GK, Miles to go, 1/1, PG13, Ray, Nate, Brad, Walt, 739
Title: Miles to go
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: PG13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Ray Person, Walt Hasser, Brad Colbert, Nate Fick (Brad/Nate/Ray)
Warning(s): AU, language
Spoiler(s): None
Word Count: 739
Master List: advent
Notes: Medieval AU I guess where Ray is a witch, Walt is his feline familiar, Nate is a thief and Brad is a mercenary.
Summary: They watch the village burn and still, Ray feels nothing.
Disclaimer: I do not own Generation Kill. This is a work of fiction inspired by the fictional portrayal of the actual events. No harm intended.
The city is burning, flames flickering higher than the stone walls surrounding it and buildings crumbled to ashes. The city is ablaze, the home Ray grew up in little more than tinder for the wildfire, and oddly, the only thing Ray can think of right now is that he’s really fucking hungry.
Walt sits at his side, tail flickering back and forth even as he leans against Ray’s shin, but he doesn’t say anything. His ears are tipped forward, listening to the crackling of flames and screams of anyone trapped within the stone walls, but he doesn’t say anything.
Together, Ray and his familiar bare witness to the death of their childhood.
Idly, Ray knows Nate and Brad are waiting for him and eager to move on, but he can’t bring himself to move from his perch. He knows he should care more than he does, people he grew up with and knew all his life are dying or dead, but there’s a blank sort of absence in him. He’s disconnected.
Even Walt, breathing evenly as he leans against Ray’s side, feels like he’s only there through a hazy fog.
It must be a sign of Ray’s state of mind right now, he guesses, but it doesn’t make him feel better. He stoops to pick Walt up before he turns on his heels, ignoring the way Walt’s hind claws poke at the soft skin of his inner arm. Normally Walt would object to being carried like an infant, but now all he does is close his eyes and purr.
Walt only stays in Ray’s arms long enough for Ray to make his way over to Brad and Nate, before he twists out of Ray’s grasp and lands heavily on all fours. His tail is flicking, back and forth, and he feels so far away.
Nate’s hand is gentle against Ray’s elbow, guiding Ray into his warmth but not demanding anything. They stand toe to toe, their boots bumping and scuffing, but Nate doesn’t try to pull Ray into an embrace and Ray is glad he doesn’t. “You didn’t start the fire, Ray,” he says gently, but there’s a conviction behind it that Ray wishes he could believe in.
Instead, Ray says nothing and lets Nate’s body warm him, even though the space between them feels impassible. He doesn’t look to Walt, but the fog clears between them enough for warm strong arms, hay smell and smoke, all the scratches behind the ears please to touch the back of his mind.
Brad doesn’t say anything, even after he picks up the golden furred familiar, and the soft hum of Walt’s purring is familiar in a good way.
”We should go,” Ray says, even though the only thing he wants to do is set up camp and sleep for the next ten years. He doesn’t want to find a new home, doesn’t even want to find and kill the man responsible for this. Right now, Ray doesn’t want to do anything except fade to grey.
Nate’s hands are gentle on his shoulders though, a quiet strength Ray wants to lean into even though he knows he shouldn’t, because he could get lost in it. He squeezes gently, before dropping his hands, and turns to look at Brad. “I have friends who weren’t at the guild at the start of the fire. They’d be in the safe house. We should find them.”
”Fucking thieves,” Brad says, but it lacks heat. He looks at Nate and Ray with an unreadable expression, but Walt isn’t worried about Brad and neither is Ray.
Walt has always been the more perceptive of the two.
Ray doesn’t voice his agreement, not verbally. It doesn’t stop him from picking up his pack from where it dropped and shouldering it when Nate and Brad start to Walt, and he tries to ignore the jealous pang that comes with Walt choosing to be carried by Brad. There’s so many things for Ray to worry about and accomplish, and it’s easier to just slide to a nowhere place and focus on nothing while he does it.
Nate and Brad and Walt will have his back until he pulls himself out of this funk, they always have and he always does. Right now, he just needs time, and with a long walk ahead of him to the farmstead the thieves guild uses as a safe house, he’ll have plenty of it.
