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1. Smell.
Long before his tired coffee-coloured eyes even have opportunity to flutter open, the smell proves much too noticeable to ignore. A strong, slightly overpowering smell of disinfectant lingers in the air. Clean. Far too clean. Sterile, in fact. Which can only mean one thing. He's spent enough time within these walls over the years to now mistake the familiar odor and easily recognises the only place this particular smell could indicate. A hospital room. So many times he's been within these sterile walls and whilst not the same room in the same hospital (not even the same city) every time, he understands exactly where he is. A hospital room always proves difficult to erase from one's memory, whether as the patient or as the visitor and over the course of both his personal life and his entire career, he's unfortunately been both.
Many times. Far too many times.
Even as a kid, he'd often been a visitor to St Paul's children's hospital with regular injuries from playing hockey, climbing trees, riding his bike or figure skating. Just a kid being a kid. There'd also been a few minor burns thrown in here and there as a result of attempts made to cook dinner for himself and his dad, but the less thought about that, the better. The vast majority of his time spent within these walls, however, occurred later, as he settled into life as an adult, as a firefighter and then a husband and father.
There'd, of course, been the joyous occasions when both of his beautiful children were born. To follow, within these walls, were also many moments that proved far from joyous. There'd been the time he suffered a fall at work and injured his back. When Marcy passed away. When rebar pierced through Chimney's skull after a car accident and when Buck choked on bread during his first date with Abby resulting in an emergency tracheotomy. After a blood donation, he found out about his golden arm, then later to visit a baby his blood help save. Again to visit Chimney when he got stabbed by Maddie's abusive ex-husband. To support Eddie when Shannon died. When a firetruck crushed Buck's leg and again to visit Buck after the tsunami, then again to the ER when Buck cut himself saving a woman on Halloween. In support of Michael at numerous appointments as they navigated his brain tumour diagnosis as a family. Through all the tests and checkups after the radiation exposure. The horrendous and traumatic experience of almost losing Athena after she got attacked. A sniper shot Eddie, then later for the same sniper to shoot him inside a burning building. To visit Harry after they'd rescued their boy from an abandoned property developement and again, when the roof of dispatch collapsed atop himself and May during a fire. A visit to Hen and Chimney after the whole Jonah nightmare. Across the country in Florida, when Athena's father suffered a massive stroke. Along with the others, he waited for news and to visit Karen with Athena after the lab explosion. When Buck got struck by lightning. When a bridge collapsed after an accident and along with his team, he tumbled down the debris to become trapped within a shipping container. To pay a visit to Chimney after the infection, then later on to officiate the marriage between his good friend and Maddie. Most recently to receive treatment himself after being found in the desert after fleeing the Cartel, then to visit Amir to offer his amends and apology once more.
So yes, far too many times he's been within these walls.
Now, again, here he is.
This time, being here within these walls is thankfully not for any member of his team nor his family, but for himself. This time it's his turn. Which truth be told, he much prefers. He would much rather be the one laying upon a gurney than anyone else he cared about.
Beneath the sterile stench of antiseptic there exists another familiar smell, a smell that has long become ingrained in who he is, one which lingers once again upon his skin now. Smoke. However faint, but made to seem much harsher in this sterile environment, it's unmistakable. The smell lingers, clinging to his skin and in his hair. He imagines the evidence, dark streaks of soot and dirt, have been wiped away by the nurses gentle hands as they cared for him. The smell, however, nothing will rid the smell quite like a hot shower and a good helping of body wash, despite the nurses best intentions.
The sterile smell of a hospital and the stench of smoke still clinging to his skin proves almost too much. His lungs hurt, raw and painful, and it feels like slowly, he's suffocating.
A feeling which will surely continue and grow in its severity as the minutes after waking pass.
2. Sound.
As much as the smells of a hospital room seem very familiar, there are many numerous sounds surrounding him that are too. There's a very distinct noise which can only mean one thing, a low and steady beeping that indicates without needing to look, that he's strapped up to a heart monitor. Idly, he feels the pressure of a blood pressure cuff around his left bicep. The even beeps, slow and steady, prove reassuring. He isn't dead then. So there's that. Beyond the beeping of the monitor, there exists other familiar sounds. Footsteps move around whatever room he currently occupies. The murmur of soft voices, unrecognisable to his ears, as two people talk above him. The barely there flick of paper as pages turn, then the unmistakable sound at the foot of the bed as someone replaces his chart back in its place. The general hustle and bustle of a busy hospital floor outside the closed door.
