Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

James Darmody didn’t much believe in anything anymore, but he had seen enough to know that he was in Hell. It had almost been three years, but he had seen enough suffering, enough agonizing death,enough of those fucking corpse rats to last a lifetime.

After he had seen several of the Jerry’s grenades land in the trench with him, he had thought it was all over. Now it was his turn to die.

When he came to in the same trench he had went down in, it took him a few moments to realize he was still alive. Many other infantrymen still lay where they fell, but some of his men had appeared to at least make it over the crest.

A few of his squadron surrounded him; and it was immediately clear to him that none of them had survived the blasts; the trenches blown out with enormous craters. Daugherty, Adams, Lockwood…all people he had come to know, his brothers-in-arms reduced to nothing but more than partial bodies in the mud. Lockwood had landed partially on top of him; the bottom half of his face reduced to a gaping, raw bloody mess.

Already he could see the rats, startled awake by the explosion and eager to feed on the fresh meat. He was no stranger; often seeing them scurry around and over his feet. He made to stand, but found he couldn’t; one of his legs buckling uselessly under him.He chanced himself a look at his leg, and immediately regretted it. It had been reduced to nothing but a mess of meat and bone; the mud around it stained an angry red.

He fought to sit upright; his hands slipping uselessly in the mud. He was forced to use the corpse to assist him in sitting upright; a task easier said than done.He nearly vomited when his elbows sunk into Lockwood’s stomach and quickly flipped the man over to get a firmer hold.

By the time he managed to get himself into a funk hole, rats had already gotten to one of the bodies; a particularly fat one latching gleefully onto Tillman’s cheek. His bayonet was gone, so he wrenched Adams's out of his limp hands. The rats hadn’t moved any closer, but he knew they were waiting for him to close his eyes, and that’s when they would strike.

He kept his eye on them as he reached into his pack for bandages. He found a small roll, and used that to do what he could.He was no medic, but he hoped that would last until he was found. He sat awake; unable to keep his eyes off of them.

Night gave way to day, but he still was not found. It didn’t matter. He had already made his peace.
He was in the light throes of delirium now; too afraid to close his eyes and see the ghosts of his comrades; their sunken eye sockets churning with maggots.
The sound of yelling close by jolted him back to life, though it wasn't in English.Germans, he thought. Reflexively, he gripped his rifle. If they were coming to kill him, then he was damned ready to take some with him. But they weren’t Germans.

Two men, carrying a stretcher had jumped into the trench; using the bodies as stepping stones to avoid sinking into the mud.

Spotting James, one of them shouted something again and they rushed towards him. He felt relief as he found two poilus peering down at him.
“American,” one of them said to the other in a heavily accented voice.
They lifted him onto the stretcher; and he tried not to scream as his broken bones rubbed against each other.

The French soldiers navigated single-minded through the trenches, seemingly blithe to the continued fighting around them. It took them a few hours to reach a casualty clearing station before the poilus dropped him off. By then, he had lost his sense of reality; drifting in and out of consciousness. He was barely aware of something (someone?) messing about with his leg. He lost his grip completely when they gave him morphine for the pain and then fell into the deepest sleep he'd had in a long time. His last memory was of being loaded onto a freight car.

