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myfandomprompts · 6 months

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𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟗/𝟏𝟎)

Summary: There is little time left. Very little time. Previous Part - Masterlist

Warnings: angst, anti-Semitism French spoken -> italics

At first, it’s how Albert’s face seems to shut off each time your town’s name is seen on a sign at the side of the road, the mark that you’re getting closer to your destination. Then it’s how Tom looked like he wished for the earth to swallow him whole each time the bus station is mentioned, the place that will take you home.

It just seems so close now.

But there are good moments. At noon, when you find yourselves in the middle of nowhere with only the shade of the trees or a windmill to keep you cool, you all sit joyfully on the grass to eat what Charles and Germaine had generously given you; plenty of bread and ham to be able to walk without to a rumbling belly. It’s during those occasions that Tom never misses an opportunity to be next to you, the fact that you’ve taken to teaching him French seriously giving him a good reason to talk to you at length.

Not that he needed a good reason.

Everyone casually laughs at his attempts at pronunciation, each of them trying to participate and help where they can. But the truth is, he’d rather have you for himself, because he knew he could make you smile like he had never seen anyone else do, like nobody else could.

He wanted to be the only one.

“This isn’t even a word…”

“Yes it is!” you argued as you dropped your hand in defeat. “Poulailler is where the chickens go. Try it.”

He didn’t lose his teasing smile while he tried to pronounce it. “Yeah, still doesn’t sound right.”

“It wasn’t bad. La poule is the chicken, le poulailler is the chicken coop, it’s as simple as that.”

“And how do you say rooster, then?”

You stopped yourself from answering him at the last second, red staining your cheeks slightly. “Mh, that you don’t want to know.”

“Why?”

You contemplated his curious and enticing smile before a voice interrupted you and your thoughts. “Hey, Y/N, can you tell me on the map where the store you slept in was again? Looks like a good hiding place for future travellers, if the owners get on board.”

You nod quietly to Giulia before taking the map from her to examine it while you heard Tom fall back at your side, disappointed. The conversation didn’t stray from the different points Giulia could use for her route, mentioning Raymond, whom Charles had said he would convince, and Albert, who already saw himself as a ‘passeur’ near Poitiers.

Tom was bored again, and you felt guilt at the sight of his glum expression. But it all went away when he suddenly comfortably rested his head on your lap, closing his eyes and proceeded to take a nap there as if it was the most natural thing to do.

There was a brief silence, but the others quickly reconvened around the current subject while indescribable affection and fulfilment flooded through you. You didn’t notice Henriette's discreet smile, Giulia’s indifference or Albert’s flickering eyes as you fell behind the conversation completely, coming to run your fingers through his hair.

He didn’t open his eyes, but his lips stretched into a content smile. The soft satisfying sound he made when you grazed your nails over his scalp cheered you, and only you heard his quiet praises, telling you how nice it felt.

This is what he had been talking about, making every moment count. You would not allow yourself to think of the end.

You didn’t leave his side once as you hit the road again, walking next to each other, hands itching to reach to the other. It felt liberating, confusing, good. However, the more you advanced, the more your feet started to gradually drag on the pathways, reluctant. You wished you could stretch the journey at will, to go back in time or simply think of this journey as a nice trip in the countryside. Not a way to make it home, to send him home.

To put all of this behind you.

But reality struck you like a slap in the face when you approached the next town, quiet streets with bricked walls plastered with the new government’s posters, and below one of them, an old looking graffiti with a single blood-icing sentence.

“Les Juifs sont la cause de la guerre.”

You all glanced at it before lowering your gazes and hastening the pace, taking the direction of the inn you would spend the night in in tensed silence.

Tom lingered a moment longer, trying to decipher the words without success. He trotted behind you, brows furrowed at your sudden sour faces. “What’s written there?”

You rolled your tongue inside of your mouth, ill at ease. “Jews are the reason for the war.”

He stopped, face decomposing after your whispered translation before glancing around in worry. But he quickly caught up with you as you neared the café terrace where both regulars and travellers were enjoying a drink or a well-deserved meal.