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: PG13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Ray Person, Walt Hasser, Brad Colbert, Nate Fick (Brad/Nate/Ray)
Warning(s): AU, language
Spoiler(s): None
Word Count: 739
Master List: advent
Notes: Medieval AU I guess where Ray is a witch, Walt is his feline familiar, Nate is a thief and Brad is a mercenary.
Summary: They watch the village burn and still, Ray feels nothing.
Disclaimer: I do not own Generation Kill. This is a work of fiction inspired by the fictional portrayal of the actual events. No harm intended.
The city is burning, flames flickering higher than the stone walls surrounding it and buildings crumbled to ashes. The city is ablaze, the home Ray grew up in little more than tinder for the wildfire, and oddly, the only thing Ray can think of right now is that he’s really fucking hungry.
Walt sits at his side, tail flickering back and forth even as he leans against Ray’s shin, but he doesn’t say anything. His ears are tipped forward, listening to the crackling of flames and screams of anyone trapped within the stone walls, but he doesn’t say anything.
Together, Ray and his familiar bare witness to the death of their childhood.
Idly, Ray knows Nate and Brad are waiting for him and eager to move on, but he can’t bring himself to move from his perch. He knows he should care more than he does, people he grew up with and knew all his life are dying or dead, but there’s a blank sort of absence in him. He’s disconnected.
Even Walt, breathing evenly as he leans against Ray’s side, feels like he’s only there through a hazy fog.
It must be a sign of Ray’s state of mind right now, he guesses, but it doesn’t make him feel better. He stoops to pick Walt up before he turns on his heels, ignoring the way Walt’s hind claws poke at the soft skin of his inner arm. Normally Walt would object to being carried like an infant, but now all he does is close his eyes and purr.
Walt only stays in Ray’s arms long enough for Ray to make his way over to Brad and Nate, before he twists out of Ray’s grasp and lands heavily on all fours. His tail is flicking, back and forth, and he feels so far away.
Nate’s hand is gentle against Ray’s elbow, guiding Ray into his warmth but not demanding anything. They stand toe to toe, their boots bumping and scuffing, but Nate doesn’t try to pull Ray into an embrace and Ray is glad he doesn’t. “You didn’t start the fire, Ray,” he says gently, but there’s a conviction behind it that Ray wishes he could believe in.
Instead, Ray says nothing and lets Nate’s body warm him, even though the space between them feels impassible. He doesn’t look to Walt, but the fog clears between them enough for warm strong arms, hay smell and smoke, all the scratches behind the ears please to touch the back of his mind.
Brad doesn’t say anything, even after he picks up the golden furred familiar, and the soft hum of Walt’s purring is familiar in a good way.
”We should go,” Ray says, even though the only thing he wants to do is set up camp and sleep for the next ten years. He doesn’t want to find a new home, doesn’t even want to find and kill the man responsible for this. Right now, Ray doesn’t want to do anything except fade to grey.
Nate’s hands are gentle on his shoulders though, a quiet strength Ray wants to lean into even though he knows he shouldn’t, because he could get lost in it. He squeezes gently, before dropping his hands, and turns to look at Brad. “I have friends who weren’t at the guild at the start of the fire. They’d be in the safe house. We should find them.”
”Fucking thieves,” Brad says, but it lacks heat. He looks at Nate and Ray with an unreadable expression, but Walt isn’t worried about Brad and neither is Ray.
Walt has always been the more perceptive of the two.
Ray doesn’t voice his agreement, not verbally. It doesn’t stop him from picking up his pack from where it dropped and shouldering it when Nate and Brad start to Walt, and he tries to ignore the jealous pang that comes with Walt choosing to be carried by Brad. There’s so many things for Ray to worry about and accomplish, and it’s easier to just slide to a nowhere place and focus on nothing while he does it.
Nate and Brad and Walt will have his back until he pulls himself out of this funk, they always have and he always does. Right now, he just needs time, and with a long walk ahead of him to the farmstead the thieves guild uses as a safe house, he’ll have plenty of it.