Siege of Hearts

by D4rK Sid3

It all began with an innocent look that soared the sporty girl and the man with the plan down a path not meant for them to take together, searing their hearts under siege. LynnColn

4. Innocence Lost

A/N: WOW! I'm surprised at the large number of views, favs and reviews I've gotten. Thanks a lot guys! On with the new chapter.

Summary: It all began with an innocent look that soared the sporty girl and the man with the plan down a path not meant for them to take together, searing their hearts under siege. LynnColn

A Siege of Hearts

Chapter 4

Innocence Lost

Operation Iraqi Freedom

Fallujah, November 2004

First day of the battle.

The shell impacted on the ceiling of the mouse pulverizing the wall and imploding outwards, the explosive power made the enemy perched at that house to stop firing at them momentarily due the immense impact; there was a massive cloud of dust and smoke, out of it, came a headless and armless torso still attached to mangled legs that flew fifty feet, cartwheeling through the air and disappearing behind another house. Lincoln stared horrified at the deed he had just done; they said that you never forget your first kill but there was no time to dwell into it. Another RPG slammed on the front turret of his tank, bouncing harmlessly to the side.

"UP!" Came the voice of Swagger.

"Loud! Coax! Foot mobiles! 11 o' clock!" The TC ordered at him to fire at a dozen of insurgents that were making a break for it to cross the street to escape, their tank converting half the road they needed to cover to reach their designated attack zone. The infrared sight decreased to 3x, locking on its intended target, the turret swinging towards them, his fingers squeezed the joystick trigger peppering the street with precise automatic fire, the armor piercing incendiary ammunition turned them swiftly into mincemeat. An armed man had turned at the last second, avoiding the deadly descent of his comrades, stupidly firing his AK at them, an still smoking RPG slung over his shoulder; his small arm was a peashooter at best against the behemoth. When it clicked empty, perhaps through his drugged clouded mind he realized what he just did, throwing his AK in a sign of hasty surrender. He only got a 120mm HEAT round for his troubles, disappearing in a cloud of thick brown and pink smoke, the structure behind him imploding with brick and concrete bouncing off the street.

The heavy coppery impact of another needle hit the steel basket below with that delicious smell of cordite as the loader prepared another round for Lincoln to fire. The silver haired man bouncing his feet lethargically in his gunner station scanning for more targets. At the same time, the other three tanks in his platoon widened the formation opening fire as they went. They hadn't stopped moving, hard charging on the streets, the hotel in sight getting bigger by the passing second. It was like walking into an ants nest, everywhere he looked these men in terrorist garb came. Out of buildings, out of alleys, out of the sewers, up and down, the darkened buildings windows are lighting up with tracers and flashes of glowing red, yellow and orange; vapor trails of RPG rounds coming in every direction towards them, exploding harmlessly against the frontal armor or missing them miserably and detonating on the road. In its battle stupor, the young man can't do anything else but to angrily stare at the swarm of enemies trying to get rid of them. The white haired young man lost it, giving to a sensation that he was just experiencing for the very first time.

Blood Lust.

Lincoln was yelling cuss words as the death rattle of his coaxial echoed through the streets, his main gun signing a death warrant to everyone it was pointed at. He was scanning his sector and engaging at movement; some of the people didn't have any weapons on them but they ran away with people that did making them guilty by association in his eyes, these people didn't have any business whatsoever in the streets, they were also the enemy who came in all shape and sizes, pulverizing another small squad of four that were creeping along a building to their left at less than two hundred yards away. He held down the trigger nailing the last man to the wall and continued unloading on him, the body just being on its feet against a house wall by the sheer firepower that was tearing his body apart in pieces. He felt an impact on his helmet and angrily whirled over his shoulder. Dunkar was staring at him angrily having climbed down to kick the back of his helmet.

"Knock it the fuck off Loud, I want accurate fire, unfuck yourself and show me what the best gunner in our platoon can do"

The white haired man hissed and took an angry breather, relaxing on his seat.

"Yes sir"

As their platoon passed through an intersection that got obliterated as soon as they passed around it, out of the hulk of a burnt car exploded a massive IED (Improvised Explosive Device) that made their tank to tremble heavily lighting the further tank of their platoon on fire.

Master Gunnery Sergeant Dunkar stared horrified in disbelief at the fire coming off the turret of one of his tanks.

"3-4, sit-rep? Are you guys hit? You're on fire! Over!"

"It's our cargo, sir! We're fine. No chow or water for us till we're done here! Out!" Informed 3-4 tank commander.

Lincoln felt relieved at not having to experience the loss of his comrades in arms. This was far from over; other IED's exploded in hidden segments of the road with less firepower and not slowing their advance. Despite the relentless response of the enemy, their platoon broke through the weak enemy defenses, who only counted on the element of surprise. The rapid response of the 3rd Marine infantry platoon who had commanded a building adjacent to their route cleared off RPG's from the roof stops and other insurgents along the road, picking them off with accurate fire from their M16 rifles equipped with 4X ACOG optics; hours later, the news and other media agencies would accuse the Marine Corp of executing surrendering terrorists as they were encountering by the dozen with neat holes in their foreheads. All it took was one crap head calling some crap head reporter for Aljazeera News and telling them 'we shoot bad guys in the head to get the "bad press" going'. They sort of leave out the part about the horrible things the insurgents had done to their own countrymen or what they did abroad, back in the US. Bottom line, it happens and to Lincoln, it is a cost effective use of ball rounds The Marines were that good at shooting and with the aid of scopes, they were a walking plague of death.

