Mikey spent the rest of the day with Thomas, occasionally splitting off to read but always getting bored and going to the chess table, where Thomas would eventually find him and they'd play a game.
Thomas was actually better than him at the game, he had apparently been playing against his dad since he was a kid. Mikey beat him one game out of four, which he didn't consider to be too bad, considering their skill levels.
Eventually, it was the day of their Oath of Enlistment. They had to be woken up at 6 for the ceremony, which Mikey was annoyed about, but he had other things to care about at the moment. They were given clothes to wear for the ceremony and sent to the bathrooms to change. The clothing consisted of a plan shirt with some slacks, which Mikey found way more comfortable than the barely fitting clothes he had from Lindsey's. They were fed and lined up outside at six thirty. Mikey almost forgot the slip of paper with his chess tips, but he was allowed to return to the room to fetch it, for which he was grateful. They were ordered alphabetically by last name, so Mikey was the last in line. At least he would be able to see what it was like before he had to take it. An officer was standing in front of them, with someone beside him holding the flag of the U.S.
"How this oath shall take place is that Officer Jones will recite the Oath. After he has finished, you will repeat those same words back to him," the man holding the flag explained. "We will start this procedure with Thomas Andrews."
Mikey watched Thomas step up, standing in front of the officer and put his hand on his heart. The officer cleared his throat.
"I, Thomas Andrews, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the orders of the appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God."
Thomas repeated it to him, forgetting the next line occasionally, upon which the officer would prompt him with the beginning of the part he forgot, and he would carry on. Once he was finished, he was sent back to the building where Mikey met with his recruiter to sign his final contract.
The rest of the enlistees did the same, and Mikey was starting to memorize the Oath. Once it was his turn, he was able to recite it without any mistakes or forgotten sentences, which made him feel superior, even if it was a result of no action he had taken. When he got back to the building he discussed the contract in, the secretary gave him his contract to sign. Mikey noticed that it was rather longer than the others sitting on her desk, but when he scanned over the five paragraphs about the Military Accessions which granted him citizenship when he returned from the war, he understood the extra page to the contact. He signed it, feeling confident in his comprehension of what was written. He was then sent to the train station, where he would board the train to his training camp.
The train was larger than Mikey would deem necessary for the amount of people it was currently picking up, but once he boarded the train with his piece of paper in hand, he realized that they weren't the only ones headed to Camp Wood. There had to be at least a hundred men on the train in total, although Mikey could only see bout thirty from where he was standing. There wasn't much space, if any at all, and the seats didn't look very comfortable, so Mikey decided to do what he thought was the good thing. Some people stared at him in confusion, but ended up realizing that left more free seats for them and accepting it.
What Mikey didn't realize, though, was that the train wasn't made for people to stand on like the monorails from his time were. When the train started moving, Mikey almost fell to the floor because he didn't realize it was going to be so unstable. He thought there was something wrong with the train, that it was off the rails or something, but looking at the others, who didn't seem to be startled, he assumed this was just how the trains were in this time. He understood why the other men stared at him when he chose to stand up. This was horrible. They didn't understand why someone would choose to stand up on a train, unless it was a last resort. He looked into the next car over to see if there were any available seats there. No such luck.
He sat down on the floor like some people near him were doing. His legs immediately felt so much better from not having to keep himself from falling anymore. He didn't know why he didn't realize that the trains from this time wouldn't be like the ones from his own. Was there a time equivalent of a language barrier? He bet someone had come up with a word for it at some point. He was sure Pete knew of it, since he talked to more of their coworkers, but Mikey had no idea what it would be. Maybe a temporal barrier? Time misunderstanding? Travel confusion? None of those sounded good. Then something dawned on him: generation miscommunication! Sure, it didn't completely make sense, since it was more of a misunderstanding than a miscommunication, but he wasn't prepared to give up that awesome rhyme for the coherency.
He bet that Pete would appreciate the term, if one didn't exist already. Pete would use it all the time, more than Mikey, because he would be so proud that Mikey did something cool. He'd make it super popular among the 'cooler' coworkers, and wouldn't let anybody forget that Mikey made it up.
Mikey ached for the way Pete always showed him he cared about him and thought he was funny or smart or whatever. He missed having Pete be his cheerleader, encouraging him even when it seemed silly. He missed the way Pete would look like he just won the Olympics when he made Mikey laugh.
He sighed. He hoped that he wouldn't get too emotional when he was training, since that could seriously hold him back. Although, having friends, or at least people he liked, even if it was for a short amount like Thomas, seemed to dull the way he felt like he had no business going through his life without Pete.
