Epilogue - 2
September 11, 2001
"Well, it's too late now, innit? He's already made up his mind." I signed the last form and handed it over to Paul. We were almost at the cafeteria, and I was in need of coffee and breakfast. Danny and I had overslept, so we'd missed out on my stellar oatmeal creation. "But between you and me, he should've opted for the second location in Jordan. Now we gotta cross into Turkey in order to?—"
"Shut the fuck up!" I heard Danny and Reese yell at the same time.
I lifted my brows and exchanged a quick look with Paul. He was as confused as I was, so we hurried into the cafeteria and were met by the strangest sight. Maybe fifteen or so people stood around—no one was sitting—and watched the TVs that were set up here and there.
"Em!" Danny saw me and was seemingly rooted in place. There was something in his eyes that put me on edge. Something was wrong . Something was really fucking wrong.
I strode over to him and saw a similar look on other guys' faces too. Shock, resignation, jaws clenched in anger?—
"Why the fuck are they talking about small propeller planes?" someone blurted out. "You fucking see the second passenger plane right there!"
Danny grabbed my hand tightly, very tightly, and I followed his gaze to the nearest TV mere feet away.
"…another eyewitness report saying there was, in fact, a second plane—and we're going to… Yes, there we have the other angle. Both towers have suffered explosions, and as Tony said, it seems to be around the eightieth floor…"
I swallowed dryly and tightened my hold on Danny's hand.
"And here we see—this was just moments ago—how the second plane hits the World Trade Center…"
I scrubbed a hand over my mouth and jaw, and only two words existed in my brain, and they went on a loop.
It's begun.
I watched once more as a plane flew right into the second tower, at the same time as someone behind us muttered that there was no way this was an accident.
"How many people work in those towers?" someone else asked.
"Thousands—and at this hour? People are already at work," Reese replied quietly. "You think we have jets scrambling yet?"
I saw James from the corner of my eye. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to respond, but Sid came into the cafeteria, and judging by the look on his face, he was up-to-date with what was going on.
"Just talked to my guy at the White House," he said. "The president's canceled whatever he had planned for the day. I suspect he'll be in the air soon."
Jesus fucking Christ. I released a breath and was momentarily distracted by the low murmur of questions and guesses from the men around me.
River was one of them. "What would put any pilot in that area? Which airport is the closest?"
" No pilot belongs in down-fucking-town Manhattan," James replied grimly. "When you fly into LaGuardia, you get maybe two or three miles out, but…" He shook his head.
"Let's not pretend we don't know what this is," Danny said abruptly. "They've fucking warned us for years, and it ain't the first time the Trade Center was targeted."
The FBI was mentioned in the breaking news coverage, and everyone piped down again.
"…we don't know for sure, of course, but the FBI is investigating a possible hijacking of two commercial jets…"
"Ahh," Danny exhaled and flinched.
Oh fuck. I instantly released his hand. "I'm sorry, baby."
He shook his head and stepped closer, and his gaze never left the TV.
Frustration and impatience built up rapidly over the next several minutes as the eyewitness reports rained in, while the anchors had absolutely nothing solid to go on. Everyone was speculating, and it was happening on live television. New Yorkers who phoned in spoke of pandemonium and chaos, thousands of people running away from the Towers, and smoke and debris everywhere.
Danny checked his watch, and I saw it was 9:27?—
"…with US officials now talking about this as an act of terrorism."
"You don't fucking say?" Danny yelled.
I squeezed him to me, a silent hush, and kissed the side of his head.
I felt a pressure on my chest, and I couldn't stop flicking a glance at the nearest clock on the wall, because it was only a matter of time, wasn't it? If our operations handlers didn't announce something over the PA system, then Terrance or TJ would. I mean, were we going to New York? They were going to need help, and most of us had experience in rescue ops, military, and/or first response.
They had to be closing the airspace, if they hadn't already, and my next question was whether they'd close all of Manhattan.
"Do the higher-ups upstairs know anything yet?" I heard one of the recruits ask.
"They'll know before the reporters do, and we'll know when Terrance has enough to go on," I responded firmly.
"This is so fucked up," someone mumbled.
The footage changed to cover the attacks again, but I was more focused on Sid. He'd walked away a bit and was currently on the phone, and as if sensing my watching him, he met my gaze.
"They're shutting down airports," he stated.
That could only mean one thing. Bloody fucking hell, I wanted to know what was going on in air traffic control. They would know. They did know, and now airports were closing? Yeah, definitely a hijacking.
We were under attack.
I swallowed a bout of queasiness, and I could no longer stand here and do nothing. First things first—I pulled out my phone and sent a message to the only one I figured could tell me something from the Air Force. She was part of the senior leadership at a DC squadron.
