He saw the light through pain filled eyes. His held his hand against the
weeping wound on his side and stumbled toward the house. At this point, it
didn’t matter who was in that house…friend or foe, ally or enemy. He just
wanted to stop walking, stop hurting, stop breathing. There was only instinct as
he approached the door, collapsing on the rough wooden planks with a thump. His
hazy vision couldn’t focus, but suddenly, he knew the door had opened and
someone was there.
“Mon dieu,” a voice whispered. “Un soldat Américain.”
“Help
me, please,” Justin said, his voice croaking with thirst and pain.
“Help…” Warm strong hands reached down as blackness engulfed his world.
*****************
“Shh,” the voice said, holding down the arms fighting against him. “Ne pas me battre.”
“Let
me go!” Fists flailed outward, the fighting spirit alive as the fever took
over. “I have to get back…I have to find…”
“Vous ne devez rien trouver.” You
don’t have to find anything “Vous êtes sûr ici.” You are safe here.
“No, no…I don’t understand…you don’t understand…it’s not safe…they’re
everywhere…”
“Shh, they’re not here,” the voice said in English. “”You’re safe
here…please, let me help.”
Justin calmed at the words, finally understanding something. In the dim light
his eyes saw man beside him. He focused on the blue eyes. Soft eyes. Eyes deep
with worry but bright with compassion. Justin nodded.
The man peeled away the cloth, careful not to start the bleeding again. His eyes
narrowed. “You still have the bullet inside.” Eyes locked again. “I must
remove it.”
Again Justin nodded, waves of pain returning as the man worked on Justin’s
wound. . Justin kept still, his eyes locked on the man as he worked with
efficiency. Though the man was as gentle as possible, there was no way to keep
the throbbing fire from pouring through his body. One massive shot of lightening
coursed through him as the bullet was extracted, and Justin fell into the
blackness again.
*****************
He was on fire.
The heat was unbearable. Why was he covered? Dammit, he had to cool off.
“Mon dieu, vous êtes idiot,” came the voice. “Please,
you must remain calm.”
A cool cloth was placed on his brow, and though Justin continued to writhe
against the sheets, he calmed a bit.
“If my voice will keep you calm, then that is what I will do.” The cloth was
taken away, rinsed out, then replaced. “I shall sing to you, no?”
.
Quand il me prend das ses bras
Il me parle tours bas
Je vois la vie en rose
Justin relaxed as the voice wafted over him. The
melody was familiar, even if the words weren’t. The cloth was removed from his
head, and soft fingers brushed across Justin’s forehead. Justin sighed at the
feel, falling into sleep once more.
*************
Justin was just finishing his soup, scraping the bowl with his bread when he was
joined in the room.
“Complete?”
Justin laughed at Joshua’s choice of words. “I think you mean finished,”
he suggested.
Joshua shrugged off Justin’s humor at his expense. “Laugh all you want,
Justin, but I think my English is better than your French, nes ce pas?”
Justin blinked at the subtle insult, then laughed again. “Yes, it is.”
He watched as Joshua took the bowl from him, taking it to the sink and rinsing
it out. Justin had been at the farmhouse for three days now, each day getting
stronger and stronger. The wound in his side was sore, but was healing. He had
managed to leave his bed and sit at the table in the rustic kitchen, watching
Joshua as he puttered around his house.
Joshua was a puzzle to Justin. After Justin had recovered enough to carry on a
conversation, Justin had told him all about himself. He was a 2nd Lieutenant
Bravo Company, Airborne. He and his squad had parachuted into France a week ago,
but had come upon a Nazi strong hold. The firefight had been quick and brutal,
leaving Justin injured and the rest of the squad dead. He’d been left there by
the Germans to die, but Justin had refused, managing to walk to Joshua’s
house.
Joshua was not so forthcoming. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, and was,
as most French were, against the German occupation of his country. He told
Justin that this house was part of hiis small vineyard in Burgundy, and that
he’d run it by himself since the death of his father last year. The German
authorities that controlled this district had appropriated his stored barrels of
wine, but Joshua happily announced he had managed to keep his small flock of
chickens. He walked with a limp. He was quiet and strong and smart and giving.
