"We need a medic!" Both Alicia and Cristine turned at the sound of the agitated announcement. A second later an unsteady Jake stumbled in the infirmary, both arms propped over Troy and Blake, who carried him inside. His head lolled miserably to one side, revealing the stream of blood dripping from the base of his forehead from a deeply inflicted cut. Alicia gasped and Cristine cleared one of the bed and quickly checked on the wincing Jake's head wound when they laid him down on the cot.
"What happened!?" Blood was drained from Alicia's face before a hint of anger blossomed in her sharp eyes.
Troy answered in a heavy tune, watching his brother with narrowed eyes, "Jake wanted to placate Walker with the water and bring back the hostage to make up for the broken parley. Seems Walker wasn't very receptive to his offer and gave him a reminder what he'll do to us next." Troy his eyes then shifted to Cristine, back facing them, who was distracted examining Jake. Troy licked his bottom lip and asked, "how bad is it?"
Cristine checked the wound closely and gave her diagnosis in a few sentences, unhurried, but mindful of the trauma of her friend. "He must've applied direct pressure to the wound since it's not bleeding as much, so that's good. The cut is deep, but we need to close it after it's cleaned. He'll be fine."
"I'll do it," Alicia offered and grabbed the medical supplies necessary to tend to Jake. Cristine nodded and gave Jake a brief glance, concern laced in her eyes when she snapped out of her nursing mode. Feeling four eyes on her, she looked over her shoulder and glowered at the two men, her glare that much sharper the moment it landed on Troy. His facial expression was controlled and for a second the lightest twitch near the corner of his lip was noticeable. Troy naturally shifted on his feet and addressed Blake in a cool voice, "make sure we double the men at the gates and cover all exit points. We're on defense until Otto and James decide what we'll do now that we have an official declaration of war. The Nation might press for an attack now." Troy saw the hesitance in Blake's pose when he looked between him and Cristine, having picked up the dour tension between them that was silent, but filled with an unexplainable hostility from the woman's side. "No time to waste Blakey." Picking up Troy's hidden tune to keep his comments to himself, Blake decided against saying anything and left with a nod. The second Troy looked back at Cristine, he noticed how her shoulders hunched up stiffly and it annoyed him greatly she felt the need to be on guard around him. Troy believed that maybe, after giving it a night, Cristine would let it all sink in, think this sacrifice through and understand. She'd forgiven Blake, after all. Troy hoped maybe Cristine would be less defensive and accept this reality and not look back. What use was it looking back? The past was the past and what happened had happened. A price that would be worth it in the end.
"Can we talk?" His blue irises flicked between Cristine and Alicia tending Jake. Alternating the brush of his fingers and palms over his knuckles, Troy scratched his throat and gestured at the entrance. "It's important." The baritone voice hinted that Troy wanted this conversation to happen away from prying ears and the hope that she follow him without making things difficult. Those dark inconspicuous irises were dimmed like a stranger looking at another stranger. Troy ignored it together with the tingling sensation in the back of his head. It roiled in his skull since last night and hooked itself there, growing heavier with the hour. It was annoying.
When they stood outside, secluded, Cristine asked straight to the point, "what?" she clearly didn't want to be in his vicinity, let alone talk if she didn't need to.
"Your dad and mine made it late at our house last night." The insinuation of the two men getting drunk irresponsibly without care of the peril the Ranch made Cristine look away with unsurprised disdain and she crossed her arms. "Jake and I don't think they'll be able to make the right calls, given the state they're in." The slight drawl in Troy's voice was tense and in his comment belied an impatience to him wanting to do more than sit on his ass after Jake's fiasco and the threat of Walker growing every single day.
"So Jake decided to give away our water reserves, leaving us with nothing." The pointed accusation was brief and Cristine asked, "so you want to call the shots?"
"Well we can't be holed up here when Walker can attack any time soon. He'll be pressing for it one way or the other and we need to be ready. Jake already compromised our safety a few times with his turn the other cheek bullshit and our last two Founding Fathers are too shit-faced drunk to lead either. I'd say there aren't many who are qualified. We have contingency plans in place for situations like these." Troy's word resonated with what many Survivalists whispered and he was glad people had so much more fight in them than first. Shame it took so many sacrifices for them to reach this point. Troy at least Cristine's advice to be sure of the best course in case things did turn for the worse. He might not make it since would be at the front lines. Troy had some ideas. He believed attack was the best defense, but he needed more than a hunch to put his plans to fruition and that's where Cristine played a part, medic or not.
Cristine frowned in disbelief. "So you want to attack? Knowing they'll expect it and where they have the advantage of the terrain. It's risky."
"Maybe, but if we are ahead of them some way or another-"
"What're you doing?" The suddenness of her question left Troy visibly confused, which only managed to make a scowl appear by his lack of awareness. His lack of remorse. "Why are you acting as if last night didn't happen?" Troy let her question sink in and agitation leaked on his face. He looked elsewhere when Cristine repeated, pushing his mind to a place he rather it not go right now, "why are you coming to me for all of this?"
In spite of how quickly things changed in the span of hours, Troy's feet still brought him to Cristine. It was a habit to discuss all of this with her. At times, even easier than having casual conversations. Her clinical and pragmatic views of the situation to better their chances of survival something that had become as normal to him as going out on runs. It became part of Troy's routine. But there was this wall Cristine deliberately put up and it turned into a pettiness Troy refused to entertain. "Because that's not the priority right now and you know that so don't play stupid. You can curse me all you want after all this is over."
