Epilogue: Shifting Priorities

November 15, 1996

Altaria Bay, Osea

Ryan Bradford's part in the war against Belka ended on July 15, 1995 when he and the rest of the Stinger's battlegroup were relieved by the OFS Vindicator (CV-40) and Kestrel relieved by the OFS Evergreen (CVN-37). With things now back in the Atlantic Fleet's hands after months of repairs, the Pacific Fleet wanted its own carriers back. The carriers handed off their duties with a formal manning of the rails before they began the long journey back to their assigned part of the world. The only event after that was a brief stop by Stinger and her group in Aurelia to give the men some immediate release. It'd been met with a combination of joy and impatience; most everyone had just wanted to go home. Ryan and his friends remembered little between the hangovers, drinking and the general partying. They certainly didn't try to remember much about the war. Nobody said anything about what had happened, nothing bad anyways. No one wanted to; no one was expected to either. He didn't talk about it to anyone except his father-in-law. The one man who understood still did despite having never seen much combat himself.

Ryan simply pushed out what he didn't want in his head. He didn't give it the time of day and he never would. For Ryan it felt like he'd been on a very long journey, and now the comfort of home and family was waiting to welcome him with warmth. Mae had been (understandably) the most eager to see him back home in the sleepy coastal valley that held the base and its namesake town. It'd been a rocky transition first, but one that was getting easier with time. The clean-up was the responsibility of others, and except for a brief scare in December over a bunch of dissenting vets from both sides things faded into memory. Lessons learned were weaved into the doctrine and culture, and remembering it was done over food, beers, and laughter. Some, like Tom, had seen it and decided a peaceful life was better. Others were promoted and reassigned; Ranger was soon due to command a whole air wing rather than a single squadron. It was understood that he and Ryan would stay in touch.

The one thing that Ryan had bided his patience over was Mae, and when he pulled her into his arms on the ramp of Altaria Bay she became all that mattered. She wouldn't let him go for a minute, and neither would he. Her touch had never felt so good, her embrace never so warm and soft and he felt like his love for his wife had reached new heights. It'd certainly led to the occupant of the baby crib across the room from Ryan. The joy of having a child had further reminded him that the war was done. He was still a pilot, and he wasn't going to give that up. He had new things to tend to, though.

Mae was at work today, which meant that Ryan was in charge of watching over the newest member of the family, one Eric Bradford. For him it meant spending most of the day in the bedroom, sitting in the chair Mae used to nurse their son and keeping an eye on the baby. A small stack of magazines sat on the bed, and a baby monitor on the nightstand for when he went to eat or use the bathroom. His face was currently obscured by the latest issue of Jane's Airpower. The Osean Navy had chosen its next aircraft and subsequently the F-14's replacement in about a decade in a half. Northrop Grumman had beaten McDonnell Douglas's F/A-18E/F Super Hornet with its F-21A Thunderhawk. It was odd in Ryan's opinion to see a title like "Thunderhawk" rather than the usual cat motif, but it still sounded warlike enough. He was reading over the recycling of the "F-21" designation following the failure to acquire Aslani Kfirs for training when he heard Eric starting to stir. Ryan looked up and set aside the magazine before walking over to the crib.

"What's up, little man?' He asked softly as he looked down.

The baby writhed and stretched his limbs before opening his eyes and staring upwards at the bigger human above him. At first Eric seemed confused at the sight of his dad rather than his mom, but when Ryan gently extended a hand down to pat his son's head the baby welcomed it. A warm, happy feeling blossomed inside him knowing that he'd brought someone into the world. That it was now on him to teach them and raise them. He was nervous, but at the same time he felt okay with the responsibility. Ryan felt proud; Eric was his son, and Ryan was his dad.

"Thanks a bunch, God…" He said softly.

Eric let go of Ryan's hand and reached for the air above him. Ryan followed his eyes and looked at the mobile suspended over his son. He let go of Eric and gave the object a quick push to get it spinning. Eric let out a squeal of satisfaction and kept reaching for the stars and birds rotating above him. Ryan's eyes watched the mobile spin lazily around; his eyes centered on a biplane towards the center. Ryan looked back down at Eric, then at the plane. Inevitably Ryan wondered what the kid would think of flying. Mae had avoided the subject and he had no desire to push it when their kid wasn't even a year old. Razor had nearly gotten a fist to the face for joking about it. Ryan shook his head and chased away the thoughts.

There was plenty of time for that, in the meantime Ryan needed to refocus his priorities on the current years. Things like first steps and words. As much as Ryan wanted to see his son take a liking to planes like his old man, he wanted to see his son grow up and find his calling on his own even more. Wherever it took him, Ryan would be there to back him. He felt a few tears at the corners of his eyes but kept smiling.

"You're gonna make me and mom proud Eric, I just know it." He whispered.

End

A/N: Thank you for reading.