the war was in color

[Public, backdated to after the events of this post]

[Gene sounds - and is - mad. Mad as hell, to be totally honest, but also just really fucking disappointed and frustrated, because:]

Jimmy shot Omar Little earlier. Is there anyone fillin' in as a warden for him until he gets assigned someone permanent? And can someone bring him back if no one's done it already?

[He's already got ideas on how to punish Jimmy (even if it feels fucking weird to need to think about that, both because he doubts there's much he can really do to make the guy regret what he did and because it's just strange to have this kind of authority over someone who feels more like a friend than a responsibility sometimes), but there's something else he wants to be focused on first, because he's pretty sure Jimmy didn't just grab one of Omar's guns and shoot him.]

Who the hell gave him access to a weapon and didn't think I might wanna know about it?

[Filtered to Kitchen Wardens]

I want Jimmy on dish washing and clean up duty for all three shifts until further notice.

[Spam for Snafu]

[It's a day or so later that something in him kind of snaps. Not badly, it's not like he's gone full on Asiatic or anything, but Gene's been antsy and irritable all day, mad at Jimmy and annoyed at himself for not feeling more confident in his ability to actually make a goddamn difference at all here, and he'd slept badly the night before - or perhaps more accurately, he'd slept worse than usual, thrashing and crying out, fighting off phantoms from an island he hasn't been on for the better part of a year, one he'd only been on for a couple weeks and still ripped him up inside. How pathetic is that, feeling so fucked up and confused and directionless, all over something that was really only a few days in hell?

So he goes about the day chain smoking and keeping mostly to himself, hiding away in the library and avoiding lingering in the mess hall until he finally can't take it anymore and heads back to his friend's cabin.

This feels like something that's been building for a long time, in a lot of ways. The thing with Jimmy and whatever asshole decided to get him a gun just makes it worse. Something about the Barge suddenly feels too small, too cramped, and he finds himself handing Snafu his filthy, battered Bible almost without thinking about it, thrusting it in his friend's face as he meets Gene's intense look with one of confusion.]

Read it. [It comes out sort of sounding like a plea more than a demand or a question, but he still manages to be polite, even when he's feeling kind of off balance and strangely desperate.] Please.

[He bites his lip, embarrassed and almost surprised to find the skin's smooth and unbroken, not chapped and dry.]

I just need someone to look at it.

[It's like a nervous double check, craving some kind of deeper understanding even though obviously he knows that Snaf was there and saw what he saw. Sometimes he wonders if his friend's easy acceptance of his own death means maybe he hadn't, and maybe Gene just wants him to see it differently, maybe he just needs him to see that this wasn't something you can shrug off. Maybe he wants to know how he can, because everything feels sharp and brittle in him today and he's sick of it.

He doesn't know.]

There anything that still needs cleanin' up, after all that? [A beat.] Or just a department or somethin' that's a little understaffed?

[Not that he's qualified to do most of the things here, besides work in the library, but...]

I'm still not used to havin' this much free time on my hands. Never thought I'd miss the idea of havin' KP duty. [And he's going stir crazy.

Maybe he should ask Jimmy if he's learned anything worth sharing cooking wise.]

[Open Spam]

[It's strange how quickly things go back to normal, here. A couple days ago, everyone was worried about a murderer being on the loose, and now things are calm again. Gene sits out on deck smoking at all hours, mostly at ease, even if he still has his sidearm and KA-BAR on him at all times, and startles whenever someone sneaks up on him.

At reasonable hours when he's feeling kind of bored and restless, he pops in the infirmary to check on anyone who's still stuck in there, specifically keeping an eye out for friends or just saying hi to Merlin.

He still looks tired more often than he doesn't, but eating regular meals in the mess hall has definitely helped him gain the weight he'd lost on Peleliu back, so overall he looks healthier, less starved. He's taken to running in the Enclosure - still in his uniform, still with his weapons, including his carbine slung over his shoulders from time to time - to try and keep in shape, and if you happen to come in when he's picked the setting, you're likely to be transported to some thick, mostly deciduous forest that's either hot and humid or cool and damp.

