Heeellooo everyone! I'm back! I hope you won't hate on me, but I had exams and so I had no time to post/finish the new chapter. Actually, I still have exams but I felt so guilty - and I could not keep this chaptet for myself anymore - that I found some time to finish it. I promise I will try to update sooner, promised!
So...let's get to the point. This is a very, very long chapter. I don't know whether I should consider it a ''bridge'', but let me just tell you that things will get more interesting between Dick and Jackson!
I really hope you'll like so...please, let me know what you think!
And...Thaaank you for the follows/reviews/favs. I loved them!
Dick's position was complicated. Toccoa's men had to adjust to the replacements' presence, just arrived from the States to replace their wounded or dead friends. It wouldn't be easy, especially because the replacements resembled like little puppies and they had no idea how to hold a weapon. Dick had to recreate a real war's environment, illegally and secretly using real mortars and grenades during their maneuvers. It was dangerous but still Dick thought it was the right thing to do: those kids were totally unaware of what was awaiting for them in the continent.
Mortars and grenades were harmless compared to his men. Call it a sort of baptize, whatever you want, but the Toccoa's men went hard on the replacements, hitting on them harshly.
All became so hard to handle, and it heaved all on Dick's poor shoulders. He was promoted to Captain and he was downright proud of it; though, consequentially Easy relied on him and he had the responsibility of those men.
Dick thought he had never felt so alone in all his life.
As the weight of a whole company wasn't enough, Dick was still struggling about how to handle all the Jackson's story. He decided he would've not reported her, and that was for granted, but Dick was uneasy at the thought of sending a woman into a fight. He was planning an excuse to put her far from the front line, giving her a promotion or something and he would've already done it whether Jackson hadn't been so necessary to the company. Jackson – and not Jane – was a Toccoa's man, heart of the company along with him and other soldiers that built Easy's fame. Moreover, he was a great soldier, one of the best. Smart and strong, Jackson had proved himself to be a good sniper: he actually got a lot better during the last trainings. The company needed it, especially now. Dick came to that conclusion: he did not want Jane to be there, but he needed Jackson.
Dick was in his room, musing about everything; he ran his hands over his face, rubbing his idly his eyes. It was late and he was tired, but he did not want to go to sleep; what he really needed was talking to someone.
He had made a try of talking to Eugene, but unsuccessfully. He liked the good medic, he was wise and he could give good tips but he was not exactly one of his close friends and he felt uneasy to open up with him; after all, he was one of his men, too, and he could not burden him with his problems.
What Dick needed was venting: he needed Lewis. Dick imagined – he actually knew it for sure – Lewis would've listened carefully to him and would've found a way to cheer him up: his typical sarcasm could not be the answer to his problems but it would've helped – it usually did. But, this time, he could not count on his best friend's wry and friendly look. Dick could not exposit to Lewis his troubles due to Jackson's real sex.
''Enter'' he hurriedly said when he heard a knock on his door. The frame of a staggering Lewis Nixon was holding high his flask, making Dick know what he came for.
''You know where it is, just take it'' he dryly said making Lewis looking at him askance.
''Who pissed in your coffee, my friend?'' he piped out wryly.
''Lew, it's not time for joking'' Dick admonished, never leaving his stare from his friend who kneeled down on his footlocker extracting a bottle of Vat69 from it.
''It's not time for joking'' Lewis lampooned ''it's never time for joking since a while, Dick'' he added, this time seriously ''what's wrong with you?''
Dick rubbed his eyes frenetically ''Nothing'' he hedged, prompting Lewis to look at him gingerly and intrigued.
''C'mon, tell your friend Nix what's crossing your mind'' he drawled ''is there a girl?''
Dick huffed, thinking that Lewis always saw it through. He was the intelligence officer for a reason, after all.
''There is no girl, Lewis. It's just war, you know'' he pointed wryly.
''You can't fool me, my friend'' Lewis pointed jauntily, gulping a long sip of whiskey down his throat. He paused, resembling to ruminate about something ''Look, Dick, Harry and I noticed that something's troubling you. You stare blank at things, you stay silent for endless minutes musing over something. What's wrong?''
Dick fretted, deflecting his stare from Lewis but didn't say a word. Lewis, noticing how his friend stiffened, made a last try ''Is it about Jackson Malarkey?'' he asked almost sheepishly, remarking a grimace on his friend face ''I know you took great care of him, visiting him back in France. How he is?'' Lewis teased, knowing he hit the bullseye.
