Teardrop by Massive Attack

Save the World by Superhuman ft. Lou Rhodes

Dinosaur by Theory of a Deadman

We're the Desperate Measures (Menagerie and Skyline mash up) Halo 3 ODST

Down to the Wire by Will Buck

Finish Line by Skillet

Ascent by Red

Funeral Suite by John Williams

2020

Verdun/Heathrow Airport Base

Reset 300

Rita fell to her stomach and had trouble breathing. She blinked away the images from her last reset along with the feelings. She slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position and looked around the training room.

Something didn't feel right.

She couldn't explain it, but this time, 300 resets since she started, she felt like the something big that was going to happen was happening now, and it wasn't good. After exiting the training room, she found Travis walking with Pete and Kamden. They were going on about the usual, and she fell into step with Travis behind them.

"What's wrong?" he asked, seeing her face.

"You got a minute?" she countered, preparing to say the same speech she'd said 300 times now. He nodded, and they broke away to a quieter spot where she filled him in.

"Wow," he said, taking it all in. "No wonder you look exhausted."

"Something's not right," she told him. "I don't know what it is, but something feels off."

"You think the Omega has figured out you have the power?"

"Maybe." She hadn't considered that. Were the aliens able to find her since they shared blood? Did they have a vision of her and know she had it? She didn't know.

"So we're trying to get to the Cathedral to kill the Omega," Travis reiterated.

"Yes."

"Okay. What are we doing to get there?"

"Come on," she said, gesturing. "I'll show you."

...

In the mess hall for supper, Rita looked at Kamden, Harvey, Pete, and Travis, and she felt a flicker of nostalgia for the part of her that felt something for them all. She'd spent the last 50 plus resets pulling away and closing off that she no longer felt the pain from fear of losing them. She knew it seemed heartless and cold, but how else could she keep going? She couldn't let her emotions make her lose focus.

She went for a walk after supper, and Travis found her standing on her rock. She was playing with her wedding band on her chain against her chest.

"You're married?" he asked. "Or a widow?"

"Technically still married," she answered. She decided to tell him everything all over again for some reason. She wasn't sure why other than her gut was telling her to, that in case something went wrong and she really did die this time, someone could carry her story onward outside of her journals.

"Damn," Travis said, scratching the back of his neck. "That's a lot, Rita."

"It is," she agreed.

"You haven't told him your side of it?"

"No."

"I really think you should," he insisted. "I think you owe him that."

"I don't think we need to worry about it at this point," Rita replied. "We're all gonna be dead soon anyway."

"Don't say that," he chastised. "Rita, you're burnt out. I can see that clear as day. Have you taken a rest?"

"I can't afford to take one."

"You've gone this whole time without a break?!"

"Well, I had a couple," she confessed. She told him, and he smiled.

"Bournemouth Beach," he said with a look of nostalgia. "Sounds like it would have been nice."

"It was." She considered it as one of her fond memories. She decided to tell him about his mother. Sometimes she told him and sometimes she didn't, but today, she felt the pull to.

"What?" he asked, seeing her face.

"I took you to see your mother," she answered. He looked surprised and then a bit emotional.

"You did?"

"Yes. You always said how close you were with her and that you missed her, so I wanted to give you that chance to see her, even though I know you wouldn't remember it."

"Rita, that's...I don't even know what to say," Travis said, clearing his throat. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry you have no memory of it."

"It's okay. The fact you did it means a lot."

Rita felt a smile on her face, and it felt foreign but also nice. Travis was the only one these days who could make her smile; she figured it was because he was the only one to know what the hell was going on, to understand where she was coming from and be able to help her feel the slightest bit better.

"So what's got you feeling like something's going to go wrong?" Travis asked now, resting his arms on his knees.

"I don't know. I can't explain it. I just feel different about this reset."

"You worried the lads won't make it in battle?"

"I've gotten good at keeping them safe," she answered. It was true. Only Kamden was the one who sometimes got killed now. She blinked away the images before they made her feel hurt inside. Stay tough, stay tough, stay tough...

"That's good. Do they know?"

"No, and I tried telling them, but they didn't believe me. Pete kind of did, but I could tell he was skeptical."

"And Brigham?"

"He put me in a psych ward," she answered, making Travis snort and then grow sober.

"That must have been terrifying," he said. Another feeling surfaced, and she stuffed it down quickly. STAY TOUGH! her brain commanded.

"I got through it," she replied.

"How long have you been closed off like this?" he inquired, giving her a serious look. She chewed on the inside of her lip.