You exhaled in relief as you entered, the coolness of the inside air much more bearable after your journey, and by the time you sat around a table and booked rooms at the counter, Tom had found his usual silent countenance again. You could see the irritation in his eyes and within his gestures as he now could not utter a word out loud without earning a dark glance from Giulia, not until you were in a less crowded place again. It saddened you too.

You had to snap your eyes away from the way his tongue wetted his lips before taking a sip of his drink in frustration when Albert dropped a heavy book in front of you. “Phone book. I need your help finding Aunt Marie. It won’t hurt telling the parents we’re on our way.”

You nod, more like a reflex than anything else before opening the pages filled with countless telephone numbers. Tom eyed each time you turned a page with a dark expression, jaw clenching, but you said nothing as you continued. His glass was emptied by the time Henriette had gone to freshen herself in the commons, your own tired gaze fixed on the digits before you.

You didn’t notice the three policemen enter at first, the usualness of their visit blending perfectly with the rest of the customers, until they approached a table that had been awfully quiet since you’d arrived.

It was the entire room’s turn to fall in a tense silence. “Gutten Haben, Henrren.”

You lifted your head upon hearing the German words, not understanding why two French Policemen had suddenly switched languages. The one that had spoken was giving a sad look at the men seated for dinner, the two other policemen gauging the room warily.

“Uh… Gutten Haben, what can I… do for you?” one of the men asked in awful French, his thick German accent making the policemen smile briefly. Meanwhile, sweat was starting to form over the man’s forehead.

“Unfortunately, you’ll have to come with us. We’ve been told that you’re immigrants, German immigrants.”

The two Germanics exchanged frightened glances before gazing back at the rough-looking policeman. “But… We have papers, we obtained it from your government, months ago!”

The latter clicked his tongue, an uneasy scowl appearing on his features, as if he was trying to convince himself rather than them. “I’m afraid it won’t suffice. Our government has implemented new laws. You’re going home, I’m sorry.”

You heard murmurs around you, catching words like “ran away”, “Jewish” or “persecuted”. The next moment, Giulia was whispering in your ears. “Y/N, take Tom and go through the back entrance. If they are taking refugees, there is no say what they’ll do to a British soldier, and we can’t risk it. I’ll find Henriette.”

There was a strange state of purpose surpassing the brief panic that filled you before you took Tom’s hand softly under the table. He barely resisted when you led him away, heading to the back stairwell as the two Germans were taken out quietly out of the room and the two other policemen lingered around.

Tom didn’t say anything until you had reached a back alley with a slim stream coursing next to it. “What is it, what are we doing?”

You checked that the coast was clear before pulling him to a corner where no one would hear you. “I don’t… I don’t think this town is safe.”

“What are you talking about? I thought we’ve reached a ‘free’ place where they couldn’t chase us. Were they German folks?”

“I think they… I think they were Jewish refugees from Germany, yes,” you thought out loud, digging your teeth in your lower lip in anguish. “The Reich wants them back, for…”

“And what the hell has it gotta do with those French coppers?”

You knew how helpless you looked at that moment, how lost. “Because this is the new regime! Pétain will do anything Hitler asks of him, and there is no say where it’ll stop… You would be taken as a prisoner of war, you have no papers, you have nothing…” You bit your tongue darkly. “Somebody ratted out those Germans, that's how they knew.”

Tom parted his lips in exasperation before clenching his jaw hard. “Oh, that’s bloody brilliant.”

He leaned his head against the darkened wall, right next to a propaganda poster, Pétain looking down at you with high colours as if he could see you, hear you.

You bit your nails, stressed. “But it won’t happen to you! You’ve got Giulia, you’ve got a safe route to Spain, and there are no Nazis on this side, it’ll be alright.”

“Once again, Y/N, you don’t know that. I’m the first wanker who is making sure that crossing will not get me killed. Not that I’ll care about making it now, anyway…”

Shock at his words made your breath momentarily get stuck in your throat. You lowered your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to keep a straight face.

