a/n: Okay, so I might have taken some liberties with this chapter. I tried to research what I could, but hopefully nothing stands out in a bad way. Thanks so much for your continued reviews! I really enjoy the feedback, and it keeps me going. Thanks!

Chapter Eighteen: Goodbye

"Jane?" Before I turned around, I knew it was Red. I opened the door of the cab that was waiting for me before I faced him.

"Hey."

He frowned at the cab.

"You going somewhere?" He didn't hide any confusion on his part. Behind him was the church, and people were still milling about before leaving. I would not look for Lake.

"I have to get back home," I said. I moved to get in the cab, but felt Red's hand on my arm.

"Wait, Jane—" He was bewildered by this, and I felt bad that I was just leaving, almost without saying goodbye. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head. "My family needs me," I said. "My flight leaves in two hours." That wasn't true; I hadn't booked a flight yet, but Red didn't know that.

"Let me take you then," he said, and he moved to dismiss the cab.

"No," I quickly said. I backed up against the cab like it was my last defense. I was barely holding it together. My throat felt raw from the emotional lumps there. Red couldn't see me like this, or any worse. "I don't want to take you away from this. They need you." I gestured to the other team members. They were coming out of the church now. Lake was standing with them, well enough on his own. I quickly looked away.

"Then come say goodbye to them," he urged, pulling at my arm again. "Especially Lake."

A hard pit formed in my stomach. "I already said goodbye to him," I said. I tried to keep my voice from slipping. "I'm sorry, Red. I just have to go." Red stared at me.

"Jane . . ."

"I'll leave his key under the mat," I said, avoiding Lake's name. "Tell them bye for me." Red was stunned enough that I slipped inside the cab. I gave the driver the address to Lake's apartment, and as the cab drove off, I purposely did not look back.

I felt horrible that I didn't say goodbye properly to LT, Doc, Zee, and especially Red. He'd been a good friend to me, and I felt like I treated him badly. But I couldn't face this anymore.

At Lake's apartment, I quickly changed into the jeans and a shirt I bought last night. I stuffed my dress, other clothes and even the Navy sweats into a plastic bag. I folded Red's hoodie and left it on the kitchen counter. Lake could give it back to him. I left an unaddressed note that said "Give back to Red" and stuck it on top of the hoodie.

I almost left Lake a note. I tried to convince myself that I should explain how I felt, but then my mind quickly reminded me that I was pretty clear. Wasn't I? It didn't matter. I would NOT chase after Lake, not when he made it blatantly obvious that he wanted nothing to do with me. His words still stung me. I swallowed as more tears threatened to dominate me.

I thought about just leaving my phone number and address. I even got as far as writing it down. But it hurt my pride—yes, I had pride. Not much left, but a little. I dropped the pen I'd written with and crumpled up the paper.

The cab was waiting for me. I knew that was really impractical, not to mention expensive, but it was my incentive to hurry. I made one sweep around the apartment, making sure I didn't leave anything that I bought.

I checked the bedroom. The sheets were neatly tucked and made. Even though I slept on Lake's couch, I thought it would be a nice thing to do. I laughed bitterly out loud at myself.

You stupid girl.

-0-0-0-

I got to the airport and checked the departures for the next flight to Ohio. It would leave in half an hour. I managed to get a ticket, paying cash and flashing a temporary ID the Navy got me. The security checkpoint was hesitant about that, but after a thorough check by one of their agents and scanning my bag of clothes eight times, they let me go.

I had to run to catch my flight. I liked the hurry. It left me no time to break down.

Until I was on the plane, and then it hit me. I was going home. I should have been happy. Most people would wish none of the last several days had ever happened. I never thought I'd feel that way, since I met Lake. But now I did. I wished I'd never gone to Nigeria. I'd still be at home, wondering what to do with my degree, probably unsatisfied with my life.

But at least I wouldn't be hurting.

I managed to fight off tears until after we landed. I called my parents and asked them to pick me up from the airport. And then, with some time to kill until they came, I went into the women's restroom and cried.

When my parents picked me up, they looked relieved. My eyes were back to normal, no longer puffy or red.

"Were you waiting long?"

"Are you okay?"

"What happened in Nigeria?"

There were more questions, but I just stuck to the watered-down version about being evacuated at an embassy. My mom mentioned that the embassy had been burned down. I said I'd heard that, and let her assume I was evacuated from there before it was destroyed. My dad said he hoped I learned my lesson. "There's plenty of good you can do here. No need to go to some war-torn land."

I numbly nodded.

They thought it was odd I had no luggage. I just told them there wasn't time to take anything except what I had in the plastic bag. Luckily, they didn't realize it was all new clothes, and not a single item I ever took to Nigeria.

