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."

[gotacigarette]

Nelson's having one of those days where he can't bear to be alone, so she's walking down the beach smoking a cigarette, and, about five feet behind her, there's a giant beast of a cat, and he's singing. Well, he's yowling, but it definitely sounds like he's trying to carry a tune.

When she sees the guy in camo, she pauses, shading her eyes from the sun.

"Island," she says, in answer to the question. "Magic island."

[thirdboxcar]

Walt turns toward the voice (a female one, he notes) and has barely laid eyes on the woman when he spots that huge-ass cat thing. Out of reflex, he pulls the rifle closer to him, fingering the safety, as he takes one step back.

"That cat, does that belong to the magic part, or the island one?" He asks, nodding his head towards it.

[gotacigarette]

Eden takes a long drag on her cigarette and looks at him the soldier...no, the Marine, and raises an eyebrow.

"At ease, Private," she says. "And don't you dare shoot my cat."

[thirdboxcar]

Walt shakes his head, placing the rifle next to him, before he says, "I'm a Corporal," like it really matters right now.

"Didn't know it was yours," he adds, watching the cat.

[asinglechange]

Knees tucked up and into her pilfered Ohio State tee shirt, Alice makes an effort to keep up the pretense that she's still reading. Heller's lack of chronological order was giving her a bit of headache when mixed with the sun so the distraction is welcome.

"Hell?" she supplies, pretending to turn the page. "Not even close. Too much water, too much pie."

[thirdboxcar]

Walt turns toward the girl sitting in the sand next to him and studies her. He should be saying something else, but one can only go for so long with delicious, amazing pie, so what Walt actually says is something along the lines of, "Pie?" with his eyebrows slightly raised and his eyes full of hope.

Then he remembers at least some of his training courses when he was in the BRC, and he asks, "Where the hell are we?"

[asinglechange]

"Yeah. I think it's lemon meringue and apple strawberry, but I haven't tried either."

Alice folds the book over knee and gives the guy a once over while she scratches the side of her nose. Wherever he's just come from it sure was sandy.

"Tabula Rasa, an island in the middle of the quite literal nowhere. You're safe, but you can't go home. I'm sorry about that, but we do have good pie."

[thirdboxcar]

Walts steps slightly closer to understand her better, feeling his mouth already starting to water at the thought of strawberry pie. His mama always made the best one, he thinks.

The thought of being safe momentarily overweights the thought of not being able to go home, because he couldn't go home that easily either when he was in Iraq.

He has a lot of questions, but the first one his brain decides to ask is, "Why haven't you?"

[whiskytango_rto]

This time, Ray gives himself a second to think shit over before he picks up the pace and goes after this guy-who-looks-just-like-Walt, but he's not so stupid that he can't take Walt's fucking face and a fucking forest-camo MOPP suit dusted with sand and add them up to that is really Walt.

With no mind for the rifle Walt's holding or the way he's looking at everything, and even less mind for how fucking belt-fed Walt could be with that rifle in his hand, Ray jogs over to him, flip-flops slapping against his feet with each step and a Hey Walt preceding him, nice and loud and real fucking happy to see that face on someone other than a lycra-wearing ex-mutant.

[thirdboxcar]

Walt hears the loud noise of something slapping against bare feet before he hears the voice, and it's a fucking relief to hear that voice. "Ray?" He calls out, some sort of smile fucking finally making it's way onto his face.

He's even more glad to meet somebody he knows than the idea of maybe having this island explained to him soon, and when he sees that Ray's not wearing his Kevlar, definitely not, he snaps open the buckle of his Kevlar and takes it off.

"So fucking glad to see you," he states, rubbing his head.

[whiskytango_rto]

Aw motherfucker, that is definitely Walt, and he definitely needs like, a hug or some shit. Ray is excited enough to consider it, except there's Walt's gun, and the fact that he smells just as bad as Ray did when he'd shown up, so they'll probably end up consuming alcohol and comparing magic-island shell-shock experiences.

"No shit," he finally says, taking the Kevlar from Walt once he's gotten it off, holding out his hands for anything else Walt wants to hand over. "It's just been Brad and Nate before you got here, it's like vacationing with your fucking parents." Fucking being the operative word, but Walt can hear about that in his own damn time.

[thirdboxcar]

After the roadblock incident and his getting here, he's so fucking glad to see Ray, and the way he talks feels just so homely, Walt wants to break down and cry a little right then and there.

He shoves his rifle into Ray's arms, fucking glad to get that thing away from him once he's caught himself. "Fuck that thing," he mutters, wanting nothing more than to dig a fucking deep hole to throw that rifle into there and then bury it.

Walt waits for the lump in his throat to vanish before he tells Ray, "So fucking weird, man. I saw you, like, ten minutes ago at the... the roadblock, and now we're here."

[niceofyoutoask]

It's not a uniform he recognizes, but it's obvious it's a uniorm of some sort, even if the rifle wasn't a dead give away. The look on his face, however, he does recognize, even if the soldier is one he'd never met before.

"Hey," Lipton calls before he's too close, not too loud but enough to be clearly heard, not wanting to startle the guy into shooting. He'd seen it happen before. He held his hands up, as if his slacks and t-shirt didn't already make it clear that he wasn't a threat. "Where're you from, Soldier?" It should be an easy question.

[thirdboxcar]

Walt turns towards the voice and sees a guy slowly approaching, his hands held up in a calming gesture. He sees the way the guy looks at this side, and when Walt realizes he's still holding his rifle, he drops it on the tree trunk he'd been sitting on.

He tries to offer the guy a smile, but Walt's pretty sure it only comes across as a grimace. "I was in Iraq, but I'm not anymore..?" He says, tugging on the sleeve of his MOPP suit.

Damn thing doesn't do them any good. They've never really been in chemical environment, and they do dick to really camouflage them against the desert.

[niceofyoutoask]

"Iraq, huh?" Lipton actually smiled, hoping his theory was right. "You don't by any chance happen to know a Sergeant Brad Colbert, a LT Nate Fick and a RTO Ray Person, do you?" The odd lingo Brad used felt weird to say, but if this kid knew them then it would be worth it. If their company was anything like his, than once one member showed up it was only a matter of time before more did.

[thirdboxcar]

Walt can feel his face breaking into a grin at the mention of the three names, and he nods. "Yeah, I do-- rode in the same HumVee as Brad and Ray, and the LT was... is, well, my LT."

It's nice talking to people who know the people he knows; at least he's in a safe territory when it comes to this.