Never pet a burning dog.

[thirdboxcar]

Something in Walt’s brain clicks when Sgt. Colbert shoots his smoke grenade, blue gas escaping from it, but the car doesn’t stop. He faintly remembers the LT telling Brad he doesn’t like the idea of this, that they’re here to stop suicide bombers, and smoke grenades basically do shit, really. Maybe it’s sleep deprivation that makes him do it, maybe

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[assured_of_this]

When Nate found Brad that first day, he'd been a mixture of so many different emotions, he hardly knew how to react beyond barking orders. At this point, he's been on the island so long that when he stumbles across the disoriented figure of Walt Hasser, he's just glad he's not in a hole with a bomb.

"Walt," he greets, warm and open, an attempt to assuage the alarm he knows the other man's got to be feeling. Nate himself looks far from how Walt would have known him, his hair longer and clothes decidedly civilian, but he's hoping that a familiar demeanor will make it all a bit less jarring. "It's really good to see you."

[thirdboxcar]

The voice familiar (Walt immediately associates it with some sort of comfort and safety; the LT), Walt turns toward it only to be surprised by the figure approaching him.

This guy, his maybe-LT, looks only slightly like Lt. Nate Fick Walt got to know during his time in Iraq: his hair longer, the clothes so much different to what he was wearing just a few minutes ago, and Walt is so fucking confused.

"LT? What're you doing here? We were just..." Walt gestures behind him, as if he was still back there, and when he finishes, his voice quiet, he can feel his throat tightening again. "At the road block."

[assured_of_this]

Out here on the beach there really isn't anyplace to sit, which is unfortunate, because this is definitely one of those sort of conversations. Nate takes a deep breath, but keeps his best assuring face on.

"I'm about to tell you something that's going to sound completely insane, Walt, but I need for you to trust me. Can you do that?"

[thirdboxcar]

Walt gives him a bright smile, doesn't say what both of them know: How can he not trust his LT, the guy who always had the best in mind for them even though chances were, he'd get fucked up for it by the higher ups?

Instead he just nods and says, "Of course."

[assured_of_this]

"Good," Nate replies, grateful despite having known the answer. "Because I guarantee you, nothing can prepare you for this." He sucks in a slow breath, considers if there's a delicate way to handle something like this, and then decides to simply do it, like ripping off a Band-Aid. "You're on an island, in what is probably an alternate universe. There is no known way to get back home. You're probably going to think you're crazy or dreaming, but you're not. The good news is that it's not too bad, and you already know at least three people here."

[thirdboxcar]

"Yeah, I kind of got the island-part," Nate states, matter of factly, before remembering who he's talking to and adding, "Sir."
For now, he likes being on an island where he can be sure to at least some point that people might not be shooting at him, and like the LT said: he already knows some people here.