The Beginning: Ducky’s Side
by Tallis224
Journal entry: 30 September 1970
No ordinary day at work, though the cases were routine enough. Graveyard duty usually has its hazards, but no o-d-ing junkies tonight. A couple of fight victims with broken noses, a kid with his foot caught in a drainpipe. Explanations of this type of activity are always so banal. He was trying to get a sixpence with his toes. Why?
And there are always the drunk and disorderlies. The ones that are so blind-drunk they have no idea where they are and float in and out of consciousness, then puke on me. Hate that. Purely hate it. The ones that come in on bad trips are only marginally better. They only punch you in the face, then assume the fetal position on the waiting room sofa.
There was a woman in labour but Marsden took that plum, leaving me with the dregs. Thankfully a quiet night. I thought. Then the Americans showed up.
Four of them altogether, young college kids here on work-study. Three of them silly drunk, the fourth one, the sober one, was the one that was hurt. And she was mad as hell at the other three.
I was rather tired by then…double shifted yesterday, slept about four hours, then right back tonight. So my resistance must have been a bit low. But, sweet mother of God, that bird had everything in just the right proportions except her right ankle. That was swollen to the size of her calf (and judging by the left leg, a potentially shapely one) and already discoloring. Vividly. Though I must admit that the ankle wasn’t the first thing I noticed.
No ��" I noticed a bit further up that she was wearing one of those low-necked peasant blouse things that are the rage these days with the young hippie girls. All gauzy and not quite sheer. And that underneath she was true to the current feminist cry ��" braless. Outstanding piece of work there. Simply outstanding! It took every bit of will I had not to excuse myself, hunt down Marsden and thank him for taking the maternity case.
The rest of her was pretty, too. Pretty ��" not knock-out beautiful. “Beautiful” girls tend to be vapid, this one was decidedly not so. Brunette hair ��" a nice chestnut color, cut a bit short and curly-wavy, framed a slightly square face with killer cheekbones. Brown eyes that missed nothing looked out from behind hexagonal wire-rimmed glasses ��" flower child glasses.
She sat on the examination table, arms crossed and accentuating that delightful bosom, ankle elevated and packed in ice. The ankle had sustained a lot of soft tissue damage by the look of it, maybe stretched tendons. I snatched the chart and smiled my best bedside smile, wishing I was seeing her at a pub somewhere ��" wishing I could chat her up, buy her a drink.
Then I read the chart. She was twelve years my junior ��" a mere eighteen!
“Well…” I looked down into those startlingly beautiful brown eyes ��" brown with flecks of amber. My eyes, of their own volition, left hers and traveled, unbidden, to her neckline and lower. I blinked. My voice left me. I cleared my throat several times to try to restore it and give myself time to think of something to say. “Miss Porter. How is it that you came here this evening?” The best I could do and it sounded completely idiotic. “I’m Doctor Mallard.”
“…and I’ll be your doctor tonight…” the chubby, curly-haired boy remarked, causing the rest of the group to collapse into a giggling pile.
“Shut up, Ollie!” the girl on the table snapped. She looked at me. “Can you get them out of here? I’m ready to go on a homicidal rampage!”
The other girl sat up straight in her chair. “Don’t listen to her Doctor. We’re her best friends in the entire world and she loves us. And ��" hey, has anyone ever told you that you look like Illya Kuryakin?” She looked at me fuzzily.
“Yes, Miss. I’ve heard that comparison.” I smiled. “Would you all mind terribly waiting by the nurses’ station? I have to examine Miss Porter and see that she’s run over to x-ray.”
“Holy crap, Celeste. He’s gonna examine you!” The girl started laughing. “Wanna trade places?”
“Viv. Get out. Now!” Celeste’s cheeks were flushing. “Just go!” She pointed to the door. They finally stumbled out.
