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ix. I DID I DISAPPOINT YOU?

PART ONE

MASTERS OF THE AIR
AMOR VINCIT OMNIA

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THORPE ABBOTTS
JULY 16, 1943

0700 HOURS

|| TWAS ONLY A MONTH, A TIME WHEN CELESTE'S WORLD CRUMBLED— AS LOSING A FRIEND WAS NOT ON HER CHECKLIST. Frankie, who had been by her side through thick and thin, through the trails of China and Japan, was now on his way back to America. But not in the way many had hoped...He was not longed for this world—his death now left a void in her crew. Even after losing others years before, this shattered her in ways she never thought possible.

In the days following his death, Celeste felt more isolated than ever—withdrawing into herself, barely going to the bar or mess hall. Her unkept hair dangling aimlessly around the sunken in cervices of her cheeks. Not even engaging with Rene, whom tried to get her out. But try as she may, Celeste never heeded. Staying in her room, doodling away at the ancient maps she made —only coming out when called.

Celeste did her best to avoid Egan like a ghost haunting her every step. Not only that but the ghostly touch of Egan's lips lingered on hers—sending a jolt of confusion through her every time she closed her eyes. Her friend had just died and there she was smooching up the major... jeez Louis, what was wrong with her?

She just couldn't bring herself to face Egan—this major had stirred a long-buried ache within her. A reminder of a love she had once lost. How cruel fate seemed, to have Egan, the source of this newfound turmoil, by her side now.

"Why is this happening?" Celeste whispered in the empty body of the C-47—a question that echoed off the walls as though seeking an answer. Wrestling her own mind, Celeste couldn't help but wonder if Egan sensed the feelings she was wading through. Did he understand the silent turmoil that his kiss had ignited?

Everyday since, Celeste dodged his presence, sidestepping his attempts to coincide at the mess hall or him appearing unexpectedly when she was looking over the planes with Lemmons. She found inventive ways to skirt around him, to keep her distance.

The real war was still raging on, but within Celeste, one between the ghosts of yesterday and the whispered hopes of tomorrow took hold. Even when a flicker of something akin to desire—ignited between them.

Celeste's gaze shifted towards her flight bag and gear, a subtle tightening in her chest. She wanted to say goodbye, truly she did—there was no denying the quickening of her heartbeat whenever his eyes met hers. Or the inexplicable warmth that enveloped her every time he graced her with a smile.

But she made the decision to escape Thorpe Abbotts, for another mission akin to Operation Husky, to take revenge. But no matter how fervently she pleaded with her father, his response was unwavering. Instead of acquiescing to her requests, he forwarded her orders to Greenland.

This was far from ideal in Celeste's eyes, as it meant she would have to navigate the sea of misogynistic lieutenants at the post. Ones that had gotten on her about her dirtied trousers. Damn Egan ...

Faced with the choice of either flying B-17s or confronting Egan daily following their shared kiss, Celeste weighed her options. Like any rational person, she opted to ferry the B-17s from Greenland to Thorpe Abbotts—knowing that it would entail her absence for an entire month.

—In the light of dawn, Egan had quickly stirred from his slumber, hesitating momentarily—trying to pinpoint what had awoken him. He hastily glanced around for the source, before realizing it was the rumble of a C-47 taking flight. And that meant one thing.... "oh Shit.." he mumbled beneath his breath—waking up Cleven in the process.

Hastily donning his garments, Egan flew out the officer's quarters—his jacket barely holding on his stocky shoulders, his cap aloof upon his unruly locks. Egan barely caught sight of the fading c-47, a sense of abandonment grasped his body...

Lemmons was already there, looking quite confused at seeing Egan—leaning over breathless. He was frankly out of shape at the moment. With a glance passed to the mechanics, Egan began his walk towards Celeste's abode.

However, upon his gentle rap on the door, there was only silence in return. A foreboding sensation crept into the depths of his being. She didn't even say goodbye—leaving him yearning for closure.

In a moment of vexation, he lightly pressed his forehead against the wooden barrier—muttering silent reproaches to himself. "Damn it Bucky... why did you have to do that..." A torrent of emotions swirled within him, a blend of regret for his impulsive gesture and frustration towards Celeste for her behavior. Why would she shut him out like this? The sting of his craving lingered.

Celeste was a riddle wrapped in enigma, her demeanor akin to an indecipherable language that bewildered Egan. Scattering his feelings like chess pieces across a board, making it arduous for him to discern her motives. All he desired was to decode her intricacies—to mend the fractured pieces of her puzzle into a whole.

But atleast he had some bit of Celeste left; Nugget and the white scarf. The young grey tabby continued to grow, now stepping into the challenging phase of her 'terrible twos,' as the wise farm ladies had predicted. Egan hadn't a clue about kittens, but according to Sammie, kittens grew fairly quickly.

