Warning #2: Again, this story alludes to a homosexual relationship. In future parts, graphic sexual content will be written, so don't get hooked now if you don't like that kind of stuff. Anyone who is offended by this should turn back now. I have no need for your flames telling me that Leo and Cole are straight. I really don't care if they're straight, gay, or dendropheliacs. This is fiction, and we'll leave it at that.
Torn
Part 2
Leo sat upright in his cot, sweat dripping down is scarred back. He reached around to rub his aching muscles and wiped away the perspiration with his shirt. He groaned and rolled back onto his side, staring at the new bunkmate that they had assigned him after Brian had died. The young man, who looked about twelve but passed himself off as nineteen, was snoring lightly as he laid on his back dressed solely in his skivvies. Leo turned away from the half-naked boy and picked up the pen and paper that were lying on the crate that he used as a table. He let out an audible sniffle as he began writing.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Hodges,
My name is Leo Wyatt, and I knew your son very well during our time together in the forty-eighth platoon. He was a great soldier, dedicated and strong, and I think that was what helped me to see how much I loved Brian. He was more than just my best friend, he was my confidant and my partner. He was a wonderful man, honest and kind to everyone here. We all took such pride in knowing that Brian was part of our little family, and it shook us all when he was killed just a week ago. I wanted to tell you that he died valiantly, with honor and grace that made me weep. When I saw him lying on the ground, I tried to help him, but he told me to go and help the others. He gave up his chance at survival so others might have that chance, and I admire him for it. I wish that I could have another shot at knowing him, or that I could just see his smiling face one more time, but I know that he would rather have died a hero, than have lived a coward. Please know that I loved Brian with all my heart and soul, and that I share deeply in your loss. Hopefully, if I make it home, I will be able to visit you to honor Brian's memory.
Faithfully Yours,
Leo Wyatt
Leo read the letter over and over, his fingers tightening on the edges each time. Finally, as the ink wore away from the salty tears that dripped onto the paper, Leo tore it up and heaved the pieces to the ground, grinding them into the dirt with the heel of his foot. He threw himself back onto his cot and curled into a ball, covering his head as he cried himself to sleep.
***
Cole had shimmered from the room not twenty minutes after Proxi had left, trying to figure out whether he was more angry or upset that his lover had left him. He had ended up just a hundred yards from the American base camp, and watched the guards pace the ramparts from the bushes where he crouched. He snapped his fingers quietly, and instantly his German army uniform transformed into a US military wardrobe, complete with the old rusted Glock 9 millimeter. He took one hand and dragged it along his chest, leaving behind a thick trail of blood where before there had been none, then wiped his palm across his face. The once blue eyes became deep, dark pools of brown, and his once squared jawline smoothed out with a single wave of his hand. He enjoyed the feeling of the changes his face was taking, his century-old bones grinding and molding like fresh clay. Once they were done with their transformations, he flung himself from the bushes, landing in a heap on the ground. He groaned loudly, drawing the attention of the guards on the barricades. They pointed their guns and called for him to stay where he was, but as soon as they saw the American uniform, they let the weapons fall, and ran out to him. He continued to moan fakely as they dragged him into the compound and toward the medical tent. He looked around, taking in the surroundings before they enclosed him in a white tent. He lay there pitifully as they bandaged the burn he had made on his chest. No one asked questions, saving them for a time when their patient could say something other than, "Oh" or "Arg".
A few hours later, Cole was alone in the tent, pacing, and wondering what tactic he should use to get the information he needed. He wasn't really in the mood to be nice. Instead, he felt as though he could torture one of the soldiers until he released the information. There was nothing more satisfying (except maybe a warm bath with your significant other) than seeing a grown man squirm beneath your hand, and Cole was in exactly the making-people-squirm kind of mood. Proxi had stuck by his word and returned early that morning while Cole was in a meeting with his commander. When he returned to his suite, there was a note on what used to be his pillow, now a steaming pile of ash and feathers. The letter read simply, "I hate you, you bastard. May the Source send you to his dungeons to rot in an eternal sunny day with birds twittering in your ears and children laughing all around you. The only torture more severe than that is what you have done to me." Cole had remained miffed for all of fifteen minutes before letting go of his anger to focus on more up-to-date issues.
