dead of night

she doesn’t let his reaction phase her,  only staring back at him with a blank stare  —-  because that negativity,  that pessimism,  it’s not going anywhere.  especially with her father gone now,  it’s here to stay.  it’s all she knows,  looking at the world as if it’s coming to an end.  that’s the difference between her and her sister  —-  iris believes in moving forward. hope sees a brick wall standing in their way.  so joking about dying is all she knows,  even if she’s terrified of it  (  she won’t admit it out loud,  though  —-  especially not to big brother. )

she lets out an overdramatic sigh,  head falling back as she rolls her eyes.  ❝  i swear,  he did that to torture us,  ❞   she whines.  the truth is,  he does well with his job.  people respect him,  they believe in him,  they TRUST him.  she feels all those ways about him,  too  —-  it’s just harder for her to show it,  and admittedly,  she gets caught up and pushing the limits with him,  knowing he’s family.  ❝  and when he gets back—-  ❞    (  she doesn’t actually think he’s coming back,  but sometimes,  it’s easier to talk about it this way. )  ❝  i’m telling him you raided the booze on the job,   see how he likes that decision now,  ❞   she insists,  a taunting grin on her lips as she looks back at him.  obviously,  there’s no real threat to her words  —-  she just wants to remind him that he doesn’t seem totally against her operation.    

she scoffs,  nodding her head instantly.  ❝  what the hell’s the point if it’s not strong?  last longer that way when you can drink less,  ❞   she points out.  

she hums,  nodding her head.  ❝  right  —-  when i’m older. ❞   it’s mumbled,  clearly no belief in the words.  when she’s older? she’ll be dead.  they all will be.  the people around her are all talking about plans of the future,  and yeah,  maybe his suggestion isn’t the worst one she’s ever heard.  maybe it’s actually something she would love to do,  something that would be fun to keep her sights on,  but she can’t think of the future in a way that is so safe and secure,  as he insists.  and even if they live that long,  why would she be the one to find success?  sometimes she wishes she was more like iris  —  ambitious,  strong,  brave,  but hope only ever pretends to be that way.  ❝  or maybe i’ll just focus on drinking it myself,  ❞  she deflects.  because it’s easier to think of it that way rather than as a GOAL she can have for her future.    

of course,  her demeanor changes as soon as he lets her off the hook,  a smile widening over her features brightly as her hands clasp together.  but her shoulders slump when he goes on,  a small pout on her lips (  she knows that it’s a reasonable restriction,  but she has to push it anyway.  )  ❝  hey,  come on,  what’s the fun in havin’ a good drink if you’re doing it all ALONE?  ❞   smile is teasing now as she stands up on her tip toes.  ❝  not even iris and huck——  your favorite people here?  ❞   a pause.  ❝  i mean,  you can come too  .  .  .   ❞

she always knows where to hit to make it hurt, even when there’s no real attempt. because he can hear, surprisingly, the teasing way her words stretch, but the mere thought of leo finding this out and any potential disappointment that may come is enough to make felix blanch, a cold fear like icewater pooling in his stomach. it takes a moment (too long) to recover, assure himself it’s just a playful threat devoid of any real heat, and then he feels the slightest bit of frustration with himself that she’s managed to dig into him again, mere seconds after he’d convinced himself he wouldn’t allow himself to give her anything else. 

it’s impressive, in some way, if not a little exhausting, as well.

settling back, fingers lacing together, felix furrows his brow, willing to concede the point--  but not verbally. it must have been difficult for her to amass the supplies needed, and hope would’ve exhausted them for all they’re worth--  a harder, quicker buzz to assure there’s more is only logical.

not that it’s so astonishing, that her setup was so detailed, so thorough. she’s brilliant, like leo and iris, when she allows herself to be-----  and perhaps it’s because she so infrequently displays that genius that he’s inclined to be so lenient. it’s not exactly the creativity felix should be encouraging, but to see hope so passionate is so rare; moreso, now that leo’s gone, and with the burden of guardianship and all that it entails resting on his shoulders---

so he feels obliged to sympathize, at least, hence: this compromise.

