Chapter Text
1995
Liam
“You called me a faggot.”
The voice on Cope cut through Liam like glass. Jagged and painful and likely to never heal properly unlike a wound made with a sharpened blade. It would ache and fester with an uneven scar that was always visible.
“You called me a faggot when that’s all I heard for years and something other people there had already called me.”
There was the blade, slicing cleanly through Liam. There was a chance this wound would heal very well but goddamn, it hurt all the same. Thing was, Cope wasn’t wrong. He had called him that during boot camp but he’d done it to save him. Cope in his naivety wasn’t keeping it locked up enough and military installations were full of gossipers and it wasn’t the military spouses. There were so many people who thought it was their duty to expose, punish, and purge the Corps of homosexuals and somehow they had better gaydar than a lot of gay men.
“Cope, that was so long ago…”
Cope put a hand up. “Call me Cameron or Cam. I’m not in the Corps anymore and you aren’t my sergeant.”
He sighed and looked down at his feet. He was still in the Corps though and a part of him would always consider himself to be Cope’s superior in that he should be looking out for him. He frowned to himself momentarily when he realized if he still thought that then they shouldn’t be having this conversation at all. Except it was a conversation and apology that part of him was desperate to have.
So he was at a loss for words which was also stupid because he had been the one who had contacted Cope and asked to have a talk. Why was it always like this for him? He had no problem in high pressure situations that involved things like enemy fire or explosives or death. This though? A high stress situation about his feelings? He was a basket case.
“Okay?” Cope asked when he didn’t reply. He felt his stomach clench and he tried to remember what his therapist had taught him about boundaries. Cope was setting a boundary by asking to be called by his first name. That meant Liam had a choice to respect that or walk away. The cold clench in his stomach moved up to his chest. He wanted to do more than walk away. He wanted to run away but that’s why he was seeing a therapist and that’s why he was here.
“Hey,” Cope’s voice was soft.
He looked into his eyes and he saw it all there. Swirling in those gorgeous dark blue eyes that seemed to be as deep as an ocean, Cope was seeing him. Seeing him, reading him, and understanding him in that moment. He always knew the kid was smart.
“You wanted to talk to me but if it’s too much we can walk that back.”
Something roared in him, something hot and harsh pushing against the cold steel in his stomach. Yes, as soon as he saw Cope he wanted to talk to him and he’d waited three agonizing months before he approached him. His therapist was more than a little concerned when he confessed he’d memorized Cope’s work schedule. It wasn’t really intentional though. Cope worked at a small art gallery and studio in San Diego that was on his way to base from his civilian apartment.
That was a whole other thing. He didn’t plan to be in California or even in the Corps anymore after his Unauthorized Absence also known as him disappearing into the swamp five years ago. A lot of pieces and parts had moved in his favor though and his felony assault charge disappeared thanks to the base general who happened to know the guy who owned the bar where the fight occurred. The man who he had the altercation with had a long history of provoking fights with Marines and had been involved in several fights in the year leading up to his run in with Liam. That night, he’d been thrown out of the bar earlier but somehow made his way back in unnoticed.
It wasn’t clean and he definitely should have been charged, at least in his opinion. He had been so ashamed he turned himself in just days after he took off. He’d been up three days on a bender and had lost any sense of who he was. Hungover and full of shame he turned himself in and was put into custody to await a decision from both the civilian and military courts.
And he should have been stuck in custody for years. However, the base general had taken a laundry list of reasons into account to fight for him and had essentially promised Liam he was on his last leg. Any more questions or inquiries and he was done. After months and months of legal hurdles, threats from every member of the brass, endless meetings with NCIS, he was also mandated into counseling for alcoholism before being shipped to the other side of the country to Camp Pendleton, record sealed.
Just eighteen months after he deserted his recruits in the swamp he was on a plane from South Carolina to California to start that second chance. He was back in reconnaissance too and ended up eventually deployed to Somalia in late 1992. That nightmare was yet another reason he was in therapy. The things he was witness to would always be burned into his mind, especially the Battle of Mogadishu. He earned another Silver Star medal though which made it so once he was back in Pendleton he had a lot more choices.
So in early 1994 he became a Drill Instructor again but at MCRD San Diego. Silver Star and distinguished service aside, he still felt like he was nothing more than a fuck up. He’d reached out to McKinnon because he was full of doubt and McKinnon seemed the type to give honest advice. After a lot of yelling he got the advice to, “get a therapist and get your head unfucked, Sullivan.” So he did and he was still seeing that therapist over a year later.
