Moonlightaholics

A/N: Back in July, when I got together with the mods, one of our stops was the Queen Mary in Long Beach, CA. She is a sight to behold when you see her for the first time. As we wandered about, there was a photo of thousands of troops heading to WWII on the ship's bow and of course I thought of Mick.

I've wanted to do a story about Mick's crossing on the Queen Mary ever since, but it didn't come together until allegrita poked at me and said, "that Queen Mary story you wanted to do would be perfect for the challenge". She was right, and this is what came out.

So, many thanks go out to Alle for the idea, and for giving it a read-through and giving me some great suggestions.



Usual disclaimers apply. I don't own anything you recognize.




COLD AND DARK AND DEEP



Happiness is the light on the water. The water is cold and dark and deep. - William Maxwell





The Queen Mary slid over the dark, icy water like smoke across black glass. After two rough days of stormy seas, the Gray Ghost had hit a smooth patch, and the lone soldier who stood on her aft deck was grateful for the respite from his stomach’s rebellion to the ship’s wild pitching.

Body braced against the ship’s rocking motion and the freezing wind that bit as it blew across the deck, handsome face pale under his military crewcut, Mick shivered as he dug into the pockets of his borrowed overcoat, searching for Ray’s cigarettes. His own coat was in the hands of one of the guys in his unit, Whitey Ryan, who swore his mama had taught him how to get any stain or smell out of any fabric. Mick sure hoped so - he didn’t relish smelling like vomit for the duration of his tour.

Ray loved sailing so much that the guys joked he should have joined the Navy, but Mick wasn’t so lucky. He hadn’t stopped throwing up since the Queen Mary had set sail. Ray had taken care of him the best he could, sneaking in food from the mess hall when Mick couldn’t make it there on his own, urging him to eat even though everything came back up as fast as it went down.

Come on, Micky...you gotta eat something. I know it tastes like shit, but you gotta eat.

After forty-eight hours of moaning in his bunk between bouts of puking and cursing his friend’s iron disposition, Mick’s craving for nicotine had finally overcome his nausea, and he was desperate for a smoke. Despite being ordered to barracks for the night, Mick had thrown off the scratchy wool blanket he’d huddled under for the last two days and pulled on his boots. He’d shrugged into Ray’s coat, since Whitey was still busy doing God-knows-what to his, and swallowed a rush of bile at Claude LaFleur’s eloquent description of his maman’s gator stew. He’d put a finger to his lips when Ray glanced up from the letter he was helping Johnny Drummond write to his girl back home in Alabama.

“Where you goin’, Mick?” Ray kept his voice low as to not wake the sleeping men around them.

“Need a smoke and some air. Your cigarettes in your coat?” Mick finished lacing up his boots and came to unsteady feet. Ray laid a hand on Johnny’s shoulder and rose with Mick.

“Yeah, but you can’t go up top, Mick. We’ve been ordered to stay down here for the night. You get caught, you’re gonna end up with clean-up duty on this tub. Doubt you want that, with everyone being as sick as you. Besides,” Ray peered into his friend’s face, “you still don’t look so good.”

“I’ll live.” Mick gave his best friend a lopsided grin. “Or maybe just throw myself overboard.”

As Mick reached into the breast pocket of Ray’s coat, his fingers brushed against a folded rectangle of paper. Curious, he pulled it out and realized it was a photograph. Lilah’s radiant smile met his eyes as he unfolded the photo to its full size. Cigarette forgotten, Mick leaned against the ship’s railing and remembered the day the picture had been taken. It had been the middle of a sultry July day, not long before Ray had announced his decision to serve his country.

Ray had enlisted in the Army with a patriotic fervor that had brought a tear to his wife’s eye and a curl of derision to his best friend’s lip. Mick’s decision to join the Army had been less enthusiastic, coming two steps ahead of a draft notice. Mick considered himself more of a lover than a fighter, but he’d never have been able to look Lilah in the eye again if he’d let Ray go off to fight the Nazis alone.

