A/N: Do you need a warning for character death if the character dies on the show? If so then consider this your warning.
I had warned earlier that this story would have some more serious elements after basic training. This is a sad chapter. Not dark. Just sad. Some mentions of violence. Please let me know what you think.
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Campbell Barracks, Heidelburg, Germany January 1999
The tidy little row of houses was a carbon copy of military housing on every base on the planet. Bato seemed to randomly pick a driveway and pulled his beat up Saab into it, flipping the key and enjoying the sudden silence. "After this past week, sleeping in my own bed is going to feel amazing!"
Hakoda bumped his head against his head rest as he tried to stretch out his legs in the tiny car. "Tell me about it. These Coalition training missions are terrible. They need to figure out their chain of command or Serbia is going to be one big cluster fuck." He puffed out his cheeks and twisted towards the back seat to retrieve his duffel bag. "Why don't you come on in for a sec? The kids would love to see you. And I have some of that pilsner you like so much."
At first Bato looked stern, but he couldn't mask his smile for long. "Twist my arm, why don't you?"
The two soldiers crawled out of the Saab and laughed at each other as they groaned in stereo at their various aches and pain.
Arching his spine, Bato was rewarded as his back made a loud crack. "Man, we're getting old."
"Nah." Hakoda had a twinkle in his eye. "You've always been an old fart."
Affectionate smile in return. "Thanks, asshole."
"Daddy!" Katara, all decked out in her little footie pajamas, somehow managed to not get crushed as the two big men wrestled bags of equipment through the narrow entranceway. She wrapped herself around her father's thigh and gave it a hug.
Bato made a big show of being offended. "What? Don't I get any love?" Katara detached herself from her father and threw herself in the other man's waiting arms.
Sokka ran up waving a piece of paper, almost ready to burst with excitement. "Dad! Look what I drew!"
Kanna perched a freshly clean bowl on top of the small drying rack by the sink and greeted her son with a kiss on the cheek. "He's been waiting all day to show you that." She tried to look serious for fear of offending the proud boy but the smile was obvious in her eyes.
"This looks great!" Hakoda made a great show of examining Sokka's hard work as the boy beamed. The squiggles and stick figures made little sense to him though. "Uh, what is it?"
"It's you and Bato! Out in the field." Sokka pointed helpfully. "There's a tank!"
"How silly of me! Now I get it!" Hakoda said with a father's enthusiasm, still having no clue what was going on in the picture. "Great work, son!"
Putting it on display on the fridge with a large magnet, the man swung its door open to snag two bottles of what he was really looking for. Bato took one gratefully and Hakoda took a long pull from his own. "Kya not back yet?" he asked a little wistfully.
"There was some commotion on base this morning." His mother didn't bother looking at him as she stacked dishes back into the cupboard. "She's probably stuck in her office cleaning up everyone's mess as usual."
They retired to the living room, Sokka relentlessly peppering the men with questions about the past week's field activity. Katara fought a losing battle as her eyes kept threatening to fall closed for the evening.
The doorbell rang.
"Och, who could it be so late at night?" Hakoda could hear Kanna grumble from the kitchen as she opened the door.
"Hakoda!"
The alarm in his mother's voice took him by surprise. He peeled Sokka from his leg and joined her, worry starting to prickle the skin on the back of his neck when he saw how pale she looked.
Two men in Class A dress greens were at his door, hats in hand.
What the fuck was this?
"Sir? Are you Major Hakoda Amaruq? Husband of Captain Kya Amaruq?"
No.
Hakoda backpedaled from the door, limbs feeling slow, heavy.
Their father's behavior put the kids on alert. Thank god for Bato's quick wits. The man hefted Katara over his shoulder. "C'mon guys." He took Sokka's tiny hand in his. "Why doesn't Uncle Bato take you upstairs and tell you a bedtime story?"
This suggestion was met with approval. The lump in Hakoda's throat only got bigger as he watched them go.
