May 8th, 2004
8:15 AM
Fort Pastor, Wisconsin

Fort Pastor was not somewhere many liked to find themselves stationed.

Located on the Eastern bank of Lake Winnebago, it was one of only two military bases in Wisconsin; the other being the larger Fort McCoy to the west. At 22,000 acres, Fort Pastor was home to roughly 2,000 people – approximately 1,200 of which were active military personnel under the command of Brigadier General Reiniger. Officially, it was a place where intelligence and information was gathered, sorted, and then sent off the proper channels. In reality, however, it was a place where people were sent to be "sorted out."

In other words, unofficial leave.

If you were too skilled or important to be dismissed but also experiencing an issue intense enough that it might impact your performance, you were sent to Fort Pastor for "sorting". You could have the time to yourself to sort through those issues – professional assistance strongly encouraged (required) – without the stress and distraction of your usual position while simultaneously being readily available, should your talents be needed on short notice.

This also left Fort Pastor in an interesting position.

While Fort Pastor was the smaller of the two bases by almost half, it was also home to the more hardened personnel. Due to its status as a very discreet "rest and recuperation" center, Fort Pastor housed multiple different members who had come from multiple different branches with varying levels of skill and experience. Perhaps not always a good experience as the case may be, but experience nonetheless.

First Lieutenant Kyle Ambrose was one of those hardened personnel, and it had been a miserable experience thus far.

Five months ago, he'd been in the 75th Ranger Regiment fighting against the Taliban.

Now, he was a part of the 32nd Infantry Division pulling training duty.

Being at Fort Pastor was probably supposed to be a favor by someone with a higher pay grade. Some certainly might have found the base's amenities to be heavenly, but to him it felt more like a hellish punishment. All he'd wanted to do was to throw himself in his work and bury his thoughts but someone had taken him out of circulation and made that impossible. The casual, sluggish day to day work of Fort Pastor was agonizing compared to the hectic, high stress patrols he'd had to run in Afghanistan.

Kyle wasn't quite sure why. When he'd passed his first psyche evaluation all those months ago – and the many that came, and continued to come, after it – he was certain he was going to be cleared for action. Instead he'd gotten a notice of reassignment and a couple of weeks later, he was being transferred; stateside is where he was staying.

The entire process had been a complete pain in the ass. Now, he was an ocean removed from his team and his real job with far, far too much time on his hands.

But if there was one upside to all of this, it was that the lakeside view was beautiful.

"Out here brooding again?"

Kyle lifted a hand, giving the voice behind him the finger. "Only 'cause I pull the look off so well."

"I dunno, man," he could hear the grin on the other person's face. "The whole stand-by-the-lake-looking-sad thing is kinda out of season for a guy your age, dont'cha think?"

"You're older than me by almost two years."

30 year old Sergeant Logan Salter was the only piece left of that team. Perhaps the most important piece; he was one of Kyle's oldest and closest friends. They'd been through hell and back together long before the Army, and they had always stuck by each other's sides. When Kyle had been dismissed from his unit, Salt requested a transfer only a month later.

It hadn't come easy. There had been a lot of protest from his superiors and the request had been rejected at first. It was only when Salt had made a veiled (but deniable) threat about desertion – a move that had nearly gotten him court martialed with a dishonorable discharge, and ultimately cost him his E-7 rank – that the request had been begrudgingly granted.

But Salt didn't care about the threats, the earful he'd gotten or the punishment; so long as he could be there for Kyle.

It was the way he'd always been.

"And aging much more gracefully, I might add." Salt walked up and stood beside his friend.

Kyle scoffed and turned his head. "That why you're going bald?"

"Fuck you, man," Salt said playfully, his turn to scoff as he ran a hand over his nearly bald head. "Psoriasis is a bitch and a half."

"That buzz cut is why you get mistaken for a recruit half the time."

"Told you, I'm aging gracefully," Salt gave an exaggerated shrug. "Speaking of going bald, you look like you're trying to hide some spots yourself. You need to get your hands on some clippers."

"Yeah, yeah," Kyle said as he touched his hair, pushing it backwards; a habit that had it going that way naturally by now. "I'll get around to it eventually."

It was true. Kyle hadn't seen a barber in almost two months now and his hair was treading dangerously close to the limits of regulation. Not that anybody at Fort Pastor cared about that. There were more than a handful of soldiers running around with hair twice his length and they didn't get reprimanded for it.

Letting his hand drop back down to his side, Kyle sighed.

"If they don't let me out of here, I'm thinking about turning in my papers."

Salt cocked a brow. "Resigning?" he asked. "You serious?"

Kyle crossed his arms and exhaled a heavy sigh, frustrated. "They're keeping me from where I want to be. Where I need to be. Fuck should I stick around if they're not gonna put me to good use?"

Crouching down, Salt picked up a flat rock.

