Golai Kates Playgroind

Fic: Love In The Time Of War

Title: Love In The Time Of War
Author: lisachanoando ( Lizon )
Beta: None because there was no time, _, "Forgive the many horrors that surely will find.
Chapter: 1 / 1.
Summary: As the title suggests, three episodes that tell three stories of ordinary (other) love, understood in its broadest possible sense, in time of war.
Fandom: RP: Calcium
Characters / Pairing : Davide Santon (+ Hera) and Mario Balotelli, Antonio Cassano / Giampaolo Pazzini (/ Riccardo Montolivo), Zlatan Ibrahimovic and Jose Mourinho.
Genres: Introspective, Romance, Drama.
Rating: R.
Warnings: AU, Slash.
Wordcount: 2589
Notes: ... madness. * Cries * Well, first of all I would like to start by saying that this fic is set in a time accurate. The presence of the trenches could lead you to believe that it is in the middle of WWI, but it is not. It 'an imaginary war, is fought in ways absolutely no bearing on the reality of the time (of that or any era, in fact) and to obtain different objectives and, crucially, by opening this page do not expect to find something sensible, because
not find it XD I want to write for a while ', but if we are successful I have to say thanks first for prompt crimsontriforce on magic_reservoir and the secundis War of the prompt first week of COW-T. * Pant * That's enough, bye. * Dies *

LOVE IN THE TIME OF WAR
He Sees Hope.
hopes that Mario does not take up to snow, because there's already quite cold as well.
The trench is a deep hole less than two meters. Someone like him, not to be seen always have to walk bent double. The back is hurting, why, and it hurts because my ass does not sit on anything even vaguely comfortable for months. From the bottom of the pit of mud dug with bare hands by his teammates sent ahead a few weeks ago, you only see the countryside burned out of sight. The city for which they are fighting seems so distant as to seem almost like a dream. Milan with its majestic cathedral, the classical austerity of the Teatro alla Scala, the wide spaces of the Castello Sforzesco, the grandeur of San Siro chattering brazen opulence of the Gallery. Milan that this war has never been touched, because if you are fighting against the Devils on the other side of the waterway is just to take it, that city so beautiful and so gray and so fundamental to all of them, and so she must remain intact. His placid life goes on while they kill themselves in the midst of dirt, mud and hardship. They will die like all the comrades who have died this hole they dug, Mario is sure. Will be caught suddenly in the night by a volley of bullets at the back, like them, caught during the excavations because of the gypsy traitor who had chosen that moment to jump the fence and run the other side.
David sneaks up, surprising him with a look a certain melancholy that little 'is seen in Milan on the horizon through the dusty air of the sunset. He arrived only a few months, David. General Mourinho given it to him personally because they have more or less the same age, but now Mario fights on the field since he was sixteen. "You can understand it," the man said, "but at the same time you have more experience. Guide him. "
His eyes were tired and far, that day, their leader. Speaking of David, was the voice of a father. Mario felt a infinite punishment for him, the man on the shoulders of small and grays which weighed the fate of an entire people.
- Homesick? - Asks the boy next sedendoglisi - You're shaking your head, could see you. Mario
obeys, the more glad to do it because they feel threatened - sooner or later will touch, and has spent enough years in the trenches to know that the first come, first will be free - and smiles a bit '.
- Yes, a bit '. - Accepts, - I do not receive a letter from home a few weeks. My parents are elderly, you know. I am a bit 'worried.
- I alone? - Asks David, a touch of sadness in his voice. Mario shakes his head.
- No, my sister is there with them. But it must deal with many things, and it is not easy. I hope for a license next month to return to help her, even if briefly.
David smiles, sitting near you.
- You're cute. - Comments - that is, to worry about your family.
- Are not you worried about? - He replies, raising an eyebrow. David shakes his head.
- My family is not here. It is safe.
Mario responds with a doubtful look.
- And why are you here? - Calls, and David shrugs.
- We need money. - Answer, - I and my girlfriend want to get married, but we can not ask you to pay for all our families.
- you come into the war in risk of death is that you can not marry again? - Mario insists, astonished. David lets out a giggle a bit 'embarrassed.
- The pay is good, though. I do not know how old I was supposed to save money, if I had stayed to work in the country. Here, if I survive six months, I have enough money to return home and buy a small plot of my own.
- But first you have to survive. - Mario says with a smile a bit 'touched. The smile with which David responds is strong and confident.
- I intend to do so. - Reassures him, and then rummaged in the bag that carries all patched shoulder, extracting a worn brown leather case. - Want to see my girl? - Application, - is beautiful. Mario
snorts half smile and nods. David discovers the photo of a girl with a cute face, her features soft, big brown eyes and long curly hair to fall on the shoulders.
- It's really beautiful. - Smiles, stroking the glossy surface of the photograph with two fingers, for fear of ruining it. David chuckles pleased and leaves him contemplating the photo for as long as he wants, without realizing it straight back.
- You do not have a girlfriend? - He asks. Mario let it go thought the many girls he had before joining the army, and many others that have simply made the company during the periods of license or longer that over the years has to wrest from the grip of a war that was doing month after month more and more bitter and bloody. Dozens of girls without a name, now faces a confusing blur.
not answer the question of David, but it puts one in his own time.
- You really believe that you will return home safely? To marry and live happily ever after or whatever? - Asks, pointing with a nod, the girl who smiles still in the picture.
David smiles and nods. His confidence is unshakable, and Mario, to return the photos and shouldered his weapon to get away to the point that he was assigned in the morning, not more difficult to understand why.

