I paced back and forth in the kitchen, my fingers in my mouth as I tried to concentrate on something positive. But my own mind was always going back to Joe, whom was talking to my father in the study that was on the other side of the house, too far for me to hear since I was sent to be back to be with my mother. This was beyond maddening to me, since I was just hugging him so close in my arms on the dirt road and now we were apart again, but only for a short while. My father saw us hugging each other and he could see that it was the same man whom I told that stole my heart. He wanted to talk to Joe, about what, I had no clue, and that scared me even more.

"The more you pace, the more you are going to get yourself into a mental breakdown, fille." My mother soothed me from her spot at the kitchen table with both her voice and through her signing, hands folded nicely at the table and her eyes watching me go back and forth on the tile floor. Owen was there as well, watching me as he sat on the countertop with curious eyes.

"I don't know what they are talking about, and that scares me." I explained to her in a hushed tone and with my fingers flying through the signs with a bitter attitude, my fingers were against my lips again threatening to bite the nails in worry and fear that my dad who really drill Joe to the core. My dad was no army man himself, so he had no real hard bone in his body. But he was still a father of a daughter, and he has talked to boys once or twice on my behalf to make sure that they were good enough for me. It was the same thing all over again, though neither one of us were teenagers and reckless. Well, we could be seen as reckless.

"Honey, he's just trying to get to know him and talk to him, that's all." My mother said to me in her calm tone and her smooth signing, though she too was a bit worried about what was going on in the study. I looked over at the clock that was in the kitchen and groaned: they've been in there for about 45 minutes now.

"He's going to interrogate him, that's what he's doing," I reminded her, "It's like high school all over again when I was asked to prom by Trevor Jonesy." I looked over to my brother, seeing him shrug his shoulders as hew as following along with our conversation.

He's not going to kill him or anything like that. You know Dad, he's just talking. Owen signed to me with a sign of hope in his eyes.

"I know he's not going to kill him, Owen. It jet feels weird that he's talking to him." I explained to him with my fingers and saying it out loud since he too can read lips. He just shook his head at me, seeing that I was clearly not liking this situation and giving me a snarky grin from his spot on the countertop.

"Why don't you go in the living room and take a few deep breaths, get your mind back at ease. You know what the doctors said about you and your stress, it could trigger another event." My mother reminded me with her voice and fingers, having me look over at her and see the concern in her eyes. She wasn't wanting me to have another episode of PTSD since I was still in a bad place with it. I stared at her, seeing that she was pleading with me with her eyes for me to go into another room and take a deep breath, since all of this overworking of my mind would sink me into another episode and make it worse. I looked from my mother over to Owen, seeing him nod his head and make a fist, waving it up and down since that was the sign for yes. I sighed, no longer wanting to argue with either one of them, walking out of the room and over tot he living room again.

I plopped myself down on the couch, laying out my feet on the cushions and resting my head against the head rest, feeling myself close my eyes and go off in a dream again.


I was running through Bastogne again, running with my feet hitting the snow and my hair flying under my helmet as I was just running. There was no place to where I was running to, though it reminded me of when I was going to find my satchel that I lost. Throughout the war, that satchel was the one thing that I needed in order to stay a medic. It was me one sense of purpose, because all of my tools were there and all that I knew to be true about me was there as well. This dream though, it felt like I wasn't running to the satchel. I was running somewhere else, to some kind of haven from where I was one was. This was me at that moment, running from the past memories of war and all of the pain that I went through.

I could hear the past battles go off in my head again, the grenades going off and the men crying out for a medic. But I was still running in one direction, grenades going off around me left and right with the dirt flying over me like a curved shield. I still wasn't touched by the explosions around me as I dodged the trees in the winter forest. The voices of the men in the company, my company, calling out to me as if they are trying to wake me up from some kind of dream away from them. But I then knew that they are getting farther and farther away from me, out of my own reach and without me able to reach them. That was all I wanted to do when I was in the army: to save each of them from death. But in this dream, they were getting farther and farther from me. It felt like no matter how fast and far I ran, they were faster and farther away from me, away from my grasp and nowhere near safe. I heard one last boom going off behind me, the explosion that was big enough to knock me off my feet and having my dream go black again.


