Special Orders Camp Pendleton, California
No 23817 December 1941
Mr. Nicholas Stokes:
By direction of the President under authority contained in Public Resolution No 96, 76th Congress, approved 27 August 1940, and with the concurrence of the commander general, you are ordered to active duty, effective 21 December 1941, for a minimum period of two (2) years, unless sooner relieved. On that date each private will proceed at 0800 hours, without delay, from the place indicated below to Camp Pendleton, San Diego, CA.
Greyhound Bus Depot
200 South Main Street
Las Vegas, NV
Each private will be relieved from duty at the place where he is then serving at such time as will enable him to arrive at his home on 24 December 1943, on which date he will revert to inactive status.
By command of major General Bishop and the United States of America.
***
Greg read the letter all the way through three times before he allowed himself to re-fold it and put it back in the envelope. Keeping his eyes focused on the envelope in his hand, he took ragged breath, his mind trying to process the information he had just read.
"Greg?" Nick's voice broke through the fog surrounding his brain. "What are you thinking?"
The worry in his voice drew Greg's gaze from the envelope to his boyfriend's face, and in that moment Greg realized that for as scared as he was to lose Nick, Nick was even more terrified to leave Greg and the comfort of home for a war on the other side of the world.
"I'll enlist with you," Greg decided, the crack in his voice betraying the confidence in his statement.
"No," Nick's voice was firm an adamant, punctuated by a warm hand that he placed on Greg's knee. "Don't do that."
"But Nick--"
"No." He was pleading now, his voice a step away from begging, brown eyes wide with shock. "Please stay at school. I don't want you involved in this unless you have to be."
"Okay, Nick," Greg promised, reaching for his lover. "Just… tell me you'll come home?"
"Come here," Nick slid his arms around Greg's torso, pulling the smaller man into his lap. "Greg," Nick whispered, wrapping his arms around his lover until they were touching from shoulder to knee, "I'll do everything I can to get back."
"I know," Greg wiped at his eyes.
Nick took his partner's uncharacteristic silence for what is was: anxiousness and uncertainty. Needing the connection and reassurance as much as Greg, Nick kissed him. A soft, gentle kiss that quickly escalated into a frantic need and hunger; the realization that they only had two days left weighing heavily on their minds.
***
22 December 1941
G,
It's only been a day and yet I miss you already. Basic is going well. I hurt in places I never knew existed, but I'm sure it'll get better. My bunkmate is named Warrick; he's from Las Vegas. We met on the bus ride down here. He seems like a nice guy, but he's definitely no you.
Can you make sure my Ma gets the letter I left for her? And tell her I love her.
Missing you,
Nicky
***
23 December 1941
Dearest Nicky,
It doesn't seem like Christmas without you here. The apartment is empty and quiet, even Max is sulking and wondering when you'll be home. There's no need to decorate this year, it seems, since I'm the only one. Mom wants me to go visit for the holidays, but I'm not really feeling up for a happy family holiday. I'll probably just stay on campus and work on my research, I suppose.
I'm glad to hear that you and Warrick are getting along so well. And that you were the best shot in your class. Be safe.
Only 23 more months and you'll be home with me, just in time for Thanksgiving. I can't wait to see you again, Nicky. I miss you.
Love always,
G.
***
24 January 1942
G,
We just received deployment orders. We will be shipping out tomorrow morning at 0600 hours. It finally seems real, G. I'm… scared. But please don't tell anyone. I love you.
Missing you,
Your Nicky
***
14 February 1942
Dear Nicky,
Happy Valentines Day, my love. I wish you were here to celebrate with me.
Things at home are still regular; it seems as if nothing has changed except your being gone. An interesting tidbit of news: William Patrick Hitler joined the U.S. Navy against his uncle. It's disgusting what that man will do to his own family, much less strangers and an entire ethnicity. In a similar vein, FDR has announced that all citizens of Japanese decent will be placed in internment camps until the end of the war. It is not the same thing, obviously, but it still seems unnecessary. However, I suppose it does make people feel safer, even if I do not support it.
I have been offered a research position at Stanford University in California for the next twelve months. I am going to take it. Perhaps it will give me the distraction I need from staring at your empty side of the bed. I was offered a small apartment on campus, and it allows pets so Max will go with me rather than staying with your parents.
Mom sends her love and best wishes. Be safe.
Still missing you,
G.