At less than one mile from their sector, their platoon leader observed a section of it covered by a massive blockade of hulks of destroyed vehicles, blown up tanks and concrete chunks, in effect blocking the streets and adjacent ones towards the target area.

"Column stop, column stop"

The platoon was forced to hold their ground, lining up in formation. If Gunny Dunkar had a reason to stop, it was a very good one. Sure, let's stop in the fucking kill zone. Thought Lincoln squeezing his joystick on and off.

"Hull down" The TC ordered, the vehicles rotating their vehicles at 45 degree angle to increase their armored protection. Changing COMMS, he marked the blockade in his maps and updated them.

"This is Sword. Over"

"This is Overlord. Send it"

"We got a blockade in the road overhead. We are unable to reach target area unless we get some fast movers and engage their position; I marked their position on the grid squares map. How copy?"

"Sword, solid copy. Wait one"

The platoon was getting very restless. The enemy hadn't let up their fire and when you were the biggest target in the battle, you were going to be engaged with whatever they had. Mortars were raining around their tanks, heavy automatic fire converting on their standstill tanks; RPG's were impacting close by and getting accurate quite fast. The Marines attached to their flanks deployed rapidly around them, setting a perimeter and shooting at everything that moved while at the same time the tank platoon fired back at every twitch of movement but they kept coming. For every flash of orange and red that was extinguished, another would take its place shortly after.

"Sword, interrogative, can you lase the target?"

"Overlord, Yankee Echo Sierra. Over"

"Sword, solid copy. The boys of the Air Force are on standby for whatever you need gone; passing frequency to Zoomies. Overlord Out"

"Roger that, Sword out"

Dunkar quickly put a marker, after just getting into contact with the F18's pilots circling overhead, close air support was negated since the anti-air batteries remained active. It was a momentary target identification procedure, quickly linking COMMs with an Air Force controller and the smart JDAMS locked on target. A pair of 2000lb smart bombs were thrown from 10000 feet in the air.

"Standby for splash. This is gonna be a loud mother fucker" Dunkar grinned. Thirty seconds later a crescendo of explosions made the earth to shatter enough to annihilate an entire block off the face of the earth, sending hellfire, rocks and brimstone a mile high. The Marines were hollering and screaming for blood, cheering for the massive amount of explosives that literally blew the minds off the enemy. Nothing remained in that area, it was like an entire block was being demolished for a new super shopping mall. A massive plume of smoke covered the entire area, remains flying in every direction. Lincoln felt the colossal impact that the bombs generated, the shock wave bouncing on his tank seemed to shift it inches off the ground. He couldn't imagine how it would feel outside, or worse, on the path of destruction of the enormous bombs that just detonated.

"Precision guided whoop ass!" Swabble laughed with abandon at the destruction. He wasn't the only one cheering for the display of firepower. But in the TC opinion they were making his radio dirty.

"Fun is over. Platoon move half throttle, watch for foot mobiles and keep your sector clear. Out"

Ramirez quickly gunned the jet engine, crushing whatever remains under the tank threads. Sword moved swiftly through the broken remains of the city, strangely the enemy had gone completely silent in their sector. Overhead, the massive craters stood where a city block used to be. The tank platoon was forced to circle the ground zero. It wasn't until they got at the designed target area that the fire resumed heavily. The tanks assumed firing position and engaged the trenches hastily done by the enemy. At the same time, elements from the 1st Light Armored Reconnaissance Battalion arrived to support their cleansing operations, moving their Lav-25 light tanks; their 25mm guns slow firing but meaty thumping firing resounding through the city block they were currently in, destroying any reinforced enemy position while they left the heavy fighting to the main battle tanks. Lincoln finally got to the fire at all the pesky flashes that were coming on from the hotel. In a manner of one hour, over half their ordnance was completely gone but the enemy kept pouring out to the surrounding areas of the hotel. Dunkar redeployed his forces to instead cover the main roads leading to the hotel, cutting off the enemy reinforcements while other remnants of the British army were patched to his COMMs, moving in to secure their stronghold around the hotel.

Capturing in would be a waste of resources and man power and frankly, the high command didn't want to fight floor through floor rigged with booby traps and other firepower waiting at them; they saw the trap but they refused to spring it. An important clubs, king playing card was within that building but sadly whatever Intel would be destroyed; they couldn't risk walking into a death trap. Everyone redeployed half a mile from the target area and once more, the Air Force took care of the job.

"For seven days you have being a plague my life" Dunkar started, referring to the constant study of the city of Fallujah and that stupid hotel; studying constant hours and looking at his target from any direction safely in Kuwait. "Al Habbaniyah hotel" He continued, his crew almost hearing his grin. "But now, the end is near. And all these people, they'll learn to stop worshipping Allah, and instead worship the 2000 pound JDAM that is about to fuck up their whole world. You're going down"

And he got his wish; three JDAM's bombarded the hotel, blowing the buildings to its foundation, sending plumes of dusty smoke and remains all over the city with enough force to topple half a city block together with it. All over the city, the forces of the Coalition stayed tuned to watch the hotel crumble in a loud crescendo, secondary explosions from the stored terrorist's ammo dumps and unfinished IED's detonating abruptly. It was a sight to behold and the constant tremors and shock waves were somewhat pleasant in their tanks to the point where the platoon communicated if they should surf the 'wave'.

