Disclaimer: The usual suspects.
Author's Notes: I think the point of my last author's notes was understood by some, misunderstood by others. I was attacking no one in particular, for one thing. For another, after reading the Pearl Harbor synopsis that was provided in one person's review, I can tell you for sure, my story is nothing like this movie, except for the fact that it takes place during a war;) War stories are kinda hard to write, because so many different aspects of war and relationships during it have been explored in numerous movies. I guess I was just hoping for my story to be unique. I felt that I wrote it as unique as any war romance can be. When it got compared to such a mainstream sell-out blockbuster special effect extravaganza (if you want to defend the movie, email me, please, because that's the place to do it and I have no problem with reading and replying, but if you're going to review, I'd rather hear what you think about what you read), I got a little discouraged. And this is the only place to let yall in on what I'm thinking. I'll probably have to sit down someday and actually see this movie, but for now, I'll just have to keep pushing myself to be more and more original. Cause yall are a tough audience;) And I love ya for it!
****
Some Kind of Wonderful
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"I'll be with you darlin', soon, I'll be with you when the stars start falling. I've been waiting so long, to be where I'm going, in the sunshine of your love." -Eric Clapton
****
Saigon
March, 1968
It was raining in Vietnam. Again. Normally this would have upset Hilde, it being her only day off, a day she had planned to spend with a few of the other nurses-in-training shopping in the city.
But that was before a certain recently promoted Corporal from the 23rd Infantry appeared at the base with a truck full of North Vietnamese POW's his platoon had captured in the jungle.
Now Hilde found herself in a rented room, listening to the rain and the bustle of the street that went on despite it, as she lay in the crook of Trowa Barton's arm. It made her squirm in renewed excitement, knowing that the only thing separating them and the people going by were tissue-thin walls and woven bamboo shades. Hilde could hear them shouting in their native language; the hum combined with the rain was so loud that she hadn't even tried to hold back her own cries when Trowa sent her spiraling into blind pleasure only minutes earlier. Now, a lazy fan spun over the bed, drying the fine sheen of sweat on their sheet-entangled bodies.
She wasn't ashamed of her affair with the Marine. They had only been together a few times, whenever Trowa was in Saigon, which wasn't very often. The sex was amazing; he had all the stamina of a man who spent most of his time fighting for his life, never knowing if he'd be alive the next day or not.
It always started out the same when they would meet. One time, quick and hard, as soon as they entered whatever room had been chosen, with only enough clothing removed to allow access to each other. Second time, hot and long on the bed or straw pallet. However many times followed were slower, sweeter. She continued to make herself available to him for them all combined. Since Duo, he was the only man she had slept with sober and willing.
Plus, there was something else appealing about him. Although he was Duo's complete opposite in almost every way, he nonetheless reminded Hilde of her former love. Former. That was debatable. She let out a little sigh. Duo was still in her thoughts. Sometimes, when Trowa's hands were on her breasts or between her thighs, she could almost imagine it was Duo's touch she was experiencing.
It was hard to admit, but those times, her orgasm was magnified a hundredfold.
Certainly, it wasn't something she shared with Trowa, although they both acknowledged that what was between them was good, no-strings sex. Nothing more. So that day, when he started to talk, she was a little surprised. Other than the things he cried out in passion, Hilde hadn't talked to him all that much since their first lunch date on New Year's Day, after which they had found an empty supply closet in the makeshift hospital and launched their sexual affair.
"Where are you from, Hilde?"
She stared at the fan as it turned. "A little town in North Carolina. You?"
"St. Louis." Trowa's hand rested on his bare, chiseled chest. "I had friend from North Carolina."
"Really?" She paused. "Had?"
"He died."
Hilde rolled onto her side, supporting her weight on one elbow. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah. He was a good guy."
"I can't even imagine losing friends like that." She covered his hand with hers.
Trowa's other hand, which had been flung behind his head, settled onto the silky skin of her shoulder. "It's part of war."
