KANE EDWARDS

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He falls in next to her, answers her questions, and doesn’t argue when she picks now to go, and it feels ridiculous that any of that bothers her as they head towards the doors. Exiting the chapel, unable to keep herself from scanning for anyone wearing black habits.

She’s less concerned with the sisters than maybe she should be. It’s hard to imagine them doing worse than requesting more firmly that they stay inside the gate. Anything more forceful than that might at least provide answers to those questions she’s not getting better ones too. What keeps them safe, what they’re hiding, except for refugees in their walls.

But it’s likely for the best they’re otherwise occupied, and it should count for something that Kane made a note of it before he even came and found her. Something she’d appreciate more on a different day, when she wasn’t half wishing he’d give her a reason to vent those frustrations she feels like she’s trying to ground down with her back teeth.

“Revenants? Monsters? Anything else in our way?”

She’ll get those answers quickly enough without him, when it’s not a long trip to the doors. But she has little else to say to him. Nothing worth vocalizing at least, too much resentment feeling like it’s simply poisoning her bloodstream right now. Repeated reminders don’t help, not even the logical awareness that he’ll never understand what that mark and that title means. Not with the same intensity at least. His father twisted its meaning into something different, something selfish. 

She just hates having witnessed any signs of that trait in some drunken moment of weakness, and how much of it might sit with her too, that she’s taken it so personally. 

“Load of Revs, but they shouldn’t be an issue if we move quickly and take out a few quietly,” Kane answers in a similar tone as she asks her questions, “Haven’t seen anything worse than them nearby.” Kane barely even knew her and they’ve already reached the stoic business-only stage of things Kane pushed most people too. He hadn’t really had a chance to actually disappoint her, yet.

The silence is worse than he expected to be. He'd much prefer it if she turned on him. Yelling or insults. Even acknowledging he fucked up back at the IKEA would've made things less awkward. Even as they both move quickly through the building, out of the chapel and across the grounds till they’re heading closer to the front gate. 

It’s familiar. Everything about the moment even down to the monsters they’re talking about it. He dismisses it as an old feeling, something similar to his younger days when he’d do a job for Jed and working with all the guys that hated him. 

Another minute of silence and it clicks. The embarrassment gives way to a different feeling, a sudden drop in his gut and he needs to get it out of the fucking way.

“Do you want to get to the calling me names bit of our field trip now or are you waiting for when we’re in the thick of it?” Kane knows his tone too harsh for the one in the wrong but he doesn’t have the capacity to bite down on his tone. Especially as he looks staunchly ahead, refusing to look to see her reaction to anything he’s saying till she answers him, “Arguing whilst killing things does have a good atmosphere to it, in theory, but I prefer doing one thing at a time.” 

In reality, it leads to the last word of the argument being out of necessity not winning whatever bullshit argument they were having.

“Bryce has already given me shit for it. Won’t happen again.” He says with more certainty than he really has any right to have.  It might happen again but not because it’s the first anniversary without his wife. He’s already trying his best to the forget the date, never have to recognize it again.

No small part of Zoe already wants to take back her agreement. She wants to tell him to sit tight and stay put, help himself to the communal wine. She’d handle it on her own way, by herself, or with anyone else. Even his brother might be preferable right now, though it’s a bitter reminder she’d thought for a moment that one Edwards was better than the other.

If it seemed a less petty thought, she would. But he’s clearly sober now, and the only reasons she has to say no all seem like childish ones.  

“When.” It’s almost a challenge, even if it’s not one she expresses with any blatancy. It was his idea, he wanted to go, now should be as good a time as any. Though it loses something when she actually casts more than a fleeting glance at him, looking already prepared as it is. 

The attention doesn’t last long. Attention dropping from him to situate her own bag over her shoulders, fingers dancing over the holster of the gun at her hip, despite any assurances that she shouldn’t need it in here. It wasn’t anything she planned on listening to, no intention of abandoning her weapons where she couldn’t see them and the sisters could.

The shotgun’s last, resting against the side of the pew before she slings it over her other shoulder. Those basics are a good distraction from a man she doesn’t want to dwell much on. Disappointment left rotting in her gut, the taste of it too sour and unwelcome on her tongue. 