But you tensed and didn’t even know where to look.

He immediately realised what he had said, pushing himself off of the wall to make you look at him. “Shit, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean that.”

He wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head as he held you close, making you go soft against him. “Why would you say that…”

“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry,” he repeated against your hair. “I’m just bloody tired, and it’s like I can’t see past the moment when… when we…” A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Well, at least you won’t have to worry about me then.”

You detached your face from his chest, looking up at him with fierce damped eyes. “I’ll never stop worrying about you, Tom.”

You saw the lump in his throat disappear as he swallowed hard, glistening eyes fixed on you. You cupped his face with your hand, bringing him into a kiss that would make him understand, feel your need for him.

“You don’t get to give up, you hear me, Tom Bennett?”

He all but smiled, a ray of light in the dark. “You should know me by now, nothing can take me down, not even a bullet.”

You smiled in turn, trying not to leave his warmth as you kept your body close. “You know, I can’t help but think that… if you haven’t been shot, we might have never met again.”

You stared at each other while his thumb stroked your shoulders, lowering to your ribs, to your waist.

He took a deep breath. “Some might say it’s God’s plan and all. Either way, considering where I am now… I’d say it was worth it, this damn hell I've been through.”

He was drawing small circles against the curve of your waist, tickling your skin and you chuckled through the bitterness. “Always the charmer, are you?”

“Well, yeah, that’s what I was known for back at home, wasn’t I? Gotta live up to the name.”

You hummed, coming to wrap your hands around his neck to stroke the soft hair there playfully. “That’s not exactly what I remember your reputation to be.”

“Hm? Care to tell me, then?” he teased.

You faked hesitation, pressing your forehead against his to whisper. “Trouble maker… Loud-mouthed… Hot blooded?”

He pouted. “That… does not sound like me at all.”

His hidden laughter made you tilt your head to the side in refound glee. “Doesn’t it? I could have sworn it was you. Maybe I should look for another Tom?”

He instantly pressed his body harder against yours, familiar heat meeting your flesh. “Why would you do that when you have what’s best right there? Helpful, good-looking, amazing kisser…”

“Oh, really? I don’t remember hearing anything about that last part.”

“Odd, since you’re the one who told me, love,” he said with a grin as you arched an eyebrow over your forehead. "Through the pretty sounds you make, that look in your eyes when I touch you… I just can tell.”

You shook your head with a sigh to try to hide the blush that adorned your cheeks as he joined his lips with yours again. The touch sent chills down your spine and it suddenly made you feel far away from the inn, from any risks that could come your way.

“Are you Jewish?”

The small tone made you stop and snap your eyes open. A small child stood behind Tom, no more than eight, looking at the two of you with a paper plane in his hands, his expression flat.

You froze in Tom’s arms as you blinked, his head falling backwards in annoyance as you pulled away from him. “I, uhm… No? Why would you ask that, sweetheart?”

The child frowned at your confused tone. “Then, why are you hiding?”

You remained speechless at his question as Tom’s warning tone fanned in your left ear. “Y/N, if I turn around that lad is going to be traumatised. You should really make him go.”

You scowled at his complicit eyes as you tried not to feel his point. You detached yourself from him, making him sigh in frustration as you approached the boy gently. “We’re hiding because… we’re playing a game. Tom here was meant to find me, and he did. We were just discussing… game strategy. Where are your parents?”

The boy sniffed, an untrustworthy look fixed on you. “My father says that Jews are bad, that they’re everywhere and steal everything from us. That’s why the Germans want them.”

You tried not to appear too gobsmacked as you lowered yourself to him, a sour taste in your mouth. “You know… Maybe you shouldn’t listen to everything your father says, I can assure you they-”

Tom’s impatience was palpable behind you and when he called your name, the boy’s frown deepened, clutching his paper plane harder as he glanced between the two of you. “Maybe I should go and ask my father directly, he’ll know.”

