(no subject)
May. 13th, 2014 07:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thewordofwebThe crucible of a group of men putting you through the fire to earn their belonging is one of the hardest battles that Webster has had to fight, this war. It seems strange, given the lack of bloodshed and fired bullets, but it's also been the hardest to come back in and fight to earn back respect once thought settled away after Toccoa. Still, when Joe Liebgott offers a hand out to Webster, he knows that the battle is won and this private war has been put away.
He throws his bag onto the truck, reaching out for Joe's hand when it all fades away suddenly, leaving Webster to struggle and reach for something that isn't there. The truck is gone, the men are gone, and most of Webster's things are gone, save for what he's carrying on him.
Alarm grips him tight as he tries to remember basic training, but the commanders never spent their time shouting to prepare them for this. Tropical forest behind him, and the open ocean before him, including several boats docked at harbor. Looking out, it's like he's on the coast again, but looking back makes him think he's landed somewhere in the Pacific, into a whole new theatre of warfare.
Webster turns cautiously, as if anticipating an ambush at any moment now.
His voice is stuck in his throat, not sure he wants to call attention to himself. His hand drifts to his gun to make sure it's still loaded, just in case, because he's been thrust away from one war and pushed into a seeming other, but this time, he's without Easy Company.
He throws his bag onto the truck, reaching out for Joe's hand when it all fades away suddenly, leaving Webster to struggle and reach for something that isn't there. The truck is gone, the men are gone, and most of Webster's things are gone, save for what he's carrying on him.
Alarm grips him tight as he tries to remember basic training, but the commanders never spent their time shouting to prepare them for this. Tropical forest behind him, and the open ocean before him, including several boats docked at harbor. Looking out, it's like he's on the coast again, but looking back makes him think he's landed somewhere in the Pacific, into a whole new theatre of warfare.
Webster turns cautiously, as if anticipating an ambush at any moment now.
His voice is stuck in his throat, not sure he wants to call attention to himself. His hand drifts to his gun to make sure it's still loaded, just in case, because he's been thrust away from one war and pushed into a seeming other, but this time, he's without Easy Company.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-14 07:57 pm (UTC)Caught in the middle of a slurp of soup, he glances up over his soup, cheeks red from the heat of it (and not anything else, it wouldn't be anything else), not sure what Joe means until he tracks back his words. "With ... your secrets?" he asks, brows knit together.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-14 08:22 pm (UTC)That makes him laugh, defusing a little bit of the tension that he's feeling, the tightness through his shoulders and his guts.
"My secrets? Nawh, Web. The Compound. The Winchester. Maybe the waterfall."
no subject
Date: 2014-05-14 08:28 pm (UTC)That makes a lot more sense and he nods, feeling the relief of clarification pour through, like a waterfall of its own washing him free of any doubts. "That'd be good. Thanks," he says fondly.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-14 08:31 pm (UTC)It feels good, sitting here like this - feels familiar, like a shadow of the life he had before. He's lost count of how many times they've sat at this table like this.
"I'm glad you're here, Web."