At Attention

by Annabeth Albert

  “Fu—Heck. There’s an emergency.”

  “You need to go?” Dylan almost visibly switched gears, voice going efficient, expression distant. “It’s okay. I’ve got the girls.”

  “This... I might be gone overnight if they need me to travel.” He had to be careful how much he told Dylan, not when he didn’t have more than a few cryptic words to go on himself and when the whole training operation was top secret. “But I want you to do me a favor and not turn on the local news around the girls while I’m gone, okay?”

  “Of course. You can trust me.” There was a defensive edge to Dylan’s voice, a remnant of their earlier conversation, no doubt.

  No choice right now. Apollo bit back the cruel words and nodded sharply instead. “We...we’re not done here, okay? We’re going to talk as soon as I’m back.”

  “Sure. But right now, Lieutenant, you need to go. And you need to trust me. Things will be fine. However long you’re gone. I’ll hold down the fort.”

  “I know you will.” Apollo sighed heavily, hating his job for the first time in a long time. He could already sense that he was heading to a clusterfuck of epic proportions, right when he needed to stay and have this out with Dylan. Leaving things unfinished had his teeth grinding and his back tensing up.

  “You leaving, Baba?” Sophia had evidently heard the tail end of their conversation and she looked at him with sad, knowing eyes.

  “Yeah. But Dylan will take you home, get you dinner—”

  “Do you want tacos?” Dylan’s voice was far brighter than Apollo would have thought possible. He was so good with the girls, compartmentalizing as well as some of Apollo’s men, focusing on the mission Apollo had given him to take care of the girls. Apollo’s throat felt tight as a coiled bungee cord and his emotions that were ready to spring out all over the place. God, he was a mess, right when he needed to focus most.

  “Go.” Dylan’s hand was warm on Apollo’s shoulder. “Everything else will keep. I promise.”

  “Thanks.” Apollo kissed the girls and gave Dylan a grateful look, one that he hoped would suffice until they could talk for real, find out what the hell Dylan was thinking.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Helicopters do not simply fall from the sky.” The admiral’s dark hair shook as she spoke more clipped than usual. “Felder, you’re pulling all maintenance logs on the bird, every scrap of data you can on the pilots and crew. You’ve got full access to the support staff, but I want a report by twenty-three hundred.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Felder was writing notes as fast as the rest of them. Disaster had struck that afternoon when a helicopter doing a training mission with a SEAL team had landed on its side. The injured crew and SEAL team were being transported to NMCSD, and it was the job of Apollo’s group to find out what had gone so horribly wrong.

  “Floros, I want you to take point at the hospital—I’m going to need you out at the crash site with me eventually, but the families are going to want to see someone in leadership, and right now that’s you. Public relations is holding the media at bay, but you know they’re going to ask about toxicology on the pilot. Make sure you know where we are on that. And take Carmichael. I’ll want a briefing from you on the condition of all personnel at twenty-three hundred as well.”

  “You’ll have it.” Apollo snapped his notepad shut. The whole situation briefing he’d been praying for anything other than hospital duty. Get him out in the field, let him go over that bird with a magnifying glass and toothbrush, or ask him to grill the personnel on the ground about what they’d observed, and he wouldn’t hesitate to carry out the mission.

  But the hospital? Man, this was going to be as brutal as a six-hour climb in the desert, and him with fresh-faced Carmichael with the medical phobia to boot. Carmichael, who needed a strong role model for how to handle these situations, not someone getting overly emotional at the thought of delivering bad news. But even if they didn’t lose a single person—and God knew Apollo was praying for that—lives were still changing today, and most not for the better.

  All because something had gone wrong, something that perhaps they could have prevented, and while it would be weeks and possibly months until they knew for sure, Apollo was going to have to live with that guilt. Had they double-checked everything? Had he been too distracted by leaving early for the girls’ performance? Was there something he’d personally failed at in the weeks leading up to the accident? Had the business of messing around with Dylan clouded his focus?

