Thread: Coming Home [Firm x SYD3RS]

After the several years of occupation, or invasion, or liberation, or whatever people wanted to call it, it was a mixed lot of emotions that came over Steven as he heard about the withdrawal plans being made for Iraq. The American people would like that, wouldn't they? Letting those rag head bastards off the hook when they clearly harbored some Taliban refugees. At least that's the type of thing the brass told him and it felt like pulling out was going to lead to another invasion, liberation, whatever in another ten years. A vicious cycle. Still, he found himself being sent home now. He had been wounded in battle a few months ago and the first ones they sent off were the wounded. It was a small scuffle. His unit had set themselves up outside a house and the door was bashed in. The four of them had lined up against the wall and as he watched 1 slip inside, he went right behind, moving out across the opposite wall of 1. As he rounded the door, however, he watched a figure slip out from behind a counter and he felt a jerk at his shoulder. He depressed the trigger and let loose, finding the target and half the wall behind him. The rest of the unit rushed in, cleared the room, and he later found himself getting medical care and sitting out of battle. He could still remember that son of a bitch laying on his back, bleeding out. Steven had taken his boot and gave the man a stiff kick to the neck. If they hadn't let him bleed to death right there, he probably would have been paralyzed to some level. It still pissed him off to think some low life terrorist bastard got a shot on him. It had been a pistol shot, right into his shoulder. He had imagined the fucker had aimed at his chest and he slid over in time for it to only get his shoulder, but it gave no comfort to his anger. To how he played it out again and again in his mind. He couldn't even hunt down more of the fuckers as he sat in a hospital, trying to convince everyone that he was fine, even when his arm and hand refused to work properly. It was going to take time to heal. Time that would open up new wounds. And now that the battlefield was being dissolved and Afghanistan wasn't an option for him they had all they needed there, he was told, he was going home. It wasn't all bad, though. Ashley was probably waiting for him still. He had heard stories. How some guys would find a girl, like he did. Then they'd get married before being sent off, like he did. Then they'd come back after two or three years and she'd be pregnant or with a child or having simply moved on even with the marriage or she'd be changed and bothered that she now had to deal with the soldier she married if she wanted that check from the government. They'd all be changed. It was an idea that he swore she wouldn't do. It was just as much to comfort himself as it was to believe that things were going to be alright for him. She was different. Even as much as he told himself that, a small fire burned in the back of his mind. She could very well be that type of lying bitch and he knew exactly what he'd do if she had been with other men while he was gone, protecting her. Protecting everyone. His flight came in and he got off the plane. As he watched the other veterans being greeted with open arms, hugs and kisses, and even some groping and caressing, his eyes dashed about in the crowd, searching for his own welcome party. It would just be her, he knew. His own family were in a whole different state and she was the only family he had now.