Somewhere in my memory I remember someone telling me that you are never really going anywhere until you are away from somewhere. I never understood the logic behind it, because as I got older I would find myself thinking more and more about it on the long bus rides. What didn't make sense was the answer I finally came up with one night; you have to be nowhere to be going somewhere.

I know the rest of the guys would watch me as I would sit and stare out the window at all hours of the night, counting the stars and wishing that I knew where we were. I suppose my dazing probably drove them all crazy, but what else was I to do? I was on tour with the one person I loved more than any other in the world in all the wrong ways. I wish now that I'd told him what I had felt.

`I was born beside this river 'Bout a half mile from here But I never seemed to notice That the water ran this clear And I've never seen that color green Sparkle down the glen Now I'll never pass this way again.'

At that time, I honestly thought that things were going well. I mean, we were famous, we had money. My only problem was being constantly around the man I couldn't touch, well, not in the way I wanted to. I'd grown up with him always around, and I had always loved him. I was to the point of lying about going out, just so no one would think anything differently of me. Looking back on it, I don't know if it was the best thing to be doing, it got me into a lot of trouble later on. In fact, that lie took everything I had and shredded it into a million tiny pieces.

Our fifth album had been released and we were all proud of ourselves. Benji, Paul, Billy and I, we were living the life again for what seemed the umpteenth time since all of it had started. We were special; we had our careers lined out for as long as we could see. Yeah, we had it all set out until someone else decided to take control of fate and gave it a head job.

Don't get me wrong, I will love this country until the day I die. I think we always supported the troops out of respect at least for what they did while we toured the states. We had beaten the Middle East finally before our third album had come out, and it looked like clear skies and happy days for everyone. Evil had been chased off for another round and the world was rejoicing. Hell, we were partying for almost ten years before it started to go downhill again.

I think Benji yelled and complained about it most, though now I can see why. My brother, the strong one, the dependable one, the one I was in love with. I could clear it to myself, the fact that we were twins, and that until later on there was no way to tell us apart, not until he started getting the piercings and tattoos. That was enough reason to validate it to me, and maybe if he had felt the same, things wouldn't have turned out the way they did.

What Benj was always complaining about was when President McClint had taken office, or more rather raided office. He was a military brat, and although there have been some great military officers in lead, McClint wasn't one of them. Within three months of being in house, lines of communication started to break. Concerts were cancelled due to bad relations between countries. We were lucky if our albums were even sold outside of the US. What McClint managed to do was turn our land of the free into a dictatorship, and it seemed like no one cared in the least. Well, no one really super important anyway. I cared as much as Benji did, but what could we do with a punk band?

"God Joel, I fucking hate this shit! What are we supposed to do, just sit here and ignore the fact that our lives are going down the drain because of some moron sitting in an office and waving his little magic wand around? What's next? Is he going to make music illegal?"

I had actually started to hate the way he looked at me those days. It was one of those looks where he wasn't getting the answers he wanted, and he was tired of not having things sound the way he thought they should. I would hate it, but I would stand by and laugh at the way he appeared, mascara still pulled down his cheeks. That was the usual wasn't it? The rockers and the punkers had to be mad at their dads, and pissed at the government, and that we were. I would hate him for it, but I would never give up on it, not him.

He did know about how much I really liked him, even though it was an accident. He had finally broken down one night, not that I could blame a bit. We were all on our way to crashing, Benji and I more so then Billy and Paul, but they were happily blissed out in their own little world. Benji ended up in my arms, trying to cry himself to sleep that night. I wish I knew why cuddling with someone to make them feel better always leads to other things. So Benji and I, we had our night, one glorious wonderful night before the shit hit the fan.

I didn't ask him that night why he was crying, assuming that it was just the same as usual and that I shouldn't really be worried about something that Benji was snapped about. Not that I wasn't usually, but he'd exploded enough during those weeks where it didn't matter in the least to me. It was really unfair of me to do that to him, but I didn't know what was coming. I didn't until the next morning when I turned on the television and started going through the neglected mail from the days before.

The news was on as Benji was making breakfast. I sorted through the stack of envelopes, pulling out two brown official looking ones, one addressed to each of us. I was about to open mine when the reporter on the TV caught my attention.

"Hey Joel, this is what I was so pissed about. Turn it up, would you?"

