Honestly, not the most interesting but I wanted to know more about this one memory that was mentioned in the chapter: Leaving It Behind.

So enjoy or not, that's up to you!

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Donovan slammed the magazine into the paintball rifle before slinging it over his shoulder. The house around him lay silent as if taunting him as his brothers had. Their parents had gone out on a date leaving all four boys at home.

But that's not where they all planned to stay. After an hour, Brock announced to Donovan that he had to stay home while the rest of them went out. Donovan protested loudly, but the counterargument was that he was too young. Donovan shouted that he was only two years younger than James but he knew there was more than that.

At fourteen, James had already hit a growth spurt and looked more man than boy. At twelve, Donovan still stood on the skinny side and so his brothers had left him behind with the threat of a beating if he tried to follow them. 

So Donovan stayed behind, but he planned to show his brothers that it was a terrible mistake. Dressed in all black, Donovan headed out the front door. The night spring air held the scent of dirt and a bit of the sea. A chill swept across the base, stirring up clouds of dust.

Rifle secure, Donovan climbed into the railing of the porch. He reached out and grabbed the lip of the roof. Adjusting his grip, he let his body swing, holding himself up only by his fingertips. Pressing one boot to the railing, he hoisted himself onto the roof ledge. James had sprained his ankle trying to climb to the roof that way and falling. Since then it had been forbidden for them to climb into the roof. Donovan didn't care. This was war.

Donovan crawled across the rough roof shingles, up to the apex. At the top, he flipped over to the other side and positioned himself for an attack, rifle snug against his shoulder, his sights aimed at the road to their house. He didn't know when his brothers would be home. His parents varied when they returned, so he knew his brothers wouldn't stay out too long so they wouldn't be caught. It meant Donovan had maybe two hours to wait, but again he didn't care.

It was almost an hour later when Donovan spotted his brothers making their way back. Wispy clouds drifted across the face of the moon, but they weren't strong enough to block out the light. He could perfectly see his brothers' silhouettes and shifted the gun, aiming for them.

When they were a few feet from the front gate, Donovan fired. The shot hit Brock in the chest and he let out a grunt of pain. Using the moment of shock, Donovan aimed for James hitting him in the shoulder. But when he swiveled to Clint, the second oldest was already diving for cover behind a hedge, closely followed by the other two.

"Donovan! What are you doing?!" Brock yelled.

Donovan didn't answer. He waited. When Clint made a dash for another hedge, Donovan fired, nailing him in the leg. James darted towards the gate, but Donovan pelted him with two shots to the stomach, making his brother stagger and fall behind the fence.

Donovan knew that with their numbers, their best strategy would to be flank him and he had no intention of letting that happen. So he whipped the rifle from one side to the other, keeping them from getting close and doing more than taking cover.

When James burst from his hiding spot, screaming like a madman and running to the house, Donovan laid him out with so many shots his brother was going to be black and blue all over. At the same time, Clint vaulted over the fence, sprinting to get under the cover of the porch, but Donovan managed to get in a couple of hits on him.

Only when he felt a hand clamp over his ankle did he realize what James and Clint had been: a diversion. Donovan flipped onto his back, ready to fire on Brock, but his older brother ripped the gun from Donovan's hands.

"Not cool," Brock said.

"You were the ones you left me home! That wasn't cool!"

Brock called to Clint and tossed the gun over the side of the house. Donovan tried to scramble away, knowing Brock wasn't going to let this slid, but Brock caught him before he made it far. Donovan struggled but it was useless, his brother was eighteen and solid muscle. Gripping both of Donovan's wrists, Brock dragged him to the side of the house. Donovan fought with all his might, but still, he slid closer to the edge.

"Don't!" he shouted, panic bursting inside him.

Brock laughed and Donovan paled. It wasn't a pleasant sound.

"Mom will kill you," Donovan warned.

"Don't worry, two people are waiting to catch you."

"Brock! Don't!"

Donovan wanted to act brave, but terror seized him. Even though it was a one-story house, it was a far way to the ground below. He twisted and kicked at his brother, trying with all he had to break free.

"You ready," Brock called out.

"Send him down!" James said.

Donovan let out a wild scream as Brock tossed him from the roof. For a heart-stopping moment, he hovered then plummeted to the ground, stomach lurching into his throat. Two sets of arms caught him, but the force of Donovan's body sent them crashing to the ground.

Pain exploded in Donovan's arm as he landed on it hard. He bit back his cry, knowing he couldn't let his brothers see more of his weakness. It was the reason he hadn't been invited in the first place. White spots popped in his vision as he rolled off his arm, agony lancing up to his shoulder.

Holding his arm close, Donovan stumbled to his feet, hearing his brothers laughing at it all and making comments about Donovan's scream. When Donovan headed back to the house, James called out.