Mick stared out across the vast expanse of inky water, moonlight scattering soft diamonds across the waves and turning the face in his hands luminous. Lilah had tried to put on a brave front when the cab had pulled up in front of the Fordham house, but tears had clouded her brown eyes as the two uniformed men had walked down the steps. She’d asked Mick to watch out for Ray before she’d flung herself into Ray’s arms.

Mick? Keep an eye on him. You know he trips over his own shoelaces.

He’d have promised her the stars if it would have taken the fear out of those pleading and terrified eyes. Ray had done his best to comfort his wife, promising that he’d come back to her.

I’ll be home soon, Lilah. You can count on that.

Trapped on a troop train that rocked its way across America’s heartland, Mick had wished he’d taken his chances with the draft board. Curtains had been drawn down tightly over small and dusty windows, contact with civilians brief and limited when the train made one of its interminable stops. German spies were everywhere, the soldiers were warned, even here on their native soil. No one could be trusted.

Damn shame, had been Mick’s thought at the time. Not even any pretty girls to flirt with. Oh, there had been plenty of women at each stop, but every single one of them had been crying into lace handkerchiefs and kissing their soldiers good-bye.

Come on over here, honey, he’d thought on more than one occasion. I’ll take your mind off things and make you real happy.

His jaw had dropped at his first glimpse of the Queen Mary. Holy Mary, Mother of God, Ray had whispered, and Mick had barely resisted crossing himself at the reverent curse. Proud and regal as the monarch whose name she bore, the ship had risen from the mist that blanketed the New York pier where she was moored. Grey primer covered her black exterior, her three smoke stacks reaching for the skies like hands raised toward heaven. Uniformed men from all over the country gathered in clumps in the great ships’s shadow, young faces tight with tension, excitement and fear.

Mick had felt his stomach lurch the moment his foot hit the gangplank, but Ray had slung an arm around his reluctant friend’s shoulders and propelled him up and on to the Queen’s hardwood decks. The time since then had been spent either shivering in his bunk or losing what little food Ray could get him to eat.

Photo in hand, Mick’s thoughts turned toward home. This close to Christmas, his mother would have begun her preparations, managing to churn out holiday treats despite the rationing that gripped the entire country. His sister would pore over the Montgomery Ward catalogue and sigh over pretty dresses and shoes, and his father would scour the landscape for the perfect tree. They never had much, but somehow Mick’s parents had always made do. Christmas meant presents and joy, food and laughter. It meant midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, with prayers and hymns and thankfulness.

His family would celebrate this Christmas without him, and Mick was suddenly overcome with longing for home, for his mother’s loving smile, for his father’s strong hand on his shoulder, for his sister’s teasing.

He blinked back the tears that stung his eyes and was grateful for the momentary solitude. He wasn’t a child any longer. He was a man and a soldier, and soldiers didn’t cry because they were homesick.

Six months ago, he was just a dumb musician, scratching out a living playing smokey blues clubs during the sultry L.A. nights. Now, he was a seasick soldier, one of thousands of men corralled belowdecks, freezing his balls off on the magnificent ship that bore him to his fate on the war-torn shores of Europe.

“Hope you’re not thinking of jumping, son. It’s a helluva swim back stateside.” Jerked out of his reverie by the brusque, amused voice, Mick glanced over his shoulder, then snapped to attention, left hand clutching Lilah’s picture, right hand cocked at his brow in a sharp salute as his commanding officer approached him. Tall and sturdy, with a generous portion of gray sprinkled through his ginger-colored hair, Master Sergeant Robert Gibbs was an imposing figure. His life vest strained over his barrel chest and his helmet sat askew on his head. Mick’s heart began to pound as the big man came closer.

“No, sir. Sorry, sir.” A couple of months in boot camp taught a guy fast to toss off a “yes sir, no sir” to anyone who had more bars on his shoulders than he did. Two weeks scrubbing latrines had driven that lesson home for Mick after he’d mouthed off to his drill sergeant, much to Ray’s amusement.

