Hale Household

McLean, VA

August 5th, 2018

1830R

Alexander POV

If there's one thing that never changes about life, it's that changes are always occurring.

Okay, okay, forget the cliche. In the past few months, while I was currently working in the Counterintelligence Mission Center, Erica had returned to regular duty in the Counterterrorism Mission Center, where Dad was also working. Moreover, the SIS had permanently assigned Cath to be a liaison officer within the CIA's Regional and Transnational Issues Divisions. As such, she was now living with me.

In short, things were changing for the better, especially with Erica. She continued to see the psychologist—with the psychiatrist ultimately deciding against the prescription of meds, instead providing a series of lifestyle changes—and seemed healthier. She was more open to spending time with the rest of us, which was easier as Cath was now living in the US and because Dad was keeping in touch regularly. Shockingly, he was actually using the cellphone that I gave him (which was, of course, a highly secure model with a number of security softwares in place).

Now, we were enjoying a warm Sunday evening. Dad and I were having yet another rematch at chess (43-6, his favor) on the porch while Cath once again tried to teach Erica how to cook—because nothing but instant ramen, cereal, oatmeal packets, and tea is a shitty diet. Displeased as I was at Dad capturing my queen, I was happy at the fact that I didn't smell anything burning this time.

"Alex, you lost your queen this exact way last time," Dad bluntly pointed out.

"You don't say?" I replied sarcastically. "I was distracted by the fact that nothing was burning for once."

"Really?"

"Don't worry, there's plenty of meat in the soup."

"Catherine might just make a decent cook out of Erica yet."

"Dinner's ready, gentlemen!" Cath called from the kitchen. "It's good this time, I promise!"

"Moooooom!" Erica groaned.

Lord, give me strength...

But as it turned out, Erica did a pretty good job this time, crafting a delicious beef and vegetable soup and serving it with perfectly toasted buttered bread. Based on the taste, Cath was heavily involved in the process, but Erica was still putting in most of the work. And with plenty of beef in it, Dad was a very happy man. And with all of us satisfied, Erica was too.

Holy shit... she's holding a smile... and laughing.

For the first time in a long time—if not ever—Erica was genuinely joyful. Now granted, she was more quiet and aloof amongst others, but here she seemed downright normal. And for me, that made this Sunday evening one of the better ones I had in a long, long while. Not to jinx it, but things were looking up.

We finished off the evening with some old favorites of mine: Airplane! and Airplane II: The Sequel. And once again, happiness reigned in the house as we popped popcorn and enjoyed two cheesy, hilarious masterpieces. Erica and Cath kept asking questions while Dad was barely repressing his manly giggles at the more... inappropriate humor, shall we say... along with the politically incorrect stuff.

In his defense, though, the jive sequences were among the funniest in the movie, especially Barbara Billingsley's.

Some pans of popcorn and a thousand laughing fits later, we finished the high-flying marathon of hilarity and absurdity. Cath had fallen asleep on my right shoulder while Dad was snoring away in his reclining lounge chair. Erica meanwhile, was looking through the credits for any remaining jokes (which there were, including the "Worst Boy").

"Good, huh?" I asked.

"Yeah... funny. I see why you like them," she replied.

"Darn right."

"Say, Dad... I wanted to talk to you about something."

"You... wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah."

Now that was a shocker. Sure, our relationship was a far cry from what it was 5+ years ago, but still... it's not like she came to me first rather than Dad or Cath, understandably so. Hey, shit happened in the past. But I was willing to take what I could get.

"You can tell me anything, sweetheart," I assured her, wrapping my arm around her in a side-hug. "Now, what's this all about?"

"I've... gotten better."

"I can tell. And I'm very glad."

"Well... I was thinking about a possible career change."

"What, out of the Agency? Well, there's the whole issue about you knowing about the Academy... well, once existing, but I know someone in admin. I can make sure the Agency thinks of you as a smaller-than-normal liability so you can walk away with a cle—"

"Dad, that's not it," she interrupted. "Er, sorry. But I don't want to leave the Agency. Too much of a risk, honestly."

