Chapter Two

The door had barely closed before Zap let out a whoop that was almost infectious. "I'm coming home!" He called out. It was good to see him smile, his brown eyes once again lit up with laughter. Just the day before he'd had to say good-bye to Miguel, handing the young boy over to the authorities. She was actually thankful for her endless debriefing just so she wouldn't have to watch the two part. His exuberance over the 48 hour pass was enough to make anyone smile... well, almost anyone. Her eyes fell on Repeater. He wore his same stoic expression he'd wear if Hawk had just said 'we're sending you to Mars.'
Once outside the debriefing room and away from the others, she relaxed against the wall. Ripcord leaned his shoulder against the wall next to her, placing his head against the cool plaster. It was a lot of information to process at once. Bronze star recipients. True, it wouldn't be 'official' for another 20 years, but still, it was something. Much better than the flat 'good job, people' she expected. Plus more importantly, she wouldn't have to wait 20 years for a full ten days off, complete with forty-eight hour get-off-the-base-free card. But what to do with it? She'd been home just under... two weeks ago. Her eyes grew dark with that realization. It'd seemed like months, it was less than two weeks. It hadn't even been 14 days since she'd gotten to the new base and met up with Ripcord for the first time on the way to England. Unfortunately she knew the next ten would fly. She gazed in his direction, noticing how lost in thought he was as well.
"You going home?" She asked to break the silence.
"Yeah I suppose," He smiled. "Unless you're willing to throw a sales pitch."
She smiled in response, and shrugged. "I don't know if it's much of a sales pitch... I was thinking maybe of taking a road trip, nice long drive, hit the open pavement for a bit." His green eyes grew playful, taking on an almost boyish quality.
"We'll mind if I provide the car and the final destination then?" He asked. She folded her arms, and raised her eyebrows with an untrusting grin.
"Depends." She said, half seriously. "What's the destination, and more importantly - what's the ride?" He shrugged his broad shoulders in an overdramatic fashion, sighing loudly.
"I suppose the destination could be a small house just outside of Columbus." He let an impish grin creep over his face as he added "and the ride might as well be a '76 Stingray."
She froze for a quick second, unsure of what he'd just said. "You have a '76 Ray?" She asked with disbelief, causing his grin to grow larger.
"Yeah." He stated matter-of-fact, almost as if he was claiming to have a Ford Mustang, or something ordinary.
"Corvette?" She asked to confirm, still disbelieving him. She cocked her head sideways, trying to read him, to see if he was kidding around. He maintained his wide grin and nodded.
"Yeah, care to take a look at it?" She scanned his face one more time, still trying to decide if he were for real.
"If you're serious, oh yeah!"
"Well I'll tell you what..." He smiled as he let a pause extend, then tugged at her collar, looking over her BDUs. "If Specialist Krieger will tell Courtney to meet Wally on the third level of the parking garage in about fifteen minutes, she might be able to catch a glimpse of it..." He let his voice trail off, baiting her on purpose. She nodded, a kid-on-Christmas-Eve look coming over her face.
"Courtney will be there. She needs to see this with her own eyes." She could see him chuckle before turning and heading towards his dorm.

15 minutes to change and pack- a blessing in disguise. It felt good to be back in civilian clothes, to hang up "Specialist Krieger" as Ripcord said. The lack of time prevented her from worrying too much about what to wear; they had a long drive, and she wanted to be comfortable. She opted for a favorite pair of worn-in jeans, Keds and a plain white T-shirt, enjoying the feeling of her soft, shoulder length hair against her neck. She'd worry about changing when they reached Ohio. She cursed herself for being so nervous, for even agreeing to go home with him, meeting his family was a big step, what if he wasn't ready for that? What if he were just being polite, saying he'd like if she did? She should have just let him go to be with his family, then they could have met back up in Hawaii.. She slung her garment bag over her shoulder, ignoring the nagging doubts that flooded her mind, and headed out to the parking garage.

