Acts of Contradiction
Left 4 Dead 2, Nellis

Chapter One

Silence. Wait—not quite. There was something… a humming? Was someone humming? Who was that? Was it even human? Or was it his imagination—no—wait— it was definitely a person. But where are you? Where have you gone? I can hear you, but I can't find you! Come find me! I'm here, I'm here, I'm here!

He moved blindly through the darkness, trying so hard, so damn hard to find that gentle noise, that little hum of life in all of this godforsaken darkness. His hands lifted, shaking, reaching out and grasping through the ink-like abyss, feet shuffling but making no noise. Where are you? Where are you!

But there was nothing. No one. He moved endlessly through the darkness, hands grasping so desperately for anything, mouth working, weeping so badly that it hurt to breathe. Hurt to live. Hurt to survive.

Please don't leave me! Don't leave... I can't do this alone. Please…come find me… Hold me and protect me, because I can't hold on much longer all on my own.

Ellis jerked slightly, eyes fluttering opened, heart pounding in his chest. He took in a startled breath before slowly relaxing his tensed body. He blinked out into the dim light. It was dark, but nothing compared to that darkness in that nightmare. Yeah… nightmares… he'd be having those a lot lately. He probably should be use to them by now... But never in his life had he been plagued by such haunting dreams. Such terrible, awful dreams… They were so real…

The young man shifted onto his elbows and squinted around. His companions—all three of them—were still sound asleep. He envied him… It would be nice to be able to just pass out and give in to all the exhaustion… just sleep and wake up with a fresh start… But he hadn't been able to do that. Not for weeks now. As of lately, the moment his eyes closed it seemed the nightmares would begin… it was maddening. Just… maddening. He wasn't sure how much longer he could endure it.

Ellis let out soft sigh before inching himself onto his back again. He searched the ceiling wordlessly. He was tired, really tired, but he couldn't force his eyes shut. No matter how badly his body—his mind—craved rest he just couldn't make himself close his eyes. He never would have imagined that one day he'd grow to fear his own mind.

And as the days went on and his sleep became less and less, it was growing increasingly harder to keep up the act of the enthusiastic optimist. But he knew better… He wasn't stupid… He knew that likelihood that they would—any of them—would survive was decreasing day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute… But he had to keep smiling—if not for himself, then for the others. The needed that little ignorant kid from Georgia, that little boy that would just reassure everyone that one day soon everything would be okay. But the doubts… they were overwhelming.

Ellis rubbed his tired eyes, letting in a shaking breath. It was just becoming so god damn hard. So fucking hard to smile.

~*~

"Hey… You're awake?" It wasn't really a question, more of a statement. That was just the way Nick was. The conman half-glanced to Ellis as he adjusted his collar and then he smoothed out his ruined suit. Despite the state of the badly soiled clothes, he still looked so god damn cool doing it. The man ran his fingers through his hair and slicked it back obsessively. Yeah, he was still as smooth as ever. Zombie apocalypse or not, Nick was still Nick. "This becoming a habit?"

Maybe Ellis should have been flattered that Nick had noticed that he had been awake before everyone else consistently as of late. He was typically the last to rise and it often took a bit of an effort to wake him. Lately that hadn't been the case. Funny how you could change so damn much in such little time. The mind was a terrible thing sometimes.

"Nick?"

The older man was starting his morning ritual—check, double check and triple check each of his weapons, load them to the maximum and begin the tedious task of dividing out the ammunition between the four Survivors. No one ever complained or questioned why Nick had decided to take that position. He did it well… It was probably his OCD that made him so good at it, but hey, it kept the conman occupied and usually kept his mouth in check—unless, of course, he found the need to bitch and moan about lack of supplies (which he often did come to think of it).

The audible sound of the magazine clicking into place as Nick reloaded was almost deafening in the silence.  Nick again half-glanced to Ellis, one eyebrow raised questioningly but he didn't say anything.

Jesus… What did he want to say again? Hey, Nick, how do you sleep at night? What do you think of before you close your eyes? What makes it easier? Do you have nightmares too? I can't stop having them…

"What, Overalls?" Nick's voice was laced with annoyance.

Ellis shook himself from his thoughts. "I…uh… nevermind. It's nothin'."

"Don't sound like 'nothin'," Nick replied, heavily emphasizing the last part in his badly stereotypical southern accent. "But, whatever." Nick shrugged. "Are you just going to lay there all day or are you actually going to get up and do something helpful?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." The young man grudgingly got to his feet. God damn did his eyes ache. Felt like sandpaper whenever he blinked. And his throat was dry. Be nice if he had something to drink. Or eat. That'd be nice… real nice. Ma's cookin' would be the best right now though. What he wouldn't give to just be back home on a Sunday evening… Just him and his Ma. It'd be mostly him talking and her smiling patiently and listening… but that always seemed all right—for them both. She just loved to listen to his stories, and god did he love telling them.

Man… it's been so long… so long since he last sat down with her for dinner. How long has it been, Ellis? Too long, Ma… Too god damn long…

Suppressing a sigh Ellis did his best to help Nick sort the ammunition. Had he been paying attention he may have noticed the conman's worried frowns.

~*~

He had to admit, at first the swamp had been pretty cool. However it lost its huzzah after a measly day—if even that. Hell, it'd probably had only been half a day later that Ellis decided he had had enough swamp to last him a lifetime. The smell he could handle. Everything about the swamp was annoying now. From the awful humidity, bugs, the swamp life—including zombies now (and mudmen)—the constant wetness—oh, right, and the inevitable ankle twisting and knee jarring trek through the dangerous terrain. He probably had more bruises and sprained limbs in the last half day than the last few months.

Call him clumsy, but Ellis would have sworn he had seen the others struggling through the water just as much as him—maybe they didn't actually fall into the water like he often did—but, still. That at least was a little comforting. Even though he was running low on sleep it seemed that it was pretty unnoticeable. At least the swamp hid his clumsiness… he couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

But—oh shit—Ellis foot sunk in a particularly deep patch of muck and he attempted to yank his foot free. He failed, miserably. Hands clutching his weapon he tried to take another step to reorientate himself but his foot simply refused to cooperate. Instead of recovering he found himself throwing his gun in a desperate attempt to catch himself before he found himself gulping swamp water again. But it was fruitless. He felt his knee jar painfully and his leg buckled involuntarily under the painful shift of weight. He clawed desperately at the air and then—splash. And he was under water again. God damn it.

Coughing and sputtering Ellis found his footing and stood quickly. He shook his arms of the moss and other questionable things sticking to him, choking on the smell, face twisted with misery. God damn it, he could probably cry. Didn't help that somewhere behind him he could hear Nick laughing. Obnoxiously.

"Jesus Christ, Ellis, that's got to be the fifth time I've seen you go completely under." Even though Coach was typically a good natured man at heart, he was trying hard to stifle his laughter—at least he was making an attempt, unlike a certain conman that continued to laugh outright.

"Leave the poor kid alone," Rochelle said, doing well to not laugh herself. "Ellis, are you okay?"

"Yeah… I don' know where my gun went through." Ellis reached up to pull off his cap and ran his fingers through his disgustingly wet hair. Aw, man… he was going to be smelling like Swamp until the day he died… which, when you really thought about it, might not be so far from now. Ellis shook himself. Nah, man. Keep your head up. Everything'll turn out all right.

Maybe.

"Here kid," Nick shuffled through the thigh-deep water and stuffed a pistol—the one that he so meticulously cared for—right into the southerner's hands. "Double wield until we find you a new gun. And don't you dare get that wet."

"I ain't gonna promise I won't," Ellis said, smirking slightly. "But, thanks man." Ellis was touched—actually touched by this gesture. Nick was so damn… protective over his guns… the fact that he—

"Right. If you go down, I fully expect to see those pistols high and dry above your drowning head." Oh, right. Nick was still Nick. Guess he should have known better.

"I'll be sure ta do tha'," Ellis replied drily.

Rochelle rolled her eyes, butting in, "Don't you listen to him, Ellis. Nick is an asshole."

"It is my life goal to make everyone around me more miserable than I am," Nick agreed. He sounded so damn smug about it too— he probably meant it.

"Yeah, well, ya go fer me more often than anyon' else. Ain't jus' me here ta make miserable, Nick." There was an edge to his voice—a tiredness, maybe even a hint of venom. He liked Nick, he really did. He liked that despite always poking fun at him, Nick was genuinely looking out for him (case and point with the pistol). He was aways there for him… At least, when it came to zombies. But sometimes Nick was so god damn insensitive… It was almost easier to just keep his mouth shut and just take his insults instead of trying to give a witty comeback. He wasn't good at that stuff—couldn't think of things right on the spot like Nick could. Ellis was pretty damn sure he could never win a battle of words with Nick.

"Well, your cheery outlook is just a bulls-eye right on your back," Nick chuckled.

Twitch. Ellis felt one eye spasm violently. His breath hitched in his throat and he gripped both pistols in his hands.

Yeah, but too bad this cheery exterior is crackin' like fine china, Nick. An' once it's dead an' gone, it's gone fer good.

"What?" Nick asked.

"What?" Ellis replied instantly. Holy shit. Did he just say that out loud? Sure as hell seemed like it. Nick was giving him an intense stare. Ellis looked everywhere but those piercing eyes… God damn, Nick could be pretty intimidating. He didn't even have to say anything. Just look. Just fucking look at him and he felt like he was about to spill his soul to him. Not that he'd would have minded telling him… but Nick didn't seem to be the kind of guy to really care. And Ellis would be damned if he were going let his bleeding heart make a fool out of him. There was no reason to confess his failing heart to Nick. Nick didn't want to hear it. That Ellis was sure of.

"Thought you…" Wait… was that a hint of concern…? For some reason, Ellis felt his heart skip a beat.

God, please. Jus' ask. Ask me if I'm okay, ask me if I need ta talk, 'cause I do, Nick. I really fuckin' do. I don' even care if ya jus' laugh or say nothin' at all. I jus' really need ta talk… I jus' need ta sort all these thoughts in my head… So please… Jus' please… Ask me if everythin's all right…

"Nevermind." The lingering look Nick gave him betrayed him, but even still, that look of concern wasn't enough.

"Right…" Ellis' heart plummeted in his chest, to a point that it just hurt to breathe. Just like how it always ended in his dreams. There was a weight crushing him. Just crushing, crushing, crushing. If that weight wasn't lifted, his heart might just be inclined to stop all together.

…That thought was starting to seem not so terrible.

The body grows tired when no sleep can mend it,
And time has chased and killed all of our friends…
There's no place left in the sky for them to send us to.

Chapter Two

Into these twisted months I plunge without a light to follow,
But I swear that I would follow anything, just get me out of here…
'Cause I swear that I'm dying, slowly but it's happening,
And if the perfect spring is waiting somewhere,
Then just take me there, just take me there, just take me there.

The mudmen oddly reminded Ellis of a galloping horse. Maybe he was just delusional, but there was something strangely beautiful with the way they move… That near perfect gait without a hint of hesitance. Maybe it was confidence… or mindless rage. It was hard to tell. Either way, Ellis found his gun lowering at the sight of one, just staring, oddly mesmerized. Mud dripped off its sallow skin and what seemed like black coagulated blood caked its snarling mouth…

Just the way it moved closer, muscles rippling, fingers tearing into the swamp, kicking up mud and moss, charging forward, killer rage behind its eyes—

The mudman's head exploded in a shower of blood and the momentum of the charging creature sent it tumbling like a ragdoll until it came to a stop no more than a foot away from Ellis' feet. The mechanic stared blankly down at it. Its arms and legs twitched in violent spasms and what was left of its shattered face was twisted in a way that it stared quite accusingly up at him. Ellis couldn't bring his eyes away from that mangled corpse.

"Ellis!"

Ellis visibly shook himself from his numbing thoughts and turned his terrified eyes to Nick. The conman opened his mouth to say something more but then he closed it, jaw clenched tightly. He searched the young man for a long moment.

"Get your head in the game, Overalls. I can't keep watching your ass like this. I gave you that pistol for a reason. Put it to use."

Again, Ellis shook himself, trying so god damn hard to shake the numbness out of his mind and limbs. But it was useless. His mind still felt foggy, his thoughts racing so badly that it left him disoriented. Or maybe he wasn't even thinking at all… It was becoming hard to tell. He did, however, become aware that Nick was still staring at him. Maybe he was waiting for a response.

"Nick…?" Something in Nick's face flickered—his face softened, maybe just for a second, but Ellis caught it. The moment the conman blinked though, that gentleness was gone. The conman shifted slightly where he stood, feet sloshing through the water and he stared evenly at the mechanic. Ellis licked his lips, tasting the swamp, the sweat, the death and the despair. The disease. He tried again. "Nick…"

"I'm listening, Overalls." He sounded impatient. There was a crease in his brow, a frown on his lips. His eyes were cold, hard. This was the Nick Ellis knew.

Ellis smiled faintly at the conman's words. Are you? Can you hear me? Can I tell you anything? Will you really listen to me? Will you make everything better? Would you help me? Can you help me?

Ellis felt a hiccup of anguish course through his body and his lip trembled with words that he couldn't quite dare to speak. Tears stung his eyes and his throat burned with an unspoken confession. Just say it… Just say it… Just say it…

But maybe he didn't quite need to say anything. Nick blinked hard, lips parting slightly, just searching Ellis intently. He noted every little detail that made no sense on the mechanic's features. Those tears didn't belong there or that flush of anguish. His lips were working so hard to form words, but they only made noises in a painful stutter… Jesus… that didn't make sense at all.

Nick let out a soft breath, really not quite sure what to say. He started again, "Ell—"

"—Guys there's a downed airplane over here. We're going to have to go through it." Nick blinked, turning his gaze to the voice. It was Rochelle and Coach, the former informing them of the new obstacle ahead. They came to a slow stop beside their companions. "Why'd you guys fall behind?"

Nick hesitated, glancing to the mechanic who had somehow managed to sink back into a surprisingly blank expression. "We… got tangled up on some Infected." The conman gestured faintly to the dead mudman. One Infected didn't really constitute as a serious threat… but Rochelle didn't question it. Perhaps she didn't really care. Whatever the case, they all moved forward without another word.

God did his feet feel heavy. Ellis couldn't recall ever feeling so damn weak in his entire life. It was like each movement—burdened only more by the swamp water—was taxing him of his very life. He would have laid down right where he was and gone to sleep had he confidence whatever waited him out here was less frightening than what awaited him in sleep. Christ… what he'd give for an hour or two of dreamless sleep.

"Okay, boys. We're going to have to open this door to keep going."

"Whoa, whoa. Wait one fucking second," Nick snapped, straightening fully. He was scowling hard. "You want to open that emergency door, right there?" He pointed menacingly at the door in question. Rochelle nodded once. "That door right there? The one with the fucking alarm?" He scoffed. "I don't think so. We're going around."

"There's not any way around, Nick," Rochelle countered, glaring back.

It would be easy for their exchange to turn into a volley of insults, but oddly (for one of the first times in a long while) it didn't.

Without nothing more than a 'watch and learn' look, the conman slung his AK-47 over his shoulder and began to eye the airplane long and hard. Finally he moved towards the gaping hole in the side of the plane. "Ellis. Give me a boost up there."

Ellis blinked out of his stupor and moved over obediently before locking his hands together. He fully expected Nick to give him some cold reminder that if he dropped him he was going to be picking his teeth off the ground, but for some reason he didn't say a word. That was kind of odd… Ellis faithfully gave Nick the boost he needed onto the airplane's roof. The conman scrambled as gracefully as it was possible onto it. He disappeared from sight.

A few minutes later he returned. "There's a way down from here," he confirmed. "Come on."

Rochelle went next and then Coach, leaving Ellis standing silently by himself among the wreckage. It was a haunting feeling as he glanced about to the corpses floating in the waters.

The young man adjusted his hat nervously, swallowing thickly. And then he glanced upward as a hand reached down for him. It was Nick… Of course it was. Ellis almost smiled.

"Well, don't take all day, Overalls. Hurry up."

Ellis hesitated a moment longer before taking the other man's hand. Nick did surprisingly well giving him enough 'oomph' to make the ascend. But even so, Nick didn't quite let him go—not until he was positive the mechanic was safely atop the treacherous hunk of metal. Together they crawled across the badly dented airplane and slid down onto the wing where Rochelle and Coach waited vigilantly.

Ellis felt his heart shudder with despair, blue eyes scanning the horizon. More swamp. Just seemingly endless expanse of dirty, filthy, mind-numbing—

"Overalls."

Ellis turned to the sound of the nickname. Nick gave him a lingering stare—one that Ellis couldn't help but notice. Then the conman gestured slightly to point out that Rochelle and Coach had already descended off the wing and back into the water. Oh… right. It was time to move. Time to move on, time to just keep going, time to stop looking back, time to move forward…

Then they were back into the godforsaken swamp, pack into that pit of curdling death and disease, back into that sluggish march that left the mind feeling like it was slowly departing from body. His body didn't feel like his anymore. Maybe that was the lack of sleep… or maybe the fear of the inevitable. Was he starting to accept that he was going to die? Yeah… Despite the grins he still somehow managed whenever Rochelle and Coach looked his way… he was starting to accept his fate. Starting to understand that this game was coming to an end… It had to be… for his own sanity.

But wasn't that strange? How he could smile so emptily at Ro and Coach, but whenever Nick looked his way… He couldn't smile. He couldn't put on that façade that everything was okay. Why was that? Seemed he just had an aversion of lying to the man. Or maybe it was because he knew that Nick would see past it anyways... or maybe he just wanted him to see past it. Hoped he would. I won't smile for you, because I don't want to lie to you. But I want you to lie to me and tell me everything will be all right. Just lie to me, lie to me, lie to me…

It wasn't much longer before the sanctuary of dry land came upon them. The feel of the ground was so much different than the mud suctioning at his feet. He felt disoriented. Clumsily. He couldn't help but continue to move as though he were still in that awful water. It was sort of like standing in the ocean with the waves hitting you over and over… and when you finally leave… the waves have had such an impact on you that the memory just keep crashing and crashing against you… Never wanting to go away, never letting you forget how easily swayed you are. How small you are. How insignificant… so insignificant…

"Let's check out this shack," Coach offered. The big headed the group, gun leading as he stepped around the doorframe. One idling Infected stood by and a shower of bullets eliminated it. It was a good thing they had moved inside; "Hey, Ellis," Coach rumbled, "Here's a shotgun for you." It was lying in the hands of a long-dead corpse. Its decaying fingers still clung to the weapon. Still clutching onto that hope.

Ellis stared at the body for a long time, faintly aware of his companions moving about the rest of the shack looking for supplies. Finally he knelt before the body, gently scooting the gun from under those awful hands… God, how his heart pounded. He was terrified… he shouldn't be. He had been killing Infected for months now. This wasn't an Infected. It was a poor Survivor that had been mauled to death.

That's right; death in inevitable. No matter how hard you fight to stay alive, you'll end up dead just like this guy here. The best you can hope is that your death will aid someone.

"I'm sorry," Ellis said quietly to the body. He drew the gun tightly into his chest, cradling the weapon as though it was some irreplaceable gift. "Thank you…" Why was he sorry? Why was he thanking him? Who knows… He shouldn't feel guilty. But he did. The young man slowly stood.

"Here's some ammo too, Ellis," Rochelle said. She began to hand him ammunition she had collected—it wasn't much, but at least it was something. Ellis took the time to load the gun and pocketed the rest of the ammunition that he wondered if he'd even get the chance to use.

"Oh… Nick, I guess I don' need this no more." The mechanic reached for the conman's pistol at his hip but Nick quickly shook his head.

"Keep it for now."

"Nah, man, it's yers… I wouldn' wanna—"

"Keep it." Nick's tone had no room for argument. Ellis immediately went silent. There was no point to argue. If there was anyone in the world that could be called stubborn, it was Nick. Arguing with him never would get anywhere.  Ellis nodded mutely under that unblinking stare. Maybe Nick expected him to protest more… maybe he had wanted him to. Whatever the case, Ellis moved past the man without a word. Nick's narrowed gaze followed him.

They must have walked for another hour and Ellis would have sworn that with every minute that passed his heart felt a little heavier. The realization… that no one… no one would ever ask… Everyone just would continue to assume… Assume that everything was all right… But it wasn't… It wasn't. There wasn't anything right. None of this was right! God damn it… God damn it… God damn it.

It was surprising that he heard her first—that sobbing, wailing, oh-so-anguished cry of a Witch. Maybe his mind had just been looking for something to prove that he wasn't crazy, that the world was fucked up… Maybe that was why he heard her first.

"That cryin' girl's 'round…" he whispered quietly. It was the first thing he had said in quite a while. His three companions looked to him. One set of jade eyes lingered a little longer.

Rochelle tilted her head slightly, coming to a stop. "Yeah… Lights off." She didn't need to say it, everyone had already solemnly clicked their flashlights off. "Where is she, though? I don't see her…"

And it was hard to pinpoint the sound of that echoing sob. It was as though she was everywhere and no where at the same time. Maybe she had huddled herself in the brush, or maybe she was curled onto herself somewhere closer—like in the water, just rocking, sobbing, clutching herself in that terrible warmth, wanting so badly to just immerse herself and drown away all that pain… Some people said that the Infected couldn't feel pain… Maybe the Witch was just an exception. Because she sure as hell seemed full of misery.

"Dry land ahead!" Coach called. It may have been a relieving thought if Ellis thought it was permanent. But the swamp was never ending. It had proven that as fact with each passing second.

As they moved across the road it was becoming more and more evident that the inhabitants of the village had succumbed to the Infection. They were everywhere. Whether they lay as a bloated decaying body or festering walking dead, it seemed to not matter. They were everywhere. Absolutely everywhere. And that Witch… she was somewhere. Somewhere near by. Just sobbing so fucking loudly. So hard. Jesus, she was so god damn close!

They moved in a tight line, firing into the Infected and sending them toppling over to join the fallen all around. Never did the bullets stop. One would reload as another provided cover. It was their teamwork that had kept them alive all this time. Not luck or God. But each other.

But in a flash the controlled killing turned into a chaotic mess. A stray bullet found the Witch before any of their eyes ever did. It was only by chance that her enraged eyes first found Ellis. The intent on her twisted features was obvious.

She meant to kill him.

He should have just stood there. Should have just dropped his gun, laughing. Should have just reached out to her with open arms, should have just been relieved she so willingly presented him with a solution to all his anguish. But he didn't. Instead, he found himself quickly moving to save himself.

Out came a lighter and the Molotov at his hip. Click. A flame. Next the low roar of the make-shift wick catching flame. He back peddled as fast as he could, arm raised, poised and ready to cast the death sentence to her feet.

Wait, wait, wait. Now!

The fire exploded in a sea of licking flames. The alcohol splashed up the Witch's legs, igniting her into an inferno. Skin curdled and sizzled, hissed and popped and her skin began to blacken and fall apart—but she still came relentlessly.

He didn't dare look back. He simply turned and fled. Sprinting as fast as he possibly could. He could hear her. Her shrieks, her terrible, terrible agonized shrieks. He could practically feel the painful burn of the fire scorching his back. God just a few more steps. A few more steps and those clawed hands would rip into him.

And then—door. God a door. A house! Sanctuary!

The mechanic threw himself against the door and to his utter relief it was unlocked. He scrambled inside, shoving himself back against it, falling to the floor, bracing himself for the inevitable.

And she came at the door with vengeance. The impact of her body lurched him forward and Ellis scrambled to regain his hold, feet scrapping against the floor, trying so god damn hard to just keep that door shut. She came at the door again,  sending another shudder in the frame.

There was an explosion of bullets—he could hear it over the sound of the Witch and this time she must have felt it because she howled with pain. Her nails dragged insistently across the wood as she crumpled to the ground, the noise slowly drawing downward as she died, her voice gurgled and she wept pathetically. All she wanted to do was kill the one that had disturbed her…

And then there was silence. Save for the sound of his ragged breathing harsh in his own ears.

