“Banjo, stay calm!” Urged Greg, and then he realized that Schultz was getting way too close to him. “Rocket, I’m speeding up.”
“Stay where you are, Polar Bear, I repeat, stay where you are.”
“Too late,” said Greg, trying to speed up and pull out of formation. However, he was just too close to Rocket’s tail. He felt the bumpy, writhing air bouncing off and along his fuselage and felt the sensation every fighter pilot learned to fear. Jet wash. He was thrown upwards into the air and he spun over and over.
“Banjo to Polar Bear, are you okay?” asked Schultz, fearfully.
“Unclear,” Greg was aware of what Rocket was saying as Greg spun over and over before managing to wrestle the plane into a nose dive to get it out of the rolls.
“Just trying to get out of this,” said Greg, as loudly as he could over the mic. Blood was rushing in his ears, masking and distorting the sounds he heard. All of the noise on the radio was unrecognizable as voices, although he knew his battle buddies were all talking. All he needed to do was pull out of the dive, and get back to altitude. Easier said than done.
“Pull up, pull up!”
Somebody was shouting to Greg over the radio, but he didn’t need to be told twice. He yanked the joystick up, but too fast. The strong gusts caught the nose at an angle, and the plane lurched. His stomach dropped as he felt the plane go into a flat spin. It was an odd moment of calm in the middle of the storm. He weighed his options. He could recover. However the odds of recovering the plane were slim. If he was going to eject, these were non ideal conditions. There was a strong chance he could hit the canopy and die with the impact. That’s how Goose died, anyways, in Top Gun. It was a movie they had seen way too many times, and he was practically living it out.
Joe. What would Joe tell him to do? He pushed that thought away. Joe was a nurse, not a pilot. But what he would say was, “stay alive”. If he was going to eject, he would have to do it now while he still had enough altitude. If he stayed in the plane too long, and didn’t recover, he would die. All of this reckoning passed in the span of seconds. He took one last look at Joe’s picture, and pulled on the handle located between his knees to send him barreling up into the air. It was just like the trainer he had gotten rocketed up off of in the academy, but nothing could have prepared him for the cold, wet conditions, the lightning crackling around him, and watching the canopy shoot above his head as the explosions powered his seat out of the cockpit into the air.
“Joe!” He shouted, as he fell through the sky before his chute was triggered. He watched for a few seconds as the canopy fell past him, and then he sagged forwards in a faint.
The next sensations he experienced were as if watched through a veil. There was cold water, needling into him through his uniform as if he were being pierced with blades so cold, they confused his nervous system for being searing hot. Somehow, his survival pack’s life vest had failed to open. He struggled to remove his boots and cut off his chute, and was dimly aware of his training kicking in when he took off his uniform trousers and wrapped them around his neck, creating a flotation device like he had made back in the pool during basic training.
In the crashing waves, he struggled to keep his head above water, floating with his head facing the sky. The world grew dimmer and dimmer as he succumbed to the cold, painlessly floating away to black.
When he opened his eyes again, the world was blinding white. He flung an arm up over his face to shield his eyes, and he groped in front of him with the other hand.
“Please, please, don’t hold any of my sins against me,” said Greg, “I’ll confess, I’m ready to confess everything, and I—“
“Relax,” said an oddly familiar voice. “I’m going to give you some more sedative, and then you’ll wake up again in a few hours. You’re not dead.”
“Where am I?” asked Greg, wondering why his throat was so raw or why he sounded like sandpaper.
“You’re in the United States Air Force base outside of Tokyo,” said the voice. “Now, sleep,” said the voice.
“Who are you?” asked Greg, but he was asleep again before he heard the answer.
When he came to, he was dressed in a hospital gown lying in a bed surrounded by beeping monitors and IV bags. Just as he sat up and reached to detach himself from the bags, he was stopped by a hand on his arm.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Greg spun around and his jaw dropped.
“Just because they do that in the movies doesn’t mean it’s a good idea, Greg.”
“Joe? Joe, it is you!” Greg stared wide eyed at the man in scrubs, a mask, and a cap standing in front of him. But he would recognize that lean build and those kind blue eyes anywhere.
“Yep, you got it,” said Joe. He sat down next to Greg, and whispered in a low voice. “You’re in Tokyo under my care. You’re being treated for a concussion and exposure to the elements; you’ve been out for three days. Now, when you’re out, I’m going to take you back into the city. But just be…. professional, until then.”
“But—“
“Would you like me to knock you out again?” asked Joe, and Greg could tell he was laughing behind his mask. “Or worse, go get the doctor?”
“No, no,” said Greg, smiling and laying back on his pillows, looking up in admiration to the man who sat down in a chair next to his bedside.
“What happened to me?” asked Greg.
“Uh, do you want to know now?” asked Joe.
