And echo.
And fucking echo.
The knock was soft. Careful.
Fly jerked awake, rose to open the door, and knew before he saw their faces.
Petty Officer Cormac “Shamrock” Kavanaugh stood in the hall, his hair thick and haphazard, shades of caramel with tawny highlights. He looked harder than Fly remembered. Not older exactly. Sharpened. The easy charm had compacted into something denser, more dangerous, like a blade’s cutting edge…or the tip of the spear. His piercing blue eyes held more weight now. Not less mischief, just a combination that warned anyone smart enough that he wasn’t safe.
Petty Officer Indigo “Bolt” Fisher was beside him, broader through the shoulders, posture loose but coiled, the kind of stillness that came from knowing exactly how much violence lived under the skin. His hair fell in layers of tousled, sun-lightened disarray, his face stripped of anything soft. The perfect lines of his features, that square jaw, were a quiet testament to the boy in Coronado Fly had known, now tempered, forged by the cost of the path he was walking.
Two warriors in their prime. Lethal. Seasoned.
Fly felt it then, a tightening in his chest that had nothing to do with grief and everything to do with recognition. He wondered, briefly, how BUD/S would change him and Than, and whether he would even notice the shift when it came.
Them showing up…brotherhood.
Than stirred. Not fully awake, but alert, like some internal wire had been tripped. He pushed himself up on one elbow, eyes tracking instinctively to the door.
Shamrock tipped his chin toward him. “Lad,” he said quietly. “Your brothers are here.”
Than exhaled. A sound like he’d been holding his breath since the bay and hadn’t known it.
Shamrock lifted the bottle in his hand, the amber catching the low light. “Thought we’d bring something solid.”
Fly shook his head once. “That never helps.”
Shamrock nodded, unoffended. “Aye. This isn’t about getting drunk and dulling the pain.” He stepped inside, Bolt following, the door clicking shut behind them. “This is about two brothers sitting in support of two brothers.”
Soft and deadpan, Than said, “I’m surprised you didn’t bring a fucking load of chips with you and at least three kinds of dip.”
There was a beat of silence, then the four of them chuckled. “Fucking Kavanaugh.” Bolt and Fly said in unison.
They settled without ceremony. Shamrock took the desk chair, turning it backward and straddling it. Bolt dropped to the floor, back against the bed, knees up, arms loose. Fly stayed where he was. Than sat up fully now, blanket slipping to his waist.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The storm rattled the windows. The room breathed.
Shamrock broke the silence, voice low. “You remember that week with Bear,” he said, glancing between them. “When he ran us into the ground on purpose.”
Bolt huffed softly. “On purpose,” he echoed.
“He said we needed to learn what it felt like to think we were done,” Shamrock went on. “Not tired. Not hurting. Done. Said that’s when you find out who you can lean on.”
Than nodded once. He remembered.
“We didn’t pass because we were strong,” Shamrock said. “We passed because we didn’t leave each other behind.”
Bolt shifted, eyes on the floor. “Still don’t.”
The bottle made a quiet circle as Shamrock rolled it between his hands. He didn’t open it. Just kept it there, present.
After a while, Shamrock stood. He hesitated, then looked at Than and Fly both.
“I’m sorry about Mei,” he said. “I didn’t know her, but it was clear what she meant to you during our brief chats. I know what’s going down right now.” Shamrock glanced at Bolt.
Bolt’s throat worked. He nodded once, sharp, blinking fast.
