I sigh as I walk through the streets of Abel. The cold tap, tap, tap of rain hitting the hood of my raincoat overwhelms my senses. My skin prickles and I feel as if I'm dragging myself through molasses.
Besides the water itself, it's not cold. The air is humid and thick and makes each sharp inhale that much harder. Mud and rock shift under my feet, some of it sticking to my shoes to carry with me as I head through the township.
I pass very few people. Most of us have been trying to stay indoors, staying in our assigned area, doing our assigned job and nothing more in order to avoid getting wet. We can't wash clothes too often. Only runner's uniforms are washed after every use, but only because re-wearing sweaty clothes can cause infections and skin irritations. Plus, we have run-ins with zoms and other grotesque things that should be washed away immediately.
Casual wear is supposed to be thrown into the washroom after a few wears, and some people don't even do that because they are afraid something might get stolen. I mean, most clothing stores have already been raided, so seeing a cute dress can cause anyone to get a case of sticky fingers.
I think that's why I'm not allowed to do laundry. As much as people like me, they do know my tendencies to take things to add to collection of trinkets. It's less work for me so I've never argued, even though I've never actually taken someone's clothes. What they left in their pockets, on the other hand...
Back to the point, the rain will make the clothes smell and grow mildew, and no one wants that. So instead they're all staying inside while I trek back to the Rec Building. I left Phineas there with Nicole, since I didn't want him running off to a secret place to play with Alejandro. Unlike me, he can catch cold out here.
He's probably pissed that I left him with a babysitter, even more so that that babysitter is Nicole, who dislikes kids despite the fact that she's just left childhood herself. But I need to keep at least one child in check since Milo still refuses to listen.
He was supposed to return to Abel over two weeks ago. I've lost track of time because of everything that's happened, but looking at the calendar I realized he was supposed to return home September 9th and it's already September 20th. I have half a mind to come drag him home right now, but the rain's only getting heavier and I don't want to have to try to run to New Canton and back through it, especially when there are regular zombies, V-Types and Last Riders out there.
And the Last Riders are probably furious that we stole their supplies nine days ago. Since there were some that saw us run into the theatre, then they must have saw our uniforms. Janine's had every runner take a pistol with them as extra precaution, even for smaller runs like supply and trade. Nothing has happened since then, but it's best not to risk it.
I make it to the Rec building, wiping off my feet on the mat that's worn and ragged. We need to get new ones. These have been here for ages. But that will be for another supply run, I guess.
I step inside and shed my raincoat, drops of water falling to the hardwood floor silently. I hang the coat up before surveying the main room, where a few children are playing together with their parents or caretakers. I walk past them, sending small smiles and waves to the few children who look up and spot me.
Phineas is in the next room. To my surprise he isn't sitting in the corner scowling over being stuck here. Instead he's sitting cross-legged on the floor with Nicole, showing her how to make an origami owl. Nicole isn't smiling, but her face isn't a blank slate of disinterest, which seems to be enough motivation for Phineas to keep going and finish with the owl.
Nicole looks up at me, and the motion makes Phineas do the same. Both share the same neutral look at seeing me, which is better than the scowl I thought I would get from Phineas.
"Hey," I say a bit awkwardly. "Having fun?"
"Loads," Nicole replies, although her tone is flat. "Your kid here was just showing me how to make some origami animals."
"We had to use used notes from the other class since I can't use any blank paper. My teachers say it's too valuable," Phineas says with a scoff. "I know they're right, but it looks so messy. Why can't anyone in my class have good handwriting?"
My eyebrows go up slightly. "Not one person in your class has good handwriting? Aren't there like, twenty kids in your class?"
"Twenty-two, but no. I mean, not the ones who throw away their old work."
I hum. "I would suggest you could have my notes, but I rarely make notes, and my handwriting is probably worse than the kids."
"Oh, definitely," Nicole adds, earning a glare from me.
"Yours isn't great either."
"Still better than yours."
I huff, but my disgruntled manner quickly dissolves to nothing when I see Phineas's growing smile. Of course he would find Nicole schooling me funny.
"Where's your other kid?" She asks, and I raise a brow.
"Which one? I have three in total."
"The one that's here in Abel." She rolls her eyes. "I thought you were bringing Adora with you."
"She's with Sam. She doesn't have a raincoat, and I don't want her out in this weather. Just because she's immune to the zombie plague doesn't mean she can't get other sicknesses."
