Homecoming - Book 2: Twenty-One Guns - When It's Time to Live and Let Die
Title: Homecoming - Book 2 - Twenty-one Guns
Author: escapes
Artist: solostrightnow
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own them, just the order the words are strung together in.
Characters/Pairings: luke/noah
Word Count: book 2: 26k plus Total: 60k
Warnings:You are going to have to trust me. Be warned that there is angst. Lots of it. i can't give you more without completely ruinding the story.
Spoilers: None
Summary:Sometimes the hardest battle in the war is finding your way back home.
Author’s Notes: Thanks for all your patience as I finished. In the course of writing this, I started a new job in a city an hour and a half away from where I live and I've been doing the worlds slowest move on record on my days off. And there was a trip and other stuff in there, so just...thanks for not yelling at me to get it done. Well, much anyway. =)
Special thanks to noelleleithefor the betas. I appreciate so much you managed it in the midst of everything else you have going on.
Link to Story Master Post: Book One
Link to Art Master Post: Click here for the awesome
The next morning he's dressed in his service uniform, complete with his ribbons and medals over his breast pocket. He looks down at them, the metal glinting in the dawn light, and is glad that he doesn't have to wear them all that often. He can shake the tag of being a survivor of the Morqor Massacre, as it had become known in the media, but wearing the combat medal for it doesn't give him that anonymity among his fellow soldiers anymore.
When his transport comes, he has to stop himself from loading his bags into the car himself. He'd learned from Gerard that you let the transport people do their thing, or you risk them becoming offended at the implication they can't do their duties correctly. Settling into the front seat, he accepts the folder that the soldier gives him, filled with print outs of itineraries and vouchers to be exchanged for tickets to each of his flights.
He's been scheduled on a transport plane that's flying into Dover A.F.B. for his first leg, and by lunchtime, he's sitting at quiet and somber table with 9 other men and one woman. There isn't much conversation, just a general greeting as each new person sits down. One lunch is finished, they're escorted to the Charles C. Carson Center for Mortuary Affairs, where Noah and the other newly arrived people are brought into a conference room for orientation on their duties as an Escort.
There were practical things like making sure the body is always loaded into the plane a certain way, to the protocol for rendering honors at each transfer point and keeping the personal effects of the soldier you're escorting with you at all times. Once they're through their session, they're brought into the waiting area for their soldier to be ready.
With each departure, they're brought to the front of the building and formed into lines as all of the workers from the mortuary stand behind them and honors are rendered with a slow salute as the transport vehicle with the body and its escort are driven by on their way off of the base.
Over and over names are called, but never Noah's. As they come back from another departure, Noah goes for a walk down the corridor of the building and stops in surprise when he comes to what looks like a tailoring shop being run with military efficiency and precision. The workers, both male and female, are piecing together uniforms, and Noah sees them looking up often at examples from every line of service that are displayed at the front of the room.
"Bet you didn't know soldiers could sew."
Noah jumps a little and turns to see a petite blond at his side, dressed in a plain black t-shirt and the camouflage pants from a combat uniform. He shakes his head. "No, I just figured the Army shipped all of the uniform making out to a company somewhere."
She smiles and takes a sip of the bottle of soda in her hand. "These are special uniforms with special requirements. Our job is to make sure our fallen soldiers are buried in their dress uniforms and depending on circumstances, sometimes that takes some tailoring to accomplish." She holds out her hand. "Colonel Lewis."
"Corporal Noah Mayer, ma'am." He salutes quickly and then shakes her hand with his own, still not used to giving out his new rank, even after nearly nine months with it.
She looks at him for a second as she's shaking his hand, frowning a little. "That name sounds familiar. Have you done escort duty before?"
Shaking his head, Noah looks through the window into the tailoring area again. "This is my first time here physically, but my name has been in this building before."
He looks back towards her as her eyes widen a little and her gaze flickers down to the medals, zeroing in on the one commemorating Moqor. "Now I remember. Not many of these," she points at the medal she'd been looking at, "are above ground."
Noah swallows and nods, not sure what to say to that.
Putting her hand into her pocket, Colonel Lewis pulls out a card and hands it to Noah. "You probably already have some of these given to you, but this guy is good and ex-military."
