before I spill the things I mean to hide away...

[nothingtomiss]

He stirs and, for a moment, he thinks that it's all a dream. Sleeping at all while deployed is an acquired skill; you have to get used to the ways in which your body is required to bend and the noise and the constant light. He shifts his weight in the Humvee seat, and that's when he realises: this is not how it's supposed to be anymore. Last

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[assured_of_this]

The change is as instantaneous as the one which brought Nate to the island in the first place: There's no sparkle or tell-tale warp to the atmosphere around him; he's simply on the island one moment and back in Baghdad the next, Gunny Wynn babbling on in the bright desert beside him.

Nate knows he looks startled because he can read it on Gunny's face as that husky drawl slows to a stop.

"You alright, Nate?" Gunny asks, expression all concern beneath the shade of his helmet. Nate doesn't even know what Wynn was saying before just now.

"Yeah," Nate instinctively ejects, then forces a quiet huff of laughter to ease that look off Gunny's face. "I don't know where I went just then," he adds, and turns to survey their surroundings, to pinpoint exactly where and when he's found himself.

[nothingtomiss]

He walks through the platoon, weaving his way through the humvees and guys standing around shooting the shit. Brad avoids them all and, when he sees Nate, it would be difficult to put into words exactly what he's feeling. There's relief, that Nate's right there and there's the wave of love that he always feels, but then there's this fear: what if he's been dropped back exactly where he came from? What if nothing's ever happened between them?

He steels himself as he walks up to Nate and Gunny Wynn.

"Got a moment, Sir?"
It's just a little word, but it feels so weird in his mouth. And he just stands there. And he waits.

[assured_of_this]

Logically, in the back of his mind, Nate had known that Brad would be there, one way or another. Staving off the panic induced by possibly having lost his entire fucking life had been his primary objective, however, and he'd just not let himself think about it, not consciously. Brad's here, though, and the relief is palpable.

He's not going to think about Remy. He can't, not here, not yet.

"Absolutely," he answers, his smile tense as he turns to step away and afford them some privacy. "What can I do for you, Brad?"

[nothingtomiss]

Nate's always been so good at giving nothing away and now's no different; Brad looks at his face and he has to look hard to pick up on what Nate's thinking. There's guys everywhere, so Brad doesn't reach out to touch him, but he does fall into step.

"What the fuck is going on, Nate?" he asks, glancing over. "Are we..."
He leaves the question hanging in the air between them.