Chapter Text
July, 1943
Jaspreet Nadar
Cairo, Egypt
Dear Jaspreet
I know I've said it before, but thank you again for watching the flat while I'm away. Buying one in the middle of all this certainly wasn't the best idea I've ever had, but I suppose I just like knowing it's there. I'm also aware that my collection of belongings over there is rather sparse and eclectic - when I was robbing the old man it became something of a hit-and-run situation, and my instincts got the better of me. Feel free to ignore all the taxidermy fish.
Apparently I’m still in the will. I assume it’s some weak attempt at trying to make me forgive him, but that’s not happening. If by some miracle I manage to outlive him, I shall certainly enjoy taking the money.
We're somewhere along the Suez at the moment - not far from home, really. Certainly the closest I'll be for a long while now. Not sure how I'll like Europe - I imagine I'll be cold for the most part.
Little to report back on 'you know who'. He keeps brawling with one of the new recruits, not sure what that's about.
I think often and deeply on what might become of me once this is all over.
Write back soon, or I probably won't receive it for quite some time.
Diana
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The smell of salt filled the air on the banks of the Suez, and Diana could taste it on her tongue as she thumbed the corner of her book, foot dangling over the edge of the wall as her toe brushed against the surface of the water. Withers had been sitting beside her a moment ago, a half-eaten pile of dog treats left in the grass as proof of his disappearance. Fraser must be around here somewhere, then.
To whom could she admit being frightened? The anxiety had tugged at the back of her mind for weeks, the promise of advancing to Europe always lingering on the horizon. Simply by being here, these men had gone further than she ever had. Even now, she was little more than a stone's throw away from the place of her birth in the grand scale of things. She'd only flown once, and it had been the worst night of her life. The ocean seemed the stopping point of her entire world, the thought of sailing away from here to foreign shores secretly terrifying, as if she were an ancient explorer charting the unknown.
Diana Fayed never seemed afraid. But until now, she had always been home.
The others wouldn't understand.
"Come on! You English fucker!"
Her serenity and contemplation swiftly dashed, Diana looked up from her book with a sigh, squinting as she glanced behind her. There was no need to search for the source of the noise. It had scarcely ceased for the last week.
"Look you Scotch cunt, I like a row as much as anyone else-"
"Mornin'," She chirped, thumping her book absent-mindedly against her thigh as she walked past the developing brawl without so much as a glance.
"'Eya, duck," Kershaw grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulder as she stopped beside him. He chuckled along at the sight before them. Diana stared blankly, unimpressed. She glanced over as Dave shook hands with Riley, her brow arching in question. "Bets. Want in?"
She snorted loudly. "Tryna get me in trouble? Nah, you're alright."
"Well, it's not like he'll find out," He shrugged, digging his knuckles against her shoulder in a teasing sort of way. In the month-or-so since Diana had accidentally let slip about kissing Reg, Dave had been little shy of insufferable. She supposed it would have been naive to expect anything else.
"What's this even about at this point?" She sighed.
Pat shrugged. "… You?"
Dave and Diana both turned simultaneously. "What." She asked flatly.
"Well, I mean, it's just a guess. But the whole thing only started after McDiarmid hit on you in that bar back in Cairo."
Her eyes narrowed, gaze slowly returning to the two men in front of them, who were currently being pulled apart to stop them from biting each other's throats out.
"Is that what that was? I just… assumed he was high on something."
Dave let out a bark of laughter, the arm he'd slung around her shoulder tugging her slightly closer. "I wouldn't rule it out!" Diana chuckled, poking an elbow into his side.
"Right, we're running late," She declared, wrapping a hand around one of his fingers and giving it a tug, his arm sliding off her shoulder.
He snorted. "When's that mattered?"
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As the men filed casually into the tent for their briefing, Diana wandered up to Paddy's desk, passing the major without a second glance as she approached and began to wordlessly flip through the files he'd left lying on the table. For as long as she could remember, her father's house had always been littered with military files, left open in the afternoon sun for any prying eye to read. The word 'classified' had never meant much to her.
"Afternoon," Paddy stated pointedly.
Diana hummed, turning the page. "Hey."
"Would ya put that down?" He pressed.
"Almost done."