"But still..." Hilde lowered her lips to kiss his chest. "Back home, I had a friend who was going to into boot camp. I don't know if he ever got sent here, though." She had a sudden flash image of Heero and Relena, holding hands at the diner the last night she had seen them. "I hope he didn't."
"I hope so, too," Trowa replied. "For his sake." His eyes closed as Hilde's tongue circled one dark nipple. "I have to be back with my platoon tonight..."
Her hands were already under the sheets, bringing him to a steely state. Within seconds, she had straddled his body, welcoming him into hers. "You'll make it back in time, soldier."
****
Peacecraft
May, 1968
"You may now kiss your lovely bride."
Relena smiled. It wasn't faked or forced; she was truly happy to be standing there at the altar of the lovely little church, watching her brother take his bride into his arms for the first kiss of their marriage.
There were only two dozen people gathered to watch the ceremony; Millardo and Lucrezia had wanted to keep it small and intimate. Also, Relena absolutely hated to admit, there wasn't a person in town who wasn't aware that the couple had not waited until marriage to consummate their relationship. And unfortunately, it still mattered a lot.
After the happy couple started down the aisle, Relena, as the maid of honor, hooked back up with the best man, Millardo's old college friend, Treize, who had flown all the way from Louisiana to be with them. But her attention was on the blond man in the third row on the groom's side.
Filling out his expensive blue suit to perfection, Quatre was certainly something to look out. And sitting next to Duo who was clad in slightly out-dated, but still classy Neru jacket, the entire third row was getting quite a bit of attention from Lucrezia's other bridesmaids.
Quatre smiled at her, and completely without warning, she felt her stomach twist. It was something she hadn't felt since her last moments with Heero. She had been certain she would never feel it again.
Relena managed to push the strange butterflies in her stomach aside for most of the reception. Held at the town's nicest restaurant, it was a beautiful dinner, followed by dancing. After Millardo and Lucrezia's first dance, Relena felt a tap on her bare shoulder.
"Will you dance with me, Relena?" Quatre's question was simple, but somehow still made Relena's head spin.
She set her napkin next to her plate and stood up. Smoothing down the full, pale blue skirt of her dress, Relena nodded. "I think...I'd like to."
On the dance floor, with Quatre's strong hand on her waist, Relena was very aware of the eyes watching them. Millardo's held approval. Lucrezia's, concern, but understanding. Duo's...Relena smiled. Duo's eyes were completely on the bridesmaid with whom he was sharing a good bit of flirting.
They moved together with grace, and Relena certainly wasn't unaware of how well they complimented each other, physically. Two beautiful blondes; a dream to look at. Her fingers curled around the back of his neck.
"Quatre," she began.
At the same time, he started, "Relena."
She smiled. "Go ahead. I wasn't quite sure what I was going to say."
Quatre took a breath. "It was a lovely wedding."
"It was." She glanced over at her brother. "I haven't seen him this happy since before Mom and Dad died." Relena let out a soft chuckle. "I have to admit...I feel a little lost now. It's been Millardo and I for so long. As much as I adore Lucy, I'm going to have to share him now."
"He'll always be your brother."
"That's true." Unknowingly, Relena's fingers danced through the short hairs on the back of his head. He drew in a little breath. "Are you all right, Quatre?"
He nodded. "I'm fine." After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Relena, we need to talk."
"Talk? Is something wrong?"
"No, not at all. It's just..." He stopped dancing and gathered her hands into his. "Can we go somewhere private?"
"Um...there's the balcony." Relena pointed across the room to the open double doors that spilled out into the inky night.
Quatre immediately started leading her out of the room. As they walked, Relena managed to catch Duo's eye. He winked before returning to his bridesmaid.
Once outside, Quatre led her to the most remote corner, far away from any other guests who were enjoying the warm summer night. "Relena," he began again. "We've known each other for quite awhile now."
