A/N- Thanks everybody for the reviews, the follows and the favourites. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.
~~Chapter 1- Going back to Lima~~
It is sunny as hell.
Like always.
Puck traced the dusty glass, his finger clean of dirt and grime but throbbing incessantly as the scorching glass burnt the skin. Puck should have instantaneously pulled his finger away like anyone else would but he didn't. Pain didn't matter to him. He is used to it. Maybe even dependent upon it.
Pain, no matter how excruciating it is should always be tolerated. You should never give in. A soldier does not succumb to pain. If he breaks at just a mere cut then he is no use for the army, because in war, cuts and minor burns are inconsequential. Losing a limb, now that is something but even that should not stop you because a true soldier never gives into pain, he fights until the very end.
That's what his Training officer used to say all those years ago. He still does but he isn't the training officer. Major-General, that's his new rank. There is always truth to his words but not to Puck.
In this monotonous life without even a friend to call his name, Pain is his life line. It's what makes him realize he is still living.
"Colonel Puckerman, the vehicle has arrived outside the entrance Sir."
Puck turned and looked at the soldier in full military gear. He nodded as he said, "Thank you. I will go."
The rookie looked at his bag and offered to carry it but Puck waved him off. He didn't need help. The bag didn't weigh. There was not much in it. Just photographs of old times. A few medals, worn out clothes that probably needed a trip to the bin and of course the letter. That letter. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his wallet. Feeling inside for the old, frayed paper with his calloused fingers, he didn't say a word when his finger touched the familiar paper. How many times had he read it? How many times had he cried? How many times had he cursed aloud and thrown things about?
He couldn't come up with a number. Not that he was trying to anyway.
He slid the paper in deeper into his wallet. He can't lose it. Not now. Not after so many years.
After putting the wallet back in, he carried the bag and headed outside.
Before he did though, he turned and looked around his room for one last time. This had been home for thirteen years. Thirteen long painful years. but still in a way it had been his safe haven, a place where when he came back to after another frustrating day in the base he could finally let lose. Finally let go of his mask. Let the bloody thing crumble away into millions of pieces and then just slump on the bed and finally drown in self pity and blame.
He shot one last glance and walked away.
Soldiers scurried away when they spotted the retired Colonel walk through the corridor. Puck didn't say anything. This had been the routine for years now. No one spoke to him. He spoke to no one. It's not lonely though. He has his thoughts to see him through the day and guilt for company.
He had been switched from Afghanistan to Iraq after what happened. The major general had carried out the necessary paper work to complete the switch. A change in atmosphere would have been good, should have been good for him.
The soldiers here had been much nicer to him initially but then his past had caught up to him and all of a sudden he was no more the newbie from Afghanistan but the cold-blooded killer who had let his entire team die.
He had a feeling his past would follow him to America too.
But it really didn't matter anymore.
He doesn't have anyone back there who even remotely cares about him, he didn't blame them though. He was the one to cut contact not them. And plus, If he could deal with accusatory glances for fourteen years then certainly he can deal with them for another decade or two. After all this is punishment and he will take it.
"Colonel Noah Puckerman, you are leaving already?"
Puck looked up and was surprised to see the major general. He hadn't expected anyone to turn up to say goodbye. He smiled politely at the older man and said. "Why should I delay the inevitable, Sir? It's better to go home now than later."
The Major general spoke, "Of Course. I wish you well in your future endeavors."
Puck smiled. "Thank you, sir. I better take leave."
The major nodded and then looked at the departing soldier. He really did hope the man would learn to move on. What happened nearly fifteen year ago happened fifteen years ago. Why should he still blame himself for that?
Puck walked down the stairs and spotted the jeep parked outside the bunker. He nodded at the soldiers who were standing by its side and then climbed into the jeep. He saw the major general walk up to the door to see him depart. Looking at the man who stood tall and straight with years of experience behind him and never once had committed a grave mistake, Puck for a fleeting moment felt envious. But he quickly dismissed the feeling and smiled at the man who smiled back at him.
He felt the engines rev up and come to life. A soldier in the driver's seat turned back and asked whether he was ready to go.
He nodded. He wasn't.
The jeep moved forwards and headed through the gravel road to the regional airport. A flight from there to the capital and then a flight to Frankfurt, Dubai and Columbus and then finally by land onwards to Lima. A bus ride is probably the best option. Trains are expensive; at least that's what he overheard from a soldier who went back to California for his daughter's birth. And plus he cannot expect anyone to pick him up. He didn't have a clue where Sarah was and his mother has been dead for years.