Lincoln stayed calm watching the destruction unfolding in his eyes. The Iraqi Forces had after all established roadblocks all over the city to ensure that nobody could enter, and to intercept insurgents attempting to flee the sickle of death. Not only that, but an Army armored battalion had cordoned the entire area; the Iraqi government had halted a full blown assault in the first battle to wrestle control from the Insurgency, fearing civilian deaths and reinforcing the Taliban stronghold in the city, using the destruction as a campaign war machine, the Marine command had been extremely mad but this time they got it right, convincing the populace to leave and to not come back; for once, the Coalition could use their combined arms, their full firepower without fear of causing large numbers of civilian casualties.

The city was completely encircled by them and the terrorists better make peace with their God, because he was not going to give them any quarter, not that the International law gave them any, with no place to hide in the Geneva Convention or Rules of War. With the target secured in pieces, it was a matter of time before the rest of the insurgent's witness of the destructive power of their combined arms and they would come out their strongholds and just surrender.

How wrong they were.

After a half an hour, an eerie silence reigned on their side, not even the anti-air batteries opened fire. He used the short rest to open the hatch of the loader's side, hanging half way, breathing the stinky air of death and destruction and it was such a delicious smell. It was better than the strenuous constant funk inside their tank. He rummaged through the cargo hold of their turret, quickly finding the blue cooler. Opening it, he could almost cry. After being awake for so many hours, adrenaline could only give you that much before you moved with mental motions and to be honest? He was almost shutting down, being more slept than awake, feeling like a puppet. For this mission, Dunkar had prepared his perfect combination of energy drinks.

The Death Raiser.

Wild Tiger, an Iraqi potent energy drink with a poorly drawn Tiger on the cover. It's been called liquid cocaine and Adderall in a can, supposedly a mix of black market spices that kicked like a mule and reeved your engine. Dunkar had combined that with Mexican Coca Cola that they had stored away and two pills of Ripped Fuel, an ephedra-based chew coffee crystals. Taking four containers, he went back inside, closing the hatch and gave them to the rest of the crew. They downed the contents in one go shaking as if they were having a combined seizure, feeling their muscles jittering within their skin before staying still. The tiredness of the moment passed immediately instead feeling as if they had been reborn or sleeping through a whole week immersing in the separation of body and mind. These were only used for emergencies only and this was one. The battle was still in full swing and the short break was perhaps the calm before the storm; meaning that the battle could lead on for another full day of fighting and without any sleep.

It came as a surprise to the Marines that they were re-engaged no more than ten minutes after the hotel disappeared from the face of the Earth. The insurgents, dusty and maimed as they were got the big guns out, an avalanche of small arms and mortar fire reigned upon them. The Insurgent commanders had taken command of every mosque they could find and used the loud speakers that were supposed to be used for religious purposes; instead they were re-used as a communication device, knowing far too well that the media would frown upon the Coalition forces firing into a religious building. They were smartly; many Insurgent commanders had made them their strongholds and base of operations.

Vehicles started to roll out to meet them head on. An old Iraqi BTR-80 with black flags just pulled to the main road that Lincoln's tank was covering, using a bridge embankment to pull in into the road. They screeched to a halt at half a mile from their tank, opening their rear doors and tilting their turret to them. The IFV opened up with its 14.5mm cannon, heavy automatic fire pounding at their armor uselessly, then firing a field modified Sagger anti-tank missile on top of the turret; the missile passed them mere feet from their position, impacting in a house further up.

"Swabble, AP!" Loud screamed sending the loader to curse loudly, switching the HEAT round, pilling it back into their ordnance and pulling a round that looked like a giant paper pin attached to a shell.

"UP!"

Lincoln locked into his target, aiming at the cockpit and fired. The round sailed through the air, breaking its internal shell into a giant needle that impacted the target like a battering ram, piercing through the lower hull, instantly liquefying the driver and taking wheels off, bursting the cockpit like a peanut shell. The IFV started smoking heavily sending the forces that had barely being able to dismount for cover.

"Swabble, HEAT"

The aforementioned did as asked without protesting. "UP!"

Aiming at the left side of the vehicle, Lincoln fired piercing the hull and igniting the fuel tanks that the Soviets had stupidly put on the inside doors when they designed that death trap, there was a reason when it was employed, why the Russians rode on top of it rather than inside. The BTR busted into flames, tilting on its side and sending its turret launching it 300 feet off the air, landing on top of a building, the rest of the wheels coming off like marbles. Horrified, the young gunner saw as mangled bodies fell around the antiquated machine, two men on fire ran mindlessly around their tank flailing their arms on the air, cooking off in the blazing sun, their tank burning next to them. Lincoln put one to rest with a quick burst of his coaxial, the other one disappeared in a pink mist and ragged clothing, their remote controlled Fifty cal machine gun had snarled with authority, sending a couple of rounds down range tearing the man apart.