Chapter Text

James came to on October 16th, approximately three days after surviving his leg surgery and five days from leaving the front.
Upon awakening, he found himself for the first time in a long time, to be in a real bed; blankets tugged snugly around him. The early morning light shone through the windows of the building; casting soft orange rays into the massive room.
Women dressed in blue gowns swayed between the aisles like spectres, tending to patients. It was very serene and quiet.The environment was eerie; at least in his opinion. He could hear himself think, and that was not a good thing. He tried to sit upright; his torso nearly burning with pain.
“Careful,” a woman's voice chimed, placing small hands on his back and arm to pull him upright. Startled, he turned to find the hands belonged to a VAD nurse, dressed in the customary blue gown and white apron.
She was a bright young thing with wisps of strawberry blonde hair that had escaped her nursing cap, and eyes an unusual hue between blue and gray. How long she had been there, he could not say.
She smiled politely when he turned to look at her.
“M’sieur Darmody, it is good to see you are awake,” she said with a thick accent he couldn’t immediately identify. "How are you feeling?”
He grunted, pulling the blankets away from his legs. His right leg was a mass of scars and shiny new skin. He tried to move his leg, but cried out loudly in pain when he found he couldn’t. She soothed him.
“That is to be expected,” she said as she pulled a bottle of medicine from her apron pocket. She pulled out a spoon and began to measure.
“What’d they do?” He asked, and she paused, clearly debating on whether she had the right to tell him.
“There was a lot of shrapnel in your leg. I am not completely sure, but it is possible you might need additional surgeries.” James said nothing and only nodded grimly at the news. She briefly pressed her lips together, clearly unsure if she should say something, before abruptly changing the subject.
“The doctor suggested you ought to take some pain medicine.”
“I won’t argue with sound advice like that,” he said and obediently took the medicine she offered him; wincing at the bitter taste.
Satisfied she picked up the clipboard she had set aside and flipped through a few pages until she presumably found the one with his information.
“The doctor has given you strict orders M’sieur and we will be here to make sure you will follow them.” She looked up at him expectantly. When he nodded, she continued.
“While you are not forbidden to move around, under no circumstances are you to use your injured leg. The doctor suggests these next few days you remain inside, but eventually, it will be good for you to take some time outside. You are to take pain medicine as needed, and follow your meal regiment."
“Yes ma’am.” At this she flushed; a light pink blush lighting up her cheeks.
“Miss Martel will do, M’sieur .” She then fluffed his pillows; angling them in such a way so that he was more comfortable, and tucked the blanket in around him.
James noted with some amusement that she had tucked him in better than his mother ever did.
“There we are…”
And with one last smile she was gone; skirts swishing behind her.

~. . .~

As it turned out, Miss Martel was right. As soon as it was possible, he was to be shipped back to America, to the Walter Reed Hospital in Washington.
He’d outlived his usefulness he thought bitterly, but said nothing.

Now, all he had to do was wait. He had parted with his chocolate bar days earlier in exchange for books. Two, to be exact. Moby Dick and a condensed form of the Odyssey.But as he was trapped inside a hospital in the middle of nowhere, there was precious little to do but read and he finished them in no time at all, forcing him to re-read them over and over.

It was on his fourth re-read of the classic when he saw Miss Martel. It was now late October and the days were slowly getting cooler. Though many had stayed inside, to Jimmy it was the perfect time to be outside, especially in the early morning. There were few people out, save for a few nurses and other wounded soldiers. Jimmy did his best to avoid them; he rarely felt up to the task of talking more than he had to.

Setting himself up in a deck chair took longer than he had wanted; he was still getting used to the crutches.
After what seemed an hour, he managedto rest in a comfortable position. He was a quarter of the way through his re-reading of the book when he saw Miss MArtel.
With the exception of the occasional redressing of his leg, he had seen hide nor hair ofher as she bustled round the hospital at all hours of the day. She appeared to be in deep thought, her hands clasped behind her back when she spotted him.
He couldn’t help but notice how she perked up when she did.
“Bonjour, M’sieur Darmody,” she greeted as she walked towards him, elongating the syllables in his name into 'dar-mo-dee'.
He found he liked the way she said it.
“Bon-jour,” he replied, wincing at his Americanized tone. Nonetheless, it coaxed a laugh out of her.
"Not too terrible,” she said with a smile before her gaze fell to the book in his hand.
“You are a fan of Melville?” she asked, nodding to the tome.
Jimmy shrugged. “Not much else to read around here."
“I have noticed,” she said sympathetically. “A shame, really.” her eyes lingered on the book for just a moment longer. Before Jimmy could say anything, she clapped her hands.
“Well, I suppose I shall leave you to it, M’sieur. Don’t stay out for too long, and don’t forget your stretches.” She bid him farewell, and then she was gone again, although this time her departure brought him a sense of dismay.

When the sun rose high later on in the day, James made his way back inside. There, on his bed was a new book. ‘War of the Worlds’ by H.G.Wells, the gold-embossed cover read. He opened the book, and on a tiny slip of paper was written, ‘take good care of me’. It was signed by a ‘Madelon Martel’ in perfect schoolgirl script.
Madelon.
Her name was Madelon.