"Almost three years," she replied.
He gave an emphatic nod. "And in that time...we've certainly been through a lot."
Relena glanced down at her hands. "Yes. We have."
"The thing is...well, you know I'd do anything for you, Relena." Quatre rubbed the back of his neck, where only minutes earlier, her fingers had been innocently arousing him. "I've tried not to overwhelm you with that because I understand all the pain you've been through. But watching the wedding today..." He stopped.
"Quatre, what are you..."
She was cut off abruptly. "Relena, I need to know if you're ready for what I'm about to ask you."
Relena swallowed, but her throat was suddenly drier than a desert. "If I'm ready? How do I know if I'm ready...until I know what you're going to ask me?"
Quatre conceded. After a long moment of gathering his courage, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and drew out a small, velvet box. "I love you. I've loved you for a long time. So, this isn't really all that out of the blue. I need to know if you're ready to let me be in your life. If you say yes, you'll never be lost again, I promise." He took a breath. "Relena Peacecraft...will you marry me?"
The diamond was fourteen carats, circled with sapphires that reminded Relena all too much of Heero's eyes. Relena's life suddenly came down to one choice. With one word, she would decide her future. Could she make that choice? Or was she content to cling to the past?
With shaking fingers, she slowly pulled the ring out of its velvet nest and slipped it onto her hand. She made her choice with a clear, unmistakable,
"Yes."
****
The jungle was both enemy and ally. Foe and friend. It cut into flesh as well as it concealed it. Endless, thick and dark, the jungle was entrapment and freedom.
But a prison of twisted trees and biting branches was nothing compared to the underground maze from which he ran. The jungle had no knives, no guns, no whips. It could provide food, something almost unheard of in the hell below ground. For this reason, he could feel every bump in his ribs.
Legs weak from malnutrition and weeks spent without motion carried him, although his path was unknown. It was sheer determination, a survival instinct so fundamental, that kept him going at all. His face...merely touching it hurt. Burns so long untreated still festered there. He held one hand over his left cheek to keep insects away from the raw flesh.
The jungle slapped his bare, emaciated torso; his only protection, a pair of tattered, green pants. He ignored his fresh wounds. They were no worse than twenty hits from a bamboo switch across his back. No worse than broken fingers, bloody noses, bruised kneecaps.
There was noise all through in the jungle, dripping down from the trees, pushing up from the ground. He stopped to take it in, his eyes wide as he searched the area around him. He changed direction, to throw off any trail he might have left.
He was growing more weak with every moment. Weakness, cause for a beating. But there was no longer a guard with a Chinese-supplied weapon, eager to carry it out. If he moved quickly, found whatever it was his instincts told him to find, there never would be again.
Hours passed with nothing but impenetrable jungle ahead of him, behind him, over him. Just when he thought he couldn't go on, the trees abruptly ended.
"Identify yourself!"
A gun was pressed into the good side of his face. He stared straight ahead and lifted his hands.
"I said identify yourself, motherfucker!" The man dug the barrel into his cheek.
He held his hands up, but could not say anything. His tongue refused to work.
"Blue eyes..." Some of the pressure on his cheek let up, but the gun still didn't drop. "What's your name, soldier? I don't see any dogtags on you." There was a long pause. "Did you hear me? What's your damn name?"
He turned his head to see the dark-skinned American who held him at gunpoint; his body still refused to cooperate. The thoughts, the memories, the words themselves were all there. But after everything he had been through since the night the explosion claimed him, he could not get them out.
"Come on, man." The black soldier lowered his weapon and reached for his arm. He jumped back, prepared to defend himself. "Easy there. I ain't gonna hurt you." He let the man take his arm. "Shit, boy..." The soldier shook his head. "They did a real number on you."
His legs, like his mouth, failed him; gave in to exhaustion, collapsing to the ground. He didn't regain consciousness until he was on a pallet in the back of an Army truck, heading, he hoped, for a hospital.
