SALVATION
Chapter 6 ("Blood... ")
By Slayne
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LZ = Landing Zone
WIA = Wounded in Action
LT = Lieutenant
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"I lay awake on a long, dark night. I can't seem to tame my mind.
Slings and arrows are killing me inside.
Maybe I can't accept the life that's mine.
Maybe I can't accept the life that's mine.
Simple living is my desperate cry. Been trading love with indifference,
yeah, it suits me just fine. I try to hold on, but I'm calloused to the bone.
Maybe that's why I feel alone.
Maybe that's why I feel so alone.
Me, I'm rusted and weathered, Barely holding together,
I'm covered with skin that peels , And it just won't heal..."
--Weathered .... by Creed
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The sound of the helicopters was growing louder. He could see the cloth- swathed men tied on the floor of the small house as the dust swept up outside and his men started out. Some of them were yelling at him as they went. He saw their faces, eyes bright and intense, mouths moving in slow motion. He couldn't hear what they were saying though. He could only hear those landing helicopters and then... the single chattering voice of one of the enemy soldiers, speaking in a different language. Wayne's gaze swung around to target the man, and he found the foreign soldier grinning at him as he laughed spitefully and spoke.
Someone grabbed his sleeve and he followed his men outside, watching as they loaded into the Blackhawks and began taking off. He knew what happened next, and he balked... actually trying to stop running towards the LZ. As hands grabbed him again, trying to force him forwards, he tried to yell orders at the men. His voice didn't want to work, they didn't understand. He glanced back towards the house. The doorway was empty. Maybe they'd checked it good enough this time... maybe it'd be different. The hands pulled him further, and he struggled violently with them, trying to explain. A movement caught his eye, and he looked up at the house again in the swirl of dust from the rotors of the Blackhawks.
An enemy soldier charged from the house, and Wayne felt his heart drop. No! No, no, no! The hands that once tried to force him forward, now held him back. When the explosion came... he screamed.
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Courtney's eyes flew open as she woke, her heart racing as she stared through the darkness. For a moment she was confused, and then she remembered where she was. The rain was steady and soothing on the roof, and the house was quiet. She listened carefully for a moment. There was a faint sudden sound. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked towards Beach's bedroom door. She heard the sound again. A soft, deep exclamation that made her brows knit together and started a thread of worry through her mind. She rose quietly and walked in barefoot to the door. She heard the sound again. It was definitely Wayne... she'd know his voice anywhere. She also knew now what the sound was and why he was making it... she had experience in this area herself. She hesitated, wondering if she should interfere, but then she quietly opened the door, stepping warily into his room.
He was lying on the bed, tangled in a sheet. He was shirtless; wearing boxer briefs, and one bare, lightly haired thigh was uncovered. It flexed in power as his body seemed to try and force itself up off the bed. Sweat and his old dog tags gleamed on his chest, and his head arched back in sleep as he suddenly began reciting the same word over and over, his speech muffled and indistinct.
"No... nononononono...."
She swallowed hard, and walked further into the room. With the exception of Hawk, she had always seen this man as the strongest and most unyielding rock of the team. The one who would never have a problem with what he did. The one who always had the strength of his convictions firmly in place.
Not the one who had nightmares and cried out in his sleep.
Human after all.
"Wayne." She spoke softly, calling to him. He seemed to hesitate a moment in his agitation, and then he began thrashing again. It was a bad one, and she suddenly wanted him back from wherever he was... safe with her.
"Wayne!" She spoke a bit louder, sharpening her voice to 'command mode'. She leaned forward and grabbed his foot as well, giving it a shake.
He jerked awake and inhaled sharply, every muscle in his body flexing violently. She quickly stepped backwards. She'd spent a lot of years around combat soldiers, she knew the nightmares intimately and the disoriented sense of danger that followed a sudden awakening. His body was rigid for long moments as his gaze traveled around the room and then fastened onto her. He swallowed hard before relaxing suddenly and sitting up, pulling the tangled sheet from his legs and throwing it to the side.
"Sorry..." He muttered before swinging his legs off the bed and standing stiffly.
"It's ok... you alright?"
"Yeah." He walked in the darkness to the window and braced his hands on the sill, hanging his head briefly while he woke up and gained control. She watched him for a while, feeling senseless relief that he wasn't lost forever in that nightmare. Thunder rumbled outside. The lightning flickered across his face and bare torso, revealing his pained expression before casting his form into shadow again. He yanked the window up slightly, and the rain got louder as the cool air rushed into the room. He breathed deeply and relaxed a bit more.
