little girl gone

so he's got backup plans, and backup plans for those backup plans. without his permission, his mind goes down an imaginary path where ty is allowed to be a part of his plans. he spends a moment scolding it before returning to the conversation.

"everyone's got something," he agrees. he looks down, is quiet for a few beats, and looks up again. it's another confession, essentially. "weird question, maybe. just- you can tell me to fuck off, if you want. you ever live in a trailer park?"

"it's definitely a weird question." and yet he finds himself sitting up straighter at it, can't help but to feel a little self-conscious at being pinned so easily, but - as is usual for his nature - he brushes it off, opts to be carefree and semi-playful instead. "what, it that obvious? you gotta tell me how you guessed."

"maybe we'd manage," he concedes. "maybe. but i-" he frowns. "i don't know what i'd do if things here went south. that's what i mean. it's not... i'm not..." not predictable. in other words, he does not trust himself to do anything but react. to become as mindless as the infected. he realizes that after trailing off he let the silence carry a little too long, and offers ty a sheepish smile. "sorry."

he smiles in turn, hopes it provides some sort of a reassurance. “you don’t gotta apologise. everyone’s got something, eh?”

"but we aren't talking about me now," he argues. "i'm talking- when it comes down to it, you know. and you ain't never seen me at that point." he has, and knows himself to be some unbalanced gathering of viciousness and cowardice. in those moments, he sees his father. "lovers and fighters? those the only two options, or do i got more room to choose?"

“i haven’t, and hopefully i don’t never have to either.” he affirms, a nod of his head. “but i think if it came down to it, we’d all manage. we have this far.” some in more violent ways than others, he’s sure, but still. nobody here had keeled over to die, they had fought their way here, in one way or another. “course you do. those are just the main ones i always ‘ear. nothin’ wrong with being somethin’ else.”

he wonders if he trusts ty. the correct answer is no. the real answer is- adam thinks he knows, for a moment, but there's too much fine print in his head and he gets tangled in it.

"hm. you're right. but i don't- i don't know if fighter's the right word for how i get when i'm there." he shrugs. "different connotations. i'm not so valiant as all that."

“you don’t seem so bad to me.” he shrugs, though he supposed fight isn’t everything in a person, people had other values, ones that didn’t involve barred teeth and clenched fits, adam was like that, gentler. “that’s okay too, not everyone’s the same. gotta have lovers and fighters, or none of us would ever get along.”

adam is a coward. and adam knows it.

"i did it alone," he confesses. he hasn't told anyone this before, but now the words come down like rain. he remembers a line from cormac mccarthy - you never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from. not a 1:1, but he likens it to this admittance. adam can tell matthias this, because adam can't tell matthias his other secret. "up until i found this place. i had a bad experience with- guess i'd call 'em raiders, i don't know. after that it seemed like a good idea to avoid everyone. i'm damn quick - can say that much, at least - but i ain't a fighter."

"i did too. i mean i joined up with a few others now and then, never stuck around long enough for it to mean anythin', and they all had their own places to go to, i just tagged along till i got where i wanted to go, then left 'em to it." he had known better than to put his trust in strangers, knew what people were capable of in end of the world environments, and knew to look out for himself first. he shrugs his shoulders, before speaking again, the worlds somewhat mumbled.

"everyone's a fighter. you just gotta get pushed to that point, s'all."

then again, he's not got the choice anymore. doubts any of those businesses are still up and running, and doubts they ever will be again.

he eats another berry. there is only one left now, and as he considers its impermanence he knows that he's going to seek out that patch of vines again. bring some back. not for himself, this time - he'll be gambling for another moment like this.

"by myself," he echoes. he should clarify, but can't. to talk about family - even about there absence, even as nothing more than an allusion - is not something he can hold in this moment. not alongside everything else. "that's right." there had been years in between. he has not been in novac long, comparatively. "what about you?"

"same 'ere. i had a few people joining me on the way here and then, tagged along with a few different bunches, nothin' ever stuck though mind, but i was all on my lonesome by the time i got here, good three years ago, now."

adam is in no way inclined to stay true to his roots. he can feel them tangled around his ankles at times, and that's when the knife comes out. hacking away, freeing him. he picks out the splinters with that same knife.

he finishes his berries more slowly. the impermanence of this meal is strong in the front of his mind. he doesn't know that he and ty will ever share food again. that's the nature of the end of the world - everything gets to feel fleeting. especially quiet conversation shared with farmhands at half past four in the morning. the truth of it is that adam doesn't like to hope for things that are outside of his control.

he stands on the edge of another little truth. adam is a liar, through weaponized indirectness - he does it with silences. but he feels bare this morning, edges poking out. feels like ty can see them anyway. "nevada was better. but i hate vegas." his little accompanying laugh is bitter as can be. "or maybe i love it. guess it did more for me 'n i like to think."

the last three berries stare at him from his palm. he eats one more. looks up at ty. "it was a high school game, and they ended it early. small town outside of vegas and football wasn't the kinda thing you just went and stopped for no reason, but i didn't think this was the reason. but it was- again, small town, so. easy enough to get out. my ex came with me, but she met up with her family and, uh-" he feels as awkward as some dog-eared old book. "a girl she was going with. they went south."

"not a gamblin' man?" he supposed that was a good thing, having never really delved into anything that might've caused addiction - given his poor family history with abuse in every form had caused him great fear as a child, atop his stubborn self-reliance and refusal to wind up dependent on anything. "yeah? well maybe it did." not that matthias really knows.

