Chapter 1

You can be sure that the American spirit will prevail over this tragedy. – Colin Powell

2113L, 09 September 2001, Fallon, NV

Sweat covered them both. It mixed where his chest pressed against her back. Her head fell back, and a soft moan escaped from her as his hips rolled forward. One of his hands traced a line up from between her legs until it rested against her neck. She nodded slightly and she felt him softly warp his hand around her throat. The next motion of his hips was more forceful, and its effects made her long to run her hands over herself. Instead, her hands were currently fixed to the wall by his large right hand.

She moaned again. A soft growl carried from his throat and noise excited her. She pressed herself against him. He growled again and pulled away, before pushing her toward the bed. She landed on her back and opened her legs. As he moved toward her, her hand slid down her sweat covered body until she began to play with herself. He watched for a few seconds, a grin spreading across his tanned face. As he crawled on top of her, her other hand began to play with him. He lowered his lips to hers and her hand guided him in.

Half an hour later Percy sat on his patio. Smoke curled from the Romeo y Julieta in his left hand. The temperature in the high desert sank with the sun's departure from the sky. The two had showered together but Percy had departed the shower to smoke his nightly cigar. Two years of living with Zoe had killed his nearly pack a day cigarette habit and instead turned to a nightly cigar. The door behind him slid open and Zoe deposited a tumbler with two fingers of amber liquid in front of him. She held only a glass of lemonade.

Percy studied her as she took the chair across the table from him, upwind of course. Half an hour earlier she had been rapacious, now she appeared much more reserved. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Zoe had leaned in the years since the incident in Iraq. She had expected Percy to view her as too damaged after she slowly revealed what all the Republican Guard had done to her. Instead, his arms had wrapped around her and simply asked that she let him know if there was anything he could do. He did not push her to do anything, but when a passion for triathlon racing had been sparked, he did nothing to counter it. The result had been the extremely trim and strong woman before him.

Zoe had left the Navy on active status; she remained a Reservist and was accumulating her points toward retirement. While she lived with him in Fallon, they were not married. They saw no point in the official documentation of feelings they already understood and accepted. She would work on occasion to whip someone into physical shape, but mostly she trained and raced. Being overseas as often as she had been, she had saved quite a sum of money over the years and Percy's salary covered the rest. Training was on a hold though, at least for the foreseeable future.

"Don't forget we have a doctor's appointment tomorrow."

"I know," Percy said calmly. It irked her slightly.

"Well, it's the one where…"

"I know," he said again.

"Percy, it's my first ultrasound. I would appreciate a little more buy in." Due to her treatment by the Iraqis, she had been irregular in her cycle for years now. Normally this did little to affect their lives, but because of that irregularity, she had been nearly ten weeks pregnant before realizing something more than her period was off. That had been four weeks earlier. Now in their second appointment with the doctors, they were going to see their child for the first time. They could guess the conception. Percy had spent two months with the U.S.S. Nimitz on an exercise and his return to Fallon had been celebrated well into the night. Three and a half months in, the due date was predicted for March 9, 2002.

For Percy, it was not that he did not care, he just did not know what she expected him to do. Because he did not know what he was supposed to do as a father. His father had not been around for most of formative years. His first stepfather had been a massive waste of oxygen. His second was a good man, but by the time he had been around Percy was too old for much to sink in. All he knew was that he would try.

"I'll be there Zoe, don't worry." She looked at him and smiled.

"I know you will be, Percy."

1020L, 10 September 2001, NAS Fallon

"Oh, shit," Percy looked at the screen before him. He was wearing his shined brown shoes and his khaki uniform. Unlike many other officers, Percy preferred to only wear his top three awards above his left pocket. For him that meant the Silver Star, a Purple Heart, and the Air Medal. His Air Medal was so crowded with subsequent awards or commendations it was nearly impossible to tell what the yellow and blue ribbon was. The screen was showing the black and white image from the medical instrument in Dr. William Solace's hand. After completing his own tour with VFA-105, Solace executed a permanent change of station move to the clinic in Fallon.

Many aspects of science were required in the execution of Percy's duties as a pilot, an extensive knowledge of obstetic ultrasonography was not one of those. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at a small inconsistency on the screen. Will adjusted the positioning of the wand,

"That, Percy, is baby number two."

"Twins?" breathed Zoe. Solace nodded.

"Yeah, twins."

"Fuck me." Percy was engrossed with the screen and missed Zoe's voice from the examination table.