Class A's at his door late at night. Only one possible reason for this. Maybe there was a mistake, maybe they were here for something else, maybe…
Maybe not.
The baby faced captain shot a glance at the somber chaplain by his side and stepped into the entryway. "Sir, I have an important message to deliver from the Secretary of the…"
"I know why you're here!" Hakoda barked. "How did it happen?"
"Sir, if you know, then please understand that we…"
The crunch of drywall as he put his fist through it made them all jump. Hakoda could see that his knuckles were raw, bleeding but he couldn't feel it. "TELL ME!" he roared, grief starting to burn a hole deep in his chest.
When the captain finally spoke again, he chose his words carefully. "There was a fire. In her section of the med clinic. She was helping her patients evacuate when the roof caved in. The cause of the fire is under investigation."
Absurd. If anyone was going to die while on active duty it would have been him. He was the one that they had whispered about, late at night when they were absolutely sure the kids were tucked away in bed. He was the one getting thrown a war zone. Not her. She should have been in her tiny little makeshift hospital, hip deep in injured soldiers that wanted to try and flirt with her, miles from danger.
She should have been safe.
"The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that your wife, Captain Kya Amaruq died from her injuries this afternoon at 1600 hours en route to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center."
Good god.
What was he going to tell the kids?
"On behalf of the Secretary of the Army, please accept the United States Army's deepest …"
He tried to glare at them but the men were just a green haze. Blinking furiously, he pawed uselessly at his face. "Get out." His anger spiked white hot when the two dress greens didn't respond. His military side tried to remind him that they were only doing their job.
He didn't want to listen to that.
It wasn't clear how the kitchen chair wound up in Hakoda's hands or why it flew across the room. "Get. Out!"
They were smart enough to listen this time. Door slammed behind them.
Hakoda had to ignore his mother's quiet tears. He needed to be with his children.
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The funeral had taken longer than expected to arrange. Even death could not halt the mountain of paperwork that made the army run. It happened stateside- like she would have wanted.
The day of the ceremony was mostly a blur. He remembered Bato finding him in the small bedroom reserved for the kids clutching in one hand Katara's shiny little dress shoe, sobbing uncontrollably as he searched in vain for the other. He remembered watching the chaplain's short stubby fingers as they handed him the crisply folded flag that had draped her coffin and that was about it.
A final report on what led up to the fire was going to take months but that didn't stop the rumors from getting around. An electrical short had sent the old building ablaze. Fifteen injured. One fatality. Kya had saved many lives, they said.
Of course she did.
Three months later the official report came out. Bloated and full of legalese, the crux of it had been that a shoddy wiring job that was supposed to have been handled by one of those new civilian based private military companies was at fault. The PMCs were supposed to be more 'streamlined', more 'efficient' for jobs like these. Or 'cheaper' as some would say. The company had hired a contractor who hired a subcontractor who didn't know jack shit. No bid contract and no oversight.
Then the final blow. Since the PMC's were so new, there were no laws or regulations on the books regarding their use. No charges could be filed unless pursued through the German courts, which the army declined to do. All politics, no doubt. There was a lot of money being thrown around.
There was an uproar in the press when the report dropped and just like with every news cycle the indignant pundits moved on to a new controversy after a few days. The company responsible swept it under a rug by closing down the construction division. It opted to focus on its offensive and defensive operations exclusively and changed its name with little fanfare. What had been Sozin Industries was now simply known by the innocent sounding name of Kai.
Two years later and Hakoda's contract with the army was up for renewal.
That didn't happen. He had a new mission.
It was hard going, traveling so much to make enough money to live while trying to contact every congressman, senator and legislator he could. Laws needed to get on the books. What had happened to Kya could not, would not happen again.
Sometimes guilt would plague him though. At his worst he wondered if his kids felt like they had lost both parents that day. But he knew they would understand. The sacrifice they made as a family meant that one day no more soldiers would give up their lives due to incompetence or greed.
At least that's what he kept telling himself.