The Long Journey Home

11: We don't always get to say goodbye

[ Chapter notes: TFATWS 1x04 continued mild episode departure ]

           You wait for another caravan to roll past. They stir up more of the dust that had just started to settle. As they drive on, you look to see if the uniforms of the weary soldiers within are ones you recognize, hoping for a glimpse of the insignia of the Sokovian armed forces to match the last thing you saw Baron Zemo wearing.

          They don't.

          Larger vehicles have forged a path through the debris field that yesterday served as a pedestrian corridor and park, a patch of green in the city. It isn't green anymore. The noise drowns out the sobs of the living until the convoy passes through, headed further in. Then you pray for the next tank, or helicopter - anything but the terror that refuses to give up its hold on your city. The sporadic WHUMP of another structure giving up, crashing down to create another rolling plume of dust, feels like the city's dying breaths.

          How can it be, this scarred scene you're seeing is Sokovia?

          You look up as another low flying machine THUMP THUMP THUMPS overhead, blinking away the dust and tears kicked up by its rotors. The hazy memory of a distracted afternoon refuses to be called forward, a day with Carl sitting in your lap with his father holding up a picture book giving a makeshift lesson on how to identify helicopters by look – or by sound.

          There's a swatch of red on the side, a familiar symbol that now carries the weight of hope for thousands. It does not stop. You wonder if they're struggling for a place to land.

          A scream breaks you out of your fugue, punctuated by a rumbling crunching boom, rocks those not in shock. The ground vibrates beneath your feet from the impact. Those able and alert enough turn and start running. Some towards – some away.

          Judgement is for those not there.

*

          You wake to the sounds of morning movement in the residence, the scent of coffee and something baking in the air. A thump and muffled curse resound closer, and you realize Helmut is already up and out of bed. You stretch as you turn to locate him, doing what you can to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that thankfully hadn't roused you the same way the nightmare had the night before.