AN: Someone had asked me when the war in Vietnam ended.  The U.S. pulled out its last troops in April of 1975 (The cease-fire was declared in 1973), when it became abundantly clear that the mission had failed.  (While Richard Nixon is often credited for pulling the US troops out of Vietnam, his Presidency is forever marred by the Watergate scandal that lead to his impeachment.  Gerald Ford was President when the war finally ended.) 

To date, the war in Vietnam is the largest, most costly U.S. military failure in history.

Story Summary: Winter, 1966/1967.  By year's end, U.S. troop levels reach 463,000 with 16,000 combat deaths to date. By this time, over a million American soldiers have rotated through Vietnam.  The capital city of Saigon is under fire, and the VC's Tet Offensive will turn the tide of the entire war.

In Vietnam, Chandler has been left to fend for himself, after getting a severely injured Joey to safety and Ross has found two new vices in Saigon; booze and sex.  In San Francisco, the house the girls were staying in was firebombed, and Monica has a baby boy.

The Age of Aquarius

Chapter Fourteen: Beyond the Sea, Part I

"How in the light of one night, did we come so far?"

-- Boublil/Maltby, Jr.

Saigon, Vietnam

The harsh, hot rays of the morning sun burned through the threadbare, crimson material that only halfway covered the small window.  The covering veiled the dank, musty room in an almost rose-colored glow, giving the room a much warmer feel than it deserved.

A rickety, rusted bed had been shoved into the far corner of the room, where a hole-covered, black blanket covered a thin, worn mattress.

In the silence of the early morning, a large rat scuttled across the room, and into a hole in a corner floorboard.  In the distance, gunfire; a cruel reminder that this was not an ordinary morning.

In the bed, a man lay on his stomach, his right arm hanging lifelessly off of the bed, his left laying under his head.  He groaned, as the light soon became too bright for him to bear.

A thin Vietnamese girl sat on the other side of the bed, watching the American soldier awaken slowly.  Her heart thumped wildly against her tiny chest, as the dark-haired man opened one red-threaded eye, then another.  Cursing softly, he gingerly raised his head, blinked several times, and surveyed his surroundings.  It took him several long second to register the presence of the girl.

"Oh!" Ross started, and pulled himself to a sitting position suddenly.  He was rewarded with an increase in the persistent thumping in his head, and a slow turning of his stomach.

Exactly how much had he drunk last night, anyway?

"Hello," the girl whispered shakily, her eyes glued to the blanket that lay loosely over both of them.

"I—um, you…uh, oh—"Ross stuttered, closed his eyes, and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead, in a futile attempt to stop the thumping in his brain.

"Your head hurt?" the girl asked suddenly.

Ross groaned, and nodded slightly, using his headache as an excuse not to talk to the poor girl.  He shifted uncomfortably, opening his eyes when he felt the weight shift on the bed.

"I'll bring you tea," the girl shuffled across the room quickly.  She trembled slightly, and hugged herself, as she muttered something in Vietnamese.

"Wait," Ross sighed, as the girl began walking toward the door.  The girl turned, and looked in Ross' direction, but refused to meet his gaze.

"I'm—I'm Ross," he smiled, and stood up slowly.  Realizing that he was completely nude, he quickly grabbed the blanket, and wrapped it around his waist.  The girl flushed, and looked at her feet.  She shivered again, both from the cold morning air, and from her increasing nervousness.

"Here," Ross grabbed his green jacket off of the end of the bed, and handed it to the girl.  She bowed gratefully, and pulled the jacket around her.  Ross smiled slightly; the girl was completely lost inside his jacket, she was so tiny.  He watched, as she ran her finger over his name patch slowly, then tightened the giant jacket around her.  She bowed again, and smiled slightly, still looking toward the ground.

"I'll get your tea," the girl said softly, and rushed out of the room.

He stood in the center of the room, holding the thin blanket around his waist, wondering just how the hell he had gotten here in the first place.  After several minutes, he shuffled back to the bed, and collapsed on the thin mattress.  His head felt like lead, and his stomach churned.  But he was somehow comforted by the faint scent of the girl's perfume on the sheets; and by the image of the girl that appeared when he closed his eyes.  He let the images envelop him, as he drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

*

Bangkok, Thailand

He was running, his heart thumping in his ears wildly, as fear rose deep within him.  Large tree leaves slapped him in the face, and razor-sharp branches sliced his arms and legs, but he hardly noticed.  He could hear the heavy footsteps closing in, and though he struggled to run faster, his legs suddenly felt very heavy, and it seemed as though his pace was slowing.  He could hear nothing but the sound of his own heavy breathing.

