Homeward Bound [[Blink and Soul are BACK!]

[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, the bloomed flowers and groomed shrubs that lined the walkway and front wall of the two story home before him, the line of drying clothing and sheets that hung just slightly out of sight in the back half of the yard, and finally to the closed front door.

His mouth had been, as had his throat, 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 made his way up the front steps and onto the porch, approaching the door, his trembling hand reaching to depress the button for the doorbell, please be here. I want to come home...

 

[DontxBlinkk]

The last five years had been troublesome for Charlotte. Hell, who was she kidding, the last six had been hell, never knowing when the phone would ring with the message that her friend was off to war again. Lotte, as she was better known, had a love-hate relationship with the military lately. She loved that it gave people jobs and defended them from all the "damn terrorist" as those around her put it, but she hated the way they ripped the soldiers away from their families for what seemed to be stupid reasons. Who really needed to go across the seas to defend their nation? There was plenty to fight here, just in her back yard. Send someone who really wanted to go and leave her friend here. Don't send him over seas... not again...

Her silent pleads weren't met and again, Chance was sent to another country that so desperately needed their help. He left Georgia just five years ago, a letter in hand from the cheery blond-haired woman he had spent so much time with during school. It was a message for him for when times got bad, that he could hold onto and read between Lotte's faithful letters she would send. Even without waiting for a response back, she sent him a letter, updating him on how her life was going in the small city back home. The graduation of her sister, the passing of her family's dog, the purchase of her new home... Every little important bit of information she could share with Chance that he couldn't be there to live with her. Lotte had even gone so far as to try to find a boyfriend to get her mind off of her missing friend, but as soon as she got the news from his parents, everything fell to hell.

Support group after support group and it never seemed to help. The news of Chance disappearing and the military telling those close to him that he had been declared missing in action destroyed Charlotte, to put it simply. On the outside, she continued to appear just slightly torn over the news, as if a year or two after the news came, she had climbed out of the hole she had sunk into. But in the privacy of her own home, the sunflower blonde had turned to alcohol to cover her pain. The bright sea green eyes that once held so much joy struggled to light up when she was alone. Despite asking for help and searching for a way to recover, the bottle of vodka always seemed more appealing than having a coffee out with her friends or coworkers. Those she was close to still came around, doing everything they could to cheer up the woman and bring her back to what she once was, but deep down, they knew just how crushed she was.

Charlotte had formed a habit of withdrawing to her kitchen as the sun set, half watching as the sky lit up with the shades of red and orange, giving her a hint of joy, often times pulling a smile to her lips as she baked something new. Nearly every evening, she had a new recipe to test, using it as a way to distract herself. This evening was no different, her stereo playing popular Broadway show tunes, the scent of cinnamon filling her two story home, except she was suddenly interrupted by a knock at her front door. The normal visitors would know to call or text before coming over, but her mind ran through the list of who it could be anyway. Jackie commented that she was planning on stopping by, but she also said her husband wanted to go out for dinner tonight... maybe plans had changed? It was always possible. Either way, the blonde haired woman took a deep breath, travelling the short trip across her house, her fingers working to tie the mess of hair into a bun at the base of her head. The 5'6' woman still took pride on how her appearance was, no matter how depressed she might have been and her hair was the closest thing to a 'pride and joy' she had.

Her fingers pushed her black, rectangular glasses up onto her nose as she took in a breath, letting her eyes close for a second before twisting the handle and opening the door.

Immediately her brow furrowed at the mess of a man who she should be greeting. He looked like he had just crawled out of the jungle and put on the first thing he could find. Little did she know that was almost what had happened. But Charlotte kept her gaze on the man, trying to search out some reason why he might be on her front step. Something about him seemed familiar, but he didn't look like anyone she knew, but she didn't give up on that tug of a feeling.

"Can I help y... ou..."

It dawned on her, right then and there, as the final bit of words came from her mouth. Her eyes widened, a breath catching in her chest. Above the mess of facial hair, she saw the cheekbones she had spent years admiring and joking about, the hazel tone of his eyes she had fallen for over and over again. With them being nothing more than friends for the longest time, it took until the day Chance left for the childish Lotte to realize her true feelings for him. But she could never admit them to him, no matter how many letters she had written to him. With the words of 'next time he's home', she kept her feelings close. But this time, she couldn't keep her feelings back. With a cry of what sounded to be a mix of joy and pain, Charlotte lost control of her body, falling to the floor of her doorway, tears pouring down her cheeks as she refused to stifle the cries of joy, relief and disbelief.

