Chapter 10 Not Alone Anymore #3
I didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know how to navigate this conversation that felt like an interrogation wrapped in friendly banter. These women knew Art, cared about Art, and they were taking my measure with the same precision they probably applied to enemy communications.
“He's easy to talk to,” I said finally. “Once you get past the long words.”
Ruth made a sound that might have been a laugh. “The long words are his armour. If he confuses you enough, you might leave him alone.”
“Doesn't work on me. I just nod and pretend I understand until he explains it in smaller words.”
“A sound strategy.” Ruth's expression had softened slightly. “He does not let many people close, Sergeant. The fact that he speaks of you at all is... significant.”
“Ruth,” Art said, a warning in his voice.
“I am merely making an observation. As is my right as your friend and colleague.” She turned back to me. “You were injured protecting this place. Protecting him, by extension. That earns you some measure of my respect. But respect is not the same as trust. Trust must be earned differently.”
“And how do I earn it?”
“By not hurting him.” Her voice had gone quiet, serious. “By being worthy of whatever he has decided to give you. By remembering that there are people here who will notice if you are careless with what you have been entrusted.”
The words landed with unexpected weight. She knew. Maybe not everything, maybe not the specifics, but she knew enough to issue a warning dressed as friendly advice.
“I understand,” I said.
“Do you?” She held my gaze for a long moment. “I hope so. For both your sakes.”
The tension broke when Noor stood, stretching with theatrical exaggeration.
“Right, well, this has been sufficiently ominous.
I need to get back to the wireless room before someone notices I've taken an extended break.” She squeezed Art's shoulder as she passed.
“Eat dinner tonight. Real food. Or Ruth will hunt you down, and I'll help her.”
“Noted,” Art said weakly.
Noor paused beside me, her expression shifting to something more serious. “That cut on your head. The saboteur did that?”
“Yes.”
“And you stopped him anyway.”
“That's my job.”
She nodded slowly. “Good. Keep doing your job, Sergeant. Some of us sleep better knowing someone's watching the fences.” She headed off toward the wireless hut, her footsteps crunching through the snow.
Ruth stood as well, but she didn't immediately leave. Instead, she looked down at Art with an expression I couldn't quite read.
“I meant what I said about dinner.”
“I know.”
“And I meant what I said about other things.” Her eyes flicked to me, then back to Art. “Be careful, Arthur. Both of you. The world is not kind to people who forget to be careful.”
“I know that too.”
“Yes. I suppose you do.” She reached out and touched his shoulder, brief and gentle. “I will see you tomorrow. Try to sleep tonight instead of staring at intercepts until your eyes cross.”
“I'll try.”
She walked away, and I watched her go, this woman who had looked at me with the eyes of someone who had seen too much and lost too much and still found the strength to care about the people around her.
“Ruth is...” I searched for the right word. “Intense.”
“Ruth is the best person I know.” Art's voice was soft.
“She lost her family. Germany, before the war.
She doesn't talk about it, but sometimes you can see it in her eyes. The weight of it.” He paused.
“She decided when she came here that she would not lose anyone else. I think she considers me one of her people now.”
“And Noor?”
“Noor is different. Lighter. But don't let that fool you.
She's seen things too. Heard things, through those headphones.
The wireless operators get the raw traffic, before it's decoded.
Sometimes you don't need translation to understand what you're hearing.” He shivered slightly.
“They look after me. Both of them. I don't always know why.”
“Because you're worth looking after.”
He turned to look at me, something vulnerable in his expression. “Am I?”
“Yes.” I said it simply, because it was simple. Because it was true. “And they see it, even if you don't.”
We sat in silence for a moment. The cold was seeping through my coat, making my bruised ribs ache worse, but I didn't want to move. Didn't want to break whatever fragile thing had formed between us in the wake of Ruth's departure.
“You should rest,” Art said finally. “Dr Hart's orders, I assume?”
“Something like that.”
“Then you should follow them.” He hesitated, then added, “I'll be in the canteen tonight. For dinner. If you wanted to... verify that I'm eating properly.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“It's a statement of fact about my intended location.” His ears had gone pink again. “What you do with that information is entirely your own business.”
I smiled, and even though it pulled at the stitches on my forehead, it felt good. Real. “I might happen to be hungry around dinnertime.”
“Convenient.”
“Very.”
I stood, and the world only tilted slightly. Progress. “I'll see you later, then. At dinner. Which I'll be attending for entirely unrelated reasons.”
“Entirely unrelated,” Art agreed, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
I walked back to my billet, and even though my ribs ached and my head throbbed and the shakes hadn't entirely subsided, something in my chest felt lighter than it had in months.
Ruth and Noor. Art's people. His protectors in a world that offered precious little protection.
And somehow, impossibly, they'd looked at me and decided I might be worthy of joining that small, fierce circle.
I didn't know if I deserved that trust. Didn't know if I could live up to it.
But I knew I was going to try.