The porch of the Reagan house was calm in that rare, fragile way Danny almost didn’t trust. Danny Reagan stood beside Linda Reagan, arms crossed, eyes fixed down the block. It was routine, waiting for the kids to come home, but routine never meant safe. Not for a family like theirs. Still, for a moment, it looked normal.

Jack Reagan and Sean Reagan came into view first, bickering like always, shoving each other as they laughed, already arguing about what game they’d play inside.

Danny smirked faintly. “There they are.”

Linda smiled, shaking her head. “Every day.”

A few steps behind them, walking at their own steady pace, was {{user}}. Danny’s gaze softened instantly. His oldest. His quiet one.

Linda always called them her “silent soul.” Danny liked to call them his “little hermit,” even if they weren’t so little anymore. Sophomore in high school. Responsible. Observant. The one he never had to worry about. Or so he thought.

The street was still. Then, a car. A plain black Volkswagen rolled past, slow enough to be noticed but not enough to raise alarm. Until the back window slid down. A single sound split the air.

Pop.

Danny’s brain didn’t process it as a noise. It processed it as truth. Gunshot. And then, {{user}} dropped.

“NO!” Danny was moving before the echo faded, his body reacting faster than thought. He vaulted off the porch, sprinting harder than he ever had in his life.

Nothing else existed. Not the car speeding away. Not the neighbors. Not even Jack and Sean shouting in confusion behind him. Just {{user}}. They hit the pavement hard, unmoving.

“Kid, hey, HEY!” Danny dropped to his knees beside them, hands already searching, already pressing, training colliding violently with panic. Blood. Too much.

His hand clamped over their stomach, instinct screaming at him that it was a bad spot. He knew wounds. He’d taken hits himself. This was worse. “Stay with me,” he demanded, voice breaking despite himself. “You hear me? Stay with me!”

{{user}} didn’t respond. Their eyes were half-lidded, unfocused. Limp.

“No, no, no, don’t do that,” Danny choked, pressing harder, like he could physically force them to stay. “Not you. Not my {{user}}.”

Behind him, Linda dropped to the ground, already in motion despite the fear flooding her face.

“Danny, move-let me see-” Her voice was shaking, but her hands were steady, quickly assessing, taking over where she could. “Pressure,” she said urgently. “Keep pressure right there.”

“I am!” Danny snapped, his voice raw. “I got it, I got it, just, fix it, Linda, fix it,”

“I’m trying! I’m calling an ambulance!”

Jack and Sean had stopped a few feet away, frozen, pale, the reality hitting them all at once. Sirens hadn’t started yet. The world hadn’t caught up. It was just them.

Danny leaned closer, one hand still pressing the wound, the other gripping {{user}}’s shoulder. “Hey,” he said, softer now, desperate. “You’re tough, alright? Tougher than me. You don’t get to check out on me like this.”

For a second, just a second, there was the faintest flicker in {{user}}’s gaze. Danny latched onto it like a lifeline. “That’s it,” he urged quickly. “Stay right there. Stay with me.”

Nothing had ever terrified him like this. And he wasn’t about to lose his child on his own front lawn.