Dick shrugged callously ''he's fine. The wound is healed, he's back on his training with the men'' he flatly replied, crossing his arms and never looking at his friend.
''Well, he was impressive, saving your life and risking his.''
Dick wondered whether Lewis knew. He was the Intelligence officer and had remarkable scrounging abilities. If he wanted something, he got it; and if he needed to discover something, he had his ways.
''Why did you put two guards at his room? I mean, he saved your life but it's not like he's Roosvelt, you know.''
Dick shrugged again, huffing. Darn it, if Lewis hadn't already known, he would've gotten Dick to spill it someway. The fact he knew him so well didn't help.
''I just wanted to make sure he could rest in peace so that he would've recovered soon. And it worked, as far as I can see'' he boomed sounding sterner than he actually meant to.
''Alright'' Lewis stated, tottering over the door ''you don't wanna talk about it. When you feel like venting, you know where to find me.''
''Goddamit, Malark, what did they give you in the hospital? Steroids?'' Perconte whined the moment Jackson threw him on the ground.
''I rested a lot, Perconte'' Jackson wryly said winking, holding out his hand to Frank to help him lifting up ''Come on, hurry up before Winters notices you can't even send to the ground a wounded man'' he joked playfully.
Frank smacked him playfully and then his head motioned to him to look on his left. Cobb was giving hell to one of the replacement, wrenching him and insulting him unfairly.
''Duty calls'' Jackson said with rounded eyes, walking away from Frank and strolling over Cobb ''Cobb, what's the problem here?''
Cobb was crouched on the poor replacement how already had a black eye. He gave Jackson a mischievous smile and lifted from the trounced kid ''Sergeant, it seems like the replacement hardly can defend themselves'' he said gloomily, spitting on the ground ''kids'' he added disgusted, as it was an insult.
''That's not a good point to punch him unreasonably, Cobb'' Jackson sternly scolded, crossing his arm ''C'mon, you can train with Frank Perconte, leave the kid to me'' he ordered.
''You can't do this'' Cobb boomed, mispleased the Sergeant was about to take away his toy from him.
''It's an order, Corporal. Go'' Jackson drawled. Cobb shrugged callously glaring to Jackson and staggered silently in Perconte's direction.
''Everything alright, son?'' Jackson asked gently, helping him to lift up.
''Yes Sergeant…Cobb is beating me up since I arrived'' he replied, clearing his uniform from the dirt.
''Don't give much credit to him. Cobb has already fought in Africa and he came back a little nasty from there. I can't blame it on him, sure, but I reckon he lost all his humanity back there'' Jackson exposited ''What's your name, son?''
''Miller, Sergeant.''
''Ok, Miller, let's start from the basis.''
Dick was beholding from his position, glad that he could rely on men like Jackson in the Company: it made his task a tad easier knowing that someone else was contributing to keep the peace among the Company. Beside, Jackson knew his ways to let his voice be heard. Dick opened in a tiny smile which disappeared in the moment he remarked the Private sending the resilient Jackson – but fragile Jane – to the ground; Dick brushed through the other soldiers frenetically, and rushed over them.
''Everything alright here?'' he asked worriedly, studying the Sergeant who was still on the ground. He was laughing with the Private coolly and Dick did not notice any crumple on his face, assuming he didn't get hurt.
''Yes sir'' Jackson promptly replied lifting from the ground ''Private Miller here is improving visibly. We'll make a good soldier out of him'' he exposited proudly, patting gently on Miller's shoulder.
''Sergeant Jackson is teaching me the correct-''
''Yeah, I see I see. Ok, carry on'' Dick interrupted, sighing heavily and leaving them as soon as he got there. Miller stared sheepishly at Jackson ''did I say something wrong, Sergeant?'' he asked antsy.
Jackson mused on the question and on Winters' attitude ''No, Private. Captain Winters is been a tad on his nerves, recently'' he said flatly, staring into distance at the Captain ''Alright, let's get a move.''