Noah takes the card and looks down to see the name of a psychologist. "Thank you, but I…"
She holds up her hand and stops Noah's flow of words. "Escort duty is a lot more difficult than it seems. Just keep it in case you need it."
Noah nods as she finishes up her bottle of soda and drops it in the recycle bin beside the machine. "Safe journey, Corporal Mayer. Please give my condolences to the family of your soldier."
"Will do. Thank you, ma'am."
He makes it back to the waiting area just as another escort’s name is called and they're moved outside again. The room is down to just a few of them and the end of the day is drawing near when the officer that had been calling their names all day comes in and calls Noah's name.
Standing up and grabbing his bag, he walks the few feet to the other man and notices a woman standing next to him. She smiles a little apologetically at him. "Corporal Mayer, we've taken a lot of casualties this week. I'm afraid your soldier won't be ready for departure until tomorrow."
He feels a little disappointed that he won't be leaving today, but he'd rather have things done right for everyone in Oakdale than rushed. Giving a nod of understanding, Noah looks at the others in the room. "Are any more leaving today? If so, I'll stay to render honors until you're done for the day."
She smiles at him and nods. "There will be two more leaving within the hour. Thank you for your courtesy, Corporal Mayer."
The next time the small group of escorts and the staff of the building all assemble in the front of the building for honors, Noah takes a moment to look around and notices the grounds crew are putting their ball caps back on after putting them over their hearts as the transport vehicle drove by. Turning his head he sees soldiers from other buildings across the street breaking formation and returning back to their duties. It tightens his chest with pride that every soldier that leaves here is treated with so much honor.
Once the last Escort has left for the day, Noah follows another transport specialist to his bunk for the night, doing sit ups until he's exhausted and his body is aching for rest.
The next day, he's the second name called for departure and brought to a small room where the Sergeant waiting inside for him has a cloth bag with the insignia of the Army on the front of it. "These are the personal effects of your soldier. You are to keep these in your custody at all times, until they are presented to the family. We are going to go through the items now and I'll need you to initial beside each item on the list that you have received them."
Noah nods in understanding, taking the list and pen from the other man.
"One gold chain with St. Christopher and St. Francis of Assisi medals on it. One watch. One laminated photograph."
Noah looks up and sees himself, Luke, Casey and other people he recognizes in the background looking up at him.
"Do you need a moment?"
Noah looks up, surprised. "No. I didn't know he carried this with him." He reaches out and touches it, flipping it over to look for a date of when it was taken and finds another picture on the back that was undoubtedly family. Putting it back down, he checks it off on the list. "Go ahead."
The other man nods and pulls out a rubber banded stack of paper, slightly stained with what looks like blood and dirt. "Personal letters."
Noah can see part of a signature on one of them and feels his heart stutter, a question he'd been thinking about answered. He forces his hand to be steady as he makes the check mark beside its listing.
The last item pulled out are dog tags, cleaned and shining on a ball chain. He looks at them and feels the weight of his own around his neck as the knowledge that his own name being in this building before him had come down to a set of switched dog tags. He doesn't want to, but he has to say it. "He's been absolutely confirmed to be the right person with the right tags?"
The soldier looks up in surprise and Noah and then to the medal on one side his chest and the visitor’s badge on the other with his full name and rank. The soldier's eyes widen for a second and then he nods. "Yes. He was identified in the field, at Ramstein and then again when he was delivered here. The numbers coming out of Moqor had Ramstein identification moved over to us, which was unfortunate. Changes were put in place after that error, Corporal Mayer. No one wants that happening again."
Noah nods and signs off on the personal effects, handing the list back to the soldier. "I had to ask. Oakdale is home to me and I don't want to bring any more pain with me than I need to. They're going through enough."
The soldier hands him a copy of the inventory and Noah tucks it inside the folder he'd been given. He hands Noah a folded flag sealed in plastic. "The family has asked that another flag be presented during burial, so that will be in your custody as well until it's turned over to the family. If you'll follow me, Corporal, we'll get you to the loading area."
