Extras Part Two
Interlude V: Break
Sitting in their lavish rooms in the palace of Andorra, the four Americans never for a moment forgot the war. They were lucky, in a way, as they were only ordered to fight when there was a full offensive, but they always kept in mind that they had colleagues, friends, who faced battle and death far more often. Bradley and Colin, Jeff and Hilarie, Crowe and Danielle, just for starters. Men and women who bravely faced whatever was thrown at them. In a sense, though, it was harder for them to sit here and do nothing, to read the reports and the lists of the deceased, afraid to see a name you recognised, devastated when you did, and guilty for the relief you felt when you didn’t. In battle, you fought the enemy. In Andorra, you fought yourself.
After two weeks of this, Chris finally broke. They had just finished reading the reports. They, personally, hadn’t lost anyone the day before. It didn’t matter. It was too much for the dragon. Standing up and swaying on his feet like he didn’t know whether to stay or run, he finally yelled, “I can’t do this anymore!” His three companions looked at him. They didn’t ask what he meant. “It’s killing me! I can’t...” He choked off whatever his next words might have been.
“Do you want me to request a different guard?” Jensen offered. “You could join the rest of them...”
“No.” He was vehement about that. “We’re in this together, no matter what, Jen.” He gave a billowy sigh. “And you know as well as I do that I can’t do that either. You know what happens to dragons like me.”
They did. Not every dragon could face killing another. They either refused to fight, and thus were branded a traitor and imprisoned, or they quickly hollowed out until they were nothing but a shell of their former self, and then they would get killed. Chris had done his duty, so far, and Jensen knew he would do it until it killed him. He was better here, kept from the worst of the killing, but between his own actions and his guilt over seeing others do what he could not, he was fast approaching a break either way.
“I wish there was something I could do, but we’re pretty low on options.”
“Make me forget.” Chris pleaded, going to his knees in front of Jensen. “You can make me forget, and then it won’t be so bad.”
“No!” Jensen pulled back from his friend, appalled. “Please, Chris, don’t ask that of me. It would be wrong. So very wrong. “
Steve pulled Chris from the floor and wrapped him in his arms. “That isn’t the answer, Chris, and you know it.” He looked at Jensen, who was now cowering in Jared’s arms. “And you mustn’t put Jensen in that position either. You would know there was something missing, and you would hate him for taking it away.”
Chris glanced at his shaken friend. While Chris had his demons to face, it was very obvious that Jensen had his own. With just one wrong word, he could enslave every dragon that heard him. It terrified the younger man. “Jen, I’m sorry. I’m just so...” He couldn’t even put into words the emotions he was feeling. They were dark and destructive, dragging him down even as he knew he had to stay strong.
“I know.” Jensen told him softly. It was the first time that it occurred to Chris that Jensen actually did feel the same way. He had never seen the other dragon balk at what had to be done, or collapse in a heap afterwards. Could it be that Jensen, clinging so tightly to his control in regards to his royal abilities, was also suffering the horror and self-loathing that Chris did? Hiding it all too well? The tears threatening at the corners of Jared’s eyes as he looked at his mate with sorrow suggested that it was entirely too possible.
Chris pulled gently from Steve’s embrace and went back to Jensen, kneeling once more. “Of course you do. I’m so sorry...” Suddenly he had his own arms full of the younger dragon. Jensen was sobbing, whispering that he was trying so hard to hold it together, not to let anyone down. Chris held him tight and wasn’t ashamed to admit to letting his own tears fall.
The two dragons stayed like that until their tears had run their course. They were drained but, with deep breaths of refreshing air, they renewed themselves to face another day.
Interlude VI: Purpose
Chris often wondered what, exactly, his purpose was. Jensen was the official Emissary in Andorra, and Chris was supposed to be his bodyguard. The thing was, when they were in Andorra there really wasn’t any need for such a role, and when they were away it was because they had been called to battle, where they were wing mates and equals. Intellectually, Chris knew that Jensen was walking around with a virtual target on his back. He was a Royal and he was dangerous. There was no doubt that the Union commanders feared the day when Jensen, or the Queen, simply ordered their dragons to stand down. If they could not control them (which they couldn’t), then they needed to kill them. The Allied forces, however, stood between them and their targets. In the heat of battle an assassination would be possible (and had been tried, though most were unaware of the fact), but both dragons in question seemed to be very good fighters indeed. That lead Chris to feel that he was useless. He was a good fighter, when he was pushed to it, but lacked a true killer instinct. His kills left him battling against guilt and horror. He wasn’t soldier material at all. And as a bodyguard, he was...redundant. Jensen always told him that as long as Chris wasn’t busy, he was happy, and Chris would smile at the attempt to cheer him up, but he couldn’t help but feel that he was a waste of space.