"That's clearly already happened."

Hours later Percy stood in their kitchen, a bottle of Budweiser in one hand as he called his mother to give her the update. His mother still resided in New York; her love of the city had been passed onto her son. But it had unfortunately been overshadowed by compulsive desire to become a Naval Aviator. The sea called to the Jacksons Percy's grandfather opined. On paper, Percy had become a peer with his father. His Air Medal bore a fifteen for his number of unopposed flights over enemy territory. Divided from that number by a Combat "V" device a nineteen revealed the number of "strikes" he had flown, missions actively opposed by the enemy. His father's totals far outstripped his. The pair matched in Purple Hearts, but Percy's Silver Star, out ranked his father's Bronze Star. He possessed eleven and a half kills as opposed to his father's two. But in his mind, his father's legacy was Everest and his was K2. Just because he was the second tallest, he still was not the tallest and never would be.

"Yeah, mom, fu.." he stopped himself. "Twins, we're having twins." He could hear his mother's soft laugh."

"Percy, you started swearing when you were twelve and you've been in uniform since Annapolis. I've heard you swear."

"Mom, it's still weird." She laughed again. "How're things there?"

"Good, good. I'm working on another book. Estelle's class is visiting the Commodities Exchange in the morning, Paul's serving as a chaperone for the group."

"That sounds like good trip."

"Yeah, she's always wanted to visit the Towers. The school arranged from them to visit the observation deck before the training day starts."

0502L, 11 September 2001, Fallon, NV

Percy hated the alarm. Lately, Zoe hated it too. Now it only woke her up. Before, even while they would not run together, they could run at the same time. Afterall, she was responsible for Percy quitting cigarettes and beginning to run competitively. He disliked triathlons, the bike was a mortal enemy and he enjoyed swimming so much he did not want to risk hating it because of competitions. But now, nearly four months into a pregnancy, she had been instructed to take it easy. Purposely she had not asked what easy meant. Percy meanwhile was preparing himself for an ultramarathon. She created his routine and knew today was an easy six miles followed by an hour in their garage gym.

Percy's departure preceded her arrival in the kitchen. She started the coffeemaker and turned on the small TV mounted under the cabinets. She tuned it to the Charles Gibson and Dianne Sawyer led "Good Morning America."

Zoe had kept the volume low as she began to make breakfast. Breakfast never ranked high on her priorities, until pregnancy cravings. Now it was required. Whisked eggs were quickly mixed with diced bacon, cheddar cheese, and jalapeños. The coffee pot chimed and Zoe smiled at the scent spreading from it. Her attention turned back to the TV.

0602L, 11 September 2001, Fallon, NV

"Percy!" The shout brought Percy in from the garage. He had been using the weight rack for a morning workout.

"Zoe, what's wrong?" The Iranian born Navy Reservist did not speak. She raised a hand and a single finger extended toward the small TV mounted under the kitchen cabinets. The ABC morning news showed a pillar of smoke rising against an easily recognizable skyline. "What the fuck…" Percy's voice trailed off. Zoe turned up the volume and a reporter's voice filled the room.

"Just minutes ago, an airplane struck the North Tower of the World Trade Center. And… Oh my God is that…" The reporter's voice trailed off and soon the broadcast revealed why. A fireball erupted from the South Tower as a second plane plowed into the building.

"Holy fuck." Percy felt Zoe's hand slide around his waist. The reporter did not know what to say. Neither did either of the people watching the broadcast. Zoe leaned toward him.

"One's an accident, Perce, two…" she did not need to say more, Percy knew what she meant.

"Two's on purpose." Zoe nodded as they continued to watch the broadcast. "The calls will start soon. Recalls, orders, et cetera." Zoe nodded again. "Mom said Estelle and Paul were going to the Towers today. Field trip to the Commodities exchange."

"Oh, God, Percy we need to call h…" Percy cut her off.

"No. She's going to be trying to get in touch with them. Phone lines are already going to be hell," she heard his voice tremble a little, "We can't." She noticed his jaw was clinched; he's forcing himself to not react. He walked to the coffeepot. Pouring a mug full he began to speak again, "I'm going to shower. The they'll start calling us in soon and I need to be ready." He left the kitchen and she watched him walk away.

