Notes: Listen to Travelin' Soldier by the Dixie Chicks (there's a good lyric video if you Google it) before and/or during your reading to complete the experience. Seriously. It just goes with it. Trust me. I'm a Doctor. I mean the writer. Haha. Warning, angst ahead. Kleenex suggested.

Lydia looked up as the little bell rang, signaling the arrival of another customer. She worked at a little café on Main in Beacon Hills, California. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told her that Stiles would be coming in but when her brown eyes moved to the door, they fell on a man dressed in Army Greens. A soldier than.

Standing up straight, she fixed the dark blue ribbon, tied in a little bow, that set off against her strawberry blond hair and went well with the dark blue of her skirt and white of her uniform top. She moved forward, as he took a seat at a booth, offering him a menu with a bright smile. He was very handsome and the uniform helped that.

He looked up at her and tried to smile in return but she could tell it was a little forced.

"Hey," he said and hesitated. She put a hand on her him and tilted her head. "Think you could sit down for a bit, ma'am?" He looked down at the menu and then up once more. "If you won't get into trouble."

She blinked and chewed at her lower lip, glancing over at the counter and then back at the boy-who couldn't have been more than eighteen years.

"I can't," she said apologetically. He nodded, resignedly. She didn't like to see him so distressed and so she rushed to finish. "I get off in an hour if you've got the time… we can go to the park. Until you have to leave…"

He looked up, blue eyes bright and the smile he gave her was genuine, full of hope if even a bit sad. She smiled back brightly before returning to work, making sure to return often to fill his cup.

When she got off, she didn't take the time she would have usually to talk with the cooks and Allison, another waitress and her best friend. Hanging up her apron and clocking out, she hurried to the front. She was almost afraid the other had to leave but there he was, sitting at the booth and staring out the window.

She reached him, a little breathless, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," she said, smiling. She withdrew her arm and stepped back. "Ready?"

She watched as he rose from the booth. He was a little taller than her but not that much. She couldn't help but notice that as short as he was, he was the perfect height for her. He smiled down at her and stood there, a little awkwardly but offered his arm to her belatedly, as if unsure if he should or not. She smiled softly and slid her arm through his, gripping onto it as he led her out the door and down the sidewalk.

They walked in companionable silence to the park which was less than a block away. When they got there, she led him to her favorite little place with a tree that grew with its trunk separated and growing in either direction to form a natural bench low to the ground. She let him lift her and set her on her seat before he took the one beside her.

"You leave today then?" she asked after a few moments of silence had passed. He nodded. He lifted his hat off his head and brought it down to his lap, playing with it.

"Yeah," he said after a few moments. "Hey, so. I know this is a little forward, but… I don't really have anyone and I don't like going into the Army… not without having someone to write to, you know?"

He looked up at her, his blue eyes searching as if needing some sort of assurance. She nodded, her brown eyes wide.

"D'you think I can write to you… I mean, I'm sure you have a boyfriend and everything, ma'am but I just don't want to feel completely alone out there."

She shook her head. "No, no. It's fine. That's perfectly okay…" She offered a brave smile but her heart hurt for him. The smile he gave her, his brightest yet, made it that much worse. She'd only spent ten minutes all together with this man and already she felt closer to him than she had to anyone she'd ever met in her life. A connection she doubted she could ever replace.

Watching as he took out a little notebook and pen, she took them as he handed them to her and wrote down her first and last name along with her address. Passing them back, she sucked in her lower lip as he looked down at them and smiled softly to himself.

"Lydia," he said, testing it out and she watched his mouth, forcing down the urge to kiss those lips before he left her completely. No. He would be back and then she could entertain the idea of going steady with him. He didn't need that on his mind. Not when he was going off to fight in the war. It was thoughts and hopes like that that would distract him. She needed her soldier in top form so he could do what he needed and return to her.