"Ask Madison. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to know she has a chance to control the narrative instead of lurking in the shadows. I'm sure she can come up with something right up your alley." Troy stared at the shorter woman for one long moment and made a clicking sound with his tongue, but he didn't deny her claim and instead said something that struck a nerve, "at least I'm honest about myself. I know you're venting on me that bit more because you thought you would finally fix your relationship with your old man and you can't. You won't. You know why?" Troy drew close, his question rhetorical, but there was a shared truth in his answer that rang true for him too, "because he's a drunk who pretends he's changed now that there's a new world. Easier to forget all the shit he's done to you before. He hasn't changed and he won't, because that's not who they are. They're selfish to the core and will only pretend to give a shit about us when it suits them."
"You're wrong." Cristine her voice shook, knowing Troy spoke the cold truth and her lashes fluttered infrequently over her eyes. Cristine lowered her face in reflex when Troy stepped close and stopped half an arm's length away. She exhaled sharply when his rough fingers grazed against her bruising face and recoiled from the pain on her sensitive skin. The touch was mindfully callow and such a contrast to his otherwise cold words. The responses Troy still elicited within her, as brief as they were, fluctuated between disturbing and painful. Cristine swallowed the intense feelings, because they weren't normal and she should put a stop to it.
"This is wrong," Troy murmured, eyes narrowed when he watched Cristine suck in her discomfort, trying her best to stay indifferent to the marks of abuse from her father that made her act so uncharacteristically timid. It was a vexing sight to behold given that it was so unlike her. When it was any other person that caused her harm Cristine gave them hell. He understood her response; James was her father, her blood, and you protect your family no matter what. But James wasn't his family and Troy didn't care if his words were insensitive or cold in regards to her abusive father. "You know it. And he's being predictable by picking up a bottle."
"I know that what you did to the Trimbols is wrong too." Logic punched through and Cristine put a stop to what Troy was attempting. She closed her hand around his wrist, pulling his hand from away from her face, where she broke contact and exposed his tactic, eyes sharpening. "And so is what you're doing right now. Choosing a spot where no one can see or hear. Drunk fathers; we have that in common. The senseless outrage and their neglect. You're using that. Using what my father did to make it sound like what you've done is the lesser evil. It's not. So stop manipulating the situation and own your shit." The sudden, but brief arch at the corner of his lips made Troy's play clear as day. The tilt of his head revealing the sparks of diversion within his clear eyes. He was engrossed with how Cristine managed to hold his attention. Never predictable. Kept him on his toes. Cristine would play along until she reached her limit and now she had, at the expense of their friendship, and that was unfortunate.
"Well you forgave Blake. He's the only one in a decent mood considering everything. You talk about me owning my shit, but you're just being a hypocrite, playing the virtuous person. I'm honestly getting bored talking in circles about this. Fact is, you're choosing your anger at me at the expense of everyone here right now and that will muck things up." Troy gestured past the gate and started his well-known speech about nature and how the world was now. "This is how we live and picking and choosing what is right and what is wrong has no merit for the Ranch. There's nothing moral in anything any of us- you have done and continue to do. Survival cuts both ways Cristine; you do what you have to do and live with what you've done... or you don't and check out because you feel it's too much on yourself."
"Stop," Cristine rolled her teeth over her quivering lip. She was nauseas with herself, with Troy, and everything around her. Her sight grew blurry and the tension in her face and limbs grew, her mind replaying all the vulgar and vile things she had done, the things she had to push through. The knowledge of what Troy and her father brushed over. Her breathing became more rapid, more shallow and she pushed him again. His lips moved, but her ears felt clogged and his words became inaudible.
"...tine... brea-..." a creeping blackness was in her peripheral and Cristine clutched at the dirt with her fingers. Sweat drizzled down her face in abundance and tears rolled down her face as she repeated the words, "stop it!" In seconds Cristine curled tight, trembling body the only movement and salty tears running down as she gripped at the rough fabric. There Cristine stayed unaware of the time until her overwhelming urge to vomit passed. Feeling a hand cup her wet cheek, Cristine dazedly looked at the blue eyes, concern swirling through them. So unlike the darker hued blue of the man who just made it his mission to drag her through the fringes of his irate mind. No, these were the eyes of someone who she could genuinely regard as someone who cared about her beyond the ugly and merciless things she did and thought of.
"Hailey?" Cristine croaked, her confusion apparent as she remembered that Troy was the last person trapping her here to make his point. So seeing her younger sister instead of Troy added more to her bewilderment. Had she lost her mind and imagined it all? Or did Troy just leave like the maniac that he was?
"It's me," Hailey confirmed softly and Cristine visibly relaxed when she felt her sister's hand gently brush her face and rub her arm. "You were having a panic attack." The worry and care unclenched the heavy and cemented feel in the pit of her stomach. Cristine dropped her head between her shoulders, exhausted by her body's abnormal reaction. They were returning and she hated it. Hated to be so weak when she collected her courage to face her own demons. Face these things that made her stomach churn deep down, but were also a necessity and dissolve that same horror she felt. Maybe this was simply the start of confronting her own insecurities and fears. But why were they only returning just now?
Cristine sighed, "yeah, not glad those are back."
Hailey helped her to her feet, silent as she felt her shaky hands clench her arm. She wasn't sure what had happened, but made sure to have Troy leave when she heard the voices and much to her shock witnessed Cristine raving at the militia leader who tried and failed to calm Cristine. Her sister was clearly agitated with Troy. "It'll be fine," Hailey softly assured her and pulled Cristine into a tight hug.