The Imp divisions around their position were obliterated. Intelligence gathered by scouts painted a picture that made it clear the last assault the enemy had launched was all the Imp army had left, every reserve thrown into the fight. Even if the bombers hadn't come into to decimate what remained, and even if the Imps had been able to overrun the position, it would have been a largely Pyrrhic victory. They would have been unable to exploit the situation and move, in force, against Denver.

Willow let the medic patch up a few of her scratches only after all the other wounded had been seen to. What was left of her brigade was frighteningly undersized. She'd lost two hundred dead and hundreds more wounded. With no hope of reinforcement for weeks or months, the brigade was only marginally combat effective. Thankfully, the two divisions in the area were not backed by another force further back, the majority of Imp divisions still committed to the east trying to defend a strong push by the Free Americans to take back the Colorado.

While that fight was up in the air, Willow knew she needed to rest her troops. She'd requested redeployment to the city and was given the order to hold her position a few days then fall back through the lines of two battalions being sent from Denver to hold the ridge in their place. Willow hadn't asked why those battalions couldn't have been sent to reinforce her during the fight, but she understood that there were thousands of civilians and valuable infrastructure in the city which could not be left without defense, and she recognized the good sense decision to maintain those troops in case the Imps had gotten through the mountains and prepared to assault Denver.

If she'd failed on the ridge, an assault into Denver would have been easy, though not without seriously being contested. There were almost three divisions in and around the city, substantial artillery and air power available as well. However, the assault, if it had happened, would have forced a withdrawal of forces fighting along the Colorado, and it would have weakened the push to secure the resources to the south. Willow hated the cost, but she had to feel somewhat proud to know how vital her soldiers were to protecting their loved ones and their city.

Willow had no real connection to Denver. It was just where she ended up when the Patriots began to form and organize. It could have been anywhere, really, but Denver had become the seat of the Free American government and a center of what was left of western US civilization. She couldn't accept calling it the United States, no matter what the politicians in Denver said publicly. The land controlled was tiny compared to the much larger territory to the east and seated in Chicago. And the political system put in place still suffered from deficiencies of civil rights and democracy which left it in the hands of autocrats and ideologues.

If the fighting ever ended, or if Willow found the time to leave the right one, she began to think more and more to going east and, maybe, following her father back to the Appalachian mountains. She'd grown up in the Badlands of Montana, and Willow had always loved the rugged, rural lifestyle. Even when she'd known conveniences and comforts, she'd felt at home camping and hunting and living her teen years more interested in learning how to cook game than chasing boys. The way her father had described his life, even when it sounded lonely and isolated, made her long for simpler days ahead.

- - -

“Hey, Sweatheart.” Hitch stood over her bed as she opened her eyes slowly. It had been almost three weeks since he'd seen Kieu-Linh, and for several days, he wasn't sure if she had survived. He finally tracked her down, thanks to Willow, in a hospital near the Patriot headquarters in Denver. “How are you feeling?”

The doctors had told him that while Kieu-Linh was stable and recovering, she had had an infection which had been aggressive and had left her weak. While she had beaten the infection, it would be days more before she would be able to leave.

She smiled up at him, delight blossoming in her eyes. “James! Oh, James! Oh! Hold me!” Her arms raised up, weak, towards his body. He leaned over the bed and wrapped his own around her back, pulling her up against him. Kieu-Linh groaned in mild discomfort, but she held onto him tight and wouldn't let go.

They kissed deeply and shared a moment of intense relief together. “I've missed you so much, Linh... God, I've missed you.”

She smiled again. “I know. I tried to get someone to send a message to you, to tell you I was okay, but I don't know if it got to you.”

He shook his head. “I just found out you were here this morning. I've been trying to track you down for days. We got back in the City over a week ago, but so many people have been wounded in the fighting, the whole system is overwhelmed and chaotic. Not surprised that I didn't get your message. But, I'm so, so glad to find you.”

