Coming Home

by Robodog Carson

Chapter One: Homecomings

Author's Note:

Now, I know this may put some people off cause yah know, AppleDash and Lyra-Bon, but that doesn't mean it's bad, and posting this doesn't make me a bad person.

Now, on to something more pressing. Yes, I am aware I have turned Derpy into a man. However, there was a reason for this. I needed a character for something later on, and Derpy really fit the bill. I needed her to be a male if it were to really work, so there's that. Don't worry, Derpy is still with Time Turner. Of course, Time Turner is a female.

So...yeah, please enjoy the story. I hope you'll feel you understand this A/N when Chapter Three rolls around.

Twenty-eight months ago I stood in this very terminal, embarking on a journey that would change me forever. Limping to baggage claim with my crutches, I stopped and stooped low, grabbing my pack as it came around the....thing-y. People all around me looked at me like I was some kind of hero, and I suppose the Air Force Pilot Uniform and Medal of Honor made that concept true and reaction justified. I continued to limp past them on my crutches, getting outside finally and breathing in deep. I'd missed this place so much. High Pointe would always be so very dear to me, and no matter how long I would be gone from this place it would still be home to me.

The War was finally over, and I was coming home for the first time in twenty-two months. At the age of 17 there was a draft, a huge draft that took anyone who could go. Out of High Pointe's population only seven of us were eligible, me being Lucky Number Seven. The War had been going on for three years before the draft, and then for twenty-or-so months after. I'd enlisted as a Pilot, and got my wish and then some. I flew so many missions I lost count, and earned myself the monicker, “Airborne Devil.”

Twelve months into my deployment I came face-to-face with Death himself. I had a full chalk of soldiers to drop off, and with that done I was to turn back and basically leave them for dead. The mission they'd been given was ill-conceived to begin with, but when they radioed for extract I was the only one close enough to respond. On my way back to them I took an RPG to the tail rotor, but my co-pilot said we would be able to make a smooth landing and get out safely. I nodded and turned my attention to the squad, informing them that we were going down. They affirmed my declaration, and I radioed to base that there was a squad of men cut off from escape and that my bird was going down. Command responded and said there was nothing they could do, so I made a last-second decision. I screamed at the co-pilot to bail, and he reluctantly did so, snapping his parachute on the way down and landing safely. I lost track of him after that, though, because I focused my attention on the entrenched enemies keeping my boys pinned down. Aiming the nose down at the group I fired off every round I had and then dive-bombed the area, giving the boys enough of a distraction to Evac the H.V.I.'s out of the hot zone. Now obviously there was the fear of a Black Hawk Down incident, with me being dragged through the city streets as they torched my bird. Of course, I was never the type to give up easily, and drawing my P226 Combat Pistol I opened fire through the ruined windshield. I had lost feeling in my left leg, but I still fired accurately, desperately trying to disentangle myself from the warped metal.

My actions that day saved the lives of the squad, who'd gotten intel that led to a decisive victory in the next town over, which just so happened to be the enemy capital. The H.V.I.'s I'd risked my life to save were in fact the Iraqi Presidential Family, and despite being alone in a hostile environment I held off the enemy for seven hours, before finally running out of ammunition and ditching the bird, setting off the rigged explosions once I was a safe distance away. My left leg was all-but dead and I'm not sure how far I made it before the blood loss took over and I collapsed in a back alley. What I do remember is waking up an “x” number of days later with no idea where I was or how I got there. I eventually discovered I was in a field hospital in the Green Zone (The International Zone of Baghdad), and that my leg wound was a crippling injury.

I would spend the next sixteen months in physical therapy, slowly regaining control of that damned limb. I had a gnarly scar there, shaped like a lightning bolt that ran up my thigh from my knee, and when just under my panties. It was just a pinkish scar by the time I was going home, but at my Medal of Honor Ceremony I had seen almost everyone there, everyone but the six girls I wanted to see the most. My best friends couldn't even be bothered to show...unlike their families they hadn't even visited me at Brooke Army Medical Center and hadn't been there when I was transferred to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center. It was the same thing this time around; when I got out of the airport and limped on the crutches to the terminal bus, I knew I would be riding it all the way home and have no one waiting for me when I got there.

