I woke up when I felt the slight jolt of the plane landing and rolling down the runway. The stewardess had already taken my empty glass, and as the plane slowed down, I fumbled around for my wallet so I could give her a tip.

For a few minutes, the plane was taxiing behind another plane that had landed not that long before us. I gave the stewardess her tip, and woke up Vasquez by kissing her cheek. "We're home, sweetie," I whispered.

"Are we still on the plane?" she asked.

"Yeah-"

"Then we're not home yet. Keep your pants on, Drake."

The plane finally stopped, and we were allowed out of our seats to grab our bags and head out to the terminal. We hadn't taken two steps into the airport itself when I spotted two familiar faces in the gate's waiting area. Miranda was holding a sign that read "Welcome Home," and Hudson stood up to bear-hug me.

"Hey, man!" Hudson squeezed me, and I dropped my bag to squeeze him back.

I didn't want to start crying in public, but I hadn't physically seen Hudson in a month and, Goddammit, I missed him. I hugged him tightly and let my tears soak his T-shirt.

"Told you it wouldn't be too long, man," Hudson said, patting my back. He smiled as he pulled away. "Hey, Miranda and I will drive you out to your new place, then we can all talk." His smile faded as he searched my eyes. "You OK, Drake?"

I was suddenly struggling to figure out how I was feeling. What had just happened? Was this actually real?

"Drake? Hello?" Hudson waved his hand in front of my face. "Hey, you in there?"

I blinked. "I don't know."

Hudson looked at Miranda. "Honey, let's just take them home."

"Is everything OK?" Miranda asked.

"I think Drake's a little disoriented. He'll feel better after he sits for a couple hours."

"Alright, when you say 'home,' are you talking about our place, or theirs?"

"Um, let's go to theirs. I think they should start settling in."

It took a little over an hour for Miranda to drive out to a road along the river, in the suburban limits of the D.C. area. I wasn't fully paying attention to where we were going; my mind was racing and I felt like I was going to crash at any minute.

The house Doctor Hornby had left me in his will was situated on a quiet, tree-lined street. It's a fairly large, older home-you can't miss it; it's got a big front porch with a swing and two porch-lights on the steps. The whole house is pale-gray with navy-blue shutters, and so is the garage. As of now, we don't have a car, but I'm hoping it's not that long of a walk to a Metro stop.

I was just glad that Delhoun had kept his promise in keeping the place nice. Every piece of furniture and appliance we needed was already there, so we barely had to do anything except turn the power on and put stuff where we wanted it.

I dropped my bag in the living room, which had a pair of doors leading to the backyard. The yard already had an aboveground pool, a small patio, and a metal fence so you didn't tumble over the cliff and into the river. It wasn't a long fall, but it was enough to where you could seriously hurt yourself if you did.

Hudson had set a box on the kitchen counter. "Hicks sent you guys a big ol' package of something," he said. "You know . . . if you wanna know what it is, man." He watched me sit on the couch, and glanced at the staircase as Miranda and Vasquez headed up with our duffel bags. Once they were upstairs, Hudson looked at me again. "Is there something you wanna talk about, Drake?"

"I'm not sure what I'm doing, that's all," I muttered. "I'm . . . I'm supposed to be happy, but I'm not happy. I'm scared. I don't know what to do."

Hudson sat next to me. "Talk, man. Go ahead and talk."

I couldn't talk. Instead, I burst into tears.

Putting his arms around me, Hudson rubbed my back, letting me cry in his shoulder. "It'll be OK, man. You're overwhelmed. I get it."

For the first several hours in my new home, I couldn't put a single thought into words. I was in shock, in disbelief. I was missing the rest of my unit. I was afraid this was going to be ripped away from me soon. Why, dear God, was I not happy?

Hudson and Miranda stayed, helping Vasquez get things set up. "If you need anything, just ask," Miranda said. "I left our number by the phone." She looked over her shoulder. "Will, sweetie, what are you doing?"

"They got no groceries," Hudson replied, closing the fridge. "I thought . . . we could take 'em out to dinner, or we can order something and eat here, or go back to our apartment. Up to them, though."

Vasquez sighed. "I'm fine with going out. What do you think, Drake?"

I was still on the couch, fermenting in my emotions, but my stomach was growling loud enough for everyone in the kitchen to hear.

Vasquez was giving me a look when I didn't verbally respond. "I can't believe after eight years of dating, this is the first time I'm dragging your ass out the door to go someplace instead of the other way around."

"Well, that settles it. We're going out, man. Also, I'm hungry, too," Hudson chirped.

"What else is new?"

Vasquez's remark actually made me smile a bit. It made me feel like I was back with my unit, swapping insults and smartass comments.


The good news was that we only had to walk about three blocks to get to a Metro stop. From there, we could go anywhere we wanted in the city. Hudson and Miranda treated us to dinner at a small restaurant in a busy part of Rosslyn, and what made me start to feel better was the conversation topic of (you guessed it) their wedding.

"We haven't set an exact date yet, but we're shooting for mid-October," Hudson said.

"You got engaged in July, so . . . you feel like three months is enough time to plan?" I asked.