"Well, now's definitely the time, if you're looking to avoid another stop-loss. Probably wouldn't be too hard for you either…"

Taking a second to wind up, he flung the rock out across the lake. It skipped once, twice, three times... eleven more skips before it finally plunked below the surface.

After a short silence, he asked a probing question, "what would Leslie say?"

"Leslie's got nothing to say." Kyle responded coldly. "She's dead."

Salt frowned and stared at him. Kyle hesitated, then turned his head, looking back. They met each other's gaze evenly, staring at one another. It was clear Salt wanted him to say something else; anything else.

Still, Kyle said nothing.

"And that right there is why you're here, you know that?" the Sergeant said, glancing away. He brought a hand to his mouth, wiping it. "Look, man–"

"We're not talking about this." Kyle said firmly. "I'm fine."

"Yeah? You're fine, huh? Sure doesn't seem like it to me." Salt scoffed.

"I'm fine." Kyle insisted.

"Oh come off it, Kyle, you're not fine!" Salt snapped, shaking his head.

"It's been four fucking months since her funeral and you haven't said a goddamn word about it since. You won't talk to counselors, you won't talk to your mom, you won't talk to me. Who are you gonna talk about it with? Huh? Oh, and by the way, Einstein, your mom knows you're screening her calls. I didn't say shit about it – you're welcome – she just ain't stupid. You're her son, she knows you as well as I do. Honestly, dude, it's kind of fucked up I've talked to her more than you have."

Kyle didn't reply. He just lowered his head and looked to the right, away.

"Really? Nothing for me?" Salt shook his head. "See, this shit right here is what I've always hated about you. You shut the fuck down when anyone tries to get anything out of you. Every. Fucking. Time!" he chopped into one hand with his other, emphasizing. "And it… it–it pisses people off, man. You did the same shit when Robbie died; it's why Cass left you then, and it's why they're never gonna put you back in rotation now. You're like talking to a brick wall."

"Then why the hell are you still here?" was Kyle's angry retort.

Salt put his hands on his hips.

"'Cause I'm your best friend. We're brothers, we always have been and we always will be. You piss me off with this bullshit, no doubt, but it doesn't change that. You're stuck with me, Kyle, I'm always gonna be here. Just wish you'd talk to me."

Yet Kyle didn't talk. He just stood there like a statue, like he always did; stewing in the tense, uncomfortable feeling his friend's chewing out had left him with. The silence hung but after another minute, he heard Salt let out an exasperated sigh, "fuck…" and rub the back of his head.

"At least you don't drink like your dad did," the Sergeant said.

"Yeah," Kyle replied.

It was another uncomfortable topic, but one that was a lot less fresh. One last attempt to cast a line out. When he got no bite, Salt moved on.

"Alright, well," he began. "If you're not gonna talk to me, like always, let's go grab something to eat, yeah? I skipped breakfast to find your ass, I'm starving. How's Waffle Town sound?"

With the tension defusing, Kyle let out a playful huff.

"You buying?" he asked.

"Pfft, fuck that. My ass got demoted, remember? Paycheck ain't what it used to be. Besides, you owe me for being an asshole."

With no defense, Kyle chuckled and shrugged. "Yeah, alright."

The two of them turned and began walking back towards the vehicle depot.

"And Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

"Call your mom today."

That evening, he did just that. Kyle stood there for ten minutes, staring at the phone. He picked up the receiver then set it back down two times before he finally managed to pick it up a final time. He slowly dialed his mom's number to completion.

The phone rang; he struggled not to hang up.

The phone rang twice; he held his breath.

The phone rang a third time; he began pulling it away from his ear.

Click.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end said.

Kyle pushed the speaker back against his ear.

"Hey, ma."

"Kyle!" His mother sounded absolutely overjoyed. "Oh my goodness, sweetie, how have you been?"

"I've… I've been good, ma. Same old me. Just… busy, you know?"

"Oh no, I understand," she said hurriedly, the same old understanding woman she'd always been. "It's really good to hear from you, it's been too long."

"Yeah. Yeah, it really has been. I'm sorry I haven't been able to call sooner."

"Oh, honey, it's okay. I know things have been tough since…" she trailed off.

"Yeah." Kyle swallowed and shook his head. "No, no. It's, it's not that. Things've just been really hectic 'round here. I'm in a new unit, they've got me running drills with these guys every day," he explained, giving her only a half-truth. "I'm their CO, I've uh… I've just got a lot on my plate."

"Mm..." she hummed. "Speaking of plates, have you been eating?"

"Ma…" he groaned.

"What? It doesn't matter what your rank is, how old you get or how far away you are, you're still my baby!" On the other end, she laughed. "It's a standard mom question, humor me."

Kyle couldn't help but laugh too. "Yeah, I've been eating just fine."

"You'd better not be lying to me, Kyle. You know I know when you're lying."

"Ma! I'm fine, I've been eating. I promise."

