|The Forbidden Fruit
Author: charley.vandra PM
How can something so beautiful came from something so destructive and merciless as war? When two people are thrust together in the heap of war, they create a friendship and bond so strong they question their destinies; worlds apart yet drawn so close at heart. Father Mulcahy/OC Extended Summary inside.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Angst - F. Mulcahy - Chapters: 7 - Words: 33,030 - Reviews: 22 - Favs: 4 - Follows: 6 - Updated: 02-13-13 - Published: 01-06-13 - id: 8884285
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Lying beneath her hovering body, her hands beside his head and her knees besides his hips straddling his body, he cupped her neck in his hands, his thumbs lightly grazing over her lips, and pulled her closer to him, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. His heart fluttered when she moaned against his mouth and drew her hips against his, lightly grinding against them. He broke away, breathless and anxious:
"Be gentle with me, this is my first you know." His voice was airy and humorous and exclaimed between moans as she slide her hand below his stomach, her fingers teasing about the hemp line of his briefs.
His heart fluttered again as he felt her giggle into this neck, light vibrations tickling his throat, her teeth nibbling against his raw and moist skin as she smiled into his neck. She pulled back slightly, just enough for their eyes to met, her lips lightly teasing his.
"I don't know if I'll be able to promise that," said whispered teasingly, her voice low and enticing.
He was unable to contain his passion anymore, captivated and completely in love with the women in his arms, pulled her lips to his again, capturing them in a passionate kiss.
The Forbidden Fruit
Eyes wide and terror-stricken, the solider gripped the steering wheel, whipping it sharply to the right, sending the jeep swirling into the ditch. The two driver side tires catch on the lip of the ditch and hurled the jeep, tires over roof. The jeep rolled and rolled down the hill, rolling five or six times, side over side until it abruptly smashed into a tree at the bottom of the hill.
A moment of quiet haze and dizziness reigned after the instant stop. Clarity left Amelia's mind, her eyes fogging and her mind swirling. Above all the pain in her body, she felt an overwhelming turning in her stomach, and turned over, vomiting the contents of her stomach, of which was mostly the horrible coffee she had at headquarters. After that, the pain quickly crept upon her: the horrible shooting pain in her neck, the inability to focus her eyes as they became more and more foggy, and her pounding head, of which she could feel the hot blood ooze from the gash atop of it, slightly blinding her in her right eye. Black started to engulf her vision and soon her mind closed. Amelia fell into the darkness. . . .
"Come here! Now! . . . . AMELIA!"
Amelia, running up the stairs to her bedroom, turned her head, finding her father give chase after her. She was on the top step when she felt her feet swept from beneath her and she fell, her knee hitting the corner of the step, gashed and beginning to bleed as her father pulled her back down the steps.
"No! Papa! No!" she screamed as he dragged her down the stairs. Amelia scratched at anything she could grab, trying to stop him from dragging her away, but he was stronger as he ripped her hands from the railing.
"Amelia! . . . Amelia. . . . Amelia?"
The screaming man slowly faded away. The voice become quieter and quieter, than frantic. Amelia could feel a stingy pain against her face and snapped her eyes open. Mary was hovering above her, slapping her face, gently at first, then frantically. She stopped when she saw her eyes peep open.
"Amelia! Oh, thank god you're alive. Wake up!"
Amelia, with the help of Mary, sat up, still very dizzy, but immediately realized they were sitting on the roof of the jeep, the seats above their heads. The first sense to come forward was of smell; she could smell a very pungent odor of vomit and winced away as it filled her lungs. She brought a tired hand to her face, smearing the blood from her face and eyes, and wiped it off on the front of her coat. Amelia turned to the woman besides her, tears and blood staining down her cheeks, her hands grabbing at the cross around her neck, and Amelia asked:
"Where, . . . where is Zoey and Rogers—" She had noticed, with the jeep being tipped on its roof, no one else but her and Mary in the vehicle, then she realized a sudden and immense feeling of cold. She turned to the front, her shifting eyes wearily up to the windshield. It was busted to pieces, but two obvious holes showed.
"I don't know," Mary cried. "I think they were thrown from the Jeep."
Amelia, startled at that thought, asked:
"How long have I been passed out?. . . since we crashed."
The images of Lt. Benson and the soldier being thrown from the jeep and outside in the blizzard moved her into motion.
"You're not going out there are you!?" she wailed. ". . . You saw what was in the road didn't you? An ambush! They're out there! Coming for us."
