War Is A Bitch
Jan. 7th, 2012 05:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
soncnicaAuthor: soncnica
Rating: R
Genre/Pairing: AU, Jared, Jensen, general
Wordcount: cca 2.650
Summary: Jared's a news reporter and Jensen's a member of the Blue Helmets. It's Sarajevo, 1992.
Warnings: war and all that goes with it, NOT a death fic!, language.
Disclaimer: I seriously only own the grammar/spelling mistakes. Everything else is NOT MINE! ALL IS FICTION.
A/N: I rated this R because of (mostly) imagery, because this is a war!fic and I don't want to push any wrong buttons, so... beware!
Beta: The ever awesome
![[info]](../../img/userinfo.gif?v=88.3){kind=small}
marlowe78. I have no idea what I'd do without her.A/N: THERE ARE SOME WORDS IN THIS STORY THAT AREN'T ENGLISH AND YOU CAN CLICK ON THEM AND I LINKED THEM TO WIKIPEDIA (so hopefully no viruses) AND YOU CAN READ MORE ABOUT THEM THERE, IF YOU ARE INTERESTED! OR JUST GOOGLE THEM :) AND FOR ALL THE REST NOT-ENGLISH-WORDS THE EXPLANATION IS AT THE END OF THE STORY.
AND IF ANYONE READING THIS IS FROM SARAJEVO or BiH: I AM SORRY FOR SOME WRITING (specifically language) AND HISTORICAL FREEDOM I TOOK HERE AND I HOPE YOU CAN FORGIVE ME, YA KNOW... SINCE WE WERE ALL BROTHERS AND SISTERS BACK IN THE DAYS! :)
Enjoy...
"Jesus fuck, run! Goddamn it, run! Run, run, RUN!"
Jensen yelled, drops of his own spit flying all over the midday air and grabbed Jared's arm, digging his fingers into the hot, slick skin, feeling the muscles there tighten with strain. He pushed the kid forward, stumbling over some rocks that lay all over the wide, long street; no way of avoiding them... they were residues, reminders of tall buildings and small houses that would probably never stand again.
How the fuck did they end up like this? Jared was just supposed to go into the city, take some pictures, write some shit, (maybe purchase some 'illegal' alcoholic drinks to sell around the camp and some highly legal food) and they'd be back at the Sarajevo airport in a few hours. Fuckin' hell.
He passed Jared, the kid still stumbling over his too long legs and clutching his camera to his chest like he had seen some of the local women clutch at the crosses they wore around their necks. He pulled the reporter with him, fingers gripping Jared's arm with knuckles turning white, blunt fingernails leaving red welts on the kid's forearm and yelled over the sounds of an explosion that made his vision swim: "Run, run!"
He didn't want to look back, didn't want to see the destruction, didn't want to see how Jared's face was probably pale as a wall, didn't want to see how the city was dying, didn't want to see how the young man's front was splattered with blood and other… things. He didn't want to see the fear on Jared's face… there was just time and space for only one emotion right then, and fear wasn't it. Fear would come later, much later. When the noise would stop, when the silence would fall down on everything, when the time between dusk and dawn would only be interrupted by soft, muffled crying… tears of mothers and fathers are always loudest in silence.
Then… then it would be time for fear. But right now...
"Gogogo, run! Left!"
He readjusted his hand on Jared when the kid didn't go left right away but instead crashed his hip into a car and almost fell on his face, which would've been hilarious at any other time. Any other time, they'd stop, Jared would take some pictures, write some stuff down in his green notebook and then they'd aww and uuu over the sophisticated way the car had been built. And then they'd probably ask the owner if they could go for a ride and the owner would explain to them all about how stojadin's are the best cars in the entire world. Easy to drive, easy to maintain, easy to fall in love with. And then they'd all cram up inside and go for a ride.
But not now. Now… now the car was just a carcass, standing forgotten on the street.
He gripped the kid's bulletproof vest instead, rather ripping that up than Jared's skin and tugged hard, catching the reporter and steering him around the car, "Watch it!" and down the street.
-:-
The noise around them was deafening, burning his ears and shaking his bones, digging its claws into his brain and making his head feel like it would explode. He wanted to imagine how all of this felt for Jared, but he didn't want to. Doing that would just make him think and thinking about anything but runrunrun would've been a bad thing.
The bombs were falling down somewhere to their right, in no pattern at all, destroying what was left of the already ruined city… a city that had once been so beautiful. Maybe some day it would be like that again. Some day when the war would be over and peace would come. Some day. Maybe.
-:-
There were people screaming and crying, running with their faces dirty and bloody, tears streaming down their cheeks, holding to their chests what was left of their possession. Which was almost nothing at all. All had been taken or ruined or burned.
