"Dumb luck."
Rabb stared at her, completely flummoxed. Yes, he "got" the part about why she suspected his father might still be alive, why she hoped that her interpretation of the Russian word for "lost" could mean actually lost, not dead. He got the part about why she felt the need to go and look, God knows, he'd done it enough himself, starting when he was sixteen years old. What he didn't get, was that she really had no idea even where to look for him. Zhukov's mother and Uncle had both passed away, even Russian Major Sokol believed the story of Rabb, Sr.'s death at the hands of rogue soldiers.
"Dumb luck?" he repeated.
"That, and sheer force of will," Boone chuckled.
"Your future wife is a very stubborn and determined woman," Rabb, Sr. smiled at Bronwyn affectionately.
Rabb nodded, giving her hand a squeeze, even as he eyed the noticeable bruises on her face and arms. "This much I already know."
"For which we are ever so grateful," Zhukov added.
"Spasibo, Brother," she murmured around a yawn she couldn't hold back.
"Pozhaluysta, dear Sister," he grinned at her.
Rabb, Sr. nodded, his eyes filling with tears. "I can never thank you enough," he said. "All of you," he added, to include Boone and Zhukov.
"Neither can I," Rabb murmured.
Bronwyn fought off another yawn and shook her head. "You two keep saying that as if it were a choice. It wasn't."
Boone, looking equally tired nodded in agreement. "No question."
The somber moment was interrupted by a sudden ruckus at the front of the house, followed by a quick bark of command.
Boone chuckled softly. "Sounds like the cadets are home."
Bronwyn was off the couch and hurrying through the house toward the happy noise. A moment later, delighted screams of joy rang out, followed by choruses of "Mommy! Mommy!"
She sank to the floor, hugging and kissing the twins as she beamed up at Chegwidden. "Hey Dad."
"Hey yourself," he smiled indulgently at the three of them.
Voices from the back room caught his attention and he glanced through the kitchen to see who was there. He froze in shock as he caught sight of Rabb, Sr. sitting next to his son. "Bron...?"
"Yes, that's who you think he is," she smiled sleepily at Chegwidden.
"Daddy! Daddy!" the twins shouted, running full-tilt past the Admiral toward the sound of Rabb's voice.
They stopped short, gawking at the older version of their father seated next to him on the sofa. Chegwidden had helped Bronwyn off the floor and the two of them came up behind the twins, each placing a hand on their shoulders.
"Please forgive the wild behavior, Sir," Bronwyn began. "Trevor, Logan, say hello to your Grandfather Rabb."
Trevor took Logan's hand in his and held it firmly. "Hello Sir," he said.
"Hello Trevor, I'm very happy to meet you," Rabb, Sr. replied, fighting back tears of emotion. The boy was an exact duplicate of his father at that age.
Logan gaped at her grandfather, before shifting her eyes to her father. Rabb could see that she was trying to work it out in her head and held his arms out to her. She slowly approached, her eyes still shifting between the two men, and crawled into Rabb's lap. She reached up to touch Rabb's face, then slowly reached out to touch her grandfather's face.
"Grandpa?"
"Hello Sweetpea," he smiled lovingly at her. She, too, looked like her father, but a softer, more feminine version.
"You look like Daddy," she noted, patting his face again.
"I'm confused," Trevor announced.
Rabb motioned him over and put an arm around him. "I know we told you that we lost Grandpa in combat, son, but it turns out that Grandpa was just... lost."
"Like in the woods?" Trevor asked.
"Exactly like that," Rabb, Sr. nodded. "In the woods very, very far away, and I couldn't get back home..." he paused to glance at Bronwyn, Boone and Zhukov. "Not until your Mommy, Uncle Sergei and Admiral Boone found me."
Trevor and Logan looked at Bronwyn. "That's where you were all this time?" they asked in unison.
She nodded, unable to find her voice in the moment.
"And you're going to stay... with us... now?" Trevor asked him.
"That's the plan," Rabb answered for him.
"Good," Logan nodded emphatically before climbing into her grandfather's lap and wrapping her arms around his neck.
Rabb, Sr. closed his eyes, held her close and breathed in her sweet, little girl scent. A single tear slid down his cheek and Trevor moved in and gently wiped his tear away. "You don't have to be sad anymore, Grandpa... you're here with us now," he said.
Overcome with emotion, Rabb was fighting back his own tears. "Yes he is, son. We're all together now."
Bronwyn had buried her face against Chegwidden's chest, struggling to keep her own emotions under control in front of the twins. Chegwidden nodded, cleared his throat and spoke to Rabb, Sr. "Welcome home, Lt. Rabb."
Rabb, Sr. struggled to stand up with Logan in his arms and smartly saluted Chegwidden. "Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir."
