It was close to midnight when Sanderson heard his beeper go off.
Over the years he had become sensitive to any noise at night. Whether it be gunfire, a beeper, or a child crying. He heard everything at night. Every last noise.
Wide-awake, he rolled across the queen size bed he slept in, and grabbed the beeper.
He knew the number by heart.
Beside him a small body moved, woken by Sanderson's movement, "Dad?"
Earlier that night a storm had rolled in, both Jordan and Alexandria ran into their father's room and climbed in bed with him. Diana's daughters however went to their window to watch the storm.
"It's all right, go back to sleep son," Sanderson told his son, patting his son's sleepy head. He watched Jordan lay his head back down on his pillow from his room. Beside him his sister lay curled up in a ball, wrapped up in the quilt from her bed.
Sanderson watched both his children fall asleep.
In the occasional lightning strike he could see his son's sleeping face, so peaceful and innocent. He could see the ocean of dark hair that covered his daughter's side and her pillow.
Once he was positive they were asleep he reached for his cell phone, but lay back down while he dialed in the number. Wanting to see as much of his children while he had the chance. The voice of one of his commanding officers came over the line, telling him where to go, immediately, in less then five words.
At the end of the brief call, Sanderson hung up.
Again, he looked over his two sleeping children.
He stayed in bed and watched them sleep for a few minutes. Only then he slid from the bed without waking the two children. Half dressed already, Sanderson went to his dresser, grabbed an olive shirt and pulled it on. He shoved his wallet in his jeans pocket. Then quickly slid his feet in a pair of sneakers and laced them up.
Before he left his bedroom he kissed both his children goodbye, making a point of it.
Then he went down the hall to the bedroom where the kids lived. He peeked in and saw both Rachael and Robin at the windowsill.
"Hey," he whispered.
Both girls jumped as if they had been shot.
Sanderson walked in the bedroom all four kids shared. He ushered the to girls away from the window and quickly shut it, then locked it.
While Robin obediently climbed into bed, Rachael looked up at Sanderson curiously, "Why are you dressed?"
Giving her a push towards her bed, he told her, "I have to go into work."
Rachael stopped dead in her tracks, "You're leaving?"
Across the dark room Robin spat, suddenly angry, "No stupid, he has to go get briefed."
Sanderson picked up Rachael and carried the little girl to her bed, he considered his daughter as much as his own. "Don't call you sister stupid, Robin." He gently dropped Rachael in her bed and pulled the blankets playfully over her head while he gave Robin an authoritive look.
A streak of lightning lite up the room, showing the tears streaming down her young face.
As Rachael pulled the blankets off her head, Sanderson leaned over and kissed the top of her head, "Go to sleep, I'll see you in the morning." With an exaggerated sigh she griped, "All right!"
Sanderson then got up and made his way across the toy littered room. With four kids in the room they no longer cared about keeping it clean. Just disease free.
He went to Robin's bed and sat down of the side.
Immediately she sat up and hugged him. She clung to him, terrified. He put an arm lightly across her back, and smoothed her head with the other. "Sweetie, I'm not going anywhere yet. Just a meeting."
But the tears didn't stop.
Sanderson felt hot tears sink into the soft t-shirt. He held her closer and slowly rocked her. Not caring if he was going to be late. He kissed the top of her head, "It's ok sweetie. I won't be gone longer then a month."
Those words didn't help, part of him knew they wouldn't. So he simply sat there, held her, and rocked her until she fell asleep.
Close to twenty minutes later he laid her down in her bed, pulled the blankets over her, and kissed her temple.
He waved goodnight to Rachael, then quietly walked out of the bedroom.
Down the hall, and into the nursery, where Diana slept on an air mattress beside the crib.
Sanderson checked on Daniel, who was asleep. Then looked down at Diana, who looked as if she had just passed out from sheer exhaustion.
Without waking her, Sanderson stepped over the air mattress, then knelt down beside Diana, softly shaking her arm. The reaction was immediate. Diana snapped awake, just as her daughters had, looking around the room to see what was wrong.
At the sight of Sanderson, dressed, she knew.
Running a hand through her messy hair she sat up, "What's wrong?"
Sanderson couldn't help it, he reached out and touched her face. Feeling the warm soft skin of her cheek. "I have to go get briefed. Something changed so…I'll see you in the morning."