* * *

“Hello-oo?” I called as I unlocked the door, shifting awkwardly through the front door and shutting it behind me. I hung the keys on the hook by the front door and limped down the front hall, flicking on the light as I passed it. Thumping my pack down onto the couch I limped into the kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator door awkwardly and smiling so wide it hurt. I withdrew with a root beer and an apple pie, knowing it was Granny Smith's work from the little note she'd left. Granny Smith was my best friend's grandmother, but seeing as how my own family wasn't around anymore she took me in. I'd been living with their family ever since my parents died, Granny Smith being my godmother, and so this place had become like home to me. Limping back to the living room I picked up my pack and limped to my first-floor bedroom, changing out of my uniform and into a pair of gray sweatpants and my USAF sweatshirt. I showered before doing so, of course, and I folded up my uniform and placed it on my bed, old habits dying hard. I couldn't help but to fiddle with Medal around my neck, vowing to never take it off.

The house was so quiet and remote, I had nothing to keep my focus. I limped into the bathroom once more and stared at my face, seeing the small scars on my chin and neck from shrapnel. In order to stay in the Air Force I'd had to cut off my rainbow-colored hair, and it had grown back to it's natural brown state, though faded bits of the rainbow were still present. I found the pixie cut look to be very attractive and that it complimented my pale skin nicely. I was toned like a soldier, now, and had lost a lot of weight only to have it be replaced my muscle. My breasts had grown nicely in my time away, and as I looked at myself in the mirror the term “sexy” came to mind, something I would never have used to describe myself before. However, that's how I thought I looked, and so I left the bathroom and went back to my root beer and apple pie. Finishing up the delightful treat I tossed away the aluminum tin and cleaned the fork, drying it and placing it back in the utensil drawer and then recycling the glass root beer bottle; to think that before I left for the Air Force I was the world's laziest houseguest.

I sensed rather than heard a presence at the front door, and instinct kicked in. I drew my P226 and balanced against the wall without my crutches, swaying slightly. Looking around the corner into the front hall I saw a shape against the front door, meaning they'd somehow gotten past the storm door. I ducked back behind the corner as I heard the front door burst open, steadying my breath. The door clicked shut once more and I heard the wood panels squeak under the weight, accompanied by the light THUMP of cowboy boots. A heavy sigh was drawn from the lips of whomever was around the corner, and as they neared ever closer to my doorway I jumped out from behind cover and winced as my bad leg bore my weight for a second.

“FREEEZE, MOTHERFUCKER, HANDS!” I shouted, more from pain than anything else. The figure before me screamed loud and proud, drawing a can of mace and making to spray me. My training kicked in and I smacked it away, grabbing the wrist and, despite the screaming pain in my leg, judo-flipped the other person into the living room. Turning around, I pointed the pistol at her and then gasped as I realized who she was. My “dearest friend” Applejack lay on the floor before me, coughing and groaning as she placed a hand to her back and arched it.

“What....what just...?” The farm girl moaned.

“Oh....sorry 'bout that, AJ. Still trying to adjust.” I sighed and holstered my pistol, hobbling over to my crutches and sighing with relief as the pressure left my leg finally. The figure before me froze and turned her head fully, standing uneasily and picking up her fallen Stetson. Her eyes met mine head-on, and realization dawned on her face as she recognized me. I gave her a mock salute, and then her eyes were drawn to my neck where the dog tags and Congressional Medal of Honor hung. Her eyes widened and she stumbled over to me.

“Dashie....Ah can't believe yer home....or still alive....Ah missed ya so much! ” She took my hands in hers, something more than friendship in her eyes. I yanked my hands away and limped backward, seeing the pain in her eyes as I did so.

