Epilogue

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 A month since the ceremony, and things were slowly falling into place, again. Rowan had invested in a new house in a new neighborhood, and she had moved herself and Cailee there, only a week after the ceremony, and Rowan was slowly adjusting to family life.

The truth was, she liked it, liked having someone else to worry about, someone else to wake up for in the morning. She liked packing a lunchbox for Cailee, every morning before she went to school. She liked ironing Cailee's school uniform and braiding Cailee's hair.

She liked that they had finally fallen into a routine.

Rowan's alarm clock went off at six, and Rowan got up and ran through several exercises to strengthen her knee, and then lifted weights until seven. At seven, she put on the tea kettle and started breakfast. Cailee always got up fifteen minutes later and came downstairs around seven-thirty.

They ate breakfast together, which Rowan loved. Breakfast, dinner and helping Cailee with her homework had quickly become Rowan's favorite parts of the day, even more so than the training she'd used to love.

At a quarter to eight, Serena, the nanny-slash-housekeeper Rowan had hired, arrived to take Cailee to school. After that, Rowan put on her uniform and headed for the Hub, while Serena went to school, getting her degree in music composition at Stanford.

Then, at three, Rowan swung by to pick Cailee up from school, and they walked home from there. By then, Serena was back and usually doing something that was too domestic for Rowan to master, like doing laundry without turning all the white sheets pink because a red sock accidentally escaped into the whites pile.

After that, Rowan would have to go back to the Hub until six, and, while she was gone, Serena usually made dinner, while Cailee played. Or went to dance class. Or to gymnastics. Or to piano lessons. Or any number of other extracurricular activities.

By the time Rowan officially got home for the evening at around six thirty, it was time for dinner, and the three of them ate together. Then, Serena left, and Rowan helped Cailee to do her homework. At seven thirty, they liked to play board games or cards.

At night, after Cailee went to bed, Rowan worked on whatever she had brought home to do or just read a book. Soon enough, a month had gone by, and Rowan got the call that the Rogue was to be sent on a mission to a Fringe planet to rescue the inhabitants of a small town who had been trapped by a forest fire, and she asked Serena to stay with Cailee while she was gone.

She was just packing a go-bag when her comms bracelet lit up, and a hologram of Stark emerged from the center stone. "What?" Rowan answered the call brusquely, trying to shove a breathing mask and a protective vest into the bag at the same time. "I'm packing."

"You don't have to," Stark said heavily, and his tone made Rowan freeze. "The op's been cancelled."

"What?" Rowan asked. "Are the people safe, then?"

"No," Stark said roughly. "It has nothing to do with our mission specifically. All ops have been cancelled indefinitely."

"What? Why?" Rowan cried.

"Turn on the news," was all Stark answered. "It's on every channel." And he ended the call.

Rowan sat back and flicked on her telescreen. Onscreen, a blonde woman, standing behind a podium with the emblem of the Colonial Network on it, said, "...is why the government has decided that the Intergalactic Ranger Corps is outdated and ineffective. As of right now, the Rangers have been declared obsolete and are in the process of disbanding. By the end of the month, this old-fashioned body of the military will no longer exist. Our politicians believe that the other law enforcement agencies are just as capable of dealing with the threats the Rangers were created to protect against."

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