thewordofweb | [For Martin]

[For Martin]

My palm is rubbing idly at my neck as I step out of the bedroom and make sure to close the door gently behind me as I go. Joe's gotten enthusiastic again with his mouth and it results in a mark and that would be fine if not for the fact that Malarkey and Martin most definitely don't exactly know about us. It'd be too easy to keep on with the deceit, but I'm growing more than tired of sneaking around and trying hard to get caught (or to not get caught, depending on my whim of the day).

I lean back against the door for a moment before pushing myself off it, intending to get breakfast while Joe is still in bed and I've yet to put myself together for the day. I've still got bedhead and the stubble on my cheeks to prove that I'm very much not awake.

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"Fuckin' bookshelf." Johnny mumbled, shaking his head. He'd heard the stories about it, had seen what the book intended on giving him-- "That thing likes fuckin' with people's minds, don't it?"

"Pretty much," I agree, trying not to focus on finding my obituary, but it's a hard thing to know. It's even worse knowing that the body was never found and that I was likely food for the fish of the sea. "I uh, I don't try and get books from there unless I have someone around to bear witness, just in case."

"I ain't gonna try at all-- I don' need any books givin' me advice on how t'ah make somebody happy who ain't even here, an' I definitely don' need books tellin' me how t'ah keep an affair secret when I don' even have one t'ah begin with." He rolled his eyes.

I hold up my hands as if to protest that I meant no harm. And honestly, if he wants to be so aggressive, I'm not about to give him the easiest of times. "Affair?" I ask curiously, narrowing my eyes. "Were you thinking of one? Sometimes it tends to pick up on subconscious desires."

Johnny glared at Webster, pressing his lips together. He hadn't been thinking of an affair, hell no, but there was no way he could deny that whenever he saw Jo Grant, his heart sped up and he began blushing like a complete idiot, not to mention how he began getting nervous and his knees weakening.

But when he answered, "No, I ain't." it felt like the complete truth - he wasn't thinking of an affair, he'd just developed a crush on Jo. Still he couldn't help the familiar feeling of the tips of his ears heating up.

I give an impassive sound and shrug because it really is none of my business and I'm not going to intrude on something that I really know better than to poke at. "Okay," I agree easily. "You can just ignore it and usually it changes. It's pretty good about that."

Johnny gave Webster a long look, before huffing out a breath. "Ya know, I love my wife, Web. I wish the bookshelf would show me how t'ah stop missin' her so goddamn much 'cause right now, there ain't no way offa this island."

After a while, and while not looking the other man in the eyes, he mumbled, "I'm glad ya happy with Liebgott."

I pause for a long moment, arms still crossed over my chest and give an awkward and small nod of my head. "Thank you," I say and it is genuine. "We're happy. I know it's not the norm, but we are happy, even if...well, we still act the same as ever."

Johnny snickered. "Yeah, I seen ya."

"What d'ya do if one day, ya wake up, an' Liebgott's gone? 's far as I know, people might not even remember bein' here at all. What if Liebgott goes back t'ah where he came from an' didn't remember one second o' bein' here?" He asked after a long pause. For once, Johnny wasn't trying to mock or piss off Webster; he was just curious about what the writer would say.

I shrug idly and glance down at my hands for a moment. "I planned to move out to California after everything was through, anyway. I really fell in love with Santa Monica, I...I wanted to live there and San Francisco isn't so far. I could have gone to see him, maybe. Or I'd have just bought a boat, lived on the sea. I'd make do," I insist, even if my voice is rough at the thought of living without Joe.

"But what if Liebgott didn' wanna see ya? What if ev'rybody's future turns out so goddamn different?"

The longer Johnny spent on this island, the more he wanted to know what happened to the part of them that stayed back-- because there was obviously some form of them that remained with the men not on this island.

"Then I'd go home." It'd be heartbreak in a moment and I wouldn't know what to do with myself for the first little while, but I like to think that inevitably I would find a way past it all. "Besides, he'd see me," I say with confidence. "He'd see me if only to tell me to fuck off, so I could see him one last time."

Johnny sniggered. "Funny how ya always manage to be so goddamn opportunistic. I wonder if ya'd stayed like that back in Bastogne."

And they're back to the old subject, back to the one thing, the one mistake Johnny won't ever be able to forgive Webster for.

I suppress the roll of my eyes. "Honestly, Martin?" I do say bluntly. "If I'd come back to Bastogne with my injury, I'd probably be dead, okay? If you want to keep harping on that, you go ahead. I could hardly walk and I'd have ended up like Toye. I fought the war, I kept on fighting, but I actually let myself heal in the meantime, didn't earn any tarnish on my record so that when I could go home, I wouldn't have anything to keep me there."

Johnny pressed his mouth shut, his jaw set tightly. It was too early to fight, too early to start yelling and cussing, and as long as he kept that in mind, he'd be fine.

So he doesn't mention that Guarnere went AWOL to join them - Guarnere who could barely walk because his leg had been in a cast for several weeks - doesn't mention that Toye was taken off the line for a wound but chose to come back because his friends needed him, doesn't mention anybody else of the other guys who could've left but chose to stay because they knew they were needed.

Instead he pressed out between his teeth, "Whatever ya say, Webster."

I let out a quiet sound and nod, knowing that this is a losing battle and one I really should just abandon. "I should be getting back to Joe," I point out, my own jaw terse and tight, as if it might snap at any minute. "Good talking to you, Martin."

"Whatever, Web, really. I'll jus' be catchin' breakfast." Johnny gave him one final nod before walking out on the writer.

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[For Martin]

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