AN: Hello to those of you who liked the summary enough to check out my story. If you look at my profile and check out the things I've written, most of them are incomplete. Let me tell you why. Do you ever get this amazing idea that you just have to write down lest it is taken from you or forgotten? You get so excited about it, that you write a few chapters, you're on a roll, and then, you've wasted all of that amazing way too soon. Like starting out a race running at maximum speed and losing energy while you're still a bit a way from the finish. You're almost forced to write some boring before you can really get back to the amazing, which is supposed to all come together at the end anyway. Please tell me you understood that. Anyway, that being said, this is probably a one-shot for that reason. I'm new to Army Wives (thank you Netflix), and I have just started season 2, so this relationship is still floating around in my head some. They didn't get a proper end...or start for that matter. Jeremy may seem out of character, but you would be too if you were in his shoes. At least that's how I'll justify it.
Disclaimer: The letter's contents, excluding those belonging to Army Wives and its affliates, are intellectual and emotional property of ERClaireER.
Amanda,
Basic Training, when your heart is broken and your thoughts are clouded, is Hell on Earth. Here, I've gotta be tough. I've gotta be the man my father always looked for in his son. I have to make my parents proud; I have to make you proud. I wouldn't dare cry here, not even when I'm writing to you. Even when I think I'm alone, I'm never alone for very long. I'd rather find some quiet place and just start talking like you were listening. I like to think that you'd be able to hear me. But I can't do that here, and I had to do something. It's either letters you'll never read, or I'll bottle it up inside, until I can't take it anymore. You know how well that's worked out for me.
I don't understand, Amanda. I know it sounds clichéd, but even though I wasn't at the Hump Bar that night, if anyone had to die in that explosion, it should have been me. Yes, then you'd be the one feeling this way, but you would heal. You're a Holden. You've got strength in your genes. Your mom's dealt with the sorrow of the wives on the post, and they've come out pretty okay. And your dad; he's some sort of superhuman. I used to think it just came with the job, but he's as stoic as they come. Not indifferent though. He'd protect you. For real this time. He couldn't protect you from me like he wanted to, but this time he'll come through. You, Amanda, you've got it too. You're fierce. You're a fighter, or dare I say, a rebel? Do I have to remind you about the girl who managed to get arrested at her school's peace rally? The girl who snuck out of the house to find me? The girl who reminded me that someone could love me? You didn't push me out of your life after you knew what I'd done. Not a direct correlation, but you stayed with me, and you made my last night on post one of the best I've ever had. (If you can read this, that means there's a good chance the Big Man could too, and I'd rather not go into any of the juicy details and be smited for our…sinful behavior.)
I'm not like you Holdens. If getting arrested at a peace rally was my worst offence, I'd be proud. I'm not proud. No way in Hell am I proud. I screwed up and that's why it should have been me. Something's not right, Amanda, and who knows for sure that the Army's gonna fix it. I was angry. I'm still angry. I'm angry at my dad for leaving my mom as often as he did. It was so normal to him. In his own way, he almost seemed to get excited as the time for deployment came closer. Not like I have to explain the feeling to you, but there were so many times that we were sure he was dead. Sometimes he comes home with a new battle scar. The remnants of injury, to him, are like tattoos. For us, they're reminders, reminders of all that could have been. They were reminders of all the times we didn't know where he was or when he'd be back. I don't know about my mom, but those times made me wonder why anyone would choose this life for themselves. And why would anyone choose that for me? I'm angry that ever expected me to follow in his footsteps. Despite all the crap I'm talking, you know I love my father. I look up to him like any son looks up to his dad, but as soon as I was old enough for us to start talking West Point, he wasn't just my dad anymore; he was Major Sherwood even in our own house. Every day was an exercise in the art of being a real man, an Army man. In his own way, he'd already begun my training, and now I know why. I know I'm not exactly West Point material. I was good, but not good enough, and he knew it. He knew I didn't want it as badly as some of the other applicants, and that would hurt my chances. It doesn't take a genius to figure he pulled some strings, said some magic words.
By the time I figured that one out, there was no way I'd go. That and the helicopter crash that left us all to believe he was as good as dead. I watched my mother completely shut down, thinking she'd never see her husband again. She sat on the sofa, every day the same spot, watching the news until she heard what she wanted to hear, and sometimes it didn't come. She was angry too. She was angry like me, but for her family and for all of the gossipy wives who watched her every reaction like a hawk, she had always kept it together. I never want to cause my mother this sort of struggle. I've caused her enough pain, and that alone will eat away at me for a long time coming. Probably forever.
And yet, I enlisted. Why'd I do that? Why, even in a moment where I had no place to turn, would I turn to the very institution that caused me so much anguish? What I needed was to talk to someone, get some help. Your dad was going to help me find it. Why couldn't I wait for it? And you didn't even talk me out of it. I'm not blaming this on you; I don't want to pin this on you for a second. It's not like I could have gone back to tell 'em I changed my mind. I'd probably get a lot of hell for that, maybe even from you. I'd be breaking a huge commitment. That doesn't look so good to a girl. What would that say about me? Go ahead and call me a pig and get it over with, but part of me wanted you to beg me to stay. I wanted you to put me in a position where saying no to you wasn't an option. Maybe I wanted you to make my mind up for me. I haven't made the best decisions and I trusted yours a whole lot more than my own.
You're not one for drama though; so the begging, it was a total stretch. Don't get mad now; just take note of my ability to be self-deprecating. I think, even though we were just starting to figure us out, you were always going to be the one wearing the pants. Yes, you'd wear the pants and I'd gladly do whatever you told me. No nonsense, right? You were the only girl that could make me forget my own name. You were the only one who didn't look at me and see Major Sherwood's boy, or the angry guy who couldn't get his shit together. You didn't see it, and around you, I didn't feel it. If I could be in that kind of situation for the rest of my life, where I could be relieved of everything that covered up the person I want to be, what a lucky guy I'd be. You had the power to fix me. I wanted to be that better person not just for me, but for you too. I think we'd be real happy.
Considering where we are now, I still want to be that better person. I don't know how right now, but I'm hoping you'll be there to help me. Don't stray too far, okay? Once and awhile, just let me know you're around. I'll know.
Not goodbye,
Jeremy