Sedalia, Missouri - Walnut Hills
August 19, 2030 | 2:21 PM CDT
It was a peaceful afternoon.
Inside the house, laughter echoed faintly. Jane—still recovering—sat on the couch, her head resting on her mother's shoulder, smiling softly. Her father chuckled at something Natalie said, the little girl spinning around the living room, her teddy bear flailing in her arms like a dancing partner.
Bryan stood in the kitchen, quietly watching it all unfold. A smile escaped.
Suddenly, the distant sound of cars grew louder.
Bryan's head turned.
Outside, multiple black SUVs and a limo in the middle were pulling to a stop in front of the house. Their windows were tinted, American flags fluttering faintly on their sides. Men in dark suits and earpieces stepped out quickly.
Bryan and Ellie looked out the window.
"That's Secret Service," Bryan said.
Adam wandered in behind them. "Okay, I didn't do anything," he muttered, peeking over Bryan's shoulder. "Or maybe because I filed my taxes last month. Just added 'government espionage' under 'other income.'"
Bryan looked back at him, confused.
Adam was still looking over his shoulder, acting like he didn't even say anything.
Ellie sighed. "It's like being married to a child."
Then, the door of the limo swung open.
A woman stepped out—elegant, composed, and instantly familiar.
Emily Reynolds. Followed by her children.
As soon as she was clear of the vehicle, stepping out behind her was David Reynolds.
Bryan's eyes widened. Ellie stood frozen, a hand lightly covering her mouth.
They all watched from the window as the Reynolds family approached.
Then Ellie and Adam moved. They opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, hearts pounding.
"Em…" Ellie said, her eyes narrowing with joy, barely able to contain herself.
Emily didn't wait. She hurried up the steps and threw her arms around both Ellie and Adam, pulling them close.
"I missed you guys," she said, her voice breaking. "So much."
Ellie's voice softened. "We missed you, too."
Adam let out a dry chuckle. "It's been so long, I forgot I had another daughter."
Ellie gave him a light smack on the chest, her eyes still warm on Emily. Adam flinched, rubbing the spot with a small wince.
"Don't mind this idiot," she said.
Emily chuckled.
Then, without another word. She spotted Jane inside, sitting on the couch, teary-eyed.
She ran and wrapped her arms around Jane. Her eyes were watering.
"I'm so glad you're okay," she whispered into her little sister's hair. "I… I was really worried."
Natalie peeked out from behind the couch, her teddy still clutched in her hand. She saw her aunt. Her face lit up, and she sprinted.
"Aunty Em!" she shouted in joy, quickly wrapping her arms around Emily's waist.
Emily quickly kneeled and greeted her. "Hi there, sweetpea!" She put a hand on Natalie's cheek. "I missed you!" Then embraced her.
Alex, Cindy, and Ava stepped inside, ushered in gently by one of the agents.
Natalie, still wrapped halfway in Emily's arms, turned at the sound.
Her eyes widened. "Alex!" she squealed, voice cracking with joy. "Cindy! Ava!"
She pulled free from Emily and took off in a blur of little feet and wild curls.
The three barely had time to react before Natalie crashed into them with all the force her small arms could give.
Alex laughed as he caught her, lifting her slightly off the ground. "Hey! How are you?!"
Cindy dropped to her knees and pulled her in tighter. "We missed you, Nat. You okay?"
Ava smiled gently, brushing hair from Natalie's cheek. "We were so scared for you."
Natalie didn't answer. She just nodded into Cindy's shoulder, clinging to them all.
David stepped in next. He paused in the doorway, watching it all unfold.
A slow smile broke across his face.
He stepped forward and greeted Ellie, then Adam. His handshake was firm.
Then his eyes landed on Bryan.
The two men stood for a moment.
David stepped forward.
They embraced—two men who had seen too much and survived more than most would ever know.
When they pulled back, Bryan gave him a look, half-smirk. "I'm still not used to hugging the President," he said dryly.
David chuckled. "And I can't believe I had to go all the way to get Secret Service clearance just to hug this son of a bitch."
The adults laughed.
Bryan half-laughed. "It's good to see you again."
David smiled, nodding. "It's good to see you, too." He glanced briefly at everyone. "I'm glad you're all safe."
Ellie wiped her teary eyes before clapping her hands lightly. "Alright then!" she said with a burst of energy. "Who wants ice cream?"