"The regular zombie plague, you mean," Phineas pipes up, and both my and Nicole's eyes go wide with shock. He frowns when we don't say anything. "What? Just because I'm not an adult doesn't mean I'm stupid. Abel's been talking about the V-Types for months."
"I-I know," I stammer, my voice hushed since Phineas's words have caught the attention of some of the other kids. "But we just don't like talking to it around... around you guys."
"Why? Because you don't think we can handle it?" He tsks. "The day I met you I saw my mum die, and I've seen you die." Pain flashes across his face as he says that, but he shakes it off. "We're not stupid."
"I never said you were."
"The V-Types are a sensitive subject," Nicole says. "We don't know too much about them, so we can't say much. We just know that they are unkillable, and the cure doesn't work on them, and neither does the McShell maneuver."
"If the cure doesn't work on them, then how do we know people immune to regular zombies are immune to them?" He asks, and I swallow down the lump in my throat.
I try to, at least. It's hard when I can feel so many other curious eyes on me, and since all of them are from the ages of eleven to fourteen, I know they'll be running off to tell their friends or parents about what they heard today.
"We don't, but we're not going to be doing any testing anytime soon. And you don't have to worry. You're safe in Abel, okay? Nothing is going to happen to you or Adora."
He doesn't say anything, and I sigh through my nose. He's unsure of my words because I told him he would be safe when I took him in, and then he was trapped in Abel with Ian for months until I got him and Milo out. And that was only after he was traumatized by being forced to watch me get bitten and "turn."
I clear my throat. "So, uh, you're teaching Nicole how to make origami animals, yeah? How many have you made, Nic?"
"She hasn't made any," Phineas answers before the brunette can. "She keeps messing up, so I have to finish them."
Nicole grimaces, staring at the floor. "Well, it's not easy to fold things perfectly when you've only got one good working hand."
"And it's not easy to sing when I don't have even one good working ear," He replies with a shrug, and Nicole lifts her eyes again, smirks.
"And since when did you sing?"
"I don't, but I'm saying your comment sounds weak."
"And your sass sounds annoying," She mumbles with an eye roll, and he scowls, his face creasing and his shoulder scrunching up the slightest bit.
"You know mumbling doesn't help. I can still read your lips. The volume of your voice doesn't do anything."
"Okay, calm down," I jump in, holding a hand out to the two, trying to ease the rising tension. "Phin, Nicole can't us her hand, so unless you're going to help her, or be okay with slightly wrong origami, then be content that she sat and watched you, okay?"
There's a beat of silence, then a small sigh slips past his lips when I place my hand on his shoulder. "Okay. Sorry."
He doesn't sound very sorry, but Nicole nods in acceptance. "It's fine, kid."
"Why don't you go play checkers with some of the other kids?" I point over to the two boys currently enraptured in a game. Phineas seems to understand that this is me trying to get him to leave, but he simply nods and stands, kicking out his legs to get blood flowing after sitting for so long. He walks over to the other two kids, and I turn my attention back to Nicole, who's giving me an odd look.
"What?"
"What yourself?" She asks. "Why'd you send the kid off?"
"Besides the fact that you were about to throw hands with a twelve-year-old?" I reply, feeling the slightest bit smug when she glares at me. "I wanted to ask if you'd read your letter from Mom."
She straightens. "Oh. Uh, yeah. You read yours?"
"Yeah."
"Did you write her back?"
"I did. Don't know when she'll get it though. Did you?"
She nods, her face pinched. "It was bland. I don't know what I'm supposed to write."
"Same." My hand runs through my hair, bits of guilt swirling through my mind, along with my arguments against it. "I mean, I know we can tell her about the things that have happened here, but I don't want her to hurt like that."
She nods, taking a moment to reply. "But it's all gonna come out eventually, isn't it? I mean, we both have learned that secrets don't stay secrets forever. You ended up telling your name, and that I'm your sister, and we ended up telling the UK about Sigrid. We know we can't just never tell her. We're both cunning and full of tricks, but soon enough the tricks and lies will run out."
My chest tightens. She has no idea, and again I have to swallow against the lump in my throat before I speak.
"And it will get worse the more we wait... but there's certain things... I mean, we know we keep secrets to protect people, sometimes ourselves, sometimes others. We're afraid of how others will react, even if the secrets aren't something we can control, if it's something we never wanted and we just don't want others to know because it will only make you feel worse."