He stepped closer, arms folded across his chest. "You're not allowed to read those… Maybe y'are, I dunno. What rank are you even s'posed to be?"
She shrugged. "Dunno, I don't pay attention," With a sigh, she tossed the file back onto the desk with a soft thud. "Not like I have anyone to tell all these military secrets to anyway. You think I'd hang around with you lot if I had other friends?"
The faintest of smirks tugged at Paddy's lip, the kind that would have been unnoticeable had she not known him for so long, and he tilted his head towards the rows of chairs, which were now mostly occupied, gesturing for her to sit. Having run out of reasons to protest, Diana obliged, taking the empty seat next to Dave as she scratched at the scar on her arm. A lasting reminder of their last airfield raid and the bullet fragment she'd taken as penance, the skin pulled taught and itched when it got hot - which, out here, was always. Reg was sat behind her, legs outstretched beneath her chair. Reaching out with her foot, she knocked her heel against the toe of his boot and felt him softly kick her back. She resisted the urge to smile.
As Paddy began to speak, any attempt at authority from the man seeming farcical to her, Diana rubbed a hand across the back of her neck, uneven tufts of hair brushing her skin. Each time her hair had begun to grow back in the months since that first chop, she'd pruned it back with a vengeance, cutting slightly shorter each time until she more closely resembled one of those old silent film stars, chic in a way that was simultaneously boyish. Last week she'd gotten drunk and debated the merits of shaving her head. That had struck her as a bit much.
"Yeah, well sardines live in the ocean by Sardinia, Paddy. Looks a lot like a map of Sicily to me, lad," The swell of laughter alerted her to the fact that she'd stopped paying attention, glancing up at the map with a squint.
"Looks like a pig's head," She pointed out flatly, rummaging in her pocket for a cigarette. Finding two, she held one out over her shoulder without sparing Reg a glance, and felt him pluck it from her grip with a muttered 'thanks'.
"That is exactly right - Capo Murro di Porco," Paddy affirmed, and Diana found herself resisting the urge to cringe every time he spoke. She never thought she'd miss the old, infuriating Paddy, who bickered with her like a child and shot gazelles when he got pissed. Then again, there were many things about their time in the desert she was beginning to miss.
David Stirling, you dumb fucking bastard.
Kershaw held up a light, their shoulders bumping together as she leant towards it, a white plume of smoke rising from the tip of her cigarette.
"Whatcha thinkin'?" He uttered.
"Whole thing seems like a plan to get us killed," Diana whispered with a shrug.
"… Same as usual, then?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"Because!" Paddy's pitch rose to a yell, quieting the muttering that had begun to fill the tent. Diana and Kershaw leant back in their seats. "Our next mission is utter fucking madness. So we will require the services of mad men."
"Thank you, boss," McDiarmid's distinctive tone rang out from somewhere behind her. "And on that note - I would love to go home, by the way, Sergeant Happy-Face."
"I'll put you on a boat myself, mate," Reg barked back from his seat. Diana rolled her eyes, shooting Dave a glare as she noticed him slip some cash into Riley's hand.
"What?" He shrugged.
"Fuck's sake."
The bickering was rising in volume all over again, the atmosphere growing more tense by the second. She didn't have to turn around to know precisely what Reg was doing - she knew his brow was pinched the way it always did when he was roused to anger, knew his knuckles were clenched and whitened, his shoulders squared and perpetually prepared to throw a punch.
"You're like a wee kettle, boilin' with anger!"
"Shut your mouth!"
A low groan escaped her as the men behind her bolted to their feet, jostling her chair as they fought to restrain Reg and Jock, to keep them from attempting to tear each other's throats out for the second time that afternoon. If she'd slept better the night before, Diana might have been more inclined to tolerate their quarrelling. But as things stood, it was all rather intolerable, the beginnings of a headache blooming in her temple.
With a grunt, she pushed herself to stand, arms swinging casually at her sides as she strolled towards Paddy's desk, arching a brow as she seized his revolver. He tilted his head with a slight nod. Pausing a moment to check the chamber was loaded, Diana tilted the barrel up towards the ceiling, a deafening bang flooding the tent as she pulled the trigger. In an instant, the uproar had ceased, the room falling still. Diana stared up at the smoking hole in the canvas, plucking her cigarette from her lips, a cloud of smoke flooding her nostrils as she inhaled.
