Work Text:
1944
Death surprised His Majesty King George VI's Army Lieutenant Archie Hicox in the small village of Nadine, near Paris, on a cold July night.
He was riddled with bullets at the table of Le Louisiane tavern after foolishly betraying himself through a silly mistake, but not before sipping a glass of exquisite Scotch next to the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life and speaking his native tongue as a farewell to life.
As he bled to death on the cold, dirty stone floor in a flash, Archie had no way of knowing that this would not be the last time he would see Bridget von Hammersmark again.
Today
Since childhood, Archie Hicox had always been drawn to cinema.
One of his earliest childhood memories was Bambi... him gazing open-mouthed at the images scrolling across the screen, bewitched by the colors and sounds.
Archie soon discovered he could sit still and watch a movie for hours, his attention completely captivated by what he was seeing.
The whole rest no longer existed, it disappeared as if by magic: there was only the story unfolding before him, the music accompanying every shot, the true, complete beauty that only cinema could offer.
Archie grew up with this soul-consuming passion coursing through his blood, and he felt a constant pull toward that art form every single day of his life. It was almost as if he were retracing steps he'd already taken, steps he'd always felt within him, showing him the right direction to follow to be truly happy.
Becoming a film critic was obvious for him: it wasn't just a profession he'd chosen in his adult life, but almost a mission that overshadowed everything else.
After so much dedication, study, and sacrifices, at the age of thirty-two, Archie was finally considered one of the most important critics of his generation—one capable of being feared and respected in equal measure. His rewiews on Film and Filmmakers, the most important and popular film website in the UK, were held in high regard by everyone in the British and European film community: directors, actors, producers, screenwriters.
Archie had also written several books over time (three, in fact!) about cinema, especially German silent movies —God, he loved Pabst like he was his own father, he felt a visceral attachment to that fantastic director. He had even learned to speak fluent German so he could grasp every possible linguistic nuance of his filmography... well, his accent wasn't that good, but the dedication that coursed through his blood when it came to cinema was truly inexhaustible.
Furthermore, he was one of the most skilled critics of all time about propaganda films and the connection between cinema and politics; a topic he was deeply involved in and had devoted considerable energy to. Over the past two years, he had given several sold-out special lectures on the subject in London, and had also introduced five films about propaganda at the BFI—The Birth of a Nation, Battleship Potemkin, Triumph of the Will, Casablanca, Top Gun.
Yet, despite all this professional success, numerous awards, and an attractive physical appearance that had never denied him female attention since adolescence, Archie Hicox always felt that something important was missing.
Or rather, someone.
A gigantic hole was growing deeper and deeper in his soul every day, which, without cinema, would have swallowed him up, causing him to dissolve like ashes in the wind.
The thick layer of loneliness that had always enveloped Archie's heart, that he desperately suffocated by constantly watching and talking about movies, would only ease a little in just one brief moment.
When he finally admired a certain actress on screen.
Every time he saw Bridget von Hammersmark, the most internationally famous German actress at the time, Archie felt a very strange sensation. As if his heart were gripped by a desperate grip of distant nostalgia and profound guilt... he simply couldn't fathom what all this could possibly be about.
He had tried over and over again to rationalize this inexplicable feeling, to give it a meaning that he could imprint on his brain and allow him to move forward with his life, but it had all been useless. Every time she appeared before his gaze, he fell under a magical spell.
Bridget von Hammersmark wasn't just one of the most beautiful women in the world to him—sky-blue eyes, wheat-blond hair, the glamour of a diva straight from the Golden Age of Hollywood—but also one of the finest actresses Archie had ever had the privilege of seeing.
Her mastery was such that Archie had dedicated some of the finest reviews he'd ever written to her throughout his career as a film critic, even for the less successful films she'd starred in... such was the charisma she exuded in every single one of her performances. Bridget von Hammersmark was capable of being believable in every single role (from a double-crossing spy to the princess of an ancient city under siege) and of imbuing her character with nuances of reality that were nothing short of extraordinary.
