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crack_van2010-05-27 03:56 pm
sandystarr88.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2010-05-27 03:56 pm
Entry tags:
A Short History of Almost Nothing by eudaimon (PG-13)
Fandom: BAND OF BROTHERS
Pairing: Liebgott/Webster
Length: 5,028
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eudaimon
Author Website: Masterlist (incomplete)
Why this must be read:
Becauseeudaimon writes such a great characterization of Joe Liebgott, and this piece will just break your heart with its portrayal of picking up the pieces and life after the war. This author knows her characters and the intimacy of some of the scenes with Webster and the Liebgott family really touched me, creating a poignant piece that everyone should read.
"Always wanted to see New York fuckin' City."
Web has that look about him, this kind of disinterested look that, by now, Joe can read It's not disinterest, so much as him desperately trying to keep any feeling off that pretty face. Which is never something that Joe's had a problem with. Since he was a kid, everything that Joe feels has shown up on his face. He remembers sitting down in the truck and crying. He remember shouting in Web's face, the sensation of his fist smashing into that replacement's face, the one who shot Grant. He remembers laughing, once and he remembers this time, back at Toccoa, when Webb had leaned in close and told him that he'd got a glass forehead.
"I can see everything that you're thinking," he'd said and tapped Joe on the forehead with his knuckles, quickly replced them with his lips. They'd sat there in the sticky Georgia heat with their backs against a wall and Web had kissed Joe's forehead, just like that. It wasn't much of anything, just a brush of lips against sweat-damp skin, but, at the time, Joe had closed his eyes and imagined a print left behind, scuffed up by breath and the heat of Web's lips like a kid might leave on an ice-cream parlour window. A mark of desire. Joe could remember really wanting ice-cream when he was days, back on hot days in Oakland.
On the quayside in NYC, Joe feels so still that he almost expects Web to tell him that his forehead's made of solid stone now. No more glass. No more desire. Nothing left to show on his face at all.
"I used to come down from Boston," says Web, and remembering that first warm kiss, it hurts Joe that they're so distant. So maybe he ain't stone at all. Maybe he just froze solid in Bastogne and Web wasn't around to see it happen so now there's a little part of him that can't ever forgive? He got cold, so cold, and there was no way that he could ever really forgive the people who hadn't.
"Course you did."
Somewhere, he finds a smile. Later, perched on a narrow bed in a narrow boarding house and trying to undo the knots in the laces of his jump boots, Joe will start crying and not stop for a long time, but on the quayside he's smiling, and holding out his hand.
"David Webster," he says. The D. stands for David, so it's something that they share, but Joe can't remember if he's ever actually called Web that before. There's this moment where Joe just ain't sure what's going to happen, and then Web shakes his head and Joe reckons that sudden smile might just be enough to tide him through after they're done shaking hands.
"Joe Liebgott," he says, and then he does the damnedest thing. Web straightens the knot of Joe's tie and then he turns and he walks away.
And there, right then, is where three years of dying starts.
A Short History of Almost Nothing (Part 1), Part 2
Pairing: Liebgott/Webster
Length: 5,028
Author on LJ:
eudaimonAuthor Website: Masterlist (incomplete)
Why this must be read:
Because
eudaimon writes such a great characterization of Joe Liebgott, and this piece will just break your heart with its portrayal of picking up the pieces and life after the war. This author knows her characters and the intimacy of some of the scenes with Webster and the Liebgott family really touched me, creating a poignant piece that everyone should read. "Always wanted to see New York fuckin' City."
Web has that look about him, this kind of disinterested look that, by now, Joe can read It's not disinterest, so much as him desperately trying to keep any feeling off that pretty face. Which is never something that Joe's had a problem with. Since he was a kid, everything that Joe feels has shown up on his face. He remembers sitting down in the truck and crying. He remember shouting in Web's face, the sensation of his fist smashing into that replacement's face, the one who shot Grant. He remembers laughing, once and he remembers this time, back at Toccoa, when Webb had leaned in close and told him that he'd got a glass forehead.
"I can see everything that you're thinking," he'd said and tapped Joe on the forehead with his knuckles, quickly replced them with his lips. They'd sat there in the sticky Georgia heat with their backs against a wall and Web had kissed Joe's forehead, just like that. It wasn't much of anything, just a brush of lips against sweat-damp skin, but, at the time, Joe had closed his eyes and imagined a print left behind, scuffed up by breath and the heat of Web's lips like a kid might leave on an ice-cream parlour window. A mark of desire. Joe could remember really wanting ice-cream when he was days, back on hot days in Oakland.
On the quayside in NYC, Joe feels so still that he almost expects Web to tell him that his forehead's made of solid stone now. No more glass. No more desire. Nothing left to show on his face at all.
"I used to come down from Boston," says Web, and remembering that first warm kiss, it hurts Joe that they're so distant. So maybe he ain't stone at all. Maybe he just froze solid in Bastogne and Web wasn't around to see it happen so now there's a little part of him that can't ever forgive? He got cold, so cold, and there was no way that he could ever really forgive the people who hadn't.
"Course you did."
Somewhere, he finds a smile. Later, perched on a narrow bed in a narrow boarding house and trying to undo the knots in the laces of his jump boots, Joe will start crying and not stop for a long time, but on the quayside he's smiling, and holding out his hand.
"David Webster," he says. The D. stands for David, so it's something that they share, but Joe can't remember if he's ever actually called Web that before. There's this moment where Joe just ain't sure what's going to happen, and then Web shakes his head and Joe reckons that sudden smile might just be enough to tide him through after they're done shaking hands.
"Joe Liebgott," he says, and then he does the damnedest thing. Web straightens the knot of Joe's tie and then he turns and he walks away.
And there, right then, is where three years of dying starts.
A Short History of Almost Nothing (Part 1), Part 2