"About fifty resets now...maybe more."

"My God," Travis said, shaking his head. "Rita, that's not good."

"It is what it is."

He looked like he was going to argue, but he decided against it. Instead, he simply reached to hold her hand, and Rita almost burst into tears. The simple gesture was something Luke did, and she suddenly really missed him in that moment.

"Promise me," Travis said, making her look at him, "promise that you'll let people in again. Promise me you'll find your husband and tell him the truth about it all."

"Travis," she tried, but he gripped her hand harder in response.

"Promise me," he said again, a bit more fiercely this time. Rita couldn't help but flashback to a different conversation with Luke a long time ago.

Don't let that pain take over everything else. Promise me.

Oh how she wished she could go back in time and only be upset about her mother's death instead of being faced with holding the fate of the world in her hands. It would be so much simpler.

"It's complicated with Luke..."

"Is it, though?"

"Yes. He said things I can't unhear...they really hurt me." Something in her face must have given away her true feelings about Luke because he grew even more serious.

"Is it worth losing the person, who is very clearly the love of your life, over? Can't you move on from it? Talk it out? If you still love him, you can forgive him. It's okay to forgive, Rita. It's how people move on from mistakes and do better next time if given the chance and if they actually care to change."

She swallowed. Could she forgive Luke? She wanted to. She took some breaths, trying to center herself.

"Promise me," Travis said once more. "Find him. Talk to him. Try."

"I promise," she finally said, and she meant it. Satisfied, he let go of her hand and gave a nod. It wasn't the first time she'd promised this. She never could say no, and she wasn't sure why.

Well, that's not true. She did know why...she wanted to do it.

"I gotta get back," he said now, "don't stay out here too late."

"I know. Farell will catch me," she replied with a slight smile. She now knew that Farell was misunderstood but wasn't about to show anyone else that. Travis gave a knowing smile in return and walked off with a small salute. She watched him go and then turned back to face the view in front of her while hugging her knees tighter.

In the quiet, the aloneness, she tried to cry, but there was just nothing left. Instead, she pulled out her journal she'd tucked into her coat and wrote everything out that happened when Simon attacked her in the apartment and after she left in a type of timeline format with places where she added her reasons and thoughts for actions etc. to save hours of writing. It was the first, and only, time she'd done it. When she finished, she figured it would be reset anyway, and it would disappear. She looked at the last line on the page, contemplating. Then, carefully, she wrote:

Luke, I'm scared I'm going to die. I'm scared all will be lost. If that's the case, I need you to know one last thing: I still love you.

I never stopped.

South Carolina

Luke splashed his face with water right before he felt the twinge in his heart. He looked at himself in the mirror, knowing what that pull was. He was feeling it more and more lately, and he was trying to understand what it meant. Well, he actually did know what it meant.

Rita was in pain.

He moved to grab some of the paper towels from the dispenser and wiped at his face and hands with it before tossing it into the trash. He gave himself one last look in the mirror before heading out into the crowded hallway. He hunched slightly, trying not to take up too much space...a habit he'd had for a while now. He found his way back to the training room where his new recruits were waiting to continue training. Luke shut the door behind him and moved to where the rifles were lined up on the table. He paused, his hand hovering over a rifle as another twinge hit his heart.

After 17 years, he still felt Rita's pain; he knew it was her because he'd always felt her pain no matter where he was. It wreaked havoc on him most of the time all these years because he couldn't do anything about it. Despite knowing where she lived for the last while, he had stayed away from her. He wasn't sure why he did this, why he hadn't just marched up to her front door and demanded an explanation for her leaving. He guessed it was because he had wanted to respect her wishes, even if they were irrational. And maybe he was still a bit afraid that the Russians would kill her for being associated with him, even though he'd made it clear he wasn't to be messed with. But maybe, just maybe, he was more afraid that even after confronting her, she'd still want nothing to do with him...so it was better to leave the fantasy of getting back together a possibility in his mind.

But...if he was having more twinges than usual, that meant she was really in pain, and he decided that despite everything, he needed to double his efforts to find her. He didn't know where she or Brendan were; his son had disappeared almost two years ago along with her, so he'd assumed they'd gone somewhere safer to ride out this war. It killed him to not know where they were or be able to help if needed. It killed him even more to think that perhaps his son had gone to fight and didn't tell him. It was a crazy thought. His son was not quite 17...no way would he have gone to fight at 15.

The fact he was feeling Rita's pain so strongly, though, was scaring him. Something was wrong.

