Washington D.C., 9:43 am., July 15th, 1993
Dejection.
Frustration.
Loss.
These feelings went through Johnathon Tiberius Walker as he stood at ease in the hallway of the small office. He waited for the inevitable as he stood, hands clasped behind him, feet shoulder width apart. His head was held high as though he did not want to disrespect the uniform he wore. Only a few short months before, he had completed a mission in Somalia with his unit. It was a simple mission, that had gone horribly wrong. His commanding officers wanted answers.
As he stood in the hallway, he began to realize that his commanding officers merely wanted a scapegoat.
He snapped to attention and saluted as a woman in a smart looking naval uniform entered the small hallway. They may have been ready to strip him of his rank, but he would still show the respect of the organization he had served so long in. She returned the salute, and spoke in a soft voice.
“At ease, Colonel Walker,” she stated as Walker returned to his previous position. She moved to stand next to him, allowing the subtle perfume to waft over him. Odd, officers weren't allowed to wear such things. He took a deep breath as he turned to look her over, and then recognition settled in.
“Been a while, ma'am,” he said quietly. “Ain't seen you since the Persian Gulf.”
“Yes,” she replied with a nod. “It has been a while. And there have been some things which I have not been completely honest about.” She lowered her head, looking to the floor as she spoke. “Our night in Baghdad, I thought that was all it was. Just a night. But...” She paused for a long moment as Walker waited for her to continue. “At least it gave me my daughter.”
Walker needed to do everything to keep his composure as she spoke her words. Daughter. That meant he was the father. His earlier feelings seemed to have amplified themselves, knowing that he had helped bring a child into this world, but had not been able to help show the world to that child.
“She is young, only three,” the woman remarked as she placed her hands in front of her uniform. She held a simple purple rose, along with a picture, which she held out to Walker. “I want you to meet her,” she simply stated as he took the picture in one hand, studying it with soft eyes as he gently held onto the rose with his other hand. “I think you would have made a wonderful father.”
Silence filled the room as the woman turned without another word. She didn't have to. These small actions spoke volumes to Walker. But now, he had to take the next few steps.
Only time would tell where the road would lead him.