Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A hard knock pounds on the door of the van Pelt residence. A boy, relatively thin in hairline stands up from his chair. He turns, catching the sight of his dark-haired older sister. Seeing his apprehensive look toward her, she immediately furrows her brows. “You’re still the man of the house. Dad still hasn’t returned,” she scowls. “Go answer that door!”

Silently, the boy obeys, and immediately opens the door, unprepared for the sight on the other side. The door moves along its hinges, slowly revealing the sight of four Dutch soldiers accompanied by a well-dressed man wearing a trench coat and bowler hat.

 “Is this the residence of Hendrik van Pelt?” the man asks the boy.

Taken aback by both the soldiers and the question, the boy stammers, “Y-yes sir.”

“I’m sure you’re aware of our nation’s neutrality during this unprecedented time of this eh…Great War. Our division has examined the papers filed by Mr. Hans van Pelt, and it was found he offered to use this residence to board refugees. Is Mr. van Pelt home at this time?”

The boy glances back into the house, watching his sister’s gestures. Seeing her shake her head, he turns back to the soldiers and their apparent superior. “No sir,” the boy says simply. “He’s overseas now handling business. I don’t know when he’ll return.”

“I see. Are you his son?”

Through the corner of his eye, the boy sees his sister’s nod. The boy felt a pit of guilt festering in his chest. As far as his household was concerned, his sister was the one in charge of them in their father’s absence. He barely could handle the thought, let alone the act of lying to these men.

“Yes sir. I am his son… his only son.”

“Ah. So, he’s left you in charge. A big responsibility no doubt.”

He knew the man, probably a representative of a government service, would make such a statement. He immediately glanced over to his sister, nodding. Acknowledging his nonverbal gesture, she nods, leaving the front room. He knew she’d get their mother. Once she arrived, this ordeal with the refugee representative would be quickly resolved, right?

The representative eyed him suspiciously.

“I just asked my sister to get our mother,” The boy explains, “I’m sure she probably has a better idea about my father. I’m afraid I know little to nothing about this paperwork.”

Faint creaking and footsteps rang out above the boy. He sighs in relief. His mother was on her way.

“That’s fine. Just curious, when did your father leave?”

The boy’s eyes widen in confusion. “I thought people in the government like you would be told something like that during a war.”

At the moment, the door opened wider, and the figure of his mother enters the corner of the boy’s right eye.

“What about refugees and my husband?” the mother asks.

“Ah… Mrs. van Pelt,” the representative said, “Maybe you can clear a few things with us.”

“Of course,” the van Pelt matriarch replies. “What business with us?”

“I was sent here by the Koninklijke Landmacht to inform your husband Hendrik of the military’s intent to house a pair of refugees.”

“We never expected to actually house anyone… unless the situation is that serious.”

“It is. As they say, desperate times call for desperate measures. We simply intended to ask your husband for approval to move the two refugees in since they have completed their interrogations.”

“That is no problem. My husband should return in a few days.”

The representative had a cold look on his face. “Madam, the circumstances are quite urgent.”

“How urgent?”

“The refugees are children. American children, separated from their parents. It was difficult for our translator to get them to say much at all.” The representative glances over at one of the soldiers near him. The boy saw the soldier’s face, noticing his exhausted look. Perhaps this man was one of the individuals who interrogated the children. “My superiors believe your household might be more helpful since your husband mentioned in the documents that both you and your children are proficient in English.”

The boy thought back to the time’s when his father had taught both him and his sister English.

…

“Son. You need to know this language. It’s a requirement if we ever are going to emigrate across the Atlantic,” the boy’s father said as he put his hand on his shoulder.

“You know it because of that bank you work for?”

“Yes son. Its headquarters are in New York City in America. If all goes well, we will be moving over there soon.”

An excited look glowed on the boy’s face. The prospect of a home in a faraway land seemed like a dream. He looked over to his sister, seeing her equally excited face.

“I’ll become a richest girl,” she said under her breath in English.

He smirked at her mistake as she spoke.

“Why are you looking at me like that?!” she demanded furiously, seeing the boy’s expression.

…

“How many children?” the mother asks.

“Two of them: A brother and sister. They insist on remaining together,” the representative replies.

 The boy saw his mother’s sympathetic look. There was no way she wouldn’t say yes to more children in their house.

“I want to take them in,” she says to the soldiers.

The representative gestured to the rearmost two soldiers, instructing them to each move to the sides of the path in front of the van Pelts’ home. The soldiers did as they were told, and stepped off the path into the grass. In their place behind them were two children. The shorter child was a blond girl with back flipped curls and a small puff of hair above her forehead. The taller child was nearly bald, only having a single long curl of hair drooping from his hairline downward on his forehead.

“You think that’s them, Linus?” A voice whispers from behind the young Dutch boy standing at the door.

He turns and sees the sight of his sister’s curious look.

“I don’t know,” Linus silently mouths to her.

