Chapter Text
"Thomas? I think that's your phone."
Thomas jolted awake, disoriented for a moment – Vincent's voice, Vincent's bed, what on earth – but then memory returned, and with it an almost defiant acknowledgment of this new reality. There was just light enough outside the curtains for them to see each other's faces without having to turn on the lamp. Morning of the third day, then. The time when miracles revealed themselves.
Another buzz of the phone. Thomas must have fallen asleep with the thing still in his hand, the other hand that was, the one that wasn't holding on to Vincent. He remembered his thumb hovering above the screen, deeply uncertain whether he should try and contact Martin to make sure he was all right, and if yes, how exactly to word his enquiry. Sleep had made the decision for him, and there was his phone now, somewhere on the other side of the pillow, vibrating with a message alert.
Thomas groped for it, then felt the lack of his reading glasses as the screen swam into view.
"It says Are you awake?," Vincent supplied helpfully.
"Ray?"
"American number."
"Good Lord."
"Call him back?"
"Now?"
"Well, you are awake, are you not?"
"But we're - "
"We're here together, yes. That's convenient. I'd like to say hello, too. Go on."
"If you're sure." Thomas retrieved his glasses from the bedside table and put them on. The little numbers in the top corner of the screen indicating the time said 6:54. He started the video call, then held the phone up above them so they could both see the screen when Martin picked up. Thomas couldn't anticipate what state their American friend would be in, to feel an urgent need to talk at one in the morning after twenty-four hours of radio silence, but four eyes would see more than two.
Martin's image popped up with that jack-in-the-box rapidity that would always startle Thomas. And just like Thomas, he had now shed all the marks and trappings of his rank and office, swapping his uniform for a plain t-shirt, not even olive-green. It made him look younger and softer, much less angular and imposing.
Martin opened his mouth for a greeting, then realised what he was seeing on his own screen. His eyes grew very round, but then a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Oh," he said. "Bloody hell, guys. You lost no time, did you? Well done."
Thomas could have kicked himself. He had forgotten, yet again, that unless he deactivated his own phone's camera somehow – which he had no idea how to do – these calls were not a one-way street. But it was already too late to try and undo the terrible indiscretion that he had just committed.
"Hello, Martin," Vincent said and smiled. "You're up late."
"And you, my friend, look surprisingly well."
"Only by the grace of God, and through the care and kindness of my friends here in Rome. You look happy, Martin. You've had some kind of good news."
Martin raised an eyebrow at Thomas. "Still reading people like an open book, I see."
"I happen to get the same impression," Thomas confirmed once his tired brain had caught up with the conversation. Something had certainly caused the officer to both loosen up and brighten up since their long talk last night. "Would you like to tell us what it is?"
"Yeah. No. Apologies first."
"What for?"
"I've looked you up on Wikipedia. That's a pretty awesome kind of college you're in charge of there. I'd no idea you were the guy who organised the whole thing. That's damn impressive, Your Eminence."
The circumstances were of course absurd, but Martin took obvious pleasure in finally using Thomas's correct title. Thomas was as touched as he was embarrassed. Couldn't he at least have rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and straightened the collar of his pyjamas? "Oh, please," he protested. "This is hardly the moment to stand on ceremony. It's Thomas. And now let's hear your news."
Martin took a deep breath. "All right. So. Yeah. Ashley's baby was born last night. I'm a grandad."
In the stunned silence that followed his words, the miracle took shape and grew, expanding right into Thomas's elated heart. Praise be, he thought as relief flooded him. There could not have been a better reason for Martin's silence. Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day.
"That's wonderful," Vincent said quietly.
Martin nodded slowly, as if struck anew himself with disbelief and wonder. "Kinda sudden, though. More than five weeks early. She's tiny, but she's fine. Mom's fine. They’re all fine. Thrilled to bits. Diego's being quite ridiculous, really. Can't blame him, though. She's the sweetest thing on earth. And their first, of course. That's always special."
"What have they named her?"
"Paloma." Martin's eyes shone even as he said the name. The Dove, the symbol of innocence, the messenger of hope, the bringer of peace, and the embodiment of the Holy Spirit that moved all beings and shaped all things according to God's good intentions for his creation. It was a beautiful choice.
"Have you been to see them?" Thomas asked. It would certainly explain why Martin had found no time to get back to him until now.
"I wish," the American sighed. "Not that easy. They're based in Germany at the moment, at Ramstein. That's a bit too far for a day trip. But it won't be too long till I get to go. They…" He hesitated and cleared his throat. "Actually, they've asked me to be their girl's godfather as well. That was kinda sudden, too. Totally out of left field, to be honest. And I don't really know what to make of that bit. Been mulling it over all evening. Kinda stuck right now."
"But - " Thomas began. How could Martin hesitate to accept such a clear mark of confidence from his loved ones? Then he felt a slight nudge against his foot, well out of sight of the camera. He instantly understood, and fell silent. There was another of those knots to be untied here, and pulling at the wrong end was not going to help.