"Me!" Natalie shouted.
Adam flinched as Ellie smacked him in the chest again. "Don't just stand there and help."
"Ow! Abuse!" he yelped. "I thought they abolished slavery long ago?"
Ellie rolled her eyes. She opened the freezer, rummaging with one hand while calling out, "David, you want some?"
David held up a hand. "I'm good, thank you."
He turned back to Bryan.
His voice lowered just a bit, more deliberate. "Can we talk for a moment?"
Bryan's brow lifted, reading something unspoken in the man's tone. He gave a single nod. "Yeah. Sure."
David opened the door and stepped out, his suit jacket ruffling gently in the wind. Bryan followed, closing the door.
They walked side by side down the quiet street. David's hands were buried in his pockets. A few agents trailed behind them, far enough to give space.
Bryan glanced over. "How are you?"
David exhaled through his nose. "Well, I wake up every day to a mountain of problems, half the country thinks I'm a lizard in a suit, and I haven't taken a piss without someone holding a radio since '27… so, you know—living the dream."
Bryan huffed, a dry half-laugh escaping him. "Still sounds like Congress."
"Tell me about it," David added with a smirk. "What about you?"
Bryan looked down, his shoes crunching lightly on the pavement as they walked. "A lot happened."
"I heard," David said softly. "I'm glad you all made it out."
Bryan gave a small nod. "Yeah."
They kept walking. The trees above swayed gently, the rustling leaves filling the silence for a moment.
David slowed a bit, glanced sideways. "How are you feeling? After your last mission."
Bryan stiffened slightly but didn't stop walking.
Bryan swallowed hard. "I had to make a decision," he said quietly. "And I did."
David didn't answer right away. "Do you regret it?"
Bryan's steps faltered, just for a second. "I don't know," he said. "Some nights, I think I made the right call. Other nights I see their faces… and I…"
Bryan stopped mid-sentence, his eyes lifting slowly to the sky above as he exhaled deeply.
David nodded, his gaze on the street ahead. "That's the thing about command. People think the hard part's making the call. It's not. It's living with it."
Bryan gave a dry laugh. They kept walking a bit more before he tilted his head slightly. "What's really happening, Dave? Those things. That light…"
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," he said, with a half-smirk.
"Please," Bryan snorted. "Get in line."
They both laughed, the kind that came from shared history.
Despite the age gap between them, there was something unspoken in their bond. Respect, maybe. Or the kind of closeness forged only when both had carried pieces of the same past, just from different ends of it.
David stopped.
Bryan took a few more steps before realizing and turned back. They stood beneath the soft rustle of a tree, the shadows long in the late afternoon sun.
David looked at him. The easy smile had faded, replaced by something quiet. Heavy.
"I do need to tell you something," he said, his tone shifting.
Bryan said nothing, just nodded slowly.
Back at the house, things had quieted.
Everyone else was in the backyard—the hum of laughter and conversation drifting faintly through the sliding glass door. Two agents stood posted just beside it, another at the front door.
Inside, the living room felt still.
Bryan sat on the couch, elbows resting on his knees. Across from him, David settled into another couch, his hands clasped together.
A third man stepped into the room.
He was sharp—mid-40s, trim haircut, tailored suit under a windbreaker. He moved like someone who had lived too long in rooms where decisions came with body counts. In his hand was a black leather briefcase.
David nodded toward him. "Bryan, this is Alan Marrick. Deputy Director of Special Operations Planning—National Security Council."
Bryan stood. They shook hands—firm grip, no words wasted.
"Nice to meet you," Bryan said.
"Likewise," Marrick replied, offering a quick nod before lowering himself into the couch beside David.
David's tone shifted.
"What I'm about to tell you… is above top secret," he said.
Bryan didn't reply. He just leaned forward slightly, listening intently.
David spoke slowly. "On August 9, there was a blinding flash that engulfed the entire U.S. coast to coast."
Bryan's jaw tensed. His thoughts immediately jumped to that day.
"We call it Event Zero," David continued. "At that exact moment, satellites went dark. Communications with allies… adversaries… every country gone." He paused. "The entire North American continent is no longer on Earth."
Bryan stared at him. His brows drew together, trying to wrap his head around what he'd just heard. No longer on Earth? How is that even possible?
