The rusty old bus pulled around a final ramp and was off the highway, sweeping down into the sleepy streets of a small town. The early morning sun was beginning to peek over and through the pine trees that surrounded the road on both sides. The snow on the ground was building as a light dusting fell through the air. The bus' interior was occupied sparsely. A young mother and child sat near the front sleeping, a middle-aged man stared out the window halfway back, at the back a teenage girl was reading a book in the impossibly dim light.

Ivy shut the book and glanced out the window. She was not entirely looking forward to the prospect of seeing her parents again. It had been a few months since she'd left on her tour with the orchestra expecting to return home to New York City. The metropolis had grown on her in the ten years she'd lived there despite the slums that had rapidly popped up since the Pulse. But being a "military brat" meant knowing that you could be moved anywhere on short notice. Sure enough a few days after she had left New York her Army officer parents were reassigned to a base out west.

From what she had gathered in their phone conversations the area around the town was untouched wilderness. The trees and snow she saw now. The sun was beginning to rise and flashed between the trees like a film strip as the bus sped past. She shut her eyes, the images rising up again from somewhere in her subconscious. The childhood she could barely remember and what she remembered were happy times. She remembered laughing, talking, staying up late. There were less pleasant images that started to rise, but when she tried to grasp them they faded back into her mind. She never mentioned them to anyone. Some memories were locked away from her and none of it made sense. It didn't match the childhood she was told she must have had before she'd been adopted.

The psychologists said the violence of the post-Pulse riots had given her post traumatic stress disorder. The Kinlans had known that when they adopted her and they didn't care one bit. They had given her a loving home and a loving family. For some reason though Ivy felt her heart sinking the closer she got to her new home. The bus pulled down a side road and a sign greeted them.

Gillette City Limit

Ivy stepped off the bus last, feeling the crisp autumn air brush at her face. She hefted the strap of the loaded duffel bag on her shoulder and surveyed the parking lot. A smile came to her face and she walked towards a familiar face. Standing by the open cargo door of the bus, arms crossed, a forty-something man in fatigues smiled back. They regarded each other for a moment before the man grabbed her in a fierce hug.

Ivy regained her breath and pushed the dislodged hair from her face. "I'm glad to see you too, Dad."

Jack Kinlan grinned. "You look more grown up."

"I might've hit a growth spurt or too," Ivy admitted. She hugged her father again.

They gathered up her luggage and packed it into the trunk of the family sedan. As they drove through the town Ivy nearly gave into her sleep deprivation. The ride from Chicago had been long. The drive took them completely through the town and into the woods some ways. As they approached their destination the barbed wire fences of the base greeted them as the sedan pulled up to the guard kiosk. Jack handed his pass to the guard who greeted them.

"Out later than usual, Jack," the guard observed as he checked the pass. He glanced through the window and smiled. "Who's the passenger?"

"This is my daughter Ivy," Jack said waving a hand towards the girl in the passenger seat. "Ivy, this is Mike. You'll see him around."

Ivy merely smiled and gave a nod.

"A quiet one isn't she?" Mike remarked. "Can you open the trunk?"

Jack sighed. "Thorough as always, huh, Mike?"

Jack got out of the car and unlocked the trunk. He popped it open and stood aside as the guard observed the contents.

Mike tapped at one of the cases. "What's this?"

Jack laughed. "It's a cello. Ivy's a musician. Need me to open it?"

"No. I'll take your word for it. Have a good night, Jack." Mike went back into the kiosk and opened the gate. He waved to them as Jack got back into the car.

"Things are a bit different out here," Jack explained about the base. "Not everyone works on the base here. There's an Air Force base outside the town that some of the folks work at. I don't know precisely what they do out there. Air craft testing I think. But of course I work here not far from home."

"The way you like it," Ivy said with a smile.

Jack beamed at her. "I really missed having you around."

"Well, it's my senior year," Ivy commented. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

Jack's face became serious. "So have you thought about what you're going to do?"

Ivy's face fell as well. "I am not enlisting."

"Okay," Jack sighed. "I just want what's best for you."

"I can highly assure you that the military is not what's best for me," Ivy said. "It's fine for you and Mom, but I don't want to spend my life following orders."

Jack sighed again, but let it lie.

Ivy stared out the window. "Dad, why did you guys adopt me?"

"Because we love you," Jack said without thought.

Ivy scoffed. "You didn't when you first met me. As I recall you called me 'a problem child likely to end up in a detention center by the age of twelve'."

Jack smiled as he turned the car down a street. "You remember everything. Don't you?"

She met his gaze. "Sometimes I wish I could. There are things I'd like to remember."

The car stopped as they pulled into a driveway. Jack shut off the engine and turned to Ivy. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "If you're meant to remember them you will. You've been through a lot in life."

Ivy sighed. "You make life sound so simple."

"I try to," Jack replied. He waved a hand at the house in front of them. "Welcome home, Ivy."