The smoke and dust that the falling buildings spread all across the city was getting into his nose, into his eyes, making it so hard, so hard to run… to hope. But hope dies last, and he wasn't gonna be dying today at all. Fuckin' bombs and guns and fuckin' war. Fuckin' people. He wasn't gonna fuckin' die for someone else's cause. He wouldn't.
-:-
And the noise… rocket launchers, tanks crawling over everything and all, anti-aircraft guns that were piercing his eardrums, heavy machine-guns going off all around him, rocket launchers that made the city burn, burn, burn and aircraft bombs that brought the city to its knees.
And all the burning stojadin's by the side of the road; it was pride – cars - burning into nothing.
And the hollow-eyed people, running for their lives…
All those lives going into nothing…
He gripped Jared's vest tighter and pushed him forward, because there were no words… no words to describe the city of Sarajevo falling.
He needed to see Jared, needed to feel him be alive because he had sworn he'd protect the reporter and his word has always been and always will be his bond. As a member of the blue helmets… he would do anything to keep Jared safe and alive. They had been in some messes before and always got away alive and this mess was gonna be one of those too. Sure there had been some messes where they got some scrapes and bruises, and a broken finger and a mild concussion, but all that had been cured by some rakija. Fuck, but that was some awesome shit… made them see the sky movin' in some fascinating ways. The locals really knew how to knock a man down with alcohol. No American shit he ever drank made him loose it like that.
-:-
His legs started to burn, his sides too, but he pushed himself forward, because he was protecting the kid and himself and leading a couple of civilians to the bunker too. He wasn't gonna fail 'em. Not now.
"Fuckin' run!"
The sound of guns and the sound of bombs and the sound of airplanes and the sound of people's anguished screams…
"Jesus Jared, if you don't move your ass…!"
Jared's hair was wet… curling at his nape. His brown T-shirt was bloody at the sleeves, dirty and sweaty where it poked out underneath the black vest.
His jeans were ripped in places, hole at his left knee, his camera chipped and damaged probably beyond repair.
His boots were crunching pebbles, crunching bullets, crunching a head of a doll some kid must've left behind. Crunching it like the war was crunching people.
-:-
"Left, left! Fuckin' left!"
He spotted a ruined, barely readable sign that simply said "Pazite, Snajper! '' that was lying almost forgotten in all the chaos of the street, but the words almost made his heart stop.
He tore: "Sniper!" out of his throat and pushed at Jared's back, steering him left, pulling at the fabric just as a bullet passed him by. And then the bullets kept on coming, close to his head, close to his legs, close to his back, close to his sides, close to his arms… swooshing past and when a man yelled out in pain somewhere close by, he pushed Jared behind a red stojadin whose doors and windows were mangled by bullet holes; it fuckin' looked like a sieve. He crashed at Jared's back: "Down, downdown!" and pushed the reporter to the asphalt, pressing his chest to the kid's back, yelling in his ear: "You good?"
"Yeah, fuck, yeah…"
Jared sounded like his brain had already left the city, the country, Europe, Earth and had settled somewhere on the Moon.
Shit.
"You sure? No, stay down. Jared, you sure?"
"'m sure, just fuck… fuck…"
"Okay, okay, listen, listen, I see the bunker, but we'll have to run. Fast."
"Mhm…"
Shit, fuck, damnit.
"Jared man, listen. We need to run. It ain't far, okay."
"Okay, yeah, okay."
They were both breathless; the run had taken a lot of their energy, especially when all they'd had to eat today was a day old burek. Jared was panting into the dusty ground, his breath stirring some leaves and Jensen was panting into Jared's left ear, checking beneath the car for any people or hell, even the sniper.
And the bullets just kept on comin', making even more holes in the car.
Jensen shook his head. Goddamn war.
-:-
But when they got up, Jensen readjusting his gun and shooting three times towards something at his back, just to maybe buy them some time… they ran. Jared ran. He ran like the devil himself was behind him.
In a way it was.
-:-
They ran down the wide street, the sun at their backs, the heat making them sweat buckets, Jensen's shirt sticking to his skin, his vest feeling too tight, his pants almost soaking wet… he was glad he had lost his blue helmet a while ago, because his otherwise spiky hair was lying down defeated and already dripping with sweat and his brain would've probably cooked inside of that damn can.
They kept pushing people forward towards the bunker, keeping their eyes straight ahead because one look to either side would give them nightmares 'til the end of their days… bodies lying in pools of blood that almost sparkled in the sun, motionless, but with eyes still wide open.
Eyes wide open watching their city die.
-:-
They ran down a street that never knew that come 1992, blood would run through it in rivers.
"Rat ti je kurva, Jensen, rat ti je kurva." he had been told a week ago by a local guy who kept on coming to the airport selling the soldiers cigaretts and other stuff and Jensen just breathed: "Znam." while taking a long, last drag on his cigarette and stepping on the butt while walking away.