She shifts around him and heads for the door. “What’s the front gate look like?”

When. Kane nods, at the ready, and sees then Zoe finally looks at him properly. The intended effect wasn’t what she expected either. He was rarely caught at a bad time... until he was.

He’s quickly back to nothing but a figure in her peripheral. It’s laughable how used to that part he was, a necessary presence but never a particularly wanted one. The only problem this time is that it’s familiar. It’s the quiet, unspoken aftermath of an argument. Kane refusing to acknowledge it first because he doesn’t know what to say and Zoe giving short, curt answers rather than confronting him.

Too many of his last days with Sersh were spent in a similar way.

Zoe walks past, a wider berth than necessary, he thinks. He frowns to himself and attempts to remind himself he deserved this. Partly. Maybe. She busies herself with getting weapons ready and he remains silent. He’s following the foolish belief that maybe it’ll blow over given a little time. That once more proving he’s helpful and competent could erase that one mistake.

Kane can already see his own foolishness. They’re both headed for the door, Kane falling into step with Zoe. He answers like he’s reporting to one of his brothers back in the day. To the point, a little asshole-ish but gets the job done.

“Nothing’s ever watched properly. The Sisters genuinely believe in the whole trust and honor thing,” Kane says, voice low, “Saw most of them out back in the garden. Couple others are occupied with laundry and our lot chatting with them. At the very worst, one of ours may see us.”

Jeez. That thought seems to dominate her mind in the moment–jeez. Was it her fault that he’d come to her this hard or was it already in his mind before he approached her? Patty wasn’t sure which thought intrigued her more. When they first met, she thought he’d be a harder nut to crack. All serious, looking for a reason to be disappointed or annoyed. Maybe that part of him was still real, just momentarily dwarfed as he looked for a reason to ‘do’ something else. Something willing and alive, something that hadn’t exactly been subtle about how attractive she found him, during the drives, during the lessons. 

Eyes half-lidded, Patty drew her bottom lip gently into her mouth as her eyes dropped to his abdomen instead, whatever part of him matched height with her eyes so she was no longer looking upward. She took a few casual steps forward, reaching out to dip a fingernail underneath one of the middle buttons holding his shirt together, humming quietly in thought as she wiggled it out of its hole.

“This is about what I want, then?” She said, more of a disbelieving statement than an actual question. Again, Patty’s singular fingers worked more buttons out of place until she’d created a gap large enough to push her hand through, soft palm flattening against his skin as she pushed it deeper into his shirt, caressing his ribs and starved muscles. She picks her eyes back up, chin craned high to meet his as she continues her intrusion.Eventually, she pinches the fabric in an attempt to lazily pull it free of his belt in bursts, before running her hand back up to separate the remaining buttons at the base of his neck. 

“Got somewhere to be later?” She asked, delighting at the crisp feel of his chest hair under her fingers as she raked them gently down, scratching slow lines down the line of hair at his navel with her thumbnail. “‘Waited too long to rush things now.”

Kane watches her intently. Eyes dropping so she’s more comfortable looking ahead instead of up at his face, her lip pulled in between her teeth. He’s right. Then, Patty takes steps forward that look genuinely casual, nothing like Kane’s failed attempt earlier. Every movement he took was purposeful, perhaps to his detriment, because now he can’t deny any of this. Not that he wants to.

Kane looks down, chin tucked down as he watches one of her fingers slip between his shirt buttons. Her quiet hum is so much louder thanks to his hearing -- a bonus of being marked was always times like this. Listening to his partners more intensely, letting his sense become overwhelmed with these better things. 

Her question sounds like she doesn’t trust him. He smiles to himself, then returns his attention from the finger slipping between the gap in his shirt to her face. “Sort of,” he grins like he knows something she doesn’t, which is true technically. She’s taking control, moving at her own pace. It’s perfect. “It’s about where our wants overlap.”

And she continues: popping more buttons, exposing the middle sliver of his belly until she can slip her hand in. Kane’s eyes flutter shut, a peaceful exhale as she runs her hands up over his abdomen then curling up over his ribs. Her fingers manage to avoid her scar, only smooth fingers over smooth skin. 