Noah takes the bag of effects and carefully tucks it inside his own bag and follows the other man out of the room and down the corridor to the outside. There another soldier in black shirt and combat fatigue pants is waiting for him with another folder. "Corporal Mayer, the mortuary specialists did their best, however, these remains are not recommended for viewing. It's been our privilege to have him in our care." Noah nods and accepts the folder, putting it into his bag with the other one and following both of them to the vehicle where a large, long box is loaded three quarters of the way into the back of the vehicle. "Corporal, I need you to verify that the label on the box is the name of the soldier you are escorting."
Noah looks at the label and reads the name and rank information. "It is."
The other man nods and both he and the driver push the box in the vehicle the full way and shut the door once it's inside.
The driver nods at Noah and gives him the okay to get into the passenger seat as he signs them out of Dover's care. Noah situates his bag at his feet and the seatbelt around him as the driver finishes his paperwork and gets into his seat.
They start moving forward at a slow pace around the front of the building and Noah sees all of that day's escorts out front rendering honors and suddenly knows why all of the other escorts had chosen to face forwards. The wave of emotion that hits you as the soldier you are escorting is honored is almost a physical force and nearly impossible to face into without emotion.
The ride to the airport is quiet and for that Noah is thankful. He is grateful for the time to let everything he'd learned and seen over the past two days settle a little and find a way to be reconciled in his mind.
Once they pull into the cargo area of the airport, Noah gets out of the car as the driver walks up to the loading bay and shakes the hand of the manager. Within a minute, six workers are assembled and the driver is nodding over the box carrying the remains. "Whenever you're ready, Corporal."
Noah stands at attention and renders a slow salute as the box is unloaded from the car and onto a baggage wagon on the loading dock. Slowly lowering his salute, he sees that everything has come to a standstill around the loading bay, couriers in the middle of loading their trucks, handlers driving by with loaded wagons of baggage, they'd all stopped and stood silently with heads bowed while the remains he is escorting are wheeled inside of the cargo building to wait for the plane they'd both be taking to be loaded.
Once the box disappears off of the loading bay, the hum of activity starts up again and Noah is left standing there as the driver signs off on the delivery of the remains to the airline's baggage handlers, surprised at how many ordinary people had stopped what they were doing to honor a fallen soldier they didn't even know.
Noah is brought out of his thoughts by the driver telling him that he'll be dropped off at the departure gate for the airline, so he can exchange his voucher for his flight ticket, which Dover has already arranged for him.
Within a few minutes, he's standing at the ticket area facing a cheerful ticket agent. "Welcome, sir. You can either get into line for the ticket counter or if you have your confirmation printed out, you can scan it at one of the booths."
Noah reaches inside of his bag and pulls out the voucher. "I have a voucher that I'm supposed to give you."
Noah knows the moment she knows what he's there for. Her eyes blink and shine with sympathy as she raises the radio to her mouth. "Maria, I have an escort."
The words have barely left her mouth, before another woman is standing beside him. He assumes it's Maria. "If you'll follow me, sir, I'll get you checked in."
Noah follows her, feeling the eyes of the people in the line watching him as he's walked up to a closed wicket and checked in.
After taking his voucher, Maria hands him his boarding passes. "I have you booked through to Chicago and I've upgraded you to First Class on us. You have one stop in Detroit and then onto O'Hare. You should be arriving in Chicago just after 2 p.m."
Noah takes the passes with surprise. "I appreciate that. Are you sure it's not inconveniencing someone else?"
She smiles at him a little. "I'd hate to have you saluting with bruised knees and a hunched back. Thank you so much for your service, Corporal Mayer."
Noah just nods, not sure what to say to that. Is 'you're welcome' correct or do you get into that awkward thank you for thanking me back and forth? When on official duty, he'd learned when you don't know what to do, silence and nodding will get you though almost any situation.
Taking his suit bag and the leather lawyer type bag that had been assigned to him when he'd started working for Major McLane, he walks to the security check point and gets into line.
Once he's made it to the front of the line, he hands over his boarding passes to the TSA agent and he motions for another agent to step forward. "If you'll follow this agent, he'll bring you to a private area where we can wand you and have you on your way within a few minutes."
Noah follows, grateful he's been spared the argument about taking off his uniform jacket and denigrating the uniform by putting it through the scanner.