Chance was there, standing in front of her, visiting her. Chance. Not an image this time, not something to fool her. Her friend was back. And alive.

 

[ShatteredSoul]

The sound of the mechanism turning in the door-handle was a severe interruption against the silent evening air, enough to cause the man on the stoop to stumble backward a step, ducking slightly out of a sudden near panic, lifeless eyes going wild. But as the door actually started to push in, and a figure began to take up the entryway, he forced himself to relax a bit, and once she came into clear view, he no longer needed to force himself. Rather, he visibly relaxed, eyes beginning to water as he felt his chest near violently tighten, lungs seizing on the air that he was trying to breathe.

There she was, looking a bit different than the last he'd remembered, but it was her no less, and that was all that mattered. As she was looking him over with a lack of recognition, he was examining her in turn, taking in the sight, the smell, the sound of her breathing. He could see it in her eyes, a lifeless pain that he didn't fully understand, see the joylessness in her skin, and it broke his heart to a degree, as if it hadn't already been broken enough. And then she spoke, or started to at the least, and at first it was clear that she hadn't the slightest idea who he was, but as quickly as it became evident, it was vanquished. One moment she was staring at him with a dumbfounded look, and the next she was on the floor, sobbing and crying out.

It was enough to startle him, and he edged backward a step before he realized just what exactly had just happened, and then he allowed himself to ease to down onto the porch floor in front of her, pressing his tired and sore knees against the wood surface. He knew he likely smelled of blood and sweat and grime and who knew what else; he knew his form was frail and lithe; he knew he looked like death, and respectively he felt like death as well; but none of that mattered, not in the slightest. Without hesitation, he reached for her, getting his arms around her as tightly as he could manage, his form trembling slightly. A sharp breath broke through his lips and he leaned towards her, pulling with every ounce of drained strength he had left, getting as close to her as he possibly could to do nothing more that just hold, at least for a moment, for as long as he possibly could.

"Lottie..." His voice, foreign to his own ears, hoarse and dry, a near whisper of sound, left his lips without even the slightest thought, entering her ear like a slow, gentle tide. "I love you."

 

[DontxBlinkk]

Charlotte didn't have to wait for a solid hug before she moved. At the lightest touch from him, the blonde summoned enough strength to bring herself forward and wrap her arms around the man's neck, her hand moving almost instinctually to the back of the man's head, as she had plenty of times before. Though it wasn't as smooth as it was before, it was still a part of him. The woman's slender form was shaking with the remains of her sobs, but her hold on him was tight, as if he would slip away if she dared to hold him any looser. She couldn't let that happen again. When his voice cracked out her name, or what she had gone by so long ago, Charlotte's breath caught again, only to let out another cry, giving the man what seemed to be another squeeze, tightening her grip in a way she didn't think was possible.

"I love you too," she insisted. There was no way Lotte was going to let his moment pass. In the doorway of her home, she decided it was as good of a time as ever to tell the man how she felt. Honestly, she wasn't even sure what she was saying, all she knew was that her gut was telling her to speak and she was going to obey it.

The blonde held herself against Chance for as long as she could, until she found enough strength to loosen her hold and withdraw just less than an arms length away, eyes meeting the man's with a hope and joy she hadn't felt grow in years. It felt strange to have this feeling again, the warmth slowly spreading over her as it settled in the idea of who was in front of her...

"You're not dead," she added softly, the back of her hand rubbing her eye to wipe away the tears that had somehow managed to linger there.

 

[ShatteredSoul]

In his prime, she'd have recognized him the moment she'd opened the door, he'd have wasted no time at all in reaching to catch her, break her fall, gather her up against his chest in his arms with strength and solidity. He'd have been able to coo to her with lullings of love and fondness and care that he had always felt for her, to assure her, make her smile. It would have seemed so much more natural, more common, like resuming a paused movie after five years. But this wasn't a movie, and neither of them were even remotely the same anymore.