There's another sound which slowly yet surely, shrouds over. Silence. The room, now the two individuals have stopped talking, for the moment, rests silent. Beside the steady beep of the heart monitor, of course. For as long as his heart beats, the beep will continue to fill the void. Overlooking the machine, there's nothing. Quiet, much too quiet. Over the years, he's often struggled with the silence, while at times it could be welcome after a long hectic shift, other times it often proved otherwise. The quiet regularly lends opportunity for his mind to run away with itself, too often toward all the mistakes, regrets and grief littered throughout his past. Over the years, he's gotten better in dealing with the quiet, in large part due to the steadiness which now exists within his life.
Still, in this room, the silence adds to the feeling of suffocation, his lungs tighten further in response.
The walls of reality are slowly closing in around him.
3. Sight.
Eventually, after the immediate initial few moments upon waking, after taking in the sounds and smells of the room, coffee-coloured eyes slowly flutter open to finally take in the sights. Slightly dazed, languidly, blinking slowly, his gaze begins to clear to focus and his immediate view proves right by the assumptions earlier made. There can be no mistake, he's definitely in a hospital room and there are definitely two nurses currently present checking his vitals. Unlike most hospital rooms; the walls are grey and blue in colour with oak panelling. Not a bright, stark clinical white. Unlike the smell, the decor isn't sterile. Which can be comforting. The blinds on the window are open but from his current reclined position, he cannot see beyond the glass to witness what's happening outside. Slowly moving his gaze around, his alertness currently undetected by the two medical professionals, he takes in the monitors surrounding him, the male nurse at the foot of his bed and the female nurse to his right studying the monitors. A second passes for him to realise, there's a tube in his mouth, down his throat. Which means onky ine thing. Oh.
He's on a ventilator in the ICU.
What the hell happened?
Did something happen at work? He doesn't remember attending a scene, he doesn't remember even being at work. Through the drowsiness of waking, his mind tries to recall the exact events which lead him here to this sterile place. Closing his eyes, he thinks, hard. Frustrated with himself. He can remember coming home... the surpise to find Amir there before the man stormed out and-- there'd been an argument. He can remember raised voices and-- and-- "too late"... he can recall the feeling rather acutely as though his heart was breaking as he watched her walk away. He can remember his father and the choking stench of smoke filling his lungs and the lick of heat against his skin.... fire. The house-- their home-- had been engulfed and oh god, the bedroom...
Athena.
4. Realisation.
Beside the two nurses in the room, he's alone.
Alone. Complete and utterly alone.
No one is here.
Frantically, darting from the left side of the bed to the right, eyes move searching for something or rather someone, Athena, who clearly isn't there. She's not here. Beside the bed on the right there are two chairs pulled up close and yet, no one sits upon the pieces of furniture. There's no one here. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to remember, again. And again, the details prove vague and hazy but he can recall carrying his wife from the house, laying her down in the grass behind the ablaze home and fighting to bring her back. He remembers the desperation, desperately begging her-- come on baby, come on, come back to me Athena, please baby-- he recalls her gasping breaths, her fingers curled tight clutching at his shirt as her dark panicked eyes focused upon him.... that happened, right? What happened was real? He got her out and she was alive-- she had to be alive.
Doubt settles like an enemy lurking in the darkness ready to strike.
He got her out and she was safe.
Then why isn't she here? When he'd been shot, she hadn't left his side for days, slept on a cot and refused to leave. So where is his wife now?
Eyes, again, move toward the chairs. She has to be here. She has to be. The alternative can't be true. He got her out. He saved her.... Yet the circumstances exist to make it possible that he didn't. Maybe, despite his desperation and his pleas, he didn't. Which surely can't be true but the evidence suggests the alternative could be true. Oh no...
Please god no. Not again, not Athena.
Rational thought flies out the window. Every worse case scenario narrows to one. She's gone. His mind wails for the ability to scream all the words which are trapped and have no opportunity to escape, what with the damn tube shoved down his throat to hinder the process.
Athena. Athena. Athena. Athena.
Over and again, her name screams within his mind. Desperate and full of fear.
Athena. His wife, partner, lover and best friend. His entire life. His Athena.
