A mini sledgefu fic for @ahsokatanoss with some hurt/comfort at the end of the war. Enjoy!! =]
Smoke from the bonfires draped the night sky in a hazy veil. A chorus of loud, jubilant voices spilled across the entire island, but Eugene couldn’t hear them. Alone on a high rock, he studied the dim stars, burning brighter than ever on this impossible night. He tried to imprint the position of each one, its brightness and tiny shape, so that when he returned home, he might see blurred constellations instead of smoldering corpses.
His neck grew stiff from holding his head up, eyes watering from the endless gazing, yet Eugene felt nothing. He was far away — somewhere up there, drifting in the cosmos with those stars because what was happening now didn't seem real to him. It was as if he no longer belonged to this earth.
Perhaps there was a time when his soul could ascend, back when only his body tethered him to the ground. But now, the war had eaten so deep into his flesh that those distant burning suns, billions of miles away, seemed to laugh at his helplessness, laugh at how everything inside him had been corroded by something terrible; something black, sticky, and clawed. Ugly.
A quiet echo slammed into him, and he fell back onto the rock he hadn't actually left. Eugene blinked and shifted his gaze to Burgin. The sergeant's eternally worried face had brightened, expressing the relief and disbelief carried by many Marines the moment they learned the war was over. He held an open bottle in his hands.
"Why are you sittin’ out here by yourself?" Burgin continued with an easy smile, though his smiles never quite reached his eyes — they always seemed at odds with the shadow of anxiety he carried. "Come on, join us!"
"Yeah, you know... I don't really feel like it." Eugene shrugged. He would have gladly shared the joy with his comrades, but he was certain of one thing: if he opened his mouth, desperate screams would shatter their camp instead of laughter and cheers. He shouldn't be here.
"You okay?" And there it was again. That look. That anxious expression which hadn’t actually disappeared, but had merely been hiding behind the veneer of joy.
"Yeah." Eugene smiled, though he doubted Burgin believed it. "I'm okay."
Burgin didn't press him; he never did. He might lecture you or shoot you nervous, warning glances, but Eugene didn't blame him. Try finding a Marine who, having not yet sorted out his own demons, would start fighting someone else's.
Eugene watched his comrade's back dissolve into the merry, drunken crowd of green uniforms. He didn't dare look at the stars again. All the sounds and sensations came rushing back: the smell of smoke, sweat, alcohol; the shouting, the laughter, the humid heat, the faint ocean breeze.
The ocean. That was where he needed to go. No one would find him there, and no one would ask if he was okay.
He climbed down from the rock and wandered past the soldiers. Some clapped him on the shoulder, others grabbed at him roughly, shoving and poking him in the side, calling him by his nickname or surname because on these islands, in this time, Eugene did not exist. Only Sledgehammer. At home, he would probably remember Sledgehammer and wonder if that man had really lived, or if he had merely taken his place here while the real Eugene slept, unaware of the nightmare outside.
The noise gave way to the sound of palm fronds rustling in the wind and blue waves lapping against the sandy shore. Eugene carefully stepped over a crab, fixing his gaze on the pale moon surrounded by a scattering of glittering stars. Its light reflected off the ocean water in crooked lines, and Eugene felt a sudden, sharp desire to drop everything and stand directly beneath it. To be blinded by its grandeur, and then to sink to the very bottom, reaching out with all his might, yet never touching that celestial orb.
Perhaps he was already on the bottom right now.
The acrid smell of tobacco smoke stung his nose. Eugene's heart leapt before he even had time to turn around. Of course, Snafu was here. He was always nearby, even when he didn't want to reveal his presence. But this wasn't one of those times. Snafu took a slow drag and exhaled, studying the Marine opposite him like something that had clearly been lost and needed to be returned to its place.
The truth was, where was that place, really?
Snafu tossed his cigarette butt aside and headed down the beach; Eugene followed. Merriell’s arms hung loose, swinging back and forth like the pendulum of a clock, his short curls tousled by the breeze. Eugene stepped in the footprints Snafu left in the sand. Maybe this way they could share each other's feelings? Maybe this way, they could finally become one whole, so they wouldn't have to survive everything alone?
Snafu stopped short and dropped onto the sand. Eugene did the same. He hugged his knees, closing his eyes to listen to the rhythm of the ocean.
"He ain't gonna talk to you," Snafu snorted, pulling Eugene out of his concentration. He was a skeptic and a pessimist, constantly claiming everyone would die, and Eugene had often dreamed of hearing him say, just once, that they would be okay. But they wouldn't be, and in this very second, he understood that.
"How do you know?" Irritation stuck like a lump in his throat.
"But... what if everyone told you I died? How would you know it was true or not?" Eugene whispered, looking straight at Merriell.
It was right there — behind those big green eyes he constantly caught watching him, eyes that held every emotion at once yet gave away nothing — that Merriell Shelton was hiding. A man long forgotten by others, and by Snafu himself.
"Don't talk nonsense." Snafu smiled crookedly, his brows knitting together.
Eugene turned away, resting his chin on his crossed arms. As if he’d ever get a normal answer from Snafu. The man spoke whatever thought came into his crazy head without thinking, yet he wouldn't let other people say things he didn't want to hear. It was infuriating. Terribly infuriating. It was a lack of control Eugene hadn't been able to escape for over a year.
"I know I wouldn't have let you die," Snafu didn't look at him; his eyes watched the sand pouring in streams between his fingers. "I know that while everyone thought you were dead, you'd be sitting at home reading your books and staring at those goddamn birds. I know that while everyone thought you were buried under a pile of corpses, you'd be living a wonderful life, far away from all this shit.
Eugene swallowed. His gaze slid over the hand gripping the sand, the thin collarbones peeking out from the uniform, the profile gently touched by moonlight. Eugene carefully reached out to Snafu's cheek. A memory flashed in his mind: trying to touch a deer while hunting with his father. Now, it seemed that wasn't his memory at all. Someone had slipped it to him.
Merriell leaned into his palm, and Eugene’s heart hammered in his throat. Pale, cold fingers traced a temple and found their way into coarse curls. Eugene had imagined before what it would be like to run his hand through Snafu's hair, to stroke it, to pull him close. He hadn't noticed how close they were right now.
Merriell’s soft lips contrasted with his own, which were thin and dry. His warm hand rested on the back of Eugene's neck, while Eugene’s own fingers combed through black hair. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so good, so calm. When he had felt so light and exalted. Now he could easily reach the stars, or leap right across them. He was the ocean and the moon, all at once.
Their teeth clashed, tongues met with a suppressed moan. Eugene didn't even realize it before he was on top of Merriell, the sand rustling beneath them.
His heart felt ready to burst. The end of the war, the stars, the ocean, happy Marines, comrades, the moon, Merriell. Merriell. Merriell.
A shiver ran down his spine; his lungs constricted from the inside. Eugene sobbed as the man beneath him tenderly wiped away his tears. His head fell helplessly onto Merriell’s chest, his nose burying into the rough shirt that muffled his sobs. Eugene clung to it as if it were a lifeline. And it was true — he had been drowning for a very long time, and only Merriell was keeping him afloat: his hands stroking the back of Eugene's head; his mouth whispering that everything would be alright, that they were okay now; his eyes, which Eugene couldn't see but was sure were filled with boundless love.
He didn't need a home. He was already exactly where he belonged.
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