Chapter Two
Two weeks had gone by and Steve was a little shocked that he'd received no response from the email that he had sent to Stuart's little sister, Nikki.
He had obtained her email address from his CO for Stuart's next of kin.
He felt he had been straightforward with her and also kindhearted, re-reading the note several times over before sending it. Still, the unanswered email was a bit unsettling so he printed it out as well and mailed it to her in c/o the University Dorms, assured she would get the second attempt. If that failed as well, then his last bit of chivalry to fulfill the duty would be to look her up on his next furlough, which was in two months. He had planned on going to Thailand to relax but changed his mind, feeling the obligation weighing heavy on his shoulders. It had been well over a year since he'd seen his father as well, deciding to kill two birds with one trip so to speak.
Despite losing Stuart, life had gone back to a somewhat normal routine for him. As normal as it could get considering he was still in the middle of the desert in Afghanistan and doing patrols that were similar to what had gotten Stuart killed. He was more cautious now though, taking an extra second to consider an order before giving it to his men. This was noticed by all, especially his men, which led to gossip in the barracks of his ability to guide them into a dangerous situation and then the fear of him freezing up when it came time to direct them. That could be more dangerous than an ambush and so was losing the respect of his men, which unbeknownst to him was brewing at the moment.
He stepped inside his Commanders tent and stood fully erect with his feet slightly parted and his hands clasped together behind his back, waiting obediently for him to arrive after being summoned only minutes before.
He assumed it was going to be another meeting informing him of another patrol or perhaps even better would be an assignment that would hopefully take him away from the current area that he desperately wanted out of.
He glanced over at the table where the whiskey container sat that he had partaken of the night of Stuart's death. A dread washed over him as he swallowed down the dryness in his throat. He would give his right arm if he could go back to that night and do it all over again.
He felt a trickle of sweat slide down the side of his face as he recalled the moment he sent Stuart to his death.
They came under heavy fire from above, trapped between two mud brick buildings. If the enemy had used mortars instead of guns, they all would have been dead. The vests they were wearing saved a couple of his guys. One took a hit on his foot but wouldn't feel it until the battle was over.
The six of them scattered, taking shelter in doorways that gave them brief yet unstable safety from the firing.
Steve spoke into the radio attached to his vest, alerting the other Seal team of their position, assured they had heard the gunfire and were already headed in that direction, warning them of a potentially similar attack.
'Those fuckers,' he cursed the shooters, glancing up at the roof, trying to get a mental picture and layout of what they were up against. His adrenaline was pumping but his first reaction was anger not fear. Who in the hell were they to think they could rain fire down on United States Navy Seals, he thought boldly. He and his men were going to let them know just who the fuck they were dealing with.
For just a split second he considered staying put and waiting for backup, but his arrogance and training put that to rest almost instantaneously. If they did have mortars they were sitting ducks.
He used hand signals to give out orders to the men across the way as they attempted to enter the building but were unable to penetrate the doors that were barricaded from the other side.
He turned to Stuart who was next to him.
"We're going to take the lead. The shooters can't get over the edge of the roof to hit ground level without us taking them out, so stay low and stay behind me."
"Yes, Sir," Stuart replied obediently.
Steve motioned to his men that they were on the move; counting down with his fingers as they got in position the best they could to return fire as a form of cover for them.
All hell broke lose as pieces of mud and brick scattered along the alleyway from the bullets that littered the edge of the roof from the return fire.
Steve and Stuart both huddled the wall as they made their way down the alley.
His plan was simple; get to the end where he could get a long range visual on the rooftop and he and Stuart could cover fire for his men as they made the same route. Then they would be in prime position to use the grenades and rocket launcher Brooks had on his back. They could annihilate the rooftops as well as the inhabitants with two shots.
A bead of sweat trickled down Steve's face and hit the toe of his combat boots with a loud tap. He was burning up over the gruesome memory of looking over his shoulder and seeing Stuart crouching against the wall as he tried to keep up with him despite the bullet that had penetrated his neck just a millimeter higher than the edge of his protective vest.