The feeling of suffocation he's been experiencing since he awoke intensifies to an all new height.
His chest tightens. His hands tremble.
Oh god. No. Please.
Not again.
Not Athena.
5. Panic, grief.
She's not here.
Logically, there could exist a simple reason for why his wife isn't sat beside his bedside. She may have stepped out to use the restroom, she may have stepped out to update the kids or his team, she could be having a conversation with his doctors or even receiving treatment herself. There exists perfectly logical explanations as to why his wife isn't here.
Logic, however, gets tossed out the window. Logic has no home here.
All to easily, he recalls the intense feeling of panic and fear upon finding her unconscious upon their bedroom floor. Two feelings which significantly increased when they escaped the house. The experience of performing rescue breaths, mouth to mouth, upon his own wife will stay with him for the rest of his life until his very last breath. He'd done all he could, literally gave his last breath as he fought to bring her back and begged both her and god to listen. To come back to him. Please baby, come on Athena. Come back to me. Yet, now, he's all alone. His beautiful wife is nowhere to be seen. The panic and fear from earlier rushes back to frighteningly consume him. Simply because, if she isn't here, that can mean only one thing.
She's gone. Athena, his beautiful wife, is gone. Dead. Another he couldn't save.
Again, he had failed as a husband.
Only this time the reality proves so much more worse than the first time, simply because he promised himself this would never happen again. And yet, apparently, it has.
The steadiness she's always brought within his life gets yanked out from beneath his feet. Metaphorically, of course, considering he's laying down. Still, it proves no less true. The steadiness is gone. Disappeared in the blink of an eye. The ground shakes, tremors violent as his world crumbles around him.
He can feel his carefully constructed walls begin to fall apart.
The pain in his chest at the thought of her gone kills him more than any heart attack ever could. Soundless, he wails in agony, the sounds trapped within his throat, halted by this damn tube.
The loss of Marcy had been painful enough but this, the loss of Athena is something else entirely.
His second chance, a chance undeserved but his nonetheless.
The great love of his life is gone, and with it, he's lost himself. Again.
Without thinking, as the machines which surround him begin to loudly scream in warning, he reaches up best he can to yank viciously at the tube, needing it gone so he can scream and shout his pain. Give opportunity to beg for answers as to what happened afterward because she was fine. Her choked gasps and ragged coughs echo in his ears as sirens filled the night sky. She'd been fine, all things considered. The nurses swiftly surround the bed, shouts for assistance fill the room as a third nurse appears and hands works to restrain him. Best he can feeling as weak as he feels, he thrashes against those here to help. But there can be no help now, not without her. The medical staff order him to calm down as familiar voices grow louder outside the room demanding to know what the hell is going on. Where before the heart monitor beeped a slow and steady beat, the high pitched sound has increased ten fold. Fast and erratic, screaming in protest of the rapid rhythm. Through the panic encompassing him, his heart races a mile a minute. The sound of the door crashing open fails to break through the fog of panic and the rapid sense of grief begins to fully overtake him.
Athena. Athena. Athena. Athena.
Then suddenly, above him, trying desperately to catch his gaze, Hen appears. One hand grips his forearm tightly as the other cradles his face gently. A contrasting touch of restraint and comfort.
The relief upon seeing a familiar face is shortlived. Tears streak down his cheeks as red rimmed eyes beg her, searching for an answer. Athena. He needs Athena. That's all he'll ever need.
"Cap! Hey, come on boss--" Hen urges him softly, her heart aching at the expression upon his face. He looks wrecked, shrouded in panic, guilt and grief. The man's been through hell tonight. Again. "Bobby, please. You need to calm down. Just calm down and then the doctors can remove the tube okay. Just calm down Cap. Everything's alright. Please Bobby...."
With his eyes locked onto his paramedic-firefighter and good friend, Bobby slowly does as he's told. Through the panic and grief eclipsing everything else, the realisation comes if he stops fighting they can remove the tube and then, finally, he can demand answers. The process feels like it takes absolutely forever, a lifetime still yet to live and yet one he wishes not to, not without her. With the tube removed, his throat feels raw and sore but nothing will stop him. As painful as this may be, he needs to know. A definite answer must be given.
Ignoring all those around him, ignoring the nurses instruction to remain calm and take it easy, his tear filled eyes lock upon Hen. Through a rough choked word, he demands to know. He needs to know. "A--A--Athena?"
