A New Georgy-Girl Ch. 03 - Echoes

"Thank you, baby, I was waiting for you to realise what was happening. Oatmeal for breakfast for you from now on, and no sugar, okay, sweetie? And no more fried breakfasts, sweets, and snacks; you're going to eat healthily from now on."

I stared at her. How the dickens did she know what I was thinking?

"Georgy, I..." I began, and she patted my chest.

"I heard Andy this evening, sweetheart; I loved you when you were so fit and trim, Will, and I love you to death now, but I wasn't going to say anything, you had to see if for yourself; what kind of wife would I be if I shamed and belittled you, even in private? I wanted you to see it for yourself, I wanted the boys to tell you, they can say things to you I would never say in a million years, and now you know and you're doing something about it. You and the boys go and do your thing, get yourself back in the shape you think you should be in, and I'll feed you properly and wait for my fighting-fit Soldier-Man to show up again! How does that sound, babe?"

I hugged her tightly.

"I don't deserve you, Georgy, and thank you for not saying anything!" I murmured. "Starting tomorrow, Andy and Rex are going to start putting me through my paces again; I let myself go, and that's on me, so I have to fix it, and the boys will take me through it. Time to start walking the ramparts again, baby-girl, Andy woke me up just in time."

Georgy looked worried.

"Why, what have you heard? Is everything...?" but I kissed her to calm her questions.

"No, nothing at all, it's just we've kind of forgotten why we're here in the first place; Andy reminded me that the world hasn't gone away, and we need to keep our guard up; it's all gone quiet, and they don't know what that means. Whatever it is, I can't protect you and the kids by being a fat, lazy, useless slob, so tomorrow, that ends."

"Thank you, Will; knowing you're back on-guard makes me feel really secure; only you do that to me, baby, not Andy, not Rex, not the whole British Army; only you. Nice and early, yes?"

"Up with the larks," I promised her, and I meant it too; the coming days were going to see some serious changes around here.

*****

Getting back into shape was at least fifty times more strenuous than just staying in shape had been; muscles had softened, endurance had faded, my wind was blown, and anything like real effort brought me out in rivers of sweat. My first run with Andy, just a mile along the valley floor, felt like running the obstacle course at Bulford Camp with lead weights strapped to me; I could barely stagger back to the cottage at the end of it. I couldn't believe I had made so much effort for so little gain; God, I was a mess! When the lads weren't running me into a gasping, sweaty ruin, it was calisthenics, vigorous, high-impact, army-style calisthenics, no mercy, no respite.

Their schedule was simple, and punishing; twenty jump-squats then rest, then twenty more, then crunches, twenty-five at a time, and any complaints got me another twenty-five, burpees, ten at a time, steadily increasing push-ups, starting with ten, and gradually working up to tranches of twenty-five in between all the other exercises they had me doing.

It was way more intense than the Annual Fitness Test (or CFT, 'combat fitness test' as it was still called by the older squaddies) I'd been required to pass at Bulford, and I thought at the time that had been brutal enough; this was worse; that was just once a year, this torture was every day. I literally crawled into bed at night, and fell out of it in the mornings, my legs wobbling and throbbing with the effort of walking, because my thigh and calf-muscles were so stressed and sore, to go back out there and do it all again, and more.

The torture went on until it stopped being torture; muscles eventually hardened, endurance ramped up to nearly my pre lazing-around levels, and it became less like a chore and more like a vigorous daily workout, but it had taken two weeks of intense effort, all day every day. On the plus side, though, I had finally stopped limping and staggering around the house and found myself more energetic and not dragged out and dog-tired at the end of each day.

When Andy was satisfied that my endurance and muscle-tone were improved enough to take it was when the real torture started. Rex had pulled the 'Clansman' vehicle radio from his government-issue Discovery 4x4 back at the house and brought it along with him; it weighed twenty-five kilos (about fifty-five pounds, about the same as a fully-packed infantry Bergen backpack) and thoughtfully came with a backpack and webbing body-straps. Guess what he strapped on my back and made me take for a run?

