There Is a Point of Turning Back [Part 1]
There Is a Point of Turning Back
Original
Rating: PG-13/R? I forget because my character does swear
Warning: Death, Angst
Pairing: Alex Whitmore/ Darren Lively
Summary: I was ostracized by my family because I am gay. I joined the army to prove that I am still me. But why does it hurt to fall in love and lose it all?
I cant sleep anymore. When I do all I can hear are cries. Just. Crying. I cant sleep when I keep hearing all of their cries. They sound so sad and it is like it can never end for them. Right. An everlasting sadness. I want to make them stop. No. I want to help them stop. I cant stand crying anymore. Their cries are like pleads asking me for help. But I cant. I cant help any of them. I feel helpless. Knowing that I hear these cries that are calling out for me to help but not being able to do anything. I want to help him.
"Can you tell me what makes you hear these cries now?" the psychiatrist asked me as she tapped her pen against the legal pad. Right, she was writing down everything I was talking about. I forgot. She looked at me still, her eyes that were hidden behind her glasses, tried to pry through mine. Yet, I couldnt answer right away. All I felt like doing was staring at her. I tried to shake my mind of the thoughts that made me end up here in the first place.
Personally, I have never had to use a psychiatrist before. The stuffy room thats been trying far too hard to create a calm ambience always failed. Even now, as the shades are opened letting the sunlight shine through and the windows face outward towards the sea, it doesnt help much. There is always someone near by that you absolutely know is going to keep asking you incessant questions. If you cant help yourself with your own head obviously something is wrong.
What am I doing here then? In this crappy ass place? Everyone thinks I have gone mad. What am I to do about it but do as I am ordered? Not like I am getting too many orders nowadays.
"Mr. Lively?" she called for me again.
The way she said my name make me think back to the last time it was called like that. I still remembered clearly but she had said it nothing like he had. I looked at her.
"Are you okay?" she asked now. She was scared or at least fearful of me. Apparently my countenance had changed ever since I have come home.
I saw myself in the mirror and all I could see was death written on my face. And that was how I felt. Dead.
"I am fine," I took a drink of my water that had now become warm. She wanted a story, to know what was wrong with me. I nodded before beginning.
On my eighteenth birthday I had come out to everyone. I had told my father, mother, brothers, sisters, cousins, friends, and so on that I was gay. It took them an initial moment of shock to get it into their system. My father was immediately outraged however, like I had always imagined. He wanted to believe that I was joking and I looked at him with truth in my mind.
My father, Commander James Shay Lively of the US Marine Corps, was an advocated against gays. He abhorred gays like every other one of his siblings. He raised all of us to follow the bible and gods word. Man and woman were meant to be with each other, not both of the same. He had that one problem only. He hated those who believed that they were following the Bible and were gay at the same time. And he hated me.
Yet I realized that I didnt care. My father was my father. I never enjoyed his presence as much as I should have. He was a fantastic man but he was staunch and judgmental that I couldnt handle it anymore. I hid myself from him and I didnt want to do it anymore. So I left after I told them all. I lived in a motel here and there moved from one place to another. Then I enlisted in the Armed Forces almost three year later.
There was another war out there to fight for us. Another stupid war created by the corruption of governments and assuming the most control over anything as possible. "Please if you may strike that out of the record." It was a right and just cause. But like the teachings of my father there was no clear place for me in the culture mores of man that held no gray coloring.
I hid from everyone. I was too scared to hear about what they thought of me. I couldnt look anyone in the eye completely and I believed that they knew. By the way they stared at me and walked around me at times, I believed that they knew what I was. What I still am. It was hard settling in until my first mission after I was deployed.
We had landed in the depths of a dark and underdeveloped city. Our mission was to subdue terrorists of a weapons exchange. On the way there I met one of my fellow comrades, Alex Whitmore.
------------------------------------
The trip down was brutal silence. Our captain couldnt give us the specifics. I had tackled many ways into dealing with these encounters but tonight I was scared. I just kept looking on, wondering how tonight was going to turn out. The last mission was a close call, one of my men had been shot and the Kevlar jacket wasnt enough. The bullet went through and killed him.
"You okay man?" I looked at the man near me. His face was obscured by the darkness and I could only see him when the few instances of moonlight allowed me to. "You are shaking," he continued.
I looked down at my hands. I didnt even realize that I was shaking. I forced myself to calm down by clenching my rifle even tighter. "I am good," I answered calmly.
"I dont think we have ever talked before," the man said. "My name is Alex Whitmore. Our bunks are next to each other." He reached over his hand to shake mine. I took it. He didnt let go and for a second I believed he was smiling. "You are the son of Commander James Lively right?"
I hadnt heard my fathers name from anyone in the longest time. I had almost forgotten it. "Yeah, I am," I answered carefully. "Whats it too you?"
"It is just weird how you joined the Armed Forces instead of the Navy," he stated to me with a clear shrug. I dont believe he meant to offend me. I found him peculiar. "The guys were all a little curious as to why you joined this branch instead. I guess they were a little scared to ask you themselves."
"Dont you mean 'we'?"
"What?"
"You said they and not we. You werent scared to ask me?"
He smiled at me. It didnt seem like a normal friendly smile but something more intriguing. He shook his head. His helmet hiding his eyes. "I was planning to ask you but I never got a chance to."
"We're here boys," our comrade said as he stopped driving. He looked at us and gave the orders. I nodded ready to go on even though I was scared shitless. I held back a laugh as I thought about how scared I was. But then I looked at Alex Whitmore one more time and felt like all was going to be alright. He smiled at me for reassurance.
