Who: Wash and Gale What: Wash meets Gale for the lo down on what's going on in the OC When: Evening of June 24th Where: Bar on Seal Beach Pier Rating/Warnings: Low; Some language Status: Complete
The scenery probably didn’t matter so much. Dive bar, hot spot, some shitty hole in the wall, jumpin’ nightlife. But when you were talking about Orange County, and the clusterfuck of a network specifically, you needed to have an open mind and something to numb the headache with. This bar was good though, it was on Seal Beach Pier, a small strip, nothing too ostentatious.
The clientele was actually quiet, which Gale considered a benefit - they were more interested in what was in the glasses in front of them than anything or anyone coming through the door (front or back). Music was going, a relic, a jukebox with a mess of Rock-a-Billy, some bebop, a little bit of folk. And when he received his first beer, the bartender didn’t linger - guy had shit to do, also a good thing about this place. You could talk if you wanted or be left alone if you preferred that.
Gale was mostly going for the second. No one needed to overhear this.
So he waited for Wash, former Marine, fellow military brother. Hopefully not screwed over by the VA system too badly, but hey, Gale was a pessimist sometimes. He waited. He nursed a beer. Tapped his fingers on the lacquered-but-worn bartop. And tried to figure out how to explain all this.
Wash found the bar without too much difficulty. He hadn’t ever made it out to the Pier since moving to Seal Beach. There really hadn’t been any reason to as far as he was concerned. Well, tonight he had a reason. Why he hadn’t connected with any other individuals in the military was something of a mystery. There was a naval base here and that had been a large reason why Wash had chosen to live here and not Anaheim or Brea or one of those other towns.
At least the Pier was within walking distance. Or what was considered walking distance as far as someone who walked everywhere like Wash did was concerned. He was a little relieved to find things calm inside the bar. Loud music and obnoxious patrons were distracting and Wash had a feeling Gale was going to require all his attention that evening.
He found Gale at the bar already nursing a beer. “Hey, sorry I’m a late,” Wash said as he took the open barstool to Gale’s right. He caught the attention of the bartender and ordered himself a beer as well. Alcohol and stories, man. Not a bad way to pass the time.
“No problem. You’re right on time as far as I’m concerned,” Gale turned a little on his stool, facing the other man with a crooked smirk, could even be classified as a half-smile. He didn’t really have a ton to smile about anyway, not these days, but he supposed that at least at the moment the good sort of balanced out the bad. And he had quite a bit of bad going on, due to the war-torn nature of his dreams - they didn’t get a break either, jumping from one tragedy to the next, now finally gearing up for a rebellion that would change history no matter which way you sliced it. That part was good - the change. He was ready to fight in those dreams, ready to sacrifice himself for the sake of the revolution if need be.
He picked up his beer, frosty cold, and swallowed a mouthful, fixing Wash with a thoughtful, gunmetal grey stare. Hm. “Okay, so...I guess I should ask if you scrolled back on that network you just joined. Read other posts, besides the spider ones?”
Wash kind of shrugged a little sheepishly. “Not very far,” he admitted. “I kind of saw someone - I don’t remember who, sorry - asking if anyone else had seen the spider and just sort of stopped scrolling.”
He paused as the bartender returned with his beer. He hadn’t intended to start a tab that evening (God knew he’d had enough bar tabs over the past several weeks), but given the look Gale was giving him opening a tab may not be a bad idea. He handed his card to the bartender, who took it wordlessly and moved to place it behind the register.
Once the man had left them again, Wash turned his attention back to Gale. He didn’t even know why, out of all the social media sites the internet had to offer why he had chosen this one specifically. Was because it was local? Maybe, but somehow Wash doubted that. In fact the idea of joining anything “social” had actually made him a little nervous. So why had he joined? It had to be more than simply what his doctor at the VA had told him. Damn guy had been trying to get him to take steps to adjust to civilian life for the better half of a month now and Wash hadn’t exactly been taking his advice.
He shook his head quickly before his mind started wandering too much further away from the man seated next to him. “So, uh, not very far.” He took a quick pull of his beer and swallowed just as quickly. “I did see this morning something about kidnappings and houses blowing up. At first I was kind of thinking it was all some kind of joke or whatever…” he looked back at Gale, his face setting into serious lines, “but given the look you’re giving me now, somehow I doubt that’s the case.”
“Sadly, no.” Gale would insist upon buying the guy a drink at some point, his second, whatever - because it was the least this soldier could do, considering he was about to offer up a bitter pill that was never easy for newcomers to swallow. Some didn’t, right away, and he couldn’t blame them for that. Some chose to live in denial, rather than face the atomic fallout after their dreams exploded in a fiery blast. Right in their face. But some accepted it easily, which...well, he hadn’t been one of those people. “Kidnappings and bombings aren’t directly related to what we consider Orange County being Orange County, but...” His brow furrowed, one shoulder lifting. “It definitely seems like the people who live here, and who are on the network, attract their lion’s share of crap.”
He wasn’t sure why that was. Dream bleed-over, apparently. Wires getting crossed, as realities meshed and intermingled.
