E. B. Sledge (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
withtheoldbreed) wrote2014-11-14 06:54 pm
withtheoldbreed) wrote2014-11-14 06:54 pm
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]
[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]
[spam!!]
[... At least he says it politely, and definitely a little cautiously. Like he's trying to gently break the news to him, instead of rub it in his face or anything.]
[spam!!]
But I promise, I'm real. Not just comics. And I did fight in Europe. Although I guess my details might be a little different than the ones in your comics.
[spam!!]
I don't really read 'em, [He admits, still picking what he says carefully so he doesn't offend the guy.] My buddy Bill does, though.
[Seems to enjoy them, too. He's seen Snaf flip through a couple too, but he's less into it, and they're just kind of not Gene's thing, personally.
Which might turn out for the best, considering he knows he'd feel weird as hell if someone showed up and knew everything about him, or thought they did because he was in some comic book.]
Does this happen a lot? Sir?
[spam!!]
Either way, don't worry, Sledge. You're definitely not offending him.]
It - kind of does, yeah. [He laughs a little.] At least, more than you'd think -
Which would be not at all, honestly, because come on, it's crazy to think you don't exist someplace, isn't it?
[He offers a helpless smile, and then they finally reach Level 7, so he heads them away from the stairs and down the hall, because he's at the other end of it.] I guess all I can tell you is that regardless of what's different, Peleliu happened in my history, too, and every Marine I've talked to said it was the worst place he'd ever been, and that was understating it by a lot.
[When they reach his door, he gets it open and leads Sledge inside, just because he's not sure the young man will take it well if he just treats him like a guest and tries to get him to go in first.] You can put your pack down, if you want. [He'll focus on getting that water.]
[spam!!]
Anyway, despite not being entirely certain, Gene still follows him and nods when he mentions Peleliu. He wonders if that's a good thing to know, that no matter what's coming next for him, he's already been through the worst of it. Maybe it's even a little reassuring.
Assuming he survives. Assuming there ever is a next thing.
He steps into Steve's room and stops in his tracks again, frowning a little as he looks around. It's not like showing up on the deck, not something totally alien and strange or anything, but the furniture's all wrong, the books on the shelves look different, just... all of it looks off.
(It's also very clean, and he's filthy. There's so much dried blood on his uniform and has been since the landing, since the guy got shot on the LVT and fell on top of him.)
So he sort of self consciously sets his pack down, and even more reluctantly props his rifle against it.]
Is this what all the cabins look like, sir?
[spam!!]
But while Steve isn't going to necessarily offer a whole lot of information on what happens, once he explains that it's in the past for him, he'll still answer any questions Eugene has, if he asks. It's the least he can do.
He does notice the way the guy sort of stops in his tracks, glancing back. He absolutely does not mind the fact that his guest is dirty, because there's nothing in here he's so attached to that a little dirt is going to matter. Or even a lot of dirt. Besides, he's tracked plenty of mud in here, before.] No - they actually all look different, if you can wrap your head around that. They usually look like whatever you want, if you're a warden - home, or someplace you feel comfortable living.
[He grabs that water, and brings it back, handing it over.] If you want a shower, I really don't mind - or even just something clean to take back to your cabin, when you get there.
[He kind of looks at that pack in a way that says, I doubt anything you have in there is something you'll want to wear after a shower.] You're closer to my best friend's height - he's the guy who landed in Italy, he's not gonna have a problem lending a guy like you something to wear.
[spam!!]
... Actually, that's easily the happiest he's really looked since Steve found him on deck, even if he hasn't exactly been disengaged from their conversation. Clean water isn't going to change what happened, but it feels good going down his throat and it takes a lot to not just guzzle the whole thing down in one go. He stops reluctantly and wipes at his mouth with his wrist, barely flinching as he upsets a sore with the motion.
Further hesitation is definitely to be blamed on that stubborn pride, that he's a marine and marines make do with what they have because they're tough and don't need hand outs, but...]
If you're sure he won't mind. [A shower sounds way too good to be true.]
[spam!!]
And he's doing his best to let Eugene retain as much autonomy as possible, while still trying to get him to accept a little help. Army's not much better, honestly, and he knows what you guys think of them.]
