Chapter 13: The Realizations

Denver turned out to be a dense hub of civilization compared to other places they'd seen along the way. Granted, they had generally avoided cities and towns, preferring to do as little as possible to draw attention to themselves. There'd been more cars closer to Colorado and the blurry borders between Free America and the Chicago-based United States, and they'd been able to catch rides the last hundred miles into the city.

There were only a few military checkpoints, and they were largely passive and manned by idle guards and disinterested police forces. There was electricity throughout the city, something which was hit or miss in other places, thriving restaurants, theaters, even internet cafes, strip clubs, and marijuana distributors. They got directions from an off-duty policeman who was walking with his wife and young daughter along the edge of a park, and set off to find the headquarters of the Denver Patriots.

They had no money, but they found people were willing to buy them a meal if Hitch shared his reason for being in town, bringing sympathetic tones and wishes of good fortune. They washed up at a public area with children who danced through high arcing water from the fountains. While they kept their clothes on, soaking them in the process, it was much needed after several days without anywhere to do so.

The headquarters of Patriot Brigade was nondescript compared to the buildings surround it. Gaudy sales fronts and tall office towers threatened to consume the squat, gray, rectangular structure on the south side of downtown. There wasn't even a guard placed at its door.

Hitch and Kieu-Linh stepped inside and saw others sitting behind desks, a half-counter separating the workspaces from a sterile waiting area. A young woman, no more than twenty, greeted them warmly. "Can I help you?" The name on her patch over her plain, green shirt said 'Collins.'

Hitch hesitated. It was just sinking in that they had, somehow, just walked from western North Carolina all the way to Denver, excepting the spare miles near the end. It was a hump worthy of legend in the Corps, he thought. At least no one was shooting at us. "Y-yes. I'm Major James Hitchens. I am looking to find my daughter."

"Okay..." the girl said, momentarily distracted by her phone. "Is she with the Patriots?"

"I think so. Her name is Willow Hitchens?"

"Colonel Hitchens?"

"I'm not really sure ... she has a tattoo, just here," he said, pointing at the spot on his neck where his daughter had so perfectly covered the birthmark with the eagle, globe, and anchor of the Marine Corps."

"Sounds like the Colonel." Collins glanced back behind her as someone called for her attention. "Uh, be right back."

Hitch stood as patiently as he could, holding Kieu-Linh's hand. He was nervous. Could Willow really be alive? Do I dare start to believe? His young wife smiled at him, and he saw nervous excitement in her expression. He got goosebumps for the first time in years.

"Uh," the woman said when she returned, "Colonel Hitchens is not here. Don't know when she'll be back."

"Does she come by regularly?"

Collins looked at him funny, "you are looking for Colonel Hitchens, right?"

"Like I said, I don't know her rank. I just know she was with the Patriots here and her name is Willow Hitchens. She's my daughter."

The woman considered him a moment. "No. Not regularly. Not with the fighting going on to the south. Doubt she's been back here in months."

"Do you know how I might find her, then?"

"You said you're a Major?" Collins asked. Hitch nodded. "Don't really think I'm going to give out that sort of information, do you?"

"No ... No, I understand ... I just..." He felt the need to explain. "I thought she died around Chelan, over a decade ago. I haven't seen her in much longer. I've come all the way from North Carolina to find out if she's still alive. Please ... is there nothing you can do?"

Collins chewed a pen a minute, then said, "wait here a sec. Corporal Snyder!"

A young man about the same age stepped forward and stood in front of her. "Please find Captain Justice, if you can. I need her a moment."

The man gave her an exasperated look, rolled his eyes, and muttered, "yes, Sir," without enthusiasm before turning and heading out a door on the side of the room.

"Have a seat, I don't know how long this might take. There are coffee and danishes down the hall. Help yourself." Collins turned her back on them and went back behind a desk, sitting down.

Hitch looked at Kieu-Linh, frustrated, but he saw her resolve and he swallowed his anxiety, settling into a stiff chair beside his wife. She leaned against him, and in moments, had fallen asleep.

Hitch picked up snippets of conversation. This may have been headquarters, but it was clearly not handling military affairs, at least not in the combat sense. Instead of briefings and updates from the field, or even requisition instructions from quartermasters, he heard people laughing over a video on screen, another chatting gaily with a familiar confidant, still another arguing about whether something he'd ordered came with a free magnet.

It was like being on a distant version of the world he knew. If he thought back hard enough, he could remember places like this, back before The War, when this would have been 'normal.' After so many years, sleeping in muddy trenches and trying to stuff a young mans intestines back inside him, after living day-to-day on what he could hunt, and what he could scavenge, this place made no sense anymore. It felt like he had stepped into an old movie which comically ignored the much harsher realities outside of the witty dialog and slapstick effects.