“when you’re older.” he echoes it again, with just as much conviction, because--  why not? she could do it. she can do anything, be anything--  a spiel leo’s given her a dozen times, one that felix isn’t going to attempt to repeat, but that he believes wholeheartedly.

she scoffs,  rolling her eyes despite the way she follows along anyway.  ❝  you know you’re obvious,  right?  ❞   with a taunting smirk,  they raise a brow,  elbow nudging jay’s as they come closer to the abandoned sports gear store,  the sign hanging atop the building just barely able to make out despite the wear and tear it’s endured.  but she remembers places like this all over,  memories coming back to her so easily as eyes spot the signs that are half-torn,  still stuck in the windows of the shop.  

❝  you’d stop at any place like this if we let you,  ❞   she insists,  grinning back at them as she nods her head,  heading up to the window and peering inside,  looking for any strays.  when she doesn’t find any,  she pounds on the window for more reassurance,  head canting to look back up at jay.  ❝  looks like it’s your lucky day,  huh?  got any money on you?  ❞   they taunt,  reaching for the door and trying to pull it open.  it doesn’t come so easily,  a grunt slipping from her lips as she struggles,  but she gets there anyway,  her strength always contradictory of their size,  enough room to get them both through.  

❝  y’know,  my when i was little,  used to always follow my big brother around these stores  —  always waited ‘til he wasn’t looking,  then i grabbed the same clothes he did.  we’d ring ‘em up,  and i’d pretend it was a coincidence.  i just wanted to be like him,  though. ❞

“i never claimed to be anything else.” heart on their sleeve, bleeding sincerity; variations of the phrases have been doled out in both complimentary and concerned fashion in near-equal measure for a good decade of their life now, but there’s pride in their transparency and their ostensible inability for deception--  even in a situation as trivial as this. and their excitement really is inarguable: eyes wide and mouth agape, jay glances from sasha towards the street  -  all clear  -  before alighting their gaze once again on the storefront: intact windows, door shut tight, but not seemingly barricaded, though obviously untouched for a number of years, given the accumulated grime. the neighboring buildings have been dealt a good deal of destruction, glass glittering like diamonds carpeting the cracked sidewalks beneath the morning sun, doors ripped from hinges, brown smears of blood on the pavement and in doorways---- and it does raise the barest amount of suspicion, that this shop was spared the carnage. rifle resting against his chest, strap digging into his neck, jay steps back just slightly, squinting as if it will help discern the bold letters weathered to nothing--  and when of course, it doesn’t, he huffs in frustration.

--only to soften immediately as they beam at him. jay returns to her side, hand resting on her shoulder. “oh, i always carry my credit card, so we’re totally covered.” and, in typical fashion, it’s true: they’ve kept their wallet and every item therein, tucked snugly in the bottom of their pack, far from the only relic of the past they keep close. 

it’s always felt a little ridiculous, clinging to something so worthless now, but each time they nearly throw it away, something prevents them from committing.

the door opens with a groan like a breath from someone who’d been submerged a beat too long, excruciatingly loud to jay---  but the silence of the street perseveres. knife unsheathed from their belt, their hand moves from sasha’s shoulder to grip her pack, as is custom when they’re out scouting or scavenging, until the safety of the place has been assured--  securing her back while simultaneously ensuring he doesn’t lose them.

“yeah?” the reply comes as they enter the store, breathed into the stale air, jay sliding even closer as they fumble to switch on their flashlight. “bet he thought that was cute.” they do. their understanding of sibling dynamics is, obviously, limited, but every minor detail she’s offered about ty fills them with confidence about their assessment. “should let me pick you out some stuff. seems there’s some good stuff...” they trail off as they sweep their beam across the store, whistling between their teeth. it’s not as substantial as a cache as they’d anticipated, given the minimal exterior damage; a fair amount of looting’s occurred, but there’s treasure found in what’s left behind.

“i got something for you.” they drop awkwardly beside iris, not quite recovered from the scramble into the boat that’d earned them a twisted ankle---  less swollen, now, but the throbbing persists. but their initial grimace reworks into a grin as they unshoulder their pack, jay unzipping it to reveal a modest but undoubtedly useful collection of art supplies. “while you were stressing out felix---” said lightheartedly, but still somewhat firmly, though his sympathy for her is apparent. “i took a look ‘round the adjacent street.” if he hadn’t, maybe he’d have been able to stop the kid and his uncle from robbing them--  but they attempt to not think about that too much.

