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huntlikedavidTrigger Warnings: descriptions of injuries to both children and adults, death, war
It's the run.
Chris has to tire himself out somehow - if he doesn't, he dream-hops, and it's annoying as shit, so he runs. It's not an easy run, either. He's not hitting the 5 minute mile that he got in the Benning Phase of Ranger School, but he'd been ten years younger and through a hell of a lot less shit then. He pulls six and a half minute splits, and runs every night for at least an hour - some nights, it's two, because he's got energy to burn and it's not like he can join a logging company down here in the Cove.
But either way, his sneakers crunch on the dirt by the road, and he's got on a white shirt with reflective tape on it even if it makes him nervous as shit. He'd rather not be seen, but his mother insisted so he wouldn't get hit by a car, and far be it from him to argue with a 60 year old lady. He's drenched in sweat, and he's listening to the chirps of the birds, the sound of crickets... just before he hears something. He swears to god that he hears something, and it draws him up short. There's fog, which isn't surprising considering that it's that weird time when it's cold but wet and not frosty, but...
There's a baby crying. He can hear a baby crying; it almost sounds like music, and his heart drops into his stomach, because there's a woman, too. There's people - men and women and there's the baby, and he ends up walking into the middle of the goddamned road like an idiot.
"You've got to be kidding me." He breathes the words as he sees her.
She's beautiful. That's what he remembers; she's beautiful, with raven-dark hair and startlingly light blue eyes. He'd been trying to evacuate the building, and when he'd found her, the first thing out of his mouth had been a slew of curses - in Arabic, no less - until she'd turned and he'd seen her face. Until he'd seen that why she was still here was because of the baby.
Moments later, she'd been lying on the floor, dying. It'd been a sniper - of course it was a fucking sniper, but he'd stripped off his gloves, he'd reached for her--
Too late. It'd been too late, for both of them.
But they're here. And they're fine - they're better than fine, the woman's chattering away at her son in Arabic, telling him the sort of man he'll be, because they're safe now.
"Hey, man." Chris turns on a dime, his eyes wide as saucers.
"Justin? Fucking hell, man, you look..."
"Awesome? I know. Thank god, you got there in time." He's not in fatigues, the way that Chris'd seen him last. He hadn't made the funeral - it'd been back in the states, and Chris had still been deployed. He's in jeans and a t-shirt, and sure as shit if he doesn't have grey in the temples of his hair and a beard. "You've met Jenny, right?"
"Jenny?" He doesn't mean to sound so confused, but Justin nods over, and there's a woman - tiny and brunette and hugely pregnant, who Justin puts his arm around her shoulders.
"My wife? C'mon man, it's like you didn't get the Christmas cards. You okay?"
"... Yeah, I'm... fine." He can't stop the slow smile that curves up on his lips. This- They're here. It was some sort of nightmare, that he'd not managed to get to these people in time. There's servicemen and women; civilians, the children from the hospital. They're all here; he doesn't know most of their names, but they're here. They're here, and they're safe. They lived their lives, and most of them had no fucking idea who he was.
It's all he's ever wanted.
He hears someone speaking in Farsi behind him - his is rusty, but he sits down to talk to the four-year-old girl who moved to hand him her doll. It was ugly as fuck, but clearly she loved it, and even though he was so freaking tired, he took the doll in his hands, and he felt like he was holding something as precious as the Hope Diamond. "C'mon, sweetheart. Let's wait for your mom, okay?" She clambered into his lap, her thin arms around his neck, and he couldn't stop the way he just... closed his eyes.
Just for a minute.
It's the run.
Chris has to tire himself out somehow - if he doesn't, he dream-hops, and it's annoying as shit, so he runs. It's not an easy run, either. He's not hitting the 5 minute mile that he got in the Benning Phase of Ranger School, but he'd been ten years younger and through a hell of a lot less shit then. He pulls six and a half minute splits, and runs every night for at least an hour - some nights, it's two, because he's got energy to burn and it's not like he can join a logging company down here in the Cove.
But either way, his sneakers crunch on the dirt by the road, and he's got on a white shirt with reflective tape on it even if it makes him nervous as shit. He'd rather not be seen, but his mother insisted so he wouldn't get hit by a car, and far be it from him to argue with a 60 year old lady. He's drenched in sweat, and he's listening to the chirps of the birds, the sound of crickets... just before he hears something. He swears to god that he hears something, and it draws him up short. There's fog, which isn't surprising considering that it's that weird time when it's cold but wet and not frosty, but...
There's a baby crying. He can hear a baby crying; it almost sounds like music, and his heart drops into his stomach, because there's a woman, too. There's people - men and women and there's the baby, and he ends up walking into the middle of the goddamned road like an idiot.
"You've got to be kidding me." He breathes the words as he sees her.
She's beautiful. That's what he remembers; she's beautiful, with raven-dark hair and startlingly light blue eyes. He'd been trying to evacuate the building, and when he'd found her, the first thing out of his mouth had been a slew of curses - in Arabic, no less - until she'd turned and he'd seen her face. Until he'd seen that why she was still here was because of the baby.
Moments later, she'd been lying on the floor, dying. It'd been a sniper - of course it was a fucking sniper, but he'd stripped off his gloves, he'd reached for her--
Too late. It'd been too late, for both of them.
But they're here. And they're fine - they're better than fine, the woman's chattering away at her son in Arabic, telling him the sort of man he'll be, because they're safe now.
"Hey, man." Chris turns on a dime, his eyes wide as saucers.
"Justin? Fucking hell, man, you look..."
"Awesome? I know. Thank god, you got there in time." He's not in fatigues, the way that Chris'd seen him last. He hadn't made the funeral - it'd been back in the states, and Chris had still been deployed. He's in jeans and a t-shirt, and sure as shit if he doesn't have grey in the temples of his hair and a beard. "You've met Jenny, right?"
"Jenny?" He doesn't mean to sound so confused, but Justin nods over, and there's a woman - tiny and brunette and hugely pregnant, who Justin puts his arm around her shoulders.
"My wife? C'mon man, it's like you didn't get the Christmas cards. You okay?"
"... Yeah, I'm... fine." He can't stop the slow smile that curves up on his lips. This- They're here. It was some sort of nightmare, that he'd not managed to get to these people in time. There's servicemen and women; civilians, the children from the hospital. They're all here; he doesn't know most of their names, but they're here. They're here, and they're safe. They lived their lives, and most of them had no fucking idea who he was.
It's all he's ever wanted.
He hears someone speaking in Farsi behind him - his is rusty, but he sits down to talk to the four-year-old girl who moved to hand him her doll. It was ugly as fuck, but clearly she loved it, and even though he was so freaking tired, he took the doll in his hands, and he felt like he was holding something as precious as the Hope Diamond. "C'mon, sweetheart. Let's wait for your mom, okay?" She clambered into his lap, her thin arms around his neck, and he couldn't stop the way he just... closed his eyes.
Just for a minute.
