Chapter Text
July 13, 1972, United States of America
Eva looked exhausted beyond belief, her hair a sweaty mess, dark bags under her eyes. The sheets underneath her looked like a murder scene. Next to her bed stood Zero, holding a newborn baby, freshly bathed and wrapped in a yellow blanket.
“Do I get to name them at least?” Eva asked, her voice raspy.
“I think we should name them Cain and Abel, you know, it would be funny,” Dr. Clark joked. She was standing at the table, sorting through her medical tools.
Eva stared at her thin lipped. “Unless you mixed up your DNA samples I am pretty sure that Adam isn’t the father.”
“Goodness, can you imagine ? We could make the boys wear tiny matching cowboy outfits!” Dr. Clark was visibly delighted to finally have harvested the fruits of her labor. Eva however seemed like she was going to pass out from just having gone through her own.
Zero didn’t pay attention to either of them, instead his eyes were fixed on the bundle he was holding. The boy had blonde hair, like—
The raid on Bardia had been a fiasco. Eli found himself to be one of the 70 soldiers who had been taken as prisoners of war by the Axis as a result. A few days later a young woman infiltrated the camp and managed to break every single one of them out, spiriting them back to Egypt. David was overcome with joy to see his younger brother alive and well.
“—Eli. His name is Eli.” Exclaimed Zero after a moment, a wistful smile on his face.
Eva looked away, trying to hide her pain. She was too tired to keep up her usually impenetrable facade. Zero laid Eli down in the crib next to the other newborn, who was sleeping soundly, wrapped into a light blue blanket.
Zero chuckled. “I guess that makes you David then, does it not?” He gently ran his hand over the boy’s brown locks.
Dr. Clark turned to look at Zero. “‘David’? You are naming him after yourself?”
“I don’t see why not?” Zero stepped over to the sink, where he drew a glass of water. “Surely naming him after his biological father would cause too much confusion down the line, wouldn’t you agree?” Then he went back to the bed, where he handed Eva the glass. “You did very well, my dear. Thank you.” His voice was filled with warmth.
Eva managed to force a smile. “Of course, Major. I'm glad I got to do this.” She took a sip of water and handed the glass back to Zero. Then she rolled over and closed her eyes.
May 1941, Egypt
— “Wynn”, Old English for “joy”
Miss Wynn was only 19, barely an adult, but she had been appointed to a leadership position in the British Army Special Air Service and co-founded Layforce. It was already weird enough that a woman would find herself in a role like this, but at that age? And an American to boot? Insanity.
Of course she wasn’t granted any kind of official rank. What would the enemy think if they found out that the grand British Empire had appointed a little foreign girl to a leadership position? Unthinkable.
“I understand, sir,” Wynn had replied. Her face betrayed no personal feelings on the matter. “I am grateful so long as I can be of service.”
Her main job was as a “special adviser”, but she would also train the troops, mainly in hand-to-hand combat. Of course most of them took issue with that, but throwing their faces into the dust of the training ground one by one usually got them to listen. Any attempts at catcalling or otherwise harassing her usually got answered with having one’s shoulder dislocated. If they wouldn’t respect her, she would teach them to fear her instead. And it worked.
She knew of course how the men were talking about her behind her back, when they thought she couldn’t hear.
“I heard she straight up castrated a lad who dared to talk to her.”
“The Yanks pump their people full of experimental drugs to turn them into monsters.”
“She’s an escaped lab experiment, I tell you.”
If this kind of talk affected her at all, she wouldn’t show it.
Then the raid on Bardia happened. Wynn had assembled a small intel team to assist her over the radio while she herself infiltrated the Axis’ prisoner of war camp, where she managed to rescue all 70 of the surviving British soldiers. And practically overnight the looks of fear were replaced with looks of awe and adoration.
A few days after the operation Miss Wynn found herself being escorted by Mr. David Oh, who had been part of her intel team, to one of the few bars in town. It was primarily a hangout spot for the occupying British forces.
“My, you look quite lovely, ma’am. It is nice to see you in something other than a uniform for once,” David mused. He had procured the dress for her himself.
“Thank you kindly. It can’t have been easy to find a dress like this here. It’s not exactly up to the local dress code.” Her tone was as reserved as ever.
He rubbed his chin. “Yes, well, I have connections. Some of the higher ups have their families stationed nearby, so I was able to acquire the dress from one of the wives.”