The girl looked at me, embarrassed. “I apologize for my idiot friends. We’ve been in London for two months, working and going to school pretty much non-stop. This is the first full weekend we’ve had completely free ��" all four of us ��" since we arrived. So they wanted to pub-crawl. I wanted to go to a play or something, but they just had to go out drinking…”
“So what happened? I mean other than the fact that they’re drunk off their arses. How did you end up getting hurt?” I pointed to her ankle. “May I?” She nodded.
I pulled up a stool, sat down and gently lifted her ankle. It was cool from the ice and turning shades of blue, red and purple. I palpated it and the toes slowly, testing range of motion.
Her sharp intake of breath indicated pain when I turned the foot slightly to the left.
“I’m sorry!”
“Nice move Hippocrates. Doesn’t your oath say something about doing no harm?” She was a sharp-tongued one, this girl.
I countered. “Doing no harm ��" yes. Causing no pain ��" no.”
She looked thoughtful. “Oh. Right. Pain is a diagnostic tool…” She bit her lip, leaned back and watched me continue my examination.
This girl was different. Decidedly…
“Are you interested in medicine, Miss Porter?”
“No. I’m here studying English literature. I made myself a promise I would study abroad someday. The opportunity came sooner than expected, much to my father’s chagrin. The Porter household was a war zone while that was going down…But it was sponsored by the college I was already accepted at ��" with a full scholarship. I dazzled him with logic in the end. It worked ��" though petulance and tears do wear a daddy down…” She grinned.
I smiled back.“ I can easily see how you might dazzle someone.” Well, that was bloody unprofessional!
Her cheeks turned rosy again and she looked at the wall clock without replying.
“It would appear at first glance that you have very badly sprained your ankle, but I’d like to see an x-ray just to make sure there is nothing broken. What happened?”
“A critical misstep, it would seem.” She looked at me and smiled a smile that took my breath away. It transformed her from very pretty to truly beautiful. I’d never seen anyone shine with an inner light before, but if that is what it looks like…words cannot describe it.
I resumed breathing, then chuckled, cleared my throat again. Read her chart more completely. “You stepped off a sidewalk? Onto a lawn?”
“I was distracted. I was yelling at Oliver and Ron at the time.”
“Really? Why?”
“For not watching where they were going.”
I burst out laughing. A beat later, she joined me and each time we looked at each other, we laughed more and harder until we were both close to breathless.
God I was tired. But it felt fantastic.
“Miss Porter,” I gasped, “I’ll have a wheelchair brought up and have you transported to x-ray.” I was grinning like a complete idiot and thinking very un-medical thoughts again about where I’d really like to transport her.
“I know things are much more formal over here in terms of forms of address and such, but I wouldn’t mind if you called me Celeste. My doctors at home all use my given name…”
“Yes, well, Celeste it is then.” And I knew I did not want to be her doctor anymore. “My given name is Donald, but I answer to Donnie. And ‘Ducky’ too. Thanks to your American Army personnel. I was assigned to an American field hospital in Viet Nam when I was with the Army Medical Corps. They gave me the nickname ��" from Donald Mallard to Donald Duck to Ducky. They thought it was amusing. I do too, actually.”
“You’ve been to Viet Nam?” Her eyes widened. “I’ve had friends go over there.” She looked terribly sad. “One of them didn’t make it back.”
It had been someone who mattered. I knew, without words passing that she’d lost someone dear to her. “I’m so sorry, Celeste.” I squeezed her shoulder in sympathy even though all I wanted to do is sweep her into my arms and hold her.
She placed her hand on mine as it still rested on her shoulder. She gazed up at me, a half-smile playing on her lips. “Thank you. Ducky.”
Apparently she didn’t want me to be her doctor either. But I might have read too much into that small, warm gesture.
The orderly entered with the wheelchair. I scribbled instructions for radiology on Celeste’s chart and hung it on the hook on the back of the chair. I helped her down from the table, noticed the soft, sweet scent of jasmine, made sure she was settled comfortably. “I’ll take a look at the x-rays. Then we can do a proper assessment. Off you go, then.”
