"Weren't there supposed to be six of ya'll?"
Four of the men hid smiles or laughter and Angel's eyes narrowed with the threat of temper as a lean, green eyed blonde sat back in his chair and spoke up.
"Hoot said he knows more about Turkey than some teachers who've never been and he had other shit to do. He's outside smoking a cigarette"
"Is he?" Angel asked coolly, finding this made her incredibly angry, though normally she'd brush the person off and do the lecture. Removing her suit jacket, Angel ignored further whistles as she spoke quietly to Linda.
"I'll be right back. Start your bit on Islam if you want or just wait 'til I return."
Dropping her jacket on a chair, she glared at the guy on the end of the aisle and knocked his feet of the arms of the chair next to him, earning teasing noises of fear from the men before she walked briskly from the auditorium, ignoring them completely.
Stepping out of the Museum, Angel paused to let her eyes adjust to the bright sunshine and searched the grounds before the doors for someone who looked like Special Forces. She didn't see the tall man off to her left who froze with a cigarette halfway to his lips when she walked further into the sun, causing strands of her hair to gleam gold. Tossing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it absently beneath his shoe, Sgt. "Hoot" Gibson shoved his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans and inhaled slightly, the only give away that he was about to move out of the Museum building's shadow. AT that moment a voice called out and the woman tensed in unhappy recognition, causing Hoot to tense as wellwhen a blonde man in a rumpled brown suit and eschew yellow bow tie rushed up to her eagerly. Anyone observing the trio would've noticed the same look if annoyance and frustration pass over Hoot and Angel's faces, followed by impenetrable masks--his blank and expressionless, hers pleasant, but impersonal.
"Hallo, Eric. How..."
"I thought you were giving a lecture today!" Eric Ott interrupted, causing Angel to step back as he moved into her personal space, unwelcomed.
"I am. I just came out here to find..."
"Forget your notes?" He asked with a mocking smile, interrupting her once again and causing her to frown, tug her newly captured elbow free and start to move away.
"No, Eric."
Smiling devilishly to himself, Hoot slid on his ruby lens ray band sunglasses that had been hanging from the collar of his black tee shirt and strolled confidently forward.
"Sorry I'm late, baby. Heavy Traffic." He informed Angel as he reached her side. Spinning around in shock at the words and confusion as the voice struck some buried cord within her, Angel was thrown completely off balance mentally when the clean shaven, probably handsome stranger slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her hard against his lean, muscled frame to kiss her with all the intensity and desire of someone extremely intimate with the other.
"God, I've missed you." He found himself murmuring as their mouth finally parted and Angel clung to his neck, weak with desire and trying to catch her breath. Instead of laughing at him as Hoot expected once the words left his surprised lips, she nodded in understanding, some secret type of knowledge lighting her blue eyes.
"I'm going." Eric inserted tersely. "I have a meeting with the museum director."
Not taking her eyes form the strange man she'd just made out with, Angel waved a hand in acknowledgement and missed Eric's temperamental departure.
"Uh...Angel? Found the missing man, did you?" Linda's voice queried, none of the amusement on her face in her tone as Angel spun around, bright red with embarrassed confusion.
"Um...I, uh..." Turning back to the man, she fought blushing further and loftily ignored Linda's laughter as she asked:
"Are you the Special Forces man that they call 'Hoot'?"
A cocky grin spread slowly over Hoot's face and he nodded, crossing his arm over his chest as he waited to find out why the pair were looking for him. To his surprise, the auburn woman stiffened and folded her arms over her chest as well, thought her posture was angry instead of teasing and patient like his own.
"Your commander set up this bloody lecture and if I have to spend my time giving it, you can at least show up!" She informed him in a low voice. "You have five minutes!"
Spinning around, Angel headed back to the auditorium, missing Hoot's amusement and Linda's puzzled stare at her back.
He'd earned some surprised looks from his buddies when he'd come into the auditorium, but Hoot didn't notice or care as he watched Angel give her presentation. She'd been annoyed by the fact that he kept his sunglasses on, but soon forget about it as she spoke with unconscious warmth and love for Turkey, it's culture and it's history. As he watched her speak, something about her tugged at him, stirring deep within him as if waking from an old memory...A memory in the way she moved, the gesture of her hands as she spoke, how she smiled rarely but always genuinely and the way she kissed reminded him somehow of a moment of joy, but he couldn't remember what or when and it seemed to tear at him while avoiding his mind as he sought to pin it down.
Ending her lecture, Angel concentrated on putting papers in her briefcase as the soldiers rose and talked among themselves jokingly. A shadow fell over her papers and Angel looked up to find Hoot standing casually before her.
"Have lunch with me." He stated with a hint of command in his voice as he pulled off his sunglasses finally. Inhaling sharply at the sight of the brown eyes he revealed, Angel staggered slightly as her heart seemed to leap within her, then began pounding in her ears as her knees nearly buckled and she fought lightheadedness. Reaching out in concern, Hoot caught her in his arms, his face inches from hers.
"Are you alright?" He asked with a frown, brushing hair back from her face and tracing her jaw and lips. Shivering as the act mimicked the caress in her dream, Angel tightened the hand that clutched his bicep as the name escaped her lips.
"Hector..."
"How'd you know my first name?" Hoot murmured, brushing his lips against the skin of her cheek. Confused and disturbed by what was happening to her, Angel opened her mouth to explain, but was cut off as one of the other Delta Force men approached.
"You, uh, comin', Hoot? My wife'll kill me if we're late for this picnic thing."