His actions were sure, never wasting movements or time, whether he was peeling
potatoes or rebandaging Justin’s wound.
And he was gorgeous.
Justin realized his attraction to Joshua immediately. It was something that
surprised him but really it shouldn’t have. Since his entry into the Army,
Justin had held his desire for men under control. He’d been too busy, too
dedicated to his position as a leader to indulge in personal pleasures. But now,
with nothing but time on his hands and a beautiful man near him, his sexual
drive had kicked in full force.
So Justin observed Joshua, admiring the other man’s striking features. His
face was all angles and planes and sharp curves. That face was surrounded by
chocolate curls that fell almost to his shoulders. The shoulders were wide and
strong, tapering down to a slim waist that ended in what Justin could only think
of as a really, really, nice ass. He watched that ass as Joshua moved around the
kitchen, stifling a groan when Joshua bent over, shifting in his chair as a
small fire began in his crotch.
“You must not look at me like that,” Joshua said, startling Justin out of
his trance.
Their eyes met across the room. “I’m sorry,” Justin said, then shook his
head. “No, I’m not sorry. You’re beautiful, and I can’t help staring.”
A small pink blush stained Joshua’s cheeks. “Merci,” he said. “But you
still must stop, Justin.”
Jussteen. The way Joshua pronounced his name made Justin shiver. And
Justin knew by that blush that Joshua felt something to, had felt the
electricity between them, the tension when they were close.
Joshua saw that shiver and misinterpreted it. “You are in pain, yes?” Joshua
asked, coming over to Justin and touching his forehead. “No fever, but you
should get back to bed.”
Justin shook his head, pulling Joshua’s hand down to his lips. “Yes, I am in
pain,” he said, scraping his teeth against Joshua’s palm. “Can you help me?”
His lips slipped up Joshua’s arm, kissing the pulse that was pounding in
Joshua’s wrist. Justin tugged a bit more, pulling Joshua into his lap.
“You’ve been so good to me,” Justin said, mouth feathering across
Joshua’s. “I shouldn’t ask for more…but I can’t help it.” His mouth
closed over Joshua’s in a searing kiss.
Justin held Joshua’s head still as his mouth parted the other man’s, tongue
slipping inside to taste the sweetness within. Joshua moaned at the action, and
Justin felt his tongue begin to duel with his own. Justin’s other hand moved
to Joshua’s hips, pressing him against Justin’s hard erection.
They kissed and pressed and rubbed for what seemed like hours, though it was
only minutes. Justin feasted on Joshua’s mouth, thirsty for the taste of the
other man, drinking his passion and sending his own back full force.
Knock knock knock
Joshua jumped off Justin’s lap at the sound of pounding on the door. Their
eyes met, eyes wet with frustrated desire and wide with fear.
Knock knock knock
“Joshua!” a voice called out. “Il est temps aller!”
“Rester là-bas.” Joshua called out. “Je serai hors dans un minuet.”
He
turned to Justin. “I have to leave for a bit, Justin.”
Justin observed the worry that came over Joshua’s face. “What’s going
on?” he asked, holding onto Joshua’s wrist to keep him from leaving.
“Where are you going? Who is that outside?”
Joshua twisted out of Justin’s hold, limping across the room to a closet. He
removed his jacket and hat, putting both on quickly before reaching in again,
removing a rifle from inside. “Justin, I have to go.” He placed extra
bullets into his pockets. “I…Justin…if I don’t come back…” They
looked at each other. “Au revoir, mon amour.” He opened the door and slid outside.
Justin rose from the chair and walked to the window, carefully pulling aside the
curtain and watching Joshua leave. There were three other men with him. All
three carried rifles as well. Joshua glanced back, as if he knew Justin was
watching, then turned away. Justin watched until the night swallowed them, then
walked back to bed.
Justin might not have known very much French, he did know a few words.
Mon amour.
My love.