Title of One-Shot: We'll Meet Again

AH or AU: AH

POV: Edward

Rating: M/NC-17

Word Count: 4805

Summary or Description: August 15, 1945. Finally, after years of war, it's time for celebrations to begin.

This one-shot is being posted in participation with the above mentioned contest hosted by FilthyRoseward & Co. Please see the contest profile for full details. http: / / w w w . fanfiction. net/u/2529769/


We'll Meet Again by afoolishmortal


~o0o~

The official announcement came over the radio at 7am. We stopped working and huddled around to listen to President Truman's voice crackling over the airwaves announcing Japan's unconditional surrender and, after all this time, the end of the War.

Within minutes schedules had been shuffled so that people could celebrate the news their way.

The soldiers' wives went off immediately, giggling and twittering like birds. The widows were given space to mark the news in their sorrow; the single nurses heard stories about sailors getting leave and heading into the city for a good time and were swapping shifts.

We let all the parents go home to celebrate with their children; let the children go home to their parents.

In the end there was a skeleton staff left; the people with nobody but workmates to share this moment with, and those whose loved ones were far away.

I fell into the second category, my parents were back in Chicago and my friends were all tied to the hospital in one way or another.

Any patient who could stand up on their own was discharged. The orderlies, doctors and nurses worked to bring all the ones who were too sick to go home into one ward where the remaining staff left could watch over them.

The drunks began rolling in at about 9am - the bars and liquor stores had thrown open their doors the minute the announcement was made. Every one of them was happy, and each had their story of what was going on in the city.

At noon my shift was over. Dr Gerandy came to find me and let me go. I took off my white coat and left it and my stethoscope in my locker. I pulled my arm into the sleeve of my jacket and dropped my hand into the pocket, where I found a note.

*Hey, sorry I missed you. 2p.m. at the Den? I'll be at the bar with a scotch for you.* I smiled at the thought of it. I had an hour to see the sights before my own celebrations began.

I headed out of the hospital, past the Russians on reception - Irina, Tanya and Katarina - who never let me get by unmolested. You'd think women of their age would have known better, but no, this trio was incorrigible.

"Hey Doctor C," Irina said, clicking her tongue on her teeth to make a smacking sound and handed me a chipped mug with something clear sloshing around in it.

I took a sip which almost blew the back of my head off. Moonshine vodka, probably from the still in Tanya's son's bathroom. I hoped vaguely I wouldn't go blind.

"You in a hurry to get away? You got someone to see? Celebrate with? We knew Uncle Joe Stalin and your President Harry would win in the end. Never doubted." Irina had lived in the US for years but her accent had never faded.

She took her cup back and leaned over the desk to kiss me on each cheek, followed by a lascivious wink. "War is done, Doctor. Our boys will come home now. Everyone will be happy. You see, babies everywhere nine months from now..."

With one of my award-winning smirks, I untangled myself from Irina's embrace. "I'm going off now, girls," I said.

I could hear the three of them giggle coquettishly as I walked off. If I'd turned around I am sure I'd have seen all of them staring at my ass.

I wandered around the city for an hour. I knew I was watching history and it fascinated me.

As I walked towards Times Square, I saw a guy with a camera round his neck and another at his eye. He slipped around the crowd, lining up shot after shot of the celebrations.

At about the same time, we both spotted a gaggle of girls in white. I recognised three nurses from my wards at my hospital. They were standing in a little group watching the sailors walk past in gangs, high on adrenaline, on the joy of freedom.

Suddenly one of the sailors spotted the group, honing in on Nurse Brandon, who giggled and flushed at him.

Still in his blue uniform with his white hat at a jaunty angle over his fair hair, he handed his beer bottle to one of his friends.

The photographer raised his camera and began to close in on them. Click. Whirr. Click. Whirr. Click.

The sailor got closer to Nurse Brandon, who fell into his arms and let him dip her into a kiss. Click. Whirr. Click. The photographer sighed and melted away into the crowd. I knew he had his shot.

I kept on walking, letting my feet carry me towards The Den, a renowned drinking hole and ex-speakeasy tucked away near the hospital, where the staff knew the doctors by name, and had their drinks poured before they got to the bar.

I could hear the sound of music coming from the bar before I could see the door. I pushed open the door and took in the scene. Sure enough there was a band on the stage in the corner, playing a raucous version of In The Mood.

I held my head up and scanned the room, taking in the big guy behind the bar, huge across the chest with arm muscles like ropes. The blond sailor was now wrapped around Nurse Brandon, who was wearing his hat.

