For Love or Country

by Jesse Jordan

  Mom thinks, then shakes her head. “No, I don't need it. I know it's just the nerves making me want to eat. It's hard knowing that my baby isn't happy, but also knowing there's nothing I can do about it.”

  “I know, Mom. But you've been great this whole vacation. Really. Christmas Day was as good as it could have been, and I'll be honest, I don't think my laundry's smelled so fresh and clean since high school. That's a long time between dryer sheets, you know.”

  “You really should look at starting to use them. I know that the rules with your ACUs are that you can't use starch, but there can't be anything wrong with using a little fabric softener, is there? Even for your dainties and your PT clothes?”

  “Nah, I got used to Army laundry I guess.”

  Mom groans, shaking her head. “You're just like your brothers. I never could get them to learn how to do laundry either. At least you learned some basics about real life before the Academy got its hooks into you.”

  I struggle, but sit up, looking at Mom. “Mom, I never really asked over the past four years, but were you okay with me going to USMA? Me being in the Army?”

  Mom gives me that sort of head-shrug that means 'it doesn't matter,' and then half smiles. “When Gavin had his accident, I thought to myself, 'okay, that'll get that madness out of the family.' Julius wasn't interested at that age, and you were still in your Mommy's girl stage. Then Julius... well, that hurt. When you said you were applying to transfer, I'd come to the realization that I couldn't control you, and that you have to be you. Yes, I've worried about it, especially knowing what the Academy is like, and knowing it'd be doubly hard for you. But now, seeing the woman you've become, I couldn't be prouder. You're my daughter, Ashley, and I love you. And I know, you're going to be a great mother.”

  Her words make my throat grow tight, and I smile. “Mom, you gave me a childhood that, if I am a good mother, is the whole reason why I can be. But to hear you say that... thank you.”

  Mom's about to say something when Dad comes in the room, beaming, tears streaming down his face. “Ashley... it's Korea.”

  “What is it Dad?” I ask, nervous but at the same time hopeful. If Dad wasn't smiling, I'd be worried, but he's smiling. “Simon?”

  Dad nods. “He was found a quarter mile inside the DMZ by a patrol of South Koreans, who were responding to activity on the North's side. He's unconscious, he was bitten by a snake and is getting treatment. They said he'll be in the hospital for a few days, but the people I talked to wanted to know when you might want to talk to him. I told them ASAP, would you like to confirm that?”

  I'm trying to answer, but I'm crying too hard, but I wave for the phone anyway. Dad hands it over, and I clear my throat, trying hard to speak. “Hello?”

  “Lieutenant Ashley Carlyle?” the voice on the other end asks, gravely and deep, a total military voice. “This is Colonel Keith Hunt.”

  “Yes sir, I'm Ashley Carlyle. My father said something about Simon? Is he...?”

  Colonel Hunt's smile is audible even through the phone line, and he laughs. “He's fine, Lieutenant. I just got done talking with his doctors at the hospital in Seoul. They're keeping him sedated for another twenty four hours to let the anti-venom work and to let his body rest and recover. He's lost a lot of weight, and he's got a long recovery ahead of him.”

  “In Korea, sir?” I ask, the first thought in my mind is that I need Simon home. “Sir, if it's possible, I'm nearly eight months pregnant with Simon's twins.”

  Colonel Hunt hums in appreciation. “Well, normally we wouldn't do a recovery here in Korea, it's months long. It's normally done in Japan, but I think in this case... I'll get you an answer soon, but I'm quite sure that we can have him rehabilitate inside the United States. In the mean time, we can set up a video call. Would you like to do it at home or though the Fort Lee MWR station?”

  “I'm on the last two days of Christmas leave, sir, think we can do it through my home?”

  “I'm sure we can get something set up. I'll call you tomorrow, Lieutenant. I just wanted you to know before it hits the news wire. Happy New Year, Lieutenant.”

  “Happy New Year, sir. And sir?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you. It's a week late, but you just gave me the best Christmas gift ever.”

