Round 3 - Return of the Meme

[hhanon]

Round 3 - Return of the Meme

General Rules

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Prompting Rules

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Format of Prompts

• Put [RPF] before RPF prompts. 
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Archiving Prompts and Fills

• To make the archiving job easier, please drop a link to your fill/unprompted fic here at the fills post.
• Nothing here you fancy filling? Take a look at the unfilled prompts archived here or at Round 1 or Round 2.

That's nearly the end of the storia, for onto the scene comes our much loved meme: HAIL TO THE QUEEN OF PROMPTIA.

Comments

Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life

[wniny.livejournal.com]

They Owe Us A Life

So, starter post, because I need to explain a couple of things. I am also honored to finish my fic on this day, on which 93 years ago the Treaty of Versailles was signed, and WWI was over.

This is by no means a masterpiece, it's just a very large crappy fic. It's crap compared to the best fics on this board... but I'll post it anyway, because I am rather proud of it.
It contains roughly 40.000 words and I have been writing on it since the middle of October. I tried to keep them in character, but it is my first Blenkinsop/Maltravers fic ever. So please don't hate me too much if it's horrible.
Also, english is not my native tongue, but I have proof read and corrected this thing for half a month now. If there is anything that's unclear, please ask me!


I named them George Maltravers and Albert Blenkinsop.
They where both born in 1893, the story starts in 1906.

Some characters from HH (and the cast) will make... well cameos or something like that. (mostly because I was to lazy to come up with characters myself.)
All things military are... odd and not based on anything. Let's just let them be a bit Gary Stu's in that matter, please?


This story is divided into 4 parts, and each part contains 5 chapters, so 20 chapters in total. I will try and post one chapter everyday. :)

Part 1. The Boarding School
Part 2. The Great War
Part 3. The Golden Age
Part 5. The End


Warnings: Death, character death, homophobia, NC-17 sex, awkward sex, underage sexual relationships (15+), mentions of non-con. Not 100% accuRAT. (mupping telephones, military and public transport system)

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 1a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

Part 1. The Boarding School - Chapter 1. First Sight

George Maltravers was not made for boarding school. No. He was going to get teased because of his chubbiness, and mocked because of his girly blue eyes and then he would be forced to join the choir and everyone would find his singing voice extremely funny – at least that was what had happened in the old school. That's why he had to transfer in the middle of the term, because of the bullies. But this was a new start, a new beginning. Little did he know that it would also be the beginning.
The school was old, built in the 17th century but then it had been a lot smaller and only for the aristocrats. Today it was a mix of upper middle-class and lower nobles.
George took a deep breath, the corridor was cold, and the dorms was far away from the main building, perfect, just perfect. ”Oh, Mr. Maltravers, this is the first graders B dorm, everyone is away at the moment, at class. Dinner is served in half an hour. Do not be late.”
”No professor. Thank you professor.” George said and opened the door, and tried to slip in with all his luggage, it probably looked ungracefully but at least he got in. He rearranged his coat, it was grey. Not like the school uniform, which was in a rather dull (but still better than grey) blue colour.
He found his bed, it was the only one that wasn't made, it was situated in the corner. He sat down, the bed was hard, but the dorm it self didn't look so bad. It had just 6 beds, and on the opposite wall three large windows spread light across the room. The fireplace was seated just next to the door and above it hung a copy of the ”Last Supper” by the... Davinchi? George really couldn't remember, it wasn't really his thing – art and such, well he liked to sing, occasionally, but that was kind of it. In the middle of the room there was a long wooden table with 6 chairs, all looked equally hard.
He must admit that he was worried about the other students, he wasn't really that good at standing up for himself. Maybe that had been why the bullies, oh what a silly word for something so bad, maybe that's why he was made a target? He started to unpack, neatly folding his things into the coffin at the end of the bed.
He didn't hear the door open, maybe because he was concentrating on making his bed. He was straighting out the blanket when he looked up into a pair of dark eyes. ”Need any help?” the owner of the eyes asked.
”Uh, yes please.” George said, and tried to smile. Soon the bed was fit for inspection. ”Do they drop coins here too?”
”Sometimes.” the other boy said. ”Oh, sorry, I am Charles.” The boy named Charles was tall, and he had black hair, it was messy and looked like it needed a good comb. ”Charles Stuart.” He reached out his hand and George shook it.
”George Maltravers.” he said.
”Nice to meet you!” Charles smiled, his smile was utterly wonderful, so bright and warm and happy. ”Just coming back to leave my books before dinner. Heading back to the canteen, want me to show the way?”
”Yes please, would be great. It's a big school.”
The other boy laughed. ”Well it isn't that big.”
”How long have you been here?”
”Two years now, since I was 11.” He said. Charles looked like a person you should stick to. ”Where do you come from?” he asked.
Charles looked back at him, opened the door. ”London.” George followed him, out into the cold autumn.
George looked at him, he was right next to him and had his cheeks was slightly red, and George thought that he must look the same himself. ”Isn't that very far away from here?”
”Not further away than Sussex.” Charles smiled again.
Georges blushed. ”Is it that obvious.” He really hated his accent, and he had tried to conceal it, but sometimes it slipped through. His father said he would grow away when he grew up.
”No, not really. Either way I think it sounds... amazing.” George smiled, for some reason it was nice to know that Charles liked his accent.

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 1b/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

They walked over a large field, Charles informed him that it was where they played football and cricket during the weekends, because the real football field was off-limit without a teacher. ”Well, you can get permission to play cricket but you have to be at least 15 then.” Charles said. ”And then you have to play with Professor Willbond, the english teacher.” Another boy came running towards them, or it was more a really fast-paced walk, so George did not get any chance to ask Charles about the teachers.
”You must be the new student, nice to meet you, I am Sotherby, with an 'R'. Not like the acutionhouse.” He said, and they shook hands and George told his name. Sotherby was much, much taller than both of them, with brown hair and what could only be explained as intelligent eyes. ”I see you met Charles, I hope he has been nice.”
”I am always nice.” Charles said. ”I can be a bit idle sometimes, but either way...”
”Idle... I do most of his homework really, can do yours to, for a small sum.”
”Oh, thanks but no thanks.” George said.
It took all to long to get to the canteen. George could only imagine what walking there early in the morning, in the snow would be like. But the canteen itself was warm and it smelled of food. And George was hungry. They sat down at the table and George realized that it would be at least another ten minutes until the dinner was going to be served. There was another person already sitting there. ”Mad-George!” Charles said, he raised his voice and said again: ”Mad-George!” The boy, with even more messy hair than Charles finally reacted, smiled towards them.
”Hello.” He said, rather shyly. ”Sorry, got caught in my own thoughts again.”
”It's alright Mad-George, this is George, he is the new student.”
”There can't be two Georges.” he said.
”No, but you are Mad-George, he is just George.” Charles said, George couldn't help but think that Charles seemed rather used to the whole... mad Mad-George thing.
”Oh yes, that's right.” Mad-George said and looked at him, his eyes was really scary. ”But what about William?” he said. ”What about William?”
Sotherby looked up from the book he was reading. ”Mad-George, we have talked about this a million times. William moved to Wales.”
”Why would anyone move to Wales?” Mad-George asked. But the question was ignored and they continued to wait. The room was slowly getting filled by hungry students, each divided into their class and two prefects at the end of each table.
”Charles!” someone yelled. George looked around, and was filled with relief to see a rather fat, and short, boy coming against them. He had rather long, brown hair and blue eyes, and dressed in the same school uniform as Charles. Charles leaned in, and said, almost in a whisper. ”Don't mention anything about him, he gets insulted easily.”
”Charles!” the boy cried again, and sat down, opposite them, but still leaving a chair between him and Mad-George. ”I looked all over for you.”
”Richard, this is the new boy.” Charles said. ”George Maltravers, this is Richard Neville, he shares our dorm.” They both stood up, like proper gentlemen and shook each others hands, while saying all the ordinary phrases.
Richard sat down, his eyes darting across the room. ”I heard that someone said I didn't got a B at the history test at all...”
Charles sighed, looked sternly at Richard. ”It was probably just William, and he is awful at history any way, right? Always get everything wrong.” Richard who nodded, Charles continued: ”Splendid, sorted that out fine, see Sothers!” Richard still looked sad, and like a puppy at the same time, George thought.
The room was soon filled. Except for the empty chair opposite George. But not for long, because just before the professors entered the room a boy came, almost running, towards them and he flung down onto his chair. They didn't have a chance to get introduced, and that was well because George thought he had lost his voice. The boy was tall, and had brown wavy hair, that was neatly combed into place. His face was long, and his nose was really big, but still it didn't look odd in any way, it just added to the charm. And his smile was so brilliant, absolutely smashing.