****
To Be Continued
Author's Notes: I think the point of my last author's notes was understood by some, misunderstood by others. I was attacking no one in particular, for one thing. For another, after reading the Pearl Harbor synopsis that was provided in one person's review, I can tell you for sure, my story is nothing like this movie, except for the fact that it takes place during a war;) War stories are kinda hard to write, because so many different aspects of war and relationships during it have been explored in numerous movies. I guess I was just hoping for my story to be unique. I felt that I wrote it as unique as any war romance can be. When it got compared to such a mainstream sell-out blockbuster special effect extravaganza (if you want to defend the movie, email me, please, because that's the place to do it and I have no problem with reading and replying, but if you're going to review, I'd rather hear what you think about what you read), I got a little discouraged. And this is the only place to let yall in on what I'm thinking. I'll probably have to sit down someday and actually see this movie, but for now, I'll just have to keep pushing myself to be more and more original. Cause yall are a tough audience;) And I love ya for it!
****
Some Kind of Wonderful
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"I'll be with you darlin', soon, I'll be with you when the stars start falling. I've been waiting so long, to be where I'm going, in the sunshine of your love." -Eric Clapton
****
Saigon
March, 1968
It was raining in Vietnam. Again. Normally this would have upset Hilde, it being her only day off, a day she had planned to spend with a few of the other nurses-in-training shopping in the city.
But that was before a certain recently promoted Corporal from the 23rd Infantry appeared at the base with a truck full of North Vietnamese POW's his platoon had captured in the jungle.
Now Hilde found herself in a rented room, listening to the rain and the bustle of the street that went on despite it, as she lay in the crook of Trowa Barton's arm. It made her squirm in renewed excitement, knowing that the only thing separating them and the people going by were tissue-thin walls and woven bamboo shades. Hilde could hear them shouting in their native language; the hum combined with the rain was so loud that she hadn't even tried to hold back her own cries when Trowa sent her spiraling into blind pleasure only minutes earlier. Now, a lazy fan spun over the bed, drying the fine sheen of sweat on their sheet-entangled bodies.
She wasn't ashamed of her affair with the Marine. They had only been together a few times, whenever Trowa was in Saigon, which wasn't very often. The sex was amazing; he had all the stamina of a man who spent most of his time fighting for his life, never knowing if he'd be alive the next day or not.
It always started out the same when they would meet. One time, quick and hard, as soon as they entered whatever room had been chosen, with only enough clothing removed to allow access to each other. Second time, hot and long on the bed or straw pallet. However many times followed were slower, sweeter. She continued to make herself available to him for them all combined. Since Duo, he was the only man she had slept with sober and willing.
Plus, there was something else appealing about him. Although he was Duo's complete opposite in almost every way, he nonetheless reminded Hilde of her former love. Former. That was debatable. She let out a little sigh. Duo was still in her thoughts. Sometimes, when Trowa's hands were on her breasts or between her thighs, she could almost imagine it was Duo's touch she was experiencing.
It was hard to admit, but those times, her orgasm was magnified a hundredfold.
Certainly, it wasn't something she shared with Trowa, although they both acknowledged that what was between them was good, no-strings sex. Nothing more. So that day, when he started to talk, she was a little surprised. Other than the things he cried out in passion, Hilde hadn't talked to him all that much since their first lunch date on New Year's Day, after which they had found an empty supply closet in the makeshift hospital and launched their sexual affair.
"Where are you from, Hilde?"
She stared at the fan as it turned. "A little town in North Carolina. You?"
"St. Louis." Trowa's hand rested on his bare, chiseled chest. "I had friend from North Carolina."
"Really?" She paused. "Had?"
"He died."
Hilde rolled onto her side, supporting her weight on one elbow. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah. He was a good guy."
"I can't even imagine losing friends like that." She covered his hand with hers.
Trowa's other hand, which had been flung behind his head, settled onto the silky skin of her shoulder. "It's part of war."
