Author's Notes: Hey everyone, long time no see! So, the funny thing is, this story has actually been finished for about a month now - and then I decided I didn't like Chapter 7 & 8, especially 8, so it's been a slow process rewriting them. Kudos to my patient and ever-busy beta readers, and to Jordyn & the writers of the Letters From War series, who unknowingly and indirectly inspired me to actually include poor Daisy a bit more in these rewrites (I just never know what to do with that girl!). Enjoy!

Chapter 7: No Promises

"When I got home, I stayed alone,
And checked behind each door…"
- 'Still in Saigon' - Charlie Daniels Band

Luke opened his eyes to the mid-afternoon sunlight streaming cheerily and obliviously through the bedroom window. Left to himself, he would have slept for many more hours and been better off for it. Instead, that sickening sensation returned as his ears picked up the sounds of Daisy greeting Bo in the kitchen on his return from school.

"Luke's still sleeping, Uncle Jesse," Daisy reported as her uncle came in behind her cousin.

"Good," was Jesse's approving answer, betraying none of his worry. "He needs it. Bo, you go on and get your chores done, and don't disturb your cousin. When you get back from tending the Kellers' horses, you two can go get that engine," the Duke patriarch instructed.

"Yes sir!" came Bo's buoyant answer as he slung his backpack on the couch and headed back out the door with energetic steps. His mood had brightened considerably over the course of the day, when he remembered that today was the day, and that Luke was going with him.

Luke swung his feet over the edge of the bed and sat up, one hand on his cantankerous stomach. I nearly killed him, Luke thought again, tasting bile at the back of his throat. I nearly killed Bo.

A few slow, deep breaths settled his stomach and made the worst of his frayed nerves more manageable. He hung his head, thinking of Uncle Jesse's pleas for him to stay, and wondering whether he could still walk out like he'd intended to. His eyes strayed to the letter still sitting on his nightstand, and he picked it up and read it one more time.

…the dirt is still fresh, Luke!…I look at these empty rooms, Luke, and I'm glad you've got a family to go home to…You deserve it, buddy…

Folding it up again, he set it back on the table, took a breath, and got up to gather his clothes and towel to take a long, hot shower.

Daisy heard Luke turn on the shower not long after Bo left for the neighbor's farm, and she heard him getting dressed and moving about the boys' bedroom, but some time between bringing the dry laundry in and starting supper, she realized she'd lost track of him. He wasn't in the bedroom, nor the bathroom, nor anywhere in the farmhouse, and he didn't answer when she called his name from the farmyard. Daisy paced the farm, fretting and rechecking all the rooms, very worried after the way he'd acted this morning and the way Uncle Jesse asked her to keep an eye on him. Jesse was out checking his lines of small game snares right now, so she had no one to worry to but herself.

Daisy had gone back to cooking – as much to keep herself busy as anything else – when Jesse returned, carrying three rabbits and a fox back with him. The rabbits would go into the stew for tomorrow's dinner, and the fox would make a good fur to sell and bring in some milk and bread money. Jesse's alarm was clear when Daisy told him she had no idea where Luke had gone, and he rushed straight back to the boys' bedroom to see for himself. His alarm was doubled when he saw an envelope of cash sitting on the pillow of Bo's bed – exactly half the payment for that racing engine, like Luke had promised.

With two quick, anxious steps, Jesse strode to Luke's set of drawers and yanked one open. All Luke's socks, boxers, and undershirts lay neatly folded and stacked inside. Jesse opened another drawer, and there were all Luke's jeans. He turned to the closet and flung open the doors, and there were all Luke's button-down shirts, hanging right beside Bo's. And there, crumpled at the bottom of the closet, lay Luke's green duffel bag, empty and discarded.

Finally, Jesse allowed himself a deep sigh of relief. Luke hadn't left – yet – so wherever he was and whatever he was doing, he was still on the farm.

Right about then, Bo came running up the driveway and burst through the front door, not out of worry, but excitement. He gave Daisy the briefest of greetings and grinned when he saw the light entering the hallway through the open bedroom door. Bo strode down the hall with long, lanky strides, panting a little from his run, but his grin fell when he saw only Jesse in the room.

"Where's Luke?" he asked, stepping in to look around in case Luke might be, say, hiding under the bed.