"Are we gonna learn something or no?" a guy asked, and Luke snapped his head up to look at him, a slight glare in his eyes. The guy stared back, unafraid.

"Come on up here then," Luke said, gesturing. The guy scoffed to his buddies and then swaggered up to join Luke. It really aggravated Luke to see these young bucks act so cocky. Didn't they know cockiness didn't save them when they were faced with the possible end of their life?

"Now what?" the guy asked.

"Unload and load the rifle as fast as you can," Luke instructed. The guy scoffed again.

"What is this, amateur hour? I know how to do that."

"Then it shouldn't be hard for you," Luke replied, putting on a polite smile. The guy cracked his knuckles and moved to get started, but Luke held out a blindfold before he could.

"What's that?" the guy asked, eyeing it.

"Oh, did I not mention you'll be wearing this?" Luke asked, giving it a slight shake. "Go on, then. Show me what you got." He tossed it in the guy's direction.

The guy caught it out of reflex and stared. "No way, man."

"When would that even be applicable?" someone else asked from the crowd. Luke glanced at everyone standing to the right watching. Were they serious? Then again, most of these kids had never done this before, were not properly trained in a military setting until now, and were doing it only because of the major shortage of soldiers. He had to remember that. He knew they weren't kids; he just called them that because even though they were in their 20s, they acted like teenagers.

"When you're in the pitch black dark waiting for the enemy to close in and your gun is out of bullets, are you really gonna turn on a flashlight to reload your weapon?" Luke challenged, raising a brow as he looked at them all. He got no response to this, and some bowed their heads. "I didn't think so."

"So, I have to do this blindfolded," the guy said, still staring.

"Yes," Luke confirmed. "And I'm timing you. Go."

"Wait!"

"I said go," Luke repeated. The guy scrambled to get his blindfold on and then fumbled for the rifle, finding it after five seconds and then feeling around for the ammo. Some people were snickering now as they watched him drop the ammo on the floor and then miss the spot entirely upon reloading before finally pinching his finger, cursing, and jamming it in there and cocking it. When he finished after almost two minutes, he pulled down the blindfold to find Luke aiming his fingers like a gun at him.

"And you're dead," he said. "Many, many times now. Good job, Steven. You failed the entire team. They're all dead now too."

"No one could do it faster!"

Luke took the rifle from him, shut his eyes, and proceeded to unload and reload it within seven seconds. Six point eight seven seconds to be exact.

"Holy shit," someone guffawed in the crowd.

"You didn't have to find the ammo on the table," Steven accused. Luke held his gaze, resisting a smirk. This kid was hella annoying. He moved around to the other side of the table and proceeded to disassemble all the guns there with his eyes shut in record speed. He then chose one at random to reassemble. When he finished and opened his eyes, more than one mouth was gaping open in shock.

"That's how it's done," Luke said calmly. "I encourage you to practice this as much as you can. It has saved my life more than once."

"You don't have any ranks. You're not a soldier," Steven said rudely. Luke moved to stand in front of him, not affected by the fact Steven was half a foot taller than him.

"Not everyone has to be a soldier to be in a war, Steven," he replied. "Look around you." He swept a hand to the others. "Remember that." He moved away to return to the table.

"Dinosaur," Steven muttered.

"I'd rather be old and wise than young and stupid. Less chances of getting murdered," Luke said cheerily, waving a hand in dismissal at him. "Go back to the others, please." He did not have to look to see Steven was rolling his eyes and still being a jerk. He wanted to cap his ass just to teach him a lesson, but he refrained.

By the time he was done with the lesson, he was exhausted. The only reason he was here was because Dennis had pushed him to do it. In fact, Dennis was around here teaching and training as well. Because the military was so desperate, they took Luke without a second thought...no questions asked. Luke had his police officer background in his pocket anyhow, but he was relieved no one pressed further to find out how he really knew his stuff.

He couldn't help but think about Lance, and he wondered what Lance would be doing right now if he was still alive. He swallowed down the guilt of failing to save him and headed out to go home.

Verdun

Rita woke up a bit jittery. Her bad feeling was still there, and she didn't know how to shake it. She got dressed, tried to eat something, and went to gear up. She tuned out the banter, just not in the mood for it still.

"You ready?" Travis asked her. She nodded. Maybe today she'd find the Omega. Maybe today she'd finally end this horrible war.

One could only hope.

