Disclaimer: Standard stuff.
Author's Notes: I hope yall continue to like the story, cause I had a lot of fun writing it.
****
Some Kind of Wonderful
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"So, your brother's bound and gagged and they've chained him to a chair. Won't you please come to Chicago, just to sing? In a land that's known as Freedom, how can such a thing be fair? Won't you please come to Chicago, for the help that we can bring? We can change the world, rearrange the world. It's dying...to get better." -Joe Nash
****
Lo Ke, Vietnam
June, 1968
Sally rummaged through the supply closet of the M*A*S*H unit, a clipboard in one hand and a scowl on her pretty features. She might have been a full-fledged doctor with several years of field experience, but the US Army medical division was a confirmed boys club. And supply inventory had been deemed a woman's job.
She pulled out a box of individually packaged scalpels and counted out fifteen. Marking it as something that would need to be ordered, Sally moved on. She was just about finished estimating rolls of bandages, when her thoughts strayed from the menial task at hand.
It hadn't taken her long, she thought, mentally pinching herself, to think about him. Wufei, the man out of whom she had dug two bullets...and with whom she had spent three incredible nights before he was shipped back to the States, honorably discharged with a Purple Heart for his injuries.
In the pocket of her fatigues was his address stateside; he hadn't been able to swallow enough pride to tell her that he wanted to meet as soon as she returned, but she had quickly learned to read between the hard lines he presented. And for that reason, she kept the little piece of paper. Her furlough was coming up; nothing would be more refreshing than a hot interlude with Wufei.
Something between them had just clicked, although he had fought it every step of the way. And just when she had been about to write him off as a woman-hating asshole, he had appeared in her private tent one night, (as the only female doctor in the mobile unit, she enjoyed such perks) and made love to her until dawn. Sally had had lovers in the past, but no one had ever been able to make her body sing like Wufei could simply by looking at her. And when they were naked, beneath the heavy Army blankets...
She shook her head and focused on her clipboard. "Fifteen hundred feet...that should last another few weeks." With a sigh, she closed up the closet. It was time to move into the operating rooms, to check the loose supplies.
"Hey! Is there a doctor here anywhere?"
Sally frowned and stepped out of the supply tent. A young soldier, covered in a fresh layer of sweat and dirt, stood in front of her. "What's the matter, Private?"
"There's a guy the rest of my squad is bringing in. He's in pretty bad shape." The boy rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "Can you take a look at him?"
"Of course. The exam rooms are just through here." Sally started towards the long tent. There were only a half-dozen patients that day; it was no problem finding a bed. In a few minutes, the first soldier reappeared with several of his friends, carrying a skinny man.
The soldier, covered in bruises, cuts, scrapes and scars that indicated the wounds were nothing new and a horrible napalm burn down the far side of his left cheek, along his hairline, was mostly unconscious as he was laid down. Sally pulled her stethoscope from around her neck and listened to his chest. "Good breath sounds. Pulse..." She picked up his wrist. "Weak, but steady."
"We found him out in the jungle. He's not a native," one of the other soldiers assured her.
"In other words, it's okay to save him?" Rolling her eyes, Sally waved over a nurse. "Start an IV drip. He's dehydrated and malnourished." She turned to the men. "Do we know his name? Anything about him?"
They lifted their shoulders. "No dog tags. Probably an escaped POW. He could be anyone. G.I. or flyboy. Anyone," one man said, backing up. "Thanks, Doc." The others followed him out of the tent.
"Great." Sally looked down at her new, mysterious patient. His broken skin was pale, his body whittled down to its skeleton, but there was an air of strength to this man. "Well...I guess a name will have to wait. For now, let's just get you back into the land of the living."
****
North Carolina State University
August, 1968
"What a zoo! I can't believe other chapters of SDS would act this way!!" Curled against Quatre's chest, Relena watched the flashing images on the large television set that filled up the far end of his bedroom. "Are you still sorry we didn't go?"
Quatre rubbed her back through the thin material of her blouse. "Not anymore. But who knew it would descend into this sort of madness? And besides....there will always be other Democratic conventions. In another four years, but..."
She cut him off with a fluffy pillow to the face. He laughed. "Don't you try to guilt me, Quatre Winner." Sitting up on the bed, Relena gave him a look of mock severity. "If you wanted to go that badly, I would have agreed and you know it."
"I'm glad we didn't go." He pulled her back into the warm circle of his arms. "It's a war zone in Chicago right now, and if you were ever hurt again..." Quatre stopped to kiss the top of her head. "I'd rather vote for Nixon than see you in another hospital bed."
