Chapter Text
It was a terrifying time for everyone in the Stitchers Program. Everyone huddled around the radio, listening for the draft numbers to be announced. Each man in the room listened for their birthdate.
It was December 1, 1969, the first draft for the war. The program hadn’t been around for long, but it was long enough for it to be efficient and worth funding. The whole system wasn’t perfect, but technology wasn’t super advanced. They had top of the line things that the outside world may never have access to.
The first birthdate was finally drawn. September 14. Linus sighed heavily. “Two weeks early, two weeks.” He had a hand over his chest, but that was just the first date. His luck didn’t last very long.
“Number 233, September 27.”
His face dropped. It was passed the halfway mark, but it was far from the end. He relaxed back in his chair and rubbed his face.
Fisher’s birthday came next. His number was 331, unlikely to get picked. If Maggie and Les Turner hadn’t forced him to stay, he would have voluntarily enlisted. He was a police officer; the army couldn’t be that much worse.
Cameron’s birthday was last to be called. He was given 361, close to the very end.
As soon as everything was announced, it was back to business. There was a sample waiting to be stitched into.
***
The next few months went smoothly. The program ran its normal course. Kirsten was stitching into a new person every week and crimes were being solved more and more efficiently.
Then June rolled around. Another draft was to be announced in July.
The month of June couldn’t have gone by faster. Everyone in the lab gathered around the television on July 1, 1970, and waited for numbers to be announced.
“Number 001, July 9,” said the announcer. Fisher sighed heavily and looked over to Linus and said: “Five days. I win.”
Linus gave him a dirty look before rolling his eyes.
Everyone was surprised a few moments later.
“Number 026, May 25.”
Everyone’s eyes were on Cameron. Nobody said anything; Cameron barely processed the fact that his birthday was called so early. Camille wrapped her arms around him from behind. “It’s going to be okay. You’re not going to have to go. We’ll find a way,” she said softly.
Kirsten walked out of the room, shocking the crowd. She walked into the small locker room and locked herself in one of the changing stalls. She sunk down to the ground and began to cry. She was going to lose Cameron. She was going to lose her best friend, her teacher, her everything. She wasn’t sure how she would make it.
She didn’t know how long she had been in there, but it must’ve been long enough for the draft drawing to conclude and everyone to disperse. There was a soft knock on door. “Kirsten?” It was Cameron.
Kirsten sniffled softly and stood up. She looked in the mirror to make sure she looked decent. She didn’t. She looked like she had been sobbing. She slowly opened the door. He was just standing there with a sad smile, feeling like the whole thing was his fault somehow. “Can I come in?” he asked softly.
Kirsten nodded and opened the door completely. The moment he was in she locked the door and hugged him. “You can’t leave, Cameron…” she mumbled into his shirt.
He lowered them to the ground and held Kirsten tightly in his arms. “We don’t know if I’ll be called in. Maybe there’s something Maggie can pull off. Maybe my number won’t get called at all.”
Kirsten scoffed. “They went all the way up to 195 the last draft! You don’t think number 26 will get summoned?” She rolled her eyes. “The only thing you have going for you is your heart problem from when you were ten. I don’t think that’s going to cut it.”
Cameron fingered through her hair gently. “You never know, Stretch. You don’t know unless you try.” He kissed the top of her head. “It’s going to be alright. You handle things without me for a bit. You’re strong.”
Kirsten pried away from him. “What? No. No, Cameron, you do understand what this means, right? You do realize that being drafted means that you go into training and go to war and fight against your will and face potential death, right? You realize that you might not come back? You realize how hard it’ll be for me to imagine you going and some stranger coming to my house and getting told you got killed in the line of fire? This doesn’t just affect you or the program, Cameron. This affects me. It affects me more than what you think.” She breathed heavily, tears falling quickly down her face. She had never felt as much emotion as she did in that single moment.
Cameron wiped her tears away. “I promise, Kirsten, I’ll come back. If I have to go, I’ll be damn sure to get back. You won’t be alone, Kirsten. I won’t leave you alone. I’ll come back. I’ll come back.” He didn’t know what to say, how to comfort her. Kirsten never showed this kind of emotion, so what was he supposed to do?
“You’re not leaving my side until you get deployed, okay?” she demanded. “I am going to get the most out of you, Cameron Goodkin. You’re not leaving me and I’m not leaving you.” And she meant every word she said.
Cameron nodded simply. “I’m okay with that,” he said softly, wiping away the rest of the tears that had fallen on her face. “Trust me.”