A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for such a long delay, but I've been going non-stop since arriving in Kansas one week ago. I'm trying to fulfill my dream to become a military aviator and have been busy compiling my application packet for an Army Aviation Warrant Officer. It's a long, tedious process and hopefully I'll find out in the next three weeks if I'm selected or not. In the meantime, I've been training and studying like crazy, so updates will be sporadic at best. But major kudos to all of you who have hung with me and will continue to do so! Now on with the story!

Chapter Two: The Choices We Make

Stinger graciously stepped back from the doorframe to permit the two guests to enter the office. Sarver briskly walked in, followed by the young teen. Across the room from in front of the window, Carla rose from her seat and greeted the two guests with a friendly, warm smile. Just like before, Maria turned into stone and coldly turned away from the greeting, her behavior clearly indicating she didn't want to play any part in the proceedings.

"Well, if you don't mind Mr. Kesinger, we'll get right to things," Sarver announced, sitting directly across the large, dark-colored desk. Beside him, Maria seated herself with legs crossed and arms folded, a slight frown on her face and a storm brewing within her eyes.

Kesinger stared pointedly at the wanna-be lawyer before shutting the door a little too harshly. Maria's eyes weren't the only ones clouding over like a Kansas thunderstorm. "Let's get one thing straight here and now, Sarver. I am a public servant in the United States Armed Services and from here on out you will address me as such. My title is Lieutenant Colonel Kesinger. Know it, remember it and we'll get along spendidly."

Sarver blanched slightly at the hard, icy edge in Stinger's tone. He swallowed noticeably before trying to regain his composure by opening the briefcase. "Uh, yes! Yes! Of course Mr., er—uh, Lieutenant Kesinger, sir. I'm sorry, really I am. It's just that, um, I'm really not used to dealing with military service members, um, such as yourself and—"

Stinger resignedly ran a hand down his face in mild exasperation as he seated himself behind the desk. He waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Let's just get to the point, Mr. Sarver. I'm sure I'm not the only one here that feels a little 'out-of-sorts' with this impromptu meeting," the pilot prompted. His eye glanced warily at the young teen seated slightly to his front and right. She appeared completely disengaged from the conversation, content to just stare idly out the window, watching planes come and go with infrequent consistency.

"Well, um, Lieutenant Colonel, as I've already told you, Miss Laura Kline regrettably passed away recently and I'm here to ensure the safe and legal transfer of her daughter to your care," Sarver began somewhat hesitantly. If Stinger didn't know any better he could have sworn that there was a tiny hint of protectiveness in the lawyer's voice. Interesting.

"Yes, we've already established that issue, Mr. Sarver, perhaps we should begin with just who was Laura Kline," Stinger cut to the bone once again. Honestly, did all lawyers beat around the bush like this moron? No wonder the court system was all fragged up. Stinger smiled internally. Leave it to Skywarp to have taught him all the basic intergalactic swear words. He vaguely wondered if that counted as making him multi-lingual. Probably not. His high speed, mental wandering was quickly interrupted by a derisive snort from the teenager. He threw another glance towards her, but she didn't offer any further comment. He looked again to Sarver.

A small smile tugged at the corner of the lawyer's lips and it was quite the predatory smile too. "You may not remember Mrs. Kline, Colonel Kesinger, but she remembered you quite well, every day in fact." He nodded slightly to the aloof child at his side. "She often said that she doubted you would ever remember her, especially since everything started back in your freshman year of college at Texas A&M."

A very puzzled expression crossed the ex-pilot's face. His brow creased into several, deep furrows and a few, normally invisible wrinkles made an appearance around his grey eyes. He turned his head away and down as his thoughts raced back to those so very distant memories.

A heavy silence descended upon the room. The silence seemed almost palpable. Suddenly, the air conditioning unit switched on, creating a dull roar in the background. The faint smell of spiced cinnamon wafted across the room, its source stemming from a couple of strategically placed potpourri jars in diagonal corners of the office. In the distance, the faint roar of jet engines could be heard over the din of the air conditioner. But nary a human voice broke the invisible stiffness that filled the room.

Stinger thought long and hard over the lawyer's cryptic words. Something was tickling the back of his mind, something that he knew he should know, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. He thought hard on those memories, trying to dredge up what he had buried long ago. Then without warning it hit him.

"Come on! It'll be fun!"

"I don't know—"

"No one will know. I've got the hall monitor's schedule down to a tee. We'll sneak in, have a little fun, I'll sneak you out and no one will be the wiser."

She smiled at him. "In and out?"

"I'll give you the best night of your life."

A slight pause. "OK."

A flash of sandy blonde hair, the sweet, intoxicating smell of sweat pea and lavender, a darkened dorm room—it all came rushing back in an electrifying flood of once-forgotten memories.

"Oh, dear St. Pete!" Stinger whispered fiercely, "You've got to be shittin' me!" His grey eyes darted to Maria and back to Sarver.

"Remember now, Colonel?"