“Tell me everything!” she said, sitting up slightly.

Hitch told her that they'd stayed on the ridge a few days, and while there had been a few minor skirmishes between patrols and Imps too stubborn to give up and retreat, there had been little left of the Empire's forces in the area. They'd been relieved by divisions moving up from Denver and passed through their lines, returning to the city and being assigned to rest and refit for a few weeks.

The battle for the Colorado had stalled out after the Free American divisions had taken most of its length. Casualties had prevented them from following up and pushing the Imps back further, but a planned offensive in the coming weeks was likely to renew that fight, and Hitch told her he wouldn't be surprised if the Patriot brigade was finally absorbed into the main army and sent to fight there.

“Will you go?” Kieu-Linh asked.

“I... I don't know...” Hitch had been turning his thoughts for some time. He'd given everything as a Marine, again with the Turtletown Patriots. Even after swearing The War was behind him, he'd fought in the Rockies, mostly because Willow needed his help. But he didn't want to keep fighting. He hated that he'd risked his life in a fight not really his own, and worse, he'd seen Kieu-Linh risk hers countless times because of him. “I haven't decided. They promoted me to full bird Colonel after the battle and made me Willow's new XO, though there's talk of having me take over a regiment or brigade of my own.” He paused, then said, “Officially, I'd be going AWOL if I didn't deploy with my unit, but... I don't know, Linh. I just don't know.”

“I'm going where you're going, you know that. I don't... I don't want to fight again... but I'd do it for you.”

“I know,” he wanted to change the subject, not yet clear in his own thinking. “Someone else is here to see you. You've earned something you should be proud of. Be right back.”

He went out of the room, Kieu-Linh eyeing him suspiciously, and returned with Willow and her aide behind him.

- - -

“Hello, Sergeant. Good to see you recovering,” Willow said, unable to stop the smile on her face from spreading. She'd worried so much for her father when they couldn't find out where Kieu-Linh had been taken. Her condition had been stable in the field, but far from certain longer term. The thigh wound had been bad, and she'd seen lesser injuries kill more robust soldiers in the past.

“Colonel Hitchens! Ma'am!” Kieu-Linh saluted her with a smile.

Willow removed her cover and stepped up to the bed. “How have you been, Linh? This old guy bothering you?” she said, grinning at her father.

“Not bothering me enough,” Kieu-Linh said with a chuckle.

“I have something for you, Linh. Something you've earned beyond any doubt.” Her father had written up a recommendation for a Medal of Honor, but the system frowned on handing that out except in extraordinary circumstances and, more importantly, usually it was given posthumously. In fact, no MoH had been awarded to a living soldier in more than three years. Instead, she'd gotten approval for a Distinguished Service Cross, the next highest honor.

“Normally,” Willow explained, “you'd be in uniform, but right now, that's not possible. Instead, we're going to take you out into the courtyard a moment for this event.” She ushered in an orderly to wheel Kieu-Linh behind her, her father holding the teen's hand, Kieu-Linh asking curiously what was going on.

Outside, in the spacious courtyard lined with trees and large bushes, the surviving members of her father's First Battalion were in formation and looking sharp in their dress uniforms, some on crutches, others tenderly holding arms missing hands, or thighs with no calves or feet below, and there were more than a few wheelchairs. Willow could see the faces of the men and women before her light up, one by one, when they saw Kieu-Linh rolled in. “What is this?” the young woman asked as she sat up in her bed, clearly delighted to see the soldiers she'd served with during the tough weeks in the mountains.

Willow turned her back on the troops and faced Kieu-Linh, pulling a paper from her breast pocket. She began to read. “Sergeant Kieu-Linh Hitchens, for extraordinary bravery and for risking your life in the service of others during the Siege in the Rockies, you are hereby awarded the Distinguished Service Cross. During the battle, you displayed courage while in extreme danger and, on many occasions, risked your own life to defend your position and support your brothers and sisters in arms. During the assault on October 12th, you ran through voluminous rifle fire, machine gun fire, grenades, and mortars to deliver ammunition and supplies to platoons heavily engaging the enemy, and you brought back wounded soldiers from the front line under similar dangers.