“Yeah? Well if you missed me so much why didn't you come visit me? Why didn't any of the girls come see me? Why didn't you come to my Medal of Honor Ceremony? Why has no one I once called friends and been through everything they needed with come to see me when I needed them? Answer me that, Applejack. I'm waiting, and have been for over a year.” I was beyond angry, and rightfully so. These girls had relied heavily on my loyalty time and time again, drawing strength from my own and taking their sweet time to heal while I wasted away offering what support I could. I could have died four times over if my friend Susan had not forced me to take breaks from helping the other girls. Needless to say I was fucking pissed off at all of them. Applejack's mouth opened and closed like a fish out-of-water, desperately trying to piece together an explanation.

I launched into an attack, crying freely and letting my voice break here and there, too emotional to put up false bravado like normal, “And your family visited me, you know. Apple Bloom, Big Mac, and Granny Smith managed to show up while you didn't! Rarity's parents Country Lights and Glitter, along with Sweetie Belle, managed to make time to see me while she didn't! Even Spike and Twilight's parents Night Light and Twilight Velvet came to make sure I was healing well, without Twilight! Pinkie's dad Igneous Rock and Fluttershy's mom Prancing Fields took a break from their respective jobs to come and deliver me some cupcakes and brownies, while Pinkie and Fluttershy were nowhere to be seen! Not to mention that Vinyl, Lyra, and Bon-Bon came to make sure I was okay, and I don't even know them as well as you guys! So where the fuck where my friends when I need them, huh? You know what, don't fucking answer that right now. I'm gonna go away and calm down before I say things I don't want to. Enjoy your life, bitch.” I snapped at her. I fucking snapped at my best friend. The War had changed me to the point where I ranted at the girl who had once been my surrogate sister. We were so close before this, and knowing that she hadn't even tried to come and see me when I needed her most, how none of them managed to carve out time in their oh-so-busy schedules stung so deep I almost shot myself right there. I had lost too fucking much in The War to risk losing them and having to live with it.

I hobbled out the front door, grateful I had kept my combat boots on. Rocking forward on my crutches I pulled out my cellphone and called Sunset, the only one of my old friends that bothered coming around. She came to pick me up not soon after and actually helped me get in her car! 'I mean come, on! How can I ask for more than that??' I wondered, and my answer was I couldn't. Sunset had been right there with me through all of the recovery stage and the thousands of procedures that were required to fix me. She helped me get rehabilitated into society and kept me smiling. I owed Sunset Shimmer my life, and the craziest part was that she didn't even know it nor think my admiration and gratitude were warranted. This girl was like myself, and she had given me a taste of my own medicine; let me just say it tasted great. Having someone work themselves to near exhaustion just for you was such a good feeling I could finally understand why my friends came to me with all of their problems. Sunset drove me away from the farm and took me to a locally-owned Steakhouse in town, resulting in me squealing and hugging her viciously. After we realized she'd swerved into the other lane and caused someone to honk angrily we both broke out into laughter.

* * *

“Thank you so much for this, Sunset. I don't know how to explain just how much this means to me.” I told her sincerely after we had taken our seats. Sunset couldn't have chosen a better place for us to eat, a place I had missed so dearly over the past twenty-two months I felt like I could die right now and be totally fine with it. The smell of grilling meat was intoxicating, the spices that were added were exotic and aromatic, the smells of frying french fries and chicken was unbelievable, and the sight of 8 oz Tenderloin T-Bone Steaks drove me to the point of literally drooling. I licked my lips and blushed, glancing sheepishly at my leather-clad friend, surprised to find that she wore the largest smirk I'd ever seen on her face before.

“Well. I guess someone missed her steaks,” Sunset said with obvious mirth in her voice. I blushed more and nodded shyly, glad that my Medal was tucked under my sweatshirt. However, the moment of companionable silence would not last, as I was inevitably recognized by Big Joe, the Steakhouse's owner. He sidled up to me and personally took my order, shaking my hand and announcing the return of High Pointe's newest hero. As he yanked me to my feet I stumbled in his grasp and let my sweatshirt slip, revealing the unmistakable blue band of the Congressional Medal of Honor. A thing to remember is that High Pointe's small town feel was not due to its lack of technology insomuch as the close proximity of the town, and its saint-like support for small businesses. High Pointe was founded by closely-knit farm-folk, and that closeness has stayed a major part in High Pointe's charm ever since. This meant everyone in town already knew I had been awarded the C.M.o.H. and over half of them understood what the crutches were for. Among those gawkers were Vinyl, Lyra, and Bon-Bon, and I quickly waved them over. So now it was the five of us just sitting and chatting amiably, and though some of the patrons still gawked at me from time to time I couldn't think of a situation in which I'd be more relaxed.