Italy

Brendan coughed and winced in pain as he slowly woke up. He blinked and looked around the room. He could hear monitors beeping, and he came to the realization that he was in a hospital. Feeling slight panic, he reached to touch his legs and move them, having this irrational fear that he was paralyzed. When he felt his hands and kicked his feet, he relaxed. He did a body scan then and noticed that everything was okay.

"Welcome back, kid," a voice said, and he jumped slightly, startled.

"Hey," he said, relieved. His lead co-pilot, Jordan, was smiling at him as he sat in the chair next to the bed. "You're okay!"

"Of course I am," Jordan answered with a scoff. "You, however, gave us quite a scare."

"How long was I out for?"

"A few days, but docs say you're gonna be fine."

Brendan was so happy to hear this. He tried to remember what happened, but it was a blur at the moment. He wasn't sure if he wanted to remember.

"Shouldn't you be flying?" Brendan asked now.

"I got a bit of a leave," Jordan replied.

"Are the others okay?"

Jordan's face said it all, and Brendan felt like he might throw up. The sound of alarms wailing and the feeling of losing control of the aircraft came to mind. Sounds of the soldiers they'd been flying to battle screaming almost deafened him even though he was just imagining it.

"I'm afraid not," Jordan finally said quietly. Brendan's throat got really tight, and he cleared it a few times.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"Mr. Woods?" a nurse said, making Brendan look at her.

"Yes?"

"Who are you speaking to?"

Brendan stared at her. What was she talking about? He turned his head to look at Jordan only to find an empty chair. His heart dropped. What was happening?

"J-Jordan," he stammered. "Can you tell me what happened to Jordan? Please?"

The nurse's face softened, and she reached to put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, amore. He didn't make it. He died on the operating table."

"Oh my God," Brendan said, choking slightly. "Oh my God..."

"You're lucky to be alive, Mr. Woods," she said gently. "Ottieni riposo. Don't let his efforts go to waste." She finished checking Brendan's vitals and left again. As he sat there, it all came rushing back.

The fog. The explosions. The screaming. Losing control. The panic. His life flashing before his eyes. Jordan unbuckling himself and shielding Brendan with his body. The crash. Then nothing.

A sob escaped his mouth regardless of trying to hold it in. His father's old friend gone...just like that. He curled up into a ball, aching for his mother and father and wishing that this nightmare would finally come to an end.

Verdun

Rita was bleeding and sweating. She was angry. She was tired from slaughtering countless Mimics. She'd had enough. The only miracle so far this reset was that she'd been able to save Pete, Harvey, and Kamden again. She only hoped they would survive in her absence. She and Travis were making their way to where the Omega was supposed to be, and again, before they got too far, he was struck. He cried out as he went down, and she jerked back to look at him.

"Travis!" she shouted.

"Go on!" he urged, waving his hand. "Go!" He rolled onto his back, clutching his side where he was bleeding out from. Rita went to kneel next to him. She knew she was wasting time, but in this moment, it felt necessary to be there with him.

"Travis," she said. "Hang in there."

"I'm out, luv," he said, wincing. "It's all right. Go on and get killed so you can bring me back."

"What if I kill the Omega?" she asked. "You'll be dead for good..." She was trying to convince herself that the feeling of something big happening was her finally getting to the Omega and ending this war.

"I hate to break it to you, but your odds of getting there alone are slim," he joked. Then he coughed. Rita pressed her hands over the one resting on his chest. He gave a sad smile.

"You're a good friend," he said. "Anyone else would have just left me without saying goodbye."

"Well, this isn't goodbye," she insisted. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yea. You'll bring me back, Rita," he said with another smile. "Right?" More coughing then as she nodded vigorously, unable to speak for some reason. She held his hand with hers, and he slowly coughed and wheezed and choked more and more.

"This doesn't feel right," she said again.

"Don't read into it."

She bit her lip, unable to help herself. He coughed again.

"Don't watch," he ordered thickly.

"Travis..."

"Go!" he shouted, pushing her away. She got to her feet, turning away and starting to run faster and faster. She had to bring him back. She had to...for she'd meant to tell him she considered him a brother and he needed to know it. She needed to tell him because saying it would help bring her back to her old self, the one she'd buried for so long—the one that cared about people and things. She kept running full speed ahead.

She was hit ten minutes later.

...

Rita woke up in a hospital bed, and she turned to see a blood transfusion bag hanging above her. She stiffened. Then she jerked upright, the reality hitting her hard and fast.

"No!"

"Ma'am, you need to relax," a nurse said.

"No," Rita said, shaking her head. "What did you do to me? What have you done?!"

"You were found badly wounded. You're lucky to be alive."

