Author's Notes": Rated R for adult themes, violence and language.
Out of Control
By Angelina
Chapter 1
A couple of green shirts walked by him on the other side of the hallway, demonstrating at least enough common sense not wrinkle their nose in the wake of his body odor. However, Beach Head knew exactly what they were thinking anyway, and to tell the truth, he would probably have to agree with their nasal assessment. The rigorous workout on the obstacle course coupled with the oppressive perspiration-inducing heat didn't create the most palatable aroma. As he passed the current goon on duty in front of Hawk's office, he growled a curt informative grunt before knocking on the door. Hawk's voice rumbled, somewhat muffled, from behind the heavy wood door.
Wayne strode into the office with his typical display of understated arrogance. On anyone else Hawk would have put him in his place, but the experienced general knew better than to break the man of it...as if he really could. He wondered to himself, more than once since he had received the news he now had to impart to the Ranger, how the younger man would take it. Sergeant Wayne Sneeden had definitely proven to be an enigma through the years since his assignment to the Joe team.
"Lifeline said you needed to see me," Beach Head stated matter-of-factly, without any of the preliminary kowtowing usually associated with being called to the General's office. That straightforward attitude was one of the things Hawk liked about the Ranger the most. While it was a loss to Hawk not to see the man take the officer promotion Beach Head had more than earned through the time he had spent with the Joe team, the commanding officer had to respect the non-com's decision to remain close to the men and women he trained.
"Take a seat, Sergeant," Hawk gestured towards the upholstered chair directly opposite his desk.
Wayne took a scant glance at the chair and replied, "If it's all the same to you, I'll stand, sir."
"Well, it's not all the same to me and I want you to sit. You won't be heading back out the course today." Hawk knew that if Sneeden had had it in him to do it, the Ranger's dark brown eyes would have rolled about in his sockets. He watched as Wayne planted his backside on the veriest edge of the chair and sat stock still, his back stiff as a board.
Wayne had to wonder what in the hell was going on if the General was not going to send him back out to the field after their meeting. His dark eyes watched Hawk warily as the older officer shuffled a few papers around the polished surface of the desk. Wayne knew he wasn't best at reading people, but he had the distinct impression that his commander had something on his mind and didn't know quite how to approach it. It was the same look his father wore the day Wayne's world fell apart. Breaking his stiff pose, he leaned forward slightly and said, "Sir, no disrespect intended, but out with it already."
Hawk swallowed, uncertain how to proceed and a little abashed at the fact that the sergeant could read him so well. He had always loathes this particular aspect about his position of authority. Clearing his throat, he began, "Sergeant, my office got a call today and I'm afraid I have some bad news to pass on to you." The general, searching for any response on the Ranger's handsome features and finding none, continued. "There's a family emergency."
"Don't see how that could be," Wayne mumbled softly. "I don't have any family."
"This guy said you have a sister...You're supposedly named as her next of kin."
"Yeah, but biological don't count. We didn't grow up together. I don't know her and she doesn't know me."
"All the same, I feel like you need to know this. Apparently there's been some sort of accident...the details are kinda sketchy at the moment, but suffice it to say, she's in the trauma unit at a hospital in Birmingham. It doesn't look good, son. I'm sorry."
Wayne stood up rigidly at the news imparted by the general. He knew from experience and the expression on Hawk's face that the man actually gave a damn, but that type of sentimentality was wasted on him. "Permission to return to duty, sir?" He willed his face to not betray the tumult of feelings welling within him. Memories of a past long desired forgotten threatened to break through his steely defenses.
"Denied." The words laid flat on the desk before Wayne like a heavy paperweight.
"Excuse me?" Wayne's military training slipped as he questioned the wisdom of his superior officer.
"You heard me, Sergeant. You're booked on the next plane into Birmingham. It leaves at 1600 so you'd better get it in gear if you're going to make that flight. And you will make that flight. Am I clear?"