"Oh, God. Oh, damn! Oh, God!" Stinger began, breathless. He stood up, rubbing his temple irritably. He began to pace restlessly around the office, trying to comprehend this sudden revelation. He focused his attention on his daughter. As if reading his thoughts, Sarver spoke up once again.

"She already knows, Colonel. None of this comes as a surprise to her."

"As if I should care," Stinger heard a faint but mordant voice whisper under its breath.

The bitterness and hatred laced within those words were not overlooked by those present in the room, but for the time being, Stinger ignored his daughter and focused on her origins. "Laura Kline. The Laura Kline I knew back in college?"

Sarver nodded his head once. "The very same."

"Oh my God." Stinger stopped his pacing to spare Carla a glance. Her face was inquisitive, but not hostile as he had feared. God bless that woman! Slowly he made his way to the large, paned window and stared out across the airfield. He watched all the ant-like activity, but saw none of it. His thoughts were an F-5 tornado tearing through a trailer park. So much was swirling in his head. He continued to stare out the window, even as he spoke. "Why wasn't I made aware of this sooner?" he nearly whispered.

The question hung in the air for several long seconds, so long in fact, that it seemed as if the whole conversation had come to a screeching halt. Finally Sarver replied.

"She was a caring soul, Don. She knew your ambitions better than you did."

Another pregnant silence weighed heavily on the room. It seemed as if those present had finally run out of words to say and questions to ask. Surprisingly, it was Carla who broke the silence. "We've all been through much this past couple of days," she began, each word lightly accented with her Eastern European accent. "Let us retire to more private quarters to discuss such sensitive matters." Stinger turned and looked at his wife thoughtfully. Her suggestion had caught him slightly off guard. The slim redhead stood to her feet and took her husband by the arm. She gestured to Sarver and Maria to stand as well. "Come. I will prepare refreshments and introduce you to our home."

Sarver nodded tightly and gently beckoned Maria to walk before him as they exited the office. Stinger and Carla followed suit, the Colonel pausing briefly to lock his office. Then, together the party of four exited the building and made their way down the street, drawing several curious stares as they went.


Maria slowly entered the small, spare bedroom in the upper northeast corner of the two-story house. It was a quaint room, with three walls painted a nice shade of sage green and the one wall behind the sleigh bed's head board, a beautiful, light sand. The floor was aged, hardwood oak, the color of warm chestnuts. The centerpiece of the room, the bed, was dark cherry red with a flowery, burgundy and cream quilt comforter. A small pocket-door closet was nestled into the room's far right corner, directly beside it, a three-drawer maple dresser stained the same color as the bed. A large window with dark brown drapes decorated either side. Golden-colored, tasseled cords were tied around the drapes, pulling them gently away from the glass to allow the warm rays of the sun to fill the room.

But for Maria Kline, she was feeling anything but warm; in fact, all she felt was numbness. A cold, numbing sensation that had filled her soul ever since she received word her mother had been killed. The memory was as sharp and clear as a piece of broken glass. She had been laughing and gossiping with her friends during the school lunch break. Everything had been perfect then, until the principal came rushing up and demanded that she come with him. She remembered feeling confused and just a little perturbed. The principal had taken her to his office and without preamble told her the news—her mother had been killed in a car accident, DOA, dead-on-arrival. That was when the shock and the numbness had set in. Maria had no one else; it had always been just her and her mother. It had never dawned on her what would happen if that support in her life suddenly vanished.

Like a mindless zombie, she entered the room and slowly slid her backpack off her shoulder. The small, purple, black and yellow bag held what was left of her dearest possessions. She placed the bag on the neatly-made bed and meticulously pulled the zipper open. Her honey-blonde locks fell loosely around her face, but Maria paid little attention. The first item she withdrew from the bag was a small, leather-bound journal. She opened the worn cover and stared at the picture taped within. The worn photograph showed two young women, she with arms clasped around the elder's neck, a bright smile lighting her face. The elder woman had a smile identical to her daughter's, vibrant, chestnut-colored hair framing an oval face, with friendly, muddy-river brown eyes.

Why did she have to die? Why did God take away the only person who truly cared for her?

A single, solitary tear slowly slid down her cheek and plopped softly onto the comforter. She laid the bag and journal to the side and turned her head to stare out the window. The street was empty, just like her soul. A flash of anger shot through her grey eyes. Why did she have to come here!? Legally, this yahoo was her father, but that didn't mean she needed him! Not after all these years she and her mother had gotten along splendidly without him! She didn't need him then and she sure as hell didn't need him or his bitch now!

She did remember asking her mother why she didn't have a daddy like all her other friends. That had been when she was real young, almost four or five. Her mother had smiled in that special way and had told her she didn't have a daddy because her father had been summoned to fulfill a higher duty in life. Maria had translated that to mean he had better things to do than worry about them, even though her mother had never said that. In fact her mother had tried often to tell her about her father, but admittedly, Maria was never really interested in listening and she definitely wasn't going to start now.

