He was brought to this world with a silver spoon in his mouth.

Woobin came from an entire family of military men.  His great-grandfather had been a general during times of war, his grandfather a colonel and his father a lieutenant colonel.  It was only natural he would step up as the next man of military and, to be a captain at such a young age, he was already viewed with respect and admiration by his peers.  With the admiration, though, came the jealousy and hate. 

He hadn’t been the only one being considered for a promotion to captaincy and even now, several of his men remained loyal to the other candidates.  This left him with a handful of men who both despised him and disrespected him as a captain.  Though he had never concerned himself with their periodic bouts of rebelliousness, it seems the boys had finally gone too far with their pranks.  If it hadn’t been for Jongsuk’s unexpected act of knocking the water bottle from his hands, Woobin would have long since paid a visit to the underworld.

Rather than anger and outrage at his men’s behaviour, Woobin felt… exhausted.  He had never found military life to be as glorious as his family had claimed.  Instead, he found it rather dull and restricting.  He had no interest in political affairs and so coups like this from his men were just bordering on irritating rather than outrageous.  If he could, he would go back in time and reroute his life.  Because, surely, anything else would have been more exciting than being stuck in a uniform all day.

He had, for the first time, felt alive when he’d first laid eyes on Lee Jongsuk.  And now, as he gazed into the surprised chocolate eyes, he felt a strange mix of emotions in his chest.

“What?” Jongsuk asked in a soft whisper, his eyes wide as he stared back at Woobin, “What did you-”

Woobin surpressed the urge to pounce on the unsuspecting pilot and, instead, let out a soft cuss before rolling off the bed and stretching.  “Aish,” he said, “Ahh… I’m tired.”  Ignoring the pilot’s confused gaze, he walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Leaning against it, he felt a strange sinking feeling in his chest.  Sure, he had been unexplainably attracted to the pilot.  And sure, he had had enough in the past forty eight hours to at least curb his libido.  He should have been satisfied right?  So why did he feel as if he was suffocating?

Shaking the strange feeling, he walked over to the bathtub and the shower.  He watched as hot water splashed down into the tub but felt no desire to jump in and let the water wash away his exhaustion.  Instead, his ears were perked up and listening for the sound of a closing front door.  His body was tense as it stood near the sink; it seemed as if every fibre in his body was waiting for the confirmation that Lee Jongsuk had finally escaped.  And, as he’d expected, the sound of the front door opening and closing left a hole in his chest that seemed to away his very life. 

Letting out a shaky breath, Woobin stepped inside the tub and underneath the hot water.  It splashed onto his face and trickled down his body lazily.  Steam quickly filled the room and soon, the room had become a sauna.  Wiping the water from his face, Woobin turned off the tap and stepped outside.  He grabbed the towel and dried himself off absentmindedly. 

He was okay; of course he would be.  He was Kim Woobin after all, captain of several hundred men at the tender age of twenty three and respected amongst his peers… well most of them anyway.  He was a heartbreaker, a player… a man without attachments.  So why, then, did his eyes sting with tears?  Why did he feel as if he’d just given up the only thing that had ever stirred his unmovable heart?  Why did he feel as if he could no longer go back to the same old life he had been living just forty eight hours ago?

Shaking his head, Woobin blinked away the moisture behind his eyes and took a deep breath.  He let out an incredulous chuckle and gazed at his pitiful face in the mirror.  “Kim Woobin,” he murmured to himself, “Snap out of it, you dumb bastard…”  Taking the towel in his hands, he covered his face and gave himself a good slap.  After a few deep breaths, he removed the towel and tossed it onto the toilet cover. 

Nodding at himself in the mirror, he opened the bathroom door and stepped back out into the now empty hotel room.  Looking around the room with disinterest, Woobin walked over to the bed and laid down with a sigh.  He would rest for only a moment, he reasoned with himself, and then he would go have a look at the fake suspect his men had caught.  Just a moment, he thought again, as he buried his face into the pillows and took a deep breath.  He could still smell the pilot’s scent on the pillow and in the sheets.  It made his head dizzy and his chest tight.  Closing his eyes, he let himself get lost in the memories of only moments before.  Moments of Jongsuk straddled on top of him bouncing slowly and gasping with pleasure; of Jongsuk underneath him writhing with every single … of the two of them together as they ed into each other.