And it wasn't the last vehicle. The insurgents came in waves of vehicles; everything that had wheels and could transport people was used. He rotated the turret to meet the new threats in disbelief as an ambulance whirled off to the street with its lights flashing, its back door opened and six armed men came out, guns blazing. These people were not only insane, they were also, very, very stupidly smart; the media would have a field day with Marine Corp armor engaging an ambulance, thought Lincoln.

"Gunny?" He asked in incredulity.

"Corporal, just light it the fuck up. We'll deal with the bad press later" The Master Gunnery Sergeant said with an air of finality. He did as he asked of him, the coaxial bursting with deadly activity, turning it into a giant cheese grater that disappeared in a flash of smoke and flames.

Other odd jobs joined the battle, from a trash truck to a tow truck that had been retrofitted with a 23mm anti air cannon, which made it an ideal target. Ammunition was already at half combat load, trusting his judgment, he made a call.

"Swabble, HE"

As the large man took off the round in the tube followed by a yelled 'UP!', Lincoln was currently aiming at the tow truck with the big guns as it came forward with no hesitation whatsoever, with its gun facing the back of it without a way to rotate to engage them. At the last second, the tow truck swirled in a perfect 90 degrees arc that would make a drifting racer proud. The two men on top lined up on them but Lincoln didn't even fear, retaliating first. The 120mm cannon roared and with it, the vehicle exploded into hundreds of molten pieces; that was what you got when you stored so much ammunition in a tow truck. The destruction of the column of vehicles blocked the interception and with it, the reinforcements of the enemy came to a crashing halt. For three hours, the ammunition on that truck cooked off, sending flashes of bullets across and around the street and nobody dared to make a slip. The battle had finally stayed silent. Occasionally, a patrol of enemies would round up from a corner or behind the remains of buildings, venturing to attack them only to be met with accurate automatic fire from Lincoln's coaxial machine gun, along with the other three tanks in his platoon.

The patrols didn't stop. For every enemy that he killed, his horror grew at himself, then it reached mild dismay, then it slowed down to shock, then to a dull discomfort, then angered frustration until it reached a stalemate of pure annoyance; apparently the insurgents had finally decided to stop rushing like Star Wars storm troopers against a superior and far more prepared enemy wasn't such a good idea after all. Occasionally, an insurgent or two retrieved some weapons and equipment off the fallen, strangely the bodies were left where they fell, nobody made a move to retrieve them. Dunkar quickly explained to him when he asked that they did it on purpose so any cameraman or news anchor would record the images of unarmed civilians falling on the streets as all the insurgents a mix of civilian and military garb, they gave off that 'innocent civilian' vibe all too well. Sometimes, even remaining civilians would do the deed, either because they were obligated to do so at gunpoint or because they wanted to as they hated them and saw them as 'the infidel invaders' who came to their country to blow shit up.

Sometimes kids would come and take things off the dead, weapons or food were taken immediately yet again the bodies were left. Hours passed, their tanks sitting idle, guarding that main street, scanning buildings for targets to engage. Most certainly they were being watched, yet nobody had infrared, night and thermal optics at their disposition other than them and the Coalition and now he was using them to stare to the street in disgust.

Stray dogs had come and were devouring the bodies, sometimes vultures would swoon to the ground stealing scraps, and some waiting perched on the destroyed city for their turn to have their fill. Those that had never been to war would be ignorant of what it was. There was no honor dying for a cause or killing the enemy in waves, in the end, it was just you devoured by stray dogs or rotting in the sun, infested with maggots. Disgusting as it was, he had to keep waiting for movement but it never came. Still horrified, Lincoln kept his sights on the target, ignoring the mutts feasting on the bodies. Dunkar had stayed silent as the hours went by, as light exited and darkness came, the city came alive once more with buzzing activity, this time by their own 155mm howitzers with firing missions, pounding suspected insurgent occupied buildings or strongholds being pulverized under the mighty firepower. Their TC asked permission to return to base, with plausible cause; they were low on ammo and fuel, nevertheless tired as hell, he was given a green light.

"Platoon, we're RTB, follow my lead, out" Dunkar spoke tiredly in the radio and with it, Lincoln sighed in what could be a possible night of bliss and relaxation. Their platoon waited for the Lav-25s to link with them and leave their sector secure, other Army elements finally started to reach them, relieving the Marines to get some hard earned rest, but they would only be the ones allowed to leave the city. Sword moved off the hostile zone to a secure zone, miles away from Fallujah, lining up their tanks inside a compound that used to be a car dealership, reinforced with Hesco blast walls and sand bags. Their tank, stopped next to the car wash of the dealership.

Engineers and motor T's received them as they opened their hatches inside the improvised motor within a mechanic shop, jokingly referred as Lousy FOB (forward operating base); the cold desert air met them as they dismounted, Lincoln carrying his plain Jane M4 carbine out. It felt amazing after being crammed in their war machine for almost three whole days, the smell of petrol and blood was an exquisite delicacy. Crews started a fire with c4 explosive blocks and ate like there's no tomorrow howling into the wind. Lincoln ate his crummy MRE alone, staring at the fire, peeled eyes at the cracking flames; he could almost hear the screams of the people he killed today. Suddenly he wasn't very hungry, he stood up and sat down next to his tank tracks, resting his head against the armored wheel and stared at the dark night crawling his rifle in his lap, illuminated briefly by tracer fire and the sound of detonations and flashes of light in the distance. He didn't know what to think or do, given his upbringing all the way until the day it came to a horrible halt, he was taught acceptance, inculcating values of respect of others ways of life, peace, and tolerance towards the ideas of others, even if they are diametrically opposed to ours, yet…what was he supposed to think? All he ever was went flying off the window the day he was kicked off the house for military school followed by his enlistment, he was infected by a fever called life, trying and failing to break with the past.

