Tully Pettigrew was not a professor or a sergeant, he was a former moonshiner turned jeep jockey; and he didn't need to have a degree or rank to feel how the world was twisting awkwardly up and around this Helen Moffitt.
She didn't fit . Not in the sense that she was unaccompanied on a desert excursion, or that she was a civilian in the middle of war...but that the world didn't fit her. The air she breathed, the way she moved and spoke, her attention to the other Moffitt, and her entire presence made him twitchy.
He got the same feeling from Isshiki, which he'd almost ignored his feelings because the man was easily the most foreign man he'd ever seen, even out here in the desert. Except now it was somehow worse around Helen Moffitt.
"Tully?" Hitch elbowed his side, squinting from beneath the brim of his cap. "You've got that thinking look on."
Tully only shrugged a bit, and decided to see if he should visit this other visitor. Since he did have to take a spare pair of pants with him, along with a shirt that he was pretty sure came from some Italians. Since it didn't have an insignia, he figured it would work. Nodding to Troy, who was still deep in conversation with both Moffitt's, he went into the tent he'd seen Isshiki vanish into.
In the tent, easily one of the most beautiful he'd seen yet, the feeling of unease and wrongness increased, this time as he gazed into a face that was too familiar.
It wasn't Hitch down there on that bed, with bandages around his head, but someone with his face. They sure felt like Hitch, but as they struggled to sit up, Tully watched the watched the blanket slide down a bare shoulder that bore none of Hitch's scars.
"Please tell me those are pants for me," the man asked, not a few years older or younger than Hitch...probably right at his age. They could have been mistaken for twins.
Nodding, he tossed the bundle onto the blankets and slid to the floor beside Isshiki, who was putting his new tea-pot to the test. Whatever he was brewing smelled pretty good, and he waited as the second man pushed the blankets back and then paused.
"Do you...mind?" Body shy? There was no way that he was in the Army. At the snap of a fan, he glanced over to see Isshiki politely holding it in front of his face and averting his eyes to the tea-pot. Following suit, Tully covered his eyes with his hand and looked at his lap. "Okay." Glancing up, he caught the man's eyes. The same blue eyes that winked from beneath round gold glasses, but these were softer than Hitch's. "Thanks."
Giving a nod, Tuly watched the man settle back onto the bed stiffly. He looked tired and pained, but graciously accepted the cup of tea and smiled at Tully.
"I'm Miles Merry, you?"
"Tully," he answered, accepting his own cup and nodding at Isshiki. "That's Isshiki. Nice fellow."
"So I've gathered," Miles eyed his tea, "what brings you in here?"
"Hot," he said, and closed his eyes. Not a lot of people were too suspicious or superstitious, but his nanny had always told him to listen to his gut. To trust what the world was trying to tell him, to not be deaf and blind to what was going on around him.
Scientists and the like would tell him that he was crazy, everyone else would say he was jumping at shadows, but nothing about these three people made sense. They were reflections, smiling back at unsmiling faces, moving through mirrors while you stood still. The folks who were wandering the mountain, too beautiful for words. The sort you were polite to, but never interacted with more than necessary.
Tully didn't think that they were here to cause problems, or hurt anyone, but it didn't hurt to be cautious.
"Miles?" Helen Moffit entered, and to an untrained eye she would have been fine with Tully being there, but he'd been around Jack Moffitt enough to recognize the signs of discomfort. He would have left, that would have been a little more polite, but he didn't trust these three.
"Tea?" Miles asked, hefting a cup, and Isshiki handed the woman a cup as she joined them in the tent. "This stuff is pretty good."
"Yes," she nodded to Isshiki who seemed as calm as ever, "perfectly lovely." The man was watching her but gave no acknowledgment that he understood. Helen smiled at Tully, and then glanced at Miles, clearly wishing they were alone to discuss something .
He couldn't imagine what they'd be talking about, but it was clearly important.
"Private Pettigrew," she turned her attention to him, and he had a strange feeling that ghosts were staring at him, "you're interested in archaeology?"
