James lay on his back, listening to the faint strains of bluegrass as they flowed from his CD player. He'd not been able to sleep, and the calming influence of the music was usually enough to cure any problem he might have with insomnia. Tonight, the music wasn't working.
He turned his head and looked at the clock. The harsh LED flipped to 0217. James groaned in irritation and sat up. "God damn it." He scratched his chest and wearily got out of bed.
"Gotta work in a few hours." He muttered.
He walked to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. He went to a window and looked out at the parking lot. His eyes swept down the line of automobiles, looking for a little yellow truck.
"What the hell am I doing?" He twisted the water open and took a long, cold drink. He glanced back at the parking lot and felt a sharp pang of loneliness.
"He's gone." He swallowed and frowned. The memory of Troy, the only man James had ever truly loved, stuck in his mind. He knew Hanson and Kline had brought Troy's memory back to him. Seeing a thing you once had is a sure way to do that.
He took a shaky breath and decided he wasn't going to sleep tonight. He walked to his coffee pot and flipped it on. James waited until a cup of the black liquid brewed, then he poured it into a mug. He padded over to his armchair and sat down.
James took a sip of the hot liquid and set the coffee on the table beside his chair. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. He began to frown with emotion.
"No. I'm not doing this. I'm not reliving this." He forced a neutral expression and tried to push Troy from his mind.
As he sat there, a single tear slipped through and rolled down his expressionless face. He didn't notice it. He was lost in the past.
It was a little over a year ago. James and Troy were corpsmen stationed with the same battalion in Pendleton. They were in love, and when Troy got orders to Afghanistan, James went mad with fear and grief.
Troy surrendered to his fate and prepared to leave. James wouldn't allow it. He found a picture of Troy with an old boyfriend and James anonymously turned him in as a homosexual. Troy was thrown in prison for a month, and then dishonorably discharged. The day he was released James went to pick him up. He believed with all his heart that he had saved Troy's life.
Troy wouldn't speak to him. He packed his things while James begged for some kind of understanding.
The last time James saw him, Troy got into his truck with everything he owned, and left. And he never even looked back.
Kline and Hanson had to return to work the next week. They played a mad game of catch-up, as there were some aspects of the job only they could do. That meant they were a week behind. It didn't leave much time for talking about what was going on with them, but that didn't keep Kline from thinking about it.
Friday afternoon finally arrived, and Kline grinned as he approached the office. He entered to see Hanson scowling down at a pile of paperwork.
The Captain looked up as Kline entered. "Hey Lt."
"Sir." Kline sat down across from Hanson. "Captain, why don't you put that stuff away and get ready for the weekend?" He smiled at the marine. "You look like you could use a beer."
Hanson exhaled wearily and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. Still a ton of shit to get done though."
"Tell you what." Kline got up and shut the office door. "We leave work now, and I'll come back with you on Sunday to help finish up." Kline grinned at Hanson's thoughtful expression. "Deal?"
The Captain pursed his lips in thought. "What do you have in mind?" He smiled in suspicion at Kline. "What are you plotting?"
"I'm plotting on us going to my place and getting hammered."
Hanson laughed. "Well, that does sound like a good idea." He looked down at the paperwork. "Fuck it. Let's go."
Both of the men left for their respective homes. Kline said that he'd be ready for Hanson to come over at 1800. They both changed out of uniform, and when the time came, Hanson drove to Kline's apartment. He knocked and Kline opened the door.
"Come on in Captain." Kline smiled warmly at the man.
Hanson entered the apartment. He glanced over at the table and did a double-take. "Whoa."
Two Cornish hens, stuffed with sage dressing, were on each side of the table. A bottle of champagne chilled in a metal pail of ice on the counter. Around the hens were various side dishes: mashed potatoes with rosemary, corn of the cob, and a large bowl of buttered rolls.
Hanson stared at the food. Kline walked past him and lit a pair of long, cream colored candles on the table and turned the lights off. The candles filled the room with a muted, diffuse glow.
Kline nervously turned to the Captain. "I hope you like it."
Hanson surprise was evident. "Kline, what is this?"