Dick waved a salute to and printed a sweet kiss on ' cheek and left the house in the Albourne's dark night and cool breeze. It was uncommon for him to hang out on the evening: just telling The Barnes he would've go out for a walk left them a little agape and it sounded quite unfamiliar. Anyway, Dick needed to stop his brainstorm or, at least, to brainstorm somewhere else. His hands in his pockets, Captain Winters felt all alone in the Albourne's streets: the lights in the houses and in the pubs were on and noises from the inside – of men laughing broadly or arguing – could be heard. Dick chuckled inwardly, thinking his men were likely getting drunk and being involved in some bar fights in that very moment. Sometimes, Dick mused on his incapacity of just enjoying himself once in a while: he was old just as his men and he was supposed to do the same things they did; this didn't automatically involve drinking or flirting with the local girls: a simple night out with his friends Lewis and Harry, even in a bar, laughing hard at their speeches made out their desperate drunkenness would've been enough. Recently, even that option seemed too impossible and not because he lacked of time. It was the weight of the responsibility: guiding an entire company into a war, supporting a great secret on his small shoulders: he did not know he could actually keep all that. He mused a lot, trying to find a solution, trying to outline planes, strategies, new ways to train his men, some reasons to pull a girl out from that hell, but unsuccessfully.
Defeated, regretted, worried he assessed he was finally out of his room, out of his office: somehow, those streets meant social life. He could try.
Dick was sure Lewis and Harry were likely in one of those pubs – as every Friday night. He tried to recall the name they mentioned very often: they talked about a green light inside – psychedelic to their humble opinions – and consequentially he tried to peek the lights coming from the small windows of some pubs on the street where he was. Finding it, he wondered whether the light was actually green or just a particular yellow. Snorting at his thoughts, he decided to make a try and entered the pub. The air was tough, almost unbreathable because of the smoke of cigars and cigarettes, but it was full of both American and British soldiers: at a first, long sight, Dick couldn't catch his friends' presence but feeling a tad uncomfortable just standing there all alone, he opted to walk towards the counter and take a seat, so that he could inspect the crowd without catching somebody's eyes. Behind it, there was a barmaid, dressed with a very tight shirt which left her shoulders and a large part of the area between her neck and her breasts exposed; she didn't look very young, she was probably on her thirties, but she was somehow pretty: blonde hair gathered in a ponytail and a tad of lipstick which made her lips shine bright as pink roses.
The barmaid warmly smiled as she noticed him ''hey honey, what can I serve to you?'' she asked chipping.
Dick felt taken aback at such question – even though he would've known that people normally seat behind a counter because they want a drink – and he hurriedly muttered ''Just a coke, please'', pulling out from his pocket some cash. The barmaid gave him a startled and questioning look but ultimately shrugged in approval ''so let it be coke''.
When she came back with his coke and grabbed the cash on the counter, Dick was studying the crowd carefully trying to peek his friends but unsuccessfully. As he sipped from his glass a gulp of cool coke, he felt a strong presence near him.
''Hey Jonny, look at this queer American mummy's boy drinking his coke!'' the presence blurted mockingly. Dick recognized his unmistakable British accent and decided to let it go, staring down on his glass without shaking a little.
''What's up, mummy's boy? You cannot stand a true soldier's mock?'' he snickered teasingly ''America, kiss this British ass!''
This time, Dick looked at the soldier ''Maybe you should show some respect to a superior, Sergeant'' he calmly stated with a tad of teasing, noticing the rank on his uniform.
''So, our friend can't stand an argument so he pulls off the rank!'' the soldiers barked, catching his fellow's attention ''what a pussy you are'' he added, spitting on the counter on a point really near Dick's glass.
Still, before Dick could point out his utter lack of manner, the barmaid foreran him.''Hey you, big boy, keep your testosterone down. This buddy is just trying to enjoy himself as everyone here, ok?'' she stated calmly ''and don't dare to spit on my counter again or-'' she intimidated.
''Or you what? You're just a slut and everyone knows it. So come here and suc-''
''Hey!'' Dick got up pointing his finger on the rouged Sergeant's chest.
''So, it looks like our mummy's boy got a little tensed. What is it? Is she your whore, too?'' the soldier snickered. Dick felt his remarkable calmness and stillness leaving him, feeling the urge to hit the Sergeant's face.
''No, my friend. It's just he can't stare badasses like you. Don't get me wrong, I like asses – especially a round and soft one, belonging to a woman – and I like smartasses. But yours is very, very bad'' a known voice from behind said cockily; slighter turning his head, Dick caught from the corner of his eye Jackson Malarkey who walked next to Dick ''and for your information, nary a whore would accept to suck you so you have any chance with the good Maria here''.
''Oh, so it looks like the American mummy's boy has a boyfriend!'' he barked, eliciting big laughs from his fellows' mouths.