"Ellis! Ellis, let us in. Ellis!" Rochelle. That was Rochelle. He began to sob, crawling onto his knees, clumsily reaching to pull the door opened. He was greeted by his three companions. "Ellis, it's okay, you're all right," Rochelle insisted. "She's gone now. Everything's okay."

"It's not," the mechanic choked out. "It's not okay. It's not. IT'S NOT!" Shaking, trembling hands rose and he pressed them into his face, trying so hard to hold back the tears. But they came anyways. Unable to contain it anymore, he wept.

Can't you understand? The nightmares will just continue. Over and over and over and over again. They'll never stop. This nightmare will never fucking stop.

Chapter Three

And you say your life is useless,
And you say this is all meaningless,
But I, I know that that is just bullshit.
Because you will not give up,
You will not give up.
Because the moment that you do,
I will give up too.

At first no one moved. Not an inch. No one even breathed. The only noise was the sound of Ellis' sobs, or the slight creak of the floor every time he rocked himself, arms clutching himself so desperately… so fucking desperately—like he just needed something—someone—to give him comfort. To just hold him… to just…

Nick exhaled slowly, unable to tear his eyes away from Ellis. Jesus Christ… he really had needed someone to talk to… Guilt like he had never experienced in his entire life jolted his stomach and left his limbs shaking. He had never been so overwhelmed with the feeling of having to make everything right. Had to make Ellis all right again… Had to.

"Ellis… hey…" the conman said softly, slowly stepping inside the building. He rested his gun against the wall before cautiously moving to one knee in front of the kid. "Everything's going to be all right. Got it? You're going to be just fine."

"No." The word came out as a hiss between his violent sobs. It was a rather frightening noise. There was denial there; brutal, honest, raw denial. He meant it. He really meant it.

Nick felt his stomach twist in knots. "Hey… I know this shit's all fucked up… But we're going to be all right. We're going to get out of this all right."

Ellis shook his head again, both hands coming up to pressing over his ears as he wept. Maybe he just didn't want to hear. Couldn't hear it. Refused to hear it.

But, God, lie to me. Please, just lie to me. Lie to me and tell me everything'll be all right. Just lie to me, lie to me, lie to me, just fucking lie to me.

His thoughts were interrupted as he found himself suddenly at the receiving end of an embrace—an embrace from an unlikely source. Nick… was hugging him? Ellis' mind numbed, for now, quiet with its despair and simply trying to register, to drink in this sudden and new sensation. He had never been embraced like this before. A rough, tight, insistent… almost possessive embrace. Nick held him so tightly it was hard to breathe.

Ellis' breath hiccupped in his throat, hands slowly retracting from his ears to wind under Nick's arms and curl around him. Nick didn't relent, didn't ease up one fucking muscle. And to be honest… it scared Ellis. He felt his heart race and his limbs began to shake uncontrollably. Was it the closeness that was gripping at his heart so much? Or maybe it was the silence…? The desperateness of that hug? Or maybe because it was Nick…

The embrace must have lasted for several silent minutes—not agonizing, but strangely anxious all the same minutes. Then Nick's gripped loosened, his badly bruised fingers slowly loosened their grip as he drew away. He seemed to hesitate for a moment longer until he finally leaned back.

And there was an oddness now. Not an uncomfortable one… definitely not awkward, but... something had been exchanged between them in that embrace. Understanding? Maybe… Whatever it was it calmed Ellis. Enough that he could gather himself again. The young man visibly shook himself before pressing the heel of his palm into his eye.

"Thanks... Nick."

"Yeah…"

It took Ellis another long moment until he slowly got to his feet. He looked lost—but at least he wasn't crying anymore. He blinked once. Twice. He shook his head slightly, mouth opening and then he closed it. Finally he simply claimed the far corner of the room and sat down wordlessly.

Legs drawn up with his arms wrapped around them he simply stared blankly. Did he have any thoughts in there? Seemed unlikely. There was little emotion on his face, in his eyes… anywhere. Well, that was a lie. There was a glint of robbed innocence. Somewhere in there… somewhere reflecting back in those dulled blues… there was something that had been hurt, broken, maybe even destroyed. Whatever it was… whatever it was, it was something. At least it was something and not nothing. At least there was still something still there…

Just have to hold on… Just have to stay strong. Keep smiling… gatta keep smiling at least for him.

"Hey, Overalls? You should get some sleep." Of course Ellis didn't have to look at the conman, but he did anyways. Haunted blues met curiously worried greens. "Hey…" Nick said again, softer this time. What an interesting tone for him. The gambler crouched lazily before the other and Ellis' eyes followed his gesture wordlessly. "Don't worry, kid. I've got your back out there, all right? You're going to be just fine. Now go to sleep."

Sleep. That'd be nice. It'd be nice to sleep. Ellis' head dropped against the wall. He meant to continue to sit like that staring away until the sun returned to them—but maybe his mind clutched to that small sense of security he had been offered. Yeah… Nick'll watch you. You're all right. And he closed his eyes.

And sleep? It came. But not without consequence.

He was laughing. He wasn't sure why, but he was laughing. Hard. But it wasn't the sort of laugh you got when something really funny happened. No… it was an uncontrollable laugh—a cackle, really. And wait… what was he doing?

He could see his arm rising and falling, over and over and each time it fell there was a sickening crunch. His hand was heavy—oh, he was carrying a wrench. That'd explain that. And what was this? Oh, that was blood. Right. And who was that? I dunno. It was impossible to tell anymore. He had beat their face beyond recognition. All that he could tell was that it had been a woman. Whoever she was, she sure wasn't going to be getting any dates anytime soon. He laughed at that thought. Why? Because he could.

The blood was so thick on his face that when he reached up to brush it from him it simply smeared into a crimson veil. It tasted pretty. Can things taste pretty? Well, this blood certainly did. Who was next? Who's next? Come out, come out… Little Ellis is here. He's all smiles and he's all about making everything go away. When he's done with you, you won't ever feel scared again, or lonely… or anything at all. That's right, the smile's won't help anymore, but I've found another way.

I'll make you better, I'll end your suffering. I promise. I always keep my promises, don't I Dave?

The wrench came down hard to crack zombie-Dave right between the eyes. He sputtered and twitched, letting out a low groan before his knees crumpled beneath him. But he wasn't dead. Not quite yet. With another terrible groan he shifted his hands underneath him, slowly pushing himself up again, trying so hard to get back to his knees.

The wrench came down again, this time embedding right into the skull that latched onto it as though it were a lover's hand. Ellis twisted and pulled but the damned thing refused to come. Well, at least Dave was gone now. Bye, Dave. Glad I could help. Save a place for me up in Heaven.

No, no, no, no!

Ellis' folded onto himself, hands pressing into his ears and he shook his head fiercely. That's not what happened. No, that's not right. That's not what I thought! That's not what I had done!

Shh, sshh, it's okay. Everything's all right. You don't have to be ashamed. Everything'll be all right.

NO! Shut up. Shut up! Do ya hear me? Shut the fuck up. You don't know what the hell you're talking about.

Aw, come on now, you did everyone a favor. Ma and Keith and Dave. You did them all a favor. Lights out, goodnight. Bye, bye! Love you, hugs and kisses.

No, no, no. Ellis' legs collapsed underneath him and he wept hard, choking on his sobs, trying hard to catch his breath. Everything hurt. Especially his heart. God, did his heart hurt. Never meant to… Never wanted to do it, I swear. I never wanted to hurt you, but I had… I had... I had

That's right, you had to. And it's okay. You've been doing everyone a favor! Just bang bang bang and you're making more angels for Heaven. It's okay to enjoy it. You're really good at it.

It's not… It's not… shut up, fuck you. Ellis moved blindly across the floor. It was hard to see. Maybe it was the tears or maybe because it appeared as though all of the lights had just turned off. His fingers brushed against something metal and it clattered noisily. His fingers moved desperately—he found it. It was a knife... something sharp.

I'm coming, I'm coming. I'll be there soon guys, I promise. I fucking promise.

His other hand touched at the blade, trying to find the sharp edge in all the dark and when he found it he tried to move it to his throat—but a hand found his wrist. A light—like a spotlight—blinded him. He shook under the painful grip on his wrist and tried to pull free. His eyes adjusted.

Nick? What—why are you?

His lips weren't moving but he could hear Nick's voice clearly in his mind;

Smile, Ellis. Smile for me.

I can't smile, Nick. I can't.

I'll make you smile.

I can't—but—wait—wait, Nick. Wait! WAIT!

But Nick was guiding the blade back towards his face. The tip found one corner of his mouth and Ellis shook his head insistently, other hand punching and slapping, scratching and clawing desperately at that unreadable face. Nick was far stronger. With an almost offhanded shove, Ellis was pinned to the ground. And the knife dug in, slicing deep. Blood—it tasted terrible—pooled into his mouth and he choked on it.

And the blade slowly drew across his mouth into a half moon, hot blood following, pooling down his face, into his ear, onto the floor. And Nick began to laugh.

Who's laughing now? Huh? Who's laughing now? You stupid fucking idiot. You're so fucking stupid. All I wanted was for you to smile and you wouldn't do it.

I'll smile! Just stop, please stop. Please, Nick, please fucking stop. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm—

"Ellis, god damn it, wake up."

Had he any inkling to what Ellis had been just dreaming, Nick probably wouldn't have awoken Ellis the way he had. The moment those started blue eyes jolted open—the young man had followed his rude awakening with a solid punch to Nick's jaw.

The conman let out a little cry of surprise and fell backwards before righting himself immediately. But Ellis didn't follow or apologize or anything. He simply stared—wide eyed—and shit, he was crying again.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Ellis. What is wrong with you?" Nick snarled. He knew he shouldn't have—but that was just a way to cover up the sudden terrible fear he had. He had never seen anyone look so god damn feral. Not an uninfected, anyways. Nick cleared his throat uncomfortably, trying to ignore the aching burn on his jaw. Kid had a good punch. "Hey… Ellis… Hey… It's all right." Now what? "Uh… have a bad dream?"

Ellis blinked. Dream… He let out a soft breath of relief. That's right… That's all they were. Just stupid, stupid fucking dreams. He nodded slowly, biting his lip in an effort to keep himself from breaking down into worthless sobs.

Nick shuffled onto his knees and moved as close as he dared. He eyed the other for a moment. "You got yourself under control now?" Ellis nodded. "Not going to hit me again?" Ellis shrugged. "Oh good." This time, Ellis snorted slightly—and a slight grin accompanied it. Nick grinned back. "So… do you want to talk about it?"

"Did ya know anyone tha' got Infected, Nick?" Ellis didn't exactly answer, but at least he was talking.

Nick shrugged slightly. "Probably… I don't keep in contact with family, and I don't really have many friends. Not real friends anyways… But I have a feeling that's not what you mean… So, no. I didn't see anyone I know Turn. At least, not anyone I cared about." Silence. "I… reckon you did?" Ellis nodded slightly. "Ah… Sorry to hear that, Ellis. That had to have been rough."

Ellis laughed again, but this time it was hallow. "No shit, man. Who would have thought? Ya know? Tha' everyone tha' ever meant anythin' ta ya would jus' up an' Turn on ya overnight."

Nick shifted slightly, and Ellis couldn't help but notice how focused those eyes were. He had never seen Nick look anyone in the face like that. Not with such attentiveness… He had always been so aloof… Why did he suddenly care so much?

"What happened, Ellis?"

Ellis' gaze drifted slightly to the sleeping forms of Coach and Rochelle. Well… He assumed they were sleeping. If they were awake, they weren't making any indications of it.

"When we heard 'bout the Infection an' stuff… ya know, Dave, Keith an' I all got real excited 'bout it—stupid I know… but, maybe tha' was jus' our way of dealin' with all the shit… Ma, ya know… She was scared. Real scared. An' I told them everythin' was gonna be okay… ya know? With a big stupid smile. A big fuckin' dumbass grin. Told Ma we'd protect her. An' it was cool… Ya know? We though' we could take on everythin'. So Keith came over an' I left ta go get Dave. Keith said he'd stay with Ma 'cause she wasn't lookin' so good… lookin' real scared an' stuff.

"Well, when I went ta get Dave—drove in my fuckin' awesome truck man. It was zombie proof. 'Cept for like… this one part—but, I won't go inta tha'. Tha's a long story… But... I went ta get Dave. Kept knockin' an' knockin' an' he wouldn't answer none. So I took the wrench from his toolbox on the porch an' I broke the door down. Went lookin' for him. Couldn't find him nowhere. Then I came across his girl. She was dead already. Jus' sittin' there on the couch, her hands all folded neatly in her lap…" Ellis swallowed thickly, gesturing at his neck, "Her throat was all torn out an' shit. An' her eyes were still opened. She was jus' starin'… Jus' starin'…

"An' then I saw Dave. Jus'… wanderin' around in the kitchen—like he was lookin' fer somethin' ta eat. But there was blood all down his face an' shit… an' man… his eyes... they were so fuckin' dead… but when he looked at me, I almost though' fer a second he recognized me. 'Cause he came at me righ' away. An' I coulda fuckin' swore he jus' wanted ta hug me, an' jus'… ferget any of this happened… But then he tried ta bite me…

"I don' know wha' I though'. It was kinda instinctual, I guess. I just started hittin' him with the wrench. Over an' over… Even when he stopped movin'. An' I couldn't stop. I just remember cryin' a lot… I probably wouldn' have ever stopped, but then my phone went off… an' it was Keith. Said I better get home quick. So I jus' left. I didn't even say I was sorry or nothin'. I jus' left."

Ellis blinked several times and then looked to Nick. The conman was still staring fixedly at him. "Does tha' make me a bad person?"

"No."

"I think it does."

"I think you shut down to save yourself. And you've been shutting down for so long now that it's…" Nick hesitated. "It's consuming you, Ellis. Just… keep talking. Tell me everything. What happened after you left?"

"I went home, naturally. An' when I got there I knew somethin' wasn't right. Ma didn't answer. An' Keith… well Keith…"

The third time Ellis called for him, Keith appeared. His head was hung low and he refused to look up. He was holding a revolver loosely in one hand—and there was—no, no there wasn't. There wasn't anything wrong with him. He was fine.

"Keith, man, wha' the fuck happened?"

"I'm sorry, Ellis."

"Wha' happened?" Ellis pleaded.

Keith half-glanced to him—and, shit, did he look so sad. So fucking sad. It was a look Ellis couldn't ever recall seeing on Keith. But then Keith half-smiled—his charming little grin that made him so likeable. Sure, he was one clumsy dumbass, but he was a likeable one.

"We're good friends, righ' El?"

"Yeah, man," Ellis replied quickly. "Wha' happened?"

"I'm sorry, El… But yer Ma… she Turned. I'm really sorry. I tried ta stop her… I didn' wanna hurt her but she… Well, she…" He lifted is arm—no longer allowing Ellis to deny that blood bite. "Ellis, man… I don' wanna turn inta one of 'em."

"You ain't gonna Turn, Keith." Ellis insisted. He took a step forward, gently patting at the air as though to reassure Keith—but really, Keith was the calm one. Ellis' vision blurred with tears. He knew… knew exactly what Keith was gonna ask before he even said it. "I ain't doin' it, Keith. I ain't gonna do it. Yer gonna be fine."

"Nah… I already feel it. I already don't feel righ', El." Keith blinked several times—probably to fight the tears—and cleared his throat. He turned fully to the other man and lifted the revolver up. "I can't do it ta myself, El… I wouldn' feel righ'. So I need ya ta do it."

"No." Ellis took a step back, hands coming up to clutch against his chest. "I ain't doin' it, Keith."

"El… Please."

"No, Keith. Please… Don' ask me ta do it. Please, man. I can't... I ain't gonna…"

Keith's little grin became all the more charming. He leaned in the doorway, waving the gun lightly in the air. "Come on, El. Everythin'll be fine. Jus'… Shoot me, get in the car, an' drive ta the evac. Everythin'll be okay. Ya gatta do this one thing fer me, okay?"

"No!"

"El…" Keith twitched violently and leaned hard against the doorway. "I can already feel myself changin'… Don' let me turn into one of them. I'm beggin' ya. Please…"

"I don't even remember doin' it, Nick. It was like with Dave. Everythin' just went blank. An'… I don'…" He hesitated, eyes squinting as he tried so very hard to recall that fuzzy memory. "I don' remember him sayin' anythin'… I think he jus'… He jus' smiled at me. An'…the next thing I remember was the sound… an' then I was in the car drivin' an' drivin'… an' I remember jus' tellin' myself tha' I was goin' to meet up with Dave an' Keith… an' then we'd go back an' get Ma an' then go to the evac station… Tha' everythin'  was all righ'… But it wasn', Nick. Nothin'll ever be okay again."

Nick was silent a long time. And after a few minutes Ellis gave up on hoping for a response. But then the older man closed the distance between them and sat himself beside the mechanic. Close enough that they touched. Close enough that Ellis couldn't help but notice that warmth—that little bit of life left. Close enough to spark thoughts of hope—that some of them could still get out of this alive…

"You better not give up on me, kid."

Huh? Ellis blinked at the other. That wasn't exactly what he had expected to hear. Nick refused to look at him. His jaw was clenched and he was searching the far wall with a narrowed gaze.

"I swear to God, kid. You better not fucking give up. Not after all this shit."

"Ya jus' want me around 'cause I can shoot a—" Nick finally looked at him—and his eyes were blazing. Ellis smartly closed his mouth.

"I don't…" Nick sighed harshly. "I don't want you to die. I don't want to have to see that. You, above anyone else, know all to well what it feels like to see someone you care about die. Don't do that to me."

Ellis stared, lips parting slightly and he blinked, stupefied. Wait… what…?

"Yeah, you heard me. Close your mouth, you look like an idiot." Nick ran his fingers obsessively through his slicked hair. "I hate to admit it, but you three are the closet things to friends I have… I know I come off as an asshole at times—" Ellis snorted at this, but Nick continued as though he hadn't noticed—"I still care some, all right? So just… don't die on me. All right?"

"I'm not sure if I've got anythin' ta live for anymore, Nick..."

"Live for me then." Although it probably had meant to be a question, he hadn't asked it like one. He had almost demanded it.

Feeling a faint flush on his cheeks, Ellis lowered his head and nodded slightly. That… wasn't exactly a terrible thought. In fact… Nick had oddly been the one thing that had kept him going all this time. And to be given permission—no, ordered to live just for Nick…? "Yeah…" Ellis' lips twitched into a slight smile. "I'll try that."

"Good." Nick's rough hand found Ellis' curls and he ruffled them. "I'd have kicked your ass had you said no."

Ellis felt himself smirk slightly under that touch, genuinely enjoying the warmth of that flush all over his face. He might… might actually be able to do this.

Chapter Four

Death may come invisible, or in a holy wall of fire.
In the breath between the markers, on some black I-80 mile.
From the madness of the government, to the vengeance of the sea.
Well, everything is eclipsed by the shape of density.

Morning came far too fast. Far, far too fast. Almost as though everything in between that affectionate touch Nick had given him to the hours that had passed by hadn't even existed. Call him crazy, but it was like his mind had held onto that moment… and refused to let go, refused to acknowledge that the moment had passed. That moment alone had quieted his racing thoughts, his anxiety and his despair. It was like he had been lifted—if for only a moment—from that terrible, griping and debilitating fear of the unknown… the fear of the past, the fear of whether or not his soul could ever be saved.

But now morning was here—and Rochelle and Coach were awake, wandering about the small home they had holed up, exchanging quiet looks with each other that suggested that maybe they had heard a little more than Ellis would have preferred for them to know. But… the more Ellis thought of it, the more he realized that he didn't really mind. He would have rather his terrible selfish acts had been only for Nick's ears, but if it meant they had to of heard it too… well, Ellis could live with that. Because knowing that Nick had heard it—had acknowledged it—and seemingly forgave him for that… well, for now, that was all that mattered. He wasn't exactly sure why that mattered, but it did.

It must be something about Nick… this need to have his approval, to have those piercing green eyes watching him, seemingly on him and only on him—like they were now. Studying him—blatantly.  Ellis pretended to not notice, but he couldn't help but smile every time he caught the older man looking to him.

"Ellis, baby, here's some ammo," Rochelle said quietly, pressing the few precious packs into his hand. "I found them in the bedroom over there… there's not a lot of supplies here, but we'll make do. You need it more than anyone else."

"Oh, um... thanks, Ro." Ellis pocketed it. Again—those piercing greens caught Ellis attention and he glanced slyly at the conman. Nick's eyes were no longer focused on him—but Rochelle. He had an almost… jealous scowl? That was… interesting. Ellis couldn't help himself but to grin.

"All right, my friend," Coach said, gesturing towards the table blocking the exit. He needn't say any more. It was time to leave. And it was a god damn shame too. He was just starting to coax his mind back from the abyss.

Nick moved to help the big man move the few precious pieces of furniture from the door and then the conman cautiously cracked open the door. After a tense moment he opened it enough to stretch his head out and get a better look. With a shrug he pushed the door opened all the way.

Hiking up their weapons and supplies the four made their way warily outside.

It was barely sunrise, but already the day looked bleak. As they moved through the badly broken down village it was becoming all the more obvious that they were probably the only survivors for miles—states, maybe. Everything about the village was weathered and ruined; from the rotting boards of the shacks, to the very ground they walked on. The swamp had greedily consumed everything it could without even a hint of mercy.

Maybe at one time this village's small parlor equipped with a jukebox may have turned this place into a lively and friendly joint… but that was definitely not the case anymore. The shelves were barren, the floor strewn with days old papers and well—the lights were far gone—consumed by the thick disease that was now their current world.

They crept through the village—ears and eyes on high alert. It was only occasionally that they came across a meandering Infected, and they took it out with ease—mercy killing the poor thing usually before it even had the chance to register potential prey had walked right onto it.

But, silence. It was unnerving. The only sound now was the sound of their feet creaking across the water worn planks. Who the hell would live like this? Guess no one, not anymore. Had these people even been happy here? It was hard to tell. Just maybe… maybe at one time this place could have been a tourist attraction, filled with the most bright-eyed, smiling locals one could have ever hoped to dream of. But not anymore… just dead eyed, slack-jawed, horrible Infected. Life was but a distant memory now.

But then the silence was broken—a subtle little noise—a soft growl in the bushes. It was a familiar sound, an unnerving sound. The four immediately went on guard—guns rising readily—eyes searching unremittingly. But the Hunter was not ready to pounce yet—no, that was the sad truth about this particular Infected. It was brilliant. Too brilliant. It would wait for one of them to wander a little too far, or to duck into a building without a mate and that was when it would strike. The bastard was stalking them, waiting for an opportunity to strike. Like it genuinely enjoyed the hunt. They were nothing more than pretty prey to it. And it would be damned to lose the chance to gut them and get its fill on their pulsating organs. It would be patient. And that patience, really, was the most terrifying thing about it.

Whenever its low maddening growl emitted, Ellis could feel a prickle of anticipation. His muscles would tense and he found his heart thundering in this throat, making it hard to swallow and instinctively his eyes went to first Nick, then Rochelle and finally Coach. It was as though that little noise compelled him to search out his friends—to make sure one hadn't wandered too far—make sure he could be there to save them if the time came—he couldn't handle losing any of them. But God… each time his eyes jolted about desperately to find each of them, it was as though the Hunter knew someone was being diligent . And the growls would slowly subside and disappear all together. It was patient… horribly so.

"Hey, let's go through those houses up there," Coach offered. "There's too much swamp here." And it was true. They had been mucking through the god-awful water for what had to have been an hour now and it was taxing them of energy they had no business wasting. The houses would provide a solid ground and an advantage point. It was the best option—really, the only logical one. They'd be mad to not take up the suggestion.

They sloshed noisily across the water until reaching the first plank of offered security. In and of itself it wasn't very comforting—especially the way it groaned and sagged under their weight. But it was good to get their feet out of that diseased water. It was probably more startling to stumble over a half-submerged rotting corpse than turn a corner to find a blinking Infected standing about.