He looked out of the window at the sand dunes. When he was younger and naïve, he and Artie had planned to take a jeep and ride the dunes. He cannot even dream of it now. This place, these deserts, there is too much blood tainting its sand. Maybe if you dug around you could find a body or two. Maybe a fallen soldier or a terrorist or even a civilian. Countless innocent people had lost their lives. He had gunned some of them down himself. War is a terrible thing. No one can be a hero. They are all villains playing a game of roulette with the lives of people. That's all there is to it. No justice. Nothing.
The jeep passed a few people walking down the road.
"Go slowly." Puck commanded to the soldiers. He wanted to see these people. See their faces. Etch it across his mind and remember it for the rest of his life. A final image to take back with him of Iraq. He had plenty from Afghanistan.
An old man headed the family from the front holding a little girl by her hand. The women walked behind him with other little girls and a small boy probably a toddler was carried by a woman.
Puck pulled the window down and said, "هل هذه عائلتك؟" (Is this your family?)
The old man looked at him. His face ashen with age and his skin wrinkled. But it were the eyes that had Puck staring. That had made him speak in the first place. They held worry and sorrow and when the dark black eyes looked up at him, Puck saw something far more horrid- hatred.
"نعم. هذا هو ابنتي وأطفالها." (Yes. This is my daughter and her children). His voice was raspy as if he was finding it hard to breathe.
Puck tried to not sympathize with them. He had too much burden to carry; something told him he wouldn't want this one on his shoulders. But he still wanted to speak. To know more about this family. He looked at the group and seeing the lack of another man, against his better judgment he asked, "حيث هو والدهم؟" (Where is their father?)
The man looked at him sternly especially so when the little girl sniffed and buried her face onto his trouser.
"مثل بقية القتلى منهم." (Like the rest of them, dead.)
Puck could feel his chest tighten. He looked at the family again as the man continued speaking.
"أنت قتلته. كنت اعتقد انه كان واحدا منهم." (You thought he was one of them)
"لم يكن. لكنك قتلته." (He was not. But you killed him.)
The front door opened and a soldier came out. He pointed his gun to the old man. The old man looked surprised at the gun but quickly the surprise turned into fear. He turned and quickly shielded his grand-daughter with his hands all the while muttering "الله أكبر".
The soldier pushed the gun onto the man's head before glaring at him and yelling, "Stop it, you fool. We don't kill because we like it. Your son was probably with the terrorists. That's why-"
"Don't!" Puck yelled at the soldier. He opened the door and jumped out before moving the soldier's gun away.
"We have done enough. Killing an old man for talking back to us is not correct."
"But-"the soldier argued only for Puck to glare at him.
"We have done enough." Puck said feeling weary. "No more… No more killing."
The soldier looked at Puck for a few seconds before getting into the jeep. Puck turned and looked at the old man. The elderly man clung to his granddaughter. His eyes were wide in fear. The women behind him quivered as the little boy broke into a sob because of all the noise. The little girl looked up at him. Her large brown eyes looking at him with something close to amazement.
"أنا آسف." (I am sorry). Puck said gently. The old man just shook his head and held the girl's hand and walked away. The family followed him.
Puck stared at the retreating family. Guilt seeping into his senses. Why did all of this have to happen?
He turned to get into the vehicle when he heard the sound of someone running. He turned quickly anticipating an attack but only to see the little girl. She panted before smiling at him. A genuine smile. The first one he had received in years.
"شكرا لك." (Thank you). Her eyes shimmered in the sunlight.
Puck bent down to her level and smiled back. "شكرا لك." (Thank you). He patted her head. Puck looked at the young girl before asking in English.
"What's your name?"
The little one grinned at him as she spoke, "Mariam. You name?"
"Noah Puckerman."
The little girl looked down and shuffled her feet as she asked, "No-ah?"
"Yes."
A smile lit up her face.
"You good Army man, Misser Noah." She confided before reaching up and holding his cheek with her hand.
He really wanted to give her something. But he didn't have anything to give. A thought briefly occurred to him so he searched his bag. He finally held the small token before turning back to the little girl. He bent down again and opened his palm revealing the bronze medal displaying an eagle.
She looked at him in surprise. "For me?"
Puck nodded and smiled. Reminiscing of a time long gone, he said gently. "When I was much younger I rescued a child from a house in an area where there was an air raid. I received this for doing that act. She looked a bit like you," he said remembering of the scared child who had clung onto him with all her might all those years ago. Looking down at her dust laden hair and her face with patches of dirt and grime and of course open wounds. He had decided he will make sure to get her out of that town safely. She had to be safe. She had to. She died a year later because of an infection from her wounds. Her name was Sarah. Sarah Cassim.
He looked down at the girl in front of him who was listening to him attentively and once again amazement.
" You can have it now. Take care of it. All right?"
The girl nodded. Her head bobbing up an down
"You ero!"