"No," Rita said again. "No, no, no, no..."

The nurse gave up trying to force her back down, but Rita was now frozen. She couldn't comprehend what this meant for the war.

She'd lost the war.

Granted, it wasn't over yet, but she knew it was hopeless to win when the enemy could change their tactics by resetting the day. And no one would believe her if she tried to explain it.

She was sitting there staring at the wall when General Brigham himself came into the room.

"So," he said, his arms behind his back. "You're the soldier I've been hearing so much about."

"Come again?" she asked, not caring if she sounded rude. She wasn't in the mood, and she was still pissed at him for sending her to the psych ward.

"You've made quite a significant impact on the war," Brigham went on. "You won Verdun for us."

"I did?"

"You have the highest kill count of Mimics to date, and it would appear that we have a chance to win this war and soon."

Rita didn't say anything. What was there to say?

"You're being promoted to Sergeant," Brigham continued with a smile. "Congratulations for being promoted so quickly up the ranks."

"Thank you, sir," she said automatically, not really meaning it but knowing he was expecting it. When she said nothing else, he wished her well and left. She sank back down into the pillow and felt numb. For a truth hit her hard and fast, cutting her to the core.

Travis was gone.

South Carolina

A Week Later

Rosie was waiting for him. She felt bitter as she watched the soldiers training. She wanted to be in this fight, but they'd declined her because of her heart, which wasn't a major thing but bad enough they wouldn't let her join up. It was just a damn flutter every so often for crying out loud. She didn't think they realized how in shape she was and how fast she still was. She hadn't bothered to get involved in training anyone. She just didn't want any more blood on her hands when the people she trained went and got themselves killed, even though she knew it wouldn't be her fault. She just felt like it would be. She'd done all she could in other aspects, and that would have to be enough.

After a moment, she saw him come out and walk towards his vehicle. She felt sorry for him. He hadn't asked for any of this, and yet here he was. She pushed off her car and went towards him.

Heathrow

Rita was back at Heathrow after being discharged. She had seen Sam, who had been happy to see her, briefly at the hospital, and he'd told her to stay in touch after a short conversation. She hadn't gotten into details with him about anything because he'd remember it now, and she just didn't want to deal with that. She had a feeling she was never going to see him again anyway, so what was the point?

She stood and stared at the urn that contained Travis's remains, a folded up flag next to it. There was no time to bury the dead; they were lucky to even have his ashes at all. A lot of soldiers' families couldn't say the same. She thought she would cry, but she just felt numb. She just didn't have it in her. She was void of all emotions now, or at least most of them. She reached to rest her hand on the urn lightly.

"I failed you," she whispered. "I didn't bring you back." She had flashes of memories of him suddenly. All his jokes. His laughter. His smile. His encouragements. They all whipped by in succession, and she suddenly couldn't breathe. She grabbed at her necklace, trying to ground herself but being unable to do so. Looking at that urn that held her best friend, her brother, was making her realize she couldn't go on much longer like this. She stood back from it, heart pounding.

Then she fell to her knees, her arms at her sides with her hands clenched into fists, and she screamed.

South Carolina

Luke was sore and tired. His voice was also a bit hoarse from yelling at his trainees so much. He hated how dense they seemed, but he knew they were scared. He'd be scared too. He was considering going over there to fight since Mei was now old enough to look after herself. He still didn't really want to leave her alone, though, and he was contributing to the war by training these men and women, but it didn't feel like enough. He was used to being in a war, not standing outside of it.

He trudged to his worn out, beat up vehicle, which made him think about a lost chance every time he saw it. He had no idea where she was now, and sometimes he wondered if he'd been crazy to let her leave because he'd been stuck believing Rita would come back to him. He was beginning to think that Rita was never coming back, if they even survived this war.

Then, a pang hit him inside hard and fast, making him falter.

"Rita," he murmured. Something was very wrong—he could feel it. He got his wits back about him and continued to the vehicle.

"Luke."

He jolted in surprise at the voice and turned, seeing someone he hadn't seen in years.

"Amelia," he said. She looked older, more tired. She gave a weary smile and gestured with her hand.

"I figured you'd be over there," she stated. "Fighting."

"I had a minor in my care who I couldn't just leave," he answered. "Then they asked me to train, so that's what I'm doing."

"You could have left her at the farm."

"I didn't want to burden them." He really didn't. Kenny and Lucy had enough to worry about than adding Mei to it. He wondered why Amelia would even refer to that place; she hadn't been there in years, not since she'd surprised him in the barn to check in. And to his knowledge, she had no connection to anyone there.

