[fic] Burning 2/2 (Algy/Biggles)
Jul. 17th, 2013 11:10 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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biggles_slash_archiveSo, this is it. The second part of Burning. It was in the making for more than three years.
I am sorry for all the inaccuracies in the air-fight part, corrections are welcome. Also, it is not beta-read, so please let me know about any glaring mistakes.
There’s some material (and loose ends) left, so I hope for another chapter. There will be Towser in it, woof!
Title: Burning 2/2
Pairing: Biggles/Algy (est)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The preoccupation seems to be contagious.
The German pilot knew his game, but Algy got his opportunity eventually. The bullets from his guns struck the tail of the enemy fighter with full force, nearly tearing the elevators off. The Messerschmitt took a plunge and he could see the pilot struggling to get out of the now unresponsive machine.
Algy checked his surroundings for other aircraft. The fight was in full swing. A Spitfire crossed his path, hurtling after a 109, with yet another 109 coming at it from the side. Algy made a quick turn to intercept them and intervene in the uneven fight, but he was just in time to see the second German fire. The canopy of the Spitfire’s cockpit shattered, sending pieces flying in its wake. The German fired again.
The machine rolled and went into a flat spin trailing smoke. Algy’s breath caught in his throat. He went directly for the offending Messerchmitt and managed to shoot it down before the German knew what hit him. He had seen the markings on the Spitfire. It was Ginger’s machine that was now falling.
His eyes searched for it below. The fight was taking place over land, the coast being only just visible. There was a smoking wrack on one of the fields. However, there were more that one wreck, and it was too soon for that, anyway. He combed the air below in desperate hope and found what he was looking for. His eyes didn’t leave the falling machine after that except to check his immediate surroundings. Almost without knowing it, he went down after it in a wide turn.
The Spitfire recovered from the spin dangerously close to the ground. A crash landing was inevitable. It touched. Either the undercarriage was damaged, or Ginger didn’t have time to lower it. Algy could see the propeller chopping loose earth and flinging it into the air before twisting itself into a disfigured lump. The machine skidded to a halt leaving behind a furrow.
Algy was forced to take notice of the situation around him by an unpleasantly close sounding chatter of bullets. When he looked to the ground again, there was no one around the crashed machine. His eyes searched around the destroyed Spitfire, but there was no sign of the pilot.
“What on earth are you waiting for? Get out of it you fool!” Algy muttered and looked up anxiously to where the fight was still going on. The Germans seemed to be withdrawing. Algy looked back down.
He managed to land, he must still be alive.
He knew he should go back up there, help fight off the rest of the enemies, not endanger himself with flying low. What was on the front of his mind, however, was the image of the crashed Spitfire in flames.
He made a decision.
“James, Ginger’s on the carpet and hasn’t got out of the machine. I’m going down for him.”
Without waiting for a reply, Algy made to land on the field. The wheels of his Spitfire touched the grass. His eyes were fixed on the crashed machine not far away. He thought he could almost hear drops of fuel dropping like clocks ticking. His machine was still moving when he threw the canopy open and unbuckled the harness. At that moment, over the purr of his still running engine there came a deafening explosion. The shock wave caused by the blast shook his own plane.
For a second Algy just stood in his cockpit frozen with dread. The crashed Spitfire was ablaze. He jumped on the wing and looked as the orange tongues of flame engulfed the wreck. He knew there was nothing he could do, but he jumped off the wing and started running towards the fire. The heat made him take a few steps back. He started coughing, the smoke itching in his throat and stinging in his eyes.
He looked around desperately. There on the other side of the machine that had been until then shielded from his view...
“Ginger!”
Ginger was lying on the ground only a few yards from the blazing wreck, arms folded over his face, trying to protect it from the heat.
Shaking like a leaf from shock, Algy rushed to the spot. He was at Ginger’s side before he knew it, forgetting all about the flames. He grabbed the limp body of his friend and dragged him clear away from the fire with all his might. He didn’t stop until the distance was safe enough.
There was blood on Ginger’s face, running from a cut eyebrow. He smudged it all around with his sleeves when he was covering his face. The blood seeped through the no longer white wool of his turtleneck.
Ginger opened his eyes and looked into Algy’s stricken face hovering above him.
“Gosh, that was - close,” he whispered. “I thought - I won’t make it.”