I woke up in a jolt, having me feel like a cold flash came over me like cold water and my eyes blinking in a fast rate to see where I was. I was back on my couch again, apparently I went off to sleep and had mother flashback that was morphed with a nightmare. But I then I felt something was holding my hand that was draped over my stomach, or it was someone. There happened to be none other than Joe, sitting on the coffee table and watching me with worried eyes. I must have dozed off longer than I thought since he was no longer talking to my father and was now watching me asleep on the couch. How long was I asleep for? It felt like hours though it only must have been one hour to be honest.

Joe was watching me from the coffee table, mere inches away from me and giving me the look of concern and worry as I was sprawling on the couch. There was a blanket on my, one of the fleece ones that my mother had draped on a chair, someone must have placed it over me while I was out cold on the couch. Joe was rubbing my hand with his thumb, saying nothing at first but giving me a small smile that was spreading all over me. I had many questions to ask him since he was with my father in the study. How did it go with him? What did he ask him? What did he want to know from Joe? Did Joe bring up the fact that we wanted to get married? All of these questions were in my head as I was watching him from my spot on the couch.

"Hey." He said to me in a warm tone, having me smile from just hearing his voice so close to me again. It was so good to hear his voice again since the past two weeks were teases of his voices in my mind and dreams.

"Hey you." I replied back, not knowing what else to say in that moment, though I could tell that he was seeing how bad I looked from no sleep and no food in my stomach that I could not keep there.

"You look good." He commented to me with his cocky voice, though it sounded strained at the end of it. He was trying so hard to keep it light between us, but I could see past his eyes and see the pain that was there. Joe must of saw me with my nightmare that I just had there, it must have hit him hard in the chest and hard to see that. It would with me too if I saw it with Joe, pain in my heart from someone I cared for deeply going through a painful dream.

"Don't lie to me." I commented to him, my voice was laced with seriousness and sternness as he then saw how I was acting to him. At this point, all I needed was him right there with me, even though he tried to make me feel better with his words, I knew that I looked like shit and there was nothing to make it better when it came to words.

"You want me to be honest with you?" He asked me, his voice was a bit lower now since he could tell where I was going with this. I loved seeing him there in front of me, but I had to come and face the reality that I was still suffering from the war and it was changing me for both the better and the worst.

"That I look like shit?" I replied back to him, seeing him look at me up and down with his eyes, slowly breaking out his cocky grin again and slowly place his other hand on my arm, having me feel his cool hand against my pale skinny arm and rub my arm soothingly.

"Yeah," he said back to me, having me slowly smile at him as his own cheerful grin was making it so hard for me to glare at him at this point since I have missed him too damn much to hate him now, "You look like complete shit. But I still think you're beautiful." I started to laugh, for some reason I had to laugh. He laughed with me too, having me hear the laughter from his lips was another soothing thing for me in that moment as we are giggling with each other in my living room. Why did I choose to laugh at that moment, when all I was feeling was pain and suffering in my chest and head. There was something inside of me that needed a release, something that was held up inside for far too long and was slowly gnawing away at me. But for me to laugh, that took more strength from me than I thought would be possible.

Our laughter died down then, having me just smile at Joe and see him lean over to me, hovering above my slightly as he was looking down at me and running his fingers in the short hair I had now. He was so close to me, like moments we have had before in Europe where we would have to be careful on how we were been seen in front of others. But this was different, we were in my house and there was no need to be safe or cautious. I have missed his smiles, how his eyes grinned at me and showed loved to me and how he looked relaxed and content around me.

"I've missed you too damn much." he murmured to me since he was so close to kissing me then. I nodded my head at him.

"Me too," I replied back in return, my voice was too so soft that it was perfect for just him to hear me, "it's been hard for me here, way too hard…"

"You're dad told me." He explained, having me watch him carefully as he mentioned my father.