And so, Nugget's mischievous nature manifested in relentless nibbling on anything within her reach, including Egan's cap, shoes, and most notably, his beloved sheepskin jacket.

Despite Egan's efforts to discipline Nugget, the feline disregarded his attempts, opting for playful aggression instead. It appeared peace was never an option...

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THORPE ABBOTTS
AUGUST 29th, 1943

|| IN THE FINAL WEEK OF HER ABSENCE, EGAN FOUND HIMSELF GNAWING AT THE BIT; HIS PATIENCE WAS RUNNING THIN. Once Informed about the mission to Schweinfurt-Regensburg mission, the mere thought of flying again didn't thrill him as it used to. Rather as he awaited the fog to lift—a sense of dread had overshadowed his usual cocky demeanor.

The fear of not seeing her again lingered in his mind; he wasn't mentally prepared to go without seeing her smile. Nor without her nagging him on to watch over Jackson..

Even though her name would never escape her lips, Egan knew that accessing her file was the closest he could get to feeling connected to her. And where else would it be other than in Colonel Harding's office. So by Taking matters into his own hands on the day of the Regensburg mission, Egan was going for it. Noticing most of the officers were out, he placed his book down.

Before getting to his feet, finding his jeep and proceeding through the dense fog—ignoring the calls of his men. Even Jackson and Curt were quite perplexed—passing a knowing glance.

Once arriving, Egan casually entered the quarters, his eyes scanning the room until they settled on Colonel Harding's command office. Corporal Nathan was already there, tending to the over flowing paperwork. He was quite confused to see him there, especially since he was leaving on a mission.

Leaning casually against a filing cabinet, maintaining a composed front, Egan greeted Corporal Nathan with a charming smile. "So, when can we expect Colonel Harding's return?"

Nathan, with a skeptical look, shifted his gaze from Egan to the closed door. "He's currently unavailable, and it appears you're unaware that Colonel Jefferson has taken over his office. So whatever urgency propels you can surely wait," Nathan stated—rather cautious of Egan's motives.

Unperturbed by the corporal's guarded attitude, Egan intervened, "No, no, this is perfect timing. I've been tasked by Jefferson to retrieve essential documents for the mission."

The mere mention of Colonel Jefferson's name spiked Nathan's suspicions even further—evident in the crease between his brows. "Hmm," the corporal began skeptically, "Let me confirm that." Slowly rising from his seat, he ventured towards the back—leaving Egan to his own devices.

Seeing Nathan's departure as a signal, Egan quietly stepped back towards the door—his eyes darting around for any onlookers. When his back pressed against it, still focused ahead, he scrambled to find the handle before pushing it open. "Ha!" he whispered, realizing it was left unlocked. With a final cautious glance around, Egan began sifting through the office.

But as fate would have it, he stumbled clumsily over the chair—sending picture frames crashing down on the desk. The loud noise reverberated through the office, causing Egan to flinch slightly. He stood frozen for a moment, the realization hitting him that things always seemed louder when he needed to be discreet.

Surveying the room, his eyes landed on the cabinet where he knew the crucial folders were stored. His index finger traced delicately over the array until he found the one labeled Chief Leader. C. Jefferson, his pulse quickening with excitement.

However, upon opening it, he found nothing but empty space where the important paperwork should have been. A faint smirk played on his lips, knowing she was always one step ahead of him.

Reluctantly, he closed the folder and returned it to the cabinet. Of course she would do this... His attention then shifted to the fallen pictures on the desk. Unlike Harding's neat desk with minimal decorations, Jefferson's desk was adorned with several pictures. Frantically, Egan began uprighting them, trying to recall their original placements. As he picked up the last photo, his eyes locked onto her image.

In the photograph, Celeste sat gracefully in her service uniform, her hair elegantly pinned up, and a smile that could rival the sun itself. The wallet-sized photo was framed simply, and Egan couldn't resist running his thumb over the protective glass that separated him from her. It wasn't merely her name that he yearned for now; it was her very presence.

With a final glance around the room, Egan carefully removed Celeste's picture from its frame, concealing the wooden pieces at the back of the cabinet drawer. Then slipping the photo into his coat pocket, cherishing in his victory.

As he closed Col. Jefferson's door behind him, whistling slightly—Corporal Nathan reappeared, looking slightly flustered. "Sir, Colonel Jeff..."

"It's alright, Corp. I must have remembered incorrectly," patting the young man sharply on the back. Corporal Nathan did nothing except stand there, furrowing his brows as to what just happened...

Walking back to the plane, he held firmly onto her photo in his jacket. It was irritating to him to know she wasn't there to send him off like she had before. But as the planes took to the air finally—Egan found himself removing her photo just to pretend she was there in front of him....

