[September 7, 2004  England]

HEATHER

"Pasta with cream sauce."

"Steak.  Rare.  Smothered in grilled onions."

"Smoked salmon with cream cheese and dill on crackers."

It was a little game we played at night, lying in bed, dreaming of exquisite gourmet food we could no longer afford.  I hoped he didn't hear my stomach growl at his words.  He hated that.  Thought of it as some sort of failing on his part for not to be able to provide for us as he once had.  Didn't stop either of us from dreaming though.

He had a glazed look on his face.  "Seafood platter... with a heaping side of slaw.  Extra clams.  Extra prawns.  Extra butter."

Ohh... good one.  My turn.  "Hot apple crisp with French vanilla ice-cream."    

He licked his lips and his eyes twinkled with mischief.  And something else.  "Chocolate truffles."

"You bastard!"  I kicked him under the covers.  It had been forever since I'd had chocolate.  He was asking for it now.  "Guinness.  Ice cold.  With a head... in a frosty glass." 

Lach moaned and buried his face in the covers.  "Dirty pool, Blue," he mumbled from under his pillow.  I moved to dig him out but he turned on me.  I squeaked as he pinned me.  "I'll show you something with a head on it, love...."  He rubbed his growing excitement against my legs.

"Lachlan Curry!  You dirty old man."  But I opened my legs to him and smiled as he slid between them and pressed his big, warm body to mine.  He shifted to rest the hefty bulk of his genitals in the soft cradle of my hips.  They felt heavy, like a sack of sand.  Warm, twitching sand. 

"Isn't that the truth?" he muttered, beginning his slow act of love softly and sweetly, for all his cocky talk.  Kissing his way down my neck, he sighed with some mixture of awe and eroticism when he got to my breasts.  He rubbed his penis against me and made a masculine noise of appreciation deep in his throat.  I felt my milk let down.  He smiled, touching the droplet with a fingertip before closing his warm mouth over my turgid nipple.

A soft, snaffling cry from the bassinet by our bed stopped us both.  We were old hat at this by now.  We lay there, still and quiet, waiting to see if Tristan was just making a little snuffle in his sleep or if he was really waking up.  I could feel Lach's heart beating against my breast with its measured, steady rhythm.  For a few moments, we thought we'd made it as silence reigned... and then the lusty wail of a hungry baby filled our tiny room. 

Lach closed his eyes and rested his forehead on my sternum as his possessive hand left my breast.  "Bloody selfish little bugger, isn't he?  Never wants to share his Mum."  He gave my nipple one last feathery kiss and rolled away.  He crooned to our tiny son as he lifted him from his basket.  "I can see why though.... I don't want to flaming well share your Mum either...."  Tristan immediately quieted in Lach's strong embrace.  "Bit of a story there, my boy...."  Our eyes met for a moment and Lach grinned.  He had indeed gone to some pretty great lengths to ensure he wouldn't have to share ever again.  "Pretty sure your Mum would crack me one if I ever told you the details though, mate...."  Isn't that the truth? 

He delivered Tristan into my arms and scooted in beside us, still amazed by the simple act of watching me feed our son.  He latched on and I looked from his pursed little lips to Lach.  And then I laughed.  His erection, forgotten for the moment, was jutting up awkwardly like a flagpole. 

I giggled and tossed the edge of the sheet at him.  "Cover that up for goodness sake!  He's too young to know about Selkies, Lach."  

Lach grinned and pulled the sheet over his embarrassment.  Only he wasn't embarrassed at all.  What had been an erection poking obscenely up from the covers had become an obscenely large tent over his groin instead.  Some battles a girl just can't win.  Some she just doesn't want to.  He chuckled as he looked over his son's little body and bent in to whisper.  "Don't worry, mate... you'll grow."

I hit him with a pillow.  He just sat back and grinned wider.  His fingers were twitching absently.  I felt for him.  He clearly wanted a cigarette.  And we didn't have the money for those either.  We didn't have the money for most things these days.  We were hardly making it as it was.  And yet, it's hard to believe how far we'd come since our crossing four months ago.

The Real World.

That's what Dea had promised us.  That's what we had all wanted.  And that's exactly what we got.  For better.

And worse.  

