[Gordon's answer to the question is weak as he steps forward, stunned.]
Not the past.
[Close inspection will show his own face in many of the family photos, red hair turning slowly to grey as the children in the photos grow taller and older, the same children lying in pools of their own blood.]
It can't be real.
[There's a weak, unsteady sort of certainty in the statement, but it doesn't stop the image from getting to him. He drops to his knees by the bodies, his Pokémon soon joining him in mourning, the Squirtle shaking the young girl's body, trying to wake her, tears streaming down blue cheeks as he fails. A voice, unlike any of the others before, not Gordon's, not his wife's, not even the blonde's on the roof, more elemental, more chaotic, a voice that could not possibly belong to any human being punctuates the blow.]
no subject
Not the past.
[Close inspection will show his own face in many of the family photos, red hair turning slowly to grey as the children in the photos grow taller and older, the same children lying in pools of their own blood.]
It can't be real.
[There's a weak, unsteady sort of certainty in the statement, but it doesn't stop the image from getting to him. He drops to his knees by the bodies, his Pokémon soon joining him in mourning, the Squirtle shaking the young girl's body, trying to wake her, tears streaming down blue cheeks as he fails. A voice, unlike any of the others before, not Gordon's, not his wife's, not even the blonde's on the roof, more elemental, more chaotic, a voice that could not possibly belong to any human being punctuates the blow.]
Home late again, Jim? And you missed all the fun.