He remembered the words that Pop-Pop said to him once, before leaving for Camp Pendleton. When you are out there in the middle of all, they will try to erase you, the most important thing to remember is, do not lose yourself out there. Do not forget who you are Lincoln.

Lincoln was trying to grasp the remnants of that boy he used to be but it was hard…he was barely gripping the surface of his subconscious, it was a maddening torture. He knew if he ever let go and fell into the abyss, there would be no going back, he was trying not to come undone. He grinned without any humor left in him, chipped front teeth glowing in the darkness. It was only the first day of combat and he was already set to fall apart. He dug through his vest pouches and drew a cigarette, a bad habit that he picked up in tank school, lighting it up with his Marine Corp engraved logo Zippo he took a slow and long drag, letting it fill his lungs before exhaling it, a long stream of smoke dissipating into the night, just thinking of the experience, the killing and the destruction he witnessed and partake in on his very first day of war. He thought about that man he sent flying with the 120 mike-mike to the moon.

Dunkar saw him sitting by himself, he approached Lincoln taking his tanker helmet as he went, sitting next to him, looking him over. The TC knew that look all too well.

"Are you alright son?

Lincoln barely glimpsed at him, before looking back at the turbulent and war torn skies.

"I don't know sir" The young man answered, offering his pack of smokes to Dunkar, who took one and quickly light it up.

His answer was expected; he had had this talk with the many men and women he had commanded over the twenty two years of his military career. Lincoln look was lost in the abysm, staring at it.

"I'm just…wondering what happened today. Just…my first day and I already lost count of how many people I killed today" He began looking into the fire. "Some of them didn't have weapons on them and I am pretty sure I killed…children, who were either mixed with the enemy or were shooting at us themselves. This is…this is fucked up"

"Aye, it is" Dunkar took a drag of his cigarette staring at the fire as well. "Let me tell you about my father Lincoln. He was in 'Nam and he was in the shit, guts deep. He did four tours in that goddamn forsaken jungle, from start to finish, coming again and again into that humid hell. He was a Green Beret, an officer that served with honor and distinction; he saw a lot of fucked up shit and had to do it himself just to survive. When my old man found out I was enlisting into active duty in the 80's, he pulled me aside and told me, if you ever stare at death or become death yourself, I want you to put everything that bothers you, everything that keeps you awake at night, every nightmare or bad memories that clog your head and linger, I want you to put that in a box and close it and deal with it later, preferably with the company of your loved ones"

Lincoln nodded at the sage advice. It sounded something like Pop-Pop would say.

"And did you ever open your box, Gunny?"

The TC smirked. "It has been a long twenty two years. I am forty years old now but my box has stayed closed ever since, gathering dust somewhere in my subconscious"

At that Lincoln's face broke into an easy going smile.

"You only have six hours tops before they fetch us again. Sleep the battle off, take a shower, eat and rest. 'Tis only the beginning of something big" Those were the last words that the TC had said before retiring to his own time.

Lincoln stretched and relaxed, cracking his bones as he went to his designed quarters, going to the showers that the blessed engineers had assembled from the old water pipes of the car wash. He placed his rifle against the wall, taking off his armor and tanker helmet, shedding his coveralls, nomex flight gloves and grimy boots and got into it, washing the war grime from his body, literally melting in relaxation and had to slap himself on the face not to sleep in its soothing waters. His tent was already next to the car wash, relieving himself on the back of it, washing his hands with some of his calmelbak water. Normally in the downtime he would have used time to talk to Swabble, his best friend in the platoon but now, as soon as his naked feet touched the sleeping bag, he almost felt right at home. He stayed there, lying in the dirt trying hard not to think about what he did and what he saw and why was he doing here in the first place. But he couldn't sleep well.

He concentrated long and hard about what he witnessed, every life he extinguished, every bomb that fell and the thoughts of what happened to the people that were perhaps innocently killed in those detonations, he pictured a box and shoved all of it into it and close it. His anxiety disappeared almost instantly. Yet there was one thing that he couldn't get rid of, after all, it had been six long years since his life was torn apart, six long years tore apart from her and his supposedly caring family, not that he would blame them, but he still raged on madly. In the military they taught him that thinking would get him killed or those around them and it was the truth, there would be time for that later, thanks to Master Gunnery Sergeant Dunkar, his body was finally shutting itself off, mind disconnected physically to his body, he closed his eyes and slept after being awake for over 36 hours.

As always, he dreamed of her and what happened in that faithful month in that summer of 1997.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hands grasping at his shoulders, their faces so close he could feel her minty breath on his lips, puffing, inhaling her scent and without realizing it, his blue eyes focused on her pink and soft lips and then went down. The wet material hugged his sister chest, abdomen and hips; no human could have avoided his reaction, hypnotized by her assets, yet something else elated him for his pulse to quicken to dangerous levels. The 'weight' shifted her body, from his legs tangled with hers in a precarious situation, crusted powder on her boot with river weed and a sludge of sand crusting on his pants. Lynn shook her head, too focused on freeing himself to realize their position, but it was awkward and uncomfortable being stuck like this. Looking to free herself, she squeezed his shoulders and pulled her leg free, but the movement was rushed and her knee fell against something soft, wiggling her free foot with her knee still down, she smiled at the boy, warmly.