She slowly set the bag off to one side of the bed and then curled up on the comforter, grey eyes staring blankly out the window.


Down in the small sitting room of the house, the three adults were discussing the teenager in depth. When everyone first entered the house, Carla had offered the guests some refreshments, but Maria had coldly turned her down insisting on knowing "where I'm going to stay in this hellhole." Not missing a beat, Carla gave the teen directions to her new bedroom and the three of them watched silently as Maria trudged up the stairs and disappeared through the doorway. As the bedroom door clicked closed, Sarver had only shaken his head and followed the couple to the sitting room.

"Besides being the representative, I'm sure the both of you are wondering what my connection is to Mrs. Kline and her daughter," Sarver stated suddenly, setting his coffee cup to one side.

"I must say it has crossed my mind once or twice," Stinger admitted, setting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward slightly.

"We met in law school. Laura told me she finished out the year before having Maria, took some time off and then came back to school as soon as she was able. She then applied for law school. I don't know how she did it, raising a child and all, but she did. She and I became close friends, but nothing more. In fact, I don't think she ever really dated anyone after having Maria, instead, putting all her concentration into raising that girl and making something of herself."

"I had no idea," Stinger whispered, still reveling in the fact he now had a daughter. "I would have helped her in any way I could."

"She didn't want you to, Colonel. Laura knew how important it was to you to finish school. She talked of you often actually."

"Still, I should have been there for them."

"Well, now you can, at least for Maria. It will take much time, but if any of what Laura said about you was true, you two will have more in common than you realize. Laura's death unfortunately, has left Maria with little. Many of the creditors and banks swooped in and took everything that my friend owned to cover her debts. All of Laura's family have already passed on and the only things Maria can call her own are all packed into that backpack. As far as I know, I'm the only one Laura confided in as to who was Maria's father. She had told me not too long ago, she was going to contact you, but judging by your surprise on the phone yesterday, I don't believe she did."

Stinger sighed heavily. "Obviously, no, she didn't."

"I understand if this comes as too much of a burden to you; if you want we could place the child in foster care so that she'll receive—" But Sarver never got the chance to finish his suggestion.

Stinger rose quickly, a smoldering fury in his eyes. "You will do well to not finish that sentence, Sarver. I may not have even known about my daughter's existence 24 hours ago, but by God, I will be damned before I allow anyone to take my own flesh and blood away from me," he hissed furiously. "At least give me the chance to be the father I was never given the opportunity to be."

Sarver remained silent before nodding his head and standing to his feet. "Very well, Colonel." He gathered his briefcase and coat, sensing his welcome was officially worn out. Together, he and Stinger began to walk to the front door. The lawyer cast one last look up the stairs before stepping out onto the porch, followed by the ex-pilot. "I trust I am leaving her in good hands, Colonel. If you need any help, please contact me. Here is my card." He handed Stinger a small, white business card.

Stinger glanced over it quickly before sliding it into his wallet. "No problem," he said, before shaking the lawyer's hand. "Thank you for taking care of her…and Laura."

"I didn't do it for you, Colonel Kesinger; I did it for Laura and Maria. Let's hope I'm not making a mistake." With that Sarver turned on his heel and left the house, walking down the street, around the corner and back towards the main gate. His slim figure was soon swallowed up by the large shade trees lining the street.

Satisfied that the lawyer had left, Stinger walked back into his home. He glanced anxiously up the staircase towards his new daughter's room, but ultimately decided to leave her alone for now. Carla met him in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes left over from their meeting.

"She is very bitter, Don," Carla began never looking up from her work. She turned on the faucet and began to wash her hands. "Let's not rush her. Losing a mother and gaining a father should never be considered a fair trade."

"No it isn't. Thank you for being so understanding, Carla; not many women would have taken this as well as you have." He walked up to her and wrapped his muscular arms around her torso, giving her a light peck on the neck as he did so.

"You forget, my love, that I am not an ordinary woman. I have seen much suffering in my lifetime and many unfair circumstance. It is not right for me to judge you on actions that took place long before we met."

True, but it's not fair for you to have deal with the consequences of those actions," he argued, pulling away and holding her lightly by the forearms. She smiled then, a beautiful, radiant smile that made his blood tingle with warmth.

"Life is not fair. Was it fair that the best pilot in the Air Force was forced to give up his dream in order for others to live? Was it fair that Dr. Doom took my family from me? But now look what has risen from the ashes of unjust action. We have lost greatly, but we have gained so much more."

Stinger smiled and kissed her forehead; such was the wisdom of a woman. They hugged tightly, each cherishing the feel of the other, temporarily lost in the moment—until Stinger's cell phone rang to the chorus of Indestructible by Disturbed. Funny. I don't have that as a ringtone on this phone. What in the hell?

Irritably he broke from the embrace with his wife and flipped the annoying piece of technology open. It was a text message and the words on the screen were both relieving and worrying at the same time.

Tomorrow. 1900 terrestrial hours. Your residence.

A/N: Guess Who?