“During the fight for the cut, you risked yourself repeatedly to run messages between the positions and effectively communicated with your superiors while being under fire throughout. At great risk to your own life, you rushed into an enemy position to pull back a wounded comrade, saving his life. Despite being seriously wounded during this rescue, you later refused evacuation in order to stay at your post, ensuring that you maintained unit cohesion and readiness throughout. Your commanding officer and his subordinates, together and individually, have affirmed your bravery and your decision-making, your actions performed under extreme conditions and with disregard of numerous injuries suffered during the battle. In short, your courage displayed does honor to you, to your battalion, and to your country.” She rolled up the commendation and pressed the medal into Kieu-Linh's, hands. “thank you, and congratulations, Sergeant.”

Cheers went up all around the courtyard as the battalion solders showed their support of the award. Willow shook Kieu-Linh's hand, the young woman clearly overwhelmed but keeping her face calm though clearly thrilled. “Thank you!”

“I've got a basketful of Purple Hearts for you, too. I'll see you get those sent to you.” She smiled at the young woman and said, “I have a meeting to attend, but I want you to know,” Willow said, nearing a whisper, “that I'm really proud of you, and... I'm really happy that you and my father are married. I know he's very proud of you, too.”

Willow stepped away and watched a moment as the men and women from First Battalion rushed up to congratulate Kieu-Linh. The young woman seemed overwhelmed. Willow watched her father a moment, and she could see the pride and love in his eyes. She'd meant what she said, and Willow had to turn quickly and head inside before her soldiers saw the tears forming in her eyes. Willow, too, was overwhelmed. It had been a long time since she had felt such a mix of joy and relief and satisfaction, and she spent many minutes, alone, in the bathroom, crying softly and trying to understand how much had changed for her since her father and Kieu-Linh had come to find her.

- - -

It had been four days before Kieu-Linh was cleared to leave and recuperate at home. As a Colonel, Hitch had been given a private residence, a townhouse a block from where they'd stayed with Captain Justice. He'd visited the woman once, expressing his gratitude and offering to return the favor in any way he could. Justice had waved away his offer and said that she was just glad he had been able to reconnect with his daughter.

He'd even started to draw a paycheck, an unfamiliar reward which he'd taken in credits, the unit of monetary value which was used in Denver and other Free American locations. He'd even received backpay for time spent in the mountains.

Kieu-Linh was able to walk with crutches, only gently putting weight on her wounded leg, but generally capable of doing so without assistance, so he opened the door and waited while she climbed inside.

“Nice place you got here, James,” she said, admiring the small but comfortable home he'd been given. “Show a girl to the toilet?”

He pointed to the small bathroom and set about to make a dinner of spaghetti, a dish they'd both enjoyed when staying with Captain Justice.

They ate quickly and then settled on the couch together as the weather outside grew cold in the early November of Denver.

“Sorry we didn't get to celebrate your birthday,” Hitch said, holding Kieu-Linh against him, not wanting to stop touching her skin. On her face, her neck, her shoulders, arms, and feet, her flesh was riddled with healing shrapnel wounds, some as small as a pinhead, others as long as her fingers. The larger wounds were still covered with bandages above her right eye and on her thigh and leg. Hitch was careful not to touch her forming scars. It made him very sad to see the damage done to his young wife. It made him angry. It also made him proud of her.

“I don't care,” Kieu-Linh replied, “we didn't celebrate yours, either. I'm just... so happy, James, to be here with you, now. The weeks we were apart... that was hard... even when they had me on drugs which made me loopy, I missed you terribly.”

“Believe me, I understand. I was going crazy with worry about you. I started to think I'd lost you...”

“You won't lose me, James. I'll always find you if you don't find me first.”