Did she know that? How did she know that? He couldn't imagine that in the short conversation she'd had with Sgt. Moffitt that he'd tell a random stranger what his interests were. So she had to have found out some other way. For a moment he only stared, she fidgeted with a notebook, and he gave a short, shallow nod.
"Do you have a particular era that interests you?" She asked. "Bronze age can be particularly fascinating, but the Assyrian empire is something I'm rather fond of studying. There's a wonderful series of books on the most recent excavations in China." Blinking a few times, he hadn't really considered what could be found in China. He didn't even know that much about China.
"Hmmmm."
"Yes, you see it really all begins." The last thing he expected was for the woman to try and bore him out of the tent. It didn't work, because the longer she talked the more interested he became. At some point Miles dropped off to sleep again, the Isshiki excused himself, and Tully refused to move as the woman grew increasingly desperate to get rid of him.
If they wanted to plot, they'd have to find another way.
#$#$#43
"Aren't you a little curious about all of this?" Moffitt asked as Sam eyed his canteen and then the figure of Hitch as he kept an eye on the horizon. "First the strange gentleman who doesn't speak any language we know, now my… sister ?"
"It's strange alright," Sergeant Troy agreed, "and you're sure she's not your sister?"
"I have..had only a brother." Troy grimaced as the familiar grief etched across his friends face. "I cannot say we aren't related. We are far too similar. No one would believe me."
"No, you look exactly alike. So does this Miles kid. Looks too much like Hitch for my peace of mind."
"Do you suspect him of dishonorable intentions?"
"Don't know yet." Sam turned around to squint at the camp. "He's hiding something."
"So is Ms. Helen," Jack's dry delivery almost made him smile. "The question is, what could they be hiding and why?"
"Hitch is going to get a big surprise when that other kid comes out."
"Truly an uncanny resemblance."
"Yeah," Troy paused, "so what is all this then?"
#$#$#4
Ranger Tulip, so far without a last name or motivation or even an explanation for being in the area, was already a mystery; but given how at ease she seemed with everything made her even more confusing. Dietrich had only ever met one or two people who were calm no matter the situation, one was Private Pettigrew, and the other had been an Imam of great faith. By all accounts she should have been at least a little afraid, maybe even a little nervous; but she regarded the men and soldiers around her with more curiosity than fear.
She was young, and when standing up straight, easily matched Dietrich inch for inch, and then a few more with her hat. There was nothing delicate about the woman, with broad shoulders, a wider hip, and visible muscles that bulged beneath her shirt sleeves. Of course, a truly delicate person would not have been able to halt Sgt. Wolfgang such a distance. In fact, they might not have been able to move the boulder.
If he had to guess, he would consider her to be a member of counter-intelligence, but she had none of the hallmarks of a spy. She made no effort to impress him, to fool him, and was as honest as a spring afternoon.
It made him deeply suspicious.
She didn't have to rescue Sgt. Wolfgang, but she did, and had taken offense to his inquiry. Making war on an injured and dying man was gauche, but it hardly stopped some people. At the expense of her hands, no less. Hands were tools, possibly more vital than anything else, and while hers would heal, they would scar.
She confused him, this he would easily and readily admit to, he did so enjoy solving puzzles and there were no tricks the Americans could try on him twice.
"Captain?" Dr. Kohler looked up from his patient chart as he re-entered the hospital. "What can I do for you?"
"Where is Fraulein Tulip?" He glanced at the wounded men, some visibly ignoring him and a few unlucky men sedated.
"She is in the courtyard," the doctor answered, "the nurses changed the bandages on her hands. Am I to understand that she is going to be joining you for dinner?"
"A dinner invitation was extended," there was no need to hide that, but he did wonder what it was for. "Excuse me, doctor." He moved toward the courtyard, and the woman was again lounging on the side of the fountain with her focus entirely on the plants.
"Is it time?" She asked, looking up and to his confusion, still perfectly at ease.
"Yes," he blinked as she stood, torn between admiring the sheer strength in her form and confusion for her presence. "They are expecting us soon."
She nodded and dark eyes assessed him. They were damnably familiar, he could almost recognize their shape and color, but the name of who he'd seen them on was slipping from his mind.
