Plura Ater Nox
Plura Ater Nox
Chapter 38
London
"How's he doing, doctor?"
"He seems to be stable, though barely alive. He's been in a coma for almost a month now. When he was brought to the hospital I was ready to pronounce him dead on arrival, but there the faintest of life left in him and I couldn't run the risk of losing him. The country needs men like him in a time like this and we can't afford to lose any others."
"Doctor, I was there when this man was brought in. He had no life left in him."
The eyes of the doctor twinkled, a strange glint of brilliant read reflecting off his otherwise soft brown eyes. "You must believe in miracles, do you not, nurse?"
"Of course I do, just like all good Christians, doctor. It's the will of God if a miracle happens. If this man was meant to live, then this miracle is the will of God." She replied as she handed him his stethoscope as he moved over to the man. She then went on to add, "Truly, it must be an act of God. The heavens must be smiling down on us. There were many men who were spared the trip to St. Peter."
Sighing, the doctor gazed over his patient. The man seemed to be doing much better; in fact, his breathing was much stronger than it had been in ages. A self-satisfied smirk crossed his lips. So, the man was going to live, and everyone would merely think it was a miracle of God… not knowing the truth.
He turned back to the nurse. "Please go attend the injured. Change their bandages, I'll be fine here."
"Of course, doctor." She replied, as she left the room with a graceful sweep and departed in silence.
Once she was gone, the doctor stepped back, holding up his hands, a small red ball of chi forming in his hands. 'I wish I could have saved the rest of my Seishi, but, at least I can save this one. He wasn't dead, so, it's not against the laws of the universe for me to be doing this. It would have been against all the laws of the world if I had interfered with the deaths of the others. After all, at least I can justify this on the grounds that he made a sacrifice for another…'
He concentrated, allowing for the red light engulf the man. Once it had, in a matter of a few seconds it faded. Then, following it was a brief moment of silence before the man let out a shallow moan, moving very so slightly.
'Good…' the doctor thought before leaving the room.
A few minutes after the doctor had left the room, the man, stirred, his eyes opening slowly. He groaned. Oh yes, how he could feel the pain of his efforts to protect Chelsea. It had come at such a great price… almost the cost of his life. He didn't regret it though. It had been worth it. She had given hers as Chiriko, now it was his turn to do the same and protect her, and not because he felt he had to, but because he wanted to.
Hoisting himself up so he was in a sitting position, General Dwight Marshall heaved a sigh. He felt a pang of guilt because he believe and had a feeling that his friends and allies likely believed he had met his demise. He wanted to curb that belief. Thus, closing his eyes, he focused his chi then systematically broadcasted it to his friends.
He felt it bounce off three chi, belonging to his friends and off that of another person. He gathered from this that another one of his friends had died, as well as more of the reincarnated Seiryuu Seishi. But which ones was his next question that he wanted answered as he projected his chi again and attempted to read the others.
'I feel Tasuki's…no, Brennan's. He's well, and he's close. He's not overseas. Chiriko's…Chelsea's is also close, in the same area as Brennan's. I feel Mark's, but he's not as close, and the other chi, the only one belonging to who is not a Suzaku Seishi is that of Suboshi's…'
He half-opened his eyes, thinking of Suboshi's reincarnation and how unlike his previous incarnation the boy was. There was such a contrast between Séamus and Suboshi. It was night and day. General Marshall welcomed the change. The boy wasn't so bad when he had his temper under control. It also helped that the boy was now more mature than before and had some semblance of common sense.
~~~~
'A chi! A chi… no, not just any chi, a special one… Mitsukake…' Lt. Faulkner thought, feeling strange warmth cascading over his body. He shuddered as it travelled through his body. It was a miracle, by the word of Suzaku, it was a miracle! His friend's chi had only faded and he hadn't died.
'Thank the heavens!'
He wept tears of joy.
He wasn't afraid to; no one was around to see this.
'The heavens have spared my friends… Not all have died. Thank you, no da.' He thought, as he crossed himself, offering a prayer of thanks to the heavens.
~~~~
"Brennan! Did you feel that? Did you? You must've felt it! Oh God, I felt that! There is a silver lining in all this death and sorrow!" Chelsea exclaimed, clutching her hands to her heart, resting them over her left breast. Tears brimmed her in eyes. "He's alive!"
"Yeah, I felt it. Hell, its here!" Brennan replied, a sigh of relief escaping him. Now he could thank the general for his heroic efforts that spared Chelsea.
"He's awake, I can feel it. We have to find him, he's here in London, we should go see him and left him know his friends are by his side, ready to be there for him."
"What makes ya think we'll find 'im?" Brennan asked, swinging Chelsea's hands with his. "There's lotsa people in the city; place is mighty huge."
