A/N

This fiction is mainly a story about self-discovery, of finding out what really matters, for both Sookie and Eric. I thank all of you who have the patience, which I know I was testing, to keep following it. There are many easier stories to read, this won't be one of them. I like the ones that are different, that leave me with something to reflect upon. Therefore, I strive to write one like that.

11. Memorial

EPOV

When I regained consciousness after the accident, I was so relieved to find Sookie was okay, looking at me with a weak smile and worry lines marring her beautiful forehead. Then the leg pain let me know all was not sunshine and roses. Damn that fucker, whoever he was. I went through my entire life without as much as a broken finger despite all the craziness I engaged in and now this... Just because of some psycho who used his car as a battering ram.

I refuse to take painkillers. Hate drugs, in any form or shape. Doctors and hospitals are a close second. The smell of antiseptic in the close confines of the ambulance alone is making me sick. However, having her near me on the way to the hospital is better than any fucking pill.

In the ER, I found out that I had only broken the fibula as a result of the car's impact. Thankfully, I was wearing my motorcycle-riding boots; the break is not near the ankle so it should heal quickly. In contrast, a week before the World Championship, Valentino Rossi broke his right shinbone at the Italian MotoGP. He might miss the rest of the year's races over that injury. I sigh in gratitude, as it might have been much worse for me as well. I got off relatively easy. My mood improves slightly.

Another pleasant surprise was Sookie spending the night here, too. I woke up with the most delicious dream of kissing her, and there she was, in the adjoining bed. That night was longer than typical, given that I slept only fitfully, for some reason. Thankfully, I wasn't stuck with some snoring patient. I am glad Sookie was in here instead, the gentle sounds of her soft breathing almost lulling me back to sleep. Almost, because in fact the sweet sounds only served to excite me more, excitement manifesting in a hard way. In the dim orange light from the outside streetlight, I could see the rhythmic rise and fall of her generous breasts. Minutes crawled by at a maddeningly slow pace. I debated whether or not to relieve the tension by myself but decided against it since I had no Kleenex or towels within arm's reach. And there was no way I could do this without making a mess, so it was out of the question. If she were just another motorcycle groupie, it would have been easier. Most of the women would have happily swallowed the evidence had I asked for some assistance. But Sookie had a certain innocence that made it impossible to think about her in such a way. She was like a precious china doll to me. I wondered if her air of innocence hinted at more than just a sweet nature. Those thoughts did nothing to alleviate the tightness in my hospital pants.

Eventually morning came, light steaming in through the dusty windows awakening her. I was 'up' for so long by that time; it was almost painful. The sensation was so intense; it almost surpassed the true pain pulsing in my injured leg.

Then she was on my bed, alleviating one of my thirsts, while inflaming the other, much stronger one. Her breasts were almost in my face, her smell so warm and sensual. I wanted to fill both of my hands with her hot, ripe tits. Moreover, I fancied I saw equally strong lust in her eyes. Then the reality of the new day in the hospital greeted us in the form of the bent, stern, elderly nurse. I couldn't decide if I was grateful for her warning or angry at her interruption.

The doctors came and released me from this dreadful place. I'm good to go, just stuck here, with no driver to haul my injured carcass back home today. Alcide is in Iaşi, the biggest town in the Northeastern part of the country, at some local event for the head honchos, and he has his fiancée with him. So if he had offered to come for me, I'd have been stuck with Debbie in the same car for hours. I shudder at the thought of that.

Sofia mentioned going home in another ambulance. I could only snort in horror. A fucking, never-ending nightmare!

Truthfully, I totally appreciated all that Sofia had done for me. Without her insistent presence and the money she generously passed around, I might have ended up with the wrong leg in a cast. Still, even the thought of another day in the hospital or of long hours in the dreadful ambulance filled with poignant smells of medicine made me shudder. Therefore, when Sookie offered a ride back to the City with her, I was so happy I could have kissed her. Well, I might do that even without the offer of a ride back home.

Home. That is a completely different problem. I'm not sure how I feel about showing the house to Sookie.

For my house is not my house: it is his house. Not that he ever stepped foot in it. Still, it will remain forever his dream house in my thoughts. Any time we would happen to pass through the neighborhood, he could not stop praising it, how it reminded him of the home he grown up in back in Tehran, until his family had been forced to seek refuge in Germany. For him, it was a perfect example of Persian architecture.

