground beneath her feet, avoiding Egan's gaze. "Oh, you know, just thought the 100th would have to wait due to a certain major," she replied with feigned nonchalance. Egan, scoffed softly, his mesmerizing eyes trying to search her body language for any hint of vulnerability.

What was this feeling that suddenly erupted deep within him? Was it lust, ignited by her tantalizing presence? Or was it the longing for a true friend, someone who understood him on a level that went beyond the battlefield? Surely in all of his womanly encounters, all had their own unique charm but she was being more than just overly difficult.

Celeste then glanced from Egan over to the young corporal, a red head with barely any stumble upon his face. "You." She asked, quick to ignore the major, " What's your name?" Egan didn't miss the way Celeste's eyes flickered towards the young lad for a brief moment—causing a slight twinge of jealousy to shoot through him. "I'm a corporal Nathan." He adds with a quick salute.

"Good lad, I've got the needed goods," She says removing her gloves, " Jackets, masks and parachutes. You won't need the RAF poor excuses for gear." She mumbled lightly, brows raised as if she was going to smile. Egan noted the unique accent clinging to some of her words, though a tad jealous she hadn't felt the need to tell him directly.

With a subtle glance around the planes, her sight fixed upon lieutenant Yankee from the C-47 California Sun. It was obvious the young boy was quite lost, with a bag in hand and gloves in the other—his eyes darted around frantically.

"Hey yankee!" Celeste shouted, catching the attention of the lost pilot. With a sigh, annoyance that the boy didn't get the memo to move his ass when called—she waved him over. He merely tripped upon reaching them, breath caught in his lungs. " Well, Here's your new replacement. We were ordered to take him here with the goods." She spoke in an affirmative tone, watching both gentlemen for any registration of the lieutenant's name. "Well, Yankee, you get up in the jeep here. I'll take you to where you need to be." Egan waved him over.

Just then, his attention was drawn to Jackson, who was strolling passed with Robert. Egan's face lit up with a smile as he called out, "My boy!" The sound of his voice carried across the clearing, catching Jackson's attention.  The seasoned lieutenant flashed a look of surprise glancing around—looking for another man. Before Frankie made him realize it was him. " Sir, you called?" The Bostonian asked, before snapping a quick salute.

" So you all joining me and boys at the pub later? We've got a big celebration in store for good ole Jackson here." Egan expresses, clapping his hands together in front of him.
Celeste shot the Bostonian a questioning look, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Excuse me? What celebration?" She replied, placing her arms across her chest once more.

Egan chuckled, enjoying the discomfort he was causing. "Well, he's joining the 100th, of course. He starts tomorrow..." His words trailed off as he watched Celeste's smugness quickly fall from her features.

"Ha, Jackson is..." she started, but Egan cut her off, eager to make his point clear. "Was. I thought a man with such training would be of better use on a bomber. So I put in a transfer."

The air felt the tension, the weight of Egan's words sinking in. Robert and Arnie exchanged knowing glances, assuming that the major had a vendetta against Jackson for not giving him information.

"Yes," Egan continued, his voice cold and controlled. "Me and Jackson are going to be the best of buds. Aren't we?" He spoke through clenched teeth—giving the lieutenant a harsh slap on the shoulders.

Jackson flinched, barely able to contain the gasp that threatened to escape his lips. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. Joining the 100th meant leaving behind his current unit, his comrades who had become like family to him. It meant stepping into unfamiliar territory, facing unknown challenges.

As Jackson stared into Egan's eyes, he realized that this wasn't just about his transfer. There was something else at play here, something Egan hadn't revealed yet. Was it because of the bar incident? Or because he wouldn't tell him? " Yeaaa," he finally managed to reply, his voice tinged with both uncertainty and determination—his flickering towards Celeste's uncertain gaze.

Egan smirked, his satisfaction evident in the twinkle of his eyes and the curl of his lips. His chest swelled with a sense of victory as he observed the lieutenant's response, a mix of respect and deference. It was a moment he relished, the culmination of his careful planning and masterful manipulation.

Turning towards Celeste, he couldn't help but revel in his triumph. His eyes glimmered with mischief, a sparkle that danced with a secret knowledge only he possessed. With a sly smile playing on his lips, he spoke, his voice laced with a hint of amusement and satisfaction.

"You see, my dear," his words dripping with a tantalizing blend of confidence and charm, "sometimes life throws unexpected curveballs." The words hung in the air, thick with anticipation, as a small pause settled between them.

Egan's gaze shifted momentarily, taking in the figures of Arnie, Robert, and Ben. They stood beside him, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. Sensing their hesitation, he arched an eyebrow, his blue eyes locking onto theirs in a silent challenge.