Ok, it was a walk at first, albeit a brisk one; no-one, unless they're some kind of super-fit gym-rat or Gurkha (and believe me, I'd trained with them, they were made of spring steel and whalebone, no-one in their right mind can do what they do, it's just freaky...) is going to take off from a standing start with that much weight strapped to their back. The run was coming later; all he was doing was getting me used to the weight again. I'd had to do this every year as part of the required fitness regime, it was just a case of letting my body remember and acclimatise all over again to the weight and what it did to my balance.

Andy galvanised me by reminding me that all those empty, battered old suits of armour standing around my home like weird, extra-large umbrella stands weighed fifty pounds or more each, and yet my ancestors, who were obviously much shorter and slighter built than me going, by the size of their armour, walked around in them for days on end, ran, jumped, and climbed on horseback wearing them, and fought hand-to-hand battles swinging a four-pound sword for hours in one hand and holding a ten-pound solid steel shield in the other; if they could do that then so could I and not make such a bloody song and dance about it!

Walking the three miles to the other end of the valley and back again with that weight on my back was tiring, but I was surprised that I wasn't drop-dead exhausted; two weeks earlier they'd have had to bring me back on a wheelbarrow, that was how far out of condition I'd let myself become. Now, I was tired, yes, and a hot soak would have been welcome, but I certainly wasn't feeling like I was at death's door. Andy grinned as he helped me unload the backpack.

"Take a rest, LT, fifteen minutes, then ten Burpees, full pack, five minutes, and ten more, you know the drill. Don't look at me like that; be grateful it's not twenty-five push-ups with Jamie on your back as well! Believe it or not, you'll thank me one day for all this. Tomorrow we're jogging up to the ridge and back, same order, let's see how well you do running uphill in a debris field with that weight on your back, so when you're done grab a hot soak, get a good meal, carbs, you're going to need them, and hit your pit, early start tomorrow!"

I couldn't quite resent his sadism in working me so hard; once upon a time, just a few short weeks ago, astonishingly enough, I would have taken all he could throw at me and just shrugged it off; that it was such hard work was entirely my own fault, so I bit my tongue and got on with it.

The fact I was no longer an exhausted wreck pleased Georgy no end; she wasn't crass enough to snark at me because of the lack of "horizontal discussions" in the bedroom, she knew I was trying to regain what I'd lost through my own slothfulness and letting my guard down. She saw day after a day how wrecked I was after being put through my paces over and over again; most nights I could barely raise a weak grin, let alone anything else!

However, as exhaustion tailed off, other things began to make themselves felt again; night after night Georgy massaged my aching muscles and joints, she could see that the old me was returning, and I could feel her massages and rubdowns becoming less therapeutic and more personal; my obviously increased fitness and trimmed-down body was getting to her, and not at all in a bad way!

Believe me, I hadn't lost any desire for her; quite the opposite, in fact. Georgy occupies my mind roughly 100% of the time, and the fact I wasn't making any kind of moves on her wasn't down to anything except sheer exhaustion, but as the workouts and running became less exhausting my mind and body started to feel other, more primal urges. Georgy still looked like the sexy, horse-riding university graduate I'd fallen in love with, marriage and three children had left no evidence of anything other than that a seriously hot girl had turned into a seriously hot 'yummy-mummy'. Climbing into bed with her night after night too physically tired to do anything except cuddle down and pass out was taking its toll on me too.

However, things DO change, and my changed fitness and lack of tiredness left me room to ponder other things, and so it was that one night, after lights-out, I reached for her, and it wasn't to check if she was still breathing, if you get my drift.

"No baby, rest, poor you, you were so tired earlier..." she demurred, so I pulled her close and kissed her meaningfully. Holding Georgy close always generates a welter of emotions and urges within me and colour my perception of her; wife, mother of my children, lover, partner, best friend, and, something I tend to let drop into the background hum of other feelings and emotions she arouses in me, baby sister I've loved totally and unreservedly since earliest days. I've never felt any conflict in me between all the many things she is to me, because Georgy is my all, she's everything to me and all I need to sustain me; she's my soul's deepest need, and the basis of all life as I understand it.

"I was tired then; I'm not tired now, Georgy!" I grinned, and her hopeful grin and the naughty gleam in her eyes were all I could have hoped for.