It’s been so long since he felt a gentle touch. Only the sharp tug at his shirt has him opening his eyes and looking back down into her eyes. Shirt now free from his trousers she makes quick work of the rest of his buttons so it hangs open. Kane slides his hands up the side of his thighs before settling into his jean pockets. It’s become a habit thanks to Sersh: Don’t touch until he’s told too.

Nails gently scratch him ins slow, indulgent movements on Patty’s part. He’s aware of the wedding ring still on his left hand, more aware of the thought that Sersh would’ve enjoyed this. God, he could imagine her doing this exactly. She would only speak in more certain terms.

“Nope. I’m all yours.”

There was something daring about the way Kane stepped over the maze and not through it, as if it didn’t exist. He did it like it didn’t even matter, a level of pride or nonchalance that shit all over what it represented, his steps slow and heavy as if daring someone to say something about it. Patty’s lips pressed together tightly as though she was trying to fight the smirk that appeared anyway, and kept her feet rooted firmly to the center as he came nearer. 

She liked the look on his face. Kane was easy to telegraph if you knew what to look for, and thankfully she’d had plenty of excuses to search for his tells. The swagger in his movements when his playfulness was genuine. How to tell a real blink from a fake one, that only existed to punctuate an otherwise totally-fixated gaze. Like the one he was giving her now, everything in him carefully structured to appear laidback. Patty watched him back, but her eyes didn’t wander when he did, they stayed waiting for him to look back up into them. She knew what he had already.

Only when Kane stops in front of her does Patty look down, stepping back just a bit with her heels on the edge of the circle’s rim while still remaining in with him. She reaches down to gather small fistfuls of her dress, all white, ankle-long and on the modest side, chosen out of respect for the sisters. Playing along, looking for non-existent stains or oddities, pretending it was that he’d been looking at, and not her. But she looks back up and can’t help herself but to call him out a little bit.

“You looking for trouble, Kane? ‘Better leave it alone. You could get more than you bargained for.” 

Sersh laughed at anyone who saw Kane as some ‘mystery’. He was a simple man to read in her eyes, she knew exactly where his head was at more often than even he did. Sersh laughed at Kane the most for it. He watched everyone and everything intensely and no-one more so than himself. 

It seems Patty has that same knack for reading him as she calls him out.

Making Kane suddenly aware of the way he’s standing, the way he ‘gives in’ in a deliberate way. It’s an attitude that never came naturally to a man raised to be at the ready, vigilance and awareness beaten into him until it was all he was. Kane’s thinking of his dead wife as he watches Patty, he’s thinking of how much Sersh would have liked her. A drunken stupor to mourn her seems to have reminded him of the good bits and how fiercely they overweighed the bad. He didn’t have to die with her -- something Sersh would’ve told Kane if she could. He was an ascetic married to a hedonist.

Sersh would’ve really like Patty.

Watching Patty move her dress, showing her ankles like that’s something scandalous. It is, in a way. Kane thinks she was covering up given where they’re staying but her skirts swaying only fill his mind with the image of himself hidden beneath them. It’s far less modest than anything else she could’ve worn.

The smile is barely seen but it’s there in his unflinching gaze. He gives in. Completely.

“I don’t think you want me to leave it.”

Nothing past his lips is anything she’d argue. There’s no real trust put in this place, or it’s people, even if she can’t quite see where the danger might be coming from. That doesn’t make her rest any more comfortably. And maybe that could be answered inside these walls, but considering they’d been warned not to leave, it could only leave her with the impression that there was something out there they weren’t supposed to find.

She still isn’t anxious to sit up. She listens, but her gaze doesn’t last on him long.

The words shouldn’t make her angry. Before the Ikea they wouldn’t have. If anything she thinks she would’ve appreciated them, hearing someone else think critically about where they sit and what they need to do next. Now? She’s only biting her tongue, lips pressing shut so she doesn’t tell him how uninterested she is in taking orders from someone who thinks turning themselves into a sloppy drunk is an intelligent coping strategy.

