Author note:

I know it's been a long time since I updated. I hope that this was worth the wait. this chapter is a different style than I usually write. I hope it worked out okay. Please let me know if anyone is reading this so I know whether or not to continue updating. (See note at end.)

CH 4-Destiny

Clay laid still, coming to full consciousness. He could feel the breeze on his skin and taste the salt of the sea air on his lips. Opening his eyes just a sliver he took in his surroundings. As he regarded the body lying next to him, he wondered to himself, for the hundredth time, as to how he got there.

For most of his life Clay Spenser felt like fate dealt him a losing hand. And almost everyone looking in from the outside would probably agree. The product of an unplanned pregnancy, he was never even sure if he was supposed to be here. Most of his life experiences seemed designed to convince him that he was a mere accident, a mistake, forgettable. Intent on driving that point home, he was abandoned in one way or another by each and every person that he cared about. Leaving him to conclude that he was indeed of no consequence and destined to be alone.

Clay would think back to what he remembered of his early childhood. And what he did recall, most times he tried to forget. His father was often gone, but even when he was in town, he spent little time with his wife and son. Instead frequenting the local bars with other team guys and the inevitable frog hogs that paid proper homage to his exploits and stroked his ego. Much more deserved in his mind than the nagging bitch and sniveling brat that awaited him at home.

Even when Ash was home, the situation was no better. In most of his memories, his father was yelling, and his mother was crying. The constant tension permeated every aspect of his life. The little boy often wondered why his home bore little resemblance to the happy families he spent a large portion of his time watching on TV.

At a tender age, Clay learned the hard lesson that the screaming and fighting was highly preferable to the quiet. Silence meant his mother lying motionless in her bed for hours. Staring into the nothingness and barely responding to her son's most basic needs. It could also mean his father's stone-faced rage. He tried to stay out of the way, not making any noise or asking for anything. But it seemed his mere presence could be enough to set Ash off. It didn't always end in visible bruises, but the internal scars inflicted would take decades to heal.

Not every moment was unhappy. There were some pleasant times that Clay recalled. Times when they almost seemed like a normal family. Sometimes they would visit the beach, having a picnic and playing in the ocean. He remembered Ash carrying him out into the waves and teaching him to swim. But even that banal activity eventually took on an edge. As Clay's proficiency improved, his father insisted he learn how to really swim, not just keep his head above water, but deal with obstacles and challenges. Ash made him practice his breathing, deal with cramps in the open ocean, and would even pull him under, forcing the young boy to evade his grasp and surface unscathed. When Clay's mother objected to his methods, he maintained that he was only doing it for the boy's own good. Yet in an ill-disguised stage-whisper he declared that no son of his was going to embarrass him by getting himself drowned.

As difficult as his home life was, it was home. He became used to the vitriol and anger between his parents. He knew nothing else. So, the day Ash stuffed a duffle full of clothing, screamed a parting shot at his wife, and then stormed past Clay before slamming the door in rage was wholly frightening. The quiet vacuum left in his father's wake was oppressive. He didn't expect his mother to come and comfort him. He knew all too well that she would have taken to her bed.

They managed for a while. His mother spent most of her time at home sleeping. He in turn did his best to care for himself and leave her to her devices. The arrangement worked at first. But soon the additional burden began to take its toll. Their meals were meager and the cupboards almost bare. So, when his mother woke up one morning, smiling and suggested they go to the local diner, he was shocked, but happy. Maybe she was better now. Maybe he would be okay. Little did he know it would be the day he looked back on as the worst betrayal of his life.

They pulled up to the restaurant and got out of the car. When they got inside, an older couple spied them and waved them over. Clay was confused and looked at his mom. Her face was plastered with a false smile. She introduced him to the two that she said were his grandparents. Then, not lingering, she knelt down, scooped him into her arms and held him. He could feel the silent sobs. Then she pushed him back, placed a kiss on his forehead and told him she was sorry. For what he had no clue. That was until she told him to wait there, and turned, walking away from him. That was the last the saw of her. Just like his father, she abandoned him.

His grandparents cared for him well. He didn't fear them, but he was so scared of letting anyone in, of relying on anyone. Their love and care began to chip away at his indifference. Even when they all flew back across the ocean to their mission in Liberia, they took him along. He was half afraid he would be left standing alone at the airport when they boarded their plane.

They were patient with him, understanding that they needed to prove that he was no longer alone in life. He wanted to believe it, but his wounded spirit still found it hard to trust, to put faith in anyone. It would take months before his Grams and Gramps broke through the wall he built around himself. And it would be years before he would ever trust anyone else enough to let them in.

