When it’s all over, Nate’s got blood on his hands and face and no one will look at him. The man died holding onto Nate’s elbows, blood bubbling out of his mouth, his eyes on Nate’s face. He died looking surprised that Nate shot had him.
He wasn’t a rioter. He sold newspapers on the streets. He had a kind face, and Nate shot him. It was an accident.
Nate’s never had a confirmed kill before. He never wanted one. At the base he cleans his hands and his face and they tell him to take four days of leave, to ‘sort his head out and maybe lie low.’
The Major has damage control to do, and it’ll be easier to soothe the city officials if Nate doesn’t have his rifle for a while.
The streets are empty now, all the rioters either hiding or arrested, and the townspeople peering behind their shutters, afraid of the blood on the cobblestones, the ghost in the air and Nate Fick the killer.
The door to the house Nate’s billeted in is locked. Nate’s not surprised, and moves on quickly. He doesn’t want to upset the Poulains.
When Nate turns down the right street, he can see Mr. Colbert slouched against the door of his shop in the shade of the awning. He’s smoking. His suit is the colour of storm clouds.
Nate stops when he’s about ten feet away. He doesn’t know what to say.
Mr. Colbert draws deep on his cigarette, looking Nate over slowly.
“Nathaniel,” he says, simply. “I’ve heard.”
There’s still blood under Nate’s nails and staining his knuckles.
“It was an accident,” he says, swallowing down the harshness of cigarette smoke, Army soap and his very first kill.
Colbert inhales one more time, blowing smoke out his nose like a dragon and flicking his butt away, sparks flying in the sun. Nate’s cold, his collar dripping ice against his chest.
“Come on,” Colbert says, unbuttoning his suit jacket, slipping in the door of his shop. It’s dark inside, everything valuable locked away from rioters. The sign on the door says Closed, but Colbert still locks the door after Nate, sliding both deadbolts over.
Upstairs, in Colbert’s sparse apartment, he starts filling the bathtub and helping Nate out of his fatigues. He’s careful to avoid the bloodstains on Nate’s shirt and trousers, but his face is gently blank. After he’s undressed Nate he takes off his jacket and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his long, tanned forearms.
The water is so hot it feels cold. Gooseflesh rises on Nate’s arms and his nipples pebble, but wherever the water stops there’s a pink line.
Even though his hands lying limp on his thighs are red, Nate feels numb. When Colbert dips a hand into the water and picks up Nate’s left hand, the touch feels far away.
“What are you doing?” Nate hears himself ask. His voice slurs around the edges.
“Nothing,” Colbert says quietly. “Close your eyes.”
Nate does. He’s not sure, but he thinks Colbert’s washing his fingers, smoothing his expensive, sweet-smelling soap into Nate’s skin, humming a romantic song under his breath.
Mr. Colbert, he thinks of him as Mr. Colbert...!! NGGGHHHH. Jesus, that's hot. But besides that, again I say, My heart. Oh, BOYS! Love your WWII AU stuff. It is of the awesome.
My heart just hurts for Nate. This isn't Iraq, it's not his idealism that's going to die, it's his innocence, I think.(but then there is nothing new to war under the sun)
But the worst thing is, now I have to wonder what happens to them! D: (maybe Nate can be a war bride)
Oh, Nate! You know this could break him if he's not careful, if he doesn't have someone to ease him out of his shock. Nate, in any incarnation, is the sort of person to take every flaw and every accident personally. He just doesn't know how to let go of personal resposibility or accept that sometimes you're a victim of the circumstances. He's lucky to have Brad to take care of him, in his own very low key, understated, but effective all the same way.
I didn't get a chance before to tell you how much I love this AU, but I do, very much so. I'd be lying if I didn't say I imagined porn in their future, but this is so much better. This Nate, he has so much to learn, he's much more fragile than the Nate we know.
He just doesn't know how to let go of personal resposibility or accept that sometimes you're a victim of the circumstances.