One would hope for a good outcome, yet death doesn't discriminate..neither to allies or axis. Over the following nights post-mission, Egan found himself seated at the cot provided by the British army—whilst the American airmen waited for supplies needed to get back to England. It was then, he would stare at Celeste's picture. Of course, by then word had gotten around about her photo missing. So he had to do this discreetly.

In his hand lay a pencil and blank sheets of paper—attempting to articulate his emotions towards her.

Egan had never written to anyone before, but he had observed Cleven effortlessly penning letters to Marge numerous times. Despite his admiration for Cleven's skill, the major of brunette locks struggled to even jot down her last name before his resolve waned. Frankly, doubting she would ever lay eyes on his words...

Meanwhile, whilst Egan was having an existential crisis, Celeste was still stuck in the depths of Greenland—where the icy wind whipped around without care. She cursed the bloody man whom named this place. Such an odd way to get people confused in the old times and the new. Her father's promise to keep her safe had indeed been kept, but at the cost of confining her to a prison of paper and ink.

The vibrant spirit of adventure that once fueled her dreams now lay dormant within the confines of a sterile office, where hours bled into each other like ink seeping into parchment. The first hundred letters held a semblance of novelty, a glimpse into the lives of the brave souls who fought a world away. Yet, as the tally climbed to three hundred, each letter began to merge into a blur of scripted endearments and bittersweet farewells.

At first, the novelty of this newfound duty had sparked a glimmer of intrigue in Celeste's eyes. Away from the haunting memories of Egan and the ache of losing Frankie, she sought solace in the routine of scrutinizing letters and parcels for any hint of forbidden knowledge. Yet, as the days stretched into weeks and the letters blurred into a monotonous symphony of love and loss. The military's cloak of secrecy draped heavily upon her shoulders, weighing her down with the weight of responsibility and caution.

Some missives brought a wistful smile to Celeste's lips, their words a soothing balm to her bruised heart. Others, filled with hollow assurances and forced cheer, drew a bitter chuckle tinged with sorrow. The dichotomy of emotions wove a complex tapestry in her mind, mirroring the tangled web of her own thoughts and fears. As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into a month, Celeste found herself immersed in a world of contradictions. She yearned to be free once more..

As Celeste's elegant fingers delicately sifted through the crumpled letters, her brows furrowed in thinly veiled irritation. The candlelight cast soft shadows on her alabaster skin, highlighting the deep-set lines of fatigue that marred her normally captivating features. Each envelope that passed was then stamped with a green check and tossed over her shoulder into an ever growing pile.

The crackling of the fireplace was the only sound in the dimly lit room until the heavy oak door swung open with a soft creak. Arnie, whom had been wandering around outside, stood in the doorway, his weathered face etched with concern as he watched Celeste's graceful movements.

With a sigh heavy with unspoken burdens, Celeste tossed the latest letter onto the ornate desk, the parchment landing with a resounding thud that shattered the fragile peace of the room. The frustration that simmered beneath her porcelain facade bubbled to the surface as she met Arnie's weathered gaze.

"Why must I spend every waking hour deciphering these missives?" Celeste's voice held a melodic quality that belied the frustration that laced her words. "I have duties far greater than playing messenger to lovesick soldiers." She laid her left temple to rest upon her hand, elbow sinking into the pile of letters.

Arnie's grizzled brow furrowed in understanding, his calloused hands clasping behind his back as he took a hesitant step into the room. "Well, I understandthat," he sighs heavily, "But you were the one who wanted to get away.." Celeste's head whipped towards his voice with such intensity, " You know why I did it..." She mumbled through clenched teeth.

Arnie merely scoffed, " Is it because of Frankie or Egan? Sometimes I can't tell.." he rumbled in a voice like thunder over distant hills. Celeste, however was seething at his words, " Arnie, i swear... you are testing me." She spat before slamming the seal of green ink down upon the letter with a harsh thud.

Arnie held a slight smirk to his cheek, " Well isn't that what brothers are for?" Which earned a disapproving glare from Celeste. " Why are you even here? Or better yet, why did they ever let you in this army?" She muttered softly, yet through clenched teeth... " I'm sure you have something else to say..." flipping another letter over.

Arnie raised a curious brow, " Ah yes, i may have something that will spark your interest." Celeste's green eyes softened at Arnie's words, a ripple of contemplation passing through her as she regarded the scattered letters on the desk. "Oh please do tell.. i can not bare another moment of this."

Arnie chuckled lightly before that slowly faded, his voice low, filled with urgency as he recounted the briefing he just come from in vivid detail. A bunch of B-17's running the Regensburg mission had landed in Africa, and like the typical army, were left running dangerously low on supplies. Unable to repair the damages upon their planes as some had bore the worst.

The British forces were doing their best to support them, but the rugged terrain made it nearly impossible for ground transport to reach them with the B-17's much larger parts. The C-47's, their workhorses, were their only hope. As he finished, Celeste's eyes sparkled with a newfound sense. Suddenly, she shot up from her chair, the wooden legs scraping against the hard floor.

