[Pre-Milliways:
The next day. GREAT BIG WARNING for a pretty frank depiction of medical euthanasia. Seriously, consider yourself warned.]
Joe is still wearing the uniform, when he steps into the bar tonight, that he'd been wearing who knows how many years ago when a shell had blown him out of the land of the living but not all the way to the dead. The presence of the uniform (American, Army, Great War) he'd never actually wanted would bother him a lot more if he weren't so overwhelmed by everything else, so many other things that he doesn't even know where to start first.
Is it a dream? It's not another hallucination from the drugs... it can't be, can it? That should have been it for him, but this doesn't look like heaven, but it doesn't look like any place he has ever been either, not the bars of Paris or Los Angeles. He can't be dreaming of something so different from his experiences, but heaven wouldn't be a bar, but he's got hands and feet and eyes and ears and he can move, one step forward and then another, and overwhelming really is the best word for it, and it might be helpful if someone could snap him out of it.
[tiny dead tag: Joe Bonham][open until forever!]