[May 9, 2004  Dino's Home]

LACHLAN

One moment we were there.  The next, we were gone.  No ripple.  No disorientation.  No tug of the portal.  Nothing.  Simply gone.  Just like that.  Like switching off a light.  I guess this old mayfly had another flight in him after all. 

In the blink of an eye, our surroundings changed from Dino's home to an unfamiliar hotel room.  I reached for them, for my woman and my child, assuring myself they were really there.  Safe.  Heather's face was pale and drawn.  Tristan was awake, but quiet.  "You two alright?"  My first instinct had been to cradle them close.  Rational thought overrode it.  As she nodded, I stepped away from them, looking around.  Trying to get my bearings.  Ready to protect them if I needed to.

Her tiny hand reached for me.  "Are you okay?"

I just shook my head.  "Never better, gorgeous."  I felt fantastic, actually.  Odd.  "Lucky, lucky, lucky, hey?"  I looked over to the two of them.  "It's a good job you didn't have twins, love.  Not sure I've enough luck for four."  I wasn't bloody sure I had enough luck for one, but I damn sure wasn't about to share that thought.  I didn't want to alarm her.  Not if I could help it, anyway.  She said nothing.  Just stared at me, tears forming in her eyes.  "Blue?"

"Your face."  She reached out and touched me, where the scar marked my face.  "Oh, God, Lach..... your face."

I turned, looking for a mirror, but I think I knew what had shaken her so.  My leg didn't ache anymore.  And I could hear again in my right ear.  Mentally, I felt about a hundred.  Physically, I felt like a kid again.  My God.  Surely not.  Surely Dea wouldn't have.....  But I knew she had even before I saw myself.  Old eyes in a face far too young for the soul inside it.

A hot stick of rage burned through me and I hit the mirror in temper.  It cracked but didn't shatter to pieces.  Now there were a thousand fragmented pictures of the wrong face looking back at me in the mirror.  I felt Heather's soothing touch on my back and heard her quiet crying.  I turned into the comforting touch, unnerved by the face I saw looking back at me.  I wasn't that boy any longer, especially not now.  A few deep breaths and I had myself back under control.

"It's okay, Lach... it doesn't matter."  She knew how I felt about it.  How I felt about Dea erasing the marks that made me a man.  That told the story of my life.  Bitch.  I could feel the tic in my jaw as I tried to swallow this down.  Why now?  Why when I most need to be a man for her does Dea pull this shit?  Tristan kicked against my chest and it pulled me back to the moment, as did the soft touch of my girl.  "It doesn't matter, Lach.  I know who you are in here."  She touched my temple.  "And here."  She touched my chest.  "If it was only your face I fell in love with..."

I got her meaning well enough.  She'd had plenty of those to choose from, now hadn't she?  It's all about the love, hey?  Well, now.  Never quite considered it that way before.  Minor physical differences aside, we were all the same.  Physically, at least.  It was what was inside that was so very different.  She fell in love with a heart.  Not a body.  What better way for Dea to illustrate that?  It annoyed me she was still at her lessons even now, but I cracked a smile anyway.  "So, it's my bank balance you fell for, then, is it?" I teased. 

She rolled her eyes at me but the moment of levity was fleeting.  Expected in that situation.  I turned my attention back to the more pressing matters at hand.  Heather sensed the shift in me and moved closer, obviously more nervous than she'd let on, and more willing to show it now that she was assured I was all right.  I put my arm around her, absently playing with Tristan's little foot while I tried to make some sense of this place we'd found ourselves.

Just an empty hotel room.  One neatly made queen bed.  No luggage.  No ice melting in a basin on the counter.  No signs of occupancy.  Even the little bar of soap by the sink hadn't been unwrapped.  Where were we?  When were we?  What had happened to the others?  I rubbed my hand over my face in frustration.  Think, Lach.  The television set was modern and there was an electronic keycard on the desk.  At least Dea hadn't cast us back to the past again.  Despite my relief, I felt a bit sad about that.  I wouldn't have minded taking my girl and our son home to the Cloncurry I remember.         

Heather looked around us at the hotel room we'd found ourselves in.  "Where are we?"  

"Not sure."  I looked toward the big picture window.  It was night.  I didn't recognize the skyline.  It wasn't Paris or Berlin or Sydney or any number of a hundred other cities I'd have recognized.  "Turn off the lights, Blue."  She did and I moved to the edge of the glass, staring out at the night sky.  With the lights of the city below, most of the stars were obscured, but I could see enough of them to get my bearings, though only in the most general sense.