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 2a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

Chapter 2. Understanding

Albert smiled against George, who he counted as his best friend. They had spent two years together at the boarding school already, and today it was Georges 15th birthday. Birthdays was seldom celebrated but Albert knew how homesick George had been for the last month so he had decided to lighten him up.
He liked George. A lot. A little bit more than one should probably. So much that he had bad – BAD – dreams about him, dreams that forced him to change sheets in the morning, and he couldn't really repress the feelings he felt when he looked at George. Especially into his beautiful baby blue eyes. They where so full of life and all the happiness in the world seemed to live in there. That would make Albert's stomach hurt, but it was a pleasant sort of pain, a sort of pain that made him want to curl up and just smile like a fool.
Albert liked everything about George. George was spiffing.
George was also very short, and that made him look a bit chubby, but he wasn't really, or maybe a little but nothing to serious. But it was still something that the other students liked to tease him about (according to Richard, but Richard was fat himself so it was possible that the rumors was actually about him.) But he was really great at sports and he could run for hours. (almost)
He wasn't sure at all if George liked him. Well as a friend maybe, but nothing more than that. And sure they had wanked off together a couple of times, and had not George had his hand on his shoulder one time (and had that not made Albert come all to fast?), but so had most of the boys in the dorm, it was so cramped, it didn't mean anything. It way just Albert that was odd and actually watched and the other when they did it, he really liked watching George stroking himself, watching his face when he did. He really wanted to make George look like that himself.
George's birthday coincided with a sunday, that's why they was able to celebrate it. Albert had planned it himself, keeping all the plans away from Charles who was just going to suggest that he would smuggle in some spirits and maybe a few girls.
He had only involved Charles (and Sotherby) in the Saturday afternoon. They needed a cake and he knew that Charles would be the only one to get one. Since he was the lover of someone in the kitchen, or claimed to be at least.
Charles had gotten them a cake, a simple poundcake with jam in it, and a bottle of brandy. Albert hid the brandy, but Charles was probably going to find it. It had been hard hiding the cake, but it George had not found it yet.
They had spent the morning walking to church and attending mass, and the afternoon playing cricket with Professor Willbond. It was the prefect way to spend a Sunday. ”Playing the best sport there is!” Professor Willbond said, he had always been nice (he taught english by the way). They all enjoyed the informality of Sundays, the other professors joining in the game, Professor Howick (the new social science teacher) read a book under the shades. The new german student who shyly sat on the bench, while Robert from 7th grade pestered him with questions that he didn't understand. Yes – sundays where wonderful.
They had played until almost 5 o'clock and Albert was absolutely finished when they finally headed back to the same old dorm. Mad-George, who got madder and madder after every holiday that passed, was picking sticks, he was going to plant them on tuesday (he always did) or maybe he was building a fence. He didn't talk much now, but Richard did all the talking anyway.
Albert had made his utmost to keep it a secret from George, the ”party” as Charles called it. (Charles loved parties) Sotherby called it a celebration. But it didn't really mattered what they called it, the thing was that Albert didn't think that Richard would keep the secret. Richard's arm might be functioning (here Charles would had said something witty about wanking), and his father was an ideal husband, but he couldn't keep secrets.
”George!” Richard called but Charles, who also didn't want to spoil the surprise, was faster than George.
”What is it, Richard?” He called and ran all the way back to Richard. (remember that Richard wasn't really athletic.)

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 2b/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

”Oh God, let it be over soon.” Sotherby whispered.
”I am a great planner.” Albert said and looked back at George who was accepting a twig that Mad-George picked for him.
”No you are not, you are indecisive and you can't remember anything.”
”I got him a cake, he likes cake.”
”Charles got you cake, by doing... you-know-what with Miss May .”
Albert looked at Sotherby, wondering if to laugh or to throw something at Charles. ”But she is just a scullery maid!” Sotherby just shook his head in reply. ”I though he had promised to marry Lucy.”
”Should one really trust any of Charles' promises? Except for showing up at parties?”
”I guess not.” Albert sighed as he opened the door to the dorm.
They all got changed to something less sweaty in silence, except for Mad-George who was humming a song that they never heard before. Albert spun around and tapped George shoulder, holding the gift he had bought long before the summer break even started, and it had been neatly packed away in his coffin.
”Happy Birthday George, finally 15 like the rest of us!” he said and handed his gift to George who looked surprised. ”Well except Richard then.” The other boys joined in to congratulated him.
”Albert you shouldn't!” he said.
”You don't even now what he got you yet.” Charles said. Albert hit his arm and smiled towards George. ”But I got you something too.” Charles said and handed him the bottle of brandy, that he had tied a bow-tie around. ”Well, nothing fancy, Mr. Boringsop here didn't want me to give it to you.” To Albert's delight he just put the bottle on the table.
”Thanks Charles. I'll open it later, okay?” George said, and put Albert's gift away. Albert was happy that he did that actually.
”I got us all cake.” Charles declared. ”Well it might have been Mr. Boringsop's idea, but my romantic skills got it.”

It was late, and there was almost nothing left in the bottle of brandy that Charles had given George. Richard was already sleeping, Charles had slipped out into the night, which meant that Sotherby laid worried in his bed. ”Come.” Albert said and grabbed his hand. George had bad feelings about the beautiful, tall brown-haired boy, really bad feelings that he shouldn't be having. George didn't dare to think about the feelings though, because he feared that they might be more than just friendship. Maybe it was... love.
It couldn't be though... because they were both boys and that was wrong. Everyone knew that, so what was wrong with him? It said in the bible that it was wrong, and... why did he feel like he wanted to kiss Albert's pretty, thin lips. ”Come on.” he said again and smiled, and since he was drunk he just couldn't resist taking Albert's hand and get pulled out into the unusual warm September evening.
Albert realized it right there, under the clear half moon. That he liked George a lot more that he had ever liked anyone before. ”Open my gift.” he said and giggled.
”Sure thing...” George said and began to carefully unwrap the package. Albert looked at his hands, his long fingers.
”It's nothing big really, just something little... silly...” Albert rambled. ”I hope you like it though.”
George opened the box and smiled. ”You remembered!” he said while looking down at the little book that they had looked at in the village. It was a book about all the countries in the world, filled with facts like how large each one was and their flags.
”Well, I guess you need one if you are going to join the army.” Albert smiled. It was George's dream, fighting for the king and country. Albert didn't like that idea, what would he do if George died, or got shot. He would have to come with him, to make sure that his slightly chubby friend didn't get harmed, of course he had not told George about his plans. That had to wait.

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 3a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

Warnings: NC-17, really unsexy oral-sex (honestly), bullying, homophobia, cursing, non-con (not graphic just mentions of)

Chapter 3. Make Him Smile

It wasn't easy. Being together at a boarding school. They managed to keep it a secret in the beginning, well Sotherby found out the next day, but he promised not to tell anyone if they didn't tell anyone that Lucy had given birth to a boy (”It's probably not his, I have told him this a million times, but he just doesn't care!”) and that next month Charles was going to sneak out to see his child.
They stole kisses and when they where alone they held each others hands, just staring in silence at each other. They also started to experiment.
Kissing other places than lips and cheeks, like their necks and hands. And they learned that there was nothing more wonderful than laying close to each other in a small bed and rub against each others bodies while sharing long kisses.
When christmas came neither of them wanted to go home. And that was the first time they jerked each other off. Albert had moaned into Georges ear as he came, still moving his hand around George's cock, who came soon after too.
During the christmas weeks they sent at least a letter to each other everyday, George's letters always a bit more painting and describing than Albert's. Sometimes one of them felt brave enough to tell the other that they missed their kisses and how they longed to share one again. Everything coded into ”you-know-what” and ”that”, in case their parents would read the mail.

After the holiday they both came back with some new knowledge, George's from sneaking around in the grown-up parts of the library, and with the aid of the old librarian, Albert's from Mr. Blenkinsop erotic books that Mr. Blenkinsop had hidden in his closet.
It took almost a week before they finally was left alone. They were warm, and George's hair was messy. They laid in Albert's bed, their limps wonderfully intertwined and their body touching just the right places. ”I want to try something.” Albert said. He kissed George before he pulled them up into a sitting position. George swallowed when Albert slid down to the floor. He let his feet fall to the floor but couldn't stop looking at Albert who had laid a hand upon his groin.
”What are you going to do?”
”Just wait a minute, try not to be so impatient.” Albert smiled as he started to unbutton the other boys pants. George undid the two bottons in the underwear himself. He still didn't know what Albert was doing, but he was hoping that Albert would jerk him off.
Albert touched it, stroked it a couple of times, and with some hesitation he kissed the shaft. George was suddenly filled with mixed feelings, the first one was utter disgust and the other ones was love and lust and how good that had actually felt. He looked with big eyes when Albert did it again, on a different place this time.
Albert stretched out his tongue and licked it. It didn't taste anything more special than kissing Georges neck. He could hear how George squirmed. Albert admitted that he really didn't know what he was doing. But he had read about it, and seen a picture in one of his mother books about ancient Greece. And since George seemed to be liking it, he guessed he was doing it right.
Albert looked up at George only to find that he was looking down at him. ”Are you alright?” George asked. Albert only laughed and continued to slowly lick it, he felt how George leaned down for a kiss. It was messy and made Albert very aware of his own, rather aching, problem in his pants.
So he finally took courage and let his lips slid around the head of Georges prick. It was a very odd feeling, and it tasted a bit salty by now. He slid lower and lower down, and then up again. He felt how George got harder, and he must admit that he quite liked it to.
He began to press his tongue against the prick while bobbing his head slowly up and down.

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 3b/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

”Albert...” George whimpered.
So he stopped, and looked up at him. ”Does it hurt? Are you not enjoying it?”
”No, please don't stop. It feels really good.” Albert smiled and undid his own pants. He began to slowly fist himself while resuming what he had been doing, now a bit faster and with his own moans muffled. George soon grabbed his head, and thrusted just a little bit, only that made Albert choke. ”Sorry, sorry.” he said.
”S ahraw.” Albert said (tough George didn't quite understand what he had said) and tried to smile, flicked his tongue over the head. George tried to restrain himself, but he couldn't. It was pure bliss, so warm and wet and wonderful, and when Albert moaned it just felt even better. He wasn't sure it was completely right, but he liked it either way. He wanted Albert to take in more into his lovely mouth.
”Could you... could take some more in?” he asked, and immediately blushed. Albert looked up at him again, and made a rather large effort and managed to suck some more into his mouth, he could feel it pushing against the back of his throat, and it took him a while to readjust and ignore that feeling. George liked it and that was all that mattered.
He licked and tasted, flicked is tongue and it just made himself more and more harder. George grabbed his head even harder when he came, spurted his seamen down Albert's throat while panting harder (he swallowed without actually knowing it, he didn't even feel the taste) and Albert came just a few seconds afterward.
George fell back over the bed and Albert laid his head to rest next to George's thigh. ”Whatever that was, I want one again.” George said.
Albert giggled and crawled up besides George in the bed. ”I am glad you liked it. We need to to write the geography essay now, George, or Professor Howick is going to...”
”Who needs to know where every country in Europe is located?” George kissed his friends forehead. ”Who needs to know that?”

