@theirvitriol
nate does not trust the peace. this war is all but over for him, but the quiet feels more oppressive, somehow, than being under fire did; he knew how to deal with that, how to lead his men, but he does not know how to navigate this hopeless feeling that has taken root inside his chest. he can’t dig it out --- he’s tried --- so nate guesses that he has to live with it, that it’ll keep on growing ‘til he’s out of the country and back to...well, shit, he’s not sure he’s quite ready to think of home, yet, either. things could still erupt. their tour could be extended, some new bullshit could be invented for them to fight. accidents happen, especially with restless, angry, frustrated marines. no, he does not trust this quiet. he cannot think of this tour as over until he’s back in the states.
maybe not even then; it took him a while to shake off afghanistan, and this has been harder. as a leader, and as a man.
but though nate’s guard is resolutely not down --- if anything, it’s higher than ever, especially with the captain now having time on his hands to find insubordination in nate’s desperate attempts to make something good out of all this --- he can appreciate some of this. the sleeping, perhaps, the latrines. finding brad away from the men, under cover of darkness, drawn to him like a moth to the flame, and letting himself sit beside him in easy silence as he removes his helmet, wishing he could toss his bars to his side, too. words are not necessary, with them, never have been, but he sighs anyway, and says, ❝ you’re not on watch. missing the comfort of a ranger grave? ❞