The soldiers would be in to check on him soon, perhaps bringing with them a round of questions that he may or may not be able to answer. Instead of lying, and making up the information, he could avoid it all together and claim to have amnesia from a blow to the head. They would believe that, these stupid, gullible Americans who wasted their energies on pathetic thoughts of freedom and independence.  He grunted in disdain as he sat back down on the low cot, and lifted his feet up over the side. Once he laid back down, he made himself comfortable and waited, hoping that the enlistee who they sent to interview the poor confused battle victim was a succulent as so many that had passed by his tent were.
His wait wasn't long, no more than twenty minutes or so, before an older gentleman staggered into his tent, carrying a nearly empty bottle of German Peppermint Schnapps. "Ahhh..." he sighed as he glimpsed Cole laying half naked on the makeshift bed. "You can't shtand the heat either, eh boy? Back in Looshiana, we had hundred degree weather all shummer long. *Hick*!" The man hiccuped into the bottle as he drained the last bit in one long mouthful. "You boysh around here have no 'preciation for the shmaller thingsh in life. Like the other day. One private complained about the cock-a-roach he found in his food. I told him, 'Eat it up, shon! Lot'sh a protein in cock-a-roachesh!"
Cole laughed at the soldier's unfunny joke, trying to determine whether this drunken man, the second he'd had to deal with in a fortnight, was in a position to tell him something of value. "Absolutely, sir," he said in the best English accent he could muster at the moment. After four years of nothing but German Nazis speaking bad German and worse English, Cole had a hard time hiding his thickly developed speech impediment. "Cockroaches are good for the soul, sir."
"That?sh a boy!" The officer said, swinging the bottle over his head. The foul-smelling liquid splashed out onto his not-so pristine uniform, but he hardly noticed. "I shwear, kidsh theshe daysh have no 'preciation for authority. I mean, here I am, a general, and shtill theshe boot-camp rejectsh get thrusht into under my command. Gawd, I hate the military."
Cole sighed and sat up on the cot, letting the thin sheet that he had been issued slide down his chest and ball up in his lap. "Absolutely, General, sir. No respect at all... You seem a little tense, sir. Might I ask why?"
The drunk plopped himself down on the cot next to the demon and heaved, his breath reeking of alcohol and peppermints. "Shon, I'm just one beat old man. The ranksh have been depleted along the coasht, and here we've losht a third of our forcesh. Our tanksh are in shamblesh, and our ammunition is lower than it wush when we shtarted thish God-forsaken war. The Germansh have no idea where we are, thank God, and I can only hope that nothing happensh before the next boat-load of troopsh landsh in a week. I don't know if we'd shurvive another attack."
Cole nodded, massaging the General's stiff shoulders with one hand. "Why don?t you just lie down here, sir... yeah, why don't you just sleep while I..." Cole let the passed out officer fall onto the cot as he got to his feet and reclaimed his clothes from the crate. "Sleep well, sir. Sleep well..." He kissed the man on the forehead, mocking him as he slept, then shimmered away.
***
Leo trembled with the ground as another shell shocked the earth. He turned his head as a spray of dirt showered him, along with the occasional dismembered limb. He coughed as he sucked down another mouthful of dust, then began his ascent again up the side of the trench wall.
The attack had come at night, while the encampment had been asleep and the guards were napping at their posts. His new bunkmate had shaken him awake just as the first round of mortar fire and struck a hundred yards off. Somehow the Germans had been informed of their whereabouts, and once again they were trapped in a losing battle. Leo had thrown on his jacket and boots, only to realize that he had forgotten his pants. Cursing himself, he had dashed from the tent in his boxers, unabashed as the other men in his regiment did the same. He gulped and managed to find his way to the medical tent just as the first wave of wounded soldiers found their way off the field and into his domain. He bandaged and wrapped, cleansed and sewed, even hacked away at the severed limbs of his comrades as they cried out to him in pain. Every so often he looked up, watching another man writhe in agony as he died without seeing a friendly face holding his hand.