The older they got, the more aware they got about the people around them. George got teased for his pretty singing voice and for his chubbiness. It was their 6th year, George was just sixteen (and 7 months), and Albert had just turned 17. If you lived so close to each other, things can not stay a secret for a very long time. Them being together, or being sodomites, had only been kept secret the first year.
”Hey, nancyboy!” some older boy screamed. George didn't care, he was heading back to his dorm. ”Oi, I am talking to you, Maltravers!” he screamed again. ”Going back to your boyfriend? Are you going to bugger Blenkinsop?” George stopped. ”You perverted sodomite, and you two like it, don't you?”
George turned around and looked at Henry, a boy who was in his 7th year. With him he had his two companions, both muscular and with cold, stern eyes. ”Just leave us alone.” he said.
”Why would I?” Henry said. Maltravers was not sure what he was going to say. ”Why should I let you keep on doing such filthy things?” Henry moved forward. ”Do you fuck him?” George just stood there, quiet. ”Answer my question, do you fuck him?” Henry said again. It was accompanied with a punch, right in George's stomach, he cringed and put up his arms in a protective manner.
”No.” he said.
”I don't believe you, do you?” He looked over at his companions who snickered. ”No, we don't. You see Maltravers. Being a sodomite is illegal. One can get sentenced up to two years.” He leaned forward. ”Two years of hard labor.”
”So?” George said.
”And of course, you will go to hell.” Henry smiled. ”Am I not right?” He slapped George. ”Am I not right, Maltravers?”
”I guess...” Maltravers said.
”Actually, if I wanted to. I could kill you.” He said. ”Not according to the law of course, but God would not judge me.” He smiled and slapped George again. ”Leviticus 20:13. But maybe you sinful, horrible little creature doesn't know your bible?”
George didn't say anything, he just looked down.
”Do we have to go through this again?” He was given another punch, this one made him winch even higher. ”When I ask a question you will answer me, Maltravers.”
”Yes.”

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 4a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

Chapter 4. Standing Up

It was Sunday, they had just finished playing another game of cricket as usual. It had been fun, even though it was a bit early, so it was cold. But Professor Willbond said that the game would only be affected by rain, not cold, so they played anyway. They where heading back to the dorms, but instead of following his friends to back, Blenkinsop waited, leaned towards a building, looked down at the cricket field and the 8th graders who was still finishing up. He was deciding, considering his options. And when he had decided, Blenkinsop moved fast. He almost run down the hill, and was soon close to the older students. He looked at them, felt how hate welled up inside of him.
No one, no one hurt his George and got away with it, that was one thing for sure. And especially not such a horrible, terrible thing like that. ”Oi, Henry!” he yelled as he closed up to the older boy. ”I heard you like blow jobs, fancy one right now, Henry?”
Henry stopped, turned around, just to face Blenkinsop, who was only a couple of centimeter smaller than Henry himself. ”Oh, isn't it the little sod...” He didn't get to finish the sentence since Albert hit him in the face. Henry cringed and Albert struck him again, this time in his stomach, blinded by his own rage. He would like to rip Henry's head of, drink from his skull, knock all of his teeth out and break his arms.
He was about to hit him with his cricket bat, right over the head, but Henry's companions grabbed him, pulled him back and hold him tight. ”You bloody bastard, can't you fight on your own?” Albert screamed as he tried to kick him. He grinned when he saw the blood in Seymour's face.
”You call me a bastard?” Henry said and smiled. ”You can punch, Blenkinsop, but that is about it.” By now students had flocked around the field, on a safe distance, they mumbled and looked, scared to do anything. Henry slapped Blenkinsop, just to get that annoying smile of his face.
”You fight like a girl.” Blenkinsop mocked, and earned himself a punch, that probably would give him a black eye. Henry continued to punch him in his stomach. After about four such punches Blenkinsop was gasping for air, and he felt like he was going to throw up.
”What is going on here!?” Professor Farnaby, still dressed in his cricket attire, rushed down the hill, with Professor Howe-Douglas after him as fast as she could without hoisting up her skirt too much. The two boys let Blenkinsop fall to the ground and Henry kicked him, so violently that Blenkinsop threw up.
”Who is a bloody bastard now? You dirty pervert!” The other professors came rushing down the hill, or the young ones at least. Professor Farnaby was by Albert's side in no time.
”What are you doing, Mr. Seymour!” Professor Farnaby yelled. ”Go back to your dorm immediately. The principal will hear about this, be so sure!”
Henry grinned on his way up the hill, even though Mr. Willbond grabbed his arm to make sure that he did arrive at the dorm and did not run away. ”Boy, can you stand up?” Professor Farnaby asked him. Professor Howe-Douglas sat down next to him and smiled, her face was angelic.
”Albert Blenkinsop is it, right?” He nodded. ”Ah, well everything will be alright, just wait here.” Both Professor Baynton (but he was an art teacher so he was useless at carrying people) and Professor Howick (who was short and fat) arrived to the field, but they decided that it was better to get the students back to their dorms.
George had by now heard the news about his Albert and ran back to the field. ”Stop it!” Professor Baynton shouted and turned around. ”Get back to your dorm mister!”
”But...”
”No buts.” the professor said. ”Leave the poor boy alone.”
”I am his best friend.” Professor Baynton saw the sincerity in the younger boys eyes, and he recalled his own youth and how much he had liked his friends. And he was teaching fine arts, he was supposed to be spiritual.
”Well, alright then.” he said and let the young boy run down the hill. By now Professor Rickard was there (he who never shut up) and about to help a trembling Albert (who could barely stand) to the nurse. George got a pat on the back from Professor Farnaby and followed the two men up the hill.

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 4b/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

”You know. I have a... person who I like, a lot.” Professor Howe-Douglas said. George just looked at her. ”I haven't met him for a while, but I still love him.” She said. ”I would do anything for him, even though I know that he wouldn't want me to. So don't blame yourself... Mr. Maltravers.” George nodded, since he thought that he understood what she had just told him. ”The headmaster will not be happy about this.” she said.
”I am going back to my dorm.” he said and greeted Charles who came running down the hill, defending his friend from the looks of the curious boys. ”Come on George, let's go home, Albert will be fine.” He raised his voice when he lied, so that the other students would hear. ”It's not like he haven't fought before, like last summer, when...” George didn't listen, only looked down to into the ground. It was all his fault, if he wasn't so mawkish, then he probably could have defended himself from the very beginning.
Charles told him that it probably wasn't anything serious, that Albert probably would be up and running the next day, or in a couple of hours. But George worried, he worried because, not because Albert had been beaten, he would recover soon enough, he was worried because Albert was stupid. He knew that Albert would not tell the professors what really happened, about George, no, he would rather be expelled than telling them about it.
”Come on George, it will be okay.” Charles said. ”What the hell did Henry do to make him so mad? Did he beat you?” Sotherby sighed at Charles, who was clueless about everything if it wasn't woman.
”Yes... sort of.” George said.
”He is a complete prick, I have said that since the beginning. And he will be fat if he keep eating like that. Have you seen him? He always stuff his face, doesn't he, Sothers?”
”Yes, Charles.” Sotherby said. ”It will be alright George.”
”He once said that I didn't know how to play cricket, I just don't prefer to do so.” Richard said, but nodded and smiled when he realized that he was talking about himself again. ”You know, he will be just fine.”

Albert was taken to the headmasters office, he was allowed to lay down on the sofa in the corner of the room. He fell a sleep for a little while and was awoken by their music teacher, Professor Baynton. ”How are you feeling?”
”Fine... I am so sorry, I know that...”
”Shush, don't say anything. Professor Dreary is talking with Mr. Seymour right now.” Albert swallowed, now he would be expelled, he hadn't thought about that until now. And they would ”Could you tell med and Professor Rickard what happened?”
”I... I rather don't.” he said and closed his eyes. The professors looked at each other and left the room, to leave the boy alone.

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 5a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

Chapter 5. Graduation

They were released from their prison on the last of May 1911. Nothing grand, they all got a letter with their diplomas. Charles then decided that they had to have one last drink together, so they all went down to the little pub and drank together. Mad-George began to cry and hugged Richard who was rather sad himself, but tried to conceal it better than Mad-George who told them, in his own, strange way, that he would miss them all. Charles paid without knowing it and Sotherby tried his best to be manly and make sure that they didn't drink to much.
”8 years.” Charles said. ”8 bloody years we have spent together, or, well, with George it's six right? And that is a long, long time. I just...” he looked around. ”I just want you to know that you are my best friends... and you have helped me a lot, and supported me through tough times.” Charles, who was really drunk leaned towards Sotherby and used his arm as a tissue. They all knew that Charles father, who had been put in prison for tax-cheating, was something that you just didn't mention, but that was what Charles meant.
”Old bean, cheer up!” Blenkinsop said. ”It's our last day together, don't cry!”
Charles nodded. ”Yes, you are right. Huzzah!” the last part only sounded odd. The laughed with each other, the younger students looking at them in awe.
They where there long into the afternoon, and then Mad-George's parents came to get him, his father argued with him all the way out of the pub. ”We should get going.” Maltravers said. ”We have to catch the 4 o'clock train, Albert.”
”Yes, goodbye Sotherby, bye Charles.” he said and got up to shake their hands one last time, but the emotional Charles hugged both of them.
”If you ever need anything, just write, alright?” he said.
”Sure thing, mate.” Maltravers said and smiled towards Sotherby, lowered his voice. ”Are you sure you can get him to the train yourself?”
”I will try.” Sotherby said and smiled.