I bury my face in my hands, but when I'm met with silence, I look up again. I tense when I see brown eyes staring straight at me, straight through me.
"Why do I have a feeling you're talking about more than just what we're keeping from our mother?" She asks, brows furrowing in suspicion. I cringe, leaning back.
She's right to be suspicious. There's so much I'm keeping from her, from everyone. My immortality, my part in the Feive Project. Everyone knows I have doppelgangers, but none of them know that it was from design and not coincidence. Only Sam knows.
"It's complicated," I reply, refusing to meet her gaze. Hers isn't the loving sisterly look of comfort, but the hardened one of suspicion. She's still a Torrencer. She still terrifies me.
That's why I flinch when she rests her hand on my shoulder. She immediately pulls back, eyes flashing with regret because she knows she crossed a line.
"Look, I know we're not... the most functional siblings, but we are still siblings," She says, her face softening. "And I haven't tried to kill you in over a year, so..."
"Wow. I'm so proud."
She ignores my sarcasm. "Singer, I'm not asking you to have a cry sesh with me. But if what you're keeping is something big-"
"It is and isn't. I don't even know if I know everything about them, either of them-"
"Wait, just how much are you not telling me?" Her face hardens again, and I curse. "Are you keeping all of this, whatever it is, from everyone?"
I look around, and once again we have gained the attention of the kids around us. They watch with wide curious eyes, waiting to greedily snatch up any tidbit of drama to go tell others because that's what kids do.
"Like I said, it's complicated." I stand and shake my head. "You know what? Just forget I said anything. Just forget this whole conversation, okay? I have to go."
She stands up, looking both confused and frustrated. "Wait-"
"Really, I have to go." I'm already heading into the front room, grabbing my raincoat from the rack by the door.
"Singer."
"I'll talk to you later, maybe."
"Callista-"
I've already slipped my raincoat on and am out the door.
•
I'm breathless and soaked when I reach the coms shack. The hood of my raincoat fell off my head four times, and the rain has only fallen harder since I left the Rec building. In the seconds I wasn't covered, I was drenched with fat droplets of water that's probably going to make my hair even frizzier when it dries.
A couple grumbled curses leave my mouth as I open the door and step inside, but I cut them off when I see Adora in her playpen, holding onto the side of it to keep herself upright, eyes watching Sam. At the sound of the door opening, he looks up at me, not getting up from his spot on the floor, although he looks tempted too when he sees my sour expression.
"Hey, lovely," He says slowly, cautiously. A smile of pity is already stretching across his lips. "Everything alright?"
"No." I pause. "Well... yeah, no, everything's not alright."
"What's wrong?"
"I just-I know all the things I'm keeping secret are eventually going to come out and I know it's probably going to be really bad when it does and sometimes I think I should just get it out already, but then I think of how badly that could go and..." I shrug off my raincoat, shaking my head as I do so. Sam's probably wondering where the hell all this is coming from.
"I'll get over it. I was just talking to Nicole and I... we were talking about how we haven't told our mom about any of the particularly traumatizing things that have happened to us over the years and... we know we can't keep this a secret forever, and then I started thinking about all the secrets I've kept and... well, you know. When I start thinking too hard, I say stupid things."
He blanches. "You-you didn't-"
"No. The only thing she knows is that I'm keeping things from her. I doubt she'll push them too much unless she believes it could be of importance to our current problems, which they won't."
"But she doesn't know that."
"She knows I'd destroy my own reputation if it meant saving Abel." I wrap my arms around myself, and Sam frowns in concern. "I'm not going to tell her. Not about the Feive Project, not about immortality. I can't. But sometimes I think about it, how she will react when she finds out, because she will find out. Secrets never stay secret. We learned that from the freaking zombie apocalypse!"
He winces at my tone, but nods. "So, do you just... need a hug?"
I nod. There's no advice he can give, nothing he can say that I don't already know. The feelings just pop up sometimes despite the fact that I know this is for the best. Sam knows this. He's talked to me enough times about him keeping my secrets, and all I can do is hold him and hope that eases out the swirling feelings inside.
I do it for him. He does it for me.
So I shuffle over to Sam, careful to avoid the tools and the bits of plastic and paper instructions on the floor, before sitting down in front of him, practically collapsing onto him as I wrap my arms around his shoulders. His arms go around my waist, holding me close while I lay there, not upset enough to cry but not okay enough to pull away.
"I love you," I murmur. "You're the only one I can tell anything too."
