withtheoldbreed | d-day ✯ spam

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d-day ✯ spam

[Open Spam for the Deck]

[It happens quickly. One minute, Gene's sitting in the rocky Peleliu hills, hearing Burgie's voice over and over in his head - Sniper got the Skipper, Ack Ack's dead - watching someone pull the wool blanket over the Skipper's head, and the next, he's here. Standing on the deck of a ship, looking out at a seemingly endless horizon of stars. He remembers the conversation, the promise that this could be fixed, a wrong could be righted, and he remembers agreeing, but he blinks, and suddenly, the hills, the crackle of gunfire, the solemn footsteps, his buddies are all gone.

He's alone. For the first time in well over a year, he's alone, and that hits him like a ton of bricks.

It's cold, is the next thing he realizes. At least, it's colder than the hundred and fifteen degree temperatures he's been forced to cope with for the last month, and he shivers involuntarily. He's still holding his helmet in one hand, his rifle in the other. His pack and sidearm and filthy fatigue green dungarees he's been wearing since they landed on that fucking beach have all come along too, along with the dirt and dried blood. Sometimes, it feels like he'd do anything for a shower, even a cold one with salt water.

He's filthy, exhausted, and he's staring out at an ocean of stars. Everything hurts - the scrapes and sores on his face, arms, feet, his feet in general, but his chest, too, even if that's a different kind of pain entirely - but for a moment, he's utterly distracted, staring. What is this? What kind of ship had he volunteered for?

For the hundredth time since he got on the LVT, Eugene Sledge wonders what the hell he was thinking when he volunteered for any of this.]

[ooc: multiples & fuzzy time are all welcomed. c8]

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No. [There's no hesitation before that first word and she regards him frankly.] You come from the past.

[Steve would definitely understand that - there's a reason he does very little other than work, even here, although it's gotten better - when it can, when there isn't a crisis - because he's got the one person he refuses to lose back by his side again.

Either way, he could never fault a guy for not really dealing with things, for shoving them aside to be dealt with later. Maybe not at all.

He smiles, nodding at the answer.] Yeah? I haven't been that far south. It always sounded nice, though. [And yeah, he gets the unspoken question.] I grew up in Brooklyn. Probably pretty different.

[They head down the stairs, and he figures he'll give Sledge an opening, if he needs one:] So I know the Admiral's not always very, uh, detail-oriented. If I can clear anything up for you... just ask. Anything.

Sure. It's up on Level One, just under the deck.

[He hesitates for a second then forges ahead.] Um. I was heading up there myself. I can show you if you want?

Probably, sir, [Gene offers, managing a smile. It's a little strained - more than a little, probably, because grief is still biting through him like the cold and he's so goddamn tired - but distraction's helped in the past, hasn't it?

It winds up not mattering much, because his expression turns serious and more than a little wounded as he considers how best to proceed there, staring at the beat up tops of his boondockers instead of looking at Steve.]

Does he really follow through? If you help someone graduate? [He's not all that sure what he'll do if it turns out the answer's no, but it's just so crazy to think about. Part of him isn't even sure if he should be here, if he should try to change history like this.]

Sure. [Company's definitely not a bad thing, but there's kind of one thing he should probably do first.]

I was gonna get changed. It'll just take a sec.

[Yeah, more than a little, but that's not really important right now. Steve can tell the guy seems distracted, but there could be a hundred or more reasons for that. He wants to ask if there's anything he can do, but he figures he should at least answer the question first. That is something he can do, at least.]

As far as I know, he does, yeah. I haven't graduated anyone - I've only been here a couple of months - but I've seen people leave, go home, and I believe he really does give us what we ask for. Even if I don't know how, exactly.

[He kind of smiles, though, as if to say, Then again, you've been up on deck. There's a lot he can do that we don't understand.] The Admiral's... well, he's not a bad guy. Maybe not a great one, but I've asked him for help in the past. And I've gotten it.

Looks like you could use it. [Isaac is so tactful. But seriously dude you kind of stink.]

Where's your cabin?

That's impossible, [He starts to say, but then - like he's just remembering it - he glances back out at the stars. Maybe not impossible, then.