Good timing to catch up? Do you have anything for me? Is anyone in the air?
"Shit's gotta be bad if my man's sending a text message," Danny mumbled.
In another time and place, I would've laughed.
"Anyone who knows someone, start reaching out for intel," I ordered, turning around to face the others in the cafeteria. "I don't care if you were with the Navy, if you know someone in the NYPD, or if you picked up trash at JFK. We gotta collect all the information we can."
That lit a fire under their asses, and everyone pulled out their phones.
I had one more message to send, to Kane, who was back in London, but he was close to the power. He was working with the ambassador.
Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long for Jen to message me back.
No official orders yet. We're flight ready but working to figure out what the airspace is like. We don't know who's still up there. I'll get back to you when I know more.
A beat later, someone announced they were evacuating the White House, and Sid ordered for the channel to be changed to CBS.
"The Pentagon's been hit," he finished, clenching his jaw.
"Holy fuck?—"
"Are you serious?"
"Change the damn channel!"
"Shut up!"
"Everybody calm down," I growled.
And there it fucking was. Smoke billowing from the Pentagon, and a news ticker scrolling by with the words terrorist attack, third plane flew into the Pentagon, White House evacuation, and the president being in the air.
Sid and I exchanged a quick look, and I nodded with a dip of my chin.
He turned to everyone. "I want everybody to get ready and stand by for orders! When we—" He was cut off by crackling static coming from the PA system, soon followed by Quinlan's voice.
"All senior operatives report to the fourth floor for briefing. I repeat, all senior operatives report to the fourth floor for briefing."
That was me. I eased away from Danny, and he quickly grabbed my hand.
We didn't say anything. Our gazes locked, and I could feel to my core that we were thinking the same thing.
The world had just changed right before our eyes.
We were at war.
May 28th, 2002
I adjusted my earpiece and snuck another glance around the corner. The street—or dirt road—was quiet at three in the morning, but that would change as soon as the air-raid sirens sounded in approximately six minutes. Local rebels would run for their antiaircraft stations on the outskirts of town, and US forces would add more holes to the low buildings.
"Roof's clear," Danny stated in my ear.
I looked up toward the roof where he was positioned.
After making sure my gun was covered at the base of my spine, I made my way across the street. "Start heading down."
"Wilco," he confirmed. "I've received the coordinates for our pickup. They're eleven minutes out."
Good. I couldn't fucking wait to get out of Afghanistan. We'd been here for four months, leading an operation in gathering intel from informants that the military didn't trust. It was our job to find something valuable in a fucking minefield. But sometimes it paid off.
I ducked between two buildings and started running down the alley. Every goddamn structure looked the same in these desert towns—mostly three-story apartment buildings that'd always looked worse for wear—but this one was way behind enemy lines.
A dog barked in the distance.
I peered up at the moonlit sky and slowed down. Almost there.
"On the ground," Danny said quietly.
"Copy that." I snuck closer to the house wall as I approached the back of our point of interest. It was the kitchen entrance of a café, and the owner lived in the apartment above. According to three sources, he wasn't home, but his wife and elderly mother were.
Come on.
I slipped a long pin between the door and the doorframe, and it never ceased to amaze me how these countries just didn't care about simple things like home security. Especially nowadays. It was just a latch I had to lift, and then the door was unlocked.
I tested the door, and it opened soundlessly.
"I'm in," I said under my breath.
"Starting the clock," he replied quietly. "Be careful."
Nice. Scattering roaches on the tiled floor. Out of the kitchen, I looked into the café area and veered the other way. The office should be—right here. I snuck inside and hurried over to the desk.
"We have movement next door. So far, so good," Danny reported.
I found the memory card in the third drawer, and I deduced I had enough time to take pictures of the rest of the contents. Documents, notes, most of them written in informal Dari, indicating that?—
"Time's almost up, Em," Danny reminded. "Shift change at the bases soon too. Come on."
All right, all right.
I closed the drawer again and made my way out, avoiding thresholds and anything that might creak.
"I'm out." I carefully closed the door. "Now, we run."
We were about a minute's sprint outside of town when the sirens blasted through the area.
We kept running, taking cover in the darkness, until we reached a small valley. Not a place you wanted to get stuck in. The shrubs and low trees didn't provide protection.
"Do you hear that?" Danny asked, out of breath.
I did. Now that he'd mentioned it. A helicopter. I looked up and scanned the sky, but it was impossible to see anything. Then we couldn't hear it either, because the air raid began. We watched from afar as our jets lit up the town.
I would never get used to that sight.