I kept walking, weaving round the the little round tables, wincing as I hit the side of my knee on one. It didn't stop my pace though, and it was seconds until I was at the bar.

I nodded at the giant behind the bar, who walked over to me. "Drink, Doc?"

I grinned and pretended to think about what I wanted. "Whisky, please Felix. Water, no ice."

He appeared in a second or two, I gave him a bill and he returned to his spot at the end of the bar, handing out glass after glass of booze. It seemed everyone was desperate to celebrate after all the years of austerity and uncertainty.

I tossed my drink back in one go, enjoying the burn as it went down and turning on the stool so I faced the room. All the better for people watching.

The barman saw my empty glass and assumed, correctly, I'd want another. I slapped a note on the bar, fully expecting not to get change.

This time I nursed my drink, cradling the glass, tapping on the side in time with the music.

"Edward!"

I jumped. How the hell did Emmett manage to be louder than the music?

"Hey, Doc, you got my note then?" Emmett was a man-mountain. He worked as an orderly at the hospital ever since we'd got him going again after he got too close to an artillery shell at Omaha Beach. He'd lost two fingers and blew his eardrums apart.

He'd regained 70 percent of his hearing but he'd never reduced his speaking volume. How Bree put up with him was a mystery to me.

Felix was back beside us with the shot of whisky Emmett had promised me, my third in an hour. Emmett snagged a bar stool and sat by me, elbow on the bar.

"So I've got some news," Em said, suddenly nervous, his foot tapping.

"Spit it out, boy." The whisky was emboldening me.

"Well, yeah, OK, um, I've asked Bree to marry me. She's been through a load of stuff recently getting me better - after you and your sawbones friends patched me up." I smiled at the joke; I had been there at the field hospital when they amputated his fingers.

"The thing is man, I'd like you to be a witness - my best man. The ceremony's this Saturday at City Hall - I went down there to confirm today and they were heaving - it's full for weeks, I am so lucky I booked it already."

I gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. "Congratulations, you big lug. Where is the bride-to-be anyway? Tied to the kitchen sink?"

He punched me back. "No, she's over there," he flipped his thumb towards the band. "She's been roped into singing, one of their regular girls is out sick."

I looked over at the band, who were coming to the end of a raucous version of Pennsylvania 6-5000, and saw Bree's brown hair and wide smile as she prepared to climb on the stage with two other girls; one blonde, one red-headed.

The three of them put on brown Army caps, no doubt stolen from some of the uniformed boys at the tables, to whoops and hollers from the crowd.

The band started up:

He was a famous trumpet man from old Chicago way

He had a boogie style that no one else could play

He was the top man at his craft

But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft

He's in the army now, a-blowin' reveille

He's the boogie-woogie bugle boy of Company B

The three of them had their Andrews Sisters sound down pat and the band was tight as a drum. It was impossible not to enjoy the sound and as the three girls began to dance in unison on the stage my eyes were drawn to the blonde, the tallest of the three, at the center of the stage.

She was tall and curvy in all the right places. Her hair was pinned up at the sides and flowed down her back.

She had a dark dress on, short enough that I could see where the tops of her stockings began, but long enough to not be completely slutty. It had a delicate floral pattern and white pearl buttons all up the front, with short sleeves which showed off her toned upper arms.

She wore little white cotton gloves. Her hands looked prim and proper, but the peek of stocking-tops told a different story.

The three of them belted their way through half a dozen songs, until Bree and the redhead left the stage, passing a stool up to the blonde. The band's mood changed as they played the opening bars to a song I heard a hundred times in field hospitals and soldiers' camps all the way across Europe.

She opened her mouth and perfection occurred. The room was silenced.

Let's say goodbye with a smile dear,

Just for awhile dear, we must part

Don't let this parting upset you,

I'll not forget you, sweetheart -

We'll meet again, don't know where,don't know when.

But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day.

The dancing stopped and every eye in the room was on her. I heard sniffing from more than one of the tables and I swallowed down a lump in my own throat. Emmett was subdued, distant.

The girl had some raw talent. By the last chorus she had the entire bar in the palm of her hand, singing along with the chorus.

The applause as she ended almost took the roof off the building. She smiled shyly and stepped down from the stage.

The band, catching the mood of the audience moved on to Moonlight Serenade, and the blonde vanished into the crowd.

