Author's Notes: Bwahaha. Or something like that. Anyhow, I've got a visit from the parental unit coming up this weekend, so y'all probably won't see any updates until, oh, the 24th - unless I can sneak one in sometime in between. Of course, I think Chapter 4 is only half beta-read at the moment, so y'all have to wait anyhow. ;-) And on that note, this chapter is officially dedicated to one of my beta readers (you know who you are!) who so hopefully tries to convince me to tone down a few choice words of bad language, and I only occasionally listen - so there's your bad language warning too. Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Family Time

It was dark when Luke slowly opened his eyes, the deep blue darkness just before dawn. He had no idea where he was, but this wasn't a new sensation, so he lay quiet and still until he figured it out. Indoors, not jungle - base camp tent? No, too warm. Hospital? Maybe, but hadn't he been discharged? Barracks, then - the barracks just outside of Saigon, awaiting redeployment. A snore to his right drew Luke's attention, to another man in the next bed. New recruit, he figured cynically - he'd learn quick enough not to snore, or he'd find himself a target on a midnight ambush.

The blond shifted, pushing away his covers. Pajamas?…and bare feet? Where was his rifle? Definitely a new recruit. Christ, did they even put them through basic training anymore? It took Luke just three days to learn to sleep with his K-bar in his boot and his rifle in arm's reach, if not cradled in his hands. The boys they'd been bringing in got younger and younger every month, and seemed to die faster and faster. This one would be no different - and for some reason, this time, it disturbed Luke like it hadn't in more than two years. A knot of fear and pain worked itself up in his chest, and though he didn't understand it, he found himself thinking, No. This one would not die. Not if he had anything to do with it.

Then the blond recruit shifted again, turning towards Luke, and his heart wrenched in two as he looked at the face of his nightmares. It was Bo. Bo was the new recruit. No no no no no. Luke looked wildly around the barracks room - there had to be something he could do. Send him back. Send him home. Get him a position as a clerk, a courier, even on the mechanic's pool. Anything.

Luke blinked as he looked around. More than a few things seemed out of place here. Trophies? A pennant for the Hazzard Hawks? Dresser drawers, a wardrobe closet? Wait…this was no barracks. He took a tentative sniff of the air coming in through the cracked window. This wasn't the city-smell of Saigon or the jungle-smell of base camp. This was…home. Hazzard.

Slowly the sleep-muddle cleared away, and Luke fuzzily pieced the last few days back together. He'd been released from the hospital, somehow deemed fit for service after spending a month hanging onto life by a thread - or rather, by a few pieces of paper, the letters of his family. He spent another month on furlough in the city with Rob and a few other guys, recuperating and generally enjoying himself. The new recruits came in and the company reformed, with Lance-Corporal Lukas K. Duke in command of a platoon of forty men. The company was temporarily assigned to guard a major field hospital outside the city, awaiting orders to rejoin the jungle assault teams.

Those orders never came. Instead, incredible news. Troops were being pulled out left and right - and he was on the next flight home. One day at Pendleton, then two flights and three train stations later, he'd limped into the terminal of the Atlanta Amtrak station with a half-full duffel bag slung over one shoulder, all at once hopeful and afraid to see his family again. Then Bo's, and Daisy's, and Uncle Jesse's arms around him…and Luke didn't really remember too much from there. He must have fallen asleep, because here he was, in his own bed, his own home, feeling better after fourteen hours of Hazzard than he had after a whole month of Saigon.

Taking a deep breath of sweet Hazzard air, Luke stretched and lay back in bed, listening to the oh-so-familiar sound of his cousin sleeping off to his right, and the crickets chirruping outside the window. Slowly, lazily, a smile spread across his lips, and for several minutes, he did nothing but enjoy the sheer happiness of being home.

Luke, however, had always been a man of action, and was trained even more so by the Marines - so he didn't lay around in bed for long. He sat up, stretching again and acknowledging the stiff pain in his chest with a tight grunt. One hand slipped under his tan t-shirt and probed the fresh scar, while he carefully drew a deep breath. Not bad, today. He hadn't told Uncle Jesse, or any of his family, about his very near brush with death, or how Rob had read their last few letters to him in that hospital bed, hoping Luke would take strength from their love. He didn't plan on telling them, either. The bullet had punctured his lung and claimed a small piece of his liver, but as Rob was overly fond of telling him, he was one tough bastard, and he lived. Hoo-rah. End of story.

