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The Sorrow - November
The Sorrow had been the first to know; he had recognized it, felt its presence, before the possibility had even crossed The Joy’s mind. The man had bizarre and downright off-putting abilities that allowed him to immediately sense the small, new life growing inside the woman he deeply cared for.
A life which they had created together, accidentally, of course. Their line of work was no place for such fragile and innocent beings, but it had still been a loving act, and he knew in his heart that Joy would choose the impossible.
The Sorrow had, in fact, waited for her to put the pieces together on her own. Knowing how closely she held her privacy and solitude, it was her right to discover it on her own terms.
He had told her this much when she herself had finally realised, well over a month after he had noticed.
Joy had started that morning the same as she had the last few weeks, hurling up her breakfast and desperately wishing for the telltale monthly bleeding to appear. She felt different, too; her mind snapped faster these days, and she grew more easily frustrated with herself. It was getting harder to ignore the signs. How much longer could she arrogantly keep her eyes closed to reality?
There was a crossroads, and at this point, even she could not deny it. Today was the day she had finally worked up the courage to confess the possibility to the would-be father.
“I think I’m pregnant.”
She was just as much admitting it to herself as she was to him.
It was a simple statement, really. The words just tumbled out of her mouth the second she saw his concerned face.
There were tears in her blue eyes as she told him, blurring her vision as she desperately tried to blink them away. She knew her skin was pale and shiny with sweat from her morning routine of heaving up the contents of her stomach. Not to mention the noticeable apprehensive and nervous expression that was surely etched onto her face.
Was she worried that he would reject her? Push her away and leave her alone with their child?
Joy loved him so deeply, and she knew her fears were irrational, but she was scared.
All he could do was pull her into her arms, rest his lips against her forehead, and hold her close. His comforting words filled her ears. “Everything will be okay.” Sorrow reassured her, tucking her head under his chin.
“What will we do?” Joy asked tearfully, burying her face into the soft fabric of his black sweater. At times like these, she was reminded of how young she was. Twenty-one years old, barely an adult. She was hardened by war and loss, but still somehow so naive and lost when it came to this.
“There are ways, I’ve heard of women who get it taken care of.” Logically, it was the solution glaring her in the face. Her life was to be dedicated to her country; there was no room for anything else other than her mission.
“Is that what you want?” The Sorrow asked, carding his nimble fingers through her blonde hair. His words were soft and laced with curiosity; she should have known that the man would go along with whatever she decided.
“What I want… It doesn’t matter.”
It was the truth; she could not recall a time when a choice had been made solely by herself. Her father, The Philosophers, they were the ones who controlled her will. It was all she had known.
This family, this small group of strange yet loyal collection of soldiers, and the love she had with Sorrow. These were the only things in her life she could claim as her own.
But a child?
There's no room for a child, something so small, defenseless, or fragile on a battlefield.
“My life isn’t my own, we both know that.” She pulled her head back so she could meet his eyes before continuing. “There’s no future where The Philosophers will allow me to have this.” It was exasperating. Why did this have to be so hard?
“But what if it is what you want?” Was all the man said in reply; his expression was sad, white blonde hair, which was beginning to go grey, fell over his face.
She shook her head defeatedly. Maybe it was what she wanted. A child, a family. But how? “What do you think I should do?” The man just smiled, his hand cupping her jaw and holding her gently.
“My Joy… I have been in awe of you from the moment we met. I will continue to love you through it all, no matter what you decide.”
She wanted to cry again.
“It’s your baby too.” She said to him, as if he didn't already know.
“And I would love nothing more than to have a family with you. But it is not my place to make that decision.” It was solemn, but yet somehow hopeful.
“We’d never stop running, we’d live every day looking over our shoulder, wondering when they would find us.”
“But if we were happy? Would that matter?”
His words were all it took. She knew deep in her heart what she wanted. All that was left to do was press their foreheads together, breathe each other in.
Softly taking his free hand, Joy moved it to her still flat stomach, placing his palm against her.
“Do you feel it?” She asked him, a small smile creeping onto her lips for the first time in over a month.
“It is very small. But yes, there is life here.”
He didn't need to say what he was feeling; she already knew.
The Sorrow was right where he wanted to be.
And if the universe had decided to gift their love with a child, and his Joy accepted that gift? It would be the honour of his life to serve his family.
The End - January
Scouting was something that Joy was beginning to appreciate more. She was usually the first to charge into battle, wasting no time in accomplishing her mission, knowing that the less time she wasted, the better the outcome.
However, since meeting the legendary, ancient sniper. Patience had become a valuable tool passed down to her.
Currently, she was lying on her stomach, her body was hidden under the brush on the cliff edge. The old man had taught her how to camouflage herself well; if you did not know she was there, you would never know, at least not until a Dragunov bolt hit you between the eyes.
She listened to the old man talk. Joy had grown more fond of the End recently; his unique set of skills and wisdom were both things she wanted to learn. Discipline and self-preservation it was something she would need to master before long. And luckily for her, he was more than happy to give her lessons.
It was January, they had just celebrated Christmas and entered the new year, still at war, still living on a mission. Joy didnt mind so much, it was almost comforting, getting to spend the holidays with the Cobras.
They werent a family, but she was fond of them all, just as they were of her. And that was closer to love than she had ever gotten from her biological family.
The child was still unknown to them.
She felt bad about lying, but Sorrow had insisted that they wait until she was further along. It was probably for the best; the rest of the team knowing could complicate things. They had never commented on her gender, the way other men had done her whole life; all of them had been accepting and kind to her since the moment the unit had been created, as if having a woman leader was the most normal thing in the world.
‘I worry, and they will too.’
The Sorrow had told her a few nights ago, hand gently rubbing circles over her still flat stomach. More often than not, she found her hand subconsciously resting over her mid-section, as if waiting for the curve of her belly to show.