"But we can feel the chi!" Chelsea replied obstinately, pulling her hands back and folding her arms across her chest indignantly. "He's your friend, I'd think you'd be more inclined to go and see to his wellbeing! That's what good friends do!"
"Seadh, seadh…" Brennan sighed, smiling at her.
She poked him. "You know I speak English and Welsh, farm boy, now stop speaking to me in your lousy language and speak in English or I'll start talking to you in Welsh!"
"Aw, gimme a break! Have a heart, dear…" Brennan pleaded.
"Fine, but we're still going to see General Marshall." Chelsea replied as she seized Brennan's hand and pulled him along in the direction of the hospital. She knew what direction she was going in. She didn't need any help. She had enough sense to find where the general was.
He allowed Chelsea to pull him along. It didn't bother him at all, in fact, it was just really cute.
When they arrived at the hospital, they moved quickly past the medical staff, eventually after a short while coming upon the room that General Marshall had been set up in for his recovery. There was no time wasted on knocking (knocking's for chumps!), because Chelsea opened the door and left go of Brennan's wrist, moving over to her boss's bed quickly.
"Chiriko, Tasuki…" General Marshall said; a thankful smile over his lips. "No, Chelsea and Brennan… my friends, thank you for coming. I'm sorry if I scared you and Mark. I wish I could have been there for you guys."
"You've already done so much for us!" Chelsea had been trying to hold back the tears, but, instead, she broke down and took his hand in hers. "Thank you so much, Ike. I'm forever in your debt for this. "
"No, it's ok, Chelsea. You aren't. I did it because we're friends. We fought together before, and now we're fighting together again." General Marshall assured her. "What I want you to do now, worry about Brennan; about your self. Don't worry about me, I'm getting old anyway. I'm happy as long as my friends are ok."
"But what about yourself?" Chelsea asked, a frown of worry caressing her delicate features.
"I'm not worried. I'll be ok." He assured her, touching a hand to her face. He brushed aside her tears. "Just focus on the present, forget about the past. It has no bearing now. Just be happy with Brennan; make him happy and he'll make you happy. You two deserve to have a chance this time at happiness.
"Brennan, you never really had much of a chance to experience love.
"Chelsea, this is your time to experience life itself.
"Both of you make the most of this."
"What about you?" Chelsea pressed, wanting answers.
"I'm going to do something I did back a long time ago, and I'm going to fight on the western front with Mark, as I had during the Great War. We had fought together then and we should be doing that now. Once I'm out of here, I'm not making my contribution from the home front; I'm shipping out to the main land to join his company."
He chuckled softly. "Don't look so worried, Chelsea, I'll be ok. I was destined for this, just like you're destined to lead a fulfilling life this time. Now, scram, go enjoy your freedom!"
"Are you sure?"
"Damnit, woman, do I have to make it an official order?"
"Well…uh…" she looked away, not quite sure how to reply.
Sighing, the general turned to Brennan. "Take her out of here, and make her enjoy her life. Damn, she didn't get much of a chance last time and she's wasting it here."
"Yeah, as ya say, Ike." Brennan replied, giving a toothy fanged grin. "As long as yer ok."
"Damnit, people, I'm fine, quit worry about an old man and enjoy your lives! I'm fine and I'm not decrepit yet, so stop treating me like I'm fragile. I didn't protect Chelsea so you two could waste your time fussing about me and wasting your time in this dingy partially bombed-out hospital." General Marshall replied, trying to shoo the two out of the room.
It wasn't that he didn't appreciate them visiting, it was just that he didn't feel like having them dwell on the past events. He didn't quite care for such depressing topics, they weren't the most pleasant things to think and talk about, especially with the events of the war disrupting their daily lives.
"Are you---"
"Yes I'm sure already damnit! Now go!" He ordered pointing to the door. His voice softened and he offered a coy grin. "Not that I don't appreciate your company, but you needn't worry much about an old man like me."
"But I can't help it!" Chelsea retorted, sulking.
"Don't look that way, didn't your mama teach you that if you make that face that it'll stay like that forever?!"
"Yes, she did and she was wrong, as it is physically impossible. The faces that we make are done by the facial muscles and have no consequence on how the permanent state of our face is, unless something happens to drastically alter that."
General Marshall winked. "I can't fool you, can I, Chiriko?"
"No sir!"
"Now, go please. I don't want to see you two again until I'm out of the hospital, got that?"
"Yes sir!" the couple replied in unison.
~~~~
He wandered the long corridors of the cathedral's monastery, wordless. He hadn't said anything since the day that he had arrived, that fateful following the untimely, though expected death of his twin brother. He had seen it coming. His brother was never really one to fight in any battle or war, a peaceful, tranquil soul who thrived off the calm of peacetime. He knew that there was going to be a consequence to his brother joining the group for this mission… And that consequence was the ultimate price any one could pay, and Jeremiah had paid with his life.