"Lach?"

"Southern hemisphere.  Somewhere in South America, I reckon, if I remember my star charts accurately."  An old memory of Zeke flashed through my mind.  I shook it away.  Bet he never imagined I'd be applying his lessons in quite this fashion.  I hadn't either, to tell the truth.  That was the thing about us old time pilots.  Starting out, we hadn't had all that high tech crap they jam into planes nowadays.  We navigated by the stars, by the seat of our pants and by a wing and a prayer.  Seems I'm still at it, even after all this time. 

"South America?" she echoed, hugging Tristan closer to her breast.  

"Think so.  I'm a pilot, not a navigator, love."  I could do in a pinch, but that wasn't my area of expertise.  And with all due respect, it's a bloody big sky.  All the constellations I recognized here were turned on their heads.  Reckon it's a bit like us, hey?

Why the fuck were we here?  I wasn't even bloody sure where 'here' was.  A fierce wave of helpless rage welled up in me at Dea for dropping us in it once again.  I bloody knew her style.  Somehow, I knew wherever we were, it was going to be just as dire as it was before.  If not worse.  Last time had been a punishment of sorts.  This time we'd asked for it.  So, by her fucked up logic, that would make her drop us someplace that was both better- and worse- than where we'd found ourselves last time. 

Ok, so take stock.  How was it better?  Clearly, we hadn't been plonked down in a war zone.  Which is to say at least this time there were no bombs exploding offshore.  How was it worse?  Not sure yet.  But I bloody knew there was a catch somewhere.  And that frightened the piss out of me.

Just then, I heard familiar voices through the door.  Terry?  Dino?  What the fuck?  I charged through the door, angry... angry and more than a little scared about what I might find on the other side.  And as it turns out, I'd been right to be afraid. 

[September 13, 2004]   

HEATHER

"Bacon cheeseburger with guacamole and Swiss cheese."

"Pizza.  Canadian bacon and pineapple.  Extra cheese.  Extra pineapple.  Extra bacon."  My poor, hungry Lach.

Only one response to that.  "Brussel sprouts, black olives and sauerkraut."  Three foods Lach hates with a passion.  He made a gagging noise.

"You trying to put me off?"  He gave me a look.  That was exactly what I was trying to do.  He raised his eyebrow at me.  "Pie."

I thumped him.  He giggled like a fiend, all the while trying not to wake Tristan as he wrestled me into submission.  It wasn't hard.  Even if he wasn't stronger and faster than me, I love how it feels to be in his power.  I thought he was in a mood to be playful, but not long after I stopped struggling, instead of pinning me down and having his wicked way with me, he let me go and snuggled in close, resting his head on my chest.  I stroked his hair.

"You ever think about it, Blue.... about them?"  Lachlan didn't like to talk about our old World very much.  I wondered what had sparked his melancholy musings tonight.  I thought I knew, but you never know with Lach. 

"Yes.  Sometimes."  

"Do you miss it?"  I shook my head.  I didn't miss it.  I missed him.  Dean.  Much in the way I missed my mother when she passed.  A seat at my family's table had gone empty and nobody would ever be able to fill that void.  That's what he was to me.  Family. 

I knew better than to ask Lach if he missed it.  He'd always been the odd man out.  And he'd never been one for rules.  Not as a boy.  Not in the service.  And certainly not as a man in that World, subject to rules that had attempted to govern his private heart.  He is simply too independent.  Wants to make his own mark.  His own path.  I smiled into the night and rubbed his back slowly, enjoying the feel of his chest rising as falling against mine.

Lach was quiet for a while, gently curling a lock of my hair around his thick finger.  I felt him sigh.  "You really think there's another me back there?  A different me?  Terry does.  Thinks some other Terry was pushed into his place when Dea sent us here, I mean."

I shrugged lightly, aware the idea made him uncomfortable.  "Maybe.... maybe there's a different version of all of us somewhere, who knows?"

He made a face.  "She's going to give us a chance to fall in love all over again?"  He snorted.  "I flaming doubt that.  We all know how she likes her games and we've played that one out already.  Bzzz.  You lose... better luck next time....."