She padded barefoot across the floor and stood beside him, her arm brushing his as she looked through the open slats of the blind over the window. There was a single light shining from the gravel driveway and she could see the dark shapes of the forest trees through the torrent of water hitting the window.
"Do you dream about the bullets?" She asked very softly, her voice nearly a whisper. He glanced up at her, confused.
"What?"
She continued to stare out the window. "I do. I dream about the bullets. I feel them hitting me, feel them going through and into me... bouncing around and tearing stuff up. I feel the blood running down my skin..."
"No... No bullets." He breathed. He was staring at her silently, his attention unwavering. She hugged herself around the waist and didn't glance at him as she continued.
"I don't feel any pain though. Just the bullets hitting me and the blood running. Vipers are everywhere, but everything I throw at them goes right through... like they're ghosts. I know I'm taking too many shots; I can't survive. I'm going to die... and it scares the shit out of me. I never thought about it much when I was fighting in Joe. I wasn't scared like I am in the dreams."
His eyes glinted in another lightning strike as she fell silent, and he made a soft sound of understanding. His voice was still quiet and deep with sleep when he spoke. "When I dream about Joe, I'm running through the bullets. I can hear them flying past me, but they don't touch me..." He hesitated, and Courtney could see that he was staring out at the rain without really seeing it. The moment was too intimate, both of them standing here in the dark, alone, spilling their dreams. For one brief moment she felt like running away again, and then she realized that that was exactly what she'd been doing for the past seven years. Running away from him, from her feelings for him. Why? Because they didn't belong together? Or because everyone had always told her that they didn't belong together. That brief thought sparked another one... that there was nowhere she wanted to be more than here right now.
She suddenly felt more comfortable and confident, and she folded her arms loosely across her chest and leaned sideways against Beach, leaning her head against his shoulder. He glanced at her sharply in surprise, and then relaxed and continued talking as if nothing had happened.
"I'm always walking through the battle, shooting is always going on around me... but I never see anyone else. I'm walking through..." His voice trailed off, and Courtney felt him move uneasily.
"Through what?" She asked, smelling the rain strongly as a cool breeze rushed in through the window.
"Through bodies." He answered grimly. "I know it's the rest of the team. I'm the only one left. The bodies all run together, but I can see the little things in the blood. Scarlett's crossbow, Snake's visor, Flint's beret..."
"Do you see me?" She asked.
He fidgeted again, and the backs of his fingers brushed hers then stayed. "I look for you. I look for that jacket, but I..." He stopped again, and she felt a bit alarmed as he pulled back from her and suddenly sank down to his heels beside her, his hands coming up to run over his face before he rested his elbows on his knees. He made a soft sound before he braced his forehead on his hands and stared down at the floor.
She folded her arms over her chest as the rain-drenched breeze curled around her legs. She looked down at the broad back, watching as his hands ran through the neat crew cut.
"You weren't dreaming about Joe tonight were you?"
"No."
"What the hell happened over there, Wayne? Tell me..."
"You saw the news. You know the story."
"I know their story. I want to know yours. I should have listened two years ago..."
His head turned slightly in the darkness, and she heard him swallowing. The air seemed charged with energy for a moment before he spoke. "Why didn't you call me back, Courtney?"
She opened her mouth to answer him, the same old excuses she'd been repeating to herself, for her own peace of mind, ready to spill forth. As the lightning lit his face up again though, and their eyes met, she closed her mouth and stood quietly.
"You want some truth from me, then you need to make a trade." He said resentfully. She stared down at him, feeling as if she stood at the edge of a river. Backing away would mean traveling in safety, the same old path she'd been taking for years. He stood on the other side though, asking her to jump in and swim with him. And that path would burn hotter and twist her around more completely than any other she'd ever taken. Nor did she feel at all assured of coming out of that river in one piece.
She slowly lowered herself to her heels beside him, her arms folded between her knees and her chest as she looked at him. She took a deep breath.
"I don't know why I didn't call, Wayne. I... I had the phone in one hand and your number in the other... and I couldn't make my fingers dial your number. Then my pager went off, and I jumped up and ran out. I kept putting it off, telling myself that you were fine and you'd probably gotten over it long ago."
That brought a soft snort of acidic laughter from him, and she grimaced, feeling a sharp guilt stab through her conscience. "I fucked up, Wayne. I let you down because I was too terrified of my own feelings... I'm sorry. You were the one Joe I always counted on to have my back... and I didn't cover yours this time... but I'm here now."
The room was silent for a few long minutes while the storm raged on outside. She heard rain dripping onto the floor. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly again.
"They sent us into Borislav for a straight-forward seek and destroy mission on a communications tower..." His voice was low and quiet and he sounded as if he were forcing the words out. Courtney almost held her breath as he hesitated and then went on.
