Alison Reagan

MIA- Memory

I was running, it was dark, I didn't know where I was, or where I was headed, I didn't even know what day it was. The one thing I did know: get away. I had finally gotten the chance to escape and I had taken it, but let me start from the beginning.

A FEW DAYS BEFORE

Alison Reagan was on patrol in Iraq, hoping to have a calm day, when she heard a noise. She froze, her ears straining to hear anything, slowing her breathing, preparing her gun, and getting into a defensive stance. Unfortunately a gun was not going to do much about the hand grenade she watched fly into the air, exploding before she could dive for cover.

REAGANS' HOUSEHOLD

Knock! Knock!

"I got it!" Mary Reagan called as she walked toward the front door. There was a pause, as though she was listening to someone else speak."Honey, can you call everyone here?" she called to her husband, slightly choked up.

Joseph Reagan pulled up, the last to arrive, and walked inside. "I'm here!" he called.
"In the sitting room!" his father, Francis Reagan, replied.
In said sitting room sat all of the members of the Reagan family: Henry, Frank, Mary, Erin, now Joe,Danny, Jamie, Linda, and Nikki, Jack, and Sean. Mary's eyes were red as though she had been crying, and Frank had his arm around her, though he looked as though he himself, a normally stoic man, was having a hard time keeping it together for the rest of the family. These abnormal expressions set off red flags to the rest of the family, and almost immediately they all assumed the worst for their sister, sister in law, daughter, and aunt, Allie.
"Mom?" Jamie, the youngest of Mary's boys, asked, sounding concerned.
"Yes, honey?" she replied still trying to get her emotions under control.
"What's wrong?"
She couldn't take it anymore as she was sent into another bout of sobbing.
"It's your sister," Frank replied for her, "She's gone MIA, missing in action," he choked.

Iraq.
Allie opened her eyes to darkness. Her pulse quickening for a moment, until she realized she had a bag over her head, she wasn't blind. Though this conclusion didn't do wonders for her blood pressure, it calmed her a little.
The bag was suddenly ripped off her head roughly. She blinked against the dim, though still present, light. Once she had gotten her bearings, more or less, she began to assess her current predicament: Her head was pounding, probably from the explosion, and her wrists were killing her as they were tied roughly behind her back. There was also rope around her shoulders as an extra insurance. She felt the rope around her calves and ankles pulling her tight to a hard, wooden chair. Who do they think I am? Goliath? It's not like I'm going to snap through rope with ease and run, she internally rolled her eyes. She heard Arabic muttering in the background of her mental whirlwind: Will I ever see my family again? Mom? Dad? Joe? Jamie? Danny? Linda? Jack? Sean? Erin? Pop? Little Nicky? Did they know?

Allie was jolted from her personal turmoil by a cloth being pushed against her nose and mouth. And though she fought, she could do little to stand against the open arms of a drug induced darkness.

New York, USA

Jamie didn't understand. How could his sister, who was seemingly indestructible, be missing? He had begun to pour himself into his studies. If – no, when – Allie came home, he wanted to have something for the soldier to be proud of. He had closed himself off from the outside world, much to the worry of his family and stayed close to his studies. His routine was simple: he went to school (college), stayed quiet, only answering the teachers' occasional question, came home and hid in his room, only emerging for meals, staying quiet for those too.
Jamie's family was worried that if Allie didn't come home, that they would lose two kids, one to war, and one to depression.

Reagans' House

It was their annual Sunday dinner that evening and the table was unusually quiet. It had been four days since Allie had gone missing and the law enforcing family was worried for her, but also for Jamie. The youngest Reagan man had always worried about his only younger sibling, and contrary to popular belief, they were actually quite close. Frank had silently decided it was time to talk to him. After dinner Frank followed Jamie upstairs.
"Jamie?" he asked tentatively. Jamie whipped around, obviously startled by his father's presence. "You know you can come to me with anything, right?"
His son nodded.
"So, why don't you now?"
Jamie shrugged.
As he sat on the bed, he looked down at the ground, subtly covering his red eyes and tear-streaked face. Frank knelt in front of his youngest son and cupped his chin, forcing the younger man to look at him. "Talk to me." he whispered.
That was it for Jamie. He threw his arms around his father, and his father held him as he sobbed. "Wh-what if sh-she d-doesn't come b-back?" he fretted.
"Sh, sh," his father whispered reassurances into his emotionally wrecked son. He knew he couldn't promise his daughters safe return, but he was not completely hopeless. "Allie's to stubborn to even consider leaving this family behind," he offered.
Jamie calmed down enough to pull away and offer a watery smile to his father. "Thanks Dad," he whispered.
"Go to sleep son, and tomorrow you can tell us about Harvard."
He tucked his son into bed and walked toward the door, "Night Dad."
"Goodnight Jamie," Francis Reagan smiled as he closed the door.