Legionnaire

A/N -- Hello all. So I'm having another attempt at a romance story. My first story 'Outback' had some good feedback. Second story 'Eva' was actually ended up being placed in a different category, 'Mature' for anyone interested. Third story 'The Good Neighbour' was a romance full of the usual tropes and drama, with a sweet ending that left readers in a diabetic coma. I enjoyed putting the story together though.

Not entirely sure one element of this story is entirely realistic but it's fantasy / fiction. I guess we're allowed a little leeway into how realistic this all is.

Anyway, like most stories in this category (from those I've read), and those I do write outside my main category, any sex that happens is brief. There won't be any long detailed scenes.

Any French is translated from English using Google, so for anyone who does understand French, apologies if the language is butchered. In addition, any knowledge of the French Foreign Legion is based on whatever I could find online.

Usual caveats. Written and edited in Word. Spelling is usually on point. Grammar can be ropey sometimes. I own all errors as I do miss things occasionally. I'm definitely not perfect.

Comments and feedback appreciated as always.

Hope you enjoy!

*****

"Sergent-Chef!"

A legionnaire does not stroll. Anywhere. Anytime. A soldier of the French Foreign Legion marches! Striding into the office of the Commanding Officer of the 1st Foreign Engineer Regiment, 6th Light Armoured Brigade, I turned, came to attention, and saluted. He returned the salute before I stood easy, hands behind my back.

"Sergent Taylor, in my hand I hold your resignation letter. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

For those interested, this conversation was in French. It is the only language of the Legion. If you're lucky, some of your companions will speak English, but I rarely spoke that except on those brief times I had a chance to take a holiday. Even then, I hadn't been home in years. At best, I had made it to the United Kingdom a handful of times in the past decade.

"You have served near enough ten years, Sergent. I must ask why you are choosing to resign now."

"Precisely as it has been ten years, sir. I wish to go home."

"France is not your home?"

"In many ways, yes, it is, sir. I am a naturalised citizen. Français par le sang versé." He grinned at that. I had earned the right to citizenship due to spilling my blood for France while on deployment in North Africa. "But in my heart, I am still a man of my homeland. I left my family ten years ago. I left behind all that I know, what would have been a comfortable life. I have no regrets, sir. None at all. But I've given ten years of service to the Legion and to France."

He met my eyes for a brief moment before nodding. "Understandable. You have kept in contact with home?"

"To a degree. My parents and sister are aware I'm in Europe. Most people wouldn't have a clue where I've been. No-one knows I've been a legionnaire."

"Guess they'll be in for a surprise when you know on the front door, yes?"

"I aim to do so in my uniform and beret, sir. I'm sure I'll receive a few questions when I arrive at passport control."

He looked at the letter again. I had given the Legion ten years of my life. I'd joined on a whim after that morning after our end of year formal (prom, for non-Australians). The morning when all my plans had fallen apart, my heart had been broken, and the future I thought I had laid out for us both was snuffed out with a few sentences that changed my life.

I'd been tempted to join the Australian Army, but I wanted away from everything, as all I would ever see would be reminders of what might have been. I'd always had a romantic view of the French Foreign Legion. Books and movies mostly. I learned reality was far different very quickly, but I hadn't regretted my decision a single day since walking into the recruiting office, using my half-decent four years of learning basic French at high school to enlist.

The CO sighed and signed the letter. "It is always unfortunate to lose a soldier of your calibre, but after ten years, I can understand the desire to return to your family, Sergent." He stood up and offered his hand. "Thank you for your service."

"Thank you, sir."

"You'll receive your papers within seventy-two hours. Good luck."

"Thank you, sir."

"And if you do change your mind, the Legion happily accepts returning soldiers. Within a reasonable timeframe, of course."

"Well, I would say you never know, sir. But we'll see."

Marching out of his office, I headed straight towards the barracks. The 1st Foreign Engineer Regiment was garrisoned in Quartier General Rollet in Laudun-l'Ardoise, which is in the very south of France. Once I had my exit papers within the next three days, I packed my things and readied myself to go. All my companions and friends were aware of my departure. They were from all over the world. I would say a third were from around Europe, a third from Africa, a third from the Americas. Plenty of nationalities. Religions. But none of that mattered once you wore the uniform and beret. We were all brothers. I was sad to leave them, but I had been away from home long enough.