Relena continued to take in the nightly news and the horrible images from Chicago, but her mind was on the steady beat of Quatre's heart beneath her ear. On the hand curled over his shoulder, her engagment ring sparkled as brightly as it had the night she had accepted it. She let out a little sigh. If only the actual engagment was as shining as its symbol.
As if sensing her unrest, Quatre covered her hand with his and tightened the arm around her shoulders. "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing really." She lifted her chin to give him a quick kiss. "I just hope no one's hurt in all those riots."
Quatre nodded. After a moment, he extracted himself from their embrace and got up to change channels. After flipping through all three bands several times, he gave up and switched off the set. "There is officially nothing on," he announced.
Relena stretched her arms, the soft cotton of her blouse sliding over her skin. "That's all right. I should probably get back to my place anyway."
"Here..." Quatre helped her to her feet and once they were face to face, gave her a slow kiss. "Something to take home with you." There was a long pause as they watched each other. After a moment, Relena averted her eyes, unable to take the pure emotion emanating from his. "Relena," he began. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."
"What is it? Sweetie," she added.
He took her hand, the hand that bore his ring. "I hope this doesn't sound too pushy...but I'm going to graduate in the spring. And...I want to start my life with you, Relena."
She licked her suddenly dry lips. "Of course..."
"So, I have to wonder....why haven't we set a date for our wedding?"
Relena's palms itched. It was a question she herself had mulled over endlessly, but always placed on the back burner. Somehow, it seemed much safer to be engaged. Were there an actual date looming in the future, everything would be quite different. But it was obvious that Quatre needed more. He had done so much for her; he deserved more than a peck on the cheek every night and the vague promise of a wedding in the future.
She glanced past him to the bed, only slightly rumpled where they had been laying on it. He deserved something more. She found him attractive. He would be a tender and considerate lover. She was still on the Pill.
"Quatre..." Relena put a hand on his shoulder. "I just need a little more time. We'll be married...don't worry about that. For now..." She kissed him, her tongue dipping into his mouth. Her hands slipped into his shirt, sliding along his smooth, lightly muscled chest.
He cursed softly when her mouth moved down to the nape of his neck. "Relena, you don't have to..."
"I want to," she insisted. It wasn't a very big lie...
Quatre let her lead them back to the bed. Her fingers nimbly undid his shirt buttons as they kissed; his hands slid up and down her back, eager to touch everything that until now he had placed off-limits out of respect for her.
Relena pulled his shirt off his arms and started on her own, in a rush to push things beyond the point of no return, lest her emotions catch up with her. Within minutes, her bare breasts pressed against the warmth of his chest, and she was gently pushing him onto the bed. Straddling his waist, she kissed him, hard and fast, unlike any kiss they had ever shared. Only Heero had kissed her like this.
When her hands slid between his abdomen and his pants, Quatre broke the kiss. "Relena...stop!"
She looked down at him, confusion on her flushed face. "What's wrong? I thought you'd like this."
"I would. But not like this." Quatre pulled her hands away from his body, kissing her lips gently. "This isn't how we're supposed to make love for the first time, Relena."
Relena sat back on her heels. Suddenly feeling far too exposed and embarrassed, she crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you mean? This is generally how it goes, Quatre."
Sitting up, he stroked her cheek with one finger. "I can't make love to you if you're making love to someone else."
"I'm not," she whispered a second later. "You're not Heero, Quatre. Heero is gone. You're the only person I want to..." She stopped, unable to force out the lie anymore.
Quatre's palm cupped her chin. "Can we wait until we're married? Or is that completely square?"
Relena lowered her head; she was on the verge of crying. "I don't deserve you, Quatre. I really, really don't."
"That's crazy." He pulled her against his chest. "Trust me, this is all my brain speaking. My body is several steps behind, and still thinking that you have the most beautiful breasts in the world." Quatre smiled when she laughed through her tears. "I can wait to make love to you, Relena. Even if I don't have a date to look forward to."
She thought for a moment before sitting up to see him better. "How do you feel about spring weddings?"
"March?"
"April. April...um...tenth."
Quatre nodded. "April tenth it is." This time, he held her whole face between his hands as he kissed her. "I'm going to make you so happy, Relena. I swear it."
She rested her chin on his shoulder and closed her eyes to hold back hot tears. A date. It made everything so official. One part of her life was now completely over. As Quatre continued to hold her, Relena said one final goodbye to the lost past, and looked with blank eyes towards the future.
