He'd been a sniper for six years of the war, another government paid goon that pulled a trigger when money exchanged hands under the disguise of national security. Growing up he'd always wanted to be the hero that got to shoot big guns at bad guys, but he learned quickly that bad guy was a relative term, and that there would always be a bigger gun in someone else's hands. There wasn't much else James imagined he'd ever be good at except killing and taking orders. Then he met Lily.
He left active duty and started working as a contractor to help the long convoy to and from refugee centers in the middle of hell on earth. Supplies that kept people alive despite the endless odds that were stacked against them. Lily stayed at the center providing medical aide, some basic education, and a much-needed female presence to ease the ever-thickening tension between allied troops, terrorists, and the ones caught in the middle. The innocents. The civilians.
They spent two years digging and organizing to get as many women and children refugee status as possible. It was hard work. It was maddening work, really. The kind that often made him wonder if it was doing any good at all, if it even mattered.
But they laughed too. They danced with the children and kicked the ball around in the heat when the threats were minimal. They had a flowery tablecloth to put down on birthdays and holy days and enough food that they wouldn't starve. Teachers volunteering for week-long stays and a few military doctors that they trusted with their lives. But mostly they had each other.
James cared in that steady, logically driven way Lily needed. Lily cared in that wild, risk it all for the right thing way James admired. And they fell in love slowly. Neither one of them were very excited about having another person to worry over, but it couldn't be stopped. They were twin flames from the start.
-
"I need paper, Potter" Lily sighed, not trying at all to hide how annoyed she was. "I can't keep using a stick in the sand to teach!"
"It's paper or food" he replied without heat. "We can't fit a single gram more on the truck or the damn wheels will fall off."
She thought about it for a moment, her eyes softening a little. "Alright. Ok... how about we take one less bag of beans in the exchange for one pack of notebook paper or a notebook and a few pens? I'm desperate here."
"You won't miss the food?"
"I'll manage" she said, not needing to add that she would just eat less. They were all sacrificing. It had to be done. For the ones who stayed, going back home to the cushy apartments that waited for them stateside wasn't an option when they knew what was happening here. When they knew there was so much real work still to be done.
James nodded and wrote it on the tiny flip-open pad he kept in his front pocket. "I'll do my best, Evans" he smiled, ripping the few pages he'd written on out and putting them neatly back into his pocket. He clicked his pen closed, then handed it and the flip pad both to her.
"No, you'll need it" she said, shaking her head and pushing the items back toward him.
He smiled easily with a little shrug, repeating her words. "I'll manage."
They had barley known each other then, but it had become their thing. I'll manage. Somehow it seemed to hold more meaning for them than I love you. It would be dangerous for them both if the locals knew they were together. It would get back to the cells and might be just one more thing used against them. They could never let that happen. The center came first, that was always unspoken, yet clear.
-
She was crouched behind a pilar, waiting for gunfire to slow enough to run.
"I'm going to lay cover fire, Lil" James's voice came over the walkie talkie. "You can make it, right? Tell me you can make it!"
She could hear the fear in him. She looked across the room where the below ground hatch was waiting open for her. The room that always been far too small seemed to stretch on forever now. A few eyes peeked up at her through the hole. Hands were stretched out as if they might reach her and pull her to safety. She could hear the baby start to cry. They needed to close and lock the hatch before the troops moved in and full-scale fighting started.
She gestured for them to give her space as she stood up. She was going to have to run. She took a few quick deep breaths before clicking her walkie talkie.
"Yea, Potter. I'll manage."
-
He would gear up for patrol before the supply truck moved out. The sight of all the guns made her nervous even still. Even after years there. She hoped she never got used to it.
"Don't die, Potter" she'd say, giving his shoulder a little slap as he loaded the convoy.
"I'll manage" he would grin back.
-
When they started to pull out of the war and the center was emptying, she'd been instructed to pack up and go home to help with resettlement for some of the families stateside.
"How does it feel to be heading home?" He asked as they sorted through the remaining scraps of donated clothing and cookware.
"What even is home" she laughed, turning to look him fully in the face. "I feel like my whole life started here."
"Yea" he said, "me too."
"You're headed home in, what? Three weeks?"
He nodded. "Something like that, yea."
"I can pick you up at the airport... if you still want" she offered with a shy smile.
They had talked about this a million times. But somehow the future seemed so distant before. Like they might never get there, so it was ok to dream big. To long. To lie, even.
He grinned and ruffled his hair nervously. "Do you still want to?"
She nodded.
"I snore when I get to sleep actually laying down" he warned with raised brows, grinning. "And I mean it's like... really bad. I've been given death threats in the camp" he added with a little laugh.
She laughed too, feeling light with it.
"You know what, I think we will manage."