withtheoldbreed | d-day + 26 ✯ video, spam & text

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d-day + 26 ✯ video, spam & text

[There's no question that Sledge isn't the same bright eyed, excited little kid he was doing the flood anymore. Even as he smiles, there's something kind of missing in his expression, genuine as it is.

(He's really starting to understand just how much of that kid died on Peleliu.)]

I just wanted to say thanks to those of you who kept an eye on the rest of us. [The smile turns a little wry, and there's a spark of something that might be life back in his eyes.] Guess there could be worse first floods.

[He says this in a way that both makes it clear that he's keeping this light and fun, and that he knows that's true. Especially considering his actual first flood had him thinking he was back on that fucking island, and he'd practically tried to choke Mickey trying to get his (toy) gun away from him.

There's a short pause, and he lets out a short breath of laughter.]

This really is the most snow I've ever seen in one place. Didn't even cross my mind that Christmas'd cause this much of a fuss around here.

[Private to Jimmy]

Thanks for lookin' out for me. [If Gene hadn't been eager to try and find a way to help Jimmy before - and he had been - this had been a pretty clear indicator that his inmate isn't actually as bad a guy as one might assume just from looking at a list of the stuff he's done.

That said, Gene still feels kind of way in over his head.]

I've got the stuff I said I'd ask the Admiral for, and I washed the stuff you lent me. Where d'you want me to drop 'em off?

[Private to Steve]

Sorry for getting you sick, sir.

[It's pretty obvious he does actually feel guilty about this, and might have hesitated to say anything about it at all.]

[Spam for Snafu]

[Back in a clean uniform with his .45 on his hip and his new Unit 3 pouches crisscrossed over his shoulders, Gene leaves his room with the stack of clean clothes he'd requested from the Admiral and his KA-BAR, heading straight for Snafu's room.

The door looks familiar, even if the context doesn't make a hell of a lot of sense to him. He'd kind of just assumed Snaf would be stuck with his bedroom from back home, although he's got less than no idea of what that would actually look like, or mean. He knows home means somewhere in Louisiana for his friend, but Snaf never talks about it the same way Bill might mention New York or Burgie Texas.

Anyway, Gene knocks on the door, not sure if he's feeling self conscious or just still trying to get his bearings back after the flood. The extra weight of the medical gear kind of helps, and it doesn't, because he's not a corpsman and he's not trying to be and it's not the familiar weight of a mortar base plate or sight, but it's something.]

[Private Gift List to the Admiral]

Dear Admiral,

I'd like to respectfully request the following items be delivered on Christmas, or at your convenience.

(3) winter sweaters for Merriell Shelton
(1) winter coat for Merriell Shelton
(1) picture frame with a photo of his son, Tommy, for Jimmy Darmody
(1) record player and (5) records for Jimmy Darmody, whatever kind of music he likes best
(12) MoonPies for Isaac Lahey
(1) package each of high quality graphite and colored pencils for Captain Rogers
(1) fully stocked Unit 3 (corpman's pouch) for Scott McCall
(1) book of 1940's slang for Cassel Sharpe
(1) high quality sketchbook for Kieren Walker
(1) book on Civil War history for Ian Gallagher
(1) book on Earth (my Earth) history for Lieutenant Commander T'Pol
(12) comic books for Dillon Cole

Your humble and obedient servant,
Eugene Sledge

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[He keeps the cigarette unlit for now, waiting for Gene to address his stuff before actually touching it. He knows they should probably talk about the kid stuff, mostly because it was plain weird.]

Don't get to see a whole lot of that, huh? [He twitches a little smile] You don't get sick like that anymore, do you?

Not in Alabama. And no. [Thank God, really, because it had been annoying as hell to watch everyone else outside playing while he was stuck inside coughing and sneezing. Bad enough that the scars left over from those problems had almost kept him out of the Marines. He copies that smile, not sure if he's embarrassed or just thinks it's insane how he'd actually been that size again.] Haven't been sick like that for a while.

[He'd gotten older and apparently his immune system decided to just kick in and fix the problem. So Gene shrugs easily, apparently not that bothered by it.] You're good with kids.

[He shrugs as well, eyes cast down at the album.]

Thank you. They just wanna roughhouse and get taken seriously, right? I can do that.