Woobin jerked awake as a sudden knock on his door jolted him from his sleep.  His heart racing wildly in his chest, he glanced at the clock; he had fallen asleep for over four hours.  Swallowing the sand in his mouth, he let out a breath of disbelief and ran a hand through his hair.  So much for going to see the fake suspect…

He looked up again as a frantic banging on his door sounded again.  “What?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.  He rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes and grabbed his clothes from the floor.

“Sir,” a soldier’s voice rang excitedly through the door, “We caught him sir!  The suspect, we caught him!”

Woobin rolled his eyes and buttoned up his shirt.  Irritated that he’d been awoken by old news, he walked over to the door and opened it with annoyance.  “I know,” he said, closing the door behind him and turning to the young soldier standing in front of him, “I was informed hours ago.  Something came up so I couldn’t go see him right away.  I will go now-”

“No, sir!” the young pilot interrupted, to Woobin’s annoyance, “We caught another one this time!”  The young soldier was nearly bouncing with excitement as his eyes lit up his entire face.  “We’re sure it’s him this time!  He’s nothing like the other guy!” the soldier exclaimed.

Woobin felt his heart skip a beat at those words.  Another one?  Surely, they hadn’t caught the real Lee Jongsuk had they? After all, it had only been four hours since he’d escaped... Woobin felt his heart sink as he remembered the state of the pilot.  Jongsuk hadn’t eaten in days and had been physically exhausted by round after round of … not to mention one of his wrists was now broken.  It wouldn’t be a surprise if he had actually been caught, would it?  He would easily be overpowered in his state.

Woobin clenched his jaw together as he turned to the young soldier.  “Where are they?” he asked, his voice soft but edgy, “I will see them now.”  He followed the soldier down the hall and out of the building. As he climbed into the vehicle that awaited him, he found himself hoping that he would never see Lee Jongsuk’s face again.

It had been great chance to finally escape… and he had failed miserably.

Jongsuk gritted his teeth as the new set of handcuffs jolted his broken wrist from behind his back.  He could barely see; one of his eyes had become too swollen to open and the other stung with blood that dripped down from the cut just below his hairline.  His jaw throbbed too; the marines that caught him had steel knuckles and one hell of a swing.

Jongsuk let out a silent breath as he tried to hold himself.  He sat on the cold dirt floor in a makeshift tent just outside of town.  Beside him, another young man sat shaking with fright.  That must have been the other captive the soldiers had used to lure Woobin out of his hotel room.  Jongsuk mentally laughed as he looked at the young man; the kid looked as if he had just barely hit puberty. 

Closing his eyes, Jongsuk tried to steady his breath to take his mind off of the pain.  It was laughable how easily he had been caught.  He had overestimated his remaining strength; even the adrenaline of having been released from captivity hadn’t been enough to keep him alert.  He was blindsided by two marines staked out in a bush; the capture had been such a piece of cake for the two burly men that they spent some excess strength by practicing their punches on his face.  After handcuffing his hands behind his back, Jongsuk had been dragged to a remote tent and made to wait as the soldiers went to alert their superiors.  Jongsuk vaguely wondered if Woobin would suddenly appear behind the tent flap with his usual smug smirk.  It was both amusing and terrifying.

Jongsuk gasped as one of the marines sent a solid kick to his abdomen.  Bent over with pain, Jongsuk clenched his jaw and tried to catch his breath.

“Oh good, you’re still alive,” the marine drawled, sitting back in his chair and grinning, “You looked dead for a second there.”  Laughing at his own dumb remark, the marine crossed a leg over his other and drummed his fingers on the wooden table beside him.  “Once we verify, you’ll probably end up dead anyway,” the marine said smugly, “Hope I get to pull the trigger.”