If her guess was right, they would be sharing the house with them in a matter of moments. Another realization dawned in Linus’s head. Why would the military send refugees with their representatives during a boarding request? Unless… someone in a higher rank already knew he or his mother would approve refugees on the spot. Many questions ran through the younger van Pelt sibling. Who in military knows his father? Why are they allowing this? What made them believe his family would take these children in without a second thought? None of these circumstances made any sense to Linus. The most glaring question of all was why his father would mention their entire household’s knowledge of the English language?

The van Pelt siblings watches as their teary-eyed mother stares at the American children. The representative nods again to one of the soldiers. The soldier nods once and turns to his comrade behind him.

The soldier leaned down to the children, whispering something to them. Linus couldn’t hear all of what was exchanged, but he did hear the words: “This will be your new home for now,” in English. Once the soldier finished his message, he stood back up as the children began to walk toward the door of the van Pelt’s home. The taller, bald American boy had nervous smile across his mouth, trying his best to fight what was likely a huge adversity on his plate. The blonde had a sour look on her face. To Linus, it looked as if she wanted to let everyone know she didn’t appreciate the situation she was entering. As they reached the door, they stopped, locking eyes with Linus. Was it the first time they noticed him?

Then, the two American children looked into the house. Linus followed their gaze, noticing his sister watching the sight unfold. The Americans made one final glance at the soldiers before walking into the house. Intent on welcoming them, Linus followed them into his family’s home. He made quick glance of his own, noticing his mother was still talking with the representative. He tried not dwell any further on it as he turned back to his household’s new residents. 

All four children were completely silent. The tension building in the room was thicker than pea soup. After a full two minutes, Linus finally plucked up courage and broke the silence.

"Hello..." he began, slightly nervous, "My name is Linus, and the girl with the black hair over there is my sister Lucy."

Linus took a deep breath. "I'm sure you two have been through a lot, and we understand if you don't want to talk too much right away. All of us in this family know English... pretty well, so don't be afraid to talk to us." Linus gave his best voice to sound polite. This certainly wasn't the desirable circumstance to welcome new faces into their family. "What are your names? If that representative said it, I don't think I caught your names."

The American children remained completely quiet, looking back and forth between each other. Linus began to worry if his English was too much for them. Maybe he had a thick accent to his English and he didn't realize.

A low mumble came from the American boy. "mmm..." 

Linus's eyes widened as he saw the nearly bald boy's frightened expression. "Mmm...my ...my name is Ch-Charlie Brown. A-and this is my sister, Sally." He felt relieved that he got one of them to talk.

"Yes... we've been through a lot of stuff," Charlie continues nervously. "And... it wasn't exactly good."

Linus could tell by that statement that these refugees will be a difficult trial for the foreseeable future.

Chapter Text

I look up to the sky, hearing that deep droning sound again. Following the sound, I race down the hill. Finally, I see it once again; the so-called flying machine in the air, passing by like they have done for the past few days.

I hear the pattering of my brothers’ paws as they catch up to me. I can’t help, but watch these machines in awe.

“Wish these things would be quieter though,” a voice emanates from my right. That was my shaggy-haired brother Andy.

“Still makes you wonder what those people will think of next…” That was my other brother, Spike.

I nod in full agreement. Anybody has a fair chance at flying now. Those yellow birds that flyby everyday aren’t the only things travelling through the air.

“You don’t think I’m too heavy to go up there?” The three of us turn around, seeing the sight of our tired brother, Olaf. He’s… well the bulkiest out of the eight of us in the litter.

“Of course not! Those machines are made of metal, so they have to be pretty heavy themselves. They’re just built well enough to fly quickly through the air,” I reply.

“That still doesn’t explain the fence in front of us.”

We stare at the metal fence, examining its seemingly endless span. I already notice the red colored notices periodically dotting the span.

“What do those signs say Snoopy?” Andy asks. “You are the only one of us who can read.”

“I’m learning to read too, you know!” Spike retorts.

I stifle my laughter as much as I can while I stand up on my hind legs. I walk over to the span of the fence. My view of the words on the sign improves as I cautiously step closer. I say cautiously because I don’t know what those humans will do if they see me. Finally, I reach a sign, outlined in red, and worded in white letters, which read: “Danger! Fast airplanes! No trespassers!”

 “Danger,” I read to my brothers, “Fast airplanes!”

“I guess airplanes are what those machines are called,” Spike comments.

“The sign is calling them dangerous too,” adds Olaf.

“Danger?” Andy asks, “Like when we’re chased by the butcher guy, we rob every week?”

“Yeah,” says Spike, “That’s the feeling of danger: the risk of being chopped into slices of cheese.”

“Why would those humans equate airplanes to butcher knives?”

Suddenly, a memory from a few weeks ago flashes into my head. “Have any of you seen an airplane while it’s on the ground?”

My brothers shake their heads. Of course, they haven’t seen one.

“A couple of weeks ago, I found a newspaper in the trash showing a metal blade on the front of the plane. Apparently, it’s called a propeller and it spins really fast to help the airplane move through the air.” I pause impressively as I notice the concentrated looks on my brothers’ faces. Taking a quick breath, I continue, “I hear these propellers spin so fast, they could cut any flesh into mush in a couple of seconds.”

“That’s the power reading does for you, Snoopy?” Andy says. “You know all this, yet you can’t show us how to outsmart the mustached cooks and butchers.”