They dropped me off at my apartment. Home. I told them I was pretty tired, but yes, I'd come over Sunday for dinner.

My apartment was quiet. There was no hustle of military guys running around. There was no shouting, no crying of mourners, no joking around, nothing. No Lake. It was just me, alone. I sat down on my couch, pulled a blanket over me, and wished for something to be different. I'm not sure what I wanted. I didn't dare wish that Lake would have wanted me in his life. I was too bitter for that.

No, I was beyond bitter. I was broken. The first sob I uttered sounded like a hiccup in my apartment. I slapped my hand over my mouth, and the rest of my sobs were at least muffled.

-0-0-0-

Two Weeks Later

After wallowing in self-pity for a couple of days, I couldn't stand myself anymore. I wasn't going to be some helpless, useless girl who cowered in fear of life. I survived Nigerian rebels intent on killing me or worse, and I wasn't going to waste that.

I contacted the Red Cross. I figured they were a bit more stable than the outfit I signed up with before. That organization was coming under fire since some others helping in Nigeria hadn't returned. I counted myself lucky that I had.

The Red Cross was actually impressed that I went to Nigeria. When they asked what I did there, I told them I just helped where I could. Honestly, the person who interviewed me was more impressed that I returned in one piece. He asked for more details, but I just told him I really couldn't say. With the news filled with reports of the US-Nigerian relations being strained, my lack of an answer only made him more curious. I think he was new to this.

Between my 'experience' and my degree, the Red Cross guy asked what type of assignment I was looking for. I really didn't know, but a newspaper caught my eye.

"Disaster services," I said. "Maybe in California?" There were fires raging out of control in the southern part. I was pleasantly surprised that I got a job, for now as a wherever-we-need-you thing. The Red Cross guy made arrangements for me to fly to California.

I packed one bag with a few of my things. My flight for San Diego left in three hours, and I had to stop by my parents' place and say goodbye. I zipped up my suitcase, and grabbed my purse.

As I headed for the door, I heard the phone ring. I sighed. I was cutting it close if I was going to make it to my parents. I glanced at the phone. The call was from a number I didn't recognize. Area code 757. Weird.

I left it unanswered, and locked up my apartment.

-0-0-0-

The fires were spreading fast. Black smoke covered the sky, even in the city. I had no idea fire could be so destructive. I'd read about it, seen Backdraft, but this was different. That first day in San Diego, I was sent to the stadium, where people streamed in with little more than the clothes on their backs. Some were rich, others poor, others in between. I just tried to make sense of the new situation as I joined the other Red Cross workers in handing out supplies.

A worker named Karina showed me where we would stay at night. The Red Cross had us working in shifts, which surprised me. I figured if we could stand it, we'd work around the clock. Weren't the circumstances dire enough?

"Everything's always an emergency," Karina said. "If you don't rest, you won't survive." She laughed at me, not in an unkind way, and drove us across town to a Holiday Inn. There were a lot of out-of-state workers staying there. We shared a room, which I was fine with. I was surprised we weren't sleeping on cots at the stadium with those fleeing the fire.

"You can shower first, if you want," Karina offered. I smiled and took her up on that. The smell of smoke was embedded everywhere. I had to lather up twice before I felt it was gone, but really, it was just in the air. I wasn't even in the thick of the fire, and it was like this? I was in for some surprises, I knew.

-0-0-0-

Karina became my guide those first couple of days, and then I just got the hang of it. No one thought the fires would last more than those few days, but a week later, we were still there.

Each day, I'd help check in the new refugees. It was so weird to think of them that way. When I thought of refugees, I thought of Nmumbu, or the other villagers who were on the run from Sadick and Yakubu. Here, there was a different sense of urgency. But even so, these people were suffering, and I pushed my own experiences aside. The work kept me busy enough that I didn't have time to be fazed by horror stories of homes lost or near danger from the fire. But in the back of my mind, I still compared this to the homes lost in Nigeria, villages burned along with the corpses of people butchered by Yakubu's soldiers.

After checking in new refugees, I tried to help coordinate a better place for them to stay. I'd help contact family, or point them in the direction for help from the government. Karina preferred I handled that, while she handed out supplies and coordinated arrangements within the stadium that served as a temporary solution.

Though the news and everything here was about the fires and their impact, I did see a news story buried in the middle of the pages about Nigeria. I took a quick moment to read over it: the US was strained in its dealings with General Yakubu. The military was building around the African nation.

I blinked before I could dwell on the news too much. I wondered what wasn't written here—what else might be going on over there.

And then I set aside the paper, and turned as a new family fleeing the fire's damage came in.