Call him paranoid, but maybe Ellis was a little more cautious of the swamps because he knew what lay underneath that surface. Not just unforeseen dips and muck, but snaking little alligators that had no problem nipping off a piece of flesh. Then again…they might be too full—having had hundreds of dead bodies sprawled though the water for their picking. But, maybe the alligators were too smart, too damn logical to feast on such filth.

Creak. Creak. Each time their feet fell the floor moved under them, whimpering, almost begging for them to continue onward and ease its burden. They complied—they hadn't the desire to stop here. God, never not here. It was too damn unsettling. The silence—were swamps usually silent? Wasn't there life usually here?

And then—

"Well… shit." Coach slung his gun over his shoulder, hands coming to rest on his hips as he eyed the lever that would presumably lower a plank to the next stretch of homes. "This… doesn't look good." He glanced over his shoulder at his companions, frowning deeply. "I think we're going to have to lower this to keep going, my friends."

Ellis swallowed thickly before taking a moment to examine the device. It was an old thing, badly rusted with gears that had suffered years of neglect. It probably had been in bad shape before the Infection.

The young man took a moment to run his hands across the machine, eyes following the flow of wires and machinery. It was definitely meant to lower a small bridge—but the consequence of lowering it would probably be loud. Maybe too loud.

He worried his lips. "I don' know 'bout this guys… I think it's gonna be real loud."

"Yeah, but we haven't seen anything for a long time," Rochelle offered, shrugging. "Maybe there's no one around to hear it."

Maybe… maybe not. Could they risk it? Ellis supposed they'd have to. He straightened, still eyeing the lever with a certain sense of anxiety. But then Nick rested his hand on his shoulder and the mechanic jumped slightly, turning to meet the others gaze evenly. The doubt lingered, but lifted considerably.

"So? Just pull it?" the conman asked. "Or is there something special to it?"

"Naw… I think it's as simple as it looks."

"Right. So what are we waiting for?"

Coach cracked his knuckles, rolling his neck and shrugging his shoulders. "I guess I'll do the honors." And it was probably a good thing it was him. At first the thing wouldn't budge, not even a little, but with great effort the former football player managed to shift the lever forward. Immediately a low groan came from the machine as the rusted wheels turned and whined, sending a rumble of shameless loudness that—quite literally—echoed all around them. And that, considering the circumstances, was a death sentence.

And of course, it didn't seem like it—not at first, at least. Over the sound of the raging machine it was quite hard to hear anything—even each other. Coach was yelling something—but it was nearly impossible. Nearly impossible too—

Something grabbed hold of Ellis' leg and with a cry he tried to jerk away—but the Infected that held on to him simply bashed carelessly against the walkway without any inclination that it was going to let go any time soon. And so, a bullet to the face—courtesy of Nicolas—encouraged it to release its grip for good.

But that wasn't the last of it. Oh no, quite the contrary.

The swamp around them seemed to come alive, arms and hands, teeth and claws rose from the planks below them and began to grab and tear at them. Bullets tore into the most of them—sending skulls exploding in a brilliance of crimson and brains. Grasping hands tore away before they had a chance to touch, but still… they came. Where had they all been? It was like the fucking bastards had just been waiting for a god damn dinner bell—

With a sudden jerk Nick was pulled backwards into the room—he twisted about, trying hard to free himself from the slimy flesh that had caught him on one arm, but the Smoker knocked him off balance. His gun slipped from his fingers and he tried to right himself again—but the powerful tongue knocked him off his feet. He scrambled, trying to free himself as he was pulled across the unforgiving floor but—

Ellis leaped after the conman immediately and before he was dragged more than a few feet shoved the barrel of his shotgun against the Smoker's tongue and fired. The noise the Infected made was a shriek of pure agony—at least some of them felt pain still—it backpedaled, rotting hands reaching up to touch helplessly at its disfigured appendage. Oddly enough, it gave the advancing mechanic what could have passed as a terrified stare. Another two rounds came from the young man. The first left a gaping hole in the Smoker's shoulder and the next tore its throat apart, leaving a puff of smoke exploding through the air like a smoke bomb.

Choking and coughing, Ellis blindly reached down for Nick, pulling him to his feet.

"Thanks, kid," Nick said. He might've been grinning, but it was hard to tell in the veil of dirty smoke. Ellis would like to think the conman was though… grinning at him. Ellis smirked at the thought—but—

"Rochelle? Rochelle!" Coach was screaming over and over—how they heard him was a miracle, really. The two men scrambled back to their companion. The older man looked to them, "I don't know…don't know where she—where she—"

The way the Infected were pooling around a particular spot, however, gave it away. Just below them—underneath the shack now—was a congregation of raging Infected, tearing and pulling something apart. That something—all three of them—knew exactly what it was.

Name's Rochelle, you? Smile—that was the first thing he remembered about her. She grinned at him despite the heaviness of the world on their shoulders and he appreciated that about her.

Ellis heaved himself off the side of the plank right into the water, bowling over the group of Infected and sent them stumbling. He crashed into the swamp water, shotgun lost somewhere in his leap of fate. The swamp sucked at his hands and knees but he struggled from it, reaching for the pistols at his hips. On one knee now he fired into the mauling group.

Look, the big man upstairs isn't ready to take you yet, let's get you on your feet. She had pulled him to his feet after he had tripped up on a horde attracted by bile—and despite the fact that he was covered in bloody bites and scratches he had felt a little better. She had been right, not time yet. That gentle reassurance had been enough at the time to keep him going.

But, it's not your time either, Ro. Come on, girl. Hang in there.

As the Infected fell away—more rapidly now as the directed fire of Nick and Coach robbed more lives—there was a sudden and terrible realization.

Patience, oh, patience how you are so wonderful, so delectable and sweet. So satisfying and so terrible.

Gee, my bedroom use to be painted like this… baby blue, I think maybe my dad wanted a boy. Hands on hips she had laughed at the atrocity that was a saferoom in the tunnel of love back at Whispering Oaks. Ellis had laughed heartily at this—they all had—maybe because it was just because at this point in time, gender had lost any real meaning. She held herself well in a fight—there was no extra babying for her, no carrying her things when she got tired, no favoring her. She was one of the boys, just like everyone else. She may have a sense of humor that was hard to follow sometimes—especially when her jokes turned a little more venomous than maybe they should when she spoke about Nick—but maybe that was just her way of coping…

The Hunter's hand fell again, tearing open Rochelle's body with gleefulness not so unlike a child tearing open a gift at Christmas, before coming back down to take hold of her intestines, unwinding it from her insides in a long rope and tossing it over its shoulder. Its teeth descended, biting into her neck, ripping away a hunk of flesh. It threw its head back, mouth dropping open to swallow the piece hole. It moved to bite into her again but Ellis' aim was true. It shattered the Hunter's left wrist, bullet marks working up its arm, shoulder, into its neck and then finally its head. It toppled away lifelessly.

He was screaming—that much he was sure of. Whether or not they were really any words he wasn't exactly sure. He clawed his way across the water and the rest of the Infected about him shuddered under heavy fire before collapsing into death all around him.

"Rochelle!" Coach called—Ellis could hear him splashing behind him, followed by another noise that must've been Nick coming too. But god damn... god damn it…

Ellis fumbled, pulling the young woman from the water and cradling her. Her eyes were unfocused, blinking, and she made no noise—probably couldn't from the way her throat had been mauled. Her insides were spilling all about her, stretching farther than Ellis would have even thought was possible. And then her hand twitched, fingers creeping slowly to touch at the wound, eyes trying to focus on the hole—like she couldn't quite believe what had just happened… This isn't… this isn't what was…

Sobbing Ellis tried to push the escaping organs back into place, weeping out an apology that was wordless, but genuine. But no matter how hard he tried to fix her, it never seemed to get better. The blood was endless—pulsating weakly as her heart failed—but it colored the water around them a terrible red regardless.

"Ellis… Ellis, stop," Nick whispered hoarsely, hands coming to rest on the mechanic's shoulders. Ellis shook his head fiercely, again trying to stifle bleeding that was no longer there—Rochelle had bled out long ago. "Ellis, she's gone… Come on."

No, no, no. Not another person… I can't lose another friend. God, please, no.

He pawed at her corpse—her lifeless eyes already cloudy with death—her kindness gone. That big sister attitude he had become so accustomed too—had taken for granted—was no longer present. And he wept, feeling guilty, powerless—once again—to save someone dear to him.

His mind, probably to save him, blurred into nothingness.

Had it not been for Nick and Coach practically carrying him, Ellis wouldn't have moved an inch. He simply couldn't—it was almost like he had fallen asleep… well, not quite. He could still hear everything, but he couldn't see a damn thing. Everything was black as a moonless night. He couldn't feel anything, but he could hear it. He could hear Nick's voice, reassuring him over and over, could hear Coach's soft weeping, but everything else was lost to him.

Oh, shit… I think I grabbed diet Cola… we should get outta here before he notices. The four had laughed, shoving the stupid cola through the slot and taking off as soon as the man had exploded the barricade. Whether it had been true or not, it had provided them all with a moment of child-like disobedience that had let them recover their sanity—if only for a minute.

Oh, Ellis! I'm not laughing, I'm not, I'm not laughing! That damn sewer that was beyond disgusting—but at least she had laughed at his attempts to distract them from the filth they waded through. Nick had gone white and refused to comment—Coach seemed more appalled than anything, but Ro… Ro had at least laughed. Maybe that was the big sister aspect that he had liked so much about her.

Hey Ellis, I hear there's a stock car museum in New Orleans! Even if it hadn't been true, it had been enough to send a rush of renewed motivation through him. She had tried… tried so damn hard to give them some hope… and how had he repaid her?  By letting her meet such a terrible, fucking terrible, death. Had only he wasn't so clouded with his own misery, so fucking deep within his own despair...  maybe, just maybe, he could have been there. Could have saved her.

And then, thought left him and everything disappeared into that darkness.

Chapter 5

When panic grips your body and your heart's a hummingbird,
Raven thoughts blacken your mind until you're breathing in reverse.
And all your friends and sedatives mean well, but make it worse.
Every reassurance just magnifies the doubt,
You better find yourself a place to level out.

The moment they reached a new safe haven, Nick tore the door opened and ushered Coach and Ellis inside. The former collapsed against the wall almost immediately and it was just so god damn unsettling to see Coach break down completely. He was weeping so hard that the sound was almost animalistic. It was frightening. But was worse, fuck, so much worse, was how completely unresponsive Ellis had become.

One arm still hooked around Ellis' waist, the conman shuffled a little further to set the mechanic down gently against the wall. Ellis' arm slipped away from him, both hands sliding down into his lap, face blank, mouth slightly slack, eyes… so fucking gone. Just gone.

Nick quickly made his way back to the door, pulling it closed and then frantically began to pile anything he could to secure it. It was harder than usual and took more time than he would have liked, but being the only one still able to function left him without any options but to secure the door on his own. The last box he stacked was a heavy bastard, but that was probably a good thing. It was just one more barricade that would keep those fucking Infected out of their god damn safe room.

Fingers still lingering on the box, Nick hesitated. It would be silly to keep piling more objects here—and really, there weren't any left anyways. But now that he was done… that meant he had two unstable people to have to try and bring back. Nick cleared his throat, feeling a tightness there that made his eyes water painfully.

Shit… they were really fucked up now, weren't they?

Nick turned slowly, finding Coach's weeping form first. It was still… so unsettling to see that big strong man reduced to such a state. If Nick weren't so sure that they'd all be screwed he'd probably may have given into the sadness griping his heart too... But he couldn't. It was obvious he was the only one left with enough sense to keep them alive.

"Hey…"Nick said quietly, shuffling to the older man."I'm… I'm real sorry, Coach…" What was he apologizing for? It wasn't like it was his fault… but, still. He did feel sorry for the man. Coach's response was nothing more than another heartbroken sob. He had never been any good at this whole 'comforting' thing… Maybe he should just let Coach get it out of his system…

"Girl's gone," Coach choked out. He mopped the tears from his eyes with one hand and shook his head. He let out another sob."I can't believe she's gone. I really thought we'd all make it."

"Yeah…" Nick shuffled a little closer, crouching down. "Are you going to be all right?"
Coach's gaze lifted—bloodshot eyes that were so frighteningly full of pain. "Y-Yeah… Yeah, but… I just…"

"It's all right, Coach." Nick offered the man a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Take your time… Just, remember… We still got each other."

Coach's face twisted with emotion and he nodded, gripping Nick's arm firmly. "Yeah, thanks Nick. But…" He nodded solemnly to the unmoving mechanic nearby. "I think Ellis needs you a little more."

"Yeah…" Nick agreed. "Yeah, all right…"

Nick stood, eyes turning now to the silent young man. Shit… the kid was… gone. There was no sign at all that… Nick's hands curled into fists at his sides and he moved before Ellis.

"Hey… Kid. Come on." No response. Nick knelt before the other, leaning forward and studying those dead eyes. "Hey… Ellis?" No answer. Nick swallowed thickly, fighting to shove away at the helplessness suffocating his heart. Both of his hands rose, fingertips brushing across Ellis' cheeks."Hey, I'm here, Overalls… It's okay." There wasn't even a flickering of life there.

Nick inhaled slowly, fingers tracing across Ellis' features gently, trying as hard as he could to give a sense of calmness and security. Maybe that would shake the kid awake. Each brush of his fingers became a little more confident, maybe more urgent—tracing down the man's face, along his jaw, under his eyes and even against his lips. But still…there was no response.

Nick's hands fell away—only to take both of Ellis' and again he touched those hands reassuringly, maybe obsessively. Trying so fucking hard to coax something out of the young man. But still… not a fucking thing changed. Nothing.

"Come on, Ellis," Nick whispered quietly, voice trembling. "You've gatta snap out of this, kid. Come on. Ellis…? Hey, it's all right… I'm here for you…" Silence.

Nick let out a shaking breath, sitting back on his heels. He studied the other quietly, chewing at his lip worriedly… but Christ… he was more than worried. Terrified, actually. He had never seen anyone so fucking lost before. If he had thought Ellis was bad before… Nick shuddered, head dropping helplessly. Fuck… this… this wasn't… This can't be happening.

The conman lifted one of Ellis' hands to his lips, kissing at those bruised knuckles over and over, placing himself in the man's hands continuously, faithfully, unquestioningly. But each time his lips met that hand, Nick felt something cracking inside of him. That lack of acknowledgement... of acceptance... It was unbearable.  Unable to help himself... he began to cry.

Now... why exactly was he doing all of this? It was hard to admit... but the kid had grown on him. Every little grin he gave, all those stupid stories he told, even his annoying optimism... they had all seriously, honestly, without any doubt... become things he had come to appreciate, love even, from the mechanic. And now... there was nothing left. The kid was lost. Had fucking lost his mind! It was gone! There wasn't anything left and there was not a fucking god damn thing he could do about it.

Nick pressed Ellis' hand clutched so tightly between his own to his forehead, teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurt. Breathing was becoming nearly impossible with each new sob that caught in his throat. He never would have thought he could care so much about anyone. Especially Ellis... but maybe the kid just had that cliché southern charm... Maybe that was what had captured him, consumed him... Made him fall so fucking hard and so fast for him. God damn it... God fucking damn it. If only he had acted on these feelings earlier... instead of calculating the kid like a fucking poker game. When would it be best to play his hand on the man?. After they had gotten out of all of this. That's when he had told himself he would spill everything. But, fuck, now he had no chance at that. Fuck the odds... fuck them. Fuck them.

For the first time in adult life, first time ever, maybe because he was so desperate... Nick began to pray. Prayed to a God he never believed in and never would. But still... if there was that far-fetched possibility, that slim chance someone was listening, he'd give up own  integrity for that long shot.

Please, just have mercy and bring that bright-eyed kid back. And if that's not  possible, then just bring something back. I'll do anything to make him better. I'll do fucking anything. I'll give my whole self, my heart, my soul, everything I am, to make him better. I swear to you, I promise you, if you give me this chance... I swear, I would die for him.

Twitch. Twitch. Ellis' hand in his moved ever so slightly—it was the first movement he had made. Nick drew Ellis' hand into his chest and leaned forward, "Ellis, hey? It's Nick... Ellis?"
Ellis blinked once, twice... a third time. His head shifted slightly one way and then the other, searching about wordlessly. The mechanic swallowed thickly and his free hand came out, pawing at the space between them clumsily until finding their clutching hands.

"Nick...?"

"Yeah... Ellis, it's me... Are... are you all right?" Stupid question. It was obvious that Ellis was far from all right. Ellis' eyes narrowed, brow furrowing, like he was trying to process the question...

"Nick... I can't see."

Can't—can't see? Wait what? Nick blinked. "You... you can't see? Anything?"

"No..." Ellis didn't sound afraid at all. He just kept blinking blankly, a slight frown on his lips. "Nick... Nick were you cryin'?"

Nick shifted slightly, looking away and clearing his throat. He would have reached up to wipe the wetness from his cheeks had Ellis not claimed both of his hands... but he realized that it didn't really matter anyways—not just because Ellis apparently couldn't see—but because he would tell Ellis anything.

"Yeah... Yeah I was."

Ellis breath hitched noticeably and his fingers clutched Nick's hands a little tighter. "I heard it, Nick... But I didn't wanna come back. I really didn't... But I couldn't stand ta hear ya... couldn't... I'm sorry."

"Hey, you've got nothing to be sorry for. I'm just glad you're... you're back." Nick struggled for words. "Back" really didn't seem like the right word. Ellis was back but his voice was so distant, his eyes unseeing... it was like only a part of him was here. Like his major core, his emotions, his true self, was somewhere far away.

Ellis' voice drew low, "Where's Coach?"

"He's right over there," Nick gestured with his head, but then mentally smacked himself as he realized Ellis couldn't see that. "He's in the corner of the room. He's okay."

"...An' Rochelle?"

Nick's face fell and that burning in his throat returned. He blinked, "She's..." He hesitated. Would telling him cause Ellis to retreat again...? Should he lie...? If he did, how long could he keep that lie up...?

"...Nick?"

"She's gone, Ellis. I'm sorry."Ellis' head dipped slowly and he blinked once, mouth parting slightly as though he were going to speak, but he said nothing. "Ellis." Nick clutched the other's hands tightly. "Ellis, stay with me, kid. Listen to me. Everything's going to be all right."

"No, Nick. It's not. I'm losin' everyhin'. One by one. Everythin' tha' I love is bein' taken from me. I can't... I can't handle it. You'll be next, Nick... An' I can't... I can't handle tha'."

"No. Ellis, I'm not going anywhere. All right? I promise you. I'm not going fucking anywhere." Nick's hand released Ellis' only so they could reach out and take the younger man's face firmly. "Are you listening to me, Overalls? I'm not going anywhere. We're going to get through this together. You, me and Coach. We're all gonna fucking get out of this together. All right?"

"Nick... don' make promises ya can't keep."

Nick felt his stomach twist and he gnashed his teeth so hard he was sure he just chipped a tooth. He felt a rage over take him—or maybe it was frustration. "You don't know that. You don't fucking know that. And I'm not letting you give up. You fucking got that? So either you help me help you, or it's gonna be one long fucking trip as I drag your ass to New Orleans."

"Nick... listen... there's nothi--"

"No," Nick hissed, shaking Ellis firmly. "You listen. I'm not fucking leaving you and you're not giving up. You understand me? This is not over."

Ellis blinked, and although his face was emotionless, tears were tracing his cheeks in a steady flow. Nick shifted, thumbs drawing across those cheeks to brush at that warm wetness. Then Nick sighed quietly, hands dropping to pull Ellis against him. Ellis didn't struggle, nor did he react—except for a soft sigh as he rested his head to Nick's shoulder. Nick held him close, jaw clenched, arms possessive as they held him tight.

I won't let you give up. Because I know you'd never let me.

~*~

Darkness. It was everywhere. Like a thick veil of nothingness. Like a heavy shroud of despair, of loneliness... of death and destruction. Of something he didn't want. Couldn't stand. Couldn't stand to live with. Was this his soul? Had it turned black? It must've. A life for a life... a soul for a soul. He had taken so many souls now... that there had to be nothing left of his. Nothing left to be saved, or nurtured, brought back and loved. It was gone... gone, gone, gone... Oh, how it was so gone.

And this nothingness... it would continue to consume, to strengthen its bond with his mind, to snuff out the rest of his thoughts. To steal his identity and drown him until his last breath choked on this darkness and killed him. There is no such thing as redemption, no such thing as forgiveness, no such thing. No such thing. No such thing. You are beyond saving, beyond having worth. You are nothing. You have nothing. You will become nothing.

But that's not true... is it?

Ellis felt himself twitch and he tried so hard to open his eyes, but they were so heavy—but not with sleep. He could feel everything around him—he felt a warmth... A strangely odd, but comforting, warmth. What was that? He wanted so badly to open his eyes to find out... but he couldn't.

Shh, hush, hush. Keep them closed. Darkness is your haven, your sanctuary, your solution. Don't open them, the world outside is unkind. It was destroy you. Do you want it to? Do you want to see him die? If you open your eyes he will die.

But if I don't open them, he'll die. If I keep them closed he'll just struggle to save me. He'll lose himself trying to save me... I can't do that... not to him. Not after what he's done for me.

Do you want to watch him die?

He won't, he won't... He promised.

Promises are nothing but fancy lies. Pretty words with no truth. Just lies. Promises are lies.

But I trust him.

Promises are lies.

I trust him! He wouldn't lie.

Your promises are lies. Oh, Ma, I promise I'll protect you! I'll protect you, I promise. I'll make sure you'll be okay!

No, no, no! Ellis' hands clutched and tore at his hair and he shook his head, trying to deny the familiar words. As he wept images returned to him. He was standing with his mother, she was looking so scared but trying to hide it as she fixed dinner. But her hand shook so badly that she  poured way too much seasoning into the frying pan. That was when he had promised her—lied to her—that everything would be all right. That he'd protect her. That everything would be all right. The image collapsed onto itself before expanding into the dark and cold room of his mother's bedroom. It had never been so dark and cold... but now it was nothing but. Her sallow and festering corpse lay sprawled on the floor—a bullet between her eyes had ended her life. A life that he had promised to save.

Promise are lies, lies are promises. The one thing you can count on is lies. You will always lie and people will always lie to you. You'll always be lied to.

Can't... can't... can't... No. I can't. I have... I have to try... Have to...

Promises are lies!

NO!

Lies, lies, lies~! You are a lie!

He's not a lie!

Mr. Gamblin' man ain't no liar. You're sooo right. I bet he's never cheated a person in his entire life! He's a good upright citizen. Uhhuh, you bet! Such a smooth tongue, sweet words, whispers of lies that are so pretty you want them to be truth.

Ellis hesitated, fingers loosening in his hair slightly. Yes... Nick was a conman... He was probably great at lying... but why would he lie about this? Why would he want to save him so badly...? What was the point? An extra hand? Another person to shoot zombies off, to watch his back? Certainly... certainly that was the reason... Had to be the reason... Why else? By morning... The lie would be evident. His sight was gone. He was of no use, simply a burden to the team.

Exactly. You will awake to find no one.

In the darkness he could almost feel the smile of his insanity, that flash of a grin that was so terribly heavy on his mind. It was cold... he was so cold...

But it was also so warm. Like... something was holding onto him... What is that? What is that... where are you?

You know who I am.

That voice was so familiar.

I do know you... Are you the one holding me tight?

I will never let you fall.

Are you sure? How can you be so sure?

Because I promised.

But promises are lies, Nick.

There was silence for only a moment until;

Open your eyes, and we'll see who's lying.

Ellis jerked awake, clutching at the body holding him close. When he blinked the world was blurry, dark and spotting with color. He couldn't quite see, but he could feel everything. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest, his lip trembling, the tears in his eyes, how badly it hurt to breathe... but most of all he felt the warmth. The warmth of someone holding him so close.