Blood poured through Stuart's fingers as he tried to cover the wound. His eyes bulged, knowing the full extent of his injury but he never made a sound to alert Steve, knowing any kind of hesitation before they reached their mark could mean death for the both of them.
Steve whirled around and grabbed him under the armpits as he began to collapse, dragging him as the gunfire from the rooftop began again. Bullets ricocheted off the wall dangerously close to them but he kept moving, regardless of the threat.
He found a safe spot around a corner and rolled Stuart over on his back. His hands still clenched the wound and his eyes closed yet he was fully conscious.
"It's all right, Stuart," Steve said, his voice calm but his adrenalin was pumping at a high velocity. "Hold on Buddy, I'll get you out of here."
He leaned over him with his machine gun and littered the rooftop on the far side, returning fire that would now allow his men that were trapped on the same side as he and Stuart to make their way down the similar path.
Once they arrived, they saw the same carnage, stopping only briefly to give Stuart their verbal support before they began to assemble the rocket launcher as Steve took on the task of tending his wound. They all knew what needed to be done, but the task took on a new meaning now that one of their brothers was in grave danger.
He worked quickly, using what he could from the first aid box he carried in his backpack and the brief training he'd been given. Stopping the bleeding was the first priority.
His knees felt weak and a cold shiver ran down his sweaty back as he stood perfectly still in the tent, second-guessing his orders for the hundredth time. He should have stayed put and waited for backup. He should have waited, but he didn't. He led Stuart down that alley to his death the same as if he had pushed him out in the middle of the gunfire.
"My sister." He heard Stuart's voice in his head as clear as if he were standing next to him then. "My little sister, Steve," his voice shook, trying to get the words out, knowing his time was brief but needed these last ones to be heard and his wish fulfilled so he could die in peace. "She'll be…all alone. Watch over…" he coughed as his mouth filled with blood, "please, watch over her," he gasped and coughed again, but it was only a gurgle sound. His eyes focused on the man who held him, needing the acknowledgment of his dying wish.
Steve nodded his head in response to the request knowing there was no more need to tell him to hang on, it would only be a matter of seconds now.
"Prom…ise me," Stuart trembled, his unwavering stare alerting Steve of the magnitude of the demand.
"I promise Stuart. I'll watch over her. I promise." He felt Stuart's body relax and removed his hand from the pressure over the wound on his neck and took a hold of his hand instead, gripping it tightly "It's ok, Stuart. I got it. I got it." It made him think of Mary, his own little sister. She had her father to look after her but he could feel Stuart's panic because at one time in his life, he had been the one to watch over Mary when his father was absent. He was only sixteen but felt the responsibility nonetheless.
He saw the tension in Stuart's face return, knowing this was it.
"Stuart, Stuart!" Steve panted, holding his hand tighter, but the return grip loosened as his eyes closed halfway. They all knew he was gone.
Steve felt but didn't acknowledge the hands that touched his back as his men all gathered around him, mourning the lost of one of their brothers.
"Lieutenant."
Steve's body jerked slightly, coming out of the vivid memory as his CO entered the tent.
"Sir!" His body stiffened as he saluted his commanding officer.
"Lieutenant McGarrett," another deep voice behind him said as he entered the tent.
Steve turned and quickly stiffened once again as he faced and then saluted his CO's commanding officer. "Captain Meyer, Sir!"
He responded giving him a very solid return salute and not the ordinarily half ass gesture that he displayed the twenty or so throughout the day.
"At ease, Lieutenant."
Steve's shoulders relaxed, yet he stood perfectly erect; his insides rumbled fearing the worst once again from this unexpected visit from Captain Meyer. He was assured now more than ever that he was going to be demoted or at least stripped from his squad leader position.
Captain Meyer stepped forward, holding in his hand a small blue box. "You have served your country well Lieutenant. The leaders of this great nation appreciate your dedication, sacrifice and hard work. Congratulations son." He opened the box displaying the item inside.
Steve glanced down at it as his mouth came open in shock and then glanced up at the Captain, "Sir?"
He took out the medal and handed the box to Commander Allen who displayed a wide grin.