She didn't press his for more information. Knowing he didn't know any more then she did. Instead she reached up and took his face and softly kissed him before she let go.
Almost an hour later…..
Sanderson finally arrived in the simple small conference room, which was also served as a classroom. Because of it's prime location.
It was in a secure part of the base.
And it had a dry erase board.
Sanderson was the last one to walk into the room. Which had basic white walls, linoleum floors, and florescent lights.
He was the last to arrive, but no one said a word or even gave him a dirty look. Most of them felt the same, were going through the same stuff, or had been woken up at a god-forsaken hour and were trying to wake up.
Every seat at the three tables were full but one, which Sanderson took.
Once the door closed behind Sanderson, the man who had beeped him, the man Sanderson had called, he began to speak. He was a middle aged Vietnamese man in simple clothes. Jeans, a grey Army shirt, his leather jacket on a table. The reason why he was not in the field was evident when he walked, on a prosthetic leg.
His hair was cut in a regular short boy cut. Clean-shaven.
He was all business, he had already written out coordinates the man would need to know. Which they had already written down, including Sanderson as soon as he saw them.
"Two hours ago, our camp was attacked. Radio contact is gone. Satellite photo's show the camp is decimated. We don't know who is responsible, we may even be dealing with a traitor. Three Delta teams are being sent out from air, the Navy is sending three teams in too. Secure the camp, Recover as many men and women as you can…"
Sanderson took all the notes he needed, like he always did. He added some of his own. Comments. Even things to remember to bring. When Mark finished briefing them someone raised their hand and asked, "When do we leave?"
Smoothly, Mark crossed his arms, standing at attention, "I want you guys in the air within five hours. Soon as possible. Five hours, three, one, now, yesterday. Do what you have to do, pack, and rendezvous here." Pointing to a location on the board.
The men took some notes.
Mark looked around, seeing no more questions he said, "Sanderson, I need a word."
While the other men quickly got their stuff and left. Not because Mark wanted a word with Sanderson. But, the sooner they left, the sooner they could pack, the sooner they could be in the air.
Sanderson stayed seated while Mark walked over to him, he took a seat on the table. Sanderson never gave Mark special treatment, knowing Mark would kill him if he did. Mark had worked hard for the respect he had, he knew all the Deltas. Not just by file, but before he had lost his leg, he had worked with them, Sanderson especially.
Getting comfortable on the tabletop, he asked, "So tell me, why are you intentionally flaming Psych Exams? That's not your style. You usually tell them exactly what they want to hear, or screw with their minds. And, don't B.S. me ok, I will pull your ass out if I think you're a danger to the men. You've been at this job a while, are you burning out?"
Sanderson stretched out.
He crossed his arms over his chest, then slouched down. Relaxing somewhat. "I didn't want her to go."
Mark looked down at Sanderson's sneakers, not enviously, but because he knew Sanderson would not meet his eye. "Well, now, no one but you boys are going…may I ask why?"
"What do you mean?" Sanderson asked, feeling more comfortable speaking to Mark then any shrink over his entire career.
Mark sighed, then he looked over his shoulder at Sanderson, just to see the mans expression. "Did you not want her to go because of the children? Because she's your friend and you don't want to be distracted by her safety? Because you still feel guilty about Hoot? What? Give me a reason."
For a moment Sanderson was quiet.
Not because he didn't trust Mark, but because he had to think. Finally Sanderson said, "She's getting to me the way she got to Hoot."
"Well….she's certainly a handful. She's very different from Humera," Mark observed.
"I know," Sanderson muttered. He then asked, "What do you think?"
Sanderson finally met Mark's eyes.
"I think….I would not want to be in your shoes."
Sanderson then said, "You fell in love with your best friend, and are still married."
Mark nodded, knowing what Sanderson was asking without the words, so he told him, "Tread carefully. Slowly. Remember she was married to Hoot, which means she is a handful. She's the daughter of McKnight, which means she's going to be slightly psychotic. Since she is a mother, she's going to be like a….grizzly bear. She's different from your first wife, ok, just make sure its real. That its not just because you're both grieving and living under the same roof."
Quietly Sanderson swore, "Damn. I didn't even think of that."