Joe's POV
I'm not sure why I'm here. I didn't think I needed a meeting with brass to sign on for another tour. I mean, I'm waiting for my orders to come through for my next placement. I'm hoping they send me back to SEAL school, but I know that I may be sent back on a ship. Either way, I don't want to go home. I like seeing the world, and l like meeting the women. I really like meeting women. It's amazing all the different things I learned about fucking someone. I was the Italian Stallion before I left the Burg, when I go back there, in another ten years or so, I'll be the king of the Burg, or anywhere, for that matter.
My CO has made my life hell during my last stint at sea. I'm not sure why. I mean, I was a great boxer, and I kept winning for our ship. I made us look fucking amazing. But still, I always got the shit assignments, like cleaning the mess hall or the latrines, even though that wasn't my job. I could never do anything right. That's why it was so refreshing to be in SEAL school. I had a new start. I wasn't marked, I didn't have a reputation. I was on an equal playing field, or so I thought. Whatever. As I'm sitting, waiting to go into the room to discuss my new orders, I see a hot chick leave the room in front of me. She's Army, based on her uniform, and a Lieutenant. Shit, she outranks me. Damn, she's smoking hot. She has the pale, alabaster skin that's glowing, sunkissed brown hair pulled back into a tight bun at the base of her neck. From a couple of stands that have escaped their confines, it appears to be curly. I'm eying her, trying to figure out the best way to get her attention. When she turns to face me, I almost fall on the floor.
Holy shit! It's Stephanie Plum. I guess Army standards aren't as high a Navy standards because she's a little plump around the middle and in her face. She obviously won't pass her PRTs whenever she has to take them next. As I'm about to greet my Cupcake, I'm called into the room.
"Petty Officer Morelli, you may enter the room. Please have a seat."
I enter into a fairly large conference room. There is a long, rectangular table in the room, running perpendicular to the wall. Standing on the other side of the table are two men. I enter the room, waiting for permission to be seated. The highest-ranked officer, a Captain, tells me to have a seat.
"My name is Captain Nichols and you should know Commander Hayes from your last commission. We are here today to discuss your future in the Navy. If my records are correct, you were a Hull Maintenance Technician aboard the USS Freedom for eight months. At the end of the stint, you entered into SEAL school. You did not graduate from SEAL school. For the last two months, you have been awaiting your orders, working at a local recruitment office, correct?
"Yes, Sir, that is correct."
"Well, HT, I am here to inform you that you are not eligible to resign. Your Naval career is over."
"Sir, I'm sorry, but I don't understand. I have an exemplary service record."
"No, you don't. You are a trouble maker, HT. No matter where you were stationed, there were always problems. You had difficulty getting along with your fellow sailors, you often got into fights, outside of the boxing ring, and you have difficulty following orders. There was also a complaint made against you that you forced someone to take your exams for you in SEAL school, though those accusations could not be substantiated. Additionally, you failed your most recent PRT. You are not fit to be in the Navy."
What the fuck? I'm in the fucking pudge club? No fucking way. I don't understand how I didn't pass my PRTs. Granted, since I've been waiting for my next assignment, I haven't been working out as much. I still run every day, only it's been four miles instead of ten. I've swim about twice a week. I'm still in excellent shape. And getting in trouble? It has never been my fault. Others are always out to get me because of my good looks and skills. Why me?
"Sir, I know that my numbers for my PRT might have been a little low, but I had just recovered from a bout of the flu. I wasn't fully recovered."
"Morelli, you missed your marks for all tests by more than ten percent. You didn't see any physician on base and had no record of any illness. You know that if you have a note from a doctor citing an illness, your PRTs are rescheduled. Since this is the first we hear of your illness, it is too late to matter. We would like to thank you for your service. You are still eligible for an honorable discharge. Listen, HT, this is a good thing. With an HD, you can get a civilian job without much hassle. Your years serving in the Navy will benefit you. I understand that this isn't how you envisioned your career going, but this is what is in your cards."
"I understand." I respond, numb and in shock. As I'm about to reply further, my former CO speaks for the first time.
"HT, you have an anger management issue. I strongly suggest that you get counseling upon your return to civilian life. Your last psychological is a little disturbing. You have some unresolved issues to deal with. We wish you luck in all your future endeavors. Dismissed."
I nod my head and rise. I turn, leaving the room. Once outside, the secretary, a civilian, hands me a packet of papers that I need to fill out, formally severing my ties with the United States Navy. I finish filling out the forms, trying to decide what my next move will be. The elevator arrives, and I step on it. As it is about to close, the doors reopen and who else but my Cupcake enters. She's looking at a file in her hand, not paying attention to her surroundings. Once the door closes, I speak.
"Hello, Cupcake. Fancy a repeat of our last encounter?"
She looks up as shock registers across her face before anger sets. She stares at me, standing tall and proud. "My name is Lieutenant Stephanie Plum. You are to address me as Lieutenant. Now, Officer Morelli, you wouldn't be prepositioning a superior officer?"
"Considering I just received my discharge papers, no. I am not longer in the military; therefore, you are not my senior officer. Come on, Cupcake lets go out to eat, then you can come by my apartment. I've learned a lot more since I first had you."
"Morelli, I'm sure that by now, your mother has told you that I am married. I will not cheat on my husband. What happened? Didn't pass your PRTs? Couldn't hack SEAL school? Not smart enough? In case you didn't know, I'm an Intelligence Officer. There's not much information that I can't find out, and there's not much that I'm not cleared for. So, let me offer you a piece of advice. Forget me. Pretend you never met me. Leave me alone, or I promise, your skeletons will be found."
The elevator doors open up at the lobby and Cupcake confidently walks out as a man steps in sync with her. They seem to know each other, and I watch them walk out the door. How the fuck did everything get so screwed up? Cupcake, the Burg fuck-up, is an officer in the US Army and I'm on my way back to Trenton with an honorable fucking discharge? Wait a minute. I just realize that she was the one who compiled the file on me. That is the only way she would know what she knows. Fuck my life.
A/N: Special thanks to Kelly (HermoineIncarnate) and Aruvqan for reading my original version of this chapter and pointing out how it was completely unrealistic, helping me to come up with this not a fun version, but a more reasonable one. Though we won't really hear from Morelli again in Part II, he will play a slightly more significant role in part III. One reader, I can't remember who wanted a confrontation between Morelli and Steph where he would realize she outranks him in a formal setting. Hope this met the mark. This was not edited by Susan, so any and all mistakes are mine.