He climbed out of bed and pulled on his boots, then reached a hand out to grab something that wasn't leaning against the bed where he always left it. He frowned for a moment, feeling a bit of emptiness that had nothing to do with Hazzard. Then, shaking it off, he stood and headed for the kitchen.

No one else was up yet - even Jesse was still sleeping - and Luke moved quietly through the farmhouse. He decided, with another smile, that it would be a nice surprise for Uncle Jesse if he did all the morning chores for him. After setting a pot of water to heat for coffee, Luke headed outside, relishing every sight and sound and smell that reminded him he was home.

The first golden rays of dawn were spilling over the horizon, washing the fields in brightly-hued sunlight, when Luke finished with the chickens and livestock. Instead of going inside, he stood at one end of the porch and watched the sunrise, still smiling. He heard heavy footsteps inside, then the door opened and shut, and Jesse joined him, handing him a steaming mug of coffee. Luke took an appreciative sip - just as good as he remembered.

"Sleep well?" Jesse asked, after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"Slept great," Luke answered, looking up with a smile Jesse had come to know quite well. It was the same smile Bo had worn all week - one of sheer joy and contentment. Spontaneously, Jesse reached an arm out and hugged his nephew's shoulders, almost to reassure himself he was really and truly there.

"I missed you, Luke. We all did," Jesse said in a cracked voice.

Luke suddenly found himself rather misty-eyed. "I missed you too, Uncle Jesse." He cleared his throat, feeling a little uncomfortable at getting so emotional so easily. He quickly changed the subject. "I, uh, took care of the chores already. I've been up for a little while. Hey, I thought you were keeping twenty chickens now? I only counted sixteen."

Jesse frowned crossly. "We were, until that danged raccoon started getting into them two weeks ago. I swear, every time we figure out how he's getting in, he finds another way!"

Luke hid his smile at his uncle's gruff ire - how often had that annoyance been aimed in Luke or Bo's direction? "Aw, I'm sure we'll stop him somehow, Uncle Jesse."

Jesse's reply was cut short when two more pair of footsteps moved through the farmhouse. Luke turned and looked through the window to see Daisy smile sweetly at him from the kitchen, and Bo padding barefoot into the family room, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He grinned sleepily when he saw Luke standing outside, and the elder cousin decided it was probably time to head inside.

While breakfast cooked, Luke found himself the center of another round of hugs and kisses. It seemed, like Uncle Jesse, that Bo and Daisy needed to reassure themselves that he really was there. Luke didn't mind in the least - he just grinned and accepted their warm affection.

When Daisy served up breakfast - an unusually large affair, with heaping platters of eggs, pancakes, grits, sausages, bacon, toast, and fruit, all of which she made sure Luke got a huge serving - Bo was reminded of another meal they'd eaten with Luke the Marine.

It was just after he'd completed basic training in South Carolina - he had two-weeks' leave before he reported to Pendleton on the West Coast - and that dinner was his first meal since they'd picked him up at the train station. Bo teased him over his short-cropped hair, but he could already sense a change in his older cousin - a certain rigidity and alertness that came from barking drill sergeants and trained military precision. Luke sat perfectly upright, shoulders square, back straight - every part of him cut in straight lines and crisp angles, right down to the buttoned cuffs of his shirt. After Uncle Jesse said grace, Luke remained waiting patiently while his younger cousins dug in, with his unusual stiff posture. It wasn't until a minute later, when Jesse stood to fetch himself a glass of water, that he leaned over and whispered something in his nephew's ear. Luke flushed red, then dug in heartily as well. Later, Luke told Bo what Jesse had said - 'You don't have to wait for permission'.

Bo saw none of that now. Luke surveyed the breakfast feast hungrily, and looked like he could hardly wait for his uncle's mealtime prayer. That stiff, rigid posture was replaced by a relaxed appearance and a placid expression that no drill sergeant could shake. Bo almost envied that calm self-assurance and casual strength. Then Bo noticed Uncle Jesse looking at him with raised eyebrows, and he realized they were waiting on him. He folded his hands and bowed his head, and Jesse went ahead with grace.

