Kabul, Afghanistan, 1205 Local, 25 August 2021
Marine Captain Clarisse la Rue rotated her neck and felt the satisfying pops as the pressure released. She shrugged her shoulders and worked the coyote brown plate carrier into a more comfortable position. She had worked as a full-time EMT for five years after doing it part time during college. It was during that time her fiancée, Chris Rodriguez, was killed in Sangin Province. Clarisse had decided to enter the Marine Corps herself. After completing The Basic School training she had become a logistics officer, but three years later, in 2015, when they opened combat arms to women she had jumped at it. Now she was a company commander with 1/8 as the 1st Battalion, 8th Marines was commonly referred to on the barricades at Kabul airport. Afghanistan started me this route, now I'm here myself. She was nine years into her Marine Corps career, thirty-six, unmarried, and on the promotion list for major the next fiscal year. I wish Chris could see it. She had told herself long ago, there was only one man for her and he was dead.
A man with a faded brown and black keffiyeh was approaching the barricade. She saw one of her lance corporals raise a hand and begin speaking to the approaching man. He was tall and bearded and wearing traditional long Afghan robes, the right arm of the garment was dark with blood. "Sir, I need you to stop." The Marine next to the lance corporal had raised his rifle. The lance corporal spoke again, this time in Farsi. "Stop now, sir, stay back." The man responded in the same language.
"I need through, I've spent the last nine hours running from the Taliban."
"We're going to need some identification, sir."
"If you knew me, you'd know why don't have any. Get Captain La Rue. She knows me." The voice was surprisingly calm to have now three Marines with weapons aimed toward him. Her radio crackled.
"Ma'am, we've got a man at the gate. Says he needs to see you. Speaks English, sounds like a New Yorker."
"On my way." As she descended from her perch to the access point, she saw two white Toyotas filled with armed men come to a stop about eight hundred yards away. It took her two minutes to get to the post.
"Who are you?" She called out. The man moved his keffiyeh.
"Goddamnit, Percy. Get him in." She glared at the Company man. He shuffled forward and she slid him through the gate onto the airport. She spun on him. "What the fuck, Percy?"
"Mission did not go as planned. We had to improvise."
"And that involved traveling by ground from God knows where?"
"Unfortunately, I've been on the move since Jalalabad. Cigarette?" The officer did not smoke, but a rough looking sergeant reached into his cargo pocket and extended a pack of Marlboros. Percy thought he was studying him as he took one. Usually Percy smoked Camel Filters Red, but today he would take anything.
"Take two, sir. You're the one who got me started back in '14. You had just finished your tour with MARSOC, but 1/7 was short an experienced lieutenant and you volunteered. Kept a lot of us boys alive." Percy accepted his lighter.
"Del Rio, right? First Platoon. You were a PFC then?" The sergeant smiled wearily.
"I always knew you were one of the good ones, sir." Percy had already finished the first cigarette and accepted a second light for the second one. A Toyota truck approached with Cheerleader behind the wheel.
"Hell, Reyna, I've found your boy." Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano, RARA and Cheerleader, rolled her eyes. Daughter of a Puerto Rican retired Marine, she had commissioned in the Army before becoming one of the first women to pass selection into the 75th Ranger Regiment. She was a year older than Trident, but due to her college degree she had entered service three years after him. After thirteen years in the Army she had applied for and passed the selection course for the CIA's Special Action Center's Special Operations Group and started working with Percy, the man known as Trident.
Percy Jackson had been born in New York City and spent his whole life there. After watching the events on 9/11 occurring just miles from his home, Percy had decided he would join the Marine Corps. His mother had voiced concerns when he entered service as a 0311 infantryman. Those concerns had been doubled or tripled when after his five deployments as an enlisted and then officer in the Marine infantry. In 2010 he had passed Assessment and Selection and spent three years with Marine Corps Special Operations Command. Since 2014, the Company had been his sole employer.
"We've got orders, heading back to Langley." Percy nodded.
"Good, I'll sleep on the plane. The Agency sending one?"