And so began a tradition of sorts.Whenever she could, she would somehow manage to procure books for him. When she didn’t, she would try to teach him French. Try as he might, his French was atrocious and Madelon, sweet as she was, was not afraid to let him know, though not unkindly. He could only get a few words right, like cherie and belle (words he knew would make her blush).

She soon found herself seeking him out during her free moments; no longer speaking of plots but of more personal matters.

They spoke about their backgrounds and family; though she was more forthcoming about hers. She was Belgian, originally from Brussels. Her parents had died when she was young, leaving her older sister to raise her.Eventually, her sister married a rich businessman and they all moved to France.
“Paris?"
“No, Lyon.You Americans do know that Paris is not the only city in France,” she said playfully.
She had lied about her age to join the VADs, and her sister had been furious at first, but eventually she conceded. Madelon had always had her wrapped around her finger since day one, she said with a laugh.
James wasn’t so open with his family. He couldn’t, not with the fucked-up life he’d had. He told her about growing up in a seaside town, and some lighter memories but he didn’t go into much detail. Although they barely knew each other, he had the strange desire not to disappoint her. But she didn’t pry, and he was grateful. He told her to call him Jimmy after that, and he was given permission to call her by her first name.

Their first outing, if he could call it that, was spent walking the grounds; him adjusting his gait and her walking patiently beside him, her hands primly clasped together.
During the climb of a small hill his leg, still weak gave out on him but she easily caught him; deceptively strong despite her size.
He made a quip about falling for her.
It was a terrible joke and an even worse pickup line. Even so, her lips twitched before she finally gave in.
She threw her head back and laughed; hitting a beam of sunlight that that hit her face just right and made her eyes glow.
It was that moment when he fell in love with her.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Fare Thee Honey Blues

At 11:00 am, November 11th,1918 the Great War ended.
In cities and villages,civilians poured out of buildings and hit the streets; declaring victory.
Yet in the little hospital in the middle of nowhere, the celebration was much more subdued.A slight murmur built up when the news spread, but nothing more. Jimmy supposed he should feel something, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. The memories of his comrades, mouldering in the dirt or filling up the belly of a rat stopped him from rejoicing.
The feeling of victory felt empty in his stomach.
Some time after the news, Madelon visited him and sat at his bedside.
She sighed heavily in the wooden chair; seeming to deflate.
He found no words to say, so he offered her a smoke instead.
“If you please,” she sighed; her accent thicker with her exhaustion.He had used his last match, however.
She shrugged when he told her and leaned in; catching the embers of his cigarette.
It was the closest they had ever been. From here, he saw the dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and a faint scar at the corner of her forehead.
In a moment much too short, she pulled back, taking a long drag of the cigarette.

“The war is over.” She said, sweeping her stray strands away from her face.
Jimmy had never seen her so tired.
“What now?” He asked her. She took another puff; exhaling a curl of smoke through the side of her mouth.
“I am not quite completely sure. I have not been told much. I still have duties to finish here, but I think you shall be going back to America soon,” she said, and Jimmy raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Before the end of the year."
Jimmy snorted, exhaling through his nose. “I don’t expect much of a welcoming party.It’s just my Ma and me.”
“No one else waiting at home for you?” Madelon asked, and Jimmy gave her a crooked smile.
“Nah. Although I’m carrying a torch for a particular nurse here. You might know her.Pretty, speaks French?”
“Hmmmph. Such a clown you are.” He pulled a smile out of her, anyway.
She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small box, wrapped in plain paper and tied with a hair ribbon.
“Here, a little something for you.I wanted to give this to you for Christmas but…” she lifted a shoulder as she handed it to him. Before could open it, she was called away. She sighed, rising and stubbing out her cigarette.

“D'accord,” she grumbled. “I’ll visit as soon as I am able, cher.” She pressed her lips to his cheek and with a swish of her skirts she was gone.
When he opened the box, he found a pair of silver cufflinks with a light blue enamel centre that almost matched the colour of his eyes.