The orderly wheeled her to the lift. They got on. The doors closed. It seemed as though the lights went out.
I had to see her again, away from the hospital.
A nurse handed me a chart. An ambulance had just pulled in with a car crash victim. I immediately kicked into triage mode, trotted towards receiving. Celeste left my thoughts completely as I began dealing with the emergency at hand.
After stabilizing the patient and pulling an emergency surgical team out of my bum (I was on the damned phone for nearly ten minutes trying to find a thoracic specialist), I was free enough to get back to my other, far prettier patient. Her friends were still in the waiting area, the chubby boy dozing on a couple of chairs, the other two in a dark corner sucking each other’s faces off. I was amused, but it only served to remind me of what I couldn’t do.
Celeste was in a cot, wearing a hospital gown, her clothes neatly folded on the table next to her. She looked terribly uncomfortable, shivering under a thin blanket, her foot elevated.
“They expect me to sleep! How do they expect me to do that in this place?” She looked tired, had the little strain around her mouth and eyes that indicated she was in pain.
“Have they not treated you well?” I picked up the chart, noted the x-rays were ready for pick-up. “Are you in pain, Celeste?”
She nodded. “It feels like hundreds of bees are crawling around inside my leg, buzzing and stinging.”
It was a very descriptive turn of phrase. Quite poetic, really.
“I’m afraid they’ve been waiting on me to tell them what to administer. I’m sorry, but we got a bit busy.”
“I know. I heard.”
“I’ll prescribe an anti-inflammatory and some Darvon for the pain. It’ll probably make you sleepy, too, and rest is good for you right now. You look pretty done in.” I brushed her bangs away from her forehead, drew my fingers down her cheek, cupped her chin in my hand. She didn’t pull away.
Instead, she smiled sweetly and said: “Interesting bedside manner, Dr Mallard.” Her cheeks colored ever so slightly as she took my hand in hers and laced our fingers together.
I didn’t pull away, either. Had no inclination to do so. The line had been crossed. I just prayed no one had seen it.
“Hey, Celeste.” The chubby boy stood in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck. “Are they keeping you overnight? If they are, we’ll head back to the flat. God only knows that Vivian and Ron HAVE to consummate their undying love. Again. I want to sleep in your room, so I don’t have to listen to it…Whoa! What is it with everybody? Did some sex-gas get released into the atmosphere?” He smirked.
Celeste, red-faced, grabbed the closest projectile she could find ��" my pen ��" and hurled it at her friend. “Get out of here Ollie! Under control! Okay?”
Ollie looked at me, shaking his head. “Doc, you have no idea. Just NO idea what you’re in for.”
“Maybe he doesn’t, Oliver. But YOU do. Once I get my hands on you, you are so much dead meat…”
“Celly, in your current state, even I can outrun you.”
“Just go home, Ollie. And take the love-birds with you.”
Ollie shook his head, gave me another sympathetic look and turned to leave. “Just don’t expect a replay of Viv and Ron, Doc. Celeste isn’t made that way. She’s one PK that only goes so far, no farther and if you don’t like it, hit the road. Sorry, man. Them’s the facts. See ya later, Celly.” Oliver departed.
“PK?” I couldn’t imagine what that meant.
“Pastor’s Kid. My dad’s a Lutheran Pastor.” Our hands were still quite firmly joined. I tried tugging them gently apart, but she wouldn’t let me. No point in arguing so I stayed put.
“The college I attend is a Lutheran college. Vivian and Ron are also PKs. Ollie is not, but he is my best friend and has been since sixth grade, where we attended the same Lutheran school. You have just experienced an infestation of Lutherans, Doctor Mallard. May you live to tell the tale.”
It explained a few things. Abroad and away from their insular lives…society going mad with the youth culture and they were right in the middle of it… caged Wild Children, free at last. Here I was looking into brown eyes full of challenge and I was thinking thoughts that, if coupled with actions would have had me sacked on the spot AND drummed out of the AMC. And I wasn’t just thinking. I was feeling, too. Very definitely feeling.
