Plance One-shots

1942 (AU)

The evening breeze rattled against the window, plastering several leaves to the glass.

It was late November, and Pidge found herself sat in her room, restlessly twirling a pen in her hand. She'd been attempting to write a new letter to her husband for quite some time now.

Even when she put the nib to paper, she struggled to think of what to say.

With an audible sigh, Pidge sat back, leaning her head against the back of her chair. She closed her eyes in peaceful reverie, attempting to string some words together in her head. When her second attempt failed, she groaned to herself, sitting forward and resting her head in her hands.

Why is this so hard?

Her eyes wandered around the room, searching for inspiration.

She found it in the form of a photograph to her left. Reaching out, she took it in her hands. The wooden frame was cold to the touch, but it's contents was too distracting for her to care.

As her eyes scanned the photograph, hot tears picked at the back of her eyes. Before any could escape, Pidge palmed at her cheeks.

The photograph was from her wedding, a black and white picture of her and Lance stood outside the small church in his home town. The moment captured was of them kissing, confetti clinging to her dress and their faces. Even though their lips were locked, you could tell the couple was smiling.

"Lance," She whispered his name as the tears gathered at the bottom of her chin, dropping down into the glass with quiet pattering.

Pidge's chest shuddered as she took in a breath, more glistening trails forming as she wept quietly to herself. They had only been married for a few months before he had to go, shipped off to war not long after his 18th birthday. Now five months later, here she was.

Alone.

She wished more than anything to see him.

Just once.

Gently, and with a slight tremble to her hands, Pidge placed the photograph back on her desk. Her loneliness drove her to write. He may have been a thousand miles away, but writing made her feel closer to her husband, if that were possible.

And she needed that.

Brushing her damp cheeks, Pidge picked up the pen once more and started to scribble down her thoughts.

"Hello again my love,

I received you last letter a few days ago, and I'm glad to hear that you and the boys are still doing well out on the front. I do hope Keith isn't getting you into any trouble. If he is I shall swiftly tell his wife.

Not much has changed since the last time I wrote to you, although my mother has recently started working at the hospital. She's enjoying the work, says it keeps her mind off the fact father isn't around. However she has remarked several times that people in her ward tend to smell a bit.

I saw your sister again today, she popped round with the tins of paint I asked for. Naturally I invited her in for a cuppa and she left several hours later than she was supposed to. Veronica tells me that Marco is a commanding officer now, that is rather exciting!

Rachel has offered to help me and my mother finish the baby's room next week too. I wish you were here to see it. Mother has just finished knitting a blanket for the cot, it's taken her about 3 months to finish bless her. I do adore the pattern, blue and green with a little lion in the middle."

Pidge paused for a moment, tapping the pen lightly against her lips as she pondered how to continue the letter.

"The rest of the room is rather nice too, I finally got around to putting up the bookshelves. I know as you're reading this that you'll be frustrated with me. You're not around to be doing the handiwork, so I had to learn! Even if I am 6 months pregnant."