"You know what the political climate was like then with them. The U.S. had vested interests in them, and their ever-changing regime was playing havoc with a lot of our economy. We really wanted to just go in and take it all over. Set it all to rights, but... the UN and the American public were all against that. So, it was just supposed to be a quick covert mission to stack the deck in our favor a little..." He trailed off there, staring at the wall without seeing it. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed repeatedly across his face. Courtney couldn't stop the feeling of dread settling in her stomach, and she suddenly found herself leaning forward, knees on the floor, sliding her arms under his arms and up over his shoulders, her cheek resting against his nape. He seemed startled and stiffened for a moment.
"Go on..." She urged, and he accepted their new position without another thought and continued.
"We went in with 15. Two Blackhawks took us and our gear in after dark, and would take us out again at dawn from a pre-determined LZ. We weren't expecting any resistance. In fact, Intel told us that there were no enemy soldiers in the area at all. They weren't supposed to have enough troops to cover every essential area...."
Courtney frowned. She hadn't heard that on the news, but that wasn't surprising.
"Intel was wrong?" She asked. His skin was warm and still smelled like soap despite the sweat that had been there only a short time ago. She felt his voice rumbling through his back when he spoke. Cool air and a few cold drops of rain flowed down over them and Courtney shivered again slightly. She felt his hands run up her arms to her hands, and he forced them down over his chest and then tightly around him, so she was pulled closely and warmly against him. She closed her eyes, holding him tightly, and pressing her lips absently against the clipped hair at his nape.
"Not really," he answered, his voice sounding a bit stronger. "We made it to the tower, set the charges and made it nearly out again... it all went according to plan. But when we approached the retrieval LZ, we suddenly took fire."
"The news said you were fired on and that the officer in charge went WIA."
"The Lieutenant in charge took a bullet in the thigh. He hit his head hard when he fell, and even with the helmet, it rang his bell a bit. We got him out of there, but I had to call the shots from then on."
"You probably had more combat experience than he did anyway, Wayne."
"Yeah... we were working together pretty well though. I drew everyone back, and we re-grouped. We figured out that it was a bunch of government- armed civilians set up as a poorly trained defense force. Probably drawing extra food and supplies for their families in trade..."
"What?" She suddenly drew back and knelt beside him, looking at him in shock. "The news said it was one of Borislav's elite Special Forces teams!"
Wayne raised a brow at her and nodded, sliding back to sit on the floor and lean back against his bed. "That's what the news agencies reported... and the brass never corrected them."
Courtney thought about that a moment, suddenly getting a feeling about where the story was going. She slid up beside him, stretching her legs out as she leaned back beside him. His thigh was warm against hers, and she leaned into him a bit.
"They were well-armed, but poorly trained. They flocked together and we ended up killing two of them before capturing the rest easily. We disarmed them, tied them up and left them in one of the nearby houses. The LT suggested to me that maybe we should... get rid of them... and I..." He stared up at the window, the shadows of the raindrops running over his face. Courtney sat up beside him and looked at him.
"Did he order you to kill them?"
"No. He mentioned it to me. Wanted to know what I thought. He didn't know I used to be with G.I. Joe... but he knew I wasn't a normal Ranger. He knew I'd seen more combat than anyone else on the team."
"And?" She felt breathless as she waited.
"And I said we should leave them tied and unharmed. They were just civilians... half of them dropped their guns and gave up when the first man was shot. We weren't supposed to engage the enemy unless forced."
"Well, it sounds like you were forced..."
"I think he wanted to disagree with me... but he was losing blood fast, and I don't think he felt clear-headed. He gave the decision to me..."
She didn't realize she had taken his hand until she saw his eyes shift towards where her hand gripped his. His fingers slowly closed around hers and his gaze bored into her for a long moment.
"I ordered them left alive, and we went out to meet the Blackhawks at the landing zone."
His grip on her hand had tightened almost painfully as his voice dropped, and she nearly winced. She used her other hand to pry his fingers loose from her hand, and he glanced at her almost dazedly.
"Sorry," he whispered, releasing her hand. He set both hands on top of his thighs and folded them into fists. "I ordered half the team into the first Blackhawk and told them to take the LT with them. He needed more than a medic and quickly. When they were loaded, they lifted off. I was giving orders to the radioman, when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. It was just a small thing. I thought it was a bird or something flying into the helicopter... and then I realized what it was... just as the first Blackhawk exploded and then dropped right out of the air... "
Courtney let out the breath she was holding and inhaled sharply again. "Jesus, Wayne..."