Before his death, I went through hell and back for it. All the interior upgrades were planned with him in mind. It was supposed to be my "Forgive Me" present for that fatal Christmas. Now, it serves as a silent portal, my only direct link to him.

Just the thought of having a total stranger stepping inside our walls he did never have time to enjoy is somehow unsettling. This is a place where almost nobody visits, except my cleaning woman and occasionally Alcide and Tray. Rasul doesn't even know about it. I couldn't stand his pity; he would see the truth of my loss right away.

This was to be Godric's sanctuary; now it serves only as his memorial.
The thought of bringing Sookie to my house, a woman I am interested in no less, leaves me close to a panic attack. I wonder if her being there would break the spell that keeps him among these walls.

Of course, I keep a studio apartment nearby for entertaining the occasional fling and casual meetings. It is located not far from my house. Unfortunately, it is an older four-story building that has no elevator. I certainly never anticipated I would have a broken leg when I signed the lease for it, I growl in frustration. Fuck!

Eventually reason prevails, and I think about just dismissing her help at the front door, even offering to pay for the ride. However, I want to be polite. No, wait, I want to be nice, I do want more from her than just a drive. I'll have to let her in. Fuck!

If I don't invite her inside now, it might be a month before I am up and fully mobile without the crutches. I DON'T want to wait a month before getting to know her better.

~o~

Later:

The scenery passes by in rush as I concentrate on keeping my leg immobile on the front seat of Sookie's car. Any slight jolt or sudden movement, and I'm in agony. Here in the confined space of her joke of a car, I can almost feel her body heat from the front seat of this tin can. Graciously, I lean towards her, and thank her again. Touching her feels so right, and I want more, I want to lower my hand and cup her full breast, slip my hand beneath her clothes and search for the source of that heat. I want to find her little pink pearl of pleasure and make it throb and pulse from my touch. I envision doing so, and can almost see her squirm in response. Thank God, she cannot hear my thoughts. I continue with the pleasant imagery, ending with her naked and screaming my name in the throes of her orgasm.

I realize I've forgotten about the nasty ache in my leg, and restart my fantasy. I now have her kneeling before me in a submissive pose, head bowed, naked and silent. Embroidering on the imagery, I bend to taste her mouth, but wanting more, decide to go lower to sample how sweet her essence is, too, to lick it off my fingers, or drink it directly from the source... I want to feel her, see hear, hear her, smell her as she comes around me, because of me, breathless and gripping me in the vise of her thighs. Removing my hand from her shoulder had been difficult; freeing my eyes from her is even harder, but I have to, or I will be aching hard all the way. Even I can't rub one out in her backseat without alerting her to my activity. She might not appreciate me soloing while she acts as my erstwhile if silent chauffeur.

I will my erection into submission by thinking about that old nurse that tended me this morning. After a welcome deflation to a semi-hard state, I'm able to relax a bit. Sookie's car smells of cookies and her, a comforting mix that fills me with a warm, fuzzy feeling. I drink it in, breathing deeply, and the relaxation it offers combined with the bland music she is playing on her car radio finally lulls me into the warm embrace of sleep.

After a very good nap, despite the confined space of the back seat, I awaken in time to give her directions to my home. Home: as in the house I'd meant to share with Godric. It's no less than she deserves for the unfailing kindness she has shown me.

~o~

Tray is waiting in the front yard, and I'm pleased to see a familiar face. Even more so, as I appreciate that even if he has my security backup keys, he only opened the front gate, not my private space inside my house. He is a good friend.

Tray stares at me as I welcome Sookie inside, but refrains from commenting on my unexpected decision to welcome a stranger to the house. He is one big quiet teddy bear, and I want to hug him, but I refrain. I know hugging another man is not his thing.

I don't even bother to ask why he didn't come to collect me from the Hospital. One word sums it up: Amelia. I know that bitch of his made him stay with her for the embassy security system situation. Not that I resent his decision too much, I silently grouse. After all, Sookie brought me home, and the embassy fiasco was a true client emergency for us with last's night burglary at the site.

What burns is that Amelia has a personal grudge against me. Even if she has somehow managed to completely bewitch Tray, she still feels threatened by our friendship. Stupid woman! I might be a manwhore, but I'm not after his firm, muscular ass. Tray and I never shared anything beyond a solid camaraderie and a strong friendship. He isn't my type, too bulky for me, and he wasn't interested in exploring new territories. Plus, I always suspected that he would never agree to bottom for me. Unlike Alcide, with whom I share some very pleasant, sensual memories. Yet the Debbie-bitch just keeps on trying to get in my pants. I grin, knowing that Alcide's evidently never told her about our times alone together.