He swallowed hard to try and tide the dryness and the boulder in his throat, concentrating instead on breathing in the scent of her hair through his nose, losing himself in the comfort and warmth that her embrace brought about, and the sound of her voice, at last, like a beacon out of a narrow grave, chiseled through every inch of his senses. She loved him too, words that meant the world and more, and words to begin with. Words spoken directly from her lips, into his own ear, in person, for the first time in the longest time that he couldn't ever remember. He'd had no idea just how long it had been, only that it had been too long, and it had been nearing a point where he'd been struggling to fully remember the sound of her voice anymore, or the comfort and warmth she made him feel, the way one look into those eyes of hers could break him down to rubble, the touch of a feather but strength of one-thousand forces. And now, she was back in his arms, and he was back in hers, he was back, he was home.

The words that left her lips next after she'd leaned back to meet his eyes were striking, and he found himself looking back at her with confusion and loss. But then the realization sunk in, and he understood. He'd disappeared as far as anyone knew, and the military was only able to hunt for so much time before they had to assume that the missing person was no more. In his absence, his family, Charlotte, had been told he was missing, and then that he was dead. They'd probably had a closed, empty casket funeral and ceremony, received a plaque and flag. They'd all been through hell likely, and he the same. But to see him back now, despite the ragged mess he was, well, he only imagined it felt the same for her as it did for him; a breath of fresh air, a rush of stolen life.

Shaking his head just slightly, he leaned closer to her, brushing his dry lips against the soft skin of her forehead for a fleeting second before he leaned back to meet her eyes once more. "No," he managed softly. "Not dead... not yet... I couldn't let them kill me... you told me that if I died out there you'd bring me back and kill me again, that if anyone was ever going to kill me you'd do it yourself and save everyone else the trouble. I promised I'd come back... and here I am... home...." His voice was uneven, dropping out near completely at times, like a cellphone with shoddy service, going in and out, struggling to break over the fuzz and crackling.

 

[DontxBlinkk]

The feeling that were rushing over Charlotte were far more than she had ever thought she could or would deal with. To have her friend back from death, it was something she only dreamed would happen. And now that he was there in front of her, breathing her in, kissing her forehead and speaking to her was just what she wanted, more than anything. It didn't matter where they were or what the situation was around them, all that mattered was that Charlotte had her friend back with her, her arms wrapped around him in any way possible.

With a gentle brush of her hand, the blonde let her fingers trail over the man's cheek, lightly trailing beneath his tired eyes to wipe away what was left there as he began to remind Lotte of her words. A smile came to her lips, a blush rising to her pale cheeks as she remember what she had told him all those years ago. It was true, she had threatened to go after whoever killed her friend. He was hers to tease and punch, not some back water fool with a stolen gun. It was bad enough that he was went off to a boot camp where another person could yell at him without consequence. As soon as Chance announced that he had joined the military, each of their friends had joked that a drill sergeant would be no different than the blonde that Chance was oh so close to. Of course, Lotte couldn't deny that, although she wasn't quite as strict. And she didn't have a title in front of her name.

"And I stand by that," she joked, withdrawing her hand from the man's face to rest it gently on his shoulder. Her eyes flickered to life for a moment before the light vanished as they began to trail down over the man to see just how he looked. It was an awkward position to look at him in, but Charlotte didn't quite have the strength to rise to her feet yet. She gave him a faint smile, letting her eyes travel over his ripped uniform and unshaven face before meeting his eyes once again. "Thank god you are," she mumbled softly before her head laid down against his shoulder, eyes sliding closed as she took in a deep breath. Chance didn't quite smell like himself, but that could simply be accounted to the fact that he just travelled to see her. Charlotte wasn't about to make a big deal over such a thing. "You have so much to catch up on," she added, squeezing his shoulder lightly before lifting her head, attempting another smile. "Have... you seen your family yet? Or am I your lucky first?"

 

[ShatteredSoul]

Soft touch was something that Chance hadn't experienced since he had left home in the first place, something that was so foreign and abnormal to him that he actually flinched at first when her fingers traced his cheek. He immediately scorned himself for it, silently of course, feeling like a fool for being unable to help it even though it was Lotte, his Lotte, who had known and loved all his life. Being back was something of itself, sure, and he knew and appreciated that with every fiber of his being, but recovery, real, true, long and hard recovery, well... that was going to be something even he'd have been surprised to see it actually help. In the meantime, there was going to be some adjustment, and some returns to old habits and routines that he wasn't even sure he remembered anymore. There was going to be learning, all over again, about how to live and blend with the world around him, and there was Lotte. Lotte, who was now looking him over with a look that he couldn't quite decipher. Pity? Sadness? Disappointment? It was too difficult to read.