He used his charm to enlist the other nurses' help in finding Madelon. Sweet for a love story, they were all too happy to assist him. He didn’t see Madelon for the better par t of a week. He finally saw her again on a Friday. She looked as though she had ran; her chest was heaving as she all but scrambled to his bedside. “Is everything alright? The others told me it was urgent and I should see you as soon as possible.” He shifted to the edge of his bed as he made to get up.

“Yeah, you wanna go for a walk?” her face dropped and she couldn’t stop herself from smacking his arm.
“I thought it was an emergency,” she huffed, placing her hands on her hips. When he offered nothing in response save a smile she huffed again and helped him with his crutches. He was getting a better hang of them; but he neglected to tell her; if only to steal a moment of closeness from her.

She led him outside, to her favourite spot. An old willow tree; its trunk swollen and gnarled with age but with decent cover and privacy. When they were both seated, she pulled yet another package from her pocket. Somehow, she’d gotten her hands on a chocolate bar. She wouldn’t say how and he didn’t ask.His little smuggler, he called her and she blushed. She split the bar in half and they each took a piece.

He told her he wanted to ask her something, but she had to promise not to cry. Mustering up the nerve, he asked her to marry him beneath the large willow.
Her response, to say the least was enthusiastic.
To her credit, she only cried a little.

They married in early December in the hospital chapel, days before he was scheduled to ship out. It was a small wedding; with a few of her friends at the hospital. They exchanged simple bands, the best they could find at the time, but neither of them were concerned.
His leg ached something awful but he refused to use a cane, especially during the wedding pictures. He tried not to think about it too much.
All he could think about was being able to finally kiss those pretty lips of hers.

The day of his departure, he made promises to her. He swore to have a home for her; one where she could always see the sea. He promised her she wouldn’t want for anything. They were grand promises, but he was determined to keep them. Madelon said nothing to his declarations, only kissed him sweetly and told him she’d be happy even if they lived in a one room flat.

She blew kisses and waved until the train disappeared in the horizon.

She wouldn't see him again for another two years.

Chapter Text

Come back to Atlantic City with me.
It’ll be just like old times.
-Nucky

Jimmy’s only welcome when he returned from his exile in Chicago was a cool March morning. But after spending a winter in Chicago, he felt practically invincible. Nonetheless, he pulled on his leather gloves and lit a cigarette before hailing a cab.The city looked the same as it did when he left, but he knew things had changed. Most likely, he suspected a few more of Nucky’s old associates were in the dirt.

It’ll be just like old times.

Nucky’s words rattled about in his head as he made his way towards the Ritz, and then Nucky’s office. Eddie let him in with little fanfare.The man himself had yet to arrive home, so Jimmy made himself at home instead; helping himself to a cup of gourmet coffee.

When Nucky did appear, closely flanked by his lackey Halloran, Jimmy’s appearance almost startled him. Nucky had barely spared him a glance in Chicago, but he had no choice to look at him now.
He stood straight in a sharp blue suit, no longer the immature boy that used to eagerly trail at his heels for a scrap of Nucky’s riches.
Jimmy was a little bit older now, wiser and with more blood on his hands. He'd gotten a taste of the good life and he’d most certainly do anything for more.
This was a man he needed to be careful around.
“So, you’re here. I’m assuming you’ve accepted my offer?” Nucky asked, as he took a seat at his desk.
“With conditions,” Jimmy added, and continued when Nucky furrowed his brows in question.
“My friend Richard Harrow. You met him in Chicago.”
“The Man in the Iron Mask,” Nucky confirmed as he poured a cup of coffee.
“He’s a war hero, I’d like him to join me.”
Nucky paused; taking a stop of his coffee. “What’s under there?” He asked, referring to the mask he had seen the man with.
“He’s missing his cheekbone, his jaw…” Jimmy said, as he gestured to the left side of his face. “Basically the whole left side of his face is gone.”
“And he’s still alive?” Halloran interjected in shock, but Jimmy only glared at him in annoyance.
“Medicine, huh?” he chuckled to Nucky.
Nucky spared him a passing glance before returning his attention to Jimmy.
“Lotta fellas still alive that probably shouldn’t be,” he said dismissively.
“Well I know a few myself..."
Nucky agreed to his conditions before he got down to business and gave Jimmy his first assignment: kill the D'Alessio brothers. Nucky refused to give him a direct order; dancing around the word ‘kill’.
Jimmy wasn’t stupid; he knew that if things went belly up, nothing could be traced back to him. Always the politician.
“You should probably visit your mother,” Nucky suggested as he made to leave.
Jimmy shook his head.
"I got some things I need to take care of first."
He caught Nucky’s raised brows, but he didn’t stay for him to ask more questions. He had a promise to keep and a home to build.