''These mama's boys here have learnt from their mamas how to kick bastards like you as you'll never figure out in your entire life, so you'd better go away'' Jackson challenged in almost a angry whisper with narrow, defying eyes.
''Oh, we'll show you well what a British soldier is made of'' he grinned while his fellows were already surrounded them. Jacks kept his challenging look on the Sergeant for a bunch of seconds and then, as he felt his guard down, he gripped Dick's arm ''Run!'' and he pushed him through the group of the British soldiers who were already on them and rushed out of the door.
The air was cold but Dick couldn't care less: Jackson's hand was still gripped at his arm while they were running down the street; Dick tried to look behind, hoping to see whether the soldiers were on their trace when Jackson pulled him down in a dark corner ''Here! Silent!'' he ordered before falling on the ground next to Dick.
''Not bad for a novice of bar fights!'' he snickered.
''It's not funny, Malarkey'' Dick stated, giving him a scornful look in disapproval.
''Really? Isn't it?'' Jackson stated cockily before starting an hysterical laugh. Dick looked questioningly at him not seeing the point in laughing, but then he just let go some chuckles.
''I think they're gone, sir'' Jackson said lifting from the ground. ''Tell me sir, what were you doing in a pub? Never thought of you as a bar fight type. Obviously I assume you were not seeking for some booze.''
''No, I was not'' Dick said smirking and cleaning his uniform while walking next to Jackson ''I was looking for Lieutenants Nixon and Welsh…did you see them around by chance?''
Jackson shrugged ''I fear you won't catch them, sir. Lieutenants Nixon and Welsh attended a particular pub located out of the town. And… I don't think it's your genre, sir. Neither mine, actually'' Jackson said smirking a little as Dick immediately understood what kind of a pub it was.
''So…maybe I'd better go home. It's getting late.''
Jackson looked at him gingerly, noticing how dejected he resembled – a mood that never left the Captain lately – so he felt the need to strike a conversation.
''Was there a particular reason you were looking for the Lieutenants, sir?'' he asked very formally but still with a tad of selfless concern in his tone.
Dick grimaced ''I just needed some company'' he cut it, feeling uncomfortable at the soldier's try to make familiar.
Jackson rolled his eyes. Winters was a tough one: he could not simply get the Captain to open up like he used to do with every man in the Company. Winters had the unhappy – and still righteous – idea that he was the one to be supposed to listen to his men's problems, trying to understand and sometimes to solve them. Nevertheless, he could not accept to burden his men. Consequentially, Easy men – even the one who had been known him since Toccoa – could tell just a few things about the Captain's private life: he came from Pennsylvania, had a sister, his parents were Quacker (or Mennonite), he was a teetotaler and attended university. It was not necessary to know something more, but the fact he was so strict when it came to talk about his life gave everyone the feeling he was…far: on another level, with all the pros and cons coming from such status.
''Now you have me, sir. You're lucky you found me'' Jackson winked wryly ''I can be a good listener, some say'' he chipped.
Dick frowned at that, admonishing his Sergeant for becoming way too much friendly. Jackson promptly bit his lips, knowing he was being inappropriate. The two walked side by side in silence for what seemed to be an eternity: the wind was starting to blow and to howl, lifting some leaves and dust.
''I didn't want to be rude, sir'' Jackson interrupted the silence sounding really apologetic.
Dick shrugged ''Never mind. I didn't mean to take it too seriously, too. It's just not a good time, for me'' he admitted swallowing hard and lowering his stare on the ground, looking quite troubled ''I know you always respect the rank. Always very formal.''
Jackson knew – as everyone in the company – that he was speaking the truth: everyone noticed something was wrong with the Captain. He was the same: righteous, prompting his soldiers to do of their best, always outlining new strategies to try. The fact was that something made him lose his focus: not on the mission, but on himself. Jackson was truly worried that it was his fault.
''I can hardly tell that, sir. You were promoted, you lead a Company now. The men would follow you in hell and the superiors look at you quite agape'' Jackson reassured ''Those folks! I bet they've never seen action in their whole lives! Therefore, they all are probably amazed seeing your capacities, sir''.
Dick looked at him arching his brow ''it's not all about praises. I think of all the responsibilities weighting on my shoulders, sometimes I doubt I can take all this.''
''Sir, did you hear what I said in the first part? We would follow you to hell'' Jackson stated firmly hiding how bewildered he was at Dick's admission.