"You've been promoted to Lieutenant Commander, Steve," Captain Meyer replied, pinning the new officer emblem on the pocket of his fatigues right next to the previous one. "It was an easy decision. You show excellent leadership qualities." He stepped back and saluted him again. "Congratulations Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett."
Steve saluted him back, "Thank you, Sir," he shook his hand but the promotion was bitter sweet. He didn't think he deserved it after the ordeal with Stuart.
"Well deserved, Steve," Commander Allen said, stepping forward and shaking his hand as well.
"Thank you, Sir."
"I have a chopper waiting for me," Meyer explained, "so I apologize for the quick exit." He acknowledged both men with a salute and final handshake before departing the tent.
Steve looked down at the new emblem displayed on his chest, wanting to feel proud over the promotion, but didn't. He felt disappointed, knowing his first instinct should have been the eagerness of letting his closest allies know the good news, but that joy eluded him as well.
"Steve," Commander Allen said, seeing the conflict on him and knowing exactly where it came from. "You need to let Stuart's death go. You can't carry that around with you. It was tragic, yes, but it wasn't your fault."
He stood silent for a moment, knowing they were just textbook words and he wasn't about to argue with his CO, "Yes, Sir, I know."
"No you don't," he replied sternly. "If you did, then I wouldn't be standing here trying to convince you of it, and I wouldn't be giving you two weeks furlough to get your head straight over it," his voice stressing his slight irritation. "You need to get your shit together because if you can't let this go then your career as a Lieutenant Commander is going to be the shortest in Navy history."
He glanced over at him, confused over that, "Sir?"
"You are seriously lacking in your leadership role. You're second-guessing yourself and it's affecting your duties. I can't have that. That will get men killed, and their blood will be on my hands because I knew better. So I'm giving you time to think about what you want to do."
The thought of leaving the Navy had never crossed his mind. He was sure he would be a 'career man'. But he was suddenly at a crossroad; torn between the life he loved and had worked so hard for and the fear of losing it because he wasn't sure he could go through something like this again. His CO was right; he needed to get his shit together and it wasn't going to happen here.
"I'm sorry for letting you down, Sir."
"Goddamnit, Steve," he scolded him. "You're one of the best soldiers, if not the best that I've ever seen! It's not about letting me down; it's about letting yourself down." He toned down his voice, "Go home, see your family, get a taste of civilian life again, or go someplace else, I don't care, but when you come back I need to see that soldier again, otherwise we're going to have to make some tough decisions."
"Yes, Sir," he replied obediently but his voice was far from the normal confident tone that he usually represented.
His CO shook his head. "You're dismissed. I'll see you in two weeks and we'll talk again."
Steve straightened and saluted him. "Yes, Sir, thank you Sir." He turned to leave and stopped, glancing just slightly over his shoulder, "Sir, can I ask you a personal question please."
"What is it Commander?"
"Has this ever…have you ever been faced with this type of situation before?"
"Yes," he said knowing all too well what Steve was going through. "More than once. Keep that in mind."
"Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir," he replied as he left.
He stepped out of the tent and was met with a blast of hot air from the desert climate. The last fifteen minutes had his head spinning. He'd been promoted to Lieutenant Commander, a goal he had set for himself years before and had accomplished in record time, but in the same instance he'd also been reprimanded and was threatened with losing all that he'd worked so hard for. That threat alone should have knocked some sense into him, but it didn't. It did however panic him, wondering if perhaps this life he'd carved out for himself wasn't where he belonged at all.
He looked around him at the hustle and bustle of a well-run unit as men went about their duties. A helicopter took off some two hundred yards away and a caravan of Humvee vehicles exited through the security gates headed out for routine patrols. There was a chance none of them would come back alive he thought somberly.
"Shit!" he murmured running his hand down his sweaty face. That was the thought pattern he needed to break free from. It was dangerous and his CO was right, he needed to let Stuart's death go if he wanted to move on. But he was also right that it was never going to happen here.
He needed to go home. Maybe fulfilling Stuart's request would help with the closure, he thought hopeful; otherwise he feared he'd be lost on where to go from here.
