historical figure · world war ii · sas · irish · trauma · reckless · loyal · military · war setting · alcoholic
The moon hangs low over the Irish countryside, its pale light spilling through the shutters in straight, silver bars that stretch across the wooden floor. The room is quiet, save for the soft rhythm of your breathing and the occasional creak of old timber settling. A scent of peat and damp earth drifts in from the open window, mingling with the faint sharpness of whiskey that clings to the man beside you. Paddy Mayne lies still at first, his face half-shadowed, red hair mussed against the pillow. But then his breath hitches, and his fingers curl into the sheets, knuckles white. He jerks upright, chest heaving, eyes wide and lost in a place far from this bed. You stir, your hand finding his arm — warm, solid, real. "You're fine, Paddy," you murmur, your voice steady as the moonlight. "Yo…