Every time he heard her low voice come out of that perfectly sensual mouth, he felt shivers run down his spine. Archie lost himself in the close-ups directors gave her—he knew every feature of Bridget's face by heart, the way her lips curled in a smile, the curves of her stunning body.
Yet the deep respect he felt for Bridget von Hammersmark wasn't due to his obvious attraction to her, Archie swore to himself, but rather to the objective competence she possessed in every single role she played.
Archie was a relentless professional, ultimately: he would never do a disservice to his own work just because he felt strangely connected to a German actress he'd never even seen in person in his entire life.
He'd met dozens of people from the cinema world in his career as a film critic, but with no one had he ever felt the incomprehensible affinity he felt with her.
This stunned him to the core, and he had never planned to meet that angel of a woman for precisely this reason.
He wanted to avoid humiliating himself in front of her, losing his clarity. He was sure he would only be mortified by that wonder of nature.
But, when the premiere of Bridget von Hammersmark's latest film was arranged in Paris, Film and Filmmakers decided that Archie absolutely had to interview her at all costs, because no one knew her whole filmography like he did.
He couldn't refuse the assignment - it would have made no sense, since his appreciation for her was widely known to everyone. So he just accepted a plain task that seemed insurmountable to him, his heart in his throat and his wrists trembling with anticipation.
The mere thought of meeting her threw Archie into a strange mix of impatience, terror, and awe that tightened the walls of his stomach, almost as if he were embarking on a very difficult secret mission.
As if Archie finally had a rendezvous with fate he could never miss.
The white corridor of the Ritz Hotel seemed so gloomy and oppressive to Archie at that moment, almost as if it were Jack Torrance in The Shining.
The interview with Bridget von Hammersmark had been arranged in her hotel room there, so she could immediately get ready for the red carpet of her film a few hours later.
That would be the only time Archie could speak to her—he saw the film that morning; she hadn't been in the screening room because she hadn't arrived yet in Paris from Berlin on her private plane—and he hadn't dared to say a word about it... he was honestly too nervous to do so.
Thankfully, he wasn't alone: his assistant, Fredrick, was with him, filming the interviews he conducted and uploading them to the Films and Filmmakers website and its various social media platforms. He was in his early twenties, but very skilled and experienced in his field; his presence brought a measure of calm to Archie, who felt truly ridiculous in his profound apprehension.
Hell, he was a grown, professional man who had interviewed Martin Scorsese a month earlier without a problem—old Marty was a lovely man!—, but the agitation he felt twisting his insides was, to say the least, inappropriate, if not downright humiliating.
Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it: the time had come to finally meet Fräulein von Hammersmark face to face in all her beauty and hope to escape her as unscathed as possible.
So Archie, along with Fredrick, approached the front door of the luxurious suite where Bridget had been accommodated and saw that her PA, a beautiful young blonde girl named Shosanna, was already waiting for him at the door. Fredrick had contacted her by email in the previous weeks to arrange the meeting.
"Here you are, welcome to both of you," she said, with a strong, but elegant, French accent that peeked out in every word she pronounced.
She held out her hand to Archie, who silently shook it with great courtesy, and flashed a shy smile toward Fredrick, who was carrying all the video equipment needed and couldn't greet her in the same way.
"Bridget is inside, waiting for you on the couch. You have about thirty-five minutes before the makeup artist and the hairstylist will begin the long preparations for the red carpet tonight... I think that will be enough time for you," she stated confidently, clutching a leather notebook to her chest that clearly had Bridget's entire schedule written down.
Even though he was a mere film critic, Archie knew how tight the daily schedule was for actors—for goodness sake, he really didn't know how they could cope with the infernal pace of that life.
"It will be more than enough, don't worry. Once Fredrick sets everything up, we'll be ready," were the words he managed to force from his parched throat at that moment. Shosanna then led them into the suite, a huge room with windows flooded with incredible light.
There, standing next to the sofa, wearing a long beige tunic dress that looked tailor-made for her, was Bridget von Hammersmark.
Archie swallowed as he gazed at her.
He could hardly believe he was breathing the same air as her, and that the figure he saw closer to him with every step he was taking was the very woman he shared a strange, hidden bond with... a bond she was completely unaware of.