"Lord, we thank you for this beautiful day and this fine meal before us, but most of all, we thank you for bringing Luke home to us safely, and for answering our prayers and keeping him safe through these three long years apart. Amen."

All three young Dukes were quiet for a moment longer, before following with murmured 'Amen's.

Luke launched into his plate with all the appetite of a starved elkhound, but he quickly remembered his manners and slowed it down a bit. Daisy, who was looking to see how well he ate, was the first to notice a new oddity in his mealtime behavior. It was fascinating to watch. Luke hardly ever looked straight down at his plate, but would take a bite, then make a quick sweep of the room with his eyes and ears, then take another bite, then sweep the room. It wasn't like he thought someone would steal his food - more like he expected, well, an attack, at any minute. Daisy shivered a little to think of it. She could hardly imagine what it must have been like.

The breakfast conversation was light and happy. Bo and Daisy were so eager to tell him all about the things he'd missed, it was very easy for Luke not to say much of anything at all, and no one quite wanted to ask him about any of it – not even Bo, who had been excited by the prospect of fighting in a war way back when he first signed up. Bo talked about high school, football, and 'the guys' - mostly Cooter and his brothers - while Daisy reported on the goings-on around town, who moved where, when, and why, who dated and married who, and so on. As the meal wound down, Jesse interrupted Bo's run-on chatter to bring the blond back to the here-and-now.

"Bo, speaking of football - don't you have a game today?"

Struck dumb, Bo's eyes grew wide - he'd forgotten about that too!

"What time are you supposed to be there?" Jesse pressed.

Blue eyes darted to the clock on the wall. "Aw, heck! In ten minutes!" He looked to Luke unhappily, not wanting to leave, but knowing how much the team was counting on him to be there. "The game's at ten, but we have to warm up."

Jesse pushed back from his half-finished plate. "Well, you'd best get your hind end in gear! I'll drive you."

Bo was out of his chair and halfway through the family room before he stopped in mid-stride. "Luke?" he asked, turning to look back into the kitchen apprehensively.

"Yeah, Bo?"

"Will you be there?"

Luke smiled. What was Bo so worried about? "Of course I will!"

Then Bo grinned, and was practically running to dress and meet Jesse at the truck.

At nine-fifty, Jesse, Luke, and Daisy were climbing out of the pickup truck parked in the high school parking lot, joining the stragglers headed for the football field out back. Luke - showered, dressed, feet newly treated, and wearing jeans and the first shirt he'd come across - looked and felt a far sight better than he had the day before; human, almost. It was a warm morning for Hazzard in October, but a cool one for Luke, who'd been sub-tropical for so long - still, the long-sleeved blue-plaid shirt kept him warm enough.

Jesse was surprised to see the crowd of Hazzard and Chickasaw residents amassed on the metal bleachers and every spare bit of grass in between - he had forgotten himself what a big game this was supposed to be. Most everyone had arrived much earlier than usual to stake out the best seats, and Luke frowned to see the only space left was standing-room only, at the far end of the Hazzard goal line.

The three Dukes stood there for a moment at the gate in the chain-link fence, trying to decide what to do, when a quiet sound began to patter through the Hazzard crowd. It grew louder, rippling along the bleachers, and even some of the Chickasaw residents joined in. It took a moment for Luke to realize it was applause - and another moment to realize it wasn't directed at the teams, but at him. Hands clapped his shoulders - high school friends and neighbors, even some folks Luke didn't know so well - and those who couldn't reach him were smiling and waving. A little thunderstruck, he waved back, and found himself ushered forward to a space on the front row of the bleachers that had suddenly cleared - the best seats among the Hazzard crowd. Jesse and Daisy were escorted up to sit with him, while Luke was still returning greetings and wondering at this celebrity treatment.