Friend or enemy, I know I don't want Amelia coming here, not in a thousand years, but teasing Tray about her is too good to pass up. I bet the wicked witch knows all about his past with Godric, also about his lost family to be, and exploits these shamelessly.
One night, after nearly drowning him with one meter of draft beer, he finally spilled his guts. Once upon a time, Tray fell for a girl in Bosnia. It was love at first sight and too soon, she became pregnant and gave birth to his baby boy. They were supposed to marry as soon as he was out of the contract with the Legion. They would return together to the States, and live happily ever after. Only fate intervened; they were killed in a bombing, when Tray was stationed in a nearby village. He didn't even receive permission to attend their funerals as the bombing kept up in the area. Therefore, I partly understand his mushy attitude towards Amelia, even if the only commitment they have to one another is a flea-bitten cat she rescued from the dumpster.
I snort as I picture Tray with Bob-the-cat purring in his lap.

The food Amelia sent comes from the new caterer we use at the events. It consists of finger food, some sort of sushi, and other delicacies. I would have eaten it right from the bag, but Sookie had other ideas. After rummaging in the kitchen cabinets, she produced some platters I had no idea I even owned, and arranged the food in a most spectacular way. She apparently has some magical talent for presentation; it looked even tastier thanks to her efforts. I dove in, barely able to keep up my end of the conversation.

Having Sookie here, her scent and presence permeating the room, is expectedly pleasant. Her feminine touch as she presents our food, fluffs the pillows on the couch, and her casual attitude reminds me of the happy moments I had with my aunt. Pam had a very artistic personality as well.

As she scoots around seeing to my comfort, the warmth Sookie radiates in this cold setting brings up forgotten memories of my mother and her similar domestic efforts on my behalf. Memories I would rather keep locked down there in my interior dungeon, along with my dark past's toothy dragons. I grimace and keep eating.

Then she starts to make all these wanton noises as she eats, resurrecting my earlier hard state as quickly as you can blurt "zucchini." I try to control myself, but I am forced to make some adjustments. I refuse to suffer in silence when all this is happening in my house, on this couch, when all I'd ever wanted was to share this space with him.

Today, all I can ever have of him is my fantasy of the two of us living openly together. There can never be the reality I crave. My lover is gone. Brought up short by the reality of my lonely existence, I pay more attention to Sookie. I have to admit I feel something for her, and it's more than just her body. Her presence triggers something deep inside me, bigger than lust. I decided I have to see her again, talk to her, and get to know her inside and out. I want to understand why I am drawn to her.

Pulled into conversation with her, I discern that Sookie seems to have some knowledge of catering, and I find myself offering her a job at Silvery Events. Am I that desperate to see her again? I try to convince myself that she would be a great addition for our new company, but, to be honest, she could had known squat about event planning, and I would still want her near. She is smart, very attractive, and perfectly able to face new challenges. She doesn't really answer my impromptu proposal, escaping to the bathroom instead to no doubt to mull over the invitation.

I begin daydreaming about seeing her every day. I would eat my lunch with her, to begin our casual affair on a light and friendly note. Later, perhaps dinner out would become commonplace between us. I would drive her home after our evenings together, and plan to spend our nights at her place. Well, that would have to wait until I am out of this damn cast. When I was healed, I would take her on the back of my bike or in the car when it rains. Perhaps we would be enjoying the occasional detour once I earned her trust...

~o~

Round breasts, twin beacons guiding me back home.
So tight! So hot!
I move inside her velvety channel that grips me like a glove, in search of her inner bliss. Ah, there it is! Right there. Caressing it, worshiping it, I feel her insides lovingly clasping my firm flesh. Her entire being shakes and trembles with tremors in anticipation of the earthquake I silently promise to deliver.

I groan, aching from the self-restraint I'm showing in the face of such temptation. Sliding in more, as deep as humanly possible, I reach for her heart, matching my thrusts to the frantic rhythm of her pulse. Whimpers turn into moans, then cries that swirl around us, wrapping us in a celestial cocoon.
I want to stay inside her, always like this, bound together forever. United, I could vow never to be apart from her and never risk being alone again.