'I knew it had been coming, but I was powerless to stop it. I warned him not to go. I hadn't wanted to go. I knew I should have trusted that instinct, but why did I? Because of my brother… He wanted to, and I could have stopped him, but I didn't. I should have… It's my fault, all my fault…'
This was one of many thoughts that plagued the mind of Séamus as he tried to come to terms with the death of his twin, which he almost refused to accept. The loss had been overwhelming, he had felt like his entire being had been torn in two. The death had driven a stake into the core of his soul and being. He now was void of the very soul that made him…
He lost the will to go on. He had lost a reason to live. He had no family left; no woman who loved him – he had lost her when some low-life assassin had come along and shot her through the skull killing her instantly. That pain alone had poured ice cold grief on his fragile being. But, it had been nothing compared to when he lost his twin…
He lost everything…
He had been at wits end; ready to take his own life.
But, there had been a light at the end of the tunnel. A white light; a warm light, one that reminded him that he had one other purpose in life. He could channel his grief and guilt into something that would help him lose himself without taking his life. He gave himself over to God. He became a monk, swearing to a life of celibacy. It was the only way besides taking his own life that he could deal with the death of his twin.
The day he had arrived had been a gloomy and wet day; it was pouring rain; cold rain. The skies had just opened up, and the grey clouds just wouldn't go away; they followed him everywhere he went, serving as an eternal reminder to his gnawing guilt that he felt would eat him alive.
He remembered when he first walked in. He was dressed in his GI uniform, soaked to the bone, droplets of cold water dripping off his face and from his hair. His clothes clung to his body and his steps were mechanical, his sights dead ahead; his eyes almost lifeless. He had walked in, passed the priest on duty up to the dais, where he had collapsed.
It was after a very long moments of silence that he had felt a hand on his shoulder and a sweet voice calling him; asking him if he was all right.
He had given only one reply, "it is the will of God; His will is for me to give up everything and serve my penance for my guilt and make amends by surrendering myself to His will and serving him…"
The priest had gazed into Séamus' eyes for a pregnant moment before he made his reply of, "you've seen a lot haven't you? The horrors of war have driven you to feel this guilt… No, it's something more, but, my child, you needn't speak of it. Come; let's get you dry clothes so you don't catch your death."
The one statement he had made then had been the first and last time he had ever spoken since he had arrived at the cathedral. Now, it had been over a few months since that day. He still wouldn't speak, but he was feeling a little better than he had when he first join. The guilt was there, but he no longer minded it. He at least felt like he was doing what was truly right.
Three pairs of eyes watched him pass.
"Father, aren't you going to say anything to him? He's been silent for far too long. It isn't healthy for anyone to go that long without talking to another person." The first of the brothers remarked.
"Yes, I agree. I've tried several times to talk to Brother Séamus but he never responds to me." The second replied.
"He has experienced a great pain, a loss. He's feeling very guilty for it. It's best to let him work his way through it through deeds and service to the Lord." The father explained. "I have watched him, this is healing him. If the healing can have this much affect on him, he could bring such healing to the community and restore that zeal, renew their faith."
"What are you saying?"
"That he is my successor."
"No! Father, he hasn't been here that long and he never says a word, is that the kind of man you want to be the leader of the church?"
"If I give him this chance, he could do great things for the community.
"I advise that you don't do this…"
"I know what I'm doing. I sense that he will do a great good for the church. There was something about him that day when I met him. He has seen a lot. He will do well to be a servant of God as the leader of one of God's sanctuaries."
With that, the father turned and trailed after Séamus, catching him before he entered the back room where the library was. He placed his hand on the door, keeping it shut, a gentle warm smile caressing his lips.
"Brother Séamus, how are you this morning?"
He waited as he read the young man's features.
"Ah, you're doing better, that's good." The father replied as he Séamus had actually spoken. He cleared his throat and added. "I'm doing my usual service today; however, I want you to do one of the readings and to lead a hymn. You would make an excellent addition to the priesthood. I sensed something unique about that first day, something that told me that you would be able to make people feel the presence of God in the heart and welcome Him. I felt it that day and now I want others to feel it…"
Séamus turned his gaze to the father, his blue eyes filled with shock; incredulously. His lips began to move, the first words to be spoken in months softly escaping. "Me… You want me to…"
"Yes, I want you to."
"Why?"
"Because I have chosen you to be my successor. There is no time like the present to allow you to have the chance to given guidance to a war-torn community and restore faith; give them hope that there is a silver lining in the cloud."
"But my penance; I owe a debt to God…"
"And that, my son will be repaid as you speak, spread his word to the people of the community, and let them again embrace his kindness and love that has been forgotten during this war."
