Ian gently placed the pen on the table and glanced over to where his wife was sleeping on the couch with a Jane Austen Novel resting on her stomach. He grinned and picked up the pen to resume writing. After few more lines he decided that it was pointless to continue. Without access to the library there was no more reason to work anymore tonight, he decided and placed his attempt to re-write some aspects of his manuscript on the table.
Instead of writing he instead looked at his sleeping wife. He liked to observe her when she did not know he was doing it, mostly because there she was at her most unguarded. He was aware that the entire family had several ghosts at least as large and dark as his own but even with them he had come to prefer the Leiters over his own parents for a whole host of reasons, even more so since the lack of a response to his letter proclaiming his marriage and the birth of his son.
He knew that his father did not approve of the match but Ian couldn't care less. He loved the woman in the room with all the strength in his heart and he knew that the feelings went both ways.
Felix had once remarked that it was as if Ian and Sandra were made for each other and Ian could not help but wonder what would have happened had he never met her.[1]
he shook his head and glanced at the grandfather clock in a corner of the room. It was almost early again, and he decided against waking his wife. One last, loving glance at her and he rose to his feet and walked down across the hallway to the kitchen. He turned on the lights and quickly checked the blackout curtains before turning to the cupboards. The kettle was soon filled with water and on the oven to be heated.
Ian reached for a large tin box and smiled as he realized that there was one good thing coming out of loosing most of his luggage at sea as it had allowed them to fill up the space and weight on the flight home with cans and boxes of the best Darjeeling Tea and Indian spices to be had in wartime India.
When the kettle whistled to announce that the water was boiling Ian was torn out of his reverie and instead turned to filling the pot with water.
A few minutes later the tea was drinkable and Ian used up a tiny fraction of his sugar ration for sweetening it slightly. He placed the pot and two porcelain cups on a wooden tray but before he could carry it upstairs he heard footsteps behind him and from they way it sounded he knew it was his wife.
“I love you, you know?” she said and without turning Ian knew that she would have that lovely bed hair of hers and would be clutching the novel in her hands. And sure enough, even as she reached for a cup and pecked him on the cheek he saw that she had made a dogs hear at the page she had been reading.
“I know.” he replied and then glanced up out of the door towards the staircase purely out of habit.
“Sean is asleep, Ian.” she said as she saw where he was looking. Then as she looked at his face she felt her own fall. She knew that look, she had seen it far too often on his face and that of her brother and father not to.
She hated it that Ian and Felix kept having to risk their lives and apparently liked whatever work made them do it but she knew better than to argue and re-ignite a fight that they had had before. In the end she had relented that Ian would eventually despise himself if he could not do his part in the war, there was nothing he loved more than his country, with the exception of his family and when his patriotism was questioned Ian could be incredibly pig-headed. He would do anything for Queen and Country and if she was to be honest, so would Felix.
The two of them reminded her far too much of an even more fiercy patriotic version of Horatio Hornblower for her liking but at the same time she knew just what the two were fighting against. Ian knew better than to tell her everything he knew, but she suspected that even what he told her was still a sanitized version of what was going on.
When Felix had returned from the dead she had noticed his hatred for the Germans but in the last couple of months Ian's hatred for the Nazis and the Communists had become even more obvious and fierce.
What was it that Churchill had said? 'The least bad system yet devised'.
Her husband and her brother certainly both lived that idea, and she had read up enough on Royal Navy decorations to know that they had often shown deeds to follow words, in fact there was a persistent rumour that had reached her via her firewatch duty that their DSOs had been presented to them by the late King George in person.
“I can't help it, my love.”
“I know.” she replied and placed the hand not holding the cup on his shoulder.
Ian glanced down at her and saw that she didn't like it but was honest with him. He watched her as she walked over to the door, turned the lightswitch and then removed the blackout curtains from the large French windows in the kitchen. Without words they both watched the sun rise over blacked out London and slowly drank the tea.
When they heard the morning paper being delivered Sandra turned to him and looked into his eyes with a worried look of her own.
“Do you know anything?”
Ian just hugged her and placed his chin on the top of her head.
“No, love. All I know is that I am to report for orders to the Admiralty next week.”
That was not perfectly true, but all he could tell her. He himself knew nothing more that next week he and Felix where to report to the back entrance of Downing Street for orders. Whatever the PM had in mind for them it was going to be both big and highly dangerous.
Normally Ian would do what he was ordered without blinking but the last weeks spent with his wife and son made him appreciate just how mortal he and how limited his time was. It wasn't that he wouldn't be willing to risk it all for Queen and Country but now that he wasn't just looking out for himself he had a far stronger urge than usual to make it back in one piece.
He released his wife from the hug and went to get the paper. He opened the door and looked up when he heard the familiar roar of engines. Overhead at least three dozen Lancasters were flying south-east. He picked up the Times and threw a quick salute at the formation before stepping back inside.
With the routine that they had suddenly developed he already knew what Sandra would be doing, and sure enough when he stepped into the eating room she had already placed breakfast on the table and without a worked he plucked the paper apart, handing her the front pages while he contended with the crossword puzzle. Eight across, other term for supreme ruler. Ian scribbled 'overlord' into the brackets.
He glanced upwards as Sandra asked him for the still half-full pot of tea. He gladly poured some into her cup.
“Here's one for you.” he said with a smirk. “Five down, City in Nebraska, first an O.”
With that incredibly cute frown on her face she thought and replied eventually. “Omaha.”
That moment the doorbell and the telephone on the counter rang at the same time. Sandra only glanced at Ian with a mixture of pity and regret and then went to open the door (finding her brother there) and to get Sean who had been woken up by the double racket.
“Ouch.” Felix said as he watched his sister stomp off up the stairs. “She's an Army brat though, she'll understand.”
Ian poured Felix some tea and remarked that Felix wasn't the one who had to suffer until that happened.
“Still, she loves you enough to know that for once it isn't your fault.”
“And that is rare enough, things not being my fault.” Ian agreed with a smile. He looked at his in-law and his smile faded.
“What brings you here in uniform that early in the morning?”
“That meeting we were supposed to go to?”
Ian nodded in understanding and downed the rest of his cup.
“Well then, time to put on the uniform and return to the salt mines.”
“I'd rather go into the salt mines at times. At least there no one tries to shoot you.”
It was then that Sandra returned with Sean who wanted to be held by his father in her arms. “Work?”
“Unfortunately.” Ian said and took Sean.
It took Ian almost half an hour to unglue himself from his family and put on his uniform.
“When are we supposed to arrive at the hallowed heart of the Empire?”
“In an hour. Knowing how domestic you are these days I came somewhat early.”
Ian just smiled and climbed into the car.
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Comments, questions, rotten Tomatoes?
[1] OTL Fleming didn't have much luck in his private life, and his heart attacks and relatively early death can at least in part be attributed to it. ITTL he will live (and write) far longer than OTL. The contract he signs with Universal will also state that he has creative control over all his work which in turn means that all scripts have to be approved by him (or after his death the estate) before being turned into moving pictures.