"What did you talk about with him?" I asked, seeing him take in a deep breathe before rubbing his face with his fingers, looking a bit out of it himself. I felt bad then, seeing him worn out in front of me and then having me ask him more questions. He came all of the way out here from California, and now I was just making it more a stressful time for him. I sighed, grabbing his shirt with my fingers and pulling him in for a kiss. He sighed into the kiss, kissing me back instantly as we both took it nice and slow now. Our kisses between us were something that I would constantly be addicting to, and after a few moments of us kissing with his position against the couch, I grabbed both of his arms and pulled him onto the couch with me, kicking off the blanket that was draped over me.

"Come here, my love." I urged him, molding him into my embrace. My head was against the armrest again pillow and Joe's head was under my chin, his arms around my middle and holding me close to him as our legs were intertwined together. I ran one of my hands along his arms and the other against his hair, hearing him hum in content as we were just being together on the couch, looking at the fireplace and the foggy summer day. This is what we both needed since we left each other's sides three weeks ago. We just needed to hold each other, drink each other in with our burdens and sins. There was never a risk or a rush to fall into an embrace of lust with Joe, never once. We were both more content with just being next to one another, to know that there was another soul that understood how complicated we felt about ourselves.

"Where is everyone?" I asked aloud suddenly, noticing now that both my parents and Owen were nowhere to be seen.

"They told me to tell you that they were going to go out for the day, visit some friends in the downtown area." Joe explained against my skin with his lips.

"And they left me with you….in an empty house…alone…" I said in an amused tone, having me feel him smile against my skin as his hold on my tighten slightly and my fingers were stroking the back of his neck.

"I'm just as surprised as you are, trust me." Joe went on, having me grin against his hair, "But I think your dad must of thought we needed alone time together, though your mother was very hesitant since she just met me."

"I would be too. I mean, have you looked at yourself: what a troublemaker." I joked with him, hearing him chuckle and poke my side to have me giggle in his embrace.

"But your mother…you look like her," Joe told me, having me stay quiet as he went on, "You have the same cheeks, even the same smile. But I think you have your dad's eyes. They seem so cool. Even when I was talking to him, I felt like I could tell him anything excuse of his eyes. You're the same, Marley. I can tell you anything and not feel like I was placed on display to be judged." I held him closer to him, feeling him nuzzle into me as I placed a kiss into his hair.

"I would never judge you, Joe." I reassured him, feeling him press a kiss to my collarbone in return as we felt into another couple of moment of silence alone together. There was no need to move, or make a sound since there was nothing to tell. Not to me really. All I needed was this peaceful time with him, since this was now reality and no longer a dream. Joe took a deep breath then, having me rethink that this was like Germany all over again, the both of us on that mattress.

"I keep dreaming about the prison camps." Joe finally said aloud, since I could feel in my hold on him that something was wrong with him. I stayed quiet though, thinking that this was his time to talk about what he was going through and what happened with him for the past weeks since we've been apart.

"All of their faces were watching me, looking at me as if they were reading me mind, you know? It's so hard to sleep sometimes, because I would think I was back there…back in Bastogne and in Foye…in all those places, "Joe murmured to me as I felt him tap his fingers against my shirt and having me feel the heat go through the shirt onto the skin, "It's hard for me to just walk down the street without hearing gunfire or even men dying. Tipper….Muck…even Jackson for Christ's sake."

"I hear them too," I explained to him softly, "I can hear them call out to me to help them."

"When is it going to end?" Joe asked aloud to the both of us to think about.

"I don't know, love. But the doctors explained that it could take years to completely get over." I replied back to him, hearing nothing from him and it made me feel as though I hit a snag with him.

"You saw a doctor?" he asked me, no longer hinted with concern but with a touch of anger in his tone.

"My mom insisted since I wasn't eating and not sleeping at all." I explained to him calmly, though I could feel him holding me and it felt like he was annoyed with the fact that I had to go and seek help.

"And he says you have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?" he questioned, having me close my eyes in a grimace from having me hear the term from Joe's mouth. I knew he didn't like the fact that I was being diagnosed by a doctor, he was protective on that end and stubborn as well. But he had to know what I was having to go through and how I was trying to get by little by little.

