Open Case File [COMPLETED]

Parting Words

His mother smiled but there was so much sadness in it that it stole the beauty of it. "I am going to miss you more." She took his hands in hers. "Look, I want you to call me every day."

"You know I can't do that. They would never let me live it down."

"You're not calling for you, you're calling for me. My baby boy is leaving and it's breaking my heart. If you don't want me to die then you will obey and call me."

"Okay, I'll call."

They both knew it was for him. There hadn't been a day in his life when he hadn't talked to his mother, gone into her office when she was done work, sat on the couch and asked her a million questions. She fed him knowledge like his brothers fed him adventures.

His mother cupped his face. "I love you so much and you are being so brave."

Donovan clenched his fists, already feeling homesickness for a home he hadn't left yet.

"I love you too."

His mother kissed his forehead and Donovan knew it was one of the last times she would do it for a long time. As she stood, Donovan's father appeared in the doorway. Donovan glanced up, not sure what his father's presence meant.

"Donovan," his father said, making a curt nod for his son to follow.

Donovan rose and his mother squeezed his hand. Following his father through the house, Donovan couldn't help but take note of everything that he was going to leave behind. The worn carpet, rows of family photos on the wall, nicks and dents in the walls of years of roughhousing, the smell of too many aftershaves with only a hint of their mother's flowery scent.

Outside, his father's truck was waiting. Without a word, Donovan climbed into the passenger seat. The pair drove through the base in complete silence.

Where people had facial expressions to betray their mood, his father had different silences. If you didn't know him, Donovan figured his father's silence would always feel the same, but it wasn't true. Donovan could tell the difference between a thoughtful silence and a disapproving one. He knew when his father wanted to say something and when his father was withholding his opinion for a reason.

Donovan knew the silence unnerved the other Marines. It's why his father made such a good commander, how did a person yell at someone who wouldn't yell back? You couldn't. And the man who was silent always looked in control, no matter what size the guy yelling was.

As they drove, Donovan didn't ask questions about what his father had planned. There was no point, his father would talk when he was ready. Instead, Donovan took in the sight of the line of barracks, mess hall, airfield, row of garages. Everything that would no longer be part of his life.

His father turned the car into a parking spot outside one of the gun range buildings, still Donovan didn't say anything, simply jumped down and followed his father inside.

After each getting a set of headphones, protection glasses, target sheets, clips, and guns, they walked into a room that was half a block long with divided sections. It was empty and Donovan wondered if this was for a reason. Knowing his father, it probably was.

Choosing one of the sections, Donovan clipped his target sheet up and sent it whizzing away from him, far enough away that when he hit it, his father would nod approvingly. He loaded his clip into his gun, but before he raised it, his father placed a hand on his arm.

"Disassemble it and reassemble it," he said.

Donovan dropped the clip out and started rapidly taking part the gun.