I nodded to Benji, turning up the volume so I could hear it better. The picture to the side of the reporter's head was of McClint and some other man who looked almost as radical as Benji. His hair was spiked, and he wore at least half a dozen chains around his neck. The title under the picture read, "McClint Orders War!"

"President Joseph McClint has declared war against West Coast diplomat, Martin Dawson. McClint stated yesterday that Dawson has been slowly taking over the Western states, his power rising to quickly, and against the laws laid down when the Declaration was rewritten. Dawson has supposedly been leading an attack against McClint's dictatorship, and has finally gotten enough backing to consider trying to overpower the President. Both sides stated that drafting for armies had already begun, even if the war had been announced only yesterday. This country hasn't had a draft since Vietnam, and now we are seeing the recurrence of one of America's bloodiest battles, the Civil War. Lord save us all."

I swallowed nervously, fingering the envelopes in my hands, suddenly afraid of opening them. I knew which side that we would be on, just because we lived right next to the capital, and I didn't want to fight for his cause. I looked down at the brown paper, knowing that the world was going to end as soon as I opened it. Benji watched me for a long moment before coming around and grabbing his with a sigh.

"Alright, Joel, we open them at the same time and get it over with. We already know what is coming, so it's no use to ignore it. We could go to jail if we don't."

I took a breath and nodded, tearing through the flap and pulling out the piece of paper. Benji started to read his out loud, but as I tried to follow along, something was terribly wrong.

"To Benjamin Madden, We regret to inform you that you have been drafted into the Eastern Territories Army. You will be required to be present at the recruitment office in one weeks time. Thank you for your dedication to your country, and to your true leader.

President Joseph McClint."

I know I probably looked like a dieing fish, my mouth opening and shutting repeatedly.

"Ahhh, Benj? We have a problem."

"Why, doesn't yours say that?"

"No...To Joel Madden, We regret to inform you that you have been dismissed from this draft due to your sexual orientation. We know that if you had to, you would gladly help your country, but your assistance is not needed at this time. Thank you for your dedication to your country, and to your true leader.

President Joseph McClint."

Benji went white as a sheet, and he dropped his letter. I knew what he was going to say, but there was nothing I could do about it. They didn't want me because they knew I was gay, but they wanted him because he supposedly wasn't. There was no safe way of proving it either, not with me being the only man that he loved. It would only get us into more trouble. I didn't know what else to do, so I did the only thing I thought I could right off the bat, I comforted him.

`I have wandered through that orchard And played among her trees But I never heard the secrets That she whispers on the breeze For the only sound on hallowed ground Is the silence of the men Who will never pass this way again.'

They took him from me on a dreary Saturday afternoon. I had to kiss him goodbye at the house because it wasn't acceptable behavior in public, and I wasn't allowed inside of the Recruitment Offices. I saw him disappear through those front doors, and I suddenly felt like I had lost the biggest part of me. My twin was gone, and I was suddenly more alone then I had ever been.

I went home and cried. I got a call from Billy and Paul at some point, telling me that they were out of the draft too and that they were both saddened that Benji had to go. They had a friend that was drafted, and they had heard that they were being sent to New York right away to begin training. I only hoped that Benj could find a few moments somewhere to drop me a letter or something, anything. I didn't think I could survive without my Benji.

It was nearly a month before I heard anything more from anyone. A young man in a tight pressed uniform turned up on my doorstep with a small bundle of letters.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Madden, but your brother is only allowed to send once a month. He asked me to make sure they all got to you safe and secure."

I nodded my thanks and went to collapse into my favorite chair. Our last album was in the player as I sat down, draping my legs over one of the armrests, my head on the other. I slowly opened the first letter, glancing over his handwriting for a moment before really settling in to read what he meant to tell me.

By the fourth he was repeating a lot of the same things; how hard training was, how much he missed me, how much he hated the government, how much he missed me. I didn't mind it if I was only going to get this once a month. By the last one, number eleven, he was finally getting down to what was going to happen in his near future.

"Dear Joel, I hate that I can't write what I really want to say because I have a feeling that they read these before they actually deliver them. Anyway, news came today that we are being transferred to `Stones 13.' They say that we're trained enough to take on the West Coast soldiers that will be waiting for us. Evidently, their army was by volunteer, but I guess Dawson knows what he's doing. Between you and me, I'm seriously going to get out of this at all possible. I don't like the thought of killing innocents when they just want back what I really want. Damn McClint to hell for what he's started."

