Chapter 10: The Thursday After

The scrapes were healing nicely and her leg was examined by a doctor at the VA. No permanent damage but she did have to endure a scathing lecture from her doctor to not push too hard with the prosthetic until her leg had more time to adjust. No running for two weeks to let the sores heal; walking only, and if walking distances longer than one half mile, use of a crutch was mandatory. If the leg hurt at all, the crutch was mandatory. If the sores didn't clear up in a week or so, no prosthetic at all and the crutch was definitely mandatory, unless she wanted to hop everywhere.

She wouldn't be able to slide, either. Emily had accompanied her and she was determined to make sure Sydney followed the rules. They laughed over lunch afterward, parting ways in the late afternoon as the doting mother dropped the young woman off. While Emily hadn't noticed the black four-door sedan with the Navy seal parked across the street, Sydney hadn't missed it and couldn't stop her heart from jumping into her throat as she pecked a kiss to Emily's cheek before grabbing her crutch from the backseat and making her way up to the house.

Her father had said the operation by the Seals was going to be on Tuesday. And in the following days she'd been no more than three inches away from her phone in the event that he called with any news. She hurried up to the door as her leg ached and entered in a rush.

Sitting on the couch in his crisp white uniform, her father seemed to be awkwardly chatting with Will as Francie poured iced tea into cups in the kitchen.

"Hey, Syd, look who dropped by!" Francie cheered, giving the brunette a bright forced smile. "We'll just leave you two alone for a bit. Will and I are off to the store! We're grilling tonight, Mr. Bristow, if you'd like to stay for dinner."

She ignored the scared look on Will's face and the shocked expression that crossed Sydney's before pushing her reluctant boyfriend out of the door their friend had just entered.

Sydney set her purse down on the end table and limped into the kitchen. "I heard you'd taken a tumble a few days ago. Will informed me."

'Thanks, Will.'

"Yeah. It was my first run with my new leg. I wanted to go further and my leg didn't." Simply put, she thought for a moment, reaching into the freezer and grabbed a large ice gel pack. Moving back to the living room she flopped into the chair and pulled up her pant leg up to remove her prosthetic. Once it was off she wrapped the ice pack around the end using the Velcro to keep it in place before propping it up on the arm of the reclining chair.

She caught the uncomfortable look in her father's eyes as his large hands fidgeted around the manila folder he was clutching.

"I'm sorry, Sydney."

"They found nothing? I was a bust?"

"No. I mean – that's not what…" he trailed off for a moment, unable to meet her eyes. This was a man that could command an entire destroyer with a single word and yet here he was struggling with a simple conversation with his own daughter. "That's not what I meant. I'm sorry about your leg. I would trade places with you in an instant."

Sydney was taken aback at the sudden admission, the honesty in his eyes and sincerity in his voice something she wasn't expecting. 'Maybe my rant last week really got to him.'

"Uh, thanks, dad. I…I appreciate it."

He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. 'There's Business Dad. He, I'm familiar with.'

"I'm not supposed to be sharing this with you yet, but it's my call so here I am. Parts of the operation is classified. But I wanted you to know what they found." He offered no other explanation and no other hints, handing the folder over and picking up his white hat from the seat beside him on the couch. "I'll leave you alone if-"

"No, please don't. Stay."

He met her request without words, his hand leaving the hat in place on the cushion and returning to fold with the other in his lap. She opened the documents and began to read the report. By the end of the page the story really hadn't changed much. At the same time, it was completely changed.

"That's it? That's all they found?"

Jack nodded. "Their packs were empty of anything useful, though they do indicate that the four Marines were kept there together at one point in time over the last two to three months."

"And the hands?" She winced at the included photographs.

"Preliminary analysis shows they do belong to the four missing Marines. They were also…removed while the Marines were alive. They want them for information, Sydney. Their reluctance to give up any information is keeping them alive - if...if they're still alive. The remains are being sent back to the states for a full analysis."

"And after that?"

"They will be cremated and presented to the families with a Purple Heart, American and a POW flag."

Sydney winced knowing how crushing that would be for Emily. It didn't mean her son was dead, but the military was essentially treating it as such until something else, like a body, showed up.

