Chaos never announced itself.
It hid in paperwork.
In assumptions.
In things everyone meant to deal with later.
Luke had learned this lesson across worlds: tragedies weren't always dramatic. Most of them were administrative.
And the Gallagher family lived on top of too many invisible pits.
So Luke started filling them—one by one.
The Forgotten Fund
It began with a file.
Old. Yellowed. Stuffed behind tax notices and eviction warnings.
Luke found it while reorganizing documents no one else wanted to touch.
Aunt Ginger Gallagher.
Declared dead.
Then not dead.
Then forgotten.
Luke's memory aligned immediately with the original timeline.
The "grand aunt fund."
The burial scam.
The quiet theft that would later explode into police attention and family fracture.
A pit disguised as opportunity.
Luke closed the folder.
"No," he said quietly.
Recovering the Body
Instead of exploiting the situation, Luke did something radical.
He investigated properly.
Using analytical ability, public records, and hospital registries, he tracked Ginger's last confirmed movement—an assisted living facility two counties away.
She had died years ago.
Unclaimed.
Buried under a municipal program.
Luke stood at the cemetery two days later, wind cutting across cracked headstones.
No drama.
No guilt-fueled speeches.
Just correction.
He arranged:
official recovery
proper documentation
legal death certification
No scam.
No future leverage.
Just truth restored.
When Fiona asked why he didn't "use" it—
Luke answered simply.
"Because traps that feed you today eat you tomorrow."
Sealing the First Pit
The moment passed quietly.
But something important happened.
One of the Gallagher family's most dangerous future catastrophes simply ceased to exist.
No police scrutiny.
No moral fracture.
No domino collapse.
The System registered it as a low-drama, high-impact intervention.
Luke barely noticed.
He was already moving to the next pit.
Death Isn't Dramatic—It's Inconvenient
Frank Gallagher.
Luke didn't plan Frank's disappearance.
But he planned for its inevitability.
Frank lived like entropy given legs.
When he vanished—or "died"—the state wouldn't grieve.
It would investigate.
Luke knew the aftermath would hit Fiona hardest.
So before chaos arrived, he prepared stability.
The Will That Changed Everything
Luke didn't wait for tragedy.
He drafted an inheritance structure.
Not flashy.
Not complicated.
Just resilient.
With legal templates, witness structures, and Fiona's quiet consent, Luke helped establish:
Fiona as primary guardian
emergency decision authority
asset control safeguards
contingencies for Frank's absence
No loopholes.
No gray areas.
When Fiona signed, her hand trembled.
"This feels like admitting something bad's coming," she said.
Luke nodded. "It is."
"But it also means you won't face it alone."
Fiona's Silent Moment
That night, Fiona sat on the porch steps longer than usual.
Luke didn't join her.
He didn't intrude.
Some realizations need privacy.
She wasn't crying.
She was processing something unfamiliar.
Security.
Not hope.
Not romance.
Just the knowledge that when the next disaster hit—
She wouldn't be crushed under paperwork and panic.
Someone had already patched the pit.
System Log (Unannounced)
Major Hidden Risk Neutralized: Ginger Fund
Legal Vulnerability Sealed: Gallagher Guardianship
Future Catastrophe Probability: Reduced
Luke leaned back in his chair later, exhaustion settling into his bones.
This wasn't hero work.
No applause.
No dramatic payoff.
Just holes filled before someone fell in.
Across worlds, Luke had fought monsters, systems, and fate itself.
Here—
He fought negligence.
And won.
Tomorrow, new pits would appear.
They always did.
Luke would be ready.
Because real protection wasn't dramatic.
It was quiet.
And it lasted.