Jongsuk snorted, surprised that he himself wasn’t shaking with terror.  Perhaps it was because he had already lived days in captivity; being captured again wasn’t as terrifying as he had expected it to be.  Even in the face of execution, he found himself simply exhausted and wishing for a quick end.  If he was indeed on the path to a death sentence, he wished he could at least choose the way he’d die.  Death by with the authority didn’t seem so bad anymore…

“The captain might want to bring you back to base for questions,” the marine continued with his chatter, “But I doubt it.  We were given the order to execute upon the captain’s approval and our Captain Kim is one cold hearted bastard-”  He cut off abruptly and suddenly stood from his seat, his face turning an odd shade of pale. 

Jongsuk looked up as the tent flap pulled back.  He suppressed a chuckle as Woobin walked into the tent with a cold face.  He’d been right; the soldiers had gone and called on their captain again.  He wondered in amusement how Woobin would handle the situation now.  The captive he had so obviously set free was now captured again by the hands of his men.  It was ironic to say the least.

“S-sir,” the marine said, his eyes shifting nervously, “The captive sir!  I… I wasn’t-you… it was a joke sir!  You are not a cold-”

“Get out,” Woobin said quietly, his eyes fixed on Jongsuk.

“Yes sir!” the marine exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly as he hurried out of the tent.

Jongsuk couldn’t help the small smirk that graced his busted lips as the tent emptied of marines, leaving only the two captives and Woobin.  He looked up at the authority, his heart beating strangely in his chest.  He couldn’t quite explain what he felt; a sense of familiarity washed over him as he gazed back into the authority’s dark smoldering eyes.  At the same time, he felt nervous… anxious of what Woobin would do now that they were no longer in the confines of the hotel room.

“I…” the other young captive stuttered, tears streaming down his face, “I’m not a pilot!  I live on the farm east of here with my grandfather!”  He hiccupped as he got onto his knees and crawled towards Woobin with a pleading face.  “It’s a mistake,” he said, “I’m only sixteen!  I was out in the forest to pick berries and-”  He quickly shut his mouth as Woobin turned to look at him.  His lower lip trembled as more tears and snot flowed down his face.

Jongsuk watched as Woobin took the young may by the collar and dragged him outside of the tent.  He heard Woobin call one of the soldiers over.  “Release him,” Woobin said in his deep authoritative voice, “He’s too young.”  Jongsuk let out a sigh of relief as the soldiers replied; Woobin wasn’t as cold hearted as he’d thought… though he should have known that already from the two days of steaming hot .

He snapped out of his thoughts as Woobin entered the tent again.  He felt his eyes slide over Woobin’s clothed body.  The authority seemed so different when he wasn’t half and grinning with a naughty smirk.  The man before him now gazed down at him with cold eyes and an expressionless face.

“What now?” Jongsuk murmured softly, “I got caught.”  He grinned apologetically as he tried to read the authority’s face.  “Execution?” he whispered, his lip stinging, “Or-”

“You will be brought back to base for questioning,” Woobin interrupted, his voice harsh and cold, “And then executed.”  His face remained expressionless as he looked down at Jongsuk. 

Jongsuk felt his heart sink as he gazed up at the authority.  Everything… from his cold voice to his stoic face… everything about this captain was different from the mischievous Kim Woobin.  He wasn’t sure what he had expected when Woobin walked through the tent flap; it had only made sense that he would be executed upon his capture.  Had he really thought that the authority would spare him over a few rounds of ? 

Jongsuk felt bitterness seep into him as he laughed.  “You’re supposed to tell me I’ll be spared if I tell you all my secrets,” he sighed softly, dropping his gaze to the floor, “Isn’t that how it usually is in movies?”

“We’ll leave at dawn,” Woobin said, turning his back and walking towards the tent flap.

