**Of Dreams and Echoes**

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 Joe who she had when she was a senior in high school

Rally Vincent sat upright in her bed, breathing heavily as the remnants of yet another vivid nightmare faded into the darkness. The familiar weight of dread settled in her chest, a leaden reminder of the past that refused to loosen its grip. For the third night in a row, she had walked the dusty streets of Kabul, a place laden with memories that both haunted and shaped her. The rhythmic crunch of sand under her combat boots echoed as she moved through the chaotic market, her senses heightened, every detail sharp and clear. The air was thick with the smell of spices, mingling with something acrid and painful. It was a place she had both loved and loathed, the harsh beauty of Afghanistan a stark contrast to the solemnity of her mission. But in this dream, she was no longer the skilled gunsmith and tough-as-nails bounty hunter. She was a Marine, trained to survive and protect, walking a fine line between duty and vulnerability. Just ahead, a flash of movement caught her eye. A small boy darted through the throngs of people, his laughter a melody that juxtaposed the harshness surrounding them. Rally’s heart leaped, recognizing the glimmer of innocence in his smile. But before she could reach him, the dream twisted, morphing into a blurred haze of color and sound. She would awaken, gasping, her fingers clutching the sheets as though they could pull her away from the past. The realization had hit her like a bullet: the boy represented her son, Joe, a boy who existed only as a dream, a faded memory of what could have been. She had held him once, years ago, at the cusp of adulthood, her future rife with uncertainty. Rally had been a senior in high school, a young woman swept up in the dream of independence, when a whirlwind romance had left her with a choice. With each passing night, she had become more attuned to the symbolic nature of this apparition. Joe’s laughter, once the sound of despair at the loss of a potential life now felt more like a ghostly reminder of the bond severed by circumstance. What would he be like now, she often wondered, her heart heavy with regret. At breakfast the next morning, Rally felt the weight of the nightmare linger like a fog. She poured herself a cup of coffee, its warmth contrasting with the chill of morning. The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the modest apartment she shared with her partner, Minnie May. Each object in the room told a story, the life they had built together a precarious balancing act of love and chaos. Minnie, ever perceptive, looked up from her workbench, noticing the shadow clinging to Rally’s expression. “Another nightmare?” she asked, her voice soft yet probing. Rally nodded, the phrase feeling like a confession. “The same one,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “Kabul and that boy...” The words hung in the air, laden with meaning. Rally’s pulse quickened as the torment of the night washed over her. “What do you think he means?” Minnie’s brow furrowed, concern etched on her face. She paused, taking a deep breath. “Rally, maybe this is your brain’s way of processing something. We can’t change the past, but perhaps you need to confront it.” Rally stared into her coffee cup, where the dark liquid swirled like her thoughts. She understood what Minnie was suggesting. The dreams were unearthing emotions she had buried for years. Rally had left behind more than just a child; she had left behind the life she had envisioned—a life filled with laughter, bedtime stories, and the simple joy of motherhood. Summoning her resolve, Rally made her way to the shooting range later that day. Each shot rang out like a declaration, echoing in the empty space. She felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as the recoil reverberated through her body, grounding her in the present. But even as she honed her skills, the boy still lingered at the periphery of her mind. That evening, Rally met with Minnie for dinner, but her thoughts were consumed by the dream. “Do you ever think about what you lost?” Rally asked, her voice strained. “What our lives could have been?” Minnie’s gaze softened, understanding the swell of emotions simmering beneath the surface. “I think about it often. But you’re not defined by what you lost, Rally. You’ve done incredible things—helped countless people with your skills. Joe… he would be proud of you.” As she looked into Minnie’s eyes, Rally couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed closure—something to bridge the chasm between her past and present. That night, she resolved to confront the boy in her dreams. The dream returned yet again. This time, she pressed forward through the bustling market, determined to find the child. As she pushed through the crowd, she finally reached him—the little boy—holding a small toy truck, his face radiating innocence. The moment their eyes locked, Rally felt the weight of all her regrets crashing over her like a tidal wave. “Joe,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.” The boy’s expression transformed, sadness flickering across his features. With a trembling hand, she reached out, the divide between mother and son both insurmountable and fragile. “I made mistakes,” she admitted, tears streaming down her cheeks. “But I’ve never stopped thinking about you.” He moved closer, the warmth of their shared breath mingling in the collision of their worlds. “Mommy?” he asked, his voice tender and familiar, yet unidentifiable. Rally’s heart ached, a comforting pain that settled within her. “I’m here,” she whispered, finally understanding that healing didn’t mean forgetting. And in that moment, Rally found a semblance of peace, a loose thread of connection woven into the tapestry of her life. As the sunlight of dawn began to break through the dream, she felt one last look from Joe, a parting glance that whispered of acceptance, of love that transcended existence. With that, Rally felt the grip of her past loosening as her dreams shifted. The boy would always be a part of her, but she was ready to embrace the life she had chosen—a life full of purpose and love, a life where she could forge ahead, carrying his memory with her.