The rest of the information he gave was how to get a hold of him in various forms. `Stones 13' I was happy for though. Throughout our tours, we always labeled each town with a word from the tour name, and whatever number the stop was. `Stones 13' happened to be Denver, and I shuddered thinking about how close that put him to the fighting. It was all over the news every night, how many Americans were dieing, and McClint preaching like usual. He had made himself a great army, but it was never as good as Dawson's would be.

McClint was like Hitler with his Nazis. He was a dictator, his word was law, and anything standing in his way would be punished. Funny how the war was over some of the little land that the German's never got to control. I actually admired Dawson for some strange reason, not that I'd really met the man. The reason I thought he would always be better was because of the fact that he was fighting for the freedom of the people around him.

The next month, Benji wrote me about their journey to Denver, and about how beautiful the Rocky Mountains still were. I could have sworn that his head was still in the clouds even though the tensions were high where he was. He wrote about how on his third day there, three soldiers from his regiment disappeared, supposedly kidnapped by Dawson's men. Benji couldn't really see what was wrong there, because unlike McClint's self-centered view, the soldiers were probably free men finally fighting for the right side.

In May I heard that he had been shot by some kid that he was trying to help. The hit had gone into the fleshy bit of his left shoulder. His major complaint was that the scaring was going to mess up his tattoo designs. He spent two weeks in the medical block getting better until they sent him back out again. It was just after they sent him back out that the news started reporting stories that Dawson had vanished. Not that McClint's spies really knew anything, but both sides where saying the same thing.

While Benj was in Denver, it was up to be to try to keep things together, though it was getting harder as the time clicked by. I did a few interviews, but people didn't want media anymore, they wanted to know what was going to happen if and when someone finally came out a victor in the war. I didn't blame them; I just wanted Benji to come home. It's scary when you wait all month for letters, hoping that a pack come and not just a solitary brown one.

The day that I expected the next package to come, it wasn't the usual young man on my doorstep. The guy wasn't even dressed in military uniform, but he looked like he could easily pass as a soldier. In some strange way, he even reminded me of someone that I had seen; I just couldn't place him at the time.

"Mr. Madden? Mind if I come in?"

I stepped back and let him go past. He sat down in the front room, placing a manila folder on the table in front of him. He sat back to dig in his pockets.

"Joel, my name is Martin Dawson. I found Benjamin after he had been shot."

I laughed. I didn't really mean to, but out of the stress, and the fact that the Western Army leader was sitting on my couch acting like a civilian, I cracked.

"Mr. Madden, this is serious. I came to find you because Benji said that you knew some things that could help me win this war. He wants to come home, just like you want him home."

"I'm sorry, Martin, Mr. Dawson. You are sitting in the middle of Washington D.C. Do you realize that if you were to be recognized, you would be shot without question? Add to that if I was caught helping you. Of course I want Benj to come home, but I can't just march out there and get him."

He pulled a note from his pocket, handing it over to me.

"Then I will let Benjamin speak for himself. The only reason I got here is because McClint isn't here in D.C. anymore. He's leading your brother's party into Salt Lake, and unless I find a way to start changing the effort here, we're all lost. How much longer will you have a career, Joel?"

He watched me as I sighed and sat down in one of the closer chairs. It was only inevitable that the next thing to be changed if McClint was left to go on was to be freedom of speech. It was the last thing holding up the entertainment industry, and the last thing that was keeping us paid.

I opened the note, smiling a bit at the messy Benji scrawl. Somehow, I knew this wasn't going to be nice and loving as the last one's at been.

`Joel, my love... If you're reading this, then Dawson has somehow managed to make it to you. Things are worse here then we originally thought, so much so that McClint has joined us himself to lead us into Salt Lake. He seems sure that we're pushing Dawson's forces back, but we're not, they're just scattering. I don't want to die, but Joel, you've got to help him, and it's not going to be easy.

Do you remember last year when we went on a tour of the White House with Billy and Paul? Do you remember how they started talking about that `secret place' that they had found during their last trip because they just couldn't keep off of each other long enough to make it home? Do you remember when they took us to go see it? Joel, the whole place has tunnels running under it now, and that door that they showed us, it's one of the back entrances. McClint has been bragging about how he can get anywhere from those tunnels, and how he is the only one that uses them.

