Title: "Home Run" Zou's Edition - Chapter 10

Original story by: roomtable202

Edited by: Zou

Fandom: The Unit

Disclaimer: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.

Note: It was so exciting when Zou offered to edit the "Home Run" story. Zou's editing is so compelling that it deserves a place of its own. Don't miss the intense changes on the last chapters. Enjoy yourselves and join me in thanking Zou by means of your reviews.

Two Days Earlier

As soon as Grey left Ryan's office he reported to Lieutenant Mathers, picked up his duty assignment for the next day and the order to report to the Enlisted Men's Quarters; then left the base as quickly as possible. He only had a few hours before his 30 day prison sentence started and he wanted to spend as much time as possible with Annie. He swung by his apartment, picked up his shaving kit, his ACUs, and the mail that had accumulated while he was gone. He didn't fail to notice the Past Due and Delinquent stamps on the outside of a number of the envelopes; he'd have plenty of time to worry about those later while he was stuck on base. He was a little surprised to find no message from Annie on his phone, but then again, as far as she was concerned he had simply been on deployment and he would contact her when he came back: like he always did. She had no way of knowing that this time had been different; that this time he hadn't been shot to hell, but his career may have been. He took one last look around the apartment, knowing that it would be the last time he saw the place; he couldn't cover the rent alone anymore, hadn't really been able to in a while, but he also couldn't imagine sharing the place with anyone else; ever seeing anyone but Hector coming out of that second bedroom: not even Annie. With a resigned sigh he pulled the door closed and quickly locked it: the sound of the deadbolt engaging felt like a rifle shot to his heart. This would always be the place that held some of the happiest memories of Hector; having to let it go was just one more goodbye he hadn't wanted to make.

Carlito didn't bother to call Annie, he knew at this time of day she would already be at work so he figured he would simply go surprise her at the Capri Isle; spend whatever time he could with her until he had to return to base. He needed to see her beautiful face and to tell her about the trouble he'd managed to get himself into and that he'd be out of contact for a little while. He knew he couldn't tell her the specifics, but she'd get the gist of it; she'd been a soldier herself after all. Grey knew that the gossip mill worked pretty fast around the base and she would soon know that he was back, if she didn't already, and if he didn't talk to her she could and likely would jump to all sorts of wild conclusions. He didn't want her to think that anything bad had happened to him, at least not physically, or that he had simply dumped her

While it wasn't yet 5pm and duty hours on base were not over, there was still a regular number of civilian clientele that were already at the bar when Charlie arrived. He recognized many of the cars and though that perhaps that was not a good sign; his social life really needed to expand beyond this place; but Annie was here so where else would he want to be? Maybe he should try to convince Annie to look for a better job, he mused as he pulled into a vacant parking space near the street. She was bright and he had no doubt that she could find something that didn't mean she had to surround herself with drunks and guys with wandering hands. Grey smiled a bit to himself as he realized just how proprietary that sounded. Annie was former military and if anyone could keep these guys in line it was her; if he ever suggested that she look for a kinder, gentler profession he could only guess as what her opinion of that would be.

It wasn't until he had parked and was almost to the weather-beaten front door that Grey realized that he hadn't seen Annie's car in the parking lot. It gave him pause for a moment and then he figured it was possible that she'd had car trouble, again, and proceeded inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lights and the haze of cigarette smoke; as soon as his vision cleared he scanned the room for Annie: she was nowhere in sight. Grey proceeded to the bar and asked the guy behind it, absently polishing glasses, where Annie was. Grey didn't recognize the guy, but that didn't mean anything, personnel were always changing in the place. The guy eyed him for a moment, hung the glass from the rack above his head and said "Not here."

"Where is she, out back? Stocking?" Grey asked, not in the mood to play twenty questions with this guy. He was on a time schedule and he wanted to see his girl.

"She quit. Saturday was her last day." Dude said, then moved to the end of the bar to fill the drink order that the waitress was putting in.

Grey watched the guy walk away; then scanned the bar for someone who could give him a more complete answer. He looked around until he saw another waitress that he recognized and moved in her direction. "Hey Roxy, you seen Annie?" he asked as he approached her.

Roxy turned to him and her over mascaraed eyes instantly filled with pity upon seeing who had addressed her. "Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry. I thought she'd told you. Annie left on Sunday for Chicago. She moved home. She said that she'd had enough of the Army life, and was going to make a fresh start there….closer to family. You know how it is?" she said, placing a hand on his arm: red fingernails like talons against his skin.

The news hit him like a punch to the chest. She'd left: without a word, without a note. She'd left to be "close to family." He'd loved her and she hadn't felt enough for him to leave him a god damn message on his voicemail. He stared at Roxy for a moment; reached for his wallet pulling out a few twenties; then tossing them on her tray said "Beer, with a whiskey chaser, and keep 'um coming." Then he sat at the nearest vacant table; determined to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible in the time he had left before his captivity began.