(Honestly, it's usually more cool. Even the familiar heat from back home feels too suffocating most of the time, now.)

And of course there's the library and common rooms, where he's either got his nose deep in a book about birds or the (American) Civil War, or scribbling away in the notebook Steve got him for Christmas, brow furrowed in concentration.

(One old haunt he avoids entirely is the chapel. He's not sure if anyone's cleaned up after what happened, but he doesn't want to spend time around a place where a friend got killed. Especially since he hasn't come back yet.)]

[Spam for Snafu]

[One of the first things he winds up doing, though, isn't hitting the library or poking his head in the infirmary. He's in the mess getting breakfast (he's been up since four, but had at least tried to sleep in until six or so), loading his tray with coffee and fresh fruit and water, and spots Snafu sitting by himself, working his way through his own plate of food. They've been kind of avoiding each other since Dillon ripped whatever it was out of the other marine, which is just getting ridiculous at this point. It's been a couple days, so Snaf's had more than enough time to lick his wounds in private, and Gene's pretty certain all that stuff he'd said had been the spirit, not Snafu.

(Pretty certain, even if he still wonders what kernels of truth might have been in his behavior and their last actual conversation.)

So Gene finishes gathering his breakfast and doesn't waste any time debating where he's going to sit: he just walks over and puts down his tray across from Snafu, sitting down before he has a chance to protest. He stabs his fork into a piece of cantaloupe and looks up at his friend like nothing weird had happened before.]

How's your shoulder?

[Backdated to the Start of the Breach]

[This is a fresh faced new recruit to the Shatterdome who looks way too happy to be here, all excited and eager to get moving and see some action. He's not really looking to introduce himself or cause a fuss - he's just happy to be here - but there is one thing he really wants to know:]

Anyone know where I can find Jimmy Sledge around?

[Friends of Jimmy's might recognize him from family pictures - this is his kid brother, Gene, and from the way he's dressed, he's clearly not here for a family visit.

(He's also got a different accent - Jersey, not Alabama.)]

[Open Spam]

[Gene spends most of the time after his introductory post - if one can really call it that - exploring the Shatterdome. He's heard so much about it (and done so much reading since the program got started, and watched every news report and documentary and behind the scenes look that he could manage) that he practically feels like he's already been here for months, years even, but there's new stuff, too. The people, for one. And he's impatient to find his brother.

So most people passing by him in the hallways have probably been stopped and asked if they've seen or heard of or know where he can find Jim Sledge. He lingers a little awkwardly in the mess hall, looking for some of his buddies from training or anyone who doesn't look like they'd mind company from a new boot, and typically, he can't totally stay away from the hangers, and has to unpack in his quarters eventually, taking out the few personal items from home (some family pictures, a couple books about birds and the Civil War) and arranging them on the utilitarian shelves.]

[It's relatively early in the morning when Sledge clicks on his video feed, and he looks tired, maybe even exhausted. It's also obvious he's not in his own cabin - the room behind him looks more like a shack, and although it might not be as clear, he's sitting on the floor, half leaning against the legs of a cot. One of Snafu's arms is visible, hanging limply off the side of the cot like he's just asleep.]

... Snafu's in a coma. [The word sits uncomfortably in his mouth, and it kind of shows in his face. He's read about barge comas obviously, thanks to Chromie's welcome packet, but it's one thing to read about it, another to try shaking your buddy awake and not be able to, no matter how hard you try.

He takes a breath and steels himself, trying to push it back and get what needs to get done, done.

(Except his eyes still look pretty dead, but that's not really anything new.)]

I'm gonna need a hand getting him to the infirmary.

[Private to Kieren]

I thought it'd be better than just leavin' him here. [It's what the pamphlet suggested, anyway, and he sort of feels more comfortable leaving his friend with people who can monitor him and make sure he doesn't get worse (if that's even possible?), but he still sounds uncertain. Like maybe this - making decisions about his friend's well being - is overstepping.