She was due in July, it was naive to think the war would be other by then, but perhaps her role in it could be.
“Focus.”
The End whispered from beside her. Joy was snapped out of her thoughts, putting her efforts back into the scope. A German battalion was meant to be crossing through this valley soon, they weren't to take it out themselves, just scout and report it back to the front lines.
All they seemed to do these days was watch and wait. It had been so long since she had felt the joy of battle.
“Sorry.” Joy muttered, keeping her gaze on the treeline below them. It was a one-person job, really. The End was more than capable of completing the relatively straightforward task alone, but he had agreed to give Joy lessons.
She wondered if he secretly enjoyed the company.
“You seem distracted, more than usual.” It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact, and he was right.
“I’ve had a lot on my mind, I apologise.”
Movement in the trees, but it was just a magpie. Joy lifted her finger from the trigger.
“Ah, yes, I have noticed the changes.”
Her blood ran mildly cold at the admission. Did he know? Had he told the others?
The alarm must have shown on her face despite her best efforts to keep her resolve cool. The information falling into the wrong hands was too much to even think about.
Rationally, she knew that not one of the Cobras would sell her out; she was loyal to the mission, but they were loyal to her.
“My dear child, I have been on this earth for over a century. I know life very well, the way it weaves us together and guides us through the world. I don't miss a thing.”
It made sense, really. It had been foolish to think The End could be kept in the dark, the old man saw everything. It was his one purpose. He could spend days with his scope trained on one man and pinpoint the very second that the target's blood pressure changed.
“You are afraid?”
He asked, it was a kind question. An invitation to talk. They did not usually converse during these scoutings. Usually, enjoying the comfortable and easy silence that fell over them, out of all the Cobras, they were both the most reserved.
“How can I not be?” Joy answered his question with one of her own.
The End pondered it for a moment; it felt more like an eternity. The only movement was the soft breeze rustling the leaves in the old trees above them. She wondered if he could feel the life blooming in the soil, the tiny insects crawling through blades of grass and pods of pollen. Being one with nature must be an extremely tranquil gift.
“I think… the path you take is treacherous, but when the world is burning, that's when the true beauty rises.”
It was beautiful. How can a man who has lived through so much bloodshed still see wonder and hope?
Joy was sure that if she lived as long as he, her views would grow corrupted and jaded.
“Your child is strong and willed, like its mother.” The End added, returning his focus to the treeline.
Joy followed his lead, internally accepting the end of the conversation, despite the questions growing in her head.
The Germans came and went just as predicted; it took a few more hours of patient waiting, covered by the silence. Joy took mental notes of the number of soldiers in the group, what ranks they appeared to be, and even what weaponry they wielded. Replacing all the doubt and curiosity in her mind with the simple facts of the mission.
As they were packing up, preparing to return to the designated safe house where the rest of the Cobra unit was waiting, The End spoke up again.
“Dandelions and lavender.”
“Excuse me?”
“You cannot allow yourself to be weakened; it will help alleviate the symptoms. Sometimes the best ailment is to use what the earth grows for us.”
The Pain - February
They still hadn't told the rest of the Cobras about the pregnancy; unable to find the right time or method to approach the matter. The war for them was heating up fast. There were barely enough moments in the day for Joy to process her own emotions, let alone worrying about the potential opinions from her unit.
Not that it was much of a secret now anyway, The End had sworn to her that he would keep the news to himself, and The Sorrow had been adamant about keeping quiet for the time being, but it didn't take long for her body to start giving it away on its own accord. Her stomach had started to show; the small baby bump was visible to anyone looking for it.
It did not help that Joy found herself instinctively and unconsciously resting her palm over the growing bump. It was almost like she was holding her baby, and she supposed that soon she would be; she just hoped that when that day came, she would feel more prepared than she currently did. At least the army issue olive drabs she had to wear were at least three sizes too big for her; a baggy shirt tucked into her utility pants seemed to conceal the situation enough from strangers.
None of the Cobras had brought up the topic with her, but she knew that they knew.
Currently, Joy was sitting at a small dining table in the dimly lit cottage. They were in Southern France, holding out in the newly liberated village near the coast of the Mediterranean Sea.
The cottage was small, consisting of only three rooms. A main sitting area with what could be generously called a kitchen, and two very small spare rooms, were repurposed as sleeping quarters.
Most of the unit was asleep, save for The Fear, who was on watch duty, and Joy and the Pain, who were sitting quietly together at the table.
The Pain was too big for the table, his knees awkwardly pressing against the edge as he could not fit them under the feeble, small piece of furniture.
Joy herself had tucked her legs under herself, finding that sitting cross-legged even on a chair was the most comfortable position for her. Resting her right hand on her belly while she held her stack of playing cards in her right.
They were playing gin rummy, an entertaining enough game to pass the time until morning. Joy struggled to sleep most nights, and recently her nerves had been more alert and uneasy. Fortunately for her, The Pain had been keeping her company on nights like this. She wasn't sure if the strange man ever slept; he was quiet, didn't speak English well, and despite his large size, tended to curl in on himself and isolate from the rest of the team.
Nonetheless, Joy enjoyed the relaxing, quiet nights she spent with the hornet soldier, even if both of them had very little to say.
“Gin.”
The steady and heavily accented male voice spoke, black gloved hands placing his set of cards over the deck. Joy groaned and looked up. She could not see his mouth, but she could tell from his eyes that he was sporting a satisfied smile.
Damn her and her fleeting concentration.
She had yet to beat The Pain at any of these little games they played; the man was indestructible. His methodology was impeccable. It had been downright and frankly embarrassing the way she had lost to him when they played chess when they were in North Africa. He had even managed to outdrink the entire Cobra unit on New Year's Eve, save for Joy of course, who had remained sober.
“Another round?”
The Pain asked, he still had that smug and triumphant look in his eyes.
