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1: Take Me Home

"Look who's back!" my father's open arms greeted me as I entered my modest childhood home. It's funny how nothing really changes, same pictures on the wall, same smiles, same delicious smells coming from the kitchen. It had been months since I'd visited, but it was still like I'd never left. "Our little fighter's back, Laura!" he yelled back down the hallway into the house. In seconds there were my mother and my nieces.

"Aunt Christina! Aunt Christina!" the munchkins grabbed onto my legs, nearly causing me to fall over.

"I see Abby and Eve," I laughed, "Are Peter and Molly here, too?"

"Whole family is here," my father shooed the girls away, "Now you must tell me everything, dearie." I sighed and followed him into the parlor, "What did Danny have you do?"

"I'm not supposed to tell anyone, Dah."

"You can tell me. I only retired three years ago."

"Fine, fine. It was just a few hits. Nothing special. It's all dying down. I've heard 'em talking about another ceasefire."

He sat down in a huff, "That's bullshit! After all the good men we've lost… The things they've done to us…" he started to ramble.

A call came from the other room, "Christina, we need your help in the kitchen!" I patted my father on the shoulder, kissing his forehead before I walked down the hall.

"What can I do you for, Mum?" I rolled up my sleeves as I walked through the doorway.

"Sweetheart," I felt my mother's hand on my back, "We ran out of butter, would you make a run down the street for me?"

"Of course," I looked over at my brother and his family sitting at our table, "Do you little ladies want to join me? Auntie could use some help."

"No," Molly's voice was stern. I couldn't say I was surprised about it. I knew she hated me. She'd given me these harsh looks ever since she found out my 'occupation.' It wasn't just me, though. She hated anything that had to do with the cause. She didn't even look at me when she continued, "They are staying here."

"Alright," my smile didn't falter. I kissed my mother on the cheek and waved at my grandparents in front of the TV before heading out.

"Sis, wait!" I looked back to see my brother jogging down the hallway. I held open the door with my leg and allowed him to join me outside. "Is it true what they're saying? The ceasefire."

I shrugged, "I wouldn't believe it 'til it happens, Peter." He nodded, crestfallen.

"It'll just be nice if you could come around again. They miss their aunt, or at least they would… if they'd ever gotten a chance to really know ya. They love the gifts you send though."

"You've been missin' your little sister is more like it," I nudged his shoulder before taking a few steps down the street.

"I'm just glad you're still in one piece, you loon!" he yelled after me.

I turned around and held out my arms, "Like a prod could kill me!" I laughed as he shook his head and went back inside. It was good to be home, good to see everyone again. The more my job kept me away the more I wanted to take some time off. The active service unit was fine and all, but it would be nice to be home. Just be with everyone again. I entered the corner store, and the bells chimed above me.

"If it isn't Ms. O'Dell, the prettiest thing this side of the Irish Sea," the clerk smiled at me from behind the counter. I think we might have gone to school together, but I wasn't sure. I wasn't much for faces, at least not with my former schoolmates.

"Prettiest thing on either side, if you ask me. I thought you were up in Belfast fighting the good fight?" Another vaguely familiar face smiled at me from an aisle, he was stocking the shelves.

"Taking a bit of a vacation." I strolled over to the freezer and reached in, grabbing a few cases of butter, "Was feeling homesick."

"You stayin' with your parents then?"

"Naw, hotel." I set the butter on the counter, and plopped some cigarettes beside them.

"Is it true about the ceasefire? It's all anyone can talk about these days."

I gave a non-committal grunt, "Might be. I don't know for sure." The boy from the shelves stood next to me and handed me a bit of paper. "What's this?" I opened it and saw a name and a phone number scribbled across it.

"If there is a ceasefire, I take it you'll be moving back?" I nodded. "Then I'd like to take you for a drink."

I smiled, thinking back to the last real conversation I had with my mother. We were on the phone one night, and she had been nagging me about finding a man, starting a family. "Sure thing," I winked at him as I took my bag from the counter and left.

It was nice to be back on this street. It was nothing fancy, just asphalt and a bit of sidewalk, but it was my childhood. Some kids whizzed past me on their bikes. Peter taught me to ride a bike right over there; I remember, because I swerved into the curb and nearly lost all my baby teeth.

I must have looked ridiculous with the smile I had plastered on my face. Nearly every tooth was showing, but why should I care? I was home. I'd be eating good in a few hours with the only people I really cared about. Then tomorrow morning we'd all go to mass, just like we used to. It would be like it used to, even if it was just going to be for a day or two.

I turned the corner and my house came into view. I quickened my pace, eagerness starting to take over.

Then there was a bright light.

And then a loud noise as I fell back.

And then silence.