"But still..." Hilde lowered her lips to kiss his chest. "Back home, I had a friend who was going to into boot camp. I don't know if he ever got sent here, though." She had a sudden flash image of Heero and Relena, holding hands at the diner the last night she had seen them. "I hope he didn't."
"I hope so, too," Trowa replied. "For his sake." His eyes closed as Hilde's tongue circled one dark nipple. "I have to be back with my platoon tonight..."
Her hands were already under the sheets, bringing him to a steely state. Within seconds, she had straddled his body, welcoming him into hers. "You'll make it back in time, soldier."
****
Peacecraft
May, 1968
"You may now kiss your lovely bride."
Relena smiled. It wasn't faked or forced; she was truly happy to be standing there at the altar of the lovely little church, watching her brother take his bride into his arms for the first kiss of their marriage.
There were only two dozen people gathered to watch the ceremony; Millardo and Lucrezia had wanted to keep it small and intimate. Also, Relena absolutely hated to admit, there wasn't a person in town who wasn't aware that the couple had not waited until marriage to consummate their relationship. And unfortunately, it still mattered a lot.
After the happy couple started down the aisle, Relena, as the maid of honor, hooked back up with the best man, Millardo's old college friend, Treize, who had flown all the way from Louisiana to be with them. But her attention was on the blond man in the third row on the groom's side.
Filling out his expensive blue suit to perfection, Quatre was certainly something to look out. And sitting next to Duo who was clad in slightly out-dated, but still classy Neru jacket, the entire third row was getting quite a bit of attention from Lucrezia's other bridesmaids.
Quatre smiled at her, and completely without warning, she felt her stomach twist. It was something she hadn't felt since her last moments with Heero. She had been certain she would never feel it again.
Relena managed to push the strange butterflies in her stomach aside for most of the reception. Held at the town's nicest restaurant, it was a beautiful dinner, followed by dancing. After Millardo and Lucrezia's first dance, Relena felt a tap on her bare shoulder.
"Will you dance with me, Relena?" Quatre's question was simple, but somehow still made Relena's head spin.
She set her napkin next to her plate and stood up. Smoothing down the full, pale blue skirt of her dress, Relena nodded. "I think...I'd like to."
On the dance floor, with Quatre's strong hand on her waist, Relena was very aware of the eyes watching them. Millardo's held approval. Lucrezia's, concern, but understanding. Duo's...Relena smiled. Duo's eyes were completely on the bridesmaid with whom he was sharing a good bit of flirting.
They moved together with grace, and Relena certainly wasn't unaware of how well they complimented each other, physically. Two beautiful blondes; a dream to look at. Her fingers curled around the back of his neck.
"Quatre," she began.
At the same time, he started, "Relena."
She smiled. "Go ahead. I wasn't quite sure what I was going to say."
Quatre took a breath. "It was a lovely wedding."
"It was." She glanced over at her brother. "I haven't seen him this happy since before Mom and Dad died." Relena let out a soft chuckle. "I have to admit...I feel a little lost now. It's been Millardo and I for so long. As much as I adore Lucy, I'm going to have to share him now."
"He'll always be your brother."
"That's true." Unknowingly, Relena's fingers danced through the short hairs on the back of his head. He drew in a little breath. "Are you all right, Quatre?"
He nodded. "I'm fine." After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Relena, we need to talk."
"Talk? Is something wrong?"
"No, not at all. It's just..." He stopped dancing and gathered her hands into his. "Can we go somewhere private?"
"Um...there's the balcony." Relena pointed across the room to the open double doors that spilled out into the inky night.
Quatre immediately started leading her out of the room. As they walked, Relena managed to catch Duo's eye. He winked before returning to his bridesmaid.
Once outside, Quatre led her to the most remote corner, far away from any other guests who were enjoying the warm summer night. "Relena," he began again. "We've known each other for quite awhile now."
"Almost three years," she replied.