He won't. [Given all the times he's seen Bucky give up his last piece of gum or his last chocolate bar to other guys, Steve's pretty sure about that.] Although he probably won't want to give up his shoes - you can ask the Admiral for a new pair. Honestly, you can ask him for anything you need, if it's not in your cabin when you find it. He seems to mostly be in the mood to grant requests again, and Wardens can request things pretty easily.
[And, because Steve's honestly, really, truly going to have one himself, he reaches over and grabs one of the little group of apples sitting on his desk, because now that he can, he kind of always has at least something to eat sitting around. And fruit doesn't last long in this cabin.] You hungry?
[Plus the apple's largely water, and that's probably what this guy needs more.]
[spam!!]
So he nods, mulling it over, and again, he can't help but brighten up a little at the offer of the apple.]
Yessir, [Gene says immediately, but then it hits him again who this is reminding him of, and of what happened, and of why he's here, and God, Ack Ack. How could they lose Ack Ack?
(Not that he would've wanted it to be Burgie, or one of the runners who'd been with them, or anyone else in K/3/5, but... Jesus.)
Some of that hurt and confusion probably plays out in his expression before he can fully control it, and then he just flashes a sort of shy, grateful smile at Steve. His eyes are still a little haunted, though, even if the smile's genuine.]
Thanks, Cap. I really appreciate all this.
[spam!!]
But the way Eugene brightens at the apple tells him that, at least, was the right move to make. So he makes sure the Marine has the biggest and best-looking one, before grabbing another one for himself.
Although it's sort of impossible to miss that there's something going on behind his eyes, even if Steve doesn't know the specifics. Maybe the specifics don't matter - there are a couple of general guesses he can make, and he likes absolutely none of them.]
Don't mention it. I didn't take much leave, but I probably had the option, if someone would've been brave enough to suggest it. You boys never had that option. Maybe I can try to make a little of it up to you.
[A pause, then,] Was it pretty rough, right before he snatched you? Or just the usual? [Or, you know, you could brush the question off. You don't know him, he doesn't know you, and he's not going to push.]
[spam!!]
But then Steve asks the question, and his expression clouds over again.]
Yeah. [Pretty rough is the usual, and the distance in his eyes and the weird set of his mouth kind of shows that. But obviously there's been something particularly fucking awful that happened right before it happened, and there's no reason to lie about it.]
A sniper got- [He hears it in Burgie's voice again, remembers the hollowed out, shocked and miserable expression on his friend's face, and he has to swallow thickly before he can keep talking. He's not going to cry - he'd cried already, and it hadn't been for long or anything, but it's just another thing crying about isn't going to fix. Ack Ack probably wouldn't want him shaking and devastated over this, so he's got to keep it together.] We lost our CO. Captain Haldane.
[spam!!]
I'm sorry. [Which doesn't fix it any more than crying does, no, but he really does mean it.] He must have been a pretty great guy. Good COs are hard to come by. Good men can be, sometimes, too, and snipers don't differentiate between the good ones and the bad ones.
Did it just happen?
[Because that would, in the modern vernacular, suck. But it's also what he suspects might be the case.]
[spam!!]
Admiral offered me a deal a couple minutes after they took his body back. [It comes out a little hollowly, like he's just describing it from a distance, but it's still obvious how bad he hurts.
(It's also probably obvious what, exactly the Admiral offered him.)]
He was a good man.
[spam!!]
He nods. Because... yeah, it is pretty obvious, at least to Steve's mind, what the Admiral would have offered. The not-so-crazy thing is, if the Admiral had found him, offered him a deal right after Bucky fell from that train -
Steve would have jumped at it like a hound after a hare. And now... now, Steve wonders if he's a goddamned fool for not asking for more. But he's not sure he could, and live with himself. How can he take the easy way out, just ask the Admiral to fix everything, for a few months or years of service, when he's made a mistake so deep that he's not sure he can even see the bottom of it?
But how can he not? Why should Bucky suffer for Steve Rogers' pride?