Her jaw dropped the minute she stepped out of the stairwell. She'd believed that he might have been telling the truth, having a Stingray, but never did she imagine how tricked out it would be. Parked in front of her sat a mint condition cherry red 1976 Corvette Stingray, clean lines, scoop hood, rear spoiler, chrome alloy wheels... she shook her head. Ripcord was standing by the driver side door, the same broad grin on his face.
"This?" She practically choked out. "This is yours?"
"Yup, sure is," He turned to look over the car, running a hand along the polished quarter panel. She could see the sheen of the glossy red paint job even with the dim lighting that overtook the parking garage. "Took a good chunk of my career to pay for it." He shrugged, continuing. "The body is basically the only thing stock on it." Her eyes were transfixed on the car, as she circled around, still disbelieving he owned a "dream car," half listening to him, half imagining what it must sound like.
"Turn it over?" She asked seriously, not taking her eyes from the vehicle. She hadn't even noticed him walking up behind her, his boasting grin turning into a warm smile as he approached. Without a word, he stepped in behind her, hooking his arm around her and dropping the keys into her hand.
"Why don't you?" He said softly.
She smiled, biting her bottom lip as the Christmas-Eve look turned to that of Christmas-Morning. She looked from the keys to the car, closing a tight fist around them and hopped into the driver’s side before he changed his mind. She admired the dark firethorn interior for a split second, making the car even more desirous - the '76 being the only year to have that interior as an option. She ran a hand along the flawless black dash, pausing to run her fingers over each of the perfectly spaced holes in the double exposed spokes of the custom 13" black grip Nardi steering wheel. She shifted her grip to the custom black handled gearshift knob, her hand then dropping to trace the red gear indentations on the shift panel. Hand painted, she noted, no detail was spared.
She paused for a second after placing the key in the ignition, drinking in the interior one more time before gently turning the key. The engine kicked over with a low rumble turned growl, and she closed her eyes for a second. Perfectly adjusted timing, each of the plugs firing in sync, the pistons seemed to sing. She reached down by the custom clutch to the hood release mechanism, giving it a quick turn before sliding back out the driver’s side door. The chassis shook slightly, the tell tale sign of a larger custom engine being installed. He'd raised the scoop front hood before she arrived, using the prop-rod to keep it stationary. This is the part that mattered. A fancy body was one thing, but it would still be worthless without the engine. She took in a deep breath, leaning under the hood to get a closer look and listen of the clean engine below her, seeing the painstaking steps he'd taken to maintain her.
"Custom V-8 Twin, impact extruded pistons, Rochester quadrajet 4 barrel carb..." She said above the rumbling. "Horses?" He carefully leaned in beside her, resting his elbows on the top of the quarter panel and nodded towards the engine.
"Two twenty." He said, almost in a reverent tone. She nodded. Anything larger would blow the exhaust. She watched the radiator fan churn for another quick second before standing back up, running her hand down the side of the quarter panel.
"She's beautiful." She said seriously, thoroughly impressed. "You sure you want to take her on a long haul?"
He let out a small laugh, still looking at the engine.
"Not really a choice. We can't exactly get a cab to come up here." She smiled as he shrugged. "'Sides, I've had to take her between Bragg and Columbus a lot. She can handle the road." An arrogant smile crossed his face as he still stared at the engine. "Hell, she can own the road."
She rolled her eyes and slightly shook her head at his bragging, but she didn't say a word. He had reason to brag, the Stingray was something to be proud of. He unclamped the prop rod, slowly lowering the hood to the front grill before gently removing his hands. This definitely was his baby. He crossed over to her side, leaning on the back quarter panel next to Courtney and smiled, staring into her lit eyes. "You ready?" He asked. She nodded, shifting her gaze from his momentarily.
"Good to go." She told him, walking over to pick up where she'd dropped her garment bag. Doubts overcame her once more as he took the case from her and placed it carefully in the trunk atop the T-Tops, next to his battered looking LC2 ruck. "You're sure about going to see your family?" She questioned almost nervously. "I mean, you're sure they'll be okay with it?"
He shrugged again, almost as if it were no big deal. "They shouldn't mind, there's always room for one more at my Mom's place." He turned to her, putting his hands on her arms and searching her eyes. "Are you okay with it?" She looked through him for a brief second, then found comfort in his eyes. She dropped the small black wire framed sunglasses she'd been using to push her hair back over her eyes and smiled.
"I'm okay with it." She said with mock confidence. "Maybe see what makes you tick" He smiled, giving her arms a quick squeeze. She'd finally taken her eyes off the car long enough to drink him in as well, happy to see he also had chosen to simply wear jeans. She could barely see the white 82nd logo printed on the front of his black T-shirt from beneath his brown leather bomber jacket, as he dramatically opened the passenger side door, waving towards it.
"Your chariot awaits my dear." She shook her head, crossing over to join him on the passenger side, offering her hand in a mock- medieval-my-lady gesture, before sliding into the bucket seat.
"You just let me know if you get tired, Skyboy." She told him, as he shut the passenger side door for her. He leaned slightly into the window, planting a quick peck on the cheek before flashing a perfect smile.
"Superman doesn't get tired."
"I told you, you don't always have to be Superman." She said returning a smile of her own. "Even heroes need some R& R."
She watched as he crossed over to the driver side, shutting the door while still outside of the vehicle. He put his hands on the car frame between the open T-Top, jumping through the open window. He pulled a pair of silver framed aviator-style sunglasses from the inside pocket of his brown leather jacket, confidently sliding them on before turning to her. Flashing the same great smile he flatly added: "But it's fun being the hero." He pushed the 8-Track cassette into the player, The Rolling Stone's "Paint it Black" blared through the speakers, near drowning out the sound of the engine. She could still feel the large engine still vibrating up through the floorboards, and even above the loud radio, and she could hear the squeal of the tires against pavement as he revved the engine before popping the car into gear. He tore through the lot, the tires and engine echoing loudly as he raced down the spiral exit ramp. He slowed momentarily to pass through the gate, briefly hearing the attendant exclaim "This is not a speedway!" She threw her head back against the headrest and laughed, for the first time in a long time feeling good, almost like herself.
He continued showing off on base, stopping and dropping the car into gear every so often, lighting up the tires and pushing the engine redline. He stopped only twice, once when he noticed the Law Enforcement vehicle off in the distance, once when he almost broadsided a beat up looking Ford Taurus, the driver of which had blown through a stop sign. Krieger stood through the passenger side T-top, shouting a few choice obscenities before he once again redlined the engine, causing her to fall back into the bucket seat. It was going to be a great ride.

