Hannah's Hero Ch. 04

This is the fourth part of the Hannah's Hero "saga." If you haven't read the previous parts you might want to take a minute to do so. The same content advisory given in Part 1 applies here as well. As always, I welcome your messages and comments.

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I found myself lying on a beautiful white sandy beach. I was wearing a pink string-bikini with a warm breeze and strong sunlight caressing my skin. I felt strong but gentle hands rubbing my back and shoulders. I turned over and looked up into the smiling green eyes of my husband. His loving eyes, the same shade as mine, looked down at me in adoration.

"Chris," I breathed, reaching out to touch him. His face was solid beneath my hand, with just a hint of roughness from the stubble on his cheek. His hand covered mine, and he smiled broadly.

"Hi, sweetheart," he said. He leaned down and kissed me deeply. I moaned into his mouth, wrapping my arms tightly around him. When our mouths parted, we both laughed for sheer joy. In an instant we were naked, rolling on the thick beach blanket.

His lips kissed over my breasts to the nipples, licking and sucking them. As he enjoyed my firm little tits, my hand found his balls. I gently played with them before moving to stroke his thick penis. Chris sighed in pleasure and kissed down my belly toward my pussy. I stopped him with gentle hands.

"Not this time, lover," I said with a tender smile. "This time, you're going first." I sat up, putting my hands on his shoulders. I guided my husband onto his back and laid on top of him, kissing his mouth, cheeks, and throat. I kissed over his whole body, only going between his legs when I sensed that he was getting frustrated.

I decided not to make him wait anymore, and took him in my warm wet mouth. He moaned loudly as his cock slid in as far as I could take it. I looked him in the eye and started sucking him, slowly sliding his dick in and out of my mouth. Little by little I increased the pace and the pressure, gradually sucking harder. When I felt him getting close I slipped him out of my mouth and started licking his balls and the underside of his shaft.

Groaning at my sweet torment, Chris tried to steer my mouth back to his needy cock. I laughed as I ducked under his hands, but took mercy on him. My lips parted wetly around the head of his penis as I took him back into my mouth. My wet pink tongue swirled around his shaft as I sucked. As I pleasured my man, I felt his hands caressing my head and shoulders.

"Oh baby, I'm close," he whispered, barely louder than the breeze. I kept the same pace, feeling the tension in his body. Seconds later he erupted, "Hannah I'm cumming! Ooohh, I'm cumming!"

I felt the warm, salty spurts in my mouth and tasted the familiar flavor of my husband's seed. I swallowed it greedily. It had been so long. I'd barely finished swallowing his cum when his hands went under my arms and physically lifted me. He laid me on my back just as I'd done to him, and then his mouth was at my pussy. I was already excited from pleasuring him, and his tongue easily slid between my lips.

Chris teased my rapidly hardening clit, and then darted inside of me. I gasped at the feeling, and my back arched to try to force it in deeper. It was his turn to laugh as his hands slid under me to grab my ass. Holding me steady, he thrust his tongue deeply into my pussy. I sighed and moaned loudly. Quickly, he slid his tongue out of my pussy and licked my lips, stopping to gently nibble them occasionally. After a moment, though, he couldn't resist going back to my clit. His slightly rough tongue licked over my clit, driving me closer and closer to the edge. Suddenly, he slid a finger into me and pressed it firmly against the front wall of my pussy, against my G-spot! The firm pressure and his flicking tongue drove me right over the edge and I came hard in his mouth. "Aaaahhhh," I yelled, my hips bucking against his face.

Chris didn't wait for me to come down from the sexual high. Instead, he rose up over me and took me, plunging his hard cock deep inside. His hands pressed against the bottoms of my thighs until my knees nearly touched my breasts. He was thrusting deep inside of me, filling my pussy with his hardness. It felt so good I came again, squeezing him with my muscles. Chris's thrusts were coming faster as he got closer to his second orgasm. I was way past my own second orgasm. In fact I'd lost count again. Then his face came down to meet mine and he kissed me passionately. I felt hot shots of semen erupting inside of me as he came. I moaned into his mouth again as I felt him fill me up.