  In all his years with the teams, he’d never had a mission fail. Not go according to plan, sure, but never an outright failure. His ability to think on his feet and get out of sticky situations had been legendary. And yeah, he’d had a bit of an ego about that. Never left a single man behind, and he’d been plenty proud of his team’s low injury rate. Cocky bastard. Turned out the only thing worse than not being out in the field, was not being out there, knowing full well that he could be responsible for a catastrophe. It was the worst kind of helplessness, and now he had to head to the medical center, put on a strong front and try not to see himself in the families.

  Once at the hospital, it was hard not to flash back to Neal, to those awful hours when he’d been the one in the hard plastic chairs, the one waiting. But he had Carmichael to think about in addition to everything else at the hospital. The kid looked as pale as his hair when they made the rounds in the ICU waiting room, getting updates on the status of the injured personnel.

  “You need a coffee, Lieutenant?” Carmichael asked, voice wavering, obviously desperate for something more to do than to stand at Apollo’s elbow.

  “That’s an excellent idea.” Apollo forced his voice to be steady and sure, fully in command of the situation. “I want you to get orders from as many people here as you can. It’s going to be a long night.”

  That it was, and guilt was threatening to swallow Apollo whole even though he knew it was stupid. Guilt was the most pointless of all emotions, especially when he still didn’t know what to feel guilty about. Action was what mattered here.

  “Lieutenant Floros, I need your help.” A nurse in green scrubs whom Apollo had already spoken with several times walked up to him as soon as Carmichael moved on. She kept her voice low and motioned for him to lean in. “I’m very worried about Ensign Lopez’s wife. She has to be at least eight months along.”

  The woman in question had been sitting by herself in the corner, quietly weeping, and she waved off Carmichael who’d approached her with his pad of paper for drink orders. She had long dark hair and a pastel maternity dress that matched her pink nails. She was heartbreakingly young, probably around twenty like Lopez. No other family had arrived for Lopez, and she didn’t seem to know many of the others in the waiting room.

  “Do you think you could convince her to go with me up to Maternity? Do a quick vital check, maybe get her some rest.”

  “Lopez still in surgery?”

  She nodded sharply, eyes guarded. “It’s going to be a long night. You might want to ask her if she’s called his folks. They should know.” Her sigh seemed to echo the chill in Apollo’s chest—things weren’t looking good for the young ensign.

  “What’s her name?” Apollo whispered as he followed the nurse over to the woman.

  “Luciana.” The nurse took the empty chair next to Luciana, leaving Apollo loom in front of them.

  “Luciana, I’m Lieutenant Floros—”

  “Is there news about Juan?” She seemed to shrink into herself. “Oh please, tell me it’s not bad.”

  “He’s still in surgery.” The nurse patted her arm.

  “Is there someone I can call for you? His parents maybe? Someone who could come and be with you?” Apollo asked.

  The young woman seemed to retreat further. “There’s no one local. We’re new here. But just tell me Juan’s going to be okay. Please.
”

  This standing-over-her business wasn’t going to help Luciana relax, so Apollo dropped to a crouch, ignoring the protest of his back muscles. “It’s you we’re concerned about. The nurses have suggested you could go up to Maternity. There’s a triage room free—”

  “I’m not leaving Juan.” Luciana cradled her belly. “I’m the one who’s fine. Just some cramps.”

  Apollo exchanged a concerned look with the nurse. “When are you due?”

  “A week from Tuesday. And I am not having this baby without Juan.” There was a stubborn tilt to her chin that said that Apollo might have to bodily carry her to Maternity. But it was the tears in her eyes that really unmanned him, made it hard to speak. He couldn’t promise her that wouldn’t happen, and that fact made him want to join her in weeping. “Juan’s only just back from deployment. He can’t miss this.”