Back to the here and now and what was in front of him, which was very important to his therapist, Cope was looking at him expectantly. Liam took a moment to take him in. He’d let his hair grow out and it was a floppy style that Liam had seen on a lot of men in the clubs in LA. He also had some piercings that Liam knew weren’t standard issue, two in each ear and one eyebrow. His eyes were just as big and blue and full of innocence as they had been in boot. He looked like he was still in Marine Corps shape so maybe he was still keeping up on physical training. Liam shook his head realizing he knew nothing about Cope now and he wanted to feelings vomit all over him. That wasn’t fair to Cope.
“Co-“ he started and then took a breath. “Cameron. I’m sorry. Fuck, the list of things I am sorry for could go on for days but I’m sorry for calling you that and letting Jones bait you with it.” He wanted to vomit just thinking about that day during the hand to hand combat. He’d let Cope down. He’d let himself down. He was trying to teach him how to find the confidence in himself to survive. Instead he let Cope become a monster for a few minutes and lose control and then he failed to pull him back.
“I have a lot to apologize to you for and it’ll take a lot longer than the fifteen minute break you’re on. I fucked up but I was trying my hardest to protect you. To teach you to protect yourself. To not end up like me.” He fought to keep his voice steady. That last one was the truth. He wanted Cope to be safe and not be like him, caught between being a warrior and a lover. There could be no warrior and lover in the Corps. There could only be the warrior.
Cope’s eyes narrowed. “Not end up like you? You’re all I wanted to be until I realized you were a self loathing gay man who took out his problems on recruits.” He looked away and shook his head. “Okay maybe that’s not fair. The self loathing gay man who wanted to walk away from it all though part is fair though.”
Liam saw his hands ball into fists and slightly shake and wanted to reach out but kept his hands to himself. His touch, even just a hand on a shoulder would be unwanted and he knew that. The need to reach out burned through him though. Cope turned and looked Liam in the eye before speaking.
“Liam, and I’m calling you that because that’s your name, you taught me to fear who I was. Yes, you taught me to stand up for myself and claim my place but you also taught me to kill the part of me that made me who I am too. Those parts should have been shaped to work in harmony. Not for one to kill the other. So for a while I did end up like you. I was self loathing.” The last part came out quietly.
He felt sick. Never would he have wanted Cope to hate himself. He wanted him to lock it up if he wanted to be a Marine. He had to do it, there was no other option. The warrior and the gay lover working in harmony? Absolutely not an option. Not then and not now. Yes now they had Don’t Ask Don’t Tell but “telling” could still mean scuttlebutt. Telling could still mean any sign of weakness and weakness was still defined as not being a skirt chasing red blooded man. It was still a minefield and a mindfuck. The only thing that had changed was the question of, “are you a homosexual” no longer was on the enlistment paperwork.
None of that mattered though. What mattered was he was trying to seek forgiveness from someone he owed a lot more than that. “This isn’t how I wanted this to go. I just wanted, I don’t know. I’m sorry, Cameron.” He felt drained from trying and failing.
He needed to walk away. He felt that in his heart. There wasn’t the time and this wasn’t the place. Cope didn’t need this. Didn’t need him trying to make amends. Didn’t need the shit Liam carried in his pack. He was a mess and he knew it. With another deep breath he took a step back.
“Hey. No.” Cope suddenly reached a hand out towards him but didn’t actually touch him. “I don’t know what’s going on with you. I heard things. A lot of things, but I would rather hear it directly from you.” He looked behind him at the art studio. “I get out at 1800. If you want to swing by we can get a drink or dinner and,” he paused, “you can get out what you need to.”
It was the lifeline he didn’t know he needed. He felt something shift in his stomach and his chest. Something that was cold and tight loosening a bit and warming. It didn’t make any sense to him why this pull back to Cope. Seeing him, alive and in the flesh, after so long made him want to talk to him and it should not have. Cope was still young and relatively whole and all Liam would do was fuck him up with his selfish need to apologize.
“I’d like that. I’ll see you at 1800. I do have the next two weeks free. We are between recruit training cycles.”
Cope nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll see you this evening then. I lock up at 1730 normally unless we have an event in the evening. Afterward I tidy up a bit but I’ll be out at 1800. See you then, Liam.”
With that he turned and walked back into the studio. Liam took in a deep breath and stood where he was in the alley behind the studio. He was rooted by his own doubts and pain. Part of him didn’t understand why once he saw Cope he had a need to apologize to him. Yes, he owed him an apology but he could have written him a letter and mailed it to the studio. Maybe he should ask his therapist what else could be wrong with his head. Maybe he shouldn’t come back at 1800. Maybe this was all a terrible choice.