"Finally!" she exclaimed, her voice ringing out in the small room. "I can get outta this mess and these arrogant men." Arnie wasn't too surprised by her sudden outburst, though he did slightly lean back from her. Celeste nearly tripping over herself, scrapped up her paperwork from her bag and began writing up her transfer request. She knew her father would not be thrilled to see her moving once more, but staying here wasn't worth it.

The following day, Celeste wasted no time in submitting her request to pilot the C-47's for the crucial supply drop mission. The air was tense as the men at the base reacted to the news of a woman taking charge once again. Grumbles could be heard, and disapproving glances were shot in Celeste's direction. But she stood her ground, refusing to be deterred by their doubt.

After heated discussions and endless debates, the commander reluctantly relented. With a signature on the transfer authorization, Celeste was officially given the green light to join the mission. And so, with the final stroke of the pen on the transfer request, Celeste saluted them before seeing herself out.

It was the very next time, under the blanket of a moonlit sky, Celeste emerged from the shadows of the hanger dressed in her flight gear. Whilst tightening the buckle between her legs, Celeste gave Arnie a swift glance and a nod of acknowledgment. "here we go..." She muttered through a smile, whereas Arnie merely nodded. The last time they went out, not all of them retuned. Both commenced their way towards the awaiting C-47 aircraft—-a behemoth of steel and fabric perched on the edge of the runway like a vigilant sentinel.

But as they reached the plane, Celeste stopped— taking a moment. A month it had been since she had stepped foot before French Kiss... With her gloved hand, she caressed the cold metal surface, following the sharp edges with reverence, her movements a silent prayer reminiscent of ancient rituals.

Lady Qin's teachings echoed in her mind, guiding her with their wisdom as she prepared for the long journey across the vast expanse of the African continent. A moment more Arnie appeared, "hey, you coming? She isn't going to fly there herself.."

As the C-47 ascended into the abyss, it melded seamlessly with the veils of darkness and mist, camouflaging its presence amidst the celestial canvas above. The journey transpired in tranquil silence, disturbed only by the rhythmic hum of the engines that propelled them forward towards their undisclosed destination.

The trip there was less than satisfactory, trying avoid the search lights of the Germans was an effort in itself. Upon landing in Africa, Celeste and Arnie guided the plane down the runway with the others following closely behind—the propellers slowly winding down as the aircraft came to a halt. Looking at the window, watching as the left stopped, Celeste let out a long sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging with the weight of the journey.

Exhaling a breath she had unknowingly held, Celeste reclined into the plush confines of her seat, her wearied visage softening. It was a all night flight, something she had oddly missed. The brunette tried hard to not succumbe to the tantalizing embrace of reprieve, her eyelids fluttering shut as she sought solace in the realm of dreams.

A voice, like a discordant note in the symphony of serenity, shattered the fragile illusion of peace that enveloped Celeste's senses. Her eyes flared open, a flicker of apprehension dancing within their depths as she trained her gaze towards the source of the unwelcome intrusion.

There, on the tarmac below, stood the very figure of whom she had been trying to get away from...Major Egan. This flight and the excitement to fly again completely clouded her mind—not realizing the B-17's would be the 100th. "Oh fuck..' she cursed beneath her breath, recoiling instinctively from his penetrating gaze, a futile attempt to shield herself.

Somehow, in that second, Celeste felt something churning in the pit of her belly at his voice cutting through the air. Slowly, she built up the courage to peer out the window once more. Oh, those lips of his, that smile... No, NO..NO she found herself thinking...

And there he stood, Major Egan, his cocky grin lighting up his face as he spotted Celeste. His presence filled her with an odd sense of comfort, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. With hands planted firmly on his hips, he called out to her with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

"I know you're there, Jefferson. Where you go, Arnie follows, and he's here, so you must be too," the Major proclaimed, his words filled with a veiled threat that sent a chill down Celeste's spine. It was a moment more before she finally stood to her feet. Slowly, Celeste descended from the aircraft, her heart pounding as anticipation and nervousness swirling in her stomach like a tempestuous sea.

As her eyes landed on Egan, standing before her with a kaleidoscope of emotions flickering across his face, she couldn't help but wonder what lay behind those inscrutable expressions. Was it regret, simmering beneath the surface like a dormant volcano waiting to erupt? Or perhaps it was sorrow, a deep well of emotions that had long been suppressed.

"It seems you have not changed, Egan..." Celeste's voice was a melodic cadence, laced with a hint of amusement as she observed him with a half-smile playing on her lips. However, his response was not in words but in a mere lift of his lips, forming that signature cocky smile that she had grown accustomed to over the months. And yet, in that shared moment of silent communication, something shifted within her, a softening of her features as she took in the man before her.

