Flightless Bird, American Mouth

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Alternate Universe. 2010. At twenty seven years old, Courtney Wells is the most successful War Psychologist in the nation. She's written five books and countless case reports on the damaging subject that is War and how it effects the subject in question.

She's worked with every kind of patient, from prisoners of wars to veterans to honorably discharged soldiers, to those on medical leave and even the wives, husbands and children of those who don't come home, and they've been receptive. But when the subject of her sixth book, Duncan, comes in, he... isn't.

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I. Clipped Wings

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Key:

-- Scene break.

Flashback

Back to present.

Courtney was in her office when the door was quickly knocked on, then opened.

"Ms. Wells," said the person opening the door, her assistant, Veronica. "A Mr. Duncan Silver is here."

"Oh, already?" She asked, looking up at the clock. Shoot, time had gotten away from her. Putting her notes to the side, she pulled open her drawer and grabbed his case file, empty except for a picture and a few notes concerning things like name, age, height and what medications he was on.

The picture was that of a haunted looking man, the same age as herself-- somewhat attractive. His hair had been shaved, but then regrown as it was somewhat shaggy, but it stuck up at weird angles as if he didn't know what do with it anymore.

"Well, send him in, then." She said, stretching her arms forward and cracking her knuckles before sitting up, professionally.

He then walked in, the same as his picture. His hair had been somewhat tamed, as it didn't stick up nearly as much. She noted details that weren't there on the picture-- a small scar above his eyebrow, a single earring in the cartillage of his left ear, the thousand yard stare in his eyes, unfocused as he seemed to stare right through her as he sat down on the chair across from her.

She noted that last one specifically.

"Hello, Duncan. I'm Courtney Wells. You can call me Dr. Wells, or Courtney, if you'd like. Okay?" She introduced herself.

He nodded, silently.

"May I call you Duncan?" She asked, looking at his file and writing something down. 'Unresponsive.'

He nodded, still silent.

"Will you say something, please? Why did you join the army, for instance?"

"I had two choices. Prison or the Army." He said, his voice unwaving. It strangely matched the haunted look on his face.

She took another note. 'Subject has criminal past.'

"And you chose the army?" She asked, as if confirming a detail she wasn't quite sure of.

"Yes."

"Why don't you tell me about that?" She asked, tapping her lower lip with her pen.

Duncan took a breath. "Okay. I was nineteen..."

Picture a nineteen year old delinquent.

Now picture a eutopian home, perfect in it's suburb, close enough to the city to commute easily but far enough to reduce the crime rate.

Now picture the same home being burgled. By the nineteen delinquent.

He was easily caught. Upon facing jail time, he was offered an alternate: The Army.

It was obvious what to choose-- the year was 2002, and although the threat of war was imminent, it was better than jail time. Breaking and Entering carried the hefty sentence of 10 years.

No sense wasting all that time when he could just train and stay free... for his country.

"I see." She said, writing another note down. 'Subject has been in military since age nineteen.'

"It was hard until I started taking it seriously when I was twenty." He finished.

She nodded, smiling slightly. "What compelled you to stay?"

"A sense of... belonging. That and.." He stopped, fingering the ring around his middle finger. "I'd like to leave."

Courtney was taken a back. "Well, you may leave if you choose to do so..."

"I'll come back next week." He said, standing and turning towards the door.

He nodded courteously and left.

Courtney sighed. He had been so close to opening up. But, in an instant, he had stopped responding.

She jotted down her last note for the day. 'Ring is of importance.'