Bowing his head, his long bangs cascading into his sights. "I'm humbled and honoured father that you would pick me of all the brothers to do this. I shall do my best to make God come alive in the hearts of the people again and restore that lost faith."
"You're closer to being healed, my brother."
"Explain…"
"This is the first time you have spoken since you came. This is a sign that you have come to terms with your pain and you have embraced it. You have allowed for yourself to see passed this and beyond into the future. Because you have done this, you are ready to guide others through their pain.
"This is the reason you are my successor because you will be the one best able to understand the pain of loss and anguish that the faithful have. The other brothers don't, for they have come to this monastery before they were exposed to pain. All humans experience pain some time in their lives. You've already gone through that; it has given you something greater than you'll ever know…"
"I understand what you mean." Séamus nodded in reply as he took the rosary out of his pocket and toyed with it. "And, father, I will not let you down, or any of the people in this community."
"I'm happy for you, and so is the Lord. He was shining his holy light on you the day that you wandered into this cathedral seeking guidance. He has brought you to this point and he is still behind you, giving you everything you need, my son. You'll fair well as my successor."
~~~~
Yawning, Lt. Faulkner gazed over the map of the area. He had marked off the areas that they had drove the Nazis out of and had claimed back for France, but there was a great deal to do accomplish before they could fully restore the French government to power. He sighed, studying what he had in front of him. There was something wrong with his plan, but he couldn't quite place it…
"You might want to try coming in from the east instead of the west, and sending another in front the north. They'd be expecting from the south, especially since there was a large invasion force sent to Italy, as well as to Northern Africa and they're making their way north have a great number of successes."
"Hmn, good point."
"You might also want to let the professional handle this, Marcus."
Turning, sharply, Lt. Faulkner came face to face with his friend Dwight. This was a great shock. He hadn't expected this, nor had he any idea that the man was in the area. He knew his friend had been spared the death route, but he didn't know his friend would repay his good fortune by taking his life in his hands and risking everything by coming out to the western front.
"What? Not happy to see me, Mark?"
"It—it's not that, Ike, it's just that well, I didn't quite expect to see you out here…" Lt. Faulkner stumbled over his answer, as he tried to explain exactly how he felt about the circumstances. He didn't want to sound rude, for he was grateful for his friend being here.
"I decided to fight… For old time's sake; just like in The Great War." General Marshall explained, as he picked up the pen that Lt. Faulkner had been using and began to make changes to the map that had the layout for the next attack by allied forces. He made some changes that he felt would be in the best interests of the 16th Division.
"It'll be a pleasure to work with you again, old friend." Lt. Faulkner replied, as he made note of the changes that his friend was making. They were quite notable, though very logical.
Clearing his throat, he queried, "so, how exactly did you get here?"
"Parachuted in with reinforcements. You guys were running a little low. I also noticed you sent Brennan home…"
"I'm sorry, no da…
"It was a good judgement call."
Lt. Faulkner blinked surprise that he didn't chastise for his action. He stood, baffled, not quite understanding why the general didn't say anything more on the issue. Usually, unless there was extreme justification, no soldier was sent home from the war front, but it seemed that the general in this case was turning a blind eye to it. He must've done some double-shuffling to get the incident ignored.
Gazing up, General Marshall set the pen down and picked up the rifle, tossing it to Lt. Faulkner. "Time again to teach those Nazis a lesson they'll never forget, and this time, it's for real."
"Of course!" Lt. Faulkner caught the rifle, as General Marshall picked up the other, leading the way out of the room and out to where the soldiers were either on break, on duty or sleeping. In either case, most stopped what they were doing and drew to where the group was, ready for the assignment of the next attack.
It was encouraging to see their general out on the field, ready to fight with them; it was a boost to morale and spirits. The silence awoke the others who were sleeping. Everyone was at the disposal of the general, ready to serve, for they knew, they wouldn't be sent to meaningless deaths. He didn't like to see his men die and always told them that he appreciated their sacrifice for their countries and their deaths weren't in vain.
"Take a knee, men. I want you to all picture our homeland. The women and the children. They are who we are fighting for. I want you to picture your families. They are at home waiting for you. You will return home safely because I don't send my men to meaningless deaths. I want you to picture your girlfriends or wives. See their smiles, the way their faces light up when they see you. You will get to go home to that because you'll fight and you'll win. All of you are my men, your lives are important to someone. You will not die in vain. If you die, which I hope you don't, you'll die knowing that you're ensuring the future security of your country and your families."
He held up his right hand, making the letter "V" with his first and second fingers; the symbol for victory.
"Victory will be ours, I promise you that. You will go home and look back and remember how honourably you served your country and you will be remembered as a hero, no matter how small or big your contribution to the war is.