"I turned around and there was one of the civilian soldiers in the doorway of the house... with a rocket propelled grenade launcher in his hands. He'd gotten loose and... They must have had weapons hidden in there somewhere good, because we searched every inch of that house... I know we did."
Courtney was speechless. She kept silent and just looked at him in the darkness. He wasn't there with her anyway... he was far away.
"No one survived. I just looked at the wreckage falling to the ground... and I felt numb. I just raised my gun and pumped the man full of bullets. One of the Sergeants threw a grenade through the window of the house and took care of the rest. I took him in with me to secure the house afterwards, and they were all dead." He smiled almost ferociously and looked at her.
"Seven Rangers and two Blackhawk pilots dead... and the civilians died anyway. If I'd have just killed them to begin with... " He swallowed and shook his head, suddenly blinking rapidly. Courtney placed a hand over his fist and studied him almost ruefully.
"If you'd have just killed them to begin with... then you wouldn't be who you are. You've killed before, Wayne... you know, better than most, that it's nothing to take lightly."
He didn't look at her. He sniffed, wiped angrily at his eyes and swallowed. "I'd trade every worthless life in that fucked up country just to bring back those nine men... I mean it."
"I know," she said softly, feeling an ache in her chest as she watched him battle his inner demons. "I'm sorry. You did what you felt was right though..."
"But it wasn't right. If I'd have done any of a dozen things differently, this might not have happened."
"We all have things we have to live with. Some of us have to bear more than others."
"I don't want to live with it." He said in a whisper. "It's tearing me up inside. It won't heal."
"That's why you quit?"
He seemed disturbed by that word. He grimaced slightly when she said it, and she saw the former soldier in him, the one who hated slackers and despised quitters and let everyone know about it. He seemed to be thinking about how to answer that question, when she remembered something else.
"Didn't you get the Bronze Star for that mission?"
He stilled and his eyes slid sideways to stare at her. "We all did." He said stiffly.
"Flint said you talked to Hawk about it. That you wanted to refuse it, and they forced you to accept it."
He was silent for a moment, and then he stretched towards the night table next to his bed, pulling open the small drawer, which squeaked in protest from disuse. He pulled a small box from it and returned to his former position. He handed it to her. She took it, glancing at him as he looked away. She opened it and looked down at the medal inside.
"When we got back, we were debriefed and the press had already picked up the story and made their own assumptions on the mission... or else someone fed them wrong information. The story came out as foreign enemy elite troops fire upon a Ranger training mission and blow up a Blackhawk. The public outcry was huge and approval for military action suddenly went sky- high. The brass jumped on it. No one corrected the story and we were given medals and a big party... after the funerals, of course."
Courtney traced the small star-shaped medal with the pad of one finger. "What did Hawk say about all of this?"
"I only saw him briefly at the funerals. They kept me pretty far from him. He said sometimes there were forces bigger than us in the world... and that sometimes they were going to get their way. We needed to pick our battles carefully."
She looked up at that and nodded thoughtfully. Hawk knew how to play the game. He always had. It was harder for men like Beach, who saw things more black and white and didn't see those subtle shades of gray so easily.
"What did he say when you quit?" She asked curiously.
"I don't think he knew. I just quietly resigned when my tour was up and moved out here. Gung-Ho tracked me down about a year ago.... then Flint came up a few months ago and delivered Hawk's offer, which I refused."
She carefully took the medal from its box and held it up in the dim light from the window. The ribbon gleamed, and the metal star seemed to glow. Beach glanced at it and then looked quickly away. She frowned.
"You know, you've earned this medal a million times over again with your time in Joe, Wayne. None of the public, or even those Generals, realize how much you've actually done for this country."
"I didn't get it for my time in Joe." He replied quietly. "I got it for Borislav... and with the blood of nine good men."
"Have you even touched it?" She asked.
"I had to take it off... I touched it then."
She placed it back in its box, fixing it firmly on the velvet before snapping it shut and leaning over him to place it back in it's drawer. He sat quieter with it out of sight again. They sat and stared at each other.
"We need you back in Joe, Wayne." She finally said. "You can't let those assholes end your career like this. Don't waste away here picking that wound open again and again. You don't need to ask for redemption... but if you can't see that, then redeem yourself by saving the same clueless country that your friends were serving. And if you don't give a shit about that... then come back to the people who care about you. Keep our asses safe and in line again."
He seemed to give her words thought, but then he shook his head and climbed to his feet. He shut the window against the cool, rainy, night air, and then he walked out of the room. She rose to her feet as well, and went to stand at the window, watching the lightning as it lit up the sky and the forest below.
To be continued.......