The minute the Stingray's touched "free" pavement, Ripcord let out a war cry before dropping the car through all 5 gears, quickly hitting close to 130 miles per hour. Being stationed in the middle of nowhere did have some advantages. For the first time, she didn't mind being a passenger, didn't sit white-knuckled in the front seat while someone else drove. She felt safe, trusting him even as the car careened through the narrow Shenandoah Valley roads at near 70. It was a bit out of there way, but very scenic, the true purpose of a road trip to begin with.. She sat sideways, making sure to keep her tennis shoes off of the door panel as she rested her crossed ankles on the frame. During long straight-aways, when he could keep the car in fifth, he'd rest an arm across her shoulder as she stared out at the scenic mountains, every so often leaning her cheek to brush against the back of his knuckles. They were still slightly bruised from the shot he'd given Colonel Courage the day before. Hotseat had covered, but was upset, she knew he spoke to Ripcord privately later on. She shook her head to clear it. That was base stuff, best to leave it back there. They had 48 short hours, she didn't want to waste a second.
The conversation was kept light, mostly shouted over the loud 70's rock music blasting from his custom 8 Track stereo system, revolving around cars, the scenery, and trading playful jabs. He'd just removed the second tape of the Kiss Alive II tape as it ended, reaching for his AC/DC Highway to Hell/Back in Black mix as David Cassidy's "I think I love you" came over the regular radio. She hugged her arms around herself as she looked out the passenger window, smiling, thinking about how much nicer the words sounded when they came from Ripcord. First, on the Chinook, when she thought maybe he'd been delusional, then again back by her dorm, when he'd kissed her for the first time. She slightly laughed at how nervous she'd been, thinking back to Hotseat and his "high school" comment, but she didn't mind. It was the good kind of nervous, the kind that reminded her that inside Covergirl was still Courtney Krieger, the girl who'd get butterflies over just one sweet kiss from Wallace Weems. He let the song play for another minute himself before popping in the harder mix 8 Track.