Ass.
“Hm, I suppose it does beat sleeping on the floor.”
The Cottage was barebones and hardly furnished. They had used their kits to make as suitable sleeping arrangements as they could, but it still didn't change the fact that they were lying on a hard, slightly rotted wooden floor. Joy wasn't the End, she couldn't fall asleep easily and unbothered, even Sorrow was a heavy sleeper, falling dead to the world as soon as his head hit the makeshift pillow.
“Perhaps you will win this time.”
The Pain joked, chuckling as he re-shuffled the deck of cards.
This went on for a few more hours, peacefully and happily playing together. Momentarily forgot what was likely happening only a few miles away from their location.
It was only interrupted by a strange, unfamiliar sensation in her stomach.
Joy gasped audibly in shock, dropping her hand of cards onto the table unceremoniously and placing both palms over the swell of her belly.
It almost felt like a flutter, light bumps from under her skin, tiny movements.
Was her child kicking?
She had heard about it before, though; merely hearing about the action did not prepare her for the sheer awe of the sensation.
Laughing wetly, Joy looked up at the Pain, whose eyes now looked confused and worried, his own stack of cards hovering over the surface of the table like he might have to abandon the game and attend to her.
Joy just laughed lightly again, turning her face down to look at her stomach again. Her smile was wide, and for the first time in a very long time, she felt entirely happy and content.
She smoothed her hand over the spot where the child seemed to be moving the most, in what she hoped was soothing and comforting to the newly jittery baby.
Her baby.
“Here,” Joy said as she hastily grasped onto Pain's still hovering hand and moved it to rest over her mid-section.
She saw the recognition in his eyes when the child moved again. Joy wasn't sure she had ever seen the Pain so shocked before. But it was nice.
It was nice to get to share this moment with someone she held so dear to her heart.
And regardless of everything else,
This feeling was far more fulfilling than winning a trivial card game.
Well, that is if she had ever won.
The Fury - March
It was cold.
They were in the middle of spring, but the weather had not yet caught up to the season as it was snowing like no tomorrow outside.
Joy had never been to the Kamchatka Peninsula before, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to visit this tundra again. It was icy and dreary yet somehow dry and suffocating at the same time. It also did not help that she had ended up contracting a nasty cold.
As if being pregnant in wartime, when commanding a special forces unit, wasn't hard enough, the universe decided to throw her another curveball.
For the majority of their short stay, Joy had been confined to slouching around in one room, as it was the only one in the abandoned lodge that had a working fireplace. She alternated between curling up on the worn sofa and sitting on the rug in front of the hearth.
She tried her hardest to keep the increasing level of anxiety and uneasy thoughts at bay.
Women all over the world have had children for thousands of years; the common cold was easy to overcome.
It didn't quite stop her from feeling miserable, though.
The fireplace was unlit tonight, the wind howled harshly against the shaky window panes, and she could see heavy snow falling outside. It wasn't the endearing Christmas dusting that she was used to back home. She remembered fondly as a young girl, running excitedly outside to see the first fall of snow land in their backyard.
Joy sat on the floor, a thick and scratchy woolen blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She was cross-legged in front of the unlit fireplace. She desperately missed The Sorrow; he and half the unit had split off to reach their secondary target, and they would not join back up until next week.
It was funny; she was so used to being alone, feeling isolated from everyone else. These past few years, she wasn't sure she had spent so much as an hour by herself.
And even now, the soft patter of a tiny body against the inside of her belly was a constant reminder of the comforting fact.
A particular harsh chill of air blew through the house; the rickety wooden window panes did little to keep the house insulated. It brushed over the bare skin of her face, cheeks flushed red from the cold.
“Commander?”
It was extremely rare that she could be snuck up on by anyone, but she had been so preoccupied with the current predicament that she had forgotten about the half of her unit that stayed behind with her. Joy spun around on the spot, as much as she could while heavily pregnant and ill.
The Fury stood in the doorway, his face was free from his flight helmet for once, the black half-balaclava was pulled up to his nose instead. Dark brown eyes fleeted over her body, taking in her tired, flushed face, chattering teeth, and her hand firmly over her belly.
“Is everything okay, ma’am?”
The Fury stepped forward hesitantly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, still covered by the blanket. It was incredible how warm he was; she knew it was part of his abilities, but it always shocked her how his internal temperature was always so much higher than that of the average human.
“Hah, I’m just cold, the weather, you know?”
She tried to play it off as lightheartedly as she could, but when the man knelt at her side and gently pulled her to her feet, she was extremely grateful.
“Here, you should sit.”
The Fury said as he helped her move to the worn sofa a few feet behind them, making sure the blanket stayed wrapped around her. Joy sniffled slightly as he moved to kneel on the floor in front of her, his palms resting on her shoulders still.
“Did you try to light a fire?”
He asked softly, a rare display of concern wrapping his usually stoic features.
“Yes, but-.”
Joy was interrupted by a coughing fit. Hiding her face in the crook of her elbow while her free hand lay over her stomach, as if to try to keep her baby safe from the onslaught of symptoms.
“T-there was no lighter fluid left.”
Joy finished collapsing against the back of the couch, utterly exhausted.
“I will start one, just stay there, Commander.”
Joy watched absentmindedly as the man moved the hearth, fiddling with whatever tools he had in his pocket and arranging the miraculously still dry logs of wood into an efficient position. She wasn't surprised when he skillfully started the fire, the flames instantly jumping to life and filling the air with a sweet smoky smell, all while the heat gradually radiated around the room.
“Thank you.”
Joy said hoarsely, she was tired and felt awful. She knew it was just the common cold, nothing to worry about; she had been sick with far worse and had always made it through fine. But the little life growing in her made her nervous; the smallest sneeze or pain made her tense up. As if she could not protect her child from everything this brutal life had to throw at her.
“You should really get some sleep.”