He smiled at her and kissed her cheek. “My sweet girl...”

“Woman,” she corrected him, “see?” she said, pulling the DSC medal out of her pocket, “could a girl have won this?” Kieu-Linh smiled up at him slyly.

Hitch shook his head and chuckled, “there are few people of any age who could have won that. You were something special, Linh. I mean that. And I should know, I've seen many men and women risk their lives in combat. I don't think I've seen anyone do it for so long and so many times and take so many risks like you did that night. That... was something impressive.”

“I did it for you. I wanted you to be proud of me, I guess, but... I also knew we needed to give everything to survive. You taught me that. I didn't really think about it at the time, the risk, that came later. I just... did what was needed, nothing more...”

“You did enough. More than enough. I cannot tell you how proud I am of you.” He knew as he spoke those words that he wouldn't go back into combat. He understood that Kieu-Linh, who, in addition to being awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, had also been promoted to Staff Sergeant. Hitch knew that Kieu-Linh would go back with him if he returned, and she'd risk everything, as she already had, to save his life and the lives of his men. Even with his new full-bird status, and his likely distance from the front lines that brought, she'd still put her life on the line for him. Hitch knew she'd been incredibly lucky to live through it before. He couldn't stomach letting her risk herself like that again.

He spoke nothing of that to his young wife. Instead, he sank into a kiss and melted together with her for a while, Hitch wishing she was well enough to let him make love to her. It had been many weeks since they'd been together, and other than rushed moments of orally pleasuring each other before the battle, they'd known no other intimate contact since that night in Captain Justice's tub. He longed for that touch, but he was content for a time with Kieu-Linh in his arms and her presence filled him with a deep desire to show her his love and to see that she returned, safely, to their home to the east.

- - -

Willow was troubled. For several weeks, she'd been in meetings with Generals and politicians, all of whom wasted her time wanting her to recap the battle to the west of the city and relive the terrors and fears she'd managed to hold back well enough to function at the time. Like all soldiers who saw combat, and especially those responsible for ordering men and women to die in the cause, she was haunted by the faces of the dead and the bloody, brutal scenes that the battlefield always contained. She couldn't shake the feeling that it was all pointless, and as she recounted, for the third time that morning, what it was like to see the bombs dropping on the terrorized Imps, she nearly exploded in anger and frustration.

She'd been considering her future since the battle had ended. Willow was tired, worn out. She wondered if she'd given as much as she could. She had spent half of her life in combat and training and fear, managing to survive it with a combination of dedication, skill, and, she acknowledged, a tremendous measure of dumb luck. Many had not been so fortunate, and it was this weight which was making her think of retirement.

Willow had served long enough that no one would stop her, at least not officially. She was sure there would be pressure to change her mind, reminding her how important her leadership had been in The War, especially during the Siege. The cruelest amongst them would point out that without her in the fight, soldiers would die as a result. She thought about all that and still couldn't help feeling spent, an empty shell of the young woman who had begun to fight so many years before.

Willow left the meeting and considered her options. She already knew that the Denver Patriots were going to be absorbed into the Free American army. It had taken a lot of political will to keep the brigade autonomous and independent, though the last few years had seen it become more and more integrated with regular forces, sharing artillery support as well as the air force and a general officer command structure. Willow knew it made little sense to maintain the separation, but it hurt her a bit to know that the unit she'd given much blood and sweat to build and maintain would eventually be just another chunk of some other division in one large corps of forces.

She was also becoming disillusioned with the political gamesmanship being played out in Denver, Chicago, and Mexico City. Soldiers were toys in the hands of a few leaders, some of them elected by elite and autocratic cadres, others propped up by generals and military commanders. The system evolving, slowly, in Denver, was not one she would have supported from the beginning, and she knew that, had she known the way it would exclude many otherwise normal civilians from taking part in the process, she'd never have allied her brigade with the government in Denver.