Which is weird to think about someone you've pretty much been physically stuck with for over a month, but here we are.]

[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]

( gifts for snaf, jimmy, isaac, steve, scott, cassel, keiren, ian, t'pol and dillon )

[There's something like hesitation in Gene's expression when he clicks on the video feed. There are still some cuts and scrapes on his face, and his wrist is still bandaged with thick, white gauze, but for the most part, he's in a lot better shape when he showed up.

Except he still looks exhausted, and maybe a little shellshocked.]

Is all of this normal, where you're all from? [The question's phrased as carefully as possible, because he's not trying to piss anyone off, but the disbelief is still apparent.] But where I'm from, we don't have vampires, or... spacemen, or magic.

Kinda hard to know what you're dealing with when you don't know anything about what you're dealing with.

[Open Spam]

[He's been here for a little under two weeks, and as good as it is to have access to clean water and not be getting shot and shelled at, Gene's not anywhere close to calm or relaxed, or really taking it easy.

If anything, he's antsy. There's not a lot to actually do here, and not keeping busy means he has time to think about things, like what brought him here and how it'd felt to have Isaac's blood gushing out over his clothes as he'd helped him down to the infirmary. That fledgling feeling of safety and comfort that'd come when he'd really realized he was off Peleliu is gone, so he still finds himself wandering around in uniform, carrying weapons, and startling at sudden noises.

In the dining hall, he still doesn't gorge himself, but his tray is usually pretty full, and he eats with the intensity of someone who either expects their food to be taken from them or who doesn't know when their next meal is going to come. Most of the time, it's pretty standard fare, but at least once or twice, he'll help himself to a couple wedges of lettuce. No dressing, no croutons, no carrots or anything else to make it a salad, just lettuce.

Every few days, he stops by the infirmary for fresh bandages and antibiotics for the sores on his feet and arms, usually looking for Scott because he's familiar, but not avoiding the other doctors or staff if they're around. The library is nice, at least, and he finds himself spending a lot of time in there as the days stretch on with no assignment, no places to be, nothing to do. The history section is largely avoided and navigated around, but even here he seems restless - pulling a book off the shelf and putting it back, pulling one off and flipping through it, maybe even carrying it around for a while before putting it back - but occasionally he'll find a chair to sit in and read about birds for a while, or check one out and take it back to his room.

Sometimes he spends a long while in the chapel, sometimes praying, sometimes just sitting quietly. He pulls his ragged Bible out of his breast pocket and delicately turns the filthy pages, glancing over the cramped handwritten notes in the margins like he needs to remind himself that yes, that all really happened. You didn't just dream the whole thing.

It's hardest at night. Gene honestly can't say that he dreamed much on Peleliu, but over the last few days, he's had several - a Jap sneaking across their lines and getting in his and Snaf's foxhole so he can stab them both to death, watching Burgie and Bill and Oswalt get torn to pieces, tripping on the airfield and knowing he's got only a couple seconds left before he's killed - and it always ends the same way: untangling himself from sweaty bedsheets and panting for breath, sometimes choking on a scream.

Sometimes weeping.

In what's become something of a routine, he usually puts on his uniform and a jacket, or at least a housecoat before going out on deck to smoke. The air's still too chilly to be comfortable, but it helps wake him up and the cigarettes calm him down as he watches the unfamiliar stars pass by.

Sometimes, he goes back to sleep and sometimes he doesn't. It's hard to track time without a sun, but some days, he's still on deck when other people are coming out for their early morning runs, even though he shies away from people attending boot camp. He's not interested in doing that again.

(Most of all, he's lonely. He's only been here for ten days, and he already misses his buddies with an ache he hadn't had time to consider when the Admiral had first offered him a deal. It's hard being an outsider again, harder with the time difference, and he misses that sense of belonging that had come with being with K/3/5.)]