Her gaze drifted to the gash marring his ruggedly handsome features, a furrow forming between her brows as she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest in a protective stance. "You should get that looked at," she chided gently, her concern mingling with the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between them.

Surveying the other men scattered around them, their fatigue evident in the way they lounged lazily, their flight gear discarded haphazardly on the ground. Her scrutiny returned to Egan, lingering on the worn lines etched into his weathered face, a silent testament to the trials they had both endured since their paths diverged. However, her perceptive gaze detected a peculiar absence among the rowdy group, her brows furrowing in alarm as she posed the question that hung heavy in the air, "Where's Jackson?"

A subtle shift in Egan's demeanor betrayed his composure as the cocky facade he wore faltered, the mischievous glint in his eyes dimming into a somber earnestness as he regarded Celeste with newfound gravity. Under the hazy glow of the setting sun, Celeste stood at the edge of the cliff, her eyes fixated on the vast expanse of the horizon. The sea stretched out endlessly before her, its waves crashing against the rugged rocks below with a solemn, rhythmic symphony. Egan stood beside her, his presence a comforting weight amidst the uncertainty that hung in the salty air.

"They'll be okay," Egan's words were a whisper, carrying a hint of reassurance that seemed to fade against the backdrop of uncertainty. Celeste turned to look at him, her eyes searching for any semblance of hope in his gaze. But all she found was a reflection of her own worry, mirrored back at her in his solemn expression.

"They're out there, somewhere," Arnie remarked, his voice was barely more than a sigh, carried away by the wind that swept through their hair, tinged with the presence of sand. "But what if they're not," Celeste snapped back— where the thought lingered, heavy between them like a veil of impending doom. As if pulled by some invisible force, Egan took a step closely to her— raising a shaky hand up towards her.

There, without much thought as he always did, the major's hand found its place on Celeste's shoulder. His touch was warm, yet it made her slight flinch— with her mind circling back to a month ago with that disaster of a kiss.

"Hey, hey they'll be okay," Egan's voice was gentle, at least as gentle as he could muster. He wanted to reach out and give her the biggest hug but the moments of last time played in his mind—knowing he was the reason she left. "Knowing them, they're probably having a drink somewhere. Those sneaky fellas," Cleven finally chimed in with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Celeste stared at him for a moment, eyes scanning the subtle contours of his face before slowly averting her gaze back to the horizon. "Yeah, hopefully..." And just as the 100th was finishing up repairs, Celeste received orders to return to Greenland at once. Those very words uttered by cleven were ones he tried to hold onto as her group hightailed it back. Everyone grumbled at the news, knowing they'd have to spent probably another month in that barren wasteland. But miracles come in all forms and not always upon good news. Celeste and her crew had only been there for a week when the go-ahead was given.

They'd be returning back to Thorpes Abbotts to continue handling out missions as their crews there were running dangerously low. But the good news was short lived when Celeste received the call from Egan the day of their departure. One of the corporals stopped her halfway down the hall, just as she was adjusting her gear. Her brows furrowed at the mention of an urgent phone call—from someone that claimed to be her father. The colonel never called his daughter, unless it was of the upmost importance. Hesitantly, Celeste made her way back towards the main office—telling Arnie she'd meet him at the plane. There was already an officer there awaiting, quickly handing the phone off without granting her the time to question. Though as she held the phone to her ear, it was not her father's voice on the other side— instead it was that of Egan. This quite infuriated the Chief leader—particularly because she had assumed her father did care some, do just call and chat. "Egan what the hell?" She seethed, her hands were shaky upon holding the phone. It was then as he was giving an excuse, her eyes quickly glanced around the room—noticing most of the men had stopped what they were doing to listening.

So Celeste turned towards the wall, instinctively placing her other hand up to cover her mouth so her words would be muffled. Egan tried to plead with her, " Jefferson please, I understand you are upset but..." Celeste was quick to cut him off, " No, you listen.. Using my father as a means to speak to me? That's a new low, even for someone like you..." Egan had been mouthed off plenty of times by both men and women alike and he never bated an eye... Yet hearing those words uttered from her mouth made him feel a sting to his chest—like someone had plunged a knife right in. For the first time, Egan, major of the 100th Air corp, was left speechless. But when heard her mutter good day, he quickly blurted out that what he had to say was about Jackson. There was a moment of silence that followed, where he was just praying she wouldn't hang up on him. Then all he heard was a heavy sigh, a knowing that she was still there. Egan licked his lips and swallowed harshly—finding himself parched at the mere thought of mentioning these very words that were to come from him next.

"Uh..." Egan started, leaning himself into the wall, his hand fiddling with her picture in his pocket, "Jackson uh... he um..." Celeste sighed heavily, annoyed that Egan was taking forever to spell the beans. A part of her didn't want to go further but the other half did. "Egan, what is it?" Her voice was calmer this time, like it was before their little incident. With a smack of his tongue to the roof of his mouth, whilst Celeste began biting the inside of her lower lip, those words uttered next made her freeze.