"I see."

"What are you doing here?" Luke asked her. He felt wary.

"It's not about that, if that's what you're thinking," Amelia said, making him feel a bit relieved. He had so much guilt still about it. "I mean, it still really upsets me, but I know you've punished yourself enough over it. It's about something else."

"Okay." He waited. She took in some breaths and closed her eyes briefly before looking at him again.

"I'm not who you think I am."

"Okay..." he said slowly.

"My name is Rosie," she stated, and he stared. The name was clicking something in his brain, something that slammed to the forefront hard and fast.

"No," he said, realizing. "No..."

"I'm Rita's mother," she confirmed, looking emotional.

"Oh my God," Luke said, pressing a hand into his face. His mind was really spinning now.

"I'm here because I know where Rita is," she went on, and he snapped his attention back to her quickly.

"What?"

"She's in Europe," Rosie said. "She's joined the UDF. She went looking for Brendan. I...I don't know if she's found him."

"Where in Europe?" he demanded. His heart was beginning to pound. He could find her. He could help her fight. Then it hit him: Brendan was over there?! He'd actually gone to fight?! He felt angst and devastation hit him hard and fast. No wonder he was feeling Rita's pain. He worked to keep calm.

"She was in Verdun. I caught sight of her a few times. She didn't see me. She looked terrible, Luke. She looked burnt out. You need to go be with her."

"Were you fighting there?"

"I was doing some relief work. They sent me home because I hurt my leg," Rosie answered.

"Why?" he asked now, still stuck on it. "Why pretend to be dead?"

"My father," she replied. "I did it to save her and Lance."

"You have no idea how much she blames herself for your death," he said now, feeling angry. "No idea."

"I do know," Rosie said softly. "And I hate myself for doing that to her, but at the time, I did it to save her...both of them."

"Why reveal yourself to me now?"

"Because it's necessary."

"You know I'm gonna tell her," Luke said. "When I find her."

"I was hoping to stay in the shadows. There's no reason to cause her pain."

"I'm not lying to her," Luke said fiercely, giving Rosie a hard stare. She sighed after a moment.

"That's fair."

"I'm guessing your father is gone by now," Luke commented.

"I'm not getting into it with you," Rosie said firmly. "I need you to find Rita...bring her back, or at least fight by her side. She shouldn't be over there alone. I was denied fighting because of my heart, which was why I did relief work instead. Old age is a bitch apparently."

"Is she still in Verdun?"

"I don't know, sorry. After she left for battle, I lost track of her, and I was sent home before I could go looking for her or hear what happened to her."

Luke chewed on his lip. His mind was already made up. He was going. He looked at Rosie, and he couldn't believe she'd do this to her daughter. Maybe he didn't understand because he wasn't in her position, but if she was free and clear to reveal herself for a while, why hadn't she?

"You must think I'm a coward, and I am," Rosie said now. "I don't want her to hate me."

"You don't know that she will."

"Wouldn't you? If you found out something you'd known your whole life was suddenly a lie?"

"You don't know Rita," Luke said. "She would have forgiven you. She would have been relieved of that guilt she's carried her whole life from thinking she killed you." He watched her take in this information and look sorrowful.

"It had to be done," she said simply. "And I'm sorry."

"You said Rita went looking for Brendan?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Why is he over there?" He already knew the answer, but apparently, he needed to hear it.

"He went to fight."

"Obviously he lied about his age."

"Yes," she confirmed. "I couldn't find him over there, Luke. My contacts know nothing either. I don't know what happened to him." Her voice wavered slightly at this, and Luke felt his chest constrict and he tried to breathe. This wasn't happening. He couldn't lose his son and Rita at the same time. He just couldn't.

"I'll find her," he promised. "I'll leave as soon as I can."

"I can look after your minor," Rosie offered.

"It's okay. She's 19 now and would kill me for getting her a babysitter."

"Okay."

Luke stood there looking at her. He didn't know what to make of any of this. He opened his vehicle door now and tossed his bag inside.

"Luke," Rosie said, making him look at her before he got in. "Be careful."

He gave a curt nod, not knowing what else to say to her. Then he got in and started the engine, heading home. The fire inside to find Rita and his son was intense, and he knew it would only be put out when he either found them or found out what happened to them. God, he hoped nothing had happened to them. He had to find her first; they could look for their son together after that.

"I'm coming, Rita," he said out loud, his fingers gripping the wheel hard. "I'm coming."