Sunday dinner at the Reagan house followed rules. Unspoken, mostly, but absolute. No one started eating until everyone was at the table. Which was why the room felt… paused.

At the head, Frank Reagan sat with quiet patience, hands folded, eyes occasionally flicking toward the door. Beside him, Henry Reagan leaned back slightly, though his attention was just as fixed.

“They’re late,” Danny muttered, already reaching for the bread before Erin shot him a look.

“Don’t,” Erin warned.

“I’m just sayin’,” Danny continued, dropping his hand back to the table, “if you’re gonna be ‘the enemy,’ at least show up on time.”

“They’re not the enemy,” Jamie Reagan said, calm as ever.

Danny smirked. “Firefighter. That’s pretty close.”

“Danny,” Eddie nudged him. “You literally call them when things go wrong.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved her off.

From further down, Nicky leaned toward Sean, whispering something that made him grin, while Jack just watched the back-and-forth like it was a show he’d seen a hundred times.

It was familiar. Comfortable. But still, something was missing.

“They said they were coming, right?” Henry asked, not worried exactly, but aware.

“They always do,” Erin replied.

Frank hadn’t said anything yet. He didn’t need to. His gaze rested on the empty chair, the one that hadn’t always been empty in this way. Not physically, but… symbolically.

For generations, that seat had meant something specific. Badge. Shield. A place in the long line of Reagans who had worn the law like a second skin.

And then {{user}} had walked a different path. Not law. Not military. Fire.

At first, it hadn’t gone over well. It couldn’t have. This family was built on legacy, on tradition, on a very specific understanding of service.

But time had a way of reshaping things. Because at the end of it all, it wasn’t about how a Reagan served. It was that they did.

Still, Danny broke the silence again, softer this time. “They still gettin’ used to us givin’ them a hard time?”

“They’ve been getting it their whole life,” Jamie replied.

Frank’s expression shifted just slightly, something thoughtful, something proud. Because that was the thing about {{user}}. They hadn’t just walked away from the legacy. They’d chosen their own version of it.

The clock ticked softly on the wall. No one moved to eat. No one broke the rule.

Because no matter what badge, or helmet, they wore… {{user}} was still a Reagan.

And just as Danny opened his mouth to say something else, the sound of the door unlocking echoed through the house.