A/N: Some of you might be thinking you saw this story about a month ago, and you would be right. I took this down to avoid confusion when I entered this in a writing competition, so they wouldn't see it and think I stole it from myself.

Since I took this down, I've made some revisions to it, and I want to thank Punslinger, WyntirSno, WaldoJeffers, and soph/I'll be watching for their reviews. Your feedback and advice helped me revise it and correct mistakes. Also thanks to WoundedHearts and Elianna22 from fanfiction for betaing the first version on here. Thanks and enjoy!

My Brother the Soldier

Phil sat on the couch of his family's living room and took a quick glance out the window to see the snow ruthlessly coming down. After a couple seconds of fearing for those still outside, he turned the TV on and allowed himself to mindlessly absorb whatever images it threw at him. It was December 13th, three days after he returned home from his college dorm on his first Christmas break, and already, he was bored.

Instinctively, he turned to his side to look for any suggestions of what they should do, but quickly remembered he wouldn't get an answer. Sighing, he reclined his chair, and just gazed at the ceiling. The empty house was missing something. It had been months since he'd been home for this long, and without his twin brother Dylan there, he felt like a stranger in his own home.

Not knowing what else to do, he got up from the chair and went to his room. He sat at his desk and opened his laptop. After tapping his fingers impatiently for everything to load, he quickly logged in to his email, and was overjoyed to see five new messages. However, after seeing who'd sent them, his happiness quickly faded.

He soon deleted the four spam emails and laughed briefly at the joke his dad had sent him. There was still nothing from the one he wanted to hear from most. He'd last sent his twin brother Dylan an email a couple weeks ago. It normally didn't take him this long to respond. Phil couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible had happened.

Dylan couldn't be hurt, though. He was too strong, too stubborn, and too capable for anything to stop him. He had already made second class private in the few months he had been there, so there was no way he could have been injured, or anything worse.

Phil kept repeating these phrases to himself this to calm the worries building inside him. He'd admit he was getting concerned, but everything was all right, it just had to be. They were probably just experiencing another power outage so Dylan had lost internet access. That's why he hadn't responded yet. Or maybe he had just been really busy.

Either way, he would write back soon though; he had to, unless he forgot. Yeah, that had to be it; he'd got Phil's email, but then something came up so he didn't get around to responding. Any minute now, the email would arrive with Dylan revealing their latest exciting adventure. Everything would be fine – but what if it wasn't? Phil quickly shook his head, dismissing the thought that anything could be wrong.

Phil hated having his brother so far away from him. The transition to being away at college made it easier to forget that his other half was on the other side of the world, but now that he was home, it was different. His parents worked all day, so this should have been the time when he and his brother would catch up over a game of Halo. He couldn't believe how much their family had changed in the past few months, but that's what happens when one brother chooses to go to college and the other joins the military. No matter how much Phil wanted to, it wasn't as if he could just take a quick drive to Iraq to see him. The younger twin closed his eyes and remembered the last time they had seen each other.

***

It was the start of September and the twins stood in Boston's Logan Airport "You gonna be okay, buddy?" Dylan asked, placing his arm on his brother's shoulder. Tears were flowing down Phil's face. He couldn't believe that his brother was actually leaving him; everything seemed surreal.

"Yeah, just stay safe over there. Come back in one piece," Phil said through his tears, trying to remember that his brother's safety was more important than how he felt.

"Don't worry; nothing can hurt the great Dylan Masterson," he said, flexing his biceps, causing his younger brother to chuckle.

The two embraced for a moment before Dylan ran off to join the rest of his unit. The older twin knew he would have a year to remember. Even though he didn't know what it would hold, he felt like this is where he was being called.

While Phil had received his acceptance letter from MIT nearly a year ago, Dylan had struggled to decide on a course for his life. His grades weren't high enough to go to a good university. He weighed the different options of going to a community college, or working right away, but eventually the military seemed to be his best option. It was a reliable job, and was something he could do to give back to those he loved. Even if it meant he would be far away from his family, it would be worth it – not to mention it would be the adventure he had always wanted.

Phil stood there watching as Dylan disappeared into the crowd of soldiers. A voice in the back of his head told him that he might never see his brother alive again. Thousands of soldiers had already died in Iraq but before he learned that his brother would be joining them, he saw the many deaths as merely a statistic. Now he clearly realized that each of those numbers was a person no longer alive – a parent losing a child, a best friend losing their other half. The next time that number rose, it might mean that Dylan had died.

A calm voice brought him out of his thoughts. "You okay, Phil?"

"Yeah, let's go Mom," he said softly and they returned to the car.

Phil stared out the window as they drove home in silence. Neither of them wanted to talk about the unshakeable fear that they might have just seen their loved one for the last time. Perhaps by not talking about it, their fears wouldn't come true.