I wouldn't know, I've never really had to look after 'em. [So besides being a kid himself, Gene's no expert when it comes to child care.

He notices the glance at the photo album and - of course - had noticed that Jimmy hasn't moved to actually take any of the stuff stacked on the desk. A reason to wait doesn't really occur to Gene - well, unless the Admiral provided the wrong things, so that's what he winds up asking about.]

Is that the right photo album?

[Gene's question shifts his attention from the conversation back to the album. He doesn't answer for a while-- instead, his fingers ghost over the leather cover. It seems like a decade ago that he'd found it. He starts feeling guilty about how angry he'd gotten at Angela when he saw that picture of her, then shakes it off. It's no use anymore, now. It won't help Angela rest easier in her grave if he feels guilty about it.

Finally he nods, and flips open the first page, his back turned slightly to Gene. He's not prepared for the rush of emotions when he sees baby Tommy in his baptism outfit, small and pudgy; Angela holding him in her lap in the next photo. He lets out a shuddering breath when he flips the next few pages, not fully taking in those images. He stops just before flipping to the last page, where he knows he'll see Angela, still beautiful, young, with her long hair tumbling over her shoulders. Instead, he puts his hand down on a page where he sees Tommy the way he remembers him: still pudgy, in his Sunday suit, sitting quietly. Handsome, like his mother.

He glances at Gene over his shoulder, then jerks his head, silently asking him to come over.]

That's my boy. Tommy.

[Gene holds back, letting Jimmy take his time with the album instead of crowding close or trying to get a look at it without the other man's permission. He hadn't looked at it after the Admiral had dumped it on his desk, either - a man's entitled to his privacy, and he's going to try to respect that as much as he can.

So he's quiet, tries to occupy himself by looking at his overstuffed bookshelf, wondering vaguely if there's anything worth rereading or if he should just pitch all his Kipling and move the hell on with his life or what. He hears the change in Jimmy's breathing but still doesn't look back - this isn't Jay going to pieces and Gene isn't going to do anything if Jimmy doesn't ask for it or signal he wants comfort - but Gene does meet his eyes when the guy looks over his shoulder and calls him over. There's no hesitation in him crossing the distance, either, even if he's not running or anything.

Tommy's a cute kid - it's good to get a face with the name, even if obviously he's not a baby anymore - and Gene's smile is soft and genuine.]

How old was he there? [The question's careful if not cautious, because he knows things aren't exactly happy, here, and he doesn't want to step on an emotional landmine if he can help it.]

[He appreciates the distance, noting it absently. When Gene stands next to him he takes a step to the side, looking at the Warden while he looks at the pictures. He rakes a hand through his hair, still holding the page down-- more because he doesn't want it to flip to the next page than wanting to keep it on this one.]

Three, I guess? He's four now. Ange used to take him to get his picture taken, when I was in France.

He's cute. [And it's a little strange to realize Tommy's probably around the same age as Ack Ack. Strange to realize that Jimmy's not that much older than him, but has a son who - based on birth date - would be old enough to be Gene's commanding officer.

He's not sure he's ever really going to be used to the time differences.]

You like being a father?

[It's asked more like he's intellectually curious than anything else, like he's wondering what it's like and if it's something for him rather than because he's digging for information. It's a little of both - Gene honestly doesn't think he's going to live long enough to have kids, so it is kind of an intellectual curiosity, and he wants to get Jimmy talking about stuff without making him feel uncomfortable, or like Gene's trying to pry. It's a weird balance to walk.]

Thanks. He gets it from his mother. [He smiles at Gene, wryly. He's not ready to talk about Angela's death, but he knows that Gene's aware of what happened to her. He's glad, for once, for the file.

The question catches him off-guard a little. He'd been scared shitless about being a father, at first, and then he'd all but forgotten he was while in France. But now, years later, he can't not think of himself as a father. Despite everything he's done, it's inextricably part of who he is.]

Sure. Yeah. [He flips to the previous page, where Tommy's a few months longer, in a sailor suit with flushed cheeks. Weirdly, he thinks of the absence of his dog tags against his chest, missing them almost as much as the boy that wears them now.] I can't take a lot of credit for him, but knowing I did something's worth it. [A beat, then:] There's nothing like it.

[It's definitely for the best - Gene can't imagine Jimmy wanting to talk about what happened to Angela right now, or maybe ever - so he can meet that smile and not push and things stay fine.

