Something - Quinn Fabray

Chapter 70

The summer days started to meld together into a blur of activity for Ryan. He had his theater lessons, his music lessons, friends to hang out with. And of course, family who wanted to spend time with him as well. James was finalizing his move into the Corcoran house, moving the last of his belongings into the house before the lease on his apartment expired.

"You don't really have a lot of stuff," Ryan observed as he helped his dad carry boxes of clothes into the bedroom James and Shelby were sharing.

"I guess not," James said. He smiled ruefully. "It doesn't seem like much for almost forty years of living, huh?"

"Is it because you moved around a lot?" Ryan asked. "I mean, I suppose the transient lifestyle of military members wouldn't lend itself to the accumulation of too many possessions, since you'd have to drag them around on assignments..."

"Yeah."

Ryan set down a box labelled UNIFORMS. "Can I see these?"

At James' nod he opened the box, pulling out a camouflage jacket. He traced a finger over then name tape on the front, inspecting the American flag on the sleeve. It was strange to think that this uniform had been with his father all over the world, probably even in battle zones in the Middle East. He knew his dad had been in the Army of course, but honestly, it hadn't really kicked in before. He'd never even seen James wearing his uniform in person. Holding this now though made it sink in.

"What do you think?" James asked, pulling him out of his musings.

Ryan glanced up. "It's... impressive." He ran his fingers across the badges decorating the coat. "What's this?" he asked, gesturing at the square, striped patch on the left sleeve.

"3rd Infantry Division." James took the jacket, gesturing to a patch attached below the American flag. "I was in the 7th Infantry Regiment." He reached inside, pulling out a more formal coat. Ryan saw the same striped patch on the sleeve, this one in blue and white. There were also a number of badges attached to the chest. Ryan noted the golden bars on the sleeves.

"What about those?"

"The diagonal ones are for services stripes," James explained. "One for every three years. Six for me, I didn't get up to 21 years. The horizontal ones are for overseas service, one for every six months."

Ryan nodded absently, counting nine horizontal stripes. "That's a long time."

"Yeah." James nodded pensively. "Looking back though, it sort of flew by." He touched a badge that rested above the US Army tape. Ryan gave him a questioning glance. "Combat Medical Badge," he said, pausing thoughtfully. "Do you know why I became a medic?"

"No."

"I wasn't, originally. I started out 11B. Infantry. While I was in Japan I volunteered at the health center, and I got a taste for it. Also, when we were teenagers, your mom had an asthma attack in front of me. I didn't know what to do, we had to call an ambulance. I thought maybe it would be cool to do that." James smiled faintly. "It's funny now, but I nearly had a heart attack back then."

"Wow." Ryan smiled, enjoying the insight into his dad's past. And his mom's too, partially. "So what, did you take more training to become a medic?"

"Not immediately," James allowed. "It took another tour in Iraq to make me decide." He let out a small sigh. "We were transporting a group of refugees across the desert, and we were ambushed. This little kid got out of our group somehow, ran straight into the middle of things. One of the guys on the squad managed to grab him, but the kid got shot. Our medic was down, so they called me. I couldn't save him."

"I'm sorry."

James hummed. "That was in 1996. You would have been a little over a year old, I guess."