Disclaimer: All writing is inspired by the HBO's The Pacific and the actor's portrayal of some very courageous men. No disrespect meant to the true veterans- only mad respect.

Hey ya'll Ellie-Mayy here! Thanks for stopping by. This is my big Pacific fanfic- By Blood. Originally, written over the course of five years. Just reposted this revamped chapter today (6/1/15) as it was originally written sometime in 2010. Man, does time fly. Anyways, always feel free to leave me a review, and let me know what you liked or didn't like, what you thought worked or didn't work. I always appreciate commentary. Thanks for reading and hopefully, thanks for reviewing :)
This chapter starts of with a bit of a bang, quite literally. consider yourselves warned.
Peace,
Ellie

From a very young age, Tallulah Kendall Adams had been told that she would marry Eugene Bondurant Sledge. Both her mother and Eugene's had been great family friends, as their mothers before them. The twenty year process of planning a proper betrothal and lavish Southern wedding began the moment both children entered the world, screaming.

"You going to church tomorrow and askin' forgiveness for this?"
His voice was hot and heavy in her ear, and she snarled up at him.
"Your heart gonna hold out?" She retorted, her voice carrying over the growl that was rumbling deep in his throat.
He bit her ear, his teeth clamping down on the flesh in reprimand. "You'll pay for that." He growled, "Big time." His body thrust up against her, and his hands steadied her as they both toppled back into the tall grass.

Above them, the trees were laden with blossoms that drifted down in the wind, landing softly against Eugene's shirt. Below them, her red hair spread out against the grass, and the vibrant green hue only helped to accentuate her fiery locks. He fingered the collar of her dress, and she felt his large hands slide under the fabric and creep up to cup her breasts.

Her arms lifted instinctually, ready to be freed from her gingham dress. Easily, he obliged her, pulling the dress over her head and tossing it aside.
"You're beautiful." He breathed, his eyes scanning from her full breasts to her piquant hips that he anchored his grip.
Tallulah kissed his cheek as she began undoing the buttons on the front of his shirt. "You should have been able to tell that before I took my clothes off." She chided.
He shrugged off his cotton shirt, unveiling a strong, marble chest that hid the deceptively weak heart underneath. The stripping continued. She reached for his pants, and he reached for her black bra. Soon enough, they were both naked. Her rich, scarlet hair covered her breasts, and Eugene pushed the hair back into the grassy folds, wanting to see all he possibly could.

"Are you going to church to repent?" Tallulah purred, his hands sliding up and down her sides made her shiver. He laughed and they rolled around in the grass for a few more moments, the little blades tickling their bodies.
"Probably not…" Eugene grinned at her, before forcefully pressing their lips together. She felt his tongue enter her mouth, a prelude of was inevitably to comer. Soon, his mere mouth did not satisfy Tallulah. As she saw the dying daylight streak across his chest she was filled with a renewed sense of urgency that came only from knowing that a deadline was fast approaching.

"Eugene!" She pleaded, "Do it now…"
He swallowed hard, and shifted to adjust himself.
Out of the beginning pain came the most pleasurable rhythm as their bodies began finding their pace. He was breathing hard, as he clung to her shoulders, and the thrusting she felt, became more enjoyable by the second. Her nails dug deep into his shoulders. He continued to push into her and she screamed, unable to control the pitch of her voice. The grass caressed her back and his fingers swept through her hair, as she took a much needed breath and noticed the sweet scent of wisteria floating in the evening air. He collapsed upon her, pressing kisses everywhere his searching lips could find, as she trailed her fingers down his back. The evening sunlight had set his eyes dark eyes ablaze and he looked at her with conviction.
"I love you Tal." He vowed as his lips once again found hers.
"I love you too Eugene."
Suddenly, he flipped their bodies over, and Tallulah found herself resting in the grass with her head on his chest. The only sound that could be heard was the rustle of the wind though the tall grass and the slight creaking of the old oak branches. But Tallulah pressed her eat harder against his chest and listed to the rhythmic thumping of his heart. She could hear the infamous swooshing sound, the murmur that was keeping him out of the war. Silently, she thanked God for it.

"That's nice Essie Jo!" The photographer praised as Tallulah's legs spread out over the hood of the bright red convertible. She closed her eyes momentarily and listed to the well-known count.
"3.2.1." Her eyes shot open, her pupils looking innocent, dilated from the bright flashes on the camera. "Change it up now if you would, Essie."
She sighed and altered her pose, crossing her legs, as if it would actually compensate for her short skirt. More flashes and snapping she pressed a provocative finger to her cheek, and her lips, in practiced fashion, shifted to the side. She looked down at the hood of the car and noted she could see her ridiculous reflection in the chrome

"And another Essie Jo?" The photographer encouraged, peering through the lens.
She glanced up, drew her lips into a pucker and raised her hand to blow a kiss to the adorning camera. A final flash shot though the room as she braced against the brightness.
"Perfect. That's the one. I think we're done here!"
She hopped off the car, her heels smacking against the tile floor of the studio. Her manager an arm around her, and led her off set, as another girl took to the stage.

