[identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] section7mfu

half-drabbles inspired by lines from a single poem

Prompted by: On The Death Of Anne Bronte ~Charlotte Bronte





  Calmly to watch the failing breath,


He sat beside her, holding her hand, as that was all he could do at this point. She’d been caught in the crossfire, and took a bullet...a fatal wound.


Illya refused to believe that, leaving Napoleon there with the girl, while he was off seeking help.


It was too late.

.


Although I knew that we had lost


We had won the battle, Napoleon thought , but at what cost? Was her life  worth completing this mission? The greater good, he told himself, but it failed to ease his pain


Illya handled it better, bless his cold little Russian heart, at least he seemed to.


 Was he hurting as well?



 Must bear alone the weary strife.

 They said nothing as the cleanup team arrived and the girl’s body was put in a
 bag and loaded onto the gurney.  

 Illya handed them her purse.

Wait,” Napoleon said, taking it, and  searching inside. “Her name was Anne, we     need to remember that Illya. She was a real person...”

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Section VII Propaganda and Public Relations

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