“Well. You’ll have to explain that to me sometime. We don’t have many Lutherans here, given the fact that Henry VIII started his own Reformation for his own reasons. It was at least as unpopular as the German one.”
“More so, I suspect.” Celeste released my hand.
“I need to look at those x-rays now. And I’ll have someone bring you your medication. Once I’ve had a look at the pictures, I’ll know what to do with you.”
“Oh, you already know what you’d LIKE to do with me.” Her grin was slightly feral.
It was my turn to blush. “Just rest, Miss Porter. I’ll be back soon with my assessment.” The room was getting incredibly warm, so I thought it best to leave.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“It’s a boy!” Marsden came up behind me while I was looking at Celeste’s x-rays.
“Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll make a lovely family. Do you see anything odd in these?”
He took a look. “No. Not much to tell with soft tissue, though. Looks like a hell of a lot of swelling. A rupture? A tiny one?”
“My thought. It coloured vividly and fast. Hurts her like hell, too, though she won’t say it in so many words.”
“Wait! Is this that little American bird that came in right after the maternity? I almost grabbed that once I had a look. Lucky man, you!”
“See what you get by going for the glory?” I grinned.
“Thinking impure thoughts, Ducky-boy?” Marsden shook his head. “Good for you. Up for a cuppa? Morning shift is starting to roll in. Should be enough coverage and they’ll page if need be.”
It was tempting. But not quite tempting enough… “Not right now. I was thinking slight immobilization with pressure bandaging, no weight bearing for about a week, then gradual return to normal use. She’ll need crutches.”
“Volunteering?” Marsden slapped me on the shoulder. “Best of luck, old man. She’s a looker!” He left me gazing at the x-ray, thinking.
With the course of treatment now plotted in my mind, I went back to Celeste’s room. They’d brought her another blanket and had propped her foot even higher. She looked at me through slightly sleepy eyes, her hair all tousled on the pillow. I found myself wanting to see that look in a completely different context than I was seeing it now.
“Hi, Doctor Ducky.” Her voice was husky. They’d given her the injection.
“How’s the pain level. Better?”
“Hmmm,” she nodded. “Sleepy though.”
“I told you that would happen.”
“You said it MIGHT.” She was fighting it. And contradicting me. This girl was a force to be reckoned with.
“Well, it did. So go with it. Sleep. I’m going to wrap your ankle now. Stay with me long enough to let me know if it hurts or feels too tight. You’ll need some pressure but you also need circulation, so I need to know…”
“I get it, Ducky. I’ll let you know.”
I wrapped it, amazed at the extent of the swelling. She had to have ruptured something ��" a tendon most likely. “Did you hear or feel anything unusual when you twisted the ankle over?”
“Yes. There was a ‘POP.’ It was right where the foot and the leg ��" that joint there, the outside of it…” She was fading. I got the picture and it was the one I had painted.
I finished wrapping and replaced her foot on the pillows. She was asleep at last. I adjusted the blankets, dimmed the lights and brushed her hair away from her face. She was incredibly beautiful. I glanced around to make sure there were no witnesses and took a chance that would destroy my career if it were seen. I kissed her on the cheek.
She stirred, eyes fluttering. “Good night, Doctor Ducky.”
“Sleep well, Celeste.” Dream of me. I let her sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~
It was the bitter end of my shift and I should have clocked out at least ten minutes earlier but I wasn’t about to let my favorite patient go without my blessing. Her friends had returned with an older woman, apparently their landlady and chaperone, a Mrs. Hardwicke.
I was explaining in the most professional way how Celeste should take care of her injury. She became more agitated as I explained how she should avoid work ��" that I would give a Doctor’s excuse for three weeks off.
