{IC} Those Left Behind

[SharpArcher01]

Leland smiled. “Alright then, that’s good news. If you do end up needin’ anything, you can just ask. We don’t bite.”

He yawned and scratched his chest, noticing that he didn’t have much else to say. “Well uh, you’ll have to pardon me; I gotta go check on a few more things.” He said, making his way across the living room. As Leland passed the windows, he heard a loud pop, not unlike gunfire, followed by an incomprehensible shouting.

“Oh fer crying out loud…” he mumbled, rolling his eyes. He made his way to the kitchen and poked his head in the threshold. He found Billie and Ignot talking, and Kenneth dozing in a chair. “Hey guys.” He said softly. “Hope I’m not interrupting y’all.” He turned to Ignot. “Hey Ignot, whoever you got on the roof doing over-watch, tell ‘em we’re all back. Sun’s coming down too.”

He drummed his fingers on the wall and looked too Billie. “And uh…Miss Billie? I uh, I’d like to speak to you later on…in private…I mean uh, if you’re…if you…can.” He stumbled. His faced turned redder and he cleared his throat. “Well uh, I’m gonna go check on Alex now.” He said, leaving quickly.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

Leland stopped at the door that he was 90% sure was Alex’s. He knocked softly. “Hello? Alex? It’s Leland.”

[Hailfax]

Well, she was sleeping soundly when she heard a knock at her door and a muffled voice that she couldn't understand. Alex raised and eyebrow and sighed, not really wanting to answer the door. She slowly detached herself from her bed and ran a hand through her short hair. Fuck, she really didn't want to do this. Not right now. She knew that it was Ignot telling her that she needed to train. Or it would've been Billie asking her what was wrong and giving motherly advice. Or it could've been Trista again ready to punch her in the face for no reason at all. Either way, she didn't want to deal with anyone. Especially when they were going to punch her in the face and all that. Slowly but surely she made her way to the door, and tried to look thorough the peephole, but found herself too short to look through. She sighed and opened the door only to reveal Leland. Alex raised an eyebrow and said: "Oh...hi."

[Scarred_Survivor]

Trista listened with patience she didn’t realize she still possessed. The girl barely blinked during the apology. Her face didn’t express upset or anger or hurt at being reminded she was left alone in the dark…she just seemed to be. Trista was just there, no more and no less than the ceiling Liam had looked to for words was.

“Alone isn’t so bad. Helps me prepare…”

Trista unzipped her hooded sweater, starting to undo the hostlers holding her two pistols to her side purposefully. For a long moment she did nothing. Just stood stock still and ran her fingers over the cool metal and leather that weighted in her hands before bringing her gaze back to Liam. She closed the distance between them and without much regard for personal space, she took Liam’s hands and forced the weapons to his palm and closed his fingers around the guns with her own broken digits.

“Only have you left to mourn…”

Trista knew she hadn’t expressed herself any better than Liam had. She was less coherent and her logic probably boggled a sane mind. The teenager hadn’t expected Liam to understand but she said what she needed. Her hands lingered over his for a moment and then she pulls away, turning to return to the darkness of her room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Billie couldn’t stop from scrunching up her noise at the implication of her learning to shoot a gun. Her hands were meant for helping, not killing…sadly she’d done very little of the former and entirely too much of the latter in recent months. The gun suddenly became terribly heavy and unpleasant in her hands…just feeling wrong.

She put the weapon down carefully on the table and took the seat next to Ignot, taking up a cup of coco. The mug of hot chocolate stinging her fingers with warmth was a happy change from the cold steel of the weapon. The doctor wasn’t put off by the silence lingering between her and Ignot. Though she felt it was haughty to think such things, she believed that she could read Ignot. Having fought at his side to stay alive for as long as she has, she’s learned to read the subtle. She knew he had something he wanted to talk about…she just had to wait for him to work out how to approach it.

Ignot had no problem telling the truth and being brutal with it but he never spoke without thought, without careful mental editing. He always made sure not to reveal much about himself or say anything that would antagonize Billie’s worry. It was only a minor pang of hurt that he couldn’t be candied with her, but she had learned to accept it. Their relationship was odd but it had what was important. Even if Ignot didn’t want to talk about himself and even if Billie was too amiable, they trusted one another. At least, Billie trusts Ignot with her life…and despite how he acts, she is fairly certain the feeling is mutual.

She heard Ignot sigh, the sound bringing her attention back to him. Looks as though she’d be fishing for whatever silent worry was trouble Ignot. "You alright?" She asked, eyes already scanning him for possible bites or injuries.

He glanced up and Billie instantly felt as though she was under the microscope instead of the other way around. But she didn’t back down from the red-tinted gaze, just staring back and waiting for an answer…having a suspicious it would be a lie.

"Fine. Concerned."