It left her feeling like a drying leaf in a still breeze, events sweeping her along without any way to control her movements, becoming brittle the longer she kept simply following orders. Her commanding general had been a regular army officer, though, nominally, Hitchens was free to make her own decisions regarding the brigade. She'd needed to compromise, though, the artillery and air support too crucial in recent years to maintain the isolation, and she'd given up some control in exchange for the firepower she needed to keep up the fight.

She no longer believed the fight for the Colorado River was worth the cost in lives lost. Denver and the Free American lands had the resources needed and fighting to the south was only to make the enemy suffer, not to actually gain vital supplies. Men and women died so that the Empire was inconvenienced. Even if the army took back the River and Lake Mead, what then? Would they continue to fight and push the Imps back to the original borders? What about the lands to the east where the Empire and the Chicago-based government were holding to an uneasy, unannounced cease-fire, neither side openly engaging the other while the fight took place along the River and in the Rockies.

Willow saw no end that was worth pursing. She wished all sides would just accept the new borders, withdraw their armies, and try to live peacefully with what they had.

It made her long for the mountains her father had described to her. She'd never been to the Appalachians, but the way he talked about the game and ridges, the lush trees and hot springs and cold-running streams, they made her want something else in her life beyond combat and control.

She had the afternoon off that day, knowing already that she'd probably be summoned to yet another political banquet that night, and forced, once more, to swallow her disgust and act as if she was the dashing heroine the local press had made her out to be.

- - -

“Yes. I agree. I want to go back as soon as possible.” Hitch couldn't believe that his daughter had suggested what he'd honestly hoped to hear. “Of course you'd be welcome there. Of course!”

“The time to do it will be next week. The brigade is being reorganized into the regular army. I'll retire and I can pull a few strings to let you do so as well. Your time served in the Marines should be good enough.” Willow looked at his wife. “Kieu-Linh might be harder to get excused, but no one is going to pursue. The political will in this town is fierce in the center, but it quickly becomes impotent the further you move from its core. They won't pursue.”

Hitch nodded. “Not like we're citizens, anyway, we did a favor to the cause. I think we've more than earned our leave.”

“Agreed, though I'm sure a few will still cry that you've deserted. Oh, they may bitch, a few of them, but there's nothing they can really do.”

“So what's your plan?” Kieu-Linh asked, her hand resting on Hitch's knee.

“I'll put in my resignation immediately, and I give notice to my connections that my father's service has ended, as well. Next Wednesday, trade in your credits for gold. It's around and in quantity, the fools who thought it would be worthwhile when The War started quickly found the markets saturated. Here, it's not worthless, but far less valuable than you might think. Back east...?”

“It's better than credits,” Kieu-Linh said keenly. She, too, had been receiving a salary in credits, including the weeks of back pay covering her time in the field. “Okay, what then?”

“I have a truck that can get us a ways. I'll pick up a spare tank and all the gasoline I can carry. That will take a few credits, for sure, but I've not been spending much for years. Hell, even if I retired and stayed here, I could live off that for the rest of my life. But, obviously, that's not what I want.” Willow smiled and shook her head, then said, “Wednesday night, we leave. We'll be safe until we get to where you turned west coming here, in Kentucky. I don't expect much of a problem across the border, but obviously, we'll need to plan carefully getting back south through Empire territory.”

“We do what we did coming here. We hump the last miles,” Hitch stated evenly.

Kieu-Linh said, “won't be able to carry all that gold, I think...”

“True,” Willow responded, “but I get the sense it's to barter with over time, not something to spend on an airplane or a private island in one go.” That brought a small chuckle from Kieu-Linh. Willow continued, “we can bury it easily enough, whenever we decide to step off from the truck. When we really need it, we could retrieve it.”

Hitch nodded. “Good. I'm ready. Kieu-Linh, though...” he wasn't sure if her thigh was healed enough for the part of the journey they'd make on foot.

“I can make it. I'm in.”

