Chapter Text
Fourteen Years Ago
“Lieutenant! Lieutenant Halstead!!”
It took all the restraint he had to not give into the flare of annoyance as someone called his name.
Boyd.
Of all the times and of all the people to approach him right now, it had to be him. A new soldier with a lot questions. Constantly. At first he’d taken pity on him, they seemed to be enlisting younger and younger and he wanted to be as helpful as he could, but little did he know the boy could barely tie his shoes on his own. And now because he’d given him grace when no one else had he liked to hang around his office whenever he had questions or was eager about going into the field, though Jay had yet to send him anywhere. He was not ready. Especially since he couldn’t even determine when his Lieutenant was in no mood to be bothered- anyone else would’ve taken one look at his face, or at the hand trembling with the effort it took to not crush the folder it was holding, furious at was within. What wasn’t.
But not Boyd.
“Lieutenant?”
“Not now Boyd.” He said tightly, purposefully trying to sound as exasperated as he could, though it wasn’t needed.
Today was already bad. Worse than bad. Boyd’s nonsense was not the way he wanted to end it but the footsteps behind him quickened. Jay even tried to walk faster but that still didn’t stop the damn kid from reaching his side.
Why was he so eager to rush to his death?
Didn’t he know people like him would send him there soon enough??
“Lieutenant I-”
“I said not now.”
His voice was so final that it caught even him off guard and he stopped midstride to stare at the young man, watching numbly as he scrambled a step before finally stopping, for once at a loss for words. And when Jay continued down the hall he wasn’t followed. He went straight for his office and shut the door with a soft click, though everything inside him wanted to slam it. Instead he slumped against the wood, finally allowing his shoulders to droop as he dropped his head back and closed his eyes.
Fuck.
The events of his debrief ran on repeat in his mind but he couldn’t make sense of them. Could not accept them. Jay found himself staring at the stack of papers and maps on his desk, the black circles drawn around areas of interest, the chair pushed to the side from where he’d hurriedly vacated it. Answering the call that had shattered his world. A sharpie lay beside the maps with the cap still clicked onto the bottom from where he’d dropped it that morning, the ink probably dried out by now. Even the filing cabinet was open from when he’d frantically searched for the information on their current target, a Taliban leader called Arman Mullah. A self-made commander. Of suicide bombers. He tossed the folder he’d been carrying onto the pile and braced his hands against the desk, disturbed by how little they had on the man; his MO was to kidnap westerners to use in negotiations and send suicide bombers to blow up US forces. Their most recent intelligence had said he was currently somewhere down south, leading guerilla forces in the Helmand Province and the information might seem like a lot, but it wasn’t. They had no clue of his whereabouts, no inkling of his patterns, hideouts, recruits, commanders. He was smoke in the wind.
And Jay had sent his team directly into their trap.
His eyes travelled to the badge on his chest and before he knew it he was ripping it from his shirt, a strangled shout shattered from him as the badge rebounded off the filing cabinet to the lamp on his desk, then to the floor a few meters from his feet.
Williams had been kidnapped.
Taken.
And Bronson would not allow him to retrieve him.
The boy was alone. Yeah he had been unsure of him at first but only because he’d been following the lead of an asshole but as soon as he had requested to Lockridge that Williams join his squad… He’d become a mentor to him. The kid was highly intelligent, was never late for roll call, never complained, kept his bunk clean and did his chores immaculately, plus he was an excellent shot. Jay thought of him as a little brother and he knew Williams looked up to him too. And now he was alone, and scared shitless, and probably being tortured.
Just like Tess had been.
A pang ached through his chest, first thinking of her and then again of Williams. He had practically begged to go on this mission. They’d been tipped off by a trusted local woman in one of the small villages in the valley, after enough promises to give her family money in secret in exchange for Mullah’s location and it didn’t seem like she’d betrayed them. They’d just been outsmarted. He’d said no at first. He didn’t even want to send Mouse and he’d told Williams that but the boy had argued that he was sending him anyway and that he knew how capable he was and that he wanted to do something for this war. Jay saw a lot of himself in the boy. And so he’d cracked. He’d actually said, “don’t let me down kid.”
He’d never seen Williams look so happy.
And now he was going to die.
A slow, painful death after they would do all they could to break him.
And Bronson refused to let him go after him. He said they had no leads, which was true, and that they could not risk the lives of many men for one, especially when they had more important things to focus on. Like winning this god forsaken war.
“FUCK!” He yelled once more, at last giving into the urge to slam his hands on his desk with a hard thud.