David turned to Marrick, then nodded. Marrick placed the briefcase on the table. He opened it, and inside were printed satellite photos.
"A week after Event Zero," Marrick said, "we launched a new satellite from Vandenberg, California, on August 17. This is what we found."
He slid the first photo across the table.
Bryan picked it up.
"Multiple civilizations," Marrick said, tapping another photo. "Others resemble World War-era industrial infrastructure. Another looks closer to medieval East Asia. And a few…" He hesitated. "They're nothing we've ever seen before."
Bryan stared down at them. Silent. Processing.
Finally, he looked up. "Why are you showing me this?"
David leaned forward. "Because we're building a team," he said. "A unit made of the best from every special operations branch," he paused, letting it sink in. "And I want you to lead it."
The photos slipped from Bryan's hands and scattered across the table.
He leaned back slowly, arms crossed. "…Why me?"
Marrick looked at him. "You were on the ground in Gaza during the border raids in '27. You coordinated a civilian evac under mortar fire. Then Syria. Damascus, '28. You tracked Quds Force units pushing lines through Golan. Ankara. Riyadh. Baghdad. You've operated in every high-risk zone across the region."
Marrick paused. His tone dropped. "And then… Iran. Early 30s."
Bryan's expression didn't change. But something in his posture shifted.
"You and your team were inserted under JSOC orders to disable Rakid-8 outside Semnan. You—"
"Okay enough," Bryan said, cutting him off.
David stepped in gently. "That mission... no one else could've pulled it off. But you did."
Bryan's eyes dropped to the table. "…I don't know," he muttered. "After what happened in Iran, I…"
He stopped—couldn't finish his sentence.
David's gaze lingered on Bryan for a long second before he finally spoke, his voice calm but firm.
"I'll give you some time to think about it," he said. "But you don't have long."
He turned to Marrick and nodded. Marrick quickly gathered the scattered satellite photos from the table and returned them to the briefcase.
Bryan stayed seated, motionless and silent.
David stood, gave a nod to the agents near the hallway. One of them opened the sliding door. The quiet chatter and laughter from outside grew louder as the rest of the family began to make their way in—faces lit with the warmth of reunion, unaware of the weight that had just settled in the room.
Soon, the living room filled again. Adam returned with a bowl of half-melted ice cream, and Natalie tugged Ava over to show her a picture she had drawn. The warmth returned.
Eventually, the moment to leave came.
David hugged Ellie again, held Jane's hand briefly, and gave Adam a pat on the back. Emily helped Alex into the limo while Cindy and Ava filed in after her.
David lingered by the car door for a moment, then turned back.
Bryan stood on the porch, watching them get in the limo.
David looked at him and simply said, "I'll be waiting for your answer."
Bryan just stared at him. Without a word, he turned and stepped back into the house.
The door shut behind him as the motorcade rolled away.
An hour passed. It was late afternoon. The sun had just started to dip below the trees.
Inside the house, Ellie sat curled into the corner of the couch with Jane resting beside her, their conversation quiet. Adam slouched in a nearby armchair, halfway through a bag of chips, tossing them into his mouth without looking. Natalie was sprawled on the rug, drawing with crayons, humming softly to herself.
It was calm.
But outside, in the backyard, Bryan sat alone.
He slouched low in a patio chair, one hand holding a sweating bottle of beer, the other clenched into a fist. His gaze was hollow, fixed not on the world around him, but the one still playing behind his eyes.
Jane and Natalie—crying on the floor.
He thought he shouldn't have left them there. Alone and unsafe.
And then, another memory surged forward—dust, gunfire, someone screaming through static.
The two worlds crashed together—family and war—and somewhere in between, he felt himself unraveling.
He was safe now. They all were. But his mind wasn't. And part of him knew it never would be.
Guilt pressed down like a weight on his chest.
Then—softly—a hand touched his shoulder.
He turned. It was Ellie.
She didn't speak right away. Just looked at him with those quiet, clear eyes—eyes that didn't ask, but understood.
Bryan lowered the beer and set it gently in the grass. Then he stood, brushing his palms on his pants.
"What is it?" he asked.
Her tone was gentle. "How are you?"
"I'm fine," he muttered. "What's the matter?"
But she didn't look away. Didn't let it slide.
"I know you keep blaming yourself for what happened last week," she said.