"I have to go out there!" he cried to the assistant at his side. "They need me! Just take care of them!" He ran from the tent, his satchel at his hip, darting out into the fray.
***
Cole watched from his perch on top of a rusting tank that had found its final resting place on a hill about half a mile from the battle below. He heard the chaotic screams, the painful moans, the shouted orders, and the anguish that he had created after he had returned to headquarters. He smiled
This is good, he thought. This is very good. Germany has the upper hand, and I have enough pain to feed me for the next twenty years... Cole grinned and shimmered closer to the front lines, careful not to reappear in the line of fire. He hid behind a grove of trees a ways away from the farthest shell, soaking up the screams of agony that assaulted his ears. There were men running around in their underwear, toting guns around their shoulders and rounds of ammunition dangling from their waists. It was all oddly arousing, this chaotic riot that took place in front of his eyes, and he adjusted his pants so as to accommodate the heat that was growing between his legs.
He heard a jet engine above his head, and he looked up in time to see a single American fighter soaring in to save what was left of the scattered soldiers. A German tank rumbled past him on its way back to the base. He gulped loudly as the American aircraft opened it's payload doors and a large, pointed object was lowered into the sky. It circled back, almost hovering above the helpless machine before it dropped the explosive from beneath it's belly. Cole dashed from his hiding spot, out onto the field, trying to avoid the blast that knocked him to the earth a few seconds later. His back screamed with pain as metal shards whistled through the air and lodged in his back. He cried out in pain as he fell to his knees, seeing white flashes before him as his vision clouded and he passed out.
***
"Anyone need a medic?!" Leo cried over the sudden eruption of metal from the savior plane that flew above. "Hello?!"
"Unnhhh."
He snapped his head toward the wreckage of the once immaculate German tank, seeing a hand rise shakily up from over a small ridge. He rushed over, covering his face to avoid the smoke screen that the remnant was producing, and bent over the blackened man. He gasped loudly as he saw the swastika that was printed on his arm, singed and torn from the explosion. He hesitated in reaching for his supplies. If I just leave him then no one will ever know. He could've been thrown from the tank and died? no one has to know... Leo paused his thoughts as the man in the German officer's uniform grunted a plea in English.
"Please..."
Leo gulped. I'll know. I have to help him. He inspected the man's wounds, seeing the deeply set shards of hot metal that scoured his back, and lifted him gently. "I'm taking you to base camp. I can get you better help there." He let the dead weight drop heavily on his back, feeling the soldier's light breathing on the back of his neck. He heaved and took a few slow steps out, making sure that there were no more tanks or soldiers in the area. Glad to see that all had dissipated, he walked faster the last two hundred yards back to the medical tent. The few men who had remained standing and who were unhurt sneered at him and cursed the injured man that was draped across his shoulders. Leo pushed their jeers from his mind as he entered the tent, unsure of how his general who take the news.
***
The ground spun as Cole felt himself being lifted. He groaned as he was carelessly flung over a strong shoulder and carried through a sea of angry faces. He couldn't make out any of them, and was grateful that none of them were attacking him yet. He knew that he didn't have the strength to shimmer, so he allowed himself to be hauled into a small tent surrounded by more perturbed people. One man, a young blonde American with eyes like a stormy ocean, peered down at him gently.
"It's going to be all right. You're safe here, we'll take care of you..."
You'll take care of me all right, Cole thought incoherently. You'll overdose me on morphine or shoot me in my sleep... He grimaced as the pain returned and spots flashed in his eyes. The man who had saved him gripped his hand, easing the agony in his body with his tender touch. He looked up, his vision failing him, in time to see the handsome American soldier smiling down at him.
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