"Mack's pretty scared of his woman, Hoot. We'd better go." Another solider mocked, leaning on the desk insolently.
"A woman can change the fate of men...Even the gods fought over beautiful mortal women." Hoot said absently, allowing Angel to straighten as his friends looked over at him with bewildered expressions.
"Wanna come?" He asked the red head, ignoring the others.
Nodding shyly, Angel let him lead her outside.
In the large park on Fort Benning, children raced in the grass and playground of swings, a slide and merry-go-round as adults watched from under the pavilion, sipping beers or sodas. Following Hoot shyly into the pavilion, Angel hung back slightly as the men greeted him with loud enthusiasm, but also with obvious respect and admiration. Catching her hand before she could fall back completely, Hoot sensed her nerves and twirled a lock of her hair around his index finger.
"Why don't you get yourself a drink? There's some in the coolers." He suggested, rubbing her shoulder slightly.
"You want something?" She offered after spotting the plastic containers he referred to.
"A beer would be nice, thanks."
Nodding, she crossed the pavilion, avoiding the picnic tables filled with women, obviously familiar with one another and watching her curiously. Opening the first cooler, she reached and dipping her hand in the mixture of ice and freezing cold water, Angel pulled out a can of Dr. Pepper and then started looking in the others for a beer. They seemed to contain every variety available and Angel arched an eyebrow as she glanced over them.
"Hoot drinks Budweiser and only in the bottle." A woman's voice stated pleasantly. "Someone always brings a six pack for him...Here."
A bottle appeared before her and Angel glanced up with a thankful smile, only to shake her head in confusion as images began over lapping of Andromache with her long, dark curled hair and blue Trojan gown and the identical woman in jeans and a blue baby tee standing before her.
"Oh, no..."
Darkness began to overcome her sight and Angel staggered as the woman called for Hoot just before the red head fell to the concrete floor.
Watching with a pain numbed mind and overwhelmed with horror as Achilles tied Hector's body to this chariot, Angela couldn't believe what she was seeing. The blonde Greek whipped his two black horses into a gallop and bile and fury welled up in Angela's chest, choking her as he began to circle the city and desecrated the prince's body. Spinning around as the wind whipped at her hair and plain white gown, Angela moved to rush down to the gates, only to be stopped short by Paris as he had some guards nearby grab her.
"Let me go! You can't let him do that! Stop Achilles!" She demanded, struggling against the hands that held her as tears blurred her vision, but she held her head up with angry pride.
"You'll only get killed." Paris retorted, gesturing for the soldiers to take her into the palace.
"I don't care! You mustn't"
"Let her go, Paris. She knows the risk and embraces it." A pained woman's voice interrupted wearily. Andromache stepped forward with her son cradled in her arms and Paris glanced between her and his father, who was oblivious.
"She belongs to Hector. Let her go to him, your majesty." Andromache pressed.
Nodding through his grief, Priam waved to grant the auburn woman's freedom and she paused only to kiss the sleeping baby's head before running down the stairs to the city gates. One of the guards followed to allow the gates opened for her with a groaning creak and Angela stepped out onto outside the city as Achilles brought his chariot back around. The sun glistened off metal in the dirt and Angela ignored Achilles and the dust his horses kicked up as she went and knelt in the dirt, brushing a caressing finger over Hector's sword before picking it up. Achilles had brought his chariot up short in front of her, a hard expression on his face and Angela stared at him with a blank face, her blue eyes flashing with fury while avoiding looking at Hector's body.
"Why are you here?" Achilles demanded, looking her over.
"I want Prince Hector's body." Angela stated stiffly, her fingers curling around the handle of the sword.
"The king sends a woman to beg for his son's carcass?" Achilles scoffed, glancing up at the royal patio with a sneer.
"No, I come on my own behalf." Angela returned quietly, not rising from her knees.
"You are his woman"
"Every bit of me belongs to Hector." Angel answered somewhat evasively. Her proud carriage and lack of fear reminded the warrior of Briseis, who was Hector's cousin and the woman he loved and he sought to justify his behavior as he knew he would have to with the woman back in his camp.
"He killed my cousin, Patroclus. He was only a boy!"
"Who wore YOUR armor! If your own men followed that 'boy' into battle thinking 'twas you, why do you assume Hector, who saw you once, would know a helmeted Patroclus wasn't Achilles!" Angela reasoned defensively as she stood, the Trojan blade in her hand.
"Put that down." Achilles growled, his own hand going to his sword.
"If you give me Hector. Otherwise, I cannot." She answered bravely. Jumping down from the chariot, Achilles moved swiftly and pressed his blade to her throat. Staring into her eyes, he expected fear of a real threat and found none in the serene, sea blue depths.
"This is between me and the Prince. Stay out of it." He ordered, shoving her away roughly. Catching her balance, Angel stiffened angrily.
"You KILLED him!" She said, choking slightly on the words. "It has been settled!"
"Not to my satisfaction!" Achilles retorted, turning away again. It was then that Angela's eyes fell to the body near his feet and she gasped with heartbreak and horror to see half of Hector's handsome face bloodied to shreds from being drug over rocks and dirt.
"You filthy ogre!"
Lifting the heavy blade and charging him, Angela barely saw him move, but she felt the sword plunge into her stomach and dropped her weapon to the sand as her hands went to the blade within her. Removing it immediately, Achilles caught her as she fell, watching the crimson stain flood her white gown and the blood that began to drip from her mouth. Smiling slightly at him as if in thanks, Angela began to choke on the blood, struggling to breathe fro a moment before she died.