Author's Notes: Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay - the usual excuses. The good news is, I've gotten another four chapters written and typed up and sent off to my wonderful editors, and all that good writing is on a nice convenient USB stick instead of on my ornery computer in Florida, which means quicker updates, I promise. Happy reading!


Chapter 6: Near Miss

"Luke!"

Luke checked the swing of his knife the instant he saw the blond mop of hair through the darkness, and he was afraid for a moment it was still too late, too close. Frightened by the sudden movement, Bo stumbled backwards and fell on his rump, but it was obvious the knife had done no harm, nor did he even see the slash of the blade, as he got to his feet. Luke helped him up, reeling under the shock of discovering it was Bo who'd followed him into the woods, and Bo he'd very nearly killed. Then his shock and fear quickly turned in a direction he knew how to run with - anger.

"Bo! What on earth are you doing out here this time of night?.!" Luke bellowed in his best ranking officer's voice, as he might roar at a foolish young recruit.

"I…I came looking for you, Luke," Bo reasoned, but Luke wasn't interested in reason. His little cousin had just scared him three shades of gray.

"You came looking for me?.! What the hell were you thinking?.! Or were you even thinking? You're supposed to be in bed! You've got school in the morning, and don't think you're skipping! I swear I oughta turn you over my knee myself!"

Bo might have been truly frightened had he seen the ferocious look Luke was giving him, but the tone in his cousin's voice was bad enough.

"Get back to the house, now, Bo!"

The blond opened his mouth to try to respond, but his nerve failed him. He'd never seen - or heard - Luke this angry before, and frankly, he didn't understand just what he'd done so wrong. In the end, he decided to just do as Luke said, and hope to clear things up in the morning. He turned and started for the farmhouse, tail tucked between his legs. Then he paused and turned back towards where Luke stood seething.

"I'm sorry, Luke," Bo's miserable voice came through the darkness, and then his footsteps padded off through the trees.

Luke didn't answer. There were tears running down his face, and he knew his voice would crack if he said anything. A moment later, his shaking knees gave out, and he was sitting on the forest floor, crying as quietly as he could manage into his folded arms.

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When Jesse woke in the morning, he made his usual stops at the doors of his niece and nephews. He knocked gently to wake Daisy, and heard her sleepy response, but he quietly opened the door to the boys' bedroom, hoping to wake Bo and let Luke sleep. To his surprise, Jesse found Luke's bed empty and untouched, still neatly made from the day before. Bo, of course, was sound asleep among the tangled pile of his sheets and blankets, and seemed very intent on staying that way when Jesse tried to wake him. In the end, Jesse resorted to removing all his blankets and pillows and let the cold morning air pry his nephew from the bare mattress.

Luke was sitting in the kitchen when Jesse came in, staring hard at the wood grain of the table with a bleak expression. One look and Jesse knew he hadn't slept all night - he hadn't even changed out of his blood-stained clothes. Odds were he hadn't tended to his feet either.

"Luke?" Jesse inquired, pouring himself a mug of coffee. A quick look outside showed him the morning chores had already been done - the chickens were out, feeding and clucking contentedly, the eggs were gathered, the goats were milked, and Maudine was fed.

Luke didn't respond, and he was saved from further inquiry when Daisy breezed into the kitchen, dressed and ready for the day. She hugged her cousin's shoulder and kissed his cheek, then gave her uncle the same greeting, and started on breakfast.

Bo was longer in joining his family, after shaving and showering to get ready for school. He came in with his hair vaguely combed, tucking in a yellow long-sleeved shirt over a blue t-shirt, as Jesse and Luke were working at the eggs and toast Daisy had cooked. Jesse looked up at his youngest nephew's approach and frowned, swallowing a bite of egg.

"What'd you do, there, Bo?" Jesse asked, gesturing to the top of his throat.

Bo touched a hand to the spot and came away with a bit of bright red blood. "Musta cut myself shaving," he commented, and returned to the bathroom to dab at the shallow nick. Only one person at the table noticed the cut was several inches below the line of peach fuzz Bo attempted to shave every few days.

Jesse returned his attention to the breakfast table, only to discover Luke had turned ghost-pale and was trying to keep from shaking.

"Uh…breakfast was great, Daisy, thanks," the Marine said, quickly excusing himself and getting to his feet. Before Jesse could say a word, he was out the door and disappearing around the far side of the barn. He'd hardly touched his plate.

Bo frowned when he returned to the kitchen and found Luke gone, and he only had one conclusion to reach - Luke was still angry with him. A little dejected, he sat down and accepted the breakfast plate Daisy handed him, but he didn't eat with nearly his usual gusto. Jesse and Daisy exchanged looks, wondering what was wrong with the boys this morning.

When Bo finished, Jesse stood and deposited his coffee mug in the sink. "Come on, Bo, I'll drive you to school."

On the far side of the barn, when Luke finished retching what little was in his stomach, he sank down against the barn wall, listening to the sound of Uncle Jesse's pickup rumbling off down the drive. He felt sick and dizzy, but far worse was the horrible knot in his chest. The words kept repeating themselves in his head. Killer…no kin of ours…killer…musta cut myself shaving…I almost killed him…I would have killed him…I'm sorry, Luke…killer…

Luke trembled all over, breaths coming in short pants, and a cold sweat dampened his shirt as he sat there and tried to regain control of himself. What's wrong with me? he wondered miserably, shivering harder. I'll leave…I'll just leave…I'll only hurt someone if I stay…I can stay with Rob, or go back…

Taking deep, shuddering breaths, Luke felt a bit better, having come up with a plan. It was still some time before he felt steady enough to get back to his feet, and even then, his legs were wobbly and unsure. Leaning one hand against the barn, Luke kicked some dirt over the mess he'd made, then took another deep breath, and stood up straight. If he was going, he was going now, before he had to face Bo again.