He stayed on top of me, nuzzling my breasts and kissing my neck. Finally though, he released my legs, slid out of me and laid on his back. I rolled over and cuddled against him, laying my head in the crook of his shoulder. Chris held me and stroked my hair with long, gentle touches. I was feeling the familiar post-orgasmic sleepiness, but I didn't let myself surrender to it. Something wasn't quite right.

"Chris," I murmured against his neck.

"Umm?" he muttered, squeezing me a little tighter.

"I feel like something's wrong, like I've forgotten something," I said. Then it all came rushing back to me. "No," I whispered, unconsciously gripping my husband more tightly. "I'm dreaming. This is a dream!"

"Yes," Chris said softly. "But it's a good dream, isn't it?"

"You died! I saw you die on the TV!" I said, crying.

He didn't reply, he just held me close while I sobbed helplessly against his shoulder. When I finally calmed down some, he loosened his hold.

"How can this be?" I asked. He smiled at me and kissed me again.

"The mind can do amazing, wonderful things. You needed, more than anything, to see me and feel me again, so you made it happen." His eyes gazed into mine, and I could feel how much he loved me.

"So this is all in my head, none of it is real." I looked around us at the beautiful beach, the hot sun, and softly swaying palm trees that surrounded us. Even the sound of the ocean was perfect.

"Of course it's in your head!" he said, still smiling. "But why should that mean it isn't real? Listen Hannah, I won't claim to know all the answers. For now, why don't you just accept this as a gift. One last, precious moment together. I know that I wouldn't have missed this chance for anything."

"I wouldn't have, either!" I said. I hugged him tight, savoring the feel of him against me. My skin was alive with sensation everywhere we touched. The thin field of light brown hairs on his chest teased my nipples. The warm, smooth skin at the crook of his shoulder was like satin beneath my cheek. His strong arms and hands held and caressed me. I felt safe and loved, and I didn't want it to end. Without realizing it, I was starting to squeeze him more and more tightly.

"Whoa, easy girl!" he finally said, laughing. "You should leave a few ribs intact, dream or not!"

I eased off the pressure, but still held him tightly. He caressed my face tenderly. He kissed me and stroked my body with his strong hands. I closed my eyes and let him soothe me. Dream or not, his touch was heaven to me, comforting me and easing the pain.

"I will always love you, Hannah. Always. Never doubt it, and never forget it. Now my love, it's time for you to wake up."

"No Chris, please! Can't I stay with you?" I begged.

"Not just yet, Sweetheart. One day, though, we'll be together again. I promise," He said, his voice gentle and understanding. "Wake up, Hannah."

"Wake up, Hannah!" This voice was different. It was a female voice, one I knew well. "Please, Hannah, please wake up!" I could still see Chris lying next to me, I still felt his body in my arms, but both sight and touch were fading. He smiled, but it was touched with sadness.

"She needs you too, Sweetheart. Go to her." Chris's face was fading faster now. I could no longer feel him in my arms. "No, don't leave me!" He was gone now, the beautiful beach was gone with him. "No!" I screamed into the sudden dimness. My arms flailed outward until strong hands caught my wrists. I opened my eyes to see Jennifer's tear-streaked face, holding my hands in hers.

Slowly I became fully aware of my surroundings. I was in a dimly lit office, lying on a sofa. Jennifer, Dr. Marina Kovarubias, and a dark-haired male I didn't know were there. Jennifer was kneeling at my side.

I blinked my eyes a few times before finally sitting up straight. Dr. Kovarubias remained sitting where she was, her face full of empathy. I didn't know what to say; I didn't know if I should say anything at all, for that matter. Finally unable to stand the silence, I asked, "I passed out, didn't I?"

When Jennifer nodded yes, I asked, "How long was I out?"

"Roughly 20 minutes," Dr. Kovarubias said, her soft Greek accent making familiar words sound exotic. I felt myself slump against the sofa back. I felt drained and empty. My face was strangely dry, as if I didn't even have enough strength for tears. Jennifer sat down next to me and held me tenderly.

"Nurse West...Hannah," Marina Kovarubias began, "My first instinct is to keep you here overnight for observation. The reason for that is that some people, when feeling powerful negative emotions, can do things they would normally never do. Do you understand what I'm saying?" Her dark eyes watched me until I nodded my head yes.

"However, I'm willing to let you go home. I know you'll be more comfortable there, away from prying eyes. But, I want to see you first thing tomorrow. In fact," she paused, smiling gently at me, "I'm making a house call."

