Archive of Our Own

Biggles came into the special squadron’s small mess room, rubbing gingerly at his right shoulder and blinking away the last vestiges of sleep.

‘I say, Algy, bit quiet in here, isn’t it? Where’s everyone else?’

Algy glanced up, wincing as a shaft of afternoon sunlight hit his eyes. ‘Biggles!’ His voice was cheery enough, though a keen observer would note that his face was wan and his eyes red-rimmed.  ‘How’re you feeling?’

‘Like I’ve gone ten rounds with an angry she-bear,’ Biggles admitted, grinning. ‘Remind me not to get caught next time I go scoutin’ round Von Stalhein’s camp. The others aren’t doing anything hairbrained, I hope?’

‘Bertie and the Professor are doing a supply run and Ginger’s giving Smyth a hand checking over your kite. Von Stalhein’s men put rather too many holes in her for comfort.’

Biggles rubbed at his shoulder again. ‘Yes. Poor ‘bus came off rather worse than me, thankfully, though I think it’ll be a day or two before this arm’s up for flying. There’s a beauty of a bruise round my wrist- they must have wrenched it halfway up my back. Have I been out long?’

‘A few hours. You were- I checked it was a natural sleep. You were gone all night. I thought you could use all the beauty sleep you can get.’ He tried for a smile. ‘D’you want a drink?’

At Biggles’s nod, he sloshed some brandy into a clean glass and topped up his own. ‘You were with me, when I dozed off,’ Biggles murmured, glancing at the other airman. Algy avoided his eyes.

‘You needed the sleep. I ... I was worried I’d wake you.’

Algy handed him the glass, wincing in sympathy when Biggles instinctively reached for it with his right hand and hissed in pain. His lips were pressed into a thin line, white against his tanned face. Biggles drank off half the brandy in one swallow and put down the glass. ‘I say, old man,’ he reached for Algy’s chin, only a little awkward with his left hand, and tilted Algy’s face with slim fingers pressed against his jaw. ‘You- not sickening for anything, are you? You look done in.’

Algy fought away from the touch and turned his back. ‘You were meant to be back yesterday.‘

‘I ran into a spot of bother-’

‘Yes. You said . A spot of bother, a cracked rib and a wrenched arm, but plenty of gen on the layout of their camp. But I didn’t know that, did I/I was waiting here, in the dark as usual. Von Stalhein’s a nasty piece of work, Biggles, and he’s too clever by half. We were worried- well. Never mind.’ He sighed and turned back to face him. ‘I know, it’s not your fault. It’s the nature of this sort of mission that you have to take things as they come. But you- I’m not sure you know what it’s like. Because it’s always me, back at base, waiting to see if this is the show you’ll not come back from.’

‘Algy-’

‘I know,’ Algy said, slumping down into a chair and putting his face in his hands. ‘It’s- I know, Biggles. You can see your duty and I wouldn’t ask you to shirk it. This is probably tantamount to treason as it is. But that- he could have done anything to you, Biggles. You went in there with no backup, no- ‘ he broke off. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s all right. I’m sorry. It’s- perhaps I’ve let it become too much of a personal vendetta.

‘I just- if I could come with you, even. It’s the blasted waiting that gets me down. You should take someone with you on these reconnaissance trips.’

‘It’s better I go alone,’ Biggles said shortly. ‘And I need you here, Algy. I need a man I can trust-’

‘Dutiful Algy, keeping the home fires burning,’ Algy spat out. ‘Why’s it always me?’

‘Because I trust you. And- and I need you safe.’ Algy’s head flew up, his eyes meeting Biggles’s steely blue gaze. ‘I can’t- it’s a form of cowardice, probably. But it’s easier if I know you’re waiting. Something- someone to come back to.’

Algy coloured. ‘ James . You sound like Bertie, rhapsodising about his sweetheart safe in Blighty.’

‘Safety’s relative. I’m glad you’re here. And I do need someone trustworthy at the base, Algy. I’m sorry. It’s- I know it’s hard lines on you.’ He pushed his fingers into Algy’s hair, caressing his scalp lightly. Algy leant into his hand, then pulled it to his lips to press a rough kiss against Biggles’s palm. This close, he could see a ring of faint bruising round the wrist.

‘They got this arm too?’ he asked softly.

Biggles glanced at his arm dismissively. ‘Two of them held me down while the other checked whether a kick to the ribs would loosen my tongue. There are prob’ly some nasty marks over my hips as well. I’m not easy to keep down.’ He grinned irrepressibly and Algy felt himself reluctantly returning the smile, leaning more closely into Biggles.

The door banged open: Biggles moved so quickly that Algy barely registered the loss until he felt Biggles’ hand gripping his shoulder.

‘I see you’re up,’ Ginger announced cheerfully. ‘Your kite’ll be ready to fly when you are, Chief. Patched her up beautifully.’

Biggles flashed a grin at the youngster. ‘Only momentarily, I’m afraid, Ginger. If everything’s under control I might leave you to it. I think we can leave Von Stalhein to stew for a bit. You should gte a bit of shut-eye too,’ he added, giving Algy a gentle shake. ‘We’ll call the rest of today a write-off. Tell the others when they get back, would you, Ginger?’

Algy wearily rose to his feet. ‘Sorry, Ginger. It’s this blasted heat. I wasn’t made for the desert.’

Ginger grinned. ‘I like it, myself, but you do look a bit peaky. Have a lie down and I’ll keep an eye on everything here.’

‘Thanks,’ Algy muttered gratefully, and followed Biggles to their sleeping quarters.