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Chapter 6 ("Blood... ")
By Slayne
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LZ = Landing Zone
WIA = Wounded in Action
LT = Lieutenant
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"I lay awake on a long, dark night. I can't seem to tame my mind.
Slings and arrows are killing me inside.
Maybe I can't accept the life that's mine.
Maybe I can't accept the life that's mine.
Simple living is my desperate cry. Been trading love with indifference,
yeah, it suits me just fine. I try to hold on, but I'm calloused to the bone.
Maybe that's why I feel alone.
Maybe that's why I feel so alone.
Me, I'm rusted and weathered, Barely holding together,
I'm covered with skin that peels , And it just won't heal..."
--Weathered .... by Creed
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The sound of the helicopters was growing louder. He could see the cloth- swathed men tied on the floor of the small house as the dust swept up outside and his men started out. Some of them were yelling at him as they went. He saw their faces, eyes bright and intense, mouths moving in slow motion. He couldn't hear what they were saying though. He could only hear those landing helicopters and then... the single chattering voice of one of the enemy soldiers, speaking in a different language. Wayne's gaze swung around to target the man, and he found the foreign soldier grinning at him as he laughed spitefully and spoke.
Someone grabbed his sleeve and he followed his men outside, watching as they loaded into the Blackhawks and began taking off. He knew what happened next, and he balked... actually trying to stop running towards the LZ. As hands grabbed him again, trying to force him forwards, he tried to yell orders at the men. His voice didn't want to work, they didn't understand. He glanced back towards the house. The doorway was empty. Maybe they'd checked it good enough this time... maybe it'd be different. The hands pulled him further, and he struggled violently with them, trying to explain. A movement caught his eye, and he looked up at the house again in the swirl of dust from the rotors of the Blackhawks.
An enemy soldier charged from the house, and Wayne felt his heart drop. No! No, no, no! The hands that once tried to force him forward, now held him back. When the explosion came... he screamed.
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Courtney's eyes flew open as she woke, her heart racing as she stared through the darkness. For a moment she was confused, and then she remembered where she was. The rain was steady and soothing on the roof, and the house was quiet. She listened carefully for a moment. There was a faint sudden sound. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked towards Beach's bedroom door. She heard the sound again. A soft, deep exclamation that made her brows knit together and started a thread of worry through her mind. She rose quietly and walked in barefoot to the door. She heard the sound again. It was definitely Wayne... she'd know his voice anywhere. She also knew now what the sound was and why he was making it... she had experience in this area herself. She hesitated, wondering if she should interfere, but then she quietly opened the door, stepping warily into his room.
He was lying on the bed, tangled in a sheet. He was shirtless; wearing boxer briefs, and one bare, lightly haired thigh was uncovered. It flexed in power as his body seemed to try and force itself up off the bed. Sweat and his old dog tags gleamed on his chest, and his head arched back in sleep as he suddenly began reciting the same word over and over, his speech muffled and indistinct.
"No... nononononono...."
She swallowed hard, and walked further into the room. With the exception of Hawk, she had always seen this man as the strongest and most unyielding rock of the team. The one who would never have a problem with what he did. The one who always had the strength of his convictions firmly in place.
Not the one who had nightmares and cried out in his sleep.
Human after all.
"Wayne." She spoke softly, calling to him. He seemed to hesitate a moment in his agitation, and then he began thrashing again. It was a bad one, and she suddenly wanted him back from wherever he was... safe with her.
"Wayne!" She spoke a bit louder, sharpening her voice to 'command mode'. She leaned forward and grabbed his foot as well, giving it a shake.
He jerked awake and inhaled sharply, every muscle in his body flexing violently. She quickly stepped backwards. She'd spent a lot of years around combat soldiers, she knew the nightmares intimately and the disoriented sense of danger that followed a sudden awakening. His body was rigid for long moments as his gaze traveled around the room and then fastened onto her. He swallowed hard before relaxing suddenly and sitting up, pulling the tangled sheet from his legs and throwing it to the side.
"Sorry..." He muttered before swinging his legs off the bed and standing stiffly.
"It's ok... you alright?"
"Yeah." He walked in the darkness to the window and braced his hands on the sill, hanging his head briefly while he woke up and gained control. She watched him for a while, feeling senseless relief that he wasn't lost forever in that nightmare. Thunder rumbled outside. The lightning flickered across his face and bare torso, revealing his pained expression before casting his form into shadow again. He yanked the window up slightly, and the rain got louder as the cool air rushed into the room. He breathed deeply and relaxed a bit more.
