All Quiet On The Home Front

by Jaggeddruid

What happens when someone is pushed to the brink and then beyond? How far should someone go to protect those they care about? How far would you go? What would you do when love and pain becomes one in the same?

5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Three months and one week before the fight.

After Kit's adoption and after the events of "The Extra Son The World Would Never Need".

.

.

.

-Part 1-

"Oh! And The Cyclone! That one was my favorite. Do you remember the sudden drop at the start? Baloo, turn southwest by four degrees. And then there was the Fire Dragon….." Kit was sitting in his designated navigator seat giving Baloo directions in between his rants and raves about the company trip to the theme park in Calisota while Baloo flew the plane with a satisfied smile on his face; clearly delighted to just hear and see his boy happy and carefree for a change. Kit was going on and on and on completely oblivious to the fact that he was talking way too much and asking questions that he wasn't waiting for anyone to answer, something he had never done before, but then again, Kit had never really had the opportunity to be a normal kid before. And then Molly added her two cents to the picture. "My favorite was the house of mirrors. One made me tall, one made me fat, and one had Kit dressed differently." Molly was actively participating in Kit's rants with her own, the two of them having their own free-flowing-silly-contest in the front seat of the plane until Molly had quickly gotten tired and passed out in the chair; Ms. Cunningham taking her to the bed in the back shortly thereafter for a nap. As for Ms. Cunningham, she returned to the cockpit for a moment before deciding to leave the father-son duo to bond, retiring herself to the upper bunk. Baloo just smiled as he flew the Seaduck home and listened as Kit carried on before he too started showing signs of slowing down little by little before falling asleep in his navigator chair with the map in his hands.

Baloo gazed over at his son who only days before had believed he was the unloved and unwanted child of no one. "A lot changes in a week, huh Lil 'britches?" he said to no one as much as himself. Kit had been asleep for about an hour at this point, Molly and Rebecca almost double that. The sun's reflection shined off the ocean like a dark blue crystal as a number of small stray clouds passed by and out of view of the cockpit windows. In the distance Baloo could see Louie's place just appearing on the horizon which was only now just beginning to display the smallest hint of orange and the start of the sunset; they would be there in a quarter of an hour. Baloo reached for his crowbar and placed it under the yoke to prevent it from moving and locked his foot pedals in place thusly activating "autopilot". Baloo was careful not to wake Kit – not yet anyways – as he moved to open the door to the back of the plane to awaken Rebecca and Molly. He pushed the door nearly shut before walking over to the bunks and rubbing Rebecca's arm. "Hay, Becky, we're almost there."

Rebecca inhaled deeply though her nostrils before letting out a long-drawn-out yawn and stretch. "Where are we?"

"About seven minutes out from Louie's. I was just about to wake Molly and Kit. Judgin' the time, I expect we'll arrive just in time for the start of the nightly festivities."

"Terrific, a last-hurrah. I'll wake up Molly, you wake up…" Rebecca's eyes widened with sudden worry, "…uh, Baloo, who is flying the plane?"

"I put it on Autopilot." Stated Baloo casually.

Rebecca relaxed and rubbed her eyes, "Oh, ok. I didn't even know this plane had an autopilot."

"Uh, yeah. Had Wildcat install it years ago." Baloo gave a shy smile to Rebecca that she did not see before making his way back to the cockpit and the still sleeping Kit, shutting the door behind him, disengaging the "autopilot", and hiding the crowbar before sitting back down and tapping Kit's seat. "Hay kiddo, time to wake up, we're just about there."

Kit opened his eyes, looked at Baloo with a mischievous smile and slyly asked, "Did you seriously just tell mom you had the Seaduck on Autopilot?"

"You heard that?!" Baloo stated with minor surprise.

-END Part 1-

.

.

.

-Part 2-

The unorthodox family had returned to Higher for Hire at the end of the evening yesterday. They had their vacation and they had enjoyed their day off much in the same manner. Baloo slept all day in his hammock out on the dock, Molly and Kit, ever full of seemingly infinite energy, played and went swimming in the bay all day with some small naps between the two of them. Wildcat had returned from his romance filled weekend and Rebecca looked at the pile of paperwork on her desk and inspected the mailbox full of letters noticing one letter for an Airman Baloo from some Lieutenant-General; perhaps some old war-buddy. Rebecca considered getting to work but upon observing everyone else enjoying their day off, she placed the mail back where she had found it and decided that for one more day it could all wait. She walked out onto the dock, put up a hammock next to Baloo, kicked off her shoes, and sat.

