Chapter 1-Coming Home

Beni:

I sighed as I made my way to he plane. After three tours in Afghanistan I was finally going home. It's been so long since I've been in the States. Last time I was in the States I was about seventeen. Then I signed up and now, at the ripe age of twenty-six, I'm going home. I probably wouldn't be if it weren't for the accident.

I yawned and focused on something else, like the duffel on my back tat bounced with the beat of my crutches. Yeah, that's right. Crutches. They offered me a wheel chair, but I declined. I told them that they could use it for someone who lost both heir legs. I only lost one, and I intend to use it as much as I can.

"Hey, Beni."

I looked over my shoulder slightly and stopped for my friend to catch up. He was an old war buddy, and one of the ones I rescued on our last mission together, which, evidently, was my last mission. I smiled once he caught up, and he nudged my shoulder slightly. I stuck out my tongue and he laughed.

"Hey, Troy, how's it going?" I asked. Troy had pale blonde hair that was getting a little bit too long for it to still keep looking good on him. There was a huge contrast between his pale skin and hair and his dark blue eyes and chapped lips. But us army folk never really cared about how we looked. Well, most of us don't. There's a lieutenant named Derek who cares about nothing but how he looks, which is the reason I never chose him to be on my squad despite how good of a shot he was. He would be distracting everyone, including himself, with him just being plain annoying. The guy couldn't go five seconds without making sure he looked picture perfect. Even on the battlefield.

"Need a hand with your stuff?" He asked me, shooting me a lopsided grin.

"Really? I mean, I know you can make a lot of really bad puns now, but seriously? That's the best you could come up with?"

Oh, yeah. I totally forgot to mention the fact that Troy only had one arm. No one goes to war without coming back uninjured. And it doesn't necessarily have to be physical.

Troy just laughed, and, unfortunately for me, any kind of laughter was contagious. Despite how much I wanted to hit him with a book of decent puns, I laughed along with him.

"So," he said after he regained control, "Why aren't you in a wheel chair? Wouldn't it be easier?"

"I don't need it," I said. He rolled his eyes, knowing full well that I didn't really like receiving help as much as I loved giving it. It's probably because I've always had to do stuff on my own. My mom died of Lukemia when I was around five, and my dad became an abusive drunk. He hung himself when I was in my junior year of high school, but instead of feeling sad, it was like this big, unimaginable weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. Shortly after, I dropped one of the three jobs I had been working and signed up for the army. I did Basic during my senior year, plus some. I was always the freak, up until I picked up a rifle for the first time. Although my drill sergeant nearly had a cow when he saw that my hair had green and blue stripes in it. I still have them, but they're really faded.

"So, you got anyone to pick you up when we're back in the States?"

"I'm gonna call John," I said, giving the best shrug I could muster.

"You're gonna lose another limb," he teased. I stuck my tongue out at him and he nudged me before walking slightly ahead to get on the plane first. I followed directly after, and an hour later, we were in the air.

"...i. Beni. Beni, wake up."

My eyes snapped open, and my knife was instantly out and at...At Troy's throat apparently. I quickly put it away and let him go, and he gave me a worried look. I sighed and sunk back into my chair, rubbing the tiredness out of my face.

"Sorry, Troy. Months of...Well, you know, can do that to a person. Where are we?" I asked.

"We're back in D.C. And I suggest you go visit Sam. He works down at the VA now. He could probably get you back on your feet."

"I honestly can't tell if that pun was intentional or not. And are you talking about Sam Wilson?"

"Who else?" Troy huffed, and he would have crossed his arms, but he couldn't, for obvious reasons. "He sent me a picture of him and a nice looking dude with blonde hair. Said that he was besties with Captain America."

"Oh, do tell."

"Well, that's all he sent me. Didn't specify on how Captain Rogers is still alive, he just said he is and that they are friends and-"

"-Troy, chill. I thought you got over Sam a while back ago."

"I am over him. But that doesn't mean I can't be jealous."

"Well then you're not really over him. I'm sure you'll find a better guy."

He gave me a grateful smile and nodded.

"Thanks, Beni. Now come on, let's go stretch that leg of yours and get a move on."

I smiled and shoved him slightly.

"Besides...The blonde might have a nice ass."

That made Troy blush, and I couldn't stop laughing for a full minute.

I sighed. Not having the company of Troy around after so long was...Weird. But I could manage. It wouldn't be the first time I haven't had friendly company. But I was really thankful that I did manage to get a few coins out of him for the payphone right outside the airport, which is where I am now. I awkwardly pushed the coins in and made a sandwich out of the phone using my shoulder and face. It rang four times before he picked up.

"Who is this?" John's voice was slightly on edge. But I knew it was for the fear factor. He was usually a big marshmallow. Marshmallows sound good right now...

I shook my head and cleared my throat, thankful that this was over the phone and not face to face.

"Since when did you get so dark and brooding?" I teased. I heard a small gasp on the other line, and a little bit of laughter.

"That you, Beni?"

"The one and only, Jon-Bon."

He had a thing for bon-bons, so that was his nickname going throughout pretty much everywhere. It was started by Yours Truly. I heard him sigh.

"Yeah, it's you, alright. I don't hear any screams or nothin' in the background so I'm assuming you're good?"

"Yeah, more or less. I just need a favor."

"And what's-Ow! Carla, no, don't climb on that! And what's the favor?"

"Give an old friend a ride to her new apartment that she got while she was in medic? I know the way, I just can't drive myself, and I don't have any cash on me at the moment to get a taxi."

"The things I do for you 'old friends.' What airport in D.C. Are you in?"

"The one closest to the interstate." Another sigh.

"I'll be there around six or seven. Think you can wait that long without pulling any pranks?"

"I'll do my best. Thanks, Jon-Bon."

"Yeah, yeah, don't mention it."

And with that, he hung up, leaving me to go back inside and make a tiny fort.

I was gonna spend the next three to four hours getting some much needed sleep.