  The video flares at first, and I realize the camera is adjusting to the lighting in the hospital room where Simon is. He's in a robe, but even with it closed all the way to his throat, I can see that he's lost an enormous amount of weight. He stares at the screen for a moment, then blinks, a smile spreading across his face when he sees me, and we just stare at each other for a moment, taking it in. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. “Ashley.”

  It's just my name, but it sets off a crying jag, and we're both weeping, no shame at all in it as we babble and blubber. I don't even know what I'm saying, except that I love him and that he loves me. Finally, after a few minutes, we both seem to calm down, but I'm leaking from my eyes, I can't seem to stop the tears from flowing.

  “It's good to see you,” I finally get out intelligibly, and Simon nods.

  “It's good to see you too. I'm still kinda adjusting, I almost think this is like some sort of grand trick or something. But... it's you.”

  “It is me,” I say, adjusting the camera to show my belly. “Say hello to your son and daughter.”

  “You mean it?” Simon asks when I raise the camera again, his face full of wonder. “A boy and a girl? I dreamed that we had a boy and a girl.”

  I nod, and I'm smiling and crying at the same time. “Me too. Hurry up getting out of that hospital, and you can still get here to help me name them. I didn't want to do that without your help.”

  Simon nods, then grows somber. “You saved me, Ashley. Your letter... I was so close to breaking. There was a Major Song, she was trying to get me to be her slave... to say things... to betray you. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry....”

  I shake my head, and touch his face on the screen. “Simon, it doesn't matter. You were under the influence of things that nobody can ever expect you to handle. You survived for nearly six months in there.”

  “Still... I nearly betrayed you,” Simon whispers, his eyes haunted. “You gave me the strength, and I nearly betrayed you. How could you ever forgive that?”

  I shake my head again, the tears flowing harder. “Simon, you didn't betray me. Ever. Even in the hard moments, you never, ever betrayed me. I love you, and there's nothing to forgive. I want you to focus on a few things for me, please?”

  “What?” he asks, looking up, his eyes clearer, but still haunted. Just what kind of hell did he go through?

  “Get stronger. Get out of that hospital, and come home. I already talked to someone named Colonel Hunt yesterday, he said that they'll try to have you do your rehab and recovery back here. If that's what you want.”

  I know I can't pressure him, Dad talked with me about it before the video call, that right now nobody can order Simon to do anything. He's just come from a hell where orders were given by the enemy, and demanding things now would make him associate me with that pain. I just need him so badly, and seeing him like this, it hurts. I want to hold him, to let him know that he's loved, and needed.

  Simon though smiles and wipes at his eyes, nodding. “Gimmie five days. I already talked with the docs, they said I'll be able to fly in five days. Get this, I'm some sort of hero they say, and they said when I'm ready, they'll fly me first class back to the States.”

  “You are a hero,” I tell him, smiling. “I don't know about the rest of the country, but you're my hero. You were taken away, and you came back. More than anything else... you came back.”

  We talk for another fifteen minutes, mostly trivialities, Dad told me that for a long time, conversations like this will dominate Simon's mind. He's not quite ready to confront the horrors of what he went through, and when he gets back he's going to have to talk with a lot of people. That's enough stress for him, and he's going to need a way to just reconnect
and to relax. Trivial stuff is going to be the way he does that for a lot of people.

  “Hey, today the docs said I might be allowed to have some French fries,” Simon says, grinning. “From McDonald's even.”

  “Sounds good, babe. As you can tell, I've been indulging too. But you're going to be proud of me, you've got the healthiest set of babies in the world inside my tummy,” I reply, rubbing. “I promise you that.”

  “Five days,” Simon says, smiling. “I promise you, five days. Maybe six if we count the flight time and all that crap.”

  After we hang up, I can't hold back my emotions any more, and I break down, sobbing in happiness and horror at what Simon's been through, and relief that he's back. “Daddy's coming home,” I whisper to my twins, rubbing my stomach. “Pretty soon, Daddy's coming home. You just hang in there a little while longer.”