"Well, I never thought I would see the day that Her Worship would come down from her tower of power and partake in of one of the simpleton pleasures of life." Baloo lifted his hat for clarity and turned his head slightly to better view the rarity in front of him.

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "There is a time and place for everything Baloo" she responded dismissively.

Baloo folded his arms with a side smile, "Don't they call such a place College?"

"You would think so. Sadly, my time in college did not include any of….THIS" she gestured to Baloo, the kids, and the feeling of the area in general. "…not even in the slightest amount." Rebecca kicked off the dock, leaned back and allowed herself to sway back and forth in the hammock. "I think it's about time I have just a small piece of rest and procrastination now and then, wouldn't you agree?" Before Baloo could respond, Rebecca pulled out a bandanna and wrapped it around her eyes, allowing the ocean breeze to blow her hair as it wished as she prepared for a midafternoon nap.

"Without a doubt." Baloo paused considering his next statement. "Ya know Becky, I kinda like this side of you."

Rebecca yawned responding sleepily, "Don't get used to it Baloo, tomorrow its back to the real world. Deliveries starting tonight for you, school for the kids tomorrow, and the mountain of paperwork on the desk for me. But today, well, it's my day off too."

Baloo nodded as he leaned back in his hammock and turned to see the kids in the water before he too decided that the time had come to settle in for another nap. The sun had just begun to move toward the latter part of the day; he estimated there to be only about two hours of daylight left if that. Kit had swum up behind Molly, picked her up, and launched her through the air a few feet before shielding his face from the splash. The scene before Baloo was bittersweet; admittedly more sweet than bitter. As the laughter of the two playing children filled his ears, he could not help but notice the sight of water carving its path between the lash marks that adorned Kit's back from his shoulders to just below the elastic of his bathing suit and from as far left to as far right as possible on his little body, some even wrapping around to the front. Just as the water descended Kit's back and returned into the bay so too did Baloo let such heart wrenching feelings give way to the happy children in front of him. Rebecca's breathing had turned heavy, signifying that she had fallen asleep. Just then Molly took Kit's hand and he pulled her around behind him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held on to his shoulders as he gave her a water-piggyback ride, swimming this way and that, diving beneath only to resurface seconds later. It was clear that Molly no longer thought anything of Kit's scars, they were apart of him just as her ears were a part of her, and so they played with no thought given to yesterday or tomorrow. Baloo closed his eyes and yawned as he decided to do the same.

-END Part 2-

.

.

.

-Part 3-

"The school is providing free lunch for both you and Molly as part of the special event today so no need to take your own, and did you finish your homework?" Ms. Cunningham was going through a mental list of everything that kids need before school. Kit looked at her with a grin on his face as if to say, "Do you even have to ask?" but being the attentive mother she was, she asked anyways even though she already knew the answer. "I know you always do it, but I'm still going to ask."

"Yes mom, I did it and turned it in yesterday before I left." Answered Kit with a tone that carried the unuttered word 'DUH' heavily within the subtext. Kit then slung his backpack around with one arm and took Molly's hand with the other and headed for the door.

"Even the algebra homework…?" Ms. Cunningham cleverly probed.

Kit exhaled out his mouth and inhaled though his nose before answering very quickly, pausing only for a moment after the first word making his response difficult to decipher, "Mom, don'taskquestionsyoudon'twanttheanswerto." Kit started toward the door with Molly in tow before being stopped by a suspicious Ms. Cunningham.

"What was that, Kit?"

Kit smiled and waved as he opened, led Molly through, and shut the door behind him, "Oh nothing, gee, look at the time, we are about to be late for school, gotta go Mom, byyyyyeeeeee." Kit let out a sigh of relief, "Home Free!"

Kit and Molly began their walk to school as they always did. Down the wooden dock and onto the pavement toward Cape Suzette Elementary School. Molly turned and asked, "Kit, I still don't get it. What's algebra?"

-END Part 3-

.

.

.

-Part 4-

Baloo emerged from the restroom, yawned, and eyed Rebecca pinching her nose in between the eyes as if to keep what patience she had from spilling out of her nostrils. "He didn' do 'is algebra homework, did he?"