She murmured her relief to have him back, and the next thing he knew, the girl's cheek was pressed lightly against his chest, and he could acutely feel her breathing, every long inhale and exhale, the gentle rise and fall of her chest against his. It was relaxing enough, the feeling, and he found himself slowly starting to unwind from subconscious tension in the midst of their embrace. It only lasted a short moment though, as she was once again speaking to him, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she shifted to look up at him. The notion was gentle enough, and he hardly expected her to know how sore and worn he was beneath his ragged uniform, but the squeeze hit a tender spot and he swallowed hard, pressing his teeth together to keep from making any noises of resilience. Her question took a moment to seep in though, and he shook his head just slightly in response before drawing in a slow, deep breath.

"No," he admittedly solemnly. "You're the first person I've seen, the only one. You're the only person who knows I'm here too. We have to careful; we have to keep it hushed, I don't want them after me..." There was a look in his eyes then, a look that sliced through the lifelessness to reveal imminent disdain, fear, in it's rawest form, and a slight shred of defiance too.

 

[DontxBlinkk]

There was fear still lingering in Chance's eyes as he spoke. Despite being in another country, so far away from those who captured him, Lotte could feel the tension with the idea that someone could still possibly be after him. The chances of them making their way this far to find him seemed difficult to believe, but anything was possible, wasn't it? As much as she didn't want to admit such a thing or even think about it, deep down, her gut was nudging her to think that just maybe, it was possible. Lotte pushed to work that thought from her mind. She had to relax so that Chance could try to settle down.

"They won't find you," she mumbled, running her hand lightly over the man's hair, attempting to do what she could to calm him into a better state than what he was in now. "You're safe. You're back home." That was the most she could do, or the most she could think to do. She assumed that the military knew where Chance was, given that they were probably the ones who sent him back, but some how she could believe that her home was the first place that Chance came to as soon as he was able to travel to see someone. "But we can keep it a secret," she agreed, inching back and offering her hand to the man. She had a moment to recover from the shock and wanted nothing more then to go back inside and sit somewhere that was actually comfortable. And there was no doubt in her mind that Chance would want to do the same. "Come inside then."

The inside of her home was just as clean and organized as the outside. The dinning room was the first thing that was seen once you came into the entry way, decorated by a vase of flowers that matched those laid out in the garden outside of her porch. It was done in simple colours with a simple layout, easy to keep clean but not much effort put into it. The walls were painted in shades of blue while the details and accents were white with a few flashes of purple to add a bit of variation to the mix. In the living room to the left of the dinning area, was a large, plush couch, a love seat of the same style and an arm chair, all set up around a chestnut coffee table and a wide screened television. It was not only inviting to guests, but it exposed a bit of the owner.

And not once was there evidence of her drinking problem. Charlotte made sure to cover that from anyone who entered her home...

"Sit down," she offered, gesturing towards the living room. "Can I get you something?"

 

[ShatteredSoul]

Her words were assuring enough, and Chance found himself nodding slowly in silent response, his eyes holding hers for added comfort. After all, she was right, he was home, and he was safe for the time being, but there were still plenty of pages that he'd left unturned, actions he'd deliberately failed to take, and statements he'd refused to make. One of the biggest and most important of those things was the admission what had happened, where'd he'd been all that time, and why. It wasn't necessarily that he was unwilling to let it be known, but for the moment, he hadn't been asked, and unless it was specifically addressed, he was going to leave it on the back burner for as long as possible. After all, there was a time and place for everything it seemed, and then and there didn't seem to be the right fit. So, in thoughtful silence, he reached to slide his fingers through hers when she moved back to her feet and offered him to go inside.