I had to travel to Marseille to catch a TGV heading north to Paris. Thankfully, that was a quick trip before connecting to another train to make it to Charles de Gaulle Airport and a connecting flight via south-east Asia to Sydney. No-one knew I was coming home. I still had an Australian passport, making sure I renewed it while I was overseas. I received a few funny looks as I disembarked at Sydney Airport and the lady at passport control did a double take, then wondered why I was speaking French. I didn't even realise I was doing it as it was just second nature.

But my passport was up to date and I was still an Australian citizen, so once I was through, collected my bag, and made sure I exchanged Euros into the local currency, I grabbed a taxi and gave them the address for my parents' house. Staring out the window as we eventually joined the freeway west, the city had certainly changed during the ten years I'd been gone.

Pulling up outside the house I'd grown up in, I paid the driver and stepped out with my two bags. I sighed as nothing seemed to have changed in a decade. Cars in the driveway were different, but apart from that, it was almost a comfort to see the old place again.

Walking towards the door, I knocked and folded my arms behind my back again. My father opened the door and nearly fainted. "John?"

"Hey, Dad." We embraced as the old man immediately started to cry. Nearly got me going at the same time. "Sorry it's been so long."

"It's fine. It's fine." He leaned back and held my shoulders. It was amusing I now stood a good four inches taller than him. "Wow, you've changed. And what are you wearing?"

"It's a long story."

He grabbed my biceps. "Someone's been going to the gym, at least."

"Mostly carrying a lot of heavy shit."

Grabbing my bags, he led me inside, putting a finger to his lips and gesturing to the kitchen. Even after all these years, Mum still hummed to herself while she was preparing dinner. Stepping through the doorway, she looked up and I think nearly fainted. Then she burst into tears, and when she hugged me, that's when I finally released a few. Didn't say a word for at least ten minutes, simply rocking slightly as she squeezed me.

Finally letting me go, wiping her eyes with tissues my father got me, she immediately went into overdrive. "Right, I must call your sister. And your grandparents. And the whole family. Bill, tomorrow, barbecue. John, do your friends know you're here? We'll have to let them know. They'd love to see you."

"Whoa! Calm down, Mum. I've just walked in the door, I'm a little jet-lagged here."

"And what is that you're wearing anyway?"

"My uniform."

"Uniform? For what?"

"Um..." I glanced between the pair of them. "I joined the French Foreign Legion ten years ago."

Mum started to laugh. Dad just stared at me in shock. "You what?" Mum asked in disbelief.

"When I packed my shit that day and left, I drove to the airport. Dumped my car there. Walked into the terminal, booked a flight to Paris via Hong Kong and joined up within the week."

"But that's insane!" Mum exclaimed, "Why on earth would you..." She trailed off as she remembered that other morning when I'd returned. "Oh..."

"Yeah. Felt like a good decision at the time."

"Well, I guess we can understand not exactly telling us what you were up to," Dad said, "I'm assuming telling us you were an engineer that it was in the Legion?"

"Yeah. I'm also really struggling not to speak French right now. I've spent the better part of the last decade speaking it rather than English."

"French girlfriend?" Mum asked.

"I've had a couple but I've been single for a while now. I haven't brought anyone with me, nor left anyone behind. Nor left any kids behind, before you ask."

"You hungry?"

"Starving. Gasping for a drink too."

Dad and I took a stool each as Mum prepared dinner while communicating with the family. My sister arrived within an hour with her husband and two kids in tow. Spent the same length of time hugging me as our mother before I was introduced to my brother-in-law, niece and nephew. Both sets of grandparents arrived soon after. Grandmothers cried. Grandfathers shook my hand and I saw the respect in their eyes, and in their firm grips. They might not have recognised the uniform, but they knew I'd served. That was enough in their eyes.

Sitting down for the first meal with the family felt a little strange. More than once, I answered a question in fluent French, only realising when they all stared at me, wondering what the hell I was saying. I was now fluent in English, French, and could speak another three languages to a passable degree, not that it mattered back home. Speaking French would be enough to earn a few glances and who knows what else.