He whispered, sitting down at her side.
“I’m sure Sorrow would want you to look after yourself.”
At any other time, she might have taken offense. She didn't need to be told how to take care of herself, and certainly not just because he was sleeping with her. And the Cobras should know that; they should know how capable she is, with and without them.
She was their commander, for fucks sake.
But now, she was sick and lonely. The hormones of her pregnancy made her more melancholic than usual. And she knew that they all meant well; they just wanted the best for her.
So she would let herself be taken care of.
The Fury's body was so warm, he did not hesitate to wrap his arm around her shoulders, holding her against his side as she rested against him. He was respectable and loyal enough not to think anything of it, not to let this moment of weakness leave this room.
A good man.
They were all good men.
For now, she would rest, enveloped by the warmth of her friend.
The Sorrow - April
Quiet was the night
Or so the saying went.
It was April, and their line was holding steady. The Cobras, along with the British Special Air Forces, were to take the Germans by surprise in preparation for the upcoming invasion of France. Every time it felt like the war might be coming to a close, they were given new orders.
Joy was getting tired, despite all her training, her love for battle, her dedication to her country; it all paled in comparison to the life she was carrying within her. It was inevitable that the news would eventually reach the American homeland; soon, The Philosophers would know everything.
It was impractical and hopeless to think that they would not interfere. It was too late for them to prevent Joy from giving birth; she was too far behind enemy lines for their clawing hands to reach her. But they could still hurt her. She had heard about women, women who worked for the same people she had; they woke up the day after their children were born with the baby nowhere to be seen.
Those who resist The Philosophers will be taken care of, eventually ending up in sanatoriums far, far away, just for daring to defy the ones in control.
Joy did not want to lose her child.
But she did not know how she could possibly protect it from something that even she could not outrun.
The Sorrow had been calm, reassuring. There were plenty of places left in the world where they could be hidden, out of sight. Switzerland, Norway, Mongolia, New Zealand, and even parts of the Hawaiian Islands. Joy thought it sounded too good to be true, but then again, the love she had found with the father of her child had felt the same way not so long ago.
Joy tried to imagine it, sitting in a meadow, watching the man she loved play with their child. Perhaps he would show them the different flowers that grew there. She was aware of his secret fascination and knowledge of flora. On occasion, she had spotted The Sorrow picking wildflowers on their treks, which he would later dry-press in his old journal, which he insisted on carrying around.
Joy had once asked him about it, it had been well over a year ago; both of them naked, wrapped up in blankets together, and simply existing in their post-coital bliss. His gentle hand had been in her hair, brushing out the knots in the long blonde strands with his fingers while she was absentmindedly studying his face with her eyes.
She wasn't sure where the question had come from, but she had asked it nonetheless.
‘I write about the spirits I see, the lost souls wandering around the battlefields with no direction or place to go. I take a flower from where they are trapped, and I write down their name and keep it in the journal, to honour them, or at least until the ones they love can mourn and honor them the way they desire.’
It was noble, like all things The Sorrow did; he did them with purpose.
She wondered what flowers would surround her body in her final moments.
There was a faint boom and shudder of artillery shells hitting the earth in the distance. The bunker they were holed up in was secure enough from getting caught in the crossfire, but still close enough to the current battle to be reminded. An older trench from the Great War was their temporary base of operations.
It was freezing.
Joy shifted under her blanket; the harsh fabric itched against her skin. It was hard to get comfortable, with the growing bump under her shirt, lying on her side felt awkward, and when she lay on her back for too long, her stomach felt too heavy, like it was weighing down on her.
Just when she finally found an acceptable position, the old wooden door creaked open. A chill of cold air drifted in from the trench. Joy sighed forlornly.
She immediately recognised the footsteps anyway.
“Can’t sleep?”
That soft Russian voice she adored so deeply. The bedframe dipped as he sat next to her, a gentle hand squeezing her shoulder.
“It won’t let me sleep.”
Joy said bluntly, automatically moving closer to the wall to make room for The Sorrow.
“Ah.”
His arms wrapped around her from behind, palms resting above hers on her belly. Her back fell against his chest, and the wool of his black sweater was much more pleasant than the war-issue trench blankets.
She leaned against his warm body, loving the way they fitted together, even in the depths of a literal battlefield.
The bunker reminded her of their first kiss, the rundown storm shelter in The Baltics. He had led her down there to escape the destructive weather ripping apart the temporary base camp. Joy never asked him how he knew where to find it, as always, she trusted him with her entire being.
Love confessions slipped from their lips that night, huddled together and finally sharing what they truly desired after months of longing stares and lingering touches.
They have come a long way since then.
The fluttering nudges started again, as if the child could sense its father's presence. The child was getting considerably stronger, to the point where Joy was less awestruck and more pained by the apparent kicks and attacks her baby was carrying out on her.
Luckily for her, The Sorrow was sincerely masterful at calming it, a few hushed phrases in Russian, which Joy was often too exhausted to translate. He moved his hand over Joy's swollen skin.
Holding their baby.
Barely there whispers, spoken in the Sorrow's mother tongue, filled the still air around them. Joy’s Russian was adequate at best. When she was tired and pregnant, she was only able to decipher small snippets of the one-sided conversation between the soon-to-be father and their child.
“Hush now, little one, it's time for you and your mother to rest.”
It was almost magic, the way the child stopped fluttering around, immediately soothed by its father.
Joy felt a smile grow on her tired face as she thought about how deeply loved their baby already was.
The Sorrow pressed his face into the junction of her neck and shoulder, placing small, chaste kisses to the exposed skin peaking out of her night shirt.
“Get some sleep, moya lyubov.”
My love, my love, my love.
“Ya tebya lyublyu”
The Fear - May
Joy was starting to wonder if her unit was growing tired of this treacherous, endless mission.