I cut off his chatter.  "Maybe that's it."

"What?"

"Maybe it's like when someone dumps the board.  You set up the game all over again..."

He sat up.  "What, like a do-over?"  He scoffed.  "This isn't the schoolyard, love."  He's cute when he's petulant.  Even when it's ticking me off.  

"I know that.  But nobody else in the whole world is you, Lach.  Same for Terry.  Uma's experiences in the portals told us that much.  Similar but not exact.  We are the sum total of what we've experienced.  Change that, and you change the person.  You're you.  Whoever is back there, he's different.  Maybe not in every way, but maybe different enough that her game won't repeat itself."

"Well, I don't want anyone but you."  He snapped, implying any of his other selves would want the same things he does, even though we both know that's not only unlikely but irrational as well.  I hate it when he's purposefully obstinate.  He blew out a breath.  "Stop the machine, replace a cog or two, flip the switch and hope for a different result?  I just don't know....."  He turned on his side and smirked at me.  "Besides, I favor another theory."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah.  I prefer to think we broke the fucking machine altogether."

"You would."

He grinned.

"Lach, be serious.  We were given a choice.  We made it.  We're out."

"Thank Christ.... except some poor other bastard Lachie's on the merry-go-round now, isn't he, love?"

He threw himself back on the pillows.  I decided to shelve the conversation for a while.  He wasn't much in the mood to talk and I wanted all thrusters firing if and when I asked him the question that had been niggling at me recently.  If there was a different Lach there now, with no memory of us, and we could see that now from the outside looking in.... it made me wonder about our time there.  Was anyone looking in at us wondering why we didn't remember them?  Surely, we can't be the first to leave Dea's Eden?  Pretty arrogant thought to think we might be.  Besides, I rather like the idea of others gaining first awareness and then freedom, just as we did.

But then again, the flip side is also true.  There's always a first time for everything.  Maybe we really were the first.  Maybe our departure changed enough variables that no matter what she did, her game would never be the same again.

It makes my head hurt.  It makes my heart hurt.  Dean.  How I despair that he won't have a part in Tristan's life.  In my life.  And I cannot tell you how desperately I wish I could call through time and space to whisper into his ear that fate has not robbed this Dino of his Gen.  They are together, in love and life.

I wish I could tell him a lot of things, actually.  This journey we've been on... it's almost amusing in a sad sort of way.  Like when you leave home that first time, bound for college and you look back and think, wow, what a kid I was in high school.... All the while feeling like and adult... and then in the blink of an eye you graduate and you look back and think the very same thing about your college years.  Sometimes I wonder if all of life is going to be a series of those sorts of moments, looking back at various points along the way and realizing how very much you didn't know.  Sometimes I think growing up is just the simple realization that we never stop growing.   

We struggled.  We grew.  We moved on.  There is always that lingering sense of nostalgia for those bygone times, and yet it is coupled with the sense that the growing pains we are suffering as things change are preferable to stepping back to a time when we were less aware.  Like those points along the path.  In college, did you ever really look back and wish you were in high school again?  If you don't continue to grow, what choice is there but to sink back into the mire and stagnate?     

This journey we've chosen... I think about it a lot these days.  Growing pains.  We have them in spades in this place.  The real world.  No safety net.  No free ride.  No free love.  No deity to succor us.  No magic wand to wave to make everything okay.  We came here with nothing.  We are poor.  Hungry.  Lach's options are limited.  He flew planes for nearly twenty years.  No record of that exists.  Nor does anyone who can conjure one that will past the scrutiny pilots are subjected to here in the real world, where terrorist threats abound and planes are used as bombs.  We live hand to mouth, struggling to find the money for new training.  New certifications.  New licenses.  A new chance at life where the only fate is the one we make for ourselves.

Is it hard?  You bet your boots it is.  Is it worth it?  

Absolutely.                

[May 9, 2004  Nicaragua]

LACHLAN

I charged out of that hotel room and took a knock back straight away.  Terry shoved me back in and slammed the door.  It set Tristan off.  He screwed up his face and screamed.  God, that sound sets my nerves on edge.... as if they weren't already there.  Heather jiggled him trying to get him to settle while Terry laid it on the line.  Nicaragua.  The coming extraction. 