Part 2
Original
Rating: PG-13/R? I forget because my character does swear
Warning: Death, Angst
Pairing: Alex Whitmore/ Darren Lively
Summary: I was ostracized by my family because I am gay. I joined the army to prove that I am still me. But why does it hurt to fall in love and lose it all?
I cant sleep anymore. When I do all I can hear are cries. Just. Crying. I cant sleep when I keep hearing all of their cries. They sound so sad and it is like it can never end for them. Right. An everlasting sadness. I want to make them stop. No. I want to help them stop. I cant stand crying anymore. Their cries are like pleads asking me for help. But I cant. I cant help any of them. I feel helpless. Knowing that I hear these cries that are calling out for me to help but not being able to do anything. I want to help him.
"Can you tell me what makes you hear these cries now?" the psychiatrist asked me as she tapped her pen against the legal pad. Right, she was writing down everything I was talking about. I forgot. She looked at me still, her eyes that were hidden behind her glasses, tried to pry through mine. Yet, I couldnt answer right away. All I felt like doing was staring at her. I tried to shake my mind of the thoughts that made me end up here in the first place.
Personally, I have never had to use a psychiatrist before. The stuffy room thats been trying far too hard to create a calm ambience always failed. Even now, as the shades are opened letting the sunlight shine through and the windows face outward towards the sea, it doesnt help much. There is always someone near by that you absolutely know is going to keep asking you incessant questions. If you cant help yourself with your own head obviously something is wrong.
What am I doing here then? In this crappy ass place? Everyone thinks I have gone mad. What am I to do about it but do as I am ordered? Not like I am getting too many orders nowadays.
"Mr. Lively?" she called for me again.
The way she said my name make me think back to the last time it was called like that. I still remembered clearly but she had said it nothing like he had. I looked at her.
"Are you okay?" she asked now. She was scared or at least fearful of me. Apparently my countenance had changed ever since I have come home.
I saw myself in the mirror and all I could see was death written on my face. And that was how I felt. Dead.
"I am fine," I took a drink of my water that had now become warm. She wanted a story, to know what was wrong with me. I nodded before beginning.
On my eighteenth birthday I had come out to everyone. I had told my father, mother, brothers, sisters, cousins, friends, and so on that I was gay. It took them an initial moment of shock to get it into their system. My father was immediately outraged however, like I had always imagined. He wanted to believe that I was joking and I looked at him with truth in my mind.
My father, Commander James Shay Lively of the US Marine Corps, was an advocated against gays. He abhorred gays like every other one of his siblings. He raised all of us to follow the bible and gods word. Man and woman were meant to be with each other, not both of the same. He had that one problem only. He hated those who believed that they were following the Bible and were gay at the same time. And he hated me.
Yet I realized that I didnt care. My father was my father. I never enjoyed his presence as much as I should have. He was a fantastic man but he was staunch and judgmental that I couldnt handle it anymore. I hid myself from him and I didnt want to do it anymore. So I left after I told them all. I lived in a motel here and there moved from one place to another. Then I enlisted in the Armed Forces almost three year later.
There was another war out there to fight for us. Another stupid war created by the corruption of governments and assuming the most control over anything as possible. "Please if you may strike that out of the record." It was a right and just cause. But like the teachings of my father there was no clear place for me in the culture mores of man that held no gray coloring.
I hid from everyone. I was too scared to hear about what they thought of me. I couldnt look anyone in the eye completely and I believed that they knew. By the way they stared at me and walked around me at times, I believed that they knew what I was. What I still am. It was hard settling in until my first mission after I was deployed.
We had landed in the depths of a dark and underdeveloped city. Our mission was to subdue terrorists of a weapons exchange. On the way there I met one of my fellow comrades, Alex Whitmore.
------------------------------------
The trip down was brutal silence. Our captain couldnt give us the specifics. I had tackled many ways into dealing with these encounters but tonight I was scared. I just kept looking on, wondering how tonight was going to turn out. The last mission was a close call, one of my men had been shot and the Kevlar jacket wasnt enough. The bullet went through and killed him.
"You okay man?" I looked at the man near me. His face was obscured by the darkness and I could only see him when the few instances of moonlight allowed me to. "You are shaking," he continued.
I looked down at my hands. I didnt even realize that I was shaking. I forced myself to calm down by clenching my rifle even tighter. "I am good," I answered calmly.
"I dont think we have ever talked before," the man said. "My name is Alex Whitmore. Our bunks are next to each other." He reached over his hand to shake mine. I took it. He didnt let go and for a second I believed he was smiling. "You are the son of Commander James Lively right?"
I hadnt heard my fathers name from anyone in the longest time. I had almost forgotten it. "Yeah, I am," I answered carefully. "Whats it too you?"
"It is just weird how you joined the Armed Forces instead of the Navy," he stated to me with a clear shrug. I dont believe he meant to offend me. I found him peculiar. "The guys were all a little curious as to why you joined this branch instead. I guess they were a little scared to ask you themselves."
"Dont you mean 'we'?"
"What?"
"You said they and not we. You werent scared to ask me?"
He smiled at me. It didnt seem like a normal friendly smile but something more intriguing. He shook his head. His helmet hiding his eyes. "I was planning to ask you but I never got a chance to."
"We're here boys," our comrade said as he stopped driving. He looked at us and gave the orders. I nodded ready to go on even though I was scared shitless. I held back a laugh as I thought about how scared I was. But then I looked at Alex Whitmore one more time and felt like all was going to be alright. He smiled at me for reassurance.
Part 2