"Yeah. The ring knocker is meeting us at Andrews so get the sleep while you can. The plane is Company but still nothing classified. He arranged for his girl and her camera guy to fly back too."
"Wait." Percy had sat up quickly. "His girl?"
"Yeah, that reporter lady. Apparently they've been in some sort of maybe, maybe not relationship limbo for a while."
"Fuck." Percy lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out of the window.
"What?" He just shook his head and took another drag on the cigarette before responding.
"Where do you think I disappeared to after we got her and the cameraman in from that village?"
She started laughing, "Oh shit, bro." Theirs was an interesting relationship. They adamantly refused to date each other, having started down that path early in their partnership before deciding it was not wise. Both fooled around with others, women in Percy's case, both in Reyna's. But neither of them desired an emotional connection. Percy just decided that it was not what he needed in his life. Reyna had felt so since the bad experiences of her childhood. Their first time together had been on mission, relieving stress as they portrayed a husband and wife in Vienna.
She was laughing more as Percy took in the scenes of desperation and chaos before him. Internally he knew thousands, if not tens of thousands of service members and former service members, were thinking the same thing. What the hell did it matter that we gave so much to this place?
Andrews Air Force Base, 1030 Local, 26 August 2021
They had just hit the tarmac when their phones alerted them of the bombings in Kabul. "Goddamnit," muttered Frank Zhang. Percy's jaw and fists were clinching but he said nothing in response to Griz's vulgarity. They understood, between the Marine Corps and the Agency he had spent more time overseas than any of them. They saw a series of black SUVs approaching the CIA Gulfstream. The first person out of the vehicle was a tall and well built blond haired man with rimless glasses. Percy strode directly for him. Though the people behind him could not see his face, it was apparent the other man could. He calmly removed his glasses and turned back to Percy expectantly. The blond man did not flinch as the dark-haired CIA man swung his fist into his nose.
The news anchor rushed forward as the blond fell to the asphalt. Only she closed the distance quickly enough to hear Percy's statement as he walked past her maybe/maybe not boyfriend. "You better have a goddamn good reason to pull us out, while this clusterfuck is going on."
Washington D.C., 1156 Local, 26 August 2021
"I'm assuming you're ready for this to end?" Piper was not sure why Jason had insisted on driving her home. But if that was his first question the picture was becoming clear. "Im assuming fucking my cousin was meant to be a clear message."
"Jason, I…you don't know what it was like…" she was looking at her hands.
"I don't know," he repeated. He removed his glasses and she could clearly see the bruising and swelling around his left eye. "I've spent years of my life over there, Piper. I tried to go back and they denied it. You know where I work, I said this would happen, but for everyone that said it would, someone said it wouldn't." He shook his head, "I don't know. I'll drop you off at home." Jason fell silent and studied the world outside the window.
"Jason," Piper spoke softly. "I've never been more scared than that day. I thought they were about to kill my driver in front of me. I was certain Leo would be killed and things would happen to me that…" her voice trailed off. "I know you sent him, but in that moment, I've never been more grateful to a single individual in my life. So yes, I screwed your cousin. I never meant it hurt you, even though I knew it would. I did it because I did not know how else to express the gratefulness I felt towards him and how to escape the fear I was feeling."
Jason placed his glasses back onto his face. "The hardest part isn't that you fucked him, I equate it when I was deploying with the Army. Hook ups on deployment," he shrugged, "Did they really happen? What hurt is that you purposely used the knowledge of it as a weapon."
"Jason, I know this sounds screwed up as hell. But I've screwed up with a lot of relationships. You're the first one I care that I did."
Falls Church, VA, 1257 Local, 26 August 2021
Hazel Levesque-Zhang studied her husband. He had pulled up to their house as she was preparing warming up the crawfish laden red beans and rice. After a rather long welcome home kiss, he placed his hand softly around her growing stomach. She smiled at the gesture, but she saw the pain in his eyes. He would not say what was bothering him. She had promoted to major the year before and received orders to the Pentagon. She was an intelligence briefed for the Joint Chiefs of Staff, but with her pregnancy reaching the third trimester and COVID still on people's minds, she had been allowed to work from home as much as possible.