The truth of the matter was, a small town like Hazzard was proud of their own, and they'd been especially proud of the six boys who'd left home to fight for their country. On three different occasions - one of them a football game like this - the townfolk had received the terrible news of their fallen boys. Most of the town turned out for their memorial services - their funerals would be held in Arlington. Hank Carson had come and gone before anyone but his family realized he'd been home, and Danny Winterson was just a disgraceful drunk - why would anyone congratulate him? But Luke Duke - now there was a boy to be proud of! He was a Duke, after all, and a smart, strapping lad, who did his duty with courage and returned to stand tall among his fellow citizens of Hazzard. Who could begrudge him a seat to see his younger cousin's football game, so soon after his return home?

Luke's cheeks were an embarrassed color of red by the time the attention died down and he could focus on the real reason for being here. The teams were in their huddles, their coaches dishing out final instructions and bits of advice. The coin toss - Chickasaw had the ball first - then the snap, and the game had begun. Daisy pointed out Bo's number to Luke, though he would have recognized that gangly frame anywhere, and they joined the Hazzard crowd in shouting and cheering for the team.

Luke winced as a heavy tackle took Bo down hard, but the blond was back on his feet in an instant, calling something to another teammate. Chickasaw scored three touchdowns in the first ten minutes, and the Hazzard defense was doing pretty poorly. Bo in particular didn't seem to have it together, and it was throwing off the other guys around him. With the Chickasaw coach smiling, sure another playoff game was in the bag, Hazzard's Coach Maugul called for a time-out five minutes before the end of the first quarter. Hazzard had yet to take possession of the ball. Luke winced again when he saw Bo get called over to talk.

"I don't get it," Jesse was saying, on Luke's left. "Bo's been playing so much better than this!"

"I wonder what's gotten into him," Daisy commented, watching the exchange between Bo and the coach with a concerned frown.

Luke couldn't help but notice old Rusty Maugul gesture straight in his direction while barking at Bo, nor Bo's look in his direction before replying.

"DUKE!" Maugul roared from the sidelines after calling the time-out. Bo trotted over, panting a bit, and waited for the earful he knew he had coming. "It seems that practice yesterday was more necessary than I thought! What are you doing out there?.!"

"I'm sorry, Coach, I'm trying…"

"I've seen you try harder to pick up girls! Do you want me to bench you for the rest of the game?.!"

Bo looked horrified. "No sir! I…" He couldn't even explain how self-conscious he felt, knowing Luke was watching, and the harder he tried to be great, the worse he seemed to do. He just wanted his cousin to be proud.

Studying his linebacker's expression, Maugul got an inkling that was the case. "Bo…" he began in a low, serious tone. "You want to play well for your cousin?" he asked.

Bo hung his head. "Yes sir."

"Then forget that he's there, and play like you did in practice this morning!" Maugul growled, pointing towards the Duke family at the same time.

Bo looked across the green field to where Luke sat, and he could see Luke looking straight at him. "Yes sir."

"Good lad. Now, get back out there!"

The whistle blew, and the game was back in progress.

Chickasaw scored a field goal with a beautiful, well-placed kick, but there was nothing Bo could do about the pigskin soaring forty feet above his head. Setting his jaw in grim determination, he refused to look at the crowd on the sidelines, and he focused entirely on the ball and the other young men hurtling around him. Two minutes later, it was Hazzard's ball, and the offense took over. Luke grinned to see Maugul clap Bo on the shoulder on his way to the sidelines.

Maugul was new to coaching the football team this year, though he'd worked phys. ed. for the high school for years. It was soon very clear that he'd done something entirely new with the offense, and the Chickasaw coach was no longer smiling. Before long, the Hazzard QB brought the Hawks into the lead - then it was the job of Bo and his defense to keep them there. Over the next three quarters, the Hawks mopped the field with the Chickasaw Wildcats.

The roar of the Hazzard crowd was deafening when the head referee signaled the end of the game, and more than a few rushed into the field to celebrate with the team. Two someones dumped the remainder of the water cooler over the quarterback's head, while several Hawks were hoisted onto the shoulders of jubilant friends. Luke's return was lost in the victorious melee, and he was quite content to return to anonymity. He pushed and shoved his way through the crowd like everyone else, finally reaching the edge of the team where Bo stood facing the other direction. Luke tagged his elbow to get his attention, then clapped him on the back with a grin when he turned around.

"Good job, cuz!" he exclaimed.

Bo grinned as he pulled off his helmet - it was better praise than this whole crowd's shouting. "Thanks, Luke! Where's Daisy an' Uncle Jesse?"