****
December 31, 1968
Vietnam
Hilde had not been looking forward to her transfer. Not only was she being sent to a remote M*A*S*H unit now that her nursing training was nearly complete, but it was an area far away from the 23rd Infantry, in which Trowa served. It seemed as though their year long tryst had come to an abrupt end.
The most upsetting thing was how much it didn't really upset her. A year of sexual relations, sometimes as much as five times a month, and yet she had formed no emotional attachment to Trowa Barton. Sex was sex. Love was something else entirely. And she hadn't felt love since she waved to Duo from the train window, three long years earlier.
She arrived in the tiny town of Lo Ke in the last few hours of 1968. Her driver dropped her off with a wink, good wishes and a tiny bottom pinch, before barreling off into the jungle, hasty to get back to Saigon for the New Year's parties. As Hilde looked around the crudely erected hospital and the tents perched around it, she let out a deep sigh.
"Welcome to Lo Ke." A tall woman with dark blonde braids who wore oversized men's fatigues approached her. "Are you our new nurse?"
"Hilde Schbeiker." She held out her hand. "Just in from Saigon."
"Dr. Sally Po," the woman said, shaking it. "We're grateful to have you, Hilde."
"I heard you had a shortage of nurses. I'm glad to be here. To help." Not a total lie, she told herself.
Sally started walking towards the largest building. "I won't lie to you. We lost a handful of nurses and a few doctors during an air attack two months ago. They targeted the personnel quarters." She paused. "It's dangerous out here, Hilde. If you're not prepared for that, tell me now."
"I'm here to help," Hilde stated. This time, she didn't have to lie.
"Good." Sally gestured her into the main part of the hospital unit. "You didn't ask to go home for Christmas, so I already like you. We're all pitching in a hundred and ten percent here, and there isn't any room for anyone who can't do that."
Hilde found herself in a huge tent-like structure, at least a hundred-fifty feet long and thirty feet wide. Down each side was a row of beds; almost every one was filled with a wounded soldier. "As you can see," Sally continued. "We get most of the field wounded for this sector. I'm going to start you off on triage whenever the next big wave comes in. For now, grab a mask and some gloves and start a chart to keep track of the patients you see for yourself. We'll make the rounds together until you feel comfortable enough on your own."
After she was suited up, Sally started down the rows, checking on patients, adjusting IV bags, talking and sometimes even flirting with the men who were well enough to do so. A fresh face as pretty as Hilde's did not go unnoticed; by the time they made it down the entire right-side row, Hilde had at least five marriage proposals.
The severity of the wounds she saw shocked Hilde. In Saigon, she had seen what she thought were atrocities, but nothing like what she was exposed to after merely an hour with Sally. Napalm burns were the worst, she discovered, leaving the skin wrinkled and inflamed. They were also the hardest to treat, especially if the napalm had stayed on the skin for too long. Some of the men had the burns over ninety percent of their bodies; it had been dropped onto them from above. Others were fortunate to only have a small patch, from a hand-packed grenade.
Two hours into the rounds, Sally stopped in front of a particular bed. "And this is our mystery patient." She pointed to the bed's occupant. He was sitting in a wheelchair with his back to them, staring out a window flap.
"Mystery patient?" Hilde asked, squinting to see better in the weak light.
"No dog tags. Found wandering in the jungle." Sally hugged a clipboard to her chest. "He doesn't say much."
"Amnesia?"
Sally shook her head. "I don't think so. He seems to know his rank because he won't salute to anyone lower than a Corporal, he sings along at taps, and he can tell you anything at all about baseball. The memories are there; I think he just can't get them out. All the torture..." She sighed. "When he came to us, he was so underweight...you could see every bone in his body. But he's filled out now. All of his injuries are healed. The napalm burn on his face isn't even that bad anymore."
Hilde smiled at her. "You seem to have taken a particular interest in him, Dr. Po."
"Well, he's an enigma." Sally's expression softened. "I can't help but think there's someone out there who's missing him. He's someone's son or husband...and there's no way they'll ever know he's here until he can bring himself to face everything. It's frustrating."
She glanced back at the mystery patient. "How do you get his attention without knowing his name?"
"Some of the nurses have taken to calling him Matthew." Sally cleared her throat. "Matthew...I'd like to you meet one of the new nurses who's going to be taking care of you."
Hilde patiently waited as the man turned his wheelchair around. When he was facing them, Hilde dropped her own clipboard. Her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my god!! Heero!!"