Ellis tilted his head back, trying hard to focus. He didn't need to be able to see to know that it was Nick that held him.

If all promises are lies, then why are you still here?

Chapter Six

Why won't anyone just close their eyes?
Could it hurt them to rest a while?
Do they need their friends to be lovers?
Or their lover to be a friend?

He couldn't fall asleep after that... Nah, sleeping was no longer an option anymore. Maybe not forever. Could he last forever without sleep? Probably not. Would he try? Yeah... seemed no other option. Sleep was more confusing than being awake. More frightening even. It was like his heart, soul and mind were at all out war in his sleep and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. At least while awake he his mind was numb, his body foreign... and his soul? Might be nonexistent while awake. Like it retreated to the darkness of his mind and heart, just waiting, waiting... or maybe gone... rereated for good. Thrown up the white flag of defeat and quietly retired from the battlefield for good.

Hush, quiet. Don't think. All you can do his breathe and listen. Feel that warmth all around you. Touch that warmth, that person, that one thing that chains you down to this world.

Ellis' fingers tentatively reached up to touch Nick's chest, brushing lightly as they found their way to the man's chin. Fingertips gently touched the conman's face, prickles of sensation tingling against them as he explored that rough stubble, brushed against those surprisingly soft lips.

Why are you still here? What makes you stay? Why won't you just walk away? Curious... you're so curious. Never would have thought you'd be someone who tried so hard to save something... You've always acted so selfish, so cold and so distant. So what does this mean? Tell me your secrets... What is it you want?

"Enjoying yourself?" Nick's voice was practically a purr.

A rush of heat turned Ellis' cheeks crimson and he drew his hand away. Of course he was awake... stupid... so stupid. So god damn--

Now it was Nick's turn to return the affectionate touch. The conman's hands rose to find Ellis' hair and he threaded the curls gently between his hands. Ellis blinked and his sightless eyes searched the darkness for the conman. He wondered how Nick looked now... Was he smiling? Knowing him... probably smirking. That endearing smirk that Ellis always found his eyes lingering on longer than they probably should...


Hands still caressing gently, Nick spoke; "Feeling any better?"

He'd be lying if he said no. For some reason the moment those hands had found him, it was as though for a moment all of the pain was gone. All the unnerving thoughts and all the doubts just melted away under those gentle hands.

Ellis' lips parted slightly and he blinked once. "I... still can't see if tha's wha' ya mean..."

"Figured as much... Didn't think you'd be one so bold to molest me in front of Coach." To Ellis' right he could hear Coach cough loudly with embarrassment and Ellis turned a shade or two darker. "I meant in general... Are you going to be all right?"

Ellis didn't trust himself to speak. He shrugged slightly, offering what little of a smile he could. "Nick... We all know tha' this'll be impossible with me like--"

"All right, on your feet." Nick shifted forward and climbed to his feet. He carefully helped Ellis up. "So I've been thinking about this. Since giving you a gun isn't very bright, you're going to have to carry some things. Think you can manage that?"

"Yeah, but--"

"All right, good. I'll lead you and Coach'll follow us. When things get bad we'll tell you to get down. Just stay low and we'll take care of the rest until things clear out. It'll be slow work, but it's the best we can do."

"Yeah, but, if ya would jus'--"

"Here, I'm going to load you up on some ammo, so just stay still for a second. Coach?"

The big man moved over and together the two began to load Ellis with supplies. Most of it was ammo— and it wasn't a lot. In reality it wasn't much more than what Ellis was use to carrying anyways. Ellis stood mutely, blinking widely, mouth moving with wordlessly.

"All right, and there were a few bits of blankets in here. Coach managed to make it into a sorta backpack sling... So hold still a minute..." Nick slipped it over Ellis' shoulder and adjusted it on the young man's back. "Too heavy?"

"Nah, it's fine, but--"

"All right." Then, to Ellis' surprise he found his hand in Nick's. "Hang on tight, kid. I'll try to go slow so mind your feet."

Protests ignored Nick lead the young man from the security of their safe room. Ellis couldn't help but wonder. Who really was the blind one here? Can't you see? This will end only in death... We are marching to our death, hand in hand...

And despite this realization, Ellis couldn't find himself wanting death any other way.

~*~

Nick hadn't been lying when he said it would be slow work. And although they moved with about as much grace as a two-legged dog they were still making progress. The terrain, however, wasn't any help. But Ellis did notice that for the most part his feet stayed dry. He wasn't sure if it was because the were on the outskirts of the swamp now, or because Nick was taking extra precautions to steer them clear of it. Whatever the reasons, Ellis was glad to be out of it. He was perfectly content to never step foot in another swamp again for the rest of his life.

"Hey, Overalls." Nick's voice was one of concern as they came to a slow stop. "There's a ladder here... All right? It's not too big and it's gonna go straight onto a platform. Coach'll go first, then you, and I'll follow. All right?"

"Yeah... all right." A moment later Nick moved behind him and the conman guided Ellis' hands forward until they found the cold steel. Ellis gripped it tightly, feeling prickles of fear and anxiety riddling his body. It's just as stupid ladder... Stop being such a pansy.

"Take your time," Nick said quietly, hand brushing across Ellis' shoulder. "We got your back."

Ellis felt a different prickle of sensation override his fears and confidently he ascended. The mechanic took each step carefully but as quickly as he could and when he reached the top Coach helped him crawl onto the platform. After an agonizing wait Nick's hand had found his again.

"Careful, careful, there's a step here." Nick guided Ellis forward faithfully over the step and Ellis could tell that they were now inside of a home from the way the floor creaked under him. But then there was a long silence. Ellis felt his heart pound. "All right... The only way we're getting down from here is by jumping to the first floor. I'll go first and clear everything out. Then you'll jump down next, Ellis. Hey, don't look like that, I'll catch you."

For some reason, Ellis couldn't stop grinning—at least, until Nick's hand left his again. There were a few gunshots followed by a long silence.

"All right, boy, Imma take you to the edge of the drop, all right?" Coach gently coaxed the young man forward. "Jus' slide off the edge here and Nick'll be waiting for you. I'll be right behind ya."

For some reason Ellis felt his heart thundering in his chest. It probably had a great deal to do with jumping blindly into some hole of unknown depth. But... then again, wasn't Nick waiting for him? Ellis shrugged mentally before sitting down, feet searching for the end of the hole until he scooted over, legs dangling.

"Uh... Nick?"

"Yep," Nick's voice rose from below. "I'm still here. Come on, I gotcha."

Ellis took in a deep breath before he slid the rest of the way off.

He fell directly into Nick's arms but the impact knocked the conman off his feet and the two landed hard on the floor—but Ellis couldn't really complain. It didn't really hurt, but Nick was holding him so tightly that that almost hurt. He shifted against the conman, hands coming to either side of the man and he tried to push himself onto his knees but Nick still wasn't letting go.

"Uh... Nick, you okay?" Nick, however, was laughing too hard to answer. "Nick..?"More laughter—and beside him Ellis could hear Coach grunt as he landed down beside them. After a moment Ellis began to chuckle too. "Man, did I knock some screws loose or somethin'?"

"Nah, I'm fine. But next time you jump, try not to flail so much. It made catching you harder than it should have been."

"Yeah... but ya still caught me." Had his voice just gone low and suggest? God damn, it sure had. If he could see, he probably would have enjoyed the look Nick was now giving him. Shame his sight had to abandon him. He really would've loved to see it. Nick sat up, untangling himself from the other before he got them both to their feet. "So... where are we?" Ellis asked quietly.

"Some mansion," Coach offered. "Looks fancy. And big. We better start looking for supplies."

"From the looks of it, there's not many Infected in here. Whoever lived here seemed to take the time to board up as much as they could." Nick snorted. "Bet they thought they'd be coming back." The conman glanced about until reaching over to take Ellis' hand firmly. "All right, let's check it out."

They wandered around the house for what had to of been a good hour. Several flights of stairs and ridiculously long hallways later, Nick and Coach seemed satisfied that they had checked every nook and cranny of the ginormous home.

"It's still light out," Coach said. "I see there's a courtyard outside. Maybe we should go look through it? I..." Coach squinted hard as he stared hard into the courtyard. "I think I see a radio down there."

"Where?" Nick asked, moving beside the older man. Ellis shuffled against Nick's back (probably closer than he needed to be, but Nick didn't complain). Coach pointed. "Right, yeah. By the gate. I see it. Do you think it's still on?"

"Can't hurt to take a look. It's not too far." Coach glanced slowly to Ellis then to Nick. "I'll go down there and check it out. I'm getting the rifle out, Ellis," Coach said. He pulled the weapon from the make-shift backpack. He pressed it into Nick's chest. "You got a good shot, boy. Stay with the kid and watch my ass for me."

"Yeah..." Nick adjusted the gun in his hands, frowning down at it. "Yeah, all right. I can do that. Good luck, Coach."

Coach nodded once before disappearing back through the balcony door.

"I need my hand here for a bit, Ellis." Nick said quietly. Ellis reluctantly let him go. The conman quietly checked the hunting rifle before leaning against the railing. He scoped across the yard, picking off a few wandering Infected. Behind him, Ellis had scooted close enough to let his hand rest lightly against the conman's hip.

It wasn't much longer before Coach came jogging out into the courtyard. He looked one way then the next before hurrying down the courtyard to the radio.

"Do ya think anyone's gonna answer, Nick?"

"Don't know," Nick said, shrugging. "Can't hurt to hope."

"What if no one replies?"

"Then I guess we keep going."

"...How long do ya think we can keep this up?"

Nick sighed quietly, before glancing back to the young man. "As long as we need to."

"What if tha' ain't enough?"

Nick frowned, returning his eye to the scope again and readjusted himself. He swept across the courtyard again but whatever Infected left seemed to not have noticed Coach. "Looks like Coach is talking to someone... He looks pretty excited... Now... what's he doing now? He's just..." Nick tilted his head slightly, frowning, "running... I wonder... why..."

But then the answer became very very obvious. The former menacing gate exploded in a shower of splinters, smoke and fire. The sound rocked the entire establishment and the oblivious Infected from before howled with rage, hands coming up to tear at their faces.

With a cry of surprise Ellis launched himself forward, clutching the other. "Wha' the fuck was tha', Nick?"

"Erm... looks like our ride's here." Nick slung the hunting rifle over his back before taking Ellis' hand. "Come on, Coach's coming to get us right now. And I'm sure every zombie within five miles heard that so let's get a move on quick."

Moving as fast as he could while leading an essential blind man, Nick dodged around the broken flooring and debris until reaching the stairway where Coach waited.

Coach was out of breath, but he was grinning. "There's a fisherman. He's pickin' us up down on the docks. We got a ride! We're gettin' the hell outta here! Come on, come on!"

"Yeah, all right, Coach. Easy." Nick turned to face Ellis and he took both of Ellis' shoulders firmly."All right, there's that shit load of stairs so just get on my back and I'll take you down them. We've gatta move quick. So I'm just going to carry you the rest of the way." Nick slipped the hunting rifle off his back before tossing it to Coach who was nearly bouncing up and down at the bottom of the stairs with excitement. "All right, one two, up you go."

With Ellis safely on his back the conman moved down the stairs. When he reached the bottom he took a moment to hike the young man a little higher onto his back. "We ready? Coach, watch our ass."

"Don't gattta tell me twice, brother. Let's move."

Running side by the side they made their way outside into the courtyard again. In the not-so-far-distance they could hear the sound of coming Infected—all enraged with curiosity. All ready to tear them apart, shove their nasty fingers inside of them and scoop out their life in greedy handfuls. That, however, wasn't something any of them wished to experience. And so they ran. Like hell.

Nick wouldn't have ever thought himself in good shape, but he found himself doing surprisingly well as he carried Ellis. Then again, it could have been the adrenaline. Well, whatever it was, it was doing a fabu-fucking-lous job. Any aches and pain he had been nursing along the way seemed to disappear with the thought that sanctuary awaited only yards away.

That was, at least, until the looming figure of a Tank stepped before them. Then he became all too aware of all the injures that were about to make getting out of this damn near impossible.

"Oh... you have got to be fucking kidding me," Nick breathed. Beside him Coach swore quietly.

"Wha' is it? Wha's wrong?"

"We've got a Tank, kid." Nick swallowed thickly. The conman backpedaled quickly, glancing about to make sure there weren't any Infected sneaking up behind them. "Coach get that molotov off my belt. We're gonna throw it and run. All right?"  His voice was shaking, nervous and obviously doubtful of the success of this half-assed planned. Coach gave him a side-ways glance, hands clutching his weapon in both hands. "Coach, do it already!"

The former football player tugged the molotov from Nick's hip and lit it.

"We'll charge it together. You go right I'll go left. Throw it and just run. All right? Just fucking run."

Together the two steeled their will and sprinted forward.

Now the Tank might not have been a smart thing, but it was definitely a huge thing. It's enormous body was almost enough to hinder their plan, but its outright surprise at being charged seemed to numb its brain. It pounded its fists into the ground, roaring with rage and shaking itself as though trying to reason why these men dared rush him. But then the molotov flew through the air—a beautiful thing of fire arching through the sky—and its stupid gaze followed it. It landed on the ground no more than a foot away and the ground exploded with fire—igniting everything in a fiery inferno, including said stupid gigantic zombie.

All Ellis could feel was each step Nick took, each desperate step that made his teeth clatter together and make his body bump painfully into Nick's. All Ellis could do was hold on tight and do his best to not slip off or throw the conman off balance. Around him the roar of the Tank's pained screams assaulted him, the screams of coming Infected, Coach's battle cry and gunfire... Then suddenly there was a painful searing hotness that choked his breath away and left his arms burning. What was worst was how Nick made the first real noise—a painful grunt and hiss. A sound that didn't at all sound good.

"Nick, are ya all right? Nick?"

The conman didn't answer but his gait changed considerably. He seemed hurt, whatever had just happened it hadn't been good. Nick was cussing a mantra of 'shit fuck' over and over and it may have been funny had it been under any other circumstance.

And then splash they were moving through water.

"Coach, Coach, that's him? Tell me to fucking God that's him."

"Gatta be, look at the mortar!"

Nick lurched below him and then suddenly they were falling forward, hard, right onto the surface of what had to be the boat Coach had promised. Ellis pushed himself onto his hands and knees, reaching out blindly until his hands found Nick's wet body.

"Nick? Nick are ya all right? What happened?"

Nick wheezed loudly beside him, before reaching out to take Ellis' frantically searching hands. "It's all right. Just... settle down. We're safe. Give me a second." Ellis shifted onto his knees impatiently, frowning. "Enough with that look, kid. We're safe. We got somewhere nice to—Oh, hello."

A man  approached them, cocking his shotgun before coming to a stop before the three men lying on the deck of his boat. "Ya boys Immune?"

"Well, we're not Infected." Coach said. "Thanks for getting us out of there, Virgil."

Virgil eyed Coach for one long moment, shrugged, and then slung his gun onto his shoulder. "It's jus' nice to have someone to talk to again. What's are y'all's names?"

"Well I'm Coach, white suit there is Nick, the kid is Ellis and--" Coach stopped himself, realizing that was one too many names he was about to offer. The big man blinked several times. "Ah, sorry... Just us three, I guess."

"All right, well. Welcome aboard. Where ya'll wanna go?"

"New Orleans." Coach shuffled to his feet, running his arm across his sweaty face. "Think you can get us there?"

"Don't have the gas for it, but if y'all don't mind jumpin' out to get some gas in a few day's we should make it." Virgil shifted onto his toes and then back onto his heels as he eyed the other two. "Ya'll are hurt. I got some medical supplies downstairs. Some beds and some food might do y'all some good. Ya'll look like hell. No offense."

"Yeah..." Coach chuckled absently, "Thanks, Virgil. We really appreciate."

"Jus' helpin' the fellow man." With a slight nod the man turned away. "I'll be in the wheelhouse. When y'all get settled come see me. We'll talk more 'bout where y'all are goin'." With an oddly optimistic skip to his step the weathered man left the deck.

"Nick," Ellis whispered. "He said you're hurt. What happened?"

"Just a little burn, that's all." Nick reached down to pull off his partly melted shoes. "Damn, I really liked those shoes too."

"That don't look too good, Nick," Coach said quietly. "You're gonna wanna get that cleaned up quick. Let me get you on your feet."

"Yeah, yeah, all right." With help from the other man Nick grudgingly got to his feet. "Come on Overalls, let's go cleaned up." He reached out for Ellis' shoulder and the other stood before finding the his hand.

Leaning on each other respectively, the trio limped their way inside the fishing vessel. Why it was they were still even alive was beyond Ellis' comprehension.

Chapter Seven
Jesus Christ, that's a pretty face.
The kind you'd find on someone that I could save.

"Jackpot." Nick breathed. He let go of Ellis hand to reach forward and greedily touch at the cramped, but Christ, usable shower. The fucking shower! The conman was grinning so hard his face actually hurt. "I can't wait to get inside you..."he whispered huskily.

Behind him Ellis flushed red."Wha'? Wha' are ya..."

"Nick here is molesting a shower, Ellis," Coach laughed."I suppose I'll let you get yourself cleaned up, Nick, before we try to bandage up that burn. I'll go find Virgil in the meanwhile, all right? I'll be back soon."Coach hesitated, looking down to his open palm then to Ellis. "You... want too come, Ellis?"

"Um... Nah. I think I just wanna take a break here for a bit." The young man 'glanced' about. "...Um."

Coach sighed loudly, mockingly and rolled his eyes."Nick, find the kid somewhere to rest his feet before you go narcissistic on our asses."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Nick muttered offhandedly. "Right, yeah, okay."

Chuckling, Coach left the two in search of their captain. After the big man left, the room went oddly silent. Ellis stood quietly, fidgeting as he listened hard. But there were too many odd creaks and moans coming from the boat to really pinpoint anything. The young man swallowed thickly, sightless eyes searching.

"Nick?" Ellis whispered finally. "Are you still here?"

"Yeah, I'm here." Nick returned to Ellis side, reaching out gently to take the others wrists. "Sorry, I was snooping around. I found some clothes in here. I figure Virgil won't mind if we borrow some until we can clean our own clothes... I'm sure as hell not wearing this shit to New Orleans. Uh... " The conman paused, eyes drifting across Ellis' curiously shy features. That was an odd shift in moods. Did Nick detect a slight blush? He did believe so. Smirking slightly Nick tilted his head, eying the other quietly."What are you thinking right now, Overalls?"

Ellis' flush became a little darker and he shifted slightly to one foot."That yer 'bout ta get naked,"he replied softly.

Nick couldn't help himself. He smirked devilishly."Right. And you can't see."

Ellis pouted and slouched forward. "Yeah, I know," he muttered miserably. "This whole not bein' able ta see thing is really getting' annoyin'."

Nick laughed out loud. "Oh yeah? You just now decided that it was inconvenient?"Ellis grinned slightly back, shrugging. "Interesting. In any case... I want to be clean sooner than later. I'd offer to scrub your back if you scrubbed mine--" This resulted in a rather hopeful perk from the mechanic, "But unfortunately there's gonna be a tight fit as one as it is. So," Nick guided Ellis backwards onto a chair. "You sit tight for a few, then I'll help you. All right?"

"Greedy bastard," Ellis grunted. But his grin showed he was being more playful than anything. Nick pushed the hat down over Ellis' eyes and the other scrambled to re-adjust it.

"You're damn right I am,"the conman agreed proudly. With another flick to Ellis' hat he beelined to the shower.

Now, Nick would shower first without even offering for anyone else to go. This was Nick after all. From past experience it was just the way the conman was. Any time they came across a home with running water Nick had practically tore down the hallway and locked himself in without even the slightest hint of guilt. Ellis could truthfully say that he didn't mind. But it would have been much more enjoyable had he a show to sit back and admire.

It wasn't much later that Ellis heard the water turn on, followed by a soft pleasant noise coming from the other man. Ellis felt a flush on his cheeks and he turned his head slightly away from the noise—but realized that the gesture wasn't really helpful. Either way Ellis sat quietly, cheeks pink, fingers twiddling together as he waited...


"Ellis, this has got to be the best god damn shower I've had in a long time," Nick called.  There was a loud knocking noise and the conman grunted. "Well, could be bigger. But, all the same. Water's hot, fresh... well, might be ocean water, but I'm not complaining. Nice soap—well, sorta some cheap brand, but at least it's soap... I think. And—god, fresh towels and clean clothes."

"Someone's in a grateful mood," Ellis chimed, grinning.

"Uh-huh. "

After what could have only been five or so minutes later, the water squeaked and went silent. Typically Nick hadn't been one to rush a shower... but, Ellis wasn't going to complain. Then again, he was now all too aware that standing (probably directly in front of him knowing Nick) was a wet, dripping, glistening and very naked Nick. The mechanic faced what he hoped was Nick's direction, tilting his chin up and smirking slightly—giving the illusion that he was shamelessly assaulting the man with his eyes. But then--

Wet hands took either side of Ellis' face and the mechanic squeaked in surprise. "Aren't you just cute. Now, come here so I can get those shoes off..."Nick's hands unnecessarily traced down Ellis' entire body until finding the young man's shoes and he carefully untied them and tugged them off. "On your feet and off with the rest."

As each article of clothing was removed, Ellis realized that maybe he couldn't see but Nick sure as hell could. Standing there naked and exposed Ellis had two options; surrender to his embarrassment and cover up best he could as his southern upbringing demanded or display himself as seductively as he could. After a brief moment Ellis decided on the latter.

Ellis' shifted his stance, shoulders back and he straightened uncharacteristically, one hip out slightly, hand on said hip and a positively wicked grin stealing his lips... And Nick couldn't help himself but to grin uncontrollably. Green eyes wandered across that naked flesh attentively. Did he feel guilty for looking? Not particularly. Ellis hadn't complained once and from the looks of it, seemed to not mind too much. Had Nick felt Ellis were in the right state of mind he may have even pounced the kid now and had his way with him... Sadly, tonight was not the night.

Nick reached out, one finger lifting Ellis' chin slightly and those piecing blue eyes drifted towards him lazily. "Guess I should show you the way, hm?"Ellis response was a surprisingly alluring grin accompanied by a nimble flick of his tongue across his teeth.  Nick suppressed his innate reaction to capture those lips with his own and fought down the raging hormones sparking to life all throughout his body. "All right, off you go then." Finger tracing under Ellis' jaw, Nick moved behind the mechanic and put both hands on the other's shoulders and lead him forward. Ellis frowned slightly, obviously taken aback. "All right, step slightly here, yep, just like that." Nick leaned across Ellis to turn the shower knob and turned the head of the shower away from the young man. "Feel that, too hot?"

"Nah, it's good..."

"All right. Directly above you is the shower head, to your right is the soap. When you're done turn the lever all the way down and I'll help you dry off and get dressed."

"All right..."

"Meanwhile, I'll be using this first aid kit. I promise not to stare too much." Nick grinned, satisfied how Ellis' smile had returned. "Unless you want me too."

"Not like I'll know any better," Ellis replied.

"Right. I'm right here if you need me."

Despite having his attention occupied with attending to his burns, Nick found his eyes wandering back to Ellis more often than he would have liked to admit. What exactly did that mean? It was hard to decide. Yes, his feelings for Ellis were far beyond platonic by now. In fact, seeing the hardly hidden showering man through the flimsy see-through shower curtain kept inciting some entertaining (to say the least) fantasies. More than once he had to shake himself back to reality and return to bandaging his leg... but for every time he found his gaze wandering. So was it lust? Sure, he hadn't had a good fuck in some time now... but had he wanted one he would have gotten it already. He had a charming tongue and Ellis wouldn't have a damn chance resisting. But still... he hadn't done it. Why not?

Nick frowned worriedly.

What exactly was it about the kid that was so captivating? Before it had been his indomitable spirit. His ability to laugh in the face of everything, to smile when everyone else wanted to just give up. His strangely attractive southern drawl or the way his stories never seemed to end... They had all been irresistible factors. Strangely irresistible. Maddeningly attractive.

