Duty(25)

The Army. The f*cking Army. With their stupid f*cking rules. Rules that tell us how to dress, how to walk, how to run, how to eat and how to sleep. But the Army never put out any guidelines about love. Oh, sure, they've written some rules about sex, about fraternization, but they've never given any guidance for when I found the man I still dream about and fall in love with him. They can't even tell me if I was right or wrong to not say it, or if I was right to be greedy and self-centered and demand that we never say that word. His chain is still around my neck, and I'm never, ever going to take it off short of orders.

I sigh and get up, dusting off my jeans. I can't let myself get down. It's not what Aaron would want me to do. Sure, he sometimes was a little rah-rah when I would bitch about work after he knew I'm an enlisted soldier, but he never wanted to see me frown, let alone cry. I can do that much, at least when I'm awake.

I force a smile on my face, looking up at the stars, wondering if perhaps Aaron is looking up at the same stars. Probably not. It's late back east, and he's just wrapping up Airborne school. Maybe they're giving him a long weekend. That'd be nice. Give his knees and ankles a chance to heal up from the pounding. I've heard Airborne's a major beating on the legs. Either way, a girl can wish, can't she?

“Hey, Aaron . . .” I start, forcing a smile on my face. “See? I'm smiling, just like you'd want me to. I hope . . . I hope that you had a happy Fourth. Take care of yourself, and take care of those new cadets when you take over there. I . . . I love you.”

Even if I couldn't tell him, I know how I felt. How I still feel. And if I can only tell the night sky, then so be it. I go to the shower and turn it on hot. Maybe the warmth will ease away the chill that's been inside my gut for the past few days. I hope I'm not coming down with something, I haven't been feeling so great lately, and I don't want to start off sick with my new unit.



“Specialist Morgan,” the Captain says, reading my file. “Hmm, really?”

“What's that, sir?” I ask, checking the name again. Captain Jellisco.

“You were stationed at the Academy prior to this. Not too many people get that straight out of AIT,” he notes, handing my orders back to me. “How'd you like it?”

“The falls were nice, sir,” I reply, standing at attention still. I don't know if Jellisco likes to play things by the tin soldier act or not, but he didn't tell me to stand at ease after I saluted to report, so at attention I stay. “I got lots of opportunities to ride my bike.”

“Yes, I saw that strapped to the back of your car outside,” he says, glancing out his window. His office has a view over the parking lot, on the ground floor. “Well, I hope you can still find the time. Okay, let me give you my rules, then I'll turn you over to the First Sergeant and your platoon.”

I let him run through his little speech as he outlines how he likes to run things, only answering when he's finished.

“Hooah, sir.” Hooah, the Army's universal reply for damn near anything. Useful when you don't know what else to say.

“Good. Okay, get out of here. They’ll get you squared away.”

First Sergeant Lincoln starts by personally driving me down to the clinic to get my physical. “Hey, Sergeant?”

“What's up, Morgan?” he asks, turning left. Lincoln's a nice guy so far, but I don't know for sure. Anyone can be nice up front. And First Sergeants have a reputation for being nice guys until you piss them off.

“Nothing. Never mind. Let’s just get this over with.”

Things go smooth at the physical until the doc takes a look at my history. “Says here you're feeling a bit under the weather. What's up?”

“Just not keeping breakfast down the past few days, ma'am,” I tell her, shrugging. “Probably nerves.”

The doctor, a First Lieutenant from the bar on her shoulders, hums. Medical officers tend to be unique in that most of them know they were only commissioned because the Army insists that all MDs have a commission. Guess it makes up for the suck of going to medical school. “Well, let's have a look. Let me draw some blood, and you get to go pee in a cup for me.”

The blood draw doesn't take much time. I'm no baby on that, but then the doc comes in while I'm putting my ACU top back on, the band-aid still fresh on the inside of my elbow. “I've found the problem.”

“Wow, that didn't take long,” I reply, buttoning my top. “What was it, bad sushi in Chicago?”

“No . . . you're pregnant.”

My fingers freeze at how easily she says it. I look up at the doctor, who gives me another reason to not like Army medical. Seriously, I've just been told I'm pregnant. Aren't you supposed to be f*cking smiling? Even if I'm now instantly scared shitless? “I'm pregnant? How?”

I don't think she was expecting that question, because the doctor looks concerned. “I thought you'd know how that happens, but basically, you had sex, his sperm got inside you at just the right time, and viola. You're pregnant.”

I sit down, the breath rushing out of me. “I'm pregnant.”

The doctor nods and takes a seat in the chair opposite me. “I take it this isn't expected. If I can ask, have you been sexually active recently?”