"I mean, I'm hardly - " Martin made a gesture with his hand. 'The obvious choice', he surely meant to say, and it was true. The obvious choice would have been Ashley's brother Jamie, but Jamie was no longer there.
"They're asking Diego's sister, too, luckily," Martin went on. "So they've already got someone in charge of all the actual Catholic-ing, and I guess I'd just be, y'know - "
"- Grandad?" Vincent suggested.
"D'you think that's enough, though?"
"Would they have asked you if it wasn't enough?"
Martin nodded again, then smiled a little wryly. "There's something else, too. 'Course, Ashley's gonna want her mom there as well. At the baptism, I mean. That's not a great prospect. Her wedding was awkward enough already, even with a lot more people there acting as a buffer… But, yeah. Maybe it's time to stop running away on the home front now, too, before anyone else gets hurt. I won't get a medal for that, and Debbie's probably still gonna hate me. But I guess she can at least start hating me for the right reason. I mean, what's the worst she can do? Kick up a fuss big enough to end my career?"
If Thomas remembered correctly, the rules had been very strict back in the day, and – absurd to think, really – Martin would not have been allowed to join the Army at all if the cards had been on the table then. Thomas wasn't sure if that fact alone would still be official grounds for a discharge now. But in the current climate, it might be enough for some people in high places to try and freeze him out, even in spite of his extremely impressive record, and that was hardly better. "Would she really do that?" he asked.
Martin shrugged. "See, I don't even know. And guess what? That idea's become a lot less terrifying now than it used to be, too. Retirement's starting to sound not so bad after all. Wouldn't mind a little more freedom, actually. I mean, sooner or later Diego's gonna be sent to places again where he can't take his family, and that's gonna be a lonely life for Ashley and the kid if there's no one else around." Thomas meant to assure Martin that he would deserve a medal for that commitment alone, but it had become difficult to even get a word in. "So, yeah. Maybe I'm s'posed to chance it." Martin suddenly laughed. "I guess that's me decided, then. I'll never understand how the heck you guys do this, but never mind. Well. Look at the two of us, eh?" He spoke to Thomas, but he jerked his head in Vincent's direction. "He falls down a bloody elevator shaft, and we both get to hit the reset button on our lives. It's kinda unfair, isn't it? Why's he always the one who gets the short end of the stick?"
"Am I?" Vincent asked, his tone genuinely wondering. "I wasn't aware. Listen, Martin – When is the baptism?"
"Ten weeks or so. There's no rush. She's breathing and feeding just fine."
"And it'll be at Ramstein?"
"Yeah, sure. Diego's gonna be with the European Command for a while yet. I s'pose they'll get to use the chapel on the base, or they could ask at the parish church in town."
Vincent put his head to one side with a slight frown. "You know… I think we can do better than that."
"What d'you mean?"
"Well, if Diego can get leave, and if the mother and the child are up for a journey - "
Thomas did not hear Martin's reaction, nor did he feel that he had a right to. He had already handed his phone over to Vincent, slipped out of bed with as much grace as a man of his age was capable of at seven in the morning, muttered something about seeing to breakfast and tiptoed out of the room.
The coffee pot on the stove had boiled and Thomas was pouring himself a cup – one of the few domestic tasks that he was capable of performing without instructions or supervision – when the kitchen door opened. The windows faced east, and the morning sun had begun to peak over the neighbouring rooftops. It sprinkled Vincent's dark hair with flecks of gold, and Thomas felt his heart skip a beat.
Vincent sniffed the coffee-scented air. "Oh yes, please. Lots of sugar."
"Have you really - "
"Coffee is never the wrong answer, Thomas."
Thomas's cheeks reddened as he quickly reached across to fill a second cup. "No, no, I meant – "
"I know what you meant." Vincent smiled. "Yes, I have asked them all to come here, and I'm sure their answer is going to be yes."
"And that is… all right?"
"Of course." Vincent took a careful sip of the coffee that Thomas handed him, and hummed contentedly. "You can close a book before the final chapter, you know. But that's rarely satisfying, and sometimes downright unhealthy."
Thomas nodded, and as if in response, the room brightened. Instinctively, they both turned and stood side by side looking out over their city, the glorious morning sun, fully up now, shining on their faces and warming them through and through. The miracle was complete. This moment alone was a blessing already, but now there would be even more, a whole string of them in the weeks to come. A reunion of friends, and the committing of a newborn child to the care of God, with a grandeur that would not be out of proportion to the vast amount of love that all who knew of her existence already felt for her… and there was even the possibility of a pair of bereaved parents finally sharing some long-overdue solace. Blank pages filled, and then time to open a new chapter.
If this had been God's plan all along for the past two days, then Thomas might be forgiven for not grasping it right away. But he would be a fool not to recognise His handwriting, now that he saw it as clearly as if the words had been written right there in the morning sky.
Proof of Life.
THE END