Maltravers had once again invited Blenkinsop to his house, like so many summers before. They had silently spent hours in Maltravers room, his garden and down at the beach. (even though Blenkinsop refused to go near the water before George pushed him and learned him how to swim.)
On a Wednesday, they though, they where in George's room, it was hot outside, and Albert was sweating like a pig. The door flung open, because Mr. Maltravers had forgotten the words his wife had told him just moments before. (to knock)
”Boys, boys, me and Mrs. Maltravers is going to a dinner party on Friday. Can I trust the house in your hands?”
”Of course you can.” George said, happily. Albert was so fascinated that George didn't seem at all intimidated by his father, who looked very intimidating, tall and scary, with greying hair and a very impressing mustache. But George could laugh with his father, and he hugged him, ans kissed his cheeks. Something Albert never did with his father.
”Good!” Albert looked at Mr. Maltravers who went out and into the kitchen, humming a old tune.
George began reading for him again. It was a terribly boring book, by some woman who had lived a hundred years ago, and Albert thought that he was going to fall asleep. He didn't even notice when George stopped reading. ”Albert.” he said.
”What?” he said. He sat in a very soft chair, George laid in his bed.
”On Friday, I want to try something new.” He said, with a grin on his face. It was a naughty and still adorable grin, that almost made Albert blush.

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 6a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

Part 2. The Great War - Chapter 6. Together

Maltravers had only looked at Blenkinsop when he had expressed that he wanted to join the army together with Maltravers. Then he had smiled.
They lived and trained together with other young men for one year, from July 1911 to August 1912. Blenkinsop sometimes complained that he had left a boarding school for a boarding school but with more mud. But it wasn't really a surprise that Blenkinsop was better at it then Maltravers, Blenkinsop seemed to be made for crawling under stuff and shooting at things.
They came out of it alive, and healthy and was immediately put in charge for training the next group of young men, but they got promoted after only 8 months months, in April.
After that they moved to London, together. They grew mustaches to look more like adults and not young boys. They rented a large room from a old man who held himself with rentboys, so he never complained if they where to noisy. (Albert couldn't help but to think what the man did when they were.) The flat was wonderful. Sure the wallpaper was a bit ugly, and the floor was always cold but they had a fireplace and they had to buy two bookcases to fit Maltravers ever growing collection of books that he only read once. They had a desk too, that most of the time was not used like desk should be, but rather as support for wilder things. There was only one wardrobe, but it didn't matter, they didn't have that much clothes anyway.
The bed was soft but not unstable, it creaked a lot and sometimes the springs would loudly protest when Albert fucked George, no matter how slow and frustrating. But it didn't matter, because it was their room.
They shared every meal with the landlord in the dining room, he was very fond of them, he told them so far to often. He was a kind man, the landlord. With grey hair, and clear eyes, and he loved pies. The only fault he had was that he brought home those damn lousy rentboys every saturday night, who sounded so fake that it was laughable. ”Oh dear, they are at it again.” George used to said, they had just come home from the pub. ”One could think that our landlord is a Casanova.”
”Wonders if he actually is any good.” Albert said and giggled.
But in the end, the rentboys exhausted the old man, so they always had Sunday mornings to themselves.
Albert and George would go to work together. And they worked together. And at the end of a workday they could share a pint together.
They got promoted to 2nd lieutenants, mostly because Maltravers uncle (who was a General) put in a good word for them. That meant that they got to run after people and take notes, but Maltravers claimed that it was better than having to select people who was going to spend the year crawling around in mud.
In the weekends they would just stay in bed, kiss and cuddle, had great sex, had very loud sex if their landlord was out, and in the evening they would find themselves in a restaurant, or in a pub. And for the first time they met people like them, found places where it was okay to have pint and snuggle with each other without being thrown out.
It was just perfect. Them, together. Albert and George. Best friends, colleagues and lovers.

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 7a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

2. There's a war?

Warnings: Crappy military stuff, german-bashing, stolen dialog.

It was summer, already. They had both been promoted to lieutenants by Easter, probably because of Maltravers uncle again, but Blenkinsop was soon made Major. George had been angry at him, accused him of sleeping around with the superiors, a man of 21 does not become a major without having been in a war. But Albert said that it was probably because so many had retried. And George said that he was sorry, maybe they could get a bigger place now?
”We should go away, on a holiday. To Southend.” George said, it was really hot and maybe that was why he longed back to Southend where they had spent the previous summer. The darn suit didn't make it any better either.
”Maybe...” Blenkinsop said, they where on their way (and probably late) to a meeting with the General Major. ”But we have to visit Mad-George too...” Blenkinsop smiled at the odd letter they had got from the mental hospital, it had been impossible to read, but a doctor had written a note, asking them to come and visit 'George Williams' because he was missing them.
”I am not sure I want to... he is mad after all.” Maltravers said. ”And you know what they do to mad people.”
Blenkinsop smiled. ”But it was he who got us together.”
”He teased us because we blushed. Sang nursery rhymes at us...” They stopped. ”What was it again...”
”I don't remember... best friends... but it was kisses in it right?” Blenkinsop looked around in the empty corridor, before he stole a kiss. An aggressive kiss, not very coordinated kiss.
After that they hurried up, quiet and with a tingling feeling inside them. They where soon outside the room that was usually used for strategic planning, or kissing in Blenkinsop and Maltravers place.
”Do I look good?” Blenkinsop asked and pulled his sleeves.
”Smashing, come one now!” Maltravers opened the door to the little room. They blind where down and the large map of Europe stood mad the room look even smaller. ”Good evening sir.” Maltravers and Blenkinsop greeted.
”Finally!” the General Major said. ”Sit down.” They obeyed the order, squeezed passed lieutenant Scott, Blenkinsop smiled at the two other men, Black and Tompson. Blenkinsop eyed the coffetray and realized that he was starving.
”Gentlemen!” The General Major raised his voice to draw their attention, but continued in a lowe tone: ”We face a most difficult decision, most difficult.”
”Oh dear sir.” Maltravers said.
The General Major nodded. ”Yes, so now, tea or coffee?”
Blenkinsop looked at the coffee tray once again. ”You're right sir, that is difficult!”
The General Majors facial muscle tightened, how in the world could this stupid young man have become a major. ”That's not the decision, you fool!” He had heard that one of his superiors fancied the boy.
Maltravers, the fat Maltravers who probably couldn't do anything right looked at him and said: ”Isn't sir?”
Sometimes he wondered if Blenkinsop and Maltravers would be suitable for any job at all. ”We face a much more difficult decision than that.” He took a dramatic pause. ”Gentlemen, we are facing a great war.”
”War?” All five men in the room echoed.
Retards. The General Major thought. ”Yes war.”
And his favorite, lieutenant Scott, asked: ”Why?”
”Why war? Because an austrian has been killed by a serb in Bosnia and that means war.”
A mumble of voices agreed, and confirmed that they all understood. And then Maltravers raised his hand. ”Sir.”
”Yes, Maltravers.” the General Major agreed to let him ask his (probably stupid) question.
”Why does an austrian being killed by a serb in Bosnia means war, sir?” He raised his voice in the most silly places. God, the General hated him.
He took a deep breath, he would try not to kill him. He pointed at the map. ”Because of Russia.”
”Ah. Why?”

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 8a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

Chapter 8. The Trenches

It was October. Maltravers knew that only because of his own diary. But he was slowly loosing track on everything else around him. It was cold and soon there was going to be winter, Maltravers dreaded that. He had heard that there was going to be snow, and he felt sorry for the poor men who was going to sleep outside.
They spent two weeks at the frontline, and at the frontline one couldn't remember what date it was, only how many days it was left until you could get away from hell again. It must be over soon, this war.
They had spent long hours building the trenches, only to having to repair it and rebuild it ever so often. It was cold, muddy and cramp. They were all to young to be in a war, to fight and to kill other men, but if a boy, not barley a man, died, there would always be a new one there, ready to die for someone he had never seen. They would happily fight and kill until their last breath, because that was what they had to do.
Blenkinsop hated being a major. That he needed to stand in front of his men and show his bravery before they where going to rush out into enemy land, when he really wanted to throw up and hide somewhere. Tell them that it was all good, they where all going to live.
Or that was what he had said the first month. And the second. But now his tune had changed. ”I know that we all just want to go home.” he said. ”I know that we all miss our mothers and sisters. I know that all of us would rather give in, damn this war. But right now, we can't because we are british and we are fighting for our empire, for our king and for our pride. So lets climb up this trench, and fight. And if we will die, at least we will die in a meadow.” He looked at his men, who still showed some spirit. How? How was it possible? How was it possible that they where ready to die after such an uninspiring speech? ”Bayonets on, and good luck!” he yelled. And he would be the first one to climb up, throw himself out in No Man's Land.
Maltravers had killed a german on his first day. And a second. He had been full of adrenalin when he came back, his heart demanding him to take cover as soon as possible. It was only then, as he was back in the trenches, with Blenkinsop walking down the aile, counting each one of them, that he actually realized that he had killed someone. Not just a german, but a son, possible a brother and maybe even a father. He had killed someones best friend, someones lover and pupil. Someones favorite dinner guest perhaps. He had suddenly began crying, like many of the other men.
Blenkinsop didn't cry at first, until he realized that he had lost 6 men. He tried to be brave about it. But after a week they had lost almost triple that amount. After only a month he realized that it was no idea to even try and learn more than their surnames, only to count how many they where when they came back, and then write them down as survivors.
And each time that they went out, threw themselves out into the bright but yell dull day, somewhere in French, or Belgium, none of them was really sure where they actually were. ”Are you okay?” Blenkinsop would ask.
”Yes. Alive and well.” Maltravers would mutter. He had gotten a lot thinner, and had dark circles under his eyes. It was only after Blenkinsop made sure that his Maltravers was fine that he could finally wind down.
It was a miracle that neither of them died. Nothing had prepared them for this after all. Not any training, or any of Lieutenant Scott's stories.
But after a while they pretty much got how to do it. It was either way crawling across No Man's Land and killing another crawling german, or they had to crawl all over to the german trenches, try and infiltrate them and kill as many as they could, then crawl back. Needless to say, those missions always killed more men then just crawling and killing lone germans.
The orders came from men who had no idea. They couldn't know how it was to crawl around and kill people.

