When she opened the door that morning to find him standing there on her front door step, Darcy King thought her heart might just stop. It had been six months since she had last heard from him, after all, and she had presumed the worst had happened. She knew that it did happened, especially in his line of work, but seeing him now, standing here, so obviously unaffected had caught her off guard. His hand, which had been frozen mid-air to knock again, had dropped back to his side and he had flashed her a crooked grin.
She wasn't quite sure how long she stood there in shock, and while it had felt like a lifetime to her, she realistically knew it couldn't have been longer than a minute at the most. One of the first things she had noticed was his hair was longer than the last time she saw him, though not by a great deal. Darcy had almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, more of a hysterical response more than anything, unprepared for what was happening. She caught herself at the last minute, however, not wanting to appear any crazier to him than she was sure she already did. She hadn't realised she was holding her breath until she exhaled, her lungs protesting for air. He still wore that shit-eating grin, causing her to vaguely wonder if he was actually enjoying her reaction to his rather impromptu visit.
It wouldn't have surprised her if he was taking some form of amusement out of watching her flounder with what was going on. Then again, she didn't and couldn't exactly blame him for taking enjoyment in her reaction at seeing him here. She knew that the look of shock on her face must have been rather unequal to anything else either of them had seen. Comical to say the least, she knew that much. Though she figured she was damn well entitled to her reaction, all things considered. She ran a hand through her unbrushed hair, supposing she looked like a mess, having just left bed when he decided to start knocking on her front door. Though that was the least of her problems at the moment.
She had stumbled out of bed the moment the first sharp knock had occurred, swearing under her breath, wondering who could possibly want to see her this early in the morning. Dressed in nothing more than a tank top and a set of pyjama pants, she had made her way to the front door, prepared to tell whoever it was to come back later at a more appropriate time. That had been her plan, at least, until she had seen him standing there and anything she was going to say died quickly.
"Are you going to invite me in or are you just going to make me stand out here all day?" he finally drawled in that accent she recalled so well, his voice jolting back memories for the brunette, memories she thought she had put away a few months ago, when she had decided to move on with her life after realising that she probably never was going to hear from him again. In that moment, it suddenly occurred to Darcy that this wasn't some dream that her sleep deprived mind had come up with.
She opened her mouth to reply, but found that she couldn't find any words. Six months of silence, and now here he was, as if no time had passed them by at all. Darcy couldn't understand what he was doing here now, or wrap her head around the situation. He was watching her expectantly, she realised, and Darcy wasn't quite sure what came over her within the next moments. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, finally catching him off guard, as he stumbled back under the impact, one hand going to her side to steady her. And she felt the tiniest hint of satisfaction at finally managing to do so. Pulling away from him, the brunette offered him a sheepish smile, only mildly apologetic about her actions. She had to remind herself that no matter how well she may have known him, it didn't mean she really did know him.
"Well Sergeant, I suppose you better come in," she said, stepping to one side to let him in. He entered the room, and she closed the door behind her, listening to the click as it shut, wanting to cause as much delay as she possibly could to give herself some time to catch her thoughts but she didn't get quite as much as she would have liked. She turned to face him, still not quite sure how he was here, to find him already watching her. She felt the questions she had burning the tip of her tongue, just waiting to be asked, but she bit down hard, restraining herself with some difficultly. Instead she focused on asking a different set of questions. "Do you want anything to drink? Tea, coffee?"
"Coffee's fine," he replied, to which she had nodded absently, having already guessed as much. He seemed almost as unsure as she did now and somehow that cemented it in Darcy's mind that this was really happening, that he was here, that he had come home safe.
"Make yourself comfortable," she told him, gesturing towards a seat, as she headed towards the kitchen to put the kettle on. He didn't, however, following her to the kitchen instead. She wondered what had finally brought him here to her doorstep. She had to admit, it was a relief to know he was alive though.
"I know it's been a while since we last spoke and I know I'm to blame for that but, um, I wanted to drop by and thank you in person for everything you did," he began, as she set the cups out, her hands stilling as he started talking, her gaze flickering to where he was standing. "You can't begin to imagine what it's like to have some connection to normality over there. Your letters and calls used to be the highlight of my week in that place, Darcy. It was nice to be able to hear about something that didn't involve war all the time. So thanks, for everything."
A wide grin split across her face as she listened to what he had to say, all else forgotten. Some things didn't change, she thought to herself. He was just as blunt in person as he had been in his letters and phone calls to her and she found it oddly reassuring to know the Tim she had met through letters she sent to Afghanistan hadn't change after the six months since he had left the army. When she had first decided pick up an address to a soldier stationed overseas in local charity program to send them letters and care packages, she hadn't expected to end up with snarky Tim Gutterson. But she knew she wouldn't have changed it for anything.
It had started out with just letters between the two of them, before the phone calls started. The first time he rung her, he had pulled her out of bed. She had grumbled and cursed his name with a few choice profanities that would have made the most seasoned soldier blush, and he had just laughed, saying it was the middle of the afternoon for him and he had no idea why she was complaining. The next time she sent him a care package, she made sure it included a bright pink scarf, as a form of revenge for ringing her so early in the morning. Though it had backfired on her, when he sent her a photo of him wearing it with his uniform. Darcy had laughed at that, before she had hung the photo on her fridge, alongside the others he had sent her.
Their conversations went on for months, until he told her he was coming home, his last deployment over and done with. She had been happy for him, pleased that he was finally getting out of there, knowing the toll it must have taken him. And then there had been silence. No more letters, no more calls in the middle of the night. Nothing at all. Just complete and utter silence. And she had feared the worst had happened. Until now.
"Any time soldier boy," she replied dragging herself out of her thoughts, her gaze darting up to meet his, giving him a half smile. "Just next time, Gutterson, at least call before you just decide to show up on my doorstep. I wasn't too pleased at being dragged out of bed by you again."
He shot her a wide devilish smile at her words, instantly knowing what she was talking about. But despite all that, Darcy was just pleased to know that Tim was fine. That he was alive and not dead or missing in action. And even though he had almost given her a heart attack when she opened that door to see him standing there, she knew it was worth it to know her soldier was back.