***
3 May 1942
Love,
We have been on the move again. It is still raining and I feel as if my feet have been wet for months. I can't wait to be home with you and be warm and dry. There was an explosion just up the road a few days back. Injured a couple of men in my unit, but we were told it was an accident not a direct attack. We're encamped with British troops currently. They talk oddly, more strangely than you do. Sometimes I try to pretend I'm just out camping with a bunch of men, Warrick seems like someone I would have spent time with at home, but then they speak and it reminds me that I'm a long way from home. I miss you very much, my love.
Happy Anniversary. I wish I could be there to spend it with you.
Nicky.
***
9 July 1942
Nicky,
My research position at the university is going well. I have run into some troubles with my experiments, but I'm sure I will work through them. I wish you were here to discuss them with, though. Max is doing well, getting bigger and bigger as time passes; he is really looking forward to your homecoming in only 16 months.
Benjamin and Natalie had the baby at the end of last week. They named him Ryan Nicholas, after you. He was almost 10 pounds, and is very cute. I visited them last night when they got home from the hospital. They both send their love and best wishes to you and your unit.
Stay safe my love,
G.
***
28 August 1942
Dear G,
They tell us that the deportation of the Jews is getting worse. From rumors, they say it has spread into Poland and Yugoslavia. Are these rumors true? I need to know that there is still a reason for us to be fighting this war. Most days it seems like we have no purpose serving here, that there is no reason for our presence. The war seems like it is being fought in the sky and in the water, but not on land. I feel insignificant.
Always,
Your Love.
***
5 October 1942
My Nicky,
The research internship has come to an early end. My presence is being requested at another lab. I cannot tell you where or what I will be working on, for security reasons if this letter falls into the wrong hands. For ease of communication, please send any further correspondence to my mother's house in Los Angeles. She will forward them to me in a monthly package.
I hope you like the package. You're always complaining to me about wet feet and damp paper, which I know is your way of asking me to send something to remedy that problem.
I love you,
G.
***
14 November 1942
Dearest G,
Thank you so much for the care package. The socks were much appreciated. That night I went to bed with warm feet for the first time in almost a year. The boys definitely appreciated the cigarettes and cookies, and I know I'll get a lot of use out of the waterproof bag and journal.
I've sent my filled journal to you for safe-keeping, as it gets more and more difficult to hold onto personal possessions. With the arrival of a new journal, I have no need for this one any longer. Do with it as you wish, but I ask that if you read it, please do not worry for me. Sometimes the minutes of the day I have to write are the only time I have to get out the frustration and trauma, and so the journal takes the brunt of my troubles. Remember, I am surviving, my love. Your letters are the beacon of light that will get me through this darkness.
Congratulations on your new position, and I pray that it will keep you State-side in these horrible times.
Love you always,
Nicky
***
24 December 1942
Nicky, love,
It's hard to believe another Christmas is here, and once again I am spending it without you. I have been working nearly around the clock, spending more nights at my desk in the last week than I have at home. For this reason I have taken Max to your parents' home until things calm down at work. I promise I will get him back soon, but for now this is best. I cannot give him the time and attention he needs right now. I'm sure your mother will mention it in her next letter.
You know how much I hate snow, but for once I'm wishing I was home for a white Christmas. It's sunny here, hot and dry, and I want nothing more than some snow or even rain. It just doesn't feel like Christmas, especially without you. One more year, my love, and you'll be home with me for next Christmas.
Merry Christmas, my love,
G.
***
17 January 1943
Dear G,
We've moved again. I believe we're currently somewhere in France, but I do not really know. There was a small village we passed the day before yesterday, but as they all speak French, it is impossible to know where I am. Which I suppose is a good thing, as we're not allowed to include our whereabouts in correspondences.
It is becoming more and more difficult to stay positive. Warrick tries, he tries to tell jokes and keep us all in good spirits, and usually it works, but more than anything I want to hear one of your terrible jokes or your laughter. All I want to hear is your voice saying my name, G, telling me that everything will be alright. I need you; I need you to hold me. As much as I begged you to stay State-side, I wish you were here with me right now. I just... need you to save me. To find me and take me home and let me know I'm alive.
This morning, I killed a man. I saw his eyes, G, they were filled with fear. He was nothing more than a child, maybe a year older than Matty. Yet I killed him. I've always been a pacifist, G. I got through a year of this war without killing a man, until now. I know it's a war and these things happen, but I feel guilty. I can't believe I really shot him. Am I okay? Will I be okay? Am I a murderer? Was it justified? Is it EVER justifiable to kill someone?
I don't know if I can do this anymore, G. I don't know if I'll make it until the end of this war. We lost five of our men in that scuffle. Four more were shot, including Warrick. He says he's fine, but he's stronger than I am. I don't think I'll get out of here in one piece.
