there is a house built out of stone, wooden floors, walls and window sills

[intheruins]

I kept going until I couldn't hear them screaming anymore. I was the oldest. They were screaming for me.

Serena swears she awakens the the sound of those same screams she heard more than a decade ago, only then there's nothing but silence. Stillness. The family home is as cool as the winter outside, blankets covering Serena's lap and the backs of the horses in the barn nearby. For a moment, she starts to move from the couch she's made her bed – and then realizes. 

She's not supposed to be here. 

The last time she was here she was choking on smoke and running from noise like a spooked animal searching for sanctuary. Toward the horses and away from – well, away from what was supposed to count. The only thing that was supposed to count. Her family.

The little ones, boys and girls, and of course her parents. They'd been unrecognizable. Buried together like soldiers that had perished in a war instead of what was supposed to be the safety of their home. She could have saved them, she tells herself over and over, she could have run back in and dragged their bodies away from the heat. 

But that was more than a decade ago – wasn't it? Just moments ago she was resting her eyes in her bed in Darrow, waiting for George's gurgling to give way to sleep. Just moments ago she was anywhere but here, having thought she'd put all of this behind her... only how could she? 

The burn on her back means she could never forget. Every time she showers, every time she glances back at her naked body in the mirror. It doesn't hurt, not anymore, but it doesn't need to. All of the ache is inside her – those moments when she's certain she's heard them call her name again, "Serena, Serena, Serena!", only to be met with silence once more.

Like right now. Somehow, Serena finds the strength to move and look about. There's no sign of George – that terrifies her. She doesn't want to be anywhere he isn't. There's no sign of her siblings, either, not as she heads up the stairs and looks in their beds. She spots a doll that one of the littlest always carried about. It had a name, maybe, but she can't remember it. 

She lifts it to her face and inhales. It smells like baby powder and dirt – her sister had carried it everywhere. A faint smile tugs at the corner of her lips at the thought and she glances around. It would be so easy to curl up on one of these tiny beds and close her eyes and give into the hurt. To let herself perish as they had in these same rooms – though there's no sign of ash nor embers here.

It would be so easy to give into the hurt, but then there's the sound of movement downstairs and Serena almost trips over her own feet in search of it. 

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[a_littlefaith]

Beth wakes up in an unfamiliar house, somewhere she isn't supposed to be.

Something inside of her lurches, a surge of fear so strong she nearly throws up and she struggles into a sitting position on the floor, then looks around, trying to work out where she is or what she's supposed to do. It's quiet in the house and nothing is familiar, but she knows she can't just sit here, she has to get up and figure this out, but that fear is pounding at her chest, at her skull, pain blooming behind her eyes and she has to close them for a second, wrapping her arms around her knees and breathing as slowly and steadily as she can.

When her heart slows, she lifts her head again and carefully looks around. As she gets to her feet, she hears the creak of a footstep overhead and she gets up quickly, looking for the stairs.

"Carl?" she calls. It has to be him. He has to be here with Judith, he has to be, she can't have been taken away from them.

[intheruins]

The voice is familiar but it's the name throws her off. No Carls have ever lived here. She pauses at the top of the staircase, not yet letting herself be seen. Whatever is happening doesn't make any sense, it's like her arrival in Darrow all over again.

Only there's no baby in her belly trying desperately to get out and she hasn't seen Pemberton in months. She's grown so used to her life all-but-alone in the cabin that she's started to see it as home.

But this is her real home. Her first home. The one she'd wandered through even when it was only ashes, calling her family's names.

"Who's there?" she manages, finally, reminding herself that there's a gun in the master bedroom if she needs it – her father had told her that over and over again when he left for business.

[a_littlefaith]

The sound of a familiar voice catches Beth off guard and she pauses where she's standing, one hand outstretched, fingers pressed lightly to the wall to steady herself. Her stomach is still turning from her fear, her nerves, but she finally works up the courage to call out.

"Serena?" she asks. "Is that you? It's Beth."

She has a hundred questions, she wants to ask where they are, what they're doing here, but she doesn't expect Serena to have any answers either. Instead she starts forward again, looking for the stairs.

[intheruins]

Beth. Beth. That's the voice she recognized and suddenly she can't imagine how she didn't to begin with. All of this her senses in a spin and all the can think is that she needs to get to her friend immediately.

She doesn't want to be in this house alone. Not again.

The staircase is made of wood and her steps are loud, creaking, as she stumbles down, tears flooding her eyes. She's never been the sort for affection with anyone but her family and her husband but she finds herself reaching out for Beth, needing a hug or her hand. "What's happening?"

[a_littlefaith]

"I don't know," Beth says, reaching out toward Serena, her hands settling on her arms just above her elbows, holding onto her and taking strength from the solidity of her. Wherever they are, they're still real, still both here, and as long as she's not completely alone, she can deal with this.

She's dealt with worse, after all. But Serena looks more upset than she is, there are tears in her eyes, and Beth holds her closer, sliding an arm around her.

"I don't know where we are," she says, looking around. "I don't know what happened."

[intheruins]

"I don't know what happened, either," Serena says, shaky, letting herself be held but still looking about, taking in every element of the room that was once so familiar to her. She could easily be back in the early, smoky, morning the last time the house stood, the memory immediate and feeling forever ago all at once. Beth's presence is comforting but inexplicable – of course, when was the last time anything made sense? Maybe not even before Darrow. "But I know where we are. I grew up here. It was my family home on the camp in Colorado."