***

The rhythmic roar of the helicopter calmed Dylan as he prepared himself both mentally and physically for the coming mission. They had just flown over Balad, Iraq. It wasn't supposed to be anything too difficult: they were to swarm the safe house of Mohamed Aldubry, a wanted terrorist, and capture him. The military wanted him alive so they could interrogate him, ruling out the possibilities of an airstrike.

"You nervous?" Captain Williams asked the blond-haired man beside him.

"Yeah, this is my first job like this," Dylan replied as he fiddled with his submachine gun, "So far, I've only had simple patrol missions; nothing like this."

"There's one thing I do every time we go after the enemy like this," the captain said as he stared up at the star-filled sky.

"What?"

"I remember my wife and kids back home. I remember each of their smiling faces. I remember that I have to make it through this if I want to see them again." The captain clutched a locket around his neck. "Amy, Howard, just a little bit longer and Daddy will be back."

Dylan thought about his family on the other side of the world, his parents and his brother. They were the last people on his mind every night before he fell asleep. He remembered his mom crying every time he called home to tell them how he was doing. Even his rarely emotional dad had shed a couple tears when they said their goodbyes.

He wished he could be at home playing video games with his brother now, but knew that was impossible. He had to make it through this for all those who loved him. No other options existed. Don't worry, Phil, I'll be home soon.

The soldiers looked at the blanket of stars overhead. Captain Williams glanced down at his watch. "02:30 of November 16, two hours till we strike," he declared.

Dylan made sure his gun was fully loaded. "We can do this," he said, trying to chase away his nervousness.

04:30 came and unbeknownst to the terrorists, they would soon feel the might of the American soldiers. A force several dozen strong drove up to the building in their humvees and piled out while Dylan and his team dropped onto the roof.

They quickly burst through the door on the roof, cutting off any means of escape. They had to strike hard and fast. Anyone they found would leave either in military custody or in a body bag.

Dylan led the charge down to the top floor. Gunshots rang out as they entered the darkened room. He froze in his tracks for a moment, but his training quickly took over. He jumped behind a computer desk and glanced around for the source of the bullets. He saw a silhouette on the far side of the room, so he quickly pumped out half a dozen rounds, causing the opposing gunfire to cease. He turned to see his friend Nat beside him, gripping his ankle in pain.

"They got me."

Dylan cursed silently, knowing that if he had been able to stop the enemy sooner, he might have been able to prevent his friend from getting hurt

"Valdez, Otto, stay behind to treat his wounds. Masterson, Drollinger and Farr, we're securing this place," ordered Williams. The four continued, ready to clear out anyone else who threatened them. There was too much at stake for any of them to die.

As they approached the next room, they heard voices speaking in Arabic. "Anyone know what they're saying?" Dylan whispered.

"Something about a trap," the captain translated. "Quick, we'll break down the door and find out what they know."

Lt. Farr kicked in the door and the four soldiers sprinted at the three occupants. One tried to pull out an AK-47, but Dylan collided into him, knocking the weapon out of his hand, before shoving him against the wall. The other soldiers quickly incapacitated the remaining enemies. "Now, tell us what you know," the captain commanded, holding his own captive against the wall, twisting an arm behind his back.

"Too late," the captive sneered. With his free hand he whipped a knife out from his pocket and tried to stab Williams, forcing him to jump back. "All Americans burn in hell!" the terrorist yelled in broken English as he charged at the captain. However, the officer was too quick and filled his body with bullets.

"What do we do with the other two?" Dylan asked as his captive began struggling.

"We don't have time to interrogate them," Williams said sternly. "We'll give them 10 seconds to begin talking or we'll shoot." He raised his weapon at Dylan's prisoner.

"Don't shoot, we talk," one shouted.

"Go ahead…" the captain said as he began to lower his gun.

"Aldubry on second floor. He have lots of guards, you can't beat him."

"We'll see about that. Tie these two up, we'll come back for them later."

The soldiers did as the captain instructed and left the room.

They traveled in silence for several moments, ready to fire at anyone who entered their sights. They knew that any distraction could prove deadly, possibly derailing the entire mission. Even so, there was something Dylan had to know. "Captain?" he asked nervously.

"What is it?"

"Were you really going to kill them back there?"

The captain sighed. "Not if I didn't have to. If they hadn't talked, we would have just tied them up then gone back for them later." He cracked a smile. "It's surprising what the threat of death can do to people, though."

Dylan was relieved at the answer. He had heard the rumors among the citizens that the soldiers were just cold-hearted murderers. For a second he feared that his captain might be like those they talked about.

They continued down the stairs until they met up with the ground assault team. Both units had been given the same information and knew that their target was hiding in a room on the second floor.