“No, wait!” you tried, but he had already scattered toward the house right at the opposite side of the road, disappearing behind a fence.

Tom came to your level, seeing you heave with distress. “What was that?”

“Not reassuring.”

You took his hand swiftly and dragged him along the stream in haste, wishing to put as much distance between you and the concerning neighbourhood before the boy could find you. Despite Tom’s hissed arguments as you kept walking, you only stopped when you reached the underside of a bridge, considering it far enough and feeling your slightly panicked heart settle.

“Are you giving me a tour?” he chuckled as he took in his surroundings. “It’s very pretty, I’ll give you that.”

It was. The bridge you had stopped under was small but big enough to hide you from anyone above. The evening light shone right on the stream below your feet and cast beams of light on the white stones. On the other side, a lone fisherman was laying his line in the calm waters, a bored eye lifted toward you as you turned to face Tom with a frustrated sigh.

“Darn this country. I’m sorry I dragged you here again, I just didn’t want to face people with problematic ideas. I didn’t want to get angry.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Does my girl get angry, really?”

“When people are stupid, yes!”

He chuckled as he pulled you away from under the bridge in order to walk along the stream, hand in hand. The grin he wore upon his lips was so endearing, as if he had no care in the world. "I’m afraid you’ll have to do an awful lot of fightin’, then.”

You exhaled as you pressed your thumb against the back of his hand, making him grin further. The night was setting quickly and already humidity was falling over your skin, eliciting goosebumps there.

“Do you even know how to get back?” he asked, looking around as you passed a small pier.

“Yeah, it’s somewhere… around there,” you gestured vaguely over your left to the path that led back on the road, hesitant. If truth was to be told, you were not in a hurry to get back, those moments with him seemed so precious to you.

Tom hummed, unconvinced but did not add anything else. As you went up the pathway, smells of dinners being cooked and playful screams of children reached you, and when you neared a small square further down the road, you heard the soft sound of a gramophone starting to play. Tom’s lips slowly curved upwards as he glanced over the high window where the music was coming from.

“What are you doing?” you asked when he turned around to face you, a playful glint in his eyes.

He didn’t answer, only brought you to a stop before taking one of your hands in his and putting the other on your waist. When the voice of Lys Gauty resounded, slow and beautiful along the violins, you felt yourself move in his embrace.

You laugh softly, feeling silly at each of your steps. “I didn’t know you could dance.”

“I went to a few of Lois’ gigs,” he said with a snidely. “I observed.”

“I’ve never seen you attend one…”

You saw his expression drop as you kept moved in rhythm. “Yeah, well, once I went there, knowing you would be there but when I arrived, you were dancing with some bloke and… I didn’t feel like staying.”

You watched his long eyelashes flutter, the skin under his eyes turning reddish as he fled your gaze. He was beautiful.

But you couldn’t help but tease him. “I remember. He was quite nice, offered me a drink afterwards…”

“Yeah, I don’t want to hear about it, really.”

You smiled tenderly, bringing a hand you wanted apologetic closer to his face. “He was not you, though. You wouldn’t have tried to get me drunk, right?”

Tom’s smile grew sardonic, satisfied. “The git.”

“Yeah,” you whispered as you pressed your lips against his smug ones, grinning through the kiss.

You lost yourselves in the melody, bodies moving languidly along the female soothing voice as he held you close, faces resting against each other.

“It’s nice… What does it say?” he asked after a while, hot breath fanning over your cheek.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the lyrics. The word slowly sank in and unexpectedly made your heart ache, their meaning passing over you like a cold wind. “It’s from a movie, I think. It’s… kind of sad.”

“Tell me.”

You felt some of his hair graze the side of your face as your voice turned a bit broken. “It’s about two young lovers of twenty. They lived very close, but although they loved each other they never had the courage to confess, until they kissed and all became brighter.”

He readjusted his position against you. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

The music turned sombre, trumpets playing in as you continued. “But then hope disappeared, and all took the shade of the night. They grew apart, and their story became part of the past, their shared dreams left behind as if nothing happened between them.”