He started to doze as well, almost sliding onto his side. Kieu-Linh snored lightly against him and he tightened his arm around her shoulder. It rushed into him how much he had in this young woman's companionship. All the suffering, all his self-loathing, all the times when she'd needed to be strong just so that he could feed off her and keep going, she still wished to give. She still wanted him with her in all things. This was no meek or needful girl. Kieu-Linh had become a strong, amazing woman capable of loving him even in his worst of moments.

She rarely complained, and even when she did, it was a sarcastic observation more true than exaggerated. Her view of the world had felt, at first, naïve and pollyannaish, but he found out differently over the year or so he'd been with her. Kieu-Linh had a remarkable ability to push away the things she couldn't control, and a strength and the wits to fight for those she could.

It was then that thoughts of Julia came back to him. Faded, blurry. He had a hard time remembering her face, or her scent, or the feelings he'd had for her so long ago. Hitch couldn't recall when he'd let all that go. Even during his years alone, those images, those memories of Julia had been vivid, painful and warm all at once. Now, he saw they no longer had the depth to bring the sadness creeping back in. It wasn't that he'd lost that love for her, it had just become alright to let someone else take that place in his life.

He kissed Kieu-Linh's forehead gently. She shifted and stirred, looking up at him, eyes sleepy but sharp and alert. "I was just dreaming about you," she said softly.

"Something nice I hope."

"It was. We found your daughter and she was beautiful and kind and wanted to come live with us."

"That does sound nice."

"I thought so. She—"

The room spun a moment, and Hitch closed his eyes to clear what must be exhaustion and nerves from his mind.

"Majooor Hitchens?" a deep voice called out. Hitch turned from Kieu-Linh to see a woman in fatigues leaning against a post in the middle of the waiting area.

"Yes?"

"Folloooow me."

Hitch and Kieu-Linh stood and trailed behind the short woman whose gait was a little less than stable.

They were led into a small office and waited while the woman held onto the edge of the desk a moment before sitting heavily in padding chair. She swept her hand across as if to suggest they sit, her eyes barely registering their presence. The woman's name patch read 'Justice'

"Whaaat ish it you need, Majooor?"

"I'm looking for my daughter. Willow Hitchens. Possibly Colonel Hitchens. Can you tell me how to reach her?"

Justice sat askew, leaning on her elbow on the desk, eyes unfocused and slowly closing. She snapped up quickly, "Cooolonel Hitchens. Your daughter, huh." Slouching a moment, she reached into her desk and pulled out a pill schedule container, tamping several into her hand, then swallowing them with a shaky tip of her mug. "Cooolonel Hitchens. I cannot tell you where sheee ish, Majooor."

"I know, I understand that. Can I at least get a message to her?"

Justice blinked slowly twice, then leaned forward. "Not at thishhh time. But!" There was an odd pause. "I caaan let you leave it here. Fooor Cooolonel Hitchens."

"I don't have a phone, o-or an address. I don't know where I'll be staying."

Justice pulled a cane from next to a small file cabinet and rose to her feet, using it to push upright, then returned it to its previous spot. "Sheee ... doesn't come by often. But! I'll seeee that sheee gets it. When sheee comes. Might beee a long time, Majooor." The woman pushed a piece of paper and a pen awkwardly in front of him. He quickly jotted down a note for his daughter, then pushed it back to Captain Justice.

"Gooood day, Majooor." The woman said, dismissing him.

As they left the room and the Captain behind, Kieu-Linh whispered, "is she drunk?"

"I don't think so."

"She seemed drunk," the girl said without malice.

Hitch stopped beside the counter and caught Simpkins' attention. "Captain Justice, where'd she get hit?"

The young woman's eyes went automatically towards the office, then down at the desk. "Near Colorado Springs. She took an indirect to the head from an RPG trying to pull some Army grunts from a burning Humvee." Simpkins looked up at Hitch. "She saved four lives before she got hit."

Hitch nodded, "Semper Fi," he said quietly as they walked out.

"How'd you know?" Kieu-Linh asked.

"Several things," Hitch replied, "the scars in her hair, the cane." He fired angrily a moment. "That asshole Snyder ... the one Simpkins sent to find her ... he acted like it was a chore to go get her. Goddamn him. That woman is a hero. He has no fucking idea what it's like out there, the shit that happens to people on the line. They joke and they drink sodas and complain about how much they have to do before they go home for the day, and that woman saved people from being killed by the enemy ... how dare they mock her. They have no idea."

