#ft many of your fave flyboys!

[thatsrightice]

Hi, please have this thing I wrote on February 23rd, SIXTEEN DAYS before Part 8 came out where we saw Crosby neglecting his own wellbeing.

how do I know I’m still not hallucinating?

words: ~2k

main themes: entirely self-indulgent, Croz doesn’t take care of himself, POWs are back in Thorpe Abbotts, Croz & Bubbles, Croz & Rosie, basically implied Croz & everyone, the very definition of hurt/comfort

summary:

Harry Crosby becomes so sleep-deprived from constantly overworking himself that he hallucinates seeing friends who have gone down. He startles the first couple of times because they look exactly the same, as though not a day has gone by since he last saw them. He quickly recognizes them for what they are, soft smiles reminding him to get some sleep. Amidst a particularly stressful couple of weeks organizing missions to shuttle POWs out of Germany, the hallucinations become more frequent and he's not sure how much longer he can take it.

Harry Crosby becomes so sleep-deprived from constantly overworking himself that he begins to hallucinate seeing friends who have gone down. He startles the first couple of times because they look exactly the same, as though not a day has gone by since he last saw them. He quickly recognizes them for what they are, soft smiles reminding him to get some sleep.

He looks up from the map in Group Ops and Bubbles is leaning against the table listening intently, nodding and smiling in encouragement like always. He could have sworn that it was the Bucks who nearly ran him over with a jeep. One time an entire group of them were in the Flying Mess, laughing and pounding on the table as Curtis spun another one of his tales. He stops and listens for a moment before promptly turning around and heading straight for his bunk, all with a smile on his face.

He finds comfort in their presence, a hopefulness that they’ve found the path to Valhalla. He can’t help longing to join them but knows that his work isn’t done here yet.

And so he pushed on.

It’d been a long week for Crosby. Even after they’d shifted away from bombing runs towards supply drops and shuttling POWs, there was still plenty of work to be done and little sleep to be had. That’s why he’s not surprised when he passes Bucky standing with an arm around Buck’s shoulder. Crosby does nothing more than give a polite smile and a tired nod; he was already on his way to bed.

Of course, suddenly those two, along with some others, just keep showing up around base no matter how much sleep he gets. They all look a little worse for wear but Crosby decides it must be some sort of projection of how he feels. They try to talk to him but he can’t respond. To get diagnosed with Combat Fatigue and sent home after he’s been so unbelievably careful about not letting anyone find out about the hallucinations for so long would be a disgrace.

It all comes to a head after he’d been awake for far too long even by his standards. He discovers his chance and slips out of Group Ops for a brief moment of reprieve. He jumps into the front seat of his jeep taking off down the road. He drives to the Flying Mess without even really thinking about it and takes a seat at an empty table with nothing but a coffee in hand. He tells himself that coffee here tastes better than whatever shit they serve at Group Ops.

“What? The food here not good enough for you anymore, Croz?” Bucky grinned, taking a seat at the table across from him with Buck at his side. Crosby said nothing, eyes cast down as he stared into his cup. The table began to fill with more old faces among the likes of Brady, Hoerr, and Hambone. Murphy and DeMarco, too.

“Bingo’s too good for us now that he’s runnin’ with the high mucky-mucks,” Ham teased.

“Croz!” Bubbles greeted cheerfully, taking a seat on his left side. Though he finds himself surrounded, it’s like there’s a buffer between them, no one coming close enough to touch let alone brush against him.

“Hey Bubbles,” Crosby mumbled softly into his cup as he took a sip to avoid looking at the man.

“So he speaks,” Buck drawled, raising an eyebrow and smirking at him with that all-knowing look of his.

“You know, Croz,” Bucky began, pointing at him with his fork.”In the Stalag they got us eating nothing but spuds and slop.”

Crosby recognized it as a reminder to eat, but he wasn’t too sure he could stomach anything solid. He used to find comfort in their presence, but as of late, it felt as though his chronically optimistic demeanor was turning against him.

He set down the cup and bowed his head, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes in an attempt to quell the building emotions. The table goes quiet.

“Croz? Are you-“

“Major Crosby will report to Group Ops,” the Tannoy called, echoing over all corners of the base. It was like a switch had been flipped and he was immediately running on autopilot.

He downed the rest of his coffee and quickly strolled through the mess to his jeep. He remembered walking into Group Ops and holding a conversation with one of his assistants, but everything faded to black as he walked up the handful of steps to his office.

Bubbles is sitting at his bedside when he wakes up, staring down at his hands. He let out a shaky exhale and focused his eyes up at the ceiling.

Bubbles’ head shot up.

“What the hell happened, Croz?” he scolded. “You’re dehydrated, malnourished, sleep deprived–”

Crosby doesn’t have the energy to fight it anymore and allows himself to look at Bubbles, to truly look at Bubbles for the first time since the hallucinations had begun. He examined Bubbles’ face closely. He looks over every wrinkle in his brow and every freckle on his cheeks.

“God, I miss you,” Crosby rasped. Bubbles’ face fell.

“I’m right here, Croz,” Bubbles reassured. And now that Crosby could see his face in full view, vision no longer blurred and the room no longer spinning, the other man looked as awful as Crosby felt.

“It’s not fair,” he babbled, staring up at the ceiling and blinking away his tears. “It should have been you here and not me.”

“Don’t say that,” Bubbles chastised.

Crosby swallowed a sob. “I can’t do this, Bubbs,” his voice cracked.

“Hey, it’s almost over,” Bubbles soothed, scooting his chair forward. “We’re so close, Harry. We just gotta stick it out a little bit longer.”

Crosby shook his head, tears falling down his face. “I'm sorry, I just- I can’t do this anymore, Joey.”