True to their word, he's on his way again a few minutes later, an airport worker waiting to escort him to the gate he'll be boarding at. "A baggage handler will come to get you when we're ready to load your soldier." He points towards a door off to the side of the closed walkway to the plane. "He'll be coming through here, so if you have to move around, just make sure you're within sight of this door."
Noah nods and the worker leaves him. Reaching inside the bag, he takes out the cloth bag of effects and feels the weight of it in his hands, reaching inside for the picture and stack of letters.
He looks down at the picture first and smiles a little. They all look like babies in it. It's hard to believe it had only been taken two years ago. He traces the faces of both Luke and himself, seeing the connection between them, even though they were facing the camera and not each other.
Putting the picture back in the bag, he runs his fingertip over the stack of letters and a familiar name in familiar handwriting. His chest aches as he looks at it and he puts it back inside the bag again and he puts the bag inside of his own again.
Looking around at the growing crowd in the waiting area, Noah sees a small head and two brown eyes looking over the back of a chair at him. The boy looks so much like Ethan that he smiles and the little boy ducks back under the edge of the seat back, only to pop up again a second later, too curious to stay hidden. Noah waves at him and down he goes again, then a hand slowly raises over the back of the seat and waves back. Noah is still chuckling when he feels a presence at his side.
Turning, he sees the blue uniform and reflective vest of a baggage handler. "Excuse me, sir. Are you the escort?"
When Noah nods, he continues. "I'm here to bring you down to watch the loading."
Noah stands and grabs his bags, handing them off to the boarding agent to keep at her desk until he's back in the waiting area. Following the baggage handler down a set of stairs, he walks out onto the tarmac and follows his guide to the base of the baggage loading ramp. "We're going to wait right here, he's coming around."
The baggage vehicle rounds the front of the plane and makes a wide arc, reversing back towards the ramp and stopping about five feet away from them.
Noah steps towards the box. "I need to verify it's him."
The handler makes a go ahead motion with his hand. "Go ahead. Let us know when you're ready."
Noah looks at the label and around the box, making sure the bindings are still tight and secure. He checks the label one more time and then looks up and nods.
While he'd been inspecting the box, handlers from the other planes nearby had left their posts and were heading to their gate. Four of them help turn the luggage wagon and lift the box onto the ramp as Noah walks a few steps away from the ramp and stands at the ready.
He watches as the other handlers and more than one pilot are standing in roughly assembled lines, ball caps or hands at their hearts as Noah executes a slow salute as the box rolls up the ramp beside him and into the cargo hold of the plane.
Once he's finished rendering honors, he glances up at the windows that face the tarmac and sees the little boy he'd waved at earlier and behind him a crowd assembled there, men with their hands over their hearts and women with their heads bowed in respect.
He looks down at the handlers and pilots and thanks them as they all go back to their duties. The same handler that brought him down to the tarmac brings him back up to the waiting area and returns his bags to him. "Have a safe journey, sir."
Noah smiles. "Thank you for all your help."
The handler smiles back. "It was my honor. I was U.S.M.C. Semper Fi."
Noah nods and watches him walk down to the tarmac and onto the next plane that needed to be loaded.
Once they're boarded on the plane, Noah is thankful he's next to a business man that seems content to read the his financial newspaper and sip at the scotch he'd ordered when the attendant had been by.
He pulls out the paperwork that had been handed to him throughout the day and organizes it, filling in his own time logs of the journey so far. Once he's finished, he puts everything away, feeling for the cloth of the effects bag and making sure it's still there.
Sitting back in the seat, he jumps a little when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Turning his head, he sees the attendant that had taken his suit bag and hung it up in the attendants coat closet for him when he'd boarded. She reaches across his now sleeping seat-mate and drops something into Noah's hand. "Please tell the family that we are thinking about them and praying for them."
He looks down into his hand and sees a rosary sitting there, the beads worn from use. Closing his fingers around it, he looks up at her. "I will. Thank you."
She pats Noah's hand with a sympathetic smile and is gone again before he can say another word. He keeps it in his hand for the rest of the flight, his fingers worrying over the beads as he thinks, like hers must have over the years.