He'd begun to fume as he stood outside the building. Kieu-Linh watched him a moment, not saying anything. "And when they wonder why she's slow, or draws out her words, I can just hear them laughing about her behind her back. Monsters. Fucking monsters. They have no idea what she sacrificed ... what she bought with that..."

"Okay, James. Okay." Kieu-Linh's soft words took the edge off.

It had been some time since Hitch had grown angry so quickly. It had boiled out without warning. He'd seen enough wounded Marines, some with injuries like those of Captain Justice. Some had been his men. He's always visited the hospitals whenever he could, and though it tore him apart, he spent his time with each, listening to their thoughts, if they could speak at all. Some could only stare and blink and offer a shaky, pathetic salute to acknowledge his presence, if they could move at all. So many could not.

"They have no idea, Kieu-Linh. They see her as slow. They see her as less than a woman. She paid a high price to protect people, maybe even someone they know. It makes me sick." He'd lost steam, the rage boiling over and leaving behind vapors and sadness.

Kieu-Linh took his hand and started walking him down the street. Her skin was softer than he remembered, but perhaps it was his hand which grew more rough. It soothed him to feel her touch, the innocent warmth from her fingers slowly rubbing between his, was cool water on a sunburn, ice to his molten steel.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, after they'd walked in silence a couple of blocks. "I don't know where that came from."

"I do," she said without judgement, "it's called PTSD, and you don't need to apologize to me for it, James. My dad talked to me about it before I decided that I wanted to spent the Winter with you. You cry out in your sleep a lot, or ... you used to. Sometimes you just sit and stare off for a while. I talk to you, but sometimes, you don't hear me. It's ok."

He couldn't hide his confusion. "What? You talk to me and I don't hear it. When?"

"In the waiting room earlier, do you remember me telling you about my dream?"

"Of course, you said we'd found my daughter."

"And what did I tell you after I described that dream?" Kieu-Linh asked gently.

"I—nothing. Captain Justice came for us." Hitch thought the girl must have confused dream for being awake.

"No, James ... That was almost an hour later. I talked to you about another dream I'd had, a weird one about you riding a horse through a field of fresh snow, trying to find me. I could see you, but you couldn't see me. I knew you were ... away ... but I told you about the dream anyway. It happens, sometimes."

"I--" Hitch didn't know what to think. Couldn't be ... I remember it clearly, she told me about the dream with my daughter, and ... then Justice came ... but ... but ... there is something there ... something ... missing...

It flooded in. He'd been reliving a small battle he had fought, one of the skirmishes near Turtletown. One of his men had been stitched by a machine gun and Hitch had tried to drag the man back to cover. He'd lost his grip with all the blood, struggling to get him again, the man starting to cry out in agony, screaming for help. Hitch tried again, and again, the machine gun sending hot lead zinging inches from his head. He couldn't reach him. I tried, Harris ... I tried... Hitch could feel something pulling at him, trying to get his attention, pulling him away from Harris and his men and the machine guns... No ... No!

"James?" Kieu-Linh's soft voice broke in. Hitch looked around, realized he was sitting in a small park under a broad oak tree. "There you are."

"Oh my god..." he said, horrified. "Oh my god..."

"Shh ... it's ok, James. I'm here."

"I had no idea ... how ... how long have I been doing this?"

"You did it the first night you stayed with us. Last Spring. Dad knew what was going on after Mom told him that she and I had seen you staring off while she was talking to you. You didn't respond for a while. Dad told us it was pretty common and that we'd just need to be patient and understanding when it happened. And it happened a lot, early on when I stayed with you. You had gotten a lot better, but the last couple of weeks ... it's been happening at least once or twice a day..."

"Oh my god, Linh..."

"Shh ... It's alright. Here, eat something."

"What?" he said, still trying to come out from under the weight of what was happening. "I ... right. Eat something." He bit into the last apple they had, taken from a kind woman in a park that morning who also bought them breakfast.

He was sweating, burning up. His eyes seemed to spin and grow thick. He darted glances all around, feeling uncomfortable and exposed. His flesh was on fire. More darting glances. Is that man carrying a grenade? Is that girl calling in mortar fire? The closest cover is the tree, or the low wall just beyond...

Kieu-Linh's skin sent shockwaves through his paranoia and he felt his body respond to her touch. At first, it was a focus, just a focus that lanced into his delirium with a warm, pleasant aura, then it became a salve, spreading slowly, coating his edges of confusion and fear with calmness, with love. Kieu-Linh started to hum to him, like she had that first night together. He took deep breaths and started to recover his mind. I've got to get control of myself. I'm starting to lose it ... again.

