Come Home To Me

The rising wail of the air raid siren permeated the air. Once again, the nightly storm of death and destruction was about to begin. The ethereal cry made her cringe inwardly, knowing that, come morning, some would not be awakening with the renewing light of the sun.

That sound was a harbinger of death. An appropriate sound, seeming itself a dirge, both for the men who fought and died in the skies above, and for those trapped beneath the rain of lethal metal.

Swiftly, she closed the novel she had been reading, taking time only to mark her place, then dimmed the nearby lamp to a feeble glow. Rising from her comfortable chair, she performed a final check of the thick blackout curtains, ensuring no guiding beacon would leak out to incur wrath from above.

Her eyes fell upon the front door. Unlocked, as it should be. He might have forgotten his key again. Why lock a door that only one would walk through at a time such as this?

Snatching the woollen blanket from her chair, she hurried towards the basement door. It tended to be chilly if one sat down there for long. She paused, her hand on the doorknob, drawing a steadying breath as she looked at the clock.

'Half past seven. Where are you my sweet? Please be safe my darling. Come home.'

If only she had time for a soothing cup of tea. But no, not worth the risk of waiting any longer.

A muffled explosion, far in the distance, cut through the warning shriek, spurring her feet into motion again. She had to move, there was no more time. The barrage had started.

Belatedly, she realized she had forgotten her slippers, her bare soles prickling as they moved from braided carpet to the smooth bare wood of the stairs. Where had she left them? By their bed, of course, she had taken them off for her bath, and neglected to put them back on.

'How foolish.'

He would likely smile and chastise her forgetfulness. Of course, the words would have no real bite, softened by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes as he smiled, the gentle hazel orbs oh-so-warm with affection...

At least she had the blanket. No time to risk going back up for the footwear, even with the explosions still far away. The simple act of hiding in the cellar until the storm had passed was a wise precaution, one drilled into the populace by a wave of radio advertisements.

Reaching the bottom of the dim stairwell, she brightened the small desk light in the corner. No windows down here to worry about, and the sight of the shadows shrinking back to lick their wounds was comforting. No replacement for having him here with her though...

"Don't fear for me my love,"he always said, holding her in his strong arms. "I will be home the very second I can."

An impossible task. Might as well ask her to lift their flat upon her narrow shoulders. Why must he stay so late? She knew there needed to be those willing to quench the erupting fires, but... Did he reallyhaveto be one? Must he stay past the call of his duty? She needed him too...

The radio released a loud popping click and brief hiss of static as she turned it on, before the device fixed onto its attuned channel. Perhaps some music would serve in place of the tea.

"...mber, loose lips sink ships!"

The trailing interlude faded into the lilting sounds of Schoenberg's violins, the melody pirouetting its way through the air like a prima ballerina.

She quickly relocated herself to the sturdy chair in the corner, the one he had so carefully positioned under the strongest support beams, huddling up to bring her already chilled feet away from the icy cement.

This piece had such a haunting, pensive feel. The swelling highs, the crashing lows, gathering around her in stanza after stanza. An almost mournful tune, fitting in its own right, much like the siren's call. She closed her eyes, opening her soul to allow the music in. It inspired thoughts of days gone by...

____

She swung her legs back and forth, pointing her toes to scuff the tufts of grass beneath the bench. The idle kick knocked loose a dandelion, sending scores of tiny, hopeful seeds wafting into the gentle breeze, like a flight of busy fairies.

The sun gleamed off of her pretty white dress, the one she had begged and pleaded mommy for. She had been forced to wait for her birthday, but even though it had seemed an eternity, it had still been a delight to open the package and try it on for the first time. She loved the way it swished when she moved, and how the ruffles fell so perfectly around her scrawny shoulders, hiding her knobbly elbows and knees better than any of her other dresses.

Mrs. Anderson had tried to get her to come play jump-rope and ring-around-the-rosy with the other girls, but she liked it over here better. She didn't like those games. The other girls would just laugh when she tripped over her too-large feet. Besides, the flowers over here were so pretty, joyously stretching their colourful blooms towards the smiling sun.

She took another bite of her sandwich, all the crusts perfectly removed, smiling to herself as she watched an industrious bee fumble its way from petal to petal.