Not knowing what to say, and really just wanting to be alone, I nodded my head again. The mature, rational part of my mind knew I needed some professional attention and was grateful to have access to a doctor of her caliber. The grieving, sobbing, hysterical side of me wanted nothing to do with the rational side. It just wanted to be alone with its despair. I won't lie to you; the grieving part was fully in charge of me at that moment. I would've agreed to anything the older woman said if it meant I could get out of that room. She seemed to know what I was feeling. She nodded her head to the dark-haired man.

"Jeffrey is an orderly from my department. He will drive you both home since I don't think you're safe to be on the road. You should both rest."

"Thank you, Doctor," Jennifer said quietly. She helped me stand, and then supported me as we walked to the door. In the hall outside, our fellow nurses expressed their sympathy with gentle pats and touches. Nurse Hoskins -- whom we jokingly referred to as "Nurse-zilla" -- was particularly sympathetic, since her first husband had died in Desert Storm.

The drive home was mercifully short and silent, and then Jen and I were back at the house. I stumbled twice on the way to my room, but Jennifer kept me upright. She opened my door and helped me to the bed. I lay down, and the tears finally started. There was no sound. No screaming or throwing things, no hysterics, just a steady flow of tears. My rage would catch up with me later. For now, I was dominated with grief, pain, and loss. I looked up at my best friend and sister-in-law's face.

"He really loved you, you know," I said to her at last. "More than anything, he wanted to protect you, and fill in for your absentee father. He wanted so much for you to be happy."

"I know," she said, her voice breaking on the last word. "He was a good man. I loved him so much, and I hope I told him often enough. But Hannah," she took my chin in her hand and made me look her in the eye, "I don't think he'd want either of us to totally fall apart."

"I know that's true. I won't let myself break down like that." I let her see that I meant what I said. "By the same token, I'm sure he'd understand how I feel. He was really good at reading my mood. Even on that very first date, he could tell what I was feeling and respond in exactly the right way." Jennifer sank onto the bed with me and held me while I cried.

"Yes he would have. In fact, he'd have been just as devastated if the situation were reversed. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to criticize you, Hannah, I --"

"Stop, Jen," I said. "You don't have to apologize to me, nor do have to worry about being brave. It's okay to just let it go. You've held me and given me every comfort you could. It's your turn. If anyone on Earth could claim a closer bond with him than me, it would be you. We're alone here, so let it out."

Her body trembled against me, and I held her as tightly as she had held me. I stroked her hair and her shoulders while she wept. When she had finished, we sat in silence for a while. I felt a curiously refreshed sensation, as if the tears and the outpouring of grief had partially cleansed the wounds in my heart, so the healing could start at some point.

Finally, the blessed mercy of sleep swept over us, and we rested peacefully in each others' arms. I think that we both needed the closeness. Jennifer was the closest friend I'd ever had, not counting my husband. As much as I felt like being alone, I needed more than anything to feel the bonds of family with someone. Yeah, I know that's contradictory and it doesn't make any sense. Regardless, we held each other close and offered each other what comfort we could. Sleep took care of the rest.

The next day, I began what was to be a long process of finding my husband's remains and trying to get him home. I started making the first of what would be many calls to many offices. I started with the office of the Chaplain General and worked my way out from there. The papers Chris had left for me -- other than a very loving letter -- dealt mostly with financial stuff. I'm sure he didn't foresee things happening quite like this. The problem was I couldn't do anything until he was officially declared dead.

Anyone who's dealt with the military in general -- and the Army in particular -- will probably be familiar with the runaround I was getting. I wasn't making much headway. I was asking awkward questions, such as "Why did I see my husband die on cable news before I get official notification?", and "Where is my husband's body?"

After a week, our bereavement leave was up. Neither of us felt like going back to work, but back we went. The whole staff -- not just the nurses -- went out of their way to treat Jen and I with the utmost sympathy and respect. But things weren't going well. I still wasn't getting any answers out of the Army. My sessions with Dr. Kovarubias went alright. She truly is a gifted professional, but I just couldn't bring myself to hear what she was saying sometimes.

My Daddy, though, was a big help. It was only a few days after that horrible newscast that he came to see me, flying all the way from Atlanta just to be with me and comfort me.