Would he even talk to Thomas when they were training? There were a lot of people on the train, and probably ten times more at the camp. In any case, he was bound to meet some people he didn't absolutely hate at training camp.
Training, however, was probably going to be hell. Mikey was never the athletic type. He used to have to do written extra credit for his gym class when he was in high school. He could run relatively fast when he had to, but that was just when he had an adrenaline rush. still, it got him to where he had to be. But there was no telling what actual training would be like.
He closed his eyes. He didn't deserve to be stressing so much about this so early in the morning. He closed his eyes, pretending to try to sleep, though he knew he wouldn't even get a micro-nap out of this hellish train ride.
-
Camp Charles Wood was much more camp-like than Mikey had anticipated. There were only a few actual buildings, the rest of the infrastructures being more tent-like than anything else. Thankfully, though, Mikey's sleeping quarters were in one of the buildings, so he wouldn't have to deal with accommodations that were too cruelly uncomfortable. He knew this because they were all sent in the general direction of their sleeping units upon arriving to be given a tour in smaller numbers.
It was then explained to him, to his great disappointment, that the indoor sleeping units were only temporary, since they prioritized the new arrivals and soon he would no longer be a new arrival. The tents, as uncomfortable as they were, were apparently worlds better than what he would be sleeping in on the battlefield in less than a year.
All of their training would be happening outside, in the nearly thousand acres of land that the base occupied. The officer showing them around then emphasized the importance of teamwork, since it was very easy to get lost in the forest and, later on, in the battlefield.
There was an indoor dining hall, too. Nothing fancy or anything, in fact, they were warned that the food was practically the same thing they'd be eating on the battlefield, just with fresh fruits and vegetables, occasionally, but Mikey's diet had changed so many times in the past month that he didn't really care what he was eating as long as it didn't make him throw up.
The tour concluded there, and the tour group were all brought back to their sleeping quarters. They were to be given bunks in alphabetical order by last name - again, Mikey was among the last to receive his bunk assignment.When it was finally his turn, the officer looked down at the sheet of paper in his hands and whispered something into the officer next to him's ear. The second officer looked at the paper, and furrowed his eyebrows.
"Way? Another Way?" The first officer asked around. Mikey raised his hand.
"Right here, officers."
"Oh," he murmured. "Over there." He was pointed in the direction of his bunk and told he was lucky - he had the bottom. He headed off to where he was sent, looking for an empty bottom bunk. He found one, with M. Way on the side of the top bunk and G. Way right next to it. He frowned. He didn't know any of his ancestors fought in World War II. If there really was someone he was related to that fought in the war, then he really, seriously pitied whoever was trying to manage the paradoxes at Flasch.
But G. Way could be anyone. It wasn't an uncommon last name, he even knew there were other people in his time called Micheal Way. There was no need to get all worried about it - he had already enough to worry about, what with upcoming training and fighting a fucking war in less than a year. He sat on his bed, which was as uncomfortable as he expected. He sat there for a while, thinking about the situation and what training would be like. He didn't know how long he sat there, or how he didn't see his bunkmate climb into the bed above him.
What he noticed first was the heavy breathing. Was his bunkmate- gross! But when he really listened to the breathing, he realized he sounded nothing like someone who was masturbating in a room full of people would. He sounded pained and exhausted. He wondered if this was normal for trainees to be like, but nobody else seemed to be so in pain. He stood up, checking to see what was up with the guy.
"Hey, what's-" Mikey started, coming face to face with his brother.
How the hell was Gerard here? Was Mikey having hallucinations?
But no, it couldn't be a hallucination. There were too many complexities and details: the "Another Way?" from the officer, the plate that said G. Way next to Mikey's, and now the guy who looked exactly like his brother who had been born two hundred years in the future.
"I, uh- Jesus, I broke my foot," Gerard said, looking Mikey in the eye. Mikey's brain screamed at him to look away - this was wrong, Gerard couldn't be here, there was no way this was real, but Mikey couldn't just ignore him.
"God, do I need to tell somebody?" Mikey asked, his panic levels at their absolute fucking maximum.
"No, medical already knows. They're out of bandages to splint it, so I've just got to sit out of training for the rest of however long. I've had worse," Gerard replied. "Hey, you're new, aren't you? I'm Gerard Way, I'm sorry the first time we meet I'm a cripple," he laughed, and Mikey winced internally at the use of the word 'cripple'.
"I'm Micheal," Mikey introduced himself. "Yeah, I'm new. Just arrived today."
"Great, so I haven't just gotten a bunkmate and not known about it. I've- shit, I've only been here for a month myself. Still managed to break a couple of bones, though," Gerard said, clearly trying to distract himself from the pain, though he was clearly wincing.