Joel, if you can get Dawson in there, you can take over the Eastern base, and you can end this war. McClint still thinks that Dawson is in San Diego, so you will have him surprised if you can get into his main office.

I'm sorry that this is so short, but I don't have much time. I'll love you always and forever, never forget that.

Love, Benji.'

I blinked a few times, reading over the last line a few times before setting the note down in my lap. When I looked back at Dawson, he had his head tilted back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. I chuckled when I noticed that he had a heavy looking studded collar on, replacing the chains that I had seen that day on the news. His sapphire blue eyes were on me again in an instant, an eyebrow raised.

"What are you laughing at now?"

"I just noticed the collar. Punker are we?"

I could have sworn that he rolled his eyes at me. I gave him a disgusted look, refolding the note.

"Joel, as if you had to ask. If it weren't for all of your brother's tattoos, I'd think that he almost looks normal. I remember watching your band before all of this started. You guys were good."

"Benji? Looking normal? What did they do to him?"

"The made him get rid of his piercings, cut his hair. He's lost a bit of weight as well. I do feel bad for him, though. I remember seeing him so much happier before."

I nodded, thinking that I should have known that the military would have made him change so much. He had to conform, or they would make him regret it.

"Well Martin, it looks like I'm being asked to help you."

"Benjamin said that you knew ways of being able to get around in the White House. They've turned it into their base headquarters, but as long as McClint can make a buck, he hasn't stopped tours. From what we know, most of what you see on the tour was left alone, but it's what is behind the closed doors that we need to get to. If I can broadcast from inside, then the people will know that they can rise up. We can win this, and I can go back and settle the last of his followers with him."

"Alright, I'll do it, but only if you let me go with you when you go back. I want to bring Benji home."

"You have a deal, Agent Madden. Welcome to the team."

`It never shone as beautiful As how it looks today We never miss the things we love 'Til they go away But I have heard the bugler's call And it's time for me to leave Cause there comes a day when a man must say I will die for what I believe.'

I wrote my first letter back to Benji that day, told him in our secret ways that I was going to help any way that I could, and that he shouldn't be too worried. I said how sure I was that the war was going to end soon, and that I couldn't wait to see him again.

After a quick call, the letter was on its way to being delivered, and I was left to deal with Dawson again. He had managed to pull up a general floor plan for the White House while I was busy writing. He scribbled his notes down in a small notebook, squinting back at the screen.

"See, we go in here, and I have to get up here. We need to come up with some way of making sure that no one else will try to come in, and then a way of keeping them out when they figure out what is going away. From what I've seen, the main command room and the transmission room where he does all of his speeches from are right next to each other. Maybe if we cut the power or something but to those rooms..."

I left him alone to talk to himself. I wasn't trained to do anything but sing, so even taking on the task of getting him into the passages was something of a surprise. I debated for a while if I only agreed because Benji was begging me, and that I had the chance to get him back faster then if I just didn't bother. I figured that it didn't really matter either way, but I wasn't going to let them down, not then.

It took two days before Dawson felt right enough about his plans to actually carry them out. I'd take him in early afternoon, when the most people were taking the tours. That would give enough cover for him to slip away when he needed to. My job was just to get him where he needed to go, and then he would take care of the rest. It seemed like he had everything covered, and I wanted to trust him even though I was sweating bullets.

We took the bus up to the front with fifty some odd other tourists who were ohhhing and awwwing over being able to be so close to the building. I ignored them, because at least they hadn't recognized Dawson or I, and that was a good start. As we neared the front entrance, one of the guards came over and tapped me on the shoulder. He was one of the kids who had brought me Benji's letters in the past, and he smiled at me.

"Nice to see you out and about, Mr. Madden. Never thought I'd see you around here."

I looked at Dawson and swallowed my nerves back. I turned back to the kid, plastering a smile on my face.

"Oh, my friend Chris here came down from New York, and he wanted to take the tour. Just thought I'd come with him because it isn't fun to go sight seeing alone."

The kid nodded, tipping his hat to me before stepping back to his station.

"Hope you have a good time then, Mr. Madden. It was nice seeing you again."

I made sort of a gesture to him, pushing Dawson in at the end of the group. Of course they had to have a security guard standing behind us, but I still wasn't thinking our task impossible. Dawson was visibly nervous, and that started to get to me after a while. About half an hour into the tour, I decided it was time to get away from the group. I got the attention of the guard behind us, and asked if there was a bathroom nearby. He quickly led us down one of the side hallways, stopping at one of the doors.