"God bless you all and God save the King."
Chapter 38
London
"How's he doing, doctor?"
"He seems to be stable, though barely alive. He's been in a coma for almost a month now. When he was brought to the hospital I was ready to pronounce him dead on arrival, but there the faintest of life left in him and I couldn't run the risk of losing him. The country needs men like him in a time like this and we can't afford to lose any others."
"Doctor, I was there when this man was brought in. He had no life left in him."
The eyes of the doctor twinkled, a strange glint of brilliant read reflecting off his otherwise soft brown eyes. "You must believe in miracles, do you not, nurse?"
"Of course I do, just like all good Christians, doctor. It's the will of God if a miracle happens. If this man was meant to live, then this miracle is the will of God." She replied as she handed him his stethoscope as he moved over to the man. She then went on to add, "Truly, it must be an act of God. The heavens must be smiling down on us. There were many men who were spared the trip to St. Peter."
Sighing, the doctor gazed over his patient. The man seemed to be doing much better; in fact, his breathing was much stronger than it had been in ages. A self-satisfied smirk crossed his lips. So, the man was going to live, and everyone would merely think it was a miracle of God… not knowing the truth.
He turned back to the nurse. "Please go attend the injured. Change their bandages, I'll be fine here."
"Of course, doctor." She replied, as she left the room with a graceful sweep and departed in silence.
Once she was gone, the doctor stepped back, holding up his hands, a small red ball of chi forming in his hands. 'I wish I could have saved the rest of my Seishi, but, at least I can save this one. He wasn't dead, so, it's not against the laws of the universe for me to be doing this. It would have been against all the laws of the world if I had interfered with the deaths of the others. After all, at least I can justify this on the grounds that he made a sacrifice for another…'
He concentrated, allowing for the red light engulf the man. Once it had, in a matter of a few seconds it faded. Then, following it was a brief moment of silence before the man let out a shallow moan, moving very so slightly.
'Good…' the doctor thought before leaving the room.
A few minutes after the doctor had left the room, the man, stirred, his eyes opening slowly. He groaned. Oh yes, how he could feel the pain of his efforts to protect Chelsea. It had come at such a great price… almost the cost of his life. He didn't regret it though. It had been worth it. She had given hers as Chiriko, now it was his turn to do the same and protect her, and not because he felt he had to, but because he wanted to.
Hoisting himself up so he was in a sitting position, General Dwight Marshall heaved a sigh. He felt a pang of guilt because he believe and had a feeling that his friends and allies likely believed he had met his demise. He wanted to curb that belief. Thus, closing his eyes, he focused his chi then systematically broadcasted it to his friends.
He felt it bounce off three chi, belonging to his friends and off that of another person. He gathered from this that another one of his friends had died, as well as more of the reincarnated Seiryuu Seishi. But which ones was his next question that he wanted answered as he projected his chi again and attempted to read the others.
'I feel Tasuki's…no, Brennan's. He's well, and he's close. He's not overseas. Chiriko's…Chelsea's is also close, in the same area as Brennan's. I feel Mark's, but he's not as close, and the other chi, the only one belonging to who is not a Suzaku Seishi is that of Suboshi's…'
He half-opened his eyes, thinking of Suboshi's reincarnation and how unlike his previous incarnation the boy was. There was such a contrast between Séamus and Suboshi. It was night and day. General Marshall welcomed the change. The boy wasn't so bad when he had his temper under control. It also helped that the boy was now more mature than before and had some semblance of common sense.
~~~~
'A chi! A chi… no, not just any chi, a special one… Mitsukake…' Lt. Faulkner thought, feeling strange warmth cascading over his body. He shuddered as it travelled through his body. It was a miracle, by the word of Suzaku, it was a miracle! His friend's chi had only faded and he hadn't died.
'Thank the heavens!'
He wept tears of joy.
He wasn't afraid to; no one was around to see this.
'The heavens have spared my friends… Not all have died. Thank you, no da.' He thought, as he crossed himself, offering a prayer of thanks to the heavens.
~~~~
"Brennan! Did you feel that? Did you? You must've felt it! Oh God, I felt that! There is a silver lining in all this death and sorrow!" Chelsea exclaimed, clutching her hands to her heart, resting them over her left breast. Tears brimmed her in eyes. "He's alive!"
"Yeah, I felt it. Hell, its here!" Brennan replied, a sigh of relief escaping him. Now he could thank the general for his heroic efforts that spared Chelsea.
"He's awake, I can feel it. We have to find him, he's here in London, we should go see him and left him know his friends are by his side, ready to be there for him."
"What makes ya think we'll find 'im?" Brennan asked, swinging Chelsea's hands with his. "There's lotsa people in the city; place is mighty huge."