Gibbs poked Mick in the chest. “You’re not wearing your safety gear, son. Can’t imagine why you’d be in such a hurry to get topside that you’d defy orders.”

Mick swallowed hard. Ray was always telling Mick his stubborn attitude was going to get him court-martialed before he ever saw any fighting, and Mick was beginning to think his best friend was right. Not only had his CO caught him topside without the requisite helmet and life jacket, he wasn’t supposed to be up here in the first place.

“Sorry, sir. I...I didn’t think. Just wanted to get outside for a smoke.” Mick stared straight ahead and prayed he wouldn’t spend the rest of the trip in the brig.

“At ease, soldier. Stupid order if you ask me - as if a helmet or a Mae West is gonna save a guy from freezing to death in that water.” A grin flitting over his weathered face at Mick’s discomfort, Gibbs slapped the trembling soldier on the back as Mick relaxed. “What’s your name, son?”

“St. John, sir. Mick St. John.”

“Well, welcome to Hell, Mick St. John.” Gibbs glanced down at the photo still clamped in Mick’s sweaty hand. “That your girl, St. John?”

“No, sir.” Mick shook his head. “She’s my buddy Ray’s wife.”

Giibbs’ bushy brows pulled down in disapproval. “You always carry pictures of other men’s wives around with you, soldier?”

“N-no...no s-sir.” Mick’s spine straightened as he stammered in his haste to explain. “This is my buddy’s coat. Mine’s...drying out belowdecks.”

Gibbs grinned, good humor restored, and the muscles in Mick’s shoulders unknotted. “Understood. I remember my first time at sea - puked my way across the ocean, too.” He jabbed a thick finger at Lilah’s smiling face. “Pretty lady.”

“Yes, sir, she sure is,” Mick agreed with a nod. “Sweet as sugar, too, and a great cook.”

“You sure she’s not your wife, St. John?” Gibbs quipped, laughter in his voice. Two spots of color bloomed in Mick’s wan cheeks, his gaze dropping to the deck under his boots.

“Sorry, sir. Me and Lilah and Ray, we all grew up together. She takes care of me almost as well as she does Ray. She’s just a friend, that’s all.”

“Relax, son. You couldn’t be friends with a man if you chased after his wife.” Gibbs mimicked Mick’s earlier pose, leaning against the top rail and planting a wide foot on the lower. “So, you got a girl of your own? Leave anyone behind?”

“I left a lot of girls behind, sir.” Mick’s grin was quick and mischievous, and Gibbs threw back his head and laughed, a sandpaper guffaw that made Mick blush harder and let out a chuckle of his own.

“Heartbreaker, are ya, St. John?”

“Just haven’t found the right one yet, sir.” Mick sobered. When he finally made the decision to settle down, he wanted to be sure it would be forever. Mick wanted the kind of marriage and life his parents had, what Lilah and Ray had. His parents had been married for almost three decades and they still acted like sweethearts. The girl he married, he wanted her eyes to shine when she looked at him, like Lilah’s did when she looked at Ray, like his mother’s did when she looked at his father. He wanted a partner that he could come home to every night, someone who would give him children, someone who would grow old with him.

Eternal love. He wouldn’t settle for less.

“Looked a little lost when I first saw you, soldier.” Gibbs dipped into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. He shook two to the top, took one and held the crumpled pack out to Mick. “Something on your mind?”

Mick refolded Lilah’s picture and tucked it back in the coat’s breast pocket, took the offered cigarette and dug for Ray’s matches. Cigarette between his lips, hands stiff with cold cupped around the tip of the stick, he lit and inhaled, feeling the welcome burn in his lungs. How much could he admit aloud to this grizzled military man? “Just...wondering what the hell I’m doing out here, sir, wondering how I got here. Not sure exactly what I’m heading into, or even what I’m fighting for.” Forearms braced on the ship’s railing, Mick stared out at the dark, deep ocean with unseeing eyes. “I’m scared,” he whispered. “I’m scared to death.”