He suddenly realized that he had no idea where he was, or where he was headed.  He tried to look around, but could see nothing but thick foliage.

The footsteps grew louder, as they closed in on him.

He let out a primal scream, and bolted forward as fast as his tired legs could carry him. 

The footsteps closed in, overwhelming him.  He suddenly felt a heavy arm on his shoulder, spinning him around quickly.

He reached for his sidearm, but found that he had no weapon.  He looked up into the eyes of his pursuer, and started as familiar blues looked back at him.

"Chandler?" he whispered.

Chandler said nothing to him; he simply pulled out his gun, pointed it at his head, and fired.

Joey gasped, and sat up in bed, covered in a thin sheen of sweat.  He'd been having the same dream every night; Running, fear, then the shock of seeing Chandler; of seeing Chandler pull a gun on him, and fire.  Shaking his head, Joey lay back down, and once again struggled to figure out what the dream meant.  He turned to his side slowly, and it was then that he remembered why he was holed up in the hospital.  It was then that he realized why his dreams were about running.  He turned to his back, and flipped the sheet off of his body.  Sitting up slightly, he looked down the bed.

Depression, anger, sadness, self-pity and fear overwhelmed him, the way it did every time he looked at the swollen stump where his leg used to be.

*

Saigon, Vietnam

The girl walked into the room, carefully balancing the tray in front of her.  She set the tray on a small wooden table that sat next to the bed where the American was once again sleeping.  She quietly shuffled to the other side of the bed, and studied his face as he slept.

Ross felt a presence in the room, and opened his eyes slowly.  He smiled, as he looked up at the girl who was standing before him.  The girl blushed, and looked down at her feet demurely.

"Hi," Ross whispered softly, as he sat up.

The girl smiled slightly, then walked around the bed to fetch the tea.

"You—you never told me your name," Ross commented quietly.

The girl continued to pour the tea slowly.  She picked up one of the tiny blue porcelain cups gingerly, and handed it to Ross with a slight bow.  Ross smiled, and took the cup from her.  He watched, as she picked up her own cup, and sat down on the bottom corner of the bed.

They sipped their tea in silence for several minutes.  Ross watched, as the girl tried to look at him, while simultaneously avoiding his gaze.  Finally, she relented, and looked down at her tea intently.

"Mei Ha," the girl whispered suddenly.

"What?" Ross looked up.

"My name," the girl said softly, "is Mei Ha."

"T-that's a very beautiful name," Ross said sweetly.

"I—this was—I never do this before," Mei Ha studied her tea.

"What?  You mean you've never—"Ross raised an eyebrow, and saw Mei Ha blush again.

"My family…they are dead.  I have no monay, and this man, Thuy, he…he told me that he would help me.  But I…I've never…"

"Me neither," Ross scooted across the bed, and took Mei Ha's hand, "I've never…I mean I have done that, but I've never bought—I mean, I—"

"Tell me about America," Mei Ha whispered suddenly.

"Wh-what do you want to know?" Ross asked.

"Anything.  Everything.  I—I want to know…if it is really the way it is, in my dreams," Mei Ha stared at the blanket, and ran her fingers over the rim of her cup.

Ross felt his heart ache for the girl that sat before him.  She looked so young, so small and helpless.  He knew that she was at least his age—perhaps a bit younger—but she had already been through more than most people will in a lifetime.  Cautiously, he took her teacup from her trembling hand, and set both cups on the tray.  He sat back on the bed, and motioned for Mei Ha to join him.  Slowly, she complied, and Ross suddenly realized that she thought he was going to take advantage of her.  As she sat down next to him, he carefully wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her toward him.  He felt her tense slightly, so he loosened his grasp slightly.

"I'm from New York," Ross whispered, and felt Mei Ha relax, as she began to understand his intent.

She settled against him, as he began talking about his family, his friends, and his school.  He talked about American music, about his life before the war.

He did not talk about the girl he left behind; he didn't really know why.

Somewhere beyond the sea

Somewhere waiting for me

My lover stands on golden sands

And watches the ships that go sailing

Somewhere beyond the sea

She's there watching for me

If I could fly like birds on high

Then straight to her arms

I'd go sailing

--"Beyond the Sea", Bobby Darin