The lock was stuck, as usual. The damned department that ran the complex still hadn't sent someone up to fix it. She'd have to bust a few nuts for that later, but right now.. The door opened, and she let out a sigh of relief as she stepped into her apartment. The familiar sights were all about; the old pre-hologram tech television, the glass dining table with the projector on top, the fancy little lights she picked up on her recent deployment to Korea. She stepped over to the couch and promptly dropped her backpack onto the floor. Her flightsuit followed, and she kicked it off to the side before gently collapsing onto the soft, memory foam sofa. The bright lights of New York City in the cold New England night shown into the open windows; a fantastic contrast to the dim, homey darkness that consumed the more rural areas of southern Vermont around this time. She leaned forward, grabbing the remote, and turned on CNN. More grim news, not that it was nothing unexpected. The brass had been pushing for more duty hours to be set aside for sims and practice flight hours. Now it seems the New Warsaw Pact had stormed out of the United Nations after a disagreement with the ESTO countries on some bullshit about mining zones on Mars and Uranus. Wouldn't be too long until they were trading blows from across country lines at this point... She barely registered the sudden appearance of a figure beside her, which unceremonially dropped itself onto the couch beside her. It's arm promptly wrapped around her, and she couldn't help but smile. "Hey Sarah," the figure said as he watched the television; giving her a light squeeze. Her smile grew, and as his fingers gently began to glide through her locks of long blonde hair, she set her head on his shoulder. "Hey," she replied softly. "How was work? I think Captain Withers was pretty pissed after the flight sim today." He chuckled; the light tone of his voice warmer than the asian lights hanging from the ceiling. "Yeah, well..." She giggled quietly. "Jake was talkin' shit. I had to show him his sim numbers weren't /that/ good, y'know?" "Definitely," he grinned in return. He continued to stroke her hair, and she was happy. It was these moments that made it impossible to go to work sometimes. "You think we're gonna get deployed soon?" She suddenly asked him. The CNN report had switched over to a report on oil prices rising to over eighty US Dollars a gallon over in the European Union after the Russians cut off trade lines a week or so ago. "Y'know! I think we talk enough about that bullcrap at those safety briefs we seem to be getting every damned day now," he smirks, and squeezes her tightly for a moment or so. "I think... Peeeeersonally, /I/ think we should go lay down. Maybe talk about our day, read a book..." He smirks. "Maybe watch a dirty movie. JUST AN IDEA!" He'd quickly add, and she'd give him a rough push, along with a laugh. "You fucker," she'd snort. "I have been known to do that," he grins even harder. She'd roll her eyes, and let out a loud groan. "You suck, you know that?" "Woman, you /really/ need to stop making it so easy for me..." "AGH!" She laughs loudly, and shoves him again. He'd merely shake his head and, with a smile plastered on his face, he'd quickly scoop her up in his arms and rise to his feet; carrying the much smaller woman, barely an adult, like a princess in his arms. "I love you," he says. "I love you, too," she replies. She sighs happily, and wraps her arms around the back of his neck as he carries her towards the bedroom. He pushes the door open with his shoulder, and they step inside... ______________________________________________________________________________________ She awakens. Her head hurt, and she groans quietly. She pushes the blankets off her body and throws her legs over the side of the cramped bed; almost bonking her head on the upper bunk. She blinks a few times and raises a hand to her face to touch where it hurt. The familiar, yet somehow unfamiliar burns on her face were what she felt. She groans again, and slides a hand up to her hair. Maybe, just maybe... No. Her hair was ragged and singed; her long locks of hair from so long ago no longer there, at least, for now anyway. She looked up, afraid to do so, but there was no mistaking reality. The cold interior of a spacecraft was what she was met with. Not with her apartment in New York City, not with the cold air of a New England night, or the familiar stars in the sky. The bed was empty beside her. She was alone. All alone... The sleepiness in her eyes were soon replaced with meager tears, and she dropped her head into her hands. A soft sob escaped her. There was nothing she could say to fix it, to make it all go away. All she could say was one word. A name. A name she longed to say, but to no one did it belong anymore. "....Michael."