As that song came to an end the band-leader turned to face the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, back by popular demand is our very own Rosie the Riveter!"

The blonde re-appeared and stepped up to the stage. She'd changed into a baggy factory-issue overalls and had tied her hair up in a red spotted headscarf - she'd transformed herself into the We Can Do It! poster girl.

The band struck up and she launched into Rosie the Riveter:

All the day long,

Whether rain or shine

She's part of the assembly line.

She's making history,

Working for victory

Rosie the Riveter

The crowd, moved to tears by her last performance, began laughing, and as Bree and the red-head re-appeared, also in coveralls and army boots the atmosphere became more party-like again.

The girls performed a few more songs, including a medley of Cole Porter's finest and more Glenn Miller. When they finally announced the end of their set the reaction was so great they agreed to stay for an encore - returning to the Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy and finally Rosie reprised We'll Meet Again.

I had been so engrossed in the performance that I'd not even bought another drink, but as Bree materialised alongside us I caught Felix's eye.

I congratulated Bree on her wedding news and her musical talent. She giggled and hid underneath Emmett's arm.

"If Bella hadn't been sick I'd never have had the nerve to get up on stage," she said. "But it was such a rush! The other girls were so good to me, they let me warble in the background. They're the talented ones..."

"No honey, you were the best of the bunch. They were like geese next to you," Em said in a serious tone.

She tiptoed up to kiss him. "You say the sweetest bullshit, honey. It's a good thing I love you," she laughed. Em and I laughed with her.

She and Em were truly starry-eyed. It was sweet to watch but after a while I began to feel like a gooseberry. I tuned them out and started to people-watch.

My eyes scanned the room, searching from face to face, from body to body until I saw her, sitting on her own at a table at the back of the room, almost in the shadows.

As if she felt my stare hit her, she looked up from her glass and stared straight back as her lip curled up into a half-smile.

Slowly she uncurled herself from her seat, smoothed down the front of her skirt. She stalked across the room towards me, her purse over her wrist and her martini glass in her hand, empty apart from the olive.

As she got closer I swept my eyes down her curves. She was wearing heels, black patent ones by the look of them; their height made her hips sway in a special way.

I dragged my eyes back up. Her hair was honey blonde, not brassy like the girls sitting on the sailors' laps by the door.

Her face was fresh, a little rouge, lipstick and mascara, little else. She had a beauty mark just above her top lip which added to her exotic beauty. She was tan but not excessively so, and her eyes sparkled blue like the ocean.

I introduced myself and complimented her on her singing. She smiled at my words but I wasn't sure she believed me.

"Are you really called Rosie?" I asked, mentally kicking myself for asking such a dumb question.

"Yeah, I'm really Rosalie, but lots of people shorten it," she answered. "I'll answer to most names - it's like that when you're a singer."

I looked at her glass. "Dry martini with an olive?" She nodded and I caught Felix's eye. He already had the glass prepared.

She pulled a bar-stool closer and slid herself on to it, her legs between mine, dangerously close. I could smell her scent: musk, seashores and faintly of soap.

She picked the olive from her glass, still on its pick, and opened her mouth a little. I watched in fascination as she stuck her tongue out slightly, sucking the slick little green fruit into her mouth. I watched her in fascination as she chewed twice and took a sip of her drink.

She looked at me through her lashes. "I saw you watching me when I was singing. Bree pointed you out. She said you were a doc and her fiance's best friend; said you'd saved his life. She thinks you're some kind of hero."

Her breathing was uneven and her eyes were hazy. It was rude of me not to put my hand on her thigh as she leaned in towards me. She looked down at my hand and back up again, but didn't move a muscle.

"I think she was exaggerating a bit," I said. "I was in the right place. I didn't want to be there, but then nor did he. None of us did. When he was shipped home, I came back with him."

I ordered myself a club soda. The whisky was making me buzz, and I knew I needed to pace myself.

Another martini in, and she moved in closer. My hand crept up her thigh to where her stocking top met her skin.

She tensed up a little the first time I'd done it but after that she relaxed, pushing and her leg against mine. She was leaning in listening intently to my every word.

Her mouth brushed against my ear as she leaned further in and put her hand on my neck. "I'm just going to the powder room," she said, slipping her legs from between mine. "I'll be a minute."

I sat back and watched her ass wiggle as she made her way to the bathroom. It was a fine view, unaffected and natural.

While Rose and I had been talking, Emmett and Bree had moved away, and were sitting over at the table with Nurse Brandon and her sailor.