Let me go.
Giampaolo biting her lip, looking around with concern. If you are doing under the fear and is the first time I regret being out of the trench. He knows he should relax, it's night and especially the truce has been played now for a couple of hours, and then does not run any danger to be there at the time, but what worries me is not so much be where he is , how much more waiting to be Antonio. Truce or no truce, it is a Devil, truce or no truce they should not have intercourse.
Only, truce or no truce, they have always had. And skip a night at the moment seems inconceivable, but by the treachery of the gypsy All has become more difficult, the controls have increased tenfold, and the penalties were tightened.
Sitting on the porch of the abandoned shack that has for years has been the scene of their meetings, Giampaolo takes his head in his hands and swear it will be the last time. Can not continue to try to erase the emptiness that results in the absence of Richard in this way. Each time it receives a letter is like feeling the heart shatter into a thousand pieces. Has stopped responding, but Richard did not give up. The guilt is getting unbearable, as the weight of the certainty of arriving at the front without turning back. He would like
Riccardo rifacesse life, while he, carelessly, putting an end to their own. But somehow he knows that he will not resign until you see deliver home a medal for bravery by a pair of decorated officers to the tip of the hair.
- Always lost in your dark and sad world. - Anthony says with a half laugh, stopping a few feet away from him. Giampaolo immediately raises his eyes and, when acknowledged, is quick to jump up and precede through the door off its hinges and creaking. Antonio follows him soon after, if and when Giampaolo found in front, inside the house, is still smiling.
- This story can not continue. - Said immediately, putting her hands on. Antonio rolls his eyes, bored even before you begin.
- No, please, not again. - Protested with a smile amused. Giampaolo looks down, embarrassed.
- It's getting too dangerous. - Says, trying to reason with him, - The trenches have approached too. Now in danger of killing us every time we shoot. ... Not - you pass a hand over his eyes, exhausted - you do not understand that this story is absurd? I could shoot in the dark and find you among the bodies that I shot down soon after. I've had enough of stories of love gone wrong.
Antonio frowns, annoyed.
- Hey, hey. - Stops him, grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him to look into eyes - Brakes. This is not a love story. - Giampaolo him a look bleak, and Antonio insists. - You know that I am in love with my girlfriend, and I will be until the pancake house, your hands or anyone else. I thought it was the same for you, with your husband. Giampaolo
biting the inside of the cheek and walks away from him by a hysterical shot, turned and approached the window to the one found on those bare walls. The glass is cracked and cold drafts from coming out that give you the chills. The night is dark and silent. You do not even see a star in the sky. The unnatural glow of bombs exploding a few miles further west, in the mountains, illuminating the clouds blacks loads of rain hanging over them all. Tomorrow will be another mud fight other, more blood. Another death.
- I decided to forget what I had before. - Confessed in a whisper, - 'Cause I know I can not come back.
Antonio approaches him, holding to life in a hug while you glide touched his lips on her neck. Giampaolo abandons against him, closing his eyes.
- is precisely because you know you can not have it - whispers Antonio, - that you must always keep in mind that once you got it.
cheeks Giampaolo slip two tears that he can not stop, perhaps because even us test.
- So maybe it's better if you let me go. - Says, and a bit 'hopes that Antonio portraits and tell him okay, okay if you forget Richard, if he pretends that he never loved anyone more than him, if you forget to have had a life so what do I need to remember to have had a relentlessly when it is lost?, but Antonio, deaf to his silent request, does any of this. She kisses him lightly on the cheek, giving him one last comforting hug before releasing it from its close. Giampaolo
continues to look at the night feeling suddenly enveloped by the frost. He knows he'll never see him no more. The