But yeah, about that. “How much stock do you put in stuff like multiple universes and other versions of ourselves?” he asked. And bang, they were off.
The question struck Wash as an odd one. He hadn’t really known what to expect out of his meeting with Gale. Maybe an explanation along the lines of ‘haha, yeah, see the network, it’s really just this in-joke the people around here are a part of’ or something. Because, you know, that would be logical, right? People goofing on each other, making up fish stories to tell one another in a weird competition to see who could tell the biggest whopper.
Gale was quickly putting that idea to ground, though. And now this about multiple universes and other versions of one’s self?
“What, you mean like multiverse theory?” Wash asked.
Yeah, ok, maybe Wash had read a couple of comic books in his day. Actually it was more possible that he’d read a ton of comic books in his day. Alternate dimensions and alternate timelines were always a favorite plot device in comic books. It was possible he still had a couple of those books at home, tucked safely away in a closet. Gale didn’t need to know that, though. No, definitely not. Best to make the first impression a good one.
Oh, shit, thank Jesus that Gale had something to couch all this junk in. Because he was definitely no scientist - all that he’d heard about Valar and the effects of tapping into it was based on other people’s theories and chatter, since he also wasn’t exactly the type to sit back and let a tsunami of weirdness wash over him with no explanation. He wanted one, he got it, for the most part - there was just never anything concrete, because even the brainiac scientist-types were likely stumped to some degree.
“Exactly that,” he breathed out, and you know what? Greasy pub food. They needed some of that. Which was why, when the bartender idled back their way, he asked for some of those pretzel stick things - the soft ones, right from the oven, salt and starch. They went well with beer. Not to mention (fake) cheese sauce. “I don’t have all the details - “ Said once they were out of earshot again, “...but that’s basically what happens. It’s like tapping into Valar taps you into another reality? And you’ll start seeing yourself as a different person, in dreams. Sometimes there are lots of similarities and sometimes there aren’t.”
Like Johanna? Completely different. Peeta and Katniss? Pretty much the same, at least in Gale’s eyes. Minus the part where they loved each other but he wasn’t getting involved in that squabble. “I know it sounds crazy, but at least it’s good to get some warning before it starts happening. Only it’s hard to explain.” Clearly.
Wash was staring at him, his greyish eyes widening slightly as Gale spoke. For the moment, the beer in his hand was forgotten as were the pretzels that had sounded tantalizingly good when Gale had ordered them.
Now though all his thoughts were on what Gale was telling him. Or trying to tell him anyway.
The guy wasn’t lying when he’d said this would sound batshit crazy. Alternate realities made for great comic book fodder, even the occasional movie or video game plot, but they weren’t real. There was no way. ...right?
He shook his head again. “Ok, wait. Valar?” He looked at Gale with a brow raised. “The fuck is ‘valar’?” He’d never heard the term used in any alternate reality situation he’d ever read about or seen.
Okay, at least Wash didn’t flip tables and run from the bar. That was honestly what Gale had been expecting, but this reaction (a raised eyebrow here, a guffaw there) he could work with. “I haven’t heard of it either, not before this, but I mean...if you look it up, it’s something about forces that shape the world, and...yeah, it’s crazy, but the network is kind of the thing that starts it?” He rubbed his jaw, hand passing over a bit of shadow that likely needed to be taken care of.
“Because people live in the OC for years and they don’t start to dream, like with a capital D, until they join that network,” he said. “Give it a couple weeks, and when you have one of those dreams you’ll know. They’re more like memories.” And they felt like memories. Like you had just experienced it, and what carried over? Artifacts, pets, injuries, death?
He wasn’t going to mention the scars on his back from a public flogging that his dream self experienced. Too soon.
Wash was staring at Gale again, perhaps a little slack jawed. Had Carolina or South been there he would have gotten a small shoulder push or an elbow dug into his back. Stop gaping, Wash, you look like a goldfish.
God, his squad - his friends, his family - seemed even further away now. Worlds away. Heh. Worlds. What a fitting choice of words.
Wash still had a nagging thought that Gale was putting him on. That this whole thing was some kind of elaborate ruse used to freak out the new guys in town. He studied his companion closely. Either Gale was an incredible actor or he actually believed everything he was saying. No, he decided Gale wasn’t an actor. This valar, whatever it was, had affected him and had affected him on a very deep level.
Jesus Christ, all of this crazy shit because Wash had clicked on a link to a social networking site his search engine had given him. With that thought alarm suddenly washed over Wash with great and sudden urgency.
“I’m going to get these ‘dreams’ too?” He demanded, his voice raising at the end of his question to almost a squeaky pitch. “Are you kididng me? I’m just trying to adjust to civilian life again. I don’t need any added complications! I have enough of those as it is.”