“I do hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”
“Not at all, my dear. It really is the least I could do, after you managed to bring my brother back alive.” Ah yes, the brother. Eli had been purposefully avoiding eye contact with Miss Wynn the entire ride. His being mentioned made him shift in his seat. Then the car stopped. “Ah, there we are.”
They stepped out of the car and David led her by the arm into the establishment. The men cheered over the music as they stepped through the door. Wynn immediately got swarmed by a number of them, who wished to kiss her hand. And before she knew it she was dancing with one of them after the other. She couldn’t help but notice that Eli kept trying to sneak glances at her the entire time.
After several songs and dance partners, Wynn found herself sitting at one of the tables in the back, wetting her throat with a stiff drink. From the corner of her eye she saw David giving his brother a slap on the back that almost knocked him over. Once Eli had caught himself he stepped towards Wynn, while David stayed back. She pretended not to notice.
“Uhm… Miss?” He looked incredibly flustered, his cheeks and ears tinted pink. Alcohol or embarrassment? Maybe both.
She turned her head up to look at him. “What can I help you with, Mr. Oh?”
He swallowed, his eyes wide as if he was just face to face with a hungry lion. “I… ah… I was wondering, if you would, uhm…” he said.
“Any day now, soldier.”
He held out a trembling hand and averted his gaze, his head now red like a ripe tomato. “... please dance with me? If I, ah… may be so bold?”
She finished her drink in one gulp, gently took his hand in hers and rose from her seat. “Why yes, I would.”
David looked on fondly as his little brother and Miss Wynn swerved across the dance floor.
Eli and Miss Wynn had stolen away into the alley behind the establishment. He broke away from her lips, breathing heavily, frowning.
“If you think I’m a bad kisser, we can stop, you know,” she teased.
“What? No! Gosh…” he exclaimed, visibly embarrassed. “It’s just … I don’t even know your first name.”
“It’s Yahvi,” she replied nonchalantly as she nestled into his embrace.
He raised an eyebrow. “Huh? ‘Yahvi Wynn’? That’s a really weird name.”
“So is ‘Eli Oh’.”
He chuckled. “I suppose so.”
“It’s Sanskrit. Means ‘heaven’. My father was the … philosophical type.”
He pulled her in for another kiss.
Winter 1941, Egypt
Eli was sitting across from Yahvi in the mess hall, poking at his mashed potatoes. His brother David was sitting next to him. The three of them found themselves spending a lot of time together these days. Eli cleared his throat. “I’d like to take you back with me to Exeter, if you would.” David almost spat out the food he was chewing on.
“I assume that’s where the two of you are from?” Yahvi didn’t even look up from her food.
“I… yeah.”
“I would like that.” She smiled slightly, while continuing to eat her lunch.
David jumped up from his chair and slapped Eli over the back of the head. “Is that how you are proposing?!”
“Hey, ow!” Eli was clearly caught off guard while Yahvi chuckled.
“I am so sorry, Yahvi. My brother here is a moron.”
“Perhaps.” She put down her fork, placed her elbows on the tabletop, and rested her chin on her hands. “But I’d still ask you not to harm my fiancé , thank you.”
Eli’s eyes were wide. He first stared across at Yahvi, then up at David. He was grinning like a buffoon. “Dave, did you hear that?! Her FIANCÉ !”
David slumped back down into his chair, using one hand to massage between his eyebrows. “Sometimes I wonder how in God’s name the two of us are related.”
New Years 1942, Egypt
Yahvi heard a knock on her door. “Come in.”
The door opened, David stepped in and closed it behind himself. His gaze was fixed on the floor. Yahvi immediately noticed his dour expression, and how red his eyes were. Please, God, no.
“Dave.” She got up from her chair and stumbled towards him, grabbing his sleeve. Her voice was shaking, and it sounded alien to her own ears. “Dave, what happened?”
He raised his hand that was clasped into a first and opened it. In it rested a pin of the emblem of the Special Air Service. A winged dagger surmounted by a banderole charged with the words WHO DARES WINS. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he looked up at Yahvi. “He didn’t make it. Died two days ago while out on a supply run. They say that his party was ambushed.” He handed her the pin.
She walked back over to her chair to sit down. Her thumbs trailed over the edges of the badge and she eyed it intently, as if she was trying to burn the image into her memory. Then she turned it over. It had an inscription etched into its back: 30th of December, 1941. She gently ran her fingers over the date, repeatedly. David must have put this there.
Through muffled crying she whispered “...never again.”