"No, he did not…as if I had to ask." Rebecca then looked up and turned to Baloo before slapping his shoulder, "You were supposed to make sure he did his homework!"

Baloo jumped with surprise at the harmless slap, "Me?! I wa'n't even 'ere last night; didn' get in 'till late. He was already asleep when I got 'ere. How come you didn' check?"

Rebecca just grimaced at Baloo. She knew he was right, but she wasn't about to admit it, so she changed the subject. "How was the delivery last night?"

"The package was delivered; cash is on yer desk." Baloo pointed over yonder to the office area.

"Any incursions with Pirates or other detours made?" In the past Rebecca wouldn't have expected Baloo to come straight home after his deliveries, but what with Baloo being a parent now and Kit home alone, even if he was asleep, she now accepted that it could be a possibility.

Baloo was a little more serious in answering than normal. Call it fatigue from last night or just his typical demeanor. "No pirates, but I had to make a stop on the way at Louie's for a while to rest…"

"And there it is. Same old Baloo. No matter that he has a kid at home waiting on him, stopping for a party at Louie's was more important than…" Rebecca's thoughts of assumptions came to a stop once Baloo finished his sentence.

"…I just couldn't fly anymore like I normally do."

This unexpected move was minorly concerning and she needed to know more. Rebecca turned around with a serious face. "Baloo, tell me more, do not leave any detail out."

Baloo was surprised at this reaction. "It's no big deal, really, this sort of thing has happened before, but I just thought I would be fine after a good night's sleep." Baloo yawned again. "I guess my gettin' home late robbed me of that 'good night'.

Rebecca authoritatively insisted, "Baloo, I need you to tell me EVERYTHING. I do not say this often, but this is an order!"

Baloo placed his hands up bent at the elbows with the elbows still down, palms out defensively, "Okay, okay, Yer Majesty. No need to get in a tizzy." Baloo yawned again before continuing; a detail that did not go unnoticed by Rebecca. "A falling box hit the back of my head and knocked me over as I was making my way out of the warehouse after making the delivery. I thought it was nothing but about an hour after I left, I started to get a headache and by the time I came in range of Louie's my head was just pounding somethin' awful like never before. I don't know if I'm just getting older or what. But after a small nap in the back of the Seaduck an a small basket of fries at Louie's, I flew home. I still had the headache, but it was not nearly as bad."

"Then what happened?" Rebecca asked, listening intently to and writing down every idle word; having since grabbed a notepad.

"Well, I landed the plane, and then I woke up this morning to the kid changing clothes and getting ready for school. Say, why do you want to know all this?" Baloo scratched his head but recoiled upon making contact with a surprisingly tender spot.

Rebecca pointed to Baloo's head with her pen, "That's why Baloo. This could just be nothing and let's hope it is, let's hope that when you go to sleep tonight it goes away on its own and you are fine tomorrow, but if it's not, I have a record of it, and we can turn this in and file for government funded workman's compensation."

Baloo stared at Rebecca cluelessly, and Rebecca once again sensed the question; should she be surprised or have expected any less? "Workman's Comp is basically money you are paid when you get hurt on the job; it pays your medical bills. And because of the way I have this business set up, ours is government funded. I have to pay for the coverage and the payout is less than the standard private option, but it is something that we can afford and…" Rebecca could clearly see she was over Baloo's head, she had a habit of going too far into detail; all the effort and extra reading she had put in at college had clearly paid off. "…Basically Baloo, you get hurt, we both get a small paycheck until you get better."

"So, yer hopin' I'm hurt?" Baloo started to feel offended but wanted to be sure before jumping to conclusions.

"Definitely not Baloo. You, Kit, myself, and the Business all make more money with you healthy. But if you do end up in the hospital, then we will all be guaranteed a small sum of funds to, 'get by' if you catch my drift; and I do mean 'get by'. Besides, I am in no hurry to be a single parent to a soon-to-be teenage boy." Baloo felt comforted after the explanation and Rebecca was going to file the report that she was sure would not go anywhere when a sudden thought occurred to her. "Uh, Baloo, you said that you landed the plane and that the next thing you remember you said you woke up to Kit getting dressed. What do you remember in between landing the plane and going to sleep?"

"I don't. I landed the plane an then the next thing I knew, it was morning. Why is this a problem? There were times before I knew you an Kit when Wildcat and I would come home after having a few too many and not being able to remember parts of the night." Baloo yawned and put his hand to his forehead and began to rub it.