  “Would it help if I promise to personally bring you news from surgery? Juan would want you to take care of the baby, right?” Apollo tried to focus on what he could offer her, not all the promises he wished he could make. “And I have an idea. Do you have a phone with you?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. It’s low on power—”

  “I’ll have Carmichael procure you a charger. Don’t worry about that. But how about we make Juan a recording of the heartbeat? Then you can share that later.” Please let there be a later. Their surrogate had done the recording thing for them more than once, and Apollo still remembered the thrill of listening with Neal.

  Neal. Apollo couldn’t stomach a future where Luciana might have to raise her baby alone.

  “I’ll do one better.” The nurse offered Luciana a reassuring smile. “I’ll see if we can get a portable ultrasound in there, make a little video for him. But we should make sure everything’s okay with both you and the baby, maybe get you something to relax, a little rest. You can trust Lieutenant Floros to bring you news.”

  Please let her be right. Apollo nodded, even though he didn’t feel the most trustworthy right then.

  “Will you walk up there with me?” Luciana asked him, starting to cry in earnest again. “I’m not sure I can do this. Not without Juan—”

  “Absolutely.” Apollo patted her knee. “And I’ll see that you have regular updates, no matter what.” He wasn’t sure he had the strength to bring her anything other than good news, but he forced his voice to be sure and steady. He might not have a team of men to command, but right then, Luciana was his mission, and Apollo was going to do everything in his power to keep her and the baby safe.

  “Okay.” Luciana accepted a hand up, then grimaced.

  “We’re getting you a wheelchair,” the nurse said decisively. “And I’m going to call up to Maternity, tell them we’re on the way.”

  As Apollo followed the nurse and wheelchair down the long corridor to the elevators, he tried to calm his pounding heartbeat. He sent Carmichael a fast text as to where he was going, and tried to distract Luciana with a story about the twins as babies as they rode the elevator. God, he missed his girls. Wished he could hug them. He sent Dylan a text for good measure too, not able to tell him much, just needing to know he’d reached out, needing to know they were safe too.

  Please let me keep everyone safe. Let me keep it together, just a little longer.

  * * *

  Dylan hated his phone, hated the hours of silence. Friday night, Pat and Marilyn insisted on bringing him and the girls pizza from Project Pie, which was a welcome distraction for the girls as Marilyn showed them the pictures and videos she’d taken. But Pat seemed subdued, a bit done in by the day, and they left before the girls’ bedtime. After the girls were tucked away, Dylan wasn’t able to resist checking the news on his phone.

  A brief message from Apollo had his stomach turning. Situation bad. Won’t be home tonight. Will update when I can. A brief look at KNSD showed reports of something having gone wrong on a training mission and a helicopter down in the Arizona desert, but no official word from the base yet.

  Fuck. This made his fight with Apollo seem particularly petty as real lives were undoubtedly at stake here, and Dylan hated knowing that he’d sent Apollo off rattled and distracted simply because he hadn’t been able to tell Apollo the truth weeks earlier. He spent all night calling himself names and tossing about like a ship in the harbor. Saturday had brought another cryptic message from Apollo not to expect him anytime soon. Still no official word from the base, and Dylan tried not to check his phone while the girls were awake, keeping to his promise to Apollo.

  He kept the girls busy with a walk to the park before the day turned too hot for outside play, doing art projects after that, depleting their stores of construction paper and glue and glitter. At least cleaning up sticky glitter after the girls were finally asleep kept his mind off Apollo Saturday night when official word came from the Navy spokesperson that a Black Hawk assisting in a training mission had had landing issues, injuring ten SEALs, some of whom were in critical condition. Further updates were scheduled for later, but the Navy was currently investigating what had gone wrong.

  Dylan’s heart sank and his eyes stung. He didn’t need the next text message from Apollo telling him Sunday would be the soonest he’d be back and to be prepared to do Monday without him too. Apollo suggested calling Marilyn and Pat if he couldn’t handle the girls, but Dylan sent back a fast reply that they were fine and to not worry. Which he knew was like ordering a lion not to pace—Apollo was made of worry, and this accident had to be weighing heavily on him. Last thing he needed was any hint that Dylan was frazzled.

