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The rain pattered rhythmatically against the window pane, bringing back memories that were thought to be long gone. A brown haired male with dark green eyes sat quietly on his couch, in his old apartment. He moved his leg back and forth impatiently, hoping that someone would come and steal him away from his thoughts. The memories of that night flooded his mind quickly, causing his head to throb.

They were painful, like being struck with a knife. The fact that he could never gain a friend like Jason killed him. They had always been like brothers, growing up to want the same things. As kids they would play with GI-Joe's and dress up in camouflage because they thought that being in the army would make them "cool". Now, Sean knew that the army wasn't a game. It wasn't like their mini green soldiers that could be knocked down and picked up again. The war was stressful and being in active combat was a challenge. A challenge of life or death. Strive to be great, and live, or don't try at all, and die. Souls of the young grew old and tired. It was as if elder men lived in the body of an adolescent.

Over fifty-eight thousand Americans were killed in that war. Because [insert president name here] didn't want communism to spread farther around the world. Interfering was a choice, but deportion wasn't. Your name was put on a list and if you were chosen - and you were a United States citizen - you were deported out of the country. Men large and small, weak and strong, from the greatest country became brothers. They united in the worst of situations.