''That's it. What if-'' Dick stopped, considering he was opening up too much and that those were not the words that a soldier was supposed to hear from his superior.
''What if you get as all killed?'' Jackson asked almost in a whisper and, noticing Dick was biting his lip, never leaving his stare from the ground he continued ''sir, no one can always take the right choice. I guess there must be some things we can't control. Instead, what we can control is our actions: we all know how hard you studied, how smart you got at skimming out a plan in a heartbeat, how close you are to us. We all saw you doing of your best and pushing us to do of our best, always. You can't honestly blame you for anything and we don't need anything more than what you have already gave us.''
Dick stopped, staring blankly at the ground. The words reverberating through his ears, he tried to repeat each of them mentally, knowing that the speech what was he needed to hear, even though he did not believe it completely.
''Sir?''
Repeat, repeat again.
Dick looked tenderly at Jackson: it was true, the man was a good listener and wise.
''Thank you, Sergeant'' he whispered sweetly.
''Not at all'' Jackson shrugged coolly, trying to not show how the stare on the Captain overwhelmed him ''it's just what I think. What we all think'' he added and started to walk again, Winters straight behind him.
''I know I acted quite weird recently and that you all figured it out. Especially with you'' Dick said, sounding actually concerned and sorry.
''I don't mind. I really appreciate you kept my secret, sir, and above all that you gave me the chance to keep fighting this war with my Company and with you.''
''Yeah but-'' Dick paused, remembering how struggled his choice had been, how he had almost decided to report to Colonel Sink ''You don't deserve any special treatment. I kept my eyes on you, checking you…didn't get hurt. But I know I don't have to: you're a good soldier, and a good man. I hope you'll forgive me for that.''
Jackson's lips curled in a sheepish smile, deflecting a grimace. He could not expect Dick to consider him as a good soldier and a good woman, too: he knew it wasn't part of the plan. Anyway, the statement hit him right in his stomach, considering Captain Winters would've never thought a good soldier could be a woman, how impossible it sounded to him.
''Thank you sir. Your words honor me.''
Dick chuckled playfully, amused at how formally the Sergeant was most of the time: more than his fellows, anyway. He stopped ''I'm arrived. This is the house where I'm quartered.''
The two exchanged a formal salute and a goodnight and then, when Jackson was already on his way, Dick called his name: the voice reverberated through the silent street.
''What's up sir?''
''Sergeant, you can call me Dick, when we are alone.''
Dick made to himself a promise which he was successfully keeping. Things got back to normal: he tried to behave, to not worry too much about a single soldier, and he did it.
Sergeant Jackson Malarkey turned out to be a good leader for his platoon. Focused, wise, physically prepared, he not only prepared his platoon to the best, but also he represented a point of cohesion between the veterans and the replacement. Dick knew he did the right choice promoting him.
The more he got to know him, the more he could not believe such an incredible man did not even think of becoming an officer. They found time – alone – to discuss strategies, new ways to train the men. Jackson was deeply interested in their needs and feelings, he knew their limits, he knew how to push them to their best.
''I didn't want to catch anybody's eyes more than I'm already doing, Dick'' Jackson replied when Dick asked how come he did not consider to attend OCS. Jackson was comfortably sat in Dick's chair, in his office: he had decided he would not have come back to The Barnes that night because he had a little work to finish. Jackson joined in his office to report his platoon's conditions and ended up to sip – weirdly – some hot milk and talking of everything and nothing with his superior. It was starting to be an habit.
''Yeah…I guess you made the right choice'' Dick shrugged, understanding his reasons ''but you are a fine soldier and a great Sergeant.''
Good soldier, a man trustworthy. And a friend.
Strategies were not the only things they talked about. Soon, during their late nights conversation, they found out almost everything about their lives: where they grew up, why they decided to join the Paratroopers, where they did study, and funny stories about their lives. Dick felt he could completely open up with him, telling him things he never really shared with anyone. The fact was Jackson was a good listener, he never judged and took everything seriously. Dick could see the light in his eyes when he was speaking, how his eyes lingered on his lips catching every single word. Then, he would come out with a genuine laugh or with a suggestion, when he needed one.
''I told Don it was not a good idea, but he didn't listen to me. Oh, he never does. So, he climbed on that goddamn tree and then fell into 's garden making a hell of a noise but she didn't seem to notice. So, he sneaked through the garden and opened the tiny door carefully and he entered the house. He took the goddamn cake and I couldn't believe it! The fact was he had no way to come back because he could not climb the tree with a cake in his hands! He was so hilarious, trying to catch up how to go away from there keeping the goddamn cake!''
