Five years. Five years have passed since that first bus ride. In those five years a lot had happened. Mastace sold the old Harou family home to a new family that needed it. Briggan and Mastavian were able to have a wedding on one of his home visits and was allowed to have a full honeymoon with his new husband. After that, Briggan became a true warrior. He fought a few tours, worked a few protests that became violent, and he even went on some rather sensitive missions that he never made mention of to anyone. Not even to the brothers and sisters in arms that he aided and were aided by.
Now, it was only a few days before Briggan was supposed to be on another one of his scheduled home visits. The sky was clear and the forecast called for similar weather for the rest of the week. Mastace was happy. His husband was coming back to him once again, and they could be happy together.
In the midst of his thinking, Mastace heard a knock on the door. Light. Soft but present. He got up to get the door, but as he reached for the knob, he hesitated. He hadn't any clue why he did, but he had the urge to run the other direction and hide forever. In spite of this, he opened the door, allowing whatever was about to happen happen.
Two men in full uniform stood on the porch. One held a neatly folded combat uniform, boots, dog tags and helmet, and the other held a carrier box that was full of stuff only God knew.
At first, he was a bit confused as to why they were here, but when he saw the condition the uniform was in, he knew everything he needed to know. The frayed ends and sooty blast marks told the whole story.
Mastace didn't hear anything they were telling. He didn't need to. His brain stopped processing the outside world. There was only the crushing silence inside his own head. He no longer actively controlled himself, which allowed for his subconscious to do all the work.
Once Briggan's belongings were handed to Mastace, the lion clung to the uniform, and simply let everything inside him run rampant. The storm within was the most intense it had ever been, and twice as unstable.
After the dust of his emotional hurricane settled, Mastavian Marcellus-Harou knew what he was to do.