It's a Long, Long Road, From Which There Is No Return
Author: escapes
Artist: solostrightnow
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own them, just the order the words are strung together in.
Characters/Pairings: luke/noah
Word Count: book 2: 26k plus Total: 60k
Warnings:You are going to have to trust me. Be warned that there is angst. Lots of it. i can't give you more without completely ruinding the story.
Spoilers: None
Summary:Sometimes the hardest battle in the war is finding your way back home.
Author’s Notes: Thanks for all your patience as I finished. In the course of writing this, I started a new job in a city an hour and a half away from where I live and I've been doing the worlds slowest move on record on my days off. And there was a trip and other stuff in there, so just...thanks for not yelling at me to get it done. Well, much anyway. =)
Special thanks to noelleleithefor the betas. I appreciate so much you managed it in the midst of everything else you have going on.
Link to Story Master Post: Book One
Link to Art Master Post: Click here for the awesome
The next morning he's dressed in his service uniform, complete with his ribbons and medals over his breast pocket. He looks down at them, the metal glinting in the dawn light, and is glad that he doesn't have to wear them all that often. He can shake the tag of being a survivor of the Morqor Massacre, as it had become known in the media, but wearing the combat medal for it doesn't give him that anonymity among his fellow soldiers anymore.
When his transport comes, he has to stop himself from loading his bags into the car himself. He'd learned from Gerard that you let the transport people do their thing, or you risk them becoming offended at the implication they can't do their duties correctly. Settling into the front seat, he accepts the folder that the soldier gives him, filled with print outs of itineraries and vouchers to be exchanged for tickets to each of his flights.
He's been scheduled on a transport plane that's flying into Dover A.F.B. for his first leg, and by lunchtime, he's sitting at quiet and somber table with 9 other men and one woman. There isn't much conversation, just a general greeting as each new person sits down. One lunch is finished, they're escorted to the Charles C. Carson Center for Mortuary Affairs, where Noah and the other newly arrived people are brought into a conference room for orientation on their duties as an Escort.
There were practical things like making sure the body is always loaded into the plane a certain way, to the protocol for rendering honors at each transfer point and keeping the personal effects of the soldier you're escorting with you at all times. Once they're through their session, they're brought into the waiting area for their soldier to be ready.
With each departure, they're brought to the front of the building and formed into lines as all of the workers from the mortuary stand behind them and honors are rendered with a slow salute as the transport vehicle with the body and its escort are driven by on their way off of the base.
Over and over names are called, but never Noah's. As they come back from another departure, Noah goes for a walk down the corridor of the building and stops in surprise when he comes to what looks like a tailoring shop being run with military efficiency and precision. The workers, both male and female, are piecing together uniforms, and Noah sees them looking up often at examples from every line of service that are displayed at the front of the room.
"Bet you didn't know soldiers could sew."
Noah jumps a little and turns to see a petite blond at his side, dressed in a plain black t-shirt and the camouflage pants from a combat uniform. He shakes his head. "No, I just figured the Army shipped all of the uniform making out to a company somewhere."
She smiles and takes a sip of the bottle of soda in her hand. "These are special uniforms with special requirements. Our job is to make sure our fallen soldiers are buried in their dress uniforms and depending on circumstances, sometimes that takes some tailoring to accomplish." She holds out her hand. "Colonel Lewis."
"Corporal Noah Mayer, ma'am." He salutes quickly and then shakes her hand with his own, still not used to giving out his new rank, even after nearly nine months with it.
She looks at him for a second as she's shaking his hand, frowning a little. "That name sounds familiar. Have you done escort duty before?"
Shaking his head, Noah looks through the window into the tailoring area again. "This is my first time here physically, but my name has been in this building before."
He looks back towards her as her eyes widen a little and her gaze flickers down to the medals, zeroing in on the one commemorating Moqor. "Now I remember. Not many of these," she points at the medal she'd been looking at, "are above ground."
Noah swallows and nods, not sure what to say to that.
Putting her hand into her pocket, Colonel Lewis pulls out a card and hands it to Noah. "You probably already have some of these given to you, but this guy is good and ex-military."