"I love you too," He replies, and I swear I'll never get tired of hearing him say it. He's told me the same thing, which is why I tell him I love him over and over again, my mantra the only thing filling the silence.
He smiles when I pull back, my hands resting on his shoulders.
"Feeling better?"
"Yeah. Thank you."
There's a hint of pride in his eyes at knowing he helped, and his smile grows when I brush a piece of hair from his face. My eyes reluctantly leave his face to eye the multiple things strewn about the room.
"What are you doing?"
"Isn't it obvious?" He grabs some paper instructions and hands them to me, and I hum as I read them, leaning against him, feeling him eye my movements. My eyes grow a bit wider when I see the name of the item at the top.
"Oh," I say stupidly. "You're finally putting together the chair I got for you a few days ago."
"Yeah, I thought I'd might as well since it was just sitting there in the corner-"
"Your old one finally broke, didn't it?"
The way his face flushes and his hand comes to rub the back of his neck tells me everything I need to know. "W-well..." His cheeks burn brighter when he sees the smirk on my face. "It was only the arm rest, but Janine said I can't use anymore duct tape to fix it, especially since you ran to Ikea, fought off the zoms we left there when you were with Valmont, then grabbed this one and brought it back, so here I am." He huffs and avoids my gaze. "Would you stop looking at me like that?"
"You're just mad I know you well enough to call you out," I say in a sing-song voice while pointing a finger at him. He swats my hand away. I look back at Adora. "Is that why you put her in her play pen?"
"Of course," He replies. "I didn't want you to come by and find our daughter choking on a random screw she found while I was working on this thing."
I sputter at his use of the words 'our daughter', but Sam doesn't notice, still rolling his eyes at me. I clear my throat, unsure if the heat from my face is from shock or... something else.
Even though I'm still a bit less inclined to the thought, Sam using those words strike a chord somewhere in me.
I'm going to need a second to see how I feel about this.
"Do you need help?" I ask, hoping to change the subject at least a bit, and he shrugs.
"I don't really need it, but it would be appreciated." He smiles cheekily, laughing at my deadpanned face. "Would you mind reading the instructions for me?"
After finding out where he is, I start reading, trying not to laugh at Adora's occasional babble in reply to my words. Sam works diligently, fully concentrated on the task at hand. It's a good thing since I use the free time between steps to stare at him, because he never fails to surprise me with how beautiful he can be just doing regular things.
And by the time he looks my way, I'm already reading the next step, so I don't have to worry about getting caught.
Not that he would mind.
It only takes about a half an hour to get the chair built, and we take a moment to stare at it.
"It's so awesome! No duct tape!" I giggle. "And we don't have to worry about it killing either one of us when we sit on it."
"Unless I built it wrong and it breaks as soon as we try to sit on this one," He snarks, a half smile on his lips.
"Would you like me to sit on it first then? If it breaks then you'd get the perfect chance to see me fall on my rear end."
"And give me something to throw back at you when you decide to be a tease?" He sounds pleasantly surprised, although his eyes shine with curiosity. "What's got you deciding to be so generous?"
"You helped put me in a good mood. This is my way of repaying you." I get up and slowly sit down on the chair, waiting to see if it would fall apart. I shift one way to the other, but nothing happens. I snap my fingers. "Darn. No embarrassing memories today."
A dramatic sigh slips from Sam's lips as he stands. "A tragedy."
"Well," I stand up and take a small step towards him, reaching up on my tiptoes so my lips are just a few inches from mine, "there's always next time. Where is Old Faithful, by the way?"
"In the other room. Didn't want little troublemaker over there to get to it, and we can't exactly take it to the burn pile since there's a torrential downpour going on outside." He grabs a strand of my wet hair for emphasis. I take the strand between my own fingers and sigh.
"The only time my hair ever looks shiny is when it's wet, and then it makes me look like a drowned rat."
"It's not that bad." He eyes me up and down, seeing where some of the water from my hair has dripped onto my shirt, making me look even more so of a drowned rat. It's slightly infuriating how much he's enjoying this.
"Says you. You look great no matter how messy your hair gets."
He snorts. "You make fun of my bedhead all the time."
"I make fun of your glasses too, but I still think you look really damn hot when you wear them."
I instantly wince, not because of Sam hearing my confession. He definitely already knows, despite the fact that he's blushing from his face to his neck-and probably farther but his stupid shirt is blocking my view-from my bluntness. I'm mostly upset that I cursed in front of Adora, who's watching with wide, innocent eyes. Although within a second she loses interest and goes to playing with the plastic rings in her pen.