Grey had made a fool of himself in this bar on more occasions than he really wanted to remember; it was after all the purpose of getting sloshed with your buddies after all; testosterone poisoning he'd once heard an old girlfriend call it. But his buddies had always been there to protect him from doing anything too monumentally stupid and to drag him home when it was time to call it a night; a favor he had returned in kind on many evenings. But he'd never felt like more a fool than he did right now. But the one thing that Charles Grey was really good at was hiding, so instead of leaving and finding some place to lick his wounds he stayed at the scene of the crime and drank; never giving any hint of the pain that was shredding his soul. He might lose his position in the Unit, the respect and trust of his teammates, but he'd convinced himself over the past hour or so that he could survive it all because Annie and he would find a way to make it bearable. What an idiot he'd been to believe in that fairytale. He should have known better. She was gone and everything she symbolized was gone with her: there was no safe harbor.

At 4:30 p.m. Grey pushed himself up from the table and made his unsteady way to the telephone in the back hall by the men's room. He fished in his pocket for some change and then dialed the number that had been written on the wall next to the phone. The cab arrived fifteen minutes later and he stumbled into it tossing the items he'd retrieved from his car; he'd worry about it later, if at all. He arrived at the Enlisted Men's Quarters at 4:59 p.m.

Grey managed to hang his uniforms in the closet and dump the rest of his belongings on the desk before dropping onto the bed, fully clothed to wait out the rest of the night. As he lay there he thought of the past few hours at the Capri Isle, and those few hours of loneliness and solitude amplified until they filled not only the next 30 days, but his entire future. He was alone again, without Annie, the only person he thought of as his family; or at least the only person he imagined building a future with. As he lay there in the dark he tried to convince himself that leaving was the best thing for Annie; that he should be happy for her to have found the courage to move forward with her life: not just be a part of his. He tried to convince himself that he didn't want her to become just another "Unit Wife or Girlfriend"; but he knew it wasn't true. He's watched Molly and Kim and even flaky Tiffy, and he saw that each one somehow managed to find a way to live within the restrictions of the Unit and still provide a home and comfort for the men they loved; worried about them when they were gone and rejoiced in their return.

Grey had loved Annie, still loved her: freely, unconditionally, something he never thought he'd ever do. She was the only women that made him reach for and find new feelings inside himself; willingly made himself vulnerable. She had made everything in his life seem more real; his emotions more raw; maddening as that sometimes was. Since meeting her he had felt complete for the first time in . . . well, forever. When she was near all he wanted to do was loose himself in her embrace, bathe himself in her spirit; bury his face in her hair and breathe the essence of her soul. He'd actually been dreaming of a future with her; clearly she didn't have the same dream. He thought for a moment of trying to contact her, convince her to come back, but that thought vanished almost as quickly as it came. No, what little self-respect he still had, which arguably wasn't much right now, he'd hang onto. He would not go crawling after her; he would hold on to that much of himself: even if he lost everything else.

The days passed slowly with a monotony that during any other time would have had Grey ready to tear his eyes out; but he simply didn't care anymore and lost himself in the sameness of every day. Each day bleed into the next, each the same; secluded in the Quarters or doing endless and deathly boring scut work from well before dawn to dusk; a quick meal at the mess; then back to his Quarters: no more. He knew that Ryan was trying to teach him something; or maybe Ryan, who Grey suspected knew absolutely everything of what happened related to the people under his command, wanted to keep him busy, either way it didn't matter. Grey spoke as little as possible to anyone and focused on the job at hand, eating and sleeping just enough; quietly folding every feeling he'd had for Annie, for the Unit, for his teammates away until there was no chance of being hurt by whatever else was thrown his way.

Then, without really noticing, 30 days had passed. Ryan called him into his office and informed him that he would be returning to the Unit. He would still not be deployed for at least 60 days, and that would still depend on his teammates, but he would be expected to participate in training and mission prep, as well as duties in the TOC. Ryan told him that he was no longer restricted to base, but it didn't matter anymore as he had nowhere else to go. Molly had done as he'd asked and had efficiently contacted movers and some of the FRG and they had packed up his belongings and had it all waiting for him in storage. He'd just leave it for now; he was doing fine in the Enlisted Men's Quarters. He didn't need any of those things; he'd deal with them later.

Grey thought that he had weathered his emotional storm during the past 30 days of relative isolation: he was wrong. He was free to leave base, meet up with friends, even Bob if he wanted, although he wasn't sure what sort of welcome he would receive there, so instead, in a moment of pure masochistic self-emollition he got in his Wrangler and drove to the Capri Isle. He knew she wouldn't be there; knew that seeing the place without her in it would rip the scab off all the emotional wounds that had only just stop bleeding; he did it anyway. In some pathetic part of his brain Grey knew that he was holding out some crazy hope that he'd walk into the place and there she would be: waiting for him.