Steve knew, to a degree, what Chris was feeling. When his mate let his feeling slip, they would trickle through their link like a sluggish poison. It didn’t matter how often he told the dragon that he was a brilliant strategist, and a strong fighter, he just couldn’t get him to believe that he wasn’t letting anyone down. This struggle, however, would come to an abrupt end.
As Emissaries, Jensen and Jared were required to attend ‘peace summits’. (If you asked Chris, it was poor excuse for a bunch of pompous, self-important wannabes to get together and gorge themselves at the expense of someone else.) This time the event was being held in Calais. It was meant as a snub towards their enemies, who had lost the town. Steve had dubbed it ‘childish in the extreme’ and they had all agreed. Still, they were required to go, so go they did.
As the evening dragged on, the four friends circulated about the room, talking politely with those they had met before, and commiserating with others like themselves who only attended these things as a necessary evil. There was a sudden commotion beside them as one of the waiters threw down his tray. He had one glass still in his hand, and this he tossed at Jensen, screaming in French. “Vive le France! Vive le France!”
Shocked, Jensen did nothing to get out of the way. Chris, who had spent enough of his childhood reading comics, immediately thought of painful acid and disfiguring scars and looked to Jensen with horror. Jensen met his gaze, his eyes wide but not in any other way reacting to the liquid on his skin. He seemed to know, however, what Chris was thinking. “It’s okay. It was only champagne.” He gave a wobbly smile.
Jared frowned. “I don’t think it was only champagne. Jen? Hey, Jen, look at me.” Jensen turned to look at him, but he swayed and nearly tripped over his own feet in doing so.
“Jay?” Jensen sounded immediately panicked. “Jay, I feel... I need to get out. I’m gonna’...” He blinked rapidly, looking for an escape. Jared’s eyes widened.
“Whatever it was, it’s making him change. We need to get him outside!” Jared hissed at Chris. Chris looked at their options and figured there was only one fast way out. He picked up a chair and threw it through the nearest window, then he picked Jensen up in his arms and clambered out, Jared and Steve on his heels. He only got a few steps before Jensen twitched. Immediately, he put him down and stepped back. In an instant, Eirian stood before them.
I’m okay now. I don’t understand. Why would he want to make me change?
“Good question.” Steve replied. “Can you change back?”
Eirian shook his head. Not yet.
“Jensen? Jared?” It was Morgan’s voice, sharp with concern.
“Over here!” Jared called.
Jeff came out of the shadows of the building, followed by the thunk thunk of another dragon’s footsteps. It was the Queen. “Anyone care to explain what happened?”
Chris stepped forward, his head bowed. “I totally missed it, sir. Some nut job threw some sort of drug all over Jensen. It made him start to change, so I threw a chair through a window and got him outside. I’m sorry. I failed.”
You, the Queen’s Guard and the King’s Guard. The Queen told him, her voice firm. This is unfortunate, but I don’t see how you could have reacted any better. Your quick thinking in regard to getting Jensen outside perhaps saved us.
At Chris’ frown, Jeff picked up the commentary. “The Queen’s Guard followed your lead, breaking a window to get her outside. We captured a group of men in the corridors. They were armed with enough weaponry to take down more than two dragons. Your actions sent them into confusion and, in their hurry to get to the Royals, they forgot stealth.” He clapped a hand on Kane’s shoulder. “I’d call that a job well done.”
Eirian trilled deeply. I never doubted I had the best bodyguard in this place. It was smug enough to have Chris - and Jared and Steve - burst into laughter. Deep down, however, Chris felt that nagging voice finally settle into silence. This was his purpose; to protect the people he loved as only he could.
Interlude VII: Ceasefire
They had waited for this moment for so long that they almost couldn’t believe that it had finally come. And it had come swiftly, once it had started. The Union had made a critical error; they had begun to encroach on the vast lands to the north-east, the lands held by the Czars of Russia. Now fighting on all fronts, surrounded by enemies, the Union stumbled. It was a stumble they would not recover from, their downfall. They made a strong, but nevertheless fruitless, stand. When they were all but defeated, they called for terms.
The treaty had been hashed out between the commanders and rulers of all the nations involved; weeks of bickering, selfish demands and pride. In the end, however, an accord had been reached. Each nation retained what it had always owned, and anything gained from the war was to be returned. The Union, knowing they could have lost everything, agreed.
When the time came for the formal treaty to be signed, both the Andorran Queen and Jensen were invited. In Jensen’s case, however, it had been an order. The threat was obvious to everyone; the Allies had two Royals on their side and could have forced whatever outcome they desired, they were being magnanimous, but could change their minds at any time. (It was an empty threat.) The two dragons in question had been on the cusp of refusing - order or not - but had considered it worth it to see an end to the war. So now they stood and watched the men who had battled one another for so long sign a treaty that, hopefully, was worth more than the paper and ink used to form it.
