Dylan left the airport, his Army duffel hanging over one shoulder, and looked for his parent's SUV. He'd been overseas for the last two years and was more than ready to be away from it for a while, even if it was only because he'd been injured. He walked with a very prominent limp in his left leg, the limb stiff from a brace. A crutch helped him walk on it. His black hair was shaved down and his previously vibrant green eyes looked rather dull. The smile that usually graced his lips couldn't be seen as they searched for the SUV. It pulled in just as he was about to take a seat, and Dylan's dad got out with a gentle smile so he could help him get into the car. "It's good to see you again, Dylan." "It's good to be back home," Dylan responded with a slight ghost of a smile. They left quick enough and the ride to the house was silent up until they got close to the neighborhood. "I managed to talk your mom out of having a coming home party tonight, but you know she'll want one in a few days so your friends and some of the family have an excuse to come visit you. I'll hold her off if you're not ready for it, but keep it in mind, all right?" Dylan nodded, and they pulled up to a two-story home. He looked at it and sighed inwardly. He really wasn't ready to deal with anyone right now. In fact, if he'd been smart he might have taken his lieutenant's advice and gone to base to recover a little before coming home. But it was done now, so he got out of the SUV and tried to take his duffle from his dad. "You're home, now, son. I think after what you've probably been through, I can at least carry your bag into the house for you." Dylan took a deep breath, calming the anger that bubbled at what he perceived as pity, before settling on his crutch and making his way inside. "I'm home," he called out.