"Can I tell his mother?"

"If I say no?"

"If that's an order, it's one I'll follow. It'll be hard, but I'll do it."

Jack thought studiously for a moment. "You're…quite close with his mother?" At her nod he stood, tucking his hat under his arm while straightening and stiffening his back. "The file and information within is yours to share with his family. Please…don't share it with anyone else and inform his family to do so as well until the items are delivered by official guard."

His salute was perfect – it always was. "Stay hopeful. I'll keep an ear to the ground. Any news and you'll be my first call."

After squeezing her shoulder he left her deep in thought. The words on the paper jumped out to her in pieces, parts, and phrases.

'Severed hands discovered in rucksacks.'

'Hands severed with distal ends of radius and ulna still attached. Assumed weapon: machete.'

'Approximately two month's desiccation.'

'No POW presence in Taliban camp. Camp cleared prior to Seal arrival. No bodies of any American, British, or Australian soldiers located. Assumption: moved to secondary camp/taken by other force (possibly hostile).'

'Canvassing local village for information.'

She slumped in the chair. The information was worse than she thought. No body found means a lack of closure for Emily and the rest of the Vaughn family. A part of a body is almost worse than finding him whole. 'How the hell can I tell her any of this? It's gonna crush her.'

Realization dawned on her face and she pulled her phone from her pocket before she cursed at the time. Just after two in the afternoon. The mandatory meeting with Barnett started six minutes ago. Calling the office she relayed that she had been delayed at the VA center in the morning check up on her prosthetic and was on her way if Barnett was able to move their meeting to 2:30 p.m. Affirmative responses had her remove the ice pack and snap her leg back on, hurrying into the bedroom to put on her pressed dress blue uniform and hitting the door in record time.

Pulling a knapsack over her shoulder she grabbed the manila file folder on her way out the door.

...

"I'm sorry I'm late." Limping for good effect though her leg wasn't too sore at the moment thank to the heavy dose of ibuprofen coursing through her, she plopped into the comfortable cloth of the armchair as Barnett removed her glasses and stepped out from behind the cherry wood desk.

"Perfectly understandable, I had a bit of an open schedule this afternoon. You look like you got into a fight with the pavement; everything okay?" The doctor brought her usual pen and yellow note pad, though it was placed on the coffee table between them instead of kept in hand.

Sydney shrugged as she set the bag next to her chair and settled in. "Trying to get my running legs back is harder than I thought it would be. I pushed a little too hard and the damn stump gave out."

Barnett nodded. "It's good that you're getting back into normal routines. Mentally at least, it'll be a big help. Is there anything you would like to focus on today?"

With a wry grin, Sydney nodded. "I really wanna talk about my dad, if that's okay?"

"Color me intrigued."

Sharing real feelings and hardships had gotten easier in these meetings. She'd learned that Barnett wasn't what everyone had joked and warned about – a shrink that just wants you to share but has no idea what you've experienced. Having been in the Army herself, she knew the stresses that soldiers experienced and had undergone specialized training in areas of P.T.S.D. and other mental traumas. She got easier to talk to as the weeks went by and after seven months they were almost on a first-name basis.

Sharing her woes about her father and their numerous (for them) meetings and phone calls over the last week, and the real reason for biting the dust at the track, she appreciated Barnett for not interrupting and letting her vent all at once. But the doctor could tell Sydney was holding back.

"And?"

Sydney looked confused for a moment. "And what? That's it. I just need some guidance in dealing with my father. I don't know how to handle him trying to have more…open conversations with me. I mean…do I share with him that it drives me crazy when he treats me like a faceless soldier instead of like a daughter one moment before flipping it the next? Or is that just who he is and I need to get over myself?"

"No…there's something else. Before we get back to your father, you're leaving something out."

"I don't think I can tell you."

"Why." It was a statement, not a question. And Barnett had removed her friendship voice and turned on her Captain voice.

"It's classified."

"My rank is higher than yours and I'm still active military. Besides; you can share with me anything about any mission you worked on that would be causing you stresses that could lead to a mental issue or breakdown."

"It's not my mission."

"Then how do you know about it? I can just order you to tell me. Does this have to do with your father?"