The Queen was regally bedecked in velvets and jewels, her husband standing beside her (he had already signed the treaty on Andorra’s behalf) similarly clothed. Jensen stood in his best dress uniform trying not to look young and superfluous. Jared stood close beside him, his hand a firm weight upon his mate’s neck. They presented a solid front, just as intimidating as their superiors had planned.
The signing went ahead without mishap. Those who were a party to it milled about the room afterwards, smoking cigars and toasting themselves. Jensen and Jared kept to the edges of the room, wanting nothing more than to be released from the whole farce. With the cheeky smile of a woman half her age, the Queen joined them. “Hold it together now, gentlemen. This should be the last time you need do anything in an official capacity. Imagine having to do it all the time.”
Jensen laughed, smiling brightly at her. “No, thank you. You may keep the politics. I just want to go home, see my family again, and settle down in an ordinary, unremarkable life.”
“You will never be unremarkable, my boy.” The Queen returned his smile fondly. “But I wish you all the peace you wish for. Still, should you ever find your way to Europe again, you will always be welcome in our home.”
Jared pulled a damp-eyed Jensen back against his chest and held him tightly. To the Queen he directed a heartfelt, “Thank you. You have been generous since the moment we met you, and we will always treasure what you have given us.” Suddenly, he gave a mischievous smile of his own. “And, of course, if you ever want to go on holiday incommunicado, you are welcome to stay with us.”
The Queen laughed merrily. “Oh, what a happy break that would be! You never know, one day we may just take you up on it.”
Their amusement was interrupted by the arrival of the King. “My Dear, I believe we have done our duty and may safely escape now.” He winked surreptitiously at the other men.
“You always know just what to say to make me love you.” The Queen replied. Her smile brightened. “Do you think we could legitimately request the Emissaries to accompany us?”
With a booming laugh, he responded, “I’m sure that would not be an unreasonable request.”
Interlude VIII: We’ll Meet Again Some Sunny Day
We’ll meet again,
Don’t know where, don’t know when,
But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day...
-Vera Lynn
The runway and fields of the Dover airfield held the assembly of every dragon, rider and soldier stationed there. On a hastily erected dais, Commander Jeffrey Dean Morgan stood before them all. He spared a thought for the man who was conspicuously missing from his side, the man who had not only believed in their plan but helped it to become a reality. Commander Kim Manners had survived a debilitating illness long enough to see their hard work come to fruition; to see the war come to its end, but no more. Many who had known the man claimed that it was purely his stubborn determination that had allowed him to last even that long. Jeff believed it, and he keenly felt the loss. His eyes lifted momentarily skyward. “Patience, old friend, we’ll all be along soon enough.”
Louder, he spoke into the microphone. “I want to thank every one of you for the sacrifices you have made, the efforts you have put forth, and the courage you have shown. We have all lost people we cared for; friends and family. Their lives, however, were not for nothing. We stand here, today, with the knowledge that through the actions of every man and woman in the Alliance, we have ended a war.” A massive cheer arose at this point, and Jeff smiled. When they had died down somewhat, he went on, “That is why I am able to announce to you today, once and for all time, you are dismissed!” The cheer this time was deafening.
Amidst the following celebrations, Jensen, Jared, Chris and Steve turned to Bradley and Colin. Bradley was laughing, Colin smiling in that quiet manner he had. The laugh dimmed to a wide smile. “Look at you lads; this is a happy moment, chaps! Celebrate!”
“You do realise this means we will be returning to America.” Jared told him.
“Of course I do.” Bradley shook his head at them. “But isn’t tomorrow early enough for goodbyes? For now, let’s just enjoy being alive and free.”
Chris was about to open his mouth to respond, but there was a sudden roaring above them. They looked up and three entire squadrons of dragons were flying overhead. Jensen saw some familiar dragons and couldn’t help but burst into excited laughter. “It’s the ANZACs! They’re heading home!”
Crowe, my friend, it has been my honour to fly beside you and yours. I hope you have a quick and uneventful trip home.
You bet, your majesty. Came the gleeful response. If ya eva head ‘down unda’, ya know where to find us.
In the nearest pub! They finished together, fondness easily picked up over the link.
It was refrain that was to be heard for days to come. Promises were made to keep in touch, to visit, to never forget. For the most part, they were promises that were kept. Friendships that had been born under fire and forged in the heat of battle remained as strong as the day they were cast, or stronger. Instead of being torn apart, the world had actually become a smaller place, its people closer together. The history books would report events and heroes, but far fewer than there had actually been. And that was the way that the true heroes wanted it to be. It was over, and something to be put behind you, but also something to never be forgotten, something to learn from. That was all that those who had fought wanted; peace, for all time.
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A/N: And that, as they say, is that. I hope you have enjoyed your time in this world. I would love to hear your thoughts, likes, and criticisms (preferably constructive). If you have the time, leave a comment. If not, thanks for sticking this through to the end!