It takes her a moment, attention fixated more on the map in her hand instead of him while she tries to tamp down that frustration. A thing made worse for a half dozen, more uncomfortable thoughts. She doesn’t have the right to judge him for that, he lost someone, it has to hurt, and she doesn’t expect he cares what she thinks anyway.

Every thought is an unwelcome one, because at the end of the day none of it should matter to her either. She’s a creature of purpose and direction, he’s offering her one.

“Fine.” The book gets shut, tucked away in the bag at her feet as she sits up. 

“You ready to go now?”

Maybe he's expecting too much... but he’s not a fan of Zoe’s reaction. Her answer’s too curt. She sits there, dismissively. Feet up and comfortable, unmoving as he speaks. It’s not that he wants her to jump up at his suggestion. Maybe a little... enthusiasm? A joke?

The answer’s too curt for his liking. He keeps up that indifferent attitude, like this was just another errand Jed was sending him on. Kane was practiced removing himself from the situation. A passive participant even when it was jobs where Jed wanted someone made to talk, intimidated. Passive is not how anyone else in the room would’ve described Kane.

“Yes,” Kane takes a step back, adjusting his grip on the duggel bag slung over his back. He gives her some space, and maybe give himself some too, “Just say when.”

And he waits to follow her lead.

There's nothing left to say on his end. At least nothing that’s relevant right now. One awkward field trip can't be that bad in the grand scheme of things. The thought he should apologize for his state the less time they spoke crops up -- and not for the first time -- but he pushes it aside.

He must’ve given Zoe the wrong idea about him. That he was better than that.

Would’ve celebrated my fourth anniversary with Sersh. Probably would’ve gotten ourselves another dog after poor Dagmar passed away. It’d be the same old shit, but good. It’d be good.

Even with that promise of safety holding up, Zoe wasn’t relaxed and didn’t try to be. At most she was still for the moment, settled in the last pew of the chapel, boots resting against the one on front of her. Map rendered mostly useless by now, the roads too unreliable a thing, and she glared at the paper in hand, how much black was etched on it signaling a dead end.

She hears feet first, before someone’s calling out to her, but recognition of his voice doesn’t do much to soften the tension in her shoulders. She glances up, frowns, at Kane, at the question, whatever implications it carried with it. It depended entirely on that, for the most part not in any rush to disobey their rules. It was for simple, calculated reasons, regardless of what she felt about the dangers just outside these walls. She didn’t know what was keeping the monsters out. If there was really something holy here, some divine protection offered to them when it hadn’t been offered to anyone else.

Or the more likely thought, the one she couldn’t shake; they’d made another kind of deal. She could only guess at what form it took, but it was what she’d seen the most of, in years spent hunting, even in the year and a half since the hell gate.

Those aren’t thoughts she voices, and it’s for petty reasons, but even being aware of that doesn’t do much to soften her expression. “Why?”

Kane stops by the end of the pew, leaning down on his forearms so he can speak at a lower volume. Unless a nun ends up being marked ( or some other supernatural shit ) they won’t be heard. 

“I don’t fully trust this place,” he answers simply but charges ahead. A one-word answer was never a good sign. At least that’s what a few years of marriage taught him, “... or exactly understand it. Best way to answer those questions would be heading out.”

Stating facts but his voice carrying a distant amusement or detachment to it all. It’s how he got through years of being and Edwards. It’s an easier way to shut off his emotions, an old habit he tried to avoid, but it’s useful now. Push past any residual bad feelings and he can get this job done Even if it means he sounds a little above it all, an amused bystander.

He looks away from Zoe to the map in her hands. A detailed annotated one like he had kept back at the place, only this one has large sections completely blacked out. This trip may be more useful than he first thought.

 “Figured you would be the best person for this field trip. Well, only person. I can watch your back whilst you... figure out our exit strategy. Seems like we need.”