~. . .~

It was April 1920 when Madelon Darmody finally stepped onto American soil.

She had been staying at with her sister Lydie after the war had ended as she waited for Jimmy.
If she was nervous after November 1919 passed, she was absolutely anxious when the new year began and still he had not sent for her. The wicked voices in her head fed her doubt. Maybe he had forgotten about her? Found a prettier girl to settle down with?
Despite her sister’s reassurances that it certainly was not the case, those terrible scenarios always existed in the back of her mind. Cooped up in the apartment on the banks on the Rhone, she spent most of her days by the window; ignoring the concerned looks of her sister and brother-in-law.

She was awakened one spring morning by her sister’s excited shaking. Before she could sit up, a rather large box was dropped unceremoniously onto her lap.
There was a note attached to the box.
Time to come home the note said, lovingly signed with ' your JED'.
Jimmy.
During their time apart they had been sending letters back and forth (she had tucked some of the raunchier ones among her underthings when the lonely nights struck her particularly hard), keeping the other updated on their lives. But nothing so large as a package.
At her sister's urging (and perhaps a little nosiness on her sister's side) she opened the package.
Inside was a brand new dress and a first-class liner ticket destined for Atlantic City. The price of it alone nearly made Lydie faint, she later recalled.

Now, after seven days onboard a cruise liner, her heart raced as the ship moved closer to the dock.
Today was the day.
She wore the dress Jimmy had gotten her;though it was barely visible beneath her wool coat. She supposed it would take her some time to get used to a colder April; then smiled as she realised she would have the rest of her life to do so.

Once the ship had finally docked, Madelon grabbed her suitcase and departed. The amount of people crowding around for other passengers was almost overwhelming. She weaved her way through in what she hoped was the right direction. If she wasn't careful, she mused she might find herself in the freezing Atlantic. Her eyes scanned passing faces; hoping to find Jimmy. Above the din of the crowd; she paused when she thought she heard her name. She heard it again, more clearly this time and realised that yes, someone was definitely calling her. She pushed her way through the crowd then, decidedly less polite than she had been towards the voice.

And then she saw him.

He towered over the crowd even without a hat; his blonde hair shining almost gold in the morning sun. Jimmy’s sweet babyface looks had sharpened; his cheekbones were sharper and his jaw was more defined.He was dressed in a blue check suit nearly the same shade as her dress; a wool overcoat draped over his arm.

When their eyes finally met he smiled and she found he never quite lost his crooked boyish grin. She all but rushed him, dropping her suitcase with little care and threw her arms around him, still minding his leg. He braced himself with his good leg and couldn't help but laugh as she peppered him with kisses. Neither particularly cared about the spectacle they made as some heads turned to watch the sweet reunion.

“Cherry,” he said and she simply stared at him, realising he meant cherie and then it was her turn to laugh.
“Your french needs work," she responded and he chuckled, bringing his arms around her.
“I missed you too, doll.” He said, and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“C’mon, let’s blouse.” Moments later Jimmy pulled away from the curb and into the dense metropolis.

“Is this Atlantic City?” she asked, her eyes darting about.
He shakes his head. “We’re in Newark. Same state but it’ll take a couple hours to reach it.” He gave her a smirk.
“You’ll know it when you see it."

Though she had seen glimpses from Jimmy's postcards, she isn’t quite prepared when she sees Atlantic City with her own eyes. Unlike home, with its old densely packed buildings, everything here is so…new. Buildings stretched high in the air; their multi-hued bricks shining bright and clean. It’s all so very vibrant she half wondered how the people managed being surrounded by such bright colours all the time.