She padded barefoot across the floor and stood beside him, her arm brushing his as she looked through the open slats of the blind over the window. There was a single light shining from the gravel driveway and she could see the dark shapes of the forest trees through the torrent of water hitting the window.
"Do you dream about the bullets?" She asked very softly, her voice nearly a whisper. He glanced up at her, confused.
"What?"
She continued to stare out the window. "I do. I dream about the bullets. I feel them hitting me, feel them going through and into me... bouncing around and tearing stuff up. I feel the blood running down my skin..."
"No... No bullets." He breathed. He was staring at her silently, his attention unwavering. She hugged herself around the waist and didn't glance at him as she continued.
"I don't feel any pain though. Just the bullets hitting me and the blood running. Vipers are everywhere, but everything I throw at them goes right through... like they're ghosts. I know I'm taking too many shots; I can't survive. I'm going to die... and it scares the shit out of me. I never thought about it much when I was fighting in Joe. I wasn't scared like I am in the dreams."
His eyes glinted in another lightning strike as she fell silent, and he made a soft sound of understanding. His voice was still quiet and deep with sleep when he spoke. "When I dream about Joe, I'm running through the bullets. I can hear them flying past me, but they don't touch me..." He hesitated, and Courtney could see that he was staring out at the rain without really seeing it. The moment was too intimate, both of them standing here in the dark, alone, spilling their dreams. For one brief moment she felt like running away again, and then she realized that that was exactly what she'd been doing for the past seven years. Running away from him, from her feelings for him. Why? Because they didn't belong together? Or because everyone had always told her that they didn't belong together. That brief thought sparked another one... that there was nowhere she wanted to be more than here right now.
She suddenly felt more comfortable and confident, and she folded her arms loosely across her chest and leaned sideways against Beach, leaning her head against his shoulder. He glanced at her sharply in surprise, and then relaxed and continued talking as if nothing had happened.
"I'm always walking through the battle, shooting is always going on around me... but I never see anyone else. I'm walking through..." His voice trailed off, and Courtney felt him move uneasily.
"Through what?" She asked, smelling the rain strongly as a cool breeze rushed in through the window.
"Through bodies." He answered grimly. "I know it's the rest of the team. I'm the only one left. The bodies all run together, but I can see the little things in the blood. Scarlett's crossbow, Snake's visor, Flint's beret..."
"Do you see me?" She asked.
He fidgeted again, and the backs of his fingers brushed hers then stayed. "I look for you. I look for that jacket, but I..." He stopped again, and she felt a bit alarmed as he pulled back from her and suddenly sank down to his heels beside her, his hands coming up to run over his face before he rested his elbows on his knees. He made a soft sound before he braced his forehead on his hands and stared down at the floor.
She folded her arms over her chest as the rain-drenched breeze curled around her legs. She looked down at the broad back, watching as his hands ran through the neat crew cut.
"You weren't dreaming about Joe tonight were you?"
"No."
"What the hell happened over there, Wayne? Tell me..."
"You saw the news. You know the story."
"I know their story. I want to know yours. I should have listened two years ago..."
His head turned slightly in the darkness, and she heard him swallowing. The air seemed charged with energy for a moment before he spoke. "Why didn't you call me back, Courtney?"
She opened her mouth to answer him, the same old excuses she'd been repeating to herself, for her own peace of mind, ready to spill forth. As the lightning lit his face up again though, and their eyes met, she closed her mouth and stood quietly.
"You want some truth from me, then you need to make a trade." He said resentfully. She stared down at him, feeling as if she stood at the edge of a river. Backing away would mean traveling in safety, the same old path she'd been taking for years. He stood on the other side though, asking her to jump in and swim with him. And that path would burn hotter and twist her around more completely than any other she'd ever taken. Nor did she feel at all assured of coming out of that river in one piece.
She slowly lowered herself to her heels beside him, her arms folded between her knees and her chest as she looked at him. She took a deep breath.
"I don't know why I didn't call, Wayne. I... I had the phone in one hand and your number in the other... and I couldn't make my fingers dial your number. Then my pager went off, and I jumped up and ran out. I kept putting it off, telling myself that you were fine and you'd probably gotten over it long ago."
That brought a soft snort of acidic laughter from him, and she grimaced, feeling a sharp guilt stab through her conscience. "I fucked up, Wayne. I let you down because I was too terrified of my own feelings... I'm sorry. You were the one Joe I always counted on to have my back... and I didn't cover yours this time... but I'm here now."
The room was silent for a few long minutes while the storm raged on outside. She heard rain dripping onto the floor. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly again.
"They sent us into Borislav for a straight-forward seek and destroy mission on a communications tower..." His voice was low and quiet and he sounded as if he were forcing the words out. Courtney almost held her breath as he hesitated and then went on.