"Crystal, sir." The Ranger stared straight ahead, his clear baritone slipping a hint into the southern drawl he kept restrained most of the time.
"And before you ask me why, you might want to ask yourself that. If you miss this chance of connecting with your only blood relative left, you will regret it for the rest of your life. Someday you'll understand that, even if you don't at the moment. Besides your sister named you next of kin for a reason....maybe she sees...saw your relationship as salvageable. But if you don't go you will never know." Hawk glanced down on the papers at the desk once more.
"By the way, stop by my assistant on the way out, grab your itinerary and other info. The contact numbers should be with the packet as well. You've got two weeks emergency leave as of tomorrow. If you find you need more, get in touch and I'll arrange something. You're dismissed."
Wayne blinked once, the most acknowledgement Hawk knew he was going to receive, then turned on his heel and strode out the door, closing it with a soft click behind him.
"Hey Beach Head, heard you got called to the General's office. What in the hell you'd do this time, besides knocking some poor newbie out with that wonderful redneck cologne you so like to wear." Shipwreck wisecracked from his perch on one of the cement retaining walls surrounding the bachelor's barracks. Mainframe and Leatherneck had the mental wherewithal to begin removing themselves from the vicinity at the ending syllables of Shipwreck's taunts.
But accustomed to the jokes and playful threats in response by the Ranger, none of the three men anticipated what would happen next. One minute a silly-ass grin lit up the Hispanic sailor's face, the next thing a very serious expression of fear was frozen upon it.
With an effortless move, elegant in its simplicity, Wayne had Shipwreck hoisted off the wall and pinned against the adjoining wall of the building. Delgado was a bit shorter than six foot three Ranger and therefore, his feet dangled from his position a good half-foot off the ground. The grip Wayne had on his arms would leave one hell of a bruise within the hour and from the expression on the sergeant's face, there wouldn't be any remorse on his part.
"Listen, asshole. You'll leave me the fuck alone if you know what's good for you."
Mainframe ventured in, concern for the safety of his compadre as well as fascination at the extreme behavior of the usually unflappable sergeant. "Come on, Sarge. He didn't mean nothin' by it. I'm sure he's sorry."
"Yeah...yeah, I'm sorry, Beach. Didn't mean it." Shipwreck hastily apologized.
Wayne, regaining his composure, released his fearsome grip on the sailor, who as soon as he was freed, sagged to the pavement in relief. A slight growl slipped from his lips as he walked away, leaving his fellow Joes in bewilderment to his unlikely behavior.
By the time Wayne made it back to his room at the barracks to pack, he could feel a blistering headache begin to form at the base of his skull. He hadn't had a killer like this one in a long time, but his memories were too wrapped around the pain for him to contemplate. Luckily for him, his room...that domain of orderliness and tranquility in his often-times chaotic life...was waited and everything he would require to go back to Alabama would be easily located and packed at a moment's notice.
He refused to allow the idea of 'going home' to penetrate his aching brain. Home was the Army – the rules, the order, the dependability of his job, even his compatriots in arms. Not that abominable hellhole he'd grown up in and struggled so hard to put behind him. Opening the footlocker at the end of his bed, he pulled out his duffle and began tossing in what clothes he thought he'd need. A couple of uniforms, what little civilian attire he had, socks, shoes, a ditty bag.
As he packed, for the first time he took stock in his room. Everything had its place, but nowhere was there a place for any pictures, mementos from his past. It wasn't until now had he felt even a twinge of loneliness at the contemplation of the missing homey touches. He swallowed back that emotion like a bitter pill as he continued to pack his life for the next two weeks in the olive drab canvas bag propped upon his bed.
A short time later, Wayne found himself loaded onto a jumpseat in a cargo plane bound to Alabama to drop off some supplies at a reserve station there. Accompanied only by the rumbling noise of the turbo props, he forced himself into a fitful sleep enjoined by the suppressed memories he refused to acknowledge in the consciousness of his life.
