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crack_van2012-02-09 01:37 am
http://users.livejournal.com/_steelphoenix_/) wrote in crack_van2012-02-09 01:37 am
Entry tags:
Not With A Whimper by salvadore-hart (R)
Fandom: GENERATION KILL
Pairing: Walt Hasser/OFCs
Length: 1986
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
salvadore_hart
Author Website: Masterlist
Why this must be read:
One thing that it's very hard to forget about Generation Kill is that it's a war story - and that war has consequences. The fandom, as a whole, is really good at exploring consequences - PTSD and all its attendant nastiness - with sensitivity and realism.
This is one of those fics that handles it quietly, without fanfare, and does so in a way that really hits to the heart of the matter. It's absolutely heartbreaking to see Walt's downward spiral, and to be right there with him. It's also surprisingly sensitive to the female characters (OFCs), who are all well-realised despite their brief appearances. For a short fic, this has a lot of punch.
Walt isn't surprised that Emily leaves him, not with the way the number of letters she wrote him diminished over time. There was probably some sort of mathematical equation to show the correlation between the diminishing number of letters written and the amount of time it took for her perfume dissipate so the stationary smelled like sand.
Like everything else out there, the letters smelled of dust and sand and struggling men –
But Walt couldn't figure out the equation. He was smart enough to see it from halfway around the world so it smacked him in the face to see Emily standing in the airport with one hip propped against the wall and looking for all the world like coming to get him was a chore.
Walt can admit it now, as he watches her pulling out of their drive way in her beaten up pick-up, that there were signs that their relationship had an expiration date. He just didn't see them.
Walt stands watching from the open door way as she jerks the steering wheel all the way around to clear the curb. Holding the screen door open with one hand, Walt raises his other in a wave. He is letting the cold air escape into the muggy Virginian air. Mosquitoes fly into the house around him, but Walt just stand there with one hand raised in a wave.
Emily doesn't wave back. She doesn't honk her horn.
At least, he thinks, she didn't try to fight him for the house.
Not With A Whimper
Pairing: Walt Hasser/OFCs
Length: 1986
Author on LJ:
salvadore_hartAuthor Website: Masterlist
Why this must be read:
One thing that it's very hard to forget about Generation Kill is that it's a war story - and that war has consequences. The fandom, as a whole, is really good at exploring consequences - PTSD and all its attendant nastiness - with sensitivity and realism.
This is one of those fics that handles it quietly, without fanfare, and does so in a way that really hits to the heart of the matter. It's absolutely heartbreaking to see Walt's downward spiral, and to be right there with him. It's also surprisingly sensitive to the female characters (OFCs), who are all well-realised despite their brief appearances. For a short fic, this has a lot of punch.
Walt isn't surprised that Emily leaves him, not with the way the number of letters she wrote him diminished over time. There was probably some sort of mathematical equation to show the correlation between the diminishing number of letters written and the amount of time it took for her perfume dissipate so the stationary smelled like sand.
Like everything else out there, the letters smelled of dust and sand and struggling men –
But Walt couldn't figure out the equation. He was smart enough to see it from halfway around the world so it smacked him in the face to see Emily standing in the airport with one hip propped against the wall and looking for all the world like coming to get him was a chore.
Walt can admit it now, as he watches her pulling out of their drive way in her beaten up pick-up, that there were signs that their relationship had an expiration date. He just didn't see them.
Walt stands watching from the open door way as she jerks the steering wheel all the way around to clear the curb. Holding the screen door open with one hand, Walt raises his other in a wave. He is letting the cold air escape into the muggy Virginian air. Mosquitoes fly into the house around him, but Walt just stand there with one hand raised in a wave.
Emily doesn't wave back. She doesn't honk her horn.
At least, he thinks, she didn't try to fight him for the house.
Not With A Whimper