“Yeah,” said Greg, “I’d rather hear it from you now than read it in a file sometime. I don’t remember anything at all about the exercise. I just remember taking off.”
“Typical,” said Joe. “All those Gs gave you a major concussion. I’m surprised you only lost a few hours of memory.”
“I’m just a ‘general guy’,” said Greg, bringing up an inside joke, “but I have a pretty damn hard head.”
“And you’re not even Irish,” said Joe.
“Kramer is German,” said Greg.
“Walsh is Irish,” said Joe, “although, it means foreigner, so I don’t even know.”
“Well, it works here, in Japan,” said Greg. “You wanna tell me what happened now?”
“The winds were strong, opening formation right flank drifted too close to you, you ended up in point’s jet wash trying to maintain safe distance, you pulled up and got caught in a roll trying to avoid hitting point, and you recovered in a nose dive, but you pulled up too quickly, nose got caught in the gust, and you did a flat spin. You spun for quite a while trying to recover, but still ejected at a safe altitude.”
“I did that?” asked Greg, “holy shit, no wonder my head hurts.”
“Yeah, and that’s not all you did out there,” said Joe. “Colonel Burns, Colonel Denver, and General Summers want to see you as soon as I deem you’ve recovered.”
“Shit, what do they want with me?”
“To congratulate you on surviving that, primarily,” said Joe, smiling. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. Right flank could be, pending the investigation.”
“I’ll vouch for Schultz,” said Greg, “he was just following orders. And the wind was awful, look what it did to me.”
“True,” said Joe, “right now, you gotta rest. Unless you wanna be serving scrambled brains on toast, you need to let yourself rest and heal.”
“What?”
“You’re still suffering from a brain injury. Get some sleep,” said Joe.
“Night,” said Greg. Joe laughed.
“It’s two ‘o clock in the afternoon, dude,” said Joe, pulling the blinds down. Greg noticed that although he thought the room was super bright, the lights were already off. His head was making him light sensitive.
***
Greg was dressed now, reclining in bed wearing his uniform, much to Joe’s chagrin, when General Summers, Colonel Burns, and Colonel Denver walked in.
“Ah, you’re awake,” said Burns, walking over to shake Greg’s hand. “And in muc
h better shape than anticipated after spending six hours in a Pacific storm.”
“I wasn’t going to let you gentlemen catch me in my pajamas, sir,” said Greg, trying to stand.
“At ease,” said the man Greg didn’t recognize, who he assumed was General Summers.
“Introductions are in order,” said Colonel Denver, his reedy mustache quivering as he spoke. “General Summers, may I please introduce you to Major Kramer?”
“Major, sir?” asked Greg, shocked.
“Yes, we figured you could use that promotion where you’re headed,” said General Summers, walking around to shake Greg’s hand and stand by his bedside. “All the necessary paperwork has been signed. You’ll have two months stateside vacation before you start up either at test pilot school, or, if you so choose, Colonel Burns has been campaigning for a second in command.”
“Sir?”
“This is a lot to take in, I know,” said General Summers, “but among us, we need more pilots like you.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” said Greg, “I lost my plane. Shouldn’t you be court marshaling me or something?”
“Heavens, no,” said General Summers. “There was an investigation while you were out. Er, Burns, care to fill him in?”
“You saved two other planes from collision,” said Burns, “and you demonstrated an exceptional ability to follow your training and save your craft even in adverse conditions. Think, you could be a test pilot, paid for all these crazy precise maneuvers. Or, I mean, you could always come to Japan, have a comfortable office and Tokyo right at your doorstep. You could have your own apartment and a car. But, you know, your call. Either way, you’re set up for great things, kid.”
“Thank you sirs,” said Greg, “I will consider both of your generous offers. This is going to be a difficult decision, and harder still will be turning one down. Nurse?” he called.
Joe scuttled over. “Yes, sir?”
“My head is absolutely killing me,” he said, pressing his hand to the side of his head. “Something for it, please?”
“Sirs,” said Joe, respectfully, “I believe the Major needs his rest.”
“Yes, yes of course,” said Colonel Burns, shooing the others out of the room. “Consider our offers!”
“Sorry about that,” said Greg, as soon as they were out of earshot, “I just wanted to talk to you about my options.”
“Don’t base them on me,” said Joe, “I have three weeks left in the service, then I’m out for good.”
“For good?” asked Greg, a smile ghosting over his face.
“Yeah.”
“So, do you have any plans?”
“Not, uh, in particular,” said Joe. “It’s going to be an adjustment, for sure.”
“Well…” said Greg, and then stopped. “You know what; I think this is a conversation best left for, uh, when I’m not so exhausted.”
“I get that,” said Joe. “Now, anything you want in particular to eat?”
“I want a cup of coffee, some pancakes, and a big cut of steak.”
“How about something without caffeine?”
“How about a whiskey sour?”
“Without alcohol?”