TBC......
Out of Control
By Angelina
Chapter 1
A couple of green shirts walked by him on the other side of the hallway, demonstrating at least enough common sense not wrinkle their nose in the wake of his body odor. However, Beach Head knew exactly what they were thinking anyway, and to tell the truth, he would probably have to agree with their nasal assessment. The rigorous workout on the obstacle course coupled with the oppressive perspiration-inducing heat didn't create the most palatable aroma. As he passed the current goon on duty in front of Hawk's office, he growled a curt informative grunt before knocking on the door. Hawk's voice rumbled, somewhat muffled, from behind the heavy wood door.
Wayne strode into the office with his typical display of understated arrogance. On anyone else Hawk would have put him in his place, but the experienced general knew better than to break the man of it...as if he really could. He wondered to himself, more than once since he had received the news he now had to impart to the Ranger, how the younger man would take it. Sergeant Wayne Sneeden had definitely proven to be an enigma through the years since his assignment to the Joe team.
"Lifeline said you needed to see me," Beach Head stated matter-of-factly, without any of the preliminary kowtowing usually associated with being called to the General's office. That straightforward attitude was one of the things Hawk liked about the Ranger the most. While it was a loss to Hawk not to see the man take the officer promotion Beach Head had more than earned through the time he had spent with the Joe team, the commanding officer had to respect the non-com's decision to remain close to the men and women he trained.
"Take a seat, Sergeant," Hawk gestured towards the upholstered chair directly opposite his desk.
Wayne took a scant glance at the chair and replied, "If it's all the same to you, I'll stand, sir."
"Well, it's not all the same to me and I want you to sit. You won't be heading back out the course today." Hawk knew that if Sneeden had had it in him to do it, the Ranger's dark brown eyes would have rolled about in his sockets. He watched as Wayne planted his backside on the veriest edge of the chair and sat stock still, his back stiff as a board.
Wayne had to wonder what in the hell was going on if the General was not going to send him back out to the field after their meeting. His dark eyes watched Hawk warily as the older officer shuffled a few papers around the polished surface of the desk. Wayne knew he wasn't best at reading people, but he had the distinct impression that his commander had something on his mind and didn't know quite how to approach it. It was the same look his father wore the day Wayne's world fell apart. Breaking his stiff pose, he leaned forward slightly and said, "Sir, no disrespect intended, but out with it already."
Hawk swallowed, uncertain how to proceed and a little abashed at the fact that the sergeant could read him so well. He had always loathes this particular aspect about his position of authority. Clearing his throat, he began, "Sergeant, my office got a call today and I'm afraid I have some bad news to pass on to you." The general, searching for any response on the Ranger's handsome features and finding none, continued. "There's a family emergency."
"Don't see how that could be," Wayne mumbled softly. "I don't have any family."
"This guy said you have a sister...You're supposedly named as her next of kin."
"Yeah, but biological don't count. We didn't grow up together. I don't know her and she doesn't know me."
"All the same, I feel like you need to know this. Apparently there's been some sort of accident...the details are kinda sketchy at the moment, but suffice it to say, she's in the trauma unit at a hospital in Birmingham. It doesn't look good, son. I'm sorry."
Wayne stood up rigidly at the news imparted by the general. He knew from experience and the expression on Hawk's face that the man actually gave a damn, but that type of sentimentality was wasted on him. "Permission to return to duty, sir?" He willed his face to not betray the tumult of feelings welling within him. Memories of a past long desired forgotten threatened to break through his steely defenses.
"Denied." The words laid flat on the desk before Wayne like a heavy paperweight.
"Excuse me?" Wayne's military training slipped as he questioned the wisdom of his superior officer.
"You heard me, Sergeant. You're booked on the next plane into Birmingham. It leaves at 1600 so you'd better get it in gear if you're going to make that flight. And you will make that flight. Am I clear?"