He didn't give details.  That rang bells for me.  It meant whatever shit we were in, he didn't want the women to know how bad it really was.  I cursed under my breath.  Christ, Dea had dropped us all in it this time, hadn't she?  I had the urge to wring her neck.  Be careful what you wish for, hey?  Bet she loves watching us twist, agonizing over the very thing we said we wanted.  Bitch. 

I cursed again as he broke the news to us about his partner.  This Dino didn't know us from Adam.  Fucking perfect.  And now Heather was crying too.  She cried harder when Terry told us about Gen.  I tried to comfort her.  She just held Tristan tighter and waved me away.  She was happy for him.  Just overwhelmed.  I knew exactly how she felt. 

The entire convo with Terry lasted maybe three minutes.  It began with a briefing on the current situation worthy of his best K and R whitewashed bullshit and ended with a harsh whisper to me just before he opened the door. 

"Keep your fucking mouth shut and follow my lead, you got that?"  I nodded.  It had been a long time, but I haven't forgotten how to be a wingman.  And I had the feeling that however much he appeared to have the situation in hand, Terry Thorne was a man who needed all the support he could get.

The entire dog and pony show we put on for Dino went as well as could be expected.  I think we offended him.  God knows, I'd have been if my mates had attempted to give me the crap story we gave him.  It got better- and worse- from there, just like I thought it would.  We shared a few brief joyful moments before reality set in.  Terry and Dino had a job to do.  I needed to get the girls and the wee ones to safety.  There was a bit of a rally all around as we found a few personal mementos and our passports.  Well, they found mementos.  I just had the passport.  Strange?  Not really.  Just another reminder of how bloody much I owe her.  Dea.  How like a woman to get in every last little dig she can.

The evening wound down not long after.  I think it was a long night for all of us, each of us eaten up by our own worst fears.  Worried about the babies.  Each other.  The mission.  The future.  I felt anxiety.  And urgency.  And this feeling of impotency.  The only thing worse than being on the eve of battle is being on the eve of battle and knowing you'll not be joining the fight.  I'm not stupid enough to imagine I could do a bloody thing to help either of them in this situation.... but it didn't keep me from wanting to.

To be sure, the wild blood coursing through this vital, young body didn't help matters.  It was like a drug.  It felt as invincible as it did that day I jumped out on the tarmac back in Manitoba, ready to take on the whole flaming world.  Cocksure and vibrant with that zeal - that fire - that burns so brightly in young men.  My rational mind knew better, of course.  But that awareness still didn't make the feeling go away.

But under it all, under every one of those conflicting emotions was this deep seated worry that I'd nearly voiced earlier.  I may feel like a boy again, but this old soldier knows the score.  It's possible, probable even, that something will happen to Terry.  And if it does, the care of his two girls will fall to me.  A man with no money.  No job.  No license.  No way of supporting my own family, much less his.  I wouldn't hesitate to take them in for even one second.  I love them both.  They are my family.....  I can't let them down.  Not now.  Not ever. 

And for the first time since I was a mayfly falling back to earth in a burning plane, I felt fear.

It was a difficult night for many reasons, not the least of which being anxiety over what the next sunrise would bring.  Heather and I spoke quietly while I watched her settle us for the night.  There was a familiar comfort in it.  After our time in Italy, we were used to the confines of a small room and it was easy to fall back into a similar routine.  Sharing a toothbrush, a towel, a cup....  She fed Tristan and bathed him.  While she showered, I cuddled his warm little body close, playing with his toes and fingers and breathing in his sweet milky smell as his heavy eyes blinked and finally closed. 

I wished I could settle as easily.

But when she took him from me, even the soft lilt of the lullaby she crooned to him as she rocked him didn't soothe me, didn't slow the racing of my mind.  Or the blood in my veins.  She brought him close so I could kiss his little head goodnight.  The scent of her clean warm flesh gave me an erection.

A heavy warmth flooded my groin as I watched her.  It was as confusing as the feeling of being and old man back in a young man's body.  Our son suckled from her naked breast.  I wasn't sure if the sight aroused me, comforted me or confused me.  Maybe some part of all of those things as the swirl of sexuality and motherhood kept hitting these different triggers inside me.  I felt comfort at the sight of my woman cradling our child.  With it was twined an overwhelming urge to protect and provide for them both until the end of my days. 