Bryan stared right into her eyes and eventually surrendered.
He looked down, exhaled deeply. "I was supposed to keep them safe."
"You did."
"Not all of them," he said quietly.
Ellie stepped past him, slowly making her way onto the lawn. The breeze lifted her sweater slightly. She bent down and picked up a crisp, fallen leaf. It spun lightly between her fingers.
"My daughter is alive because of you," she said. "You got her out when everything around you was falling apart." She turned back to him. "But you… you look at yourself like you failed."
"Maybe because I did," Bryan said.
"You keep going over what you didn't do—what you couldn't do," she said gently. "You think if you did something different… maybe Jane wouldn't have been hurt. Maybe Natalie wouldn't have been crying."
He looked away.
"But that's the trap guilt sets for you," Ellie continued. "It keeps you staring at the door that's already closed while ignoring the one you kicked open."
Bryan breathed hard through his nose. "It's what I see when I close my eyes."
"I know," she said. "And I know this isn't the first time you had to carry that weight."
"I also heard from Jane what happened… from your previous deployment," she admitted. "Not everything. Just enough to know you made a decision no one should ever have to make."
His shoulders twitched.
"I made a call," he said.
Ellie nodded slowly. "One that still lives in your chest."
She took a few steps toward him. "You tell yourself it's just part of the job. But that doesn't make it hurt any less."
Bryan didn't speak—or couldn't.
She lifted the leaf in her hand, holding it between her fingers. "You think this is weak because it fell," she said softly. "But it didn't fall because it broke. It fell because it carried all it could."
She turned it gently in the light. The leaf was dry at the edges, weathered, but the veins still held strong. "It did what it was meant to do. It gave shade. Held on through wind and storm. And when the time came, it let go."
She looked at him, voice quiet but unwavering. "And that wasn't failure. That was grace."
Then, gently, she placed it in his palm. "So are you."
Bryan looked down at it. A brittle thing. Marked, scarred, but still whole.
"You've carried it long enough, Bryan. Maybe it's time to stop letting yesterday decide who you are today."
Bryan swallowed hard. "Feels like I'm just surviving."
"Sometimes surviving is the most heroic thing we can do," she said.
"I don't feel like a hero," he muttered.
"You're not," she said, without hesitation. "You're human. And that's why it matters."
Bryan looked at her, finally.
"They're still laughing in there because of you. That's not nothing. That's everything," she said, a smile escaping.
He could hear Natalie's voice—Jane's faint laugh.
"You don't have to carry the things you couldn't change," Ellie said gently. "But don't ever forget the things you did."
He nodded once—small, but real.
And at that moment, with the breeze in the grass and the leaf in his hand, he didn't say anything else.
Ellie placed a gentle hand on Bryan's cheek, her smile trembling as a tear slipped down. "Thank you," she whispered. "For bringing our daughter back."
Then—without hesitation—she wrapped her arms around him.
Bryan stood frozen for a moment. But then… his arms slowly came around her.
And in that quiet second, it hit him.
This—this warmth, this safety, felt like something he'd spent his whole life missing.
Like the mother he never had.
But then, Ellie's eyes drifted past Bryan's shoulder. Something caught her attention near the sliding glass door.
Her expression shifted—eyebrows narrowing slightly. "…Adam?"
Adam was leaning against the wall just beside the glass, one shoulder propped up, casually munching from a bag of chips as if watching a movie.
Ellie pulled away from Bryan, quickly wiping her face. "How long have you been standing there?"
Adam took another bite and shrugged, unfazed. "Since the beginning."
Her mouth dropped open. "Unbelievable."
He raised his bag of chips in a salute, crumbs dotting his shirt. "Good hug, by the way. Solid work, both of you."
Ellie placed her hands on her hips, shaking her head. "I cannot with this man."
Bryan's eyes were still closed, but his shoulders started to shake. A low sound escaped—soft, muffled laughter.
Ellie looked back and saw the faint smile forming on his face. She let out a quiet laugh of her own.
The wind stirred softly through the trees.
Bryan looked down at the leaf in his hand one last time. Then, with a quiet breath, he let it go, watching as the breeze carried it away.
And for the first time in a long while… the weight in his chest felt lighter.
They headed back inside, the house was alive again—light, warmth, voices.
For now… that was enough.