His Marine - Michael Clifford

25. Sacrifices

Sweat was pouring down my forehead, my shirt sticking to the skin of my back. I had been at the gym since six this morning. Straight after I had been to get my new tattoo. It was a closed fist holding onto dog tags with the names of the lads who died in Iraq. The hand had four words written on it which were Always Carry Your Fallen and the detailing was so fine it actually amazed me. The New tattoo covered most of my back and was one I could always add to if I was required to. Hopefully that doesn't happen because I don't want to lose any more men. "Hey Michael." I panted turning around to look at him, my own dog tags coming up to hit me on the side of the cheek.

"How did you even know I was there." He asked incredulously.

"I'm trained to notice things like shadows of people stood behind me. You're the only one brave enough to sneak up on me when I'm training." I pulled the boxing gloves off of my hands and placed them down on the bench as I took a drink. "Good morning." I smiled at him realising I never said it before I left the house.

"Good morning. You were gone before I woke up." He had a slight frown on his face.

"I couldn't sleep."

"I know you couldn't. You need to talk to me Brett, something's bothering you and I can tell."

"I'm fine." I smiled and he shook his head.

"Baby you might have to be an emotional brick wall when you're away but you're back home now. You don't have to be a marine any more, just Brett."

"Well..." I said dragging out the word and he looked at me.

"Well what?" He asked.

"Well um that's technically not true. There's still some issues that need sorting out before I can be just Brett again." That would include the polygraph test I have tomorrow and the fact that I need to tell him I'm being deployed again within three months. I'm not sure when you.

"What are you talking about?" He asked and I shrugged about to go back to training when he grabbed my hand and I spun around to face him almost forgetting it was him. "Don't do that." I breathed. "I just almost floored you."

"What were you on about?" He asked again and I groaned.

"I have to go for a polygraph tomorrow at NCIS headquarters. Then I'm going to be being deployed as soon as they get me and my team ready."

"They can't do that can they?" He asked sounding hurt yet angry at the same time. "You've only just gotten back."

"Well technically they can but they're not. We volunteered ourselves, we're all having trouble being back home and not on a battlefield."

"Jesus Christ. Who's stupid idea was that?" He asked running a hand through his hair.

"Mine." I mumbled looking down at the floor because I couldn't meet his intense gaze. "It was my idea, the boys just agreed to it."

"Why would you do that?" He asked using his fingers to lift my chin and I quickly averted my gaze. I felt so bad because I knew how much this was hurting him.

"I had to Mikes." I sighed and he let go of me and took a step away from me. It felt like he had taken a knife straight to my chest and carved the word guilt straight into my heart.

"No you didn't." He snapped at me. Why can't he just listen to me and understand this from my point of view. "I'll see you at home." He turned and began walking to the door and I felt even worse than I already did.

"Mikes." I called after him but he didn't stop. He just kept walking, shoulders slumped, head looking down to the floor and feet shuffling along the concrete. I groaned, losing my temperature and punching the brick wall I was stood next to. A few heads turned to look at me but I just picked my jacket up, pulling it on and walking out.