In this precious moment, we are like two halves of a clamshell, tumbling together, riding the waves of life, reveling in each other. I end and begin with her. She is a feverish, mirror image of my ecstasy encased in a beautiful feminine form. My other half, myself. Mine, in every way.
Exquisite! In the dark ocean depths of her eyes, I see what I seek most: drowning and salvation. Realization throws me over the edge in a blazing spiral of light, drawing me deep inside her soul.
She is Mine, and now I am Her's.

~o~

I wake up with strange sense of fulfillment and my hand clasped over my damp pants. Jesus, I just jizzed in my pants like a teenager. Next thing I will invite her out for a piece of pie and a soda and timidly ask if I can hold her hand while taking a stroll in the park. I encircle my balls to make sure I still have a pair!

The darkness of the room worries me; does it mean she didn't trust me and left me alone in the house with no goodbye? No, in the dim light I can spot Sookie's form. She fell asleep near me, curled on the soft leather like a child. I'm so glad I didn't wake her up with my nocturnal activities. She looks so fragile. Twisting around, I'm able to remove her sandals, marveling at the delicacy of her feet, and cover her with a light throw from the back of the couch.

Cautiously I rise from the couch and test walking with the crutches, carefully using the cast for balance, as instructed by the doctor. Reaching the bathroom door is not too difficult. Good thing I have few things in my path since the house remains mostly unfurnished. After Godric's death, I saw no point in decorating it further. It's been three years of living in denial, not moving forward. Perhaps it is time for a change.

The light in the bathroom is blinding at first. I take in, again, the pristine bathtub where I dreamed to bath with Godric one day, and I sigh, feeling guilty for my thoughts of another while the sweet woman sleeps unawares in the other room.

I still have to deal with my sticky problem in my pants, but I keep some clean sport clothes in one of the cabinets here. I take a seat on the toilet and after I manage to answer the call of nature, I change my shorts. And I do it without falling and embarrassing myself. But it is exhausting so I keep the slightly soiled shirt. Then I get up and take a good long look in the mirror.
I look like shit, with a three-day growth of beard and hair like a rat's nest. I should probably do a haircut on myself, something I haven't done since the army. I'm getting too old for the rebellious long hair. I kept the long hair because Godric liked it this way, and it is yet another thing that keeps the memory of him alive. He used to love pulling it as I was worshiping him with my mouth and using it as a rein while riding me. He used to say I was his ange d'or, his golden angel.
How I loved it when he called me by his pet name for me! How I loved him! How much I love him still.

Angrily I wipe away a tear that has slipped down my check. No point in crying over his loss; it won't bring him back to me. Not that I haven't tried it before this. I cried tears of blood when I learned the news, all to no avail. Beautiful, powerful, and devoted as I was, even I could not convince Death to return him to me. No doubt, he too had been waiting jealously for Godric's embrace, and now Death would have his chance with him.
Enough! Now I have this gorgeous woman in my house, on my couch. She is someone that might mean something more than anyone else has since Godric passed away. I know I have to move on, but a big part of me does not want to give up mourning my lover. Sighing, I untangle my hair catching it in an elastic band I pull from a drawer. I save the task of shaving for another day.

I leave the light on and the door open and return to the living room. I manage to retrieve my laptop bag and start checking my emails. Many get-well messages pop up. I guess news travel fast. Also lots of business ones, each more urgent than the last so I start working on them. I should load the battery to my telephone and turn it on as well, as it went dead after calling Tray on the way here. I will. Tomorrow. At some point I fall back asleep.

~o~

The next morning comes without the comforting presence of Sookie.

However, she left a short, rather cryptic note on the back of her business card: "Sorry for leaving like this, but I have to get to the office. I'm interested. S," in a neat and feminine script. Interested in what?, I muse. My job offer, my recovery, my house, my life, a future together? Or something more mundane, such as a fuck? I'm frustrated, but understand why she couldn't wait for me to awaken.

After moving around and preparing a bit for the day, having a coffee and a bite to eat in the kitchen, I plug in the phone to charge it and pick up some urgent paperwork.

After a particularly long telephone discussion, I notice among other missed calls Sookie's number. That was fast. Calling back, I try to calm my sudden anxiety.

"Hi! I hope I didn't wake you up or something." Or something, since merely hearing her voice causes my loose shorts to begin feeling uncomfortably tight again.