They stopped in a small town outside of Charleston, West Virginia at diner he'd found on one of his trips home from Bragg. He'd requested the booth nearest to where'd he'd parked, easier to keep an eye on the car with it's open windows and T- Tops. It'd been near noon, and although they'd both skipped breakfast, neither one had much of an appetite, rationing 3 days worth of MRE's for a full seven tended to have that effect. Still, he promised the food was some of the best he'd tasted, and once again, her trust in him wasn't unfounded. Though they'd both started out with a not hungry attitude, two plates were cleaned, leaving them with the awkward moment the check came. He immediately reached for both the check and his wallet, as did she. He shook his head with a smile, telling her "It's okay, I've got it." She gave him a soft smile back.
"So this would be our first date?" She asked, with a shake of her head. He chuckled a little.
"C'mon a date in a diner? Gimme some credit." His eyes once again lit up with his a boyish charm as he continued. "Wait till we get to Columbus, I'll show you what a date is."
"Really?" She challenged. She cocked her head to the side, slightly raising her eyebrows and smiled. "So you were a well experienced dater back in Ohio?" She stood up, grabbing her beige cloth jacket, pulling it on as she turned to leave.
He stood and grabbed his jacket as well, slipping it on as he nears her walking away, nonchalantly. "Well there were plenty of other football players the girls could pick from..." He let his voice trail off and grinned. "But I was the only one who could offer a date at twenty thousand feet." He walked past her even before she stopped short at the statement
"That's not what you have in mind, is it?" She asked warily dropping her smile. He turned at the door, giving a huge grin before turning back around and walking out of the door.

The diner had been a little out of the way place, off the beaten path from the main highway. Even though he'd found it with no problem, she was sure they'd passed the same block a few times trying to get back. She had to laugh, thinking back to the streets in Peoria, where she grew up, her Grandfather from Chicago often claiming to have gotten lost in "Suburban Hell” when he’d visit.
"Why don't you just stop at that gas station?" She started to say as he pulled to a rolling stop at the red light. She cut herself short when she heard the revving of the engine. A lone BMW pulled along side the Stingray at the stoplight, gunning the engine a few times setting forth a challenge, it's whiny little engine churning hard. She leaned forward in her seat, looking around Ripcord to size up the other vehicle. She tilted her head downward, raising an eyebrow and sliding her sunglasses towards the edge of her nose, giving a once over first to the car, then to the young driver and passengers inside. Satisfied, she sat back in the bucket seat, sliding her glasses back towards the bridge of her nose. "Brand new 1981 633Csi" she told Ripcord, over the loud roar of his revving engine. The car rocked forward slightly, as if itching to leap into gear itself. "170 horses, stock, kid doesn't look smart enough to custom." She grabbed hold of the dashboard, turning for a second with a huge smile "Smoke 'em, Wally."
"Won't even take it out of fourth..." He bragged, "Won't even need to."
"Forget that." She shouted, looking again towards the BMW. "Winning is overrated. Crushing on the other hand, that's just plain fun." He smiled wickedly, eyes fixed on the stoplight ahead.
"Just hang on..." He warned as the light turned green. Squealing tires screamed into the sunlight as the car underneath him finally won out, jumping effortlessly into first gear. It redlined quickly, almost fishtailing as the smell of burned rubber filled the interior. She watched as he determinedly jammed on the clutch, slamming the custom stick shift back towards second gear, immediately followed up by third, then fourth. The two cars raced neck in neck for a second, the small English car with no idea Wally was just toying with them. He'd hang back, letting them ride up his fender, almost to the point they'd pull ahead, then gun his engine slightly, bringing the Stingray to the front. Finally, he put on another wicked grin, stating "Prepare to be burned." as he kicked the shift into fifth. His car might as well have had nitrous.