“Boy, if you weren’t piss-your-pants terrified about what we’re heading into, I’d think there was something wrong with you. Not a man on this ship that ain’t scared, me included.” Gibbs let out a stream of smoke. “None of us know what’s waiting for us over there, but I can goddamn guarantee you it’s gonna be hard, probably the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life. You’re gonna see things, be asked to do things you never thought yourself capable of doing. You’re gonna see bullets shot from a gun you’re holding rip into another man’s body. Men you trust with your life, men you’ve come to think of as brothers, are gonna bleed and die right in front of you. That can take the heart out of a man.” He turned to face Mick, his gaze stony and resolved. “None us are where we thought we’d be, son. Things happen in life, things we can’t control. All we can do is face ‘em head-on and deal with ‘em the best we can.”

He patted the pocket where Mick had placed Lilah’s photo. “That pretty lady in that picture is what we’re fighting for, son, her and all the folks at home that have sacrificed and supported this war effort. We’re fighting for what’s right and good, so our sons and daughters and sisters and brothers can live in a world without the evil that’s invaded it.” Gibbs flicked the butt of his cigarette over the rail, and Mick watched the glowing ember arc and disappear into the night. “Freedom don’t come free, son,” the older man said, straightening with a stifled groan. “Men like us pay for it in spilled blood and lost lives. It’s a high price to pay, but in the end, it’s worth it.”

“Yes sir.” Mick discarded his own cigarette and gave his commanding officer another salute. “I better get back down below. I appreciate the time, sir. What you said helped.”

Gibbs returned the salute, then held out his hand. Smiling, Mick gave it a firm shake. “I’m glad I could help, St. John. Remember, we’re all in this together. Trust me, trust the men around you, and things will work out.” Gibbs turned to head for the officers’ quarters, then stopped and swiveled his head toward Mick. “By the way, St. John?”

“Sir?”

“Report to Sergeant Collins in the mess at oh-five-hundred hours. You’re on KP duty until we dock.” Gibbs laughed at Mick’s look of consternation. “Sorry, boy. I may think the orders are stupid, but you still disobeyed ‘em.” His face settled into a look of well-worn authority. “Oh-five-hundred, or I’m gonna know why.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Mick quickly arranged his face in placid lines; he knew he was getting off light. Gibbs could have thrown him in the hold that was serving as the ship’s brig for disobeying orders and he knew it. He should be thankful for the gift, but the thought of being around the horrible-tasting fare Ray had been shoving down his throat made him want to gag.

Mick waited until Gibbs’ broad back faded into the night before heading down to his bunk. If he didn’t get back soon, Ray would come looking for him and Mick didn’t want his friend to get into trouble because of him. As he descended the stairs, Gibbs’ words echoed and tumbled in his brain.

Freedom don’t come free, son. Men like us pay for it in spilled blood and lost lives.

Trust me, trust the men around you, and things will work out.

It wasn’t much, but it was all Mick had to hang on to as the Queen Mary carried him toward the unknown.

Oh, honey... this is just so wonderful. I'm thrilled to have been there when the idea was born in your mind, and to have had a small part in helping you bring it to life. The images you evoke here are so poignant, and funny, and sad, and so, so very Mick.

Thank you!

God, what a wonderful story, Jen

You've captured all the emotions young men who became soldiers, sometimes reluctantly, so very well.

Ray had enlisted in the Army with a patriotic fervor that had brought a tear to his wife’s eye and a curl of derision to his best friend’s lip. Mick’s decision to join the Army had been less enthusiastic, coming two steps ahead of a draft notice. Mick considered himself more of a lover than a fighter, but he’d never have been able to look Lilah in the eye again if he’d let Ray go off to fight the Nazis alone.

Here, you provide us opposite ends of the spectrum - Ray signed up out of patriotic fervor, but he also had something to protect - his life with Lilah. Mick doesn't quite share that same fervor, but he'll be damned if Ray is going to show him up. Perhaps there is just a bit of competition going on here as well. Between this and the later comment Mick provides about growing up together with Ray and Lilah, you get the feeling that Lilah was the center of both their universes, the bridge between them. Her ultimate choice of marrying Ray must have disturbed Mick's universe just a little.

