A/N: Another Jarhead one-shot. Damn, I want to see it again!
My take on Swofford's sister is purely based on the impression the movie gave. I have not read the book, so excuse me if it's not accurate.
No slash intended. Please R&R. Thank you.
And can someone please tell me how to get the site to start a proper Jarhead section? I emailed them but they haven't responded.
"No preference, huh?"
Swofford looked over at Troy.
"Your religion - you wanted 'no preference' on your tags. Why?"
"Because I don't have a religion. No shit."
He looked away again and stirred in his hole.
"Why not?" Troy asked.
"Jesus, Troy. What's with all the fuckin' questions?"
"I just find it interesting that you bothered to request 'no preference' three times and that you also haven o religion. I'm a curious motherfucker, so tell me."
"Why does everything have to have subtext with you? Why can't you just accept shit as it is? I have no religion, I'd like them to fucking get it right on my God damn tags, so if I kick it, people know the truth."
Troy shifted, his eyes unmoving from Swofford.
"Why no religion?"
"Because I don't fucking believe in anything."
"No shit. But why?"
"Why do you care?"
"I like being a pain in the ass; humor me."
Swofford didn't answer. The little, squirming hope that Troy would just leave was rapidly dying in the back of his heart. He sighed heavily in annoyance.
"Most guys believe in something," said Troy. "You got your Catholics, some Jews, but mostly Catholics. And the atheists have their own shit, too - porn and drugs and shit. But you, Swofford - what do you have?"
"Nothing. Now will you fucking go back to your hole?"
"Holy shit - fuck off, will you? What the fuck do you believe in, anyway?"
"I am a man of many persuasions, Swoff. I believe in the Suck, chasing women, and mass quantities of beer. And you, sometimes - when you're not being a shithead. But you don't seem to have anything…."
"Yeah, well, if you grew up in the shithole I lived in, maybe you wouldn't believe in anything either."
"Everybody grows up in a shithole, man. What makes yours so different?"
"None of your damn business."
He rolled onto his side, back to Troy, silently begging to be left alone.
"I think it is. It's gotta be somebody's."
Troy neared him, and Swofford resisted the urge to whine, as he listened to the boots pad against the earth. Stop.
"What was it?" Troy murmured. "What kind of shit made you faithless?"
"Go to hell."
Troy was silent after that, and eventually, Swoff heard him go back to his hole. But hours later, with the dark still immovable, Troy was startled awake but a hovering presence. He snapped his rifle up, aiming to his right. Swoff sat unfazed, looking down at him.
"Swoff - Jesus."
"My dad was fucked up after the war," said the sniper. "My mom was miserable; the marriage fell apart. My sister's a psycho - institutionalized and everything."
Troy blinked at him, his heart still slowing.
"Tough shit," he said evenly.
"Logically - with all the shit that happens in this world - there can't be anyone with actual power who gives a damn."
"What about something besides religion?"
"Everything else is man-made. And therefore, fucked up."
Swoff got up.
"But sometimes, I believe in you - when you're not being a shithead."
He plopped back into his hole. Troy smiled.