"Hey, you're Joel Madden, aren't you? I'll get in trouble if I'm not with the group...Do you think you can get back to us quick if I leave you? I mean, I'd trust you not to go anywhere that you're not supposed to..."

I gave him an autograph and he went happily running back to his job. It really made me wonder what kind of people McClint had hired to hide his best-kept secrets. Dawson didn't seemed pleased with where we were left, quickly pointing out to me that the bathroom was no where near close to where we were supposed to me. I locked the door behind him and went to one of the far walls.

"One thing you overlooked, he said that he could get anywhere with those tunnels. This is the other opening we found..."

I pushed one of the tiles, and a small doorway slid open. I smirked inwardly, noticing Dawson's expression as he stepped ahead of me. If I didn't know better, it was like he was trying to underestimate me so he could be surprised when I ended up doing something right. At least I didn't think I was a moron, that's why I made him go first into the tunnels. Though Benji had said that no one else used them, that situation could have changed since McClint had left.

"I'm thinking that all of the guards are up in the building itself. McClint thinks that my army is all trapped West of Denver, so he's not worried about what he really should be. They'll try to come in when we go live, but by then it will be too late."

I nodded, only halfly paying attention. I don't think he could have blamed me for having my mind somewhere else, and I wanted nothing more right then but to have Benji at my side telling me that everything was going to be fine. I started to get a horrible sinking feeling that I couldn't stop, but all I could do was follow on and finish what I had started.

I was startled out of my daze be a set of overhead lights coming on. I looked around the room, half of it set up like a media stage and the other half devoted to the computers controlling the compound. He trotted up to one of the front computers, quickly gaining access to the system. I watched the screen as the system started to crash one room at a time until ours was the only one with power left. The doors were locked, and he was more then ready to get the show on the road.

"Joel, help me out. Get that camera lined up. We're going live."

He stepped up behind the podium as I started punching buttons. McClint had the place wired to he could interrupt every channel, no matter what time so he could make his speeches without notice. Just as the channels were clearing up, I heard the first pounding begin on the door. We went live, and as Dawson talked I ran to make sure that the doors were holding.

"My fellow Americans,

I am broadcasting live from inside of the White House, a symbol of everything that used to be good and right about this country. We have fallen under attack, and your government has let a ruthless dictator take over a land that used to be the home of the free and brave. Where is your bravery now? Why won't you fight against what is ruining us?

Right now, Hitler McClint is on his way to Salt Lake, planning to close in the city and slaughter the civilians living there just because they want things to be the way they used to be. Not only that, but he plans to do it with an army that he ordered to be formed by draft call. Anyone who didn't answer the summon would have been killed. I have a copy of the memo that was sent to the main Recruitment Offices concerning the matter. McClint had nearly fifty of your fellow countrymen shot because they refused to fight for his cause. Will you, the people of a once free nation, let this act continue?"

He seemed so livid about what he was doing, almost like he was standing on hot coals. He pounded on the podium, and practically yelled into the camera. I was so taken in that I literally jumped when my cell started vibrating in my pocket. I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw Billy's number on the ID.

"God Joel, are you seeing this? What are we supposed to do?"

"Billy, I'm here, I'm standing off camera. We snuck in, and it looks like the doors will hold, but I don't know how to get us out of here."

There was a long pause, as if he was decided whether or not to believe me.

"Joel, go on camera. Get that idiot off air, and say something to get these people wanting to help. Being patriotic at this point doesn't mater, but man, if you don't do something, Benji's going to be in something bad."

I glanced up to Dawson before running up to the podium, pushing him away from the microphone. He started to protest, but I held him back, whispering for him to give me a chance.

"Look, I know you people probably don't care, but my name is Joel Madden, and my brother was forced to go out there and fight. Instead of fighting McClint to get our loved ones back, we let them go out there to fight for something that they don't want to fight for. Now they're out there dieing because we weren't strong enough. Well, I'm standing up now, and I am fighting not for just me, but for all of you out there. I'm fighting to bring home my brother who I love more then the world. If no one else will, then you're all careless, and shouldn't be able to live where we were once free."

We signed off, and I turned on the TV to see what was being said. I used it to drown out the sounds of the guards trying to get the doors open, knowing that it was only a matter of time. Either someone came to help us, or the guards would get through and end of story.

