"I don't know." He really doesn't. He wishes he had a better idea, a better way to streamline this process. "But I think we can make a good case for getting out of reach as soon as possible. They might want to say goodbye to their other people if they do come."
She catches it, but it takes her a moment to understand. She stares at the spot while she finishes her first drink, slides the empty glass over for a second.
"I just need to check in with a few people, see where they're at. It shouldn't take long. I'm sure they've got their own people." But she accepted responsibility for - and offered support to - Jacob and Dinah. It means something to her, even if she doesn't to them in coming days.
"Me too." They never quite leave the trauma behind and she wonders if they would even if they really were in a world that didn't keep dropping them back in it unexpectedly.
At least back home it was constant, it was known.
"I dreamed the Reapers killed us all," she says and doesn't know she's started until it's done.
"He didn't know who I was. They have these masks - his is a skull. I could remember it but not why, and when I tried to get in his way it - it just didn't matter."
"You're getting closer to him. It makes sense that part of your mind is..." Afraid? That's maybe a too strong word for it. Or maybe too accurate. "... Wondering if he's getting closer to you, too."
None of them would remember anything here if they got to go back. If somehow Jesus and Carver were to be anything other than what they are, the Reapers and the Alexandrians would never be able to inhabit the same world with the same scarce resources.
"It's a truth for a different world. Here, the only Reaper is Carver. And he wouldn't do that to us." He has a steady, quiet confidence in that. Carver is loyal when he lets people in, rare as it is.
It is bad luck to say goodbyes, to say just in case, to simply hand over a neatly tied ending to the story of two people living in the same world. They all know it. They always have.
There's so, so much they don't know here. About how any of this works.
"That's all I've ever wanted to do." Make the world just a little bit better. Leave it just a little better.
"I know. Me, too." And when the world suddenly got so much smaller he'd been sure he was doing that: bringing people together, going out into the world to shoulder danger so people could live quietly behind the walls with their families.
Different from the kind Rick fostered, something delicate and bright where Rick's was bloody and grim. They needed one out on the road to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
They needed the other to know what to do without the road.
"Ask me one thing you've always wanted to know," she says abruptly. "Anything. I won't lie."
It's harder to answer than she'd like. She's someone who sinks her claws into the present and that means that she's found enjoyment in things like their spa dates or throwing flour around the kitchen at each other or shopping. Anything deeper than that she naturally shies away from because this, too, is armor.
She smiles, makes herself smile.
"The day we named Creekside." She thought for a moment there that maybe, maybe, they could all be alright.
"That was a really good day." He was happy then, too, satisfied with the work he'd done and was still doing, and just glad to be there with friends he is willing to fight for.
He doesn't care what the city says. It's theirs. It's already theirs. Sometimes you just have to take what you need, and he thinks the three of them need that space.
"I'm happy here often. That day was one of the really good days. Knowing we could build something here, have somewhere we know what we're doing..." She's giving them that. "Recently? Being forgiven for running."
He didn't deserve to be let back into the contract, or back with K, so easily.
The corner of her mouth quirks. It still gives her heartburn, thinking of how vulnerable Jesus is to some of the people here, but she tries to remind herself that they're earning it.
"If we can do this - no more contracts. No more quota, no more bullshit." She has no idea how long the others will last, but she knows that she, Jesus, and Carver can go quite a long time on that alone.
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handleyourshit) wrote2032-07-23 01:51 pm
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"Tomorrow night at the latest, no exceptions. Earlier if we can."
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"We'll go out tomorrow while it's still light out. They're not used to the woods, they'll need that."
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"I just need to check in with a few people, see where they're at. It shouldn't take long. I'm sure they've got their own people." But she accepted responsibility for - and offered support to - Jacob and Dinah. It means something to her, even if she doesn't to them in coming days.
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He fills her glass, empties his, fills it again. "I have a go bag ready, but it'll probably take them time to pack."
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At least back home it was constant, it was known.
"I dreamed the Reapers killed us all," she says and doesn't know she's started until it's done.
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"He didn't know who I was. They have these masks - his is a skull. I could remember it but not why, and when I tried to get in his way it - it just didn't matter."
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None of them would remember anything here if they got to go back. If somehow Jesus and Carver were to be anything other than what they are, the Reapers and the Alexandrians would never be able to inhabit the same world with the same scarce resources.
"They killed us all, and moved into our houses."
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It was only a dream. It happens to them all the time, sometimes more and sometimes less, but it's just something that happens.
She takes another drink, and looks at him. "I miss home, but I'm not ready to go yet."
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If this works and he gets to stay, he isn't ready for a world without her.
"You make everything here better."
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There's so, so much they don't know here. About how any of this works.
"That's all I've ever wanted to do." Make the world just a little bit better. Leave it just a little better.
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They're not saying goodbye, he tells himself.
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Different from the kind Rick fostered, something delicate and bright where Rick's was bloody and grim. They needed one out on the road to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
They needed the other to know what to do without the road.
"Ask me one thing you've always wanted to know," she says abruptly. "Anything. I won't lie."
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She smiles, makes herself smile.
"The day we named Creekside." She thought for a moment there that maybe, maybe, they could all be alright.
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He doesn't care what the city says. It's theirs. It's already theirs. Sometimes you just have to take what you need, and he thinks the three of them need that space.
"Your turn. Ask me anything."
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She wants to know, too, that any of the energy he puts out on a daily basis reached deeper than the surface.
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He didn't deserve to be let back into the contract, or back with K, so easily.
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"If we can do this - no more contracts. No more quota, no more bullshit." She has no idea how long the others will last, but she knows that she, Jesus, and Carver can go quite a long time on that alone.
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"Maybe we can fall back to one of the others if we need to. Insincerity, or Veracity."
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