Time passed and they talked. She got to see more of his amazing smile and he seemed to do his best to bring out hers at every moment. She didn't mind at all. Then, all too soon for the both of them, the time came to say goodbye.

"Let me walk you to the bus," she said, just short of pleading. He smiled softly and reached out, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"No. If you came with me, I'm not sure I'd be able to leave," he said with a little laugh. She smiled to hear it and wished she had more time to hear him make the beautiful sound.

"You'll write me then? I gave you my address, after all." She put her hands on her hip and gave him a stern look. "Don't put it to waste. You write me."

He laughed again and nodded. "I will, Miss Lydia Martin."

"Promise?"

"I give you my word."

He leaned in and he was close enough that she could count the number of freckles that dusted his cheeks and made a spotted bridge across his nose. For a moment she was sure he'd kiss her and closed her eyes, waiting to feel his lips on hers but they never came. Instead, he kissed her cheek and pulled away.

Lydia opened her eyes to see him retreating back across the park and she started after him.

"Wait!"

He slowed and turned around.

She rushed to him and glared at him, but it was light and half-hearted.

"You never told me your name."

He smiled softly. "Jackson."

She made a face. "Does Jackson have a last name?"

He chuckled and she was glad to hear it just once more.

Until he returns to you, she reminded herself.

"Whittemore. Jackson Whittemore."

She smiled. "Okay, then, Jackson Whittemore," she said, forcing herself to be strong. She reached down at her waistband and tug out her handkerchief. "For you to return to me."

Jackson looked surprised. "Lydia… I can't-"

"You will return it, won't you, Mr. Whittemore? Promise me?"

He sighed and smiled, nodding.

"I'll return it to you," he said.

"Promise me."

"I, Jackson Whittemore, promise you, Lydia Martin, to return your handkerchief."

He smiled.

"There, happy now?"

She nodded, smiling but it was forced. She could feel the tears stinging at the back of her eyes but she held them back, knowing that if he saw them he might not be able to leave.

"You should go."

He nodded and turned but she reached out and pulled him back. Moving in, she didn't think and kissed him hard. He took her face and he kissed her back for a moment before she finally pulled away.

"Go, Jackson. Go."

He looked at her, hesitating, and kissed her once more before wrenching himself away and hurrying across the park.

"Write me!" she called to his retreating back. Only when he was well enough away that she wouldn't reach him if she ran after him, she let the tears she held back go.

x.x.x.x

Lydia rushed home after school everyday, looking to her mother and father for mail. Some days there would be some, more often there would not be. She tried to move on, live her life, but there were just some things that she could not do. When boys asked her on dates or to go steady with her, and they did often, she would only smile and shake her head. She couldn't. She had made a promise to herself.

She was for Jackson and Jackson was for her and anything else was just unacceptable. Her father often tried to match her up with the wealthy sons and her mother tried to talk her out of her infatuation with Jackson. After all, he was a nobody and a soldier and what would she do if he died? All this wasted time and wasted effort on matches that she just declined. She would snap at them. Jackson was hers and that was all there was to it. It didn't matter if they all thought she was too young to know what love was. If knowing that she was ready to give her heart over to her traveling soldier was being in love then yes, she was in love.

Allison seemed to be the only one who understood. She was as good a friend as a best friend could be and Lydia had seen how she and Scott acted. If there was ever a example of being in love it was Allison and Scott, even if their families weren't too fond of each other. Well, Allison's parents didn't approve of Scott for whatever reason. Perhaps Scott's parents being split up and Scott was raised by his mother. Scott's mother, Melissa, for her part absolutely adored Allison. But as much as Lydia adored Allison and knew well that Scott was perfect for her best friend, she couldn't help but feel envious of their relationship and that they got to be together.

One day she rushed home to find her mother waiting for her, holding out an envelope. She immediately recognized it as one of Jackson's and rushed up the steps to her room. She tossed her things on the ground and fell onto her bed as she opened the letter. Up until then their letters had been nuetral, neither mentioning their feelings or that kiss and she had been okay with that because he needed to focus on what he was doing. She noted that this one was from Vietnam. She didn't like that at all because that put him in the heavy fighting but he was writing her and that was good.

