Homeward (MiseryChord x WriterGuy101)

[ShatteredSoul]

"Go! GO!!! Fields take my left flank; Holmes take the right! Everyone else form up tight ranks and stay on my ass! And Richards! ... Richards?" Gunfire like the grand finale of a fourth of July firework show rang out in the air, but aside that and the distinct ringing in the commander's ears, there were no other voices. He whipped his head around, a standard helmet protecting his skull, and hazel eyes frantically gazed over the other members of his team. The man he was searching for, however, wasn't there, and when he turned back around....

It was getting darker, the sun was setting over the horizon, shadows on the pavement were growing larger and larger. The sound of heavy booted steps filled out the quieted air of the neighborhood that they sounded from. The footsteps belonged to a tall man, who at one point in time some five years ago looked broad shouldered, lean, athletic, handsome and clean cut, with the brightest hazel eyes in the world and golden brown hair just long enough for a woman to tangle her fingers in to match. Now though, as he regathered his balance after tripping over a piece of abandoned sidewalk chalk, he looked the part of a hobo, or perhaps a fugitive. He was famished, dirty, clad in a worn, torn up military uniform. His hair was grown out and greasy, and his face had developed a beard and mustache much unbecoming of how handsome he normally looked. And his eyes, those hazel eyes that were once bright and full of joy and love, had lost their light, and their brightness. Beneath the clothing, hidden from the sight of any curious on-lookers, once unblemished, smooth, tanned skin, was hardened, scarred, stained with the remnants of evidence to a mysterious disappearance long ago endured.

One quick glance at him would surely have anyone that once knew or was close to him looking away in disregard, as if he was a perfect stranger to them. But, perhaps with a good hard look, they would see the shadow of the man he once was. Perhaps they would recognize the strong angles of his jaw, or the slight softness that his cheeks had once held. Perhaps, behind the darkened shadows that had filled his eyes, they would see the light that once held them so bright and full of joy, love, and life.

He found himself hoping that that would hold true as he turned a slow left off of the sidewalk, and passed the opened gate of a fenced in yard. A labored sigh left his lips as he hesitated, his right hand raising across his chest to clutch loosely at his heart. It had been five years since he'd last seen her, heard from her, talked to her, written a letter, smelled her perfume on an envelope; five, long, years, and now he was home, he just hoped that it was still the home he had left, and that it still belonged to him. His gaze roamed over the trimmed grass of the front yard of the two story house in front of him, to smooth white paint on the vinyl siding and fresh, deep blue paint on the shutters, eventually landing on the roofed front porch, complete with lounge chairs, a mail-table, and two rockers, and the closed front door.

His mouth had, as well as his throat, been parched for thirst for some unknown amount of time since he'd began his endeavor to finally arrive here, and as he stood, trembling, clutching his chest subconsciously, he found his mouth getting even drier, and a lump forming in his throat. Tears, that he had long since been convinced were no longer existent, formed in the backs of his eyes, stinging his retinas, and it was as if the air was becoming thinner by the minute, forcing his lungs to labor for oxygen.

Please, he thought desperately as he dragged his feet further up the front walk to the steps of the porch. His left hand moved to grip the rail tightly, his right staying clutched against his heart. Please be here. I want to come home...

 

[MiseryChord]

She had just gotten home from working double shifts on the surgical ward at the veteran's hospital. Her army green scrubs still covered her curvy form as she sat in the kitchen, picture in hand. Caramel-hued hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, a few curly wisps falling around a heart shaped face that was wet with tears. Watery sea blue eyes looked down at the photo frame she held in slender hands. Five years, five years to the day she thought. Her ring glittered on her ring finger and she looked down at the big diamond and silver adornment. A choked sob left her as she clasped a hand over her mouth, tears falling afresh. Wiping her face on the back of her hand, she stood, intending to go upstairs and change before hopefully drinking away the pain. As she walked through the living room, a knock sounded on the front door. Cautiously, she opened it a crack, not recognizing the dishevled stranger on her doorstep. "Can I help you?"

 

[ShatteredSoul]

Chance took a half a step backwards from the front door when she cracked it open and peered out at him, his balance having toppled completely upside down and vision swirling in a vicious circle. This was a dream, right? It had to be. He could smell medicine and hospital soap clearly on her skin and clothes, mixed with just the slightest scent of shampoo. She was in work clothes still, something he had always admired and found just the slightest bit of a turn on back in the days when they were so happily together. The days leading up to their wedding, the days of their honeymoon, and that precious month he spent with her for the holidays after being deployed.

His throat closed as he brought his eyes to meet hers, his own starting to form tears that he had long since forgotten how to produce. His mouth opened, and nothing came out but the raspy sound of him trying to remember exactly how to breathe. All those years he had found himself imagining a day when this reunion would finally happen, how breathtaking and exciting it would be, but he had never imagined that it would literally suck every ounce of air right out of him and deem him to seem like he was either a hobo having a heart attack, or a complete psycho.

"Faith," he managed to choke out after a moment of forcing a breath into his lungs, his gaze searching the depths of hers. She looked a mess, but then again he looked no better than she. It made his heart twist and knot painfully, and he clutched his chest tighter. "I-it's me... Chance. I'm h-home."

 

[MiseryChord]

That voice...she knew that voice. It haunted her dreams and every waking moment. But this couldn't be Chance, he was declared dead, she still had the letter to prove it. Looking into the hollow eyes of the man before her, she felt her knees buckle and she went to the ground, looking as if she had seen a ghost. "N-No...it can't be...they told me you were dead." She whispered, as much to herself as to him. "They hand delivered the letter and everything. You can't be Chance." Her hands were on the side of her head, her lips moving with the same mantra over and over. "Only a dream, he isn't here."