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 9a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

Chapter 9. No Man's Land

A/N: Very inspired by ”Joyeux Noël” from 2005. Watch it and cry. (and adore sexy a frenchmen and an even sexier german. Ignore Diane Krüger.)

”It's Christmas.” Lieutenant Maltravers reminded Major Blenkinsop. Blenkinsop tore himself from the pile of papers, looked up at Maltravers.
”What? Already, how is that possible?” Blenkinsop looked down at the papers, noticed that he had signed them with 24th of December. ”Have we been here for that long?”
”Yes sir.” Maltravers smiled. ”I wanted to invite myself to your room this evening.” Blenkinsop smiled to, but then the gunfire reminded them of where they where.
”No, lieutenant.” he sighed. ”That is to dangerous. What if we are called in? It wouldn't look good.”
Maltravers mood dropped, he sighed and sat down on a chair. ”Oh.”
”We will have all the time in the world after the war.” he said.
”I guess so.” Maltravers said. ”Either way, we are going to drink tonight. I will be responsible for the company.”
Blenkinsop smiled. ”I will ignore any orders tonight. It's Christmas on both sides afterall.”
Maltravers nodded. ”I heard that the germans are getting christmas trees.”
”Silly.” Blenkinsop said, stood up and kissed Maltravers cheek, in a hurry. ”But we will have drinks and hopefully the scots will not play any of their dreadful music.”
”One can only hope.” Maltravers said, and sighed. ”Will you join us?”
”Of course I will old bean!” Blenkinsop said. ”Now, I must give this order to... well you. Shoot the damn bastards, lieutenant. At 12.35 exactly.”
”Will do, sir.” Maltravers said and kissed Blenkinsop properly, it was not like anyone would see anyway. The kiss was wonderful, just as it used to be, before the war. The kiss was short but felt like it lasted forever. (like all of their (few) kisses the past 5 months)

The company wasn't very quiet that evening. They ate their food, thanked God that France wasn't as cold as England (even though it had been snowing on and off for days now. Blenkinsop even dared to sit close to Maltravers, steal some of his body heat. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to let Maltravers sleep with him that night, it was Christmas after all. Just a year ago they had been in their own bed, in their flat. That seemed like ages ago.
The soldiers had all gotten their mail, filled with christmas cards, gifts, new clothes and cakes, cookies and drawings and... well, all of those things that made a man happy. All of their soldiers where more boys than men, and Blenkinsop, who was to be 22 in a couple of months was still the oldest one. They all needed this, to relax, calm down, forget that they could be killed if the germans wanted to.
So neither Blenkinsop nor Maltravers cared for the normal rules to be followed, and did not tell their men to go to sleep. They happily drank with their company, and Blenkinsop had to firmly remind Maltravers (and himself) to keep his hands off his knee, not on his body, stroking, longing. No.
It all began when the private on watch called for Blenkinsop, said that the germans had put up their tiny christmas trees at the top of their trenches. ”Silliness.” Blenkinsop said. ”But, it's Christmas over there to, I guess.”
But before they got back they heard the french singing. It was really touching, the silence, the soft, harsh snow and then the voice of a male singing a song they all knew to well, a christmas carol that they all sang every christmas. Blenkinsop smiled, and sat down again, even closer to Maltravers. ”They might be smelly, those frenchmen, but they know how to sing.”
And suddenly they heard a violin, a soft violin. But it didn't come from the french quarters, no, it came from the other side of No Man's Land. Blenkinsop stood up, together with the rest of the crew.
”Are they...” suddenly it was not only one man singing from the french quarters, but two, and suddenly three. And they heard a few german voices, singing in horrible french.

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 10a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

A/N Ehm, sort of stole some ideas from: http://hhanon.livejournal.com/2037.html?thread=1518325 , but damn it, it was to good to resist, that fic makes me cry every time and I just want more of it.

Chapter 10. The End

Albert couldn't tell if it was really spring anymore. He couldn't tell anything at all except that George was not with him, and had not been for almost 4 years now. (and in the end that wasn't really that long.)
But four years was still an awfully long time, not only to spend in a war, but also to stay away from his loved one. He didn't know anything, and he found himself hoping that his George had gone home. George where not fit for wars.
He had strayed. Cheated, been unfaithful, all of those things. But when there was furlough he couldn't help himself. He needed the warmth of another human. He had found himself in the most seedy of bars/brothel, it was a horrible place full that tried to hard to be like the english idea of France, drinking horrible drinks, sometimes greeting one of his men, who looked scared to death when they saw him.
Once a private that was long gone by now, it had been the summer of... 1916 he thought. ”Sir, it's not what you think...” the young man had said, with Henri (a poor little boy who accommodated most of the older gentlemen, probably even som germans) on his arm.
”I don't care, private. When we are on a leave, we are.” he said.
And the smile on the young man's face had been like that of an angel. ”May we sit down, sir?”
”If you must.” Blenkinsop said and ordered him and Henri whatever he was drinking.
”I didn't know that sir was... you know.”
”A sodomite?” He asked the private who stared down at his shoes, tried to pull away from Henri's kisses.
Blenkinsop thanked the bartender. ”Yes. I guess I am.” he said. ”And I guess you are too.” he said, and smiled, as Henri, without any shame in his body, started to unbutton the privates coat while kissing his neck.
”Oh, yeah, well you know...” He seemed rather unease with Henri's lips and hands that stroked his whole body. ”God damn it, can't you stop it.” And he slapped Henri who just left him alone, sat down to drink his pint, and whispered some bad words in french. The private smiled. ”Bloody impatient whores.”
”There is no need to be violent, private.” Blenkinsop smiled. ”He is just doing his job.”
”Sorry sir.” the man said and looked over to Henri again. He had his eyes set for a french lieutenant who had just come through the door. ”Do you have favorite?” he asked, as he told Henri to stay by his side. Henri obeyed him, with only a slight roll of his eyes.
Blenkinsop just smiled down into his bottle. He did. He was waiting for that same man at the moment, a french boy, certainly not 18, maybe not even 16, but with golden hair to grasp when getting sucked and clear, blue eyes to stare into while wanking off. It didn't feel the same, getting fucked by him, maybe because he was thin as a stick and had... bigger assets than his George.
Albert would cry through the hour. Cry and desperately cling himself to the shabby beds iron rods that made out the headboard. At first the boy, Joseph, had tried to comfort him, in his broken and harsh english. But Albert had just clung to him, and asked him, in his boarding school french, pas aux soins , to not care and just fuck him. He just wanted to come, for when he did, he would feel just like he did with George, happy, carefree and just blank. Then he would cry, and let Joseph get dressed. And they would smoke together, and Albert would just look, where he sat, soiled and dirty in the bed. Pretending that everything was alright. Pretend that it was George who sat in that chair. Just for an hour or so. ”Yes.” he just said, and since he knew the question was going to come he said: ”Joseph, a smashing fellow.”

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 11a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

Part 3. The Golden Age – Chapter 1. Why Can't It Be Like This?

”I do.” Maltravers said.
”Then I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Maltravers kissed his Elizabeth, she was dashing, her green eyes sparkling and her dark blond hair stylish. He had hurried to marry her, when Albert had agreed on helping out with the house.
The wedding was highly informal, they couldn't afford more. The priest had agreed to wed them in the church, for free. It was just them and Blenkinsop and one of Elizabeth's friends (Mary) as witnesses.
”So, I'll buy dinner!” Blenkinsop declared. ”Do you want to come, sir?”
”Oh thank you, colonel. I would be delighted to, but I can't I am afraid.”
The dinner was lovely, Elizabeth had fish and kissed her newly wedded husband. Mary tried to flirt with Blenkinsop, and he didn't ignore her, but demanded that they threw toast after toast for the couple, to avoid the kisses she placed on his neck. Why couldn't the darn priest just tagged along?

Elizabeth had found out the hard way, it was a couple of months after the birth of the first little boy, William. She had greeted the friendly, and generous, colonel at the door. ”Just came to leave this.” He said and handed her a bag with the most adorable sailor-suit in it. ”My mother desperately wants me to get married, so she sends me baby-clothes to encourage me.”
”Oh thank you, colonel.” Elizabeth said. ”Please thank your mother, or maybe she must never know?” It was rather obvious that the clothes where bought at a store. Bessie blushed a little, they didn't have that much money, so the gesture was kind, but still a little bit embarrassing. ”I am going to see the doctor, with William.”
”Is something wrong?” he asked. ”And at this hour?” (later she understood that he knew that she was going)
”No, no, it's just a check-up.” she answered. ”He is a bit odd, but he is very professional.”
”Great, smashing.” he said. ”I trust that George is home?”
”Yes, he is in the livingroom, reading.”
So they had said goodbye, Elizabeth had gone to the doctor with the little one, listened carefully and thanked him. They had talked a lot, not only about William, but also about her. The clock had been almost 9 when she finally came home again. Her husband was probably asleep. She put William in his cradle, and crossed the hallway, opened the door. She was meet by a sight that etched itself in her eyes.
She caught them in a kiss. George, her George, was laying in the bed, with the colonel on top of him, and he was kissing him, they giggled, both had their eyes closed. The kiss was nothing like she had seen before, it was a lot of tongue and sucking and... the sheets where tangled around their bodies, and the colonel's hands where far to low down on her husbands body. Stroking a place they shouldn't.
They reacted in less then a second from that the door opened. The colonel jumped away, almost fell out of the bed. ”Bessie!” HER husband called. She closed the door, or rather slammed it. She was crying, she heard them talking to each other, so she resorted to making herself a something to eat. She heard George whispering in the hallway as the colonel left, she heard how he locked the door. She saw him when he entered the kitchen, his hair was messy, he had only pulled his pants on an his shirt wasn't even buttoned.
”Bess, it isn't...”
She took the sandwich and threw it at him. ”You filthy sodomite!” she screamed at him. ”You horrible man, you perverted... pervert!” He walked up to her, he looked really sorry. ”How long, how long have you been doing these perverted things?!”
”Bessie, I love him.”
”You can not love another man!” she screamed. ”Is the colonel... does he force you to it? He looks perverted with his perfect smile and...”
”Elizabeth, no one is forcing me to do anything. I have loved Albert since I met him at the boarding school.”
”It's perverted. You will have to stop it. You will go to hell!”
Maltravers looked at her. ”No, it will not stop. I love him. You were not meant to know, Bessie.” He hugged her, as she was crying, she hit him, but he didn't move. ”But I can't stop loving him, Bessie.”
”It's wrong.” she said.
”How is love wrong?”
”You are married.” she said.
He sighed. ”I know.”

