It's been a while since we've heard from Alice, hasn't it? Yeah, yeah. My fault. I know. But, good news, she's back! Y'know, for now at least. *begs her to stick around*

I know you've waited a damn long time for this one, so I'll make it short. (And no comments about how the letters are short! :P) If you're reading I Have Seen the Rain, this part will probably seem very familiar to you, but it warrants being in two places, I think…

Thirty-seven years ago this week, the first US prisoners of war were released by the Viet Cong. This chapter, as insufficient and untimely as it may or may not be, is dedicated to each and every one of them. To the men and women of the US Armed Forces – the organized Armed Forces of any country, really – the living, the dead, the lost, the found, at war or at peace, I salute you. *bows head*

Now, on to Alice. :) (Stop giggling, Robin. I said stop. Hey! Stop it.)



June 24, 1969

Dear Jasper,

I'm not mad at you. As soon as I sealed and sent that letter I felt awful for chastising you like that. It wasn't my place and I'm sorry. Something inside tells me I wouldn't have been able to stay mad at you long anyhow. Damn your Southern charm.

I still miss you. I never stopped missing you. I just didn't want to admit it when I was angry. I can be stubborn like that. And I'll still hum you Beatles songs, if only so I don't have to listen to you sing. Not that I don't think you'd be great, but really, it's the Beatles… They originally sang all their songs, and it should stay that way. Why fix what isn't broken, right? Unless of course you're massively talented. Then I would love to hear it. Maybe a twangy rendition of "All You Need is Love"?

You don't need to do anything to prove you're different. I know you are – I can feel it. Even if I had wanted proof, I couldn't have asked for better evidence than you apologizing to your sister. I sincerely hope she writes you back. She'd be a fool not to. That's not a genetic trait, is it?

Steppenwolf's not bad. I like "Born to be Wild". But they're still not the Beatles.

Somehow I'm not surprised you wanted to be a cowboy. I could see that. You'd look good in a Stetson. I'm sure lassos even have their uses nowadays… even if only to make you look like a far more handsome (but just as blonde) version of Twinkie the Kid. Just promise me you've given up giant belt buckles.

I have to admit that I share your fascination with tornadoes. I can't say I've ever seen one, but I've devoured every book the shop carries on the subject. Angela thinks it's weird and kind of morbid; I think nature's power really deserves our respect. Maybe some day you could take me to Texas and show me a tornado? I mean, I know you couldn't conjure one up for me or anything, but maybe we could go and I could hope to see one? It's a lot to ask, but I would really love it.

I started a protest group. It's really small and kind of pathetic right now, but give us time and we'll be as unstoppable as the twisters that fascinate you and me. It's going to make a real difference, I can tell. I'm going to bring you home in less than those 22 months, Jasper, you just wait and see. You say it's no time, but really, do you have any idea how long 22 months really is? It's 96 weeks. 672 days. 16,128 hours. 967,680 minutes. 58,060,800 seconds. (I like math, leave me alone.) I won't let you stay there that long.

I've been thinking… maybe seeing as how you seem to really be sold on the idea of me being what's been missing in your life… and there's something clearly missing in mine since you left… maybe that "someday" you mentioned could be today? I guess, what I'm trying to say is that, maybe if you wanted to see how it felt to have someone back home to call your girl when you're talking to the guys… well, maybe I could be her. I mean, I'd like to be her. I'm really making a fool out of myself right now, aren't I? I should just come out and say it and stop beating around the bush and procrastinating so much. Here it is: Jasper, I don't think about anyone else. At all. Ever. I don't even look at other guys when I see them anymore. They don't compare to you. The other day at work, this guy asked me out to dinner with him, and he was really nice and really attractive, but when he talked, everything he said came out in your accent. I told him I couldn't go with him… I lied and said I have a boyfriend. I know this is stupid because it's not like I can date you right now or anything, but I really don't care about that. I just want to be able to talk about my soldier and be right and not presumptuous when I call him mine. So, could I? You could call me your girl. I'd actually really like it if you did. Maybe I should shut up before I'm even more tempted to crumple this up and throw it away.

I miss you.

- Alice


By the way, in case you're interested, I started a blog to keep you all up to date with what I'm working on so you don't end up stuck in another seven-month hiatus, wondering if I'm dead or alive. Lol

http:// makkitotosimew . blogspot . com

Check it out. :)

Oh! And review too! Please? I said please! ;)