"Okay, when I open the door we charge in there. If they don't surrender immediately, begin taking down the guards. Remember; keep our target alive if possible.

Lt. Farr was the one to open the door and the first to charge into the room, but he was met with a stream of bullets that quickly sent him to the ground. The rest of the force charged in, took cover wherever they could and began firing. The roar of gunfire shook the room as bullets penetrated the flesh of many brave warriors. Rivers of blood flowed out from the camouflage uniforms caused by the stream of bullets

Dylan saw his friends and comrades falling, and knew there was nothing he could do but win the fight quickly for them. He ducked beneath a table to avoid several bullets that flew over his head and continued firing. When men on both sides began dropping, Dylan heard a scream beside him from his friend Justin. The other soldier was kneeling on the floor, blood pouring from his leg. A wound like that wouldn't be fatal, but Justin was out in the open and vulnerable to more enemy fire, especially with an assault rifle aimed straight at him.

Forgetting about his own safety, Dylan leapt from his shelter and ran to his comrade. He felt several bullets collide against his bullet-proof vest as he reached his friend. As he pulled Justin to safety, he felt several rounds go into his legs and arms. He gritted his teeth and forced his mind to ignore the pain, but once they were tucked under the table, his eyes unwillingly closed.

***

The entire Masterson family had gathered for the annual Christmas Eve party at Phil's parents' house to enjoy each other's company, along with the festive foods and music. Carefree chatter filled the atmosphere. Uncle Bill and Uncle Tom were discussing the Steelers' chances in the Super Bowl. Aunt Jenny and Aunt Kim were telling stories of the strange things their two-year-olds had tried eating. Phil's cousin Jason had finally worked up the nerve to invite his fiancée Erin to a family gathering, and to his relief, everyone had instantly accepted her. However, just beneath the shallow joy, a longing for a certain blond-haired twin pervaded the room. Phil didn't feel like taking part. He knew there was a reason he hadn't heard from Dylan in over a month. The call would be coming any day to confirm the truth, and Phil hated all these people who just forgot Dylan ever existed.

"Hey, honey," his mom said, putting a hand on her son's shoulder, "Come join the party."

"Sorry, Mom, I just don't feel like partying."

"Well, at least have some food. Aunt Judy brought her world famous chocolate-peanut butter fudge."

Phil thought about previous Christmases with his family. He remembered when he and Dylan ate an entire batch of the fudge several years ago. Their stomachs felt it the next morning, but it was worth it. "Dylan used to love all these Christmas foods."

"Well, at least he'll be here next year." Both of them knew the odds of that statement being true were low, but Carey refused to accept her son's death as fact. After all, Christmas was the season for miracles.

"Yeah, maybe," Phil said halfheartedly as he walked up to his and Dylan's bedroom, unwilling to share in his mom's optimism. Why couldn't she accept the fact that Dylan was dead? What other explanation could there be?

He laid on his bed, gazing into nothingness, just wanting to be left alone in his despair. He heard Joy to the World through the floor, which only made him laugh. "Where is my joy?" he asked mockingly of the empty room. He turned over on his bed and used his pillow to muffle the sounds of false happiness.

As Phil was about to drift off into the realm of dreams, his cell phone rang which he hesitantly answered. "Hello, Phil."

"Chad, I told you I couldn't come into work today," he replied, annoyed that his boss at the grocery store where he worked couldn't even remember this simple request.

"Sorry about this, but someone had a Christmas present delivered down here for you."

"What is it?" he asked indifferently.

"I can't say."

"Fine, I'll be there soon." Phil didn't really care about getting anything, but he was curious who would bring a present to the store. Since it would get him away from his family who wanted to pretend everything was perfect, he decided to go check it out.

Phil snuck out of the house, which wasn't too hard considering everyone was enjoying the trivial joy of receiving gifts they would forget about in a week. He wondered what could be waiting for him. A new car? A full college scholarship? While he was dreaming about miracles, he thought for a second it could be Dylan. That would be something his brother would do – disappear for a month then show up dramatically as a Christmas present. If only that was possible…

As he drove along in silence, accompanied only by his thoughts, his phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Hello, am I speaking to Phil Masterson?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

"Yes, may I ask who is calling?"

"This is Captain Williams of the United States Army. I was stationed in Iraq with your brother."

"I see…"

"Dylan Masterson is no longer with us," the captain replied flatly.

"D-Dylan, h-he's…" Phil said with his voice violently shaking, nearly losing control of his car.

"Yes, son, I'm afraid so."

Phil closed the phone and pulled over to the side of the road. He buried his head in his hands and began sobbing uncontrollably. It was actually true. He knew it was coming, and had readied himself for the news, or so he thought, but hearing those words resonated deeper than he ever thought possible. His brother was dead. He wasn't coming back. It was over.