"We . . . We agreed we're not having a large and overly extravagant wedding."

"No. It's just gonna be close family and friends," Miranda added. "We're trying to make compromises, though, so I agreed we'll have a small wedding, he needs to agreed on something I'd like."

"Yeah, yeah, we're doing the fucking gray and white color scheme. But, we gotta have more than champagne at this thing, pumpkin."

"If you want beer, you and your best man are gonna have to take care of that."

"You can have fun with champagne," I snorted.

"No one is going to be slobbering drunk at our wedding," Miranda said, firmly, "Especially the groom."

"OK," Hudson mumbled. "I will behave, I promise."

"So, that's as far as you've gotten?" I said.

"Yeah. We'll start getting more organized, soon. Shouldn't take long to get a list set up and divide stuff between my party and her party." Hudson snapped his fingers. "That's right, you get to plan my bachelor party, man."

"Oh, yay." I took a sip of my drink, rolling my eyes. "Have you gotten a job lined up yet?"

"Not quite. I've been in talks with some colleges about applying there. I'm actually gonna visit one in a couple weeks, and I've been doing my research about what I need to open my own place. Nothing's set in stone yet, man."

"But you know this is what you want."

"Yeah."

I shrugged. "Well, I'm not gonna stand in your way. Doctor Ranelli said he's gonna help me with getting my exams set up for a firearms permit so I can look for a security job."

Hudson glanced at Vasquez. "And what're you gonna do?"

She briefly made eye contact with him, looking kinda perturbed. "Not sure yet."

Mainly, that's all we talked about: jobs and weddings. We didn't return home until around ten at night, and by then, my energy was sapped. It had been sapped before, but at this point, it was gone altogether.

It felt weird, referring to this place as home.

Vasquez showered first, leaving me to do whatever I wanted. I wandered around the house, both upstairs and downstairs. It was really quiet, aside from the water running upstairs.

I heard sirens, and looked out the window to see blue and red flashes racing down the parkway across the river. I really struggled to shut out the memories of the day my life completely changed, but they grabbed me and wouldn't let go.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the kitchen floor, breathing hard. This is a dream. It's all a dream. I'm going to wake up back with my unit, but no chance of getting out.

Someone touched my shoulder, and I looked to see Vasquez kneeling next to me. "What's going on, Drake?"

"Is this a dream?" I asked.

"No." Vasquez helped me stand. "Come on, get up. Go take a shower, and let's go to bed."


I woke up this morning to a brilliant sunrise spilling in through the window. The clock read seven AM. Hicks should be going around, knocking on everyone's doors-

Oh, wait.

I sighed, rubbing my face. Vasquez was still asleep next to me. A part of me didn't want to wake her, but I remembered what I said while we were prepping our smartguns for LV-426, how I was going to kiss her till she woke up.

Giving a contented sigh, I pulled her closer, and kissed her cheek. When she didn't respond, I pressed my forehead against hers, then kissed the tip of her nose.

That woke her up. I expected her to punch me, but instead, she stretched, and put her arms around me. "Good morning, dumbass."

"Good morning, sweetheart," I whispered back. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine. You?"

"Surprisingly OK." I grinned a little. "You ready to get up?"

"And do what? We don't have jobs yet."

"Well, I gotta call Doctor Ranelli about getting my exams set up so I can get a job. We can't live on what we've got left from the Marines."

"Didn't you say the house is already paid for?"

"I think Delhoun is taking care of the bulk of the mortgage. We still-I still owe something, though." I sat up, stretching. "It feels nice not to be rushed."

"Or having to run off to my own room without getting caught."

"That's a plus. You get to stay right here with me." I hugged Vasquez.

"Since we're both already awake, we may as well get dressed." Vasquez nuzzled my face, and patted my head. "You can stop now."

"I'm not done." I hugged her tighter.

"Down, Drake."

"Aww." I let go, and then rolled out of bed.

It was after we both got out of bed when we realized we needed to hit the stores-all we had were our uniforms. I mean, for today, it wasn't that big a deal, but we needed to go get civvie clothes today. After I put my PT clothes on, I headed downstairs, and realized we don't have any food, either. I know we can easily take a walk to a breakfast joint somewhere in town, but the fact that the fridge and cabinets were completely bare just made me hungrier.

As much as I appreciated Vasquez trying to be the voice of common sense in saying we needed to make a list of things we really needed before going anywhere, I didn't want to even attempt to think on an empty stomach, so I argued that we should get something to eat first.

"You're not going to starve to death if we don't go someplace right this minute," Vasquez replied. "Sit down, and let's write things down so we don't waste every cent we have on stuff we don't need."

I decided to grab a glass of water . . . but we didn't have any glasses. "Write down glasses, honey."

"Seriously, we have no glasses?"

"No. Delhoun forgot to get cups, mugs, silverware, plates, all that shit."

Vasquez shook her head, sighing. "Jesus. Alright. What are the basics we need in terms of food?"

"Milk, eggs, bread, butter-"

"You know how to cook, right?"

"Yeah. Do you?"

Vasquez bit her lip. "Can you teach me?"

I smiled. "I sure can, sweetheart."