Camping in the countryside of France did not sound too bad on paper, but the reality was much more dreary. Muddy fields, desolate forests; it was growing tiresome and fast. At least the frontlines would be a change of scenery.
It was late, and moths swarmed around the oil lamps while fireflies danced above the flames of the campfire. Half the team was already turning in for the night. The End had been the first, predictably. The old man had barely made it through their briefing without snoozing. The Pain and The Sorrow had followed soon after, with the latter placing a soft kiss on Joy's head and a reminder of her promise not to be too far behind.
The Fury had taken first watch, out by the scout fire at the edge of the camp. It only left Joy and The Fear, with whom she had grown quite close in the last few months of her pregnancy.
Her appetite had been more demanding than it had been a year ago; Joy easily could have gotten away with one simple meal a day. But now, she always felt hungry, or maybe it was the child, demanding food and using her as a proxy. She wasn't entirely sure how it worked.
She had heard the phrase ‘Eating for two’ before, but she never realized that it was quite so literal.
Thankfully for her, this had led to a new and surprising friendship between herself and The Fear, who seemed to have a knowledge of food and animals beyond anyone else she knew.
It had begun slowly; he would share rations he had with her. Small leftovers that he knew she needed to sustain herself and the baby. At some point, they had started sharing meals. The Fear indulged her and prepared food for the two of them that was far more delicious than the standard military rations.
Before she knew it, it had become a tradition for the two of them to eat together. The Fear always insisted on providing the food, as well as preparing it. The heavily pregnant Joy had no complaints and allowed herself to be waited on by the man.
“Ah, I suppose now that we are alone, we should dig in!”
The mischievous glint in his voice made her chuckle. The man helped her to her feet from where she was sitting near the campfire. She could already see there was a pot of something sitting on the table that had previously been used for going over battle plans.
“What have you cooked tonight, if I may ask?”
Joy wondered playfully, as she walked over to the other side of the small camp, sitting down on the old, paint-chipped chairs they had salvaged from the remains of an air-raid village.
“You may ask, but I think you’ll enjoy a surprise more.”
It was cheeky, almost; she could reprimand him for it, she was his superior officer after all. But she liked the camaraderie; it was nice to fit in with a team instead of being an outcast or put on a pedestal. The Fear had always been the first one in their unit to treat her as an equal, and she greatly appreciated it.
It smelled… sweet?
The dish was covered with a cloth. She looked up skeptically at The Fear as she got comfortable, being unable to push her chair in as close as she would like due to her extended stomach.
“I hope you don't mind, but with our expedition drawing to a close, I thought something from closer to your homeland would be a well-deserved reward.”
The Fear said as he pulled the cloth away.
Joy could have burst out laughing from what she saw; it was so outlandish and downright shocking that she didn't know what to say.
There, in the middle of the table, sat a freshly baked pie.
Not just a pie, it was apple; the smell was intoxicatingly sweet, and it made her mouth water just looking at it.
A piece of the homeland.
How long had it been since she had eaten something as luxurious as a dessert? Back in boarding schools and charm schools, she had always thoroughly enjoyed the days when apple pie was served to the students. It had to have been at least seven years since she had last even seen something so sweet.
“Fear… how did you… I mean, how did you even make this?”
She said, looking across at the man sitting on the opposite side of the table with a bewildered expression on her face.
“Ah, you remember that village we passed through the other day, there was a bakery.”
Now she was even more confused.
“And you had them cook a pie for you?”
“God no, they were all dead, the bakers, I mean.”
Joy just stared at him, utterly confused and trying to avoid the intoxicatingly sweet aroma filling her nose.
God, she was hungry.
“When you were all scoping out that church, I went back, whipped up what I could, and stowed it away. I knew we needed something special for our last day before moving to the front.”
That was,
Oddly kind.
As if on cue, her stomach rumbled, along with some enthusiastic kicks from the child. She wondered if he was hungry too; maybe he could tell she was sitting in front of what looked to be the most delectable piece of food she had seen in years.
“Well, come on!”
The Fear said exasperatedly, cutting the pie into thick slices and passing them over to her.
“You'd better start eating before you drool all over yourself, or the other scavengers catch a whiff and start begging for their share.”
Maybe it was a nice final meal; if she tried hard enough, she could forget about the turmoil they were surely facing tomorrow.
Eight Months Previously
Autumn air brought out the best in people, at least that's what Joy chose to believe.
She loved the way the sky grew darker in the evenings, the soft chill that was just enough to need a jacket, but not enough to freeze. As a girl, she would watch the orange and yellow leaves fall in wonder. New Haven was beautiful in these months.
Right now, she was in Scotland, and recruitment and tactical meetings with the British Special Forces had brought the Cobra Unit to the allies' home turf. They were only meant to be here for a few days before they were to ship off back to the Western Front.
It was nice to be away from the onslaught of battle; no matter how much joy she found in fighting, it was a welcome change of scenery. People on the streets, children playing and laughing, she never thought she would find solace in such simple things, and yet here she was.
The noise of a throat clearing behind her stole her attention from the view. Joy turned her head, surprised, but happy to see The Sorrow at her side.
“It's peaceful tonight."
The man said, standing beside her and following her eyeline to the street below. They were on the balcony of the hotel, and it felt like they were overlooking the entire city from their vantage point. That may have been the reason they were assigned this accommodation.
The sorrows hand brushed against hers, not close enough to hold, but enough that their skin touched. The man was shy, almost painfully so, when he made small gestures of affection such as these; it made her heart swoop uncontrollably.
She did not need to ask what he was doing in her room; he had been here every night since they arrived. Sneaking in after dark to avoid any nosy onlookers, though they both suspected that the Cobras had long since realised the true nature of their relationship.
“It looks like it might rain soon, though.”
Joy replied, a small smile growing on her face as she relished in his company.
“I always assumed you enjoyed bad weather.”
