Haunted by Pride

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe. It belongs to Hasbro.

Hitting Falcon would solve nothing. Duke knew that, but sometimes. . .He pushed the thought from his mind. The present situation was nowhere near the frivolity of one of the brotherly spats of their youth. So much more was riding on the moment.

Falcon had his back turned. Duke wanted to reach out, but at the same time, wanted nothing more than to leave his brother twisting in the wind. He could offer a way out, a way to avoid court- martial, but he didn't know if Falcon would take it or not.

"I could stand up for you, tell them you're my brother. . ."

"Sure. That's what you always do, try to be the hero. Just once, can't you let me take the fall? I got myself into this, I'll get myself out," Falcon snapped.

"Fine. If that's the way you want it, that's what you'll get."

The next day, Duke sat silent, torn. He was angry, had never been so angry at his brother as he was when he found he'd let an enemy operative onto the base. He showed no emotion as his peers handed down the verdict.

It was swift, and what he expected. Confinement.

--

Several days later...

Falcon heard the explosions, the yelling, knew immediately that all wasn't right. Two greenshirts were guarding his cell, and they left when orders came over the radio everyone was needed to help protect the BET.

Hours later, he finally heard slow, even footsteps echoing down the corridor. He stood up when he saw it was a haggard, ravaged-looking Hawk. He unlocked the cell and stepped inside.

Falcon immediately knew he was not going to want to hear what the man had to say.

"Son, you'd better sit down. . ." Hawk said.

For once, he didn't argue. The general sat down beside him.

"You know we were attacked...Cobra came...they wanted the BET. We were losing until Duke took on Serpentor. It looked like he was going to turn the tide, but...Serpentor was too much. I'm sorry son, but Duke's dead."

Falcon didn't say anything, only stared at Hawk like he was crazy.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated. "If only I'd known...he came to me, tried to tell me he should have spoken up before the court-martial..."

Hawk couldn't bring himself to meet the younger man's gaze, didn't see the tears starting to fall.

"We're lanuching an attack tonight. Everyone's going. I don't know how this is going to end, but you're free to go," Hawk finally said, getting up to leave.

Falcon didn't answer, only sat there in the dark.

-----

Six months later. . .

"He's disappeared," Flint said, handing a manila folder to his commanding officer.

Hawk took the folder. He nodded at Flint, who took his leave. The general waited until his second-in-command was gone, then let his head sink into his hands. The news wasn't surprising, yet it still came as a blow. The previous six months had been a living hell, and the latest bit of news made him wonder if it was possible to sink any lower.

Lt. Falcon, the former Lt. Falcon, he corrected himself, Vincent Falcone, had finally managed to find a way to make himself disappear. Not that he blamed him, not when he was part of the reason.

The fallout from the BET incident was still occupying much of his time. So much so he let the day-to-day business of running the team fall to Flint, who shouldered the extra burden without any complaint. But every time Hawk issued an order, he couldn't avoid the look in Flint's eyes. The one that said I'll do what you want me to, but I'll never replace him.

Duke's death left a hole in the team that no one could ever fill.

-----

Vincent R. Falcone was in some Podunk back of beyond town in Arizona. The name didn't matter. Not to him. Just another town, another place to leave. But anyplace was better than home, or anywhere that reminded him of Conrad. That was why he left Fayetteville and didn't look back.

Everything changed the night Hawk turned him out of his cell. He stayed on the base, helping Doc with the wounded. He did that much, considering he had training as a medic. And it kept him from thinking about Duke. A few days later, the team came back from its decisive battle with Cobra.

Falcon packed up his things and left, going with Duke on his last trip home.

The funeral was a blur. He'd stayed away from almost everyone but his parents, and the few people on the team who didn't hate him. Tunnel Rat and Law had stood by him, had been one of the few things to keep him sane. But then they left and everything fell apart.

Life had no direction. He'd become accustomed to the daily routine of military life.

That was when he decided leaving would be best.

Fayetteville, N.C.

Hawk circled the block three times. He finally decided to pull over. Another 15 minutes passed before he mustered the courage to get out of the car. The house wasn't far from the curb. A short sidewalk, to the porch, seven steps up to the big two-story he had only visited once before. He'd been here in this very exact spot just six months ago. And it hadn't been any easier to take that walk then.

He glanced up at the window, and saw the curtain pulled back, but when the person saw him looking, the corner dropped. Hawk sighed, ran his fingers through his hair and reached for the car door.

He wasn't surprised to see someone already waiting outside on the porch.

Col. John "Jack" Falcone was still formidable, despite pushing 60. His blue eyes were cold as he stared down Hawk as he walked up the steps. The former Special Forces soldier offered a hand anyway. But he didn't offer a seat, just stood there, sizing up the other man before he finally spoke.