Algy’s throat felt so dry he had trouble swallowing. He ripped off his jacket, and folding it put it carefully under Ginger’s head.
“Clip round the ear you’d deserve! Were you flying with your eyes shut!”
Ginger was just looking up at him blearily.
Algy fished out a handkerchief and pressed it gently to the cut, cradling Ginger’s face in his hands. The lad’s eyes began to slide shut.
“No no no, stay awake for me, ok? There you are. Good boy.”
People appeared on the edge of the field and started running towards them.
“They’re ours!”
Algy waved at them.
A Spitfire swept low over the field.
***
When Algy arrived in Rawlham some time later, trousers stained with grass and soil, Biggles was waiting for him on the landing ground some distance from the hangars, arms crossed across his chest. Algy climbed down from the wing heavily.
“He’ll be all right. It wasn’t that bad in the end, but it knocked him out, so he almost didn’t make it out of the machine. It blew up just when I landed.”
Biggles nodded, his mouth drawn in a thin line.
“Algy, I hope you’re aware this was one of the more irresponsible things you’ve done in your time.”
Algy’s face immediately contorted with anger, but Biggles went on. “You could...”
“... get court-martialed or what? As if I give a damn!”
“Would you kindly let me finish?” requested Biggles icily. “You know I’m the last one to reprimand you for the reasons you did it.”
Algy glanced towards the hangars where the rest of the squadron were standing trying very hard to look like they were minding their own business. The discipline wasn’t so tight here as it was elsewhere, but shouting at your CO didn’t make a good image anywhere. He made an effort to reign in his temper. Biggles’ face relaxed slightly in response and his shoulders seemed to sag.
“What if some of those Huns went down after you?” he spoke softly now.
“You wouldn’t let ‘em, would you?”
Biggles looked very sad and very old for a brief moment.
“Your combat report?”
Algy blinked at him blankly before he caught up.
“Two 109s. One a thug with some sort of picture on his cowling, baled out. The other was the one that got Ginger. Went down in flames,” he supplied indifferently.
His brow still furrowed Biggles dismissed Algy with a curt nod and strode towards the squadron office. He didn’t feel like talking to anybody anymore, but the combat reports needed to be finished and looked over. He would complete Algy’s for him.
***
When Biggles entered, Algy was standing by the window in his trousers and a clean shirt not yet buttoned. The blackout blinds removed, he was looking out on the airfield absent-mindedly.
“Algy?”
Algy turned into the room, looked at him and sat on the bed. A hiss of pain escaped his lips and he touched the small of his back.
“What is it?” asked Biggles sharply.
Algy sighed.
“I did something with my back when I was dragging him away from the fire.”
He looked at Biggles incredulously. And started to laugh. A laugh that stopped as suddenly as it began. Algy was staring at him with wide eyes, cold sweat breaking on his brow. He was starting to shake. Biggles hurried towards the bed and gripped him by the shoulders.
Algy was breathing heavily. He was pressing the back of his hand to his lips, colour draining from his face. Biggles looked around for a washbasin if Algy was indeed going to be sick, but Algy shook his head shortly. Removing his hand from his lips, he clutched Biggles’ lapel.
“Calm down, laddie. It’s alright. We’re alright,” Biggles said firmly and sat down next to his cousin on the bed. He pulled a blanket over Algy’s shoulders and put his arms around him. He felt Algy’s fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket.
He had seen many men break down like this, but it shouldn’t be happening to Algy. He still clearly remembered the time when the more bullet holes Algy had found on his machine the more he had laughed. That wasn’t all right, even at that time, it wasn’t all right, but it was something to cling to. He got used to clinging to it. Too much so.
He didn’t know how long they sat there. Algy trembling, damp forehead pressed to Biggles’ cheek. Biggles holding him close with one hand, and stroking his nape and rubbing his shoulder with the other.
The moment was broken by a gasp of pain that escaped Algy’s lips.
“You’d better see Doc Lorton about your back. We’re not so young we used to be anymore,” Biggles said softly.
“I suppose I shall, but right now I badly need a cigarette.”
Biggles let go of him and fished out his cigarette case, lighting for them both. They smoked in silence for a while, Algy’s hands still shaking slightly.
“I may really be getting old, you know. Loosing my nerve.”