"Do you- wouldn't it be easier if you had the bottom bunk so you wouldn't have to climb up there every time you went to bed?" Mikey said.
"No, we're not allowed to switch bunks. It makes us harder to find when they need us," Gerard explained, looking down to the bottom bunk. Mikey's bunk was empty except for the paper on the barely-there mattress. Gerard, however, had a couple of trinkets stored between the side railing and his mattress. Mikey assumed they were things he gathered from living there for a month.
Gerard raised his eyebrows at the paper. "What's on it?" He asked, nodding towards it. Mikey blushed. This new Gerard - old Gerard? - reminded him so much of his Gerard. The real Gerard.
Although, who was he to say that this Gerard wasn't real? He lived and breathed and talked out of the side of his mouth, a trait Mikey wouldn't expect him to have since his Gerard didn't, but if this Gerard was a real person, he would have a completely different backstory - completely different memories.
"Rules. For chess. I learned how to play recently and don't want to forget anything if I ever get the chance to play again," Mikey explained.
"Oh. You'll probably be able to play again, I mean, we do a chess competition thing here. I've never participated, I don't know how to play." He looked back down from his bunk and squinted his eyes. "Your name's Way, too?"
"Oh, yeah," Mikey nodded awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.
"Nice. Maybe we're long lost brothers or something," Gerard laughed. Mikey's eyes went wide. Did he know?
No, of course this neo-Gerard didn't know he looked and sounded and acted exactly like his brother, who lived 200 years in the future and was a struggling artist and just recently moved in with him and had a fascination with some guy Mikey felt like he had seen before. It was a logical thing to say after you found out that you had met someone with the same last name and who kind of looked like you.
"Yeah, maybe," Mikey laughed along. "Listen, I'm going to-"
"Newbies, firearms training starts in five," a loud, gravelly voice boomed throughout the room.
"Um, yeah. I'm going to do that," Mikey excused himself.
"Alright. See you later, brother," Gerard called after him as he walked away.
-
Mikey stood, shivering in a line of men, waiting for instructions on what to do next. How the hell was Gerard at his training camp? It clearly wasn't the same person as his brother - Neo-Gerard had short, black hair, for starters, when the Gerard from Mikey's time was trying to grow out his hair that he kept dyeing bright red. And then there were the slight differences in their seemingly identical mannerisms that Mikey was sure anybody who didn't know Gerard, the real Gerard, the way Mikey did, would never notice.
It was almost insulting the way Mikey missed his brother, and how he was just given another one. As if Gerard could be replaced with some nearly perfect replica. As if the universe thought Mikey wouldn't notice.
He knew Gerard better than anyone else. Gerard would always be his big brother. He could never get to know this new kid the same way - it was just impossible. Gerard, his Gerard, had been there for him since he was born. He just met Neo-Gerard five minutes ago. How could they possibly be the same person? How could you possibly compare them?
Maybe he was just a casualty caused by Mikey being there. It would make sense, Mikey was screwing with a lot of people's lives - Lindsey, the mayor, everyone in that house, and then Thomas and everyone he had ever spoken to or looked at or waved at.
But what did that mean for the Gerard Mikey knew? Was he still in 2134 or was he actually replaced with this past version of himself? Or was he floating around in anti-time, stuck between the two? Mikey wished he had a way of knowing. He wished there was something he could do other than do his best not to die in 1934 at a training camp somewhere in northern New Jersey.
He almost didn't notice when the instructor came in and was saluted by the group of trainees. Mikey was lucky he didn't forget to salute his instructor on his first day. That, he was warned, would result in huge penalty.
He tried not to let the fact that a clone of his brother was his bunkmate as the instructor went on to introduce what they would be learning. Mikey had handled his fair share of guns, but knowing about the particular guns he would be using certainly wouldn't hurt. Not that he particularly liked them, he was definitely more of a pacifist, but the job sometimes required it. He had the conversation about the morality of weapons in time travel so many times with Gerard that he didn't mind holding them or shooting if the job called for it.
The instructor finished his explanation and the group were all given guns to aim at the targets. Mikey almost dropped his when he was passed one; it was so much heavier than any other gun he'd used. He got into the position they were shown and readied himself.
"Fire!" The instructor called out, and everyone shot. Mikey's bullet hit the second innermost ring, he noticed. He looked at the late firers's bullets: compared to them, he seemed to have done pretty good.
Maybe training wouldn't be so hard after all.
yikes @ that weak ending lmao i should be studying but im not haha #rebel
also wow thats a plot twist