He still looks super confused, and more than a little disbelieving.]

[It's not exactly the most reassuring answer he could have hoped for, but it's not totally hopeless, either. Maybe this will work out. Maybe this is a smart move, not some other dumbass leap into something he hadn't really understood until it was too late to do anything about it.

Maybe.]

Understood, sir. [Thing is, he doesn't really remember the Admiral, and his thoughts drift towards that direction as they continue their descent. They cycle back quickly enough, and he lets out a tired, steadying breath. It's warmer below deck, at least.]

[Look, it could be a lot worse. Take his word for it.]

5-11. [He points, right down the hall. The door looks familiar.] Be right back.

Hey, cool, I'm 502.

[He hooks a thumb in the direction of his own door and shrugs with a little nod in the direction of Gene's room.]

I'll just hang out here.

[Sometimes Steve wonders the same thing - if he's just running away when he shouldn't be, or if this is really something that can help Bucky. If he's being selfish, or selfless, or if it even matters in the end, because he's here, and he's got a job to do, and he's going to do it.

Having Bucky here, though, sure as hell doesn't hurt.

He glances back as they go down the second-to-last staircase, smiling a little bit.] Look - we're probably both going to be here a while. And we're both wardens. You don't have to call me sir day in and day out, unless you really want to. [He's not sure how well this will go over - but it feels like the right move. On the one hand, maybe it's comforting to him - Steve got used to military life, and he liked it (well, some aspects of it), and Sledge has probably been embroiled in it for a while, now. But on the other, they're really on the same level, on the Barge, and he wants to make that clear, too.] My first name's Steve.

[Or, if that's just too weird -] A lot of people call me Cap, too.

[He doesn't see Gene until he stumbles on the infirmary. Scott was just about to leave, might have bumped into Dillon's look-alike if he'd been a few minutes faster. As it is, he's close when the - army? navy? he has no clue, still - when the other young man enters the infirmary, and for a second, his heart rate ratchets. How could Dillon get this hurt, who could have done it, how could Scott not have known--

And a second after that, the smell of death floods his nose and he can't breathe. He's staring at Gene, but all he sees is black, some cramped corner of Peter's - of Venom's room, and all he can smell is his own death, like he smelled as his legs gave out from under him, as Isaac and Erica tore into him--

He blinks, twice, thrice, and reaches out.]

Did you - just get here?

[He's not Dillon. Scott can smell the difference, under all that - under everything else.]

[Gene doesn't flinch away when Scott reaches for him, but he does see the moment of surprise and maybe horror there, and he feels... weird. He's not surprised to see Scott or that he's reaching out to help him or anything, but apparently he looks worse than he thought he did.]

Yeah. [He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, wetting the rough, split skin there a little self consciously. There are little scrapes and nicks all over his face, and he knows he's got some sores on his feet and arms and legs, but he's not really hurt. He'll be fine. He doesn't really need a corpsman or a stay in the hospital.]

Someone said I should get checked out.

Sounds like someone smart. [He offers a little smile, and gestures Gene forward.] Um, I'm Scott. I can get a doctor, but--

[When he didn't see anyone with an immediate glance over his shoulder, he gestured for the clinic instead.] I can 'probably start patching you up, if you want.

[Gene nods and heads to his room, stopping in front of the door and-

Yeah, it's definitely familiar.

He unlocks the door sort of hesitantly and steps inside, staring at his bedroom. His bedroom from home, which he hasn't seen in well over a year by now, maybe closer to two, and he hesitates in the hallway for a long moment before slowly stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.

It's like walking into a memory, and he suddenly feels very much like a ghost, a stranger in his own room. Like all of this belongs to someone else, and he's just a filthy, bloodied intruder, and for a long moment, all he can do is stand and stare.

So it takes a little longer than a second while he takes it all in, but then he spots his seabag tucked in a corner, complete with a spare, clean set of dungarees, a new t-shirt, socks, everything but his boondockers, so he puts them on and carefully folds up his tattered, worn set on the floor next to the bag. He'll have to see if he can wash them, or maybe they should just get thrown out.