"You'd better be," she said sternly. "I know that the meals there aren't the home cooked stuff you love, but you need to keep your strength up. You looked so skinny the last time I saw you."

He scoffed. "That's just the deployment diet for you. I'm not twelve anymore; I eat just fine, home cooked or not." After a pause, he shrugged and added, "I do miss your cooking though."

"M'hm," she sounded amused. "Well, the next time you come home, there'll be plenty for you. When is the next time you think you'll be home?"

"Uhh…" he frowned. "Well, I'll be up for leave here pretty soon."

"You should come home and see me and Philip."

"Mm, and what if I wanna run away to Vegas and spend all my time on cards and hookers instead?"

"Kyle Ambrose!" his mother gasped.

Kyle laughed. "I'm kidding, ma. I'm kidding."

"My goodness, you'd better be!"

They spent the next forty-five minutes talking, catching up with one another. It had been over three months since they'd last spoken and Kyle had to admit it was nice to hear her voice and be brought up to date on all the small-town, Colorado gossip.

"Have you seen the news lately?" she asked at a lull in the conversation.

"No, not really. I get enough politics firsthand."

"There have been some riots happening in some major cities," she told him. "They're saying it's only been getting worse. I know you're close to Chicago."

Kyle chuckled. "It'd have to be one hell of a riot if they're calling for an out-of-state deployment. I'm closer to Milwaukee," he explained. "But home ops aren't really my department, ma. That's more of a National Guard thing. McCoy would get a call long before we would."

"I hope so," she said. "I know you didn't like it, but I was glad to hear they brought you back home. I was always so worried when you were off in Afghanistan. I thought any day, I'd get a knock at my door and a folded flag. And now, with Leslie gone..."

"Ma…" Kyle brought a hand to his forehead.

"Oh, sweetheart…" his mother sighed. "I know your job is important to you, but do you have to keep doing this? You've been safe at Fort Pastor, but what about when they ship you out again? I'll be even more worried than before! I just don't want you to…" She paused and took a shaky breath. "You should come home to your family. Please?"

It's not as if the idea hadn't crossed his mind before, especially being stuck here at Fort Pastor; and of course he'd mentioned it to Salt, resigning from the military. But what would he really do if he did? Aside from spending roughly two years as a reserve member to attend college directly and finish up his degree, Kyle had largely given up his 20's in active service. In total, his military career was nearly eleven years long.

This was all he knew.

"I…" Kyle sighed. "I don't know, ma. I… I uh, I'll, I'll think about it, okay?"

"Thank you."

There was silence now. The same kind of silence he'd been sharing with Salt earlier. An uncomfortable, tense silence that left him frustrated. Kyle leaned his forehead into his arm, against the wall. The day played over in his head again and suddenly a thought occurred to him.

"Hey, ma."

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Does…" Kyle hesitated, closing his eyes. He knew his mom didn't like talking about her ex-husband, and neither did he, but the man hadn't even been to the funeral. He tightened his hand into a fist, then relaxed with a quiet, restrained sigh. "Does– uh, does Lou know? About… Leslie?"

There was a brief quiet before she answered.

"Yes. Yes, he knows. He, um… he called me a couple of months ago, not long after we last spoke. I, uh… almost ignored him. I wanted to, but I…" he heard his mother take a deep breath. "Well, I–I had to face the fact that… I am not the only one who lost a daughter. So, I talked to him. It was a very civil conversation. He's having just as hard a time as we are. He… told me he was going to try and reach out to you. I guess that hasn't happened yet."

"No," Kyle said.

"Well… I guess you and he have that in common. After all, you waited this long to call me." Despite her words, she didn't sound bitter about it. Just sad.

"I'm sorry, ma."

"Oh, sweetie… it's okay. I know it's hard for you to talk about her. It's hard for me too. You're not alone."

Then why do I feel so alone? He thought to himself.

"I know." He said to her.

With that, their conversation had come mostly to an end. The last few pleasantries were exchanged capped off with "I love you", "I love you too." Kyle hung up the phone and let out a heavy sigh, feeling much more exhausted than when he'd started the call.

He checked his watch; it was just past 8. Seemed like just as good a time as any to turn in.

Author's Note: And with that, the chapter 2 comes to a close!

I will warn you now that the creation process may be a slow and arduous one - I fully admit that is has taken me years to get to this point alone - but I have no intention of not finishing this story, no matter how much time it takes. Until you see "Complete" marked on this stories summary section, this story - so long as I am alive and capable of writing - is. Not. Finished.

I will be attempting to post weekly. As of posting these two intro chapters - November, 2024 (admittedly, I 100% thought the movie came out this month because I am stupid and would have much preferred to post this on the anniversary of the movie's release but oh well) - I have a couple more chapters pre-written, which I will hopefully be able to post over the next few weeks while I continue the story through to the end without losing momentum. No promises, though!

Until the next chapter - see ya later and thanks for reading!