The Moment
This story takes place during Totenkinder Madchen's story "Life's a Beach." This is the event that changed Beach Head's mind, when he realized that he cares about Courtney.
Special thanks to Willwrite4fics for her expert beta work and to Totenkinder Madchen for writing the great story that inspired it all. Thanks to the following for their encouragement and support: Slayne22/Surreallis, DesertVixen, Lady Jaye1, CrystalOfEllinon, TinySprite, Karama9, CaptainRocket, PhantomEmpress,, Tinks231, theonewhowrotetatertots, and Hagan99.
The Moment
He could pinpoint the moment he knew he loved her.
It was on the battlefield, of all places, in the midst of a day-long assault on a Cobra stronghold. Like evil insects, enemy rifle bullets buzzed continuously. Shallow pits littered the ground from the artillery barrage, of which there was an ebb and flow, like waves breaking on the shore. Like a swarm of dangerous birds, Cobra artillery missiles flew over head. Burning shrapnel fell from the sky like a glowing rain. The fires raged and smoke streamed upwards, casting an eerie, infernal glow. Sergeant Major Wayne Sneeden, alias Beach Head, was in his element. He was rarely happier than when he was inflicting pain and blowing things up. He liked it weird with a side order of bloody.
Everything changed with the tremendous howling in the air, followed by a powerful crash. The ground shook and so did he.
He could pinpoint the moment his tightly wound world turned completely upside down.
The moment he saw the mortar hit her Wolverine, he was lost. The battle raged around them, but all he could see was that one tank. Her tank. Amid the raining debris, his focus shifted from the mission to her. Saving her was all that mattered, for the thought of going on without her sassing him, arguing with him, tormenting him, was inconceivable.
He hurled himself toward that smoldering, partially overturned tank like a man possessed, praying she would be OK. The fire, the smoke, none of it mattered. He had to get to her. She had to alive.
She was full of surprises, this model turned tank jockey. While there was nothing in this world or the next that Wayne Sneeden hated more than surprises, this was one surprise he welcomed. The sight of this woman emerging from the wreckage, albeit bloodied and cursing a blue streak, was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. With hair the color of a new penny and eyes that reminded him of the sky on a perfect spring day, she was every inch a "Cover Girl." That hair was streaked with ash and she was not in good shape, but she was very much alive. At that moment, he didn't know if he should kiss her or kill her, although the former held much more appeal then the latter.
The normally iron-lunged sergeant major was uncharacteristically silent. His pulse pounding, his body slick with sweat. The balaclava did a fair job of hiding the relief on his face when he reached her. While he resisted the urge to hug her, his eyes were another matter. His hazel eyes were wild with fear; the thought of losing her was that great. As he pulled her over the side of the shattered remains of the tank, he saw a profusely bleeding head wound and a left ankle bent at a decidedly unnatural angle. All the while, she was screaming for her side arm, ready to attack the enemy with whatever she had available.
Ignoring her colorful protestations, he scooped her up in to his arms and sprinted to the medic station. He would be happy to have her hate him tomorrow, so long as she was alive to do it. She settled down when she saw the fear in his eyes, finally acknowledging for the first time her own fear and the pain radiating from her leg and head.
He could pinpoint the moment he knew he had no idea what the hell he was doing.
He cradled her to his chest, her face resting in the crook of his shoulder. By the time they reached the medic, he fully expected her to be passed out from the pain, but that wasn't the case. She was conscious, albeit just barely, gritting her teeth and sporting a murderous expression. As he placed her on the stretcher, she grabbed his arm with a strength the shocked him. No words were necessary, her expressive eyes conveying her gratitude and admiration.
It was at that moment, that he realized that Courtney Krieger was far tougher than she appeared. She was far more than he had bargained for, she pushed his buttons, infuriated him on a regular basis and he loved every insubordinate inch of her. Her physical beauty belied ferocity of spirit, a single mindedness that, quite frankly, scared the hell out of him. He had lived his entire life by the book and this woman didn't fit any of the definitions in that book, not even close. Instinctively, he knew she was going to turn his nice, neat world into a right, royal mess. For once, he had no idea what was he was doing and he was fine with it. And at that moment, he knew he was doomed.
If this was a war, he would willingly surrender.
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