author's note. Sorry for the delay - in-laws came into town, so I actually had to clean my house. Ugh. Thanks for your patience. Also, I got hung up on this chapter for some reason. The rest of the story is actually written - I'm one of those weirdos who writes the ending before the beginning - so it's just a matter of tweaking and uploading; the last few chapters should be up soon. I'm having lots of fun.

I actually set out to write a Kit-and-Stirling story, and not a Kit-and-Charlie story. And yet, Stirling hasn't been around since Chapter Two and it's been all Charlie, all the time since then. But his story demanded to be written. I really liked his character in the books - he was so sweet to his sister (and he was awesome in Really Truly Ruthie) in spite of all the stuff their family had to deal with. Definitely the kind of big brother I wish my big brother had been more like, instead of stealing my bottles out of my crib when I was a baby.

Kit dropped into a chair in the darkened kitchen. Her bag fell to the floor unnoticed. She was seriously considering never moving from that spot as long as she lived.

"Mom saved you a plate."

Kit jumped - she'd been so absorbed she hadn't even heard the crutches behind her. "I think I'm too tired to eat," she said glumly.

Charlie crossed into her line of vision with a smile. "I'll heat it up for you," he offered.

"You don't have to do that."

"I'm just returning a favor." Kit watched as Charlie lit the stove, then set her plate over a pot of simmering water, moving deftly now on his crutches. "You look about all in, little sis."

"Gibb called all the War Desk girls in as soon as the news came across the wire," Kit explained. "This is… this is big."

"We've been listening to the radio all day," Charlie concurred. "Do you think the war will end now?"

"I don't know," Kit responded. "I hope so. I hate to think that we can use such a terrible weapon and it won't have any effect. I don't think I could stand it if the world were like that."

"I think that's how we all feel now," Charlie agreed. "I think we're all just tired. The whole country looks about like you do, right now."

Kit smiled a wan smile. "Do you know what I don't like about my job?"

"I thought you loved your job," Charlie said, rising to check on Kit's dinner.

"I do," Kit said quickly. "It's exciting being in the newspaper business - it's what I've dreamed of since I was a little kid. But sometimes it's hard to write about it and not have it mean anything."

A confused look crossed Charlie's face. "How do you mean?"

"At first," Kit explained, "it used to bother me when the death tolls came across the wire. Carrier sunk, three hundred dead. Forty-five dead. Two thousand dead. That sort of thing. I couldn't stop thinking of all those boys cut down in their prime of life - boys like you, boys like Roger - and I felt just terrible about it."

"Well, of course you did." Charlie set her plate in front of her. "What happened then?"

"After a while," Kit continued, "I just… stopped."

"Stopped?"

"I stopped thinking about it. Stopped caring. I could write down the most horrible news and come home and sleep soundly at night."

Charlie resumed his seat. "What's so terrible about that?"

"I mean, I didn't even think about it. Husbands, brothers, sons… I just put them out of my mind. I just wrote the numbers down like they were arithmetic problems. I don't want to be that kind of person, Charlie - the kind of person who doesn't care."

Her eyes were wide, and Charlie reached over and actually patted her hand. "You did what you had to do, Squirt," he said quietly. "It's what we all did. You put it out of your mind or you can't even begin to do your job."

Kit took a few silent bites of her dinner. "What was it really like over there?" she said suddenly. The words she'd been dying to speak ever since his return. "It was always just words, to me. Was it very awful?"

Charlie leaned back in his chair, looking in that moment a lot like Dad. "Do you want to know the truth?" he said. Kit nodded. "The truth is… it was actually sort of fun."

Kit wasn't expecting that. "Fun?" She tried to keep the shock out of her voice, for fear he would end the conversation.

"Do you know why I joined the Army?"

"To pay for college, I thought."

"Sure, to pay for college," Charlie agreed. "But it was more than that. After my summer in the CCC, I figured the Army would be more of the same. Make new friends, see the world."

"And it wasn't?"

"It was," Charlie said. "Of course, it was during peacetime. But I lived it up - we all did. Of course, we knew what was going on in Europe, but we were all so sure that Roosevelt would keep us out of it. At the worst, I thought my enlistment would be over before the war began."

"But it wasn't."

"I could have gotten out if I'd wanted to," Charlie explained, "but how would that look for me? The country is marching off to war and I only think of myself. It was my duty."

"You've always been one to do your duty," Kit said, recalling her brother rising early in the morning to load the newspaper trucks. They were so much younger then.

"And of course I'd made sergeant by then," Charlie went on. "Better pay, more responsibility. I liked having all these eighteen-year-old kids looking up to me. I tried to do my best by them. Of course I was hard on them during our training, but even then it was a good time."