"Baby," he'd said, "You can always come back to the house if you need to. I'll take care of you. Don't you worry none about your Momma. If she says one cross word to you --"

"Oh Daddy! Thank you, but no," I said to him. I saw love and understanding in his eyes.

"I liked that young man a lot, honey, and I could see how much you loved each other. You just remember that I love you too, and if you ever need me you just call."

As still another week passed, though, and the Army continued to stone-wall me, I started to get worn down. I wasn't eating at all, I was losing weight, and my stamina and energy were at all time lows. Everyone noticed, but only Jennifer and Dr. Kovarubias said anything. I just brushed it off. I didn't have much of an appetite.

Oddly, a patient in my ward snapped me out of it. His name was Brigadier General William Ellis, U. S. Army (retired). He was in the hospital fighting a losing war with pancreatic cancer. It was the fourth week after the newscast. I'd stopped to check on him during my regular afternoon rounds.

"How do you feel today, Mr. Ellis?" I asked politely. I didn't notice the way he was looking me up and down. I was too busy checking his chart and his IV drip.

"I feel like I've been pumped full of toxic drugs, then zapped with a focused beam of ionizing radiation. But since that's exactly what happened, I guess that's normal. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine, thank you for asking," I said absently.

"Really? I think that's a load of horse shit," he said. I was startled. The old man had always been very polite before, and the sudden rough tone and language were out of character. I was even more startled when his hand lashed out with sudden quickness and grabbed the waist band of my scrub pants. He tugged them away from my belly and let them snap back.

"About what I thought," he said.

"What was that all about?" I demanded angrily. He looked me square in the eye without the smallest trace of apology.

"You have lost a good deal of weight, girl. Your muscle tone is starting to slip because you aren't getting enough protein. Your cheeks are starting to look hollow and your eyes are dull. Tell me, Nurse West, what would those symptoms indicate to you?" He locked eyes with me, almost daring me to challenge his assessment.

When I didn't respond to him he shook his head. "You looked pretty good when I first got here, but there's been a steady decline, so I've been asking myself what happened to you."

"It's none of your business," I said, color starting to rise in my cheeks.

"I spent most of my career in Military Intelligence," he said. "And yes, I'm well aware that's a contradiction in terms most of the time. But back before you were born, in a shitty little war we like to call Vietnam, I kept myself and my men alive by noticing things that most other people didn't. I see something in you right now that I haven't seen since then."

His dark, intelligent eyes surveyed me again. It wasn't a lustful gaze, it was more like he was evaluating important data.

"I know the gist of what's happened to you," he said finally. "The staff here's been pretty tight-lipped about it, but that damn broadcast," his voice trailed off and he shook his head in disgust. "People are going to talk about something like that, no matter how much they want to protect your feelings. It's human nature, and without it the intelligence business would be an even tougher one than it is."

He shrugged slightly. "Learning things I'm not supposed to know is what I do...or rather, what I did." With surprising athleticism for a 70-year-old man who was literally dying, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. Automatically I moved closer to his side in case he fell, just as he knew I would.

He caught my hand in his and held it with surprising strength. I couldn't seem to look away from his eyes. "Tell me what else has happened. What is it that's eating you up inside?" His voice was a weird blend of deep sympathy and unyielding command.

As if a dam inside me broke, the whole story poured out. He listened attentively, occasionally stopping me to ask a question. Afterwards he let me go and sat back in his bed, staring reflectively at the ceiling. Finally, he looked back to me.

"I hate shit like this, but you aren't the first couple this kind of stuff's happened to. I may be able to help, but I'll need to call in a favor. Come see me tomorrow after my Chemotherapy treatment and I may have something for you."

I was stunned. "Oh my God, thank you!"

"No!" he said, weakly. "No thanks are needed, Nurse West. You and I both know," he looked toward the chart in my hands, "what that thing says. My wife's been gone for 15 years, thanks to some liquored-up punk in an El Camino. Without her, and without the Service, I've felt like a useless REMF. I still have some...friends, I guess you could say, who owe me big time. If I can actually help you, then it'll be an honor and a privilege to do it." He smiled at me. "Our country will survive as long as people like your husband are still willing to fight, and sometimes die for it. Maybe I can help him come home."