"But we can feel the chi!" Chelsea replied obstinately, pulling her hands back and folding her arms across her chest indignantly. "He's your friend, I'd think you'd be more inclined to go and see to his wellbeing! That's what good friends do!"
"Seadh, seadh…" Brennan sighed, smiling at her.
She poked him. "You know I speak English and Welsh, farm boy, now stop speaking to me in your lousy language and speak in English or I'll start talking to you in Welsh!"
"Aw, gimme a break! Have a heart, dear…" Brennan pleaded.
"Fine, but we're still going to see General Marshall." Chelsea replied as she seized Brennan's hand and pulled him along in the direction of the hospital. She knew what direction she was going in. She didn't need any help. She had enough sense to find where the general was.
He allowed Chelsea to pull him along. It didn't bother him at all, in fact, it was just really cute.
When they arrived at the hospital, they moved quickly past the medical staff, eventually after a short while coming upon the room that General Marshall had been set up in for his recovery. There was no time wasted on knocking (knocking's for chumps!), because Chelsea opened the door and left go of Brennan's wrist, moving over to her boss's bed quickly.
"Chiriko, Tasuki…" General Marshall said; a thankful smile over his lips. "No, Chelsea and Brennan… my friends, thank you for coming. I'm sorry if I scared you and Mark. I wish I could have been there for you guys."
"You've already done so much for us!" Chelsea had been trying to hold back the tears, but, instead, she broke down and took his hand in hers. "Thank you so much, Ike. I'm forever in your debt for this. "
"No, it's ok, Chelsea. You aren't. I did it because we're friends. We fought together before, and now we're fighting together again." General Marshall assured her. "What I want you to do now, worry about Brennan; about your self. Don't worry about me, I'm getting old anyway. I'm happy as long as my friends are ok."
"But what about yourself?" Chelsea asked, a frown of worry caressing her delicate features.
"I'm not worried. I'll be ok." He assured her, touching a hand to her face. He brushed aside her tears. "Just focus on the present, forget about the past. It has no bearing now. Just be happy with Brennan; make him happy and he'll make you happy. You two deserve to have a chance this time at happiness.
"Brennan, you never really had much of a chance to experience love.
"Chelsea, this is your time to experience life itself.
"Both of you make the most of this."
"What about you?" Chelsea pressed, wanting answers.
"I'm going to do something I did back a long time ago, and I'm going to fight on the western front with Mark, as I had during the Great War. We had fought together then and we should be doing that now. Once I'm out of here, I'm not making my contribution from the home front; I'm shipping out to the main land to join his company."
He chuckled softly. "Don't look so worried, Chelsea, I'll be ok. I was destined for this, just like you're destined to lead a fulfilling life this time. Now, scram, go enjoy your freedom!"
"Are you sure?"
"Damnit, woman, do I have to make it an official order?"
"Well…uh…" she looked away, not quite sure how to reply.
Sighing, the general turned to Brennan. "Take her out of here, and make her enjoy her life. Damn, she didn't get much of a chance last time and she's wasting it here."
"Yeah, as ya say, Ike." Brennan replied, giving a toothy fanged grin. "As long as yer ok."
"Damnit, people, I'm fine, quit worry about an old man and enjoy your lives! I'm fine and I'm not decrepit yet, so stop treating me like I'm fragile. I didn't protect Chelsea so you two could waste your time fussing about me and wasting your time in this dingy partially bombed-out hospital." General Marshall replied, trying to shoo the two out of the room.
It wasn't that he didn't appreciate them visiting, it was just that he didn't feel like having them dwell on the past events. He didn't quite care for such depressing topics, they weren't the most pleasant things to think and talk about, especially with the events of the war disrupting their daily lives.
"Are you---"
"Yes I'm sure already damnit! Now go!" He ordered pointing to the door. His voice softened and he offered a coy grin. "Not that I don't appreciate your company, but you needn't worry much about an old man like me."
"But I can't help it!" Chelsea retorted, sulking.
"Don't look that way, didn't your mama teach you that if you make that face that it'll stay like that forever?!"
"Yes, she did and she was wrong, as it is physically impossible. The faces that we make are done by the facial muscles and have no consequence on how the permanent state of our face is, unless something happens to drastically alter that."
General Marshall winked. "I can't fool you, can I, Chiriko?"
"No sir!"
"Now, go please. I don't want to see you two again until I'm out of the hospital, got that?"
"Yes sir!" the couple replied in unison.
~~~~
He wandered the long corridors of the cathedral's monastery, wordless. He hadn't said anything since the day that he had arrived, that fateful following the untimely, though expected death of his twin brother. He had seen it coming. His brother was never really one to fight in any battle or war, a peaceful, tranquil soul who thrived off the calm of peacetime. He knew that there was going to be a consequence to his brother joining the group for this mission… And that consequence was the ultimate price any one could pay, and Jeremiah had paid with his life.
