Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville or any of its characters, etc. They all
belong to DC, the WB, and TPTB. Two names in this story, Sergeant Marc
Leger and Private Richard Green are used only in dedication.
I started writing this pretty much immediately after Visage, because I was so distraught. As I mentioned above, two of the names in this story belong to real people. In mid April, 2002, these two men died along with two others while training in Afghanistan, in a bombing accident. I felt that since their deaths were similar to Whitney's, and since their story also affected me a lot, I would include them and dedicate this story to them as well as all the war heroes of our time, and of course, Eric Johnson. This story is Post-Whitney (Post Visage), but the only part of Visage included would be his death. I do not mention anything else that happened in that episode, as if it never happened. So... at the moment this is a WIP, but I'm feeding it in bits, so i have time to finish it. I hope you like it!! Comments are appreciated too!
Resurgence
Whitney watched in horror as another shell was dropped from the cloudy sky. He tried to run, but the mud on the ground fought to keep him standing in the same place. A fellow soldier looked on from afar, and screamed at him to move, but it was too late. The shell exploded, and the blast forced Whitney to the ground, embedded shrapnel and rocks in his skin, and ripped most of his clothes to shreds.
He looked up, and watched with tears in his eyes as his platoon leader loomed over him. Blood rose up in his throat, and Whitney knew it was the end. Releasing his last raspy breath, he whispered just loud enough for his comrade to hear.
"Tell Lana... tell her... I love her..."
Tears gently washed his face as the world began to darken. It wasn't supposed to end this way. He wanted to live. He wanted to go home.
Sergeant Marc Léger watched with sorrow as Whitney's body went limp. He removed Whitney's pack and gun, then beckoned one of the other soldiers over. "Private, help me carry him back to base." One of Whitney's greatest war friends, Private Richard Green, went over to the body, only to discover whose it was. Without a word, both men lifted Whitney's body and began to walk. And then, as if on purpose, it began to rain. The sky cried, and poured large drops of water onto the ground and the men. Richard, who was behind the Sergeant, carried Whitney's upper half. He watched the rain slowly wash the blood from Whitney's wounds. As they neared the base, both soldiers were drenched in rain and silent tears. They placed Whitney's body on the surgical table inside the camp. The doctor came in, and Sergeant Léger explained what happened. With no more than a nod of understanding in response, the doctor took a pair of surgical scissors and began to remove the shredded clothes from Whitney's body. Next, he took a pair of tweezers and began to take the pieces of shrapnel and rocks from Whitney's chest, arms, and legs. While the doctor was removing the pieces from Whitney's chest, he noticed that something had become very deeply embedded in the area of his heart. The end of a gold chain from a necklace hung out of the wound. Instead of trying to pull it out, the doctor cut the end off, and stitched the hole up without a second thought. In less than an hour, the body was ready to be packed in ice to be sent back to Kansas for proper funeral preparation.
Richard was assigned to escort his friend's body back home. They had packed Whitney's body in a finely crafted wooden crate in the shape of a casket, with a mixture of sawdust and ice for preservation. The flight was 19 hours, and departed overnight. Richard didn't have much more to do than sleep during the flight. Occasionally he would wake up and mournfully look upon the temporary casket of his friend, but it only depressed him further. Whitney had been like a brother to him, even saved his life once, risking his own. They weren't very far apart in age either; Richard was younger by a few months, having only just turned 19. Though they had only known each other for 6 months or so, it felt like forever. Richard wasn't exactly popular when he was in high school, and having someone like Whitney as a friend seemed like a miracle. They would often discuss past relationships with girls, though the main topic usually seemed to be Whitney's recent ex- girlfriend, Lana, and other things from back in Smallville. To Richard, it sounded like a wonderful place. A small town where everyone knew everyone, and most of all, there were close, friendly relationships between families. Through the seemingly endless hours of sleeping and pleasant memories, one main stream of thought continued to run through his head. This man changed his life. Whitney transformed Richard from a meek teen into a confident man. They both knew what they wanted to do with their lives when they could go home. Whitney was going to try for a football scholarship again, and Richard wanted to go to university and study computer sciences. Now he didn't know if he'd even try.