  Simon

  My escort, Captain Iriguchi, gives me a worried look as the airplane circles above Andrews, waiting for final clearance to land. When the military said that they were sending me back first class, I didn't quite understand what they meant. I thought I'd have a first class seat on a United flight from Seoul or something.

  No. Instead, apparently I rate VIP service, sitting in the Corinthian leather seats of the modified Boeing 757 that the Air Force sometimes calls Air Force One. I checked with the crew, they've only built eight of these things, and all I can say is that I doubt there are too many five star hotels that have better facilities.

  Not that I've used much of it. Just having the ability to walk around and stretch, enjoy what I want to drink, eat and do whenever I want to has been a luxury beyond understanding. I spent six months pissing in a bucket and wiping my ass with a rag that would be reused for an entire day, while for the last fourteen hours I've been enjoying a toilet that has a built in spray that washes your butt when you're done.

  Now though, the ride's about done, and Captain Iriguchi's worried. She's dressed in civvies, a nondescript black suit, but I've put on my dress blues, or at least a set that the uniform shop in Korea quickly put together for me and I put on for only the second time twenty minutes ago. No way in hell am I putting on my old one, I stepped on the scale today down an even fifty pounds from my last weigh in before captivity. Guess I don't have to worry about passing my height/weight check for the foreseeable future.

  “The press is probably going to be there,” Captain Iriguchi says, looking over the clipboard in her lap. She's petite, and I think she was worried at first that I'd react badly to her since she's half-Japanese, and right now Asian women are not exactly having a great track record with me. But we relaxed somewhere between Japan and Hawaii, and she's okay by me. Part of it is that she's got a Boston accent of all things, which helps, but also she's laid back. She even insisted that I don't call her ma'am, but instead likes to be called Kayla, which is cool too. “Are you okay with that?”

  “If you mean do I care if a bunch of press hounds snap photos, not a problem at all,” I tell her, trying to control my demanding side. The hospital shrink in Seoul, in the one session we had together, told me that for a while I might be extra demanding at times, as a way of what he calls 'establishing my sense of safety.' Conversely, there'll be times that I'll be acting like a puppy dog, eager to please. The conditioning will take a while to shake off.

  “They'll want to ask questions, you know. The Pentagon screened who they're letting in, but the media there are going to want a quote,” she says nervously. “If you don't think you can handle it, say so.”

  “Pentagon and White House are worried I'm going to come off looking shattered?” I ask wryly, and Iriguchi nods. “Chill, Kayla. As long as none of the media gets in the way of me seeing Ashley, they can get a quote. They get in the way though, and you might see me kicking someone's ass on the nightly news.”

  Iriguchi chuckles and nods. “Not a problem. Nobody other than Ashley Carlyle is allowed within fifty meters of the steps once we land. Orders of the President himself.”

  I shake my head, still trying to wrap my head around it. “Why? I'm no hero, Kayla. I'm just a guy who got his helicopter crashed, my crewmate dead, and sat in a cell for six months.”

  Iriguchi shakes her head, and bites her lip, pondering. “Would you like my opinion on it, Simon?”

  “Go ahead. I'm willing to listen, we've still got some time before we land. I'm guessing the Public Affairs folks are the main reason we haven't landed yet, right?” I ask, leaning back into my seat, leaving my coat unbuttoned. “Not digging on your job at all, by the way.”

  “Nope, the Dog and Pony Show must always go on,” Iriguchi says with a self deprecating laugh. “Anyway, you're a hero for a couple of reasons. They didn't tell you in Seoul, maybe my boss would get pissed if I tell you now, but your chopper was sabotaged. They wanted your specific Apache, to go down when it could cross the border. I've heard rumors, but that's your business with the Pentagon later on. So you didn't screw up, Simon. You also survived, and fought back. Regardless of if you said things to survive, you never betrayed your oath or your country. You got your own ass out of there, and you did the damn near impossible, crossing the DMZ without getting yourself killed.”

  “Nearly did, though. Damn snakes. I don't think I like them any more.”