Amelia stopped momentarily to listen to her words, making the realization they had to act quickly and get away from the jeep as fast as possible. She awkwardly fumbled to find the door latch in the darkness, and when she opened it the wind catch the door and sent it flying open.
Upon the door opening, the wind instantaneously invaded the jeep. Amelia cried out loud in pain as the air began freezing the blood on her face. She was quick to rub off as much blood from her face, her gloves soaking with blood. But that didn't stop her. She fished around in the darkness of the jeep for the medical bag, against the frantic pleads of Mary, and leaving her alone by herself.
The air was even crisper and more piercing as it had been when they first arrived. Its was almost too cold for her to inhale, it sending shooting pains down her throat. The cold bit into her flesh with such strength she thought something was actually eating her alive. She couldn't see anything as she looked back and forth, trying to find Lt. Benson and Pvt. Rogers. With one hand gripped tightly around the medical bag and the other in front of her, making sure she wouldn't run into anything, Amelia pushed her way through the blowing snow, struggling greatly against it. She had no idea where she was going nor where they were, but she set off in front of the jeep. . . .
In the darkness she spied two black, blurry figures laying still and motionless in the snow. She came besides the first figure, her heart dropping upon the sight: Lt. Benson lay still, purple and blue as the cold crept down her skin and through her bones, bleed splashed everywhere about her body, her locks of golden hair sprawled about her face and the ground, highlighted with spattered blood, her throat slashed and mangled as she had been thrown through wield shield. She had bleed to death. A muffled cry escaped Amelia's lips as she realized she was dead, and was never getting up again. . .
Her attention was redirected at the second figure in the snow, moaning muffled cries and gargling sounds. She left the woman's side and came upon the soldier's. Amelia immediately noticed a twig had punched his rib cage, embedding itself into his lung. He laid in agonizing pain as he slowly suffocated and froze to death. Amelia keeled beside him, wanting to take a better look at his chest when he suddenly latched onto her arm.
"Help me, please, I—I—I," he stuttered, struggling frantically with his left lung unable to inflate with air. His hands clanged to her arms as he started to suffocate.
"I need you to relax. Your elevated heart rate is pumping the blood right out from you. . . . It's going to be alright, but you need to calm down."
Tears began screaming down his temples, "I never even kissed a girl, you know. Never been in love . . . now it's never gonna happen."
"Shh, don't talk like that." Amelia, realizing what was needed to be done, started rummaging through the bag, taking from it alcohol, gauze, tape, and scissors. "You're going to go back home, . . and find some girl to love and cherish, who'll love you back. . . . And you're spend the rests of your lives together—"
"Oh, fuck," she cried as she took off her gloves, the cold biting into her skin and knuckles, but she pushed the pain away and turned back to the boy. "You're going to make it through this, I promise . . .Okay, this is going to hurt, but we must hurry. If this was an ambush, they're coming, and we have to get out of here."
He nodded nervously, and clenched his eyes and jaw shut.
Amelia grabbed the scissors and cut his shirt open. He cried out through clenched teeth as the cold engulfed his exposed flesh and began freezing his blood.
"I'm sorry. We don't have time to drag you in the jeep—we must do it here."
Amelia, not wanting to prolong the pain any longer, poured the alcohol on to the twig and wound, meeting a screaming cry and thrashing body, but as the initial pain subsided, the soldier stilled, however he tried to control his shaking body.
"Mary! Get out here, I need your help!"
Amelia turned back, not expecting her to come at all.
"Alright, alright, calm down. I need you to be as still as possible."
Amelia clenched onto the twig between her finger, slightly bumping it, and listened to the boy scream. With no hesitant she clenched the twig tightly and pulled it from his chest. He screamed out and thrashed in pain, but Amelia straddled his trembling hips and quickly pour the rest of the alcohol on the small hole in his chest. Again, she listened to him scream in agony and every time he did, it made her want to work faster, freeing him from his pain.
Amelia dabbed the blood and alcohol from the wound and stuffed gauze into the hole and applied pressure . . . She watched with relief as his left lung began to rise and fall just as his right did. She wrapped the bandage tightly around his wound and proceeded to tape the bandage around his chest.
"Okay this will do until we can get you to the hospital."
She made a motion to leave, but he grabbed her hands, forcing her back down to him.
"Please, don't leave me please."
Amelia winced, an image of her little sister flashing before her eyes. She looked down at him, the soldiers crying and trembling at her feet. She knelt, like she did with her sister, and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly in her fingers.
"I'll be back before you can feel the warmth leave your fingers. I promise."