Hitch wasn't as certain she was up to the travel, but he'd learned well not to argue with his wife when she set her mind to something. “Fine. I concur. Let's make it happen.”

- - -

Willow's retirement announcement caught the public and her superiors by surprise. The media expressed shock and sadness when an inside source described the situation in language suggesting a scandal or that she had committed an atrocity during the Siege, the gullible journalists not understanding that the man or woman was attempting to shame Willow into changing her mind.

The public ignored the media, however. Everyone knew her face after years on the front pages as the dashing young woman leading the local band of rebels against the hordes of Imps trying to take their city. They loved her, and Willow had largely accepted that recognition, though only rarely using it to her advantage. People often stopped her in Denver on the rare days when she was in the city and not off fighting wars most of them thought of as 'far away' from their lives despite the forced military service they all had suffered and still supported for their own family members.

She shook an older man's hand and he saluted her as she walked back to the headquarters building. People had heard the news of her retirement and this man had wanted to thank her and wish her well. He asked what she would do with the rest of her life, and she responded simply, “live in peace.”

They didn't any of them understand the deep conflicting emotions which bubbled beneath her chiseled, hard expression. It pained her to leave her soldiers, to leave them behind for other commanders who might not use them as judiciously and effectively as she had. It made her second-guess her decision every few minutes. She imagined the lives lost as a result of her departure, and it would have made her cry had Willow not long-ago found the strength to push back that reaction to such troubling thoughts.

It was the right decision for her, to leave. For the first time since she was a teenager, she was making an important decision for herself without the needs of others overriding her wishes. It was uncomfortable and felt selfish, but she'd had enough of The War and enough of fighting a battle no longer worthy of being proud to fight. She was proud of her soldiers, sure, and even of her own contributions, but the greater fight, the one between the politicos and the cadres of powerful autocrats and aging revolutionaries had long ago surrendered the moral high ground in The War. Whichever side one felt was in the right, the years of struggle had left no clear indication of when, if ever, it might finally come to an end and men and women might stop dying to enrich military machines and the hands controlling them.

Even the Empire was straining despite the overwhelming support it had received from it's Central American and Mexican populations, and despite transforming parts of the occupied territory into pacified states no longer putting up much of a fight.

The War was old, and each day, Willow felt she was aging with it.

It was time to go, and even as she posed for another picture with a smiling preteen and her mother, she was already thinking about what it might be like to put The War in her review and go back to a way of life which was now foreign and exotic in her memories.

- - -

“James, can you come in here a minute?” Kieu-Linh's voice called from the bedroom where she'd gone to take a nap while he read a newspaper. There were several articles about Willow's retirement, many of them judging her harshly for leaving when the fight was almost won, but there were others describing his daughter in glowing terms, praising her years of dedicated leadership for Denver and its people. Those articles made him realize just how deeply her efforts had touched the civilians in the city, and he knew it must be very difficult for her to 'let down our civilians,' the phrase used in the front-page article on her resignation.

“One minute,” he said, distracted a moment by a smaller article about his own retirement. Citing a source in the brigade, it suggested that Hitch had coerced his daughter into abandoning the army so that he could run away with his 'underage bride' and escape the fighting as he had 'around Tulsa, that disaster from which the nation never recovered.' It angered him, of course, but only mildly. He knew the truth, about Willow and about Tulsa. That was all that mattered to him.

He rose to his feet and stretched, then stepped down the narrow hall and into the bedroom. He found Kieu-Linh leaning against the edge of the bed, naked except for the bandages still wrapped around her thigh and forehead. She was smiling and the look in her eye suggested she was interested in more than just a conversation. “Feeling better?” he asked.

“Better enough. I need you, James,” she said softly, “I need you so bad it hurts...”

“I know just what you mean...”

He pushed her back onto the bed and raised her good leg into the air, sinking to his knees and sliding his tongue along her already-wet slit. She moaned loudly and ran her hands through his hair. He lapped her quickly, overcome by her clean and delicate aroma, her rich, creamy slickness coating his tongue.