Noah takes the card and looks down to see the name of a psychologist. "Thank you, but I…"
She holds up her hand and stops Noah's flow of words. "Escort duty is a lot more difficult than it seems. Just keep it in case you need it."
Noah nods as she finishes up her bottle of soda and drops it in the recycle bin beside the machine. "Safe journey, Corporal Mayer. Please give my condolences to the family of your soldier."
"Will do. Thank you, ma'am."
He makes it back to the waiting area just as another escort’s name is called and they're moved outside again. The room is down to just a few of them and the end of the day is drawing near when the officer that had been calling their names all day comes in and calls Noah's name.
Standing up and grabbing his bag, he walks the few feet to the other man and notices a woman standing next to him. She smiles a little apologetically at him. "Corporal Mayer, we've taken a lot of casualties this week. I'm afraid your soldier won't be ready for departure until tomorrow."
He feels a little disappointed that he won't be leaving today, but he'd rather have things done right for everyone in Oakdale than rushed. Giving a nod of understanding, Noah looks at the others in the room. "Are any more leaving today? If so, I'll stay to render honors until you're done for the day."
She smiles at him and nods. "There will be two more leaving within the hour. Thank you for your courtesy, Corporal Mayer."
The next time the small group of escorts and the staff of the building all assemble in the front of the building for honors, Noah takes a moment to look around and notices the grounds crew are putting their ball caps back on after putting them over their hearts as the transport vehicle drove by. Turning his head he sees soldiers from other buildings across the street breaking formation and returning back to their duties. It tightens his chest with pride that every soldier that leaves here is treated with so much honor.
Once the last Escort has left for the day, Noah follows another transport specialist to his bunk for the night, doing sit ups until he's exhausted and his body is aching for rest.
The next day, he's the second name called for departure and brought to a small room where the Sergeant waiting inside for him has a cloth bag with the insignia of the Army on the front of it. "These are the personal effects of your soldier. You are to keep these in your custody at all times, until they are presented to the family. We are going to go through the items now and I'll need you to initial beside each item on the list that you have received them."
Noah nods in understanding, taking the list and pen from the other man.
"One gold chain with St. Christopher and St. Francis of Assisi medals on it. One watch. One laminated photograph."
Noah looks up and sees himself, Luke, Casey and other people he recognizes in the background looking up at him.
"Do you need a moment?"
Noah looks up, surprised. "No. I didn't know he carried this with him." He reaches out and touches it, flipping it over to look for a date of when it was taken and finds another picture on the back that was undoubtedly family. Putting it back down, he checks it off on the list. "Go ahead."
The other man nods and pulls out a rubber banded stack of paper, slightly stained with what looks like blood and dirt. "Personal letters."
Noah can see part of a signature on one of them and feels his heart stutter, a question he'd been thinking about answered. He forces his hand to be steady as he makes the check mark beside its listing.
The last item pulled out are dog tags, cleaned and shining on a ball chain. He looks at them and feels the weight of his own around his neck as the knowledge that his own name being in this building before him had come down to a set of switched dog tags. He doesn't want to, but he has to say it. "He's been absolutely confirmed to be the right person with the right tags?"
The soldier looks up in surprise and Noah and then to the medal on one side his chest and the visitor’s badge on the other with his full name and rank. The soldier's eyes widen for a second and then he nods. "Yes. He was identified in the field, at Ramstein and then again when he was delivered here. The numbers coming out of Moqor had Ramstein identification moved over to us, which was unfortunate. Changes were put in place after that error, Corporal Mayer. No one wants that happening again."
Noah nods and signs off on the personal effects, handing the list back to the soldier. "I had to ask. Oakdale is home to me and I don't want to bring any more pain with me than I need to. They're going through enough."
The soldier hands him a copy of the inventory and Noah tucks it inside the folder he'd been given. He hands Noah a folded flag sealed in plastic. "The family has asked that another flag be presented during burial, so that will be in your custody as well until it's turned over to the family. If you'll follow me, Corporal, we'll get you to the loading area."