I also felt a man's desire as I looked upon her naked body.  The realistic part of me was aware it hadn't yet been a week since the birth of our child.  A smaller, more selfish part couldn't silence that little voice.  The one that kept reminding me the portal had healed her as she passed through.  She was as hale as ever.  Not that I would ever even think of asking....

Though she craved physical intimacy with me, she had not yet expressed any desire to resume our intimate relations.  She touched me often during the day and curled into my body at night.  She frequently slept with her hand resting atop my groin and her fingertips tangled in my coarse curls, yet it was not a sexual touch, or at least not one designed to arouse. 

She caught my eye and smiled at me as I attempted to shift my embarrassment into a less obtrusive position (as if that was bloody possible).  There was no hint of invitation in her eyes, merely the somewhat amused look of a woman with intimate knowledge of her man's body.  The look that always seems like some blend of pity and wry humor that we men find ourselves at the mercy of our body's natural, visible response. 

For some reason, it annoyed me tonight.  Probably because it wasn't release I wanted from her, but the peace that came with losing myself in her body.  I needed that more than ever with the uncertainty of our future weighing so heavily upon me.  The wild surging in my blood only underscored that need.  Made it more difficult to ignore.  The cold shower I took just before I slipped into bed with them had the desired effect on my impressive blood rush, but had done little to quell the warmth within. 

We spoke softly in the darkness.  I didn't tell her exactly how worried I was about the future, but I think she had me sussed.  Knew I was upset.  Fidgety.  Couldn't settle.  Didn't really want to talk.  What I really wanted was to lose myself in her- but I couldn't.  I wound up shifting about uncomfortably instead.  That feeling that was eating at me that I couldn't put into words.... it leaked out in the physical, as it always does.  I found myself touching her intimately, in a way that is usually a prelude to lovemaking.  I hadn't realized I was doing it at first.  She sure had, though. 

And it made her uncomfortable.  She stiffened in my arms.  Not a harsh refusal of my advances exactly, more like she was steeling herself.  I think she read something more predatory into it that I had intended.... when it was really nothing more than just my natural spirit.  I am a physical man by nature.  I knew she wasn't ready.  Not emotionally anyway.  And I don't bloody blame her one little bit, even if it did smart.  No man likes to feel rejected.  Especially not when he's got the weight of two families on his shoulders. 

"Lach..."  It was half warning, half something else.  This feeling like she wanted to help ease me but wasn't quite ready.  And I hadn't the slightest clue when she would be.  The world of post-delivery women wasn't exactly something men from my time were familiar with.  I had no notion of what was expected of me, so I reckoned going at her pace was probably the best way to go about it.  

I turned over, my back to them both, and gently shrugged off the hand that was softly stroking my shoulder.  "Go to sleep, Blue."

She didn't.  But then, I really didn't expect her to.  I didn't expect what she did next, however.  I heard her settling Tristan, moving him from between our bodies to the bed we'd made for him.  She was aghast at first when I suggested it- using a drawer from the dresser as a makeshift bed.  Not so strange to me, though.  I grew up on tales of how Mum and Dad had done the same with Angus when he was a babe and they were a young, struggling couple paying off the debt Dad owed for his medical schooling as he was just starting out his practice. 

Tristan liked it though, whatever she thought.  Cooed at me when I set him in it, despite her fears.  He was wrapped up, warm and safe.  Cozy and snug.  I wished I had a place like that, to tell the truth.  Well, I recon I do.  She just need a bit of time first. 

In any case, I heard her tuck him in and whisper over him.  A goodnight?  Prayers?  Maybe both.  And then she snuggled up to my back.  I felt the rise and fall of her chest and the soft warm tickle of her breath as she exhaled.  Still, I couldn't relax.  And then she put her arm over me and caught my hand in hers.  For as much as I appreciated the gesture, it wasn't helping.  It only wound me up further as my body reacted to her touch and scent by growing thicker and longer and harder until I could feel my heartbeat between my legs and hear the blood roaring in my ears. 

And then she did something that surprised me.  