Their first glimpse the boys have of the Queen Mary you've captured perfectly - I can see them wide eyed, in awe of this gray behemoth they are about to board, and scared to death.

His jaw had dropped at his first glimpse of the Queen Mary. Holy Mary, Mother of God, Ray had whispered, and Mick had barely resisted crossing himself at the reverent curse.

This, this I could identify and sympathize with. I'm sure there were more than a few that wondered if they'd ever survive the trip over.

Mick had felt his stomach lurch the moment his foot hit the gangplank, but Ray had slung an arm around his reluctant friend’s shoulders and propelled him up and on to the Queen’s hardwood decks. The time since then had been spent either shivering in his bunk or losing what little food Ray could get him to eat.

The conversation Mick has with MS Gibbs is a telling one. For just a little bit, Gibbs shifts from his role as CO to father figure, trying to reassure the young soldier that while what they're about to do will be one of the hardest things a man has ever done, it would be worth it, if it meant preserving the freedoms we all enjoy.

“Just...wondering what the hell I’m doing out here, sir, wondering how I got here. Not sure exactly what I’m heading into, or even what I’m fighting for.” Forearms braced on the ship’s railing, Mick stared out at the dark, deep ocean with unseeing eyes. “I’m scared,” he whispered. “I’m scared to death.”

“Boy, if you weren’t piss-your-pants terrified about what we’re heading into, I’d think there was something wrong with you. Not a man on this ship that ain’t scared, me included.” Gibbs let out a stream of smoke. “None of us know what’s waiting for us over there, but I can goddamn guarantee you it’s gonna be hard, probably the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life. You’re gonna see things, be asked to do things you never thought yourself capable of doing. You’re gonna see bullets shot from a gun you’re holding rip into another man’s body. Men you trust with your life, men you’ve come to think of as brothers, are gonna bleed and die right in front of you. That can take the heart out of a man.”

When I got to this line, though, my heart just broke for Mick as he finally understands what it is he's looking for in life.

Eternal love. He wouldn’t settle for less.

Ultimately, he would achieve it, just not in the way he thought, nor at a price he'd ever imagined

But your ending was true as MS Gibbs resumed his role as CO, ordering Mick to perform KP duty for his disobeying of orders. Gibbs may have been kindred spirit of sorts to Mick, but he also understood the need for order and discipline.

Beautifully done, Jen and a great answer to the challenge!!

PNWgal

This is wonderful (of course). Mick is moving into a reality worlds away from the relative peace of Southern California and into a cold and dark and deep wide world.

He followed the advice he received on the deck of the ship, and learned the lessons of war.

Thoughtful, unpleasant and more than a little sad, yet they did it. Sacrifice didn't start here, but it found a new dimension.

Thank you!

Jenna

Oh, I just watched that beautiful man scared silly, sick, hopeful, and cold. Thank you SO very much for that incredible scene. I got to play in my head something that was so authentic--in all the voices--and such a perfect piece of Mick's long life.



Baywinger

PNWgal,

Your look back into the wartime fears of young soldiers headed off to war is so realistic. I could feel the cold, smell the cigarette smoke, and hear Mick's heart rate race when the CO came out on deck.

Loved it. Thank You for sharing.

PNWgal, this is incredible. It's really cold and dark and deep. So much atmosphere and so much fear and miserable sickness and hope. I love the way Gibbs reassured him and then sent him to extra duty. And Mick's walking a fine line with Lilah already, he wants what Ray has, not necessarily with Lilah, as he would never intrude as long as Ray lives, but he wants the kind of love they have. Sadly he will settle for the wrong girl later, as we all know. Wonderful story!

Dark. Cold. Alone.

Overcoat, collar turned up. Faraway look in his eye. Dreams of the future, echoes of the past. Uncertain of his place in the world; certain of his longing for the warmth of home and family.

This. Is. Mick.

Super, honey.