****
To Be Continued
Author's Notes: I hope yall continue to like the story, cause I had a lot of fun writing it.
****
Some Kind of Wonderful
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"So, your brother's bound and gagged and they've chained him to a chair. Won't you please come to Chicago, just to sing? In a land that's known as Freedom, how can such a thing be fair? Won't you please come to Chicago, for the help that we can bring? We can change the world, rearrange the world. It's dying...to get better." -Joe Nash
****
Lo Ke, Vietnam
June, 1968
Sally rummaged through the supply closet of the M*A*S*H unit, a clipboard in one hand and a scowl on her pretty features. She might have been a full-fledged doctor with several years of field experience, but the US Army medical division was a confirmed boys club. And supply inventory had been deemed a woman's job.
She pulled out a box of individually packaged scalpels and counted out fifteen. Marking it as something that would need to be ordered, Sally moved on. She was just about finished estimating rolls of bandages, when her thoughts strayed from the menial task at hand.
It hadn't taken her long, she thought, mentally pinching herself, to think about him. Wufei, the man out of whom she had dug two bullets...and with whom she had spent three incredible nights before he was shipped back to the States, honorably discharged with a Purple Heart for his injuries.
In the pocket of her fatigues was his address stateside; he hadn't been able to swallow enough pride to tell her that he wanted to meet as soon as she returned, but she had quickly learned to read between the hard lines he presented. And for that reason, she kept the little piece of paper. Her furlough was coming up; nothing would be more refreshing than a hot interlude with Wufei.
Something between them had just clicked, although he had fought it every step of the way. And just when she had been about to write him off as a woman-hating asshole, he had appeared in her private tent one night, (as the only female doctor in the mobile unit, she enjoyed such perks) and made love to her until dawn. Sally had had lovers in the past, but no one had ever been able to make her body sing like Wufei could simply by looking at her. And when they were naked, beneath the heavy Army blankets...
She shook her head and focused on her clipboard. "Fifteen hundred feet...that should last another few weeks." With a sigh, she closed up the closet. It was time to move into the operating rooms, to check the loose supplies.
"Hey! Is there a doctor here anywhere?"
Sally frowned and stepped out of the supply tent. A young soldier, covered in a fresh layer of sweat and dirt, stood in front of her. "What's the matter, Private?"
"There's a guy the rest of my squad is bringing in. He's in pretty bad shape." The boy rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "Can you take a look at him?"
"Of course. The exam rooms are just through here." Sally started towards the long tent. There were only a half-dozen patients that day; it was no problem finding a bed. In a few minutes, the first soldier reappeared with several of his friends, carrying a skinny man.
The soldier, covered in bruises, cuts, scrapes and scars that indicated the wounds were nothing new and a horrible napalm burn down the far side of his left cheek, along his hairline, was mostly unconscious as he was laid down. Sally pulled her stethoscope from around her neck and listened to his chest. "Good breath sounds. Pulse..." She picked up his wrist. "Weak, but steady."
"We found him out in the jungle. He's not a native," one of the other soldiers assured her.
"In other words, it's okay to save him?" Rolling her eyes, Sally waved over a nurse. "Start an IV drip. He's dehydrated and malnourished." She turned to the men. "Do we know his name? Anything about him?"
They lifted their shoulders. "No dog tags. Probably an escaped POW. He could be anyone. G.I. or flyboy. Anyone," one man said, backing up. "Thanks, Doc." The others followed him out of the tent.
"Great." Sally looked down at her new, mysterious patient. His broken skin was pale, his body whittled down to its skeleton, but there was an air of strength to this man. "Well...I guess a name will have to wait. For now, let's just get you back into the land of the living."
****
North Carolina State University
August, 1968
"What a zoo! I can't believe other chapters of SDS would act this way!!" Curled against Quatre's chest, Relena watched the flashing images on the large television set that filled up the far end of his bedroom. "Are you still sorry we didn't go?"
Quatre rubbed her back through the thin material of her blouse. "Not anymore. But who knew it would descend into this sort of madness? And besides....there will always be other Democratic conventions. In another four years, but..."
She cut him off with a fluffy pillow to the face. He laughed. "Don't you try to guilt me, Quatre Winner." Sitting up on the bed, Relena gave him a look of mock severity. "If you wanted to go that badly, I would have agreed and you know it."
"I'm glad we didn't go." He pulled her back into the warm circle of his arms. "It's a war zone in Chicago right now, and if you were ever hurt again..." Quatre stopped to kiss the top of her head. "I'd rather vote for Nixon than see you in another hospital bed."
