time is dreaming --
When Trevor couldn't sleep, more importantly, couldn't dream, and all he had was timetimetime (war was all about timing. Good timing meant you're still alive for just one more day. Bad timing means he settled for the second best thing.) He lounged back in his cot with pictures, because with pictures he may not dream, but he could remember.
Making sandcastles on the beach with the boys…fishing at the pier…fireworks over the beach at night, Roxy resting her head on his chest, the boys sprawled out half asleep next to them.
"Trevor," She had whispered over the din of fireworks. "I love you."
…"Are you asking me to marry you Trevor?"
"Yes."
"Then ask me."
"Roxy, will you marry me?"
"Yes." The hazel eyes that lit up so bright, with flecks of gold and green. (had he told her how pretty her eyes were? It didn't matter, he'd tell her in that letter, there was always a letter.)
…flying kites on that summer morning…
"Terrorists are trying to blow us up, and we're flying kites. I bet it would really piss them off."
(You have no idea, Rox)
…"Please don't go." (I have to/don't want to/I'll miss you.) Did they realize that his life didn't really begin until he found them…"You know why I have to."…A hug, and good bye. He couldn't look back, but he did; as much as it hurt, because it reminded him he had to come back.
For this.
For his kids. For his wife. Without them he didn't know how he'd make it through this sometimes.
"That your girl?"
Trevor looked up at the soldier who had set down on the cot next to him. Mitchell. Private, First Class.
They'd seen one another in passing, but he didn't know the guy. He knew he was from New York, and this was his first tour also.
"She's a pretty little thing, LeBlanc." He extended his hand. "Henry."
Trevor shook it. "Trevor. "
Henry pulled out a picture of his own, and showed it to Trevor. "That's my girl. Michelle"
She was attractive enough, a pretty red head with bright green eyes.
"She's pretty." Trevor said politely.
"Yeah," Henry smiled, "She is. Yours is awfully pretty too."
"Roxy." Trevor sighed as he looked down at the picture. "My wife."
"My girl and I are getting hitched when my tour's over." Henry nodded his head thoughtfully, "Gotta wonder if she knows what she's getting herself into."
"Don't we all?" Trevor said, feeling like he was thinking aloud. He pulled out a second picture, one of the four of them, and passed it over to him. "My kids," he explained, "The blonde, Toby-Jack, he's starting the third grade, Finn's the baby, he's six."
Henry handed the picture back. "Nice looking family you got yourself there. The little one takes after dad, huh?
"Excuse me?"
"Looks just like you." Henry elaborated.
Trevor smiled, blood wasn't everything, god, did he ever love those kids. "They're good kids. I'm just looking forward to getting back and seeing them. First thing I'm gonna do when I get home is kiss their mama, and hug them...tell them just how much I love 'em."
"Can't make it easy." Henry said. "I can't imagine doing our job and having kids."
"I can't imagine doing what we do and not having kids." Trevor told him. "My boys keep me going. Help me remember why we're doing this."
"That's a nice way of looking at things."
"Only way to." Trevor told him, "Only way."