“You? Never. I think you’d still be able to go and bomb the lettuce in Göring’s own garden if he’d given you a good enough reason to do so.”
Algy snorted.
“He nearly did,” he replied bitterly and tried to stand up, but stopped midway and sat heavily back on the bed.
“Ouch. Dash it!”
“Lie down. I’ll go and send the Doc here.”
“Right.”
***
“It’s nothing serious, strained muscles, but I recommend he’d be put off duty until it gets better.”
“What?”
“You’re off-duty, Algy.”
“But...”
“No discussion. It’s an order.”
“Three or four days at least. Sitting would only make it worse, so you’d better be lying down and taking occasional walks.”
“Thanks Doc. It seems that for the time being I’ll have to eat my meals standing.”
Lorton laughed and walked out of the door closing it behind himself.
“James...”
“Take it easy for a few days. The weather doesn’t look like there will be much flying in the next two days, anyway.”
Biggles helped Algy settle down as comfortably as possible in the circumstances and left with a promise to send him a tray from the mess later. When he was passing through the office anteroom he met Toddy, who was just making adjustments to the squadron notice board.
“Algy’s off-duty too.”
Toddy gave him a curious look but obediently marked Algy’s name on the notice board in the same way he had already done with Ginger’s and Ferrocity’s. The latter got a bullet through his calf on the morning patrol.
Biggles was about to enter his office when Toddy stopped him, in the end unable to contain his curiosity.
“Biggles, did you actually suspend him?”
“What? No! That chump managed to strain his back. Lorton downed him!” snapped Biggles indignantly, rather stunned by the accusation.
Toddy nodded sheepishly and fixed his one eye back to the notice board. Biggles needed no more incentive to escape into his office.
***
He was sitting behind his table watching the sky through the open window. When the first heavy drops of rain fell from the dark clouds, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the heel of his palm. For once he hoped the rain would persist for a few days.
I am sorry for all the inaccuracies in the air-fight part, corrections are welcome. Also, it is not beta-read, so please let me know about any glaring mistakes.
There’s some material (and loose ends) left, so I hope for another chapter. There will be Towser in it, woof!
Title: Burning 2/2
Pairing: Biggles/Algy (est)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The preoccupation seems to be contagious.
The German pilot knew his game, but Algy got his opportunity eventually. The bullets from his guns struck the tail of the enemy fighter with full force, nearly tearing the elevators off. The Messerschmitt took a plunge and he could see the pilot struggling to get out of the now unresponsive machine.
Algy checked his surroundings for other aircraft. The fight was in full swing. A Spitfire crossed his path, hurtling after a 109, with yet another 109 coming at it from the side. Algy made a quick turn to intercept them and intervene in the uneven fight, but he was just in time to see the second German fire. The canopy of the Spitfire’s cockpit shattered, sending pieces flying in its wake. The German fired again.
The machine rolled and went into a flat spin trailing smoke. Algy’s breath caught in his throat. He went directly for the offending Messerchmitt and managed to shoot it down before the German knew what hit him. He had seen the markings on the Spitfire. It was Ginger’s machine that was now falling.
His eyes searched for it below. The fight was taking place over land, the coast being only just visible. There was a smoking wrack on one of the fields. However, there were more that one wreck, and it was too soon for that, anyway. He combed the air below in desperate hope and found what he was looking for. His eyes didn’t leave the falling machine after that except to check his immediate surroundings. Almost without knowing it, he went down after it in a wide turn.
The Spitfire recovered from the spin dangerously close to the ground. A crash landing was inevitable. It touched. Either the undercarriage was damaged, or Ginger didn’t have time to lower it. Algy could see the propeller chopping loose earth and flinging it into the air before twisting itself into a disfigured lump. The machine skidded to a halt leaving behind a furrow.
Algy was forced to take notice of the situation around him by an unpleasantly close sounding chatter of bullets. When he looked to the ground again, there was no one around the crashed machine. His eyes searched around the destroyed Spitfire, but there was no sign of the pilot.
“What on earth are you waiting for? Get out of it you fool!” Algy muttered and looked up anxiously to where the fight was still going on. The Germans seemed to be withdrawing. Algy looked back down.
He managed to land, he must still be alive.