"It is in your best interest to be as polite as possible, Fraulein Tulip, the man we are going to be eating with has little interest in outsiders and actively dislikes interference."
"Then why accept his invitation?"
He paused, "his grandson insists that he is a romantic soul, and what is more romantic than an American rescuing a German officer."
"I'm not sure that's romantic," she answered, slipping on her hat and blinked in the sudden shade it offered. "But why bother with him at all then? If he dislikes outsiders then I'm sure then I'm sure he actively dislikes you in particular."
"I have done nothing to offend him," he replied, a tad irked at the smooth delivery of such damnation.
"You don't have to," the woman eyed the street, eyes slipping from the guards and back again. "You represent outside interference, the local face of an interfering entity.
He bit back a retort and replied, "I have done my duty, and have no quarrel with these tribes, Fraulein Tulip."
"Maybe," she hummed a slight noise and turned to watch a few soldiers as they saluted before passing on.
They were headed toward the outside of the village, and while it was usually a security risk; he had confidence that everything would go well today. No one could endanger him without facing serious reprisals and Fraulein Tulip was popular enough for her rescue that his men might take revenge for her as well.
Introducing himself with the guards and handing over his invitation, he smiled as he was ushered into the camp with his companion. So often his duty as a soldier interfered with the life he sometimes dreamed of living. Daydreams of small children usually vanished in the heat of the sun, and watching a small group of children race through the camp only reminded him, painfully, of what he did not have.
"You came?" Standing just outside the largest tent was the young man, Yusuf, his attention directed solely to Fraulein Tulip.
"I came," she nodded, "I was invited." For several seconds there was silence, and Dietrich wondered if he had intruded on a private moment, before wondering why he felt that way. Neither Tulip nor Yusuf seemed overly aggressive or antagonistic, but there was a definite wariness and possible interest in their eyes. "I brought a gift."
"A gift?" His eyes widened, and for a moment the world around Dietrich spun as recognition flashed through him. They, too, were familiar. "Truly?"
"I was told to either bring food or flowers when invited to someone's house." The woman hefted a bag, and Dietrich had no idea where she'd gotten it or how. "Tea seems like a good substitute."
"Ah," the man smiled, "American hospitality. Come in, my grandfather will certainly wish to speak with you."
"Thank you," she smiled faintly, and ducked into the tent just before Dietrich.
She was certainly a mystery, not at all seemingly inclined to worry, and Dietrich was pleased to finally have a face to face meeting with the grandfather. It would be rude to discuss any business at the very beginning of the evening, but he also had a duty to keep an eye on the young woman.
Not that she needed it, and if she were going to be watched then it ought to have been by another American or even a relative. He watched her carefully through the introductions, she was warm and polite and several of the children seemed keenly interested in her hat, and even in her. Most of them probably having never met an American woman like her, or even an American man in these circumstances.
It wasn't until part way through the meal, and Dietrich had never regretted rations so much in his life , that the man spoke up.
"American," the man spoke up, his booming voice quieting most of the other conversations. "I must hear this tale. Even here we heard tale of your courage and noble heart."
"Ah," Tulip glanced at her food and then at her bandaged hand before offering a shallow shrug. "Thank you, sir, but I'm not sure I'd consider it courage or being noble. "I'd think that doing what is necessary to save someone who can save themselves is more basic than anything else."
Her speech patterns were so strange , but her meaning was clear. Dietrich felt his heart warm to hear the words, and his suspicion over her intentions faded somewhat.
"Perhaps to some," the sheik replied, and Yusuf was watching the exchange with a glittering expression. "And to others, such an assumption would indicate a noble heart."
"Uh," she blinked and nodded. "Right, if you say so."
"I do," he pronounced. 'I understand that you were injured in your rescue."
"Yes," she waved a bandaged hand, it had provided an interesting challenge while eating dinner. Dietrich had seen her face contort into painful grimaces again and again as she tried to eat. It seemed the bending her fingers was proving to be a challenge. "Nothing too terrible just scratched my hands."
"I insist you see my physician before you leave," he nodded to Dietrich, "such injuries are common, and we know how to handle them more than others."