Noah takes the bag of effects and carefully tucks it inside his own bag and follows the other man out of the room and down the corridor to the outside. There another soldier in black shirt and combat fatigue pants is waiting for him with another folder. "Corporal Mayer, the mortuary specialists did their best, however, these remains are not recommended for viewing. It's been our privilege to have him in our care." Noah nods and accepts the folder, putting it into his bag with the other one and following both of them to the vehicle where a large, long box is loaded three quarters of the way into the back of the vehicle. "Corporal, I need you to verify that the label on the box is the name of the soldier you are escorting."
Noah looks at the label and reads the name and rank information. "It is."
The other man nods and both he and the driver push the box in the vehicle the full way and shut the door once it's inside.
The driver nods at Noah and gives him the okay to get into the passenger seat as he signs them out of Dover's care. Noah situates his bag at his feet and the seatbelt around him as the driver finishes his paperwork and gets into his seat.
They start moving forward at a slow pace around the front of the building and Noah sees all of that day's escorts out front rendering honors and suddenly knows why all of the other escorts had chosen to face forwards. The wave of emotion that hits you as the soldier you are escorting is honored is almost a physical force and nearly impossible to face into without emotion.
The ride to the airport is quiet and for that Noah is thankful. He is grateful for the time to let everything he'd learned and seen over the past two days settle a little and find a way to be reconciled in his mind.
Once they pull into the cargo area of the airport, Noah gets out of the car as the driver walks up to the loading bay and shakes the hand of the manager. Within a minute, six workers are assembled and the driver is nodding over the box carrying the remains. "Whenever you're ready, Corporal."
Noah stands at attention and renders a slow salute as the box is unloaded from the car and onto a baggage wagon on the loading dock. Slowly lowering his salute, he sees that everything has come to a standstill around the loading bay, couriers in the middle of loading their trucks, handlers driving by with loaded wagons of baggage, they'd all stopped and stood silently with heads bowed while the remains he is escorting are wheeled inside of the cargo building to wait for the plane they'd both be taking to be loaded.
Once the box disappears off of the loading bay, the hum of activity starts up again and Noah is left standing there as the driver signs off on the delivery of the remains to the airline's baggage handlers, surprised at how many ordinary people had stopped what they were doing to honor a fallen soldier they didn't even know.
Noah is brought out of his thoughts by the driver telling him that he'll be dropped off at the departure gate for the airline, so he can exchange his voucher for his flight ticket, which Dover has already arranged for him.
Within a few minutes, he's standing at the ticket area facing a cheerful ticket agent. "Welcome, sir. You can either get into line for the ticket counter or if you have your confirmation printed out, you can scan it at one of the booths."
Noah reaches inside of his bag and pulls out the voucher. "I have a voucher that I'm supposed to give you."
Noah knows the moment she knows what he's there for. Her eyes blink and shine with sympathy as she raises the radio to her mouth. "Maria, I have an escort."
The words have barely left her mouth, before another woman is standing beside him. He assumes it's Maria. "If you'll follow me, sir, I'll get you checked in."
Noah follows her, feeling the eyes of the people in the line watching him as he's walked up to a closed wicket and checked in.
After taking his voucher, Maria hands him his boarding passes. "I have you booked through to Chicago and I've upgraded you to First Class on us. You have one stop in Detroit and then onto O'Hare. You should be arriving in Chicago just after 2 p.m."
Noah takes the passes with surprise. "I appreciate that. Are you sure it's not inconveniencing someone else?"
She smiles at him a little. "I'd hate to have you saluting with bruised knees and a hunched back. Thank you so much for your service, Corporal Mayer."
Noah just nods, not sure what to say to that. Is 'you're welcome' correct or do you get into that awkward thank you for thanking me back and forth? When on official duty, he'd learned when you don't know what to do, silence and nodding will get you though almost any situation.
Taking his suit bag and the leather lawyer type bag that had been assigned to him when he'd started working for Major McLane, he walks to the security check point and gets into line.
Once he's made it to the front of the line, he hands over his boarding passes to the TSA agent and he motions for another agent to step forward. "If you'll follow this agent, he'll bring you to a private area where we can wand you and have you on your way within a few minutes."
Noah follows, grateful he's been spared the argument about taking off his uniform jacket and denigrating the uniform by putting it through the scanner.