"Woah, thanks Linc, I didn't knew it was gonna be this bad...Linc? Hey, what's the matter with you?" She asked, flipping her wet sunglasses to her forehead. His body had suddenly started quivering, breathing growing fainter and more ragged. Lynn started to get worried, thinking that he was getting a cold, she took a long look at his face contorted as in a deep amount of pain, she shifted her weight again to try to feel a fever on her brother heedlessly rubbing her knee against the soft material; Lincoln couldn't help but to grunt, bucking his hips unconsciously against the delicious pressure as in a stupor, half lidded eyes looking aside unfocused and pooling with something akin to...to...hunger.

The girl's gaze descended starting to notice an odd pressure that seemed to drag around her knee and expand rapidly, she felt around with her fingertips, looking at the object pressing against her earning another grunt from her younger brother.

Her knee was on his crotch, painfully erect and she was touching it with her hand.

Gasping in horror, the girl stood suddenly breathing hard enough to almost hyperventilate. Oh my God, Oh my God! Her knee, was in his...he had a hard on! What...wow, geeeeez, what the fuck Lincoln? Lincoln? I mean come-the-fucking on! She should have been more careful! Her thoughts jetted into her mind piling over the other.

Her gasps seemed to bring Lincoln back to the world of the living. Unsure how to explain to himself what the hell just happened to him, he did the only thing that came to mind, he freaked out. Lincoln pushed her off almost dropping her back to the river and hugged himself, tears welling in his eyes at his reaction, curling in a fetal position and waiting for his punishment, pants simmering down.

"I...I am sorry Lynn...I-I" What was he supposed to say? Sorry for ogling you and getting a woody because you accidentally rubbed your knee against my penis and then you touched it? He was a disgusting person and he was going to burn in hell. Why his body reacted like that? Why did he like her? Perhaps the feelings had always been there since she and Lucy had that fight, maybe that's why he felt so happy to take her to home coming last year; regardless his feelings would be the death of him, crying his eyes out the boy shivered in self-pity.

The sporty girl rubbed at the pain that had exploded on her rear and was about to give him an earful, still not understanding his reaction and how strange that made her feel. Yet his reaction melted her angry glare into pure unadulterated horror. Her own brother curling on the floor and hugging himself, crying his eyes out. Jesus, just what the hell was wrong with him? Unless...ah.

"Linc?" She approached cautiously to his shaking form, her voice so small that he could barely hear her. Lincoln acknowledged her, tears streaming down his cheeks, mucus running down his nose.

"Just get it over with! Punch me already. Call me a freak, that's what I am. I deserve it" His fist balled angrily, looking at her with defiance. Might as well face it head on.

Lynn expression couldn't be more horrified if she tried. Slowly, she approached her brother into a crawl until she was next to him, sitting on her calves. Her hand slowly came towards his face and the boy couldn't help but to lose his bravado, closing his eyes and waiting for that agony. Instead, he felt a warm caress on his tear stained cheeks. Slowly, he dared to open an eye and stared. Instead of facing her eyes crunched in murderous fury, her brown orbs reflected worry, care and warm.

"It was an accident Lincoln" She sighed. "I guess that you're being hard by puberty eh?" She slapped herself mentally at using the word 'hard', her brother was in enough emotional turmoil as it was. "Look Linc...it's fine"

"How can you say that? It's just accidents between us now" He stabbed her with a look of hurt that took her off guard and sent a dagger into her heart. "I am a disgusting freak. I shouldn't have reacted like that with my own sister! I'm a monster!"

At that she did slapped him hard. His face turned to the other side at the force of her blow, tears running down his cheeks anew. Lynn face inched closer to him, forcefully grabbing his face with her hands and holding him tight.

"Look at me!"

His eyes focused on her not daring to do anything to soar her wrath.

"Don't be a little bitch Lincoln. Where is the boy that was about to whoop my ass just now before my clumsy ass make us almost fall into the river? You, blagh!...you're my brother and I love you, I care about you a lot. You are the most important person in my life. I know I don't say it often, but I do, and I mean it. Now wake the fuck up or I'll smash some sense into you"

The white haired boy lips quivered, unsure of how to react, yet his breathing slowed down, chest heaving once more as a warm feeling spread through his body.

"Look..." She relaxed her hold on his face, her thumbs absently caressing his cheeks. "I forgive you, actually no, this was my fault. I shouldn't be the one saying that. You didn't do anything wrong. Yesterday I left the door open. You didn't do anything to deserve your stupid sister bitchiness today. I'm sorry. But I know that whatever happened today, you didn't mean any of it. I went nuts too when I was going through it too, ya know?"

"You mean, puberty?"

She rolled her eyes, a playful smirk at her lips. "I'm surprised you even remember that word from school. Most boys are just having hysterics in class about it. But you are different and attentive. I really like that about you"

Lynn sighed, suddenly lying down next to him. It didn't matter that he wasn't looking, probably still horrified and embarrassed about what just happened.

