Andrea didn't think.
He didn't weigh dignity or setting or the fact that this was a military compound with eyes everywhere.
He just moved.
One second Xavier was still trying to breathe through the weight of memory crashing back into him—
The next, a body slammed into his chest.
"Hey—" Xavier started.
Andrea wrapped his arms around him hard.
Really hard.
The kind of hug that came from years of absence, from nights pretending not to need anyone, from growing up too fast with too much swallowed inside.
"You idiot," Andrea said into his shoulder, his voice cracking. "Do you have any idea how much I missed you?"
Xavier froze.
Then slowly—carefully, like he was afraid the moment might shatter—he lifted his good arm and wrapped it around Andrea's back.
The contact did something violent to his chest.
He held on.
Tight.
"I'm sorry," Xavier murmured hoarsely. "I should've been there."
Andrea pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes wet, jaw clenched. "You were. Even when you weren't."
That undid him.
Xavier laughed shakily and pressed his forehead briefly against Andrea's. "You grew up," he whispered.
Andrea scoffed. "Someone had to."
Behind them, Lucia cried openly now, one hand clutching Marcello's arm as if anchoring herself to the present. Marcello watched the scene with trembling lips, pride and pain warring in his eyes.
Isabella stood a few steps away.
She hadn't moved.
Hadn't interrupted.
She watched the two of them—her little brother and the man who had once quietly carried the weight of all of them—and something deep in her chest finally loosened.
This wasn't romance.
This wasn't tragedy.
This was family.
Xavier released Andrea slowly, hands still resting on his shoulders as if to reassure himself that he was real.
"I missed you too," Xavier said. "More than I understood."
Andrea grinned through tears. "Good. Because I'm not letting you disappear again."
Xavier glanced at Isabella.
She met his eyes.
There was no accusation there.
No bitterness.
Only truth.
"We survived," she said softly. "All of us."
Xavier nodded, swallowing hard. "You did more than survive."
A whistle blew somewhere down the yard.
Reality intruded.
Xavier straightened instinctively, soldier again, but something had changed in his posture—he was standing with something now, not just enduring.
"I'm supposed to be in recovery," he said reluctantly.
Andrea smirked. "Then you're lucky my sister is your nurse."
Isabella shot him a warning look. "Andrea."
"What?" he shrugged. "I'm just stating facts."
Xavier smiled.
A real one.
Not tired.
Not hollow.
Warm.
The kind Isabella remembered.
The kind that once made a pastry shop feel brighter.
Lucia stepped forward, wiping her cheeks. "Xavier," she said gently.
He turned to her immediately. "Mama Lucia."
The name slipped out without thought.
She broke again—and this time, Xavier held her too.
Marcello cleared his throat roughly. "You're welcome to dinner," he said gruffly. "If the army allows it."
Xavier laughed softly. "I'll fight them if I have to."
Andrea grinned. "I'd pay to see that."
They stood there a moment longer—an unlikely cluster of past and present inside unforgiving walls.
But for once, the walls didn't matter.
Andrea slipped his arm around Xavier's waist again, leaning into him with easy familiarity.
"Don't worry," he said quietly. "Big brother or not—you're stuck with us now."
Xavier looked down at him, emotion thick in his throat.
"Good," he said. "I've been looking for my way back."
And for the first time in years—
He had found it.