Billie shifted her weight a little toward him as he leaned back. Not entirely a lie, I suppose. "About what?" She asked, sipping gingerly on the cup.

"The engines."

Engines, right. Sure you don’t want to talk about the talking to yourself?

But no. She’d never say anything so outright…at least not yet. Maybe with some careful guiding she could get him to talk about it, but right now wasn’t the time for that. She knew the engines weren’t as fictionally as the voices Ignot may or may not be hearing. Billie takes a long sip from her hot chocolate, mental forming her setences until…

“And uh…Miss Billie? I uh, I’d like to speak to you later on…in private…I mean uh, if you’re…if you…can.” He stumbled. His faced turned redder and he cleared his throat. “Well uh, I’m gonna go check on Alex now.” He said, leaving quickly.

And the red face Leland is gone. Leaving an odd silence between Ignto and Billie. “Well…so what about the engines?” Billie attempts lamely, feel heat come to her face for Leland’s awkwardness.

[SharpArcher01]

"Hi." Leland said. He was actually surprised that Alex had answered. "I-uh, Since we all just got back from being out all day, and there bein' so much runnin' around an' all, and meeting new people and all the..." he stopped to notice she was staring at him. He was rambling again. Leland cleared his throat and started over.
"I'm just tryin' to check in on everyone, make sure no one got hurt or anything..."

He took a peek through her door and caught a glimpse of a cotton bandage under her long sleeves.

"So yeah...Just asking questions, y'know?"

Alex raised an eyebrow while Leland continued to talk. She yawned, not caring about whatever the hell he was talking about. Alex rubbed her eyes and tugged on her sleeves, hiding her bandages and hoping that he didn't notice. Oh well, fuck it if he knows. If anyone knows.
"Why are you asking questions?" Who the hell was this guy again? Maybe she should pay attention to whatever the hell was going on in the apartment. Maybe she should be more active with everyone. Fuck it, not after what happened. Alex coughed and waved him off. "M'fine, Leland, I just need some sleep. And that's all I want to do."

"Well, okay…" Leland said, backing down. "Just glad that you're alright. If you do need anything you can ask anytime; I'm no Miss Billie, but…" She was still staring at him. "Well uh, I’ve taken up enough a’ yer time. I'll let you get back to sleep. Sorry for wakin’ ya." He stole one more glance at her arms before turning away.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” he thought. “Should just mind my own business.”

Leland crossed the living room once again and made a beeline for his room. He opened the door and went over to the lone window. There wasn’t much of a view; buildings, snow, and long dead automobiles. “This can’t be real.” He whispered. It had been months since it began, but in his weaker moments, it still didn’t feel real.

He paced his small room and gained a bit of pleasure from the running heater. He was starting to notice that the stress was getting to him, physical and otherwise. “I just need to calm down. Maybe Alex has the right idea; maybe sleep will help.” Leland flopped face first onto the single mattress. He tried to relax, to calm himself, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He opened his eyes slowly.

A face. Blood. Green Eyes. Tousled Brown Hair. A Silent Mouth. A Choke.

“JESUS!” Leland jerked backwards and succeeded in falling off of his bed, hitting the ground with a solid THUMP. He scampered back towards the wall, under the window, and attempted to slow his heart below its current heart-attack speed. After a few moments of silence, Leland leaned forward, looked over his mattress, and as he expected: saw nothing.

“Christ…” he whispered. It was happening less frequently, but he was still haunted with flashbacks. He imagined that everyone in the house had similar problems, but it did little to comfort him. “Please let it go away.” He pleaded silently, to no one. “Just let me forget it! I can’t do this…I…I can’t even sleep anymore? Not even sleep is safe?” Leland fought back the memories of the past, and the tears that followed. He hated this, these occasional purging of emotion. They came with no warning, no schedule, and each one made him feel…less; less in control, less powerful, less respected. Less.

He stayed there, hunched over under the windowsill. He couldn’t sleep now. He couldn’t sleep, and Alex could. And he woke her up, for what? Curiosity? Boredom? Some perverted sense of Duty? Leland felt sick for committing such a heinous act: taking sleep, peace-of-mind for granted.

[Laughing Man]

“Trista, wait.”

Liam stared at the guns in his hands. They were cold, ugly things, and they seemed terribly heavy.

“I don’t...”

He stopped. He had been going to say that he didn’t want them, that she should take them back. He wanted to say that he didn’t have it in him to use them. But how else was he going to protect anyone; with words? Words wouldn’t help against the walking dead; all they would accomplish was a terrible death with a pretty speech on his lips. Standing there, Liam couldn’t see how he had ever thought otherwise. He exhaled slowly, and began buckling the holsters around his waist.

“I don’t want to mourn you, so I’ll take these,” he said finally, looking at Trista’s back as she stood paused in the doorway of her room. “I’m not going to let you get hurt anymore."