There doesn't prove a requirement to be an established rocket scientist like her wife for Henrietta to understand. The panicked breaths and the frantic way in which those warm brown eyes darted around the room, searching, were enough. Add in the desperate emotion cloaked over his wife's name, Hen understands.
"She's alive, Bobby."
Three words right his rapidly tilting world again.
And for the first time, that feeling of suffocation lessens a little to allow him to breathe a little easier.
6. Relief.
The words seem to sink in ever so slowly. The words sink through the haze left behind from the trauma he's suffered to register fully.
The words hold such magnitude.
She's alive. Athena is alive.
The immense feeling of relief that swiftly encompasses him is unlike anything experienced before. A heavy and immediate feeling that hits like a freight train. It shatters through the panic and grief threatening to drown him to fill his lungs with air again. Once before, he sat and listened as he thought his life to be over, sat in the ladder truck he listened as she fought and then, the gun went off. For the time between the gunshot and seeing her beautiful face battered and bruised bloody in that unit, he could imagine what his life would be like without her in it and the thought scared him. Terrified him beyond his own comprehension. To experienced such a thing then had been bad, but now, for those immediate moments after he awoke in this room to think he really had lost her, nothing compared. Familiar with the pain of loss, he could never have anticipated just how it would feel to think he'd actually lost Athena. For those moments, it had been incomparable. A pain like no other yet one he could readily foresee himself drowning in.
The darkness threatening to overcome him gets chased away by the light this news brings forth.
She's alive. Athena, his wife, is alive.
The tears burn harshly, the fight proves futile to blink back against them for they fall anyway, slow torrents to cascade down his cheeks as Bobby stares at his friend. "She's--"
Smiling, Hen hopes to ease the emotions threatening to overcome him so completely. "Athena's fine, I promise." She reassures him softly, "they treated her for smoke inhalation and--"
He interrupts, the grip upon her hand tightens. "Where-- where is... she?"
Waking up to find the one person who means the most to you in the world, gone, after such a traumatic event must be terrifying. Especially after everything he's endured in the past. Of course thinking the worst would be natural. She can only imagine a fraction of what he must have been feeling in those immediate moments after waking. "Athena, she was here."
Bobby can sense a very big but coming and he'd be right.
"But when we got here, she was gone. From what we can make out, Athena's gone after who did this to you."
Hell hath no fury like a woman who's loved ones have been hurt. Athena doesn't play when it comes to her family, Bobby's very much aware of that. He can only hope and pray she's thinking about her own safety. As much as he appreciates what she's doing out there, he needs her here. With him. He needs to see her, desperately. "I need--" his voice is so rough, his throat sore. "I need her."
"Okay, alright." Hen nods, understanding. "I'll see what I can do to track her down and get her back here."
"Thanks Hen."
Again, a lifetime feels as though it drags by as Hen works to establish contact with Athena. There are a number of channels Hen has to go through before dispatch is patching her through to Officer Vargas on scene. Hen tries not to think about what scene that could be and what's happening wherever it may be.
The wait proves excruciating but nonetheless, Bobby waits and watches, hands itching to snatch away the phone so he's able to hear her voice, but he allows Hen the opportunity to deliver the news.
"Athena, its Hen..." the woman begins, before relating the most important news, "Bobby-- he's awake."
Brows furrow, watching as Hen listens briefly only to then pull back to look at the phone, a frown upon her face.
"What's-- What's wrong?"
Hen shakes her head, amused. "She hung up." Turning to her Captain, she laughs, "but she'll be here soon. An officer is gonna drive her."
For the first time, tension eases from his aching body and he allows himself to relax.
She's coming.
"Hey, while we wait for Athena to get back, how about we let those three in before they lose their damn minds?"
Content in the knowledge his wife is on her way, slowly, Bobby rolls his head toward the window where outside; Buck, Chimney and Eddie are basically pressed against the glass. Staring in and waiting. Anxiously.
The team visiting can serve distraction during the wait. So he waves them in.
Whereas before the feeling of suffocation was born of panic and grief, now it's born out of sheer exhaustion and impatience. He's so tired, the feeling weighs heavily down upon him but he refuses to rest. Not yet, not when his wife is on the way here.
He can and will wait.
Rest can come later, once Athena's beside him.