And although there's a moment where he almost considers leaving his belt, rifle, and sidearm in here, but he steps back out into the hallway with all three, plus his helmet. Isaac's still waiting, and Gene does his best not to let on how badly shaken he's feeling, even though he knows it's probably not working.]

Deck One, you said? [The Navy slang comes out out of habit because, well. They're on a ship.]

[She didn't laugh before but she does now, just a low, momentary half-chuckle, and her smile is not exactly a nice one.]

You think so?

[Gene nods and follows Scott, sifting the weight of his rifle on his shoulder and looking around the infirmary with a sort of wary curiosity. It looks a hell of a lot different from any doctor's office he's ever seen. Like something out of a comic book.]

I'm alright, really. Maybe just need some sulfa and bandages. [Because God only knows what kind of germs are on Peleliu.

And after a beat, he thinks to add:]

I don't have malaria. [Not that that was as big a problem on Peleliu as it was on Guadalcanal or Gloucester, but it still feels like something worth mentioning.]

Are you a corpsman?

[The young marine all but stops in his tracks to stare at Steve, definitely disbelieving and once again wondering what on Earth his uniform is supposed to be for (and what's it made out of?), but he still somehow manages to hold in his questions about that specifically first.]

You want me to call you by your first name, sir? [Cap he can get behind, but he absolutely never would have thought of calling Ack Ack Andy, or Andrew, or even Ack Ack to his face.

Not that he's necessarily somehow morally opposed to it, but it's just strange. There's no way people are that familiar with their commanding officers in the Army, even if he does think the Marines are more disciplined.]

[Yeah... okay. It's definitely not protocol, but it just seems silly to stand on it when there isn't a hierarchy, here. He's not going to give Sledge orders, after all, nor is he going to expect the young man to follow anything he suggests, unless he actually thinks it's a good idea.

He looks a little sheepish, but he plows right on ahead.] I just want you to realize that... yeah, we're both military - and we're not the only ones aboard - but I don't have any more authority on this boat than you do. So if you really want to keep up with the rank, I won't stop you, but I don't want you waiting for orders I don't have a lot of right to give.

[He smiles a little more genuinely, now.] Besides. You look like you could use a friend a lot more than a commanding officer.

And - [The smile's sheepish again.] If you'd still rather stand on rank, Cap's a hell of a lot shorter than Captain America.

Yeah. Communal for the inmates, private for wardens. They all run hot and cold just fine though.

[He's watching for signs of injury, of head trauma. Signs that Gene might be about to pass out. But he keeps his voice casual.]

Where you from, kid? Looks like you've had a walk through hell to get here.

[Okay, Gene still smells a bit like dirt and death and blood but the clothes are a big improvement. Unfortunately, the way his heart's beating and his breath is a little uneven - while not something someone without supernatural powers would notice, not to mention the odd emotional tang in his scent - are kind of a giveaway that something's up. It's weird. Isaac's always found his room kind of strangely soothing, being familiar.

... Then again, if his room had been his room from home, instead of his bedroom in Scott's house, maybe he would've been shaken too. So while he's definitely eyeing Gene the tiniest bit oddly, like he's trying to figure him out, he doesn't comment. Not yet, anyway. He just pushes himself forward from where he's been leaning against the wall and nods.]

Yeah. C'mon.

[He takes in Sledge's weaponry at a glance as he starts to lead the way upstairs.] You, uh-- probably aren't gonna need the helmet on the ship, you know.

I would've, [He admits, looking between her and the stars again.

(That smile is definitely not reassuring.)] Is this... normal?

[For lack of a better word.]

[Despite looking like he's been through a meat grinder (which he has in a lot of ways), the younger man's steady on his feet and doesn't really seem like he's in pain. Physical pain, anyway.]

I was on Peleliu. The Admiral asked me to come along.

[So, basically, yes. Walking through hell is a pretty good way of putting it.]

[He nods, but he's still scanning him, the little muscle movements that betray so much in every human being. He's not Cassandra Cain, but he's no slouch at it, either.]

You could use a drink, I bet. Come on. It's cold as balls up here.

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