Sydney sighed and reached down into her bag to retrieve the file. "My father gave me this information this morning. I'd asked him about anything he could find on those missing Marines from my last operation in Iraq, and he found that a Navy Seals op was scheduled this past Tuesday hitting a Taliban stronghold in northern Baghdad. Rumors had indicated that American P.O.W.'s may have been held there."

Barnett flipped through the file. "This mission is barely classified. Only on the grounds of not wanting to spill where the operation is headed next. So your dad got you this intel? What are you going to do with it?"

"I don't know. I mean…I know what I want to do with it," she trailed off.

"As excited as I was to finally delve into your issues with your dad," Barnett slid back into her comfortable, less authoritative, repose and closed the file handing it back. "This is your stumbling block."

Sydney frowned. "My stumbling block?"

"Your survivor's guilt."

Nodding in agreement they sat quietly for a few moments, the psychiatrist letting the young woman gather her thoughts. "I want to tell Emily."

"I think that's a good idea."

"I don't know how. It's going to crush her."

Barnett nodded, "yeah. It's going to be hard. But remember back to when you were standing on her front porch about to not only meet her for the first time, but tell her that her one and only son was missing. This can't be harder than that."

'She has a point,' Sydney thought as her teeth nervously chewed at the inside of her lip. "I can't get over it."

The doctor didn't say anything. Typically, this is where Sydney would stop dealing with the issue. She'd give her a little nibble, Barnett would give some advice, and Sydney would just smile and say something like, 'thanks, that helps. I'll work on it,' or another such vague line. And she wouldn't push – if the Marine wasn't ready to delve into that shit yet, she'd get there soon enough. 'Today,' thought Barnett, 'is the day, young lady. Let's work through some shit.'

"I just…it's not fair. I have one person left in my family and I need a therapist to tell me how to handle conversations with him. Vaughn had – has this amazing family." Sydney paused, honestly hoping Barnett would interrupt her with a piece of advice so she could take it and move on. The shrink stayed silent.

"I'm just…sitting here having lunches and shit with his mom. She should be doing that with him. She should have him back, not me."

"You think you don't deserve to be with his family while he's off being tortured somewhere, if he isn't already dead. You think you should be in his place and he in yours, and that you deserve to be back in the desert because his family is hurt that he's gone. Am I close?" 'Blunt and hard, but she's gotta deal with this at some point. Hopefully this is the prod off of the cliff that she needs.'

With her vision blurring as tears filled her eyes, Sydney looked down at her lap feeling embarrassment and shame seep into her soul. She sobbed once before the waterworks really started and try as she might, she couldn't stop the torrent of emotion from ripping out of her. Barnett set her pad and pen down, moving to sit beside the troubled Marine and pulling her to her side with a strong arm. Whole minutes went by until the sobs gave way to sniffles and Sydney reached for the tissues on the table.

"I didn't want to get mean, Sydney, but you just don't want to deal with this part of this equation. And you can't solve it by ignoring it." The woman's voice was soothing and quiet and after rubbing a few circles across her back, Barnett rose and retook her seat across the table. "This is something we need to tackle. Before your father - before anything else related to your father; this needs to get addressed. Because you're not whole. Even with all the progress you've made with me in seven months sitting in this room and bearing what you think is the entirety of your soul, you've kept this little secret locked up. Sure I've been fucking with the lock, but I never had the key."

"Why was today different?" Sydney mumbled the words with a strained voice.

"Because of this," Barnett lifted the manila folder in line with her eyes and stretched out, handing it back. "Because this is real. He might not be alive any longer. Before he was just her missing son; there wasn't any evidence yet of anything tangible. That's not the case any longer, is it?"

Sydney nodded as another tear dripped down her cheek. "I just…I just wish I could give Emily her son back."

Barnett smiled. "I know. And having to tell her the contents of this folder isn't giving Emily her son back. It's actually worse, and both you and I know that while Emily won't really understand that part. I assume they're going to have an honor guard go to the house and present the Purple Heart and P.O.W. flag?"

A confirming, quiet not.

"Do you know when?"

"No. My dad was going to find out and tell me." A frown marred her forehead as a thought entered her mind. "Could…could you do me a favor?"