Kane straightens up, letting Zoe have her space again because he’s not certain how highly (or lowly ) she now thinks of him.  “I won’t go if you think it’s a bad call. Don’t want to fuck the whole group over -- but, --  I think we need to do this,” he can’t keep completely humble now, can he? He’s nearly certain she’ll agree, they need to scout ahead anyway and considering the circumstances, it’s best she doesn’t go alone.

he’s a bit too distracted by the ‘creepy’.  feeling a bit too much like the ‘red-shirt’ from a star trek expedition… like the dumb kid in the movie that goes to investigate the strange noises in the basement without turning on the lights.  in essence the guy that gets ganked first.  it’s not a jolly feeling at all.  gooseflesh raising on his skin - breath misting on the cool glass of the window, making it even more difficult to see beyond.  and perhaps his mind is wandering a little too far into ‘freddy kruger/jason vorhees/michael myers’ territory to pay too much attention to much more… 

…so when those words drift low and close into his ear… the reaction is pretty much instantaneous.

1.  he screams.  no, we’re not talking any kind of manly yell.  conan the barbarian he definitely isn’t ( though he does have the nice furry rug from ikea ).  THIS noise is a shrill, ear splitting – SHRIEK.  think, ice bucket challence multiplied by a million.

2.  his natural defence doesn’t quite fall in to the ‘fight or flight’ category.  apparently witches magicians have a third instinct.  and in some cases, that instinct is probably to do something insanely cool and groovy and spectacular.  unfortunately, jaes brand of magic - especially when he’s so very close to shitting his own pants - is a little more… unpredictable and… chaotic.

so please, imagine if you will - that scream of terror followed by a small tsunami of glitter, several rainbows vaulting around in his immediate vicinity.  6 ( six ) large bright red toadstools popping briefly into existence ( each of which have a small pair of legs and they seem to be running in blind panicked circles ).  and 1 ( one ) magician glitching between visible and invisible like a really bad static image on an old tv.

the whole affair lasts probably a few seconds… long enough for jae to spin around ( almost trip over one of his own toadstools ) and realise that what… no, correction – WHOever was behind him wasn’t about to attempt horrific murder.  he hopes…

“jesus fucking christ on a unicycle!”

the exclamation punches out of his chest - much to his own surprise because he’s fairly sure his heart is rattling around in there like a marble in a tumble dryer.

another moment of pause as he catches his breath, eyes sliding sidelong to a depiction of ‘actual jesus’ - just waiting to be… smote down or something.  but when there doesn’t seem to be any celestial smiting to be had, he turns his eyes back to sneaky sneaker…

“dude… seriously?”

He winces at the pitch of the shriek -- but damn is it worth that second of pain. Kane steps back from the display but doesn’t take his eyes off it for even a second.

He had no idea that this guy was a witch or that magic could do that. Glitter. Rainbows. A whole damn pride parade on acid explodes in front of him for a few seconds. He takes in what he can then watches those mushrooms and glitter pieces fade away so they’re in the same old monastery.

“Jesus Christ on a unicycle yourself, man!” Kane busts out laughing watching the show unfold. He’d have been happy watching him fall on his arse or yell a little. Instead, he got a whole damn show.

Poor guy, Kane thinks to himself, he’s gonna get a lot more surprises if that’s what Kane will consistently be getting out of him.

He’s given a look and tired reprimand but Kane blasts past that. A more pressing thought comes to mind now he’s in the mood to have a little fun.

“Hey -- what’s your o-face like?” Kane’s still chuckling, easily amused by the dismay of others, “I hope you warn a girl beforehand. She’d probably end up biting something off if you aren’t careful.”

Patty only feels minorly accomplished when she reaches the center, feeling oddly let down that those few steps she’d had to take were all there was. Now here she was with nowhere else to go, but backward. She looked up at Kane finally when he spoke, the seriousness of his expression forcing hers to match, until he actually finished. Then she sputtered in a laugh and leaned back like she was surprised he actually said that. 

“A minotaur. Like, a buff guy with a bull’s head and a big cock.” Patty pauses, blinking as she considers it, tilting her head with eyes cast towards the ground. “As far as secrets go, that’d be a pretty fun one. ‘Think this is how they summon him from his dungeon?” 

Patty raises up on the flats of her feet and smacks her heels together three times like Dorothy, flashing eyes at Kane playfully and grinning. 

Patty’s answer has Kane cracking a smile. Ruining his too serious expression because of where the women’s mind immediately goes. Hands tucked into his jean pockets, he nods as though this were serious, interesting information, “Didn't know about the cock.” 

