Even Heroes Have the Right to Dream

author's notes: There is no money being made off of this. No infringement is intended. I only wanted to play in the playground that was created for us all by Bellisario and Company. All recognizable characters belong to them anyway. This is intended for enjoyment and enjoyment's sake only. I know this is short, and I have more already written, but I am using this as a teaser. I want to see if you, the readers, are on the same page as I am, and to see if anyone has a guess as to who's point of view I am writing in. PLEASE leave you guesses in a review.

I posted this once before, but I took it off. I thought that I would attempt to repost it. The first part is short, but there is a second chapter if you all like !

Thanks to everyone for reviews, they really make this all worthwhile. I appreciate them whether they are good or bad, but the flames really hurt.

As always, please enjoy this as much as I have, and don't forget to read and review.

Always,

CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur

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Even Heroes Have the Right to Dream

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2150 Zulu (4:50 pm local)
December 24
Somewhere near Antietam

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Sometimes I sit here and wonder if maybe it could all be different. Could my life be any better? It definitely would not be any worse. I am dead after all, or at least that is what they would have you believe. I don't know why or even how I am here, or for that matter why I am still being kept from my home, but I am sure on one thing. My captors are Americans, because only my fellow countrymen could be so cruel.

After my initial capture I was moved around so many times that I eventually lost track of where I was. I was finally able to get away from my captors, and for a few glorious months I lived free while trying to find a way home. I fell in love again only to have that love ripped away from me when I was shot, almost buried alive, and then captured by a whole new set of jailers. The second set of captors were the Americans. I could tell by the way that they treated me. I was dealt with as if I were a King, but I was still their prisoner.

It has been just over two decades since I last tasted freedom, and now I have a new chance. They have sent a new guard into look after me. They must think that I am too old and feeble to try and escape because this new guard is a young female. I mustn't underestimate her; she is a marine, after all.

I doubt I will be able to escape, but maybe she will take me out for a ride. My jailers have done that before, but not in the last several years. Maybe I will even appeal to her sympathetic side, if she has one. It has been a long while since I last told anyone my story. I think I will tell her, but not until after I get a shower and a shave. As I sit here thinking about this I rubbed my jaw with my hand. I realized that I did indeed need a shave. I was also wondering if she knew my son. I highly doubted that. It was just pure wishful thinking on my part.

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