Near dizzy from laughing, she unclipped her seatbelt, turning around in the passenger seat to face the back. She hopped up on her knees, one hand grabbing hold of the seat back, and pulled herself up through the open T-Top to let out a war cry and taunt of her own towards the defeated BMW as it grew more distant. He grabbed hold of the belt loop on the back of her jeans as he'd found the entrance ramp back onto I-79, hitting it still at about 70 mph, keeping her from being thrown from the vehicle. She laughed again, as she was thrown to her left, his strong hand helping steady her. She let go with her second hand to help push back the hair blowing towards her face, staring backwards down the four lane highway. Getting aggravated, she turned back around, still kneeling on the passenger seat through the T-top, feeling wind push it back for her. She held both hands up above her head, throwing her head back and laughing as he still held on, jerking the wheel right or left, slightly tapping the brake or gunning the engine from time to time. She'd lower her hands but never had to grab the car frame, enjoying playing the private game with him as the post-mission-high continued to take over. Still laughing, she let herself drop back into the car, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head to again keep her hair back. She shifted back to sitting sideways, this time bending her knees to keep them inside the car and up on the passenger seat, looping one arm around them and resting her back close to him. Stopping giggling she lowered the still blasting radio, looking back and upwards towards his face, and running her hand against his clean-shaven cheek.
"Thank you, Wally." She said, seriously, staring up into his face. "For all of this." He leaned his head down against hers, for a second, smiling warmly, adding a soft "You're welcome." Picking his head back up, she once again raised the volume on the radio, still blaring AC/DC songs and grinning.

They'd turned onto I-70, the last leg of the journey, the green highway signs stating Columbus decreasing in miles rapidly as the sun started fading away. Nine hours. She'd noted. Even with the Shenandoah detour and diner stop, it'd only taken nine hours. Part of her was disappointed he hadn't lived further, but she remembered it was easier to be a passenger. It'd been easy for her to shift around, stand and stretch when she felt like it. His only breaks had been when they stopped for gas, sodas or nature calls, and she could almost see the drive taken its toll. She said nothing to him about it, content to let him be Superman.

Her stomach grew in knots again as he pulled off the main highway into a quiet looking suburban community, knowing they had to be close. Though it'd been near dusk, she nonchalantly dropped her sunglasses again over her eyes, before running her hands through her hair. She'd taken his advice at the last rest stop, him insisting jeans and a T-shirt would be fine. She at that point being too lazy to change opted instead to add a soft blue knit sweater to dress up the denim jeans a bit. Now as the time grew nearer, she wished she had taken the time to choose something else as she checked herself in the passenger side mirror. She thought she could see him chuckle out of the corner of her eye, but ignored it.
Turning onto Fairfax road, he pulled the car into the third driveway, her noticing first the '71 Mustang convertible parked in the driveway next to a later model Oldsmobile Cutlass Sierra, but shook her head. There'd be time for that later. The front yard was small, but well manicured, and she took a second to stare at the large, brown ranch-style house that loomed before them, complete with wrap-around porch and overhang. A mounted American Flag hung by the front door, making her smile, the telltale sign of a parent proud of their military son.
"Have you always lived here? Grew up here, I mean?" She asked, trying to picture him as a young boy climbing one of the many trees, or playing by the large front porch. He nodded, taking in the place, bringing a boyish smile to his face.
"Yeah, I lived here from the time they'd brought me home from the hospital till the day I left for basic." She nodded, a bit of jealousy overtaking her for a moment before she put on her brave face and followed him to the front door. She'd been in fights with Cobra. She'd nearly been killed, she had killed. She'd trekked a jungle for about a week without many provisions. She could handle meeting his family... Right?

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