"But yeah. I went nuts too. I was ogling every single boy I could lay my eyes on. Especially my teammates, thoughts rushed and came, gross things you probably wouldn't even want to hear about. You know how some girls said that guys only think with their dangly dongs?"

Lincoln blushed heavily at her description of the male genitalia, but it was impossible not to know all the names for it. After all, boys talk all the time.

"Well, girls think too with their girl-junk too. I was thinking about how it would be to kiss and other stuff; I even thought about dad a few times and even Coach Pacowski"

"Lynn!" He cringed. "That's just gross"

She slapped his forehead with the tip of her finger. "I know, I just said I couldn't control myself. Weird urges, things I wouldn't do. I even once tried to peek at the boys in the shower room and I panicked. It was just too much...the urges are still there, but what happened to you was probably" She waved a hand around abstinently. "Your boy equipment just felt something rubbing against it and you took off without thinking" They both blushed at her play of words. "It...I, yeah. It just happened" She looked aside blushing horribly at opening so raw to her brother. What was odd was the feeling of…happiness? That was two in a row that he had a massive hard on from her. It left her feeling odd and tingly inside, not even disgusted in the slightest…she felt proud, but she wasn't going to expose her secret, he had no reason to be part of it.

A gust of wind blew making both of them shiver quickly remembering that they were drenched from head to toe and they could get a cold. Sighing, Lynn was first to stand up, looking at the bridge currently suspended above them; satisfied that nobody had a clear view of them she looked at the bushes on their left just at the edge of the bridge, nobody would see them, not even if they peeked below without risking falling. With a grunt, she took her bike and her backpack.

"We need to dry these clothes or I'll have to explain to mom why we both have to go to see a doctor. C'mon Linc, follow me" She took one of his hands and helped to his feet, confused why would she even imagine they could dry their clothes in the open, he followed wondering if she was serious. The teens took another look at the bridge, trekking off the path, dripping water as they went, occasionally looking at the bridge. The clearing by the river was heavily covered by the bushes and trees that surrounded them and that was just in fine in Lynn's was concerned for what she was about to do. Facing the river, there was a large boulder that gave them extra coverage from peeking eyes.

Lynn sighed as her brother planted his bike next to his sister's, on the boulder. Looking over her shoulder, she started unbuttoning her shirt.

The boy eyes widened as her shirt came undone

"L-Lynn, what are you doing?" His heart started drumming in his chest at the sight.

"What does it look like? She threw her wet shirt aside, her back at him, the angle instantly letting him see the bulge of her developing breasts through the sports bra she was wearing. Once more, his eyes focused on the little things, trekking his gaze down her naked back, drinking the sight of her. He felt a stir in his pants that was strengthened when her fingers moved to unbutton her shorts he finally looked away.

"Someone could see" He hissed.

"Don't be such a dweeb, sister. Just be a man, shut up and take off your clothes, or you're gonna catch a cold" They both blushed at how demanding the tone was.

Sighing, Lincoln's fingers trembled as he took off his wet orange hoody, cringing at the wet slap that followed after throwing it in the ground. His comic book t-shirt hit the ground and finally Lynn was able to see his body torso in all his glory, almost salivating at the look of his developing muscles. She thought about Pop-Pop barrel chest and thick muscled back. Would her younger brother look like that when he was older? She was now fighting with herself to stop trying to be so lewd and forward, but that part of her went flying off the window the moment she opened her wet pants and started shimmying out of them with the bounce of her hips. Lincoln fought with himself to tear his eyes off the sight of her wet blue panties marking her ass cheeks and her bouncing heart shaped butt came to light. The stirring in his pants got thicker and bigger, blood flowing downstairs clogging his brain with euphoria. Shame once more coursed through him, but she was right. He was shivering, either out of lust or because the chill in the air was getting stronger.

Lynn's shorts hit the pile of clothing, followed by untying her hiking boots that leaked a stream of water as they came free with a slurp. She sighed sitting on the ground to take off her wet socks, wiggling her foot toes on the cold muddy ground. She looked at Linc who was struggling to take his pants off, she stared at how his back muscles rippled with the movements at the front of his pants until they came loose, her breath pitched in her throat wondering how delicious his ass was going to look like in those wet red briefs, she eagerly tilted forward, almost rubbing her thighs together as the flap of his pants came to view, he hooked his thumbs on them and yanked them down, her eyes peeled and…

…swimming trunks?

A deep disappointment ran through her, her eyes loosened the lust reflected on them, crossing her arms in annoyance that the plan to freely peak at her brother was derailed.

Lincoln turned around to face Lynn, she was sitting on the ground, arms crossed on her knees, chin tugged between them and she almost looked…disappointed? Uh…nuh uh. He was just imagining things he mused as he took off his pants all the way down and then his wet footwear.

The sportsgirl growled in annoyance, taking her clothes and walking to the boulder as he followed, his gaze being kept forward and didn't dare to go down, although the freckles on her back called for him to look, walking in slow and steady steps to not let his bulge to show. They flung their clothing at the back of the boulder, extending them to dry all over the face of the rocky surface. She confided that he wouldn't suspect anything as she sat down facing the river in the same position she was in. There was an odd tension in the air one more time, but it felt different somehow, almost intimate between them and they could feel the unease growing. Why was this so…awkward? Thought Lincoln, not even daring to steal a look at his sister.