Em sauntered back to the bar while she was gone. "I see you're getting on great with Miss Hale," he said with a wink. "Bree has been raving about her all week. She thought there might be something good if you two met. She was going to set you up on a blind date. She said you were each other's puzzle pieces, if you follow me."

I smiled up at him. "Bree said that? She picked you I guess, maybe she is a good judge of character..."

Emmett barked out a laugh. "Anyway, I have something for you if you need it... courtesy of Uncle Sam - and sailor boy Jasper over there..."

Pretending to shake my hand he palmed me a condom and gave me a huge fake wink. I slipped the rubber into my pants pocket. He took his drinks and vanished back to sit with Bree.

A moment or two later, Rosalie re-appeared, I noticed she'd re-applied her lipstick. She returned to her stool, and my hand settled back on her thigh.

She leaned in again and her breath tickled my ear. "We should go somewhere a little more... private." She tucked something into my hand. I looked down to see a scrap of pale pink silk and lace.

I looked at her in awe. This was some girl - she wasn't anywhere near as prim as she looked.

My physical reaction was immediate. I took her cue and stood up, taking her hand and pulled her off her bar stool. I put my hand into the crook of her arm and steered her past Emmett's table to the rear exit, which opened into a narrow covered alleyway.

Once we were out of the eyeline of the door she lunged. She pushed her mouth against mine, sucking briefly on my bottom lip, then pushing her tongue into my mouth.

I reacted almost automatically, running my hand up under her skirt, past the stockings and onwards to the softness of her thighs. I moved her leg so she was open to me but still appeared decent if anyone happened to walk by.

She sucked in a sharp breath as my hand met the slick warmth at her apex.

She bucked her hips and pressed herself into my palm, letting me feel exactly how aroused she was. I muttered curses and praises as my hand continued to explore, becoming bolder by the second.

I peppered her face with random kisses as she gasped and moaned and threw her head back as my hand continued to explore.

She was getting altogether too loud, so I smothered her cries with an open-mouthed kiss. I pressed her further towards the wall, keeping one hand on the nape of her neck and the other firmly in place under her skirt.

Somehow she kept her balance, even with one of her legs hitched around mine.

Her her lips were swollen and face was flushed with signs of stubble burn; her eyes were glassy and unfocused. I guessed she wasn't too far away from peaking.

I took it slowly at first but soon she was whispering encouragement to me to go further. I kept my thumb circling above and slowly slipped a finger into her, marvelling at her heat and the ripple of her muscles as she moved around me.

Her breathing grew louder and she began to stagger. With my unoccupied hand, I moved her arms so they were over my shoulders, and I could bear her weight better.

Finally, gloriously, she came, burying her head into my shoulder to muffle the sounds she was making.

After her spasms died down I removed my hand, making her whimper a little bit. She unhitched her leg and straightened her skirt. It was a matter of seconds before she regained her previous enthusiasm and begin to fiddle with my pants button and zipper.

My dick was ecstatic at the thought of some action, but I was unwilling to go further in an alley in broad daylight. This girl was too classy for that. I moved her hand away, and she got the hint.

"We can go to my place," she whispered. "It's only down the block." My dick answered for me, making me grab her hand and let her guide me to an building literally 100 yards down the street.

She fished about in her purse for a key and let us in to a tiny apartment. We'd barely got through the door before we were connected once again.

She pushed off my jacket as I unbuttoned her dress. Opening it I saw her pink bra, the match to the panties that were still in my pants pocket, and a garter belt, which framed the triangle of hair below.

I kissed the skin on her neck, trailing down to the swell of her breasts, breathing over them until she was panting and pushing them towards me.

Mere minutes later I was panting too. Rose was again pressed against the wall, this time in her tiny bedroom.

She'd shed her dress and bra, and I had had stepped out of my pants, which were pooled on the floor by the bed where they'd fallen. My shoes, shirt and socks were scattered in a trail between the front door and her bedroom.

I hooked my hands around her ass and pulled her pussy closer to me, revelling in the feeling as she ground against my erection through my shorts. With her heels still on she was aligned perfectly with me.

We fit perfectly.

The moment grew more heated as she dropped her hand down to cup my dick through the thin cotton. Both of us moaned and she began to push my shorts down, easing them past my knees and off. I kicked them onto the floor.

She bent forward and took off her shoes, peeled herself out of her stockings and finally unhooked and discarded her garter belt. She was completely, exquisitely nude.