"It'll take a while to stop doing that," I joked, "It didn't actually take me that long to get used to it, but a couple of years to be completely fluent. I now think in French so speaking English is weird."

"Whip out the French and you'll be a hit with the ladies," my sister, Emily, suggested. She was three years older than I was, "So why the Legion?"

"Because of what happened the morning after the formal." (We call the end of school function a 'formal' in Australia. Or we used to. Maybe they call it a 'prom' now too?)

"Oh..." Same reaction as Mum. "Well, I guess I could say that was a drastic reaction but if you're happy with how life has worked out."

"I have no regrets and loved every minute I served, Mum," I replied, smiling broadly, "The only reason I left is that I've found myself missing home hitting the ten-year mark of service. If I realise I've made a mistake, I can always return." Mum lifted her head and met my eyes, instant concern at the idea that I'd leave again. "I'm sure I'll find a good enough reason to remain at home, Mum."

The house had changed during the time I'd been away. My sister had already left home by the time I'd skedaddled to France, so our rooms had been turned into an office and guest room. Dad said there were a couple of boxes of my things in the garage, but a lot of other things had been binned. I told him not to worry, I'd figure something out quickly enough.

After a shower, looking in the mirror and seeing the scars that remained from action I'd seen, I put on a shirt and shorts, not wanting my parents to ask where they'd been earned. Not yet anyway. Mum hugged me again for a good ten minutes before we headed to bed, my father giving me a briefer embrace, though I could see he was choked up at the same time.

"Good to have you home, son," he said softly, "Thanks for coming home alive."

"No worries, Dad. Bastards did their best. Story for another day though."

The bed was almost brand new and incredibly comfortable. Little wonder I was fast asleep within a couple of minutes, though I'm sure the jet-lag didn't help. Waking before everyone else in the house was amusing, used to rising early after all the training, heading out into the backyard to go through my usual exercise regime. I thought I was fit when I'd joined up. I learned I knew nothing within a week of basic training.

Mum was cooking breakfast when I headed back inside bare-chested, running a towel over me to wipe up the sweat. She glanced at me and blushed as I was far more muscular and broader than when I'd left. Her eyes lingered on a couple of prominent scars. "I survived, Mum. It's okay," I said, walking to give her a hug, kissing the top of her head.

"Hungry? And do you want a coffee?"

"Yes to both, please. I'll have a quick shower first though."

"Everything will be on the table when you're done."

I'd returned home without any real plan of what I was going to do. I assumed I could find a job in some sort of engineering field. Ten years as an engineer in the Legion would surely help open at least some doors. Dad suggested we have a barbecue after I'd zoned out in front of the television for an hour or so, not really watching or paying attention, mostly away with my thoughts.

As he was busy cooking up, my sister appeared with her family as it was a weekend, so I assumed a family barbecue wasn't too unusual, but my return gave it greater significance. Hearing a knock at the door, Mum asked me to get it. Opening it, I recognised my three best mates immediately. They were older, of course, but I couldn't miss those grins I remembered.

"Fucking hell, John!" Mark stated before he offered his hand. We shook for a moment before I stepped forward to embrace him. I heard him go 'oof' for a moment. "Jesus wept, you made of concrete now or something?"

Laughing, I took a few more seconds to embrace my friend, something I knew he would have appreciated, before I stepped back, amused I was now taller and broader than the three of them. I'd had a late growth spurt at nineteen that gave me three more inches of height. Brett was next to shake my hand, a quick bro-hug, with Chris the last to shake my hand and a quick embrace.

"What the fuck have you been up to?" Mark asked, "I mean, apart from the occasional email..."

I could understand why he trailed off, noticing the stares of my three friends. I'd left in such a hurry ten years earlier... "Come inside, guys. Guess I have a story to share."

Grabbing a beer for each of us, we walked outside to be greeted by my parents. Mum had always liked my friends, and I assumed she hadn't seen them in a while, hugging all three of them, much to my amusement and their slight embarrassment. Dad shook their hands, while my sister hadn't seen them since the day I'd left, so they spent time catching up. It was only when we were all sat down that they finally asked the question they'd no doubt spent ten years pondering.