He gave an emphatic nod. "And in that time...we've certainly been through a lot."
Relena glanced down at her hands. "Yes. We have."
"The thing is...well, you know I'd do anything for you, Relena." Quatre rubbed the back of his neck, where only minutes earlier, her fingers had been innocently arousing him. "I've tried not to overwhelm you with that because I understand all the pain you've been through. But watching the wedding today..." He stopped.
"Quatre, what are you..."
She was cut off abruptly. "Relena, I need to know if you're ready for what I'm about to ask you."
Relena swallowed, but her throat was suddenly drier than a desert. "If I'm ready? How do I know if I'm ready...until I know what you're going to ask me?"
Quatre conceded. After a long moment of gathering his courage, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and drew out a small, velvet box. "I love you. I've loved you for a long time. So, this isn't really all that out of the blue. I need to know if you're ready to let me be in your life. If you say yes, you'll never be lost again, I promise." He took a breath. "Relena Peacecraft...will you marry me?"
The diamond was fourteen carats, circled with sapphires that reminded Relena all too much of Heero's eyes. Relena's life suddenly came down to one choice. With one word, she would decide her future. Could she make that choice? Or was she content to cling to the past?
With shaking fingers, she slowly pulled the ring out of its velvet nest and slipped it onto her hand. She made her choice with a clear, unmistakable,
"Yes."
****
The jungle was both enemy and ally. Foe and friend. It cut into flesh as well as it concealed it. Endless, thick and dark, the jungle was entrapment and freedom.
But a prison of twisted trees and biting branches was nothing compared to the underground maze from which he ran. The jungle had no knives, no guns, no whips. It could provide food, something almost unheard of in the hell below ground. For this reason, he could feel every bump in his ribs.
Legs weak from malnutrition and weeks spent without motion carried him, although his path was unknown. It was sheer determination, a survival instinct so fundamental, that kept him going at all. His face...merely touching it hurt. Burns so long untreated still festered there. He held one hand over his left cheek to keep insects away from the raw flesh.
The jungle slapped his bare, emaciated torso; his only protection, a pair of tattered, green pants. He ignored his fresh wounds. They were no worse than twenty hits from a bamboo switch across his back. No worse than broken fingers, bloody noses, bruised kneecaps.
There was noise all through in the jungle, dripping down from the trees, pushing up from the ground. He stopped to take it in, his eyes wide as he searched the area around him. He changed direction, to throw off any trail he might have left.
He was growing more weak with every moment. Weakness, cause for a beating. But there was no longer a guard with a Chinese-supplied weapon, eager to carry it out. If he moved quickly, found whatever it was his instincts told him to find, there never would be again.
Hours passed with nothing but impenetrable jungle ahead of him, behind him, over him. Just when he thought he couldn't go on, the trees abruptly ended.
"Identify yourself!"
A gun was pressed into the good side of his face. He stared straight ahead and lifted his hands.
"I said identify yourself, motherfucker!" The man dug the barrel into his cheek.
He held his hands up, but could not say anything. His tongue refused to work.
"Blue eyes..." Some of the pressure on his cheek let up, but the gun still didn't drop. "What's your name, soldier? I don't see any dogtags on you." There was a long pause. "Did you hear me? What's your damn name?"
He turned his head to see the dark-skinned American who held him at gunpoint; his body still refused to cooperate. The thoughts, the memories, the words themselves were all there. But after everything he had been through since the night the explosion claimed him, he could not get them out.
"Come on, man." The black soldier lowered his weapon and reached for his arm. He jumped back, prepared to defend himself. "Easy there. I ain't gonna hurt you." He let the man take his arm. "Shit, boy..." The soldier shook his head. "They did a real number on you."
His legs, like his mouth, failed him; gave in to exhaustion, collapsing to the ground. He didn't regain consciousness until he was on a pallet in the back of an Army truck, heading, he hoped, for a hospital.
****
To Be Continued