"Jackson..didn't make it..." Celeste stared off into the near distance, as her lips began to slightly flutter. "He's been put down as KIA, along with Capt. Biddick." Hearing that made Celeste's stomach churn. She wasn't a stranger to death, but losing two friends within a month of another wasn't something she had particularly planned for. Much less those that had been with her since the very beginning. There was a moment more of silence of her end as Egan called her last name out. Finally after the fifth time, she responded. " Thank you major..." Before immediately hanging up the phone—leaving Egan to place his head against the wall with a thud. Many later on would comment that Chief Leader Jefferson never once shed a tear nor lowered her head in defeat. She just walked out, without a word more.

Jackson's death had occurred just barely a month after Frankie's. The lieutenant had perished alongside Captain Curt Biddick. In a comforting sense, at least he passed with a newfound friend and wasn't alone. Reports indicated that Curt had tried to safely land the plane to save his severely injured co-pilot. Jackson remained on board, but as they skimmed the treetops, the engines had failed—and with a final death groan to the wind, the B-17 plunged mercilessly into the earth.

Celeste felt so angry, so bloody angry with the universe, with God. Ferrying through the breezy Greenland hills, she felt she had been cheated, for if Jackson was still with Cleven—he wouldn't have faced this fate. There was times during the flight where she felt as if he was there with them, just waiting for him to crack those corny jokes. Arnie felt the loss the most, as he remained quiet the entirety of the flight up till the point they needed to meet up with the 359th.
They were the much needed ships for the 100th; ones that were deemed ready enough to fly. Meaning they would be trailing about three clicks behind the 359th. These bombers had taken weeks to repair; Which Lemmons would have preferred to handle the task himself. Arnie made some snarky comments about these bombers seeing better days, worrying they would explode and take out the entire C-47 workhorse formation. Celeste shared similar sentiments, yet the bright eyed recruit in the back was shaking like crazy. Which Robert had noticed...

"Boy if you don't stop shaking, I'm gonna have to give you some cream and have you make us some ice cream..." Robert remarked, to which the young recruit tried to mutter out something but it came out incoherent. "Nah leave him alone." Arnie scoffed, and like the silence came once more. With the C-47 rocking around with the wind, swaying their bodies instead ever gently. With a look out the window, the Pennsylvanian snorted under his breath—receiving an odd glance from Celeste. "You know, Jackson would be on the coms right, talking about jackshit just to get you annoyed." He remarked with a subtle smile,before lifting one side of his headset—revealing nothing but silence on the other end. Celeste merely nodded before her sight slowly fixed back upon the panel before her. " Jackson's passing is felt by all..." she remarked as a quiet whimper beneath her breath.

It was then when the runway came into view, with them watching as the 359th landed without issue. tThen it hit her all of a sudden, the brunette knew that Egan would be eagerly awaiting her arrival— that charming smile illuminating his face. Her thoughts were now consumed by him, replacing that of Jackson for just a moment—causing her to nervously bite at her lower lip.

Arnie was quick to notice this and flashed a smug expression. "Is someone excited to see a certain major?" he jabbed, but Celeste immediately flicked a glare towards him. "Oh, please, shut up... that's..."

"That's not what everyone else says..." Robert chimed in, as Celeste turned slightly and tried to swat at him. Luckily, he backed up in time— having known her ways. "You two are not funny," the brunette grumbled—fixing her sight ahead once more.

"Oh, someone is blushing," Arnie stated in a chipper tone. "No, I'm not!" she sassed before delivering a punch to his bicep. The little argument continued on, with both ignoring the tower commands. With another punch, Arnie's playful scream echoed through the radio, eliciting a raised brow from Jack. "What are they doing up there?" he quipped, leaning in to hear the commotion.

The head radio operator merely shrugged his shoulders, "I think they're fighting?" Even the plane started to favor one side more because Celeste and Arnie more focused on slapping another. The young recruit clutched his jacket tightly, praying they'd land safely. Amidst Captain Glenn Dye's successful 25 mission by the ground and bomber crews—Celeste's squadron of C-47's soon appeared on the horizon.

"Thats gotta be them." Egan remarked, promptly leaping out of his jeep. Focusing on one incoming C-47— with the words on the side French Kiss.

Amidst their argument, Celeste had taken note of the figure standing oddly close to the runway—Egan—frankly he wasn't hard too miss. Arnie hushed upon watching a smug look grow. Slowly, her hands pushed the wheel forward, making the aircraft dive slightly. Aligning itself perfectly with the control tower.

"Oh no..." Crosby muttered under his breath, realizing that the C-47 was headed straight for them. Like Glenn Dye had, Celeste was about to do the same. Just as the thunderous roar of its engines shook everything around them, Egan and the others hastily ducked down. Despite their efforts, the blast of wind still managed to snatch Egan's cap right off his head—narrowly avoiding a collision with the tower's antenna.

