Epic WWII Fanfic/AU - Part one

[dolevalan]

Title: Never Shall Be Slaves
Co-author Credit: abnormal_sea
Fandom(s): Richard Carstone is from Bleak House by Charles Dickens. Tom Jones is from the novel of the same name by Henry Fielding. Danny Sloane (Arthur's younger brother) also makes a brief cameo appearance.
Rating: PG-13, overall, for violence and some language.

A/N: This was, actually, originally RPed over at desperatefans as an alternate universe exercise, but became rather epic in the meantime. I've cleaned it up and made it a bit more readable as a narrative where necessary. It's long enough that I'm posting it in 15 parts total. Massive, massive thanks to abnormal_sea for the great fun of this.



Squadron Leader Richard Carstone was slightly nervous, but determined not to show it. It hadn't been long enough since his promotion for the shine to wear off of his new title, but like his nerves, his pride would have to wait for another time. Today he was meeting his new squad members, and the Wing Commander was going to give all of them their briefing. Rumor among the ranks held that they were heading for a bombing raid deep in enemy territory, though Richard had been on enough missions to know that rumor was worthless more than half the time.

He was so deep in thought, however, that he nearly missed the new recruit who crossed his path until he was all but on top of him. "I say," he said, recovering himself, "are you lost, cadet? You should watch where you're going, you know."

Tom Jones was still in awe of actually being away from home and had spent most of his time when he wasn't actually busy just staring at everything. So it really came as no surprise when he collided with someone. He immediately bent down to grab his dropped duffel bag. "I'm fine! I should have been looking and--" He looked up and realized who he was speaking with. Blushing, he made a clumsy salute. "Sorry, sir!"

Richard returned the salute, almost impatient, but not really angry. After all, he had been a cadet once himself. "It's quite alright, cadet, but pay more attention next time. Do you know where you're going?"

"Not really, sir!" Oh he was a first class idiot. Colliding with someone while he was still on the ground. "I'm sure I'll find my way, sir!"

Richard took pity on him. "What's your name, cadet?"

"Jones, sir. Tom Jones."

"Well, Jones, you should have received the name of your squadron, and your squadron leader. Report to him. I can point you in the right direction." Richard’s tone was brisk and businesslike, though the fact that he was offering to help at all was somewhat exceptional.

"Erm..." Tom tried to remember what they had told him earlier. He had been too excited to be paying much attention. "Carstone, I think, sir."

Richard smiled, bemused. "Well, then, Jones, you seem to be in luck, as you've quite literally stumbled across him."

"Oh." This was unexpected. Tom blushed even more. What a wonderful first impression he must have made. "Sorry, sir."

"Quite alright, Jones, provided you pay more attention in the future. Come along, I was just going to meet the other new recruits."

Tom nodded. "Alright, sir."

Richard started walking, trusting Jones would follow. The cadet struck him as very young, though in reality they had to be near the same age. Friendly, but not familiar, he asked, "Where are you from, Jones?"

"Somerestshire, sir."

"I've heard there's nice country around there, though I've never been, myself."

Tom nodded again. "Very nice if like farms, sir. This is my first time leaving."

"First mission, then, Jones?" Richard didn't really need to ask and didn't wait for a proper answer. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll do us proud, cadet."

Richard had always been criticized by other officers for being too familiar with his inferiors, but he found that having his men like him gave him confidence. And he saw no reason to intimidate the farm boy any further, even if he wouldn't coddle him. Jones seemed too impressed to be insubordinate, at least for the present.

Impressed was a fairly accurate description of Tom's military experience so far. He had gone from one thing to the next, hardly knowing what was happening. But he was going to fly planes and fight for King and Country. For that, he would suffer all the confusion in the world. "I hope so, sir. I hope I make them proud."

"Just pay attention and stick close unless I tell you otherwise."

Richard led them to a room that had been organized for a briefing. Several other cadets, some new, some not, had arrived first. One of them was telling a joke, but cut off mid word as Richard walked in with Jones, snapping to attention. A man who Richard had worked with before saluted. "Squadron Leader Carstone." Tom hung awkwardly in the back. He didn't want to get in the way and he wasn't quite sure what he should do.

Richard returned the salute. "At ease. Are you men all here for the 11 Squadron briefing?" There were nods and a few "Yes, sir"-s. "Very well. If you will all sign in with me, please. The briefing will begin when Commander Willoughby arrives, which should be at 1400 hours." Richard glanced over at Jones, giving him a small, encouraging look before the man who had initially saluted took his attention away with a less formal congratulations on Richard's promotion.

Tom appeared a bit more encouraged and went among the other men to try and mingle. He was a lot more at ease when not faced with one on one conversation with Carstone the flying ace, and it showed on his face and when he laughed and started trading stories with one of the other recruits whom he seemed to have latched onto immediately. Tom was friendly and enthusiastic and people liked him. He was quite content to talk until the commander came in.

Willoughby appeared at precisely two, as if he had spontaneously appeared at the door just at the proper time. Richard straightened, saluting much more formally, and the cadets followed suit.

Once they had all been seated, Willoughby started walking them through the assignment. They were going to be part of a new effort to take the war on the offensive; rather than shooting the Krauts out of the sky when they appeared over the Channel, they were going to give the Germans a taste of their own medicine, bombing an industrial town which was producing ammunition, among other artillery supplies. It would be a dangerous but important mission, and coordinated with several other Allied units. The 11th's job was principally to provide aircover for the bombers.

Richard nodded occasionally, jotting down a note or two. Tom gave the appearance of listening intently, but his mind was filled with medals. He was picturing himself flying overhead and bombing the whole town, never mind the fact that he wasn't in actuality going to be bombing anything. Then, of course, the medals would pour in and every girl in England would be at his door. But he would turn them all down for his Sophia, who would have driven herself nearly mad with worry for him, but upon his return she would quite eagerly marry him. And then a famous director would want to put his expolits on film, but alas! an actor could not be found that would do him justice. So, naturally, Tom volunteered to play himself which would result his moving to Hollywood and...

Tom didn't even notice when the briefing ended. One or two of the cadets asked incidental questions, and then Willoughby dismissed them, reminding them that they would be departing at 2000 the next evening, so they would have cover of darkness for the flight. With a salute, he departed, and Richard dismissed the men immediately after, with nothing salient to add.

He himself lingered, and thus noticed that Jones was not paying enough attention to know to leave. Most of the others were gone or going before he said, "Jones."

...and after winning his Nobel Prize he would... Richard jolted him out of his reverie. "What?"

Richard cleared his throat. "The briefing has been dismissed, Jones."

"Oh. Right. Sorry, sir." Tom smiled sheepishly and moved to go.

"Oh, and Jones? You might want to ask a fellow cadet what the briefing was about, sometime before we shove off tomorrow." Richard’s voice was mild, and he was looking at a file that Willoughby had left with him.

Tom blushed furiously again and tried to swallow his embarrassment. "Yes, sir."

"Very good. Dismissed." Richard's mind was already moving to the mission at hand, trying to anticipate what would go wrong and how to cope with it. The daydreaming cadet was the least of his worries.

Tom hurried out and back to the barracks, chastising himself as he went. He really was an idiot and wouldn't last two seconds, just as Mr. Square prophesized. Now he really needed to find John and ask him exactly what the were doing tomorrow.