The whole situation was so ridiculous that Archie didn't know why he hadn't spontaneously combusted from embarrassment. But he sensed something much bigger and deeper stirring within him.
Be professional and everything will be fine, Archie repeated in his mind like a desperate mantra, trying to calm his heart, which was galloping like a wild horse in his chest.
The moment Archie met Bridget's eyes, he gaped at her. It felt like the entire universe around him had disappeared, swallowed up God knows where or why.
His breath caught in his throat, and he clearly saw the exact same thing happening to Bridget, who opened her perfect mouth in an almost shocked expression.
For long seconds, nothing existed but the two of them, looking at each other as if they were recognizing each other.
As if an ancient memory, lost in the folds of some unfortunate previous fate, had just resurfaced in both of them.
And the familiarity Archie had always felt for Bridget von Hammersmark grew even stronger in his soul, overwhelming everything else like a tidal wave of disproportionate violence.
God, this was going to be the most difficult interview of his entire life.
The chair Archie sat on was opposite Bridget, who had sat on the sofa with the grace of a ballerina. They still hadn't been able to take their eyes off each other or exchange a single word, and Archie felt oxygen escaping his lungs more and more.
It was as if the air around him and Bridget had taken on a specific weight and become electric.
Anything would be enough to trigger a reaction in both of them, he was sure of it.
It wasn't just due to what he was feeling, what he had always felt for her. It was insane even to think so, because everything that was happening to him was sheer madness, but he felt this certainty cementing itself in his heart with impenetrable solidity.
Fredrick was finishing connecting some cables to his video camera, that was resting on a tripod a short distance from Archie, and checking that the shot was perfectly framed. At his side, Shosanna was checking everything too, to make sure Bridget looked at her best.
Archie cleared his throat and finally looked away from Bridget only to grab the notebook where he had jotted down the topics he wanted to discuss with her—Fredrick had handed it to him moments earlier—and the questions he wanted to ask her.
What was it like working with Quentin Tarantino? Who were her favorite actresses? What did cinema truly mean to her? How could she work without losing herself to be so authentic in every role? Was time a friend or foe in her profession? How did she think creativity could survive in the hyper-technological world they lived in?
None of those words ever came true, however, because Bridget opened her mouth and spoke to her PA.
"Shosanna, you didn't offer our guests anything to drink yet," she began, her voice calm and composed, but with a fire burning behind the icy blue of her eyes. Archie couldn't have stopped looking at her even if the world had ended right then. "Why don't you and Mr. Hicox's assistant go to the hotel bar for fetch some coffee or a cup of tea? I could use a nice iced drink, if you don't mind."
Archie heard Shosanna's hesitation before she even expressed it. "Bridget, we're short on time today. But I—"
Bridget simply raised a hand in the air, a decisive gesture that brooked no reply.
"I just told you, I'm very thirsty, Sho. Go, please," was all she said before the quick, silent footsteps of Fredrick and Shosanna exiting the suite rang in Archie's ears.
Archie licked his dry lips and tried to get up from his chair to walk over to Bridget—the purpose of her actions was as clear as the summer sky... oh my, she wanted to be alone with him!—, but the notebook with his questions slipped from his lap before he realized it.
As he grabbed it, Bridget's fingers collided with his. And that touch unlocked every memory buried deep in their consciousness.
Archie felt every sensation, every memory of the past—of his past life!—resurface, swift as lightning that was shaking him to the tips of his toes. He gasped, as if his chest had suddenly become smaller before expanding again.
Then, after remembering who he'd been and what he'd done on the last night he'd been alive in that past existence forever erased by time, he threw himself at Bridget's feet, tears in his eyes, hugging her with raw desperation and unadulterated joy.
Her soft blond hair tickled his face, he could feel the deep breaths she was taking resonating perfectly within him, and Archie felt every piece of himself fall back into place, amidst the guilt that was wracking him.
My God, he'd made a fucking mess at Le Louisiane. He'd ruined everything, and he'd been the very reason Bridget von Hammersmark had lost her life alongside him in that goddamned tavern full of Germans... for a stupid mistake he should have avoided, if only he'd been calm and clear-headed enough.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," were the only words that came out of Archie's mouth as he held Bridget close, as bitter as the regrets he felt rising within him like a tide.