“DASH?!” A voice squealed from behind. I almost choked on my soda, but whipping around I recognized my wingman from when I flew formations in F-18E Super Hornets and F-22 Raptors; a guy of my same age and a fellow High Pointian(?), Derpy Hooves. Derpy was nicknamed “DT” because of reasons no one really remembers. Amazingly, though, together his eye, personality, and yellow-blonde hair only contributed to his charm and intrigue. I leapt from my chair and tackled the poor guy, not even caring that I wouldn't be able to get up on my own. DT let out a small yelp as he was slammed against the doorframe, but smiled and hugged me tight, and I could feel the wetness of his tears on my shirt as we both cried into each other's embrace. DT was so named because no one knew his true first name. He'd introduced himself early on as DT, and that was how we called him.

The last time we'd seen each other had been two months before my last flight mission. The two of us were partaking in bombing runs on several enemy encampments, and unsurprisingly he was my wingman for that run, too, though he was in a F-18E and I was in a bomber. Our flight squadron encountered moderate resistance from enemy fighters, and in order to protect the bombers four of the eight F-18E's and F-22's broke off the main flight pattern and engaged the enemy. The last time I saw DT he was engaging two enemy fighters and had taken down one, but while he engaged the second a third came onto his tail. He struggled valiantly, but my closest friend for the course of the war lost his dogfight, and was turned into a hunk of burning metal and jet-fuel. I'd cried for hours after, barely managing to continue the mission. Of course, after completing it, I slipped into a state of apathetic excellence. The boys in my flight team knew something was up because I stopped cracking jokes at their expense and stopped gambling with them as well. DT's loss fucked me up, and now he was just....he was just here.

“Oh my God, DT, I missed you so much,” I sobbed into his shoulder and he sobbed into my hair, gibbering nonsensically. We eventually fell silent and just held each other, taking in the familiar warmth and comfort of the other's presence. To be ripped so violently and suddenly from each other's lives, only to be planted just as suddenly back into them, was so jarring and so welcome we were rendered helpless because of it. Eventually we became aware of eyes on us and DT helped me stand and walked me back to my table. Sunset pulled DT a chair and sat it right next to me, so he and I could relish in each other's presence and still enjoy our food. The way DT and I ate was like the way wolves ripped into their kill. The steak was so freaking succulent it brought tears of joy to my eyes.

“Holy fuck I missed this,” DT moaned through a mouthful of food. We talked about what happened to us after the last time we'd seen each other, and while DT looked impressed as I explained how I'd gotten my C.M.o.H, I was even more stunned as he explained his time as a captive. The dude was still dressed in his combat uniform and had his British Medal of Valor around his neck (he got it because he saved seven British P.O.W.'s over the course of ten months), but a quick run to the bathroom resulted in his changing into a pair of faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved, dark-blue USAF tee. Vinyl, Bon-Bon, Lyra, and Sunset were staring at us with a sort of horrified fascination, apparently marveling at how much food we could shove in our mouths in one go. DT and I, noticing this horrified attention, blushed and slowed down considerably, taking our time with each bite and finding that we enjoyed it even more. I had moved on from the steak and potatoes, asking Joe for a double-quarter pound burger and a heaping plate of french fries. Amazingly, DT ordered the same thing, and we fist bumped as the food arrived. The other four girls just smiled knowingly as DT and I savored this second course in a more controlled manner.

“So. You two could almost be twins,” was Lyra's comment.

“Yeah, and here I was thinking you and Applejack were the closest two people on the planet,” Vinyl said to me, surprisingly removing her headphones. I bristled at this comment, though a look from Sunset told me I should wait to tell them.