Jongsuk felt tears sting at the back of his eyes as he closed them.  He knew it was illogical, the sense of betrayal he was feeling, but it suffocated him anyway.  He wanted to cry but he wasn’t sure for what.  Because he was going to be executed?  Or because Woobin was the one that had decided such a thing?  He wasn’t sure why he felt betrayed either; all that happened in the past two days had been physical.  Just because they had shared intimacy physically didn’t mean any emotional attachments had been formed… at least not for the authority.  He had felt the beginnings of… something… but it had been one-sided.  That was proven clearly with the authority’s decision to execute him.

He let out a shaky breath as he heard the authority open the tent flap.  As Woobin stepped outside, Jongsuk looked up with surprise as he heard the authority murmur, “Useless bastard,” before letting the tent flap close behind him.  He laughed hollowly as he stared at the tent flap.  He felt anger course through him, replacing the betrayal and the helplessness.  Useless, Woobin had called him.  Jongsuk clenched his jaw as two marines walked back into the tent and stood at their guard post.  He wanted to jump up and knock the two marines over.  He wanted to use every single ounce of energy to try and escape again… but he knew he was spent.  He had nothing left…

Jongsuk laughed out loud as the thought echoed in his mind.  He had nothing left… not a single ounce of strength or fight left I him.  It was over… he’d been caught for good.  He couldn’t stop the laughter; it seemed to burst out of him uncontrolled.  He felt high from exhaustion.  The desperation dissipated, leaving him with nothing.  He felt empty like a shell and just as brittle.  He felt as if he would break now at the slightest blow of wind.

He sat in a daze for the rest of the night, his eyes on the floor looking at nothing in particular.  He wondered if his country had declared him dead yet.  He wondered how his family was reacting to the news, and if his squad was mourning.  He wondered what kind of funeral they had set up for him, or if they would even hold one for him at all.  After all, he was just a pilot.  Would they even tribute him to anything?  He hadn’t accomplished anything with his death… in fact, he hadn’t accomplished anything with his life either.  No badges of honor, no outstanding merits… he was just another pilot who died behind enemy’s lines.  At least his family would miss him… right?

Maybe not, Jongsuk’s heart argued with him.  He had an awkward relationship with his father after all.  His mother had been against his enlistment as a pilot and his brother… they hadn’t spoken in ages.  Would they miss him?  Would anyone miss him? 

Woobin might.  Jongsuk chuckled hollowly as the image of a sobbing Woobin surfaced in his mind.  It was both funny and satisfying.  If it actually happened, he would at least be able to make the smug bastard cry.  Even if it was with his death, he just wanted to see the bastard cry.  But would the authority cry?  Probably not… after all, he was the one that had decided Jongsuk would die.  Why would he cry when he was the one to sentenced Jongsuk to death?

“Yah,” a marine said suddenly, walking over to him, “Get up.  We’re leaving.”

Jongsuk looked up with surprise.  When did the sun rise?  As if suddenly turning the volume up after a night of silence, he heard the rumblings outside of the tent.  He could hear people talking and walking outside; he could hear the distinct sound of vehicles as they idled on standby.

He winced as a marine took him by the arm and dragged him to his feet.  He followed without fight as he was taken outside into the sun.  He squinted as the morning sun washed across the scenery.  He had never realized how beautiful the morning sun was.  Perhaps it was because he was on his way to death… he looked up at the blue sky with longing.  What he’d give now to fly one more time…

“Hurry,” the marine said, pushing him forward towards a waiting Jeep. 

Jongsuk walked towards it, still feeling numb and hollow.  As he took a step towards the Jeep, he heard the familiar deep voice of the authority.  Turning to look at the vehicle a few feet away from him, he saw the authority standing by it issuing orders to marines as they packed up the camp.  Pausing briefly, Woobin turned and met his gaze.

He looked away quickly and climbed into the Jeep.  He refused to feel the tidal wave of anguish suddenly threatening to drown him.  He refused to feel suffocated inside the vehicle that would take him to his execution ground.  He refused to look back at the man that had treated him with both heated tenderness and cold ruthlessness.  He refused to feel anything more than numb.

Author's notes: 

Oooooh!!  We're nearing the end!!  Thank you for following the story and stay tuned!!!!!