Chapter Text
Paddy walked along the streets of Cairo with his men, scowling to himself as the others laughed and joked. He hadn't wanted to come along, but David had insisted that a ranking officer needed to keep an eye on them, and naturally he had business elsewhere so couldn't go himself.
Paddy was sure this was just punishment for his most recent outburst--one which earned him a black eye and a splitting headache. He held a book of poetry in his hand, hoping at the very least he could do a little reading while he waited around for the men to finish with their business.
The group turned down an alley, heading into the red light district. Woman stood in doorways, smiling and waving as the soliders walked past. The men broke apart, each of them heading to a different woman. They chatted with them briefly, money being exchanged before they disappeared into the privacy of the their rooms.
Paddy had intended to sit and wait--a book of poetry and a flask tucked into his shirt--but his plan was delayed.
A few rooms down from where he stopped, the sound of a commotion could be heard. Paddy looked over, and saw a large man gripping one of the woman tightly by her arm. He was screaming at her, pulling her roughly as he gestured to another man. The second man was sporting a bloody nose as he glared at the woman. The big man raised his hand, but Paddy grabbed hold of his wrist before he could strike.
"What seems to be the issue here?" he asked, looking between you and the man who was holding you.
"Nothing that concerns you," the big man spat. He tried to pull his arm free, but Paddy held him firmly.
"If you intend on striking the lass, then it is my concern," he replied, his patience running thin.
"The bitch broke my nose!" The other man shouted.
Paddy glanced down at you, and you looked back up at him, your gaze unwavering.
"I see," Paddy said, "And you must be the proprietor of this establishment."
"That's right, and I have the right to do what I want with these girls."
Paddy squeezed the mans wrist tightly, making him flinch.
"Well, from my perspective I believe you've got two options. In a moment, I am going to let go of your arm. Now, you can either accept my money for the girl tonight--unblemished--or, I can use my freed hand to beat you senseless." Paddy let go, "What say you?"
The man rubbed his wrist, glaring back at him as he thought.
"Pay double, and she's all yours," he offered.
Paddy clicked his tongue. Normally, he would enjoy beating the man into the ground. But he was tired, and his head ached. Even if he did fight, there was no guarantee the man wouldn't just take it out on you afterward.
Paddy reached into his pocket, pulling out cash. He handed the man a large chunk of bills, the action finally getting the man to let you go.
"Take her then," he said, walking away as the bleeding man looked between him and Paddy. He turned, running after the big man as he counted his money.
Paddy watched them go, before looking down at you. You stared at him a moment, then gestured for him to follow you inside.
"Thank you," you say softly as you close the door behind him, "But you didn't need to do that--you paid him far too much."
Paddy scoffed, "Bastards who think it's alright to hit woman really get my goat. I should have knocked him out cold, but my head is aching, and I doubt that me beating him into the dirt would have ended well for you." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling the flask from his pocket and taking a long drink.
You stood by the door, looking him over, before taking a step towards him. He threw his hand up, "Your services are not necessary," he told you, and you stop. He pulled a small book from his pocket, "I intend to spend my night reading--you may spend the time as you please."
With that, he laid back, opening the book, and began reading silently. You stood awkwardly in the center of the room, unsure of what to do. Your room was small and sparce, with little in the way of creature comforts. You had never been asked to spend the night with someone, only to not actually have to do so.
You stared at him, wondering why he would waste his money on you if he didn't expect anything in return. You saw his good eye squinting at the small print, his hand coming up to rub the space between his brows in frustration.
"Would you, um," you started, faltering as his blues eyes snapped up to look at you, "Would you like me to read it to you?"
"What?" he asked, scowling.
"It must be hard to see, with only one good eye, and squinting will only make your headache worse," you took a hesitant step towards him, "Please? I would like to do something for you, if you'll let me?"
You reach out your hand, and Paddy stares at it for a moment, before silently handing you the book. You smile, "Thank you."
