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[sub][color=silver]November 21st - Home[/color][/sub][/centre][hr]
The trip home had two parts. Two completely opposite one. The first was the boat trip. Cramped, crowded and cold. The bunks were humid and reeks of sweat from god-knows-how-many previous occupants there were. It would be hell if Michael hadn't gotten so used to the stench of the trenches and rotting flesh before this. To him, it was respite. If anything, people weren't groaning about their misery, since everybody here had something to look forward to. And too did Michael. The first time in months yet it felt like years had gone by. War had obviously taken its toll on him, regardless how short it is, not only mentally but also physically as well. Within months, he already got himself two very ugly purplish scar on his right arm, still healing and still required some attention, after the heavy actions at Amone opened the old wound. Thankfully, it wasn't his dominant arm, so he could still write and do his sapper duty, to which he still did diligently until he was given the break.

The second trip, however, home from the port were different. As the troopships docked and the soldiers began to disembark, a figure was already there. A man still lush in his prime, donning his black suit, high white collar and a bow tie, yet salt and pepper tint began to appear on his neatly combed hair. Time and weather had also chiseled some crow's feet beneath and above his eyes. His job was made fairly easy today though, as it didn't take long for him to spot Michael, for his short height was very hard to miss. And even if he doubted his skill as a valet, the hat tip coming from the young master was enough confirmation. Both men, now having seen each other, maintained eye contact as they navigated their way through the crowd of expectant soldiers and relatives. 

[color=bf00ff][b]"Victor! I see you have been early today!"[/b][/color] Said Michael as both men approached each other with a gentleman's handshake and a short firm hug, the scent of black coffee lingering in the chilly grey clouds of the upcoming winter. 

[color=bcc0e6][b]"Oh how can I be late young master? A hero comes home today!"[/b][/color] The middle-aged servant replied. Today would not be a chilly day no more, for the happiness he felt right now, there would be more to come a few hours from now. 

[color=bf00ff][b]"Ahaha, I wish. Right now, I'm hungry."[/b][/color] Michael said.

[color=bcc0e6][b]"You're hungry?"[/b][/color] Victor asked. [color=bcc0e6][b]"How about we go to this restaurant over here before we leave? It's the best sausage here in Tyrella."[/b][/color]  

[color=bf00ff][b]"No I'm good."[/b][/color] A little hunger meant nothing to him now. [color=bf00ff][b]"In fact a hot bath is more preferable right now. I smell disgusting!"[/b][/color]

The valet gave a hearty laugh before leading Michael to his car, a black Gallian 4-seater with a brown leather roof. A fairly old model already, quite prone to some problems, to which the Daunte family was considering buying a new one, if the market hadn't been quite stingy due to the currently going on Europan War. And it did break down a few times during Michael's trip. But having a companion made a lot of differences. Despite the lengthy trip home, Michael never felt bored. They talked, talked and talked. Like old friends. Well, they were old friends. Victor had been there throughout most of his childhood. The man is diligent yet witty and fatherly, dutiful yet not machine-like, kind and compassionate. If his parents hadn't been the closest people to Michael through his entire life, Victor would be.

Alas, through the rain, fog and occasional snow, both men arrived at the doorstep of the Daunte household. A mansion coated in dark red sandstone, born out of an architect of the previous era, and laid bit by bit by their owners to completion. The stones that stood greeted the winter storm and summer heat with dignity. The white fence settled in front of the flattening green lawn, the acrid botanical smell meant it was freshly cut. All added to the anxiety Michael felt as he trotted through the stone walkway to the wooden dark oak door. The man hesitated a little, calmed his nerves, breathed a long sigh, filled his eyes with life before knocked on the door, thrice. 

The door opened. 

And right there, without a word uttered, he fell right into her embrace. Norms be damned. He just defied death to return to his mama. He'd not let go.[hr]
The sky was still grey, the weather slowly sinking to freezing temperature as the sun settled for the day. But he felt warmer than ever before. Dinner that day was something beyond him. It wasn't made by butlers or maids, but rather by his mother himself. It wasn't the stale, diluted, bland and tasteless processed food of the trenches, nor the first-class meal of the professional cooks in his household either. It was imperfect, the pie she made was a bit too sweet but very well-cooked, the sourness in the cream, the soft layer of butterscotch. It was the most perfect meal he ever had. 