“I can't tell you guys how much I missed you. It really felt like High Pointe had lost a major part of itself. Twenty-eight months is way too fucking long,” Bon-Bon took my and DT's hands, staring at us until we began to blush. The sincerity in her eyes was so intense, I don't think I've ever seen such honesty, even in AJ's – I mean Applejack's – eyes.

“Yeah? Wow....I didn't think we were that influential....” I said quietly, drawing the attention of all the girls, but not DT. There was a time when my pride would not have let me say that; a time when I would have taken it in stride and given a conceited response. Clearly that time had come to an end, and the only way that would have happened would have been during my tour of duty or my recovery stage. I'd been majorly humbled during both, so it was a toss-up in my mind.

“Of course you are! Rainbow, even though you don't interact in excess with people outside your main group of friends, the rest of us still feel close to you. Maybe its a part of High Pointe's mystique, or maybe the fact that we've all grown up together,” Lyra added, while Vinyl nodded in agreement, “Either way, you and DT are as integral a part of High Pointe as the Mayor is. Your accomplishments alone have given the town such a high standing, not to mention the combined accomplishments of you and your friends. Everyone here feels close to you in some way, RD.” Sunset was nodding by the end of this statement as well, looking at me with something akin to admiration. I looked over at Derpy then, and his blush told me that he was feeling the same way I was.

“I mean....we didn't do anything heroic. We aren't heroes. The real heroes....they never come back,” Derpy mumbled this quietly, almost like he read my mind and put the thoughts to words. Unbeknownst to the both of us, these feelings were extremely common in recipients of medals as prestigious as Congressional Medals of Honor or Medals of Valor. Heroes like that....we feel like we just did what any soldier would do, even though some wouldn't. Some pilots would have followed orders and retreated when ordered instead of asking to go forward. Some P.O.W.'s would wait for their ransom, or escape and save only themselves. People like DT and I were exceptions, as were the hundreds of heroes that came before us. Every Soldier, Airman, Marine, and Sailor was a hero in their own right, but some of us did things that went beyond that.

“Of course you guys are heroes! How could you think for even a second that you're not?? I mean come on!” Sunset began, her nostrils flaring slightly.

“You, Derpy, saved seven British P.O.W.'s! You risked your life for people you didn't even know! That's pretty fuckin' heroic if you ask me,” Vinyl nodded her head in agreement, her eyes burning with intensity. The DJ usually didn't speak at all, so for her to say so much showed she really meant it all.

“Rainbow Dash you risked your life to save a squad sent on a suicide mission, and after you crashed you kept up fire until you absolutely couldn't anymore. You didn't have to do any of that, but you did-” Lyra began with a smile, looking at her girlfriend Bon-Bon.

“-Whether you believe it or not you two are heroes and deserve every bit of praise and then some. Whether you believe that or not is irrelevant, to be honest,” Bon-Bon finished, and all four girls nodded in unified affirmation. DT and I blushed and looked down.

“Besides, you guys are fun to be around. Anyone who didn't come to visit you, Dash, isn't worth knowing.” Sunset winced as my little sister Scootaloo spoke these words and approached from the booth whence she previously sat. It was at this moment that I heard the tingle of a bell indicating another patron had entered the burger joint, and half-turning in my chair I froze like a mouse mesmerized by a snake. I couldn't think or feel; was pretty sure I couldn't breathe. There before me stood my old friends, no, my old family. My mind was blank and I felt Sunset's hand grab my shoulder. Quietly and quickly Sunset explained to the others why I was having this reaction as opposed to running toward them and hugging them all, and they especially took notice of how I looked at Applejack. Just as I whipped around and tried to hide, I heard something I'd sworn today I never wanted to hear again. Something awful, something so terrifying I almost sobbed with fear upon hearing it. I know I cringed, and I know the six people at my table saw it and would respond to it before I did.

Pinkamena Diane Pie's shriek, “DASHIE YOU'RE BACK!!! LOOK GIRLS, SHE'S OKAY!! GROUP HUG!!” Terrifying, am I right?

Comments

[Late Night Delight]

Kandahar province is in Afghanistan, not Iraq.