"The thing is, you could be the last girl I ever kiss."

Toshiko smiled awkwardly as the young boy opposite her squirmed in his seat. He didn't come up with that line on his own, she pondered as she watched a group of lads watching and snickering a couple of yards away. The boy in question, Nathan, was sweet, and a friend of the navigator she'd talked to earlier.

"Sorry, I've already got a partner," she improvised, blushing.

"Oh yeah?" His friend asked, appearing from nowhere. "What's his name then? Where's he from?"

Shit. "Err, his name's… Owen."

Owen? Why on earth did she say that? Oh well, he still didn't look convinced.

"Owen, huh? Where does he live?"

"Um, not far from here."
"Where is he then?"

Probably shagging a random woman in a bar- oh wait, it's only about 11am over there. Then he's probably at work, trying to find a way for us to get home. Or maybe he hasn't figured it out yet? Or maybe he has, but he's just not doing anything?"
"He'd do something if it was Gwen."

"Sorry, love?" Oh god, did she just say that out loud?

"Oh, sorry. I was miles away…"

Or wishing she was miles away, miles away with Owen, arguing or drinking coffee. Things she might never do again.

"I'd better go," Toshiko left, hurriedly.

Maybe she would ask Owen for a drink, when she got home.

If she got home, Toshiko remembered.

Because this wasn't just a dance, oh no. This was in the height of the London blitz. She might never go home, with or without the rift. Owen would never know, he'd carry on with his life. Not knowing she loved him.

Owen Harper.

Not near. Not far. Someday.

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