"Thank you, very much. That would be much appreciated." Tulip was momentarily distracted by a child enthusiastically shoving a cup of coffee into her hands. Before she had the opportunity to decline politely, the heat bled through the badges and she wasn't quite able to help the pained yelp or dropping it. The liquid spilled, and she just barely caught the cup before smacked atop the child's head. "Are you alright?" She asked, attention focused solely on the toddler who seemed stunned by the sudden turn of events. "You need to be careful." Lifting her eyes to the other occupants of the tent, she offered a short smile. "I guess I'll see your physician a little sooner than expected."
"Yes." Frowning deeply at the child, the man turned to his grandson. "Yusuf, attend to our guest."
The man nodded and Dietrich finally understood why there would be so little discourse on the young man's sudden arrival. Resemblance to the sheik was enough, but being a doctor would be someone they couldn't turn away. Impressed despite himself, Dietrich was torn between going to observe the interaction and attempting to making nice with the man. The choice was made for him when he turned his attention to Dietrich and asked after the health of Sgt. Wolfgang.
A young boy ducked into the tent carrying a sack that clearly served as the man's medical bag. Yusuf and Tulip sequestered themselves into a section of the tent to give the illusion of privacy as he carefully unwrapped the bandages around her right arm. Their heads ducked close together, conversation fading away into faint whispers that Dietrich couldn't pick up.
#$#$#
It was a little painful to have hot coffee spilled on top of already aching cuts and scrapes, but it wasn't the worst pain that Tully had suffered. Breathing evenly and watching as the man unwrapped her forearm and then her hand, she finally looked up to meet deep brown eyes.
"Does it hurt?"
"Yes."
He blinked, visibly surprised. "I did not think you would admit to it." Yusuf muttered. "Many would claim they are fine."
"Know my limits," she told him, "that's what my mentor told me. My parents told me that lies don't work when it comes to pain. Can't pretend it isn't happening, so might as well admit how bad it is."
"Very wise." Wincing at the sight of one of the deepest cuts, he let the last of the bandage slid to the carpet.
"Thanks….so you're a doctor?"
"I...am almost a doctor," he looked up from his bag, from which he was pulling a fresh wad of bandages and tongs and some rags. "I have a few years left of medical school, but for all intents and purposes...yes."
"You're partway through your residency?"
"Yes," he smiled knowingly, glancing up through thick eyelashes as he squeezed something that looked like alcohol onto a swab. Taking it up in the tongs he proceeded to direct it over some of the more shallow cuts. Tully winced, and if he hadn't caught her wrist in a gentle grip, she would have yanked her hand away. "And you are a park ranger."
"I am," she looked back at Dietrich, who was deep in conversation with the sheik. "Not particularly exciting."
"Until recently," he suggested, and she nodded. "Why did you say the soldier?"
"How could I have left him to die," she frowned, almost having had enough of people second-guessing her choices and acting as if she committed either a horrible crime or some glorious deed. "That's no way for someone to die."
"I suppose not." He smiled up at her as he dabbed at the deepest cut and heard her hissing through her teeth. "Whether or not you think it is brave, it is brave and it was kind."
"Thank you kindly," memories of watching due South on her mother's enormous television, swapping out CD's and blowing on the DVD player wafted through her mind's eye.
"I thought he was Canadian," Yusuf suggested.
"He was an RCMP, but we both…." her voice trailed off, heart suddenly pounding away in her chest. "Wear stensons." Yusuf was staring at her knowingly and smiled as she stared in shocked silence.
"They're handsome hats," he said.
"...you...road work ahead?" Tully offered, thinking of nothing else that would be as universal as a meme. If it was a meme, to begin with and if it really was as universal as it seemed.
"Yeah," the flat, accented delivery somehow made the joke funnier than the first time she'd heart it. "I sure hope it does."
"Oh my God," Tully gulped down absolute shock.
There was a sly smile on his face as he slathered a cool cream over her hand. It burned, and she recognized the scent of Neosporin. "And they were roommates ."
"Oh my God...they were roommates." She finished and glanced briefly at the German officer across the tent. "Dude, I really need your help."