"Essie Jo Adams…" Frank praised, "Those pictures will be on the cover this month. You know Yank wants an exclusive six page spread?" She hardly smiled at the news. Yank would certainly pay well, but sometimes, these damn photoshoot weren't even worth the incredible amounts of money.
"Are we going to give them an exclusive six page spread?"
Frank nodded, enthused by the idea. She could practically see the dollar signs springing into his eyes. "Of course we're going to give it to them!" He prodded her shoulder. "The world wants more Essie Jo Adams! Who are we to deny them?"
She flashed him her cover smile, he didn't deserve one that actually meant something. "Put it on my schedule."

Frank looked out over the glistening set, and surveyed the beautiful girls lined up to pose with the new convertible. There would be more shoots tomorrow. Esquire wanted a lingerie spread. Yank had asked for an exclusive. The new Cadalaic coupe was due out this month, and they had already contacted him about having some girls pose for magazine ads. This was his empire, built upon the most predictable desires of man. Demand was increased now that hundreds of thousands of boys left their girlfriends for the War. They had to have someone to lust after, someone to look at, and Frank would provide that someone.

She glared up at him again, as his eyes came back into focus. "I'm heading back to my apartment… Are we shooting tomorrow?"
He stared down at the most important piece of ass he had under contract.
"Don't you remember? We're shooting with John Basilone. He's here, on his USO tour."
She shrugged on her robe, saying nothing.
He turned back to her. "Your swimsuit came in today, the two piece with the sailor hat? I need you in that suit tomorrow, at the boat."
She pulled the robe tighter around her, and pushed open the where the limousine was already idling. A porter quickly rushed forward to open the door for her.
"Evening Miss Essie Jo."

She glanced up at him in confusion. Even after a year of modeling she was always surprised when someone called her by her agency name, instead of own, Tallulah. Most girls had a show name, the agency had told her it was for her own protection to obscure part of her name. Some of the models took weeks deciding on their published nom de plume, wondering what actually represented them best, deliberating over which name captured their persona. Uncaring, Tallulah decided to draw two random name out of a hat. Ever since she had been known as Essie Jo.

"Evening David." Tallulah greeted him with more enthusiasm that she actually felt.
The young man grinned and opened the door, offering her his hand as she stepped inside the fancy limo.
"Good day?" He inquired.
She gave him a tired smile as she spread her robe out across the seat. "Yes, nice day. Kind of you to ask."
A small flush sprung to his boyish face. "Glad to hear it."
She shot him a final smile as he closed the door before her eyes met the gaze of the driver in the rearview mirror.
"Back to Upper East Side Miss?"
She nodded, "Yes, please."
The driver revved the gas but Tallulah held up her hand, "Driver!"
He glanced back at her, "Miss?"

She dug a twenty dollar bill out of her purse and tapped on the darkened window, which rolled down at her command. David stood surprised, a curious look on his face. "Why yes Miss Adams? Can I get you something? Some water perhaps?"
Tallulah grinned at him, flicking her hand towards him to reveal the money held between her middle and index fingers. "For your troubles…" She told him, forcing the money into his hands.
He stared down at the tip and shook his head, refusing to collect the offered cash. "Oh no, I can't possibly-"
She pointed towards the road, signaling the driver forward. "Have a good Evening David," she told him as the window rolled back up.

Once arrived on the fifteenth floor of the building, Tallulah shouldered in the door to her apartment. It luxuriously furnished and impeccably decorated. Her walls were painted a shade of deep red, the color of a red carpet. Her curtains that blew from her open window were lacy and white, as was her huge, puffy comforter that lay on her large bed, adorned with an excess of decorative pillows. She collapsed upon her fluffy bed. Twelve months ago she couldn't have dreamed that this is what her life would have become. Tallulah wasn't supposed to be posing for Esquire magazine- she was supposed to be dressing nicely before going to church on Sunday morning.
She wasn't supposed to be eating dinner out every night with the socialites of the city- she was supposed to be making dinner for Eugene.
She wasn't supposed to be riding in fancy cars- she was supposed to be riding in the passenger seat of Eugene's beat up pickup.
In fact, she wasn't even supposed to be single. She was supposed to be engaged. She was supposed to be his wife. She had been eighteen when Eugene had left for boot camp. She was supposed to have married him that summer. But he'd been spurred on by duty, and his patriotism left her forgotten.
She lit a cigarette and lifted the addictive roll to her lips, savoring the hot tobacco smoke.
Moaning slightly, Tallulah fell back on her piles of pillows. The motion forced the smoke from her mouth, and it appeared above her in a murky cloud that twisted into oblivion. She closed her eyes, feeling her eyeliner smudge as she did so, and settled into an restless sleep, the smoking cigarette still dangling from between her fingers.

Miles away, in a military base at Camp Pendleton, a red haired boy stared up at the roof of his camouflage tent, before his eyes rolled back into his head, unable to stay open any longer. His day of training had been exhausting.

And even further away, on some remote island named Cape Gloucester, a blonde boy blinked hard against the flashes that lit up the rainy jungle, tightly gripping his M1903 Springfield. There were rustles in the bushes. The men beside him tensed, and readied their weapons. His blue eyes were wide open in the darkness, pupils the size of saucers.
He hadn't slept for three days, and he wouldn't sleep tonight