Hero Of War

So, this was a little something inspired by Rise Against's Hero Of War that turned out nothing like planned. It was originally going to be a very short Colby/Don fic but it changed as soon as I started to write.

I'm surprised to find that there aren't any Colby/ Dwayne fics out there! - Or any Dwayne for that matter.

Let me know how you think this turned out and enjoy.

High noon, Colby lay on his back looking at the sky. The trees in the park had been highlighted by the summer sun, vibrant, full of life and the yellow flowers that bloomed in the borders looked as if they had been picked straight out of a painting. It was the bluest of blues above his head with small streaks of white chasing aeroplanes. It was amazing, he though, the little things that a near death experience can make you appreciate.

It had been years since he'd had the leisure to lie and watch the sky. The last had been when he had broke his leg at the age of ten. The entire summer during which he was confined he watched Gary Cooper films, listened to Dragnet and waited for planes to fly past his bedroom window. He would lazily follow their passage from his bed, wondering where they were going. Promising himself that one day he would go out there and see the world.

When the opportunity came, it seemed so easy. He'd been sold by his disillusions of grandeur and by the ease at which an elder, war worn, man had recruited him, knowing the right buttons to push. He said "Son, have you seen the world? Well, what would you say, if I said that you could? Just carry this gun. You'll even get paid."

It sounded good, he couldn't deny it. His parents had each been truly patriotic, loving their country before their God. That was the way Colby was raised. He spent years struggling with his beliefs, church or country, yet by the end he felt they were joined. To show devotion to his Lord wasn't it his duty to do what was right? To protect his country, to protect America, to protect the stars and strips that hung proud in his garden? The army seemed perfect for him, for all his beliefs and desires.

Boot camp was just around the corner. Then, the sky.

It was there, at Boot Camp, that he had met Dwayne Carter. As the bright eyed young lad with long floppy hair over his forehead and low slung pants, Colby never knew that the person assigned to the next bunk would end up being so important to him, a being so embedded in his life. He didn't realise what boy Carter would become.

His best friend, his brother and so much more. The man who had saved his life, twice. Even when the cost was his own.

The first days together set the foundations for their friendship as they attempted to adjust to boot camp. While each had physically worked out to prepare for the ordeal, neither truly understood quite how hard it would be. They stood by each other from the start, picking up the slack when the other fell behind. They worked in harmony, able to withstand any task thrown their way. Even their differences, which were quickly apparent, complimented them. Dwayne was contented with passing, with doing well, completing his tasks with sufficient adequacy but ensured that they didn't miss a thing. He pulled Colby along. He looked at the small picture in too much detail. He was the ambitious one, pushing them to be all they could be. Colby wanted perfection and he knew where to start.

Those black leather boots, almost synonymous with the army, were everything to him. He was determined to be like the men he'd idolised from films, TV and radio shows. These boots were the beginning, the first step of a thousand mile journey, if he could spit shine these to brightest bright then he could be all he aspired.
Start how you plan to end.

The boots seemed to have other ideas though. Stiff and unyielding, they tore through socks and into his feet. After two days of those shoes Dwayne tackled Colby onto his sleeping mat and attacked his blister covered feet with a sterile needle. They had yelled, fought and been disciplined.

Colby grinned into the sunlight. It was worth it.

He remembered vividly the expression on Carter's face when he re-entered their quarters after his hair had been shaved off. No matter any of the times that came after, late at night when sleep eluded him and horrors of the past haunted him it was that smile, that laugh which Colby looked back on, which calmed him.

The next thing the boys were aware of was being yelled at by drill commanders. Colby was the first to be brought down, despite managing to complete his 13 push ups, 17 sit ups and mile fun in under the required 8 and a half minutes.

"When approaching an enemy target, your sunglasses can cause glare which alert said target to your presence!" The commander's face was mere centimetres from his own and the tirade continued, spit flying into Granger's face.

Colby had taken his yelling and resisted the urge to point at Dwayne and yell "he's done it too!" But by the time he had a chance to look back at his new found friend, Carter had placed his glasses on the back of his neck, smiling at him.

Later that evening Colby got a ribbing for the event.

"Didn't you hear, Colby? You finished in seven minutes thirty four seconds. His Grandmother can do it better than that! And she wouldn't even need the sunglasses."

He glared for a moment. "Do you think anyone has ever met said Grandmother?"

"Nah, I'm sure she'll surpass us at pretty much everything though, man. Well, she'll surpass you."

In true brotherly fashion he was unable to let it pass and decided to get his own back.