For all the near naughtiness of the moment, Lynn felt self-apprehensive about being around him half naked, not trusting her own body reaction and reveal her secret. For a few passing minutes both teens stared at the river, occasionally looking at the flock of ducks that nested at the bed of the river, quaking around them without a care in the world, the sun now beginning to get hotter as the time passed.

Linc sat down next to her, oddly smiling at the whole situation to ease the tension.

"What's so funny?" Her chin rotated to face her grinning brother.

"This is a TRUE adventure; I can feel it in my pores"

Lynn growled flicking at his cow lick. "Shut up dingus" She stared angrily at him, yet a small grin was tugged at her lips. "So I didn't think"

"Lynn Loud Jr thinks? I am agasp" He teased.

Over the course of a year, Linc had started to show a more dominant and outspoken attitude rather than the soft spoken boy she grew up with, as an example she could think of what happened this morning, turning the tables on her and gaining her respect for standing up to himself. If this had happened last year, he would just slump his shoulders, defeated and with a kicked puppy expression, while adorable, it got enough on her nerves. Gladly she had been picking on him, pushing his boundaries, to tough him up so when the world pushed back, he would shove it back and perhaps these were the fruits of her labor staring right now at her with a shit eating grin, back straight and the challenging rise of an eyebrow.

But she was Lynn Loud and she wasn't a push over. Showing him whose boss, she pushed at him from his chest with enough force to made him fall three feet away from her; grinning back she lifted a finger.

"Don't provoke me Loud. I am in a good mood, let's keep it that way" She said not daring to look at his swimming trunks and muscles, knowing all too well that her thighs would be rubbing together faster than she could say the word ball.

From the ground, Linc scoffed. "If this is your good mood, I cannot wait to meet your happy side"

Both snorted with laughter, she extended her hand to him and he took it pulling towards him, immediately shoving her arm, crossing it to her left and with his other hand he tapped it effectively pushing her back on the ground playfully. It happened so fast that it took her a second to process that her brother had hit her with one of her signature lucha libre moves.

"Did…did you just used a reptile tail slap on me?" She asked at her grinning brother.

"Maybe I did…" He crossed his arms over his naked chest.

Lynn growled. "Since it was your birthday yesterday, you may have my mercy…but when we get home. I'm going to enjoy watching you scream like a girl" She said crossing her knees in front of her looking at the river.

The white haired boy started sweating bullets suddenly aware that he was being allured to be more dominant around her making him grunt mentally. He was acting up as if…as if he was trying to make her to like him back and that was insanely bad, combined with the visible erection he was getting around her that she TOUCHED; that toped it off with a douse of pushing the line of brother and sister and he was not going to go down that route. He was doing enough as it was pushing those uncomfortable moments on her and he was blessed that he was related to her, being so understanding and she was probably right, he did like her and while these feelings left him with a headache and a pounding confusion, one thing was certain though, it paid to be confused; it would allow him to figure this whole thing out.

Eventually both found a rhythm to relax and ease the tension observing the nature around them. While the wet ground felt kind of nasty, the breeze had turned warmer as the day passed getting rid of the chill in the air. Eventually Lincoln's eyes started to get heavy and without realizing it his body starting slumping to his left, right next to Lynn. The sportsgirl by her part enjoyed these calm moments and strangely the anxiety of moving around and do something wasn't present with him around and suddenly there was a weight on her shoulder. Both teens locked eyes and she could observe how tired he was; his eyes widened at his sudden intrusion and he tried to move back to the same position but she didn't allow it. Her hand immediately snaked around his shoulder, shoving him back to her with more force than she intended, forcing his head to lie on her lap and swiftly they were looking at each other again, her eyes looking down on him.

Their cheeks were flushed with red tint and she couldn't bear the sight of him looking at her, embarrassed, her, HER! Lynn Loud, toughest girl in school now that Missy Hussy left town.

"Sleep if you want to. I'll keep watch"

Linc yawned, meeting her gaze with a tired one of his own. Her brown eyes reflected a warm that he had never observed in them before, they looked welcoming and kind. Her beautiful face had a bright smile on her face, instantly his eyes looked at her soft lips again wondering how delicious they would taste like against his. But most of all, he thought what he liked about her. Her determination and tenacity, her deep sense of adventure, wild and curious nature, her nothing would bring me down attitude, brown eyes shining with spice and electrifying energy, but most of all, she got him. It didn't need to be said when he convened something, she already knew about it. Lynn understood him in a level that nobody else did; he could be free and be himself, happy, with his confidence on the floor and sappy; sure she might tease him relentlessly about it but she was always there to pick him up and stand him to his feet. They understood each other perfectly, sure they fought heavily, snarled at each other throats and butted heads, roughhousing and literally getting dragged and manipulated him to play sports and her silly superstition was beyond ridiculous, but he accepted her as she came and she did the same with him. There was no need to profile what he wanted.

Perhaps analyzing it would bring him answers, make a plan of how to proceed or maybe this would destroy him. It was scary, but right now there was no other place he rather be, than the warm and welcoming lap of his beautiful older sister.

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A/N: And done with this one. The story is finally moving forward with both stages. I want to thank the anonymous reviews who corrected some mistakes in the last chapter. Keep it on, reviews make me write faster, reviews makes me know what people think. Until the next chapter!

D4rK