Her ears suddenly caught the sound of approaching voices, punctuated by the occasional boyish laugh.

"And when I grow up, I'm going to join the army like my dad!" one of them said confidently.

She scrunched a bit lower in her seat, looking down at her shoes. Danny. Maybe, if she was quiet, the fox and his cronies wouldn't notice her.

Cronies, that was a fun word. Mommy had used that one awhile ago.

She slowly took another nibble, the peanut butter suddenly seeming a bit stickier than it should, trying to make herself as small as possible. The sound of a ball being kicked between boys was punctuated by the odd comment or hoot. They were almost right behind her now.

"Yeah Danny, and-"

"Hey!" Danny's call cut off the other speaker.

There was a moment of silence, with some barely audible murmurs and chuckles, then...

"Rotten eggs, sausage links, everyone knows that Rachel stinks!"

The flowers didn't seem quite so pretty anymore. She bowed her head, doing her best to ignore their hoots and laughs, just like mommy had said. Why did they always pick her?

Another bout of mutters and giggles, before a second taunting shout.

"Here you go fart face, a toothpick for the gap in your teeth!"

A stick came sailing past her vision, landing in her lap with cruelly perfect accuracy. Her eyes flew wide as she registered the eight legged bug clinging for dear life to the end of the stick. She immediately leaped up with a shriek, frantically beating her dress to remove the thing, smearing the dark smudges the dirty wood left on her dress, her half-eaten sandwich flying away to land in the flowerbed.

It was too much. Her dress. The spider. The insults. Her sandwich. She couldn't stop the flow of tears, a halting sob wrenched from her lungs. How had he even found out how much she hated spiders?

Her tears only served to increase their merriment, the gang chortling with glee and congratulations as they ran off, booting their ball along in front of them.

She collapsed back into her seat, sniffling as the surely equally frightened insect scurried off into the grass. The colours of the flowerbed blurred as more tears leaked out. Stupid Danny. All of them, stupid. Now she would be hungry during class too.

A shadow fell across her, the lower light hiding the contrast between stark white ruffles and muddy stains.

She didn't look up. "J-just g-go away!"

The shadow didn't move, a hairy hand reaching out and holding... half a sandwich?

She continued to sniffle, her eyes widening a bit as she stared at the offering uncomprehendingly, the flow of tears slowing to a trickle.

She looked up finally, gaze travelling up a wide, overalls covered chest, to meet a pair of sad-looking brown eyes, small and set back behind a massive nose and two tiny tusks. Short, nearly black, bristly looking hair covered all but the tip of that wide, flat nose. The boy who sat in the back of class? What was his name again? The boar didn't usually run around with the other boys, but why was he-

"Please, take it."

Hesitantly, she reached out and took the gift (also with crusts perfectly cut away), her fingers brushing against the coarse fur on the back of his hand briefly.

She stared at him for a moment, her mouth forming a questioning O as she tried to find words.

He looked down, scuffing his feet, his nostrils quivering a little. "I... I think you're pretty!"

Immediately following his proclamation, he turned on his heel and ran, head down, without looking back.

She followed him with her eyes, watching until he disappeared around the corner of the school, attempting to understand what had just transpired. The last, lone remnant of her tears dripped off her chin, the single shimmering droplet landing dead centre on the bread.

He thought she was pretty?

____

She shuddered as one explosion immediately followed another, the muffled blasts sounding considerably closer, nearly drowning out the last strains of Schoenberg. A gas line perhaps? If so, that would cause a fire for sure. The sound of someone's life ripping apart in an instant.

One of the bombers must have been chased this way, they were some distance from the favourite targets. Not that it mattered. They would drop their death wherever they could.

'Please come home my love! I need you here.'

Perhaps she was selfish, but she didn't care. He already did so much, couldn't he let others take some of the burden? To be with her?

"...reminding all civilians to please stay in their shelters. Thank you."

The recording finished, leading into the opening flute trills of another piece, one she wasn't familiar with. Something new from overseas perhaps?

Another distinctly defined explosion, a bit further this time, but still uncomfortably close. How long had it been going now? Did it always last this long? Time never seemed to have any meaning down here.

