"Ten minutes till touch down in District 2," the pilot squawks over the intercom speakers. I lean forward against the straps in my seat on the transport, still enjoying the feeling of a shower and a clean uniform. All around I hear the excited chattering of my soldiers as they talk about the first thing they'll do when they get back home, but the only thing I can think of is seeing just two people again.
"How're you doing?" a voice from above me breaks me out of my contemplative trance. I look up to see Bixby, smiling kindly in my direction. It's something I'm still getting used to, but have to admit, is growing on me.
"Fine, Sir," I say leaning back in my seat. "Still a little dehydrated, but pulling through."
"I thought you might say that," he says pulling a canteen of cold water from behind his back and handing it to me.
"Thanks," I say reluctantly taking it from him. I'll never be quite ok with an officer taking care of me, but it's happened a lot in the past few years, and I'll never be able to repay them for it.
"Sit tight, almost there," he says turning back towards the cockpit. "Oh, and by the way, we've all agreed that you'll be the first one off the bird," he says pointing to the other soldiers in the troop compartment.
"But…" I try to get out before he cuts me off.
"No 'buts.' It's not up for debate, Sergeant Major."
"Roger that, Sir," I say returning his grin before he finally turns and leaves.
My mind once again goes back over the events that brought me here. Much more was going on behind the scenes after the hovercraft crash than I could have imagined. My husband was absolutely correct when he told me that night that I'd never be alone.
Ten seconds after he found the bird went down over Tripolitania, Bixby was on the phone with the Chief of the Defense Forces back in the Capitol demanding for reinforcements to go in and search for me. When the Chief told him that I was probably lost and he wouldn't waste the time or resources searching for one person…even if it was me…Bixby hung up the phone. His next call was to General Snow.
An hour after that, with the help of Lieutenant Colonel Amelia Goldflower, Ares had Lizzy and the kids on a train to Peeta and Katniss Mellark in District 12 and he was on a hovercraft bound straight for the Ministry of Defense.
After his arrival in the Capitol, the Chief of the Defense Forces miraculously had a sudden change of heart, and within twenty-four hours, an entire brigade was mobilized and sent to the Mediterranean.
When the reinforcements arrived, Bixby found the crash site, interviewed the locals in the refugee camp, but found out nothing about me. Dismayed, but not defeated, he had the intelligence section scour over hundreds of interviews and reports until he pin-pointed the exact location of the pirates who were responsible. The raid, he finally told me, was not actually a rescue mission as much as it was an attempt to bring the perpetrators to justice. It was serendipitous coincidence that I happened to be in the camp when the hovercraft showed up. Good thing too, or else I'd probably have to start my life over and learn a new language.
After we dropped off Khalid's men at the encampment, Bixby immediately sprang into action once more. I didn't even have to drop a single hint. With Khalid's death, control of the tribe passed to the Council of Elders until a new sheik could be selected. Bixby and I sat down with them in the Council Tent and hammered out an impromptu treaty. In exchange for their help to me, Khalid's tribe would be under the constant protection of the UDP/European Alliance. Weekly food shipments would be sent directly to their location and Bixby even gave them a radio to use to call for help in the event of another bandit attack.
At the conclusion of negotiations, Bixby was prepared to say goodbye, but I was not ready to leave the tribe just yet. There was still one more obligation I had to fulfill. As the sun set over the desert, the funeral mass once again was heard across the sands. Bixby and the rest of my men watched in awe as I joined the tribe in their beautiful prayers. Though it pained me that I could not understand the meaning of their words, I still feel like I felt their message deep down in my heart.
When the time came to lift Khalid's shrouded corpse to his final resting place, I stepped forward as one of the pallbearers and not a single person in the tribe dared to scoff at my gesture. Slowly, we marched the body of the fallen hero to his grave and placed him into the earth right next to his beloved Asma and lost child. Though I tried to fight them back, a few stray tears managed to escape my eyes at the thought of the three of /them, resting forever side by side until the ending of the world.
With the conclusion of the funeral, I thought that it was time to leave, but I surprisingly found myself summoned to the women's tent one final time. As I cautiously stepped through the flap, I saw Khalid's mother, sitting alone, but resolutely inside. She gestured for me to come closer before producing a beautifully carved wooden box. As I sat on the sand next to her, she opened the lid and pulled out something that took my breath away.
It was an intricately woven shawl of bright, vivacious colors, which stood in stark contrast to the muted tones I've grown used to seeing these people wear. It was obviously something that had been passed from generation to generation, covered in detailed embroidery and beadwork that could only have been produced by the hands of a master. As I marveled at its designs, she suddenly placed it gently in my arms.