Then the house servants all turned out for a talk with their young master. Work was off for them as soon as Michael arrived. Some were newly hired, curious to meet the Viscount's son, others were interested in the story the man had to offer. The Viscount himself was all too proud with the praises, but Michael himself led the conversation this time. They talked way into the night, Michael almost forgetting the leisure of the hot bath he said and wearing something other than the tight and dirty Edinburghian military uniform. As the day ended, Michael was in a cozy bed, in her arms. 

[color=f6989d][b]"We haven't done this in a long time, have we?"[/b][/color] Elizabeth said, as she wrapped her arm around his shoulder. 

[color=bf00ff][b]"Hmm...I don't think so."[/b][/color] Michael replied. [color=bf00ff][b]"It just feels so long."[/b][/color]

[color=f6989d][b]"My poor boy. It must have been terrible."[/b][/color] She said. [color=f6989d][b]"Having no one to be like this together..."[/b][/color]

[color=bf00ff][b]"Actually I do."[/b][/color] He said. Her crystal green eyes lit up in curiosity, then realization. 

[color=f6989d][b]"Oh yeah, that girl you said. Lucia, right?"[/b][/color] Michael nodded. [color=f6989d][b]"Does she loves you?"[/b][/color]

[color=bf00ff][b]"...I think so."[/b][/color] Michael, after a silent thought, said.

[color=f6989d][b]"And you love her back?"[/b][/color] 

[color=bf00ff][b]"...I think so too..."[/b][/color] An even longer thought, and a sheepish reply.

[color=f6989d][b]"What makes you think so?"[/b][/color]

[color=bf00ff][b]"...The scar I had here. My right arm...it's her work. Well technically there was another but nevertheless. She stayed by my side pretty much the entire time at that inn, holding my hand until I go to sleep."[/b][/color] He confessed. Here, there is no need for embarrassment or reservation. [color=bf00ff][b]"She even saved my life one time as well."[/b][/color]

[color=f6989d][b]"My my. She is quite a girl..."[/b][/color] Elizabeth exclaimed, her hand now turned to cuddle his cheeks. Indeed she is. [color=f6989d][b]"...though can't you say the same for the other soldiers out there as well?"[/b][/color]

[color=bf00ff][b]"What do you mean?"[/b][/color]

[color=f6989d][b]"From your description, it seems like a normal response to someone dear to you being hurt."[/b][/color] She said. [color=f6989d][b]"I'm glad you've made such a positive impact on her, but I don't know if that is actual romance."[/b][/color]

Michael was a bit taken aback by the response. It was gentle, kind just like his mother usually is, but she didn't always push back on him this way. If anything his father would do this more often, so Michael couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable. Not love? The gestures Lucia showed him, the shyness, gentleness and care she gave him. But mama knows best. She didn't say this out of contempt for Lucia either. There is a tint of wisdom within her words that made him think.

[color=f6989d][b]"In that letter of yours, apparently she was abused?"[/b][/color] Her tone switched. 

[color=bf00ff][b]"Still is."[/b][/color]

[color=f6989d][b]"Then you might want to consider if she's doing it because she's desperate for affection?"[/b][/color] She said. [color=f6989d][b]"I'm not saying it's bad. At 16, it is very traumatizing to be both at war and be abused. But she probably doesn't know what is love and romance, and rather is seeking a missing piece of her heart."[/b][/color]

[color=bf00ff][b]"..."[/b][/color]

Her words cut. She was right...

[color=f6989d][b]"I am proud of the compassion you showed her, but romance is something else. You can want to show her affection and kindness, but not be physically intimate at the same time."[/b][/color]

By the hands of the Lord she was damn right. But it was difficult for the young Michael to fully accept this. It was confusing, way more confusing than the technicality of engineering or the politics of the world. It also didn't help that Elizabeth wasn't being definitive on her answers either. Who can blame her for this really? His feelings are his alone. Only he could understand it. 

[color=f6989d][b]"Come here..."[/b][/color] 

Feeling the silence her son left by her words, she pulled him into her warmth again. Michael really has grown up. She still vividly remembered him fit right in her arm's embrace, and now he's so big. Grown, mature and brave, ready to take on the world. But despite everything, he shall forever be her precious little angel.