Lucas took in a sharp breath and bit the inside of his cheek until the metallic taste of blood coated his tongue. He cradled his right fist in his left hand and slumped to the floor; the pain in his knuckles being too much to bear. If only his anger had shot out two seconds later, then he would have been able to use the punching bag that was hanging in the corner of his room instead of allowing his fist to meet the wall at full force. Lucas knew that he would be lucky if he didn't shatter any bone in his hand, but the pain that lingered throughout his hand was nothing to what he was experiencing emotionally right now.

They had come while he was still at school. His mother was home alone when they pulled up to the apartment and came knocking on the Friar's apartment door. So when he came home, she had already been grieving for a couple of hours. When he saw her like that, he desperately wanted to do anything to take her pain away. But when she told him what had happened, Lucas froze. The pain, shock, confusion, and anger started to boil up inside of him.

His father was killed in combat. And the last time they spoke to each other, the two of them were not on the best of terms.

Mrs. Friar reached out to try and help comfort him, but Lucas brushed her hand away. He needed to deal with what he was going through alone, and apparently punching the wall was supposed to help. Lucas had to admit, it wasn't his brightest idea. It didn't even help him feel better; it just added to what he was experiencing.

Lucas let a tear fall down his cheek as he thought about all the arguments they had, especially the most recent one. It was about something so trivial, and it got blown up out of proportion. What bothered him the most was that the argument was the last time Lucas spoke to him. The last memory of his father was the sound of his distressed voice on the other end of the line.

This lone fact constantly ate away at Lucas as time continued to tick by. How could I have been so stupid? he asked as the tears continued to flow in steady streams. Now I'll never be able to tell him that I love him ever again… he trailed, knowing full well that he didn't say it enough to him, even before he was deployed.

A soft chuckle reached his ears, one that he had known for years, but he dismissed it as being part of his imagination.

"Come on, Luke," a deep voice said.

Lucas' eyes snapped open in shock. Only his father had called him that, and he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw him standing a few feet away from him. He desperately tried to say something, but nothing came out.

Instead, the image spoke. "Don't let our last argument eat at you. You had every right to be upset; I said that our last move would be your last, and I would have gone back on my word if I returned. Don't think of all the bad, but cherish all the wonderful times we had together. And remember, no matter what, I'm always here for you, and that I love you, son."

"I love you, too, Dad," Lucas sobbed just as the image of his father faded away.

Whether or not what he saw was real, a feeling of peace came over Lucas' heart. It was still going to take a while to get through the mourning of his father's death, but he got to do what many military families seldom get to do. Say goodbye, face to face, with their dearly departed.

A/N: Hey all! The original idea behind this came from a fic that I planned out last month, but I highly doubt I'll ever write it. So I decided to change a couple things and turn it into a drabble. Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you thought :) ~cowgirlangel95 out!