What We're Fighting For - Chapter Sixty One

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Arva creaked open the front door, stepping onto the flattened welcome mat that'd long since lost its plushness. She slid her feet out of the ill-fitting IRT boots she still wore, and placed them next to her old shoes. They were comically oversized, and she stepped up from the front hall and onto the main floor. Her house seemed so much smaller, yet somehow even more spacious after so much time on the boat, and it felt so good to be back home. She stepped forward towards the living room, peering in to see Gramma sat in her chair. The elderly woman sat, hands in her lap, looking off into nothing, an expression of melancholy across her pale face. She hardly moved, and only seemed to just glimpse Arva from the corner of her vision, but as soon as she laid eyes on her granddaughter her face lit up. Arva smiled back, and walked towards her, arms outstretched, and they embraced each other with tearful smiles.

"Hi, Gramma," Arva said softly as she let go, her grandmother nearly weeping as she cupped her face in her slender hands. Arva held them as she fought back the urge to keep hugging her, and sat down on the sofa next to her, still holding her hand.

"Y... yuh..." Gramma stuttered, "t-t... to..."

"I know," Arva said, her smile flickering away as she realized her grandmother could no longer speak, "I know." Gramma's expression switched from happiness to concern as she noticed the bandaged cuts and dark bruises across Arva's face, tracking the trail of wounds down her neck, along her arms, and finally to the large blood stain on her side. She made pained noises of worry and confusion.

"I'm okay, really," Arva said, "just a few bumps and scrapes. I'm fine." Gramma seemed unconvinced, and rolled up Arva's shirt, revealing the large bandage covering her wound. She gasped, hands trembling at the sight of her granddaughter in such a state.

"It looks worse than it is," Arva tried to put her mind at ease. Gramma gave a look of frustration, then made a motion with her hand towards her mouth.

"I can eat later," Arva said, though Gramma seemed insistent, "right now I want to make sure you're okay." Gramma made a dismissive gesture, then held her hand to her mouth before waving it away, indicating her lack of concern over her lost voice. Arva found it typical, though comforting, that she was so flippant of the disability. Gramma pointed to Arva before holding her hands one above the other like a sideways clap, before closing the gap between them slightly, and it took Arva a moment to realize what she was 'talking' about.

"Hannah's just fine," Arva assured her, "Travis is taking good care of her, they're just outside. He wanted to give us a moment alone to talk without worrying her." Gramma made bursting gestures and pointed off past them, referring to the sounds of battle she must have heard.

"I know," Arva said, "things were- are still hectic, that's why I want you and Hannah to stay inside. Travis will make sure you're safe." Gramma looked at her with confusion, and Arva felt it best she be completely honest.

"I can't stay," Arva said, "I have to go back. My fight isn't over, and I have more people who depend on me now." Gramma shook her head incessantly and grabbed hold of Arva, pulling her in closer.

"I know..." Arva found the tears harder to suppress, and her voice began to waver, "I know. I want to stay, I really do, but if I don't things will just get worse, and a lot of people will get hurt, but I promise you..." she pulled herself free from her grandmother's grasp, wiping her tears away as Gramma looked back at her with likewise glassy eyes, "I'll come back, and soon. You, me, and Hannah will be together again just like always."

Gramma's mouth hung open, no words escaping as she tearfully tried to speak. Arva hugged her again, squeezing tightly. Every time they embraced it became harder and harder for Arva to pull away, and it nearly broke her heart to let go again, but she did. She gave her grandmother a kiss on the forehead.

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