He joked back, this time slipping his hand into hers, intertwining their fingers together, tightly.
His hands were always so warm, it was surprising, really. The Sorrow seemed so distant and sad, but he was a beacon to her, a comforting body that she would fall asleep on more often than not.
When they had first met, she felt drawn to him, instantly fascinated by his strange and slightly off-putting demeanor. All this time later, a year through warfare and suffering, and she could truly say she loved him with her entire heart, and he undoubtedly felt the same way.
“Perhaps we should turn in early? It won't hurt to get some proper rest before tomorrow.”
Joy didn't respond; instead, she leaned against his side, resting her head on his shoulder. Her blonde hair was falling out of the bandana she used to keep it out of her face, but she knew that he liked it like this.
Sorrow lifted their joined hands to place a soft kiss on her ring finger.
“I think there's something better we can do with our time.”
Joy finally said, turning her body to face him, chest to chest. She didn't quite reach his height, despite all her strength; the man still had a good few inches over her.
She looked up into his grey eyes, for once not hindered by his glasses.
“Oh? What could that be?”
She might've laughed another time; he could be so bashful sometimes that she could never quite tell when he was being serious or not.
Silly man.
Joy wrapped her arms around his neck, and he met her halfway by lowering his jaw, making their faces only atoms apart.
“You are welcome to take me to bed, but I don't plan on sleeping for a while.”
She spoke slowly, a seductive whisper for his ears only. Their noses brushed together before he finally kissed her properly.
Warm lips enveloped her own, steadying hand on the small of her back, keeping her in place as the sorrow kissed Joy deeply, lovingly.
It started slow, almost romantic, but Joy had lived enough war to have grown accustomed to the hunger and desperation she felt whenever the sorrow put his hands on her body. She nudged him towards the bed, knowing if she really wanted to, she could throw the man over her shoulder and speed up the process, but that might draw some unwanted attention, given how vocal the sorrow got when she took control.
The walls here were not thick.
The back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, and he fell onto the surface. Joy wasted no time before straddling his hips, placing herself over his lap, and using the new vantage to devour his mouth completely.
She could feel the telltale sign of his arousal hard against her thigh, and god yes, did she want him.
Sorrow was already undressing her, unbuttoning the top of her olive drabs and pushing them past her shoulders to expose her skin. His lips retracted from hers so he could kiss against her neck, down to the top of her chest.
She couldn't help but moan at the sensation. He knew just how to please her and never left her hanging.
Joy wanted to grind her ass against him, maybe tease him a little. But she was pent up and was feeling generous, so she pushed him onto his back instead. His face only held a little disappointment in it as he no longer could glide his mouth over her body.
The button of his pants was easy to undo, and the added encouragement of palming him through the fabric was enough for him to do the same to her. Helping her hips slightly so she could kick off the matching fatigue trousers and pushing aside her undergarments.
“Mhm.”
Joy groaned softly as she grasped him. She was already soaked enough from need and desire, which she could audibly hear when she guided him to rub against her.
Sorrow's hand gripped harder onto her thigh, the other hovering over her hip, but he let her stay in control. They both preferred it this way.
Finally, she sank down on him, reveling in the familiar stretch that now felt entirely pleasurable compared to the very first time they had done this.
Joy placed her palms on his thighs behind her and slowly started moving herself on top of him, taking him steadily and deeply. The feeling was so divine, pleasure already building up in her gut as she moved.
They found a good pace, the two of them, together. Her edges were frayed, and it was spiraling apart fast as she worked herself on him again and again and again and again.
Just when it felt like she was going to fall over the edge, the pleasure coiling hard and ready to snap her into bliss at any second, The Sorrow clasped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her down into a searing kiss, jerking his hips up into her as he finished inside her.
“Mm, oh god, my love.”
He was almost crying out as she picked up the pace, chasing her own release, the feeling of him warm and hot inside her sending her crashing off the side of the cliff.
She clamped down on him, whining into his open mouth as the orgasm rippled through her body intensely.
“Shit.”
She finally groaned out as she slowed her movements to a stop, pulling herself free. Tired body all but collapsing onto his still clothed chest, catching her breath.
Warm hands lightly grazed over her back, keeping her steady against him. Fingers running over the hem of her plain chemise, she had worn under her fatigues. Joy tucked her head under his chin, inhaling the comforting scent of his sweater against her face.
It was love.
She thought to herself as the man aimlessly ran his fingers through her long blonde hair.
It had never existed for her before; she loved her father, despite everything. She was fond of people; the other Cobras held a special place in her heart. But never like this.
He was within her, consumed her without even realizing it himself. And Joy was not sure if she ever wanted to get over that.
Adamska - June
The beach was chaos.
It should not have been as much of a surprise as it was; they knew what was coming. Joy should have known what to expect.
The bloodshed, the screams, the bodies of men. No, not men, they were boys; bodies hit the sand, riddled with bullets, as they cried out for their mothers in pure terror. She was sure it would stay with her as a haunting memory until the day she died.
They weren't even at the heart of the fight. Stationed a few miles up the coast, working with a small team of British special forces to disrupt the intricate collection of enemy communications equipment scattered along the cliffside.
That didn't mean there wasn't significant life being slaughtered there either, though.
It had almost broken her already fragile heart, the look of pure agony and despair on her lover's face when he had sensed all the death and destruction. His soul was so close to the spirits around them, usually running heavy even on good days. What he had felt here had broken something in him, she was sure of it.
Joy wanted to run to him, hold him in her arms, and promise that he would be okay. Someone else had beaten her to it. The comforting, soft-spoken voice of an ally, encouraging the medium to stay strong and look to the future.
The British man, David. He was a few years older than Joy; at first, she had not trusted him as far as she could throw him. They had been introduced a few months ago; she could smell the Philosopher's foul, loathsome stench all over him. She thought she knew what he was.
