So Long, Soldier (Chapter 1)
Title: So Long, Soldier
Author: Alisa
Pairing: Jalex
Rating: PG-13
POV: Alex
Summary: A young soldier is sent home after coming out while “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” is still in place. When he is reunited with an old friend, nothing may ever be the same again.
Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional. I do not own Alex or Jack.
Credit: Title to All Time Low
A/N: This is my first fanfic so be gentle.
Home. Coming home feels like a whole new battle in it of itself. My real life at home had been put on pause for me from the moment I was drafted. But life isn’t a VCR. No, life’s a bitchy little DVD; it doesn’t pick up from where you left off when you come back to it two and a half years later, instead you find yourself starting all over again. My old life moved on without me and here I am, stuck playing catch up.
The plane ride should be the most relaxed I’ve felt in years, but I’ve never felt more terrified in my life. It’s funny, you’d think I was more terrified on the battlefield, but at least there I had a general idea of what to expect. I try to sleep, but I can’t stop imagining my parents’ faces when they see me in this uniform that represents nothing but shame now. This uniform is nothing but betrayal. Will my mother cry? Will my father glare? Will they be as disgusted by me as the men I fought with? The thought sends a chill through my body and I just want to curl up into a ball and disintegrate into nothing, but there’s only so much room in seat B22, wedged between McDonald’s wet dream and Rosie O’Donnell.
Sitting here, drowning in strangers’ sweat and my own thoughts, the silhouette of an old friend creeps into my mind. The fear of how he’ll look at me when he sees me again is what’s really eating its way to my core. I clutch my chest so hard that I can feel the violent tug on my chest hairs. I’m holding tight in the hopes that it’ll stop the pain, but I’m falling apart. McDonald’s to my right shoots me a greasy, judgmental smirk as I sink into my seat in anguish. I glare up at him.
“Hungry, big guy?” I snap. His face folds down into, what I think is, his neck as he shifts awkwardly in his seat and turns away forcing my arm to ride his fat rolls like a fucking tsunami. I hate people like that. Assholes who look at you like they’re so much better, who clearly don’t own a fucking mirror. I want to get off this plane already.
“Excuse me, miss?” I ask a stewardess pushing the drink trolley, “When do we land?” She let’s out a small chuckle, “Sit tight sir. It’ll be about another seven hours before we arrive in Los Angeles. Just try and make yourself comfortable.”
Seven hours? Seven more fucking hours?! I can’t take anymore of this for much longer, let alone seven hours. I angrily shove the headphone jack into the arm of my seat and flip to a station that’s not completely shitty, some sort of generic airplane rock radio. Fuck it, I don’t even care at this point, I just want to sleep my stress away.
~~~
“Ladies and gentlemen welcome to LAX Local time is 9:36 and the temperature is 72°F.
For your safety and comfort, we ask that you please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Captain turns off the Fasten Seat Belt sign. This will indicate that we have parked at the gate and that it is safe for you to move about the cabin.
Please check around your seat for any personal belongings you may have brought onboard with you and please use caution when opening the overhead bins, as heavy articles may have shifted around during the flight.
If you require deplaning assistance, please remain in your seat until all other passengers have deplaned. One of our crew members will then be pleased to assist you.
We remind you to please wait until inside the terminal to use an electronic devices or to smoke in the designated areas.)
On behalf of Virgin Airlines and the entire crew, I’d like to thank you for joining us on this trip and we are looking forward to seeing you on board again in the near future. We’d also like to thank Private Alex Gaskarth for his service to our country; we are truly in your debt. Thanks again for flying Virgin Airlines. Have a nice night!”
I nearly throw up my guts to hear my name. Fuck. I don’t want to be noticed! I just want to be invisible. But at least I can finally get out of this metal trap of doom and broken dreams.
I get off the plane, get my luggage, and head over to the pick up area. My parents should be here somewhere. I wander around for a little while until, through the crowd, I see him. He’s wearing a tuxedo that makes him look like an adorable penguin processed through a taffy pull. His lips curl into that big, goofy smile I missed so much and I can feel it. Tears well up in my eyes and I can hardly breathe. He holds a sign, with my name written in big block letters, in one hand and a giant teddy bear in the other. There stands my best friend in the entire world, smiling like nothing’s changed, what a cutie.
“Well if it isn’t my favourite faggot, Jack Bassam Barakat!” I said as I approached him. He laughed and shoved the teddy bear into my chest right where I had been clinging to so firmly seven hours ago. “Look who’s talking Private Gasfarts!” he pulled me close and wrapped his long, bony arms tight around me I feel a warm rush of joy race through my whole body. This is home. This feels right. This is where I want to be and nothing can get in the way of that now. Not this time. Maybe things don’t have to be so different than before I left.
As we pull away, I notice a short, sandy brown haired bimbo smiling right at me. As Jack releases me she pulls me in next. “You must be Alex!” she beams, “Jack’s told me all about you, it’s so great to finally meet you.”
Who the fuck is this?
“Oh right! Sorry I haven’t introduced you two. Sasha, meet Alex. Alex, meet Sasha, my fiancé.”
His words ring in my ear, and I feel my throat close up. I’m barely able cough up my words, “Fiancé! Look at you Jack-off, moving up in the world. Congrats, man.” I struggle to laugh as I put a friendly arm around him… friendly, that’s all it can be, that’s all it could ever have been… I want to run away. I wish I had been shot and killed in the war; it would be better than this.
Welcome home