Because yeah, war is a bitch… living your life in fear of sirens piercing your eardrums during air-raids, fear of death, torture, mutilation, fear of starvation, murder, rape, of being robbed, fear of being caught, captured, held for god-knows how long, fear of losing everything you own, everyone you love and the life you'd have known for years. Tears that never dry. Ever.
War is a bitch that never allows you to forget; makes you wake up in cold sweat. All the time.
Nights spent shaking and sweating, waiting to be forced to run for your life. War is a bitch and it takes no prisoners… Jensen would know, because this… this wasn't his first one. And it fuckin' wasn't gonna be his last one.
"Go, gogogo! Right! Go down!"
He pushed Jared through a wide open door, pushed him into the dark, pushed him down some stairs, pushed him up against a damn wall and breathed out. There was no one behind them, only the dead, when he heard the door close with a loud screech and a bang.
They were here to live… or die.
-:-
The darkness and the stench enveloped them as soon as their brains stopped running a million miles per hour and they could catch a deep breath to calm down their racing hearts.
It made Jensen gag and he knew that if it was this bad for him, it had to be worse for Jared. But he swallowed down the bile, because this… this wasn't his first party. It really wasn't.
"Okay, kid, sit down… sit, 's okay."
He pushed at the kid's shoulder and watched him slide down; legs open wide and drawn up to his chest, forearms resting on his knees and sweat rolling down flushed cheeks.
The flickering lights that came on, generator obviously still working, thank you, were just enough to illuminate the huge bunker, the only safe - people need something to believe in, in the midst of battle, no matter how fragile it is - place in the city.
There were children crying, sobbing and whispering, there were mothers shushing them and rocking them in their laps, there were old women praying and clutching at their crosses with their wrinkled hands and older men knowing that their son's were hunted down by death in this very moment.
There was fear and pain and sadness so thick in the room, Jensen could taste it in his mouth and it tasted sour. Tasted like tears.
He looked around the bunker and exhaled. Slowly… taking in everything; the people, the lights, the walls, the structure, the space… maybe… maybe they had a chance. Maybe, because after all, it was a 50-50 chance. In war was just… live or die. There's nothing else. Survive or die.
-:-
He looked back at Jared who was now leaning heavily to the wall, head hung down low between his legs. He crouched before the kid's drawn up legs, getting a good look at Jared's fingers tugging at his hair and just prayed that Jared found his way back from the moon.
He gently placed his hand on the reporter's left knee, squeezed and whispered: "Hey, you okay, man?"
"Fuck man, I don't wanna die. I don't… fuck, fuck, fuck… I don't… I have a family, I have dogs and…," he raised his head, "I don't wanna die."
Jared's eyes were shiny and too brown, too big, too scared.
"Hey, hey, 's gonna be okay. Listen, listen, hey… you ain't gonna die, alright. Not in your first war. This is your first one, right?"
Jared nodded.
"Okay, 's gonna be okay kiddo."
Jared snorted and Jensen smiled. The reporter's smile was brighter than the lights, warmer than the sun and Jensen could use that.
"I just… really, really don't wanna die, Jensen."
The words were softly whispered, probably not even meant to be passed from brain to mouth.
"I know, alright. But trust me, okay, trust me… I ain't gonna let you die. Ain't gonna happen. We'll stay here until those motherfuckers stop bombing us and then we'll run, okay? It'll be dark by then and we'll run, alright? And then you'll be able to eat that, that kajmak, or whatever that shit is, and more burek, huh, and man, we'll get back to that village and have some more rakija, hmmm? Maybe some čevapčiči I know you like 'em, yeah? Man, Jared I ain't gonna let you die, okay? You copy?"
Jared snorted again, but his lips tugged up into a smile: "Yeah copy."
"Good, 's good." He placed his hand on Jared's nape and squeezed, intertwining his fingers with the kid's wet hair. It was a touch to ground himself… and the kid.
He chased Jared's eyes until he finally caught them in the flickers of the now dimming lights and asked: "You good?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, now… we have to calm down these people in here, before someone does something stupid, okay?"
Jared scrunched up his nose and raised his eyebrows: "You want us to lie to them?"
"I want us to give 'em hope, okay? I want you to suck it up and smile and show the kids your camera, talk to them, get their minds off of things and I'll take care of the men, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah I can do that."
Jensen nodded and released Jared's nape, stood up and turned around to face the people.
"U redu ljudi, sve če biti dobro. Sve če se srediti, razumjete? Samo morate ostati mirni, dobro? Jared ovdje pokazat če vam svoju kameru…"
Jared grinned, even if fear was dragging its claws through his insides.
The End.