“I can’t stay away from work! My scholarship could be jeopardized!” Celeste was clearly in a panic. She looked at me. “I work as an au pair on daily assignments to cover for nannies’ days off and such. I have several regular families now and hate disappointing them. And I honestly need the money.”
Mrs. Hardwicke patted her arm. “We’ll explain everything, love. It will be fine. All sorts of things like this have happened since I’ve been hosting students. It’s always worked out.”
Celeste looked unsure. I really did want to make things all right for her.
“Before they whisk you away from me,” I chose those words deliberately, “I should give you a lesson on these crutches.” I took them from where they’d been leaning against the wall. “I’m afraid they aren’t the right size. The shorter ones seem to have been signed out. So you’ll have to make do with these until the right ones become available. Sorry about that.”
I adjusted the too-tall crutches as best I could to fit Celeste’s height. Standing, she was just about two inches shorter than I. Just right, in my opinion.
Sadly, even with lessons she looked like a very clumsy stork flailing about the room. I put her in a wheelchair, handed the crutches to Oliver and watched them wheel her away.
“I’ll see that you get the right crutches sent round to you as soon as possible.” I made a note on the chart to have it done as soon as they could be located.
“Thank you…” Her voice trailed off. I was left standing in her empty room. Empty ��" but for Celeste’s right shoe! I snatched it up, took it to my locker and stuffed in my duffel bag.
She’d need it back, of course. Even if she can’t wear it right now. And she’d need a new set of crutches, too. So I’ll wear a couple of hats, then. The caring physician and Prince Charming. She may not buy it, given what I’ve seen. But what have I to lose by trying? Tomorrow is my day off. It should work out quite nicely!
Journal Entry: 1 October, 1970
I’m not sure what just happened.
But I’ll never be the same. For good or ill, I’ll never be the same.
I volunteered to take the crutches to Celeste. And the shoe would come with me, of course.
I had to see her again after our encounter at the hospital yesterday. So I lifted her address out of the files and trotted over to her street, crutches in hand. Impulsively, I bought a yellow rose from the flower girl on the corner.
I thought over what I would say again and again. I would be very cool about everything. See how the new crutches worked, give her the errant shoe and ask if she’d like to grab a bite at the little pub in her street. Somehow get her into a dark, cozy corner.
And that’s not what happened at all.
Her place was typical of every house in the street; two storey brick affairs all down both sides of the lane. I had to have a care that I had the correct house number, but I found it eventually. They were in the lower flat, the four of them, and Mrs. Hardwicke occupied the upper floor. I heard guitar music as I approached the door, a duet by the sound of it, and not badly played. I pulled the bell.
A moment later, Oliver appeared. “Hi, Doc! Hey Celly! Guess who’s here?”
“Illya Kuryakin?” I heard her ask.
“His doppelganger. Your fantasy man.” Oliver grinned, then stepped aside, letting me enter.
Celeste sat on the sofa, her foot propped on a crate. On her lap was a nice acoustic six-string. She was blushing furiously, but she still gave me that heart-stopping smile. “Hi. I’m feeling much better.”
“Good!” Everything planned completely left my head. I stood there staring, crutches and shoe in one hand, rose in the other. This must be how paralysis feels.
“Please sit down. I see you brought the new crutches. Good thing. The others are virtually impossible to use. I’ve become a monopod, hopping around on one leg to get anywhere.” She pointed to the overstuffed armchair. I plopped down rather gracelessly and sank deeply into the too lumpy cushions.
Ollie picked up his twelve-string and sat next to Celeste on the sofa. “We were just jamming. I’m teaching Celeste how to play. She’s doing pretty well, too but she already knew a little. Want to hear a bit?”
“Ollie!”
“You’re fine, Celly. You need to have other people hear you. You can’t be timid if you want to make ‘Still Small Voices’ next year when we get back to campus.”
I must have looked baffled because Ollie explained, “It’s a singing group sponsored by the college. It has six members. I already have a position waiting that I earned last semester. One of the seniors will be leaving the end of next year and Celeste’s voice is perfect for it. But she’s going to have to play a bit, so I’m giving her a hand. And she’s doing great!”