She took my hand and wrapped it round my cock, curling her fingers over mine and encouraging me to move, to take my pleasure lying together with her that way.  I am ashamed to say I didn't even make a token protest.  We had loved this way many times after a pan bath back in Italy when she was too far along for us to do anything more.  Tristan was in a little makeshift bed beside ours now, but it felt much as it had when we'd loved with him between our bodies.  He was still somehow part of this incredible thing we were to each other.  I knew as he grew that would change, but for now, I was strangely comfortable with the idea of him so close by.  We were covered and quiet.  What did he care?  He is small, but I am convinced if he can sense fear that he can also sense love.  And that it settles him in much the same way as it settles me.   

He slept on unaware.

She pressed in closer to my back as I slowly began to pull my skin back and forth.  Her hand rode on mine for a moment and then ghosted across my tip, spreading the moisture seeping from the slit before she reached lower to cradle my scrotum in her palm.  For a while, we fondled in tandem until I couldn't stand it any longer, all the while listening to her soft whispers in my ear.  Caressing my sac in her gentle fingers as she thanked me for the life of our son and told me how strong and fine and big my cock was.  How much she loved to touch it and to feel me touch it. 

She told me other things too, things that are for me and me alone.  Things I needed to hear so I wouldn't falter under the burden of what I was expected to shoulder in the morning.  And in the months and years to come if Terry died. 

It was gentle at first, long strokes, manipulating the skin and pulling it back and forth over the head.  More showing off a bit for her than anything.  But in the end, it's never gentle.  At least not for a man.  We need motion, friction, as we chase after our pleasure.  I stroked harder.  Rougher.  Gently rocking us both- and the bed as well, a motion she later told me she'd found intensely relaxing.  I bit my lip as my pleasure rose, staring out at the night with unseeing eyes as it crested and I spilled myself into her hand with a soft grunt I couldn't quite swallow down.

At the edge of my consciousness I heard my small son, woken by the gentle rocking, and I smiled.  In that moment, our quiet snaffling sounded much the same to my ears.  Mine was deeper and more raspy, but both held that same note of helpless vulnerability.  I was exhausted, but even in those boneless moments, a man can't quite keep from protecting himself.  I was too sensitive to endure more stimulation and I locked our fingers around my spent flesh, enjoying the way it felt as the last weak pulses made my seed trickle out and run over her fingers. 

As the moment of exquisite tenderness passed, I let her hand go and slumped into the mattress as all the tension in my body melted away.  I felt her smile as she kissed my naked shoulder and then I rolled to my back, cradling her against me.

She stroked me then, her palm and fingers wet and slippery with the proof of my desire.  I heard it as well as smelled it, that earthy aroma of a man's pleasure.  It felt lush.  Decadent.  I'd marked us both with my scent and that appealed to some instinctively masculine part of me.  But more importantly, I'd found in her the peace I so desperately needed.

The morning was worse than I imagined.  Terry pulled me aside and thrust something into my hands at the last moment.  It was accompanied by a rough whisper.  There is a good chance I won't make it, mate.  Do you realize this?  I nodded and looked down.  In my hands were his credit cards.  Learn to sign my name.  You look enough like me.  Clear out my accounts before anyone catches on.  I felt the cold sickening lump of reality sitting in my stomach like a stone as he spared his girls a quick glance.  Look after them.  Tell them-  he stopped short, aware the eyes of the others were on us now and he was unwilling - or unable- to say more without giving away the game.

I didn't say much.  Just squeezed his shoulder and told him I'd take care of everything, though I had no early idea how I'd accomplish it.  I'd been in similar positions many times over the years.  Carried and mailed many letters to families of men who flew under my command and didn't make it home.  They would catch me gearing up and thrust their letters into my hands with downcast eyes and a:  Lt..... make sure my family gets this, hey?  Or:  Sir, my girl's waiting on me back home.... can you see this makes it to her if anything happens.....  I always did it.  Even as I pressed a letter to my Mum in the hands of my own CO. 

And so it goes, hey?    

I pocketed the cards and hoped to Christ I wouldn't need to use them.  As it turns out, I didn't.  Thank the Lord.  They returned safe and sound, if a little worse for the wear.  But it was a humbling experience, not just to listen to a man's last words of concern for his family, but to have to rely on another man's finances to make your way in the world.  And it lit a fire under me like nothing else to make sure I could provide for my family.

I would find a way forward in this new world.  

I would sail the full length of this new, wild river.  

Or I would die trying.