The car stops in front of a massive white building that seemed to gleam in the sun. ‘Hotel Dennis,’ the building proclaimed proudly in bold lettering.It was a colossal structure; its ornate roof line reminded her of the old manors she had seen in France.
“We live here?”Madelon asked, and the awe was hard to hide in her voice.
“I figured you’d like it."
Jimmy led her in; her head constantly twisting to take in all of the details. The soaring ceilings, the marble floors... she couldn't help but admire the symmetry of it all, even down to an equal number of bellhops waiting on each side!
"Ease up on the lollygaggin', doll," he teased as he approached the desk. "You look like a tourist."
She watched as Jimmy was greeted personally by the concierge, and a porter took her bag.
“Thank you,” she said, and received a tip of his hat in return.

In no time at all they were led to their suite; all the way at the end of the hall. Jimmy fished out keys from his pocket and opened the door,
“Here we are, home sweet home."
She squeaked as he suddenly swept her up in his arms, walking through the threshold of the suite.
“Watch your leg!” she warned. Jimmy sighed good-naturedly.
“This is what I get for marrying a nurse,huh?"
She smacked his shoulder in response and scowled.
“Hey, you should be a lot more nicer to the man carrying you,” he said with a devious grin.
“Wouldn’t want to drop you."
“James Edison Darmody, don’t you dare,” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck. He laughed, and placed her back down on her feet. As soon as her feet were back in contact with the ground she was all to happy to explore; abandoning her shoes and other possessions at the door as she ran about the suite. Jimmy watched in amusement as she flitted from place to place, making himself comfortable on a sofa and occasionally snickering when he heard Madelon's excitement. When she had satisfied herself, she returned to Jimmy.
"I'm going to freshen up," she told him. "Don't you go anywhere." She waggled her finger at him playfully.
"Don't plan on it Maddie," he replied, lighting up a cigarette. She paused; before smiling to herself at the nickname he had given her and made her way to the shower.She paused at the doorway; turning back to Jimmy.
“Would you care to join me, mari?”
“I…” he swallowed hard. If he were a weaker man…
“No, doll. You go on ahead." Lord help him.
“Hm…perhaps next time,” she said before slipping into the bathroom.
He couldn’t help but smile as she exclaimed again at the gorgeous marble sink.

After a while Madelon had emerged, looking fresh and carefree. Dressed in little else but a robe; she fetched her suitcase (ignoring Jimmy's protests) and began to put away her clothes in the bedroom. Pausing to admire the view, she figured she had plenty of time to do so and began to unpack. She didn't have much; preferring to live simply.
"That's it?" Jimmy asked in surprise. Her wardrobe barely took up a quarter of the space. Hell, he probably had more suits than she had dresses.
"Yes...is that an issue?" Madelon's brow was furrowed, and he inwardly cursed himself as he realised he had offended her.

"I didn't mean nothing by it, it's just..." he sighed and stopped himself before he could say more. “You’ll need more than that to live around here, Maddie.” Before she could respond he was digging in his pocket again. This time he pulled out a roll of what she realised was money.
"Jimmy..." she began. He peeled away a few bills and handed them to her.
“This should be enough to start you off, right?” She stared in bewilderment. He’d just given her four hundred dollar bills. Jimmy noticed she wass tearing up before she even did.
“Aw doll, don’t cry.”
“I’m not!” she says stubbornly, searching for a handkerchief. Remembering she wasn't carrying her pocketbook, as well as not being dressed, she dabbed at her eyes with the bills instead.
“Maddie-” Jimmy started, failing to suppress his snickers.
“Shush Darmody,” she grumbled. “It’s just…Jimmy, that’s a lot of money. I’ve never even...” At that Jimmy’s eyes softened.
“I meant it when I said you won’t want for anything."
When she tried to protest further, Jimmy sighed, plucking her pocketbook from the chair and tucking the money in neatly.
"Can't a man spoil his wife?" He asked.
"I...suppose," she mumbled, suddenly bashful. He was struck by a sudden wave of affection and soundly kissed her.
"You've just got me wrapped around your finger, Madelon Darmody." He murmured in her ear, before gently nudging her back to her wardrobe.
"Now go get ready. Time to introduce the Darmodys to Atlantic City."