"Alright know-it-all-Carter, what are the Core Values?"

He grinned smugly. "The seven core values are Loyalty- steadfastness to the cause, Duty- your responsibility, Respect- you better give me some you little punk!" He playfully punched Colby's shoulder. "Self Service- Don't mind if I do! Honour- As shown by my strong moral compass, which leads to the sixth value, Integrity. And my personal favourite, Personal Courage- Facing danger, difficulty, uncertainty and pain without being deflected from a chosen course of action."

Colby smiled at the annotations his friend placed by each value. He couldn't stay annoyed at this guy for any length of time. There was something about him. Maybe it was that they were so similar, even with their key differences. Or that they knew that holding grudges wasn't an option if they were going to train and possibly tour together for so long.

And then it was over. He had been trained.

The first time he returned home he hadn't even been out of the country. He had chased a plane though, he had made his first trail in the sky visible to all who cared to look up, the beginning of his journey across the heavens and into the pits of hell. But he remained blissfully ignorant of all that was to become, so excited about his first tour, so excited about the following homecoming. How proud his mother would be! She was so proud already, he was going to be a soldier. She didn't care that he hadn't even fought yet. The fact he was going to was enough for her. A true hero of war, out on the front lines, risking his life for those he cared for, for the flag under which he lived.

Before their first mission they were psyched up by tales of war heroes still in action. Colby and Dwayne's favourites were those of Ian Edgerton, a legend in his own time. The sniper that was a ghost to all but a few. An elder man in their team, one who'd participated in a tour before, recalled how he had been lead into an ambush. They were outnumbered, almost certain to die. But they didn't. In the aftermath of all the chaos and confusion they found multiple bodies of enemy men killed by clean shots to the head. Ian Edgerton had single handedly saved all their lives.

They were awestruck.

Colby felt no fear when fighting, he felt a sort of out of body experience. He knew what he was doing, he controlled his movements with perfect precision, yet there was something numbing about the altercations. It was only in the aftermath that his mortality caught up with him and his heartbeat would speed up, as if trying to force all the beats it could have missed into the next five minutes of his life. But it would pass and Colby would laugh with his team, finding himself as ready as ever for his next task.

It was surprisingly easy to relax in-between missions. The team would sit in shelter and write to their families, or talk with one another sharing stories, funny anecdotes and riddles. Or, if the weather was permitting they would pull out a football and start up a game.

Colby and Dwayne would occasionally sneak off for a match of chess in the sunlight, while the others played football. On once such occasion, the heat pounded on their backs, sweat causing their shirts to stick to their chests. Colby pulled his off after his companion called Checkmate, his dog tags falling back onto his bare chest. Not thirty seconds later the rest of their team returned from football, a camera in hand, determined to take a shot of the two who hadn't participated in their games. The two men laughed and decided they needed to look like MEN for the photo, grabbed the ball and posed. Colby held onto that photo for dear life. He and Dwayne, alone together. He could lose ever other photo of his past team, every one but that.

Colby never felt the same for the others as he did for Dwayne. Sure, they had been through much together but at the same time he began to hate them for the memories. For what he became when he was with them. Who he became. The person he couldn't bear look at in the mirror.

Mob mentality was so easy. There were no other words to use. It was just, easy. Like so many other things that had taken Colby as far as he had, as far as he would. As each person fell into worse and worse states of disrepair they took another with them. Colby found himself struggling between right and wrong. The line separating the two, that had once seemed so clear, blurred. He couldn't describe it. He didn't want to. Out of everything he had done, it was his actions in that team that he wished to never remember, the violence on innocents, brutally attacking their own captives, torturing...

He would relive everything since he left the army over and over until forever ended before he would willingly dwell on his actions then. Every part, night and day since he returned from the army he would take without complaint, if it just meant he could forget. Forget the events that burned like an ice cold flame inside his chest.

Since the Friendly Fire Incident, Colby was haunted by nightmares. How many men, men fighting for the same reasons as he, how many had he killed? Wishing his request to forget would be heeded, he shied away from the thought, allowing his mind to turn to the moving pictures that haunted his dreams.

An innocent, a girl. He knew what he had to do, the same as that fateful night. He had to eliminate any and all possible threats. In his dream state he fought it, he screamed and yelled. At her. At himself. He thrashed in his bed and begged for mercy. But nothing stopped her, nothing stopped him, stopped his next actions as he lifted his gun and fired away.

Air was forced from his lungs as the sight suffocated him. Colby screamed and screamed until his voice was raw and his eyes watered, searching for a comfort in the cold empty darkness of his bedroom.