He walks forwards, ignoring the labyrinth 'walls' as he approaches her, watching them before switching his focus up to Patty. He’s watching that playful grin and...he gives in. Just a little. Kane follows her imaginary adventures about this minotaur with a smile mostly to himself.

Clicking her heels together just like Dorothy he wonders how different the Wizard of Oz would be with Patty as the star. He returns the playful smile. Lets his gaze wander because she’d already dragged them both into the gutter. They’d exchanged ‘looks’ in the minivan, no harm he decides, in carrying that on. Just to entertain himself.

“Nuns with a dungeon...” he pauses, stops a few feet away in the middle of this maze, one foot on the ground one on a ‘wall’, “I hope it’s the fun kind. Can’t imagine they let him out often.”

Kane’s still pretty neutral on the place. Honestly, he’s leaning towards boredom more than any other opinion. There’s a healthy helping of paranoia too. The only bright side is both can be alleviated by breaking one of the very few rules the Sisters gave the group. He’s not stupid enough to head out alone -- there are too many revenants about -- and as much as he thinks Bryce and him could mow down enough of them to make a dent he’s not quite right.

Zoe’s in charge of scouting ahead. At the end of the day, she has more of a say in where the group settles down, it only makes sense to ask her along. Or follow her.  He’s fine with either. It’s just... getting over the fact he made an ass of himself. There’s only so long embarrassment can keep him hiding his face from the younger women, but when it’s the smartest and most interesting thing to do? He’ll make some sacrifices.

He’s dumped all his non-essentials on a bed. Carrying nothing but weapons and bare-bones supplies in a black duffel bag he’s ready to go. Kane slipped his wallet ( and photos ) beneath the pillow of Bryce’s sleeping spot. A silent sign he’s only heading out temporarily.  The duffel bag probably says as much too. It doesn’t take long to find Zoe, and if there’s any thought to apologize for the last time they spoke he doesn’t indulge it. She seems like the type who’d appreciate seeing he’s still capable, not a blubbering wreck, as opposed to hearing an apology. 

“Hey,” he calls out to get her attention, jumping straight into it, “How attached are you to the idea of not pissing off the Sisters?”

Since arriving, Patty had found herself drawn to the sisters. Maybe it just fascinated her, the fact that they claimed their belief kept them safe through all this. Whatever the truth was, it was strangely easy to just sit and listen to some of them as they lovingly recounted tales of their monastery. After getting somewhat of a lecture about one of the attractions hidden in the garden, Patty made her way out there alone until she found it, a paved section surrounded by thick trees. 

The sister had called it the Labyrinth. It was a large maze drawn in chalk along the ground, one large symbol that, after a while of curiously staring, drew Patty to walk forward, following the imaginary walls until she came to stand in the previously-empty center. 

Kane stops at the edge of this ‘maze’. Arms crossed as he follows the path Patty takes, avoiding the walls and working her way to the center. He only moves his eyes across the path. It’s odd. The Edwards were not a particularly religious household but it doesn’t feel like this belongs in a monastery. 

Maybe this world of monsters and magic has simply made him paranoid. Probably. Kane doesn’t see any fault in that. Neither does see in any fault in him calling out to Patty, making conversation for the sake of it.

Whatever frustration and disappointment she’d felt to see him like this, it had been dampened by sympathy. That unspoken reminder that she doesn’t know what his life looked like, the simple fact that he had one before everything had fallen apart. He and his brother both didn’t have a clue what that mark on their hands meant, what kind of standards they should be holding themselves to. One that didn’t leave room for clumsy mistakes.

All of that returns with the shifting of his mood. The quick slide into something playful, smile curving his lips in a way that’s all too pleasant, and the fact that she thinks it at all only adds to the equally as swift return of her frustration. The words are too slurred, too many cans left empty behind them. Choosing to drown his grief like he’s the only one who’s lost anything, like there aren’t still monsters outside the door.