Her eyes took in every bit of the letter.

Dearest Lydia,

I have kept myself from bringing this up because I didn't want to give you any more cause for worry but I can't keep it back any longer.

I think I am in love with you. I remember that first day we met and how I felt and I think you felt it too and I tried to write it off. Just the emotions and leaving and need for contact but that feeling has never wavered and has grown in leaps and bounds since then with every letter I write and every letter back I receive.

I'm afraid because I don't want you to wait for me just because you feel sorry for me or wait for me and then something happens. But when it gets rough over here I think of you, and the day we met. You kissed me. Told me to promise that I'd return your handkerchief back to you. I still have it and I'll hold good on that promise, don't you worry. I close my eyes. Your pretty smile is everywhere and covers up all the nightmares. It's enough to get through another day.

I have to go. I won't be able to write for some time but don't worry, alright. I've got you with me everywhere I go.

Always yours,

Pvt. Jackson Whittemore

Lydia cried as she clutched the letter to her heart, closing her eyes as she sobbed softly into her pillow. She had never felt so torn in her feelings. Happy because he felt as she did but sad because he was so far from her and scared more than ever for his safety, especially since she would not hear from him again for awhile. She wouldn't know what was happening but she would have to keep him in her prayers and believe that God would return him to her and that her memories would keep him safe.

It was all she had.

x.x.x.x

Lydia laughed as Stiles went on about something silly. These days, Lydia put herself into Allison, Scott, and Stiles's group as much as she could. She needed it and they knew it, doing all they could to brighten her day and take her mind off of her love over seas. It was the most they could do with all the whispers of disgust about the boys in Vietnam. She wanted to snap out, shout, tear at them for saying such things but she couldn't. He parents would never forgive her and Jackson would not approve of it.

They were all at a Lacrosse game and Stiles and Scott were on the bench, Lydia and Allison on the first bench of bleachers for the spectators. The game hadn't started and it was as the principal headed onto the field, Lydia looked up. That never happened except when…

The band started up, the tune the same for the Army when a comrade had fallen.

"Let us take this time to bow our head for one of our own," the man said, his voice graven. The band played on. "Just one, thank God, but even one is one too many."

Lydia started to shake her head, the world around her becoming ice cold as she felt disconnected from herself. Allison took her hand but she hardly felt it as the man opened his mouth again.

"Let us take the moment to remember Jackson Whittemore and his service to his country and to all of us."

He fell silent and the band continued on as Lydia stared at the ground before her feet.

No.

It had to be wrong.

He was fine.

This couldn't happen.

He promised her.

She didn't cry. She didn't know why, but she couldn't. She didn't feel like it. She didn't feel anything. Her days went on. One by one and she lost track. She didn't know how she made it through but she kept on, not really seeing, or feeling. Just there.

She took off her bow. The one she'd been wearing when they met. He had mentioned that he liked it. It looked good against her hair. She folded it up and locked it up in a box with all his letters. She'd put it away and didn't touch it, going on to her half existence.

It was all she could do. If she didn't, she would break down and she didn't think she was strong enough to pick up all the pieces and put them back together again. She had told herself she would never love another.

And the one she loved was gone.

x.x.x.x

A month later, things had slowly gotten better. She was still not herself but she had allowed herself to get back into life, spending time with her friends. She'd even smiled, and though it was forced, it was better than nothing.

She had come home one day and arrived to her mother waiting on the porch.

"Lydia…" she began.

Lydia perked up. At first she expected a letter but deflated. She would never get another letter from Jackson. She'd resigned herself to that fact.

"What?" she snapped but quickly apologized.

"There's a man in here. He came to see you. Said he was a friend… of Jackson's."

Lydia froze. Her mother seemed to take this as a bad sign.