Frank was turning the food over in his bowl without eating it. The glass of water next to him was untouched. Frank has enlisted in the U.S. Army in 2005. After three years with the 82nd Airborne, he passed selection into 5th Group Special Forces. Despite his Asian heritage he was able to enter 5th Group due to his ability to speak Arabic. He has learned it as a child from his Canadian Military Intelligence mother. She had been pregnant when orders took her to a NATO command in Norfolk, VA and such Frank had dual citizenship.
They had met that day on the runway in Kuwait as his CIA team was bringing in a terrorist from Iraq. After a year of dating, with her being at Eustis-Langley AFB and he operating out of Northern Virginia, he had asked her to marry him and officially inducted her into the close-knit group that he belonged to. He was Griz, a reference to his Canadian heritage and the brand of dip he used as bartering material "downrange." He looked up to Trident, a former Marine infantry and special ops officer, like an older brother. Tonto was former Marine Scout Sniper, Michael Kahale from the big island of Hawaii. Tonto had come from his time when a redneck waiter in Oklahoma said "You're the biggest Indian I've ever seen." As racist as the comment was, those were the types of stories that led to callsigns. Cheerleader was the most badass women Hazel knew. A former Ranger she was one of the few women currently working in the CIA's operational unit.
"What's wrong, Frank?"
"I knew a lot of the Marines that got hit today. I was waiting for them when they got to Kabul International. They were good, rough sons of bitches who knew how to do their job. Don't know what happened to them." He looked at his phone. "I'm worried about Percy. He knew a lot of those Marines, even though he's been at the Company for years, he still takes it real personal when Marines are hit." She had seen reports on Percy Jackson. A Bronze Star in Nasiriya along with a Purple Heart and then a Silver Star in Fallujah. The man was a war dog, if Frank was worried about him, shit was serious.
Arlington, VA, 1634 Local, 26 August 2021
"Fuck," muttered Percy Jackson as he looked up at the bar's TV. Numbers were coming in now, Thirteen dead military. Beside him an aluminum bucket held the remains of the six-pack cheap beer he was using to counter the half empty bottle of Bulleit Bourbon. He looked up at the screen again and cursed again when he saw two of them. He looked at the tumbler of bourbon in his left hand and then killed the Coors Light in his right. He slid the bucket of empty beer bottles across the bar and waved down the bartender.
"That kind of day?" he turned toward the female voice and then used the glass of bourbon to motion towards the TV.
"That kind of day." He turned to look at the woman. She had long curly blond hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She was wearing a pair of well fitting jeans and a loose cotton blouse. Sunglasses were propped on her forehead, Aviators, he thought. The Ray-Bans drew his gaze to her gray eyes. His sunglasses were resting on the brim of a faded Yankees cap he had worn overseas for years.
"Do you know them?"
"Some," he replied. Too many years of working in the secretive world of special operations and intelligence had left him unable to have good conversation most of the time.
"Do you mind?" she motioned to the empty chair next to him. He motioned to his half empty bottle.
"At your own risk." She laughed and it made him smile a little for the first time since landing at Andrews.
"Only things at risk right now are your liver and whiskey dick." He snorted into the bourbon and some of the liquor stung as it came through his nostrils.
With a cough, he spoke, "The fuck you say?"
"Just making an observation." She ordered a bottle of wine from the bartender as Percy ordered a basket of chicken wings. "Or prediction," she added into the glass of wine and again he nearly lost some of his bourbon in a laugh. He leaned back and held the glass loosely in his left hand. He studied her.
"What's your name?"
"Annabeth Chase, and yours?" Once again, years of self-enforced barriers controlled his response.
"Peter Jorgenson." He extended one of his tanned hands. She took it in a grip that surprised him.
"And what do I want to know about you, other than that you're a Yankees fan?"
