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"But he doesn't know who I am, Joe. He gave no indication he knew."

"My opinion?"

"Sure. You'll give it to me anyway."

"If you're positive he is, then you've gotta tell him. I think you know that."

Grant sidestepped the statement. "But what happens if he comes back? He said he wanted to join the teams. How the hell will I be able …?"

"How will you be able to send him on missions?"

"Yeah."

The front door opened, and Stalley leaned in. "LT! Boss! Everything okay in here?!"

Adler looked past Grant's shoulder. "We're just having a discussion, Doc. Shouldn't be much longer."

"Okay, LT." The door closed.

Adler picked up the conversation. "Look, we both know he's got determination and drive. There's no way in hell you'll be able to deny him what he wants so desperately, what he's willing to give. Was anybody able to stop you from fulfilling your dream? No. I'll say it again: He's you." Not getting a response or reaction, Adler pushed ahead. "We've had a shitload of conversations about fate, and how it's played a part in what we do. Well, maybe this is where fate is leading him … and you. Think about it. Maybe Luke's meant to be here. Maybe he's the one who's supposed to carry on with all of this."

"Christ, Joe! You really believe that?! He's just a kid!"

"Right now he seems like a kid in your eyes!" Adler bumped his fist against Grant's knee. "C'mon! Get that brain goin'! Besides, we sure as hell don't have plans to totally give this up anytime soon. But… "

"But one day we will."

"That's affirmative. For now, though, I guess we're both 'jumping the gun.'"

Grant stood, and wiped perspiration from his brow. "I'll be right back." He went to the bathroom, turned the sink faucet on full blast, then splashed cold water on his face. As he straightened up and looked in the mirror, his expression said it all. Exhaling a long breath, he smoothed wet hair from his forehead, dried his face, then went back to the living room.

Adler was pacing slowly in front of the window. He turned when he heard Grant's footsteps. "What are you gonna do?"

Grant went to the table, angrily snatched the application, then walked back near the couch. "I'm gonna call Angie."

"Is that wise?"

"Maybe, maybe not — but I have to. You've gotta understand why, Joe."

"You make that call. I'll go see who's next for interviews. You want I should handle them, or should I put them on hold for now?"

"Do what you can. Take those files with you. I'll come out when I'm through here."

Adler gave a quick nod before picking up the folders. When he got to the door, he stopped and looked over his shoulder, seeing Grant standing near the phone. It was time to leave. He closed the door quietly behind him.

Grant rested his hand on the phone, then lifted the receiver and started dialing the number on the application. A range of emotions surged through him: anger, confusion, shock. But he had to keep himself under control if she …

"Hello?"

"Angie?"

A brief moment of silence. With just the sound of him saying her name, she knew it was him. "Yes."

"Angie, this is Grant."

"I know." Silence again, until she finally responded, "You've talked with Luke, haven't you?"

* * *

At 0030 Luke Mitchell was still wide awake. For over two hours he'd tossed and turned in his bunk. Finally, he flung the sheet aside, got up, then briefly stood by his bunk. Nineteen other men in this Quonset hut were totally sacked out. Everyone was anticipating a grueling day ahead of them. This facility, hidden deep in the Virginia countryside, was so quiet he could hear their breathing.

He put on his blue, Navy sweats, lifted his Converse sneakers from under the bunk, then walked across the cool concrete in his bare feet. Quietly, he opened the door, looked around the room, then stepped outside, closing the door behind him. Leaning against the metal siding of the hut, he put on his sneakers, and without even tying them, he started walking to nowhere in particular, just … walking.

A 38 degree temperature was hardly noticed by him as he walked along the path, with his hands shoved into his pockets. He was totally absorbed in thoughts almost too hard to believe, but had nothing to do with his upcoming training.

After his conversation with Grant, he came away encouraged that he'd be accepted as a team member one day. But that wasn't the issue dwelling on his mind. What he remembered was Grant asking about his mom, specifically her hometown. And then there was his reaction to her maiden name. That caught Luke's attention. Why? Why such a reaction?

She never talked about his real dad, never mentioned his name, but only said he left California before he was born. There never seemed to be any animosity, just a matter-of-fact attitude.

As Luke grew up, his step-dad fulfilled all he could have wanted in a dad. He was strict but fair, and always encouraging. But the day they learned that he'd enlisted, was the day that everything changed, especially in his mom. No matter how hard he tried, he was unable to make her realize how deep his feelings were to serve in the Navy. The day he left home, nothing had changed, not even his guilt.

A sound of a distant train whistle returned his thoughts to the present. In a few more hours he'd be back on this path where he'd begin his training.

He walked toward a stand of trees and leaned a shoulder against a tall oak, staring in the direction of the house where he met Grant. Was it fate that brought him to Virginia, and to Eagle 8? Was his decision to follow a lifelong path in the Navy meant to be? Was all this in his DNA?!

A sudden shiver ran through his body. Keeping his back against the tree, he slowly sank into a squat. Propping his elbows on his knees, he held his head in his hands. Was it possible?! "No! The whole idea is hairbrained, Mitchell!" Or was it?

He couldn't call his mom. He wouldn't call her. But with the feeling so strong inside him, there was no way in hell he'd leave Virginia without knowing either way. Somehow he'd get his answer — no matter what that answer was. Could Captain Grant Stevens be his father?!

With his mind spinning, he slowly stood, then began walking back to the hut. In a few more hours it'd be 0500. Reveille. Getting any sleep between now and then just wasn't going to happen.

Chapter 31

The early morning temperature at Eagle 8 was a very cool 36 degrees, but little wind. For most of the trainees this day would be a true "wake up call" for what was ahead. As they would learn, weather would not disrupt their training.

Their first physical test was a 5K run. That was the easy part, and only the beginning. They'd been given handouts listing a schedule of activities and required times for completion. Whether their application had ended up in either "A" or "B" folder, they were all given a copy of the Navy SEAL Creed.

The men of Alpha Tango filed quietly out of the house, with clipboards and pens in hand, dressed in black pants, black pullover sweaters, and combat boots. Their black baseball caps had a SEAL Trident on the crown, sewn with gold thread.

Slade and James carried an oval metal bucket filled with bottled water. They loaded it in the rear of one of the SUVs.

"Time to see what these kids are made of," Slade said. He slapped the newest Team member on the back. "You haven't been on any missions with us yet, but this might prove to be just as action-packed!"

Vince Milone readjusted his cap, screwing it down tighter over his dark brown hair, cut "high and tight." "Can't tell you how much I've been looking forward to it, Ken!" Milone's tour of duty ended at Little Creek. He'd been one of the ten men originally selected for possible inclusion in A.T. When he received the call from Grant back in October, he jumped at the opportunity to join the Team.