Yet, since Dwayne's death he no longer woke. He saw the result of his actions, the ones he had tried to hide for years. Everything was catching up with him, one of those times when you can no longer run. The past taking over him. For so many years he had spied on those around him, he had fought for what he believed in, for his country, for the flag he held proud. The flag that united his beliefs.

His flag.

Her flag.

The shells jumped though the smoke and into the sand that her blood now had soaked. She collapsed, with a flag in her hand. A flag white as snow. And the world shatters around him once more.

He had been so absorbed by what he believes in, what he was brought up to believe in, by the flag his mother keeps safe, he lost what he should aim for. What the girl held. What he once held. Innocence and peace.

And it tore him apart.

Everything he'd done.

But his mother still welcomed him home with open arms. Colby was forced to sit through parties in his honour, to be congratulated in his bravery, to listen to their relief that he had a friend as true as Dwayne to save him from burning vehicles, to have people marvel over his scars. It made him sick to the stomach. Didn't they know what he had done? He had taken innocent people's lives, he had abused his position, mob mentality was no excuse for him, it didn't ease the pain.

And while he was there, at his childhood home, for the first time ever Colby found he couldn't sleep in his room. He couldn't look out of his window. He couldn't see the sky without imagining the scars he's left in his wake. He couldn't look at the flag that hung outside, he couldn't let it watch over him anymore.

It seemed- the word stopped itself before it registered in his head. Then pushed through.

It seemed traitorous. That flag he had fought to protect had turned on him, wouldn't help him now. Colby found himself a double- no- triple agent. Risking his life once more for something that wouldn't protect him in return. Colby had one link, just one person, who could prove he was a triple agent. If that went he was the walking dead, no-one would acknowledge him for what he had done. He didn't want that, he didn't want glory or fame or any sort of recognition.

But they would only remember him as a turncoat, it was that thought that he had never been able to stand.

It had killed him when he'd been arrested by his team, his friends. The interrogation, when he answered David's words seemingly with such ease.

"How long've you been lying to us?"

"From the beginning, David. That's what a spy does."

Then David pushed him. "What? A spy? You're not a spy. You're a damned traitor."

How was it that a man who had seen as much as he had, who had killed, who had spent years working as a triple agent, could barely stand a shove and a couple of words, spoken in anger, without nearly being reduced to tears?

Looking back, it was understandable. What did he have left? No job, no friends, definitely no love. It may have seemed silly, he was an agent, part of something monumental and he was distraught because he had no-one to love? Colby knew in his head and heart that he wasn't a traitor. He knew that he saw them as his friends whether they would like it or not. But how much had he given for the cause? How much should he still give? He had passed up so many chances for love, for happiness. There wasn't anything else for him to sacrifice.

Colby had risked everything and lost.

He was a good little soldier boy though. He told them all that he had been, stuck to his story, played the traitor. Oh, Dwayne's anger at his betrayal, that had stung, but what was he to do? What more could he do?

He could have done so much less, though. If only he had done less. If he had said less.

He couldn't even take back the last words he said to his only brother.

"Dwayne, I really wish that somebody else had pulled me out of that fire."

"Why"

"Because I hate owing you."

Was that really all he felt their friendship had boiled down to by the end?

Colby's hands balled to fists at his side, dirt gathering under his nails as he though if what Dwayne had done for him and tears fell from the corners of his eyes. Even after he'd given him up, even after he said that he wished Dwayne hadn't pulled him out of the fire, after it all, Dwayne pulled out a gun and shot the man who had his life, literally, in his hands. Carter put a bullet in the man's head knowing full well he wouldn't survive. Colby had seen the tape. He hadn't hesitated.

"Colby just keeps owing this guy, huh?"

Don's words, tinny from the speakers, still reverberated around his head and the ones that followed in a mocking imitation of David's voice forced a small flare of anger.

"Only if he lives."

Only if he lives? Whether he lived or not, Dwayne's sacrifice was still as prodigious.

"And my personal favourite, Personal Courage- Facing danger, difficulty, uncertainty and pain without being deflected from a chosen course of action."

He sighed. There was a reason Colby was lying where he was, it wasn't to stare in wonder at the beauty of the Earth, it wasn't even to reflect upon his past as he had done. Nor was it to remember his companion. It was because a five minutes walk from here Colby had been recruited. That one decision which gained and lost him, a brother, a country, a life.

He said, "Son, have you seen the world? Well what would you say, if I said that you could?"