I need you.
Your Nicky
***
19 March 1943
Greg clutched the letter in his thin fingers, his eyes burning as he fought the urge to rub them. He exhaled quickly between his teeth, fighting for control of his emotions, drawing the attention of his coworker at the next lab station.
"Everything alright, Gregory?" the man asked, his face marked by lines of curiosity.
"Yeah," Greg sighed, giving in to the need to wipe away his tears. "I just got a letter from my… brother. He's over in Europe right now."
"How long has he been over there?" Jonas asked. For six months Greg shared a workstation with the older man, and yet this was the first time they had really conversed.
"Fifteen months," he replied without hesitation. He had been counting down since the day Nick had left. If it didn't look too eager, he would've given the number of hours until his lover returned.
"He'll be home soon, then," his co-worker assured him. "And the sooner we solve this problem, the sooner we can get our boys back on American soil."
"Yeah," Greg responded noncommittally, tucking the letter away into his bag before he settled back down to work. "He'll be home soon."
Going back to the microscope, Greg once again set about recording his results, his hand frantically scribbling on a notepad in code.
***
29 April 1943
Greg,
Please don't worry about me. I know I gave you more information than I ever planned to in my last letter, and I blame myself for sending it anyway. I just needed someone to know. I needed you to know, to see my flaws. You've always been the only one to see me for everything I am, and I needed to know what I've done. You need to know who I am now. I'm sorry for the things I said in my last letter, I didn't really mean any of them.
Warrick's fiancé swore she would wait for him until he got back, but she ran off with an accountant in Vegas a few months ago. He got the letter announcing their marriage earlier in the day that I wrote that letter, and it really scared me. I needed to know that you still cared, that you didn't find someone else while I've been here. Greg, tell me that you're still waiting for me. Please, Greg. And if you're not, please tell me now and not after you find someone else.
I still love you,
Nicky
***
15 June 1943
Dearest Nick,
I am sorry for being so short with you in my last letter. Work is really beginning to take a toll on me. I've been working 18 hour days for the last six months, with hardly a day off. On my days off, I've gone to visit Max and check in on him. He's finally stopped growing, but I'm starting to think your mom is noticing something. I don't think she suspects the truth, but I wonder what she thinks is going on. It's obvious I'm not just taking care of your dog, but I can't just stop going to see him. I mean, he's my dog too.
I'm glad to hear that Warrick is nearly recovered from his gun shot wound. It seems as if he gets shot fairly often. He's up to… 6 wounds in 18 months, if I'm not mistaken? Thank you for being careful over there, Nicky. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you.
All my love,
G.
***
20 September 1943
Dear G,
Things have calmed down on the front for a few days. We've actually had time to sleep and write home, but I don't think it will last much longer. Everyone is getting restless, on our side as well as the Germans. I feel like there will be a lot of action coming our way in the next few weeks. Please don't worry too much.
I'll be home for Christmas, my love. Only 3 more months.
All my love,
G.
***
3 December 1943
"Did you hear the news, Nick?" Warrick dropped into the chair next to him, a piece of bread in hand.
"No, what news is that 'Rick?" Nick decided to play along with his friend's game. It usually led to some interesting tidbit of information.
"We're going to be stuck here for at least another year," he responded bluntly. "None of us are going home for Christmas."
"What?!" Nick exclaimed, sitting up straight. "What are you talking about?"
"Dude, this fight is just getting underway. They're not going to send us home until it's over," Warrick explained, the amusement in his eyes veiled by a straight face he put on just for Nick. Nick may never talk about his girl back home in specifics, but it was obvious he had someone and that alone made Warrick careful in expressing his feelings about the irony. Not everyone in the world was as cynical as he was, especially after Tina and run off on him, and he accepted and even liked that fact about Nick.
"No, no way. I need to get home for Christmas. I promised…" Nick's voice rose significantly as he spoke, the stress of realizing that he wouldn't be able to go home to Greg weighing heavily on his heart.
"Apparently not. Sorry Nick, I know how much you were looking forward to getting back to your girl," Warrick offered.
"Ain't got a girl," Nick sighed. "Just wanted to get home to my folks."
"Sure, sure, Nick," Warrick rolled his eyes as he always did when Nick denied having a girl. "Whatever you say."
***
25 December 1943
Spending another Christmas without you, Nicky. I even decorated this year and got Max back just in time for you to come home. Instead, all I have is a letter saying you'll be gone until further notice. I know it's not your fault, it's this war. And I wonder that if I work faster, if I could have solved this problem sooner, would I have been able to have you home for the holiday?