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 12a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

A/N: Sorry for the late post!

Chapter 2. She didn't know

Mrs. Blenkinsop didn't know. She knew nothing about her husband sleeping with Lieutenant Maltravers. She knew that her husband sometimes... or never... could get it up. But he claimed it wasn't her. ”Must be the war.” she thought.
She didn't know that he sometimes lost track of his thoughts and forgot where he was. She knew he would forget things, and he could never choose what he wanted to eat. Must be the war.
He could wake up in the middle of the night and cry, talk about death and having a hard time breathing, but after a cup of tea and looking through his old book of pictures from his youth, and that especially cute picture of the Lieutenant Maltravers as a baby, he would be just fine. Must be the war that gives him the nightmares.
He was a good man, always cheery, looked good, was in shape. He could compliment her, mostly her long golden hair. And for her blue eyes, she found that romantic, most women in the neighbourhood claimed that their husbands could not remember their eye colour. But her little Bertie always did. He would always remember her birthday, and their wedding anniversary, and always bought the most charming gifts. And he almost never got drunk, never drank much at all actually. Nor did he smoke. He was a good husband, maybe the best one in England. No, he was definitely the best one in England.
That's why she felt so bad. But she was just a woman... but still, her little Bertie didn't even suspect that the little boy or girl in her belly wasn't his but in fact the postman's. At least the postman had brown hair, and a large nose. He wasn't going to notice, and even if he did, her little Bertie was to kind... he couldn't be angry about such things, she sometimes wondered if he was ever mad. And he loved children. ”Helen, what are you thinking about?” he said over the newspaper. His voice was always so calm and soothing.
”Nothing, just... the baby.” She laid the knit in her knees, looked over at him, he had done the same thing, but only to drink some of his coffee.
”Did you like the dress?” he asked and smile, oh his smile was so adorable too.
”Oh yes Bertie, I love it!” she said, and clasped her hands together. ”It's a tad old, but still, I am only going to wear it at home.” Blenkinsop smiled at his wife, drank some more of the warm coffee. ”I must remember to thank her when we meet!”
”Ah, are you meeting up? Where? Do you need any more money?”
She looked at him. ”Have you forgotten, Bertie? I invited them for dinner, it was months ago! Nothing fancy, just the four of us.”
”Oh...” he looked at her, closed his eyes. ”Sounds lovely dear.”

”Do you want anything?” She asked her husband who was reading the same book he had for the past year.
”No thanks dear, can you just please... go to sleep?” He sighed behind the book, as she finally crawled down in between the sheets. ”Charles was a pain today...” he said.
”Well, that might be because he burnt himself on that toy your Mr. Blenkinsop brought.” she said.
Maltravers flipped pages, without actually finishing the last. ”It was my fault, I should been more careful, his hands can be everywhere...”
”Who's hand? Charles' or his?” she said.
Maltravers laid down the book. ”Do we have to have this conversation, Bess? Please.”
”I am your wife.” she whispered. ”It's wrong... just wrong.”
Maltravers patted her head. ”Shall I sleep in the guestroom?” And he saw how a tear fell down on the duvet. ”I try to make this as easy as possible. Never when you are near, always cleaning up afterwards...”

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 13a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

Chapter 13. The Daughter

Blenkinsop stared down into the glass. This was incredibly boring. It had been early in the morning when he was forced out of the house by his mother-in-law. ”You can't stay!” His mother-in-law looked just like a older version of his wife, and a lot more cranky and stubborn. And with grey hair. He wondered if his Helen was going to turn out like that but according to his father-in-law, that was not the case since his wife had never been like Helen.
”But why not, I won't disturb you...”
”We will disturb you, go away. Come back in a couple of hours.” So he had taken a walk. Just around and around. It took him about one and a half hour. But no baby yet, so he still wasn't allowed in.
”But can't I help with anything?”
”No, this is a woman's do!” a woman, who lived a bit down the street, said, while walking up the stairs carrying a bowl filled with water. So he had sighed and gone to the museum, just around the corner, the clock was almost 10 so no one was there, even though it was Saturday morning. He read every sign and looked at every object. That took him 2 hours, he walked back, his heart started to beat, maybe he was a father now?
”No, not done yet.”
”It's been almost 4 hours! How long can it take to have a baby?!” he asked. ”I want to come in, I am freezing and I am tired.”
”No, the midwife says that you can't. It's not good for a man to be around...”
”When can I come back then? When is it done?” He was rather annoyed by now, it was cold, and it was going to rain.
”Depends on...” his mother-in-law said, god he hated the woman. ”Please, I'll call for you when needed.”
So Blenkinsop went to the pub. Muttered that the king got to be in his home when the Queen gave birth so why couldn't he. But he didn't dispute the rule the silly woman had set, he was just going to drink and waiting to be allowed back into his own house.
He had already read the newspaper, the clock was close to 4, he had probably spent more money than he should. And then the door opened, by a giggling girl. ”Mr. Blenkinsop, I have been looking for you, you can come home now.” And Blenkinsop almost ran home, up the stairs and into the bedroom which was a mess and smelled horrible. And there was his Helen, and his... or, well, someones baby. ”What is it?” he asked, like if he was a king, desperately wanting a son.
”A girl.” She said. She looked exhausted, and pale.
”Are you alright?” he asked.
”Mmm, yes.” she said. He moved closer to her, and then looked into the cradle, placed next to her. He sighed with relief, it had brown hair, other than that it didn't look much than either of them, but it had brown hair. It was actually rather ugly, but adorable in it's own way. This is why people fought in wars for, not for their king and queen, not for glory and more land. It was for the safety of the little ones. He didn't want to touch it, it looked to fragile. ”What are we going to call her?” she asked him.
”Oh...” he had not thought of names. ”Darling, let's talk about that later.” Helen nodded, she looked so tired, almost like a soldier on he deathbed. ”You are the most beautiful mother in the whole world.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. ”Thank you Helen. She is the prettiest baby girl I have ever seen.”

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 14a

[wniny.livejournal.com]

Chapter 14. Bessie's Illness

It began to get worse in the middle of September. Helen felt ill, and his Helen never felt ill. She was coughing and one morning she just couldn't get out of the bed. ”Are you sure you can take care of the children? I can call in sick...”
”No, no, don't do that...” She coughed. ”I will be fine, just fine.” she said. Maltravers therefore prepared both breakfast and lunch for his family. It wasn't the most nutritious meals, nor did it taste very good but both boys ate with appetite.
”William, promise me to take care of your brother today, mother is not feeling well.” He said and smile towards his oldest son.
”Okay.” William said. ”Why is mom not feeling well?” he asked, with the sincerity that only children can have. William looked a lot like his father. He had blond hair that fell around his angelic, slightly chubby face. But it was going to grow away, because unlike his father William was an active child. Bessie always told Maltravers that he was too active, that it wasn't normal for boys never to sleep and just talk and talk.
”I don't know.” Georges honest answer was. ”If I knew I would be a doctor, wouldn't I?”
William nodded. ”Yes, but you would not be a good doctor, father.” He smiled. ”Because a doctor need to look scary.” Maltravers smiled at that comment and turned to feed Charles who looked like he had banged his head in the food. Maltravers wondered if Charles was ever going to grow up to be somewhat normal.

He spent his whole day worrying, not about Bess, she would be fine if she just got some rest, he was sure about that. But about his boys.
He couldn't really concentrate on the tasks he was given. What if William set fire to the house, or if Charles got squeezed under the sofa. He tried to stay calm, but he rushed home from work faster than usually, just to come home to something he had never seen before. The whole house was messy, toys everywhere. The kitchen looked like it was had been a battlefield. But the boys where alright. Dirty, but alright, Maltravers thought as he gave them a bath, a sandwich and tucked them to bed.
He looked into their bedroom, she was still in the bed, she looked like she had not moved at all. ”Bess, have you eaten anything?”
”No... I am not hungry.” She coughed. ”Just tired.” Maltravers didn't care, if he had only learned one thing at the army it was that one had to eat or one would not be able to fight. He found some leftover chicken that he made a simple soup out of, and he tried to clean the livingroom but quickly realized that he didn't know how to.
She ate his soup, told him that it was horrible, but smiled faintly.

She was sick the next day too, and the next. The young woman next door agreed on keeping an eye on William and Charles, she thought they where adorable.
And he sent for a doctor. The doctor was as one would think doctors should be, tall and with greying hair. He didn't take long. ”Mr. Maltravers.” he said after comming out of the bedroom.
”Yes.” Maltravers said, eager.
”I think that your wife might have pneumonia.” The doctor went down to the stair while telling Maltravers why he thought that Elizabeth had pneumonia. Maltravers did not know much about medicines and the human body, but he did know that... it was deadly. ”I would like to move her to a hospital. She would have a better chance there.” He smiled and patted Maltravers back. ”It will be just fine.”