❝  so we’re .  .  .  we’re just with them now?  ❞  his voice is quiet,  not wanting the others to hear as he sits with felix,  finding comfort in his presence more than anyone else’s right now,  given the laughter and the smiles they all share that silas just can’t keep up with.  

i don’t like new people  —  that’s the simplest way to put it,  but those words don’t come out as easily as he wishes,  too afraid that his hesitance will be see as unjust to the rest  —  most of which seem to be excited for percy’s presence,  unlike silas.  but he thinks that if anyone’s going to have the same hesitation and worry that he does,  it’s going to be felix  —  the person who has been hesitant every step of the way.  it may be the first time silas is on that side with him.  

he just wants some sign of hope from felix,  for him to reassure silas that this is only temporary,  and soon enough,  they’re go back to their small group that silas has already found his comfort within   (  it was hard enough to adjust to that  – -but adding more people into the mix now?  what if he can’t adjust to that too?  )  

❝  isn’t it better to keep the group smaller?  ❞   more people,  more resources,  sure  —  but in silas’s case, that doesn’t seem so comforting.  he doesn’t trust them,  he doesn’t like percy,  but he doesn’t want to say it outright,  so he frames it differently  –  as if the assumption is simply that he wants what’s best for all of them.  and he does,  he just worries the others have warmed up to them so quickly that they’re trusting them too easily,  too.   

there’s an upward glance that’s brief, but not apathetic---  a flash of sympathy there and gone in a beat before felix returns to the task of cleaning his pistol, teeth gritted and unintelligible frustrations murmured below his breath, still feeling the impact with the mirror in his knuckles as he works. the majority of his hand had, thankfully, been protected by his gloves, but a shard or two managed to slice the bits of fingers exposed--  and he’s lucky that that was the extent, of course, that they all walked away with their lives. typically, such a minor inconvenience wouldn’t be spared another thought--  but there’s a bitterness, lumpy and coarse, in his throat that felix can’t swallow, outweighing the meager gratitude felt towards tony and percy for coming back, and a not so insignificant anger directed towards himself, as well, for allowing them to be put in such a position------- self-reproach hot and fervent that percy’d managed to breach their perimeter on his watch to begin with. 

it happened, it’s done---  there’s little use in lingering on it, but he can’t help but do exactly that. the kid had ultimately been harmless, but what if he hadn’t? what if it’d been someone other than a grifter kid and his grifter uncle, someone who wouldn’t have turned around, pulled them from the grasp of the empties? 

what if they’d come too late, and iris had been bitten?

he’d stood behind percy, and contemplated driving his blade into the kid’s skull. he reminisces on it now with an ounce of shame, but not regret--  not for thinking it, nor for failing to see it through. because iris had called it correctly, even if it took percy a moment to meet her expectations----  and felix finds it difficult, to regret placing his faith in her judgement.

“they’re with us.” for now. felix matches silas’s quiet, both in an attempt to comfort and to ensure the others (iris, in particular) don’t overhear, because a lack of regret doesn’t equal a lack of opposition. there’s still a flicker of hope deep within that he can reverse their course, somehow re-cross the mississippi and return them all safely to the university, where they can then begin to understand if there’s danger (a quickening of his pulse as the thought comes, a sense of dread squirming in his chest, because he knows there is. he’s known for a while now, but there’s a staunch refusal to acknowledge it, like a shadow at the edge of your vision; avoidance is only instinctual.) heaving out a weighted sigh, felix drops his rag atop the pile of his dissembled pistol, offering silas a prolonged look now, before casting his gaze in the direction of percy and tony, in animated conversation with elton, hope and iris hovering nearby--  the former a little more hesitant than the latter. 

brow arching, felix says, “safety in numbers,” but it’s only marginally convincing, even to him.

he grins,  nodding back at him.  ❝  yes,  home.  and—   ❞   his brows furrow as he thinks over his question.  it’s an easy answer,  but it makes him chuckle too,  because it almost feels like he’s lived here all his life,  such a big, bold line drawn between before and after.  ❝  oh,  no,  no.  we weren’t so far away  —  my husband and i  —  but we didn’t even know about this place until we were brought here.  now,  i can’t imagine living anywhere else.  ❞  there are other communities nearby,  sure,  and he would easily be happy at any of them,  but alexandria holds so much else for him.  it’s the place he and eric had found safety,  the place they insisted on marrying,  even the place that he had mourned him  —-   but the place that he had a community around him to help him through that,  too.  now,  it’s the place he’s raising his daughter and trying to help make it be the best place it can be.  ❝  we’ve had our ups and downs here,  but we’ve always managed to fortify stronger.   you come from a long way,  is that right?  have you stumbled upon any other places like this?  ❞