He wore the short green shorts called Silkies. His back stood ramrod straight and his shoulders square to it. But that was his tell. Percy's greatest strength was also what revealed to those close to him what he wished to hide. To the uninitiated, Percy appeared the epitome of stoicism, the second coming of James Bond Stockdale. To his friends however, it was the very moments of steeliness that revealed his moments of greatest emotion. Percy, in his mother's opinion because of his Greek heritage, was a man of deep emotions. With that however, he was a man of extreme emotional self-control. Sally blamed that on her "stiff upper-lip" Anglo-Saxon background. Only those close knew of the balance he strove to strike between the two. Today he was fighting his every instinct to panic. Not for himself, but because of his mother and, to a lesser extent, Zoe. She knew worry and anxiety slowly crept into his psyche, she also knew the second he acknowledged it, he would be lost to it.

Zoe lost track of how much time she spent contemplating the steam rising from her coffee as images of smoke and fire filled the television screen. Oh my God, she thought for she had lost track of how many times. It seemed like thousands of flashing lights filled the area. Hundreds of firetrucks, ambulances, and police cars filled the area immediately surrounding the towers. Streams of people left through the building's entrances, sprinting for their lives from the struck buildings. Video footage showed people trapped above the impact zones leaning out and frantically waiving for a rescue. The anchor began to speak again.

"In what is already an unthinkable day, we have a report coming from our DC affiliate that a plane as just struck the Pentagon." The reporter said more, but she was not listening.

"Percy!" Zoe screamed. Seconds later he stood by her side again. Water ran from his body, she noticed the redness of his eyes, but said nothing. Only a towel was wrapped around his waist.

"Again," the Charles Gibson stated, "We have reports from our affiliate station in Washington DC. A third plane has struck the Pentagon." It took nearly a minute, but soon the feed changed to a shot overlooking the National Mall. While the view was partially obscured by the buildings of the Smithsonian and the Washington and Jefferson Memorials. There was no denying the thick black smoke rising from the building known within the Department of Defense as the Five-Sided Funny Farm or the Puzzle Palace.

"Good fucking God, help them." Percy muttered. It was the closest thing to a prayer that Zoe had ever heard him say and in that moment, she realized she had no idea his opinion on religion. Being American, her assumption always fell upon Christianity, but he had never spoke as much. Similarly, he had never asked her, and she assumed that was because he assumed she was Muslim being from Iran. She looked at the time in the lower corner of the screen. 0649, it's not even fucking ten o'clock there yet. The corded phone next to the door began to ring and Percy removed himself from Zoe's arms and padded barefoot toward it. As he walked away, Zoe saw the damage the cannon fire from the MiG-29 had done to his back. The damage to his leg and stomach was hidden from her. He picked up the phone.

"Hello… Yes sir, I'm watching…" At this point, Percy breathed in sharply and a grunt accompanied his exhale. "Sir, my sister and step-father were supposed to visit the Towers today." Zoe could her the gravel in his tone as he fought to control his emotions. She moved silently to a portion of their cupboards where she kept the limited food stocks she could acquire from her homeland. There, hidden among the kidney beans, yellow split peas, and shambalileh, she kept a single small rectangular package. She extracted it and turned back to Percy. The veins of his arm were clear as he death gripped the phone. Those of his neck protruded as he fought to control the terror he felt for his family.

"No sir, I have not heard anything from them…" Zoe flipped open the carton and pulled a single Camel cigarette from it. She placed it between her lips and lifted a silver lighter to it. She had been ecstatic when he decided to quit. But he needed one now. She inhaled lightly, careful not to allow any smoke to reach her throat. "I'll let you know, sir…Understood, sir. Report as normal for now." He began to hang up the phone when he heard the Naval officer on the other end speak in a voice of terrible shock.

"Holy fucking shit. God damn, God damn, God damn." He saw the cigarette in Zoe's hand and merely extended his. He brought it to his lips as both their gazes locked upon the ABC broadcast. With a slow descent into hell, the South Tower of the World Trade Center began to collapse upon itself. Billows of ash gray dust rose in mass covering much of the North Tower as the one hundred and ten stories of New York City skyline became the tomb for more individuals than they would know.

They said nothing. No words could express feelings they could not explain. The phone hung loosely in Percy's hand. On the other end CAPT Raymond "Heph" Peters still held the phone to his ear and a mug of coffee halfway to his mouth. Zoe's arms found their way around Percy's waist. She held him; she knew nothing else to do.

The silence maintained itself for twenty-nine minutes, not that any of those sequestered in understood that. Only tragedy broke the quiet. The dust and smoke of the South Tower had not cleared. The mushroom like blossom of dust and debris filled the screen as North Tower followed its twin in macabre mirroring of destiny.

