A/N: This is a bit of an extended epilogue/companion story to my other story The Bunker, but I think you can read this on its own, too. It's currently sitting at 10-ish chapters. Been a while since I've posted anything. I've got another Gunsmoke story in the works, and several more H50 stories. After that, who knows.

NOTE: In this slight AU, Max, Kono, and Chin are still around. Not because I have anything against Junior and all, but I didn't want to learn how to do a new set of voices.

15+ years ago, pre-Bunker

…

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

The man sitting at the kitchen table with the two women frowned at the noise coming from the front door. He checked his watch, then looked at his wife. "Are we expecting company?"

Martha shook her head. It was a perfect Sunday afternoon, sunny and warm but not hot, and no hint of rain in the sky. The windows were open, ushering in a fresh breeze off the ocean, and the small table, set for three, looked out over the city. In the fourth chair at the table, a baby slept in a small carrier.

Seated beside the man's wife, the baby's mother- Alice- spoke up. "Maybe the neighbors brought another bag of lilikoi for you?"

The man shrugged. Moving to the door, he opened it.

Time stopped.

…

It was a moment he would remember forever, though he tried often to forget. The sun, the breeze, the smell of damp earth outside and hot dinner inside wafting through the air- everything was branded indelibly into his mind.

Two men in uniform stood on the front walk. The bright, warm day behind them belied the serious expressions on their faces, and to the man the air suddenly seemed chilled. One of the men, cap in hand, stepped forward somberly.

"Mr. Kurtis Foster?" he asked.

For a frozen half-second, the man did not move; he could not. Then an involuntary shudder wracked his body. He swallowed forcefully, abruptly aware of a constriction in his chest.

"Who is it?" his wife called from the table. From where she sat, she could not see them.

Mr. Foster didn't respond. He couldn't.

"Are you Mr. Kurtis Foster?" the uniformed man repeated.

Mr. Foster finally jerked his head in a rough, automatic nod and swallowed again, drily. "Please," he croaked, "please come back later. We were just sitting down to eat."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Foster, but-"

"It's a beautiful day," Mr. Foster continued, seeming not to hear the man. "Please, can't you come back later? Not now, not today. Come back tomorrow, please," he begged, as though not hearing the news would somehow make it not true, at least not for a few more hours. He needed time, time to prepare himself, to prepare the two women waiting inside.

But it was too late for that. A shrill cry pierced the room, and he turned to see his daughter-in-law, eyes wide as she caught a glimpse of the visitors, slide to the floor, already in anguish over news not yet received.

Hearing her, his wife now stepped into view. She gasped, covered her mouth, and backed away. "No, no no…"

Kurtis couldn't seem to move. He wanted to go to them, tell them that perhaps the men were here for another reason, but he knew it would be a lie.

"May we come in?" the uniformed man asked.

And although Mr. Foster wanted to tell them no, to insist that they go away, he instead found himself nodding his assent. "Come in," he heard himself say, his voice a hollow echo of itself, and his hand gestured them inside. "Please… tell me what happened to my son."

…