'I knew it had been coming, but I was powerless to stop it. I warned him not to go. I hadn't wanted to go. I knew I should have trusted that instinct, but why did I? Because of my brother… He wanted to, and I could have stopped him, but I didn't. I should have… It's my fault, all my fault…'
This was one of many thoughts that plagued the mind of Séamus as he tried to come to terms with the death of his twin, which he almost refused to accept. The loss had been overwhelming, he had felt like his entire being had been torn in two. The death had driven a stake into the core of his soul and being. He now was void of the very soul that made him…
He lost the will to go on. He had lost a reason to live. He had no family left; no woman who loved him – he had lost her when some low-life assassin had come along and shot her through the skull killing her instantly. That pain alone had poured ice cold grief on his fragile being. But, it had been nothing compared to when he lost his twin…
He lost everything…
He had been at wits end; ready to take his own life.
But, there had been a light at the end of the tunnel. A white light; a warm light, one that reminded him that he had one other purpose in life. He could channel his grief and guilt into something that would help him lose himself without taking his life. He gave himself over to God. He became a monk, swearing to a life of celibacy. It was the only way besides taking his own life that he could deal with the death of his twin.
The day he had arrived had been a gloomy and wet day; it was pouring rain; cold rain. The skies had just opened up, and the grey clouds just wouldn't go away; they followed him everywhere he went, serving as an eternal reminder to his gnawing guilt that he felt would eat him alive.
He remembered when he first walked in. He was dressed in his GI uniform, soaked to the bone, droplets of cold water dripping off his face and from his hair. His clothes clung to his body and his steps were mechanical, his sights dead ahead; his eyes almost lifeless. He had walked in, passed the priest on duty up to the dais, where he had collapsed.
It was after a very long moments of silence that he had felt a hand on his shoulder and a sweet voice calling him; asking him if he was all right.
He had given only one reply, "it is the will of God; His will is for me to give up everything and serve my penance for my guilt and make amends by surrendering myself to His will and serving him…"
The priest had gazed into Séamus' eyes for a pregnant moment before he made his reply of, "you've seen a lot haven't you? The horrors of war have driven you to feel this guilt… No, it's something more, but, my child, you needn't speak of it. Come; let's get you dry clothes so you don't catch your death."
The one statement he had made then had been the first and last time he had ever spoken since he had arrived at the cathedral. Now, it had been over a few months since that day. He still wouldn't speak, but he was feeling a little better than he had when he first join. The guilt was there, but he no longer minded it. He at least felt like he was doing what was truly right.
Three pairs of eyes watched him pass.
"Father, aren't you going to say anything to him? He's been silent for far too long. It isn't healthy for anyone to go that long without talking to another person." The first of the brothers remarked.
"Yes, I agree. I've tried several times to talk to Brother Séamus but he never responds to me." The second replied.
"He has experienced a great pain, a loss. He's feeling very guilty for it. It's best to let him work his way through it through deeds and service to the Lord." The father explained. "I have watched him, this is healing him. If the healing can have this much affect on him, he could bring such healing to the community and restore that zeal, renew their faith."
"What are you saying?"
"That he is my successor."
"No! Father, he hasn't been here that long and he never says a word, is that the kind of man you want to be the leader of the church?"
"If I give him this chance, he could do great things for the community.
"I advise that you don't do this…"
"I know what I'm doing. I sense that he will do a great good for the church. There was something about him that day when I met him. He has seen a lot. He will do well to be a servant of God as the leader of one of God's sanctuaries."
With that, the father turned and trailed after Séamus, catching him before he entered the back room where the library was. He placed his hand on the door, keeping it shut, a gentle warm smile caressing his lips.
"Brother Séamus, how are you this morning?"
He waited as he read the young man's features.
"Ah, you're doing better, that's good." The father replied as he Séamus had actually spoken. He cleared his throat and added. "I'm doing my usual service today; however, I want you to do one of the readings and to lead a hymn. You would make an excellent addition to the priesthood. I sensed something unique about that first day, something that told me that you would be able to make people feel the presence of God in the heart and welcome Him. I felt it that day and now I want others to feel it…"
Séamus turned his gaze to the father, his blue eyes filled with shock; incredulously. His lips began to move, the first words to be spoken in months softly escaping. "Me… You want me to…"
"Yes, I want you to."
"Why?"
"Because I have chosen you to be my successor. There is no time like the present to allow you to have the chance to given guidance to a war-torn community and restore faith; give them hope that there is a silver lining in the cloud."
"But my penance; I owe a debt to God…"
"And that, my son will be repaid as you speak, spread his word to the people of the community, and let them again embrace his kindness and love that has been forgotten during this war."