He contemplated just turning the car around and heading back home. Someone had to tell his family, and since he had received the call, logically that duty fell to him. It was too soon though; he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Once he had composed himself a bit, he decided to just go on to see what present awaited him. That would distract him for a little while until he had to go home and break the terrible news.

"Merry Christmas, Phil," the manager said joyfully as he saw Phil walk in the door.

"Thanks, Chad," he said, faking a smile, doing everything he could to keep his emotions in check. "So, where is it?"

"Come outside."

The manager walked through the back door and into the snow-covered parking lot with Phil right behind him. Even in a place as unimpressive as this, Phil was in awe of the sights of winter. Illuminated by the moon above and the Christmas lights around him, a crystal snow coated the streets of the city. The angels' sugar seemed to bring with it a tranquility and joy that defied all logic. Even the heartbroken twin couldn't help but feel at peace as he stood in the middle of this magnificent scene. The cold began to chill his bones, but he enjoyed the beautiful picture nature had provided him.

Phil looked around for his manager, but he was nowhere to be found. "Chad, where are you?"

Suddenly, a snowball collided with Phil's face.

"Merry Christmas, bro."

Phil turned to see the face he thought no longer had life in it. The younger twin was at a complete loss for words. "Come on, I just hit you with a snowball, and all you do is stare at me with a dumb look on your face?"

"Dylan, I thought you were dead!"

"Why would you think that?"

"Your captain called telling me so!"

"No," Dylan calmly said as a smile spread across his face, "He said I was no longer with them, which is true."

"You are an evil brother, y'know that?"

"Yep!" Dylan responded with a goofy grin. Phil decided the only proper thing to do was to toss several snowballs in his direction. His older brother tried to dodge them, but still was pelted in the face and chest. "Not bad, but you know, this means war."

Dylan reached down and gathered more ammo, and chucked several more snowballs at his brother. Phil dropped to the ground to avoid the attack, but the pedestrian walking by wasn't so lucky. The twins ignored the random person's complaints to act their age and quickly got up, ready to continue their frivolous fight. Soon a flurry of snow was flying through the air, caused by both the twins and the wind that had picked up.

After about ten minutes, Dylan was half buried in snow and Phil realized he should have brought a coat. His clothes were completely coated with snow, both inside and out. "Let's head back to the party before I get frost-bite," he said, noticing the numbness in his fingers.

"Sounds good to me, being back with family and good food will be nice."

The twins went back to Phil's car and cranked the heat up as high as it would go. "How'd you get back here anyway, your leave wasn't for another 3 months?"

"Medical leave," Dylan answered somberly, "A couple months ago I was shot several times. My arms and legs all had several bullets imbedded into them."

"How did that happen?"

"The exact details are classified, but I was trying to get a friend to safety. That happened back in November, and they finally released me from the hospital three days ago." Dylan rolled up his sleeve, showing Phil the scars. The disfigured skin made Phil want to puke, not just from the gruesomeness of it, but also because he didn't want to imagine the pain his brother was in.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's in the past now," Dylan said trying to brush off the comment, "Besides, I want to hear all about your first semester of college.

***

"Hey, Mom," Phil announced excitedly as he reentered the Christmas party.

"What's going on, and why are you covered in snow?"

"Don't worry about that," Phil said brushing of his mom's concern, "besides there is someone you forgot to invite to our party."

"Who?" she asked, noticing the change in her son's mood.

"Mom, how could you not invite your own son?" Dylan exclaimed as he walked in the door. "I could understand a stick in the mud like Phil, but me?"

Carey's hand flew to her heart and her eyes widened as she tried to make sense of the situation. "Dylan, y-you're alive." She bolted across the room, wrapping her son in an embrace that nearly knocked the soldier off his feet.

"Mom, let go," he said, cringing from the pain. "You're putting a lot of pressure on where I was shot."

Carey backed away from her son at those words. "What happened?"

Dylan closed his eyes, trying to block out the images of pain and death. He was one of the lucky ones. Nearly his entire unit had died that day. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Oh, okay," Carey said, crushed that she couldn't have done anything to alleviate her son's pain. Her little man had really grown up. "Well, welcome to the party."

"Yeah, this will be fun," he said, returning to his normally joyous self.

***

"I can't believe it's almost Christmas Day," Dylan said, looking at the clock in their shared bedroom.

"Yep, only eight more minutes."

"What do you want Santa to bring you this year?"

"I already have the best present I could ask for."

"What, that snowball I threw at you? I can get you a hundred of them if you want." Dylan soon felt a pillow collide with his face as he pulled the blankets around him. "Sweet, a free pillow."

Phil got up from his bed, took his pillow back, and hit Dylan in the head again with it before returning to his bed. "Merry Christmas, goofball."

"Merry Christmas, dork."