“We’ll figure it out one step at a time,” I say reassuringly.

After our discussion on the reasoning of humans, we leave the fence for home. As the four of us reach the top of a hill not far from the fence, I look back, hopeful that an airplane might take flight or return to land.

“What are you doing Snoopy?” Spike calls. “We need to keep up with those two. You know they get lost easily.” My brother points at Andy and Olaf as they walk away from the bottom of the hill.

“I’ll be just a little while longer, Spike. You go on ahead. I don’t want Andy and Olaf wandering around for days trying to get home,” I call back to him.

My comment on Andy and Olaf’s sense of direction isn’t an understatement. I remember once when it took a day to just find them. Funnily enough, they walked pass our den several times in their confusion. Poor Spike has always felt guilty about it because he didn’t stop them.

“If you say so…” Spike replies before speeding off after my other brothers.

At that moment, I feel a nice breeze blowing through the air. All the tall grass tilt their stalks in the direction of the wind, tilting further and further to the ground as the breeze strengthens. Soon, it eases, and grass stalks play their motions in reverse, standing up high once again as if nothing ever hit them.

As the sound of the wind dies down, I hear another sound. It’s faint whirring, yet for me, the sound is unmistakable. No doubt, a plane coming down from the endless skies above to land at the airfield right in front of me. The engine drones louder and louder as it approaches. I turn to the source, seeing the sight of a bright yellow bi-plane gently lowering from the sky. Further and further, it lowers just like a window cleaning stage as it passes over my head, finally landing on the other side of the fence. 

That’s it! I have to get into one of those planes. I see it now: “First Beagle in the air!” The newspapers will all run that headline. I’ll be the first beagle to fly. No… the first beagle pilot, a Flying Ace. The sight of the grounded plane is a feast for my eyes. At that moment, I realize regardless if I enter the honest way or sneak past the fence, I will be kicked in the rump right out of the facility. It happened to me when I attempted to visit a library, a school, and several restaurants. Someone always grabbed me by the neck or wrapped their hands around my torso. Next, they throw me in the air and kick me right out of their building. If I’m making history, I’ll need a plan. So, today won’t be my day.   

I look solemnly at the airfield in front of me. “I’ll be back,” I say to myself as I turn and walk away. 

Ten minutes later, I reach my litter’s den. Sitting in front of me is a very amusing sight. My sister Belle, a beagle with a nice pink bow on left ear is… knitting a dress in the same pink as her bow. Andy’s shocked stare at this sight is completely priceless. From the look on his face, you’d think that Belle was from some Native Indian tribe. Though, I think the fact that she can knit is what is sending him into shock.

Then again, we’re not a normal litter of beagles. We run on all fours, but walk on two. Belle, Spike, myself, and to a lesser degree, Olaf all have big goals. Heck, our hopes and dreams are ones only people achieve. I feel we got what it takes to do it. I guess Andy can’t grasp that.

“What are you up to, Belle?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“Knitting my dress for when I next see my fiancée,” she replies.

“Ah…”

“Another date or are you going to officially tie the knot?” Spike asks, jumping in our conversation.

“Might be the second one if we find out what his owner is doing.”

“Owner?” I ask, “His owner has met you?”

“Yes. When I last saw him, he said his owner wants to move to Kansas and start a farm.”

Spike and I remain respectfully quiet as we take in what Belle says. I can already guess where this conversation is going.

“That’s when his owner, a little blond girl saw me. The look in her eyes said everything. She could tell what we were doing. She had a really excited look on her and ran off to tell her mom about puppies or something.”

“Just a moment!” Interrupts a sixth voice.

I turn and see my spotted eared brother. Appropriately, mom named him Marbles after his spots.

“What breed is your special someone?” he asks.

“He’s a beagle too. Just like us. His fur is nice shade of white like the rest of us,” Belle replies.

“Any kids you two have will be purebred then,” Spike comments.

“Don’t say that,” she says as she smiles and blushes. “We haven’t talked about that much yet. Our little puppies might be a couple of years away for all we know.”

We all make a light chuckle. The thought of us being uncles is just as much of a happy prospect as Belle’s marriage, or in Molly’s case, an aunt. The idea of any one of us having pups of our own still feels so far away. Though, it seems Belle will probably be the first of us to leave the nest forever. I wonder how soon the rest of us will go our separate ways?

I mean… after seeing the plane today, I think I might be next. I won’t be letting my family know about any of this. It certainly would disappoint them. Especially if that faithful day comes right after Belle leaves, it’ll probably break everyone’s heart.

I glance over at Spike.

“Maybe Spike,” I think to myself. “I know he’ll take it the best. He’s been itching to leave himself, and we both know that.”

I smile as I walk off into our den. It’s a spacy den right under a tree sitting on a sharp crevice. Searching carefully, I see various things we’ve managed to find. A coffee pot… No! Not that! I slide it off to the side out of the way. The human brush… Not that either! I place that little wooden tool in the pot. Ah… here it is. My typewriter! If I’m going in that airfield, I have to put a plan in stone as those humans say. Well… not literally, but this will be enough.