The feeling of loneliness that had always accompanied him throughout his life had dissolved, it was true, because he had miraculously found the woman he was supposed to protect in the fulfillment of the most important plan he could have ever be part of.
And now she would probably hate him forever for that very reason.
"Lieutenant, look at me," Bridget ordered Archie, and he, just as he had done that July night, followed her instructions. He raised his face to look at her and saw tears streaming down her face, pain marking every little expression.
Archie's heart broke in his chest... no, he would never be able to forgive himself for what he had created that night. For dying like a fool and inadvertently causing Bridget's death like that.
"You don't have to feel sorry for anything. Everything went wrong at La Louisiane, it was no one's fault," she began, and Archie felt hope revive him.
Please don't hate me, Bridget, don't.
"I don't hate you, stop saying that!" she exclaimed, her tone so firm that Archie instantly fell silent. "We were at war, and I knew perfectly well the risks of my own plan... I knew I could die at any moment from the instant I decided to become a spy for Great Britain. I simply chose an inappropriate place for our rendezvous, and from there, everything went wrong."
"But no one could have imagined there would be so many German soldiers in there," Archie tried to reply, but Bridget's thumb rested on his lips to silence him. The sensation of that contact was so heavenly that a sigh escaped his mouth.
"Don't blame yourself for my death, because it didn't even happen there. I died at the movie premiere the next day, killed by Hans Landa," Bridget whispered, and Archie didn't have the strength to ask her for details. He knew the Jew Hunter's reputation, and he assumed Bridget's final moments had been filled with cruelty and oppression at the hands of that evil man.
They had so much to process, a whole past life shattered so ferociously to be reconnected with the one they were living decades and decades later... and they also had to figure out what to do with themselves and their bond.
A bond that had clearly been formed at La Louisiane that night, despite the fact that they had only spent a handful of minutes together, and that had remained intact along the currents of time.
Suddenly, Archie also realized who Fredrick Zoller, his assistant, really was.
"Oh God, Fredrick was alive like us back then! He was the star of the movie we were supposed to go to together," he said, his head full of new and old information he was trying to balance without going crazy in the process. Meanwhile, Bridget had lifted him off the floor and they both sat on the couch.
The distance between their bodies was so small that Archie felt all the heat emanating from Bridget's skin pouring onto his own... a wonderful sensation that made him feel so safe in the midst of that wild situation.
Even the perfume she was wearing the night they met in Nadine—jasmine, he could never forget it—was the same.
"And Shosanna, my PA, was the owner of Le Gamaar, the cinema where the premiere had been suddenly moved. I glimpsed them together for a moment in the crowd before meeting Landa," Bridget added, and at that point it became clear to Archie that every single choice he'd made in his existence had been a step that had brought him ever closer to achieve the moment he was currently living.
The life he'd led, his great passion for cinema, and the bond he felt with Bridget were the continuation of a past existence that had been interrupted. Behind all of this, there was the hand of something greater—God? Fate? Maybe a miracle?—that had reconnected the threads of something between them that had been suddenly and tragically broken.
"They'll recognize each other as we did as soon as they touch," Bridget sighed before resting her head on Archie's shoulder, who felt his stomach rise in his throat at that gesture.
He wanted to hold her so tightly again, to feel that deep sense of completeness by her side that he was finally getting used to.
Archie wasn't sure about many things anymore, but he was certain he wouldn't want to leave Bridget for anything after finally finding her again.
After several minutes of quiet silent spent hand-in-hand, the peace Archie had grown accustomed to at Bridget's side was shattered by her voice.
In person, her tone was melodious, just as he remembered her from 1944—time hadn't even accidentally tampered with everything he'd ever felt for her. That intense blend of attraction, respect, and devotion remained pristine in Archie's heart, as if not a moment had passed since the first and last time he'd met her.
"Can I ask you something?" Bridget asked, as Archie continued to caress the soft skin of her fingers. It was like silk beneath his fingertips, smooth and perfect.