Meanwhile, peeking out of the small window of the B-17, Celeste caught a glimpse of Egan crouching down. A faint smile crept onto her face. "That's what you deserve," she murmured softly. Before she noticed Arnie smiling widely, like a child who just found the last piece of candy. "Don't you even start..."

"What trouble did you get into now?" Cleven remarked with a hint of annoyance—peering over the top of his rimmed glasses., "Oh, as if I did anything at all..." Egan scoffed, tone laced with sarcasm—though Cleven knew all too well that Egan had likely caused the commotion.

"Of course," Crosby sassed in with a playful grin. "Always the charmer..." before walking away, " A charmer that almost killed us..." He adds once more before tucking his hands into his trouser pockets.

Once landing, Celeste tried to hide herself behind Arnie—making him her shield against the eyes of Egan. Yet, it was to no avail. As they emerged from the C-47, Egan's sight was immediately on her; Like he was honing in on a target. He eagerly approached, that charming smile lighting up his face. "Ah, there she is," But Celeste simply nodded in his direction as Robert tossed out her bag—pretending as if their kiss from a month ago never happened.

Egan's voice was surely a refreshing and playful tune, like he were the star in his own movie and it were something she'd listen too all day if she could. Celeste tried so hard to suppress her feelings. It was much simpler when she was away, but being in his presence once more made it a whole new challenge.

As Celeste reached down for her flight bag, preparing to sling it over her shoulder—Egan stepped in to assist. Knowing the weight she held from losing Jackson, Frankie and because he wanted to make up for what he did. But as he tried to take the bag from her grasp, Celeste firmly held on—unwilling to let it slip away.

As their eyes met, Celeste felt her throat constrict with dryness as she contemplated mustering the courage to push him away. "Let me help," Egan whispered softly, but she instinctively pulled the bag back, asserting, "No, I can manage."

Despite her resistance, Egan persistently engaged in a subtle tug-of-war until he forcefully took hold of the bag, making Celeste to stumble towards him. Bingo! If she wasn't coming to come to him, then he'd make her..

Colliding against his chest, Celeste quickly recoiled before he could embrace her. Her delicate features momentarily masked by a furrowed brow, as she considered hitting his chest with a clenched fist—but paused upon hearing her father's voice. Peering past Egan, she saw Col. Jefferson approaching with another man dressed in an extravagant suit, carrying a camera by his side.

In an instant, Celeste's arm fell limply to her side as she averted her gaze, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I hope I am not interrupting anything," the colonel spoke, his gaze shifting between Celeste and Egan, eliciting uncertain smiles from both. "This is Mark from the London paper," his voice brimming with authority.

Mark, a rather rotund gentleman with a receding hairline, seized the opportunity and extended his hand towards Celeste. "Hello, I've heard so much about you and your work," his eyes gleaming with excitement like he had never seen a woman before. Egan felt a twinge of jealousy within him as he witnessed the exchange. "Thank you, sir," she replied kindly.

With a final look, he turned his attention to Egan, "The marvelous 100th has achieved so much. I—i" he begins stumbling over his words, fixing his camera upright. "I was wondering I could capture a photograph of you and your crew by a B-17." Egan stood with his hands on his hips, before glance towards Celeste for a moment. Her glaring eyes said no, but he smirked and waved the okay. Of course he enjoyed this, readying himself into position—for the fame.

Celeste furrowed her brow slightly, observing that this was her crew —- assigned to the C-47s, not B-17s. She moved to express her disappointment, ready to put this man in his place. Yet her father shot her a pointed look, his darkened brows lowering slightly. No words had to be uttered for a child to understand that...

Egan shot a quick glance towards Arnie, who reluctantly made his way over with Robert, Ben and the new recruit. Obligingly positioned themselves for the requested photograph, their expressions a mix of compliance and subtle reluctance.

Eager to slip away unnoticed, Celeste took a step back, watching as her crew patiently waited for the picture to be over with. Just as she turned to leave, a voice cut through the air, wrapping around her like a silk ribbon. Mark's voice, polite and yet insistent, halted her in her tracks. Her name, "Chief leader Jefferson," rolled off his tongue like a whispered promise. Which drew her gaze back to the group.

Before she could fathom a response, Mark's hand gestured towards the assembled crew, inviting her to join Major Egan and the rest for a photograph. As her eyes met her father's stern gaze, Celeste's resolve wavered. She straightened her tie with a sense of reluctance, adjusting her jacket with a grace born of duty. Jefferson made a move to stand beside Arnie, only to be gently redirected by Mark whom positioned her next to Egan instead.