"We didn't know if you'd want to see him. We can tell him to leave-"

"No!"

Her mother looked shocked at the outburst but softened and nodded.

"He's in the living room," she said. "We'll give you your privacy."

Lydia nodded and swallowed hard.

She went inside the house and headed for the living room. She stopped at the doorway and looked in. The man standing near the sofa was tall and handsome. Dark hair, slightly spiked instead of brushed back like most of the soldiers. In fact, it was similar to Jackson's. Her heart squeezed and she gasped. The man looked up and straightened. His face was serious but slightly shy.

"Miss Martin," he asked with a voice as sharp as his face, but softened for her benefit.

She nodded curtly and entered, moving in. He seemed to be waiting for her to take a seat and so she did. He hesitated before taking a seat on the chair across from her.

"I was a friend of Jackson's. We were partners. He told me to bring you these if he didn't make it," he stood to pull something out of his pocket. Sitting back down, he passed them to her. She looked down at her hands to find her handkerchief there.

Tears suddenly took over her and as hard as she tried to choke them back, the continued to slide down her face. She squeezed the handkerchief only to find there was something folded inside. Opening it, she found a piece of paper folded there, her name written on the outside. A last letter. A goodbye.

She swallowed hard and looked up at the other soldier.

"Thank you, Mister…"

He blinked at her, obviously surprised he hadn't already introduced himself. He fumbled a bit and took off his hat. He put it down on his lap and reached his hand sharply across the distance.

"Hale, Miss Martin. Derek Hale," he said gruffly as she took his hand. They shook hands, both taking back their hands back as soon as good manners allowed.

"Thank you, Derek," she said softly. He nodded stiffly.

"One last thing."

He reached down on the floor beside him and lifted an oak wooden box complete with his ribbons and a United States American flag. The tears started anew as she took the box, sliding her hands over it.

"He had no one else to give that to and I figured that he would want you to have it. They said they wouldn't send a detail to give it to someone who was not married so I offered to take it."

Lydia looked up at him and nodded through her tears.

"Thank you. Thank you so much for this."

Derek nodded sharply, obviously upset as well but feeling out of his element. He stood reached down to grab his wallet, tugging out a card to hand to her.

On it in sharp, precise handwriting that she suspected to be his was his name and address.

"If you ever need me, Miss Martin."

She swallowed.

"Lydia. Please… Lydia."

He hesitated and then sighed resignedly.

"Lydia."

She offered a smile, and though it was sad, it was genuine.

He nodded at her and replaced his cap, lips twitching in what appeared to be the best smile he could form. Then he left.

She sat there, looking down at the stuff and she cried. She cried for a good while until she had no more tears to cry. She stared at the letter for a long time, finally deciding that she didn't need to read it. She knew it for what it was. A release. An okay to move on with her life. On with love.

A goodbye.

As simple as that.

She took the items up stairs to her room. She put the last letter in her box along with her handkerchief. She took the display box and put it on their mantle, her father and mother saying nothing.

In the days, then months, and years that followed, Lydia moved on with the help of her friends and the help of the surprising chance at a second love, Derek Hale.

Nothing, however, nothing could replace what she'd shared with Jackson Whittemore, even in that short amount of time.

The boy. The soldier.

Her soldier.

Notes: I apologize for any puffy faces and cry-induced headaches. I did warn you. Still, I had to write the story because I couldn't not. It was there. Started out as a Sterek but it just wasn't fitting. Jydia took over and this is what happened and no matter what the consensus is from my readership, this was the perfect story for me. I'm not regretful of any bit of this. Written for my best friend Yazi, as well as myself. I do hope you enjoy and would love to hear all your feedback. Thanks for reading! Love you all!

Disclaimer: Do not own Teen Wolf or any of the characters, places, or locations recognized from the show. Also do not own Travelin' Soldier by the Dixie Chicks. Borrowing both for a plot that is my own.