"What? I thought you wanted to hang out with us?"

Donovan ignored him and slipped inside. He touched his wrist. Blazing fire ripped through his arm and he gritted his teeth, fighting a wave of nausea. He guessed it was broken, but he wasn't sure. In his room, he climbed into his bed, putting his back to the door. Minutes later, James came in, but Donovan ignored him and his joking comments.

Eventually, James' snore filled the room. Donovan let out a shaky breath, his arm throbbing in pain. When he heard the sound of the front door opening, he got up and crept out of the room. In the front hall, his father removed his wife's jacket and hung it up. Donovan moved towards them, holding his arm to his chest, tears of pain and exhaustion building in his eyes. His mother spotted him first and gave him a warm smile.

"How come you're up so late?" she asked.

Donovan swallowed hard, but couldn't speak. His mother's expression fell as she took in how he held his arm. Hurrying forward, she reached for him, but Donovan jerked back, knowing moving his arm would hurt. Worry played across his mother's face.

"What happened?" she asked.

Donovan's father took the spot beside Eleanor, eying his son. Despite everything, Donovan didn't plan on ratting out his brothers. They might be the reason for the pain, but he couldn't snitch on them.

"I hurt it," Donovan said. "I don't know if it's broken."

"What happened?" his mother repeated.

Donovan knew he couldn't lie to her, so he settled for saying nothing at all.

Eleanor exchanged a glance with Ted and Donovan felt as if they were talking without saying anything.

"Come with me," his father said. "We'll get that checked out."

Donovan was grateful he didn't have to answer any question but knew they would come later. In the car, Donovan stared out the window, not wanting to see his father's silent countenance and know that he wasn't pleased.

His father remained silent towards Donovan through the examination with the base's doctor. The injury turned out to be a sprain instead of a broken bone. Donovan took pain killers and held still as his hand was wrapped up.

Only when his father parked the car outside of their house, did he talk.

"I know you're not telling me what happened because your bothers are involved," he said. "I respect the fact that you want to stay loyal to them. But there are some lines that when crossed loyalty no longer matters. The truth is what matters."

Donovan stared down at his bandaged hand, hating being torn between his brothers and his father.

"I shot them with a paintball gun from the roof and they...weren't happy."

His father nodded and climbed out of the car. Donovan trailed behind him, knowing he should tell him all of the situation but knew what he faced would be ten times worse for Brock.

But it didn't seem to matter, because when they entered the house all the lights were on, his brothers cowered on the couch in the living room, and their mother stormed before them. Donovan couldn't remember a time when his mother looked angry.

"You want to be soldiers but you treat your brother like this! What does that say about you? He didn't give you up when he should have told us from the beginning! His arm could be broken and because of your stupidity, it could have been worse. You're his big brothers, your job is to protect him! To have his six."

To Donovan's surprise, all his brothers looked on the verge of tears. When Brock met Donovan's gaze, Donovan dropped his, not able to handle the broken spirit of his older brother.

"El," Ted said, announcing their presence.

Eleanor spun around and noticed Donovan's bandaged wrist. "Not broken, thank goodness."

She wrapped Donovan up in her arms and kissed his head. Still holding him, she talked to her other sons.

"All of you go to bed, your father and I will deal with you in the morning."

The chastened trio stood and shuffled to their rooms, each of them glancing at Donovan with regret in their eyes. After ten minutes of his mother's love and worry, Donovan headed to his room.

Stepping out of his boots, he got into bed. But before he could find sleep, his door opened and Brock and Clint entered. James joined his bothers as they all crouched beside Donovan's bed. For a long moment, no of them spoke.

"You didn't tell us you hurt your wrist," he said.

Donovan shrugged. "Didn't want you to think I was weak."

"Why didn't you tell on us?" James asked.

"Because your my brothers," Donovan said.

Even in the dim light, Donovan could've sworn they looked about to cry themselves.

"We failed you," Brock said.

"Even when you didn't fail us," Clint said.

"We aren't ever going to let that happen again," James said.

Donovan met each of his brothers' gaze, seeing the sincerity there. He felt like one of them again, no longer left behind.

"From here on out," Brock said, nodding with them all. "We have your six."

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Oh snap! 😳 That just happened!

It's always interesting for me to see Donovan's life before Link and Carter! What do you think of it? 🗯💬💭🤜🤛

So if you haven't read Leaving It All Behind, read that chapter cause in it they talk about this event. I wrote this when I was recovering from my hurt neck and that's why it might not be up to snuff with the rest of the chapters.

But still I hope you liked it! Even if you didn't I like seeing Baby Donovan. ☺️

Vote, comment, follow but only if you don't have two hands. If you have two hands I'm sorry but you can't do any of these things, you are not cool enough.