He's so used to being helpful in Algiers, just watching the people and trying to look after everyone. After almost a year of being in the city, it's hard to imagine that something like a violent riot could happen. It's a shock, one he wasn't quite ready for.
He's lucky to have Brad to take care of him, in his own very low key, understated, but effective all the same way.
Brad, who tucks Nate into his bed and lets him sleep as long as he needs to, even if then he complains about Nate sleeping on his arm the whole night.
I didn't get a chance before to tell you how much I love this AU, but I do, very much so.
Anyway:
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He wasn’t a rioter. He sold newspapers on the streets. He had a kind face, and Nate shot him. It was an accident.
Nate’s never had a confirmed kill before. He never wanted one. At the base he cleans his hands and his face and they tell him to take four days of leave, to ‘sort his head out and maybe lie low.’
The Major has damage control to do, and it’ll be easier to soothe the city officials if Nate doesn’t have his rifle for a while.
The streets are empty now, all the rioters either hiding or arrested, and the townspeople peering behind their shutters, afraid of the blood on the cobblestones, the ghost in the air and Nate Fick the killer.
The door to the house Nate’s billeted in is locked. Nate’s not surprised, and moves on quickly. He doesn’t want to upset the Poulains.
When Nate turns down the right street, he can see Mr. Colbert slouched against the door of his shop in the shade of the awning. He’s smoking. His suit is the colour of storm clouds.
Nate stops when he’s about ten feet away. He doesn’t know what to say.
Mr. Colbert draws deep on his cigarette, looking Nate over slowly.
“Nathaniel,” he says, simply. “I’ve heard.”
There’s still blood under Nate’s nails and staining his knuckles.
“It was an accident,” he says, swallowing down the harshness of cigarette smoke, Army soap and his very first kill.
Colbert inhales one more time, blowing smoke out his nose like a dragon and flicking his butt away, sparks flying in the sun. Nate’s cold, his collar dripping ice against his chest.
“Come on,” Colbert says, unbuttoning his suit jacket, slipping in the door of his shop. It’s dark inside, everything valuable locked away from rioters. The sign on the door says Closed, but Colbert still locks the door after Nate, sliding both deadbolts over.
Upstairs, in Colbert’s sparse apartment, he starts filling the bathtub and helping Nate out of his fatigues. He’s careful to avoid the bloodstains on Nate’s shirt and trousers, but his face is gently blank. After he’s undressed Nate he takes off his jacket and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his long, tanned forearms.
The water is so hot it feels cold. Gooseflesh rises on Nate’s arms and his nipples pebble, but wherever the water stops there’s a pink line.
Even though his hands lying limp on his thighs are red, Nate feels numb. When Colbert dips a hand into the water and picks up Nate’s left hand, the touch feels far away.
“What are you doing?” Nate hears himself ask. His voice slurs around the edges.
“Nothing,” Colbert says quietly. “Close your eyes.”
Nate does. He’s not sure, but he thinks Colbert’s washing his fingers, smoothing his expensive, sweet-smelling soap into Nate’s skin, humming a romantic song under his breath.
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I'm really glad you liked!
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Polite to a fault, that boy!
:D
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But the worst thing is, now I have to wonder what happens to them! D: (maybe Nate can be a war bride)
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Bingo. Poor baby Nate!
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I didn't get a chance before to tell you how much I love this AU, but I do, very much so. I'd be lying if I didn't say I imagined porn in their future, but this is so much better. This Nate, he has so much to learn, he's much more fragile than the Nate we know.
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He's so used to being helpful in Algiers, just watching the people and trying to look after everyone. After almost a year of being in the city, it's hard to imagine that something like a violent riot could happen. It's a shock, one he wasn't quite ready for.
He's lucky to have Brad to take care of him, in his own very low key, understated, but effective all the same way.
Brad, who tucks Nate into his bed and lets him sleep as long as he needs to, even if then he complains about Nate sleeping on his arm the whole night.
I didn't get a chance before to tell you how much I love this AU, but I do, very much so.
Thank you! <3!
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