confrontation.
they brought him in chains, as requested. You pesto and his clothes are torn to shreds. Imagine that your children certainly have not met with hugs and kisses, just saw him trying to flee the war-mingling among the corpses of the dead in battle.
- Leave us alone. - Sort. Zlatan, kneeling before him, grinning.
- could be dangerous, general. - Mark warns him, turning to spit on the ground two inches from the prisoner, - This-
lousy bastard - I know exactly what I expect from him now. - Reassuring smiles. Marco hisses, is not convinced. Dejan must be involved to get him to obey the order, as well him in time to leave the room, unable to save himself and to turn around worried glance at their General, asking him to be careful.
- They care for you all. - Zlatan comments, ironic and contemptuous. Despite being bound hand and foot, and in poor condition, with a black eye, swollen lips and blood clotted by now to make a cradle for the new one coming out from a cut on copious eyebrow, his gaze is fierce, and there is fear in his voice.
- It's natural. - José replies, taking a chair and sitting down in front of him, so you can look in the eyes of a more equal height, - After you've done. Zlatan
smiles wrong, fixing it in the eye without feeling even the slightest shame for his betrayal.
- You always knew that I was a mercenary. - Answer, - but I've wanted the same.
- Because I thought that money were enough to make you change the grid, but I could not imagine that be enough to convince you to sell your old friends! - José screaming, standing up so quickly to overturn the chair on the floor.
- I had no companions. - Zlatan corrects him, suddenly more serious, as if Jose had reached a point that he is not willing to compromise. - I was hired by your army.
- And by your betrayal you have sent me to bring people with whom I laughed and joked and had fought alongside of them until the day before. - José's notes, and then seems to deflate when Zlatan in the eyes of a calm that upsets him. - And you do not feel the least guilty for their deaths. - Considered unstressed. Zlatan
snorting, tossing with a sudden gesture of the head of a strand of human hair stained with blood and earth that slipped over his eyes.
- We're at war. - Says, - The people are dying every day, with or without my intervention. José
shakes his head, exhaling with resignation.
- I was hoping to talk to you, but I see that it is impossible. - He bends his knees, crossing his eyes a few inches away. - Once you were not so, Zlatan. - Says in a low voice, - What happened to you? Zlatan
quivers. The muscles of his shoulders and his arms are stretched and José knows that if it were not handcuffed, he would jump at the throat to kill him.
- In your opinion what happened to me, Zay? - Growls, so angry to use a nickname that both thought they had buried many years ago, long before they find themselves fighting side by side and then against each other. - What do you think happened to me? What happens at all after years of this shit. - His voice becomes lower, falling to a broken whisper. - I wanted to try to end this war shit. I decided to sell the information and then flee with the bag full of money.
Jose gets back on his feet, looking at him with disgust.
- one with your experience would have imagined that he could never escape. There's nothing around here. Only devastation for miles. Did you really be able to get away with it?
Zlatan looks away, closes his eyes and smiles.
- Zlatan. - He calls it, when he realizes that it has no intention of answering. Sighed, covering her face with her hands for a few seconds. When back at him, her eyes full of tears. - I have no choice. - Says, - Have you ever been judged. It condemned.
Zlatan stubbornly unresponsive. He smiles with a serenity that shakes the heart. It's been too long since the last time I saw him smile like that, too much to even try to remember as the time goes back.
- Marco, Dejan! - Called aloud. The soldiers come in and he looks at a point at random on the floor to avoid being forced to fix Zlatan pronouncing its order. - Fucilatelo.
soldiers approaching Zlatan and pull up in weight. A moment before being dragged away, Zlatan whispers a word in their language. Hearing, José opens his eyes, unable to believe his ears. Keep his men bring in the square behind Zlatan the camp. The blindfolded and then turn away, braced with guns to enforce the sentence.
Greeting, Zlatan told him thanks.
Jose can not get rid of the thought that maybe this was what he always wanted from the beginning.