"No, no problem. It is nice to hear from you this soon." Shit, I sound like a wuss.

"Umm, I found that your bag is still in my car's trunk. I will come by later to bring it back on my way home."

"Okay, I'd love to see you again." Then I realize that I still wear the same shirt as in the hospital that reeks after two days. Perhaps she too needs to get home first and clean-up as well. As much as I want to meet her again soon, I cannot have her see me like this.

"Or I tell you what: there is nothing too important in my overnight bag. Just come by tomorrow evening and we will have coffee together, Sookie. Or tea, if you prefer. I still have lots of food left from Tray's bag of goodies for me we could share."

There is a pause and she murmurs, "Okay, tomorrow it is then, at around six. Do you need me to bring something?"

"No, thank you, just yourself." Where is the wall to bang my head into it?

"Good bye Eric."

"Until tomorrow, Sookie."

I end the call and lie there, just staring into space with no thought whatsoever, just being, and bathing in the waves of her melodious voice.

My reverie is short lived, as Alcide arrives shortly, bringing fresh fruits and a large prosciutto pizza. He lets himself in with my security key, thankfully without his bitch of a fiancée in tow. He knows better than that.

He comes up and gives me a short hug, his green eyes roaming over my body. He is a sight for sore eyes, with his black tousled hair curly and thick, sparkling green eyes, slightly taller than me and with muscles more defined than mine. I am man enough to admit it he is the better physical specimen.

"How are you Eric?"

"I've been better. And worse." I dismiss my injury as a minor annoyance.

"Is your head still in one piece?"

"As you can well see, Beautiful." I toss my hair back in a flirtatious act of seduction. He rolls his eyes, knowing well my teasing is mostly just an act.

"Good, because we have lots to do. Overall, the opportunities I've uncovered are limitless. There are so many who have made nice money from smuggling in cigarettes from Russia and other shabby stuff that never dreamed of the wealth they'd make doing so. Now, these fairly modest souls realize they desperately need security for their gray businesses and opulent properties."

We start going through the latest contracts. I also insist we discuss the best prospects he found during his trip to Iaşi and various issues that arose during the short time I was absent.

A couple hours later, we have completed the more pressing stuff. After finishing our business for the day, we eat, and I listen as Alcide rambles about his wedding preparation. Who gives a shit about the color of the tablecloths? I wonder if he will wear a white dress, since he is obviously the pussy in this whole thing.

After that, Alcide helps me remove my clothes and settles me in the shower. It's awkward to keep my cast up on a chair and out of the splash of the water. Eventually I manage to soap and rinse myself.

"I wish you would join me." I shout from the stall.

"In your dreams, blondie." I can hear his strong laugh.

"Dreaming right now, and yet you still haven't stepped in."

"Well, keep on dreaming; just don't count me in if you fall on your butt in there."

"You are a cruel bastard, Alcide. I miss that about you."

He laughs and assists me out of shower, helping me to put on some comfortable clothes. He then pats my shoulder and leaves, taking his nice behind away with him.

Alcide is a great guy, loyal and compassionate. And a great lay, I can testify to that, too. At the tender age of 18, Alcide's father had hung himself after he had to sell his construction and security business to pay his debts acquired from his gaming at both Monaco and several Italian casinos. Pissing off the Cosa Nostra wasn't smart. Not smart at all. Alcide inherited only debts and a little sister to take care of as the new head of his family. His sister, Janice, is a good girl. Without money for any further education, not to mention taking care of his sibling, he left Belgium, entrusted Janice to his uncle in France, and joined the French Foreign Legion at the same time as I did. Back then, running away had seemed the best answer for me, too.

We met in Castelnaudary during our basic training time. As a Belgian, he was my appointed French speaking binôme [pair].Tray was our Sergeant-Chief, the best one in the entire unit. A couple of months into the training, after having enough of "Palm Sisters," I eventually wrangled some action out of Alcide. Not much, just exploring our bodies a bit.

The night we finally got into some serious stuff, he got too vocal and a senior NCO [Non-commissioned Officer] caught us in action. We were lucky that it was Capitaine Godric and no other. I will never forget his smoldering eyes as he observed a shivering Alcide and me together, that night. After ordering us to get dressed, he calmly explained that the Legion did not tolerate faggots. One report from him, and we would be out on our butts in less than 24 hours. Then he told us a chilling story. Until this very day, I still do not know if it was a real one or a figment of his imagination, a made-up parable to scare us.