Bowing his head, his long bangs cascading into his sights. "I'm humbled and honoured father that you would pick me of all the brothers to do this. I shall do my best to make God come alive in the hearts of the people again and restore that lost faith."
"You're closer to being healed, my brother."
"Explain…"
"This is the first time you have spoken since you came. This is a sign that you have come to terms with your pain and you have embraced it. You have allowed for yourself to see passed this and beyond into the future. Because you have done this, you are ready to guide others through their pain.
"This is the reason you are my successor because you will be the one best able to understand the pain of loss and anguish that the faithful have. The other brothers don't, for they have come to this monastery before they were exposed to pain. All humans experience pain some time in their lives. You've already gone through that; it has given you something greater than you'll ever know…"
"I understand what you mean." Séamus nodded in reply as he took the rosary out of his pocket and toyed with it. "And, father, I will not let you down, or any of the people in this community."
"I'm happy for you, and so is the Lord. He was shining his holy light on you the day that you wandered into this cathedral seeking guidance. He has brought you to this point and he is still behind you, giving you everything you need, my son. You'll fair well as my successor."
~~~~
Yawning, Lt. Faulkner gazed over the map of the area. He had marked off the areas that they had drove the Nazis out of and had claimed back for France, but there was a great deal to do accomplish before they could fully restore the French government to power. He sighed, studying what he had in front of him. There was something wrong with his plan, but he couldn't quite place it…
"You might want to try coming in from the east instead of the west, and sending another in front the north. They'd be expecting from the south, especially since there was a large invasion force sent to Italy, as well as to Northern Africa and they're making their way north have a great number of successes."
"Hmn, good point."
"You might also want to let the professional handle this, Marcus."
Turning, sharply, Lt. Faulkner came face to face with his friend Dwight. This was a great shock. He hadn't expected this, nor had he any idea that the man was in the area. He knew his friend had been spared the death route, but he didn't know his friend would repay his good fortune by taking his life in his hands and risking everything by coming out to the western front.
"What? Not happy to see me, Mark?"
"It—it's not that, Ike, it's just that well, I didn't quite expect to see you out here…" Lt. Faulkner stumbled over his answer, as he tried to explain exactly how he felt about the circumstances. He didn't want to sound rude, for he was grateful for his friend being here.
"I decided to fight… For old time's sake; just like in The Great War." General Marshall explained, as he picked up the pen that Lt. Faulkner had been using and began to make changes to the map that had the layout for the next attack by allied forces. He made some changes that he felt would be in the best interests of the 16th Division.
"It'll be a pleasure to work with you again, old friend." Lt. Faulkner replied, as he made note of the changes that his friend was making. They were quite notable, though very logical.
Clearing his throat, he queried, "so, how exactly did you get here?"
"Parachuted in with reinforcements. You guys were running a little low. I also noticed you sent Brennan home…"
"I'm sorry, no da…
"It was a good judgement call."
Lt. Faulkner blinked surprise that he didn't chastise for his action. He stood, baffled, not quite understanding why the general didn't say anything more on the issue. Usually, unless there was extreme justification, no soldier was sent home from the war front, but it seemed that the general in this case was turning a blind eye to it. He must've done some double-shuffling to get the incident ignored.
Gazing up, General Marshall set the pen down and picked up the rifle, tossing it to Lt. Faulkner. "Time again to teach those Nazis a lesson they'll never forget, and this time, it's for real."
"Of course!" Lt. Faulkner caught the rifle, as General Marshall picked up the other, leading the way out of the room and out to where the soldiers were either on break, on duty or sleeping. In either case, most stopped what they were doing and drew to where the group was, ready for the assignment of the next attack.
It was encouraging to see their general out on the field, ready to fight with them; it was a boost to morale and spirits. The silence awoke the others who were sleeping. Everyone was at the disposal of the general, ready to serve, for they knew, they wouldn't be sent to meaningless deaths. He didn't like to see his men die and always told them that he appreciated their sacrifice for their countries and their deaths weren't in vain.
"Take a knee, men. I want you to all picture our homeland. The women and the children. They are who we are fighting for. I want you to picture your families. They are at home waiting for you. You will return home safely because I don't send my men to meaningless deaths. I want you to picture your girlfriends or wives. See their smiles, the way their faces light up when they see you. You will get to go home to that because you'll fight and you'll win. All of you are my men, your lives are important to someone. You will not die in vain. If you die, which I hope you don't, you'll die knowing that you're ensuring the future security of your country and your families."
He held up his right hand, making the letter "V" with his first and second fingers; the symbol for victory.
"Victory will be ours, I promise you that. You will go home and look back and remember how honourably you served your country and you will be remembered as a hero, no matter how small or big your contribution to the war is.
"God bless you all and God save the King."