7. Patience.
The wait proves torturous and positively kills him, kills him more than any heart attack attempted to achieve.
Fourteen minutes.
Watching the clock, that's how much time has ticked by since Hen made the call.
Fourteen minutes.
Coincidentally, according to the doctors who'd stopped by to check him over, he'd been dead for almost fourteen minutes before his heart began beating again. To the paramedics who fought and refused to give up, those fourteen minutes must have felt like an eternity. To his loved ones, the knockledge of those fourteen minutes must have been terrifying. He holds no recollection whatsoever of those fourteen minutes, he remembers nothing after hearing his wife's gasping breaths and the view of their home burning to the ground before he collapsed.
He remembers nothing after that, nothing until he awoke in this bed in this room. Alone. He remains unaware how much time has actually passed between those points in time. Later, he'll learn all about everything that happened. Now though, he's very much aware of every minute to pass since Hen said his wife was on the way. Time, which now seems to move at a glacial pace, is an enemy.
They say patience is a virtue but for Bobby, right now, patience most certainly isn't a virtue he possesses. Who could really blame him though. Afterall, he awoke to think his wife was dead.
So it's a safe assumption to make that no one on God's earth or in any universe, could ever blame him for feeling impatient. His eyes ache to see her beautiful face, his hands itch to hold her and his mouth waters with a need to kiss her. For those awful moments, everything he's looking forward to doing, was lost to him. Bobby never thought he'd see her again, much less hold or kiss her. The others around him try their best to distract him from the wait, and as enjoyable as the team's company always is, nothing holds a candle to being in her company.
She's all he can think about. Athena's embedded within his every thought, every breath and every beat of his heart.
The others talk and fill the void, he nods along absently at all the right points in conversation, but coffee-coloured eyes are steadfast in their focus upon the small gap between his team of the door. He's waiting for her to appear.
The wait feels unbearable but he shall endure anything if it means waiting to see for her again.
8. Steadiness.
With the tick of the clock, time moves forward and Bobby doesn't know precisely just how much time does indeed go by. Maybe seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours. All he knows for sure is that with every tick of the hand upon the clock, her arrival grows that little bit nearer. So close yet feels so far away.
Inhaling slowly, his lungs still impacted by the smoke inhalation he suffered, Bobby closes his eyes briefly before reopening them. Slow, deep and even breaths are inhaled. His chest rises and falls, and he ignores the pain spreading across his chest and rib area. For a good while through his recovery, he'll be sore, the result of having endured fourteen minutes of chest compressions in a bid to restart his heart. A small price to pay to live. His mind goes back at that particular thought, to their argument and he meant then what he said. He wasn't going anywhere, even if his behaviour at the time said otherwise and while he may feel as though he truly doesn't deserve this second chance he's been given, this second chance belongs to him nonetheless. To leave her also proves unthinkable. Athena's own second chance at love and life is so deeply entwined within his own, so deeply weaved that to take away his would mean stealing away her own, which is something he could and would never do. For she deserves everything wonderful in this world. Something, every single day, he strives to accomplish. If he can do anything right in this life, in this second chance he's been given, it's to love his wife and make her happy. She's the center of his world. His steady ground. His everything.
With another inhale, ignoring how his lungs ache and burn, Bobby looks up when movement from the team captures his attention. They part like the sea for a goddess approaches. Literally.
There she is.
Athena.
And good God, what a sight for sore eyes she is. Beautiful simply proves a vast understatement. In a strange way it almost feels as though he's seeing her again for the very first time. Those familiar feelings settle deep within his chest and stomach, attraction and love and wonder and excitement and so many more emotions tied to this woman. Feelings experienced for the first time that night in a shady backyard in East LA, then again so many months later when he stood to see her walking toward him through the restaurant the night of their first date. She'd been stunning then and truly, she's even more stunning now. A true wonder of this world and she's his, as he is hers.
Her smile lights up the world beyond this room to chase away any lingering remnants of darkness. The way in which she reaches for him, eager and relieved, hands gentle yet strong against his face and at the touch, his body instantly relaxes; anxiety and grief and pain diminishes rapidly. Her kiss when it comes, noses brushing, is short and sweet, is everything he wanted and more, and damn it, his eyes flood with tears as his own hands settle upon her. She's here and she's alright.
"Welcome back to me."