"Oh no, I couldn't possibly take such an amazing gift…" but a firm shaking of her head soon made me realize that it would be more rude not to accept it. "Thank you…" I said with a heavy heart as it hit just how much suffering this woman has been through. She lost her husband, grandson, daughter-in-law, and now son in span of just a few short years, but still has the tenacity to care so tenderly for someone who she barely knows.
Then, her eyes smiled from behind her veil as she reached back into the box and pulled out a second shawl, identical in design to the first, but half the size. She handed it to me as well, but I looked back at her confused. "What's this for?" I asked surprised at the extra gesture. Khalid's mother then held her arms outward like she was cradling a child before it finally hit me. "Yes," I said holding back grateful tears, "I do have a daughter and I'll make sure she gets this."
Then, in a gesture that will be with me until my last breath, Khalid's mother leaned forward and embraced me as her own. I began to weep once more as Khalid's memory shot back into my mind.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for everything that has happened to your people, but I promise things are going to get better. I swear it." Khalid's mother then released me, leaned back, and nodded as if she could understand my every word. It was then I made an epiphany that I will pass to everyone that will listen: everyone no matter how different, are deep down the same. We experience the same joys, the same pains, and to let a fellow human being suffer out of neglect or fear is a crime that degrades us all…
The Gunslingers and I then headed back to Isla Cartina. The next day, our higher command informed us we would be immediately sent home because the arrival of so many reinforcements. I never got to see the Khalid's tribe again, but I hope they will always remember me, for I will never forget them…
The jolt of the hovercraft's skids touching down on solid earth brings me back to the present. I undo my harness straps and pull myself to my feet as Bixby appears again.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Really, Sir," I say humbly, "I don't need to be the first one off…"
"Go," he says forcefully pointing toward the back ramp. I look down the troop compartment and see the other soldiers nodding in agreement.
"Alright then," I say with a smirk as I put on my beret and grab my duffel bag. "It seems I'm overruled…"
I slowly walk down the troop compartment and stand at the ramp, every muscle in my body tenses with trepidation. Will Clint and Aurora be there? Will they be happy to see me? Will they be angry at my absence? Will they even care that I'm back?
The possibilities are still rolling through my mind as I hear the safety clamps disengage and the back ramp begins to drop. Instantly, the bright sun pours in and I'm blinded by the sight of Fort Sturm's wide-open tarmac. A hundred yards away, barriers have been set up. Behind them, are a thousand cheering family members. Most carry signs and banners emblazoned with "Welcome Home" and "We Love You." I see hundreds of Mockingjay flags waving proudly in the breeze.
I slowly stumble down the ramp of the hovercraft, searching the crowd desperately for the two faces that I long to see most of all. My feet hit concrete and I step out into the sunlight. I keep scanning the front of the crowd until finally, there they are, standing in the very center. Clint holds Aurora in his arms and both their faces light up as our eyes all make contact simultaneously.
Without thinking, I drop my duffle bag to the ground and sprint straight towards them. Clint pushes his way past the barriers and right out onto the tarmac. Then, in a moment of pure bliss, we all fly into each other's arms. Clint's arms hold me tight and I bury my face in Aurora's curls.
"They told us your hovercraft had been shot down and that you were missing," Clint says fighting back his own tears. "I was so scared…"
"Don't, just don't," I say squeezing him and Aurora close to my trembling body. "We're together again and that's all that matters."
Aurora reaches up her little arms and latches onto to my neck with an iron grasp.
"I love you Mommy!" she exclaims covering my face with little kisses.
"Oh my God, I love too, Baby. I love you so much!" The emotion wins out at this point and the tears are streaming down my face. At that sight, Clint can't hold on anymore either and we both stand with our daughter crying right out in the open.
Suddenly, Clint pulls back from me a little and stares over my shoulder. I turn around to see every single Gunslinger, looking at us in silent astonishment. I look back at the crowd of family members and realize that each and every pair of eyes is looking straight at us as well. It has grown so quiet you can even hear the soft breeze rushing past us.
"They're staring at us," Clint says more out of respect for my privacy rather than embarrassment. "Do you want to leave?" he asks nervously. I look back to my soldiers, and then to the crowd, and then down at Aurora's face, still nuzzled to my chest.
"Who cares?" I finally shout out. "Let them stare!" I say pulling them both back close to me. Then I hear the entire crowd begin to roar with thunderous applause, but they're not cheering for just their own soldier anymore. They're cheering for us as well. Cheering at the sight of one family, almost torn apart by tragedy, but brilliantly reunited.