Bob had passed most of the last thirty days lost in the company of his wife and kids. He also spent hours every day in rehab working to get his leg back in shape. In just the last few days he'd also gone to the range and done a little desk duty at the TOC. Those first few weeks had been the worst and he hadn't shared his fears that he wouldn't make it back to 100%; hadn't told Kim that the doctors had all but prepared him for that eventuality; he didn't need to, she knew: she always knew. But he'd fought through the pain and the fear and made the damn leg do every exercise as ordered. Then at home he'd do them again and again until he was exhausted and his muscles could take no more. Some nights Kim had joined him in the shower to hold him up when his leg threatened to fold under him. They'd clung to each other; as they always did, and slowly things improved. This morning the doctor had finally said out loud what he had only hinted at before; he'd admitted that he'd never actually expected Bob to recover; he guessed that the wound wasn't as bad as it had looked after all: Bob smiled and said nothing.

During that time he had not spoken to Grey. Despite Kim's request to Ryan, Grey hadn't been allowed to come see him while he was in the hospital. When Bob was finally discharged he'd decided it was best not to push the issue; the Colonel was not known for his flexibility. Whatever was going on with Grey, Bob didn't figure he could do him any good by pissing off the Colonel. Two weeks after his return home Ryan called him in for a meeting. The debrief was short and easier than he expected; Ryan had apologized about the mission going wrong, asked if Grey jumping had adversely affected his jump; Bob had answered that he didn't think so, and listened intently as Bob reported what little he remembered of his time in the woods. Bob chose his words carefully, he stuck to only the facts and left the emotions and allegations that had been volleyed between he and Grey on the forest floor where they belonged.

Whatever issues he and Carlito had, it was no business of Ryan's. Whether it could be fixed or not, was between the two of them and no one else. Bob had tried to make the point that Grey had probably saved his life, or at least his leg, but he got the impression that Ryan wasn't' interested and had tuned out of the conversation by then. Ryan thanked him again for taking on the clandestine mission; said he was glad that he'd be returning to full duty and dismissed Bob. He stood outside the Colonel's office feeling that too much had been left unsaid.

Bob had heard through the ever efficient grape line that Grey was no longer restricted to Quarters and had been reinstated on active duty status with the Unit. Bob stopped in The Cave where the guys often shared a beer at the end of the day hoping to find him there; the room was empty. He asked a few of the soldiers and guards he passed in the hallway and no one reported having seen Grey that day. He was glad to learn that to the contrary of what Kim had reported to him in the hospital, he couldn't detect any hard feelings directed towards his teammate; while there may have been some gossip among the staff among the people that mattered, no blame seemed to have been cast. Bob was relieved.

Bob sat in the Cave for a while; an unopened bottle of beer in his hands. He wished that Mack and Jonas weren't still deployed as he could use some advice; or maybe not; maybe this was something that he and Grey needed to work out just between them. He sat for a while longer reflecting on his relationship with the man since he'd joined the Unit. He remembered with some affection the "happy Carlito" that he had seen in Israel; before it had all gone to hell. After that Carlito had changed, he'd trained with the team but afterwards he hadn't stayed to hang out with the guys; at least not like before. Grey liked a beer as much as the next guy, but Brown had noticed that Carlito's drink of choice had changed to whiskey on the rocks, which he'd nurse, one after another, until he'd eventually crash in the ready room until he was sober enough to make his way back to his apartment. The guys had given up offering him a lift home as he always said there was no rush and he was fine where he was. For weeks he became quieter and more taciturn; he laughed less; smiled less: just diminished. Bob hadn't thought too much of it at the time as everyone had their moments; everyone grieved in his own way.

Then, a few weeks after their return he's gone into the ready room to pick up a book he'd left there only to find Grey on the floor; wedged in the impossibly small space between the wall and the old battered desk that had been crammed into the room for them to use for late night study sessions. His compact frame was folded, his forehead touching his knees; arms locked around his calves; completing the image of having forced himself into an invisible box only he could see. Bob remembered having a visceral reaction to seeing Carlito like that; recognized instantly the behavior as a mirror of himself some fifteen years prior; recognized a body seeking safety and protection, that could not be found in the real world, in the artificial embrace of inanimate objects.

Grey's despondency had lasted a couple of weeks until Jonas had somehow managed to reach in and pull Grey to safety; something that even Hector hadn't been able to do at the time. Bob had no idea what Jonas had said or done, but he wasn't here and if Grey was drifting back to that same dark place; the same comforting numbness, there was no one else to reach him. Bob didn't feel responsible for the uncontrolled chain of events that Grey had unleashed with his reckless decision to freefall after him, his own injuries included, but Bob truly felt for him at the loss of Annie. Bob had seen how Grey had grown to love her after their hesitant start. This time Bob would make the leap and rescue Carlito from his own emotional freefall.