"I'm a New Yorker," he said the accent coming through strongly. "That's much fucking different than just being a Yankees fan." His accent subsided as he continued, "I work for the State Department in the Diplomatic Security office. Do a bunch of nerd shit."
"You don't look like a nerd." Her eyebrows shot up sharply and he gave her a crooked grin in response.
"I spent a lot of years getting shot at for a living, nerd shit seemed like a good idea," he lied. She studied him more.
"What service?" Again his eyes flicked to the TV before responding.
"Marine Corps, thirteen years."
"A major?"
"Captain, I was enlisted the first sevenish years."
"I can see it in your eyes though, you'd rather be with them." She motioned to the screen. He nodded slowly. The chicken wings arrived and she grabbed one without asking.
"So Annabeth Chase, what do I want to know about you, other than you're a chicken thief." Annabeth caught that he had been able to repeat her question word for word.
"I get paid to study, sometimes it's people, sometimes it's places. I'm good at seeing patterns others don't."
"Isn't that her line?" He nodded toward the screen and the Director of National Intelligence; Dr. Athena Parthenos was addressing the crowd's questions. Parthenos was a careerist with American Intelligence, Yugoslavian by birth and Greek by heritage, she had escaped the Social Republic in 1972 at the age of twelve. She had began her career with the Agency in 1981 at twenty-one and already a college graduate. That was how the world knew her. Annabeth knew her as the woman that had a child with her former college professor in 1983 and then promptly left for a three-year undercover assignment in Sarajevo. Annabeth knew her as mother.
"I suppose it is," she muttered. His eyes were on the screen.
"I wonder what her opinion on this clusterfuck is?" Annabeth knew that answer because she had forwarded an opinion on the matter through the Deputy Director of Analysis that had beem endorsed by a Directorate of Operations man named Jason Grace before the Director of Central Intelligence nonconcurred. It was still routed. Athena saw the project, agreed with it and overrode the DCI. Then the politicians ignored her.
"Wouldn't know," Annabeth said and stole another wing.
"Come on, you said you study people, what's she thinking?" Annabeth studied her mother's face.
"Let's get this over with. Things are fucked enough already, let me do my job." She caught a carefully disguised look of agreement that passed over Percy. Annabeth ordered more food and then a round of waters. Percy held his up to her with an eyebrow raised. A coy smile curled around her lips. She shrugged, "Sorry for assuming you'd be game later tonight."
He stood and turned toward the back of the bar and the bathrooms before leaning into her ear, "I was born game." She felt the warmth of his breath against her neck. He downed another bourbon and left her with blush rising up her neck and cheeks. She had already paid their bill by the time he returned. She was standing next to the door. There were nights Annabeth enjoyed having love made to her, then there were nights like tonight.
She led him out the door before spinning and kissing him hard on the lips. "Your place or mine?"
"Mine."
"Where?" he pointed across the street to a row of townhouses.
Arlington, VA, 0558 Local, 27 August 2021
Annabeth would not remember any of the details of the trip from the heavy front door to the second-floor king size bed. She remembered the swat across her backside as he guided her into the bedroom. She remembered biting down on his lip and hissing at him "fuck me harder" when he began to make love to her. She remembered the near feral glint in his eyes as he took her command and executed.
Now, it was 6:00am and she did not know how to get out of his house. He had vanished sometime before she woke. As she sat up, the sheet covering her fell away and she became aware of soreness. She smiled at it though, she was sore in all the right places. Her gaze fell upon two stacks of clothes. One was her clothing for the night before. The other contained nondescript sweat pants and a t-shirt. A note rested on top of it 'Running. Coffee begins brewing at 5:55.' Where was a guy like this when I was actually interested in relationships? Before I decided hook ups and casual flings were the best fit for me.
The smell of coffee was wafting into the room. She swung her feet from the bed and reached for the sweat pants. They were plain, without any logo, the t-shirt was a faded green color with USMC across the front. She followed the smell of the coffee. She was slightly shocked at the Spartan like quarters. A door off of the second-floor hall had a biometric lock on it, but other than that, things were relatively plain. She was a pouring a cup of coffee when she heard a security system chirp and say "Front door, open."