"Well, I'm not sure exactly, but he's around here somewhere," Jesse answered. "He left the money out for the engine for you." He pointed, and Bo saw the envelope on his bed, and frowned.

"But…he was gonna go with me…" Bo protested half-heartedly. Did that mean Luke was still mad?

"I know." Jesse wrapped a comforting arm around his young nephew's shoulders. "I don't think Luke was feeling very good today. I'm sure he wants to go, an' he just doesn't want to have to tell you he's not up to it." It wasn't exactly what Jesse thought was going on, but at least Bo would understand and feel a little better about it.

"Oh…" was Bo's thoughtful response. "Well, I guess…I can give Cooter a call…an' we'll have all winter to work on it…"

Jesse patted his back. "That's my boy. Now, you'd best get a move on. Luke promised the owner you'd pick it up by seven, if'n I remember right."

Bo's smile returned – though it wasn't quite as bright as before – and he picked up the envelope, adding it to the shoebox of money stashed underneath his bed.

"Yes sir!"

"Bo! Are you sure you don't want to wait for dinner, hon?" Daisy called from the kitchen.

"No thanks, Daisy! Just save some for me, will ya?"

And he was off. Jesse smiled. Bo putting something else before his stomach was a rare thing, but this had been a long time coming, and it would sure be great to see these two boys working side by side on a car again.

"Luke!"

He ignored the first call, staying perfectly still and silent, hoping Jesse would just go away and leave him alone. How on earth did his uncle always know he was up here, anyway?

"Luke, come on down here, now. You need to eat something, an' I'm gettin' too old to be climbing up there after you."

With an inward sigh, Luke obeyed. No matter how old he was or what he had done in his life, he loved and respected his uncle too much to refuse such a simple command. Looking down from the hayloft before he climbed onto the ladder, Luke was surprised to see Jesse standing there with a full plate of meatloaf and green bean casserole, silverware and all. When he reached the bottom, Jesse just gestured to a nearby bale of hay, and handed him the meal when he sat down.

Jesse was quiet, settling onto a second bale of hay himself, and surveying his eldest nephew while he ate. Obviously some sleep, a shower, and a clean set of clothes had been an improvement, but there was something about Luke that just looked…broken. Beaten. Resigned.

He ate slowly, chewed slowly, which Jesse certainly hadn't seen in the last three days. His eyes looked absently to the dirt floor, avoiding the old farmer's searching blue gaze, and when he looked up, dark circles ringed deadened, lackluster eyes. It saddened Jesse to see him like this, like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but at the same time he was afraid to push the boy away by asking questions and digging into his open wounds.

"I'll stay, Uncle Jesse," Luke said quietly between bites. Jesse was startled by the sudden declaration, but the words gladdened him just the same. "I can't make any promises…but I'll stay."

Jesse smiled and reached out to pat his nephew's knee, noticing how Luke flinched ever so slightly at his touch. "Good, Luke. I'm glad."

His words vastly understated his joy and relief, but the way Luke looked like a cornered rabbit just now, Jesse thought a bear hug and a merry dance around the barn might be a bit too much.

A few minutes later, Luke was finished – if he'd eaten slowly, at least he'd eaten everything, and Jesse was glad of that too. The older man stood, slapping his hands briskly to his thighs.

"Well! You come on inside and wash your dishes, an' I'll bet by now Daisy's got some cookies fresh out of the oven."

Luke frowned, thinking that wasn't part of the 'come-down-from-the-hayloft-and-eat' bargain, but knowing he couldn't very well refuse to wash his own dirty dishes. He wondered if that was Jesse's plan all along, and he had a feeling he'd been snookered.

Nevertheless, Luke got to his feet and followed Jesse into the farmhouse. Daisy greeted them both sweetly, but Luke had no smile to summon for his lady cousin now. He went straight to the sink and to business. Jesse and Daisy exchanged glances, then Jesse quickly went to the 'fridge and cupboards so that when Luke finished washing a minute later, a plate of warm cookies and a tall glass of milk waited at the table for him. Trapped, Luke looked from his uncle to his cousin to the open front door, and he sighed, taking the plate and glass.

"I'll be out on the front porch," he said quietly.

Jesse was satisfied enough with the compromise – as long as he wasn't off hiding by himself in the hayloft. "And I think I'll join you," Jesse said, followed his nephew out the front door.