But then Ellis had nearly fallen. Away went the smiles, the gentle encouragement, that fiery indifference to all the chaos about them. It had been the most terrifying thing Nick had ever experienced. He had seen death, taken lives of his own... But he had never seen someone crumble so quickly or so devastatingly. Never seen someone hollow out so suddenly. To watch someone's spirit dying was far worse than watching a life taken before his eyes. That, Nick was sure of.

He had to admit... At first he had feared Ellis may be beyond saving. Maybe his insanity had worked itself in too far, beyond reach and saving. And that very thought had been crushing. Unbearably so. In those days where Ellis had been nothing but a silent mute shell of his physical self, Nick had felt some awful weight in his chest crushing him mercilessly. He had never felt such pain before. Pain that had been impossible to cure with a few bandages or dulled with pills. Only that mans smile would heal him.

And shit, the kid was starting to smile again. Nick felt his heart flutter in his chest, snipping off the end of the gauze and securing the end. Yeah... damn kid was getting better. He had to be. Kid was flirting now. Well, at least trying. And despite how ridiculously terrible he was at it, it was actually pretty fucking adorable. Ellis was lucky he didn't have to try very hard.

Nick blinked, glancing up as the water shifted off. "Ready, Overalls?"

"Yeah," Ellis said. The young man ran his fingers through his hair and water flicked across the floor. "Enjoy the show?"He asked.

Ah, that flirting. That almost half-assed flirting that was ridiculously endearing. Nick stood, limping slightly as he grabbed a towel on his way to the mechanic. "Uh huh. Shame it couldn't be a two-man show."Ellis flushed slightly. That's right kid, two can play that game. Nick tossed the towel onto Ellis head and the mechanic fumbled with it before starting to dry himself off. Nick stood idly by, watching him. "Just so you know, yes, I'm enjoying the encore."

Ellis paused, lifting his face from the towel. "I'd be more entertaining if I knew where the hell ya were."He shrugged slightly. "But... guess tha' ain't changin'..."

Nick's face softened considerably and he helped the man into his new set of clothes. "Hey, now... It'll come back, all right?"

"Yeah? Ya say it, but tha' don' mean it's true." Ellis sighed quietly, fidgeting with the towel. "I mean... we ain't in danger no more an' I still can't see."

"You're just stressed still, is all." Nick replied quietly. "You just need some nice R&R. So, come here. I've got just the thing for you."He took the young man by the shoulders and pushed him along.

"I—uh... Where... Nick? Wha' are ya..." The conman eased the young man down into a chair. His hands trailed across Ellis' chest until he moved behind him.

Nick learned forward his voice a soft purr, "Just relax, Overalls."

Then an amazing thing happened. Those hands moved across Ellis' shoulders like a magician, fingers working into the most tense knots and easing out tension with unexplainable perfection. Maybe it was because it was Nick focusing so intently on him, working his flesh with such care that made it so damn relaxing and enjoyable... Ellis actually felt his breath leave him in a soft gentle sigh and his eyes closed.

For the first time in a long while Ellis let his guard down completely. He could practically feel the stress melting away with each new movement Nick's hands made. Those calloused hands moved across this shoulders, down his back and up his arms. Relax... that's what Nick had said. He would damn near melt in Nick's hands here at any moment.. Simply drift away, mind numbed pleasantly, body smothered with such loving attention... Just simply drift away...

...Ellis awoke with a start, blinking widely. He shifted slightly until realizing he was lying in a bed and pressed up against him was a sleeping Nick. Ellis blinked again, letting his eyes adjust to the low light.

Ellis felt his heart race. God damn... Nick looked so pretty lying there sleeping.. His hair all a mess, looking real sweet in sleep... Real gentle. Ellis lifted his slightly trembling hand with intent of touching that sleeping face but then he froze.

Wait. One. Fucking. Second.

Ellis hissed in a breath of surprise, staring at his hand in numbed silence. He.. he could... he could see? Ellis choked out a laugh. Holy fucking shit. This isn't a dream is it? Some really depressingly fucked up dream? He pinched his cheek hard and winced. God damn! This is real... It's back, it's back, it's back!

"Nick," Ellis whispered excitedly. The conman shifted slightly in his sleep but didn't wake. Ellis moved to shake him but then stopped.

Nick did look so peaceful... So incredibly and perfectly at peace. Like the world outside this tiny fishing vessel didn't exist. There were no monsters here. Nothing that could hurt them. Nothing that could rip them apart or tear them down. Nothing that could destroy them.

Ellis felt his breath catch in his throat.

No... the monsters weren't here... but come the next few days and they'd be back. Back in the middle of that chaos. That peaceful look, that crisp clean smell and that restful sleep would all be swallowed up. And with that loss came a more terrible realization; Ellis could no longer turn a blind eye to the death surrounding them. Or the death that threatened him.

Ellis remembered exactly why his sight had left him in the first place. Watching Nick die would ruin him. And now he had no choice but to watch.

Shaking, Ellis pressed his face into the pillow, trying so hard to crush the terrible images assaulting his mind. But it was impossible. His sight was back, and with that, the horrible realization that death was suffocating them slowly.

They were so god damn close to asphyxiation.

Well, Jesus Christ, I'm not scared of dying,
I'm a little bit scared of what comes after.
Do I get the gold chariot?
Do I float through the ceiling?
Do I divide and fall apart?
'Cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark.
This ship went down in sight of land.

Chapter Eight

Where has my heart gone?
An uneven trade for the real world.
Oh I, I want to go back to
Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all.

Nick stirred slightly at first and then he shifted to face the mechanic. The conman's eyelids twitched several times until his tired green eyes blinked awake. The older man shook himself slightly and he blinked rapidly before a sleepy grin curved his lips. It was a beautiful sight. So fucking beautiful. Ellis couldn't look away despite the fact that it made his heart ache beyond comprehension. The older man shifted a little closer, and god... that smile, Ellis' eyes drifted downwards to that curve of perfect teeth.

"Mornin', Ellis," Nick purred quietly. Ellis continued to stare in silence. Nick's brow furrowed slightly and he shifted onto his side, one arm coming to prop up his head. His puzzled look slowly turned to one of concern. "Hey... have you been crying?"

Ellis' gaze finally turned away to stare blankly up at the ceiling. The concern in Nick's voice almost reduced him to tears again. But he fought it. God damn it, he fought it with everything in him. Crying wasn't going to help anyone. Wasn't going to save anyone. Wasn't going to make things easier.

"Hey...? Ellis?"

"I can see again, Nick."

Nick let out a little laugh and he shifted excitedly, grinning. "That's great, Ellis. That's real great."

"No it ain't."

Nick's grin slipped into a worried frown. "What do you mean?" Ellis turned his head and their eyes met. Surprisingly icy blues met Nick with uncharacteristic hardness. Nick felt his heart shudder painfully. He did not like that look. It didn't suit the young man. "...Ellis?"

"It jus' means I have ta watch ya die." The words left the southerner in a hiss. Nick flinched. "So let's not celebrate," he finished flatly.

"Easy, kid," Nick said gently.  "No one's going to be dying."

Ellis snorted, unamused. "Yeah. The more you say it, the more likely it'll come true, righ'? Jus' keep tellin' yerself tha', Nick. Jus' keep on sayin' it. Come on now, why quit when yer ahead?"

Nick smartly kept his mouth shut and instead read the emotion on the kids face. He was like an open book. There was misery there. Anger. Sadness. Fear. A terrible twist of emotions that had to be unbearable on the soul. Nick felt his chest tighten painfully. Cautiously he lifted one hand to touch Ellis' shoulder. Ellis glared coldly at him in response.

Nick drew in a slow breath, trying to calm his thundering heart. "Everything's going to be all right, Ellis." Christ, it was so terrifying to see Ellis like this...

"Jus' stop, Nick. Please. I don' wanna hear it." The young man finally sat up and he sighed harshly, rubbing at his eyes. "I jus' don' wanna hear it... Ya say all these great things, tha' we're gonna get out of this okay an' nothin' bad's gonna happen... But tha' ain't true. Virgil already said we can't go straight ta New Orleans. We gatta stop ta get gas, an' ya can't honestly believe tha' nothin' bad's gonna happen. Ya can't believe tha'. I know ya don't,  Nick. 'Cause you're a pessimist. You've always been the one ta remind us all tha' we're gonna die sooner or later. So why the fuck dontcha jus' admit it?"

Nick took a moment to let those words sink in... Ellis had it right. It had been him, every step of the way to reminded them all that they were alone and no one was going to help them. That they were walking into a trap, or going to run out of bullets, that the next safe room was going to be too far and eventually they were going to run out of luck and be consumed by the Infection. It had always been him to rain on their parade...

….But it had always been Ellis to counter him, to disregard his worries or to simply motivate him. To remind him that there was always hope and as long as they stuck together they'd be all right.

And after awhile Nick had simply liked to doubt their chances just so Ellis would cheer him up. He had been selfish to do it... and he never thought of the consequences. His words had wounded the mechanic with doubt. And that doubt, knowing it had come from him, made him feel sick with guilt.

"Ellis..." Nick said gently, sitting up as well. He adjusted the blankets around his waist before turning his gaze to Ellis' back. Ellis did not respond. "I'm not going to say that it'll be easy. It's gonna be hell and it's going to fucking suck. But we have each other."

Ellis' teeth practically speared through his lip as he fought the rush of new tears. Yeah? We have each other? To hold and to love, to cherish and to protect? But what will I do when you're gone? Who will I hold? Who will hold me up when I'm about to fall? Who will never leave me behind? Who will always come back... Who will be the one to hold my hand and guide me though the dark when you're gone? You're stupid... So stupid sometimes, Nick. So god damn stupid.

Nick tentatively reached out to rest his hand on the mechanic's shoulder, but before his fingertips even came to rest the younger man had gotten to his feet. Ellis took several angry strides but his steps faltered and he came to an uneasy halt.

Blue eyes, haunted now, worried and strangely regretful found Nick. "Nick." The name shook on Ellis' voice. The young man felt sick, actually physically sick. Like the next few words were about to kill him. "It's best ya forget 'bout all those feelin's ya think ya have fer me. 'Cause I won't give ya whatcha want. I jus' can't do it. Yer an idiot fer tryin'."

He moved away like a wisp, almost drunk, pushing away the curtain that served as a door like it was the heaviest thing he'd ever touched. He stumbled up the few stairs, heart pounding in his chest, stomach twisting, throat burning, eyes filled with an impossible amount of tears that made seeing almost as difficult as being blind. He leaned heavily against the wall then pushed off it as he moved down the hallway, desperately feeling across the surface until he stumbled out the doorframe and onto the deck.

It was cool outside and the sun was blocked by a heavy cover of clouds. It was dark... like the shadow of doubt had fed into the Heavens to mock him with stolen light.

Shaking, Ellis moved to the railing and leaned heavily on it with one hand. He moved stiffly across the deck. God... it hurt. His chest burned with rage— rage for himself. Rage for his decision. Rage for his inability to take what Nick so generously offered. Rage for his own stupidity. For his fears. Tears stung his eyes and his breath was suffocating. God... everything hurt. Just fucking hurt.

His right knee buckled under him and he fell against the railing. He fought to stand several times but finally gave up and collapsed to the ground in a miserable heap. But before he even got the chance to give into his sorrow, the sound of footsteps on the deck forced his attention elsewhere. He turned quickly to find a moderately amused and leisurely smoking Virgil.

The captain tipped his hat. "Mornin'--Ellis was it?" The captain leaned against the rail, inhaling deeply, eyes searching the horizon. "Gonna be a nasty storm coming. You like rain?"

Ellis blinked several times, adjusting himself to his knees and trying hard to wrap his mind around this casual conversation in the midsts of his mental anguish. "I... I-I guess I don' mind it."

"Well, tha's a good thing, 'cause y'all are gonna be gettin' real wet real soon here." Virgil glanced down to the mechanic. "Whatcha doin' down there? Ah, don't matter." The older man stepped away from the railing and then promptly sat himself beside the other. "Ya got the right idea. Sick of all tha' standin'." The cajun patted at the pocket on his chest before pulling out a pack of Camels. "Ya smoke?" Ellis shook his head mutely. "Maybe ya should. Could getcher mind off all this hell."

"Righ'... I... Um. Mr. Virgil sir... I ain't really in much of a conversin' mood... No disrespect, sir. I jus--"

"Am havin' a rough spell? Ya, kid. We all git 'em. Don'tcha worry one bit." Out went the old cigarette in with the new. Virgil sighed, "Ta be young an' in love." Virgil lit the cigarette then paused. "An' in the middle of a zombie apocalypse," he added, shrugging. "Must be tough."

Ellis flushed hotly, not sure what the burning in his chest was—fear, guilt, regret, passion... It was hard to say. "I ain't... I ain't in... in..."

"Love? Maybe not. But the other one sure is. I don' see too many people look at someone like the way he looks at you." Virgil took in a long drag before sighing it out. "Jus' the way Ma looked at Pa 'fore he died. Or the way my nephew and his wife use ta look. 'Fore they got Infected, I mean." Virgil turned his silver gaze to the young man. "It's a rarity in this world, young'un. An' from the way yer actin', I'm under the impression tha' ya got the same feelin'."

With all honesty, Ellis didn't know what to say. There was something strange but not all-together uncomfortable about the forwardness of this damn-near stranger. They barely had exchanged names. Then again... Ellis knew that was the charm of the south. You meet, you shake hands and you're family. That's just the way it was. But still, Ellis hesitated.

"My son's bout'cher age," Virgil said. Ah... that was it. You remind me of someone, so sit down and listen to what I have to say. The fisherman's gaze lingered on Ellis, flickering across his face sadly. "Kinda look like 'em too. He was jus' fresh outta high school. On his first year of college. About three weeks in, the University of Mississippi got hit by the Infection." Virgil's gaze dipped and he frowned. "Ya know wha' they did to them kids?"

Ellis shook his head slowly—but in the back of his mind he recalled something, a distant voice, probably a new-station reporter; the University of Mississippi was closed down today due to a severe outbreak of the Green Flu. CEDA has taken extra precautions to keep the deadly infection from spreading... But what came next? What had that man said next...?

"Shot them down. Gassed them. Slaughtered them. Like animals. Even the unInfected. No one was left alive. My son tried ta call home. Tried to tell his Ma wha' was happenin', but then the phone went dead." Virgil nodded slightly. "A week later some fancy-suit came an' told us some snazzy talk 'bout how Alan was a necessary casualty. That his death secured the lives of thousands of others. Butcha know what? A week later the Infection was everywhere. An' three days ago my wife got Infected too. Now, you tell me tha' ain't fair."

Ellis swallowed thickly, slowly nodding his head. What was the point of this...? Virgil just needed an outlet? Well what about Coach... or Nick? Surely they would be better at this... Be more helpful than his sorry ass sitting here like a stupid puppy that could just blink stupidly and listen without a damn spoken word of comfort.

Virgil took a long drag of his cigarette. "Alan called the third day of classes. Told me he found some nice lass. Practically was in love with her at firs' sight. Ya know wha' I told 'em? Take it slow, boy. Love's a dangerous thing. It's sneaky, deceitful an' it'll lie ta ya 'til the day ya die." He clicked his teeth together, frowning. "Never heard 'bout the girl 'gain after tha'. I wonder if he jus' never told me, or jus' forgot 'bout her. An' ya know wha'? I wish I ha'n't said it. Ya know why?" He looked to Ellis and the mechanic quickly shook his head. "'Cause people fall in an' out of love all the time. It's part of life. It's wha' it's like ta be an adult. It's how ya learn ta grow. How I met my wife. She wasn't my first love, but she was my last. An' I had ta make those mistakes 'for I found her."

Ellis hesitated. Virgil was staring at him now, hard. Like he wanted to say something else. "I ain't yer son." It was the first thing Ellis could think to say. Maybe he said it out of hurt or fear... maybe bitterness or just to spite Virgil. But whatever it was it earned him a good smack upside the head.

"'Course ya ain't, shithead. My point is tha' my son never got a chance ta love 'cause he listened ta some stupid ol' man warnin' against all the scary stuff tha' comes 'long with lovin' someone. An' when yer in the middle of the shit we got goin' now, sometime's tha's jus' the one thing ya need to keep goin'." He reached over and slapped Ellis hard on the back and the mechanic grunted, wincing at him. "Stop bein' such a baby an' listen ta the lil' voice tha' tells ya ta do everythin' ya can to be with tha' person."

Ellis stared for a long time at the older man, but the moment Virgil finished the rest of his cigarette he got up, adjusted his overalls and walked way without another world. Ellis watched him leave, blinking blankly and wondering why in the hell Virgil had made so much god damn sense.

~*~

God, he was a mess. In all his life Nick would have never thought he could be reduced to such a state. He was shaking, uncontrollably. His insides burned and he was glad he hadn't eaten anything because he sure as hell would have puked it by now. He felt dizzy, flushed, miserable. Like his soul had been sucked out, like his heart had been cleaved in two. Like someone was standing over him and just throttling the life out of him. He had never felt such utterly helpless in his entire life.

Maybe Ellis was right? Maybe they were wrong. Maybe he was being stupid... that this feeling he had wasn't real. That it wasn't worth exploring or fueling. Maybe this just wasn't the place or the time. Maybe it couldn't work. Maybe it shouldn't work.

But if that were true... then why did he feel like he had been robbed of the most beautiful feeling he had ever experienced?

The conman shuddered, hands coming up to press against his ears and fight down a new wave of nausea. He choked in a breath before letting it out in a shaky cough. Ellis had to be wrong... but maybe he just didn't feel the same way. Couldn't feel the same way. Well... no surprise there. Not everyone is like that. Then why had Ellis bothered with all those looks? All those smiles and those gentle touches? With that terrible flirting or giving him those encouraging signs? Why had he gone along with it?

Nick eased himself back into the bed and his entire body shook with the effort. His stomach quivered—wanting nothing more than to expel all the terrible emotions in his body. But he fought it. Fought to calm himself, to ease the roller coaster of emotions.

You know I love you, but you might be the death of me,
Hold me down, suffocating, please let me breathe.
Kiss kiss, lights out, I've got to, we've got too--
You know I love you, but you're gonna be the death of me.

He closed his eyes, clenching his teeth and he pulled the covers tight across his body, over his face, trying to smother himself. Trying hard to suffocate away the feelings, the despair, the sudden loneliness and the godawful sickness. Just wanting nothing more than to go numb, to destroy the feelings. Have to kill them. Have to crush them. Can't live like this. Can't survive with such feelings. Can't suffer like this forever. Too maddening. Too awful. Can't... can't handle it. Can't do it. Just can't...

He wasn't sure how long he lay there withering in emotional agony before Ellis returned, but when he heard the mechanic he jerked upright—wide-eyed. Ellis paused in the middle of the room, eyes searching the other for a long moment.

"God damn, Nick. Ya look like hell."

Nick grunted. "Yeah, I've felt better."

Silence.

Ellis' gaze dropped slightly and moistened his lips absently. Then those blues rose, locking with Nick's pleading stare. Ellis moved forward, closing the distance between them in a manner of seconds. His knee found the bed and his hand reached out and found a fistful of Nick's hair and with suddenness to unexpected to resist, he pressed his lips to the conman's forcefully. When he pulled away, he was near tears.

"I'm real sorry, Nick. Fer wha' I said." Nick's mouth moved but no words came. "I really am. I'm jus'... Jus' scared, ya know? I don't wanna lose you." The last bit left him in a rush of breath that shook his entire body.

Nick's lips twitched slightly, eyes intent, searching carefully. "I'm still here, aren't I?" he finally asked.

Ellis blinked once before a smile touched his lips. He lifted his other hand to Nick's face and pressed their foreheads together gently. "Yeah, man. I know. Thank you." Nick's hands found his face, comforting, gentle, warm and tender. Ellis pressed himself closer, climbing into the others lap and holding onto him as tightly as he could. Nick's arms curled around him and held him close.

They didn't let go of each other for what had to of been hours.

Chapter Nine

Nick smoothed out the wrinkles in his freshly washed jacket, eyes intently staring up at the cloudy sky. He frowned slightly. "I think it might rain on us," he said quietly.

"Yeah,"his companions echoed.

"Ain't 'fraid of the rain, are ya?" Ellis asked, grinning slightly. The thought of Nick... well afraid of a little storm was almost cute... but at the same time, now really wasn't time to have such fears. The look that Nick gave him, however, suggested that he was not. "Sorry, sorry. Jus' pokin' fun atcha is all."

Before Nick could reply, Virgil came onto the deck. He adjusted his overalls as he came to stand beside them. "There should be a gas station right there," the old captain pointed to the building just off the dock. "A lil' past that diner there. From rumors I heard, the gas has been goin' fast an' well..."he trailed off, scratching at his stubble.

"If we don't come back right away..." Coach readjusted the gun on his shoulder. "We'll keep looking other places. How long will you wait for us?"

Virgil rolled his cigarette between his fingers, staring hard out into the zombie-infested diner. "Until all hope is lost," he finally said.

Above the sky rumbled and the first few drops of rain pattered all around them in a steady drizzle. The four blinked up at the sky as rain pelted against their skin.

Ellis couldn't help but wonder if this was a bad omen.

~*~

They took out the wandering zombies in the diner with little effort. They toppled over, most before even realizing the three had even entered the building and those that turned at the sound of the gunfire fell quickly enough. The trio stopped only long enough to fill their pockets with much needed ammunition scattered about on the tables and floor. It seemed they weren't the only ones that had survived the initial Infection. Whether that was still true was hard to say. As far as they could tell, they and Virgil were the only ones left for miles.

It wasn't until the came to the first sign that anyone spoke. "Out of gas," Coach said, nudging the sign with his foot. "Ductel? I wonder how far away that is." His gaze lifted, searching around the barren gas station.

Nick snorted, bitter pessimism fueled instinctively. "Far, I'm sure." In the corner of his eye he saw Ellis' gaze drop and a small sigh escaped the young man. "But hell, that's where all the fun is, yeah?" He elbowed the mechanic, giving—what he hoped—was an encouraging smile.

"Yeah," Ellis said. "Fun." The frown on his lips indicated he figured this was going to be everything but fun.

"All right. Over this fence." Coach said, marching towards it. Good ol' Coach. Taking the lead. Must've been his innate ability to lead that made him take control. Or maybe it was because he noticed how quickly Ellis' morale had fallen and how worried Nick had become. Either way, he quickly became the lead man.


The farther they went the quicker they realized that their earlier suspicions were true. It was them and only them against dozens and dozens of wild-eyed Infected. It was easy enough at first mowing them down. But then the low, soft whine of a terrifyingly familiar sob found their ears.

"Shit... That sounds like a Witch," Nick muttered. "Let's go through that house. Maybe we can get around her."

Ellis turned to the door and shoved it opened and moved inside. He made it no more than two more steps before he froze. In the corner of his eye he could see the Witch. Her whining moans were piercing--Ellis felt like his blood had gone cold. Her hands were pressed into her face as she shuffled blindly across the room, moving dangerously close to the mechanic.

"Ellis," Nick whispered. His hand trembled as it reached out to gently rest on the mans shoulder. "Back away slowly."

The mechanic slowly lowered the gun, clicking off his flashlight as discreetly as he could. The Witch hiccuped where she stood, head lifting, eyes rolling back into her head as she let out another despairing sob, but she seemed to not have noticed him yet. With Nick guiding him back outside, Ellis reached for the doorknob and slowly brought the door closed behind him. It clicked shut and the three stood in dead silence for a full minute. She seemed to have not noticed him. Thank. God.

"So much for avoiding her, huh?" Nick said, shrugging apologetically. "I swore it sounded like she was on the other side. Sorry."

Ellis let out a long breath, but he somehow managed to smile. "Damn, man. Yer ear's gettin' old?"

