A/N: I literally wrote this like 15 years ago. Like. What even. This is what happens when I scroll through old story ideas.
He was finally off that damn train. Hours and hours trapped in a tiny metal compartment with nothing but his thoughts for company. His comrades didn't count; everyone was too run down and ready to be home to talk much. It was a miracle he wasn't more insane than he already had been.
He wanted to get to her. To see her ash blonde hair held back in those stupid pigtails he'd been teasing her about since they met. To see her sea glass eyes light up with what he hoped was joy.
To finally wrap his arms around her and hold her close.
Before he could slap his squadmates on the shoulder and go searching the train station for her, a blonde blur slammed into him at mach force. Only years of excellent reflexes and knowledge of her habits kept him from falling over under the force of her embrace.
Chapped lips pressed against his in desperation. She was seeking assurance that he was real, that he was still alive and not just an illusion.
He had never been so happy to return from war.