"Baloo, did you have any drinks at Louie's last night?" Rebecca was no longer innocently asking, she was interrogating. This was becoming serious. Headaches, memory loss, continued head pain, what else was there? She hoped that alcohol was not about to be added to the list of contributing factors.

"I do not drink and Fly Becky, not anymore. Not since The War. I am not about to risk my boy over a bottle of booze."

"But you have flown in the past while inebriated….eh, drunk?" Rebecca raised an eyebrow questioning her trust of the man in front of her. Her mind began to race and her mouth with it. "Baloo, I knew you were not the most responsible person before we met, but of all the irresponsible, reckless, endangering things….I mean, to not be at the top of your abilities when lives are in your hands…Have you ever been drunk around Kit or Molly? Have you ever put my life or theirs at risk? Have you picked smoking back up too? How can I even trust your answer now?"

Baloo was aggrieved by the accusations and felt but a fragment of something that he had long thought he had left behind rise within him. "Rebecca!" Baloo stated using her formal name with a raised voice and justified seriousness, "I did many things during The War that I don't often want to talk about that I haven't done since. I was a sixteen-year-old kid the day The War broke out, the next day I was handed a pair of boots and a gun and was sent off to a vacation in a foreign land. I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, and so I voluntarily enlisted, I lied about my age, and for the next four and a half years I flew into a warzone day after day, night after night. Every single time before we took off from the runway, we would all look at each other and silently wonder to ourselves which one of our friends would not make it home. The trenches meant death but flying above them wasn't much better. Sometimes we were assigned to a single engine fighter, other times a multi-engine bomber, and one time I made a crash landing just outside of the Battle of Dale's Passion in 1917 and was once again pressed into service on the front line where I charged and I fought and I killed and I shot in the mud and the guts and the blood; I was nineteen years old; hardly a man." Baloo paused for a moment and swallowed before continuing. "Becky, sometimes a hard bottle of liquid-motivation passed around the squadron was necessary for us to function; it calmed the nerves, stopped the shakes, and allowed us to hold the plane steady and a gun straight, it allowed us to pull the trigger so that we could…" Baloo was on the verge of tears, the roars of the sky-high battles and the screams of the frontline returning fresh as if he were still there in an instant; his hands began to shake ever so slightly. But he swallowed and pushed the memories and emotions down just like he pushed them down back then, and he continued. "…so that we could do what needed to be done."

Rebecca noticed Baloo was no longer making eye contact, he had become lost within his own mind as he told his tale, had he never spoken of his experiences before? For someone so proud, how could he, unlike so many others, have been unwilling to brag of his exploits during the war? She just watched him in silence for a moment as he played out whatever was going on in his head. He was looking at his hands as he told her the story. It was as if they were wrapped around the neck of an imaginary enemy, as if Baloo was still fighting for his life, as if he were attempting to choke the enemy to death lest he succumb to the same fate should he dare show mercy.

Baloo was picturing the face of a boy soldier much too young for battle, not too many years older than Kit was now, not many years younger than Baloo was then. As clearly as he saw Rebecca in front of him, he saw the fear carved out upon the Houndland boy's face as suddenly he discovered that he would never get any older, that his whole life was now behind him, and only the end was yet ahead. He remembered the light of youthful life fading in his eyes as his hands crushed his windpipe and his claws pierced his jugular forcing ruby streams of warm blood to trickle over his dirt caked knuckles and wrists while shells bombarded the fields in the distance that once were green, raping the landscape, leaving craters as deep as swimming pools, transforming tranquil meadows into swampy quagmires full of devouring flee infested mud, tangled up rusted and razor-sharp barbed wire, and the broken promises of those forever silent soldiers who won't be coming home.

"You know Rebecca, they never speak about what happens at the very end. Sure, they will tell tales of heroism and bravery and sacrifice; parades and memorials are full of that sort of thing because people who don't know better will pay to see and hear it. But they never tell you how they all shit themselves in the final seconds. In the last moments how, once they realized that the knife has found its mark or that the bullet has hit its target, those subtle seconds when full grown men turn back into scared little boys as they cry out and beg for their mothers with their final breaths…or how some of those boys were much too young to carry a gun or wear a soldier's uniform."