He needed to mate with her then, a powerful urge to be inside Kieu-Linh's body. He stood and dropped his pants quickly. Kieu-Linh took hold of his cock, stroking it slowly to hardness, and then drew him to her. He was careful not to put pressure on her injured thigh, angling from her side as his penis pressed into her vagina.

He swelled as he penetrated the teen's pussy. She was tight and wet and so comfortable. He cried out and wrapped her good leg over his waist, her hands moving freely to his shoulders as he fucked her. Hitch dropped a hand to her tits, caressing them, noticing, again, the many scars along her neck, down her arms, over her thighs, seeing them as beautiful despite their horrid origin. She'd suffered each one for him, to protect him, to see his goals achieved. It made him want to show her how deeply he loved her for that, how thankful he was that he had her in his life.

His fingers dropped to her clit and in moments the girl orgasmed, followed a minute later by another. When he came inside of her, he never considered pulling out, staying hard and bringing her to another climax as he fucked her harder, churning his semen into froth along her swollen labia.

“Oh, Linh... oh, I love you so much... ohhh...”

She stared into his eyes as he approached another orgasm, “I know, James... I love you more than anything in this world... ohhh... I love you... mmm... oooh... James...” She came again and he unloaded into her vagina, filling her a second time and then resting over her, finally slipping out to cuddle her on the bed, gently rubbing her breasts and her Mons and tracing lines between each of her scars.

They lay together a while before she said quietly, “do they make me ugly, James? Be honest...”

“What?” he said, genuinely unsure what she meant.

“My scars...”

“Oh, Linh. No. No... No, your scars... your scars are beautiful, every one. This one,” he said, tracing the one on her forehead, “and this one,” as he drew down her neck, “and this one,” sliding a finger from dot to thin crevice down her arm. “No, I love your scars. They show me over and over what you would risk to be with me. I hate that you were injured to get them, I hate that I might have lost you instead, but no, Linh. Just the opposite. Your scars are the beautiful reminders that you've given me everything, and that I must live my life doing everything possible to be worthy of you. I love your scars.”

“Oh... James,” she said, emotional suddenly, “that's so beautiful... thank you...” Kieu-Linh drew her finger across the large one on his neck where he'd missed being killed years before, “you just put into words something I thought, too, when I first saw your scars. I realized it meant you'd suffered for others... that you'd been hurt so that you might save your men... It said so much about you, James, that you didn't stop sacrificing after one or two or three,” she traced the ones on his arm and down his side. “you kept going back and taking more so that others might live... so that others might... survive and love and find peace.... that's one of the reasons I fell in love with you. I saw your scars, and I knew how much they meant to those you loved. I knew you were capable of loving others so deeply you'd sacrifice everything for them. I wanted to be that for you.”

He found himself in tears suddenly, unable to hold back his emotions. It wasn't pain or horrible memories that brought it on. No, it was a more kind sort of crying he did. A long-held breath. A release of tension and stress from long weeks and months and years. He couldn't really explain it to himself, and he didn't try. He smiled despite the trickle of salty liquid running down his cheeks, and he saw Kieu-Linh doing the same. He wiped his hand across her face and let his own fall freely. “I love you, Linh... Semper Fi.”

“Semper Fi, James... I love you.”

James "Hitch" Hitchens, Male, 51

	- US Marine Corps and Turtletown Patriot officer, veteran of The War

	- 6'0, 180lbs, tanned beige skin, cropped brown hair

Kieu-Linh Miller, Female, 16-17

	- Daughter of Miller and Kim-Ly

	- 5'11, 150lbs, cinnamon skin, shoulder-length silky black hair

Willow Hitchens, Female, 30

	- Colonel of Denver Patriot Brigade, veteran of The War, daughter of Hitch

	- 5'11, 155lbs, tanned beige skin, short dark chestnut hair