"So... you want a transfer of some kind?"

"I was thinking... of the PMOO/SSO route."

"What?!" I exclaimed, caught completely off-guard. "Erica... you... you do know what that means, right? I mean, are you actually serious right now?"

"What, because I tried to kill myself back in February?"

"Yes! Yes, that is exactly it! And before you come at me with a statistic about how most troops don't get PTSD, I don't exactly care about that. I care about you! Erica, the kind of path you want to take involves a life that will hurt, mentally and probably physically too!"

"Jeez, Dad. It's not like I'm trying to go into the fucking infantry."

Taking a breath, I did my best to compose myself as the Sunday night went from excellent to a calamity. But Erica wasn't bullshitting me. She was actually serious about this.

"Erica, it doesn't matter whether you're special operations, infantry, intel, or even supply. The wars going on right now... they're a different kind. There's no front line. IS, AQ, Taliban, those bastards don't give a shit about women and children... if they're infidels, they're viable targets. Erica... I just don't want you to get hurt. I almost lost you. We almost lost you," I emphasized, gesturing towards my sleeping wife and father.

For one beat, there was silence. Then two. Then three. Four. Five. Six.

"Dad, I... I just don't know where to go. I don't want to stay here, not at CTMC," she whispered, sounding... scared?

"Is... is someone threatening you?"

"No, just... bad memories. And I think I can do more. I haven't done much there."

Maybe it's Ben's death that's still eating at her... but there's probably something I'm missing... big-time. That could be it.

"Erica, we don't do much throughout our careers apart from stupid-ass paperwork. Hell, even Special Activities Center guys sit in the shitholes of the world just trying to figure out a fucker's piss schedule. I hear what you're saying, but... still, we're still in the War on Terror. Whole different ballgame than the Gulf War or any conventional conflict. Even a top-notch base could get hit by mortars and drones."

"I know, I know, just... I don't want to be here. Not for a while. I can do something else with the knowledge training I have there. And I'm fine now, Dad."

You're not comforting me at all... but I think I've got something that will.

"Alright," I sighed in resignation. "How about this: I want you to keep seeing your psych. And you're gonna train up physically and mentally. And you're gonna talk to your mom and grandpa separately. Once the psych clears you and you can meet the standards for a commissioned officer, put in your packet for a late entry into the PMOO/SSO route. I'll endorse it."

"Why the officer route?"

"Just trust me."

"Well... okay, I guess."

"Great. I just gave my daughter the go-ahead to put on cammies and chuck herself into the Global War on Terror," I mumbled to myself, facepalming. "Some father I am."

"You know I can hear you, right?"

"I've decided to tolerate your decision... I'm hoping you'll change your mind. And even if you don't, I'm not exactly going to like it. But you'll always be welcome in this house, and I'll always have your back... mind you, this support does not apply if your decisions involve you stripping, drug-running, murdering, prostituting, and whatnot."

"Thanks for the honesty, Dad," she replied sarcastically, but scooching closer and hugging me nonetheless. "You're a peach. Glad you're trying to keep me on the straight and narrow."

"Like I said: I'll be honest with you and you can be honest with me. Why? You're my daughter and I love you, damn it."

"Love you too, Dad. Love you too."

Ah, yes... nothing like some weird-ass father-daughter bonding time to lead into Erica's motivation for joining the US Army. Now, all she has to do is get a clean bill of health from the psychologist and go through OCS... apparently. I seriously need to work on the characters' motivations, not gonna lie. So far, Nate wants to make a man out of himself, Tina was bored, the Schacters and Jawa were basically born for it, Zoe and Mike wanted to do some good, and Erica... wants to get away... rather than leave the CIA.

Yeah, this is gonna be a real piece of work.

Sorry for having such a short chapter again, I just can't really figure out what else to put in here. I'll try to have something more for you in the next one. But as always, thanks for reading and sticking with me, and be sure to leave your feedback!

And a very belated 4th of July to all!

GOD BLESS AMERICA!!

- ADF-2