She studied the dark-haired man as he approached. The shaggy black hair was kept in check by a sweat stained coyote brown ball cap, it had the Velcro for a patch to be a fixed to it but it was empty. Percy was wearing a pair of very short black shorts that did nothing to hide what was under them and a tank top with wide arm holes. She counted at least seven scars between his arms and legs. A dark beard covered his face and had left red marks where it had scratched against the skin of her face, neck, and lower body. Visible under his left arm was what appeared to be a tattooed list on his side.
"Are all those yours?" she inclined her head toward a shadow box. The pentagon shaped box was a dark wood with a glass face. The upper part was an American flag folded in the shape of a triangle. Beneath that was a fire kissed desert camouflage blouse. Pinned in a in a ring around the mockup of his awards were a collection of rank insignia. She counted chevrons from one to three. After that it shifted to first a single gold bar, then a silver one, before a pair of Captain's bars. She walked toward the ribbon rack.
"That's a Silver Star with Combat V and two combat Bronze Stars. You have three Purple Hearts."
"Yeah, I do." Percy was drinking a cup of coffee himself and studying her. She read the small plaque. 'Skipper, P.J., you are the war dog. The Corps is losing the last of a breed in you today. 2002-2015. Semper Fidelis, Marine.' The signature below the short blurb was that of a Major General.
She looked at a small ribbon with so many stars stuck to it the ribbon was barely visible. "Whats this one for?"
"A star for each deployment. Gold ones mean five." She counted a gold star and three bronze ones. "Jesus Christ, good thing you weren't married, she'd never have been able to deal with it."
He laughed harshly, "No, she couldn't." Annabeth spun blushing.
"I'm sorry, I didn't…" he had moved toward her and despite his sweatiness put his hands on her shoulder.
"It's all good, though if you're feeling particularly guilty." He winked at her and began to walk up the stairs. She watched him walk up the steps. Oh fuck it, she thought and began to follow him removing the t-shirt and sweats as she did.
Langley, VA, 0707 Local, 27 August 2021
It had only taken her seventeen minutes to drive to the McLean apartment she shared with Piper. Piper was seated at the bar with a cup of tea and the Washington Post in front of her when Annabeth rushed through the door. Kaleidoscopic eyes studied her.
"You got laid." Piper kept studying her. "Good night?" Annabeth nodded slowly, color rising in her cheeks, "And this morning?" The color continued to rise. "Good for you, girl." Piper started laughing and Annabeth joined her.
Piper nodded to the coffee maker and as Annabeth poured herself a cup she spoke. "Getting laid doesn't do it justice. I wanted something a little rougher than usual and goddamn did he deliver."
"Did you know him before?" Annabeth shook her head. "Potential future boyfriend?" Again Annabeth shook her head. "Shit, ABC, you've got to get out of the post divorce funk. Yeah, yeah, you fuck more than before, but get yourself a man for more than seven faked orgasms."
"These weren't faked," Annabeth responded her intension witnessed as even Piper had to pause at revelation. She was walking past Piper to her bedroom when she wrapped her arms around the brunette. "I'm glad you're home safe, Pipes." Piper returned the embrace and nodded her head into Annabeth's shoulder. Annabeth began to leave for her room before leaning over again. "I'm going back tomorrow afternoon."
Piper looked at her eyebrows raised. "That good?" Annabeth just nodded. "Damn."
"Will you stay the night?" Annabeth gave a dismissive "eh" as she walked into the bedroom and quickly showered and changed into clothes.
"We'll have to have our catch up on Sunday, I guess. I may have messed things up big time with Jason while I was gone but we're meeting tonight to talk some more."
"Did you sleep with someone?" Piper faked an offended look before nodded meekly.
"Was he hot?"
"Oh God, yes." She responded her eyes widening slightly, "Wait no, ABC, that's not the point." Annabeth smirked before pouring more coffee into a travel mug and leaving for her car.