She never expected to call him a friend.
He had achieved what he could for her, and it had been seemingly impossible. Sending back false reports to the United States about her status and the health of her baby, essentially giving her the possibility to slip away from their reach, run away with The Sorrow and their child.
Joy did not understand whether the man had suffered a drastic change of heart or had always intended the best for her. It did not matter; she was eternally grateful for his sacrifice.
My life, my country, my love.
She had been with a group of SAS soldiers when it happened. A bullet sliced through the air, most likely from a nervous German in the stronghold. For whatever reason, it was fired; it made a home in her body. Lodging itself between her ribs, right below her heart.
Her world stopped.
The force of the hit had been enough to knock her down; she felt the force of the shockwave snap the bone in two. But she did not hear herself scream out in pure, unconcealed pain.
“Commander!”
It sounded like The Pain, or maybe it was The Fury.
Why was everything blurring together? Why did her head feel like it was about to explode?
Limbs of men she could not recognise grabbed her by her shoulders, all but dragging her away from the fight. She struggled in their grip, of course, she did. Joy’s head was spinning. She could not make heads or tails of what was happening, the blurring voices of soldiers around her turning into one.
Where the fuck were the Cobras?
“We need to move her, get her out of here!”
“The mission, you fool! What about our mission?”
“She can't stay here; she will die, so will it.”
“Maybe she would want it that way.”
“How dare you?!”
“Where will we go?”
Joy wanted to scream at them, beg them to save her baby, leave her here if they must, let her body be a shield for her child. But nothing came out of her mouth except long, pained cries.
There was blood seeping into the fabric of her uniform, staining her body crimson red. It would not stop gushing out, spilling over the sand under her. A nervous medic was tightly wrapping her chest in bandages, applying pressure to stop the bleeding, but it seemed to be fruitless. She was running out of time.
“Commander!”
That voice again, it had to be The Pain, his accent was softer than the others.
Joy looked up, almost deliriously, at the figure above her. Sure enough, the stocky, strong build of the hornet soldier stood over her. She could just make out his worried expression in his eyes, surrounded by deeply scarred skin.
She could have cried in relief at the familiar face.
“Stay with me, Commander, you’ll be okay.”
Time passed, nothing felt real, like it was all jumbled. Someone was carrying her, it was Pain, wasn't it? He had been there; that had actually happened. But where was everyone else? She recalled being separated from the rest of the Cobras, opting to lend a hand to the British forces while they worked. Has someone found them? Were they okay?
Oh god.
Sorrow.
She wanted to cry; everything hurt so brutally that it was unbearable.
Tiredly and almost defeated, Joy let her hand fall to her stomach. It was not moving, the active child, the young life that never let her sleep, always demanded food.
Eerily still.
It was evil, and somehow so predictably wrong when the contractions started. The sharp ache of the bullet in her ribs had nothing on the excruciating pain of her uterus shifting uncontrollably. Joy screamed and convulsed so violently she almost fell from the gentle giant's hold.
Please god.
She held her stomach firmly, as if she could stop the contractions, keep the child inside her belly. It belonged with her. The child was hers. And she selfishly did not want to let it out.
Her baby was safe inside her; once it was out, it could be hurt, taken from her. It has its childhood snuffed out or stolen away. Live a life of misery with no mother to love you.
Is it here, Sorrow? Do you feel it too?
It was the last thing she could think before an agonizing pain ripped through her, and took her consciousness along with it
Drifting.
Slowly and languidly.
Mumbling, or was it chatter?
Soft, familiar voices that sounded so close but so far away at the same time.
Where was she?
Was she dead?
Her body did not feel real, no sensations at all, not even the pain.
Maybe that was bad.
Joy strained her ears; all she heard was talking. There were no explosions, no artillery, no screaming. Wherever she was, it was far away from Normandy.
Perhaps the battle was over; had they won? Did they complete their mission, fulfill their purpose to the highest expectations?
“Joy.”
A soft, beautiful voice whispered. She could not sense anything, but she still felt the warm, intimate palm against her cheek.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Joy was in a bed, a proper, real bed, with plush sheets and blankets pulled up over her chest. The room was worn by time but not destroyed by war, an open window in the corner letting in the seaside breeze, white window dressings flowing in the wind peacefully.
Finally, her face turned to meet him.
The Sorrow stared back into her eyes, soft and concerned.
“Joy.”
He said again, so quietly as if she might break if he spoke too loudly.
Subconsciously, she lifted a hand to cover his. Intertwining their fingers together, like they did when they were alone, allowed them to be happy.
For a moment, it was just them.
It was immediately shattered by the crushing memory of what had happened.
“W-where?’
She tried to say, panicked, and was already attempting to move.
Something was missing; her body felt different. Where was it, where was her baby?
“Joy, it’s okay, shh.”
The Sorrow said calmly, pulling her up so he could hold her in his arms. Kissing her forehead gently.
“He’s okay, just outside, with the others.”
He?
Her confusion must have shown on her face. The Sorrow just smiled widely. Happier than she had ever seen him before.
“We have a son, my love.”
The world stood still.
The muffled voices made sense now.
They were safe, in what seemed to be an old farmhouse, perhaps even one they had passed the day before on their journey to the coast. The Cobras were safe, on the other side of the open door to the room where she lay resting and recovering.
Her body ached; she could even see the bandages under the loose fatigues she had been placed in, but it did not stop her from looking.
There was a bundle of white blankets, delicately held in The End's ancient arms. She recognised him immediately.
Her son.
As if on cue, the old man was wheeled into the room, the curious and doting eyes of the rest of the Cobras close behind him
Another kiss was pressed against her face, before steady arms pulled her broken body to a sitting position, comfortable against the light pillows.
Instinctively, Joy opened her arms, just in time for The Sorrow to place the impossibly tiny, sleeping baby boy into her grasp.