Nick scoffed. He quickly beelined to the alley, fully intending to leave the Witch to her bullshit sorrows. "Ha. Ha. Ha. I hear just as well as--" He stopped dead in his tracks and then quickly backpedaled, fumbling at his weapon. At first neither Coach or Ellis had any idea why, but then his flashlight clicked off. Four more steps and a bothered, growing and whining Witch turned the corner of a gutted building, right into the alley. Her hands were raised over her ears, clawing at her face as low growling sobs emitted from her throat.

They had no where to go.

Nick took three more steps back until he was beside Ellis. He turned to the younger man and pressed himself hard against the other as they cowered, flush against the side of the house. Coach likewise pressed his back to the wall, eyes squeezed shut, practically holding his breath as the whining Witch shuffled past.

Unable to help himself, Ellis watched the ashen-skinned woman shamble past. She was ungodly malnourished—maybe that was why she was so mad—and the way she brought in each breath only sucked her frail ribs against tight flesh. He bare feet shuffled, toes scrapping across the ground, just shuffling, stumbling, wailing and sobbing. He almost felt sorry for her.

But any sympathy he had quickly faded as he realized that pressed against him was an entirely too terrified Nick. The conman was practically clutching him, pressing him so hard against the building it rather hurt. He was trying to breathe quietly, but each breath was shaky and hoarse. His heart was thundering too—Ellis could feel it pounding against his own chest.

Ellis' blues drifted back to the Witch. If he weren't pressed against the wall like this, he probably would have shoved the barrel of his gun into that woman's whiney maw and pulled the trigger. That would have shut up that crying. And would ease Nick's anxiety.

It must've taken her a full three minutes before she rounded the house and her sobs became muffled and distant.

But it was at least another two until Nick finally stepped away from Ellis. The conman let out a shuddering breath, one hand clutching Ellis' shoulder as his worried gaze stared back down the alley to where the Witch had disappeared. He was still shaking.

"Nick," Ellis said softly. He reached out to gently brush his hand against Nicks. "She's gone. It's okay, man."

"Yeah." Nick said. He brushed the rain from his eyes. "Yeah, let's get the hell out of here. Come on."

Halfway down the alley the rain began to come down in a sheet of white. Halfway down the street the wind had picked up. By now they were squeezed together tightly just for the sake of knowing where everyone was. Over the thunder and the clash of rain all around they almost didn't hear the Tank. Almost.

"Wait! Wait," Nick said, stopping. Ellis bumped into him and Coach turned to squint at him through the rain. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Coach called.

"Listen!" Nick insisted. They all went silent and at first Nick suspected maybe he was hearing things. But then there was the low guttural growl, that distinct groan of another terrifyingly familiar noise. There was definitely one of those monstrous Infected up ahead. Ellis felt his heart shudder in his chest and he reached out to grip Nick's sleeve. The conman glanced to him, offering a slight smile and a gentle touch of reassurance. "What are going to do? We can't fight it in this rain. We'll kill each other."

"Think we can sneak past it?" Ellis said. His companions looked at him. "Ya know? Be real stealthy an' ninja like. We won't be able ta fire our guns none... but if we stick ta the buildin's an' behind cars, we'll be okay."

"I think he's onto something," Nick agreed. "Let's do this quietly as we can. Follow me."

Then conman peaked out around the building they were huddled behind and then he leaned back to his companions. "Tank's off to the left of the street, just wandering around. There's some cars we can hide behind. Go one at a time draw less attention."

With a slight nod the man slung his gun over his shoulder. He glanced towards the Tank and then sprinted off to the first car. Ellis quickly moved to the side of the building watching the conman move. It looked like he was going to reach the hiding spot spot without any complications, but then out of the rain an Infected threw itself onto the conman.

Nick stumbled as hands tore at his coat and together he and the Infected toppled to the ground. It bit at him, tearing its fingernails into him and Nick returned the gesture with a sharp uppercut. The Infected fell backwards and began to let out a frustrated groan but before it even had the chance it had the blade of Nick's fire axe between its eyes. It thrashed where it lay, spit and blood foaming from its mouth before it went still. The conman jerked the axe free and fell heavily against the car. He gave the Infected a lopsided and satisfied grin. Take that you son of a bitch.

Ellis came next, staying low as he quickly moved across the open space until quickly seating himself beside Nick. Coach followed soon after, maybe not as gracefully, but he made it in one piece.

Ellis lifted himself high enough to glance over the hood of the car and he could see the Tank pacing back, arms lazily swatting around Infected that moved too close. It would stop to flex its arms and let out a terrible groan, but otherwise it seemed completely placid compared to the other handful of Tanks they had encountered. Hopefully, it'd keep the fuck away. The young man slowly edged himself back down beside Nick. The conman gave him a long stare.

"Ready?" Nick finally asked. Ellis nodded and behind him Coach did likewise.

Nick moved to one knee, glanced over the hood and then sprinted to the next car. Before he had made it, God must have decided things were far too easy. Rain swept across their vision in a heavy gust of unrelenting wind. It stung Ellis' eyes and he turned away, rubbing at them. When he looked back he saw nothing but a sheet of white.

Ellis panicked. "Coach... I don't see 'em no more. Where'd he go?"

"Don't know. He must still be there... I don't like this rain. Let's stick together, young'un."

The man reached out to grab a fistful of Ellis' shirt and together they crept as quickly as they could through the blinding white. Ellis' grasping hands reached out in front of them and he hoped desperately that he wasn't leading Coach directly into the Tank's arms.

It was when he was barely half a foot from the car that he he finally saw it. Fingers brushing along the cool wet surface he shuffled along the length of it. But as he came to the other end of the car, Ellis came to a startling realization; Nick was no where to be found.

"Coach?" Ellis muttered, reaching out blindly behind himself to clutch at the older man. "Coach? Where...?"

Coach stared solemnly out into the rain. He said nothing.

"Coach? Where is he?" Ellis insisted, turning now. He shook the other firmly. "We've gatta find 'em."

Coach opened his mouth to reply but then--

A blazing car alarm sounded, startling the two so badly that they jumped, hands going instantly to their weapons. They gave each other horrified stares.

"We have to move, Ellis." Coach said, he sounded torn.

"No, I can't leave Nick! We have to find him!"

"Ellis, we have to move. That Tank, it's gonna--"

There was a horrible noise from the right as the car they had previously used as protection went crashing across the pavement. The headlights blinded them as it skidded to a stop, illuminating the two survivors in a spotlight of  deathly invitation. Coach pulled the mechanic to his feet and with strength beyond Ellis' began to drag him down the street.

Ellis fought him with everything he had. His survival meant nothing if it meant Nick was not by his side. How dare Coach. How fucking dare him! How DARE he leave Nick! Ellis twisted his arm one way and the other, but the grip on his wrist was secure and relentless. He took to pounding his fists against the others arm, and it had to hurt, because Ellis' hand sure fucking did.

Lightening lit everything around them for a moment long enough to show in the distance there was a small light emitting from a door ahead. It wasn't far, but it was becoming an impossible feat with Ellis struggling so hard to move in the opposite direction. Coach did the only thing he could think of doing.

The big man turned to the young man and hunched down long enough to hoist the mechanic up onto one shoulder. Ellis hissed, hands coming down to claw across Coach's back and he twisted about trying to grab the other's face. If Coach felt any pain he didn't show it. He simply adjusted the other slightly and sprinted.

It seemed the Infected were more drawn towards the sound of the blaring alarm—or whatever had set it off. Coach didn't dare think of it. Think of why it had gone off. If it had been Nick—Coach gnashed his teeth together, heaving himself up the stairs to the brightly lit room. He fumbled at the door until he manged to open it and deposited Ellis unceremoniously to the floor and pulled it shut. He barely had enough time to latch it when the mechanic was on him.

"YOU LEFT HIM! YOU LEFT HIM!" Ellis screamed. He punched at the other man, but Coach quickly grabbed the others hands.

"Ellis! Listen to me! Listen to--"

"NO! He's still out there! He's still fucking out there!" Ellis twisted his arms about but quickly came to the conclusion he wasn't going to be able to free himself from Coach's vice-like grip. He kicked the other hard in his bad knee and Coach's leg gave out. They both fell to the floor and Ellis scrambled to get back to his feet but Coach was on him, pushing him back onto the ground and trying hard to keep him still.

Ellis must have struggled for a good ten minutes until they both came aware of how deadly silent it had become. There was no longer a blaring alarm or the raging howls of the Tank or the screams of the Infected. Just the steady beat of rain against the rooftop.

Ellis continued to struggle, but as sobs over took him he simply withered about weakly. His strength had left him. His will. His fight. His everything. The rain had swallowed it up along with his Nick.

What are you still fighting for kid? Your everything has just become nothing.

White walls surround us,
No light will touch your face again.
Rain taps the window
As we sleep among the dead.

Chapter Ten

Every minute is a mile.
I've never felt so hollow.
I'm an old abandoned church with broken pews
and empty aisles.

"Ellis?" Coach ventured quietly. The mechanic's eyes lifted—icy blues chilling, as if daring him to continue. Coach hesitated.

"He ain't dead," Ellis said. His voice was deathly quiet, eyes still unforgiving. The mechanic shifted slightly, fingers running down the hunting rifle in his lap. The look that he gave Coach was unsettling. The big man couldn't tell if that gun was about to be directed at him. "We're not leavin'."

"No," Coach agreed—or disagreed? What exactly did he mean by 'no?' No, he's dead? No we're not leaving? Coach shifted back against the the door he had strategically placed himself before.

Ellis' despair had turned to rage almost immediately after his sobs had stopped. With rage now coursing through his body, the young man had attempted to return outside. It had taken everything in Coach to keep the mechanic from throwing himself back into the dangerous zombie-infected storm. It had left them both bruised and a little bloody, but in the end Coach had prevailed. "We have to wait for the storm to let down. We won't be able to find him in this rain."

Ellis' jaw clenched and his fingers gripped his gun tighter, his face becoming a little more sinister. "One hour," was all he said. Coach smartly kept his mouth shut and merely nodded.

~*~

He stumbled forward blindly, hands reaching out trying hard to find the car he so desperately sought after. But instead of the metal surface he fully expected, he found himself touching wood. What? That didn't... make sense... Nick moved closer and his feet shuffled loudly on a porch. The rain lifted enough for him to realize he had stumbled to a home. How in the fuck...?

His gaze shifted behind him—but as far as he could tell the car was long gone. He had badly miscalculated the distance. Shit... where was it now? Where was Ellis? His heart immediately went into a panic, thundering so badly he reached up to press his hand to his chest, trying hard to calm it. Shit...

He didn't even get a chance to decide where to go next before the car alarm went off.

The conman felt a jolt of panic course through his body and he adjusted the axe in his hands—fully intending to sprint back out into the rain to try and rendezvous. His plan, however, disintegrated into nothing as flailing arms came out from the storm.

The axe came down, slicing through the first clawing Infected and Nick backed himself against the door. Several more came at him, howling in rage and he sliced through them, hacking off a hand and embedding his axe into another's stomach. He lurched it free and kicked the dying Infected away, but it simply withered onto its stomach and came clawing after him.

Nick pulled the door opened and threw himself inside, slamming it shut. He was greeted by a small group of Infected already making their way towards the alarm from inside. He threw his weight into each swing, slicing them apart and knocking them away, moving further inside to try and head off any more that were about to make Ellis' and Coach's lives a living hell.

As he hacked through them he stumbled closer to a flight a stairs. The conman moved towards them, arm leading the deadly blade and cutting down any other Infected that dared come too close. But, for the most part, the few stragglers left seemed to be diverting their attention towards the open front door now. Nick cursed himself, glancing worriedly towards them as he hustled up the rest of the stairs.

He rounded the corner into a bedroom but before he had made it another foot he realized he had stumbled right into the room of a sobbing Witch. Her back was to him and she was at the foot of the bed, rocking back and forth on her knees, arms clutching herself in a desperate attempt of failed comfort as loud wails left her.

Nick reached for the first door he saw, threw himself inside and closed it. He realized his mistake immediately. This wasn't another room; it was a closet.

Nick stood blinking blankly in the dark, water beading down his face, mouth slacked slightly, fire axe hanging limply at his side. He let out a short mirthless chuckle, one hand coming up to slap over his eyes. He had to suppress his sudden urge to throw back his head and let out an obnoxious laugh—but the loud sobs of the Witch just outside made the laughter catch painfully in his throat.

Nick reached back for his gun and flicked on the flashlight. It was one hell of a small closet. The pull-string for the light was tickling him annoying in the face and he brushed it aside. His flashlight illuminated the rest of the tiny space. He let out a soft sigh—this was one tight fucking fit. Slowly he moved down to his knees and set the flashlight carefully beside him, facing away from the door.

Tentatively he shuffled on his knees and reached up for the doorknob. He cracked it open—just enough to see that the Witch. She was still in the same place, still sobbing uselessly, still rocking herself into an uneasy stupor.  He slowly closed the door again.

Now fucking what?

He could make a break for it—but that seemed like one stupid ass idea. Outside the sound of a car crashing across the pavement indicated that the Tank outside was more than a little pissed off by that blaring alarm. The storm was still howling and the Witch didn't at all seem like she was going to be moving any time soon. He seemed to have only one choice; sit tight and wait.

Nick let out a shaking breath and leaned against the wall. He was soaking wet, shivering and his body was still coursing with adrenaline—but despite the fact he was out of immediate danger he still felt a painful ache in his chest. He knew why. He knew exactly why.

He shifted his head back against the wood and closed his eyes tight. His throat burned suddenly, eyes watering with a mysterious thing he knew to be tears. Helplessly he sat and waited.

Shit... Ellis. I'm sorry, kid. Just hang on... I'll find you.

With the rain pounding above, Nick's quiet sobs joined the Witch's.

~*~

"It's been an hour."

"It's been maybe fifteen."

"At leas' twenty."

"All right. Twenty. That's not an hour." Coach sighed heavily. "You can't think I'm not worried bout Nick too. Believe me, I want to go out there and look for him too, but going out now in this storm isn't going to help anyone. Do you understand? If we leave now we're all going to be dead. You, me and Nick. Are you listening to me, young'un?"

"Sure. Whatever." Ellis readjusted his legs, eyes still keeping a scowling watch on Coach. Then he broke his gaze, only long enough to check his rifle, add a few rounds and lock it back in place. His gaze lifted again, staring, cold, calculating. Coach didn't like that look one bit.

In was barely five minutes later when Ellis was back on his feet. Coach adjusted himself slightly, swallowing thickly as he followed the others movement across the room. Ellis moved his rifle over his shoulder and began to slowly pace the room, one hand up worrying his lips.

"Boy, worryin' yourself like that ain't gonna help no one."

Positively the worst thing to be said right about now. Ellis turned on Coach, fists clenched at his sides, absolutely withering with rage. "Wha' the fuck am I supposed ta do then, Coach? Yer sittin' on yer fuckin' ass jus' waitin' fer the god damn rain ta let up, an' we both know tha' migh' not jus' fuckin' happen! An' yer sure as fuck not lettin' me go no where. So wha' the fuck man? What the fuck am I supposed ta do?"

Slowly, Coach got to his feet and he patted the air delicately. "You need to calm down, boy."

"Calm down? Calm down?" Ellis reeled back, laughing loudly. "I'll show ya fuckin' calmed down." He moved as though to grab at his gun and that was all Coach was willing to see. All two-hundred and fifty pounds of force flew across the room and tackled Ellis to the ground.

They hit the floor hard and the rifle bit into Ellis back painfully. The southerner let out a pained yelp and withered about enough to free one arm. He elbowed Coach hard in the face and it was enough to stun him enough to kick him off. The big man crashed against the table, knocking over empty canteens and other things left by former Survivors. He shook his head, trying to clear the sudden spots of white dancing across his eyes.

Ellis sprang to his feet and in the same motion shrugged his gun into his hand. He gripped it between his hands and then reeled back—fully intending the beat the fucking hell out of Coach's face with the butt of the gun—halfway through the swing he came to a startled stop. Maybe it was the terrified look Coach gave him, or how the older man cowered so helplessly, that made him stop.

Ellis let in a several shaking breaths, gun slowly lowering. He felt the rage leaving him in rolling waves, replaced instead by a sense of guilt only fueled by his growing depression.

"Sorry man... Sorry..." Ellis dipped his head down, chewing at his lip and fought the fiercely hot tears burning his eyes. He glanced towards the door.  "I'm goin' out there. You stay here. If I ain't back by mornin'... Well, ya jus' assumin' the worst."

Coach nodded slightly, swallowing hard. He was shaking. "Good luck, Ellis... Be careful." He didn't dare protest.

Ellis nodded slightly. "Yeah... Yeah I will. We'll be back soon."

The young man slung his gun over his shoulder and then lifted the bar up and off the door. He set it aside gently against the wall, took a deep breath and threw it opened.

The rain pelted against his face and immediately he was blinded by it. He moved to brush the rain out of his eyes but before he had even made it halfway down the stairs he found himself bumping directly into something else.

Instinctively he drew back his fist and connected it firmly with the Infected. It let out a yelp and stumbled back and Ellis moved to give it another solid punch but then the Infected did something strange. It straightened, rubbed at its jaw and spoke;

"Jesus Christ, Overalls. That's how you're greeting me now? I'm all for the rough stuff, but god damn."

Nick.

Ellis drew in a breath before launching himself into the others arms. Soon after he was smothering the man with kisses, practically touching everywhere he could get his hands on, almost suffocating him with affection. But, Nick didn't seem to mind. He simply accepted each kiss with a grin until he lifted both hands to force Ellis away.

"God damn. Didja miss me, El?" the conman asked. His smirk was to die for.

Rain in his eyes, a smile so big it hurt, Ellis simply laughed, clutching that very wet and very much alive man between his shaking fingers.

"Ya have no fuckin' idea, Nick. No fuckin' idea."

But God, now all he could do was smile--despite the fact that he thought Nick deserved at least one more good smack.

Chapter Eleven

I want to trace your scars with my fingertips.
Want to follow its fracturing line.
I think you should know
How beautiful and brave you already are.
I'm so sick of secondhand lovers carving names on my chest.
If I lean in too close, it's to kiss or confess.

The look on Coach's face was priceless, really. But once his initial shock subsided his face turned to a more worried one. A sincerely concerned, really. It took Nick a few moments to realize that the blood and bruises the two had weren't consistent with fighting off zombie hordes... More like exchanging fists with each other. Curious...

Nick moved inside and pulled off his wet jacket after setting his gun against the wall. Behind him he heard Ellis securing the door. Coach was watching the young man intently, frowning.

Nick's gaze followed Coach's for a moment before returning back to the older man, one eyebrow quirked.

"Something the matter, Coach?" the conman asked, scratching absently at his stubble. Faintly distracted Nick noted he was in dire need of a shave, but the look Coach gave him quickly reverted his attention back. Something was... off. "Hello...?" Nick questioned, glancing between the two. "What'd I miss?"

Ellis fiddled with the door in non-comment and it rattled noisily even above the storm.

"Coach?" Nick asked again. He shook out his jacket, one eyebrow still quirked inquiringly.

Coach shifted from the spot he was currently sitting—he hadn't actually moved from the last place Ellis had, well... knocked him senseless into. "Ellis and I... well. We had a disagreement."

"Yeah. I can see that." Nick frowned. "Christ, Coach... You got yourself one hell of a shiner. Are you all right?"

"Young'uns got quite a punch," Coach chuckled, reaching up to touch tenderly at the nearly swollen shut eye.

Nick absently reached up to brush his fingers over his own bruised jaw. "Yeah, I'll second that." The conman glanced to Ellis—who was still insistently securing the door—and moved to Coach's side. "Are you going to be all right?"

Coach half-smiled. "Yeah. But... I may need a night to recuperate." He attempted to adjust his leg out but he quickly winced and stopped.

"Jesus Christ, Ellis. What the hell did you do to him?" Ellis turned, frowning deeply. It was the first time Nick noticed that the young man had a split lip and a noticeable slouch—Ellis wasn't picture perfect stance wise, but this wasn't exactly the same slouchy southerner Nick was accustomed to. It was more of a... "Oh, for fucks sake. What the fuck did you two do to each other? I think we have enough trouble with all these god damn zombies and you're beating the shit out of each other? What the fuck."

Ellis reached up to worry his lips but flinched as he bothered his newly split lip. "Yeah... I'm... I'm real sorry. Tha' was my fault... You were gone an'... an' I di'n't wantcha out there alone... Couldn't stand the thought tha' ya needed help an' we were jus' sittin' in here doin' nothin'."

"So you two beat on each other?" Nick sighed before reaching under the table Coach was sitting beside and pulled out a badly worn first aid kit. He zipped it opened and pulled out an ace bandage. "I guess the damage is done and we have to live with the consequences. Lemme see your leg, Coach. I'll wrap it best I can and you can spend the night with it elevated... I'm afraid that's the best I can do. Doesn't seem to be any pain killers in here."

As the gambler went to work, Ellis shuffled across the room to sit opposite of the two. He would have asked if Nick needed any help, but the looks Coach kept giving him suggested that the big man wasn't exactly ready for little charming Ellis to act like nothing had happened.

It was like Coach knew... Knew that there was a darkness in him... A darkness that was slowly consuming... The darkness that allowed him to cut open and tear down other humans... Allowed him to laugh at the sight of a messy kill, or take each life lost in stride. It was the same darkness that had taken the reigns and had been completely content with beating Coach lifeless if it meant getting what he wanted.

It must've been what little conscience Ellis had left that stopped him... Or really, Nick. Nick was like his conscience now... Nick wouldn't have been happy to find a brutally beaten to death comrade, friend even... And Ellis? Ellis wasn't even sure how he would have felt. At the time he wouldn't have cared. But now as he thought about it... he was terrified by his callousness.

There was something wrong with him... It was as though his empathy was dying. His ability to feel right from wrong. Is that what happens when you lose your soul?

"Hey, El. Help me move Coach over to those sleeping bags. Grab that box and put it over there first."

Ellis swallowed thickly before doing as he was told. There was an awkward moment before Ellis reached down to help move Coach. The big man eyed him—fearfully—and seemed to close his eyes not from the thought of the pain that was about to assault him during the move, but to keep his eyes shut from those hallow blues that had promised death only hours before.

Moved now, Coach adjusted himself on his back, his leg set onto the box Ellis had brought over. Nick hovered over him a moment before turning to Ellis.

"All right, take off your shirt."

"Wha'?" Ellis blinked.

"Let me get a look at your back. You're all haunched over weird. Let me see if a bandage can help."

"N-Nah, man. I'm fine, really."

"Fine, huh?" Nick asked. He gave a hearty slap across the young man's back and Ellis let out a yelp. "Uhhuh. Take your shirt off."

Ellis obeyed silently, a face of misery. He took a seat on the edge of the table.

"Jesus... That's pretty bruised. How'd that happen?"

"Fell. On my gun." Ellis mumbled. Cold fingertips touched lightly against his back and Ellis squirmed away with a startled gasp. "God damn, Nick, you're cold."

"And you're warm. Might be the best sort of ice-pack you can get right now." With that said Nick pressed the back of one hand to the bruise and Ellis withered again, but didn't move away... In an odd way it felt nice. Then again, he may have just liked the fact that Nick was touching him.

Slowly the cold subsided from Nick's hand and it eventually became warmer and warmer until Ellis almost couldn't even tell it was there anymore. But then Nick dropped the warm hand and replaced it with the other and Ellis let out a little whimper. He glared over his shoulder at the other.

Nick grinned back in response. "I'll get that other bandage." His hands disappeared but returned a few moments later. "Try not to move around too much, I'll make it as tight as I can since we're not going anywhere right now."

Nick had become an expert at bandaging. They had all learned a few tricks along the way, but the truth was that Rochelle was—had been—the best at it. The thought wasn't a comforting one... Ellis felt his mind drift back to her death.

