**The Echo of Unsaid Goodbyes**

Prompt: Gunsmith cats fanfiction rally has the same nightmare for the third night in a row in the dream she’s walking through Kabul when she was a marine in Afghanistan when she sees a young boy after a few nights of this rally realizes who the boy represents the baby boy her son who she had when she was a senior in high school who she had been forced to give up by her parents

Rally Vincent stood frozen amidst the chaos of her dreams, her heart racing and her breath shallow. For the third night in a row, she found herself walking down the cracked streets of Kabul, the air thick with dust and echoes of distant gunfire. The memories of her time as a Marine flooded her mind—flashes of comrades, of hard-fought battles, and haunting reminders of the fragility of life. But tonight, it was different. As she navigated the familiar terrain, something tugged at her subconscious. It felt like fate, drawing her toward a small alleyway cloaked in shadows. Rally hesitated, a breeze brushing past her, chilling her to the bone. Stepping carefully, she ventured into the darkness, and there, illuminated by a flicker of light, was a young boy—no older than six. He sat on the ground, his small frame bundled in a tattered shirt, eyes wide but hauntingly empty. “Hey there, buddy,” she called out softly, kneeling beside him. “What are you doing out here all alone?” The boy looked up at her, recognition blooming in his gaze. There was something in his eyes—a flicker of something that gnawed at her heart. She reached out a hand, but he recoiled, the shadows wrapping around him like a shroud. “Don’t,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “You can’t save me.” Panic surged within her. “I’m not here to hurt you! I just want to help,” Rally insisted. But with each passing heartbeat, the boy seemed to fade, becoming more ephemeral, lost in the swirling sands of her dream. The scene shifted abruptly, and rally awoke in a cold sweat, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. It was always the same—Kabul, the boy, the sense of impending loss. Over the past few nights, she had tried to reason with herself, to dismiss the dream as an artifact of her troubled past, but deep down, she knew it was something more. The filtering morning light crept through her window as Rally sat on the edge of her bed, deep in thought. The dream felt like a message, a grim echo from her past that she couldn’t ignore. The boy’s eyes reminded her of someone lost—a past she had buried long ago, the unresolved grief over giving up her son. The choice she had made weighed heavily on her shoulders, a burden she had carried since high school. Rally had been young and scared, thrust into a world where her parents dictated her future, but in her heart, she had yearned to keep him, to hold her child and nurture him. A rightful heir—a connection that transcended the years. Instead, she was forced to submit to their wishes, to relinquish her son to adoption, a life she could never provide. What would he look like now? Would he be carefree in a way she knew she could never be? Memories of that moment, the moment she handed him over, and the agony that lacerated her heart, flooded back in that eternal cycle of grief. How could she both be a soldier, a protector of freedom, and yet feel so bound by the shackles of her own choices? That night, Rally decided to take control—not just of her dreams but of the past that haunted her. She had spent years fighting her enemies across cities and mountains, now it felt time to confront her greatest adversary: herself. Resolute, she prepared for battle, not with guns and strategy but with reflection and acceptance. As she lay down again, she focused on her breathing, allowing herself to embrace the vulnerability she often masked with bravado. Slowly, she drifted into sleep, her heart a fortress held together by fragile memories. The familiar call of Kabul began to shimmer in the corners of her mind. In the alley, there he was again—her young son, still sitting there amongst the rubble, looking more ethereal yet troubled. Tonight, however, something felt different. “Why do you keep coming back?” she asked, her voice firm yet laced with warmth. “I just want to understand!” The boy looked up at her, his small hands clenching at the fabric of his shirt. “You’re afraid of me,” he said softly, tears glistening in his bright eyes. “You gave me away because you thought it was best.” Rally’s heart cracked open. “I thought I was protecting you,” she replied, her voice quaking. “I wanted to give you a life I couldn’t provide. I thought I would be selfish… but now?” “Now, you’re here,” he interrupted, his gaze piercing through her defenses. “I’m always with you, rally. You can’t run from what you feel. You shouldn’t have to carry my weight alone.” The boy’s words lingered, reverberating within her. Her heart ached, each beat resonating with the truth of abandonment and love intertwined. Suddenly, the dream shifted again, her son now standing tall, his form solidifying, radiating warmth. The shadows surrounding him dissipated. “Look at me,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m not lost. I’m part of you. And the memories you think are burdens are really roots holding you steady.” As his words washed over her, a tidal wave of healing erupted. Rally reached for the boy, this embodiment of every dream she had chased and every regret she had clung to. For the first time, she didn’t hesitate as she enveloped him in an embrace, a surge of love coursing through her veins. In that moment, the nightmares began to fade. The streets of Kabul fell away, the echoes of gunfire dimming into silence. Rally awoke with dawn filtering through her window, and a sense of peace enfolded her. No longer seeking escape from her past, she understood that every choice had shaped who she had become. It was time to write a new chapter, one where both mother and son could coexist in a world free from guilt, bound only by love.