War's Fast

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and she was his. From the tips of her hair, descending down her neck and though her scapulae further down her spine over her legs to her feet, she belonged entirely to him now.
The smoothness of her skin, the light that caught in her dark brown hair, her scent and everything she had given to him and all that remained for him to return was no more than himself.
A pitiful price he thought, wandering over her silhouette under the lofty white sheets that only covered her half. She deserved so much better, so much richer, so much smarter, than him, but she had decided otherwise, making him the happiest men on this earth.

Carefully, as not to wake her, he retrieved his sketchbook, from the case leaning against his chair and opened it. He had always been a keen drawer and if times had been different and the pressing feeling of obligation insignificant to him, he might as well have tried his luck by becoming an artist. But he had responsibilities, duties, he told himself and he could not bear to disappoint.
I'm still an artist, he told himself in the dark hours of doubt. Only not a professional one.
But now was not the time for doubt. Now of all times was the time of deed and just this once he would truly be a professional drawer for he had an object of beauty as model and nothing, not even his amateur technic could destroy the magnificence of what he saw before him.
Line by line, he captured her on paper and as he did so the sun wandered over the sky and the small stripe of light that came through the curtains soon touched her face.

A small tremor went through her body, as she slowly opened her eyes and looked directly at him, sitting there back to the window his sketchbook on his knees his pencil in hand, working on some masterpiece he might want to take with him, when they called him all too soon now.
Deeply in thought and highly concentrated he did not notice that she was awake until his eyes passed to her face for a split second. His motion froze and his perplexity made her smile.
"I will not move the tiniest bit if that helps" she said softly and he could not suppress a grin.
"Since when are you awake?" he asked a bit embarrassed.
She shrugged. "A while." she paused a second, ere continuing "I studied your face against the sun. For a moment I thought I could not see you, you were made up of light."
Silence fell between them, but it did not make them uncomfortable. Silence is only the substance that gives weight to words. Without it they were a meaningless, endless line of noises.

Finally he put down his pencil and said: "I am finished. Do you want to see it?"
She nodded and he got up, closed the gap between the window and sat down at the bedside, while she rolled over placing her chin in her hands.
Her first impression were her first words: "That can never be me."
He gave a short laugh: "That bad?"
"No not at all" she replied, looking closer. "It just too...too beautiful..."
Out of nowhere her kisser her hairline. "No, it's what I see when I look at you."

She could not help herself but blush and turning towards him she rewarded him with a long and passionate kiss. She would have loved him right there, in brought daylight, after a full night of passionate love, if it had not been for time.
Time was their fast and they had none left. The one they lived was pulling them apart mercilessly with every passing second.

He got up and reached for his shirt. All his shirts were green these days and his trousers, too. His hats, his coats, all his clothing was green, except for the riding boots. The boots and the belts; they were brown.
She watched him as he buttoned up his shirt with an accuracy, as if his life depended on it. His shirt would not protect him she knew, nor would his jacket or his hats.
Slowly she got up, too and stepped into her one piece dress. It was creme white and rather new and yesterday it had been sanctified, becoming a relict of sorts. She would never give it away, not for all the money in the world for it had made her the happiest woman on this earth.

When she was dressed and had quickly brushed over her hair she returned to him, as he was just about to attach his belt. She offered her help and when she was finished she stepped back to take a look at the man she now called her husband.
He noticed the look on her face and said: "I cannot refuse."
She shook her head: "I know..." but her voice carried a different tone than the meaning of her words.
"Look" he tried to explain. "I really have no choice. My country calls me and this is what I was trained for. I cannot stay behind."
She turned away from him, looking for his hat. "Where are you going to buy the horse" she asked, while dusting over it.
"They're sending me down to Devon for recruiting." he answered taking the hat from her hands. "I'll buy a horse there."
"A farm horse?" she asked a unsure what to make of that. "For war?"
"It's all I can afford."
"No." she disagreed "We can afford more" turning away from him she opened one of the drawers and after a short moment of going though her stockings she revealed a little cigarette box. Opening it she took out a bundle of papers and offered it to him.
His face was a mask. "13 Guineas." she held up the money. "It's all that I have and it's yours."
"I cannot take it" he replied stepping back from her.
"You have to" she answered. "From yesterday on to the end all time, remember?"
He shock his head, but she insisted: "Everything you have is mine and everything I have is yours. My body, my belongings, my soul, till death may part us."

On these last words she had to swallow hard and he took her in his arms, promising in her ears: "This will buy me the best horse in all of Devon. One to carry me bravely over there and one to carry me back to you again." He raised her chin to look into those magnificent blue eyes, whose spark he loved so much: "I can not die as long as I have you to return, too."
He kissed her once more and she hoped sincerely that he was not lying.
Time would proof that he was.