Work Text:
Betty is incredibly jealous whenever she remembers the telegram that Gladys received telling her that James was killed in action. The army corps doesn't do that for the partners of deviants like her and Teresa, but she wished they would. Every morning she reads the paper for the updated casualty list, praying that a familiar name won't be on the page, that Teresa is out there and alive. She's honestly not sure which is worse, the fear that Teresa might be dead or the knowledge that if something does happen to her, Betty will be the last to know.
It's torture.
She is grumpy and snappy at the new girls, taking out her anger and frustration with the way the unfair world works until Mrs. Corbett couldn't help but notice. What makes this whole thing worse is that she can't talk about it to anyone, because she doesn't have the words. She's never been a really great liar, and trying to describe what happened between her and Teresa as just friends would break her in a way she can't describe.
It was so much more than friendship, so much more than two women would drink together. It was safe, and good, and wonderful.
So every morning, she frantically reads the list of casualties, desperately hoping that Teresa won't be on it, wishing that she would get a soldier with a telegram instead of a heartbreaking name on a casualty list.
It's torture