Many Years Ago...

The setting sky filled the bedroom with a soft glow, bringing a touch of color to the darkening faces of Abigail and Rosalie. The younger blonde coughed into her tissue, blood staining the white cloth. It felt like they had been afflicted by this disease for much longer than a few weeks. And while there were days when they felt like they were starting to get better, the sickness would confine them to their bed again, threatening to keep them there permanently.

Rockets and missiles were being fired off in the distance, it wouldn't be long now. Minutes, maybe if they were lucky, hours from now, their world would be no more. Perhaps they would succumb to their illness before the world's end took them. While she could barely see it, Rosalie caught the shadow of one rocket spreading across the outside of the mansion. The gentle caress of her mother's hand made her shift her gaze, noticing her tired but gentle smile. "My sweet Rosie," Abigail whispered hoarsely. 

"Do you think Father will find a cure for us?" Rosalie asked. Abigail usually always held onto hope, even when there were times it felt like there was no right way to solve a problem. But as she processed her daughter's question, her face fell, and the gravity of their grave circumstance finally landed on her shoulders.

But before she could respond, the door of the master bedroom opened. Reginald entered with a small smile. Clutched in his hands was a wooden instrument case, and a smaller package tucked against his blazer. "Reggie, don't you look dapper?" Abigail smiled, as her husband walked over to her side of the bed. "Well, I thought it was right to buy something special for the occasion," Reginald replied, a small smile on the edge of his thin lips. Despite their illnesses and the world's end, Rosalie and Abigail never forgot this special day, a combination of bliss and a new beginning.

Abigail remembered it like it happened yesterday. Holding Reginald's hand as they made the vow that no matter what, they'd always be together. Not only were they celebrating their wedding anniversary, but three years later on the same day, Rosalie was born, further brightening their lives and completing their family. Reginald opened the case, proudly showing off a white violin. "It's beautiful," Abigail touched the skillfully crafted instrument, the mere glimpse of it bringing back many memories of their first encounters. "And..." Reginald handed his daughter the small green package tied with a silver bow. And as Rosalie slowly untied it, her breath caught in her throat.

Nested into the darkened satin, lay a golden heart-shaped locket, and as she slowly pried it open, Rosalie could see a black and white photo of her mother and father on one side, and a photo of her staring out into the sunset on the other. "Thank you, father," Rosalie weakly smiled, as he slipped it around her neck. "I didn't realize you felt up to playing," Reginald turned back to his wife, as she continued to admire the violin. "I don't," Abigail admitted. "I want you to take it with you," Reginald shook his head, unable to comprehend the meaning behind his wife's words. Surely, she couldn't be telling him to leave them behind.

"No, my love," He whispered. "Please... find someone who'll love it just as much as I do," Abigail continued. "I can't. I won't leave you and Rosie. There has to be another way," Abigail brushed a hand against her husband's cheek, looking deep into his eyes, his fears of being left alone clear as day. "There isn't," Rosalie spoke softly. "We will die here, but you won't. We won't allow it," Rosalie coughed. "The world needs you, Reggie," Abigail insisted. Hearing his wife plead for him to take this opportunity and start a new life was one devastating blow, but to hear his daughter beg him to let them die struck him like a bullet to the heart. 

But as he took one last look at his family, he knew they were right. Even if they were able to leave together, who knew how long they'd survive in the new world? "Okay... I'll go," He slowly nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to their heads. And with one last smile, Abigail's breathing slowed, her final breath a soft exhale. Not long after, Rosalie's eyes fluttered closed, death shrouding over them like a dark cloud.

Reginald walked out onto the balcony, setting the violin case on the circular table, next to a jar filled with a glowing substance. Taking the jar into his hands, Reginald turned around, back to his fallen family. Lifting the lid, the Marigold particles whipped and swirled around in the air before floating into the sky. As the golden particles disappeared beyond the swirling clouds, Reginald began to pack his things, loading them into the jet he recently completed. He packed away the suitcases and trunks containing his clothes and essentials. But as he stowed the last of his luggage, he stopped in his tracks. 

Rosie, Abigail, I can't leave them here. Not to suffer the cruel fate of vaporization and only be left as distant memories. Running back into the mansion, he loaded his wife and daughter's bodies onto a large metal gurney, wheeling down the hallway and into the lift that led down into the basement. Pushing open the double doors, the hissing of metal canisters and the dropping temperature greeted him, a few hairs on his mustache standing at attention. Reginald made it his mission to complete this room before the bitter end arrived. If his wife and daughter couldn't make it to the new world alive, there was one other option.

He carefully placed them into two metal chambers, Abigail's hands resting at her sides while Rosalie's folded across her stomach. "I will find a way to bring you back. I promise," Reginald vowed before closing the chambers. With the press of a few buttons and one last look at his family, Reginald turned on his heel as he walked out of the room, not looking back as the countdown reached zero. As he powered up the jet, the chambers burst out of the chimney, sending Rosalie and Abigail somewhere safer, somewhere that no man nor creature had ever traveled to before. 

Somewhere they would remain undisturbed until the time was right.