"You know what the political climate was like then with them. The U.S. had vested interests in them, and their ever-changing regime was playing havoc with a lot of our economy. We really wanted to just go in and take it all over. Set it all to rights, but... the UN and the American public were all against that. So, it was just supposed to be a quick covert mission to stack the deck in our favor a little..." He trailed off there, staring at the wall without seeing it. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed repeatedly across his face. Courtney couldn't stop the feeling of dread settling in her stomach, and she suddenly found herself leaning forward, knees on the floor, sliding her arms under his arms and up over his shoulders, her cheek resting against his nape. He seemed startled and stiffened for a moment.
"Go on..." She urged, and he accepted their new position without another thought and continued.
"We went in with 15. Two Blackhawks took us and our gear in after dark, and would take us out again at dawn from a pre-determined LZ. We weren't expecting any resistance. In fact, Intel told us that there were no enemy soldiers in the area at all. They weren't supposed to have enough troops to cover every essential area...."
Courtney frowned. She hadn't heard that on the news, but that wasn't surprising.
"Intel was wrong?" She asked. His skin was warm and still smelled like soap despite the sweat that had been there only a short time ago. She felt his voice rumbling through his back when he spoke. Cool air and a few cold drops of rain flowed down over them and Courtney shivered again slightly. She felt his hands run up her arms to her hands, and he forced them down over his chest and then tightly around him, so she was pulled closely and warmly against him. She closed her eyes, holding him tightly, and pressing her lips absently against the clipped hair at his nape.
"Not really," he answered, his voice sounding a bit stronger. "We made it to the tower, set the charges and made it nearly out again... it all went according to plan. But when we approached the retrieval LZ, we suddenly took fire."
"The news said you were fired on and that the officer in charge went WIA."
"The Lieutenant in charge took a bullet in the thigh. He hit his head hard when he fell, and even with the helmet, it rang his bell a bit. We got him out of there, but I had to call the shots from then on."
"You probably had more combat experience than he did anyway, Wayne."
"Yeah... we were working together pretty well though. I drew everyone back, and we re-grouped. We figured out that it was a bunch of government- armed civilians set up as a poorly trained defense force. Probably drawing extra food and supplies for their families in trade..."
"What?" She suddenly drew back and knelt beside him, looking at him in shock. "The news said it was one of Borislav's elite Special Forces teams!"
Wayne raised a brow at her and nodded, sliding back to sit on the floor and lean back against his bed. "That's what the news agencies reported... and the brass never corrected them."
Courtney thought about that a moment, suddenly getting a feeling about where the story was going. She slid up beside him, stretching her legs out as she leaned back beside him. His thigh was warm against hers, and she leaned into him a bit.
"They were well-armed, but poorly trained. They flocked together and we ended up killing two of them before capturing the rest easily. We disarmed them, tied them up and left them in one of the nearby houses. The LT suggested to me that maybe we should... get rid of them... and I..." He stared up at the window, the shadows of the raindrops running over his face. Courtney sat up beside him and looked at him.
"Did he order you to kill them?"
"No. He mentioned it to me. Wanted to know what I thought. He didn't know I used to be with G.I. Joe... but he knew I wasn't a normal Ranger. He knew I'd seen more combat than anyone else on the team."
"And?" She felt breathless as she waited.
"And I said we should leave them tied and unharmed. They were just civilians... half of them dropped their guns and gave up when the first man was shot. We weren't supposed to engage the enemy unless forced."
"Well, it sounds like you were forced..."
"I think he wanted to disagree with me... but he was losing blood fast, and I don't think he felt clear-headed. He gave the decision to me..."
She didn't realize she had taken his hand until she saw his eyes shift towards where her hand gripped his. His fingers slowly closed around hers and his gaze bored into her for a long moment.
"I ordered them left alive, and we went out to meet the Blackhawks at the landing zone."
His grip on her hand had tightened almost painfully as his voice dropped, and she nearly winced. She used her other hand to pry his fingers loose from her hand, and he glanced at her almost dazedly.
"Sorry," he whispered, releasing her hand. He set both hands on top of his thighs and folded them into fists. "I ordered half the team into the first Blackhawk and told them to take the LT with them. He needed more than a medic and quickly. When they were loaded, they lifted off. I was giving orders to the radioman, when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. It was just a small thing. I thought it was a bird or something flying into the helicopter... and then I realized what it was... just as the first Blackhawk exploded and then dropped right out of the air... "
Courtney let out the breath she was holding and inhaled sharply again. "Jesus, Wayne..."