 

[ShatteredSoul]

Chance's balance slipped the moment she hit her knees, and he sank down gracelessly before her, desperately trying to keep his eyes on hers. Of course they had told her that, why wouldn't they? Five years was a long time, and there was only so long that someone could be missing in action before the hopes of them being alive were just too wishful to be possible. It cut in deep, of course, but he wasn't surprised, not in the slightest. Still, he lifted his arms slowly and moved closer to her, unsure of whether or not she would welcome any touch by him, but willing and desperate enough to try anyway.

Gently, nervously, he grazed his palm across her cheek, a breath of air entering his lungs slowly as he mentally reflected on a time when this was a normal occurrence, and he recalled the same softness and warmth from then as he felt now. There was no way she was going to truly believe him without some revealed fact, something that only he could possibly know. The wheels in his mind churned, and he tried to relax himself as he softly laid his hands atop hers. There was only one thing that came to his mind then, and he withdrew his hands toward himself, tugging a gold band from his left ring finger with some effort to display to her. "You had it engraved," he breathed in a choked voice. "With your name and our anniversary date." He paused, hoping she would take the ring to see for herself. "How could I possibly have it if I were anyone else?"

 

[MiseryChord]

She flinched when she felt his hands touch her but made no move to move away, too lost in herself. She heard his words, repeated them over and over in her head before the glint of gold in the dim porch light brought her back into focus. Gingerly, cautiously, she took the band of gold and held it up, seeing the engraving she had put there. Tears sprang to her eyes and she let out a choked sob. "Do you remember how we met?" She asked, her southern drawl emphasized by her hoarse voice.

 

[ShatteredSoul]

Chance breathed in deeply, his chest tight and lungs aching, memory flooding back to him as if he'd been thrust into the past and was living it all over again. It was so many years ago when they'd first met, and the sheer memory of it made his insides twist, his subconscious chuckled.

College. The both of their sophomore year, and neither of them had even known the other existed until that day right in the middle of the fall.

"September 18th, 2002. It was the middle of the afternoon, a Tuesday. A bunch of the other football players and I had gotten together to practice for the big homecoming game that was coming up, and just to have some fun in general. Day off of classes, great weather, why not? Weren't even in the football field, just a random patch of grass in front of one of my dorm, and no holding back on playing either. No gear, no uniforms, just t-shirts and shorts and sneakers and a football and us bunch of crazy dumb football players tackling each other like wrestlers and getting scraped up and bruised and stuff.

"Well, we got a little too rough and a little too eager. Forgot we were on in a tiny little spot and not a huge football field and someone threw it a little too hard and I ran right after it and jumped up and spun to catch it and well, flipped over the hood of a parked car and got a few really bad gouges in my arm and leg. Health clinic on campus for the nursing and med students sure was convenient. The look on your face when you walked over to my cot... And then you just smiled and said hi and asked what happened, well, no. 'Wanna tell me how on earth you managed to grind yourself up so bad two weeks before homecoming, Mr. star-player?' But you were smiling, and I could see it in your eyes how hard you were trying not to laugh when you sat down and got a pair of tweezers... I remember seeing your eyes twinkle, and how pretty you looked in those scrubs... you still do... 'We got a little over-zealous, I might have accidentally rolled myself over the hood of someone's car making the best catch in the world, Miss star-nurse.' You laughed, I laughed. We talked and you cleaned up the damage, stitched up what needed it... I didn't feel a thing, and you didn't even need to give me anything... But you were so pretty, and I wanted to know you... but you had to dismiss me and we didn't have classes together and I didn't know how to find you... I said we should hang some time and you laughed it off, dismissed it really, and I couldn't give up, wouldn't... I found ways to land myself back in the clinic on almost a daily basis, and somehow I always managed to get you to be my hero, and I nagged you, man did I nag you to tell me about yourself. I wanted to know who exactly you were, you seemed really cool and your beauty... you finally asked if I was purposely getting injured to stalk you or something, jokingly, and I admitted it, told you that if you wanted me to stop showing up at the clinic conveniently that you'd have to go to the homecoming dance with me, felt like being right back in high school but college was by far better. And I fell in love with you before I even had a chance to understand it."

His eyes had misted over just slightly as he'd spoken the memory to her, as if he was in some far off place, buried deep in the recesses of his mind, and far from the present. His lips had quivered now and then, a tiny sign that some sense of pleasant emotion was still left in him.

 

[MiseryChord]

Faith sat there, her eyes focusing only on him as he spoke. The more he spoke the more tears began forming in her eyes. Her lips would move along witn his as he told certain parts of the story on how they had met. It was him, it had to be, no one else could tell her that story exactly how it happened. She covered her mouth, choking on a sob as so many conflicting emotions jolted her system; eleation, fear, sadness, even anger. Hesitantly, she reached out and laid her palm on his cheek. She needed to touch him to see if he was real, to tell herself this wasn't some dream she was going to wake up from to find him still gone. A sob escaped her before she pulled him close, not caring about him being so dirty or how he smelled. Only one thing mattered to her in that moment, Chance, her husband and best friend, soulmate and lover was with her again. "It is you. My Chance." She whispered raggedly, the light returning to her eyes. "You've come home." Her arms didn't fit quite right around him anymore, not like they used to. He had lost so much weight it made her want to.cry for him. "Oh baby. I have missed you so." She cried, cradling him close as she broke down and cried like a child, something she had never done in front of him.