He scoots over, and you sit on the edge of the bed. You open the book, and begin to read aloud.
"The sun does arise,
And make happy the skies.
The merry bells ring
To welcome the Spring.
The sky-lark and thrush,
The birds of the bush,
Sing louder around,
To the bells’ cheerful sound.
While our sports shall be seen
On the Ecchoing Green."
You continue on, reading each poem softly. Paddy occasionally took a drink from his flask, but otherwise laid still. He placed his arm across his eyes, his breath steady.
You weren't certain when he fell asleep, but eventually he shifted, his arm moving from his face as he rolled to his side. You examined him, smiling to yourself, before blowing out the lamp. You laid down next to him, and soon you drifted into a restful sleep.
---
Paddy had slept better that night than he had in ages--telling himself it was because he was on a real bed rather than a cot. He could at least admit to himself that he enjoyed listening to you read. Your voice was calming, and it was rare that anyone recited poetry to him instead of the other way around.
When he woke the next morning he watched you sleeping next to him. You looked peaceful, and despite how the situation came about he didn't hate how things had ended up.
Still, he had no intention of returning.
So it was a surprise to him when, as the other men loaded up for another trip to Cairo, he found himself joining them. He followed them to the brothel, and without thinking he scanned the street for you.
He found you, standing by the same room as before. You looked no worse for wear, which was a relief to him. You looked up, catching sight of him, and smiled. Not the sort of smile the woman around you wore; it was a genuine smile, with no hint of deception to it.
His legs moved without a thought. He walked forward, finding himself standing in front of you.
"You came back," you said, still smiling, "I didn't think you would."
"Neither did I, if I'm being honest," he replied.
"Well, I'm glad you did. You left so early last time--I never got to ask your name."
"It's Paddy," he said, and you answered with yours.
"So," you began, "Are you planning to sit out here all night, or would you like to come in?"
Paddy stood for a moment, staring down at you. He cleared his throat, gesturing towards the door. Your smile widened, though it was quickly gone as you looked to the ground.
"I would say you already more than paid for a second night, but--"
"But your shite boss would be none to pleased to know you didn't charge me for the night," he cut in, "I understand well enough."
He handed you his payment, and the two of you went inside.
You put the cash in a metal lock box, before turning to smile at him.
"Are you an actual customer tonight, or shall I read to you again?" you asked.
"Reading is enough," he replied, glancing away from you.
You smile, "As you wish."
You move to sit on the bed, but Paddy hesitated by the door.
He cleared his throat, "I meant to ask before: Why did you hit that fella? I don't want to presume, but you don't seem the type to be throwing punches."
"I'm not," you answer, "But every time he's here, whichever girl he ends up with gets bruised and battered quite badly. He was being rough with one of the smaller girls--she's new, and not used to the way some of the men here act. I don't know what came over me, but when I saw him slap her I didn't think about it; I just punched."
"He sounds like a right prick--and so's that boss of yours. He shouldn't let men like that in here."
You shrug, "It comes with the territory, I suppose." You gestured for him to sit, and after a brief moment he did so.
"Did you bring another book?" you asked.
He pulled the small book from his pocket, handing it to you.
"T. S. Eliot?" you say, reading the spine, "You're quite the fan of poetry."
"It is one of my life's great passions," he said.
You smile at him, "It's good to have something to hold on to; particularly in times like these." You looked down at the bed, "Would you like to lay down? Even without a headache, it's surely more comfortable."
Something about that made him take a long, deep breath. You scoot over, giving him access to reach the other side of the bed. He waited a moment, then moved to lay beside you.
You opened the book, and began to read. The lamp flickered in the dark room, creating a soft, comfortable atmosphere. Paddy listened to every word, thinking the poems sounded different when you said them. He enjoyed the way the words floated in his mind as you spoke, and soon enough he fell into a pleasant, restful sleep.
---
When Paddy visted a third time, you didn't ask what he was there for. You simply sat on the bed, and he followed close behind.