"I can try; honestly you're the first patient to ever ask me for a favor."

"Can I get onto that honor guard?"

Barnett smiled. 'Bam. That's the breakthrough. If she can be part of presenting with the Honor Guard for Emily…she'll be able to get some closure.' "Let me see what I can pull. Can I call you tomorrow?"

A genuine smile passed her lips. "Yeah. Thanks, Dr. Barnett."

"Alright. Head out, Sydney. Good stuff today, okay? I mean it. We'll tackle the stuff with your dad soon, I promise. You've still got three months with me. We have time."

Sticking the folder back into her bag she stood with a wince as her leg protested after being stationary for so long. Straightening her back and regretting that she'd left the crutch in the car she made her way out into the warm sun. Grabbing her phone and dialing she limped over to the red mustang and slipped inside.

"Hey, it's Sydney. Can you – can you meet me for lunch?" Pause. "Sure, sounds good. See you in ten."

"Permission to join your table, lieutenant?" Sydney looked up from her phone with a laugh as Uncle Tony stood with a half-decent salute.

"Granted," she rose and was pulled into a warm hug. As she pulled back Tony cupped her cheek with his hand and ran his thumb over the scab and scratched skin. "It's getting better." He took the seat across from her at the outdoor cafe, the round metal table and umbrella above their heads casting strange shadows across their laps and onto the sidewalk.

"What's with the digs?"

"I just got out of therapy – have to dress up for it. Listen…I – I've got some news." 'Fuck it – diving right in.'

The jovial look on Tony's face dropped instantly and he sat up reaching his hand out to grasp her wrist. "Seriously?"

She patted the back of his hand and grabbed the manila folder out of her backpack. She'd removed the photos and the only thing left was the typed report. Silently she handed it over and watched as his hopeful gaze went away and tears welled in his eyes. She reached a hand across the table and let it rest against his arm.

"I'm sorry, Tony."

They sat in silence; Sydney waved off of the approaching waitress and keeping her hand on his arm. The tall, strong man sniffled for a moment and wiped at his wet cheeks. "This is it?"

"That's it. I'm still waiting to hear from my father about the canvass. They may have talked to some locals that gave something up – a location…anything. But – I need your help because telling you was the easiest part of my day."

"We can't take this to Emily." His green eyes filled with horror that she was even suggesting that they take this to Michael's mother.

"If we don't, she'll find out next week when the Honor Guard shows up at her home with a box of ashes, a Purple Heart and a POW flag."

"Fuck," he ground as he ran his eyes over the folder, still open on the table.

"I've requested to be on the Honor Guard. It shouldn't come from a stranger. But I don't want that to be how she gets this information. I just don't know what to do next." She paused as the familiar tightening of emotion began to squeeze at her throat causing her voice to waver. "I promised her that if I ever got any news, she would be my first call. I already fucked that up. I need you to help me with this, and I'm sorry for I'm asking. I…I should be strong enough to do this on my own, but I'm not."

Tony merely nodded and closed the folder, his hand dwarfing the small water glass as he took a swig and then crunched on a defenseless ice cube. "Well, let's go then. You drive," he grumbled, standing and handing her back the folder. He left his hand outstretched to help her up, pulling her against his chest in another bear hug.

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Bristow. It took guts to even call me. I know that and you know that." The words were harshly whispered into her ear and when they broke apart she saw the sincerity on his face. A tear escaped and rolled down her check, her index finger brushing it away as they stepped apart and headed for the car.

The ride was silent. The only sound was the roar of the engine as Sydney hit the gas to get onto the freeway. Twenty minutes later they were pulling onto the once unfamiliar street and she began to have an unmistakable moment of déjà vu. This wasn't the first time she'd driven this road this week, let alone at all, but the dropping of her stomach as the home came into view made her grip the steering wheel until her knuckles were white, catapulting her straight back to last year when Will was driving her to meet Emily Vaughn.

Parking and stepping out, the cool air conditioning of the vehicle making the Californian sun feel hot on her face, despite the fact that it was the end of September.

She and Tony both exhaled at the same time in preparation before moving up the walk.

'Let's do this,' they thought in unison.

...