The little girl smiled wide before kissing Puck's forehead. Puck's eyes widened in surprise, he hadn't expected that. Not one bit.
She then moved back and rummaged around her clothes, searching for something to give to the soldier, she took a pin out with painted metal flowers on it and gave it to him.
"شكرا لك." (Thank you). She said happily .
" Mama cook Fasoulia. You come?"
He shook his head and said, "I have to leave. I am going back to America."
The little girl looked at him with disappointment but smiled as she said.
"Tak Good Care. Come and see again us. Okay? We stay by well near camel, in tent." She pointed over to some place by the horizon before continuing, "Come. No?"
He nodded. "Of course. I will try and by the way. You speak good English."
Mariam stared at him before breaking out in a wide grin, "Real?"
"Yes." Puck chuckled at her excitement.
He patted her head one last time before getting into the jeep. Slipping the pin securely into his wallet. He waved at the little girl. "Bye, Mariam."
Her family stood by the road and looked at the jeep as the engine started.
"تعتني بنفسك." (Take care of yourself). The little girl said softly as the jeep started driving away. Her grandfather came towards her and carried her onto his arms and kissed her cheek.
"تعال، دعنا نذهب المنزل." (Come on, let's go home.)
The ride to the airport was relatively silent. No one spoke a word. When they did arrive outside the small building, the soldiers nodded Puck goodbye before driving back to the base. The former Colonel walked up the remaining stairs and after completing the relevant procedure boarded the small Cessna. As the plane rose off the runway and headed to the capital. Puck looked out of the window holding his wallet tightly. He silently bid goodbye to a country which had broken him apart, torn him to pieces but still given him just a bit of hope to continue on with life. He will take care of that pin. No matter what happens he will take care of that pin.
It took nearly a day and a half for Puck to reach New York City. The trip was tiring and because the mere thought of watching television after so many years seemed to bring on a headache, he just decided to sleep.
And then the nightmares began.
He would always wake up silently screaming and disillusioned. After the third time, the airhostesses had panicked and after much discussion had given him a sleeping pill. But this empty sleep had terrified him even more. Seeing nothing but hearing the screams, the sound of people crying and groaning in pain and not being able to even open his eyes and escape the horror was worse. He tried so hard to open his eyelids but they didn't budge and when they did, they would just shut close again, trapping him in the endless screams and tears.
When he woke up in Dubai, he was feeling lightheaded and didn't even remember how he got there but with the help of the airport personnel and the medics he had somehow managed to get onto the flight to Columbus without too many problems. But this time around, he didn't sleep. All throughout the seventeen hour flight he didn't sleep. He plugged his earphones on and listened to music, even crappy bubblegum pop ones to stay awake. And even if he dropped off, as if on alert he would wake up again seconds later. Because sleeping is not the best idea. It's the absolute worst.
When his flight landed, Puck slowly made his way through the terminal and when he reached the entrance of the airport he sighed. He looked out at the vehicles lining up by the road and the people running all over the place with their luggage.
Sweet home America, Somehow it never does change.
Some women dressed in shorts and tank tops smiled flirtatiously at him before walking away, Puck ignored them. They don't know him. They don't have a single clue.
He carried his bag and walked over to a guard to inquire about the bus station when he found his attention diverted to a woman who laughed as she joyously hugged a guy with strawberry blonde hair.
"Chris, you came to pick me up, oh jeez. Now I will have to marry you." The woman laughed as she hugged the guy. The guy, Chris smiled at her and kissed her cheek. "Of course and why wouldn't I?"
Puck looked at them wistfully. He had spent twenty-one years away from America. Away from everyone he knew and loved. Twenty-one years is a long time. A very long time. He looked at all the cars and the people standing outside of them waiting to pick their loved ones up, some in happy tears while embracing the just arrived passenger. Puck frowned. He is used to feeling lonely. He knows that it is inevitable, what with his past and all. But sometimes it still hurts. There is a gnawing emptiness inside him waiting to be filled. What exactly did he seek? Companionship? A friend? And did he just leave the first person to offer them to him in years, miles away in a country torn apart by war. Would she even be there if he chooses to return one day? Would she even be alive?
He really didn't know.
"She is my world Puckerman. She is my world."
Maybe it's destiny to suffer alone for one's sins. It probably is.
"Noah?"
Puck stopped and stared at the guard in front of him. That voice. Could it be? But it cannot. How would he even know?
"It is you isn't it, Noah. That mole on your head looks way too familiar."
Puck blinked in surprise. No way.
The man turned around, his hazel eyes prickling in surprise and a fair amount of fear.
The brown haired man smiled at him. His green eyes shimmering as they registered the man in front of him. They softened and looked at Puck gently.
"Noah."
Puck breathed deeply before smiling graciously and saying, "Kurt."