Luke settled himself along the length of the porch swing, stretching his legs and groaning as he took the weight off his aching feet. Then he set the plate and glass in his lap and began making slow progress on dessert. Jesse sat in the wooden rocking chair by his feet, watching the fading sunset but also his nephew out of the corner of his eye.

The Marine watched the falling rays of a glorious October sunset with vacant eyes, not for a moment contemplating the absolute joy of sitting on the front porch of his childhood home, full of good food, with his family around him. No, Luke's thoughts were turned inward, his keen mind searching through his heart and conflicting emotions the same way he'd analyze a chaotic battlefield to understand the best strategy to employ. He was a danger to his family – he knew that all too well – and he knew the best way to protect them was to stay as far away as possible. Yet he had just told Uncle Jesse he would stay on the farm, and truth be told, there wasn't any place in the world he'd rather be. He didn't want to run – but the alarm bells rang loud and shrill in his head as he thought of how Bo would want him to help work on that engine, how Jesse would want him to eat with the family at the dinner table, how Daisy would ask for his help with chores – how he'd never be able to keep a safe distance between they and him.

Jesse could see his nephew was deep in thought, with little worry-wrinkles furrowing his brow and a thoughtful frown on his lips. Luke didn't even notice when Daisy came outside onto the porch, but his uncle watched him suddenly leap to his feet when the screen door shut with a bang!.

"Just me, Luke," Daisy explained apologetically, glancing at the offending door. She reached for the plate and glass he held in his hands, and he handed them over woodenly, stiff with tension. His lady cousin gave him a small smile, which Luke tried to return, but it came out more like a grimace. She patted his arm and went back inside, careful to shut the door gently this time.

Exhaling a deep breath, Luke turned to look at his uncle, who was looking back with concern in his eyes. "Well, I'm, ah…" he started to say, but he couldn't find the words to finish. Instead, Luke just sighed and went inside, hanging his head. Jesse tracked the sound of his footsteps into the boys' bedroom, then back out through the back porch door, and a minute later Luke was walking across the chicken yard towards the barn, with some indistinct object in his hand.

A half-hour later, Jesse was still sitting on the porch – doing a little thinking of his own – when the bass rumble of a truck engine accompanied headlights flashing up the driveway, and Jesse's own white pickup came rolling up the dirt drive. The two occupants – one Bo Duke and one Cooter Davenport – were both grinning from ear to ear, almost entirely because of the cargo secured in the truck bed. Bo waved to Jesse through the windshield, while Cooter climbed out to open the barn doors and guide Bo as he backed the truck in. Smiling himself, Jesse got up and strolled over as Bo parked the truck and got out to help Cooter manhandle the engine to the barn floor.

"How'd you boys make out?" Jesse asked, watching them grunt and strain as they moved the engine block onto the sawhorses Bo had set up and ready.

"Oh…uhn…great, Uncle Jesse," Bo answered. "Mr. Dean, he was…ouch, ouch, watch it!" Cooter had started to set the engine down before Bo's fingers were out of the way. Finally they got it seated right, and Bo turned to his uncle with an excited smile. "Mr. Dean was on the circuit a few years back, I guess, backup driver for his team – he used this ol' beauty to test against the team car on the practice track, until he retired."

"Well, good!" Jesse exclaimed, coming over to have a look. He'd done enough mechanic work to appreciate the possibilities in the machine before him, and also to see all the work it needed still.

"Mr. Dean said he had trouble selling it, because most everyone who came to have a look at it wanted an engine that was track-ready," Bo told his uncle, standing at his elbow. "He said it was just perfect for a couple o' boys like us, and he was glad he hadn't sold it yet."

Jesse smiled at the pride and excitement in his nephew's voice. He exchanged a knowing look with Cooter as Bo disappeared beneath the hayloft to retrieve a pair of toolboxes, depositing both beside the burdened sawhorses. Crouching down among the scattered hay and dirt, Bo looked up at the engine for a moment with a mechanic's eye, trying to decide where to start, and then began selecting his favorite tools.

"Alright, then. You boys have fun. Bo, don't you stay up too late – you've got school in the morning. Cooter, I'll give you a ride home when you're ready," Jesse said.

"Much obliged, Uncle Jesse," Cooter thanked him, eyeing the battered engine himself. In another moment, he was bent down beside Bo, and neither noticed as Jesse slipped out the barn and back to the house, smiling all the way.