He remembered times, especially his last year alone, during the late Winter, when he hallucinated old conversations, old battles, in the darkness of his bunker. He'd told himself that it was useful in order to learn, to never make the same mistakes again. But he was starting now to realize that it wasn't just that, it was the effects of the trauma of combat, of suffering and seeing others suffer, of the terrible, debilitating fear and the tremendous efforts of will it took to force away the paralysis and keep moving. Those effects may not have shown up in the field, when he kept enough control to focus and maintain an edgy-calm, but years later, with the opposite of those thrills, those horrors, in the darkness deep in the night, the silence, the isolation, he'd found himself confused, sweating profusely, restless, and vividly reliving moments he'd much rather forget.

Kieu-Linh's body moved over him and she rolled him to his back where she lay on her side, draping her arm across his shoulder, spreading her leg over his thigh. He breathed in deeply again and opened his eyes. He saw that wonderful, beautiful young woman smiling at him. He couldn't help kissing her until he had to come up for air.

But he felt doubt start to gnaw at him. "Is ... is that why you came to me, Kieu-Linh ... is that why you're with me? Because ... you feel sorry for me?"

She narrowed her eyes. "How dare you."

"I mean ... I'm ... I'm messed up. Obviously. And—"

"James Tiberius Hitchens! I will not have you mock my feelings for you by wrapping yourself in pity. I love you. I love you so much. And I won't let you turn that into something less powerful than that." He'd told her his middle name long ago. She'd never used it until that moment.

"I ... I'm so—"

"And don't you dare apologize again. Enough. I love you."

"I know. I feel it. I always feel it." He let out a long, ponderous breath. "I've never doubted it, Linh. Never, not even ... just then ... I'm ... I don't understand what is happening. I thought ... I never knew ... But I do know ... that you are the one person in this world who I can trust, who I'd take with me to guard my back in any situation, and to love me more deeply than anyone ever has. I am the luckiest man in the world to have you, Kieu-Linh."

She eyed him with narrow eyes before a restrained smile spread wide on her face. "Don't you forget it. I never pity you. I only want you to feel good and be happy. I only ever think that, James. And that I love you so much that it hurts when you are not with me and I feel empty when you're gone away..."

"I wish I knew what to do ... to get better ... I had no idea," he repeated, still trying to rationalize how he'd missed something which should have been obvious to a man used to noticing every detail, planning and calculating every moment he's awake. It made no sense, but his blood had calmed and Kieu-Linh's body on his was starting to bring him back to a sense of normalcy. She pushed her face near his ear and began to hum softly once more.

"Majooor Hitchens?"

His eyes flew open to see Captain Justice standing over him where he held Kieu-Linh against him. He'd fallen asleep somehow, and it bothered him to have done so in a public place and no watch set. "Yes?"

The woman stared at him a moment, leaning heavily on the cane. "Ooon my waaay home. Neeeed a bed?"

Hitch hesitated, but Kieu-Linh was awake and responded first. "Yes, please. That would be wonderful." He looked at his young wife but said nothing.

"Come on, then. On this waaay."

He stood as the woman started her unsteady walk back to the sidewalk. Kieu-Linh took his hand as they followed slowly. Her townhouse wasn't far, less than a block from where they'd napped in the park. She took a moment to open the lock, her hand shaky. Once inside, she pointed in the general direction of the hall towards the back of the house. "Spare roooom down there. Take it."

"Thank you, Captain. We won't be a burden."

"Nooo burden, Majooor." Without looking at them, she walked slowly towards the kitchen. "Hungry, Majooor?"

"Yes, actually..."

"Fine. I'll make paaastaaa."

Kieu-Linh went ahead of him and they stepped into the bedroom which was orderly and looked like it hadn't been used in quite some time. They dropped their packs and sat on the edge of the bed a moment. Kieu-Linh smiled and kissed him softly. "A bed again. I could get used to this, James."

"Maybe we'll steal an RV when we're ready to go home. AC, cruise control, the works."

She laughed and leaned against his shoulder. "That would be a treat." She kissed his cheek and said kindly, "nice to hear you believing we'll go home again."

"We made it here. We'll make it home. You've convinced me, Linh. I may be an old man ... but we'll get home..." He wasn't necessarily as confident as he sounded, but he was more optimistic than he had been at some points on the trek to Denver. Plus, he knew his daughter was alive, now. That was something to hold onto. He ignored his dark concerns over what Kieu-Linh had told him happened sometimes when he got stuck in his horrific memories, and tried his best to let her love and trust bring his thoughts back to the positives.

"Shall we go see if she needs help?" Kieu-Linh asked.

"Yes, let's."