He was so small.
Somehow, he felt smaller than he had when he was growing inside her.
His face was scrunched up, a newborn so young he was not used to the world yet.
But he immediately curled up in her arms. Stirring and stretching his small limbs out, he had beautiful blue eyes that matched her own.
She stroked her finger over his chin; his skin was so unbelievably soft. He looked up at her with something akin to curiosity. A clumsy, tiny hand wrapped around her finger.
Joy did not realise she was crying until a tear ran down the curve of her nose.
“Hi.”
She whispered, just loud enough for the infant to hear. Her voice sounded wet, tears of happiness streaming down her face openly now as she held her beautiful baby boy.
“He’s so perfect.”
Joy sighed, this time to The Sorrow, completely enamored with their child in her arms.
“He is.”
Sorrow replied, she could hear his own emotions in his voice.
She loved him so much at that moment.
Both of them.
Her hair fell over her face as she leaned down, resting her nose against her son's head. He had small wisps of blonde already, just like her.
“I told you we could be happy, my Joy.”
She was.
Truly, honestly, happier than she had ever been.
Jack - December
It was Christmas Eve, her first without snow. The tail end of the year had come by faster than Joy had expected. The war in Europe was drifting to a close, not that she was anywhere near it anymore. Joy and the Cobras were no longer on the radar of the philosophers, hiding in plain sight.
Scattered across the globe, a useful and diligent spy network that remained loyal to Joy and most likely would until the end of time. Keeping her and her family's location secret from the desperate hands that tried to claw and tear at them.
For now, they were tucked away, safe, and most importantly.
They were happy.
It was late, the light of the moon illuminated the interior of the quiet house through the sheer window hangings.
Joy crept down the hall, ready to finally go to sleep after a long, tiring day of holiday preparations; it was her first real Christmas, and she wanted it to be perfect for when The Sorrow would arrive back home in the morning. At the end of the small hall, Joy noticed the door to her bedroom was ajar. A visual cue that might have scared her a few months ago.
But now?
Now it was normal, something she was more than used to.
She smiled to herself and peered her head into the dark room.
Adamska was fast asleep in his bassinet at the end of the small bedroom. Snoozing soundly on his back, soft snores and snuffles emitted from him as he peacefully slept.
And he was on her bed again, curled up against the pillows with a worn teddy bear in his grasp, clutched tightly against his chest.
Jack.
There was another room across the hall, a room with a bed that had been given to him. But the kid was such a nervous wreck that he usually preferred sleeping in someone else’s presence, even if that someone else was a helpless infant.
He had only been with them for two months, a small and scrawny street kid who had snuck up on her. When she first laid eyes on him, his clothes hung off his body, too big for his malnourished frame. His face was filthy, and overgrown, thick brown curls of hair fell over his brow, just barely concealing his sharp blue eyes.
He was young, too young to be on his own. Jack had only been eight years old when she found him, though he had recently turned nine at the start of November, a fact he had only let slip after the date had already passed..
The boy kept to himself most of the time, and he was deathly quiet, barely speaking unless spoken to first, and even then, he would express himself in as few words as possible. It had caused some mild annoyance for Joy at first, something she vented to Sorrow about regularly. She had been met with a soft chuckle and told by the man that he reminded him of her.
Joy smiled as she pulled the quilt up over Jack. He was still small, especially for his age, but he no longer looked quite so starved and sickly, which was good progress. It was funny, almost, the way Jack followed her around everywhere, her own little persistent shadow: a good kid, someone who deserved far better than the life he was given.
Thinking back to when she met the boy, she couldn't help but feel warm. She had caught him sneaking around in the backyard, most likely looking for food.
She had been playing with Adamska on the back patio when she had seen a glimpse of something scurrying through the hole in the fence she really ought to have fixed. It could have been an animal, from its nimble and small size. She had only really processed that it was a child when she had flipped the poor boy onto his back, knocking the wind out of him.
He had looked so scared, flinching and cowering away like he was used to being hit. He sported a large, nasty bruise over his left eye.
Orphans werent rare in this town. They lived in O’Hau, many children had lived near Pearl Harbour and had lost their parents in the attacks years ago, as well as the ones who were abandoned or separated from their families in the chaos of war.
It hadnt taken her long to realise the boy was just hungry and scared. He looked up at her with big, sad eyes. She saw her son in them.
She saw herself.
When The Sorrow had returned home that evening, he had not questioned why a strange child was sleeping on their sofa. Immediately accepting the little stray.
The only belonging that Jack owned was that scruffy old bear he carried everywhere.
Now, Jack was a part of their family. He did chores, enjoyed play-fighting with Joy, and he even begged her to teach him how to flip people like she could, so he could defend himself from the older kids who picked on him.
She had even overheard him talking very seriously and intensely to Adamska about Santa Claus the other day, reminding the infant that he had to be good if he wanted to get presents. Which had comically resulted in Jack getting whacked in the face by Adam's wooden horse toy.
There was, in fact, a gift sitting under the small Christmas tree that they had put up for Jack.
She didn’t need to hope he would like it; she knew that the gesture of being remembered by ‘Santa’ and getting a gift at all would be enough to make him the happiest boy in the world.
Joy silently smiled as she gently petted his head; the dark tufts of clean hair slid between her fingers.
The boy stirred slightly, nuzzling his face further into the pillow.
She leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the top of his head before tucking him under the blankets the rest of the way.
Adamska gurgled in his sleep. She was sure that her baby would sleep through a bombardment at this point; he almost certainly inherited it from his father.
Jack was more like her.
She liked it that way.
The Joy, End, Pain, Fear, End, and Sorrow.
The emotions they carried into battle.
But now was the time when there was no more war, now they got to live the lives they had dreamed of, ones they didn’t even believe were possible for them to have.
She still had Joy, but now it was a Joy she could be proud to love.