The only American child among the refugees and orphans, he often felt lonely. He didn't know the many languages spoken or the culture and customs. But he was observant, curious, and extremely intelligent. His Grams recognized his aptitude and encouraged him to learn as much as he could, providing him with whatever books she could get her hands on. His Gramps taught him practical skills, how to hunt and fish, how to use a knife and a compass, and how to navigate using only the stars.

Although he had clothes to wear and he never went to bed hungry, there wasn't an overabundance. They shared whatever they had with the children and the local people. He watched how his grandparents cared for the orphans in their charge and how they reached out to the villagers. Their example taught him about duty and self-sacrifice.

Clay felt safe with his Grams and Gramps. He knew they would never hurt him. But that didn't mean that living in a war-torn country was without its dangers. He saw firsthand the ravages of the violent conflict. He remembered when Ash would sometimes wax poetic about how he was a hero, helping people just like this. And an idea began to form.

He grew into a young man. Fully capable and well educated. He was often the one to provide the meat for the mission's meals. He could speak freely with most of the tribes and sometimes translated for the newer volunteers until they picked up the local dialects. He was doing his part, as his grandparents taught him. But he wanted to do more. He approached them with his idea to return to the US and enlist. They knew he would have a hard road ahead, but they supported him.

Soon after he got back stateside, before he even visited a recruiting office, word reached him. His grandparents were dead. They were both killed in some sort of car accident. He was confused. They didn't travel a lot. He wondered where they were going and what had happened. But he didn't ask questions. He was in too much shock. They hadn't meant to, but they left him too. He was alone again, without a soul to care if he lived or died.

He made his decision and enlisted in the Navy to become a SEAL. He requested a Special Operator contract so he could go straight into the BUD/S training pipeline once he finished basic. He cleared the physical requirements and scored well on the tests. The Navy accepted him to SpecOps training, and he was grouped together with other prospective Seals to start Boot Camp.

During this first phase of training, even though there was healthy competition, many of the guys became friends. Clay managed to get along enough to complete the team assignments and drills. But his demeanor didn't encourage any socializing. Soon he gained a reputation for being aloof and arrogant. They all thought he believed himself too good for them. If they only knew how scared he was to become attached to anyone. How he held himself apart for self-preservation. He tried to ignore the stares and the scuttlebutt and focus solely on his goal.

At the end of basic his performance earned him a spot in pre-BUD/S training. In addition to his physical prowess, his fluency in six languages was noted, and garnered him special attention. He went into the pipeline and ended up in a BUD/S class.

The training was grueling, physically, and mentally. Just like in Basic, he kept to himself, forming no bonds. Each day the instructors seemed to find new ways to torture them. But Clay knew he could handle it. No matter what they threw at him, he would never consider ringing the bell and throwing in the towel. Somewhere along the line his instructors caught wind of who he was, who his father was. Then the hell really started. "Disgrace" and "PNG jr." were terms thrown around with abandon. The Father that left him behind years ago was resurfacing as an obstacle to his future. Clay dug down and worked harder, proving his worth. The derogatory hazing just added layers to the shell he built around his true self.

He made it out at the top of his class, much to everyone's annoyance. It seemed Ash's incessant nagging over his abilities in the water, and the survival skills taught to him by his grandfather had a purpose after all. He was no one's favorite. But they couldn't overlook his skill and aptitude. He was assigned to a team and started his duty. He was a SEAL. There was no one there to share in his success. No family, no friends, no one. He headed into his future as he expected to always be, alone.

Over the years, Clay learned to trust his teammates, at least in the field. He tried not to get too close. He knew the odds of someone getting killed or irreparably wounded. He saw his share of teammates bleeding out in the field. He kept his distance, not letting himself feel the sense of loss that had defined his life before the Navy. He still mostly kept to himself when they were at home. He did sometimes join the guys for trips to the local bars. There they inevitably encountered the opposite sex. Clay knew he was attractive and in peak physical condition. He definitely got noticed by the ladies. He dated here and there. His job usually got in the way of anything permanent. He determined not to let it bother him. Besides, he still had other hurdles to clear if he was going to reach his ultimate goal and re-establish what the name "Spenser" meant on the teams.

Clay was a great Operator, a superior SEAL. As his confidence grew, he sometimes butted heads with command, questioning orders and openly disagreeing with superior officers. If his skills were any less, he would have been out on his ear. He put in his time and submitted his candidacy for Green Team as soon as he was eligible.