It would never sit right with me either, even though… Nope, not going there now. We had to make it to safety.
Danny tugged on my hand, and I followed his gaze.
I'll be damned . Our pickup was actually a helicopter. We were used to rusty Jeeps from the last bloody war.
"Let's go home, baby." I picked up the pace. God knew how long we'd get to stay at home. Probably not for more than a couple of months.
We ran for the center of the valley, where the helicopter touched down.
I ducked for the blades and squinted as we kicked up a surge of desert sand.
"Holy shit," Danny laughed over the roar.
He jumped in first, and I followed.
Only then did I see who was in the front. Oh, fucking hell, it was good to see the twins. It'd been months, for chrissakes.
River handed us helmets and communication devices while Reese got us up in the air again. But not on his own. River was doing his part too. What the fuck?
"I didn't know you were in the area!" Danny exclaimed.
"Everyone's in the area now," River chuckled. He had a point.
I strapped myself in and double-checked that Danny was secured too.
"I have a better question," I said. "Where the fuck did you steal a Black Hawk, 'cause I know you didn't get certs to fly it."
In fact, it wasn't feasible. The amount of training required, not to mention flight hours in other helicopters?—
"You know how you're always tellin' us to acquire skills we don't advertise?" Reese hollered. "Yeah, this isn't one of those."
Danny cracked up.
I rolled my eyes.
"Let's just say Reese is good at networking," River drawled. "We have thirty flight hours, though. We're not brand-new."
Thirty? Thirty?! I was flying across the desert with two newbies who didn't have pilot certs or a coordination crew?
Fuck me, put me down right now. I wanted to walk back to safety.
"So, what's new?" Reese asked happily. "How's the farm? How're the animals? How's the kinky sex?"
"This is how I'm gonna die, isn't it?" I asked no one in particular.
Danny laughed and grabbed my hand. "You're too funny, Daddy."
Oh, there was nothing funny about this at all. Two young men simply did not fly a Black Hawk on their own. Couldn't they have found a Cobra or something?
"Don't worry. We're four minutes away from our hideout," Reese stated.
"Who're you with?" Danny asked.
"Split special recon detachment from the Army," River answered. "Quinlan's there too. He set it up."
No surprise. He'd built up an impressive network from his time in the forces, and Terrance was lucky to have him full time now. Danny and I were currently under TJ's command, but when we hadn't been informed of who was picking us up tonight, I'd suspected he and Quinlan were joining forces.
"Does anyone else have ‘Fortunate Son' on repeat in their head?" Reese hollered.
"I'd rather you fucking focus on getting us back on the ground," I barked out.
Three hellions laughed.
I was getting old.
Thankfully, we survived the ride, and we touched down on a lower plateau in the mountains. The hideout consisted of two twelve-person tents that housed our operations, and we had two soldiers in full gear meeting us as Danny and I essentially hit the ground running.
We descended the mountainside, and Danny communicated with one of the soldiers, presumably in an attempt to find out what they were here for. Given their field, it was undoubtedly similar to our task. Finding intel, clearing the way for advancement of troops, which…obviously explained Danny's urgency. This was his past. He used to be part of one of these detachments. They were his Special Forces comrades. They spoke the same language.
When we reached the tents, I took charge again, spotting Quin in the tent reserved for working. He stood by a large table with lanterns in each corner of a massive map, and he was glad to see us, that much was clear.
"We lost comms an hour ago, so I can't get through to TJ," he said. "I'm relieved to see you survived and that the twins didn't crash the bird."
"That would suck on our part," one of the soldiers said gruffly. I assumed the helicopter was their ride in and out of here.
I handed over the memory card to Quinlan and let him know I'd taken an estimated hundred photos too.
"Great, thank you. We'll get that to DC ASAP," he replied. He peered around me as the twins entered the tent. "Get some rest, boys. You're off to Kandahar tomorrow. Paul needs an escort."
"Copy that," Reese confirmed.
Quin bent over the table to jot something down on a note. "Give this to your ride. You're all on the same plane going to Kabul, and then you'll split up. You'll be on foot tomorrow morning. These are the coordinates to the airfield. The Marines control it."
"Mathis?" I heard Danny ask incredulously.
I glanced over my shoulder, seeing another soldier enter the tent with a surprised look on his face.
"Fuckin' Danny Rose?" the soldier laughed. He was younger than Danny, but not by much. "You went private ?"
"Uh, yeah. A few years ago." My boy grinned and shook the guy's hand. "Good to see you, fucker. You lost the baby face."
"I see you're still a dick," was Mathis's response.
"Question is if you're still hard for demolition," Danny answered. "You know, we could use you at our agency."