Kline walked behind Hanson, gripped his shoulders, and steered him to one side of the table. "It's dinner." He pulled a chair out, and gently sat him down at one end. Hanson looked over the feast.
"It looks really good." He suddenly realized that he was on a date. He looked at Kline as the big man sat down across from him. "You didn't have to do this."
"You don't like it?" Kline's face showed a flicker of disappointment.
"I do." Hanson said quickly. "I just don't think I'm worth this much effort."
Kline laughed. "Well, why don't you decide that after you try the food?"
The two men dug into their meal. The hens were perfect – juicy, tender, and full of flavor, the potatoes were delicious, and the corn and rolls added just the right touch to the other flavors.
Kline got up and poured a sparkling glass of champagne for each of them. Hanson watched him, and gripped his arm as he walked past. Kline looked down at him.
Hanson smiled. "This is nice." He gave Kline's arm a squeeze. "Thanks."
Kline smiled back, obviously thrilled. "You're welcome, Captain." They looked at one another for a bit longer. Kline bit his lip and put the bottle on the table. He leaned down and put his hand on the back of Hanson's head and very gently kissed him. A thrill went through the Captain as their lips touched, and Kline's tongue caressed his own. This felt so different from when they were forced to perform for Crawford. Hanson felt any reservations he might have had about the evening disappear as they kissed.
They parted and Kline blushed. "You just ... you looked so great. I had to kiss you." He smiled. "This is different without Crawford. I like this better."
"Me too." Hanson said and looked into the Lt's eyes. "Do you ... do you want to try making this happen?"
Kline looked hopefully at him. "I was sort of going to ask you the same thing." He looked down and gripped Hanson's hand. "I think about you a lot. How this started was freaky, but," he looked back up at Hanson's face, "I don't want it to end."
Hanson took a deep breath. "You know what this means, yeah?" He gripped Kline's hand tightly. "We'd have to hide this. We might get stationed apart. You ready for that?"
Kline nodded and frowned. "I ... I know." His face took on a pained expression. "I, uh. I have something to tell you." He looked down at the floor. "I got transfer orders yesterday." Hanson's face went slack.
"What? You just got here!" He stood up. "Why are you being transferred? Where are you ..." He stopped and his face drained of color. "Oh no." He shook his head. "Fuck no!" He ground his teeth in anger. "Not Iraq. Just tell me it's not Iraq."
"I leave in a little over a week." Kline stood and took him in his arms.
Hanson put his head on Kline's thick chest. "No." His mind spun madly for a way out. "Why just you? Why are you not rotating with the whole battalion?"
Kline closed his eyes and rubbed Hanson's head. "One of the convoys hit a mine two days ago. A supply officer and three other marines died in the explosion."
Hanson's arms tightened around Kline. "I won't let this happen."
"Sir." Kline pushed him to arm's-length. "We can't change this." He smiled at Hanson. "I'd really just like to enjoy our time together while we have it. And, I'll come back." He looked at Hanson's face. "I swear I'll come back."
Hanson looked at him, stunned. He nodded numbly then he frowned. "This isn't fucking fair."
"No." Kline released him and sat back down. "It's not." He picked up his glass. He sipped at it and made an appreciative noise. "Good stuff." He pointed at the drink.
Hanson sat back down and picked up his glass. He frowned in thought and bitterness. Kline looked at him.
"I didn't tell you this to piss you off, Captain. I told you so you would know what you're getting into if we become ..." he cleared his throat, "if we decide to date."
Hanson looked back at him. "You think I'd back out?" He shook his head. "No. I'll wait."
Kline set his jaw to keep it from trembling. "Ok."
The two of them finished the rest of their meal in relative silence. Kline thought warm little things about Hanson, while the Captain's mind focused on a way to stave off the inevitable. Unfortunately, he could find no answers.
Author's note: Just a warning, there's one more part coming to this story. Also, though I was in the Navy, I'm not totally up to speed on emergency reassignment of marine officer personelle, and how the Marine corps does it. I'm assuming it's like what the Navy does, and this is reflected in the story above. If it's wrong and you know how it happens, then write and tell me how it's really done. But be nice. After all, I'm just a little ex-squid.