  Even if he totally was. His stomach was a mess all Sunday with worry for Apollo and sadness about the crash that he couldn’t dare show the girls, but even though he tried to be cheery for them and make them their usual Sunday pancakes and bacon, they seemed to pick up on things being out of the ordinary and were way needier than usual. And they were bored, something they whined about continually.

  “Dollies?” Dylan suggested for the tenth time. The girls had an impressive collection, thanks in no doubt to their grandmothers. A lot of the doll clothes were hand-sewn by Pat, and usually Dylan could coax the girls into a long imaginative playtime with the dolls and the accessories, but today they were having nothing to do with the idea. “Or how about art—”

  “We used all the glitter,” Chloe said plaintively. “Can’t do art without glitter.”

  “Sure we can.” Dylan forced his voice to be upbeat, even though he was dragging in a late afternoon slump that had him wishing the girls still napped. “Hey, I know—it’s a nice day out today. What about sidewalk chalk? I think I remember seeing a bucket in the garage.”

  “Okay,” Sophia allowed. Finally. Luckily, the hot streak had broken, and it was a bit overcast and only in the high seventies, perfect for playing outside without needing to be slathered in sunscreen. Dylan led the way to the garage, girls close on his heels. Of course they followed him in—the garage was usually strictly off-limits to them, and the lure of the forbidden space had both of them flitting around him.

  “Now where is that chalk?” Dylan tried to think with the girls spinning and giggling. Making sure they didn’t run into the tool bench or the car was taking more of his concentration than finding the chalk.

  “Bikes!” Chloe suddenly changed directions on him, darting to the far corner of the garage. “We could ride bikes.”

  A couple of adult bikes stood together—a purple cruiser with front basket that had to be Apollo’s mother’s and two mens’ bikes with dusty seats. And sure enough, behind them were two shiny, almost brand-new-looking little girl bikes with helmets dangling from the handlebars.

  “You guys have ridden these before?”

  “Welllll...” Chloe wheedled. “Not exactly.”

  “What does ‘not exactly’ mean?” Dylan tried not to sigh.

  “We keep asking Baba to teach us, but he
always says he’s too busy and ‘later.’” Sophia’s voice was just short of a whine.

  “Or someday,” Chloe added. “But I wanna learn now.”

  Dylan could totally buy Apollo as too busy to teach the girls—the man barely had time to breathe most days—and he also felt for the girls having to wait and wait. He’d been almost nine before he’d learned how to ride a bike himself because his own overworked father kept putting it off.

  “Okay,” he said slowly. Any other day and he’d text Apollo about this, but no way was he disturbing him today. “If you wear the helmets and listen to what I say—”

  “We will.” Both girls were the picture of angelic compliance—big eyes and clasped hands, but Dylan had a feeling this would be trickier than they thought.

  However, an hour later, the girls were happily zooming back and forth on the wide sidewalk in front of the house. They’d gotten the hang of riding with training wheels fast and were utterly delighted with the bikes. He twisted his back, trying to stretch as he ran alongside Chloe. See? He was even getting a workout too. This was the best idea he’d had all weekend—

  “What is going on here?” Apollo stormed toward them, dark eyes spitting sparks and his mouth a thin line of pure fury.

  “We’re riding!” Chloe called, seemingly impervious to whatever bee was up Apollo’s ass.

  “Dylan showed us,” Sophia added, pulling to a stop right in front of Apollo by the driveway.

  “Oh, he did?” Apollo’s voice was ominous.

  “What’s wrong, Baba?” Chloe’s voice got smaller as she too came closer to Apollo.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” The tension rolling off Apollo like an angry sea called him a liar. “Take your sister and go into the house and put on a video.”