True to their word, he's on his way again a few minutes later, an airport worker waiting to escort him to the gate he'll be boarding at. "A baggage handler will come to get you when we're ready to load your soldier." He points towards a door off to the side of the closed walkway to the plane. "He'll be coming through here, so if you have to move around, just make sure you're within sight of this door."
Noah nods and the worker leaves him. Reaching inside the bag, he takes out the cloth bag of effects and feels the weight of it in his hands, reaching inside for the picture and stack of letters.
He looks down at the picture first and smiles a little. They all look like babies in it. It's hard to believe it had only been taken two years ago. He traces the faces of both Luke and himself, seeing the connection between them, even though they were facing the camera and not each other.
Putting the picture back in the bag, he runs his fingertip over the stack of letters and a familiar name in familiar handwriting. His chest aches as he looks at it and he puts it back inside the bag again and he puts the bag inside of his own again.
Looking around at the growing crowd in the waiting area, Noah sees a small head and two brown eyes looking over the back of a chair at him. The boy looks so much like Ethan that he smiles and the little boy ducks back under the edge of the seat back, only to pop up again a second later, too curious to stay hidden. Noah waves at him and down he goes again, then a hand slowly raises over the back of the seat and waves back. Noah is still chuckling when he feels a presence at his side.
Turning, he sees the blue uniform and reflective vest of a baggage handler. "Excuse me, sir. Are you the escort?"
When Noah nods, he continues. "I'm here to bring you down to watch the loading."
Noah stands and grabs his bags, handing them off to the boarding agent to keep at her desk until he's back in the waiting area. Following the baggage handler down a set of stairs, he walks out onto the tarmac and follows his guide to the base of the baggage loading ramp. "We're going to wait right here, he's coming around."
The baggage vehicle rounds the front of the plane and makes a wide arc, reversing back towards the ramp and stopping about five feet away from them.
Noah steps towards the box. "I need to verify it's him."
The handler makes a go ahead motion with his hand. "Go ahead. Let us know when you're ready."
Noah looks at the label and around the box, making sure the bindings are still tight and secure. He checks the label one more time and then looks up and nods.
While he'd been inspecting the box, handlers from the other planes nearby had left their posts and were heading to their gate. Four of them help turn the luggage wagon and lift the box onto the ramp as Noah walks a few steps away from the ramp and stands at the ready.
He watches as the other handlers and more than one pilot are standing in roughly assembled lines, ball caps or hands at their hearts as Noah executes a slow salute as the box rolls up the ramp beside him and into the cargo hold of the plane.
Once he's finished rendering honors, he glances up at the windows that face the tarmac and sees the little boy he'd waved at earlier and behind him a crowd assembled there, men with their hands over their hearts and women with their heads bowed in respect.
He looks down at the handlers and pilots and thanks them as they all go back to their duties. The same handler that brought him down to the tarmac brings him back up to the waiting area and returns his bags to him. "Have a safe journey, sir."
Noah smiles. "Thank you for all your help."
The handler smiles back. "It was my honor. I was U.S.M.C. Semper Fi."
Noah nods and watches him walk down to the tarmac and onto the next plane that needed to be loaded.
Once they're boarded on the plane, Noah is thankful he's next to a business man that seems content to read the his financial newspaper and sip at the scotch he'd ordered when the attendant had been by.
He pulls out the paperwork that had been handed to him throughout the day and organizes it, filling in his own time logs of the journey so far. Once he's finished, he puts everything away, feeling for the cloth of the effects bag and making sure it's still there.
Sitting back in the seat, he jumps a little when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Turning his head, he sees the attendant that had taken his suit bag and hung it up in the attendants coat closet for him when he'd boarded. She reaches across his now sleeping seat-mate and drops something into Noah's hand. "Please tell the family that we are thinking about them and praying for them."
He looks down into his hand and sees a rosary sitting there, the beads worn from use. Closing his fingers around it, he looks up at her. "I will. Thank you."
She pats Noah's hand with a sympathetic smile and is gone again before he can say another word. He keeps it in his hand for the rest of the flight, his fingers worrying over the beads as he thinks, like hers must have over the years.
It's a Long, Long Road, From Which There Is No Return