"Crystal, sir." The Ranger stared straight ahead, his clear baritone slipping a hint into the southern drawl he kept restrained most of the time.
"And before you ask me why, you might want to ask yourself that. If you miss this chance of connecting with your only blood relative left, you will regret it for the rest of your life. Someday you'll understand that, even if you don't at the moment. Besides your sister named you next of kin for a reason....maybe she sees...saw your relationship as salvageable. But if you don't go you will never know." Hawk glanced down on the papers at the desk once more.
"By the way, stop by my assistant on the way out, grab your itinerary and other info. The contact numbers should be with the packet as well. You've got two weeks emergency leave as of tomorrow. If you find you need more, get in touch and I'll arrange something. You're dismissed."
Wayne blinked once, the most acknowledgement Hawk knew he was going to receive, then turned on his heel and strode out the door, closing it with a soft click behind him.
"Hey Beach Head, heard you got called to the General's office. What in the hell you'd do this time, besides knocking some poor newbie out with that wonderful redneck cologne you so like to wear." Shipwreck wisecracked from his perch on one of the cement retaining walls surrounding the bachelor's barracks. Mainframe and Leatherneck had the mental wherewithal to begin removing themselves from the vicinity at the ending syllables of Shipwreck's taunts.
But accustomed to the jokes and playful threats in response by the Ranger, none of the three men anticipated what would happen next. One minute a silly-ass grin lit up the Hispanic sailor's face, the next thing a very serious expression of fear was frozen upon it.
With an effortless move, elegant in its simplicity, Wayne had Shipwreck hoisted off the wall and pinned against the adjoining wall of the building. Delgado was a bit shorter than six foot three Ranger and therefore, his feet dangled from his position a good half-foot off the ground. The grip Wayne had on his arms would leave one hell of a bruise within the hour and from the expression on the sergeant's face, there wouldn't be any remorse on his part.
"Listen, asshole. You'll leave me the fuck alone if you know what's good for you."
Mainframe ventured in, concern for the safety of his compadre as well as fascination at the extreme behavior of the usually unflappable sergeant. "Come on, Sarge. He didn't mean nothin' by it. I'm sure he's sorry."
"Yeah...yeah, I'm sorry, Beach. Didn't mean it." Shipwreck hastily apologized.
Wayne, regaining his composure, released his fearsome grip on the sailor, who as soon as he was freed, sagged to the pavement in relief. A slight growl slipped from his lips as he walked away, leaving his fellow Joes in bewilderment to his unlikely behavior.
By the time Wayne made it back to his room at the barracks to pack, he could feel a blistering headache begin to form at the base of his skull. He hadn't had a killer like this one in a long time, but his memories were too wrapped around the pain for him to contemplate. Luckily for him, his room...that domain of orderliness and tranquility in his often-times chaotic life...was waited and everything he would require to go back to Alabama would be easily located and packed at a moment's notice.
He refused to allow the idea of 'going home' to penetrate his aching brain. Home was the Army – the rules, the order, the dependability of his job, even his compatriots in arms. Not that abominable hellhole he'd grown up in and struggled so hard to put behind him. Opening the footlocker at the end of his bed, he pulled out his duffle and began tossing in what clothes he thought he'd need. A couple of uniforms, what little civilian attire he had, socks, shoes, a ditty bag.
As he packed, for the first time he took stock in his room. Everything had its place, but nowhere was there a place for any pictures, mementos from his past. It wasn't until now had he felt even a twinge of loneliness at the contemplation of the missing homey touches. He swallowed back that emotion like a bitter pill as he continued to pack his life for the next two weeks in the olive drab canvas bag propped upon his bed.
A short time later, Wayne found himself loaded onto a jumpseat in a cargo plane bound to Alabama to drop off some supplies at a reserve station there. Accompanied only by the rumbling noise of the turbo props, he forced himself into a fitful sleep enjoined by the suppressed memories he refused to acknowledge in the consciousness of his life.
TBC......
