After a little private wedding officiated by Ruth Anne, Clay and Danny celebrate their marriage back home in the Memphis Belle.

The next morning, they wake up together, married, and all is well.

timed to early morning on the 8th ♥

The upside to life being a fucking roller coaster of late is that he's getting better and better at bouncing back ( Read more... )

Tonight was the first official day of the Saturnalia festivities. If the evening's festivities were any indication, the next six days would be absolutely glorious and chock full of fun and merriment for all ( Read more... )

The date hadn't escaped Tobi's attention. He'd known the day before, too and the week before that. It wasn't exactly something someone his age could forget even in a place like this, a place that wasn't home and seemed to have a calender all its own ( Read more... )

Danny Daly believed in things. He believed in Christmas snow and lucky charms and novenas and midnight mass on New Years Eve. Sometimes, you had to light a candle against the dark. But Danny was Irish-Catholic and Boston born, so he also believed quite a bit in family. He had five older sisters and a litter of nieces and nephews, so the ( Read more... )

The way that Clay understood it, the guns had just sorta fallen silent. The way he understood it, their war had been a different sort of war, louder and longer, fought on different fields, and Kara's had been another kind of war again, higher and further away ( Read more... )

He hasn't spoken for days, not since he left Jill on Halloween. He's been a zombie, eating and sleeping and not much more. Not thinking. It's safer for him not to think. The nightmares are still there, but in the morning he doesn't remember them ( Read more... )

Clay Busby had always been sort of stage-shy, but he'd also been a Romeo, a Casanova, a smooth guy in his youth. He'd play the piano in New Orleans cat houses and sometimes, he'd danced out on the levy with girls who played harmonicas better than he did, girls with eyepatches and babies swelling under worn red dresses ( Read more... )

Prior's dreams had always been filled with bombs and bullets and blood, but since the incident in the clinic last week, they'd been getting much worse. He would try to put off sleep as long as possible, staying up half the night smoking and reading until exhaustion finally overwhelmed him. Sometimes it helped, sometimes it didn't ( Read more... )

He didn't know what compelled him to try. It wasn't really bravery or a sudden spark of courage or anything like that. Maybe it was a need to make things right again, to fix whatever it was that had come between the two of them, a need to prove that he could be as good as Sandra. Whatever that meant ( Read more... )