She rose, shivering from more than just the frigid surface she set her feet upon. Crossing to the small table in the corner, she fiddled with the lamp switch, illuminating her little haven as much as she could. It was no substitute for the warmth of his smile, but-

Pop!

Darkness, white flashes bursting behind her eyes from the sudden flare. She stumbled off balance with a cry of alarm, reaching blindly to steady herself on the table...

Only to miss, cool air rushing past her face as she fell. Her elbow jarred suddenly, a sharp jolt arcing up her arm as her palm hit the floor, a song of pain also singing out from her left knee.

She groaned softly, remaining where she was to allow her rapidly beating heart to slow. The gleeful, rolling piano arpeggios danced through the gloom, seeming to mock her clumsiness.

The frigid cement was leeching the warmth from her very bones. Slowly, she crawled towards where her chair should be, wincing at the pressure on her knee. That would be a lovely bruise for sure.

Her bare toe dragged against a rough, gritty surface as she groped about, her questing hand landing on her chair at last. Seizing it, she pulled herself up, sharp needles of... something scraping across her foot. Oh yes, the wood he had collected for a bookshelf, if he ever got around to building it. She smiled as she stood. He was so thoughtful-

She inhaled sharply through her teeth, wincing as a tiny lance jabbed into the flesh of her toe. Stupid, forgetting her slippers. She guided herself down into her seat, drawing her legs up and rubbing feeling back into her feet as she searched for the invading splinter.

No such luck, it was buried in deep. No chance of getting it out in the dark. She let out a frustrated huff, prodding her tender knee lightly. It throbbed, pulsing in counter-beat to the swelling music.

Pain like...

____

She leaned against the rear of the schoolhouse, tilting her head back onto the cool brick and closing her eyes against the bruised and swollen clouds above. Twinges and pops continued to race up from her aching ankle. Why had she done it? Why had she fallen for their goading?

Just because Trisha had been showing off her new ballet techniques... Just because she was able to balance herself like a perching bird...

As if the girls actually would have been impressed had she succeeded. "Oh wow Rachel, how did you do that?"Sure,exactly what they would have said. No, trying to copy Trisha hadbeen stupid. Even if she had managed to tame her ungainly feet and pull off the move, she would still only be second best, and Trisha would have been annoyed.

Their laughter had felt like an enraged swarm of hornets, as she watched all five sets of pristine leather shoes walk away, leaving her lying there with the wind knocked out of her and her ankle on fire.

She refused to cry. She was a big girl now, there was no need for it. Tears wouldn't solve anything, except to smear the little bit of makeup mother had let her wear, covering the tiny volcanoes that had been emerging on her face lately. She hated those. As if she needed more to contend with.

The bell would ring soon. She should head back, get to her desk first. Make sure no one had hidden any surprises in it, to get a shriek out of her when the teacher told them to take out their books. The frogs... That had been terrible.

Hopefully, Mr. Wesley wouldn't notice her limping. A visit to the nurse's office would be mortifying.

She began the process of easing herself back to the front, brushing loose strands of stringy hair out of her eyes as she half walked, half hopped. The bass rumble of thunder shook the sky, still well in the distance, but a gloomy portent nonetheless. Thankfully, the pregnant clouds held off their labour for the time being. She wished she had an umbrella for the walk home.

She halted as she neared the corner of the building, resting a hand against the structure for balance. Someone fighting? She could hear grunts and what sounded like blows being struck.

"Not so tough now!"

"Ha! For a big guy, you're just a pussy!"

Wide-eyed, she cautiously peeked around the corner, cringing at the familiar voices. Who was taking the abuse today? Probably one of the smaller boys, making the mistake of crossing the "territory" of the brutes.

Their backs were turned to her, fortunately, obscuring the view of a form on the ground. A tall, denim pants and striped shirt clad form, huddled up with its arms over its head, two tusks peeking out from behind them. Thick, powerful, hairy arms.

Danny's foot drew back for another kick, the expensive leather boots aimed for his victim's crotch, set to cause maximum pain with least amount of noticeable damage. She'd seen what happened to boys that got hit there.

She let out a wail, stumbling forward. She couldn't just watch! How could they do this to him? He never hurt anybody!

"Hector!"