"Why sir, this is all so sudden, I hardly know where to put my face!" she giggled, batting her eyelashes coquettishly, "My husband might be back at any moment now, for shame! I must know your intentions, sir, for I have a name and reputation to maintain!"

I wrapped my arms around her and rolled onto my back, taking her with me so I could squeeze and jiggle her bottom a little

"My intentions, young lady, are, alas, strictly dishonourable, but you'll love every second of it!" I leered, and Georgy grinned happily, tweaking my rapidly erecting cock.

"Glad to hear it, Will, it's about fucking time!" she leered right back at me, grinding herself against me and making me gasp at the sudden pressure. "Do things to me Will, do bad, bad things, it's been so long..."

"What are you waiting for, babe, you're there..." I gasped, bursting with need for her, but she shook her head and kissing me, her mane of black curls forming a net around the two of us as we kissed.

"No Will, make love to me, please baby, I need you so much!" she murmured, slipping off me to once more lie by my side.

I slid down the bed, intending to play a little, maybe taste her goodies and give her more of a treat, but she stopped me.

"No Will, I mean it, I'm ready now; God, I've been ready for weeks! You have no idea, just... just do it, I'm about to burst!"

To hear is to obey, and as I kissed her I slowly slid into her. God she was hot! The expression on her face told me all I needed to know about what she was feeling as we slowly made love, and that's what we were doing: making love. Georgy is my wife, my lover, the absolute centre of my universe, and everything I do with her is done with love (with a healthy dose of lust mixed in, too; she is seriously hot, after all...) and even if she wasn't already my girl I'd be making plans to waylay her and make her my girl; that's what she did to me.

There was no way this was going to be a prolonged, leisurely bout of lovemaking; nearly three weeks enforced abstinence had put an edge on me that would make a Japanese katana look blunt as a rolling-pin by comparison, and Georgy was obviously feeling it too. Our movements quickly moved from the gentle pace I thought we'd take to wild, almost frenzied coupling as the weeks of doing without her took their toll. All too soon she was kissing me wildly, humping and hunching against me as I plunged in and out of her.

The end, when it came, was all, and more, we were hoping it would be; Georgy grabbed a pillow and jammed her face into it as she screamed like a banshee, her pussy tightening around me and rippling like a hand squeezing and milking me. I couldn't hold back any longer, bellowing into the pillow as I came like a fire-hose, those weeks of pent-up need bursting out of me again and again, draining me dry as the strength poured out of me like a broken vessel.

I collapsed next to her, utterly and completely drained, my body surrendered entirely to the languid, sweet sorrow of la petite mort, the 'little death' of post-orgasmic bliss. Georgy seemed to be in no better condition; her chest heaved as she lay with her eyes shut tight, tear tracks running down her cheeks. I reached for her, and her eyes flicked open, and her beautiful smile lit up her face.

"Hello Soldier-man..." she murmured, gently stroking my face, "Welcome back, I missed you!" I smiled at her gentle jab, and she lifted the pillow and giggled.

"Look what I did, Willie..." and I had to grin; she'd bitten a hole clean through the pillowcase, "I think we better cut back a little, I only have so many pillowcases!"

I wrapped my arms around her and held her close; whatever was coming, at least one thing remained firm and unchanging: Georgy and I were still as tight as ever, and whatever happened, we were going to see it through together.

Part 3: Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum

The days blurred and melted together as summer rolled on into the first flush of autumn and the kids were starting to check the blackberry bushes daily, waiting for the day Georgy said they could go blackberry picking. That was about the extent of their worries, and Georgy, Aunt Kay, Megan, and the guys worked tirelessly to ensure it remained that way. My routine remained unchanged at first, exercising had become more or less habitual, and my days and nights were idyllic, spending the days with the kids, and nights once more making slow, wonderful love with my beautiful Georgy-Girl.

However, as in all things, change had to come, and my bouts of exercise ramped up step by step as my fighting fitness slowly returned, and so the guys kept me busy, always pushing myself to gain back every molecule of fitness and conditioning I'd lost, and more, making me far fitter and better conditioned than even in my army days.