“I am so incredibly proud of you, Binger, and don’t you dare think otherwise. You are the smartest, most selfless person I know. You give and you give until there is nothing left,” Bubbles spoke firmly. “But you're not in this alone, alright? There are so many people outside right now who care about you and are worried sick; Blake and Doug and Rosie. The Bucks, Ham, Brady, Murph, and DeMarco. We’re all here for you,” Bubbles grabbed his hand.

Crosby couldn’t help but jerk out of his grasp, staring in fear at his best friend.

“Harry? What’s wrong?”

“You touched me.”

“Do you not want me to?” Bubbles questioned, concern and worry replacing his confusion.

“You’ve never been able to touch me before,” Cdosby fiddled with the edge of the blanket.

“Course I have,” Bubbles smiled softly, moving to sit on the edge of the hospital cot.

Crosby reached out and hesitantly placed a hand on the other man’s cheek. When his fingers made contact he couldn’t help but throw himself at Bubbles. “I thought you were gone,” he cried. His arms were wound tightly around Bubbles’ neck, the other navigator’s arms circling his waist. “I thought I was hallucinating. How do I know I’m still not hallucinating?”

Bubbles was too shocked to speak and Crosby took that as his queue. He spilled everything and Bubbles listened, rubbing the man’s back gently as they embraced. He hid his face in Bubbles’ neck, crying and apologizing profusely for ignoring them all. Bubbles whispered reassurances while he wept, murmuring promises that no one was angry with him. Bubbles was equally mortified that none of them had done anything to step in. They watched from afar as the navigator worked himself to the bone. They kind of picked up on the fact that he was ignoring them, but they were too afraid of interrupting his extremely busy schedule. Bubbles began to tear up as he replayed every interaction he’d had with Crosby over the last couple of weeks. He couldn’t help but blame himself for not doing anything sooner.

Bubbles pulled away, thinking carefully as Crosby’s words sank in. He separated from the man and came around to the other side of the bed. He put Crosby’s arm around his shoulder and helped the man stand up. He led him to the window.

“Do they look like hallucinations?” He questioned, gesturing out the window at the grounds out front.

A group of men occupied the space in front of the hospital. Douglass stood close to the front door of the hospital deep in conversation with Blakely. Blakely took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair before securing it back on his head. Buck stood with his hands on his hips, looking out across the base. Murph was sitting on the ground leaning against the tree beside Hambone. DeMarco and Bucky stood a little off to the side throwing a ball back and forth with Meatball darting between them.

“Blake and Dougie don’t,” Crosby answered, seemingly avoiding the subject. Bubbles sighed, resting his head against Crosby’s as he became lost in thought.

Crosby glanced down at Bubbles’ watch and nearly jumped out of his skin. “Bubbles, I need to go. I’m flying with Rosie today,” he quickly pulled away from his friend and stumbled towards the bed.

“Croz, no!”

Crosby and Bubbles grappled, Crosby fighting with all of his remaining energy as he tried to escape Bubbles’ hold. A jeep screeched into the grass off to the side and Bubbles was incredibly thankful for the pilot’s timing.

“Croz! Harry, look!” Bubbles grabbed Crosby’s head and forced him to look out the window. “He’s right there.”

“Rosie?” Croz murmured questioningly. His struggles slowed as he watched the pilot hop out of the jeep and make a beeline for Douglass and Blakely, faces pinched.

“Blake rang ‘im up a bit ago, said this would probably happen.” Bubbles explained. “You want me to bring him in? You have to sit down, though.” Crosby scrunched his nose, face flushing slightly out of embarrassment. The navigator nodded, allowing himself to be helped back to the edge of the cot.

He watched Bubbles exit the infirmary, craning his neck to look out the window. Much to his relief, he watched Bubbles jog out the front door towards Rosie, Blake, and Doug. Bubbles put an arm on Rosie’s shoulder as he talked, the others making their way over. Rosie nodded and immediately turned to go towards the front door, but Bubbles remained outside talking to the others. As Bubbles continued to speak to the rest of the flyboys, Crosby could tell exactly when he broke to them why he’d been so distant. Before Bubbles even finished, Hambone broke off from the group and stalked back towards the tree, shaking his head. DeMarco crouched down, busying himself by burying his hands into Meatball’s fur. Bucky’s face twisted into a frown, eyebrows drawn tight together and looking ready to argue. Buck put a hand on his shoulder, still listening intently but not looking any more pleased than the others.

Crosby slid down in the bed onto his back, the shame of everything starting to overwhelm him again. He brought his arms and covered his eyes with the back of his hands. The door swung open, followed by soft, but quick footsteps. The bed dipped and a hand carded through his hair. He dropped his hands down to his stomach and peered up at the pilot with lidded eyes. Rosie smiled and Crosby could only blink heavily.

“Go to sleep, Croz,” Rosie murmured. “Everyone’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Everyone?” Crosby mumbled. He glanced up towards the window, but all he could see was the blue of the sky.

“Everyone,” he reassured. His voice was firm and all-encompassing, leaving no need for any follow-up questions. Yet, Crosby still needed to ask one more.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

#not my best work but I needed it out of my system #this is entirely self indulgent #sorry it’s just not as thorough or well thought out like it’s very cheesey #but I didn’t want this to just keep sitting in my WIP folder #let me know if I should post it on ao3 idk if I will because it’s not very good #masters of the air #mota #harry crosby #Harry Crosby needs a hug #Harry Crosby needs help #Croz and Bubbles #Croz and Rosie #Croz and Everyone #ft many of your fave flyboys! #fanfic #Olie can see the future #I SWEAR I WROTE THIS BEFORE PART 8 #BUT I WAS WORRIED EVERYONE WOULD THINK I WAS LYING #mota musings