  Iriguchi understands, and folds her hands in her lap. “Simon, I've only been doing Public Affairs and stuff like this for about two years now. I've participated in quite a few events where VIPs got on a microphone or made a speech talking about the heroic troops around them. To be quite honest, a lot of it was bullshit. But you, you not only got put into a horrible situation, you fought like hell. Not for the flag, not for the service, not for the United States of America. In the fourteen hours we've been sitting on this plane, other than sleeping you've talked mostly about one thing. Ashley Carlyle. I probably know more about her than I do half the soldiers who work for me. And as a woman, I can tell you I'm just a little jealous that she has someone so devoted to her. So maybe you're not the hero that the White House and the Pentagon want to make you out to be. You're not Rambo, Simon. But in Kayla Iriguchi's opinion, you're something better. You're Ashley's hero, and in this world, there aren't too many people who are that damn noble. Let the Pentagon spin the way they want, you just focus on who really matters.”

  Before I can say anything, the pilot comes on and says that we've gotten clearance for landing, we'll be on the ground in five minutes. I check my seatbelt, and lean back, closing my eyes as I feel us turn and start to descend. “Kayla?”

  “Yes, Simon?”

  “Thanks. I'll keep that in mind.”

  It's closer to fifteen minutes before the plane stops. The nerves are getting to me, and my fingers tremble as I try to button my uniform coat twice before I get it right. Glancing out, I can see the honor guard, dressed in their razor sharp dress blues.

  “Where's Ashley?” I ask worriedly, and Iriguchi looks out the window. “I can't see her yet.”

  Iriguchi studies the crowd, then points. “There. Looks like they kept her in the hangar until the plane stopped, probably for the heat. It looks cold out there.”

  I look where she's pointing, and see Ashley coming out, huge and beautiful, the sight of her relieving all of my tension of a moment before. She's trying to walk gracefully, but it's more like a waddle, and I don't care. Excitement and energy fills me, making me run up the aisle to the door, hopping back and forth as I wait for the crew to open the door. “Come on, come on, come on.”

  “Simon, relax. She's still got a while to go,” Iriguchi says, patting me on the shoulder. “On the tarmac, I'll split off for a bit, go to the press conference site. I won't be speaking, but until we get you settled in, I'll be nearby. Congratulations, Lieutenant, you've got a Captain to boss around a while.”

  I stop, and give Iriguchi a grateful look. “Thanks, Kayla. So, after this, do I have to call you ma'am again?”

  “Only when I'm in uniform and others are around. Other than that, relax. Wait, h
ere comes the crew.”

  The plane's crew opens the door, and I'm hustling down the steps. My eyes are totally on Ashley, who stops, the tears on her face clear even as I run across the tarmac, stopping just in time to not tackle her to the pavement and hug her, kissing her deeply and holding her close. I finally feel like I'm free again.

  “They want to pin a medal on you,” Ashley comments as we watch the NFL wildcard playoffs, lying side by side on her bed. She has to go back to school tomorrow, they gave her three days leave with my return. The room in the Fort Lee Lodge isn't quite big enough for two people, but after one night of restless, freaked out sleep in my own adjacent room next door, I'm just using it as a storage closet, and we've adjusted. “What do you think about it?”

  “Only if they give the same medal to Chief Jensen,” I reply, not concerned as the action unfolds on the TV. I'm going to get back to work too tomorrow, after a hospital checkup I'm going to go to the Fitness Center. I may need to gain back fifty pounds, but I'm going to do it the right way. “Let them get their fifteen minutes of good press out of it, I don't really care. I have what I need right here.”

  “Free food and a warm bed?” Ashley teases, and I laugh. She's been hesitant about making any sort of jokes, but she's starting to relax into her normal self again, which helps me more than she can ever understand.

  “Something like that. The Internet's nice too. By the way, we promised to call Cara and Tammy again tonight,” I answer, humming happily as I hug Ashley, running my hand over her belly before I lower my lips and kiss her neck.

  She purrs, arching her neck into me and giving me a whiff of her clean, natural scent, my body stirring in a way that I thought maybe was gone for a while longer. But Ashley has always had this effect on me, and I guess I still have an effect on her, too. “I've missed those kisses.”