But even as he spoke the words he found himself feeling otherwise. It would have been normal for him to think Gale was insane, that all the people on the network were insane, but he didn’t think that. He couldn’t bring himself to and really, he didn’t want to. The idea that there was another life that he could live was appealing. A life in which he didn’t feel abandoned, or that he had let everyone down. One in which he hadn’t been a complete and utter failure. That sounded nice. Sounded good. That he wasn’t bothered by what Gale was saying bothered him even more. The whole thing was confusing. A dull and now familiar throb started at the back of his head.
He suddenly remembered his beer. He was clutching it now maybe a little tighter than necessary. He brought it to his mouth and took a healthy pull, letting the taste of hops and barley linger at the back of his mouth before swallowing it.
“There’s a good chance you will. Like I said, I think it’s only fair to at least give a little warning...” Gale’s jaw clenched, and he too swallowed another swig of beer right as the swinging door to the small kitchen opened and out came the plate of pretzel sticks and cheese dip. He nudged it Wash’s way, for a little carb comfort. If that would help.
It was possible that he’d dream of something great, something happy. For most? That didn’t really happen. Seemed like most of the network dealt with a neverending shit show, a whole angst landscape, in their own dreams. However, others got lucky. Gale hoped it’d be like that for Wash too. “The network is where people talk about their dreams though, it’s kind of like...a place for people to commiserate?” he said. “But because this reality, or alternate universe, whatever, is so weird...sometimes equally weird stuff happens in Orange County. Like the spider, or a few weeks ago we had a legit Hellmouth open in Disneyland. Then sometimes people swap bodies or whatever else - just stuff that happens, and it doesn’t last long before it goes away.”
Another beer? Yeah, they might need that.
As Gale spoke, Wash stared at the plate of soft pretzels and ooey cheesey goodness that had been nudged towards him. It looked good, but he really wasn’t hungry anymore. Questions one right after the other were rolling through his mind: What were the dreams like? Do people have the same kinds of dreams? How did someone tell the difference between a normal everyday dream and a valar dream? Did people change when the dreams started? How did the community - those not on the network - react to things like hellmouths opening in Disneyland? Why was this kind of thing happening to the people here? Was it happening in other places too, to other people…?
These questions were coming much too quickly for Wash to actually have the time for his mouth to form the words to ask any. That dull throb at the back of his head where his skull had been cracked open a few months ago was intensifying, signaling that if he didn’t focus his thoughts and calm the fuck down, a full blown migraine would soon blind the shit out of him.
Ok...ok...oh, yeah, beer. Drink your beer, Wash. Drink your beer and calm your tits.
Wash closed his eyes and killed off what was left in his glass. It helped a bit. Not as much as he would have liked, but by the time he’d opened his eyes again his thoughts weren’t racing a mile a minute. He rubbed his temple in an attempt to stave off the growing headache and with his other hand set the now empty beer glass on the bartop.
Ok, one question at a time here. The spiders and other odd occurrences in the OC seemed like a good place to start, they were the reason Wash had agreed to meet Gale that evening, after all.
“The spiders,” he started slowly, “what happens when things like those appear? Do people, like, fight them? What do we do when these...things...happen?”
There was really no way to tell just what the fuck would go on in Orange County, but becoming acclimated to the place meant just kind of accepting that shit would hit the fan on a regular basis. So that was a good question, really. Gale thought about how to answer, picking up a pretzel stick and dunking it in neon orange sauce.
“Some people do. I mean, there are people here with like, uh...extra abilities and things like that? Their dreams give them powers and things. Or other edges.” No superpowers for him, but he was a hell of a hunter, if that counted. And possessed an almost eerie instinct for setting traps and snares, knowing how to think like his prey. “We tend to just do what we can. Help out civilians, people who have no clue what’s going on. Usually the weird shit is covered up by this ‘mysterious’ - “ Air quotes around the word, “...government agency, and the reports all say that there’s LSD in the water, or wild animals attacked, or whatever. It’s just with a giant spider it’s sort of hard to spin that.” Robotics gone bad? People tended to think what they wanted anyway, rather than believe something from a monster movie had actually happened.
“Government agency?” Wash repeated. Oh, great, that opened up the damn for a whole new slew of questions that threatened to roll through Wash’s mind at break neck speed. With a groan he closed his eyes and rubbed them hard for a moment and then just kept his hands over them for a moment before moving his fingers to his temples. He peered up at Gale as he rubbed them in an attempt to keep this oncoming migraine at bay. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Not that this whole thing isn’t interesting as shit, because it is and I did drag you out here to explain it all to me, but...Jesus, can we take a break for a bit? I’m not sure how many more bombs I can handle before something snaps.”
“Yeah, no problem. Might be a good idea,” Gale managed a grin, and it turned sympathetic. Because it was a lot for anyone to handle, and the mind couldn’t absorb all this fuckery all at once - well, unless you wanted to risk an explosion. “You know I’m around if you wanna talk about any of it.” And he was a seasoned veteran by now, at the Valar thing, so he would help if he could. Banding together and all that.
Just in time for the second beer to arrive too. “That one is on me, don’t worry,” he added. “If it’s not standard procedure for newcomers, it should be.” Then he saluted with the next round, a commiserating gesture - gear up for a lot of those, really. “Welcome to the OC.”