He knew he should go back up there, help fight off the rest of the enemies, not endanger himself with flying low. What was on the front of his mind, however, was the image of the crashed Spitfire in flames.
He made a decision.
“James, Ginger’s on the carpet and hasn’t got out of the machine. I’m going down for him.”
Without waiting for a reply, Algy made to land on the field. The wheels of his Spitfire touched the grass. His eyes were fixed on the crashed machine not far away. He thought he could almost hear drops of fuel dropping like clocks ticking. His machine was still moving when he threw the canopy open and unbuckled the harness. At that moment, over the purr of his still running engine there came a deafening explosion. The shock wave caused by the blast shook his own plane.
For a second Algy just stood in his cockpit frozen with dread. The crashed Spitfire was ablaze. He jumped on the wing and looked as the orange tongues of flame engulfed the wreck. He knew there was nothing he could do, but he jumped off the wing and started running towards the fire. The heat made him take a few steps back. He started coughing, the smoke itching in his throat and stinging in his eyes.
He looked around desperately. There on the other side of the machine that had been until then shielded from his view...
“Ginger!”
Ginger was lying on the ground only a few yards from the blazing wreck, arms folded over his face, trying to protect it from the heat.
Shaking like a leaf from shock, Algy rushed to the spot. He was at Ginger’s side before he knew it, forgetting all about the flames. He grabbed the limp body of his friend and dragged him clear away from the fire with all his might. He didn’t stop until the distance was safe enough.
There was blood on Ginger’s face, running from a cut eyebrow. He smudged it all around with his sleeves when he was covering his face. The blood seeped through the no longer white wool of his turtleneck.
Ginger opened his eyes and looked into Algy’s stricken face hovering above him.
“Gosh, that was - close,” he whispered. “I thought - I won’t make it.”
Algy’s throat felt so dry he had trouble swallowing. He ripped off his jacket, and folding it put it carefully under Ginger’s head.
“Clip round the ear you’d deserve! Were you flying with your eyes shut!”
Ginger was just looking up at him blearily.
Algy fished out a handkerchief and pressed it gently to the cut, cradling Ginger’s face in his hands. The lad’s eyes began to slide shut.
“No no no, stay awake for me, ok? There you are. Good boy.”
People appeared on the edge of the field and started running towards them.
“They’re ours!”
Algy waved at them.
A Spitfire swept low over the field.
***
When Algy arrived in Rawlham some time later, trousers stained with grass and soil, Biggles was waiting for him on the landing ground some distance from the hangars, arms crossed across his chest. Algy climbed down from the wing heavily.
“He’ll be all right. It wasn’t that bad in the end, but it knocked him out, so he almost didn’t make it out of the machine. It blew up just when I landed.”
Biggles nodded, his mouth drawn in a thin line.
“Algy, I hope you’re aware this was one of the more irresponsible things you’ve done in your time.”
Algy’s face immediately contorted with anger, but Biggles went on. “You could...”
“... get court-martialed or what? As if I give a damn!”
“Would you kindly let me finish?” requested Biggles icily. “You know I’m the last one to reprimand you for the reasons you did it.”
Algy glanced towards the hangars where the rest of the squadron were standing trying very hard to look like they were minding their own business. The discipline wasn’t so tight here as it was elsewhere, but shouting at your CO didn’t make a good image anywhere. He made an effort to reign in his temper. Biggles’ face relaxed slightly in response and his shoulders seemed to sag.
“What if some of those Huns went down after you?” he spoke softly now.
“You wouldn’t let ‘em, would you?”
Biggles looked very sad and very old for a brief moment.
“Your combat report?”
Algy blinked at him blankly before he caught up.
“Two 109s. One a thug with some sort of picture on his cowling, baled out. The other was the one that got Ginger. Went down in flames,” he supplied indifferently.
His brow still furrowed Biggles dismissed Algy with a curt nod and strode towards the squadron office. He didn’t feel like talking to anybody anymore, but the combat reports needed to be finished and looked over. He would complete Algy’s for him.
***
When Biggles entered, Algy was standing by the window in his trousers and a clean shirt not yet buttoned. The blackout blinds removed, he was looking out on the airfield absent-mindedly.
“Algy?”
Algy turned into the room, looked at him and sat on the bed. A hiss of pain escaped his lips and he touched the small of his back.