Relena continued to take in the nightly news and the horrible images from Chicago, but her mind was on the steady beat of Quatre's heart beneath her ear. On the hand curled over his shoulder, her engagment ring sparkled as brightly as it had the night she had accepted it. She let out a little sigh. If only the actual engagment was as shining as its symbol.
As if sensing her unrest, Quatre covered her hand with his and tightened the arm around her shoulders. "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing really." She lifted her chin to give him a quick kiss. "I just hope no one's hurt in all those riots."
Quatre nodded. After a moment, he extracted himself from their embrace and got up to change channels. After flipping through all three bands several times, he gave up and switched off the set. "There is officially nothing on," he announced.
Relena stretched her arms, the soft cotton of her blouse sliding over her skin. "That's all right. I should probably get back to my place anyway."
"Here..." Quatre helped her to her feet and once they were face to face, gave her a slow kiss. "Something to take home with you." There was a long pause as they watched each other. After a moment, Relena averted her eyes, unable to take the pure emotion emanating from his. "Relena," he began. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."
"What is it? Sweetie," she added.
He took her hand, the hand that bore his ring. "I hope this doesn't sound too pushy...but I'm going to graduate in the spring. And...I want to start my life with you, Relena."
She licked her suddenly dry lips. "Of course..."
"So, I have to wonder....why haven't we set a date for our wedding?"
Relena's palms itched. It was a question she herself had mulled over endlessly, but always placed on the back burner. Somehow, it seemed much safer to be engaged. Were there an actual date looming in the future, everything would be quite different. But it was obvious that Quatre needed more. He had done so much for her; he deserved more than a peck on the cheek every night and the vague promise of a wedding in the future.
She glanced past him to the bed, only slightly rumpled where they had been laying on it. He deserved something more. She found him attractive. He would be a tender and considerate lover. She was still on the Pill.
"Quatre..." Relena put a hand on his shoulder. "I just need a little more time. We'll be married...don't worry about that. For now..." She kissed him, her tongue dipping into his mouth. Her hands slipped into his shirt, sliding along his smooth, lightly muscled chest.
He cursed softly when her mouth moved down to the nape of his neck. "Relena, you don't have to..."
"I want to," she insisted. It wasn't a very big lie...
Quatre let her lead them back to the bed. Her fingers nimbly undid his shirt buttons as they kissed; his hands slid up and down her back, eager to touch everything that until now he had placed off-limits out of respect for her.
Relena pulled his shirt off his arms and started on her own, in a rush to push things beyond the point of no return, lest her emotions catch up with her. Within minutes, her bare breasts pressed against the warmth of his chest, and she was gently pushing him onto the bed. Straddling his waist, she kissed him, hard and fast, unlike any kiss they had ever shared. Only Heero had kissed her like this.
When her hands slid between his abdomen and his pants, Quatre broke the kiss. "Relena...stop!"
She looked down at him, confusion on her flushed face. "What's wrong? I thought you'd like this."
"I would. But not like this." Quatre pulled her hands away from his body, kissing her lips gently. "This isn't how we're supposed to make love for the first time, Relena."
Relena sat back on her heels. Suddenly feeling far too exposed and embarrassed, she crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you mean? This is generally how it goes, Quatre."
Sitting up, he stroked her cheek with one finger. "I can't make love to you if you're making love to someone else."
"I'm not," she whispered a second later. "You're not Heero, Quatre. Heero is gone. You're the only person I want to..." She stopped, unable to force out the lie anymore.
Quatre's palm cupped her chin. "Can we wait until we're married? Or is that completely square?"
Relena lowered her head; she was on the verge of crying. "I don't deserve you, Quatre. I really, really don't."
"That's crazy." He pulled her against his chest. "Trust me, this is all my brain speaking. My body is several steps behind, and still thinking that you have the most beautiful breasts in the world." Quatre smiled when she laughed through her tears. "I can wait to make love to you, Relena. Even if I don't have a date to look forward to."
She thought for a moment before sitting up to see him better. "How do you feel about spring weddings?"
"March?"
"April. April...um...tenth."
Quatre nodded. "April tenth it is." This time, he held her whole face between his hands as he kissed her. "I'm going to make you so happy, Relena. I swear it."
She rested her chin on his shoulder and closed her eyes to hold back hot tears. A date. It made everything so official. One part of her life was now completely over. As Quatre continued to hold her, Relena said one final goodbye to the lost past, and looked with blank eyes towards the future.