“Impossible,” smirked Greg.
“Completely possible,” said Joe. “I’m going to go get you an orange juice.”
It was hell on earth for Greg not to be able to say what he wanted to say during his hospital stay, but as soon as he was out, he was staying at Joe’s until he figured out what he was going to do with his leave time. He brought the subject up when they were both in the car, headed out on the drive to Tokyo for dinner, as they did a year ago.
“So, uh, do you want to come with me?”
“What?”
“To pilot training school. I’ve made up my mind, I think, where I’m going.”
“I’m going to the states for sure,” said Joe, thinking. “I mean, I like you a lot, and I’m sorry I was missing for the last year, but I think we need to take this slowly and figure things out, okay?”
“Okay.” said Greg, staring out the window and thinking for a little bit. However, he already had more questions. “When will I be able to have sex again?”
“Uh, you’re cleared to leave the hospital, so I think it should be okay any time now. Why?”
“I have some designs on you,” said Greg, smirking.
“Okay,” said Joe, smiling faintly.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” asked Greg. Joe didn’t seem to have as enthusiastic a response as he usually did.
“Nothing, I’m just tired,” he said. “I can’t wait for dinner. Do you want to go to the noodle place we went to for our first date?”
“Yeah,” said Greg, smiling. “That sounds great, babe.”
Greg discovered the source of Joe’s discomfort after he got him home.
“Can we have sex with the lights off, please?” asked Joe.
“No, come on, babe, I want to see you,” said Greg, yanking Joe’s shirt off quickly. Joe sprang back and covered his lower stomach with his hands.
“Babe, what’s going on?” asked Greg. Joe removed his hands slowly, gingerly, and Greg’s jaw dropped. A large, puckered scar ran across the bottom of Joe’s abdomen, not yet faded with time. “What the hell was that?”
“It, uh, it was a…” Joe’s voice trailed off.
“Come on babe, what’s going on?”
“It’s a c-section scar,” said Joe, all in a rush. “I figured it out, why we were so horny that night, when you couldn’t get me off for hours. I’m an Omega, Greg, and you’re an Alpha. We have a baby, a girl named Amelie.”
“What?” asked Greg. “I’m a what?”
“An Alpha.”
“I thought that was a myth, I didn't realize it actually —- wait. You, you were—“
“Pregnant, I was pregnant,” said Joe.
“And you didn’t fucking think to tell me?” asked Greg. “And you expect me to just, I don’t know, be fine with that?”
“I couldn’t do anything, I had to run away—“
“You could have told me something, anything,” said Greg, raising his voice. “Instead, you left, making me wonder if I’d ever see you again. Instead, you left, leaving me to believe that all we had was a fling, and I had imagined it turning into something more. You could have told me we had a baby, god fucking damnit. She’s my daughter, too.”
“You didn’t’ even know about her until thirty seconds ago,” said Joe, “but I carried her for nine months. How can you claim to be her parent?”
“Because we are biologically related,” said Greg, rolling his eyes. “Besides, I would be better as her ‘parent’, if you hadn’t just ditched me.”
“I didn’t know I was pregnant for months, I thought I had a tumor,” said Joe. “Thank god doctors are bound to confidentiality; otherwise I would have felt very uncomfortable going to the doctor’s office.”
“I see.”
“You know, you’re really sexy when you’re angry, right?”
“Fuck off, babe,” said Greg, only half angrily, half amused.
“You wanna see a picture of Ams?” asked Joe, pulling a Polaroid out of his pocket.
“She’s gorgeous,’ said Greg, studying the dark hair, the big, deep set eyes that were distinctly from his genetics. “Where is she?”
“She’s with her grandparents,” said Joe, “my mom and dad absolutely adores her. And they have more money to spoil her with.”
“I’ll be making pretty good money as a test pilot,” offered Greg.
“I might take you up on that,” said Joe, lightly. “Now, are we going to have sex, or not? I’ve been missing you.”
“God, I’ve been missing you too, Joe,” said Greg, lurching forwards, and attack kissing Joe.
After three more weeks living in Japan, waiting for Joe to finish up his tour, Greg spent his time pacing around their apartment, occasionally going for walks, and reading as many books as he could on parenting that he checked out from the on-ba
se library.
“I’m going to be an uncle!” he said, to anybody who asked. At least it was better than saying, “I’m going to be a co-father. Like, with two dads”.
“You’ll be first rate,” said Colonel Burns, amused, when Greg was found with his nose in a parenting book in the chow hall.
“Thank you, sir!” said Greg, continuing to read the chapter on crying and how to figure out what your child wants, or when to ignore him or her.
When they were finally clearing out of Joe’s apartment and carrying their duffle bags out to the car, Joe stopped and looked at Greg, an indescribable expression on his face.
Omega Wanted: Bad Boy Mpreg Romance Page 110