Be safe.
Until you return,
G.
***
29 February 1944
My unit is about to go off the radar. We will be out of communication for a while. Please don't worry. I will be in touch as soon as I possibly can.
I love you.
Nicky
***
17 July 1944
Nicky,
I don't know if you will get this. I don't know if you're even still alive. It's been five months since your last letter, and with everything that happened in France in the last two weeks I'm even more scared for you. A lot of men have been lost, Nick. Countless. Mostly un-identified. I don't know if you're one of them, and as much as I wish you aren't, I'm worried. Please, if by some miracle you're still alive and you receive this letter, please let me know you're still with me.
Love always,
G.
***
3 August 1944
G.,
I'm still with you; in my heart and in my soul. I'm trying to get home to you.
Your Nicky.
***
12 September 1944
Thank god for knowing you're still alive, Nick. I don't know what I would've done without you.
Work is busy, we're getting closer and closer to our goal. I finally solved some of the problems that have been plaguing the project and my own experiments for the last year, and so we are able to move forward.
Soon, Nick. Soon we will be done and you will be able to come home.
I miss you,
G.
***
14 November 1944
Things have turned around here, G. We're moving in quickly, and hopefully things will come to an end soon. I love you.
Your Nicky.
***
25 December 1944
Dearest Nicky,
This is the fourth Christmas we have spent apart, and I—
***
Greg lifted his hand from the page, startled to hear a knocking on the front door followed almost immediately by Max barking and running toward the front of the apartment.
"Who could be knocking at this hour?" Greg wondered aloud to himself, uncurling himself from the comforts of the couch and moving towards the door. "Hello?" Opening the door slowly, Greg froze in shock to see the man standing in the hallway.
"Greg," the man said softly, the word sounding as if it had floated in on a cloud.
"Nick," Greg finally breathed, his voice tight and filled with emotion. "Are you… is this… real?"
Nick reached out a hand to touch the side of Greg's face, his warm, calloused hand touching cool soft skin. "Does it feel real?"
"Yes," Greg hissed, his eyes falling shut at the contact. "Yes, it feels real."
"Greg," Nick repeated his name again and again. "Greg, Greg, Greg." He stepped forward across the threshold, drawing the smaller man into his embrace and kicking the door shut behind him. "Greg, say something."
"Oh Nicky," Greg fought down his tears, burying his face into his partner's chest. "I can't believe you're finally home."
Max's barking broke the spell and they looked down at the floor where he was back at them in expectation.
"Hey there, Max," Nick smiled down at the dog that had just been a puppy when he left. With Greg still pinned to his body, he reached down to scratch the dog behind the ears, his other hand stroking his lover's side.
"I can't believe you're really home," Greg whispered, his voice muffled against the thick material of Nick's fatigues.
"Believe it, love," Nick kissed the top of his head. "I'm home for good."
"Take me to bed?" the younger man begged, his eyes dark with lust and need for his partner after a three-year separation.
Nick dropped his head to kiss Greg properly. Their first kiss in three years was slow and lingering, tongues teasing and stroking. Checking that the door was locked behind them, Nick led his boyfriend through the familiar Las Vegas apartment, bumping walls as they went. Nick used the opportunity to pin the smaller man, stripping both of them of their clothing as they went so they were naked before reaching the bedroom, both relishing in the feeling of skin on skin.
"God, Nick," Greg moaned as they fell into bed together, Nick's warm weight pushing him down into the mattress.
"I've been waiting three years to hear you say my name again," Nick confided, kissing his way down his lover's body. "Been waiting to do this," he bit down on Greg's nipple, rolling the bud between his teeth and sucking lightly. "And this," he licked a trail from chest to navel, circling Greg's navel with his tongue before delving inside. "And this," he moved even lower, placing a kiss to the head of Greg's cock.
"Nicky," Greg groaned, drawing out the syllables of his name, "Please. Need you to fuck me."
***
Greg woke up with a start, his eyes rapidly adjusting to the dimly lit room. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Greg looked around the empty room, searching for something that wasn't there. The one thing, the person, who was never there.
"Nicky!" Greg cried out in anguish, burying his face into his lover's pillow that even after three years still smelled like him.
"Greg?" Nick asked from the doorway, walking towards the bed when he saw his lover tangled in the sheets and sobbing. "Greggo, I'm here." Nick crawled into the bed, wrapping his body around his lover's slight frame, "I'm here. I'm never going anywhere again."