"yeah, must've been a downsight better there. for the first time in my life it was like i wasn't the only poor sucker trying to get out of texas, everyone else was trying too." he'd seen people he'dknown for his entire life, who'd flash sympathetic smiles his way when they caught a particularly gnarly bruise on his arm or sight of a poorly concealed black eye, those too sheepish to step in for him all these years suddenly getting the will to fight their neighbour for the last tin of beans at the supermarket. it had been hellish, and he wasn't sure he'd ever forget that day.

"right. and then you ended up here, what, by yourself?" matthias had done the same, after travelling with a few separate groups across different cities, but he had no family left to meet up with. he didn't know if the same could be said for adam, and it seemed too sensitive a topic to broach over berries and a first conversation.

that matthias can tell adam is from texas - though adam has gathered that much by now, and it isn't as if it's not mutual - catches him like a horse might get caught seeing a fence out of the wrong eye. but he answers, if vaguely. he's a little defensive when he answers. "yeah, well, you bring it outta me." he eats another berry. realizes he'd sounded too sharp - he does not want matthias cut on his edges. "sorry. uh, nevada. i was at a football game. you?"

"well i'd apoloise but - times like this you gotta stay true to your roots." even if those roots are rotten, halted in their growth, would be better being pulled out entirely. "nevada? pretty cool. nah, no cool story 'ere, just in texas, saw it on the news. got the hell out of dodge as fast as i could."

"i was." he is suddenly hyper aware of how much he's leaning on the berries as a way to appear nonchalant. he forces himself to relax further, his body language no longer that of the cornered. he thinks he heard a hint of bitterness from matthias. adam understands, though he is no longer sure he shares it. texas had been bad, but it is like a dream to him now. his mother's face is made up with fewer and fewer brushstrokes each year - someday it'll be too abstract for view. nevada had been worse, until he'd found his father's body. "long time ago. when we left i was... ten? eleven, maybe."

it’s been ten years now since he’d even so much as stepped foot in texas, ten years since he left his father to the cruel fate of turning and living out ( or not living out ? ) the rest of his time as a zombie until someone came by to put a bullet in his skull. perhaps he could have been merciful himself, but his father had never afforded him that luxury, and so he hadn’t been. “yeah, i can tell. s’not as obvious, but i could tell. where were you when the outbreak hit?” probably not the best snack time conversation topic between near-strangers, but he’d never been the best at subtlety.

adam has a painful moment of self perception. he looks away again, at the ground this time, though his eyes don't stay there long. they catch on matthias's hands, and then trail upwards. he clears his throat. "you're from texas." it's a question, even if he doesn't speak it like one, and it also isn't really a question, because adam's near certain already.

he swallows a berry, before lips curl up into the beginnings of a smile at the mention of home. "that obvious, huh?" he quips, before nodding his head, fiddling absentmindedly with the chain around his neck. "yeah, home sweet home." there's a bitterness to the words he's never quite managed to shake, but he's quick to shake it off. "you too, right? less obvious but.. takes one to know one."

the first berry is tart, but sweet. he'd eaten some of the overripe ones right off the vine, not trusting them to stay the night. the handful he'd taken with him had been just before crossing over, but they taste perfect to him now. he looks up after the first bite, surprised. "oh, no. you don't have to do all that." he looks away, awkward. "'sides, i didn't steal 'em. they were just there. didn't belong to no one." his own ears are deaf to this protest. he knows he's done wrong. "i'll show someone else where they are next time i head out."

"easy. it's not like i'm gonna tell anyone, don't wanna implicate myself." he jests, grin evident on his face. "nah, but seriously, don't worry 'bout it. a few berries ain't gonna go amiss, that much. not like you've baked a pie with 'em or anything substantial. but if showin' me where they are'll ease your conscience then by all means, but that don't mean i gotta share 'em either."

he walks in the direction of where he hid the blackberries. there are enough for two, and while they're far from substantial enough for a breakfast, they meet midnight snack qualifications. he divides them carefully in half, and then spends a moment feeling self-conscious. selfish, he thinks. like his father. he knows he should not have kept these, and matthias knows it just as well, and for a moment adam feels too in the open.

but they're only blackberries, and there aren't all that many of them. he arranges his guilt so it will take up little space, and he places it somewhere out of sight - for later use.

he follows adam over to whatever stash he seems to be hiding away, a little honored to be privy to someone elses' little secret, eyes lighting up with amusement when he notices the berries. "they're not gonna poison me now, are they?" he asks, his tone teasing as he takes his share of the blackberries, that he knows are perfectly fine and safe to eat, but he's just having his fun.

"well thanks man. next time i steal somethin' worth havin' you'll be the first to know about it. well.. technically the second, cause i'll already know about it, but definitely the second."

he sees someone else and wonders if they are up early or simply still awake from the night before. he calls out to them, so as not to startle them: "good morning," that last consonant nearly stolen by his now-buried accent but still holding on by a thread. the next 'g' isn't so lucky. "you lookin' for dinner, or is it breakfast now?"

"i'd say it's kind of more a pretty darn late midnight snack." he quips, a light rise and fall of his shoulders as he shrugs. "and i could ask you the same thing, surely. but i mean i could eat, if you're offerin' something."