''Did he made it at least?'' Dick snickered, chuckling playfully at the story.
''That's the funny fact. When he-''
A knock on the door followed by a tall frame interrupted the moment.
''Didn't imagine there was a party in here. Why did you invite me, Dick?'' a staggering Lewis Nixon entered noisily the room. Dick grimaced, inexplicably upset at being interrupted by his best friend.
''No party in here, Lew'' he cut it straight.
Lewis leaned against the wall, chuckling playfully ''well, so I guess there's no reason for a NCO to spend his night in a Captain's officer exchanging recipes'' he spitted challenging with his stare both Dick and Jackson.
''Oh, I'm sorry sir'' Jackson got up from the chair saluting slightly '' I came to report about my platoon and ended up talking about-''
''Cakes?'' Lewis cut it, gingerly studying the Sergeant's reaction. Jackson felt his cheeks blushing, unable to explain how come he was exchanging such stories with his superior.
''I'd better go, sir'' he almost whispered, never looking the Captain in his eyes.
''Yeah, I guess you'd better go'' Lewis repeated in what seemed a grin of apparent anger. He followed every move of the Sergeant till the moment he was out of the office and locked the door.
''For Pete's sake, what's wrong with you?'' Dick barked, staring confusedly at his friend.
''Since when do you curse, exactly?'' Lewis teased surprised at hearing such words ''and I must be the one asking what is wrong with you, Dick. How come do you spend all this time with Sergeant, Sergeant-'' Lewis gasped for words, making a façade he could not recall the name.
''Malarkey'' Dick added, grimacing and staring upsettingly at him.
''Yeah, that's it. So, how do you explain it?''
''He's my NCO, Lew. You heard him, he passed to let me know about the platoon. We just started to talk about other things, what is wrong with that?''
''oh, nothing'' Lewis said wryly, shrugging ''except for the fact he's been passing in your office to ''report'' very frequently, I noticed'' Lewis accused, frowned.
''Are you jealous, Lew?'' Dick snickered dryly behind his desk, looking at him playfully.
''You idiot'' Lewis curled his lips in a upset grimace ''You should know better than me it's not genuine for a Officer to get so close to his man.''
''Since when do you respect the protocol, Lew? I mean, you're the one drinking your soul out, staggering through the Regiment, even when Sink's around. What are we talking about?''
Dick's words, stated as a matter-of-fact, hit Lew in his stomach. He was quite offended: he had never seen Dick being so judgemental, especially with him. Lewis never heard such critic words pronounced by his calm friend's mouth.
Dick immediately remark his friend's sad expression ''Sorry. I'm being too on the defensive.''
''Yes you are.''
''Sorry, Lew'' and he really seemed to be. Lewis shrugged, unable to stand such expression on him and considering he was on the defensive, too.
''Don't worry. Anyway, I'm saying it for your good: you know how dangerous it can be.''
''I know, Lewis. It's nothing.''
Dick was lying, and he was conscious he was not so good at it, but he tried to keep a straight face. Truth was, he was starting to consider Jackson Malarkey as a friend, a good one. He trusted him completely, enjoyed his company and missed his presence when he did not turn out in his office for some days. Dick knew how wrong it was, how dangerous. He knew all those things, and Jackson knew them too.
''As far as I see it, you can't let the war privy you of your youth. It doesn't have to be so. Maybe we're special, different from the others. We saw things maybe our parents had never seen. but we're still young, we have to find pureness in whatever we can, when we can'' Jackson once said, during one of their night talks. Wise words, as always: he always seemed to hit the nail on the head. The fact was, Dick found that pureness, that simplicity, in their talks. Dick felt he could be himself with him, and Captain Winters was just something relegated in the deepest areas of his mind. Their talks, their laughs: for some minutes, he could pretend he was somewhere else. He felt understood, completely.
He could tell everything.
Sometimes, the glimpse of that day crossed his mind but it seemed so unreal. Those curves, that slender and feminine body. At first, when thinking of it, he felt his cheeks reddening but at that point, he could not mentally arrange those pale breasts to Jackson Malarkey. The truth did not exist. The reality was far away when they were together; whatever that truth or reality was, it couldn't hit him. When he was with Jackson, everything was ok.