"When I was a young recruit, there was a guy who was gay and nobody knew up until he made his sick nature known. He made his move on a young Legionnaire in the middle of the night, and the young Legionnaire freaked, hauled his ass out of there and went to the others in his section. And justice was served, in their eyes. A few of the boys went to visit the homo in the middle of the night. Since he was a flamer, well, they thought that he should get what he deserved. They poured about five liters of gas on him and set him alight. So being gay in the kinder gentler world you lived in before may have been all right. There being gay is acceptable, and we all tolerate it. But the Legion is not in that world. You both get over it, or get the fuck out of here."

Afterwards, he watched as we counted out 200 pushups and were made to march for 30 Km [20 miles] with our 18 kilogram [40 pounds] rucksack.

That was the last time I was intimate with Alcide, but the months of arduous training we had together cemented our friendship. It was a friendship that had withstood the separations of time and distance, both of us insisting that we keep in touch over the years. Eventually, we were able to form our business venture, and I knew he would make a good partner with the rest of us. Now, I saw him frequently, but we never renewed our more intimate relationship. I guess I was nothing more than an experiment to him.

However, after that incident, observing the heat in my NCO's gaze, I soon became obsessed with Godric. I was certain that in spite of the dismissive, sarcastic language he had used for us, he wanted me. His eyes had lingered on me for far too long for one who thought of us only as 'faggots.'
He recognized it, of course, but never allowed anything to happen between us. He pretty much ordered me to go back home, finish my university classes, and to make a real life for myself. I eventually obeyed him, agreeing that taking orders in the Army was too daunting to consider, not to mention the self-imposed lack of sex the Legion expected. Still, at the time I joined, compared to my limited prospects looking after woolly sheep for the next five years, the Legion had seemed like a paradise. After the discipline of the military, returning to the University environment was a cakewalk.
After coercing from him the promise to keep in touch, I chose to be discharged after the Legion's probationary six-month period. I'd seen enough that the Legion no longer seemed like a safe haven. That night, he rented a hotel room for us. Only one night of passion did he allow himself, but that was night was enough. I was his, completely, as surely as if he'd tattooed his name on my heart. Body and soul, I belonged to Godric.

Three years later, during which time we exchanged letters and saw each other no more than four times, he finally relented and came to stay with me permanently. Then, taking full advantage of Pam's connections, well, former connection since she was dead, I started Silver Shield Security Company and convinced him and Tray to join me in the business. Godric also brought in his younger brother, Rasul. Having two esteemed Foreign Legion veterans as partners opened many doors in Francophile high circles and our business fortunes soared. Now we are the top security company in Romania.

Two years later, and Alcide had joined us, too. By that time, he was nothing like the kid I had met five years earlier. He came to us with a protégé, Sami, a Tutsi black boy he had adopted during his travels. Sadly, Amadi died of AIDS in his arms less than a year later. Even if Alcide is younger than I am, he looks older now, the sadness from his many losses and seeing the cruelty of the world permanently etched in his face.

Just like Tray, Alcide clings desperately to our semblance of normality. Serving in the Legion, even if not as long as Tray or Godric, he saw enough horrors in Rwanda, as his unit joined Blue Helmets, to last a lifetime. Now he just wants a wife in bitch-Debbie and a house full of children. He has the house, thanks to our prosperous business, but the woman... How can he be so blind is beyond me. Debbie is nothing more than a nasty, skinny, gold digger.
I hope I won't be making a similar mistake with my infatuation for Sookie. No, I can't imagine there is anything fake about her.

Tomorrow I will see her again; the hours can't pass quickly enough until our next meeting.

A/N

Disclaimer: Again, none of these characters belongs to me, only their emotions are mine.

The French Foreign Legion gets missions among the most ominous military operations around the globe. Their odds are one in 10 to be killed in action. Even if not French by blood, the Legionnaires consider themselves French by spilled blood. In it, you can find about 1,500 Romanians serving in various positions. I know some folks that have been in the service. Some came back home still sane, but others, not so much.

If you don't know about the Rwanda Genocide, check into it on Wikipedia. You will see what can happen in the absence of compassion and tolerance.

I am grateful to my amazing beta, Scattered21. I'm not complete without you.I also want to thank YoungBoho, Peppermintyrose and all my friends for encouraging me with this.

I appreciate each review; your thoughts keep this story moving.