He had cared then when she had died. He had cared as he held her lifeless body in his arms. Had cried as the blood had left her. Had wept that he had lost a friend. It had driven him into the darkest corners of his mind, made him retreat into nothingness.

When he had come back from the darkness... it seemed not all of him had returned. Maybe that was where his empathy still lay. Where his soul huddled, refusing to come out and play this game of life. Refused to be broken and bent any longer. Was it gone forever...?

Ellis blinked slightly as Nick moved in front of him now, securing the bandage with careful hands, fingertips so gentle and reassuring, so attentive and kind. Ellis studied that man's face, that worried frown, that creased brow, those sharp eyes. Nick cared for him with absolute tenderness... With perfect raptness. Like had no knowledge of the monster he nursed back to health.

Ellis let in a shuddering breath and dropped his gaze. It was hard to stare at someone who still had such empathy... He was jealous, really. Jealous that his kindness had abandoned him. Jealous that he couldn't feel the same thing Nick felt...

But then again... He felt something. For Nick, at least. The very thought of him being hurt... being lost or worse... It tore him apart inside. Ripped him to pieces from the inside out. Unhinged his mind. Wracked his mind and heart to the point of breaking. Nick was the only thing that kept him sane now...

"Hey... El? You all right?"

"I'm fine." The young man scooted off the table and reached over to his shirt. He wrung it between his hands, gaze still averted, still trying to grasp exactly what it was that still kept him human.

"Man... That's one nasty scar." Nick said suddenly. One finger traced a long thin white scar that swept from Ellis' left shoulder and curved down and disappeared under the bandages. It was an old scar, healed long before the Infection had hit. "Where'd you get that bad boy?"

Ellis blinked blankly, reaching up absently to touch at it. "Oh... Tha'? Long story..." The memory flooded before his eyes—four years ago, he had been nineteen. The night had been dark, the circumstances unsettling. Yes... His numbness had always been prominent. It was, after all, something he had always fallen back on. Seemed that it just took a zombie apocalypse for it to sink its numbing needle into and take over.

"We got time..." Nick replied offhandedly. He watched as Ellis pulled his shirt on and the mechanic shook his head slightly. Nick frowned. "All right... Well... I guess it's best if we try to get some rest. It's been a long day." He nodded to Coach who was already snoring softly. "I think we should follow Coach's lead."

Nick gave the young man a lingering stare before he moved across the room to seat himself against the wall. He took the time to remove his shoes and belt and laid them near-by. It was another few moments before he spoke again.

"Ellis, are you going to join me?"

"Sure." The young man shuffled over and sat next to the other man. Nick looked at him—again with that concerned look... That gentle reminder that he was here... That the promise he made was still in effect. He was there to stay. Maybe even forever.

"Are you sure you're all right, Ellis?"

Ellis blinked once, sighing softly and reached up to touch at his chest where he knew the scar ended. "Ever been in love, Nick?"

"Sure... I was married once. I guess you could call that love. Or at least, some cheap version of it." Nick shrugged slightly. "Not everlasting love though, I guess. Why?"

"I thought I was with this girl. We were together from the start of high school up 'til she left for college. I though' we'd be together forever, ya know? Wake up with her on my mind, sleep with her in my dreams. Call it an obsession, maybe... But I think it was love. Of some sort. Ya can't be with someone for tha' long an' not feel somethin'. Which is why I guess I was so surprised when she broke up with me after we graduated." Ellis hesitated. "I wasn't gonna go to college an' I guess tha' made me not worth stayin' with. But... I got my mechanic shop up an' movin' with Keith an' Dave an' we did all righ'..." He hesitated again. "I woulda done anythin' for her. An' I thought she woulda done the same for me..." He shrugged slightly. "She broke up with me  two weeks 'fore our fifth anniversary. I had a shit ton planned, too."

"That really sucks, Ellis... I'm sorry."

"Yeah..." Ellis frowned. "She told me I wasn't what she was lookin' for, tha' our time together had been sweet an' great... Tha' she jus' was lookin' for someone more mature an' with real goals in mind. Like, goals tha' could support her an' wha'not when she settled down with a family. Guess she figured I wasn't gonna go nowhere with the shop. But... I guess tha' was her mistake. Then again..." He shrugged slightly and the smile that accompanied it wasn't exactly amused. "No shop no more, righ'?"

"But, the weird thing was... When she did it... I di'n't know wha' to feel. Upset, sad, angry, betrayed... I jus' di'n't know. So I felt nothin'. It was like those five years never happened. An' I think tha's wha' upset her the most. That I sorta jus' shrugged off the years with an 'okay, see ya later, good luck'. An' when I went home tha' night... I jus' sat there starin' at the wall, rememberin' things. The places we went, all the shit we had done, all the sweet things she had said... an' I still felt nothin'. Not a damn thing."

Ellis traced the trail of his scar over his shirt. "So I took a knife an' I jus'... Well." He shrugged lightly. "Jus' wanted to feel somethin'. Pain, anythin'... An' tha' was all I got outta it. A couple days of pain an' a scar. But then a few months later I started ta feel 'gain. Probably was thanks ta Keith an' Dave." Ellis chuckled, "An' a lot of beer pong."

The young man blinked at the conman. Nick held his gaze evenly. "After her I di'n't really have no desire to date 'gain. Mostly 'cause I knew tha' I wouldn't feel nothin' from it. I mean... I laugh an' I mean it. I joked around with my buddies an' I felt somethin' for them. I loved bein' around them. Don' get me wrong, I loved life an' all tha'... I jus'... Sometimes, I guess I jus'..."

"Shut down..."

"Yeah. I guess ever since Pa left an' I saw Ma all cryin' for days... months, years after tha'... I think a part o' me figured, why the hell ever go through tha'? Why give your heart an' soul to someone when they'll jus' walk out an' hurtcha later? I guess I always maintained the mentality tha' love ain't everlastin'."

"I don't know..." Nick shrugged slightly. "Maybe some isn't... and some is."

Ellis squinted hard and his mind drifted—oddly to Virgil. To that man that had sat beside him and told him of a wife and a child that had meant everything—and still did-- to him. He had lost them, but that love hadn't weakened in the slightest.

"Nick...?"

"Yeah?"

Ellis glanced slowly to his right to Coach's sleeping form. "I was gonna kill him, ya know."

"Huh...?" Nick looked to the big man too. "What?"

"I was gonna kill him. Tha's why he's so banged up the way he is. He kept tellin' me ta sit tigh' an' jus' wait out the storm 'fore we went ta find ya. An' it was annoying. It pissed me off... an' when he tried ta stop me... Well... 'Bout knocked his teeth out. But even when he was down I still wanted ta jus' keep hittin' him... Jus' beat him 'til he stopped movin'... Jus' make him shut up."

Nick didn't say anything, and Ellis couldn't really blame him.

"Sometime's when things get stressful... I've always had this strange ability ta shut down everythin'. After Pa left, I had ta be the one ta make Ma smile 'gain, ya know? I had ta jus' push down my own sadness an' jus' be there for her instead. 'Cause ya know... She needed it. She needed me ta be strong an' I guess I never learned how to deal with stuff... An' instead jus' learned how ta make the emotions jus' stop."

"But this time... it's different... This time..." Ellis hesitated, mouth moving but no words would come to explain himself. He swallowed hard and tried again. "I guess this time it's like I've lost somethin' permanent. I don' feel nothin' when I'm killin' people no more. I did at first an' like everyone else I though' I was just murderin' an' it was wrong... But now I don' really mind the sight of blood or death. I'm sorta jus' okay with it. Ain't much I can do 'bout it anyway. Me or them, right?"

"Yeah..." Nick shuffled his knees up and rested his folded arms around them. "So... you don't feel anything? Nothing...?"

"I wouldn't say tha'... My first reaction ta anythin' has no emotional consequence. Like I said... I woulda killed Coach."

"But you didn't."

"Nah... I had this moment right before I started hittin' him 'gain tha' I saw your face... an' I knew you'd be mad. So I di'n't wanna hurt him... 'cause I di'n't wanna hurt you."

Nick blinked slowly, a slight frown on his lips. He finally looked to Ellis and the young man caught his gaze. They stared for what had to of been a full minute.

"We've been through a lot, Ellis. A whole lot. All of us. I'd be lying if I said I sometimes didn't feel bad for killing some of those... Infected... I think it's normal to shut down certain emotions in a time like this. But I'll admit... I've always been one able to brush off guilt and empathy... Comes with being a conman," He flashed a winning smile that slowly became serious again. "But I don't want you to feel nothing. That makes..." Nick's gaze dropped and his lips twitched. "That makes me sad to hear that."

Something tightened in Ellis' chest and he felt a burning in his eyes. He swallowed down the pain, trying hard to push it aside—but then Nick looked back to him.

"Hey, now..." the conman said gently. He lifted one hand up to touch the wetness under Ellis' eyes. "Tears don't come out of no where. What's wrong...?"

Ellis took in a slow breath, "I guess... I guess the thought of you bein' sad over me..." He shook his head slowly, lip trembling. "Makes me sad... You're the only one tha' I've ever felt anythin' for... Like a real somethin'. Not like anythin' else I've ever felt 'fore..."

Nick half smiled, palm warm on the side of the mechanic's cheek. He leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to the corner of Ellis' mouth. "I know exactly how you feel, kid. So just do me one favor?"

"Anythin'."

"Stop fighting the tears. I think... I think we could both..." He swallowed thickly and smiled almost apologetically, "Both use a good cry."

Ellis blinked once and took that thought into consideration. But the haunted look in Nick's eyes gave him all the encouragement he needed. It was good to feel... Good to know that he still had something inside of him that cared.

The mechanic scooted closer and Nick pulled him against him, head resting against Ellis'.

The tears they shed were for each other.

In a sick way I want to thank you for holding my head up late at night.
When I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight.
You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate.
You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take.

Chapter Twelve

Rain. Endless rain. Obnoxious in-your-face-can't-see-a-god-damn-thing rain. He may have not been panicking like he was if it weren't for the fact that one minute Nick was there—then the next he was gone. Swept up by a gust of wind, tossed away into the endless fog and rain with a soft hiss from above. A man one moment a ghost the next.

All he could do was rage about in the storm, pushing away anything that came clawing and snarling after him, just shove his gun into their guts and pull the trigger over and over. Blood tried to mark him with his sins, but the rain was too much. It simply washed away as though all was forgiven. God must have smiled upon him from above.

Have to find... Have to find him. Where is he? Where are you, Nick? Nick, Nick, Nick... Can you hear me? It's Ellis... Where are you?

Did he leave on purpose? Had he abandoned him? Excuse me, sorry, but you're a monster and my promise has become obsolete. I can't love someone like you. I'm leaving now, so goodbye, take care.

No! No... No, no, no... That's not it... That can't be it.

Ellis ran through the rain, squinting against its pelting madness from above. Slowly a figure formed just out of his reach. The young man smiled—but then it fell. It was just Coach.

Coach looked at him, somberly and then shook his head very slowly. "He's gone, boy." The big man paused and then he grinned, but it was more sinister than anything. Mocking. "And it's all your fault." He shook his head disapprovingly and let out a loud exaggerated sigh. "If only you would have just left him alone. Let him do things on his own. He doesn't need you. Doesn't want you. Never has, never will, never--"

The sentence never had a chance at being complete. Ellis shoved the barrel of his gun to Coach's throat and without a hint of hesitation pulled the trigger. An explosion of crimson rained down on him, covering him, smothering him with red. Coach's body collapsed to the ground in a twitching heap.

But the rain...

Ellis' gaze lifted and he squinted up at the endless crimson falling from the Heavens, painting him with complete redness.

Apparently God was no longer smiling.

Ellis blinked awake, numbly, arms crossed tightly across his chest, knees shuffled up close. He realized he was leaning against Nick and the older man was shifted slightly against him, one arm draped lazily around the mechanic.

Ellis' gaze shifted about the room. The light above was in a gentle sway, groaning softly with each new rock. A soft rumble of thunder rolled throughout the room and Ellis could feel it reverberating through his chest. Their guns were all lined up against one wall still, probably dry now and hopefully still in functioning order... Nick's jacket was draped across one of the tables... And...

His eyes met Coach's. Ellis couldn't help but notice the lack of warmth in that look. That guarded glare, that hint of loathing, that mask of fear. So, Ellis did the only thing he cared to do. He smiled back.

"Mornin', Coach!" Ellis called.

The big man muttered a greeting before he scooted slowly into a sitting position. He winced all the while, hands gently guiding his knee into a less painful position.

Ellis felt a pang of guilt. A soft something of regret as he watched Coach struggle to find a way to sit without pain. He knew it was entirely his fault for that pain... and in all honesty, it gnawed at his conscience to know he had done it.

"Coach...?"

"What?"

"Sorry 'bout your leg... An' hittin' ya an' all tha'... I wasn't... wasn't thinkin' when I did it." Ellis frowned slightly before his gaze shifted upwards to Nick. He half-smiled, one hand reaching up to touch lightly to the conman's cheek. "Nick jus' had me real worried an' stuff... Guess I kinda lost it."

Did Coach even believe him? The big man shifted again, eyes averted. But this was Coach... and Coach was a man with a big forgiving heart. It didn't take long for him to respond.

"I know, Ellis. It's all right. You're just one scary fuck when you're like that." Coach was also honest. Which was an admirable thing, really. To be honest, Ellis felt his heart warming a little more to the big man... He would be sorry to see Coach go. That thought was comforting—to know maybe he wasn't as terrible a monster as he had begun to suspect. "Guess I'm still a little... shaken from it." Shaken? Terrified might be a better way to describe it, but Ellis chose not to comment any further.  Ellis simply nodded in a way that he hoped showed he was understanding. "Why don'tcha wake up Nick? We need to start movin' here soon..."

Ellis blinked once before he shifted around to face the conman. Now... how exactly did he wake him up? His first instinct was to get handsy, molesting and kissing him awake and the fact that Coach was there wasn't at all deterring. It was more like... a soft whisper of dream-Coach's words gave him pause. Maybe such advances would be unwelcoming ones.

But before Ellis could decide what to do, Nick blinked awake, craned his neck and then looked down at him. "Ellis, is this really the time?" The smirk that tugged at the corner of the conman's lips was only more adorable by those sleepy orbs trying hard to focus on his sudden wake up call.

And then for the first time Ellis realized he had perched himself over the conman, one hand on each of the man's thighs. Ellis blinked widely, lips pursed slightly but he didn't move.

A goofy grin slipped onto the young man's lips. "Um... good mornin'?"

"Uh...huh." Nick quirked an eyebrow. "Good morning then." He tilted his head to Coach, "Good morning, Coach."

"Morning..." the big man replied absently, gawking.

Half a minute later, Nick must've taken pity on the mechanic because he leaned forward and pressed a rough kiss to the corner of Ellis' mouth. Ellis chased those lips with his own and Nick was kind enough to let the young man catch him. It was only a brief kiss, more inquiring for Ellis than anything. The fact that Nick let him... Well, that was encouraging. Maybe he should go tell dream-Coach to suck it.

Real-Coach, however, simply stared. Oh right... poor guy hadn't really a clue... If Coach thought anything on the matter he didn't say anything. He just continued to stare, suspended in a state of pure bafflement.  He shook himself visibly, blinked and then shrugged off the odd exchange.

"Well..." Coach ventured quietly, trying hard to fish for conversation.

"How's your leg?" Nick asked. Ellis scooted away before he stood up and began to check their guns in an effort to keep busy.

"Not great." Coach attempted to bend his leg and grimaced. "Not great at all."

Nick frowned, scratching at the back of his head absently. "I wonder how far Ducatel is from here..." He got to his feet and began to rummage messily throughout the room, tossing away blankets and boxes.

"Wha' are ya lookin' for?" Ellis asked.

"A map... or something."

"Whatcha got in mind, boy?" Coach asked.

Nick paused in his rummaging, frowning still. He leaned against the table, eyes searching it intently. He clicked his tongue in thought and then sighed quietly. "I'm thinking... maybe we'll have to leave you here for now, Coach." The big man began to protest immediately, but Nick continued smoothly, "You're in no condition to move. You're in too much pain and as far as we know you can't even make it down these stairs. It's best if you stayed here... We don't know how long Virgil will wait for us and the sooner we get moving the better. Ellis and I can stick to the shadows and avoid the majority of the Infected just by ourselves. We don't have the ammo to wage war anyways."

The conman turned finally to face the big man. Coach gave a defeated sigh.  "We'll be back for you, Coach. And the sooner we leave, the sooner we'll get back." Nick's gaze shifted to Ellis and the young man straightened immediately upon that look, gun clutched tightly in his hands. "Sound good, Overalls?"

Ellis blinked once, looked to Coach and then back to Nick. "Yeah. Sounds great."

~*~

They moved in near silence throughout the broken sugar mill, over rusty and long-dead machines and quietly over rubble. They avoided as many Infected as they could and those they came across they cut down with their axes—doing their damned hardest to conserve what little ammo they had.

They had to move close together, often stumbling through the thick rain and almost losing each other in the storm. It was a nightmare, really. It was best that Coach had stayed behind. By now they'd probably all be dead if the gimping man were trying to keep up.

"Hey... Nick..." Ellis whispered quietly. They moved low across the ground as they snuck quietly into a hallowed out building. Nick paused, gauging the room before heading up the first flight of stairs they saw. "Where'd you go? Wha' happened?"

"What?" Nick's face wrinkled with confusion, but then he seemed to understand. "Oh... right. I got lost in the rain. Ended up in a house."

"Wha' took ya so long?"

Nick's face twitched slightly, a frown coming to his lips. He waved his hand dismissively. "Stumbled on a Witch." He shifted lower to the ground and crept quietly past a small string of Infected. Ellis followed his lead.

"How'd ya get past her?" the mechanic asked curiously.

Nick continued to creep along wordlessly but Ellis reached out to tug insistently at his jacket. Nick sighed heavily. "I conned her."

Ellis laughed. "You wha'?"

Nick grimaced. "I conned her... Made her think I was one of them."

"How in the hell didja do tha'?"

The memory, obviously, wasn't one Nick was proud of. His face twisted and he slouched miserably. "Can't we just leave it at that?"

"Nah, man, I wanna hear how ya conned one of the most badass Infected 'round here."

Nick sighed and ran his fingers to slick back his loose bangs. "All right... well..."

So here he was. Cramped in a tiny closet while just outside a sobbing Witch hindered any escape. He could try to sneak back past her—and hope that no Infected had wandered upstairs for him to stumble into... but even so...

Nick cracked the door opened just enough to see her again—she hadn't moved much, but it appeared she had crawled a few feet closer—maybe intrigued by the noises coming from the closet. It had taken Nick a few minutes to calm himself and now that there was only her sobbing she seemed to have become immersed with her own sorrows all over again. No one to share it with...

An idea flickered to life.

Heart thundering with the ludicrous idea now forming in his mind, Nick quickly clicked off his flashlight and swung his gun back over his shoulder. He reached up to touch at his soiled suit. He could feel that it was damp—mostly with rain, but since entering the home he had also sliced apart several Infected. Consequently he was splattered with their tainted blood... and that blood may actually even be enough to conceal whatever scent made him so damn delicious to these Infected.

Yet, from his experience with the Witches he couldn't help but wonder if the blood was even needed. As long as you kept your flashlight low and your eyes averted and footsteps quiet, the Witches were fully content with sobbing quietly into their diseased hands without any indication that they had any idea what was going on around them.

Now though, it seemed early impossible to step by her. The door wouldn't open enough for him to slip through without drawing enough attention to himself—especially once he had to sidle past her. She would notice him. But, she may notice him and not care... But whatever the case, she would notice him... and the best he could do was make himself seem to be the most non-threatening and useless wandering by.

Nick slowly got to his feet and pushed the door opened slightly, perhaps to test her. She shuddered in her sobs, head lolling slightly, wicked eyes searching the movement from beside her. But then...

Nick lifted his hands to his hair, fingers entangling into it, head bowed slightly, slouched and slowly shuffled out. For a moment he thought she was about to launch to her feet in a fitful rage—but then he matched her quiet helpless cries with his own.

The Witch shuddered slightly and let out a low moan—almost as if to say she understood his anguish. The conman shuffled out of the closet and slowly past those fiery eyes that still followed his every moment. She must've taken pity on him, realized he was much like her—alone, forgotten, in pain and wanting nothing more than to be left alone. With a gurgling huff her head rolled back to hang worthlessly between her sagging shoulders and she sobbed shamelessly along side her new companion.

The few feet to round the corner must have taken him only minutes, but it had felt like hours with each new step. At any moment she could have changed her mind and come snarling after him—but she never did. She simply sobbed away her misery with little care of the intruder.

Nick had never loved the sound of a woman crying until that day.

Ellis laughed—he couldn't help himself. "Well, god damn, Nick."

"Yeah. Don't tell anyone about that."

"Why not? Tha' was brilliant!"

"It was humiliating. Why it is those Witches find such comfort in that shit, I won't know."

Ellis chuckled. "A' leas' ya got past her fine an' dandy though, righ'?"

"Yeah... the regular Infected weren't having any of it though. Not easily as fooled as she was. They were all about ripping me to pieces, but, as you can see, I managed to get past them. I saw that porch light and figured it was probably where you two had gone. It was the only sign of life in that godforsaken place."

"Yeah... Coach must've though' the same thing..." Maybe Coach had been right... had he gone looking for Nick he may have blown the conman's cover—startled the Witch and ended up getting him or both of them killed... Ellis frowned slightly, not at all liking the fact that Coach maybe had been right all along...

"Overalls."

Ellis snapped back to attention, "Yeah?"

"There's an elevator right here. And down there looks like a wheat field--"

"Sugarcane."

"What?"

"Tha's sugarcane, Nick. Ain't no wheat field. Dontcha know the difference?"

The look Nick gave him made Ellis grin back stupidly in spite of the fact he was at the receiving end of one of Nick's not-so-kind scowls. "What the fuck difference does it matter?" the gambler asked sourly.

"It don't. I was jus' sayin'."

Nick's mouth tightened into a thin line and he looked like he wanted to comment further but he simply shrugged off his annoyance. "Whatever. There's a sugarcane field--" Ellis grinned hard again, "--down there. We can use the elevator to get to it. I can see the gas station from here." He gestured to it. "Better be some god damn gas there," he grumbled.

The conman pressed the elevator button and it creaked and groaned loudly  before making a rumbling ascend. The two stood mutely, ears attentive, breath nearly suffocating them as they held it with the effort to stay quiet. Only a few Infected were alerted by the noise—the few they had chosen to ignore on the way up the stairs and when they drew close enough they cut them to pieces. As the last straggler reached them, as did the elevator. They moved inside and started their decline.

But then... Ellis felt his stomach twist in knots. Although the storm was still thick and the rumbling thunder was numbing, he could still hear it. "Nick?"

Nick didn't answer at first. He was staring worriedly into the sugarcane as it slowly became eye-level. "What?" he asked quietly.

"I hear Witches... A lot of 'em."

"Yeah. Me too." His hand dropped down, fingers twitching slightly. "Stay close." Ellis took that offered hand immediately and the moment the doors opened they moved quickly out into the field.

Ellis brushed away the stalks that slapped at him, squinted against the rain and sloshed through the muddy water. Despite the fact that potential death wandered maybe only feet away, Ellis couldn't really find time to be fearful. He was only grateful that his hand was in Nick's and the conman was holding on tight. Whatever dreams plagued him in his sleep, about abandonment where just that... Just stupid dreams fueled from a this world of chaos, kindled from his broken spirit, brought on from lingering doubts of his own damaged heart.

As the rain fell on them, Ellis couldn't help but feel relief. As if all those doubts were slowly washing away. With each new step they took together, he had this strange feeling somewhere deep inside of him that each of their steps was the beginning of a forever. And wherever that forever ended, it was fine. As long as Nick was still at his side to see it through.

Love of mine, someday you will die,
but I'll be close behind.
I'll follow you into the dark.
No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white.
Just our hands clasped so tight,
waiting for a hint of a spark.