Getting back on his feet was easy, surprisingly, and he only needed to take one extra step to keep his balance, hesitating for just a brief second before he followed along behind her to go inside, his gaze immediately roving to take in the design and decor. He couldn't deny that everything about it, from the color scheme to the light scents, screamed Charlotte, and reflected her personality exactly the way he had remembered her. He found himself starting to repeat memories in mind from their high school days, the many times that they had gotten together in one of their parents' living rooms after school, completing homework while intentionally trying to distract each other, the one time that they decided to have a pillow fight with the couch cushions and the look on his mother's face when she not only walked in to the sight, but discovered that they'd accidentally broken one of her favorite vases. He remembered how much his mom loved Lotte, and nearly thought of her as an adopted addition to the family. Mostly, he remembered that look his mom always had in her eyes when he would spend time with her, the look that screamed that it didn't matter how much he denied it, she knew that it was more than just friendship.

He was brought back into reality when she encouraged him to have a seat and he blinked back to reality, turning to look at her as he shook his head automatically. "Fine," he murmured, meeting her eyes hesitantly. "I'm fine for now. Thank you though, for the offer." Pausing, he held her gaze for a moment longer before reaching to slide his free hand into hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. In silence, he took a step backward, and then another, being slow and careful so as not to bump into anything, and after a few steps he turned to face forward, leading her along with him to her living room. In slow silence, he took up a seat on the couch, heaving a deep sigh of comfort as he leaned back into the material, being careful and mindful enough of the fact that he was in a soiled uniform and hadn't showered in he didn't even know how long. For certain though, it didn't make much difference, given the fact that whether he had gone to see his parents first or seen her, if offered to take a shower and change, he didn't have a set of fresh clothes that would be small enough to fit his malnourished frame.

Waiting for her to take up seat beside him, Chance turned to face her, swallowing thickly as he tried to figure out just what to say, and how. If anything, he wanted to keep the topic of conversation off of himself for the time being. He wasn't ready to talk about it, not yet, not in his moment of pure relief from being home and being back in the comforting and loving presence of his dearest friend. "Start from the beginning," he murmured softly, meeting her eyes. "Start from the very beginning, and don't leave anything out. I don't know how long it's been exactly anymore... the days just all sort of blurred together and... Just tell me everything."

 

[DontxBlinkk]

Charlotte followed along behind her friend, walking on egg shells with each step. She wasn't too sure how to act around the man; if she should avoid sudden movements or act as if nothing had happened... She felt the need to ask, but something told her the voice she would try to use would fail her. Instead, she treasured the touches he gave her, adored the feeling of his hand in hers and relieved with the grip he gave her as he lead her to the space beside him. The woman watched as her friend took a seat on the plush material, barely thinking about how dirty the man happened to be. She had too many other bits on her mind to worry about dirty material that she could simply wash off later. Her couch needed it anyway and this would give her the drive to do so. Her eyes travelled over the man again now that he was in a new position before Charlotte lowered herself to the empty space beside him, angling her body just enough to watch him, ready to stand in a second if the need arose.

The blonde kept her hand on his, her thumb playing lightly with the skin on the back of his hand, keeping the contact for as long as she possibly could. She wasn't surprised to her that he wanted to keep the conversation on her and Charlotte was more than willing to tell him what he had missed. From the moment he left, she began to spill out her life. Or as much as she could remember, of course. The story of her switching from a minimum wage job at the local burger joint to the chance as a small time editor and part time writer of a larger-than-life magazine, giving her plenty of cash in the bank to do as she pleased, the story of her house hunting with their good friend Brandi and several chaotic stories their small high school friends shared over the summer. Charlotte hinted at the fact that she attempted to date, but all attempts stopped as soon as she got news of Chance's passing. Her heart hurt too much to continue on.

There were several times that she went to visit her parents or were invited over for their family dinners, which brought up the topic of her own. Her father had passed away about a year after Chance left due to a swift attack of cancer that no one expected to see. Her mother moved back home with Charlotte's grandparents to take care of them, leaving her daughter in he city alone. If it wasn't for Chance's parents practically adopting her, the blonde would have been without a family for most holidays. She was invited to her grandparents for most holidays, but she could only make it to a few thanks to work. Chance's parents were more than willing to feed her and give her what she needed and she couldn't be more grateful for them.

She was careful to avoid her drinking problem and the depression that went along with it, but instead focused on the eager parts of her life, more than willing to tell Chance what he had missed there, rather than the depressing parts of her life.

"It's been... eventful," she told him, with a bit of a sigh, her gaze falling to the empty space between the two of them. "But that's passed now." She tried to look on the brighter side of things, eyes turning back to meet Chance's. "And you're back. I know it won't be the same but... it'll be closer to normal."