By the fourth visit, he somehow found himself listening with his head resting in your lap.
Every time you caught sight of him walking up, you smiled brightly at him. He wasn't sure when he began looking forward to seeing you smile, or when it started to make his chest ache.
With each visit, the two of you spoke more and more. Talking about your homes and your interests. He found himself wanting to know more about you, and he wanted to tell you more about himself. You smiled wistfully as he spoke about his home--the sea in the morning light, the heather that grew outside his window, the taste of his mother's homemade sweets.
"Your home sounds lovely," you said, "I'd like to go to a place like that someday--somewhere green, away from all this sand."
Paddy paused a moment, "Perhaps I could take you, when the war is through." You looked over at him, a little surprised. You quickly recovered, smiling at him in the warm way you always did.
"I would like that, very much," you replied. You weren't sure if he truly meant it, but it was a lovely dream all the same.
When his father passed, after he was denied leave and got himself thrown in the military prison, he found himself at your door once again. You comforted him, reaching over to embrace him as his voice shook.
He hadn't been held since before the war. It was an odd feeling, after all he had seen and done, like he didn't deserve it. Even so, he didn't pull away.
He had a nightmare that night, and again you comforted him. You scooted over as you lay next to each other, and wrapped your arms around him. He slept peacefully after that.
---
The orders came down. He was leaving Africa, the SAS were being sent to Sicily. There was a good chance he wouldn't survive, which he could accept. What he could not accept, was leaving you to the mercy of the men who visited the brothel. He had seen the bruises on you, and the thought of leaving you alone here ate away at him.
So he visited you one last time.
"We've got new orders," he said, moving to sit down on the bed, "We're leaving for Sicily in the morning."
You froze, looking down at the floor. You quickly tried to compose yourself, but your disappointment was obvious.
"Oh? That...that makes sense. Thanks to you and your men, Africa is safe from the Germans now. Of course you would be moving on."
Paddy watched you, the sad smile on your face barely holding. He reached for your hand, and you looked up.
"I've secured you a place on a ship heading for London," he squeezed your hand gently, "if you want to get away from here."
You blinked, unsure of what to say.
"Paddy I--I would, but what could I do in London? I'd have no way to support myself there."
"You wouldn't have to stay; from there you could take the train North, and then a ferry to Newtownards. My mother could take you in--she could use the help and the company, now that my da's gone."
Your breath hitched in your throat, "I..." you swallowed, "That would be wonderful, but are you sure? Would that really be okay?"
Paddy nodded, "It would be a comfort, knowing my ma's not alone. And...knowing you were safe."
---
The next morning you found yourself in the harbor, Paddy by your side. He gave you money, and a letter to take to his mother. You gazed up at him, a bittersweet look on your face.
"Be safe," you said. You weren't sure what else you could say. You knew he wouldn't be. You knew how dangerous his mission was, but you had to say it anyway. Like it was some sort spell to protect him, or that leaving it unsaid would somehow bring him to harm.
He nodded, "I'll see you, back in Ireland," he said, knowing there was no way to know if that would end up being true. He stayed by your side for a moment, searching for the words. In the end he couldn't say them, and he turned to leave.
Your chest clenched as you looked at his back, watching as he began to walk away. You realized this may be the last time you ever saw him, and suddenly your feet began to move. You grabbed his hand, and he turned back to look at you.
It only took a moment. You locked eyes, and you moved forward, placing your lips to his. He was surprised, but quickly kissed you back. Your chest burned as you felt his warmth, tasting the rum on his lips.
It only lasted a few short moments, but it felt like a release. A connection that had been building for months finally being realized. When you broke apart, you looked up at him.
"Promise me you'll come home."
Paddy sighed, knowing any promises he made couldn't be guaranteed. Still, he moved closer to you.
"I promise," he said, kissing you one last time before walking away. You were left standing alone, chest tight as you watched him go.