-0-0-0-

The National Guard was working to help contain the fires. While that was neat, every time I saw a man in uniform I wondered how the team was doing. I purposely tried to think of them as a team, and limit myself to seeing Red's face, LT's, Doc's and Zee's in my mind. It didn't always work. That damn mohawk surfaced every now and then.

I cleared my throat and turned back to my work. I tried calling some extended family of a teenage girl who came in alone. Her parents were out of the country and didn't know their home was on fire. I got someone's voicemail when I heard some shouting down the hall, out in the stadium.

I hung up and headed that way.

Karina was in the midst of four men.

"We were here first," one man said, and he had a friend behind him that showed off his strength with a muscle shirt. They stood by some cots.

"Exactly," said another man. He and the man next to him looked like brothers, pretty well-to-do judging from their watches. Their eyes narrowed at the other two men. "You've had plenty of time to get a move on. So move on."

Were they fighting? Over cots?!

"Gentlemen, please," Karina tried to intervene. "We have room for everyone right now, so there's really no need—"

"Hey, I just lost my house," the muscle guy said. I rolled my eyes.

"We all did, you idiot," the two brothers said in near-unison.

"Did you just call me an idiot?"

I could think of worse things to call all of them.

"Yeah, I did." The men started to shove each other, pettily at first. Karina shot me a wild look.

"Everyone, calm down—" she tried to say, but suddenly, the muscle guy swung a punch at the brothers. It took less than a second for all four to get in the thick of it, with Karina caught in the middle.

"Back off!" I yelled, but they were shouting and hitting each other. Karina screamed and ducked out of the way. I grabbed her hand and pulled her further away. The other people were scared or just ticked off. I could see it in their faces. I could just imagine others getting involved, and if they did, we'd have a riot.

I looked around the room for any National Guard to break this up, but didn't see anyone. A gun would have been nice, but probably not the way to go. My eyes fell on a fire extinguisher.

I ran and grabbed it.

Karina was still trying to break things up, but at a distance.

"Stop it! This isn't the place!" Karina shouted.

I pulled the pin on the extinguisher and aimed the attached hose right at the men. I shifted the weight of the extinguisher, and squeezed the lever. The chemicals sprayed out over them.

"Hey!" The men tried to shield their faces. They stopped fighting and turned their backs in my direction. I blanketed them once more before releasing the lever.

"You done?" I said, and I knew I was shouting. "Good."

They coughed and started wiping at the powder covering them. Muscle guy called me something not too nice. I sprayed him with a quick shot of the extinguisher.

"You guys are no longer welcome here," I said. Somehow that sobered them up really quickly.

"Hey, we need help—"

"I don't doubt that," I said sarcastically. Someone in the crowd chuckled. "Everyone here has enough to deal with without you causing trouble. The four of you, leave now, or open wide." I aimed the hose at them.

Slowly, they got moving. The other refugees parted so a clear path emerged for them. I didn't stop glaring at them until they were gone. I looked to Karina.

"Can we get some better security around here?" I asked her. She nodded. Her eyes went to the area I'd sprayed down.

"Wow," she said. I shrugged.

"It put out the fire, didn't it?"

That night, Karina was still in shock of what happened. Sort of.

"I can't believe you did that!" she exclaimed, painting her nails. "That was amazing! I thought they were going to kill each other, maybe me even!" I chuckled.

"It worked better than I thought," I said. I wiggled my toes—I was giving myself a pedicure.

"Yeah, I'll say," she said.

"Was anyone upset by it?" I asked. I knew someone somewhere was unhappy, at least at the Red Cross offices. Karina shrugged.

"If security had been there, it might have been better than a Red Cross worker having to beat those guys down." She giggled. She was still on the high of excitement. "But it won't happen again. I heard so many versions of what happened from all the refugees. This is a legend now. No one's going to step out of line after that."

Great. I pulled up my left pant leg so it wouldn't touch my toes. I started painting that foot, when I noticed how quiet it was. I glanced to Karina. She was staring at my leg.

My leg didn't need any dressings now, but there was a puckered scar over the bullet wound, and it was scabbing too. It was big enough to draw anyone's attention, apparently.

"Is that a . . . gun shot?" she asked. I blinked.

"How would you know what a gun shot looks like?"

She didn't stop staring at my leg. "I was pre-med for awhile. Is it?"

I shrugged. "It's not a big deal."

"Did that happen in Nigeria?" she asked. I hadn't told her about Nigeria but I think there were rumors around the Red Cross office here.

"Just a stray bullet," I said. "It happens more often than you think." I smiled to put her at ease. Then I turned back to my toes, intent on changing the topic before I thought of the whole experience, and thereby Lake--

"Why'd you change from pre-med?" I asked. It distracted Karina enough that I just listened to her talk and concentrated on my toenails.