He should be happy the rest of his team had returned, though two men from another squad, Johnson and Avery, had been shot dead. His men. They were his men, his responsibility and yet he could do nothing. Was not supposed to do anything. And what angered him the most was that he’d been going to join them on the mission but Bronson had requested he remain at the base, instructing him to find more leads on Mullah. That was his job now. Finder of information by sending other men into danger while he kept files on what they found. Called the shots on who to send where. A leader, apparently. His eyes flicked to the insignia on the floor and his heart ached again. Some leader.
With a shake of his head he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and started cleaning up his desk, but he didn’t get far before he came across the knife he kept just behind his name plate. It was in his hands before he knew he’d picked it up, his thumb automatically running over the bullet imbedded in the handle. The one he’d shot out of Tess’s hand the day he’d saved her life. She, or maybe Mouse or Vivienne, had left it on his bed the morning she’d left four months ago and as it did every time looking at it now gave him a sense of purpose. Of hope. On the blade itself he’d taped the note she’d left him, Keep fighting. Jay read it over and over, his stomach twisting as his eyes trailed down to the badge resting near his feet. Always, he thought, wrapping his hand tightly around the hilt of the blade before he reached down and picked up his badge.
Six pairs of eyes bore into him, so heavy it was an effort to stand tall under their judgement but he would not add to his shame. There were fifty men in his platoon, forty-eight now, maybe forty-seven, but the ones in front of him were his men. To see their uncertainty and their pain was a blow he felt viscerally and yet it was nothing compared to their outrage. And their resolve. It furthered his own but he couldn’t help but hesitate. What he was asking of them…
He hadn’t even asked it yet and that they were here unbidden told him he didn’t have to, but his honor demanded that he did.
He would not make this decision for them.
“I need to make sure you understand the risks of-”
“I don’t care about my life.” James said simply and though everyone nodded in agreement his grey gaze stayed locked on his. “I care about our team. You wouldn’t leave any of us out there. If you’d been there… you never would’ve let them take Williams in the first place.”
Jay told himself this was the only time he’d break their stare, because the regret that hit him was so strong he had no choice but to close his eyes against it but they waited. Patient. Trusting.
Willing.
His voice was hoarse as he continued but still they were undeterred. “Even if we’re successful a court-martial-”
“Don’t care about that either.” Evans interrupted with a shrug and again everyone nodded in agreement.
They’d made their minds up well before they’d come here.
“We wouldn’t have come back at all if we didn’t know you’d want to come with us.” Knox said with a wry look, an expression they each matched, in their own ways.
He really didn’t have to ask it.
But he still needed to.
“Are you sure?” Jay asked quietly, making sure to look each of them in the eye and though their answers were clear they let him, even Mouse who was the most cautious of them all. They were behind him.
They were beside him.
And that was the greatest honor he could be given.
“Then get yourselves ready.” He told them, filled with pride when each of the six men straightened and returned his nod. “We leave tonight.”
Another pang ran through him as he watched them file out, and then another when his eyes fell to the knife still sitting on his desk. He knew Tess would find out what they were doing, she’d told him she’d be keeping an eye on him and while he’d only gotten one letter from her since she’d left four months ago she’d already proved it. After wishing him well and telling him about her ongoing recovery, how she’d had to tell her aunt and how no matter how good her team were at soothing her nightmares she still missed her sleeping buddy, she’d talked about an argument he’d had with Boyd in the main training area. He’d basically called the boy out for being a brown-noser in front of everybody. It had not been his finest moment but Boyd had pushed it that day and he hadn’t been in a good mood and truthfully it had been one of the first moments he’d truly felt like a commander, like one of the ones in movies who yelled for no apparent reason. How she’d known about that he still wasn’t sure, and he didn’t think he wanted to know. He’d just eaten the Kit-Kat she’d sent while he reread her letter, paying a lot of attention to her joke that her stalker box only liked being the little spoon and didn’t cuddle the same way he did.
If this went wrong he’d never get to hold her again.
He’d sent a letter back the same day. She’d taken his hoodie with her and he’d said he hoped that it was cuddling her better than the box, and how he wished he could be there to help keep her nightmares away. He’d also sent her a polaroid of himself sarcastically flexing and wrote ‘for your stalker box’ on the white part under the image, and still enjoyed imagining the look on her face when she saw it. As it always did, thinking of her made him smile, even as he felt like an idiot for not taking the chance to tell her he really felt about her. But maybe it was better now that he hadn’t.
Jay prayed that wherever she was she was well. Safe. And he prayed that if she found out what he was doing she would stay far, far away.