Tom fell silent, his fingers pressing deeper into your palm and waist as you opened your eyes.

If the words resonated strongly within the two of you, their weight crushing like a hammer, you did your best to not let the other feel it. You couldn't let yourself be controlled by these emotions, not so close to the end.

The song ended on a distorted note and a click as your light steps slowed on the paved stone. When the melody started again, the same melancholic words repeating, you decided that you had enough.

You couldn't bear it. “We should go back.”

You slowly pulled away from him, shivering from the cold air around you from the loss of his embrace but felt his grip over your hand harden, securing you into place. He hadn’t moved, a determined expression displayed over his features, the one he took when he was battling against his emotions.

You looked at him expectantly. “You haven’t changed your mind, have ya? I really can’t convince you to come with me anymore.”

You tried to focus on his touch in order to shut out the now irritable music coming from the window above, to shut out the emotions that threatened to make tears appear at the rim of your eyes. Nothing was as bitter than your heart at that particular moment.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded slowly after a long while, his lips curling in bitterness, resignation. When you met his eyes, you could have sworn that the light inside of them had gone, the lively glint inhabiting it. But his hand remained locked with yours, warm and tight.

When you got back to the inn the night had fallen completely.

You often wondered what would have happened if you had listened to your father, if you hadn’t come home from England, stayed away from the war.

Would you still be in your tiny flat, not far from the centre? Would you be worried sick about Tom, as staring at the door he had slammed behind him like he had just left? Would he have even slammed it in anger if he had been the first to leave, and not you?

By now, the news of his disappearance or potential death must have reached Manchester, and you wondered how you would have felt if you had been on the other side of the mirror. You pictured a devastated Douglas, a lost and helpless Lois listening to the wireless. You couldn't even fathom the state you would have been in, if you weren't here, knowing he was perfectly out of danger, close to being reunited with your parents and having found your brother safe against all odds.

The greatest difference from where you stood was that here, you would have to see him leave, never to come back.

You're taken out of your reveries as you reached a crossroad, one moment Henriette asking you if you were alright, the other the boisterous voice of your brother making your head lift up in a quick motion.

"This is it," he announced, examining the sign in front of you. "This way is Châteauroux… where you'd be able to take the train,” he said toward Giulia as he waved somewhere over his right. “And this way is Poitiers. Our path.”

Your feet planted on the ground like they had suddenly grown roots and you felt the oxygen lack in your lungs as you forgot to breathe. You stared at the sign helplessly, trying to comprehend the words written on it, unwilling to.

You barely heard the conversation going vividly around you as the others said goodbye with warm embraces. Your eyes were turned toward Tom, finding him already looking at you and you felt your heart drop in your chest. His blue eyes bright, piercing, his mouth drawn in a tight line.

Only when the small form of Giulia came to block your vision were you forced to tear your gaze away from him. "Y/N, it was a pleasure meeting you. You really helped."

Your voice seemed to sound far away when you answered clumsily, barely present in the moment with her.

You felt so empty. "Oh, I, uhm… really?"

"Yes, more than you know."

Her smile managed to snatch one from you, but it didn’t linger as she hugged you kindly. Over her shoulder, you saw your brother shake Tom’s hand and Henriette bid him good luck with a smile, but he barely managed to return it. Instead, silence settled in the air as Giulia let go of you, your gaze fixed on Tom, speechless.

Henriette was the first to speak after a while, clearing her throat awkwardly. "We should give them a minute."

The crunching noise of pebbles on the ground as they stepped away resonated too loudly in your ears. Tom approached you carefully, his fair skin paler than usual against the warm summer air.

You fumbled with your hands, eyes barely able to meet his penetrative ones.

"I guess this is goodbye then," you said, throat achingly dry.

He didn't answer, staring at you relentlessly, making you hyper aware of the scorching heat gradually forming beneath your eyes. "You'll say hi to your father and sister for me, yeah? And to the baby…"

His mouth remained closed as you shifted uncomfortably into place, crushed under his gaze.

