Midnight in Deep Navy
Well before dawn he silently slips out of the warmth and safety of his marriage bed, away from his love cocooned in silken sheets instead of his arms. He does not wish to leave her again... But slinking out at the dead of night, like an unworthy mistress, was more preferable than the heartbreak it would cause the following morning.
The disappointment in young Carl’s eyes, the betrayal lingering in hers. It was too much to see every time he left, he maybe a Soldier, a member of the Baronny, but he was a coward all the same. He couldn’t bare the questions of when -if- he would return. Not again.
He did not know the answer anymore and would not lie to them.
Lying had gotten him nowhere, she always saw through his hallowed words. With her, his years’ worth of skills, the silver tongue he was known for was useless.
He dressed soundlessly with efficiency, as a rule he doesn’t dare wear his uniform at home, before padding towards the bedroom door with precise steps laced with stealth training.
And yet a soft voice still slurred with sleep, the slight brush of annoyance in its tone, whisper-calls out to him.
It does not accuse him as it should, although there is pain woven in between the utterances, she wants to shout at him... However, ‘no arguments before daybreak’ is their agreement, for Carl’s sake and their own.
“It’s well below freezing, Dear.” She mumbles into the goose feather pillows instead; she does not even look at him. “Your new coat is on the bannister. Take it with you.”
“Thank you, Darling. I will.” I’m sorry, my Love...
She says nothing else, and the silence is devastating.
He wants her to. He wants to hear her voice, see her face, kiss her plump lips. Melt into her embrace, shower her with affection, but he knows if he were to attempt that he would not leave tonight.
He turns to leave, dismissed as if she were not his lover but a Superior.
It hurts.
He says nothing.
He still leaves as he is a coward.
He finds the coat in its allotted place, draped over the bannister almost carelessly.
It is a deep navy trenchcoat with brown fur wrapped around the collar and cuffs, brass-coloured buttons... In a fashionable faux-Military style. Made of a heavy material, suitable for the biting cold of winter but not the wet it also brings. He can appreciate it although he does not particularly like it... Its not very practical and the style is far more something his Father would wear.
He knows it was expensive, it shows his wealth and status but amongst his comrades such a thing would cause derision.
To them he is a Colonel, not the next Baron Zemo.
He takes it all the same, draping it over his shoulders as he creeps through the house to the front door. The house is still, no light and at this moment it feels loveless even when it is filled with whose he loves, it should be a sanctuary, but it is not. And he is the reason for that feeling.
He takes it in for a second before venturing out into the cold night.
The frozen air bites at his exposed skin and his Jeep takes far too long to warm up. He had gotten it for practicality, not comfort.
He shrugs his arms into the coat, there’s a velvety lining inside. It’s soft and helps chase away the chill. At least it has that going for it. That and the dark colour. The fur was clearly real and tickled his neck, irritating, distracting.
The drive is long and mind-numbing. He focusses solely upon it, least he thinks of his interaction with her. The already empty roads turn to abandoned dirt tracks as he ventures up into the mountains to EKO Scorpion’s base of operations.
By the time he arrives, so many kilometers away from Nova Grad and his family, he is pleasantly enjoying the close warmth provided by the coat.
He never did like the cold.
His last functional jacket had been worn on a mission and some stains just never came out. Even with Oeznik’s expert assistance.
He couldn’t walk around with such suspicious crimson clinging to the fabric. He wouldn’t do that to Carl, to her.
She noticed its absence far too quickly and had given him a knowing look as she gifted this coat to him.
She always knew too much.
It had started to snow as he traversed deeper into mountains. It covered the ground in an icy blanket of white. It crunched loudly underfoot and he suppressed a shiver as he strolled over to the building hidden between bare trees and weathered rock formations.
He shoved his hands into the pockets, as he’d stupidly forgot his gloves. The chill crept into his fingers even in the soft material of the pockets, he balled them into fists... When his knuckles brushed against something buried deep within them.
Small, circular... And paper: a note.
Dread overwhelmed his senses, quickly seeping into his bones...
Worse than the cold that had already settled upon his skin.
He didn’t want to see what she had left in his pocket.
He couldn’t...
But he wouldn’t be a coward this time.
He grasped the object and pulled out slowly...
The gold band simmered under the moonlight, it looked as new as the day he’d given it to her. He had noticed it had been missing from her hand all weekend.
She had said she had accidently left it at her Mother’s home. He hadn’t even realised the blatant lie. Too blind to see. Idiot.
Here it was. Her wedding ring. A small note on purple paper accompanying it.
He read it slowly, over and over, committing it to memory... He wasn’t a coward anymore. He would live with this pain. Her writing was steady, there was no doubt in her strokes. It was honest and short, she probably had written a few before perfecting it.
Helmut,
I want to return this.
I am sorry.
We won't be there when you return.
Goodbye.
He placed them back into the pocket carefully. Pulling off the coat and dropped it into the snow.
He was already so numb anyway.
The cold was almost comforting.