Red

Alle... Thank you. SO much.

darkstarrising wrote:Between this and the later comment Mick provides about growing up together with Ray and Lilah, you get the feeling that Lilah was the center of both their universes, the bridge between them. Her ultimate choice of marrying Ray must have disturbed Mick's universe just a little.

Karen, you just pull the coolest stuff out of my fics. Thank you so much! I'd wager Mick always had feelings of sorts for Lilah, so what happened between them when they thought Ray was dead wasn't a stretch.

I was really struck by that photograph I saw when on the Queen Mary, of all those boys heading off to war, crowding the decks. It couldn't have been easy for men barely out of boyhood to leave everything they loved behind and go fight and maybe die.

jen, thank you, sweetie. Mick, like many, many other guys, grew up fast after being thrown into the midst of madness.

Baywinger, you're just a doll. That you could actually see this playing out in your head is such a fabulous compliment!

MoonlitRose, thank you! I'm glad this worked so well for you.

Thank you, francis. I always thought Mick just didn't want what Ray and Lilah had, he wanted to have that himself - with Lilah, but being an honorable man, would feel all kinds of guilt about those feelings. Unfortunately, we know that Mick thought he'd found that love, but didn't, and ultimately found it when he thought he never would.

redwinter101 wrote:This. Is. Mick.

Then I've succeeded with this fic. Thanks, Red - those three words are all the praise I need.

Oh my God is this good. Like, really, really good. I'm pretty sure that I've read every piece of ML fic you've written and am constantly amazed at how well you capture every single moment; regardless of the theme, time period or topic. I've read the ones with bits of humor, those filled with angst and love and the hot schmexy ones, and each and every time you leave me scratching my head in wonder: How does she do this? Your talent is so damn amazing---it's consistency regardless of the subject matter--just blows me away.

I am usually not a fan of historically timed pieces, but this one is a huge exception. Loved it. The cadence was just perfect---draws the reader in from the first sentence--which was a gorgeous one, by the way.

Although I am a lifelong non-smoker and cannot stand the smell of cigarettes, I always seem to be able to make an exception for Mick ( and Alex---but that's due to your uber-hot avi, but I digress) I can sooooo picture him standing outside, in an overcoat, languidly smoking a cig, eyes crinkling, breath blowing out. Gah. Yeah, totally hot.

Come on over here, honey, he’d thought on more than one occasion. I’ll take your mind off things and make you real happy.

Um, yeah. That's hot, too. And completely, undeniably true. Have mercy.

Funny, I'm thinking the same damn thing in regards to Mick's seasickness. C'mon over here, honey, I'll make you forget your nausea and dizziness. Or die trying. Again: Have. Mercy.

And don't knock LaFleur's gator stew till you've tried it, okay?? It's a longstanding tradition in the LaFleur family and a time honored recipe.

I left a lot of girls behind, sir.” Mick’s grin was quick and mischievous

Oh how I adore cocky Mick! Arrogant but the dude is telling the truth. Love the glimpse into his young, human adulthood when the man could have had any woman and done anything he wanted.

Love the exchange between Mick and Gibbs. It brought tears to my eyes. It's unfortunate, that time of war and the need for soldiers protecting us is still timely.

The blend of Christmas remembrances, Mick's inner thoughts regarding love (how awesome is that 'eternal love' line? Very appropriate given his future.) and his talk with Gibbs about wartime. Not to mention the little things that I loved: Mick getting into a bit of trouble and being sick. It's not often we get to see a weak or fallible Mick---we're so used to seeing him as the contained, controlled, vampire. It's lovely to get a peek into not only his past, but his very mortal manhood.

Okay. When I said 'manhood', I totally did NOT mean that in any sort of Harlequin romance terminology type of way.

Although, now that my mind has wandered there......

This was true literature. Divine.

Can't lie - it felt odd to read this one already completed. A little sad for me (and feeling a bit jealous of Alle ) but that was quickly eclipsed by my enjoyment of the good read. Pgal, you have outdone yourself.