"Of course. What do you want to know?" Archie replied, mesmerized by the blue of her eyes. He would never tire of admiring her for anything in the world, he was sure of it.
Bridget cleared her throat before speaking. "Tell me what really happened to you that night at La Louisiane."
Archie felt his cheeks heat up, embarrassment took hold of every fiber of his body. The hand holding Bridget's began to tremble slightly, as memories and sensations of that night began to flow through him again like a river.
"SOE assured me that you were a qualified lieutenant who had served on other undercover missions... they told me that you were a film critic with expertise in German cinema and could speak the language," Bridget continued. There was no judgment in her gaze, rather a desire to understand the motivation behind the disaster that had ultimately cost them both their past lives. "Sure, your German accent was the worst I'd ever heard in my life, but you were so handsome I would have turned a blind eye to it."
That compliment made Archie blush even more fiercely, and he began laughing hysterically as he tried to explain the truth to her.
"Let's just say... I've always had a special fondness for you as an actress and as a woman," Archie said before licking his lips, dry from the tension. "When Churchill and my superior told me you were the brilliant mind behind Operation Kino, I really couldn't believe it. I was overwhelmed by someone as beautiful and lethal as you."
A small, satisfied smile formed on Bridget's lips at those words, but Archie tried not to let it distract him.
So he continued.
"When we met, I was completely in awe of you. Besides being nervous about everything else, you know - we were in a basement full of German soldiers who could have exposed me at any second. Which is exactly what happened," he added, his voice stern. "I've been prone to foolish mistakes that night, and my own agitation hasn't allowed me to be clear-headed enough to control the situation for my own sake and yours. I made a very stupid mistake that cost us dearly, and I'll never forgive myself for it."
Archie felt tears well up in his eyes—it was true, he'd probably spend his entire new life trying to fix what he'd done to Bridget... God, those stupid three fingers had betrayed him!—, but a gentle caress from Bridget on his face brought his train of thought back to normal.
"I already told you this before: what happened was a risk I thought it could happen. Of course, no one hopes to die in a bloody shootout like that, and I barely survived, with a shattered leg... believe me, if something tragic hadn't happened there, it probably would have happened at Le Gamaar anyway, because of Landa," Bridget whispered, and Archie found himself wanting to believe her with his whole heart.
She was right: sometimes, even the smallest detail betrayed a seemingly perfect plan, carefully planned for two years. There was nothing that could be done.
And perhaps it was due to fate that things had turned out that way.
The two of them had met like that, to lose each other and then find each other again long afterward—so different, yet identical in so many ways.
"Now you have to promise me just one thing, Archie," Bridget asserted, and Archie felt ready to give her anything she could ever ask of him. His life, his work, even the moon hanging in the sky... there was nothing Archie couldn't give her like that.
On the spot, no problem.
"Use your fingers better this time, please," Bridget smiled, and Archie felt a fire burning in his lower belly and a deep shame tingling in his neck. "I'd really like to have my leg, and to have you alive in my life now. I don't want to lose you again, you know that?"
Archie's arms tightened around Bridget's torso and pulled her against him, enveloping her like ivy does around walls it stubbornly climbs. A deep sigh of satisfaction escaped his lips as he felt the delicious warmth of her body.
"I swear, it won't happen," Archie promised her solemnly, with all his heart. Nothing and no one could stop him from keeping his word this time.
Bridget settled more comfortably in his arms, and Archie thought that there had never been anything more precious in the entire universe than the woman he was holding at that moment.
A brief silence fell between them, as their time alone slowly drew to a close. Archie knew that sooner or later Fredrick and Shosanna would return, and they probably had a lot to say or confess to each other at the same time too.
There was a specific reason why he had found Bridget again, just as Fredrick had found Shosanna again.
Perhaps there were still things to be cleared up between them that needed to be forgiven—as had been the case with him.
"You know I was the one who requested Film and Filmmakers to have you here today?" Bridget began, and Archie felt a huge smile spread across his face. What? Really?