"Aww, they're here somewhere - there they are!" Luke pointed to where the rest of the family waited at the fringe of the excited crowd.

"Well come on! Let's get on home!" Bo said, stepping in that direction.

"You don't want to stay with the team?" Luke knew this sort of public celebration often turned into a private one in someone's father's barn, which could last all afternoon and into the night. Luke also knew from his letters that Bo was often central to those private team celebrations, initiating as much fun and mischief as he could get away with.

"Nah!" Bo waved the comment off indifferently, still grinning. "It'll be the same old thing anyhow."

Funny, Bo hadn't tired of 'the same old thing' in three years, but Luke just smiled and followed him as he pushed through the crowd.

Luke made sure the entire conversation on the way home focused on Bo and his excellent - albeit belated - performance. He was proud, and he wanted to make sure his little cousin knew it. Bo bemoaned his early mistakes, but Luke and Daisy were quick to point out several positively miraculous moves, and Bo beamed under the praise. By the time they reached the farm, Jesse thought he'd had enough football talk from the three cousins to satisfy him for a lifetime, and they were still going on.

Shortly after going through the front door, though, Daisy broke things off, sending Bo to go shower and dress and promising to fix him an excellent celebratory lunch. She shooed Luke off too, when he offered to help, telling him to go relax for a while outside while Uncle Jesse gave her a hand. Smiling, he obeyed, shutting the front porch door behind him.

Twenty minutes later, freshly scrubbed and sporting a clean yellow shirt and blue jeans, Bo was hungrily sniffing around the kitchen. Daisy smacked his hand away from the fried chicken salad, and told him to go fetch Luke. Grinning, he obeyed, and made for the front door. Looking through the screen door, though, Bo stood there quietly, watching a fascinating sight.

Luke was sitting on the porch steps, his long legs stretched out to the dirt before him, looking out over the peaceful farm. Sitting there listening to the lunch preparations inside, he fell into an idle habit he'd developed many, many months back. Bo watched, amazed, as Luke absently twirled the blade of his K-bar knife between his fingers, spinning it across the back of his hand, flipping it up on end, and all manner of sleight of hand that had cost him more than a few nicks and cuts to learn.

Then Bo's stomach growled. In the same instant, Luke snatched up the knife with a neat toss and spun around, startled. The moment he saw his cousin, he swiftly sheathed the knife back in his boot. Bo reddened, feeling intrusive.

"Uhm…lunch is ready…" he hastily explained.

"Oh, alright," was all Luke said, climbing to his feet. He felt uneasy himself. Toying with the blade had become such a natural way to pass idle time, but suddenly it seemed very out of place here.

Luke quickly covered his discomfort, though, when he saw the spread Daisy and Jesse had quickly whipped up. He was impressed, and he said as much - fried chicken salad and corn fritters, with fresh biscuits and pumpkin and apple pie on the side. The pies were leftovers, of course, as was the fried chicken, but that didn't matter to Bo or Luke's stomach. Not a scrap was left by the end of the meal.

Sitting back was a satisfied sigh, Luke took a sip of lemonade. He was gonna run to fat if he kept eating like this - or rather, if Daisy kept piling food on his plate like this. That was one thing he could be thankful for, between his furlough time in Saigon and the two months guarding that field hospital - he'd gotten used to eating real food again, before coming home. He remembered the first time he'd tried to eat a cheeseburger, after months and months of chemically-heated MRE's - he'd retched for hours from just one bite. Same with his first Coke and his first beer. His most recent meals might have been few and far between, but at least they were identifiable as food.

"Hmm?" He realized Jesse had asked him a question.

"I said, what did you boys plan on doing this afternoon? It's a bright, beautiful day out, you should be out there enjoying it." At the game, Mr. Keller had told Jesse he wouldn't need Bo that day - though Jesse was sure the farmer was as pleased with Luke's homecoming as anyone else.

"Well, I, uh…I hadn't really thought about it," Luke said honestly, scratching the back of his head. Then he thought of something and looked up at Bo. "Has the fishing been any good?"

Bo grinned. "Well, Bear Paw Creek is full of trout, if the bears didn't get 'em all already."