Moving to stand beside the Major, she felt his warm presence beside her, a silent reassurance in the chaos of the moment. His touch on her shoulder sent a shiver down her spine. Celeste struggled to maintain her composure. With a faint flutter of anticipation stirring within her, she adorned a gracious smile, hands clasped behind her back, chin held regally high. How does one conceal the turmoil of their heart with the one they hold dear standing so tantalizingly close?

"Perhaps a tad to the left," Mark's voice cut through the air like a conductor orchestrating a symphony, his eyes keenly focused through the lens of his camera.
His instructions rang out, guiding the ensemble into perfect alignment, ensuring every detail was picture-perfect.

"Bravo, everyone!" Mark's effervescent praise filled the air, punctuated by an enthusiastic thumbs-up. "Now, let those radiant smiles shine through." Colonel Jefferson's watchful gaze lingered on Celeste—a mixture of paternal pride and apprehension painting his expression.

With bated breath, Mark initiated the countdown, his voice a steady cadence leading up to the climactic moment. "1, 2, 3..." In the final heartbeat, Egan's touch encircled Celeste's waist, drawing her closer with a gentle insistence as the camera immortalized the fleeting tableau.

Lost in a world all their own, Celeste and Egan locked gazes, a silent dialogue unfurling between them in the unspoken language of the heart. Mark's shutter clicked, freezing the moment in time—capturing the invisible thread that bound their souls together.

"Perfection!" Mark's proud declaration broke the spell woven between Celeste and Egan, ushering them back to the realm of reality. Suddenly aware of the palpable tension lingering between them, Celeste extricated herself from Egan's grasp—a whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirling within her. Egan's pleading gaze followed her movements, his hand outstretched in longing, his unspoken words echoing through the silent expanse. "Jefferson..." his voice trailed off, a plea hanging in the air like a delicate thread. But with a swift motion, Celeste gathered her belongings, slinging her gear over her shoulder in a gesture of finality. And With a steady stride, she walked away.

That steely determination burned in his eyes, Egan whispered fiercely to himself, almost hissing the words under his breath, "Oh, no, you don't..." She was not going to slip away that easily, not after her prolonged absence. Fuelled by a mixture of curiosity and a thirst for excitement, Egan set off in swift pursuit of her.

Before he could make significant headway, however, a formidable obstacle emerged in the form of Colonel Jefferson, whom placed a firm hand out against Egan's chest, halting his progress abruptly. Knocking the very breath out of the young major.

"Major Egan," he intoned, the words hanging heavy between them as he extended a hand in a gesture of greeting. Egan, caught off guard by the unexpected encounter, managed to stammer out a response, "C-Colonel Jefferson," before tentatively accepting the handshake.

The Colonel's voice, smooth as honey yet laced with an unmistakable steeliness, sliced through the air like a blade, "I must commend you for your actions the other month. I am told you saved my daughter from her plane. Your valor in protecting her did not go unnoticed."Jefferson stated, his words laden with a gravity that made Egan swallow nervously. "It was no trouble, sir," Egan replied, his unease mounting under the piercing scrutiny of the colonel.

"I must admit though, I was taken aback, given your reputation," His grip on Egan's hand tightened slightly, eliciting a protest from the major. "I assure you, Colonel, I would never dishonor your daughter in any way," he asserted, uncomfortable with the veiled reference to his past.

The corner of Jefferson's lips curved slightly upward before remarking, " Good." He then drew nearer, his inscrutable expression adding to Egan's discomfort, he continued, "Colonel Harding has arranged for some well-deserved time off for you in London. You'll be attending a war bonds banquet. I have also requested a break for my daughter, now entrusting her to your care." Egan nodded gravely, fully aware of the weight of responsibility that came with Colonel Jefferson's directive.

Just as Egan began to pivot away, a shadow of doubt clouded Colonel Jefferson's expression as he halted the major in his tracks. Fixing him with a penetrating gaze, the colonel inquired, "It has come to my attention that a photograph of my daughter has mysteriously vanished from my desk... might you have any inkling as to its whereabouts?" His eyes bore into Egan's, probing for the truth that lay concealed beneath the mask of nonchalance that the major wore.

Feigning ignorance, Egan responded coolly, "No, I am not aware of its whereabouts." Deep down, however, he knew exactly where the photograph lay, in his uniform's chest pocket upon the left side where his heart was.

REVISED FEBRUARY 12, 2025

AUTHORS NOTE

I LIED, SORRY!!!

The chapter was gettingg wayyyy too long so I had to spilt them up....

So the next one Egan finds comfort in
someone else's arms or does he?👀

Maybe some dancing and drunk confessions? Perhaps
A very sad moment perhaps

Literally everyone next chapter to me 😭😭

NEXT ON AMOR VINCIT OMNIA

Celeste and Egan get to London,
things already get off to a bad start. Both attend the war bonds party, only to leave with someone and find themselves at a polish pub. Things escalate and Celeste finally opens up