Unable to bear it any more, I picked her up and carried her to the bed, laying her down on top of the covers.

A sudden feeling of contentment pulsed through me, taking me completely by surprise. I realised there was more to this than I had expected. Bree was right - this was something good.

I concentrated on her skin again. I alternated kisses and caresses, paying attention to her chest until her back was arching. She was begging me under her breath for "more... more..."

I dangled my arm over the side of the bed to retrieve the condom from my pants before crawling up again to kneel over her, stalking her like a predator. I gazed down at her as her hair fanned on the bed and her ocean-blue eyes sparkled.

From this elevated position I could enjoy the sight of her flushed skin. I lowered myself, feeling the thud of her pulse as our torsos connected.

She made a little whimper and pulled my head to hers, kissing me with a real passion. I unwrapped the rubber and slid it on my straining dick. I looked up to see her watching her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open.

I couldn't bear to wait any longer. Without losing eye contact I put my hand back onto her pussy; it was obvious she was more than ready for the next step.

I kept my fingers playing around her clit as I entered her. We both moaned at the sensations as I slowly started to move, picking up pace once she bent her knees behind me.

I whispered nonsense and cursewords into her ear and she let her hands speak for her, scratching at my back and pulling on my hair.

We said very little. I knew I was beyond making sense even if I tried. We were both sticky with sweat and breathless. I repeated her name, over and over into the crook of her neck as I felt her leg muscles begin to quiver.

She threw her head back as she and her blissful look was enough to tip me over into my own orgasm.

Exhausted but elated, I collapsed beside her and we lay there, basking, marvelling. I couldn't fight my post-coital stupor. Even though it was still early we soon gave in to sleep, naked and sated.

Bree's words echoed around my head as I dozed. I felt complete, after years of turmoil and strife. I was at peace.

~o0o~

NINE MONTHS LATER

I didn't regret turning my back on emergency medicine for private practice except on days like that one. It was impossible to be impartial and detached when you saw someone you loved in so much agony for so long, but both Masen and Anthony were worth the agony their arrivals had caused.

I was lying on a couch in the doctor's sitting room staring blankly at the ceiling when Emmett came crashing in.

"Good work today, Doc!" he bellowed. He was still louder than everyone else but he was getting better at reducing the volume. He was going to have to from now on anyway.

"Both the boys are cleaned up and ready for visitors," he added. "The nurse said we could go and see them now..." He was already halfway through the door.

I followed him thinking back to Irina's prophesy on VJ Day - babies everywhere nine months later... how right she was...

In the maternity ward the babies were in their own bassinets on either side of their mothers' beds. One was blond and the other had a wisp of brown hair.

Alice Whitlock - nee Brandon - smiled at me as I sat down on her bed. "He's a good looker, isn't he?" she said, smiling at Masen. "He's got his daddy's hair."

Bree was beaming from her bed too, with her son on one side and her husband holding her hand. "Say hello to Anthony Victor McCarty," she said. "Anthony, this is your Godfather, Uncle Edward. Say hi!"

I swear to God that baby turned his head and winked at me as she said it, making me gasp in disbelief and making Emmett roar with laughter, loud enough to wake Masen with a start.

Jasper stared daggers at Em then smiled serenely as he looked at his son settle back to sleep.

I knew, as I always did, that Rosalie was nearby; there was a buzz in the air somehow. Sure enough, she peeked around the curtain and her face relaxed into a smile as she saw me.

After appropriate cooing, she turned her attention to me. "So Dr. Cullen are you coming home soon? I want something special from you tonight..."

She had me in the palm of her hand. "And what would that be, Mrs. Cullen?" I asked.

"A peanut butter and jelly sandwich, with pickles," she said, practically salivating at the idea.

I shrugged. If my wife and my unborn child wanted peanuts, jelly and pickles they would have it. I was dancing to her tune and loving it.

"As you wish," I murmured, kissing her hand and stroking her barely-there baby belly.

Victory was mine.

~o0o~

A/N Twilight: Stephenie Meyer; Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B: Don Raye and Hughie Prince; We'll Meet Again: Ross Parker and Hughie Charles; Rosie the Riveter: song by Redd Evans and John Jacob Loeb, picture http: / / archive(dot)ccm(dot)edu/rosie/images/WeCanDoItPoster[1](dot)jpg by J. Howard Miller ; http: / / (dot)wordpress(dot)com/2009/05/alfred-eisenstaedt(dot)jpg by Alfred Eisenstaedt