Foist- a Dunkirk fanfic

Soon To Become

A/N:

Hello all! For those of you who have read what I had in the past, this story is going under some hardcore reconstruction,,, oops

Please do point out mistakes, and please do tell me your opinion and even some constructive feedback! (whether it be PM or comment!)

Thank you!! Please Enjoy!

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Prologue (Pre-evacuation)

"Aye!-" a woman grumbled, pulling up her foot, absently rubbing her shoe, "we really need to get that light of ours checked out" she continued mumbling, a sharp sigh escaping her mouth as she set her foot back down and straightened out the wrinkles that made themselves present onto her floral printed dress.

"Dad! I'm home!" she called, finally making it through the front door, fumbling as she struggled to take off her laced shoes and close the oak door behind her, making her way into the kitchen. An old, greying man sat at the small dining table situated in the middle, drinking his usual late-night coffee and reading the journal. He read the newspaper daily, in hopes for some good news to celebrate, some sort of miracle to be gifted like a quick-fix remedy for the bruised and battered morals of the English, yet axiomatically, the hope for happiness can only go so far when war's involved.

"You're home late Bairne," the man remarked softly, looking up. A little tender seraphic smile crept into his eyes and layed lightly on his pale lips, the girl smiled in return, moving up towards him and planted a loving kiss onto his cheek,

"I know, I'm sorry, busy day..." she lingered off, subconsciously playing with a man's bracelet that found its way onto her wrist, remembering the events that took place earlier that day. The girl and her closest friend, Natasha, were planning their trip to Weymouth, a journey that their boss has ever so kindly offered the pair. Lacking space and jobs due to the ever-escalating Rebecca?" He asked,

Rebecca bit her lip and dragged in a deep breath, straightening out the imaginary wrinkles that found themselves onto her floral dress,

"Dad, the store clerk gave me and Natasha a job offer we could not resist..." she pursed her lips, observing how her dad froze slightly,

"Knowing that there is not much for Natasha and me, he found out that an old friend of his is in need of extra hands. I believe his name is James Dawson, he also has a son my age." Rebecca continued, "and he already paid for everything"

Her dad looked up at her, confusion written all over his face,

"Paid for everything? What do you mean by everything?" his voice filled with suspicion. The girl scratched her neck as she tried to avoid her dad's gaze,

"Ou- our trip to Weymouth..." she stammered out,

Chris Collins stayed quiet and eyed his cooled coffee as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. He knew that this day would come, the day his little girl wouldn't be so little anymore and would leave the comfort of home and go off venturing.

"When are you leaving?" He asked,

"tomorrow morning... " She gulped, visibly cringing at how terrible this all sounded, her heart ached as she wished there could have been another way she could break it to her dad, a way that didn't sound as if she was abandoning him. He stayed in silence, once again looking up, but this time meeting Rebecca's desperate blue ones, his own beaten up green ones softened. He knew his daughter from the inside out, and he trusts her. She reminded him a lot of his wife, an independent woman who had the wildest of ambitions and the craziest of ideas.