With those final and tragic words, Amelia struggled her way back to the Jeep.
"Mary! . . . Mary."
Amelia found her cowering against the side of the jeep, holding her crossing against her forehead, her hands trembling, her head buried in her knees. She jumped when the jeep door slammed against the side panel.
"Please don't hurt me," she screamed. But tears of relief came to her eyes as she found it was Amelia standing at the door.
"Mary, it's time to go."
She shook her head when she realized go, was to go outside, into the dark blizzard. "I can't," she cried. "I can't. I'm too afraid."
"Mary we have to go now," Amelia shouted, becoming easily frustrated with the crying woman, however she instantly soften, imagining her as her sister, crying and hiding, screaming about something their father did.
"No," she cried out again. "I'm not leaving the jeep. Someone will come for us."
Amelia silenced the crying nurse, pulling her tightly into her chest and shhing her quiet. She pulled away slightly, staring directly into your eyes.
"Listen to me. No one knows where we are. No one is coming for us. . . . And if it is the enemy out there, coming for us . . . They don't take woman as prisoners. . . They. Don't. Take. Woman. Prisoners! Do you understand Mary? They have other, more terrible uses for us. Pray to your God we don't get captured. Or you'll wish you would have died in the crash."
At the thought of that, Mary sobbed silencing in Amelia's arms.
"I'm not saying these things to scare you, but to make you realize you have a life worth living. Okay?"
"Okay," she sobbed defeated. Amelia moved away from her, fishing for her duffel bag in the dark. She found it and began throwing things out until she came to feel what she was looking for. She came to Mary and pulled her hood down. She wrapped the scarf she found over her neck, mouth, and her nose.
"I can't breathe," cried Mary, pulling down the scarf.
"You're not going to want to breathe the air; it'll lower your body temperature, and you'll develop hypothermia faster." She wrapped it tightly around her head, only a slice of skin and eyes peeking through the cloth.
Mary nodded, yet still sobbed quietly.
Amelia wrapped an arm around her shoulders and forced her out into the storm, the wind immediately stopping Mary, but Amelia pushed her forward. She led her towards the figures on the ground, Pt. Rogers after Benson.
"Okay. Now, Rogers. He is still alive, barely. We need to get him to the hospital."
Mary screamed terribly when she saw her body in the snow.
"Oh. My. God. she's dead! Shhhe's deeead!"
Amelia turned her away, blocking the sight from her vision and lead her away, to the soldier lying on the ground a few feet away.
"We can't just leave her," she cried. "She needs to be buried—"
"We must leave her, someone will come back . . . Mary, I need you to help me carry him."
Amelia fell to her knees and with the clothes she brought from her duffel bags, she began wrapping his head too, only his eyes peeking out from his coat. Amelia did the same thing except she only had a shirt left. She was still able to breathe the freezing air, but didn't complain as it shielded her face from the wind.
Amelia wrapped his arm around her shoulder and Mary mimicked her on his other side.
"Can you walk Rogers?"
He nodded faintly, and they began walking.
"How far are we away from the 4077th?"
"About five miles, " he answered weakly, his voice crackling as the brittle air singed his throat.
"Oh, my God, we'll never make it," cried Mary, the tears down her cheeks beginning to freeze into icicles.
"Yes we will. If I have to drag the two of you, I will."
The Forbidden Fruit
"Where are my nurses!" cried a woman, pushing through the set of double doors leading into her commanding officer's office. "They were to report promptly at 0800 hours to me, for evaluation, then possibly orientation. . . ." The woman began pacing the small area in front of his desk. "It is now 2300 hours. Where are they!?"
"Margret be reasonable," appealed the commanding officer behind his desk patiently, though his temper was wearing thin as he struggled to keep the place lit. "How would you expect them to get here in these conditions? It's a blizzard out there."
"Oooh," she huffed, slightly defeated seeing the reality behind his words, but never-the-less shook her head. "They should have planned ahead. . . . Besides we're short-handed. How do they expect me to run a brigade of nurses if I haven't any nurses!"
"Alright, alright," he chided, holding his forehead in his hands. "Yelling at me isn't going to solve your problem Margret. Unless you know Father Snow, which I regrettably doubt—you'll just have to make due with the nurses you have."
"Oh, but Colonel Potter! Isn't there anything you could do? Make a phone call—get them here as soon as possible. We're in desperate need since two of my nurses were sent to Tokyo General—the nurses who remain are having to pull double and triple shifts! Its unacceptable."