"And then you went overseas." Kit could still remember how he looked the last day of his furlough before shipping out: like he was embarking on a great adventure. She'd had a twinge of fear for him, even then.

"And then we went overseas," Charlie repeated. "But even then, it wasn't so bad. Europe is very beautiful - in parts, it reminded me of home. So green, so hilly. Sometimes you could even forget there was a war going on, at least early on."

Kit was afraid to speak, for fear she'd break the spell. The kitchen clock ticked loudly above the stove.

"The first time I killed a man," Charlie said very quietly, "my hands wouldn't stop shaking. I had to keep my gloves on for a whole day so that my men wouldn't see. But do you know what happened? The time after that, it was a little easier, and after that, it was easier still. And before too long I could do my job with a clean conscience. Just like you, Kit. I don't think it's terrible at all."

"I guess," Kit said, "that I didn't have it any worse than you. And I had a nice warm bed and hot food to come home to every night."

"The thing that really bothered me," Charlie went on, "was losing my own men. They looked up to me and I hated to see them killed. There was one - Danny Kettering - he was from Cincinnati too. Just a few miles from us, actually. I told him that if anything happened, I'd take his things home to his mother."

Kit recalled the box she'd carried in on the day Charlie came home. "Oh."

"And do you know the funny thing?" Charlie said, a wry smile twisting his lips. "I can't do it. I could face the German artillery just fine, but one widowed mother has got me shaking in my boots."

"I'll go with you," Kit said suddenly. "Might make it a little more tolerable for you." More than that, she felt she needed a reminder of the human side.

Charlie smiled for real. "I'd like that."

"Were you scared?" Kit asked. "During the shelling, or anything like that?"

"Not really," Charlie said. "I know it sounds strange, but I just put it out of my mind."

"What about when you lost your leg?" Kit blushed. "I mean… maybe I shouldn't mention it, but…"

"It's all right," Charlie said with a return of his easygoing nature. "Honestly, Squirt, it just happened so fast. One minute I'm running, yelling at my men to run for cover; the next minute, I'm waking up in a field hospital and they're telling me my leg is off. I didn't even have time to think about it."

"But you lost your leg," Kit persisted. "I thought - we all thought - when you came home…"

"It's not that bad." Charlie was unrolling his pant leg, and Kit steeled herself so she didn't wince when she saw the ugly scars where his knee used to be. But he was right. It had been so much worse in her imagination; she was glad she had finally seen it.

Still, she remained unconvinced. "You didn't come downstairs for almost a month."

"I was tired," Charlie said. That wasn't really what he meant, but it was the easiest way of explaining it. "I was so tired. But it's better now - honestly, it is. Did you know I went down to the library yesterday?"

"I didn't know that."

Charlie grinned proudly. "Mom was worried, of course. I told her, I'm twenty-seven years old, I think I can handle taking the streetcar by myself."

Kit laughed. "That sounds like Mom."

"But I made it back just fine," Charlie said. "What if the war is over, Kit? What are you going to do?"

"I'll stick around the Register for as long as I can," Kit said, "and after that, I don't know. What about you?"

"I don't know either," Charlie said. "Sometimes I wish things could go back to being the way they were, but I know better."

"You know," Kit mused, "I spent so much of my life wishing for the very same thing. Wishing Dad could get his old job back, find a new job, wishing we didn't have to have boarders or that you hadn't had to join the Army."

"And?"

"And then," Kit went on, "I realized that that was no way to live. I mean, how far back are we supposed to turn the clock? Everything that's happened, there's been some good in it. New experiences, people we've met. I even didn't hate the boarders after a while."

"Did Mother ever tell you," Charlie said, leaning back with a smile, "that I hated you when you were born?"

"She never did."

"See, I'd ruled the roost for six years quite undisputed," Charlie explained. "And you came along, this horrible, tiny little interloper. You couldn't do anything, and everyone fussed over you."

"Sorry." Kit grinned sheepishly. "I'm sure you would have preferred a little brother."

"Or a dog," Charlie agreed. "But, the thing is… after a year or so, I changed my tune."

"What happened?"

"Well, you got a little bigger, and you weren't so helpless anymore. And when you started walking, you wanted to follow me everywhere. You couldn't say 'Charlie' so you called me 'Tar-ee.' And I realized you were way better than any dog could ever be. So, I made the best of it."

"That's what I like best about you," Kit said. "You always make the best of it. Whatever you decide to do after the war is over, I'm sure you'll be great at it." On her way to rinse her dish in the sink, she put an arm around her brother's shoulders from behind.

Charlie returned the embrace. "You, too."