"Right then," She muttered, dropping the pistol with a clatter on the table. "Carry on."
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A lawn table sat wonky in the uneven grass at the water's edge, Diana's foot against the crossbeam keeping it from rocking. She tossed a date into her mouth, squinting against the sunlight as it glinted on the water's still surface.
Another fucking Stirling.
It was bad enough that she'd lost the first one - a tolerable one, one she'd actually liked, although it may not have always appeared that way. Now here came another, wanting salutes and order and respect like some fucking toff. Like her father. Like every officer that had ever come into her house and looked down on her for as long as she could fucking remember.
Perhaps she was sulking. She could have gone off with Dave or Pat or Johnny. Or Reg. But instead, she was sitting here, watching a cargo ship trundle past, its bow splitting the blue and sending ripples splashing up against the wall at her feet.
She'd never been allowed to sulk in her youth, back when it was still a quaint folly for children afraid of not getting their way. It was unproductive, and that was one thing her father had never abided by. Any time spent sitting around was time that could have been spent on something more important.
Diana found she rather enjoyed sulking.
Her brow furrowed as she bit down on another date, the honey she'd slathered them with sliding smoothly down her throat as she swallowed, overpowering sweetness a balm against her discontent. The sound of a car pulling up somewhere behind her did not disturb her trance, the hum of engines almost constant and entirely unremarkable in camp.
"Oi!"
She paused, her mind taking a moment to recognise the familiar voice. But once it had, she swivelled in her seat, a grin displacing her irritated scowl as she bolted to her feet, a bubble of laughter escaping her.
Jaspreet's red-painted lips were parted in a grin, bright eyes hidden beneath sunglasses, heels wobbling slightly in the uncut grass. Her dress draped over her shoulders, hanging shapelessly around her in a style that was almost twenty years out of date, but suited her just as well as everything else always seemed to, half-covered by a painted silk robe that rippled with each movement and pooled in the crooks of her elbows as she held out her arms for an embrace. "Holy shit," Diana chuckled, going for a hug without hesitation, squeezing with her forearms to avoid ruining Jaspreet's clothes with the honey that stickied her hands.
"You got my letter?" She asked, eyes squeezed tightly shut, the thick scent of jasmine flowers filling her senses as she breathed in.
"Didn't trust the post to get my reply to you in time," Jaspreet grinned. "Thought I'd be better off coming myself."
"Ah, the joys of unemployment," Diana teased. "C'mon," As she turned back towards the table, she seemed to notice for the first time that there had been two chairs all along, as if even in her irritated search for solitude a part of her had never wanted to be alone. Jaspreet sat down opposite her, painted nails plucking a date from the bowl and tossing it into her mouth. She had sat with her back to the sun, and as she noticed Diana's squint, she took off her sunglasses and slotted them onto her face without a word. There was a silent communication between them as Diana leant forward to receive them, the tinted lenses an appreciated shield against the glare.
"So," Jaspreet began, pausing to lick a smear of honey from her fingertip. "How is it?"
Her chest heaved as she sucked in a long, sharp breath, nodding slowly. "Uh… Yeah… Yunno, you expect - hanging around with a bunch of unwashed men in the desert - that they're gonna smell, but it still surprises you. I mean it is just so-"
"Diana."
She hesitated, brow raised over the rim of her glasses. "… Mhm?"
"You know that's not what I meant."
Diana leant forward, shoving a handful of dates into her mouth all at once. "Oh, God, we don't need to talk about Reg," She shook her head, speaking around the food. "If you tell me you drove all the way here to talk about that, I'm throwing you in the canal."
"I'm just not sure it's a good idea to get all weird about some random guy when you're supposed to be focusing on - y'know - not dying. And he's fucking English at that. At least tell me he's not blonde."
"… Well-"
"You're so predictable," Jaspreet scoffed.
"No- look- it's not weird. We've been doing crazy shit for best part of two years by now, a bit of snogging isn't gonna be the final straw that sends us all for a fucking loop."
"I'm just saying - historically, you haven't handled this kind of thing… all that amazingly."
"You're just saying that 'cause you hated Andrew."