Celeste shrugged. “If you say so, Ol.”
“Let’s do ‘Scarborough Fair’. Don’t worry. I’ll take lead, just harmonize.”
They played through one stanza on the guitar as an intro, then they began singing.
They were incredible. Two part harmony perfectly in tune, perfectly in synch. It was as beautifully sung as I’ve ever heard it, no apologies to Simon and Garfunkel.
“That was fantastic!” I enthused.
“Thanks.” Celeste looked at me over her glasses. “I messed up in a couple of places…”
“…But you kept going. That’s the important thing!” Ollie patted her on the shoulder, clearly proud of his pupil.
There were subtle differences in this Celeste. She was quieter, less cheeky. I had no idea why. She hadn’t expected my follow-up, I suppose.
Celeste and I just looked at each other from across the room. Words were not forming in my brain at all. She was wearing another of those gauzy peasant tops all embroidered with bright colours and a pair of denim cut-off shorts, frayed at the hem and full of patches. I squirmed on the rather uncomfortable cushion.
“Um…” Celeste broke the silence. “Did you sit on something?”
Something did feel odd. I stood up. On the chair were the remnants of a yellow rose. “Oh, shit!”
Celeste started laughing. “Oh thank you, God. Thank you for showing me he’s human!” She collapsed onto the sofa. “I’ve heard of ‘thorn in the flesh’ but never ‘thorn in the butt.’” Celeste kept laughing and Ollie joined in. “But it makes a certain amount of sense.”
Breathless, Ollie collapsed on top of her. “Wonder if he’ll need to go to emergency for a thorn-ectomy!” he howled.
“Too bad Viv’s not here. She’d happily check your butt for damage!”
“I’ll do it!” Ollie volunteered.
“No way, Oliver! I saw him first!” Celeste shoved him off of her shoulder. “We always fight over boys!” she explained.
“Celly!” Oliver turned very red.
“It’s okay. He’s a doctor. He understands about those things. Right Doctor Ducky?”
“Of course.” It explained a great deal to me about their relationship. And I was relieved.
“Well, you and Celly seem to be the only ones who do. I could be expelled from school if it got out.” He looked quite upset.
“Well. I’m a doctor. It will go no farther than this, Oliver. I promise you.”
The boy looked relieved. “Thanks Doc.”
“Hey, Ol. What’s to eat? We should offer something to our guest.”
I held up my hand. “Uh. No need. I just brought the proper crutches by. I’ll retrieve the others and be on my way.”
“Sure. That’s why you dropped by,” Celeste scoffed. “With a rose.”
There she was. That Celeste from last night.
“Well, if you want it, here it is then.” I held up the rose, flower head drooping, petals mashed.
She reached for it, grinning. “I’ll treasure it always.”
I honestly felt like I was falling into a vortex. No up or down, just the sound of her laughter, the colour of her eyes. “It’s pretty hopeless,” I replied, not really knowing if I meant the rose or myself.
“Oh,” I said when I finally came to myself. “And I found this in your room yesterday morning.” I held up the strappy little shoe.
“My sandal! Thank you. Mister Charming. Or is that ‘Doctor Charming?’”
“Only if the shoe fits. Which I suspect it won’t right now.”
“Right.” Celeste smiled. “So. New and improved crutches? Let’s give ‘em a try!”
I took hold of her outstretched hand and helped her up. My arm instinctively circled her waist to steady her. There was the slightest bit of wariness in her glance, a slight stiffening in her spine. Then she relaxed, leaned into me just a bit, just enough.
Then it dawned on me. This was new to her. This very casual foreplay, this testing of the waters ��" she didn’t quite understand it fully. I began making sense of what Ollie had said at the hospital. She will go so far and no further. She must still be a virgin!