Luke grinned back. "Fishing it is, then."

Jesse and Daisy both smiled, happy to see things getting back to normal so quickly.

Bear Paw Creek was running low and lazy, just deep enough at the tree-shaded bends to entice trout to rest in the cool water - and hopefully, to bite at a few well-placed lures. Bo was delighted when Luke agreed to go. The afternoon was warm, for a late October Saturday, and the dragonflies buzzed in the golden sunshine, but it wasn't the scenery that Bo was concerned with - he was just too happy to be hanging out with his older cousin again.

It didn't bother Bo in the least that Luke only cast his line out two or three times before dozing off on the sandy riverbank, his black cowboy hat tipped over his eyes and his fishing line still trailing in the water. Right there beside him was a living, breathing Luke, and that was all that really mattered to Bo. He kept right on fishing, even caught a couple little ones, but he threw them back. It wasn't until Sheriff-shaped shadow cast over him that a bit of a damper was put on his afternoon.

"Allll-right, Bo Duke!" Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane chortled. "I want to see your fishing license, right now! And your friend too!" he added, with a less-than-gentle nudge to Luke's shoulder with his boot.

"Hey!" Bo protested as Luke woke with a jump, his hat toppling into the mud. Neither Bo nor Rosco saw him reach for his knife with one hand. Wary-eyed and tense for a fight, Luke looked up at his attacker, even before full awareness reached him. Blinking, he recognized the men standing over him, and re-sheathed the unnoticed knife.

"Luke Duke!" Rosco exclaimed, clearly surprised to see the Marine. Wait til' Boss heard this! "You're back!" He took a careful step backwards as Luke pulled himself to his feet. He was in no hurry to anger a war-hardened soldier. Then, after a moment, Rosco remembered that he was the Sheriff, after all, and his badge stiffened his spine. "And you're fishing, so I need to see your fishing license - both you Duke boys," he announced with an official air.

Bo held his out for inspection, cringing inwardly, because he knew Luke didn't have one and he knew Rosco would slap him with the steepest fine he could, if not outright arrest him. Rosco made a great show of reading over Bo's for every detail, but when he could find nothing wrong, he handed it back with a hmph!, twitching his bushy mustache. Then he looked at Luke, triumph in his eyes, and waited for Luke to make his excuses and beg for mercy. The eldest Duke cousin's answer wasn't quite what he expected.

"I don't need a fishing license, Rosco," Luke finally said, with more than a hint of annoyance.

Rosco looked indignant. He wasn't born yesterday. "Well of course you do! There's your pole right there!"

With a sigh and a slight roll of his eyes, Luke recited slowly and clearly, as he would to a child: "According to the Georgia State Fishing Regulations, and I quote, 'A fishing license is not required for any United States soldier on leave or for two weeks following return from active duty, not to exceed a total of thirty days in any calendar year'. I just got back yesterday, so I've got until November ninth to fish free or buy a license."

Rosco gaped, in a fair imitation of the trout in the creek, trying to produce an adequate response. He wasn't about to call Luke Duke the Marine a liar, and come to think of it, he vaguely did recall reading that just before dozing off in his patrol car the other day.

"Well you…you…you just be sure to get one, then!" was all he could come up with.

Bo, who had been looking a little confused himself, grinned at the sheriff's thwarted sputtering. "Bye, Rosco!" he waved cheekily, then turned with Luke to retrieve his fishing rod.

As Rosco stomped off, Luke settled himself back at the base of the cottonwood tree. He had kept a straight face the whole time, but now he couldn't help but share a grin with Bo, and he chuckled a little. Then, dusting off his hat, he leaned back and dropped it over his eyes, fully intending to finish his nap.

Boy, I nearly forgot ol' Rosco used to have that mustache! And Luke, he may have just got home, but he's as sharp as ever - nearly as sharp as that knife he carries everywhere, I reckon.

"One Friday night at a football game, the Lord's Prayer said and the anthem sang,
And a man said, 'Folks, would you bow your head, for a list of the local Vietnam dead...'
Cryin' all alone there under the stands was the piccolo player from the marchin' band
And one name read, and nobody really cared...
But a pretty little girl, with a bow in her hair..."
- "Travelin Soldier" by the Dixie Chicks