“I want you to know that I don’t expect you to retire as well. I’ll be home and available if you need me, but I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”
Mitchell nodded. They’d just returned from a mission that nearly killed their entire team. The problem was the missions were becoming more dangerous and less rational. It seemed whoever was pulling the strings in Washington wasn’t playing with a full deck.
“Actually, I was thinking about it as well,” said Mitchell. “Honestly. I just wasn’t sure when. I agree, Brooks. It’s time.”
Brooks let out a long breath, nodding and pulling his brother in for a hug.
“I’m so glad you said that,” he laughed. “I didn’t want to have to kidnap you.”
“But you said you didn’t mind if I stayed,” laughed Mitchell.
“I lied.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Brooks!” yelled Commander Thompson.
“I’m Mitchell, sir,” he grinned.
“Fuck me. Five years of commanding you two and I still can’t tell you apart. We should have tattooed your names to forehead.”
“My parents tried doing that on the bottom of our feet with permanent marker. Apparently it isn’t permanent,” he smiled.
“Where is Brooks?” he grinned.
“I think he’s running errands and then heading back to our apartment. We’ll be in tomorrow morning to sign off on all the paperwork.”
“I hate like hell to see you two go,” he said shaking his head. “We need great operators and you two are damn sure two of the best I’ve ever seen. But. I understand. If I had left when my ex-wife wanted me to, she wouldn’t be my ex-wife.”
“Maybe she would,” smirked Mitchell. “No offense sir, but I can see where you might be, uh, challenging to live with.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. She left me and married Commander Giles. Bastard.” Mitchell could only laugh.
“Did you want me to give Brooks a message?” asked Mitchell.
“No. Just let him know that for some weird reason Sgt. Major Bora wanted to speak to him.”
“A Marine? Why?” frowned Mitchell.
“Don’t know. I’ll see you boys in the morning.”
Mitchell nodded at the man as he turned and left. Why in the hell would a Sgt. Major in the Corps want to talk to his brother? It wasn’t improbable or unusual but they hadn’t had interaction with anyone in the Corps for weeks.
Mitchell crossed Orange Avenue to head to their apartment. Just as he stepped off the curb, a matte black mustang headed straight for him, sending him backwards into the grass.
“What the fuck?” he muttered lying on his back.
“Hey, you okay, man?” asked another sailor, holding out his hand for him. Mitchell took it, standing and nodding at him.
“Yeah. Bastard just missed me,” said Mitchell. The car disappeared down the road and Mitchell thought nothing more of it, heading to the apartment. “Time to pack and get the fuck out of here.”
Brooks turned in his packet of paperwork, leaving it with the aide in the discharge office. He didn’t understand why, in this day and age, they were still doing most of the work on paper. Everything should be electronic by now, but the Navy had its way and you never argued with the Navy. Well, you could but it wouldn’t do you any good. You’d still be standing there doing the paperwork by hand. At least if you wanted to leave. Never argue with the Navy.
Well, almost never, he grinned to himself.
He stood on the beach for a few minutes, just staring at the Pacific Ocean. Mexico and all its issues were to the south. Northern California, Oregon, and Washington, with a different set of issues were to the north. And further north was Canada with friendlier issues, but still issues.
It seemed that everyone had issues. Everyone.