"So why'd you leave, John?"

Before I replied, I asked, "What were you told? I can only imagine my disappearance sent tongues wagging. Particularly in regards to a certain someone."

The three shared a glance. "Well, we've had differing accounts of what happened," Mark replied.

So I told them what happened, at least according to my memory, and they knew I wouldn't lie about something like that. It was the first time my parents and sister would have heard the whole truth, at least from my side anyway. All I'd done when returning home the same morning that I'd left for Paris is that we'd split up and I was going away for a while. Now they knew the real truth as to why. My heart had been broken into a million pieces.

"Look, it might seem liked a drastic reaction to what she did, but at the end of the day, I actually don't have any regrets. What she did was actually a benefit. I loved my time in the Legion. I wouldn't have had my life any other way now."

"Still think about her?" Brett wondered.

Sighing at such a question, which I expected, I replied with a half-truth. "From time to time, simply curious as to how her life turned out. The one question I've always had is if she regretted what she asked of me that morning. Probably not, but considering what I've learned over the years regarding that sort of thing..." I trailed off and shrugged. It didn't matter anymore.

"So what are you going to do?" Chris asked.

"Find a job somewhere. Spent ten years as an engineer in the Legion. I'm sure I can apply my knowledge in the civilian world."

"Join the Army. See the world," Mark said.

Laughing, I shook my head. "Nah, I've done my time in the services. I'd like to know I won't be sent to some shithole to have my arse possibly shot off. Well, again anyway..." Hearing Mum gasp, I took her hand. "I'm fine, Mum. But bleeding for the Legion means I'm now a French citizen too."

"Fuck, you're now French too?!" Dad exclaimed.

"Je me sens aussi Français qu'Australien aujourd'hui, papa."

"What was that?" Mark added.

"Je ne suis pas gêné d'avoir la double nationalité, mon ami."

"Bloody show off," my sister muttered, though I saw her smiling, "I swear, John, whip out the French when you're out. Women will be hanging off you all night. Only time I've heard it spoken as fluently is when I'm watching foreign movies."

We spent the afternoon sitting in the sun, enjoying the warmth regarding the weather, sinking beers and catching up on our lives. I told them everything I'd been up to, from the earliest days in training to my deployments, mostly in Northern Africa, which is where I'd earned most of my wounds. Not that many, but I'd been left with a couple of scars that would lead to questions. Stories about trips around Europe raised some laughs, admitting to smoking weed with squaddies whenever we were in Amsterdam, though I didn't partake in the pleasures of the flesh on offer.

"I don't enjoy meaningless, casual sex," I said, "Unless I feel that immediate connection with someone I meet, I'll generally wait."

My mates all shared glances before chuckling. "Still an old romantic at heart, John?" Mark only half-joked.

"Well, French women certainly didn't mind. Add that I'm an Australian managing to speak conversational French..." I left the insinuation as needed. "Anyway, enough about my love life. Let's talk about what we're going to do together next."

*****

I learned my mates liked to play golf, and as they'd been stuck playing as a threesome for years, I found myself dragged onto a course within a month of my return. I feigned not wanting to go, stating I was terrible around a golf course, that I rarely played. They believe me until I stepped up to the first tee and absolutely launched the ball, hitting centre fairway, exceeding anything they'd done by at least fifty metres.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Mark exclaimed, "John, you're still a bullshit artist, I see."

"I might have played a round or two with some friends back in France."

"A round or two?" Chris retorted, obviously not believing me.

"Maybe I'm just naturally gifted?"

They gave that some thought until I made par on the first hole while the closest score was three over. "Fucking massive bullshit artist," Mark muttered as we walked to the second hole, "This was a bad idea, guys."

"Want me to play left handed?"

"Fuck off, John. You'll probably be even better."

They learned that, to their relief, the first hole wasn't exactly a fluke, but I actually wasn't as good as first perceived. Brett was also driving a buggy, as he had a bad knee from a game of soccer, so once we'd started sinking some beers, our standard of play dropped significantly, and we spent more time reminiscing about the stupid shit we'd got up to at school, though thankfully they didn't mention my relationship at the time. Or, at least, they didn't too often.