A few minutes later, after some searching and another trip to the barn wall beneath the hayloft, Bo finally had his good tools ready, and he looked up. "Hey Uncle Jesse, where's…Luke," he finished, realizing his uncle was long gone. Bo frowned, finding it a little odd that his elder cousin hadn't come to meet them when they drove up. Maybe he had gone to bed early, if he wasn't feeling well like Uncle Jesse said – or maybe he was still mad at his little cousin. Either way, Bo turned back to the engine, his heart a little heavier with his cousin's absence.

The blond Duke had lost track of how long they'd been working at disassembling the machine, when an odd sound made him stop and stand up straight.

"What's that?" he asked Cooter, but the sound stopped just as the elder mechanic looked up.

"What's what?"

Bo frowned. "I dunno, it sounded kinda like a mouse scratching around in the loft."

"A mouse?" Cooter asked dubiously. Why was Bo bothering about a mouse?

Bo waited a bit longer, to see if he heard it again, but when silence met his ears, he turned back to the engine again. It was only a few minutes before he stopped a second time.

"There! There it is again," he said, looking up towards the loft. The sound stopped immediately. Curious now, Bo set down the wrench and wiped off his hands, striding towards the hayloft ladder. Cautiously, he climbed up and peeked over the edge, hanging onto the top of the ladder with both hands. What he saw was no mouse.

"Luke!"

The Marine looked up from his seat among the hay against the barn wall, meeting Bo's eyes for only a moment before he quickly looked away. He sat with a pen in hand, holding notepaper to the back of a notebook on his knee, the same way he'd written so many letters over the last three years. The scratching sound was his pen on the paper.

"Hey Bo," he acknowledged in a dull monotone.

"What are you doin' up here, Luke? Are ya feelin' better? We've got the engine down here, you wanna work on it with me an' Cooter…?" the blond asked enthusiastically. His enthusiasm failed when Luke shook his head.

"I'm busy, Bo," he answered quietly, summoning a deadpan expression as Bo's excited expression quickly changed to hurt.

"But…"

"I'm busy, Bo," Luke repeated. It sounded cold, it sounded harsh, and it killed him inside, but it was far worse looking up and seeing the angry red cut on his cousin's throat where a Marine's lethal K-bar had barely missed vital blood vessels.

Now Bo's expression changed from hurt to crushed. "Okay, Luke," he said in a small voice, then disappeared from view, slowly climbing down the ladder. A minute later, Luke heard his voice from the barn down below.

"Cooter, I…I think I'm done for the night. Come on, I'll give you a ride home." The sadness in his voice was unmistakable. There was a long, surprised pause before Cooter spoke, accompanied by the clank of a wrench getting set down.

"Alright, buddyro'. Whenever you're ready."

Hardly the auspicious welcome you'd expect for that engine's first arrival on the Duke farm, huh?

Luke leaned back against the wall, shutting his eyes tight and taking a deep breath as his cousin and best friend tore out of the drive. Then silence settled on the farm once more. Lord, what was wrong with him? He couldn't even hang out with his friends anymore! Luke looked down at the half-written letter beneath his hands.

Dear Rob,

It was good to hear from you – you have no idea how good. I'm home, I guess, but it doesn't really feel like home anymore. It was great the first couple of days, great to see everyone, great to be here, but now…I don't know what the hell is wrong with me, Rob. I feel like I should be back with the platoon on a recon or something, but instead I'm sitting on the porch, or gathering eggs. I keep waiting for something to happen. Then something does happen, and I just…react…except it's nothing but the door slamming shut, or a branch cracking in the wind, or a squirrel in the bushes, and I feel stupid, but I can't help it. Know what I mean?

The last line came as a plea for understanding, in hope that he wasn't the only one feeling like this – like he was half-crazy, torn in all different directions and wishing he was fully crazy so he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. That was as far as he'd gotten, and he wasn't sure what else he should write. Should he tell Rob about last night's incident with Bo? If there was anyone who would understand, it was his friend, but at the same time, Luke was so ashamed and afraid…he didn't know if he could tell even Rob.

Swallowing hard, Luke shifted his position to pick up the light from the front porch through the loft window, and put pen to paper.

The worst was last night…

Y'know, something tells me Luke just might be wrong there…