Not having enough of it.

"Stop looking at me like that…"

His eyes flickered, the softness of his tone surprising you as he parted his lips. "Looking at you like what?"

"Like you're… like you're mad at me."

'I'm not-" he began, shaking his head. "I'm not mad at you, I just… It's just fucking unfair."

You swallowed the sour taste in your mouth. “We’ll see each other again. It doesn’t have to be the end.”

“Then why does it bloody feel like it?”

You couldn't answer, the uncertainty of your lives too much to even think about, rendering promises achingly pointless. You bit the inside of your cheek in a failed attempt to stay composed, but when he lowered his gaze and took your hands in his, you froze.

They were so warm, perfect for you.

"Listen, Y/N, about these three words, these three damn very known words... I really need to say th-"

"No, please Tom, don't," you pleaded, feeling the dampness of your eyes barely holding in. "I can't… I couldn't cope. Please."

His face decomposed, eyes strained sadly upon you, lost. The words burned his tongue, melted his heart. Still, he didn’t say them.

You couldn't bear it, the expression he wore, your own doing. You felt a tear form at the rim of your right eye and you leaned into him, pressing your forehead against his to hide it from him. He sighed against you immediately, eyes closed and hands trailing up your arms.

He felt so good.

“Don't you dare forget about me, Y/N."

He sought out your lips, his nose digging into your cheek and you caved, melting into his needy kiss. It was slow and painfully sweet, realising that it could be your last. As his hands cupped your face more strongly, calloused fingers burning your numb flesh, you allowed yourself to make it last.

You pulled apart, panting for air as you remained in each other's embrace, your hands pressed against his chest. You found his heart to be beating as fast as yours, as shattered as yours.

After a sharp inhale, you felt it settle gradually as you tried to memorise the feel of him in your mind, to imprint it into your skin.

"Goodbye, Tom."

You kept your eyes shut as a single tear finally rolled down your cheek, your body aching as you battled against his softening grip. When you pulled away from him sharply, you could only repress a shuddering breath.

You didn't allow yourself to look back until you had reached the others, and when you finally turned, he hadn't moved a muscle, weary eyes strained in you, powerless as he stood in the middle of the path.

It took everything you had not to let more of your tears fall.

Giulia gave you a quick movement of the head before joining him. She had to call his name before he finally followed her. Henriette stroked your back as you watch him reluctantly walk backwards, his eyes not leaving your face.

Maybe it would be easier to just close yours, embrace the darkness, to not witnesses that wretched moment.

But you couldn't, and by the time he had disappeared around a corner, your cheeks had dried and the pain in your stomach had turned dull.

There were still a few more miles until you would reach the bus station, and you couldn't utter a word, barely acknowledging your surroundings as you kept walking.

Only when you were safely seated in the bus did you feel all of the emotion crashing down, true tears being finally released. There was no dull pain anymore, but aching regret clutching at your heart, and you had to press against your chest in an attempt to soothe the pain.

"Y/N, what's happening?"

You tried to breathe, to remain quiet, but it was too painful. "I should have let him say it… I should have said it back, I should-" you panted in muffled cries as Henriette watched you with worry. "I should have said that I loved him."

You didn't calm down until you arrived at your destination.

Part 10 (and last one.)

Thank you @babyblue711 for you support and amazing beta reading, as always.

Music Tom and reader dance to:

A/N: The installation of antisemitism within the Vichy government occurred much later, the first step with a new Jewish status on October 1940. I fast fowarded it so it can be applied on the story, in July-August 1940. The persecution in Non-Occupied Zone came much later as well, but it didn’t prevent the hate toward the Jews in France. Jew immigrates were, however, arrested during that time, because they weren’t French (who still had some semblance of rights early in the war.) Same goes for the prisoners of war.

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#tom bennett #tom bennet x reader #wof #world on fire #smut #tom bennett fanfiction #ewan mitchell #angst #fluff #world on fire 1x06 #gone with regret #usermyfandomprompts #gone with regrets

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