It was another three hours before I got another call; Billy and Paul coming to the rescue after the neighborhood realized who had been on the TV. Billy came through the door in all his glory, baseball bat hanging over his shoulder and buffing his nails on his shirt.

"You so owe me Joel. DC's in a riot, the Recruitment Office is on fire, and we hear that the training bases in New York are being ripped apart. It looks like we'll actually pull through this."

Billy smiled at me as Dawson patted me on the back.

"I'm going upstairs to look at my new office. We'll leave in three days to go get your brother."

I had a letter waiting the next morning, sent express from Benji. I couldn't help but smile, knowing that he had probably seen me doing my speech.

`Dear Bro, McClint is on the run. Half of the group went off after him, but we're all supposed to stay until he is found. We know that he is hiding somewhere in Salt Lake, so it's only a mater of time before I can come home. I'm proud of you, really proud. Tell Billy and Paul that they need to get out and help you where ever, and to stop being so wrapped up in themselves. I'll talk to you soon.'

I wrote him back just as fast as I could, completely overjoyed that our troubles were coming to an end finally.

`Dear Benj, You'll see me a lot sooner then you think. Dawson is taking me with him when he goes back in a couple of days, and I'm going to bring you home. You have no idea how much I've missed you. Oh, Billy is threatening to hit you with his baseball bat if you say anything else about him, so you might want to think about that a little bit. See you soon!'

I was happy for the first time in months. My steps were lighter, and I didn't even bother sulking near the TV. You could hear the joy outside, people finally realizing what they had been missing all those years. Dawson wasted no time in starting to get things cleared up, the guards simply switching sides when they realized that they weren't going to be punished for what they had been doing.

After a while, it seemed like Billy and Paul had decided that my house was their house again. They were constantly around me, almost to the point of making me feel suffocated. Maybe it would have been better if they hadn't been so lovey, but I was going to kill them if they couldn't chill out or didn't take it elsewhere. They told me that they would be coming with me, and that they deserved to see Benji as much as I did. I still didn't find the reason to why they couldn't leave me and my good mood alone.

We were packed and ready to go the morning of our flight into Salt Lake when I got another letter. Thinking that it was a reply back from Benji, I nearly shredded it trying to get it open. When the writing was finally staring back at me, I realized that it wasn't his writing, wasn't Benji's happy scrawl.

`All right Madden Boy... It's bad enough that Dawson got into my base and started messing with things, but then to find out that you were there helping, shame on you. You are your brother's twin, I remember him well. He tried to argue with me about why we were fighting. Seems as though his view is just as tainted at yours. No one knows why the innocent have to die, no one but me that is. They have to die because they aren't innocent. You are going to pay for what you've done.

I'm looking for your dear big brother as you're reading this, and as soon as I find him he's going to wish that you had never tried to fight against me. After I'm done with him, I'm going to pull a Dawson and come find you. I may not be able to have this country under my control any longer, but I refuse to let you go on thinking that you've gotten the best of me. Hope you sleep well in that bed of yours.

Joseph McClint'

I freaked. We were on the plane within twenty minutes, and there was no way that they could fly fast enough to get us there. I had to get to Benji before McClint did, and I was a day behind. I'd only seen bits of Salt Lake, and I was sure there were plenty of places to hide, that is, if you knew someone were after you. I was not sure if Benj knew it or not, and that only made it worse.

Dawson got a limo and was the first one off the plane. It made me more irritated, but he assured me that it was only so he could get to the Capital building and get the people he needed together to find McClint and end all of the mess he had started. Billy grabbed me and led my tense form back to another vehicle.

"Joel, can you think of anywhere Benji would go if he were left alone to do what he wanted?"

I looked up at Billy, my mind drawing a blank. Where would Benji go? Then it hit me.

"You remember that time we played the Delta Center?"

"Hell yeah! Rockin' show!"

"Right, I bet he's gone back. Let's go see..."

The streets were swamped. I remember getting the feeling that I was being completely swallowed even though I was trying to stay calm in the back seat of some SUV. Paul had his arm around my shoulders, more trying to keep me in my seat then anything else. I don't think I could have ever thanked those two enough for staying with me through all of it. I could swear that they caught my mind when I lost it.