"It's common among soldiers who return from war," I said to him, "Doc's going through the same too, along with Babe. I'm not the only one from our Company suffering, you know that."

"It's just the fact that those Doctors…they don't know what we went through and what we saw and heard." Joe explained calmly, having me nod my head against his.

"I know that, Joe. They understand too, believe me." I reassured him, running my fingers up and down his back and hearing him hum for a moment before he spoke up again.

"You think I am going through the same thing?" Joe asked me in wonder, no longer in annoyance but in curiosity.

"You might be, but I'm no doctor. I'm just a nurse, Joe." I reminded Joe, looking down slightly and see him looking rather discomforted with the thought of he himself having PTSD. His forehead crinkled as if he was in deep thought about it and having me wish that I could just read his mind and see what was haunting him.

"I think you're more than that." Joe said to me suddenly, having me smile against his brown locks and feel him sneak in another kiss against my cool skin and giving me chills. I pulled him closer into my embrace, breathing him in and smelling the scent of the fog that he went through, cigarette smoke, a hint of cologne and linen. It was soothing for me to breathe in, since it was a sense of reality for me as I was trying to get out of the living nightmare that I was sucked into from the moment that I got off the boat.

I then thought of something that would help the both of us, having me smile against his hair. This would be a peaceful moment that I wanted since I too had to hold up a promise for him to hold and take. I moved my head slightly as I then cleared my throat slightly.

"You wanna see something?"


Joe and I walked hand in hand, going along the dirt road that was curved to the east and that was leading us to the place I told him about plenty of times that was my perfect place. Since he was already here, clearly suffering as much as I was. It was now late afternoon, almost duck when we were walking together along the main road and hearing the sounds of the evening life coming over the day time. We needed a walk, to get out of the house and breathe in the soothing air of the moist bayou. Joe looked around as we walked, having me watch him as he observed where I grew up. I loved hearing the waters of the small lakes that were scattered around the area, since we were living on the outskirts of the city.

We took Archer with us, whom at this point did not need a leash and was walking next to me, not straying for one minute. Joe was glad to see Archer again, rubbing behind his ears and laughing at Archer tried to lick his face. So came along with us on our walk, looking around himself but staying close to our heels and not moving away. I was glad to have Archer with me through this whole time since he was another sense of reality for me. Through every nightmare and setback, Archer was right there and loving on me, as any loving dog would when their master was in pain. He somehow knew my pain, he felt it and he tried to soothe it. I was glad I found him and brought him home with me, thanking God that I found another good memory of the war in Archer.

After walking for about an hour or so, I stopped the both of us on the outskirts of Lake Pontchartrain, seeing the tall grass morph into the ocean and sink into it so softly. The sun was creeping out from the fog, touching the top of the lake waters and making it look crystalized as I just watched from my spot. There was a tint of gold creeping from the clouds above, and also beautiful shades of blue and green along the waters and tall grass. Joe was analyzing the whole place with a soft look, like he was back in a dream of some sort as I squeezed his hand in mine.

"This is my perfect place." I explained to him, seeing him look from left to right with his eyes and a small smile on his face, slowly growing bigger and bigger. I dreamed of this place many times while we were at war, and this place brought me peace and tranquility in times of woe and chaos. I loved everything about it: breathing in the moist air from the lake and hearing the soft sounds of the water rippling onto the shore and the flocks of birds flying over it the safe waters. There was nothing quite like this place, the slope of the earth going into the water and having me see the clouds on the top of the lake and wonder if I was looking at a picture instead of a lake.

Looking over at Joe, I could finally witness a sense of peace on his fragile and broken face. He needed to see this, even with or without our promise to each other. There were times when we were called to have something distracts from our demons, and this lake was it for us. We need dot look at something beautiful in order to look away from something ugly and cruel. I could see the fear melting away from Joe off his skin, slowly onto the floor beneath our feet as he closed his eyes, breathing out through his smiling mouth and I smiled too.

Finally, we both had peace.