“Kane? Shut up.” She pushes herself back to her feet, wiping the dust from her jeans, doing her best to bite her tongue on anything else she’d like to say. Harsh lectures on just what he looks like right now, the conflicting urge to apologize again for what he’s lost. All of it bothers her more than maybe it should, but it runs too contrary to that impression she’d had of him, someone stronger than this mess she’d found.

The flashlight gets flicked off and tucked away before she steps around him. He has what he wants, there’s nothing here she does. “You can talk to me again when you’ve sobered up.” 

Kane? Hm hm, he hums in response. Shut up. He groans, the words so unexpected he couldn’t react any other way. He looks up to Zoe and wipes the pout off his face. He was making an ass of himself. At least she has the common sense to stop him.

His main source of light is switched off and Kane sits in semi-darkness, still holding the torn photo of his wife and fully feeling the intoxication hit him. Her parting words get a nod from him and a quiet mock-serious, “Yes ma’am.” 

He’s slumping back against the shelf, admitting defeat as he watches Zoe walk away. It might’ve been his anniversary today. There’s no way he’ll ever truly know if he was right. 

Eventually, he passes out amongst his own mess of emptied out ciders, gently cradling that photo. He’ll only regret it later but for now? He’s thankful he can pass out and dream of nothing.

Jae isn’t super sure what’s creepier.  Wandering into that monolith aways back, or into the church right now.  Nuns and god and all that stuff.  It was all a bit too much Exorcist and not enough Sister Act for his liking.  Sometimes he feels like he’s on some kind of invisible like – one step in either direction and he’s dropped into hell, or flung into heaven.  He’s not sure which might be worse.  Two sides of a coin and he’s treading the edge.  But the fact remained… It was the same freaking coin.

He’s not about to poop all over anyones philosophy or beliefs.  Nor is he going to refuse the generous invitation.  But he doesn’t necessarily have to agree with them… Or particularly like it.  He kinda feels as though he’s had gooseflesh prickling his skin ever since he stepped foot in the place.  

Which is why he’s set himself to one side.  Nose to the window, looking out on the bleak landscape beyond.  And yeah, he’s fairly sure there are things moving out there.  A flicker here.  A shade there.  

“Probably the wind.”

It’s just a small mutter.  A casual musing.  As though saying it out loud might actually help him to believe his own thoughts.  

…Probably.

Kane was indifferent to the building. 

Crosses were just shapes and the unarmed women were just a bunch of lucky idiots. Zoe probably thought it was safe so he’d trust her judgment, although even Kane could admit it was nice to be in a building that was actively looked after. The harsh warnings to not explore the local area were common sense even as he watched fear and confusion wash over the others. 

Instead, he’d spent his time getting a good idea of the layout. He may have snooped through a few offices -- curious if the so-called holy lot had dirty secrets -- instead, he’d been shooed away from these off-limits spaces without finding anything interesting. It was weird only because the rest of the country was free range but the women living here still kept to the idea of common decency and private rooms.

He has to amuse himself in other ways. That’s when he hears nervous whisperings. A member of their group far away enough if he didn’t have his hunter’s hearing he’d have missed it completely.

Kane sneaks his way over. Completely silent, and he’d only be seen if the guy fully turned around. It was made easier by how intently he stared out the window. Kane leans right up close, quiet but whispered straight into the guy’s ear: “Probably not.”

Ladislav hadn’t been worried when he hadn’t seen Kane around. Used to the man’s antics of going off on his own by now. He’d done it so often at the base that Ladislav stopped being afraid that he’d never see his friend again. He hadn’t thought he’d keep up the habit here, but he wasn’t worried about the man never coming back. Kane always came back. 

Maybe it was a stupid thing to believe. He didn’t know how long the group planned to stay here, didn’t know if it was their plan to move on to something else bigger and better or to bunker down and enjoy the good weather while they had it. Ladi wasn’t involved in those decisions and didn’t want to be. He enjoyed being along for the ride and as far as he was concerned, he was in Kane’s van until the end. That meant that Kane was going to be there. That meant that Kane was going to come back whenever he went off on his own. 