And they continue to stay fine, which is good. Gene nods, absorbing that information, even though he's not quite sure what else to do with it. If nothing else, he's just growing increasingly convinced that as broken and dangerous as Jimmy is, there's a good person in there.]

One of the wardens in charge of the kitchen wanted to know if you'd wanna take a shift. They're understaffed. [This probably seems like a very random shift in conversation, and it's followed by a quiet pause and a shrug of his shoulders.]

I said I'd support it if you wanted to. Figured it might be good to have something to do to keep busy.

[Considering he's going a little bit stir crazy without work details or constant danger, he's actually maybe vaguely jealous that inmates are allowed to work and wardens are expected to mostly not do too much.]

[He closes the book when Gene abruptly changes topics. He's a little glad for it-- these conversations with Gene leave him feeling raw, exposed. Vulnerable. It's good to talk about something practical, even if it's a reminder of his current status.

He thinks about it for a bit, pocketing his lighter in the meantime. It'd be nice to be able to do something, like Gene said. He has been going a little nuts, just sitting in his cabin, trying to keep busy but not really succeeding. On the other hand, it grates a little that this had to go through Gene. He still hasn't really gotten used to the whole thing. He's not sure what to say, and finally settles on:]

I don't know how to cook. [It's not a no.]

Neither do I. [He admits it easily, with a genuine, slightly self deprecating smile. The only thing he'd ever really been expected to do around the house or taking care of his physical needs beyond bathing and clothing himself were feeding his dog, and that hadn't exactly been trying.]

Probably not any harm in learnin'.

[But it's still not an order. There's other stuff he could do if he'd rather do that - like help out in the library maybe, or the bar. But a job's probably a good idea.]

[With the mood sufficiently lightened, he finally picks up his knife. He holds on to the desk with one hand and slides the knife into the ankle holster around his left ankle. It definitely feels good to have it back, feeling the cool metal warm up against his skin.

There are worse things he could be doing and he knows it. It's not like he could put his other talents to use, here. He's not smiling when he turns back to Gene, but he doesn't look displeased, either.]

Probably not. [He gives a little half-shrug, more of a concession to the situation than anything.] Tell him it's fine.

[Gene doesn't flinch or really react at all to Jimmy hiding the weapon on him - it's a behavior he's all too familiar with. Honestly, this is all going a lot better than he thought it would, even if he still feels like he has no real idea of how to help Jimmy when there's so much stuff in his file that Gene doesn't know what to do with.]

Alright. [He'll pass it along, and he'll let them hash out the schedule, and again, he's abruptly hit by how grateful that thus far, he and his inmate seem to have worked out something of an arrangement. Or are on their way to developing a rapport.]

Maybe you can teach me somethin'.

Hold your horses, Eugene. Lemme figure out how to boil an egg, first, huh? [He sounds like he's joking, but he's pretty much serious. He's been spoiled.]

[And, in the exact same tone, because he's kidding around and absolutely being serious at the same time:]

That's probably more than what I know how to do.

Maybe you should volunteer yourself then, instead of gettin' me drafted. [Now he's really joking-- there's a sense of humour hidden underneath all that gloom and hair gel, really.]

I would if I could. I guess they don't want wardens getting distracted from why we're supposed to be here.

[Which is kind of a pain in the ass, honestly. He'd never thought he'd miss doing seemingly pointless things like cleaning out oil drums, but at least it kept you busy, and kept your mind off stuff.]

Maybe I overestimated how distracting boiling an egg will be.

Guess I did, too.

[He smiles, a little wryly, and finally picks up the book and settles it underneath his arm.]

Thanks. Again.

You're welcome. [He means it.]

If there's ever anything else, all you've gotta do is ask.

[He means that, too. This is probably the easy part of being a warden.]

[He nods, gives the room one more glance, then turns away to walk out of the room.]

[Gene lets him go, although he debates saying something else, like maybe ask if he wants to do something or grab some food in the mess. There's time for that later. Jimmy probably needs some time to decompress.]

See you around.

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d-day + 26 ✯ video, spam & text

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spam (sneaks this in before christmas stuff!!)

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Spam (HDU no welcome back buddy!!)

Spam (ty!! it's good to be back c8)

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