"I turned around and there was one of the civilian soldiers in the doorway of the house... with a rocket propelled grenade launcher in his hands. He'd gotten loose and... They must have had weapons hidden in there somewhere good, because we searched every inch of that house... I know we did."
Courtney was speechless. She kept silent and just looked at him in the darkness. He wasn't there with her anyway... he was far away.
"No one survived. I just looked at the wreckage falling to the ground... and I felt numb. I just raised my gun and pumped the man full of bullets. One of the Sergeants threw a grenade through the window of the house and took care of the rest. I took him in with me to secure the house afterwards, and they were all dead." He smiled almost ferociously and looked at her.
"Seven Rangers and two Blackhawk pilots dead... and the civilians died anyway. If I'd have just killed them to begin with... " He swallowed and shook his head, suddenly blinking rapidly. Courtney placed a hand over his fist and studied him almost ruefully.
"If you'd have just killed them to begin with... then you wouldn't be who you are. You've killed before, Wayne... you know, better than most, that it's nothing to take lightly."
He didn't look at her. He sniffed, wiped angrily at his eyes and swallowed. "I'd trade every worthless life in that fucked up country just to bring back those nine men... I mean it."
"I know," she said softly, feeling an ache in her chest as she watched him battle his inner demons. "I'm sorry. You did what you felt was right though..."
"But it wasn't right. If I'd have done any of a dozen things differently, this might not have happened."
"We all have things we have to live with. Some of us have to bear more than others."
"I don't want to live with it." He said in a whisper. "It's tearing me up inside. It won't heal."
"That's why you quit?"
He seemed disturbed by that word. He grimaced slightly when she said it, and she saw the former soldier in him, the one who hated slackers and despised quitters and let everyone know about it. He seemed to be thinking about how to answer that question, when she remembered something else.
"Didn't you get the Bronze Star for that mission?"
He stilled and his eyes slid sideways to stare at her. "We all did." He said stiffly.
"Flint said you talked to Hawk about it. That you wanted to refuse it, and they forced you to accept it."
He was silent for a moment, and then he stretched towards the night table next to his bed, pulling open the small drawer, which squeaked in protest from disuse. He pulled a small box from it and returned to his former position. He handed it to her. She took it, glancing at him as he looked away. She opened it and looked down at the medal inside.
"When we got back, we were debriefed and the press had already picked up the story and made their own assumptions on the mission... or else someone fed them wrong information. The story came out as foreign enemy elite troops fire upon a Ranger training mission and blow up a Blackhawk. The public outcry was huge and approval for military action suddenly went sky- high. The brass jumped on it. No one corrected the story and we were given medals and a big party... after the funerals, of course."
Courtney traced the small star-shaped medal with the pad of one finger. "What did Hawk say about all of this?"
"I only saw him briefly at the funerals. They kept me pretty far from him. He said sometimes there were forces bigger than us in the world... and that sometimes they were going to get their way. We needed to pick our battles carefully."
She looked up at that and nodded thoughtfully. Hawk knew how to play the game. He always had. It was harder for men like Beach, who saw things more black and white and didn't see those subtle shades of gray so easily.
"What did he say when you quit?" She asked curiously.
"I don't think he knew. I just quietly resigned when my tour was up and moved out here. Gung-Ho tracked me down about a year ago.... then Flint came up a few months ago and delivered Hawk's offer, which I refused."
She carefully took the medal from its box and held it up in the dim light from the window. The ribbon gleamed, and the metal star seemed to glow. Beach glanced at it and then looked quickly away. She frowned.
"You know, you've earned this medal a million times over again with your time in Joe, Wayne. None of the public, or even those Generals, realize how much you've actually done for this country."
"I didn't get it for my time in Joe." He replied quietly. "I got it for Borislav... and with the blood of nine good men."
"Have you even touched it?" She asked.
"I had to take it off... I touched it then."
She placed it back in its box, fixing it firmly on the velvet before snapping it shut and leaning over him to place it back in it's drawer. He sat quieter with it out of sight again. They sat and stared at each other.
"We need you back in Joe, Wayne." She finally said. "You can't let those assholes end your career like this. Don't waste away here picking that wound open again and again. You don't need to ask for redemption... but if you can't see that, then redeem yourself by saving the same clueless country that your friends were serving. And if you don't give a shit about that... then come back to the people who care about you. Keep our asses safe and in line again."
He seemed to give her words thought, but then he shook his head and climbed to his feet. He shut the window against the cool, rainy, night air, and then he walked out of the room. She rose to her feet as well, and went to stand at the window, watching the lightning as it lit up the sky and the forest below.
To be continued.......
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