The sad thing was, Ladi knew he wouldn’t be aware of it if something happened to the man. No one would go looking for him because no one would know how long he planned to be gone. What if one day Kane just decided to up and leave? More unlikely now that he had a brother here in the group, but the thought still crossed Ladi’s mind as Kane announced he was here for the fresh air and headed over to the edge of the building where Ladi was leaning. 

As he dug around for smokes, Ladislav watched him for a moment. He always came back…different. Sadder, somehow and now was no exception to that. If Ladislav was a better person, he’d probably know why that was. He’d probably inquire about it and make sure his friend was okay. He’d never been good at that stuff. 

“Where were you?” he asks instead. 

“Out,” he answers without missing a beat. A snarky non-answer that he follows with a flash of a smile up Ladi’s way.  It’s a forced smile but Kane thinks that may be part of his trying to stay alive without Sersh. He smiled more those years with Sersh than he did the rest of his life.

He lets them lull into another moment of quiet until he pulls out the pack of smokes. Battered and a mix of brands he’d had to collect individual smokes together. Resources were thinning out. 

Kane holds the pack up for Ladi to take and finds a more honest answer. Something that barely hints at the genuine reasons for it but... Kane doesn’t know if he’s up to telling Lady all about his wife yet. While he’d been thinking that if he doesn’t talk about her, it’ll be like forgetting her, but Kane has come to realize speaking about her -- out loud -- will only solidify it.

Sersh lives in the past, in stories, telling them only confirms she’s gone. Forever. Kane thought he had a handle on death, he’d been the cause of it too many times, but it was something else entirely to lose someone he cared for so much. 

“I was getting antsy stuck in one place again,” Kane says to Ladi. To Ladi: a man he considers his closest friend ( bar Bryce ) and that’s all he can muster. Kane drops his hands back down, pushes his back against the wall before pulling up both legs and leaning his arms against them. Making himself comfortable. If Ladi lets him, he’ll stay around here for hours. 

He cuts off her apologies so she swallows them, even if they have little to do with fault or consequence. Whatever happened, it was still a loss, it was still clearly painful, and there was no demand for more information or great swelling of empathy to be sorry it was something he was still living with. Something he might always carry with him.

But the next words she stops him on, even as she presses forward on her stomach. A brusque shake of her head before he can say much more about it.

“Don’t tell me anything you’ll be ashamed you said when you’re sober.”

Though it’s questionable whether he even hears her, the sound of quick, clumsy motions greeting her before he’s at her side. Hope and desperation tangled together, and she thinks not for the first time how uncomfortable it is to be playing witness to any of this. His own private grief, his attempts to drown it in cider. It blurs the line of what standards she’ll hold anyone to that mark to, and an absence of complete understanding what it feels like.

The shelving creaks beneath his shoulder and she presses forward, fingers grasping up the small scrap hidden underneath it. The flashlight in her hand illuminating a woman’s face for a brief moment, just as happy as his.

She doesn’t look at it long, holding it out to Kane. “That her?”

Zoe takes the high road and very simply reminds this alcohol soaked brain there will be consequences. Kane scoffs: Bit late for those sage words, isn’t it?  But he barely processes that thought before he’s watching both nervous and excited. Time to see if it’ll be another furniture label pulled out or her.

Kane watches Zoe intently, fingers just brushing it before picking it up. She looks at it. He watches her face: expecting some big reaction like everyone knows how important she is. The paper’s turned and he sees Sersh.

Smiling into the distance. Stress and fear sap away from his muscles, growing heavy with relief He takes the photo and moves back to sit upright. He doesn’t take his eyes off the photo. Not for even a moment. “That’s her.”

“Oh and c’mon,” Kane scoffs, a whiplash turn to something more light-hearted. He has Sersh, he can put the picture back together. He could get something good from his drunken state. Even if it’s just a laugh or a joke. He doesn’t know what he wants. Those words that ring too true: a sober voice telling him to shut his fucking mouth make him want to do the opposite. A childish impulse to do the opposite of what he’s told, even if it’s what Kane will think later to himself. Instead, he looks at Zoe and says with a wicked grin, “Take advantage of the moment, Zo.”

Kane decides instead to do it for her: tell her something he’ll regret later.

“I think is my weddin’ anniversary,” he slurs out, smile fading as he stares at the photo.