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 15a

[wniny.livejournal.com]

Chapter 15. Moving to Newcastle

”We are moving.” Maltravers said. ”To Newcastle.”
”That's... that's so far away, Maltravers...” Albert took another sip of the horrible coffee.
”I got another job, and it's closer to... Bess' family. It's better for the boys, and I need all the help I can get.” He didn't look at Blenkinsop. ”I can barely cook anything, except things that one can boil.”
”You could move in with us...” Blenkinsop tried, realizing it was all to late. There was nothing to be done, Maltraver was going to move, this time further away then just a 40-minute busride.
”You know I can't Albert...”
”But why? Why does it have to be this way?”
George looked up at him, and kissed him. ”I don't know. I don't know.”
”I will never see you again.”
”We'll meet.” George buried his head in Albert's chest. ”I promise you that.” Albert felt how a tear fell down his cheek. He grabbed George's hair and buried his head in it.
”I hate you.” he said. ”I hate you and your bloody children. I hate Elizabeth for dying.” He heard how George started crying again. ”Sorry, sorry, I don't hate her.”
”I miss her.”
”Please stop crying, George.” But none of them stopped crying, they cried and kissed each other, hugged and tugged. They fell asleep in each others arm.

It wasn't really that painful. They both had a life, children (Blenkinsop's especially demanding according to himself), they had their bills to pay, their own friends to laugh with. It wasn't that painful.
But then Maltravers forgets and sends him a christmas card, or Blenkinsop finds himself outside Maltravers old house, just to realize he isn't there anymore. Or when Blenkinsop slides out of bed, light a cigarette and calls him. Probably wakes him up. Just a small hello and ”Talk to me, just say something, old bean.” Both of them whispering about the weather and football, even the war when there was nothing to talk about (none of them trusting that the girls by the switchboard actually didn't listen) while masturbating (Maltravers found that to be an ugly word), wishing to be with each other. That's when it hurts the most.
And one day, when Blenkinsop moves up on the career ladder again, he tells Helen that he needs to go on this exercises-thingie up in Manchester, just for the weekend, no there is no telephone-number, it's top secret, dear.
The train might have been the slowest train in the world. Blenkinsop managed to fall asleep twice, read the newspaper four times and drink at least 8 cups of coffee. And finally, he sat down his feet in Newcastle.
He wasn't greeted, but then he had not told Maltravers he was coming, but Newcastle was full of friendly people who directed him to the house. It was much bigger than he thought it would be, much bigger than the old house in London. He walks up to the door, and knocks. He hears someone comming to the door, see the door-handle pull down and the door opens. ”Good evening, sir.” It was, by no doubt Charles, now 7, or 8, years old and even more adorable, and a bit more chubbier.
”Good evening, I am looking for your father.”
The boy looked at him, Blenkinsop was sad that he couldn't remember him, but then again, 4 years is an awfully long time. Lat time they had spent that time away from each other was the war... almost 15 years ago. ”Dad, someone from the military is here to see you.”
Blenkinsop was about to protest, he didn't want Maltraves to think that the army was comming to make him join again, but then he heard the voice, the same familiar voice, echo through the house. ”I'm comming, I'm comming.” and the man came down the stairs. His hair still blonde, maybe it was turning a little bit grey. After all he was just over 40 by now. He was still adorable, his eyes wonderful ans still young, they had stopped mourning to. He was maybe a bit thinner, but not much. But he looked stressed, until he saw Blenkinsop who smiled, ever so brightly.

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 16a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

Part 4. The End - Chapter 16. Nothing Helps

George,
I miss you. I miss you. I miss you so much that it hurts. I miss you more than it is possible sometimes. And I miss you less sometimes too, but most of the time I miss you.
I miss your smell, your logic and I miss your intelligence, like today when Helen asked me if I knew where Hong Kong actually was, my best guess was China, but I really don't know. You would have known the coordinates, wouldn't you? Because you are very smart, George. Yes, much smarter than I ever was, though none of us was really that smart at all in the end. We just pretended we were.
I don't know what to say now. I just wanted to tell you how much I miss you George. Because I do, you know. A lot.

Your Albert

George smiled at the adorable letter, so typical Albert. He had never been a Shakespeare, Albert. If George remembered it correctly Albert always angered their english professor. (who himself had rather talk about cricket than Shakespeare)
He got up, made himself a cup of tea and began to scribble on a answer to him.

My dearest Albert,
your letter, even though short, makes makes me happy. I miss you too. I miss you just as much as you do me, maybe a little bit more, be sure of that, Albert. It hurts to be away from you, but haven't we gotten used to it by now?
My days are just going slower and slower. I tend to the garden, it looks wonderful, the flowers survives Albert, can you believe that? I have learned how to cook better now to. I can even bake, Albert. I can bake, cookies and bread and all those things. Like a woman, but not as good as one of course. (there is something about woman that makes her food divine)
I will turn 56 soon, as you probably remember. How did you do it, how did you not lay down and cry when that happened? I am about to, and Charles just keep reminding me about it. Asks me what I want, if I am going to have some sort of party. Silly boy, he should focus on his education.
I have an answer to the question I asked you before I started rambling on about food and fear of growing old and senile. I can never become used to be without you. I will never become used to be without you.
Never.
We are like the great friends from an greek play, kept a part for such a very long time. But a play is so much shorter than life itself. If you want to give me anything for my 56th birthday, then just let me meet you again.
Let's meet somewhere, I can come to London, just for a weekend.

Your friend,
George

Albert kept all of the letters in a little drawer, in a shoebox in his wardrobe. Every time he opened that box the whole room smelt like Maltravers. It was an overpowering scent, that he caressed and loved dearly. He only let it our once in a while, but when he did... oh, he would go mad.
He had hurried to answer him, but couldn't help to think that his writing was horrible. He was not made for writing and such, like Maltravers were. He wasn't nearly as good at choosing words as he was.

George,
Don't worry to much, we aren't getting older, just closer to something new. Or the end, but something new sounds better.
I don't think I can express how happy I would be if you came to visit me, believe me I have tried almost a hundred times to do so the latest hour. Please come down to London, or we could meet somewhere else. I just want to see you again, as I said before, I miss you so much. Please come, I need to see you, and want to see you of course.
As a roman emperor would have said if he was to be 56 years old: D IZZY TJP, IZZY OJ CJGY TJP, VIY OJ FDNN TJP VBVDI. VIY OCZI D IZZY TJP OJ HVFZ GJQZ OJ HZ.
I hope my greek isn't to rusty, old bean.

Your Albert

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 17a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

A/N I just realized that this probably should have been part 16... sometimes... Sorry, sorry! D: I didn't write anything in the correct order and... ugh...

Chapter 17. Weddings and Old Mates

William looked great in his new suit. ”Wonderful.” Maltravers said and smiled. ”Smashing.”
”Dreadful.” the younger brother said and smiled over his thick book about... kidneys or something.
”Oh shut up! At least I have found a girl.”
”I am joking, Will. Calm down. You look great.”
”Thank you.” William said. ”I hope that she will say yes.”
”Of course she will, son!” George exclaimed. ”How could she not agree on marrying you?” He smiled to his son, his oldest son who had survived the second World War. And come out of it with a medal too.
”We'll, I guess I should be off then.” He said, and made his way out to the hallway where his father was. ”Wish me luck!”
”Never, boys like you don't need luck.” Maltravers said and patted the young mans back. ”Off you go and ask the woman to marry you, so that I don't need to bother about feeding you anymore.”
His son only laughed and disappeared out into the summernight.
When he came back he had a smile on his face, and Maltravers got to hear everything about the evening, well William didn't tell him that they might had did a little more than kissed in the bushes. (okay, he didn't tell him about the kissing bit either, that would just be odd because his father probably didn't understand kisses, and how it was to be young and not being able to show your love because it was wrong... before you got married.)
But he did tell his father, who had made him tea, that Ruth was wonderful and ate sandwiches with the most adorable face, and that her lemonade was lovely. And that the blanket had worked, and the sky had been cleared. And that he had seen John and Rose a bit further away.
”And?”
”What?”
”You have been talking and talking about what she liked to eat, the question part son, did she say yes?”
”Yes, yes, of course she did, dad!” he smiled. ”And she loved mothers ring.”
Maltravers nodded. ”Good, good, I hope you asked her like a gentleman.”
”Well... eh, I just sort of asked it when we where on our way home, because I forgot, and she screamed and said 'of course, I though you where never going to ask'.”
”Well, at least it is something you both will remember.”

”Bertie!” Helen called from the kitchen. ”We are invited to a wedding, you know the one you where in the army with, well his son is getting married... but in Newcastle”
Blenkinsop jumped up from his chair. ”No? We must go, Helen, I don't care that it's a long way!” he said and made his way out in the kitchen. ”This is lovely, let me see.” He said and read the invitation, it was strange to receive an invitation from someone you did not know.
A november wedding, how charming. Helen said that she would've waited until spring, but Blenkinsop knew that an army-man did not wait to marry if they where in love.
During the second war, Blenkinsop had served from home, making decisions. He had hated it at first, because he heard how bizarre some of the things he and the group of people said was ridiculous and would only create more work for the soldiers. But after a while he stopped caring. The war against Hitler was far to bizarre itself.
He had met his Maltravers at the end of the war, and a few times under it. The chaos was a really good cover to hide under, take the train to Newcastle and spend a night just talking to each other. At least 4 times during the seven year war that had happened. Blenkinsop had almost cried when the name ”William Maltravers” was on the list of survivors after the Battle of Somme. (if he was correct the boy went into the military after wards to)

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 18a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

A/N Livejournal hates me today!!! grrrr...

Chapter 18. You thought I didn't know?