Those words feel appropriate on his own behalf too, for she returned to him as much as he returned to her. Something which will always remain true, if within his power, he will always fight to come back to her. Always. No matter the battle he faces. Nothing and no one will ever stop him from coming home to her.
9. Home.
So many emotions rush through for him to experience all at once. Overwhelmed with relief and happiness, tears swim in his eyes and warm brown gaze never waver away from the woman now within his grasp.
Keeping her close with one hand, the other rubs her arm as Bobby smiles. Enraptured by this woman. His wife. With Athena here now, everything feels right again in the world. He can breath easier. The weight has lifted from upon his shoulders at her arrival and the darkness further recedes. Light brightens his world again. The unsteady ground steadies itself once more.
"Athena--" Bobby chokes a sob around her name. Idly, out of the corner of his eye, he can see Hen usher the boys out of the room, closing the door quietly behind them to allow them some time alone.
Sitting upon the bed, Athena kisses him again. To see him awake, to see him alright just means everything to her. She'd been terrified of losing him. That she had lost him. "I'm right here, darling."
Fingers curl into the material at her back, gripping so tight his knuckles turn white in an effort to keep her close. Anchoring himself to her. His red rimmed eyes, still swimming with tears, flick rapidly over her face, over her body, searching for any obvious sign of trauma. "Are you--" he softly clears his throat, "are you alright?"
"I am. Thanks to you," Athena laughs softly, "though I should be asking you that question."
"I'm fine-- the doctors came by and--" to be honest, Bobby can't recall much of what they discussed, his dazed focus had only been set upon one thing. Athena. He shrugs. "I'm fine."
Very familiar with his version of fine because he's such a terrible patient, Athena silently vows to have an in-depth discussion with his doctors very soon, to make sure for herself, her husband is as he claims. Slowly, fingers card through his hair. Her gaze unwavering from his, she can't look away, even as a shuddering breath escapes. "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up, baby. I wanted to be so badly but I--" Athena tells him softly, hating herself a little for being away from him. "I just-- I felt so much rage, Bobby... I had to go after who did this to us-- to you."
The weight of the decision clearly obvious, it wasn't easy for her to leave but she felt she had to. He understands for he understands her. The question must be asked. "Did you get--"
"I did," she interrupts gently, "I got them baby. It was the cartel."
Despair settles across his face. The pain harshly flares within his chest. This happened because of him, he brought this to their doorstep. "I'm... so sorry, Athena. I--"
She kisses away his apology. Quick and sure in her gentleness. "No. Please, don't apologise. This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault."
"I'm sorry for more than just our house, Athena." Bobby admits quietly. "I never wanted to argue with you and I'm so--"
"None of that now," she shakes her head, "I mean it. We'll talk about what happened later but not now, baby. Now I just want to be here with you." Athena rests her forehead against his. "I was terrified I lost you, Bobby. And I didn't want to imagine my life without you-- I couldn't, so I allowed the rage to consume me."
He groans quietly, remembering acutely those moments where he thought much the same. "When I woke up... and you weren't here--" Bobby says, voice sore and sentences often broken, "I thought I'd lost you and I couldn't-" his breath chokes around a sob caught in his throat, "I couldn't..."
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Athena rapidly blinks away tears, hating herself for making him experience such a thing. "Oh my darling man, I'm sorry I wasn't here."
"You're here now and that's all that matters to me." Bobby tells her, needing nothing else. "I love you, Athena. So damn much." He holds her closer. Fingers curled tight in her jacket. Close will never close enough. "I love you, my wife."
From within her pocket, his wedding band appears. With delicate touch, she slowly and carefully slides the metal back into place. Back where it belongs. Tender lips then follow to place a cherished kiss upon it.
An unbroken circle without end.
Having lost the battle of her tears, Athena returns the sentiment. "I love you husband, I love you." Delicately, she kisses him again, her nose again brushes his. "I love you, Bobby Nash."
And within his wife's embrace, Bobby realises that while their house may be gone, a burnt out husk of the home it use to be, it doesn't matter. None of it truly matters. It's a building filled with things, mostly replacable things.
They have what's most important. Their memories. They have each other and they have the kids.
Home, afterall, isn't a place. It's the people you love.
And with Athena beside him, the ground once again steady and his heart filled with love and hope, Bobby's already home, because she's home.
His Athena.
The end.
......... .......... .........