"I know what you want," he said. "But Vince isn't here. And I don't know where he is. Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

Hawk sighed. Now he had a pretty good idea where the stubbornness came from.

"I didn't come here to argue," Hawk said. "I only came to talk. . ."

"Then talk."

The abruptness made him pause. So pointed, so much like. . .Duke.

"You're just lucky Ellen isn't here. If she was, I would've asked you to leave. Come inside so we can talk."

"There's something you have to understand -- One of my sons is dead and the other hasn't been the same since he came home," he said. "I know you know what happened between them. If you didn't, you wouldn't be here."

Jack motioned Hawk into the kitchen, and he followed. Jack kept talking as he made coffee.

"I think I need to explain a few things. My wife Ellen, was married before me, to Conrad's father. He was a police officer. They lived in St. Louis. He was killed during an armed robbery.

Ellen moved back from St. Louis a few months after he died. She stayed with her parents in Mooresville until she decided enough was enough and got a job here in Fayetteville. It took me nearly a year to convince her to go out with me. She was afraid of getting hurt, losing someone again. But that changed.

Conrad was nearly five when Vince was born. They were close, despite the difference in age. Vince worshipped Conrad. When they got older, Conrad was a little harder on Vince than he should have been. I didn't say anything because I thought they would work it out between them. But I can see now they never did.

"I've buried good men. Friends that were like brothers. I always knew it was a possibility with my boys, but I never really expected to outlive them. Conrad is dead. Nothing can change that. And Vince hasn't been the same. I told you that already.

"Something changed between them. It was about the time Conrad said he had taken on a new assignment he couldn't really talk about. I could never get them to talk about it. Not like Conrad would ever talk about anything like that. But Vince was always different, but I couldn't even pry it out of him this time. That's in the past now and it's over and done. Only one thing matters now -- I want my son back."

The conversation left Hawk shaken, but it also gave him the resolve to do what he needed to do. He got out his cell phone and called the base.

-----

Dial Tone had traced Falcon's movements west, pinpointing him at a hotel in Kingman, Arizona.

The flight west to Phoenix gave Hawk more than enough time to think. He knew now he'd made a mistake with both of them. Pride had gotten in the way, blinded them all.

-----

Kingman, Ariz.

Hawk parked the car beside a black Chevy pickup with white rally stripes and North Carolina tags. This time, he didn't hesitate to get out of the car. He walked to the hotel room door, reached up to knock, but the door opened before he could.

Vince frowned at first, and annoyance went to disgust as he saw who was at his door. He started to throw the door shut, but Hawk grabbed him by the arm and hauled him outside.

"We need to talk."

Hualapi Mountain

Hawk leaned against the side of the pickup, occasionally glancing at Falcon, who was perched on the hood of the truck with his feet resting on the bumper.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" the young man said.

"Duke."

"What about him?"

Hawk decided to lay it all on the line.

"I was wrong in letting him ride you so hard. I should have listened sooner. . .I trusted his judgment. But I let my pride get in the way, that I was right and he was wrong when it came to you. . .you were not a screw-up."

Falcon was taken aback, but he let Hawk go on.

"If you were, you never would have made it onto the team," he finished.

Falcon sighed.

"No. When I made it, I thought he would finally say something. But he didn't. And I figured if I couldn't make him proud, I would at least make him mad.

"I busted my ass through basic, then OCS. Never once did he say a damn thing about my progress. He was so smug. . .but now I know why he did it. He was just hoping I would do my best. Bastard. . ." he sobbed, sinking to his knees.

Hawk sat down beside him, put an arm around his shoulders. They stayed that way until Falcon was quiet.

"C'mon," Hawk said. "I'll drive you back to your hotel."

-----

Two months later. . .

5:30 a.m. The day promised to be a hot one. Beach Head grinned behind his balaclava at the prospect of putting the new batch of recruits through their paces in sweltering temperatures later in the day.

First though, he had to wait on some new officer Hawk had assigned to observe how the newbies were trained.

"Fall in," he bellowed.

The trainees tripped over themselves as they came out of the barracks and lined up.

He heard footsteps behind him and looked back.

"Looks like a promising bunch."

Behind the balaclava, his jaw was hanging open. But he recovered quickly.

Lt. Falcon, AKA the biggest screw-up to ever step on base, was back. But this time, there was no sarcasm in the voice. Only a hint of humor in the eyes, but that was it. There was a set to the jaw that hadn't been there before, and an ease to his stance that was new.

He'd matured, but how much, Beach Head would see.

He nodded at the lieutenant, and turned his attention back to the recruits. They had their work cut out for them.