I started writing this pretty much immediately after Visage, because I was so distraught. As I mentioned above, two of the names in this story belong to real people. In mid April, 2002, these two men died along with two others while training in Afghanistan, in a bombing accident. I felt that since their deaths were similar to Whitney's, and since their story also affected me a lot, I would include them and dedicate this story to them as well as all the war heroes of our time, and of course, Eric Johnson. This story is Post-Whitney (Post Visage), but the only part of Visage included would be his death. I do not mention anything else that happened in that episode, as if it never happened. So... at the moment this is a WIP, but I'm feeding it in bits, so i have time to finish it. I hope you like it!! Comments are appreciated too!
Resurgence
Whitney watched in horror as another shell was dropped from the cloudy sky. He tried to run, but the mud on the ground fought to keep him standing in the same place. A fellow soldier looked on from afar, and screamed at him to move, but it was too late. The shell exploded, and the blast forced Whitney to the ground, embedded shrapnel and rocks in his skin, and ripped most of his clothes to shreds.
He looked up, and watched with tears in his eyes as his platoon leader loomed over him. Blood rose up in his throat, and Whitney knew it was the end. Releasing his last raspy breath, he whispered just loud enough for his comrade to hear.
"Tell Lana... tell her... I love her..."
Tears gently washed his face as the world began to darken. It wasn't supposed to end this way. He wanted to live. He wanted to go home.
Sergeant Marc Léger watched with sorrow as Whitney's body went limp. He removed Whitney's pack and gun, then beckoned one of the other soldiers over. "Private, help me carry him back to base." One of Whitney's greatest war friends, Private Richard Green, went over to the body, only to discover whose it was. Without a word, both men lifted Whitney's body and began to walk. And then, as if on purpose, it began to rain. The sky cried, and poured large drops of water onto the ground and the men. Richard, who was behind the Sergeant, carried Whitney's upper half. He watched the rain slowly wash the blood from Whitney's wounds. As they neared the base, both soldiers were drenched in rain and silent tears. They placed Whitney's body on the surgical table inside the camp. The doctor came in, and Sergeant Léger explained what happened. With no more than a nod of understanding in response, the doctor took a pair of surgical scissors and began to remove the shredded clothes from Whitney's body. Next, he took a pair of tweezers and began to take the pieces of shrapnel and rocks from Whitney's chest, arms, and legs. While the doctor was removing the pieces from Whitney's chest, he noticed that something had become very deeply embedded in the area of his heart. The end of a gold chain from a necklace hung out of the wound. Instead of trying to pull it out, the doctor cut the end off, and stitched the hole up without a second thought. In less than an hour, the body was ready to be packed in ice to be sent back to Kansas for proper funeral preparation.
Richard was assigned to escort his friend's body back home. They had packed Whitney's body in a finely crafted wooden crate in the shape of a casket, with a mixture of sawdust and ice for preservation. The flight was 19 hours, and departed overnight. Richard didn't have much more to do than sleep during the flight. Occasionally he would wake up and mournfully look upon the temporary casket of his friend, but it only depressed him further. Whitney had been like a brother to him, even saved his life once, risking his own. They weren't very far apart in age either; Richard was younger by a few months, having only just turned 19. Though they had only known each other for 6 months or so, it felt like forever. Richard wasn't exactly popular when he was in high school, and having someone like Whitney as a friend seemed like a miracle. They would often discuss past relationships with girls, though the main topic usually seemed to be Whitney's recent ex- girlfriend, Lana, and other things from back in Smallville. To Richard, it sounded like a wonderful place. A small town where everyone knew everyone, and most of all, there were close, friendly relationships between families. Through the seemingly endless hours of sleeping and pleasant memories, one main stream of thought continued to run through his head. This man changed his life. Whitney transformed Richard from a meek teen into a confident man. They both knew what they wanted to do with their lives when they could go home. Whitney was going to try for a football scholarship again, and Richard wanted to go to university and study computer sciences. Now he didn't know if he'd even try.