ATOP Chapter Fifty-Four

"Guten morgen, mein freundin!" Mickey hollered as he came barreling across the yard at an almost terrifying speed. Rebekah ducked as he raced past, unable to stop himself, and covered her mouth to hide her laughter as he crash-landed on the front steps. 

"Your confidence does you credit," she arched an eyebrow as he lay on the steps and moaned for a moment. "What makes you think I am your friend?"

"Wishful thinking?" he whisper-groaned up at her, opening one eye. "Any chance sympathy would change anything? Y'see... here I lie dying at your feet..."

"I would rather you did not finish that statement," Rebekah stooped to grab his wrists and dragged him up again. "Oy vey, dummkopf, stand on your own feet and try to act like a... well... what are you? You are not a man yet, are you?" She looked at him skeptically. 

"I can be anything you want me to be," he snapped out of the dying attitude and offered a gallant bow... although it was somewhat graceless owing to the fact that she was still gripping both of his arms. "Milady."

"Ach, stop it," she dropped his arms and stepped back. "What are you doing here so early in the morning?"

"Simple," he grinned. "I have come to see my brother off. Tis a grand, grand honor he is receiving, and I mean to see he has a proper send-off."

"Michael James Stewart..." Rebekah hissed his name and her eyes narrowed. He snapped to attention and gave her a mock salute, not understanding or else ignoring the deadly seriousness of her tone. She stepped closer again, so close that he suddenly felt every last bit of his bravado draining from his body. Her face was only mere inches away from his... he was trembling all over. She seized his collar, dragged him to her level, and half-shook him. "Do you know what war is?"

"I... I..." he stammered, suddenly terrified. He couldn't begin to imagine where she was going with this, but that look on her face... it scared the wits right out of him.

"Because if you think there is even one bit of glory in it..." she paused, and in the deathlike stillness that followed, Mickey could have sworn he heard his heart beating. "I hope that one day you will know the truth. I hope that one day you will see war, will experience it, will feel in the very depths of your being the pain, the suffering, the horror, the evil that is war. It is hell on earth." 

She released his collar with a violent wrench and before he realized he was free, her hand fell heavily against his cheek, so hard it seemed that sparks exploded before his eyes. And when they cleared... Rebekah was gone.

♡♡♡

Ronnie stared at the crowd gathered in the room and his face went whiter still. Rachel gripped his arm, offering as encouraging of a smile as she could muster up when he glanced down at her.

"You look so handsome in your uniform," she whispered and he laughed humorlessly.

"Never thought I'd have to wear it again..."

"Just this once, dear heart, and then never again," she squeezed his hand and he smiled faintly. "Remember... all the people who worked so hard to get you this medal... do not disappoint them."

"They needn't have bothered..." Ronnie began, but his voice trailed off. An middle-aged man with graying hair and kind eyes was pushing his way through the crowd. He wore the dress uniform of an Army captain and his chest was covered with medals... campaign patches and purple hearts and silver stars. He stood in front of Ronnie, gazing steadily at him in silence for a long, long moment before holding out his hand in a quiet gesture. Ronnie took it and the captain smiled.

"Well done, my son," he murmured. "I thank God for bringing you safely home. A just reward for your hard work."

"C-Captain..." Ronnie stammered. "I..." he paused, his eyes passing swiftly through shades of darkening grays. Rachel bit her lip nervously. "My wife," he said at last. "Rachel Stewart."

"Pleased to meet you, my dear," the Captain smiled warmly and shook Rachel's hand, offering a little bow as he did so. "You must be the lady Ronnie told me about."

"Did he?" Rachel brightened. 

"He always said he would find you again, no matter how long it took. I am thankful it didn't take too long." He laughed then. "I am sorry, allow me to introduce myself... Captain Reginald Phillips... I don't think I ever did tell my name, did I, Lieutenant Stewart?"

"Names weren't all that important where we were," Ronnie shrugged. His eyes looked almost black. Rachel clung to his arm, praying silently.

"We only have a few moments before the ceremony..." the Captain added. "I have something for you... a letter from an old friend..." He passed over a sealed envelope. "I'll see you afterwards, perhaps?"

Ronnie tore the envelope open and withdrew a single sheet of paper, covered over with a stiff, cramped handwriting.

Lieutenant Stewart,

I decided it would be best if I didn't show up at the awards ceremony. Now that I know what happened after I escaped... I don't even know what to say. Except that I'm sorry. Awful sorry. After all you did for us, it was rotten of me... but I... I just got scared... and I lost my head. Didn't think what I was doing. I heard the gunshot, glanced back just in time to see them dragging you off and then I turned and ran so fast I thought my lungs were gonna bust. Someone shot at me again... got me in the right arm... but I managed to get back to American lines... how, I don't even know. Was awful sick for days. Soon as I could think again, I prayed for you and hoped you hadn't come to any harm because of me. I don't even know how to say how sorry I am, just that... well, I'm glad you're getting this medal and glad I had a small part in it... as in signing the eyewitness account, that is. But I know... I know it doesn't begin to make up for what happened. Not even going to ask for your forgiveness. But thank you... for all you did to help us... more than I can say... and may God bless you abundantly enough to make up for the horrors of that war.

Gregory Norris

                                                                ♡♡♡

The ceremony passed in a blur... Rachel remembered it afterwards as little more than a clash of sound and color... all she really saw were Ronnie's dark eyes, and her heart ached for him. She didn't remember meeting the President, didn't remember as the list of Ronnie's actions during the war were read for the world to hear... but she remembered the look on his face as the medal was fastened around his neck... and she remembered how he reached out to squeeze her hand with a desperate movement. 

That awful gray never left his eyes... not at the banquet afterwards, nor the train ride home... 

And when they stepped off the train in Jefferson to the unexpected sound of a brass band, the first thing she saw was a giant banner strung across the front of the station...

WELCOME HOME, LIEUTENANT STEWART