Duty(60)

I'm leaving the MP station when I hear someone call my name behind me, and I turn to see Pete Lemmon jogging toward me. “Yo, Aaron, wait up!”

I give him a salute—he is a Captain, after all—and he waves it off, grinning. “It's lunch time, man. Cut the shit between old Devils. Come on, let me buy you Burger King. You're going to be missing that shit, from what I hear.”

We drive over to the PX complex, where the line for Burger King isn't too bad, and we get our meals, Pete paying before I can pull out my wallet.

There's an open table by the window, and we sit down, Pete unwrapping his Whopper while I open my double barbecue bacon burger. “Thanks, Pete.”

“Not a problem, man. Besides, I didn't ask you to lunch just to fill your gut with some calories before the 'Stan,” he says with a shrug. “I did a rotation over there back in my platoon leader days. Don't trust anyone without an American flag patch on his shoulder, and you'll be fine.”

I bite into my burger, my stomach stretching. I know that I'm going to be eating crap for the next six months, and I've been indulging in every food that I'm going to miss. I don't expect to eat a real piece of pork for a long damn time. I like pork chops too, dammit!

“I plan to keep my head on a swivel,” I mumble, chewing the bacon and relishing it. The fine swine. I must remember it. “Hey, can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure, what about?”

“That kid I'm the Big Brother for, Lance Morgan. His mom is in your company, right?” I ask, doing my best at keeping up the deception. Pete may be a former D-1 Devil, but he's also an MP officer, sworn to uphold the law as well as being a commissioned officer. I don't need to go there.

“Yeah, she works in the Battalion S-1 shop. You want me to keep an eye on them?”

I nod, grateful. And while I feel bad shading the truth with Pete, I'm not outright lying. “He's a good kid. And to be honest, it's going to really, really suck leaving him behind here. I . . . I've developed feelings for him.”

Pete chews his burger and nods. “Not a problem. You know I run my company like a family anyway. Like when I heard that you hung out at her house, I didn't do like your CO and throw a shit fit. What he did to you . . . it's bullshit, man.”

“Yeah, well, the Army runs on bullshit. You know that. After all, what else are officers for?”

Pete chews his burger, trying not to laugh. “Good point.”



Our final meal together, and Lance does his best, trying to be cheerful and happy while he eats his ground pork moussaka that Lindsey made especially for me. Afterward, though, he clings to me, his arms locked around my neck for the next two hours until he falls asleep in my arms on the couch. I lie there, hugging him tightly until his arms relax, and I carefully roll him to the side, tucking my green girl around him and sitting up. “He's out.”

“It’s nearly ten o'clock,” Lindsey notes, sitting on the floor next to the couch where she's been holding hands with me. “He's going to be a zombie tomorrow morning at daycare.”

“That's okay then,” I whisper, sliding over enough that Lindsey can sit next to me. “How about you? You've still got work tomorrow.”

“I'll be fine. I'm just in the S-1 shop. No Sergeant's Time for the MPs tomorrow,” Lindsey says, leaning into my arms. “Aaron . . .”

“It's okay. I keep telling myself that, and if I do, then it will be,” I tell her, holding her. “I'm coming back, and when I do, we're going to form a family. Somehow, we will.”

Lindsey turns her head and looks me in the eyes, her face intent. “You promise?”

“I promise,” I whisper, leaning down and kissing her. What starts as a soft, reassuring kiss deepens, and I reach down, cupping her breast and causing us both to moan.

Lindsey moans again, taking my hand. “Take me.”

We stand up, walking hand in hand to the back of my house, where my bed awaits. Lindsey looks at it and shakes her head, chuckling. “I'm so buying us a bigger bed for when you get back.”

I laugh softly as well, pulling her closer to me. “I love you, Lindsey.”

“I love you too, Aaron,” she replies, turning around and kissing me softly. We move closer to the bed, and as I lay her back, I know that when I get the chance, there's one more question I have to ask her . . . but when I get back. I won't force her to make a decision because of my deployment.

In the moonlight that comes through my window, we hold each other, our bodies and souls joined, and when we cry out, it's softly, with joy and happiness.



It's gray pre-dawn light when I ease myself out of bed, taking a quick shower and shaving before changing into my ACUs. Before I pull my top on, I kneel, kissing Lindsey softly on the cheek. “It's time for me to go.”

Lindsey mumbles, and her eyes flutter open. “I don't want you to go.”

“I know,” I whisper, not knowing why but not wanting to break the stillness. “But the taxi will be here in a few minutes. It'll take me to the airfield.”

“Wait,” Lindsey says, reaching behind her neck and unclasping her necklace. “Show me your neck.”

I bend forward, and she clasps the necklace around my neck. It's long enough that it fits, then slides underneath my shirt. “I'll bring it back.”