"Alright. We'll grab . . . pasta, chicken . . . cheese-"

"Wait, you mean sliced cheese for sandwiches, or do you want me to make chicken alfredo?"

"I don't know. Both."

"OK. I guess if we're doing that, we should get cereal, snacks, beer-"

Vasquez gave me a look. "You sound like Hudson. Besides, when we were leaving the restaurant last night, I saw a liquor store with your favorite whiskey in the window." A small smile came across her face. "I thought we'd get a case of that instead."

I smirked back. "OK. I thought you said we'd only get things we need."

"I did. We can get things we want, too, as long as you promise to call Ranelli today and not put your tests off."

"I promise, then."


I guess this is what it feels like to go grocery shopping as a civilian. There were no rules on what we could and couldn't buy and bring home. After breakfast at a café, we headed to a mall to get clothing. I was pretty adamant that the most important things we needed were socks and underwear, so we filled the cart with several packages of socks and underwear.

Vasquez is not a girly-girl, so we didn't spend hours upon hours looking at how cute or how sexy a shirt was. She got she needed and moved on-although she did ask my opinion on a pair of pajamas, because she wanted at least one sexy thing to wear for nights we felt like "having fun."

Overall, going shopping for the essentials wasn't boring or mind-numbing. I mean, it was a new experience and probably will get boring as time goes on, but, for now, we enjoyed ourselves. What surprised me was how Vasquez was . . . a little more open, I guess is the right word. She didn't look closed off or cold, but I still got the sense that she wasn't a people-person. Then again, it was just me around.

I'm worried about how her first job will go. She's not as flexible as I am with her emotions. I don't see her mouthing off to her boss (she never, ever mouthed off to Apone or Hicks), but I do see her not putting up with even a hint of shit from her co-workers. Part of it is her personality, and the other is the fact that the military is the only thing she knows. When you get in trouble, you're called out and punished. That's not how it works in a civvie job. Yelling at someone on the job is just going to get you in trouble, and not the other person, and I can see Vasquez getting frustrated with the fact that someone screwing up isn't getting punished right then and there.

That was one of the best parts about having such a close-knit unit. If someone was having problems, they always had somebody to turn to for help. We looked out for each other and knew almost everything about each other. I'm not all that sure if things are like that with a civilian job. You go to work, and then you go home. In the Marines, you're stuck with each other 24/7, 365 days a year, until you get your discharge. In a civvie job, you're only stuck with each other for seven, eight hours a day. Maybe you form relationships, maybe you don't. I've heard Miranda complain about her co-workers. I've never heard anyone in my unit complain about their teammates.

Thinking about that prompted me to call Ranelli and get my exams scheduled as soon as we got home and put everything away.

"The psychological exam contains two parts," Ranelli explained. "One is a written exam, the other is a verbal interview. Both of those I can do with you, no problem. The written exam is a series of true-or-false questions."

"Are there any . . . 'in-between' or 'I don't know' answers?"

"No. Just true-false. The verbal interview is where you can go into as much detail as you like."

I ran my fingers through my hair, pacing the kitchen. "Are there a lot of questions on the test?"

"Around five-hundred-seventy."

"Good God."

"I can have you isolated while you take the test."

"If you can do anything to make me less afraid of this, that'd be great."

"What, specifically, are you afraid of?"

"Failing this thing. It's a psychological exam; I have post-traumatic stress. By default, I should fail."

"You've been in treatment for close to four years. I believe I've mentioned to you that you have a much greater chance at succeeding than you did four years ago."

I took a deep breath. "What's the closest date you can schedule this?"

"Two days from now."

"Alright. Let's . . . Let's do this."


Vasquez was snuggled against me as we sat on the couch that night, browsing the TV channels. At one point, she pressed the mute button, and put her head on my shoulder. "You seem lost in thought. What's going on?"

"Scared I'm gonna fail this fucking test," I muttered.

"Ah. Your therapist is giving it to you, right?"

"Yeah."

"You should be fine. If he thinks you can play with guns in a civvie job, you'll get your permits with no issue. Besides, you were a Marine. People will hire you."

"Have you started looking for a job yet?" I asked.

"No. I don't know where to start or what to do."

"Start with something small, part-time. It won't be your forever job. You can move around." I kissed her. "Everything'll be fine." I looked at my watch. "Almost time for lights-out."

"That's not funny, Drake."

I smirked. "You don't wanna go upstairs and . . . have some fun?"

Vasquez sighed. "You realize it's probably going to be a few years before I give you the OK to do it without protection."

"You mean, when we're ready to have a baby?"

"Yes, stupid."

"Ah, alright. Hell, we're not even married yet. I gotta get on that."

"Why don't you do that after Hudson gets married? I don't think you need the stress of planning for two weddings at the same time."

"No, I don't. You're right; we'll wait till Hudson gets married, and then we'll focus on us." I gently took her face to kiss her on the lips. "I love you."

Smiling, Vasquez hugged me tighter, nuzzling my cheek. "I love you, too, Drake."

Truthfully, we didn't do anything that night because I ended up falling asleep on the couch like an old man.


Question: What do you think Hudson's biggest struggle will be when he starts college?