But under it all were the nagging doubts that Jarhead had put there; why had it all gone quiet, and what was coming next? I was starting to get feelings I'd hoped I'd never feel again, edgy, back-of-the-neck, prickling, up on tiptoes feelings I thought I'd left behind in the sandbox. Jarhead was right; nothing was happening, and it was all wrong. Something was up, something bad, and it was heading our way.

Jarhead and Bonzo didn't let anything slip, but I could tell they were on-edge too; the banter dropped off as the air of wary watchfulness I remembered so well from back in the sand crept over all three of us. Even Aunt Kay could feel it; I noticed she'd developed the habit of not letting the kids stray and play more than a hundred yards from the house and safety, and Georgy wasn't immune to it, either; she knew we were still targets, but she kept that down and away from the kids, leaving the real worrying to Andy, Rex, and me, at least when the kids were around.

When we were alone, though, is when she would share her fears and I would try and comfort her as best I could, and she would relax; she knew that she and the children were my world, and that I would move Heaven and earth to keep them safe; I had promised her my life for theirs, and she knew I meant it.

I was finally back at my peak fitness, taking my turn at night to roam around the stand-off perimeter we'd set, the closest we could ever allow intruders to approach, wary and watchful. Military routine slipped back into place, my experiences in Helmand and memories of how bad it could be if we let our guard down, all my training and experience came to the fore again; we were under attack, never mind the valley was peaceful as a church; trouble was coming and we couldn't afford to cease our vigilance.

And so, when the people who had forced us here finally showed up, we were neither unprepared nor caught with our pants down, something I think they'd been banking on. To be honest, it was more or less completely the other way round...

*****

Andy, Rex, and I had developed a routine of being not-at-all-obviously on guard, mostly so as not to spook the kids, and we rotated shifts through the nights; if I was on nights, I'd patrol around three nights all night with an encrypted radio handset and voice-activated headset mike and a night-vision monocular while one dozed on the obscenely comfortable couch in the family room with a headset active in case I called, and the other got his head down for a full night's sleep. After my nights on guard, I'd sleep through the day while the other two took turns during daylight hours walking the perimeter we'd set or watching over the family and we'd swap rotas every three days.

When I was on nights, Georgy, Aunt Kay, and Megan kept the kids and their brand of bedlam out of the house with nature-watching, collecting polished pebbles and quartz, feathers, pine cones, and interesting flowers for arts and crafts, dipping minnows and crayfish from the stream, reading and storytelling, and playing and running around in the meadows under Rex or Andy's watchful eye. The story given to the kids was that daddy had been up watching TV and chatting all night, so he was having a lie-in. It worked, mostly, although Jamie was brighter than the average bear and pretty early-on figured something was up, if not exactly what.

It was while I was back on the night rota that I spotted them, what looked like a late-model Nissan Patrol gingerly crawling down the Eastern escarpment, showing no lights and with the engine off. The valley, a wide, flat curve carved by a glacier during the last Ice Age was almost a perfect parabolic reflector, magnifying sounds along its entire length; it was such an effective echo chamber I could stand on the Western ridge watching the kids on the Eastern side through binoculars, over a mile away, and whistle to them and they'd look around to see if they could spot me. A car engine, especially a big diesel, would echo and reverberate up and down the entire length and breadth of the valley.

The valley sides were littered with rocks ranging from house-brick sized to gigantic boulders, all dropped by the melting glacier, with long ridges of moraine, mounded banks of loose jumbled gravel and crushed stone debris picked up and carried miles from their origin by the glacier and dumped in piles by the melt. Making the sides of the valley even more treacherous for any kind of vehicle were long, deep gouges, parallel trenches cut deeply into the landscape by the gigantic boulders, like stone-age monoliths weighing hundreds of tons, that the glacier had dragged along as it flowed down the valley, carving out the landscape as it is today before abandoning them when it melted.

"Jarhead, wake Bonzo, incoming..." I murmured, shrouding the mike with my hand so my voice didn't carry, "Time to get busy. Wake Georgy and Megan, and get the family into the cellar, stat."

"Copy that, LT, complying," he replied, "how many, Will?"

"One SUV, they're coming in no lights, engine off, down along the Eastern slope, ranging-in at four kilometres...mark; they're free-wheeling it, trying to be all sneaky and stealthy. Tell me we're dealing with pro's here, please..."