Daisy had finished with the dishes and was starting to gather the laundry when Luke came inside. He passed by without a word and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Daisy frowned, unsure how worried she should be.

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Luke was doing a very bad job of not letting the tears fall while he packed. He couldn't bear the thought of what had nearly happened, and every time he happened to glance at Bo's bed, or Bo's trophies, or Bo's dirty clothes on the floor, the salty droplets flowed anew. He had paused for the third or tenth time to wipe them away when a soft knock sounded at the door.

"Yeah?" Luke asked, a little too hoarsely.

"It's Uncle Jesse, Luke – can I come in?" came the familiar, gruff, old voice from the other side of the door.

When Luke didn't answer, going back to packing, Jesse cautiously opened the door anyhow. He stood there in silent shock for a full minute, staring at the scene that met his eyes. Here was Luke, obviously miserably upset, cramming a small stack of shirts and folded boxers into his green military duffel bag, with more socks and a handful of pictures waiting to go in next. It was Jesse's nightmare come true.

"Luke?" he asked softly.

The Marine's shoulders slumped and he hung his head, letting the folds of the bag fall limp in his hands. For all his conviction, he was ashamed at what amounted to running away.

"Luke," Jesse repeated again, reaching for his nephew's arm, but Luke wouldn't turn around. "Luke, please don't go…"

Luke shook his head, raising a hand to wipe tears away again. "I don't belong here, Uncle Jesse."

"Luke…whatever's wrong, we can fix it, I promise…Lukas, please…" Jesse went on, tears welling in his own eyes. "Tell me what's wrong, we'll make it right…"

Slowly, Luke started picking up pairs of socks and setting them in the top of the bag.

"Luke, no…please…you're exhausted, you haven't slept…please, rest a while first, and think on it…" Jesse pleaded.

The young man stopped, head hanging, but said nothing.

"Please, son…get some rest. You need to sleep. And then…then, if you still want to leave…I won't stand in your way. I love you, Luke…we all do…"

For several long, tense moments, Jesse waited in silence, watching the rise and fall of Luke's shoulder blades with each heavy breath. Luke still made no move, nor gave any indication that he'd listened to anything Jesse said. Then, finally, Luke slowly nodded, and Jesse gave an inaudible sigh of relief.

"Good lad," Jesse whispered, and now Luke turned around as his uncle pulled him into a fierce hug that Luke didn't have the heart to return. Stepping back, the old farmer's heart broke to see the reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He couldn't fathom what had driven Luke to this. "I'm here if you want to talk, son," he said gently.

Luke just nodded again, not trusting his voice to speak. Jesse squeezed his arm, then sighed, and started to step out. At the door, he remembered his original reason for knocking.

"Oh – this came for you in the mail," he said, reaching into the pocket of his overalls and producing a letter. Luke took it with another nod, and when he said nothing more, Jesse quietly stepped out and shut the door, leaving him to the peace and solitude of the empty bedroom.

Feeling every bit of his sleepless night, Luke sat down on the bed, leaning against the headboard and lifting his sore feet off the floor. He looked down at the scrawling handwriting on the envelope, and even though there was no return address, he knew exactly who it was from. He was a little surprised – Rob had promised to write, but he wasn't expecting a letter so soon. Using his knife for a letter opener, as he had to many times before, Luke pulled out the letter and began to read with weary eyes:

'Dear Luke,

I've only just gotten home, and I can't believe how very quiet and lonely it is. I guess it just hasn't sunk in yet – everywhere I look, I keep expecting to see Anne and Tyler walking around a corner, running up to me with hugs and kisses and a thousand stories to tell me. I visited the graves…the dirt is still fresh, Luke! I just can't believe it. After all this time, I finally go home, and they're gone. I thought about going back, but the way they're pulling guys out, I doubt I can. My folks are still in Gary…I don't know, it was all so sudden, I don't know what to do anymore.

But that's enough of that. How do you like being home again, Luke? I tell you, I stood under that first shower until the hot water ran out – no one waiting in line, no hot water ration, no mortar attacks while I'm buck naked with soap in my eyes – no young privates from Georgia dumping buckets of mud over the top – it was very nice.

That made Luke crack a smile. It was the start of a long friendship, when Private First Class Lukas K. Duke snuck up on a dare and poured a bucket of the foulest-smelling mud he could find into the shower onto Platoon Sergeant Robert T. Fulton on his second day at base camp.

So, is Bo as tall as he looked in those pictures? Did you get to see one of his games? How about Daisy – I'll bet she cooked you the best fried chicken and biscuits you've ever had. And Uncle Jesse – did you decide if you're gonna tell him about your P.H., or not? I look at these empty rooms, Luke, and I'm glad you're got a family to go home to. You deserve it, buddy – let them take care of you for a little while, instead of you worrying about everyone else.

Well, if I'm gonna eat dinner tonight, I'd better go get the water boiling. Take care, Luke, and write soon.

Rob'

Luke read through it once, then a second time, before replacing the letter in the envelope and setting it on his nightstand. He sat up with a stiff groan, stretching taut muscles, and then began unlacing his boots, to follow his uncle's sage advice.

Y'know, I like this Rob feller - he's got a real good sense of timing. Let's just hope ol' Luke's got the sense to listen.