"Oh, um, uh... r-right." He coughs, and if I wasn't so worried about imprinting curse words into Adora's tiny mind that is rapidly taking information in because of the stage of life she's at, I would be smiling wickedly over Sam's reaction.
I run my hands through my hair, my fingers hitting a few knots and tangles. "Anyway, we can take the old chair to the burn pile at the end of town in a few days. Hopefully by then it'll be dry enough to actually burn something. But for now, why don't you sit in your new chair?"
Still blushing furiously, Sam sits down, his eyes growing wide at the difference. "I never realized how uncomfortable sitting on something covered in duct tape was until now."
I giggle. "So you like it?"
His nod only makes my smile broaden.
"So that means it was a good idea for me to go get it from Ikea even though that wasn't on our route and Janine wasn't happy about it?"
"'Wasn't happy' is one way to describe it." He grimaced at the memory. "She gave me a whole lecture about mission protocol and sticking to the mission during times like these and so on. It was a supply mission! You just got me an extra supply."
He flops back into the chair, nearly gasping in delight when it doesn't creek like a screaming banshee. My cocky smile turns into a look of adoration, but before I can say anything that would bring heat back to his cheeks, he gasps. Remembrance flashes across his eyes and he eagerly beckons me over to him. As soon as I'm in grabbing distance his hand is wrapped around my wrist and he's pulling me into his lap.
I let out an 'oof', then a nervous laugh. "Hey, I know you're happy, but show me your gratitude later. Adora's still in here, you know."
"Stop thinking naughty. I've got something to show you." Using his feet, he pushes the chair over to the coms desk, and within a few seconds he's typing on his keyboard and bringing up his computer screen. "I sent word to Veronica when you got that AI core for her to see what she wanted us to do with it."
I perk up, shifting in interest. "And she replied?"
"Well, no, not with what she wanted us to do with the AI core. But she did send this." He clicks something on his screen, and up pops messily scribbled words on less-than-clean paper. Another click leads to another page, this one typed.
"What... what is-"
"Look closely." His voice is almost trembling with giddiness, and I read the words. Most of it is too complex for me to understand, but words such as 'treatments', 'testing' and 'refined treatment predictions' catch my eye.
"These are Van Ark's notes." The words feel heavy on my tongue, and for a second, I have to wonder if I actually said them because Oh my word. This is the first bit of lead way we've had in weeks regarding my search for mortality!
"Yeah!" Sam nods enthusiastically. "Veronica said she's still searching, and she also told me that she estimated there being a 72% chance that you'd tell me about her, so she wanted me to let you know her glitches have made it harder to find his research, which is already hard enough to find since the man seemed more interested in paper trails than online data. With what she looked over, she couldn't find any way to create a cure, but she would still keep looking, and while there's a 84% chance you won't understand half of this, she thought you'd still want to read over it to see if there's anything you could find that might help her help you."
"Wow. Really goin' for the snarky insults, huh?"
"She might be a bit upset that you told me about her."
"Maybe. But this is great! It doesn't give the solution, but it's a step to it!" I let out a happy squeal before turning and kissing Sam fully on the mouth, which he happily reciprocates, his hands scrabbling for purchase on my sides. When I pull away, I look back at the screen. "Do you think you could print these out?"
"Do you think we should?" He asks breathlessly." Someone might find them."
"Janine complains that she can never find anything in here, so I think we're fine."
"Yay me for having organized chaos, aye?"
I look back at him with shining eyes and slightly swollen lips. "Yeah. Now let's get this printed. Maybe this will give me a bit more insight on what that bastard did to me three and a half years ago, and what we can do to reverse it."
He hums. "Callista."
"Yes?"
"You just cursed in front of the baby again."
I gasp in realization, then bury my head into his shoulder to muffle my frustrated groaning. All the while Sam is chuckling. I can feel the laughter in his chest as he rubs a hand up and down my back. I would think it comforting if I didn't know he was enjoying this immensely.
"And to think you used to get onto me for cursing around your older kids in a different language," He teases, and while I don't look up at him, I know his smiling is all teeth, eyes gleaming at my reply.
"Shut up."
A/N: Here you go, guys! A dash of cuteness along with a tiny bit of sadness and comfort! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please be sure to vote and comment! Thank you and have a blessed day!