"Gorram sand gets everywhere," John Casey grumbled as he sat at a bench in the mess hall, cleaning his weapons for the umpteenth time that day. He had a feeling in his gut that something was coming, and he sure as shit wasn't going to be caught with a jammed weapon when it happened. He found the process of meticulously stripping, cleaning, and reassembling his small arsenal calming. This had held true since his father gave him his first rifle and taught him the proper way, the Marine way, to maintain his weapons. He smirked to himself as he could practically hear his father's voice instructing him.
"Son, you treat your weapon the way you treat a woman, with respect above all else…" James Alexander Coburn had been his hero as a kid. Strong Marine, loving husband, protective father to his children, everything John Casey had wanted to grow up to be, except perhaps, dying in theatre before his first child graduated at the top of his class at the Naval Academy and earned his commission.
For a time, John thought he was going to have all that, life of service to his country, loving wife and children back at home. He nearly had it with Kathleen, until he was called upon to join an elite black ops team. He hadn't made the choice lightly, took him near a week to decide between the love he had for his fiancée back home and the love he held for his country. The day he gave his decision to his CO, was the day that First Lieutenant Alexander Jonathan Coburn died and First Lieutenant Johnathan Michael Casey accepted his new posting. That was nearly four years ago, and in the time since, he must have impressed the brass. The NSA had requested he be seconded to work with them about ten months back, with the option of eventually fully transferring to their command upon completion of his training.
His superior, an Air Force Colonel named Beckman, was a tiny woman with dark red hair and a large presence. He learned quickly that what she lacked in stature was made up for with a well-honed skill in covert operations and tactics. More than a few times, he'd seen someone be taken down more than a few pegs after underestimating the diminutive officer. There were rumors floating around the intelligence community that she was involved with some CIA spook that was supposed to be America's version of James Bond, but John didn't believe it, wouldn't believe either allegation until he'd witnessed it with his own two eyes.
He'd been in Fallujah for a while now and expected to be there until the NSA deemed it was time for him to complete his training.
John had just reinserted the clip on his rifle when a young private entered the mess hall and quickly strode over to where he was sitting. The private saluted him and awaited his returned salute and nod to proceed.
"Captain Casey, the CO would like to have a word with you," The younger man reported.
"Which CO?" Casey asked, "Yours or mine?"
"Both, Sir," The private responded. "General Matheson received an urgent call from Colonel Beckman, requiring your presence."
Casey nodded, "Let them know I'll be there as soon as I return my weapons to the armory."
"Yes, Sir," The private snapped off a quick salute before turning on his heel and exiting the facility.
John groaned, not wanting to know what would have prompted such an urgent summons from both of the superior officers. He quickly packed up his gear and made his way over to the armory to secure his rifle, he kept his side arm strapped to his hip.
When he arrived at the administrative offices on base, the private who had retrieved him was already behind a desk, working on whatever task the general had given him. The younger man looked up and nodded toward the general's office, indicating that the superior officer was waiting upon Casey's arrival.
John Casey took a deep breath and rapped on the door. When the general called out for him to enter, he pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped through, securing the door before swiftly crossing the small office and saluting the general.
"At ease, Captain, take a seat," General Matheson instructed, waiting for Casey to take a seat before activating a video screen on the wall adjacent to his desk.
"Captain Casey," Colonel Beckman greeted him.
"Ma'am," Casey nodded toward her.
The Colonel's face softened slightly before she continued, "John, I'm afraid I have some life-altering news for you. Kathleen McHugh was killed three days ago when a drunk driver hit her head-on on her way home from work."
Casey was in shock at the news, not knowing what to say, especially when Beckman continued her brief.
"Thankfully, her three-year-old daughter was not in the car at the time," Beckman stated, "For the time being Child Protective Services have allowed the child's grandmother to retain custody until such time as her biological father can retrieve her. To that end, you will be on the next available transport to Fort Meade for debrief and reassignment before continuing on to Chicago."
"Chicago, Ma'am?" Casey asked, confused.
"Yes, you are making a brief stop in Aurora before reporting to your next duty station." Beckman stated.
"With all due respect, Ma'am, are you sure that's the best idea?" Casey questioned, "Someone is bound to notice a dead man walking around his hometown."
"That's a very good point," Beckman agreed, "Very well, you will meet your mother in Chicago upon arrival, we will provide transportation."
Casey looked between the video screen and General Matheson before addressing Beckman once more, "I'm sorry, Ma'am, I'm just a little confused what is so important that you have to call me back from deployment to see my mother, or how she's connected to Kathleen's death."
Beckman sighed, "John, you're an intelligent man, you graduated top of your class at the Naval Academy. I'm sure somewhere along the line you learned basic biology as well as mathematics?"
John still looked confused before General Matheson spoke up, "Captain, according to your file, a letter addressed to Alexander Coburn arrived at Quantico three days after he 'died.' Since you were no longer supposed to have contact with anyone tied to your former identity, the letter was reviewed and all pertinent information was logged in your file. In the letter, your former fiancée wrote that she was pregnant and that you were the father. Seems that the celebration of your engagement resulted in you becoming a father, congratulations. Upon her birth Miss Alexandra Joan McHugh was listed along with your mother and sister as your next of kin."
"So, what you're saying is that I have a three-year-old daughter that no one bothered to tell me about?!" Casey demanded, "And what, I'm expected to quit the Marines, quit the NSA, and go back stateside to do what, play Mister Mom to some girl I've never met?"
"No," Beckman countered, "You are being sent home to meet and raise your little girl, you will be stationed stateside. You will still be an active member of the NSA, but will probably not have as many active missions while the child is in your custody."
"And I'm supposed to take it on faith that I'm the father of this kid?" Casey asked.
"No, when Alexandra was born, a DNA test was run against your DNA." Beckman informed him, "There is a 99 percent likelihood that you are the father of that little girl."
Casey sat in silence as he processed all he had been told, "Sir, Ma'am, are you sure this is the right course of action?" He finally asked, "I don't know anything about being a father, especially not a father to a little girl."
"You'll learn," The General advised gently, "As we all do when we are handed our daughters for the first time. I grew up with only brothers and my first two were boys. I knew nothing about little girls, but the moment the nurse handed me that little pink bundle, I was a goner. She's nearly to that age where I am going to have to start keeping a loaded shot gun in the house to chase off any undesirable boys, but I wouldn't trade my little girl for the world."
"You won't be without support," Beckman chipped in, "You'll be given resources both on and off base to assist and support you as a parent, especially a single parent, in the service."
"It's normal to be scared shitless, Son," General Matheson assured Casey, "You'll do fine."
"The next transport to Fort Meade is the day after tomorrow at 0330," Beckman informed the nervous man, "Get your gear together and affairs in order, you're about to be deployed to one of the most important assignments of your life, fatherhood."
The video cut off and was replaced by a scarlet background with the gold Marine Corps insignia spinning in the middle of the screen.
"You have been pulled off all upcoming assignments," The general informed him, "You're dismissed."
Casey nodded and rose, saluting the general once more. Turning on his heel, he took his leave, head spinning from all he had learned.