She laughed in a sweet way, as if a thousand silver bells were being rung in unison by angels. Archie was stunned by every single gesture she made now, just like he had been that night in Nadine. "I suppose you've always felt a mysterious fascination with cinema, just like me... I have never wanted anything more in my life than being an actress."
No one could understand Bridget better than Archie on this. Cinema had always meant everything to him, and now he understood why: it had been the way through he had met her, both times.
"I never read reviews of my films. Never, Archie, I swear," Bridget said seriously, almost as if revealing an untold secret to another living soul. "The only film critic I ever read is you. The only one."
Archie felt foolishly happy at this confession, joy bubbling in his chest like champagne bubbles. "Are you serious? Just me?"
Bridget shook her head, her blonde hair reflecting the sunlight streaming in from the windows behind the couch they were sitting on.
"I've never felt so understood and seen in my work except through your words. Many times on set I felt I had to bring out the best in myself because I wanted Archie Hicox to be able to write wonderful words about me later," she said before taking a deep breath and leaning further into his arms. "I've always felt like we were destined to meet, and now I understand why."
And Archie knew Bridget was right, every inch of it.
Things had gone exactly as they were supposed to between them... and finally, after so much death and destruction, the right moment had come to fully experience what there had previously been no time to express.
"I don't want to let you go, Bridget... when will I see you again?" Archie asked, with a hint of concern. He couldn't go back to his usual life without her; that was completely out of the question for him. He needed Bridget's presence by his side, far more than the air he took in with every breath.
"I could invite you on the set of my next film in Berlin in a few days, how about it? Maybe you can be an extra," Bridget joked, and Archie knew he shouldn't be alarmed at all. Not even Bridget could stay away from him any longer, he was sure of that.
At that point, however, he needed to do something that would allow him to endure all that time without her. Something he had always wanted to do, both in his past life and in the one he was living again with Bridget.
"I want to kiss you so badly," Archie whispered, every word brimming with devotion and honesty. Desire burned in his veins like lava, and he truly hoped she would grant his wish.
"Why are you asking me for something you already know you can have from me?" were the only words Bridget managed to say before Archie's lips landed on hers, light as a feather.
It wasn't a passionate cinematic kiss, but a simple, new, delicate touch.
An oath between two souls who had recognized each other and who could now finally pick up from where they had abruptly left off.
The moment Archie's face separated from Bridget's—oh my God, she was truly breathtaking... he couldn't believe his sheer luck—, a firm knock on the suite's front door echoed in the silence that had enveloped everything around them.
"Shosanna and Fredrick just came back from the bar," Archie said before giving Bridget a final caress and settling back into the armchair across from her. He didn't have time to do much else but gaze at the woman of his life from a distance, his chest filled with sweet promises and future plans for them that now could be fully realized in a world without Nazis and without war.
The path that lay before Archie was finally free of loneliness, free of melancholy. Everything appeared to him as if transfigured in a new, luminous light... a light that came from Bridget's heart.
Then, Archie turned to look at Fredrick, who was setting up his camera again, and saw that he was absolutely shocked to his very core. His eyes were red from crying, and Shosanna's too—God only knew what had happened between them in July 1944 and what they'd faced in their past lives. They were both so young, and the war had been cruel to all of them, without distinction.
Then Bridget smiled at him from the couch, a glass of iced fruit juice in her slender fingers, and every other thought in Archie's mind was completely erased.
Everything faded away before her, and he had no choice but to obey the gravitational pull that wonderful woman was unleashing on him.
If giving her a simple peck on the lips had left him drunk on life, Archie had no idea what would become of him when they could both let go completely. The future finally seemed to Archie like a horizon full of possibilities to be seized, of moments to be spent together with Bridget.
He knew they had been given a second chance, a rarity that a higher power had offered him, and he wouldn't dare waste it for anything in the world.
Archie had found Bridget again, and they would experience everything that 1944 had brutally taken from them.
This time, everything would be fine, he was sure of it.
So, when he picked up the notebook with his questions again, the sentence that escaped his lips had a very special meaning, one that only he and Bridget could fully understand.
Because, in the end, only the two of them could ever fully understand each other in all the lives they would ever share.
"So, shall we begin?"