"Unless you know Uncle Franklin, we've lost communication with headquarters. The damned wind is inferring with the signals. And as you can see, our back-up generator is barely working, on and off, so I'm afraid—"
"Oh, but Col—"
"Margret," he stood from his chair, and came around his desk, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I, for one, am in full appreciation of the hard work your nurses are performing under, especially with these miserable conditions. We certainly couldn't run these place with out them. But—until this storm blows after, there's nothing that can be done, but waiting, and let it be patiently waiting at that."
She nodded, defeated, and said, "And pray that the fighting subsides through the storm."
The Forbidden Fruit
The storm had almost been too much. It had brought Amelia to her knees so many times she thought she had crawled much of the journey. Walking in the blizzard, wind constantly whipping at their faces, the snow blinding their sights, and the cold eating their skin raw, was almost too much. The soldier, feeling horribly guilty, shrugged off the support from the women, and walked a little of the ways, but it proved too much as he fell into the snow. Mary was stumbling about into a jabbed line, the wind overbearing her, so Amelia told her to grabbed a hold of her coat and to not let go. Amelia picked up the solider from the ground, unable to carry himself, and threw him over her shoulder, and continued down the road.
"Just follow the road," the solider had said. "Its straight down this road."
Five simple miles turned into an eternity of pain. Amelia had hit her head some time in the crash, and as she struggled against the elements, it worn her out easily. Her strength and adrenaline were worn away, but every time she'd stumbled into the snow, wanting nothing more than to shut her eyes and surrender to the cold, she had to remind herself why she was here. . . .who was counting on her back home. . . . The images of her father taking care of Nancy forced her to stand and push through her agony.
She could feel her mind starting to sway with haze. Every few minutes she had to lay the solider down to rest and check his vitals His pulse was weak, but strong enough she knew he'd make it. Mary had clasped besides her, curling herself into a ball, shielding herself behind Amelia. She was exhausted and has no strength left. Amelia wanted to rest, she needed to. She closed her eyes, surroundings to the darkness.
Amelia considered running ahead without them, but had not idea how far they were, and didn't want to leave them behind. Then she saw it.
A flickering of light in the distance, then it went black again and lost in the flurry of the storm. An excitement surged through her body and she jumped up. She shook Mary and told her they were almost there, a half mile or so off, but she didn't stir. Amelia quickly check her pulse: weak, barely beating.
Amelia panicked; both Mary and the solider lay still, inanimateness in the snow, darkness becoming their vision. A sled flashed in her mind. Amelia rolled the solider beside Mary, and grabbed the hood of their coats, and began dragging them. The initial pull was hard as the friction between their coats and the slushy snow made it difficulty, but pure adrenaline was raging her veins. Her mind easily became light and high, but she forced the pain away and pulled them along the snow.
She pulled and pulled and didn't dare to stop, in fear she wouldn't be able to find the strength to start again. Her arms ached, her legs weak and sore, her head pounding and dizzy, her face lightly frostbite, but she continued to pull and to her joy, her eyes set upon a large sign, "4077th" painted on it.
Another burst of energy surged through her body and she dragged the two lifeless bodies in the middle for the compound. Pure adrenaline was racing through her veins again. She released their hoods, staggering back as she no longer had the weight on her back. She crawled, her legs no longer abling her stand, to the first structure she saw. With one last burst of strength she hoisted herself up and burst the door. She was met by groans and shouts to "shut the door!"
Her vision was clouding with black as she stumbled back against the door, the abrupt noise finally bringing the attention of the occupations forward. However one was very angry and turned with a mouth full of words, however shut his mouth as he set his eyes upon her: her face was covered in both frozen and freshly oozing blood, her entire body was trembling, covered in blood from head to foot. And finally she broken the silence with a quiet plead:
"I need a doctor. I have another unconscious soldier outside with a punctured lungs and a nurse whose also fallen unconscious. Both coming into mild hypothermia."
"Oh, my God," exhaled one of them, eyes wide and stunned. And with a whoosh of fabric, the men bolted from the tent to purple and red bodies outside.
The Forbidden Fruit
Yes, that was him. :) Okay so finally, after a long journey, Amelia has arrived at the 4077th. . . . And I want to thank the two reviews I received one the first chapter. Its was really awesome and a great feeling to get some feedback. Thanks so much! And chapter 3 and 4 are completed, but they are very,very rough. Needs a lot of attention. So an update is around the corner. Again, don't worry Father Mulcahy is really 'helpful' in the next chapter. You'll see a lot of him. Well thanks for reading! And send me some feedback! Thanks!