Baloo stopped speaking for a moment, he continued to look at his hands though Rebecca was sure he was seeing something else entirely. Rebecca noticed that Baloo was shaking so violently he might as well have been shivering in the bitter cold. Though captivated by his story she continued to record everything he said and all she observed on her notepad including his suddenly and surprisingly improved vocabulary and elocution. Had Baloo been in his right mind surly he would have answered her drinking and flying question by simply stating "no", but yet he went on a total rant as well as suffering through a fit of nostalgia; or Shell Shock as it was now more commonly referred. She had no idea he was suffering with such an affliction; or was he? Was this a side effect of his supposed injury? Was his speaking like an uneducated hick a coping mechanism? Before she could continue to develop a hypothesis for Baloo's current state, she was interrupted by him speaking to her once again, and this time he made eye contact.

"Rebecca, compared to the war and the swarming barrages of machine gun fire we had to outmaneuver in the air and the many times I was sent to the front line, what the amateur Sky-Pirates throw at me with their little spray of below-grade bullets is nothing. Why do you think I am so calm when Kit and I have an encounter? Why do you think Kit is so calm?" Baloo paused for a moment, reflecting on the similarities between Kit and himself. "He and I really are a pair, Becky. I was a soldier; he was a pirate and a whipping-slave. I fought through Hell, but he survived it. Sure, for four and a half years I fought battle after battle both in the clouds and in the mud, but I was granted leave here and there and had the sanctuary of the airfield in between missions. Kit had no such respite, and his old wounds are much greater and more recent than my own." Baloo paused for a moment, but Rebecca continued to write down everything Baloo was saying before looking up at Baloo once he resumed talking. "I should have been there for him. I wasn't quick enough, I wasn't…..did I not care? Was I so drunk that I enjoyed it? Did I enjoy it? The kid would have killed me had I not stopped."

As Baloo was carrying on with nonsense Rebecca looked up at him clearly confused, "What are talking about Baloo, you are not making any sense." She was ignored. Baloo was no longer there, not mentally. He did not know what year it was; he did not know where he was, and did not know how old he was, and he did not hear Rebecca or even know who she was.

Flashes of the past from The War entered Baloo's mind alongside the imagined images of Kit suffering aboard the Iron Vulture in a montage of flack and dogfights, corpses half swallowed by mud, cannon fire, and rivers of blood running through the trenches and then running down his son's naked back once he had passed out after Don Karnage had finished with him yet again. Baloo had now dropped to the ground on all fours, hyperventilating and from Rebecca's perspective, he was clearly distraught and disoriented. The images of the two events repeated themselves and swirled within Baloo's head as one memory and illusion of the past and present merged with another in a tempest of flashbacks until he saw himself once more on the front line of a war that never ends. He was in a fist fight and was now using his body to pin the enemy of the now long dead boy soldier to the ground. Only, it wasn't that boy soldier. Instead, he now saw Kit, with his face and hands stained with mud and gunpowder dressed in the uniform of a Central Powers Houndland Infantryman. Baloo continued the fight and was winning. He covered his son's mouth with his hand so that he could not scream as he reached for his dagger but found what he perceived to be an empty sheath, so he changed his strategy. He felt Kit's mouth moving but no words came out. He saw Kit start to panic as his eyes darted back and forth between Baloo's face and hands; he was powerless to offer any resistance against the much larger Bear. His eyes begged for life as he felt Baloo place his hands on either side of his head and just as Baloo was about to press his thumbs into Kit's eyes to pop the sockets Baloo suddenly recognized what he was about to do and who he was about to hurt. Something was wrong, out of place. Kit shouldn't be here; he shouldn't even be born yet. But here he was, Baloo's opponent in the Battle of Dale's Passion. And then in a sudden instant, Higher for Hire returned to focus, and Kit was suddenly gone.

Rebecca was observing this all play out in the living room of Higher for Hire having no idea what was going on. To her all she saw was a full-grown bear wrestle with an imaginary figure and then watch as the struggle moved to the ground. Baloo reached for some tool on the back of his belt and fingered his back pocket before returning to grab what looked like an invisible ball in front of him and just before he placed his thumbs upon it, Baloo suddenly jumped up and stepped backwards a few steps with tears in his eyes as if he was begging for absolution from an unforgivable crime.

"I'M SORRY KIT! I didn't mean…I would never hurt….you were the enemy, I had to…..why were you wearing that?!" Just then Baloo fell back to the ground, vomited, slumped over on his side, and passed out.

-END CHAPTER 4-