Anne smiled at her father, and tried to look as cute and innocent as possible. ”I want to get married.”
”Impossible, you are only... are you really 20 already?” he said. Had he been married to Helen for 25 years, already? Impossible... it felt more like two weeks.
”Yes daddy, I am, so... can I?” she said. She was madly in love with the man with just as brown hair as hers.
”Young lady, I haven't even meet the boy! Blenkinsop exclaimed. ”I can't have you marry someone who doesn't have a degree from Eton and will become prime minister.” he laughed and took another bite from his sandwich. Helen's saturdays sandwiches where horrible, since they ate fish on fridays and cold fish on bread wasn't really that great.
”He wants to be a postman.” she said.
”Oh really?” Blenkinsop said. ”Well, there is always going to be post to deliver, so that is a good career choice.” Blenkinsop said. ”Why not invite him over for dinner tomorrow?” Helen looked at him, did he think that she was a wizard, did he think that she had an endless amount of food-rations? But she was quiet, her mother had always said never to argue with the man of the house. And even though her mother was old and nearly dead, that rule was still enforced.
”Oh thank you daddy!” Anne said and kissed her father. ”I am going to tell him right away. Can I daddy?”
”If you must.” Blenkinsop said. ”But help your mother with the dishes first.”
”It's alright, let the child go.” Helen said and smiled. Blenkinsop nodded and stuffed the last piece of the sandwich in his mouth.

He had been a handsome gentleman, James Smith (named after his father, in some sort of american fashion), and he had been social to. Good jokes, didn't drink too much. Happy, and definitely in love. ”General, your daughter is the most wonderful girl in the whole world.”
”I know, she is my everything.” Blenkinsop said. They where sitting in the livingroom, Helen and Anne was doing the washing up, Blenkinsop had just offered a glass of (cheap) brandy to the boy. ”So I won't be giving her away that easy.”
”Oh, I realize that.” the poor boy said.
”Don't be sad about that, boy. She likes you.” Blenkinsop said. That his wife seemed to hate or fear the boy didn't really matter, she was probably just overwhelmed that her little girl was growing up.
”I like her too, general.” he said.
”That is a good thing.” Blenkinsop said, running out of things to say. They boy was, as mentioned before, very handsome. With brown hair and brown eyes, he was not ugly, nor was he pretty. But still handsome. ”So, I heard that you where lucky, with the war.”
”Yes sir, I signed up a week before it ended. Was sort of disappointment...” He realized what he had said. ”I mean, I would have loved fighting for my king and country and all, but not that others died and...”
”It's alright, I understand.” Blenkinsop smiled and was relived when the door opened and in came Helen and Anne, Anne looking just wonderful, to wonderful for Blenkinsop's liking, but well, a girl in love would always be a girl in love and no matter what her father said, that wouldn't keep her from growing up, or putting her lipstick on.

”Bertie.” Helen said when they where neatly tucked into their beds. He was in his blue pajama, reading his book, the most interesting book he had read for a long time (it was a very long book, so it took time). She was in her unflattering nightie with odd stuff in her hair, so that she would look beautiful the next morning, but right now it made her looking... less attractive.
”What, dear?” he asked and clasped his hands over the book, he knew that when Helen wanted to talk, then she was not going to give up in first place. It was better to listen from the beginning.
She took a deep breath. ”I need to tell you something, about Anne's... boyfriend.”
”Yes?” he said, looked over his reading glasses. His wife looked nervous. He didn't like the term 'boyfriend'.

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 19a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

Chapter 19. A Baby Maltravers

Maltravers missed his Blenkinsop every day, but sometimes he forgot about missing him. It was all unfair really. Why could everyone else get married to the persons they fell in love with, but not them. They who had never been unfaithful to each other. (the war didn't count. It wasn't cheating if you didn't want to)
Charles got married to, after a few years, with a woman who had a very annoying voice, but it didn't really matter because she was great at baking.
And suddenly Maltravers had the whole house to himself. All alone. He had been without a wife long enough to know how to cook and clean, but it was the silence that was new to him. No teenagers fighting over who was going to use the bathroom first in the morning, no one arguing over who should do the dishes. Just silence, umbearable silence.
He began to do nothing at all, slowly decayed in a way. He tended his to flowers in the beginning, but soon he realised that he couldn't care less and the next summer they where all dead.
Charles bought him a cat.
He had loved that cat, named is Alby. He talked with the cat too, and the cat looked at him like if he was stupid, which he was, talking to a cat.
”Oh Alby, how I miss my Albert.” He used to say, at least once everyday. They sent letters to each other, sometimes, but they often forgot about it. Sometimes Maltravers got angry at Blenkinsop, for not answering his letters. Then he would decide to redecorate his hallway, make it lighter, or bedroom, change wallpapers, or something. His house looked great after a couple of years. So did his garden after yet another year of care. Charles told his brother that it was definitely the cat, it was good that their old man had some company.
It was in that garden that he heard the news, it was in 1951. William was overly excited, and Ruth brought a cake. ”Dad!” he said when they where finally seated in the backyard, surrounded by the beautiful flowers. ”I have some great news to tell you!” he said.
Maltravers knew what his son was going to tell him. William clasped Ruth's hand and looked at her. ”Well?” Maltravers asked after a while.
”Oh, yes, Ruth and I are having a baby!” He said, his face more excited then ever. ”In December.” Ruth smiled and nodded.
Maltravers smiled. ”Oh! That is wonderful news!” Maltravers stood up and hugged his son, kissed his daughter-in-law's cheek. ”Do you need anything?” he asked. ”I have lots of yours and your brothers babythings in the attic... well if it is going to be a boy then... and I can paint the nursery.” he said, all to fast and in a mess.
”Oh dad, that would be great.” William said, but Ruth looked a bit more anxious.
”This will be great.” Maltravers said and smiled. ”I am going to be a grandfather, finally boy!”

They named the little girl Elizabeth, after his Bessie. And Elizabeth was the prettiest girl who ever had been born. She had golden hair like an angel, and bright blue eyes, and her smile was the greatest thing in the whole world.
It was the first time that Maltravers actually held a baby for cuddling with it, when his own sons had been babies he had only gotten to hold them when they where born, for a short while, at the baptism and when they where screaming and Bessie (god bless her) was warming milk and they wouldn't shut up, so he had cradled the babies to help her. If he woke up.
”She is adorable.” he said. She was three months old. ”But I have said that before, haven't I?” he smiled to Ruth who nodded.
”Yes you have, Mr. Maltravers.” she said. He was sitting in their kitchen again, she liked that the old man came over almost every week, it gave her some time off to do other things, like ironing all of her husbands shirts.

Re: Unprompted: Blenkinsop/Maltravers - They Owe Us A Life 20a/20

[wniny.livejournal.com]

Chapter 20. It's Time

But maybe that was a good thing.
They never had to see the other grow old, never had to listen to each others ailments and the doctor appointments. They didn't have to watch their limbs getting weaker and stiffer, and how other parts just didn't react anymore. Blenkinsop did not need to see Maltravers grow fatter, and Maltravers didn't need to see Blenkinsop become skinnier and crockier.
They could keep their happy memories intact, recall the day when they could climb trees and cuddle below them. They would never know how their loved one looked when death was drawing near.
But they still missed each other, missed the company, missed each others kisses, comforting words. They missed talking to each other, they missed each others laughs and jokes. But they couldn't always miss each other, they had missed each other a whole life. They had to do other things, and somehow life got in the way off missing, and Maltravers would feel shameful when he suddenly remembered his Blenkinsop, only after telling the little Elizabeth that they where building a trench, so that they could hide from the germans. (they where actually just digging because they where going to plant a tree) He had felt so shameful, forgetting about his love, so shameful that he had to sit down on a chair, wanting to hide himself from his family. Suddenly he wanted to cry, to scream. And Ruth brought him lemonade and little Elizabeth comforted him. ”Granda, don't be sad the germs aren't here, come on, let's go and see if little Henry is alright?” Elizabeth said and smiled, tugged his grandfathers coat. His face was red, he panted a little, but made his way over the lawn, followed his little girl. She was just six, but seemed so much older. Charles' wife, Mary, was pregnant with her first, and little Henry was so cute and adorable, and only three years old.
They wrote letters, sometimes. Like when Maltravers wanted to inform Blenkinsop that he had gotten another grandson. They had named him George. Sometimes they sent christmas cards to each others. Once Blenkinsop toyed with the idea of inviting Maltravers to come visit them. But he forgot, or just didn't have the time. Or realized that he would die if he had to be separated from him one more time.
Blenkinsop had grandchildren of his own, four of them. Four of the most wonderful, happy little children that he loved more than anything in life. Susan, Lauren and the twins, Edward and (as by a miracle) Henry. The boys, where boys, and the girls... well they were boys too, they just concealed it with skirts. They liked to listen to their grandfather stories about the war (maybe because they knew that their grandmother would give them cookies), but for some reason he only remembered the good and funny bits about it.
They never forgot everything, just for short periods, or long ones, but never more than that. There was to much to forget. To much. They never tried to.
Blenkinsop would claim that he never tried to recall them, the memories then. They just came. Nestled themselves into their everyday life. They could suddenly remember things they had forgotten. Like Albert's first awkward blowjob, and how George's wife had thrown sandwiches at him.
And the years came and they went, brought joy into their lives, brought some sorrow too. And Blenkinsop once met Sotherby, they bumped into each other somewhere, a streetcorner, or was it after stepping out from a bus? And they said hi, shook hands and smiled, lifted hats, looked at each other and realised how fucking old they where. How the time seemed to past so fast, unnoticed. ”Let me buy you a drink, talk about the good times.” Blenkinsop had suggested. They were just 65 at the time, both retired. They had laughed at silly memories, and told each other stories they had forgotten. Like how Maltravers had been afraid of the dark, and George's silly plots against the american what-was-his-name.