I jumped out of the car when we pulled up to the curb out front. It was eerie that the block surrounding the Center seemed completely devoid of life when we had just been swamped in it. My eyes wandered up the side of the auditorium as I ran up to the doors, bolting inside.

"Benji? Beeeennnnjjjj? Hellllooo?"

My yells only echoed back to me from the high ceilings. I jogged the entire way around the lobby, noting that it did still look rather nice. As I was coming around another corner, I heard a door click shut. I ran for the nearest doors, throwing them open as I charged inside to the one sight I did not want to see.

"Well well well, Mr. Joel Madden...So happy that you could join us!"

Benji was lying at McClint's feet, his body limp. It hadn't been a door I heard shut, it had been a muffled gunshot. I was too late. I don't think anyone really understands what it feels like to really lose someone until you know that you can never have them back. I slowly started to make my way down the stairs; my fists balled up and ready to cause some serious damage. I made it down to the floor before he pulled up the revolver and aimed it at me.

"I wouldn't come any closer; you wouldn't want to end up like your brother."

"How would you know? He was my life! You bastard! Go ahead, I fucking dare you to kill me! The state officials are on their way now to deal with you. Take your shot!"

I had my arms outstretched, one fist pounding on my chest occasionally. I could barely see, between my tears and my anger McClint was nothing more then a blur. All I could do was scream and yell at him, and hope that he would give me the supposed punishment he had promised in the letter he sent. I would keep stepping forward, and all he would do was wave the gun back at me. I was asking for it, because if I couldn't save Benji, it wasn't worth it anymore.

I finally stopped my advance when the cool feel of the barrel met my temple. I heard the hammer click back as I closed my eyes.

"You were a brave fuck, coming all the way out here. You would have made a good soldier. Your daddy probably would have been proud."

I snarled at him.

"My Dad left when we were kids. Just walked out one night and never came back. No, he wouldn't be proud, but my country will be!"

I heard another shot go off and I dropped to the floor, my knees giving out. After a couple of seconds I dared to open my eyes, looking over to the fallen and dead McClint. All I could do was crawl over to Benji, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him tightly to me. I kissed his chilled lips as another set of hands rested on my shoulders. I knew that Billy and Paul were there, and I was sure that I was not the only one crying.

Dawson stood over McClint's body for a moment, making sure he was really dead before he came over to us, seeming apart.

"I...I'm sorry Joel. We should have gotten here earlier...Should have stopped this a long time ago..."

I held a hand up to silence him, giving him a pleading look. He nodded and wandered away, leaving me with my last time with my Benji. I looked at his face, so calm and comforted. He was my perfect twin again, our features mirrored. I could only hope that he had been happy, knowing that I was coming for him...Coming to take him home...

**

We buried Benji three years ago, and telling the story over always gets to me. I still only feel like half of a person, though I know no one around me understands that. I don't think that anyone ever really will, and in some ways I don't mind. Billy and Paul are still trying to keep my mind occupied this time of the year, and I know that I frustrate the hell out of them.

We always burn candles on the old fountain by his plot in the cemetery, but it isn't just for him anymore. It's for him, and all of the soldiers that died by his side, doing what they had to do. I don't blame them at all, because I know if Benji could have had a choice, they all would have found a way out.

To the rest of the public, the whole thing was like a huge nightmare that everyone wanted to forget. Some days I wish that I could forget as easily, but I know that I never will. I always start thinking back to the times just before he left, when we made each other happy just by being in the same room. I know that I'll never pass that way again, I just hope that it meant the same to him.

Every weekend, I go to visit him. I sit up against the big oak tree and talk about everything going on. It's my time alone with him, in a sense anyway. I tell him about how every time I hear something new about his bravery when I go out, and how proud of him I am. That will never end. Right before I leave, I always toss a penny into the old fountain, making a silent with that Benji is happy, and that he's watching me.

After all this time, I realized that being somewhere wasn't the important part of it all. Once you get somewhere the journey's over, and that's the biggest part. You just have to learn as you go and hope that what you're doing the right thing. We all make our mistakes, but at least few of them are out in the nowhere bit where no one is around to help. Anywhere is somewhere, as long as you have love...

`I have often thrown my pennies, In that old wishing well, And if I had a penny I would wish me a spell, I would kneel and pray that here I'd stay, Forever Amen, But I'll never pass this way, No I'll never pass this way, No, I'll never pass this way again.'