Danny paused, looking towards her with a mix of surprise and annoyance, his entire posture seeming to say, "Who dares interrupt!". It always amazed her, how such vivid green eyes could be so frigid. So different from Hector's eyes, with their gaze of melting chocolate.

His two companions also turned to stare, the skinny boy... Gerald?... giving one last, half-hearted kick at the prone form. The other two weren't important, so long as they stopped.

Danny's expression shifted, a nasty smirk crossing his muzzle, contempt filling his gaze as she came to a lurching halt, hands balled into fists.

"Stop it! Just, stop it!" Naturally, her lisp made the words sound far less fierce than she intended.

The vulpine winked at his current allies, crossing his arms over his chest, the leather of his fancy jacket crinkling and creaking.

"Ooh, looky who's here to save the day! It's little miss whistle teeth! Or should I say, littlemithhhhwhistle teeth!" He deliberately emphasized the lisp with a spray of saliva, guffawing at his own joke.

She stood her ground as firmly as she was able to, trying to keep her trembling from becoming noticeable. "Really tough Danny. It takes three of you to beat someone up. Really tough."

He spat, a great gob that just barely missed her shoe. "Mind your own business,bitch." Wonderful. He had a new cuss word. "Sod off, go break a mirror with your reflection or something."

The insults slid off. She didn't care what they said, Hector was what mattered. She pushed past the fox, eyes on the still-curled form, the boar now peering out warily from his defensive position.

A shove from behind sent her sprawling, almost landing on top of him. She caught herself, barely, staring into his shocked eyes from inches away, her arms supporting her on either side of his chest.

"Ooh! Kissy kissy! Ha! These two look perfect for each other!" one of the boys hooted. The voice was different from the other two. The wolf, the boy she hadn't recognized. Must be from one of the other classes.

"Psh, yeah, rubbish with rubbish. Have little rubbish babies together." Danny again, adding another wad of spit, just catching Hector's shoulder. Hector didn't bother wiping it off.

A split second of silence, the moment seeming almost frozen as she locked gazes with the boar, a small trickle of drying blood trailing from his nose, one of his eyes half shut with a forming bruise.

"Danny... don't." She wasn't sure which one said it.

She didn't look up, gritting her teeth in anticipation of sudden impact. She'd never seen him go that far, but she wouldn't put it past him, almostfeelingthat heavy shoe drawing back behind her.

The bell rang, shrill and startling. Still, no blow came, her ankle remaining the only place alight with pain.

"Psh, not worth the effort."

She let out a heavy breath, tension and anger draining away with their retreating footsteps. Whether it was the bell or the words that had prevented it, she would probably never know. At least one of the boys had the decency not to hit girls.

She pushed herself back, a little unsteadily, concern and annoyance clashing inside of her. Hector relaxed as well, seemingly more so as she sat up, their bodies no longer a breath from touching.

"Why, Hector? Why won't you hit them back? You could break Danny's stupid face. Why do you let them do this to you?"

He didn't answer right away, pushing himself up and pulling a kerchief from his pocket, wiping away the dried blood and the spit. He frowned, shaking his head, the action appearing a bit unbalanced with those pointed tusks. Even with her on her knees and him sitting, he could look right into her eyes. His gaze was steady, sure, even with that hint of sadness.

"Because I can take it. If it wasn't me, it would be someone else. You know what they do. I'm bigger than they are. If I hit them back, I'm no better."

His voice was so rich, far deeper than any of the other boys. Even if it did crack and change pitch occasionally. How could the other girls make fun of that voice?

"If you hit them back, maybe they'd stop." She hated this. Hated seeing such a pure soul beaten down by THEM.

He shook his head again, wincing as he twisted back and forth, rubbing his ribs. His shoulders rolled powerfully, appearing twice the size of her own. "You know they wouldn't. They'd just come back with more of them, and then I might NOT be able to take it."

Another peal of thunder rent the air, the mighty report seeming to shake loose the fruit of the heavens. Fat, icy spatters of rain came first in ones and twos, then in fives and tens, before rapidly turning into a steady patter.

He grunted as he got to his feet, extending his hand to her in gentlemanly fashion, drops bouncing off his nose and running down his sable hued fur, wet spots spreading on his shirt.