“What is it?” asked Biggles sharply.
Algy sighed.
“I did something with my back when I was dragging him away from the fire.”
He looked at Biggles incredulously. And started to laugh. A laugh that stopped as suddenly as it began. Algy was staring at him with wide eyes, cold sweat breaking on his brow. He was starting to shake. Biggles hurried towards the bed and gripped him by the shoulders.
Algy was breathing heavily. He was pressing the back of his hand to his lips, colour draining from his face. Biggles looked around for a washbasin if Algy was indeed going to be sick, but Algy shook his head shortly. Removing his hand from his lips, he clutched Biggles’ lapel.
“Calm down, laddie. It’s alright. We’re alright,” Biggles said firmly and sat down next to his cousin on the bed. He pulled a blanket over Algy’s shoulders and put his arms around him. He felt Algy’s fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket.
He had seen many men break down like this, but it shouldn’t be happening to Algy. He still clearly remembered the time when the more bullet holes Algy had found on his machine the more he had laughed. That wasn’t all right, even at that time, it wasn’t all right, but it was something to cling to. He got used to clinging to it. Too much so.
He didn’t know how long they sat there. Algy trembling, damp forehead pressed to Biggles’ cheek. Biggles holding him close with one hand, and stroking his nape and rubbing his shoulder with the other.
The moment was broken by a gasp of pain that escaped Algy’s lips.
“You’d better see Doc Lorton about your back. We’re not so young we used to be anymore,” Biggles said softly.
“I suppose I shall, but right now I badly need a cigarette.”
Biggles let go of him and fished out his cigarette case, lighting for them both. They smoked in silence for a while, Algy’s hands still shaking slightly.
“I may really be getting old, you know. Loosing my nerve.”
“You? Never. I think you’d still be able to go and bomb the lettuce in Göring’s own garden if he’d given you a good enough reason to do so.”
Algy snorted.
“He nearly did,” he replied bitterly and tried to stand up, but stopped midway and sat heavily back on the bed.
“Ouch. Dash it!”
“Lie down. I’ll go and send the Doc here.”
“Right.”
***
“It’s nothing serious, strained muscles, but I recommend he’d be put off duty until it gets better.”
“What?”
“You’re off-duty, Algy.”
“But...”
“No discussion. It’s an order.”
“Three or four days at least. Sitting would only make it worse, so you’d better be lying down and taking occasional walks.”
“Thanks Doc. It seems that for the time being I’ll have to eat my meals standing.”
Lorton laughed and walked out of the door closing it behind himself.
“James...”
“Take it easy for a few days. The weather doesn’t look like there will be much flying in the next two days, anyway.”
Biggles helped Algy settle down as comfortably as possible in the circumstances and left with a promise to send him a tray from the mess later. When he was passing through the office anteroom he met Toddy, who was just making adjustments to the squadron notice board.
“Algy’s off-duty too.”
Toddy gave him a curious look but obediently marked Algy’s name on the notice board in the same way he had already done with Ginger’s and Ferrocity’s. The latter got a bullet through his calf on the morning patrol.
Biggles was about to enter his office when Toddy stopped him, in the end unable to contain his curiosity.
“Biggles, did you actually suspend him?”
“What? No! That chump managed to strain his back. Lorton downed him!” snapped Biggles indignantly, rather stunned by the accusation.
Toddy nodded sheepishly and fixed his one eye back to the notice board. Biggles needed no more incentive to escape into his office.
***
He was sitting behind his table watching the sky through the open window. When the first heavy drops of rain fell from the dark clouds, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the heel of his palm. For once he hoped the rain would persist for a few days.
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Hello
Date: 2013-10-22 08:01 am (UTC)I will try and add to it some time.
Re: Hello
Date: 2013-10-23 09:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-06 08:52 pm (UTC)My gosh, I go away for a few months and come back and find that not only is the comm alive, it is alive and well and churning out fantastic fics (and some plotbunnies to go with it).
no subject
Date: 2013-11-06 09:01 pm (UTC)I'm glad you're back! I hope you've had a good time. I've certainly missed you!
no subject
Date: 2013-11-09 01:08 am (UTC)And I have missed you all as well. I'm currently curled up hoping to churn out an offering for you all.
no subject
Date: 2013-11-09 11:03 am (UTC)