"Jackson." Heph's voice was slow and methodical, shock and fear outweighing any command presence. He repeated the name five times before Zoe lifted the phone to Percy's ear. The Camel had fallen to the floor, and she lit another for him.

"Sir," Percy said quietly. His eyes could not leave the visages of destruction wreaked upon his home city. He accepted the second cigarette from Zoe. Zoe could not hear what the captain said, but she heard an unidentifiable voice emit from Percy's mouth. "Understood sir, I'm on my way." Percy walked zombie-like to the cradle and replaced the phone. When he turned his face was closer to panic and shock than she had ever witnessed from the usually unflappable aviator. "They're scrambling every jet we can to escort every jet liner airborne to the ground. We have permission to target any that do not comply." Zoe knew that normally such instructions would never have been issued over unsecure means, but she also knew if Percy was shaken, everyone was. "I need to change."

He vanished without a word, dropping his towel in the kitchen floor, and proceeding naked to their bedroom. Good God, she thought, how bad is this? An anchor's voice came from the TV, "We have unconfirmed reports that another 747 has gone down in Pennsylvania. I repeat, these reports are unconfirmed at this time. But there are reports of another airliner crash in rural Pennsylvania." The reporter repeated that the western wall of the Pentagon had been struck. Though Zoe was certain that the reporters were not aware, she knew that section housed the Naval Command Center. Both she and Percy knew personnel working there. Percy appeared in the kitchen doorway. He was clean shaven except for the mustache and wore a flight suit. Most days he wore khakis for instructing. He only wore the flight suit when he flew.

"The Pentagon plane hit the Command Center." Fire danced his eyes. He reached for the packet of Camels and she provided it."

"Goddamnit to hell. Travis, Crank, and Jennings all worked there."

"So did, Phoebe and Diana."

"Fuck!" snapped Percy. His face softened and he reached for her. She allowed herself to be drawn into his embrace. She lifted her face to him, and he kissed her gently. "I love you."

"I love you too, Percy." He kissed her again and was out the door. Another Camel smoldered in his lips before the Bronco left their driveway. She watched the taillights disappear and her mind began to comb the memory banks of classified intelligence, searching for who could have perpetrated such an act.

0300L, 12 September 2001, Fallon, NV

Percy regretted not calling his mother before leaving for the air station. He had not expected to be gone for as long as had been the case. Unintentionally, he slammed the door upon his entrance. Zoe started from her place sleeping on the kitchen table and her hand shot up gripping the small Austrian semiautomatic pistol she preferred.

"Only me," he said as he collapsed into a chair. His head fell back even further. He ran his hands through his hair. "I was in the air for nearly ten hours with all the refuels. And now I'm about to have to do two things I did not want to." He looked at her, too exhausted to speak eloquently. "We need to get married, as soon as possible. RUMINT is saying the President is hosting a planning session in," he looked at his watch, "three days. The RUMINT is also blaming Al-Qaeda, though I'm sure you already figured that part out. There's not a goddamn snowball's chance in hell we aren't overseas chasing the motherfucking ragheads down. Before you answer, the second thing I have to do is call my mother." He stood and walked to the phone on the wall.

Zoe processed his statements. She knew RUMINT was rumor intelligence, a running joke throughout the armed forces that often revealed itself more accurate than official word. She indeed had settled on an Islamic terror group but had not yet narrowed down her choice. Marriage seemed extreme to her, but she considered the fact that he assumed he would be sent back to an operational squadron to fly missions. She resented the raghead comment but would withhold the tongue lashing she wanted to give until he learned the fate of the two people, the ones he needed to call his mother about. He would not be the only one uttering the standard insults to Middle Easterners in the coming days. Certainly, she would hear ragheads, hajis, goat fuckers, and many others. She assumed some of the insults would be addressed to her. From others, the ignorant and the angry, she could ignore them. She could not from Percy.

"Hey, Mom." His voice broke her from her thoughts. "Mom, I. Mom, I don't. Mom, I don't know how to do this. But, Estelle and…" He stopped speaking. She watched as his grip on the receiver began to tighten until the white was visible from across the room. She was moving towards him but did not make it before he had sunk to his knees. She attempted to wrap her arms around him, but his body was shaking uncontrollably. One of her hands passed over his face and she felt the smooth residue of the tears pouring from his eyes.

A/N: DeadDredd - Without giving anything away, I can say this story will not touch on OIF