I felt my mouth twitch. Every operator at Hillcroft was in recruitment mode to handle the pressures of wartime.
Danny reached for my arm. "This is my man—Emerson. Em, Mathis and I were at Fort Campbell together."
I nodded once and shook hands with Mathis.
He furrowed his brow. "Wait—as in, Emerson Payne ?"
"Aw, you have a reputation, hon." Danny grinned.
I smirked wryly.
September 10th, 2002
"One beer," I warned Danny. "And no whining."
We were getting up at four, so we didn't need to add a hangover to the list.
"Just one," he promised.
He was gonna ask for a second.
We walked into the pub, which was luckily not crowded, and we opted to sit at the bar. It was the place we usually went to around here. They had a rainbow flag next to the register, and it was close to work.
Given how early we were shipping out tomorrow—back to the fucking sandbox—we'd decided to sleep at Hillcroft tonight. Darius and Sid were leaving too. We'd all fly to Frankfurt together, and then Danny and I would hitch a ride with a cargo plane heading for Fallujah, and Darius and Sid had an extraction in Pakistan.
I missed the days of extractions. But Danny and I had too much history in combat zones, so TJ and Quin only sent us to military-heavy areas these days. Where we would gather intel, not shy away from direct action, and do recon on the borders between friendly areas and enemy territory.
I ordered us two pints and brought out my wallet.
"Oh, and those gross salt and vinegar chips," Danny added. "My man loves those."
I smiled and kissed his temple. He knew how to keep his Daddy happy.
Someone sat down two stools away from us, and it was close enough for us to avoid shop talk. Instead, Danny rambled about our dogs. We had a new pup joining us next month when we got back, and my boy was certain we'd manage to upgrade the shed before it got too cold.
I took a swig of my beer and—why was that guy watching me? Except, he turned away when I caught him.
Hm. He looked a little familiar.
"Are you listening, Sir?" Danny pressed.
I squinted and replayed his words—something about the food dispensers in the shed. And I knew what was wrong with them. They didn't always work.
"Replace the food dispensers?" I guessed and hoped for the best.
" Repair them," he corrected with a look . "I'm gonna repair them."
Oh. Got it.
He'd have to excuse me. I was exhausted. We'd been in training all week, and we had the first anniversary of the attacks coming up tomorrow. I could barely turn around without seeing reminders. Watching the news was currently out of the fucking question. It filled me with remnants of last year's anger every time.
"Forgive me for being out of it. I'm just tired." I draped an arm around Danny's shoulders and smooched his cheek.
He pursed his lips. "I think it's best I give you a massage when we get back to our room."
What the hell had I done to deserve this boy?
"I love you." I kissed his cheek again. "You're too good to me."
"That's a load of crap. You spoil me all the time." He got me quickly on the lips before he pushed the bowl of chips closer. "Eat your disgusting Brit chips."
I chuckled and grabbed a couple. Kids these days. They didn't know good snacks if they hit them in the face?—
"Excuse me."
Now what?
We turned toward the voice—the guy sitting a couple seats away from me.
"Do I know you?" he asked me.
I frowned. He was familiar, but I couldn't place him.
"He's hella taken, if that's what you're wondering," Danny told the guy.
I gave his leg a squeeze. Down, little one.
"No, that's…" The guy shook his head and sat a little straighter. "I think I saw you in a bar in Norfolk a few years ago. You were there with someone."
I scratched my head. It rang a bell?—
"Yeah, you were vague about not being military and not being a civilian at the same time," he added.
Okay, okay, I remembered now. Yeah. It'd been my first assignment after meeting Danny. I'd missed him like crazy.
"You were the Navy kid," I stated.
He smirked faintly. "Yeah. We'll see how long that lasts. I'm Elliott."
Elliott. I remembered that now too. The kid had grown up, which I suspected had more to do with a deployment than anything else.
"What's the Navy doing these days other than sending cruise missiles?" Danny joked. Half joked. "Gotta love war in a country that's landlocked."
Elliott snorted and picked up his beer. "Most recently, they told me I've developed a problem with authority and that I have anger issues."
That a fact?
I glanced at Danny, and he smirked.
"Fuck it all," I heard Elliott mutter. "We're not gonna make a damn difference anyway."
I turned back to him and eyed him for a beat.
In the back of my mind, I had Terrance's voice, telling all senior operatives for the hundredth time to be on the lookout for the next-generation operators who could be fast-tracked straight out into the field. Eight months of training, final selection, bam, welcome to Hillcroft.
After taking a swig of my beer, I patted the stool next to me.
"Elliott, let me tell you a story about a hotheaded soldier named Danny Rose."
Emerson and Danny will appear as secondary characters throughout the series