From the feeling of authenticity of the time (Montgomery Ward catalog, Mae West and just an all-round feeling of the smaller, simpler life lived back then) to the encroaching horror of war. These are boys, going off to fight in a far-way land. Starting out on rough journey beginning on such an awe-inspiring ship. The image of that huge iron lady looming large in front of them had me shivering. A symbol of a scary future that loomed even larger.

I just love your early Mick. Always have. His loving home life and good looks that make him a little arrogant and his easy charm. I especially like that he can admit that he's scared.

He wanted a partner that he could come home to every night, someone who would give him children, someone who would grow old with him.

Here you remind us that even though he comes back from the war, he's not destined for this simple happiness. Having children and growing old with the woman he loves just isn't in his cards.

“None of us know what’s waiting for us over there, but I can goddamn guarantee you it’s gonna be hard, probably the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life. You’re gonna see things, be asked to do things you never thought yourself capable of doing. You’re gonna see bullets shot from a gun you’re holding rip into another man’s body. Men you trust with your life, men you’ve come to think of as brothers, are gonna bleed and die right in front of you. That can take the heart out of a man.” He turned to face Mick, his gaze stony and resolved. “None us are where we thought we’d be, son. Things happen in life, things we can’t control. All we can do is face ‘em head-on and deal with ‘em the best we can.”

How horribly true. And it doesn't end for Mick after he comes back and the war ends. Can't help but think that being a soldier might have been good for Mick. If nothing else he'd have learned perseverance. Something that might have saved his sanity.

“Freedom don’t come free, son,”

My father is a war vet and this is one of his favorite sayings so it always gets me a little choked up. It's true and too easily forgotten. It's something Mick and his crew will learn in spades.

I was totally enmeshed in this story, transported back in time, feeling like I was looking back through a vale in time. Kudos, my friend.

PWNgal.. it is always so wonderful being around your stuff...what an insight in Mick's mortal life, his feelings going off to a war leaving parts of himself behind, not knowing if he'd go back to find any of it...He was a good man to begin with, and a good friend. If he knew that at some point he would be forced to leave his life behind him totally, never to go back and still live through life, he would be heartbroken, because there can be forces in life greater than human wars..

Having just revisited the Queen Mary a week ago, I wanted to find this wonderful story and reread it. I love the way you've evoked the era with little deft touches, such as the fear of spies and the way the troop trains had the curtains pulled down. I loved Mick's complaint that there weren't any pretty girls to flirt with... I can totally see him as a player before the war, with a string of hearts a mile long.

Contrast that cocky young man with the abjectly miserable soldier of a few days later, puking his guts up on board a crowded troop ship! You've made us feel every miserable lurch and sway. (And being the type who gets really seasick, I can so relate to Mick, poor guy!). Thank goodness Whitey knows his mom's stain-removing secrets, because chances are, Mick would have had to wear that stinky coat for the duration.

One of the things that really struck me on this reread was the way you've so deftly painted a portrait of Ray as the guy who helps people. He makes sure Mick eats and frets about him; he helps a buddy write a note home. He's that sort of man--warm hearted, a little more mature than other fellows his own age. He's settled down with the love of his life, and he knows where he's going... as much as any man can during war. It's just beautifully done, honey--in just a few words you've given us a wonderfully detailed image of him.

And then there's MSgt. Gibbs. I LOVE this guy. Gruff, with a huge heart and a well of courage that he's happy to share with people who need it. I love his humor and I love the fact that even though he thinks the rules are dumb, he still enforces 'em because that's his job. He's a wise man... Mick's lucky to have met him, and I'm glad he knows it.

I just love this story. I love immersing myself in Mick's past, feeling the chill air and smelling the sea and the smoke. And even the other, stinkier stuff. You've put me right there on the deck with Mick, honey. If I were really there, I'd give him a hug...

Thank you for writing this. It's such a wonderful look into a pivotal part of Mick's life.

In this wonderful glimpse into the human years of Mick St. John, we see a seasick young soldier on the boat headed for combat in that forest in Italy.

PNWgal, you are an artist!!!

Thank you!

Jenna