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Fitz never wanted to go to war.
He remembers hearing the announcement on the radio while at work, the Germans invaded Poland and Europe was at war. For a long time he clung to his Fathers long ago assurances that the United States would never get involved in something like that again. The war was half a world away and even when he had to sign the papers for the draft he held that empty comfort close to his chest.
Dex was the opposite. He’d been raring to make a difference ever since he’d smelled a whiff of the imbalance across the sea. Back when it’d all just been snatches of stories on the radio and not the only thing anyone talked about. It was the reason Fitz had hated Dex at first, back in grade school. All that righteousness and fire wound up in that tiny body. Always jumping into a fight even if he was 50 pounds soaking wet at 11 and had arms small enough to make a fist around and then some. Fitz thought it was all a show, a stupid, overconfident show of someone who could never really even make a difference.
It took until his father died for him to really get what it really was. Fitzd never really been liked, even if he was never hated either. His father had been important enough to the city that the kids knew better than to pick a fight with him. Yet there was always whispers anyways. About his older brother he doesn’t remember and how his mom had only been 17 when she had him and his father nearly 30. And she hadn’t even made it to 35 when Alvar deserted in the Great War. No one ever figured out where he went, but even when he was declared Killed in Action there was no honour to it.
Then his mother left, he was only 6. He thinks he’d had a sister then, but if she did his mom had taken her along. Alden never talked about either of them, and Fitz is half convinced that the baby had died and thats why she’d left. That was easier to handle than being the one left behind, even if he could never hate her for it. He loved his father. And so did everyone else in the city. Then Fitz turned 15 and his father caught TB from too many charity trips to the hospital ward. Even with all their money and connections he barely made it a year.
None of his peers had a problem with snickering at the 16 year old not quite orphan. Cursed, they called him. He refused to let it bother him, even if his knuckles ached with how tight his fists were clenched. He remembers vividly the crescents he dug into his palms when Audric Henton refused to let Fitz join his team in phys. ed because he ‘didn’t want to disappear.’
He’d resigned himself to sitting on the sidelines with the taste of blood in his mouth when a screechy kind of voice told Audric to ‘shove it up his ass.’ And there Dex Dizznee was, all five foot zero of him staged in front of the larger with his hands on his hips like some kind of superhero.
Watching Dex getting a fist to the jaw for him is what did it really, what finally made him realize what it had all really been about. Dex Dizznee made him feel guilty, just by existing as he was. A strong, able boy with a good head on his shoulders and a big heart in his chest who couldn’t even muster up the courage to step up for someone in need. Because there the boy had been, standing up for him even though he’d never done anything to deserve it. Not because he was a poser or an idiot, but because that was the right thing to do.
The first time Fitz Vacker ever got the switch was after breaking Audric Hentons nose, and he didn’t regret it a single bit.
Dex had read him to filth afterwards for stepping in when he ‘had it covered.’ Fitz just smiled at him and said he only did so Audric didn’t feel as bad when he lost. They’d been inseparable ever since.
That’s not to say that they didn’t drive each other crazy sometimes. Annoying one another until they were spitting with frustration. When Fitz tried to stop Dex from doing something he shouldn’t, or the memorable time where he’d foolishly told him that he couldn’t do something because of the sickly way he’d been born. Dex had nearly socked him in the jaw for that one, which he probably deserved.
As much as he hated it, there was a lot of stuff Dex couldn’t do, one of which was win a fight. This of course never stopped him, and Fitz gave up counting the amount of times he stitched the other guy up a long time ago. Even more often were the times he stepped in and flattened an asshole because Dex couldn’t stay out of anything for the life of him, so long as there was a bully involved.
Sometimes, in the darkest corners of his mind, Fitz thinks he kind of loves him for it. Never in so many words, but he can feel it in his chest when Dex shoves a guy into the street because he tried peeking down a dames blouse. Something warm that sits behind his ribcage, knotted and delicate.
They still argue about that the most. Never usually for long, because Fitz accepted that Dex’s mind will never change as long as the sun rises from the east. But it still burns in his chest every time, especially when he’s not around to step in.
Selfishly, that’s what scares him most about the war. Dex tries to enlist, and he fights Fitz on it every time he tries to say that it’s not the end of the world. He’s scared that Dex will do something stupid and get himself thrown in jail for forgery, or worse, thrown on the front lines.
Fitz never enlisted, and he’d told himself it was because he didn’t want to rub it in Dex’s face when he got accepted. But he wonders if that would have been a better choice when he comes home to the draft notice in their mail slot. The military had definitely chosen the wrong guy for it, which was never more evident than when he told Dex he enlisted, too much of a coward to admit they were taking him against his will.
He says goodbye to Dex the night before he leaves for Europe, standing outside the enlistment office with a leaden heart. He never comes home that evening, and he’s not there in the morning to see him off either. But Fitz still keeps a picture of them folded neatly in his breast pocket as he steps onto the boat.