The difference in our ages and our level of life experience hit me fullside. Celeste was barely more than a girl. When I was her age, well, I wasn’t a virgin, but I wasn’t as sure of things as I am now. I just went ahead and did things as I went along and learned, pretty much without consequence. The girls were willing, as was I. But nothing really mattered enough to make me stay with any one of them.
But this was different. Very different. This time I cared. This girl was special. It was more than her prettiness or her cheekiness or her intelligence. That was part of it, yes, but not everything. She was unlike anyone I had ever met before. She left me breathless; left me speechless; made me feel more significant and less significant than I’d ever felt before. And I loved it!
I let her go to grab the crutches and she balanced on one leg like a multi-coloured flamingo. I placed them under her armpits ��" just the right height, but the grips were off. I pulled out my army knife and pulled out the screwdriver to make the adjustment.
“Cool knife!” Ollie said, enviously.
“Standard Army Medical Corps issue. But you’re right. It’s very cool!” I even found myself liking her friends.
I put the grip back in place, had Celeste prop herself on them again. Perfect.
“Ready for a test-run, Celeste? Remember what I told you about supporting with your arms, not the armpits. Straight posture. Let the crutches be an extension of your arms.”
She started moving about the room tentatively. Then she picked up a bit of momentum and swung toward the kitchen, where she made several circuits around the table, then back to the sitting room.
“Well done!” I said as Ollie and I burst into applause.
“Oooh. Applause for nothing special. I could get used to this!”
“You are very special, Celeste,” I replied.
At that, crutches crashed to the floor. Celeste’s arms circled me as I involuntarily wrapped my arms around her. I found myself in a kiss that I’m not sure which of us initiated. The crutches weren’t the only things that had fallen. And it doesn’t matter. It’s just what the doctor ordered.
“Ummm.” I was dimly aware of Ollie’s voice. “How’s about I see you two later?”
Celeste broke away. “Later, Ollie.” Then her mouth was back on mine.
I carried her back to the sofa, marveling at the softness of her kisses. I could easily lose myself in them, in her. I felt the softness of her breasts pressed against me. My hand wandered, rested on the left one, felt it unencumbered beneath the fabric. I dropped my hand to her waist, slid it beneath the hem of her shirt, slid it up over soft, smooth skin. And she froze.
I stopped.
“Don’t get me wrong, Ducky. I’d really like you to. But I don’t think I’m ready yet.” Then she delivered a deep, breathtaking kiss that made me not at all bothered that I might have to wait a bit longer. “We have all the time in the world,” she whispered at last.
“That’s right, Love. All the time in the world.” And I kissed her again.
Haste is unnecessary. You see, I intend to marry the girl.
Story Notes:
This story is a prequel to my story "Ducks in a Row," predating it by some 40 years! But everything starts somewhere...
This is told in two parts. Two perspectives. It is rated R for language. (Celeste suprised me while I was writing this...she dropped the big one and I never saw it coming!)
Thanking Lyn for the beta. Thanking Dee for the support.
The NCIS characters are not mine, nor do I have any claim to them.
Please leave feedback. Thank you!
Author's Chapter Notes:
Forty years ago, Ducky met a girl who changed everything...
Chapter End Notes:
This story is a prequel to my story "Ducks in a Row," predating it by some 40 years! But everything starts somewhere...
This will be told in two parts which will be posted together. The second part will be the same events told from a slightly different perstpective. But the first part is complete unto itself, so feel free to read and enjoy. You really aren't missing any basic plotlines.
Thanking Lyn for the beta. Thanking Dee for the support.
The NCIS characters are not mine, nor do I have any claim to them.
Please leave feedback. Thank you!
This will be told in two parts which will be posted together. The second part will be the same events told from a slightly different perstpective. But the first part is complete unto itself, so feel free to read and enjoy. You really aren't missing any basic plotlines.
Thanking Lyn for the beta. Thanking Dee for the support.
The NCIS characters are not mine, nor do I have any claim to them.
Please leave feedback. Thank you!