1. "Rat ti je kurba, Jensen, rat ti je kurba." ---> "War is a bitch, Jensen, war is a bitch."
2. "Znam." ---> "I know."
3. "Pazite, Snajper! '' ---> "Watch out, sniper!"
4. "U redu ljudi, sve če biti dobro. Sve če se srediti, razumjete. Samo morate ostati mirni, dobro? Jared ovdje pokazat če vam svoju kameru…" --->"Alright, people, everything's going to be alright. Everything will work out, you understand? You just need to stay calm, alright? Jared here is going to show you his camera…"
I think I watched No Man's Land and Welcome to Sarajevo one too many times. :))))
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-01-07 09:57 pm (UTC)I also liked that you didn't get into the politics of the war but rather focused on what it means to survive in a war.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-08 08:41 am (UTC)thank you for stopping by and reading!
oh thank you.... I'll go fix that... I was debating with myself if it was a b or a v ... I know Croatian a bit (watching lots of Croatian TV, LOL) so I just went by that..:))) so thank you for pointing it out :))) I'll go fix it :)
oh yeah the politics.. no, just no LOL... it's way to complicated and I didn't want to go there... I just wanted to write this little snippet and be done with it... I think bringing in politics would complicated this story too much!
thank you for reading and if I did any other mistakes you can totally point them out:)))
S.
(edited because of spelling)
no subject
Date: 2012-01-08 01:48 pm (UTC)Serious topic brilliant implemented (Okay, damn...is that the right word? Somehow my translater tries to bail on me today).
I hope you had a good start into the new year :)
no subject
Date: 2012-01-08 02:57 pm (UTC)thank you so much for reading and commenting! :) and I didn't manage anything, it's all your imagination running with mine :)
LMAO I guess you and I both are having some 'english language' problems, because my spelling and comprehention is for shit these days... I think 'm still in the new year haze LOL :))) but I understood what you meant to say and thank you sooo much! means so much to me :) thank you! *hugs*
yeah this is a serious thopic, and I was nervous as hell to post this fic... it came too close to home (for me and for many other people) but I just had an itch that I had to scratch, :) ya know!?
thank you!
and I hope your new year is amazing and that it won't stop being amazing! I wish you alllll the very best in 2012!!! :))) *smish*
S.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-12 11:09 pm (UTC)I read it and... well, I'm speechlees right now!
Writing about war is always hard and difficult task but you made it! It's an amazing story with lots of action, emotions, tension, pervasive fear and descriptive scenery of residues and ruins of Sarajevo - what an apocalyptic vision! (but so very true...)
Those were terrible times and I must confess, that I really don't know much about war in these region so this "fic" for me is not just another fic- it's much more and thank you for that (it help me to search more about siege of Sarajewo in 1992)
So, what can I say more? I love your style, I love your writing... Well done!
:)
no subject
Date: 2012-01-14 01:41 pm (UTC)yeah war is a bitch.... *shakes head* a nasty, nasty bitch!
yeah I firstly wanted to write this scene in Vietnam kinda thingy, but I don't know about Vietnam war all that much, but Sarajevo and the war in the Balkans is something that is very close to me, that had an impact on my life and I said, THAT.. that's what I'll write about! :) and writing about war is always soooooo painful and tricky and I didn't want to go into politics with this fic, I didn't want to overwhelm the readers, so I just made it a bit of an action scene with the boys and I put in some typical stuff from that area, stuff that I love, except rakija.. man that shit is too strong for me, LOL :) but yeah..
it did!? you searched it!? awesome.... I have a confession to make... I erm.. I really TRY to write a story where the readers will go: ohhh I wanna know more about those stuff, I wanna go research this and that.... :) you know!? I think that every story has to be both entertaining and educational, you know!? :))))) maybe I'm wrong, but.... knowledge never hurt anyone, right!? :))))
THANK YOU so much for reading this and leaving such an amazing comment.. it really does mean so much to me!!! thank you! :))
*hugs*
S.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-15 04:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-16 09:24 am (UTC)thank you for reading!
S.
no subject
Date: 2013-12-16 06:40 pm (UTC)Nicely done!
no subject
Date: 2013-12-16 08:28 pm (UTC)yeah, it was a brave topic, because the memories are still fresh for some people (even for me, even if the war didn't hurt me directly) but I just had to write it ... had to write something about such a recent history event(s) to ... idk ... make myself feel a bit better! To maybe get some images, some thoughts out of me ... idk, it's hard to explain, because like you said, it's still raw!
oh dude, Troubles in NI is the topic of my diploma ... ahahhaha, well Bloody Sunday is, but well ... omg! ahahhaaha :) this is so weird! :)
yeah war is ... unless one has been in a war-zone, one can never ever understand how it is ... how it's crunching everything that stands before it!
thank you for reading! :)
S.