“Anytime, Mr. Ransom,” I said, tears pricking my eyes. “Same time tomorrow?”

A small, genuine smile cracked through the silver of his beard. “Tomorrow. I’ll be here.”

He walked out of the unit, his heavy boots echoing softly down the hall, leaving behind a room that felt entirely different than it had twelve hours before.

He still walked with a limp, and his hands still trembled — but his shoulders were a little straighter, his head a little higher.

He had finally brought his daughter home from the war.

THE END.