Either way, it's not important right now. Getting this Marine into a better place is.] I believe you. And I can see that he was. [And so are you.] There's a chapel, here. If you want to use it. It's usually pretty quiet in there. I don't think it matters how you believe, either. It's for everybody.
[spam!!]
(He does, somehow, still believe in God and everything else he'd said to Sid's friend Lucky - Leckie? And that thought makes him suddenly wonder how the other marine had gotten out, if believing in ammunition had gotten him through or if he's just turned into another poncho covered body. The thought makes him a little sick, even though he's sure he should be used to it by now.)]
Thank you, sir.
[spam!!] b'aww sledge should find leckie's books in the library, maybe it'll make him feel better <3
God knows Steve's spent some time in there lately, just because... he's not sure he'll ever figure out how to feel about having his soul taken out of his body and then shoved back in.]
You're welcome. It'll probably take some getting used to, being around here, but I have no doubt you'll do just fine. There's a library, and a gym, and even a pool, and the mess hall's usually serving up something good. You can even make requests - and go back for seconds and thirds and fourths, if you want, which is good because otherwise they'd hate me as much as the Army cooks did.
[spam!!] omg BOB SINCE WHEN WERE YOU AN AUTHOR
Thank you, sir. I'm sure I'll settle in just fine.
[He hopes. This is turning out to be a lot more than he bargained for in some ways.]
[spam!!] SINCE I WANTED TO TRY MY HAND AT SOMETHING OTHER THAN SPORTS
You want that shower here? Or do you want to find your cabin?
[He wants to offer to help him do the latter, but he's pretty sure that isn't really doing a great job of respecting Gene's autonomy.]
[spam!!] fair enough, still can't get over that it was inspired by how much he hated south pacific
You really don't mind, sir?
[spam!!] seriously XD (although south pacific was kind of boring...)
[He tilts his head to indicate the bathroom - it's not huge, but it's neat and clean and best of all, the hot water never runs out (or at least, he's never gotten it to, and there have been a couple of times he's come home after a mission and stayed in there for a long, long time.] Take all the time you need. I mean it.
[spam!!] yeah not a fan, we did it my sophomore year of high school u_u
[It takes Gene a while to figure out how to turn on the shower - he still wants to know where the hell this apartment is, because it doesn't look like anything he's ever seen before in a bunch of tiny ways - but he gets it to work and he's pretty sure stripping out of his uniform and stepping under hot water is the best thing he's ever felt.
Well, besides maybe drinking that cold, clean water. But it's a close race.
He winds up standing there for a long time, letting it beat a soothing pattern on him, but then gets to work scrubbing a month's worth of dirt and grime off him. He winces when he upsets sores, scrapes and bruises, but presses on until he actually starts feeling cleaner. Even if he's not exactly taking his time, it does go slow just because of how filthy he is, so it's a while before he steps out of the shower.
When he does, he's wearing the clothes borrowed from Bucky. They're still a little too big for him, but like hell is he complaining. Between that, and the fact that he's actually clean, he looks... younger. Still completely worn out, but less like he'd aged eight years between landing on that beach and winding up here. He's also holding his uniform like he's afraid of contaminating the clothes, or himself, or Steve's apartment.]
I'll have these washed and returned for you friend as soon as I can, sir.
[spam!!] I just saw the movie, but the weird filters kept distracting me XD
So he's not surprised in the least when Sledge spends a while in there - he would have been more disappointed if he hadn't - so Steve's just sprawled on the couch with a book when Sledge reappears. He hasn't touched the gear or the weapons, but that's more out of respect for Sledge's belongings, and not because he cares that they're dirty. Likewise, he doesn't care about Sledge's uniform being dirty, either, but he's not sure how else to get that point across.
Either way, he sets the book down and stands up, nodding. It's nice to see the young man under the dirt and mud and blood, even if he does look worn thin.] That's fine. Whenever you get the chance, he's got other stuff to wear.
[He almost wants to offer to toss Sledge's uniform in with his own laundry, but that seems kind of patronizing, so he doesn't.] I know you don't need an escort to find your cabin, but if you want a hand. [He shrugs a little, and smiles. The offer's there, but Sledge can take it or leave it.] I promise, this place gets a little easier to handle, after some food and some sleep. A lot of things do.