"Damn right."
"Would it help if I said I visited him in the hospital and kinda-sorta lightly tortured him?"
"You fucking what?"
"Doesn't matter," Diana waved a hand dismissively. "You haven't told me about you."
Jaspreet frowned, brow pinched.
"C'mon," Diana urged.
"Fine! Fine!" She threw up a hand in surrender. "I'm fine! … I've got this charity ball thing I'm supposed to be running tomorrow night, raising money for The Red Cross. So it'll be boring but it's for a good cause."
"Aw. You little philanthropist."
"You are such a bitch," Jaspreet chuckled, earning a hearty laugh from Diana. They tittered gradually to quiet, the ghost of her laugh still etched in Jaspreet's smile as she nodded. "But, y'know. I have plans. They're not concrete or anything, but I have them."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," She took a deep breath. "I'm not gonna stay here. Once the war's over, I mean - I'm gonna leave Cairo."
Diana said nothing for a moment, lips pressed tightly together. "Mhm… Yeah, yeah - no, that sounds good… You know where you're gonna go?"
"I was thinking Italy… or Greece, or- somewhere with history, y'know? When I was a kid, my father was financing an archeological dig somewhere outside the city, so he'd take me to visit. I loved just watching them work; just this idea that we were standing on something ancient and important. Might even go back to university and finish a degree this time."
She couldn't pinpoint precisely when, but at some point, listening to Jaspreet, she had begun to smile.
"Good for you. Seriously."
"You think?"
"Absolutely. To see through all this shit and figure out what you want beyond it, I think that's great," Diana nodded, picking absent-mindedly at her fingernails as her gaze fell to her lap.
"… Hey," Jaspreet urged, and the table wobbled on the uneven ground as she reached across it, seizing one of Diana's hands in her own. "You'll get there."
She forced a smile. The prospect of Jaspreet leaving Cairo had knocked the wind out of her for a moment, but frankly, it had been naive even to think it a problem. It was naive to expect she'd live long enough to come back here to see her at all. For some people, the future seemed a given. Hers wasn't. She wasn't sure she'd last the week.
With a somewhat bitter chuckle, she nodded, squeezing her hand affectionately. "You are… much too good to be stuck in one place."
"Right back atcha."
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As the car pulled away, Diana caught Jaspreet's eye in the rearview mirror, offering a limp wave and one final grin of farewell. Hands planted on her hips, she watched the car until it disappeared from sight, and something inside her seemed to deflate, shoulders drooping as she let out a heavy sigh. She scraped a hand through her curls, tugging them out of her face and turning on her heel towards the tents, passing her weight tiredly from foot to foot as she walked.
Reg was coming the other way, weaving between the guylines, a steaming cup of coffee in each hand. The smile that creased her cheek was involuntary, but so slight as to be hardly noticeable. He noticed.
"Hey," She stopped, pausing to give her scar another scratch.
"Was just coming to-… There." Reg nodded, pushing one of the mugs into her hands.
"Oh. Thanks," Diana smiled, taking a sip and wincing as she felt the liquid scald her tongue. "Shit," She hissed, clicking her fingers and jabbing a finger at him as another thought suddenly entered her mind. "Hey. Stop all that weird shit with McDiarmid, 'kay?"
He groaned, rolling his eyes. "He's a prick."
"So are you, I don't give a shit. It's annoying and it's loud and it's giving me a fucking headache… And Pat says you're only pissed at him 'cause he hit on me so- I dunno about that, but knock it off anyway."
Reg's mouth opened and shut like an outraged fish. "I- No- That's- Right, yeah, fine."
"Right, good talk," She cracked a grin, nudging his shoulder as she brushed past, continuing her stride. Lifting the mug to her lips, she took another sip, the temperature slightly more bearable. Yet she winced all the same.
"Oi," Diana called. Reg had begun to walk away in the opposite direction, pausing his stride to look back at her. "Did you make this?"
"Nah."
"It tastes like shit."
He frowned down at his own cup, tentatively slurping a mouthful. He grimaced. "Fuck me."
A laugh escaped her at his look of disgust. "Yeah… D'you wanna find a beer?"
Reg nodded, hesitating so as not to look quite so eager.
"Alright. Yeah."