03: Some Kind of Numbness

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"I am happy on the outside, but inside something gnaws at me; some presentiment, anxiety, dreams — or sleeplessness, — melancholy, indifference, — desire for life, and the next instant, desire for death: some kind of sweet peace, some kind of numbness, absent-mindedness; and sometimes definite memories worry me. My mind is sour, bitter, salt; some hideous jumble of feelings shakes me! I am stupider than ever." - Frédéric Chopin, from a letter

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"So that's why you were gone for six fuckin' months?!" Bill Guarnere exclaimed the moment the four of them had made their presence known in the barracks. What seemed to be all of the Americans were watching them closely and Juliette suddenly felt like her younger self on her first day at school in England, armed only with a thick French accent and literally no friends.

She shrunk back subconsciously, leaving Martin at the front with Thomas and instead coming to linger in the back with Will. She would let them handle it.

"Actually, it was three," Tom corrected with an easy smile. "We just weren't allowed to leave the house when we got back because there was no way of explaining why we disappeared into thin air."

"I don't buy it," Joe Liebgott commented. He stepped forwards until he was standing beside Bill in what Jules thought was a rare moment of the pair of them agreeing on something. "We're supposed to believe you're fuckin' - what? Spies?"

"Your CO and intelligence officer literally lectured you on us and you're still sceptical?" Martin asked, a bite to his incredulity. "Who else needs to tell you, mate? The head of the entire US Airborne? Because I'm sure I can get him for you."

"I, for one, think they're telling the truth," George Luz announced, sidling forwards with his characteristic grin sitting proudly on his face. "It's the only explanation for how they're that good at drinking games."

Jules giggled quietly to herself, and George shot her a grin.

Tom rolled his eyes. "Whether or not we're telling the truth isn't up for debate. You've all been locked into this airfield, right? How else would we have gotten the security clearance to get in? How else would we have been allowed to listen in on a lecture about one of the most top secret military engagements of the war?"

"He does make a good point," George declared, looking between his friends with that same smile of his.

The Americans did still seem a tad bit sceptical, but after all, the evidence pointed to the fact that they were undeniably telling the truth. Juliette guessed it was quite the odd situation for them, though; these people they had known for months to be just normal civilians were suddenly reintroduced to them as spies after having dropped off of the face of the earth for sixth months. If she'd been in their position, she thought she probably would have been sceptical, too.

Over the course of further conversation they all seemed to gradually, and indeed subconsciously, split off into groups. A group of Americans all latched themselves onto a spy and asked all the questions they could think of that they hadn't been expressly forbidden from asking.

"How long have you been a spy?" Don Malarkey asked Juliette, his eyes wide and his demeanour eager; he looked incredibly excited to be in the presence of one. She felt somewhat like a celebrity.

"We started operating a few months before the outbreak of war," she told him with a small smile.

"Jesus, since '41?" Alex Penkala asked, incredulous.

Juliette laughed and looked down at her fiddling hands with a small smile. These yanks constantly reminded her of their naïveté. "Since '39," she corrected him.

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