****
December 31, 1968
Vietnam
Hilde had not been looking forward to her transfer. Not only was she being sent to a remote M*A*S*H unit now that her nursing training was nearly complete, but it was an area far away from the 23rd Infantry, in which Trowa served. It seemed as though their year long tryst had come to an abrupt end.
The most upsetting thing was how much it didn't really upset her. A year of sexual relations, sometimes as much as five times a month, and yet she had formed no emotional attachment to Trowa Barton. Sex was sex. Love was something else entirely. And she hadn't felt love since she waved to Duo from the train window, three long years earlier.
She arrived in the tiny town of Lo Ke in the last few hours of 1968. Her driver dropped her off with a wink, good wishes and a tiny bottom pinch, before barreling off into the jungle, hasty to get back to Saigon for the New Year's parties. As Hilde looked around the crudely erected hospital and the tents perched around it, she let out a deep sigh.
"Welcome to Lo Ke." A tall woman with dark blonde braids who wore oversized men's fatigues approached her. "Are you our new nurse?"
"Hilde Schbeiker." She held out her hand. "Just in from Saigon."
"Dr. Sally Po," the woman said, shaking it. "We're grateful to have you, Hilde."
"I heard you had a shortage of nurses. I'm glad to be here. To help." Not a total lie, she told herself.
Sally started walking towards the largest building. "I won't lie to you. We lost a handful of nurses and a few doctors during an air attack two months ago. They targeted the personnel quarters." She paused. "It's dangerous out here, Hilde. If you're not prepared for that, tell me now."
"I'm here to help," Hilde stated. This time, she didn't have to lie.
"Good." Sally gestured her into the main part of the hospital unit. "You didn't ask to go home for Christmas, so I already like you. We're all pitching in a hundred and ten percent here, and there isn't any room for anyone who can't do that."
Hilde found herself in a huge tent-like structure, at least a hundred-fifty feet long and thirty feet wide. Down each side was a row of beds; almost every one was filled with a wounded soldier. "As you can see," Sally continued. "We get most of the field wounded for this sector. I'm going to start you off on triage whenever the next big wave comes in. For now, grab a mask and some gloves and start a chart to keep track of the patients you see for yourself. We'll make the rounds together until you feel comfortable enough on your own."
After she was suited up, Sally started down the rows, checking on patients, adjusting IV bags, talking and sometimes even flirting with the men who were well enough to do so. A fresh face as pretty as Hilde's did not go unnoticed; by the time they made it down the entire right-side row, Hilde had at least five marriage proposals.
The severity of the wounds she saw shocked Hilde. In Saigon, she had seen what she thought were atrocities, but nothing like what she was exposed to after merely an hour with Sally. Napalm burns were the worst, she discovered, leaving the skin wrinkled and inflamed. They were also the hardest to treat, especially if the napalm had stayed on the skin for too long. Some of the men had the burns over ninety percent of their bodies; it had been dropped onto them from above. Others were fortunate to only have a small patch, from a hand-packed grenade.
Two hours into the rounds, Sally stopped in front of a particular bed. "And this is our mystery patient." She pointed to the bed's occupant. He was sitting in a wheelchair with his back to them, staring out a window flap.
"Mystery patient?" Hilde asked, squinting to see better in the weak light.
"No dog tags. Found wandering in the jungle." Sally hugged a clipboard to her chest. "He doesn't say much."
"Amnesia?"
Sally shook her head. "I don't think so. He seems to know his rank because he won't salute to anyone lower than a Corporal, he sings along at taps, and he can tell you anything at all about baseball. The memories are there; I think he just can't get them out. All the torture..." She sighed. "When he came to us, he was so underweight...you could see every bone in his body. But he's filled out now. All of his injuries are healed. The napalm burn on his face isn't even that bad anymore."
Hilde smiled at her. "You seem to have taken a particular interest in him, Dr. Po."
"Well, he's an enigma." Sally's expression softened. "I can't help but think there's someone out there who's missing him. He's someone's son or husband...and there's no way they'll ever know he's here until he can bring himself to face everything. It's frustrating."
She glanced back at the mystery patient. "How do you get his attention without knowing his name?"
"Some of the nurses have taken to calling him Matthew." Sally cleared her throat. "Matthew...I'd like to you meet one of the new nurses who's going to be taking care of you."
Hilde patiently waited as the man turned his wheelchair around. When he was facing them, Hilde dropped her own clipboard. Her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my god!! Heero!!"
****
To Be Continued