How She Came Home

Chapter Seventy-One

They kept Freen in hospital for a week, and by that point she was on her way to recovery. 

She'd suffered another infection a few days before, from too many open wounds exposed to dirt and bacteria, but after another round of antibiotics she'd recovered well. 

Her burns had healed to shiny new skin, her scabs were starting to fall off to reveal pinkish skin beneath, and her stitches had been removed, leaving behind puckered beginnings of scars that would fade to white with time.

Her broken bones would take weeks yet, if not months, but she'd put on a healthy amount of weight, no longer looking quite so hollowed out and frail, and the IV had hydrated her thoroughly. After another day of observation, Freen was discharged.

Becca had some reservations about it after sitting through a few more days of nightmares, of thrashing and screaming, but even she had to concede to Nam's point that a familiar home might be helpful. 

To be in her bedroom might prove to reassure her unconscious mind that she was home and safe while asleep. Perhaps the nightmares wouldn't be quite so bad if that was the case.

They decided on Midvale for the time being, the quietness of the sea and a small town a better place to convalesce than a bustling city. 

Rawee made plans to stay in National City for the meantime, offering Irin a hand running the company while she took care of Athena for Becca and readied the house for when they came back. 

Becca almost wished her mom was coming with her but never would have said - it always felt easier to be bluntly honest with her mom than anyone else in the family, like she could've said anything and Rawee wouldn't have held it against her, understanding her anger, her frustration, and dismissing it.

The truth was Becca was angry. 

The last week had been the best and worst of her life, gratitude for every moment she got to spend with Freen the main feeling, yet overshadowing darker ones - all her worry, her grief, her fear, her anger. 

How could she not be angry, knowing the truth behind Freen's suffering? 

They'd been briefed by Major Johnson and Colonel Haley, discreetly informed of the major oversight that had allowed a dozen of their own to be killed. And now Becca had to sit and watch her fiancée shy away from her touch, wake from awful nightmares, wrapped up in thoughts of pain and suffering.

For her part, she spent most of her time at Freen's bedside - as much as she could - reading poems to her, flipping through magazines, filling her in on funny anecdotes and old stories Freen had already heard but she repeated for her now, just for something to talk about. 

Freen mostly stared at her in silence, watching her as she listened to her talk, and Becca was left with the vague notion that Freen wasn't there at all - not mentally, at least - and she didn't know how to bring her back.

The day they left, it was raining in Germany. Becca had never appreciated the dreary weather so much before, grateful for something in such sharp contrast to the relatively arid climate of Afghanistan, hoping that it would provide some comfort to Freen, and serve as a reminder that she was far from danger. 

Turning away from the window at the sound of the bathroom door opening, Becca gave Freen a small smile as she watched her awkwardly hobble out, her flowing pants hiding most of the cast on her foot.

"Ready?" Becca asked, reaching for the handles of the overnight bag full of things for Freen.

Giving her a faint smile, Freen nodded, looking more like herself in a plaid blue shirt, her hair in a ponytail and her scratched glasses on her fuller face. Still, one foot was in a cast and she was stiff with her movements and quite aloof as Becca picked up her bag and moved to help her.