Boone had to excuse himself from the room to gather his composure, while Zhukov did nothing to hide his own tears. He was feeling a wide range of emotions, from gratitude, pride, sadness at all the years lost between them, joy at having a whole new family and anger all at once.
"Why is everybody crying?" Trevor asked. "This is happy stuff!"
The adults burst out laughing. "Happy tears," Bronwyn managed to sniffle out.
"That's right, son," Chegwidden agreed. "This is a happy occasion."
Logan pulled back to look at everyone for a moment. "Now we just need Grandma and Grandpa Burnett!" she exclaimed, completely unaware of the elephant she'd just dropped into the room.
Grandma and Grandpa Burnett. No problem.
Rabb met Bronwyn's eyes over the heads of their children. Easy peasy. The legal entanglements were complicated enough in just declaring Rabb, Sr. alive, let alone adding in those of his marriage to Trish... and hers to Frank. Bronwyn had considered all of that before she'd gone off looking for Rabb, Sr. She knew it would be complicated, maybe even messy, but she couldn't NOT look for him. Not if there was even the slightest chance that he could be alive somewhere. Whatever the cost, and leaving out any familial ties, she owed it to him as a fellow Naval Officer to bring him home. Rabb, Sr. shifted his gaze to her and she smiled at him reassuringly. They had talked about Trish, about Frank, and the life they had built for themselves. She'd told him how difficult it had been for Trish to let go of him, and how she'd spent years looking over her shoulder, wondering if she'd done the right thing in moving on. How she'd known it was what he'd wanted, what he'd told her to do in his letters, should anything happen to him. To his credit, he still stood by those wishes. He'd been gone a long time, and he would have hated it if Trish had spent her life pining away, in pain and loneliness. Now, the question was: would Trish forgive her for opening up all those old wounds? For, once again, wreaking havoc with their lives? She hoped so. Wanted to believe so. Trish was a good person, and she loved her deeply. As for Frank? Well, that was a tough one. He'd lived in Rabb, Sr.'s shadow for ages. Jealous, at times, of a ghost with whom he could never compete - especially in Rabb, Jr.'s eyes. Now there was the living, breathing man to contend with, not a ghost.
"Grandpa, can I show you my room?" Logan asked excitedly.
"Me too!" Trevor hopped up off the sofa.
"I'd like that," he replied, glancing at his son.
"Good luck," Rabb chuckled as the twins hauled Senior to his feet and began dragging him across the room.
Sergei cleared his throat and spoke up. "I will go as well, to help wrangle the monkeys."
He wasn't fooling Bronwyn. Even in her fatigued state, she knew he was excusing himself so they could discuss the elephant in the room: Trish and Frank.
"Sooner, rather than later," Boone advised.
Rabb glanced at his father's old friend and winced. "Easier said than done."
"It'll be worse if you wait," Chegwidden told them.
"I'll tell them."
All eyes turned to Bronwyn.
"I did this, it's up to me to explain myself."
Rabb shook his head negatively. "You do NOT have to apologize for bringing my father home," he told her.
"No," she shrugged. "I won't apologize for that... I do have to explain myself though. I wouldn't hurt Trish or Frank, ever, but this... I... "
"You have nothing to explain to me," Rabb assured her.
"It could get very messy," she sighed deeply.
"What's messy?"
Rabb, Boone, Chegwidden and Bronwyn all froze. This could not be happening. Not now. So soon?
"Mom," Rabb coughed. "When did you...?"
She waved off his questions and planted a kiss on his cheek. "We wanted to surprise you."
"That you did," Boone muttered.
"So what's going on? What's this mess you're discussing?"
"Well, uh, that's a bit of a long story," Rabb stammered nervously.
"My story," Bronwyn interrupted. "One I should tell you about... not here..."
"No, not here," Chegwidden agreed. "How about we go to... my place...?"
"Great idea!" Boone agreed and stepped forward to usher them from the room. "Nice to see you, Trish. Long time."
"Tom," she began, only to be cut off by the sound of running feet.
"Grandma! Grandpa!"
"Babies!" she exclaimed as the twin projectiles flew down the stairs and into her arms.
Frank, catching on quickly to the heavy atmosphere, mentally braced himself for whatever bomb they were holding to drop.
"Oh come let me look at you," Trish was cooing over the twins. "I swear you grow six inches every time we're away from each oth..." she trailed off with a gasp.
"Oh shit," Boone muttered as they all took in the figure standing stock still on the stairs.
Trish had gone completely white. Frank stood motionless, staring at the ghost that had haunted him for years. Rabb moved in close and placed a protective arm around his mother.
"Long story," he whispered as Bronwyn moved to stand between Trish and Frank.
"Harmon..." Trish murmured.
"Hello Trish," he smiled tentatively.
"It's really you," she gasped. "You're alive..."
"Not for lack of trying... on their part," Senior replied, making his way down the stairs.
"Dear God," Frank gasped.