"You boys coming?" he asked, his voice filled with a playful edge, inviting them to embrace the unknown and join him in his grand scheme. The silence stretched for a moment, taut with unspoken thoughts, before Arnie broke the spell with a simple thumbs up.

The young officer shot Arnie a dark glare, her eyes simmering with a mix of frustration and skepticism. With a subtle nod of her head, she motioned for them to continue, her impatience evident.

Arnie understood her silent command, quickly mouthing an inaudible okay before bustling the boys away, their footsteps fading into the distance. The weight of the lieutenant's disapproval lingered in the air, but Egan remained undeterred.

His gaze then turned back to Celeste, narrowing as he met her icy stare head-on. Undeterred by the intensity that could freeze even the warmest of hearts, he leaned in closer, his Cheshire smile growing wider with each passing moment.

The charade of his charming demeanor bordering on mischievousness was evident in the way his eyebrows arched, adding an air of playful intrigue to his distinctive features. It was a calculated move, designed to captivate and disarm, to toy with the boundaries of trust and uncertainty.

"Where are you struggling up there Jefferson?" he taunted, his voice laced with a hint of mockery. "Did the wind steal your grace?" Celeste's expression remained unamused as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with defiance. Celeste had never been one to back down from a challenge, especially when it came to her skills in the field. With firm determination, she responded, "It's just a minor technical issue. I've got everything under control."

Egan's grin only widened, his amusement growing with every passing moment. He quite enjoyed pushing her buttons, reveling in the opportunity to test her limits. Sooner or later, she would bend to him. He moved even closer, the space between them diminishing as his hands found their way to his hips.

"And usually when you speak to someone of a higher rank," he asserted, his voice laced with a smugness that grated on Celeste's nerves, "you say sir." Celeste's patience wore thin just as it had before with him. Her eyes flashing with a flicker of irritation. She had always despised the rigid hierarchy that came with military life, preferring to be judged by her actions rather than her rank. Her voice came out with a sharp edge as she snapped back, "Don't sir me. I've earned my stripes just like you have. I'm an Officer, just like you."

"Feisty..."he replied, Celeste's emerald eyes pierced through the young major. She had no time for his frivolous games again—especially not now when her responsibilities weighed heavy on her shoulders. An urgent task awaited her: reporting to the higher-ups and delivering important information. And of course, she needed to call her father and reassure him of her arrival.

With a firm grip on her bag, she slung it over her shoulder, the weight of her obligations pulling her down. Each step she took reverberated with a sense of purpose as she trudged past the eager major, his words falling on deaf ears. He was persistent, though, calling out to her with an enthusiastic invitation.

You should come to the pub tonight," he urged, a trace of excitement in his voice. "All our buddies will be there, and it'll be an absolute blast!" Celeste paused, her defiance as palpable as the tension in the air. She swiftly turned on her heel, her gaze locking onto the major's eyes. Her voice, laced with playful irritation, cut through the air like a sharpened blade. "Why?" she exclaimed, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "So you can inadvertently spill liquor on my lap again?"

Egan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Okay, okay," he admitted sheepishly, "I might have been a bit clumsy that one time. But hear me out. This pub awaits with its cozy atmosphere, dimly lit by flickering candles. Warm laughter fills the air as people swap stories, their voices blending with the lively music playing softly in the background."

Celeste broke the silence, her voice laced with a hint of sarcasm. "I'm honored, Major," she replied, her tone icy but her eyes betraying a flicker of something more. "Though I'm afraid my duties lie elsewhere, not in the world of extravagant pub life like you are."

He admired her resilient spirit, even if it did clash with his playful nature. "Very well, Miss Jefferson. Duty calls," he said, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and longing.

As Celeste turned to walk away, Egan couldn't help but watch her retreating figure. The sway of her hips, the determination in her stride—it only deepened his intrigue. He knew that their paths would cross again. And when they did, he vowed to uncover the layers that shrouded her heart, for there was a story in those emerald eyes that he was determined to unravel.

As he hopped into the drivers seat, Egan winked at Nathan and then to Yankee, " I'll get her. I know I will. They always come to me." He spoke with an added tsk. But as the major peeled off, leaving the corporal to attend the majors duties.

Nathan however, didn't feel the slightest bit of enthusiasm for his commander—" Yea, I highly doubt that sir..." he muttered beneath his breath.

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AUTHOR NOTES

——-Muahhhh , I've done it again. 😈

REMEMBER, this IS a slow burn story.
Celeste isn't too easily manipulated.

If you want to be tagged in the next chapter, let me know!!

Also, I'm thinking of doing a
Cleven or Bing fanfic?

Would do you guys think??