Again, his relationship to Ash Spenser meant he had an uphill climb from the get-go. Most of the DEVGRU team leaders wanted nothing to do with anyone who carried the name Spenser. He still kept to himself, not inviting interaction beyond what was required for drills and training. But another SEAL in his class ignored his dark looks and scowls. Brian Armstrong sat with Clay for chow, chatted him up between classes, and generally offered his friendship. As hard as Clay tried to ignore the overtures, Brian made it impossible. And Clay had to admit, he like the guy. Brain was easy-going, if somewhat impetuous. He always had a story or a joke to tell. Clay found himself enjoying the other man's company. They went out to bars and parties Brian always seemed to know about. Soon the two were sharing stories about their childhoods and families. Brian was the only one Clay told about his mom & dad. In turn Brian talked about his parents and upbringing. For the first time, he let someone in. Allowed another person to see beneath the surface.

His new friend also told it like it was. Not pulling any punches after it was revealed that Clay was in the bottom five and in danger of being dropped during one of their rotations. He let Clay know that his skills weren't enough. He needed to figure out how to be a team player or he would wash out.

Clay took the criticism and adjusted his behavior. There was no way he wasn't going to make it to DEVGRU. He even knew which team he wanted to draft him. Everyone knew the reputation of Jason Hayes and Bravo Team. They were the best of the best. He wanted nothing less.

He felt like life was finally handing him a break when he was requested as a Strap for Bravo on an upcoming Op. They needed someone that could speak the local dialects and Clay was their man. He tried to fit in with the team, but they let him know, Jason in particular, that he was only a Strap. Still, he was excited to be rolling with Bravo and get the chance to show them his skills. Everything was going well until Clay made a judgment call that probably saved lives but went against Jason's orders. As soon as they were back together Jason ripped him up. Surprisingly, Clay didn't back down. Hayes wasn't sure whether to be insulted or impressed.

Back in Va Beach, Clay bragged about his mission with Bravo, thinking it gave him a leg up. But even when they passed each other in the Mess, they ignored him as if they didn't know who he was. Clay tried not to let it bother him. He hoped he hadn't ruined his chances for getting drafted to the team.

The rest of training was going well. Clay was no longer in the bottom five and he saw his chances at becoming a DEVGRU operator increasing with each day. He was riding high when life, as usual, struck another blow.

The day was perfect for jump training, clear, sunny, and little to no wind. Brain was ribbing him as usual as they rode in the truck out to the jump site. They were separated into different groups for this exercise. Clay's group went first. Everyone completed their jumps, and the next group went up. Clay watched as bodies exited the plane and chutes began to dot the sky. Behind him he heard some scrambling and worried communications. Soon he saw the reason why. A chute wasn't opening, and someone was hurtling towards the ground. Clay squinted into the sun, trying to identify the unlucky team member. As the guys all gathered their chutes and returned to the rally point, the identity of the fatality became painfully clear. Clay waited, sure that it couldn't possibly be Brian. But the truth was right there in front of him. He hung his head and wondered what he'd ever done that fate insisted on punishing him by ripping away anyone he ever cared about.

Clay got a break from training to accompany Master Chief Seaver to inform Brian's family about the tragedy. The trip didn't go as planned, but Clay felt he learned a lot. Adam assured him that family wasn't just who you were born to. It was who you chose. Once he was on a Team, his brothers and all of the DEVGRU operators would be all the family he needed. Given his experience, Clay was guarded.

Now, laying here, years later, he realized Adam had been right. He also realized that his whole life, all the experiences, the good and the bad led him here, to this exact moment. He would never have thought that anything good could come out of what he experienced, the pain, the losses, and the abandonment. But fate had other ideas.

The loud squawking of some raucous sea birds drew him back to the present. He glanced down and gazed at Emma, head laying on his chest, looking up at him through her lashes. At the same time, she brought her hand up to rest on his cheek. As she moved Clay saw the light glint off the stones in the rings gracing her left hand. His thumb began to fiddle with the cool metal encircling the matching finger on his hand. After only three days, the weight was still unfamiliar, but welcome. He then drew his fingers lightly down Emma's bare back.

"Good morning, Mrs. Spenser."

"Mmmm, good morning, Mr. Spenser."

He lowered his lips to meet hers and then sighed with contentment. There were certainly things he would change if he could. But he knew he would do it all again if it meant ending up in this time and place, with this woman. Finally, destiny got things exactly right.

*I know I glossed over Basic Training and BUD/S etc. I didn't want to mis-state something given my small amount of knowledge of those topics. Please forgive any errors.*