Chapter Thirteen

If I could change my mind, change the paradigm,
Prepare myself for another life
Forgive myself for the many times
I was cruel to something helpless and weak.
But here it comes, that heavy love.
I'm never gonna move it alone.

Nick guided them into the nearby building and once inside the two began to wring the water from their clothes and hair. "Man... this place is a dump," Nick muttered as he wiped rain from his eyes.

"Well...it is a zombie apocalypse, Nick. Can't expect the services ta stay up an' runnin'," the mechanic said diplomatically. He pulled off one shoe and shook it—a fountain of water seemed to run out and Ellis shook it a little harder before examining the inside curiously. He gave the same treatment to the other shoe.

Nick gave the other a long look all the while before he smoothed out his ruined suit. "I think it was a dump before the Infection. Look at it."

Nick probably had something right about that. The place seemed like a cheap place to catch some food. Some convenient place to stop and fill your belly with some crappy food and send you on your way with a stomach ache and regretting every decision you made that brought you there.

"Let's look around for that promised gas."

"Yeah," Ellis agreed quietly. The two shouldered their weapons and began to search quietly. Pushing over boxes and checking every little nook and cranny without much fear of being quiet. Most of the Infected seemed drawn to the rain—but most seemed to have split at the sound of Witches nearby. The rain above was still loud enough to mask most noises anyhow.

"Nick. There's a room here. But I can't get it open." The mechanic pushed on the door a little harder and tried the doorknob. "It's locked. We're gonna have to break it down."

"Hm... I suppose you wouldn't lock a door that doesn't have anything worthwhile in it." The conman scanned the room briefly before lifting up a heavy piece of furniture that looked to have served as a part of a booth at one point. Whatever its purpose had been at one point was hard to tell, but he knew exactly what it was going to be now. "Help me out."

"I woulda though' someone like you could pick the lock or somethin'," Ellis joked.

Nick frowned. "I don't have anything to pick it with." Ellis blinked. He had been joking... but Nick seemed serious. The conman looked at him. "Are you going to help me?"

Together the two lifted the heavy makeshift battering ram and with only two well-placed hits had knocked the door loose. They tossed the  piece of furniture aside. Nick moved inside and flicked on the light and both of their faces quickly lit up.

"Holy shit, Nick. Gas!" The mechanic practically squealed with joy as he ran inside to examine the gas tanks. "Man, they're full too. Holy shit, man. Holy shit." He shook one of them. "God damn this'll keep Virgil goin' for a real long time by itself. An' man, there's some more in  here. Damn... How're we gonna carry 'em--" He looked to the conman who was standing in the doorway, leaning against it, hair dripping perfectly, skin moist with rainwater still, clothes clinging to every curve of his well muscled body and... Ellis' brain seemed to break a little. "Gonna... get 'em up.. Er—there. And..." The young man blinked blankly.

"What's your problem?" Nick asked, one eyebrow quirked.

As he stared, Ellis couldn't help but feel this sudden need overtaking him. He licked his already wet lips, feeling his body suddenly swelling with ideas. "Hey Nick... Secure tha' door."

Nick blinked blankly, glancing about it before he stepped inside and pulled it closed. "Not sure how well it can be secu--"

The rest of the words never got to leave his lips. Ellis had pounced the conman from behind, pulling him backwards, hands catching at the conman's sleeves and jerking the jacket off and away in one motion. Nick barely had the time to turn around before Ellis' lips had captured his own in a very aggressive all teeth and tongue kiss.

The conman had no time to recover as the mechanic forced them both to the ground in an awkward tangle of limbs that soon sorted out as hands and fingers groped and clawed, squeezed and explored each others bodies with abandon. All the bottled up sexual tension, every little fantasy that had crossed their minds was now at their fingertips waiting to become a reality.

Though, to be honest, Nick never really thought Ellis would be the aggressive one. Then again, he wasn't about to complain. There was something about the way Ellis was tearing his clothes off, teeth leading most kisses and nails reminding him exactly where his hands were headed that was quite... well... intoxicating.

Ellis was relentless with his advances. As far as he was concerned now was the most opportunistic time to get a much needed confirmation from the conman. Hello, I know we share kisses and touches, soft smiles and longing looks... but do you really want this? This psychotic monster bubbling under the surface of a pretty face and a southern tongue? Do you really want this?

Maybe he was being subconsciously rough with the conman for just that reasoning. Why lie to him with tender kisses and lovemaking? Why caress him with gentle hands when he damned well knew that under those touches was an explosive rage? Tick tick tick... the fuse was lit, the monsters are already in deep, insanity grows, empathy descending, and the monster grows and grows and grows...

His raging mind came to a halt as Nick grabbed his face firmly with both hands and pulled him into a deep kiss. Ellis had half the mind to not to bite that intruding tongue and instead decided to defend himself. They clashed together as hands tore and tugged at each others hair, hips grinding against each other as they fought the battle of their lives.

Credit to Nick, the conman came out victorious. A slight of hand turned the battle in his favor—although as dirty as a move it may have been. The conman's hand slipped from the younger man's hair, hand trailing down the others chest and stomach until cupping Ellis' already throbbing cock. Ellis' body arched at the touch, a startled moan leaving him and the victor quickly seized the battleground with one last intense barrage of tongue.

Their mouths drew apart, pants leaving them, the intensity of their stares brought them to a quiet stillness. It was Nick that moved first, shifting forward to place another kiss to the mechanic's lips—oddly gentle, hands working expertly to free Ellis of his pants. His success in the matter should have been expected, but even so the coldness of the cement floor on Ellis' bare-skin was enough to make him shudder.

It didn't take long for Nick to undress himself as well and Ellis was perfectly content leaning back on his elbows, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth as he shamelessly assaulted the other with his eyes. Nick didn't seem to mind, and smirking himself now descended on the young man with another surprisingly soft kiss.

Ellis shifted his face away from the kiss, mouth tightening into a thin line, brows furrowed.

"What's wrong...?" Nick asked worriedly, hands on either side of the other as he hovered above him.

Blue eyes met green, intense, half-lidded and almost teasing. But the tone in Ellis' voice held no room for argument; "I wan' ya to fuck me, Nick. We can make love later."

Nick blinked. Once, twice... and then he laughed. "All right." The conman grinned devilishly. "On your knees."

Ellis obeyed without question.

There wasn't really a way to describe the sensation as Nick inserted himself into him—except that there was a significant burning as he was stretched unexpectedly—but Ellis found that sudden pain, that obvious fullness filling him to be a welcoming unexpectedness. His body trembled under each push, knees biting into the concrete, fingernails catching the cement as his hands tensed, breath hitching in his throat. He willed his body to relax, meeting each of Nick's movements back with his own until it became clear that Nick had buried himself as far as he could.

Nick could have been gentle, could have taken his time and ignored Ellis' plea for a good fuck... but instead his hands gripped Ellis' hips tightly and with nothing more than a soft noise began a hard and long rhythm that rocked their bodies against each other in waves of both pleasure and pain.

Each time Nick drew back Ellis could feel his breath leaving him so violently he was nearly breathless each time the conman pounded back into him. Each breath he gasped in wasn't nearly enough to quench his starving lungs but his body ached with longing far too powerful to ask the other to give him a moment to catch his breath. And it wasn't just the rhythmic movement inside of him, but the contact of Nick's front meeting his backside over and over, the warmth of that body above him, those calloused fingertips digging into his hips, those grunts and gasps coming from the other...

He couldn't have lasted more than minutes under those thrusts, his body and mind had been fantasizing this moment for weeks now... Maybe even since the day Ellis had really sat back and mulled over the conman. How those smirks were irresistible, that his sharp tongue actually masked the worry plaguing the man, that he was handsome and tall, how well that suit fit him and how god damned good he looked in it...

It had been almost a month ago back in Whispering Oaks that Ellis had realized he was quickly and heavily falling in love with the man. He had kept it to himself for the longest time... mostly out of fear but also because he knew 'now was not the time'. But that hadn't kept his mind from wandering—back before his dreams had turned bad, especially. He had woken up in the middle of the night more than once covered in sweat, body shaking, and embarrassingly hard after a night of dreaming of the man. And now, in a cheesy and literal way, his dreams were coming true.

Ellis' body shook as an orgasm overtook him. He felt his locked elbows trying to turn to jelly, body sagging under the sudden pleasure as it tensed and relaxed. Shaking hard, the taste of sweat on his lips the young man arched his back, glancing back to the conman. The other was breathless, sweat beading on his forehead and that god damned smirk still on his lips.

"I'm not done with you yet," the older man grunted. Ellis wanted to reply with something witty but Nick cut off whatever reply with a powerful thrust that instead forced his words out into an unintelligible moan.

Nick was a little more gentle this time—maybe realizing that Ellis' body had already endured an intense and new sensation and probably pounding into him all over again might end up being more damaging than pleasurable in the end. But whatever he did, Ellis could feel his body swelling all over again with warming pleasure. Although significantly more kind this time, he made up for each new thrust by making them longer, nearly drawing his length all the way out before burying himself back in to the hilt, over and over.

Again Ellis felt his body welling with the familiar feeling of euphoria but this time he felt Nick's body moving against his own in the familiar spasm of climax. Each noise he made and especially how his hands gripped at him with such need seemed to make up Ellis' mind for good.

Nick knew about the monsters, knew what lay beneath the surface... and he was perfectly okay with it.

~*~

Although it rained relentlessly on them and the gas tanks they carried made their shoulders burn and their backs ache neither one of them could find the time to be angry or upset. Not even the mud soiling their clothes and ruining their shoes was enough to dampen their spirits.

By the time they reached the building they had left Coach the two were out of breath, absolutely shaking with fatigue, but still, the grins on their lips were enough to keep the monsters in Ellis' head away—at least, for one more day.

"Honey, we're home!" Nick called as he banged on the door to the safe house. It was barely half a minute later when the door swung open. Coach about suffocated him in a hug.

"Ellis?" Coach asked worriedly. Ellis half-smiled as he waved from behind the conman and to his surprise found himself also at the receiving end of one of Coach's mighty bear-hugs. "I was getting real worried. Now get in here." He ushered the two inside before securing the door and gimping up the stairs after them.

"How's your leg?" Ellis asked quietly.

"Better, thanks. I found this baseball bat makes a pretty good cane if I need it. You... y'all found gas?"

"Yeah. We took all that we could carry." Nick struggled to get the gas tank off himself before smoothly sliding Ellis' off. "There was more... but this shit's heavy. I think it'll last some for Virgil."


Coach sighed with relief. "Thank God... He must have been watching over you two."

Nick and Ellis exchanged long side-ways glances until, to Coach's confusion, the both broke out into laughter.

Coach was perfectly content not asking what was so funny.

Chapter Fourteen

I'm a bit suicidal,
I'm my own worst rival,
Train wreck, white trash, freak, maniac, psycho.
I'm a trouble making rebel,
Made a deal with the devil,
I'm way past ever coming back.

"Let's just take this nice and easy," Nick said gently. "Coach, how are you holding up?"

The big man grunted, leaning against the house they were ducking behind. He reached up with his free hand to brush the rain and sweat from his eyes. He was leaning heavily on a baseball bat that was now serving as a makeshift cane. "I'm doing all right. I've got this." The rain water swelling around their feet only reminded them how far from all right they were. If the zombies didn't kill them a flash flood soon would.

"Good..." Nick peeked around the house before ducking back. "I was really hoping we'd get away from that god damn Tank... but looks like we're not going to get past that bastard." The conman adjusted the AK in his hand, fingers brushing over the scuffed surface.

The man took a deep breath and closed his eyes, already calculating the protests he was about to receive. "I'll make a distraction. There's no other way to get around him—shut it, Overalls. Listen. I'll bring the Tank into that house on the right just up the road. It has access to the roof from the second floor. I'll slip onto it, down that ladder and lose him. If we try to sneak by now with Coach like that... If we're seen, it's over. We can't outrun him like this. Besides, there's not enough Infected to worry about me getting tangled up on, no Witches..." He paused, tilting his head around to get another eyeful of the monstrous creature. "...just Mr. Tank and all his furious glory."

"I don't like it, man." Ellis muttered. He shifted, agitated, lips forming an intense frown. "How in the hell will we know if yer gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. When have I ever let you guys down?" That grin—that confident gleaming grin was probably the only thing that eased Ellis' fears—but only by a miniscule amount. The mechanic shifted, gun clutched in his hands, scowling at the conman. "I'll be fine. But, Coach. I have a favor."

Coach blinked at the other. "Yeah?"

"Think you can carry the gas tank for a bit? I want to be as fast as I can."

The big man motioned for the gas tank and quickly Nick passed it to the older mans shoulders.

"Wait," Ellis said, grabbing hold of the gambler's jacket. His mind screamed at him that this was stupid. So stupid. So many things could go wrong, Nick could be injured or worse... Ellis felt his heart squeeze painfully. "We don't have to do this, Nick," he said quietly, searching the others face desperately.  "We can sneak around."

Nick smiled, gently, maybe reassuringly. "Maybe," he said, hand lifting to rest against Ellis' fingers gripping his jacket. "But are you willing to risk for it to see us while we're sneaking by? We've been over this." His smile continued to stay soft, understanding; Yes, Overalls, I know what I'm doing and I know the risks, just trust me. That confidence was hard to argue with. "Between the flooding, the rain, and Coach's condition... if it sees us, it's all over."

Ellis nodded slightly, reluctantly. Sure, he got the gist of it. The whole doomed scenario... But that didn't make him feel any better that it was Nick running out there. "Why can't I do it?"

Nick laughed, amused. "Like I'd let you." With an affectionate squeeze to unhook the mechanic's grip on him, the gambler was on his feet and out into the streets.

The Tank didn't seem to notice the waving conman at first and seemed to just want to continue to lumber about, swatting at Infected absently. But then there was a click followed by a shower of bullets—all aimed at the massive creature. Had it not notice the conman before, it most certainly did now.

The noise it made was no longer human, but more animalistic as its new form would suggest. Its muscles flexed, body twisting around, arms leading as it crashed against a car and overturned it in the midsts of its rage. Bullet holes danced up its side and left small bleeding holes that seemed to annoy it more than harm it. But, whatever the case, it's fiery and psychotic eyes were for only one man. And that man ran as fast as he possibly could. Who the hell wouldn't? It would be crazy to enrage a Tank.

The Tank tore after Nick, seemingly unaffected in the least bit by the rising water below. Nick, however, found himself tripping through it, feet squishing unpleasantly, body growing tired with the extra effort as each step became more like a drunken dare. He ignored his burning muscles and his oxygen-starved lungs and with a leap cleared the first few steps and entered the house.

He shut the door—he wasn't really sure why—instinct, maybe—and moved towards the stairs. As he ascended the first few the door exploded behind him a shower of splinters. He flinched instinctively, glancing back to see the raging Infected tearing at the frame as it wedged itself inside.

Taking advantage of the hang up the Infected was having on the door, he continued up the stairs, skipping every other step even as his legs screamed in pain from the effort. He tore around the first corner, slipped into the closet bedroom and with a leap threw himself out the broken window onto the roof. Scrambling he slid down the rest of the roof to the ladder. The roof tore at his exposed hands as he slid clumsily over the edge, hooked his feet onto the ladder and slid the rest of the way down.

Inside he could hear the destruction of the Tank, the screams of its confused rage and the crash of every single thing that came within its reach. Nick could honestly say he was glad he wasn't at the receiving end of those fists.

Wiping the wetness from his eyes Nick jogged back out into the street, making his way to the house he promised to meet the other two as soon as possible. When he reached it he pushed the door opened cautiously. It drug against the water, sloshing it noisily down the hallway in little ripples.

"Hey?" Nick called quietly. "Ellis? Coach? You guys here?"

He heard the splashing of feet and he turned towards the noise, gun lifting instinctively, finger not quite on the trigger. The familiar face of a blue-eyed southerner emerged from the door. Ellis stopped in the doorway, staring, face twisted with emotion.

"Jesus... Ellis. I almost shot you." The conman lowered his gun. "Are you all right?"

"Are you all right?" Ellis retorted hotly. There was an anger behind his eyes now, a tightness to his mouth. "Actually, I hope you twisted your ankle. Asshole." Scowling still Ellis returned back into the water-logged room. Nick followed to find Coach sitting on the soaked couch, baseball bat across his lap like a precious souvenir.

Nick let out a breath of relief. Although Ellis may be mad, they were all safe. For now. "We need to get moving, Coach." Together Nick and Ellis reached down to help Coach to his feet. The big man grunted painfully until he adjusted the baseball bat back into a cane. Nick took the opportunity to take back the gasoline tank. He almost forgot how heavy it was.

"This way guys." Nick lead them faithfully back outside and as they exited the house the conman pointed. "That's the playground we saw on the way there. We're going the right way."

And then the rain came again. Rebounded from its former lethargic drizzle to a violent downpour that hurt. Together the three scrambled past the small park and into the first home they happened upon in the harsh whiteness.

"Jesus Christ, I hate the south," Nick snarled. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm not going back out there until this goddamn rain settles. Far as we know Virgil can't even see the shore in this rain anyways."

"Good idea," Coach agreed, adjusting his leg. "Best y'all secure that door then... I'd help but..." He winced again, smiling apologetically.

Nick patted the man's shoulder absently. "Don't worry about it, big guy. We got this."

Gas tanks abandoned—for now—against the wall, Nick and Ellis moved a handful of dressers and chairs up against the door. Neither one of them was sure if any Infected even knew they were in here, or even cared. And if that Tank came by... well, best not to think about it until the time came.

The three went their separate ways to search about the home for supplies—Coach didn't go far, more by default of his bad leg and found himself rummaging through the kitchen. Ellis, as usual, began to go through closets and cabinets for ammo while Nick—well, Nick had his priorities. Shower first, exploring later.

He pushed open the bathroom door, grinning slowly as he glanced about it. It was in decent shape, considering. But whether the water still worked... well that was a different story. The conman waltzed over to the sink, took a deep breath and turned it. Water, beautiful clean precious water, greeted him. The conman felt his body relax immediately and he let out a soft laugh. Fantastic. Perfect.

The man turned the water off and started to pull off his clothes but paused, catching his reflection in the medicine cabinet above the sink. He slicked back his mussed hair, naturally, noting the stubble on his jaw, the few cuts and bruises littered across his usually flawless skin... Though, he had to admit; he pulled off that ruggedly handsome look quite well. Pretty good damn well, actually.

After admiring himself for a moment, the man opened the cabinet.  Fingertips brushed across a half dozen pill bottles until he pulled one out. Aspirin. He could think of at least one person that could use that.

One hand in his pocket, the other bouncing the half-full bottle in his hand, the conman made his way back out into the kitchen. He almost laughed—Coach had pretty much every cabinet open and was still rummaging through another. When the older man finally noticed him he looked back at Nick sheepishly, as though he realized how comical it must've seemed.

"Man needs his snacks," Nick joked. He held up the pills. "And some pain medication."

"I could kiss you right now, Nick." Coach laughed, leaning hard on the counter as he turned to face him properly.

Nick tried not to grimace. "Rather you didn't."

"No, no. Sorry butcha ain't my type, Nick." Nick chuckled at this as he tossed the pills to the other. "Ah, man. It's a good day. Maybe now I can get some sleep or carry a gun."

"Just worry about not making it any worse," Nick said. "Ellis and I can handle it. By the way.. where is Ellis?"

"Right here, y'all." The young man emerged from the farthest room, a stack of clothing in his hands. "I found some clothes tha' I think might fit us all... Figured y'all might wanna change of clothin'. Maybe wash yer stuff an' all."

"Thanks, Ellis," Coach rumbled. The big man took the offered clothes as a certain conman eyed it with obvious disdain. "What's with the face, Nicolas?"

"Are you seriously considering wearing some strangers clothes? What if it hasn't been washed? That's disgusting..."

Ellis blinked. "Well, I found it in the drawer..."

Nick shuddered. "No, thank you."

"You ain't gonna wash yer clothes then?"

"I didn't say that." Nick paused before he spread his hands out, "As much as I like clothes, I'd rather sleep in the nude." This elicited a hot flush from Ellis and a roll of the eyes from Coach. "What can I say? It's comfortable."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Coach adjusted the clothes in his hand. "Did you figure out if that water worked?"

There was a twitch to Nick's eyebrow and a frown that he couldn't help but show. He wasn't use to that question being asked—usually his freshly washed hair and smell of soap was the answer... but this time he had detoured from his ritual to offer a helping hand. Curious... Now... he could lie and hurry his ass in there before the other two and guarantee himself a hot shower... But oddly he found his mouth moving and words leaving it before he could even really think much further.

"Yeah, it works, Coach. Why don't you get yourself washed up and get to sleep? We've gatta an early start."

Coach looked at him. Ellis looked at him. Together the two stared at him as though they had never seen him. But finally, slowly, Coach shrugged and nodded slightly before leaving to take the advice. This left a still very puzzled Ellis to stare curiously.

"What's gotten inta ya?" Ellis asked quietly.

What indeed? But then an idea flickered to mind. Oh, that's why he offered to let Coach go first... Nick moved closer, a wickedly suggestive grin on his face as one hand trailed down Ellis' arm to take his hand. Ellis blinked. "Thought maybe the two of us could save some water together," the older man said huskily. Yes, his dick was always two steps ahead of his brain. His brain was typically very impressed once it figured out what dick had planned.

Ellis half smiled, head tilting slightly, smile mocking. "Oh yeah?" His unoccupied hand came down to smack away Nick's invading one. "No."

Nick blinked. "No?"

"No."

The conman's head tilted slightly, eyeing the other. "Why "no"?"

"'Cause I'm still pissed atcha."

"Pissed?" Nick laughed. "What for?"

"'Cause ya seem to have a dangerous disregard for yer own safety." Ellis sighed softly and leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. "For someone tha' claims ta be so smart, some city slicker, ya sure are a complete idiot from time ta time."

Nick patted the air, "Whoa, whoa. I look out for number one. You know that."

"Then explain the whole runnin' off on yer own an' pissin' a Tank off an' gettin' 'em ta chase ya thing. 'Cause tha' don't strike me as lookin' out fer yerself."

Nick sighed softly, feeling the tension leaving his body. If this was what Ellis was mad about... well, he could handle that. He half smiled. "No... Guess I was looking out for you."

Ellis' gaze dropped, his arms flexed as his hands curled into tight fists, his jaw clenched painfully. "An' wha' the hell would've happened if ya got yerself killed?"

"Well..." Nick shrugged slightly. "I guess that's a risk I was willing to take. If me dying kept you alive, then I'd--"

"No." Ellis shook his head fiercely and Nick moved to speak again but the Southerner had shot forward, clenched fists at his sides now, shaking angrily. "Ya ain't gatta do tha', Nick. Ya ain't gatta keep puttin' yerself in danger to keep me safe. I dont wantcha ta end up dead, all right?"

Nick reached out tentatively, trying to place a reassuring hand against the other, but Ellis stepped out of reach. "It's..." Nick felt his heart twisting painfully. "It's not like that Ellis... I'm not trying to get myself killed... I'm just trying to keep you safe."

"Nick," Ellis stepped forward, staring hard up into those blinking green eyes. "I have half the mind to knock those pretty teeth of yours crooked. Get it through yer goddamn head. My life ain't worth livin' if yer dead." Ellis sighed. "Yer all I got left..."

"Ellis... I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well." Trying to look angry still the young man gave the other a two-handed shove in the chest and Nick took a few steps back to recover. "Ya can sleep in yer own goddamn bed tonight." With that, the young man stomped almost comically into the middle room.

Nick rubbed absently at his chest, but for some reason he couldn't stop grinning. Maybe it was because he could tell that Ellis had a small will when it came to staying  upset. Sure, he might take a few licks at him here and there, but when it came down to it... Ellis was like anyone else. He just wanted to love and to be loved.

Nick reached up to run his fingers across his stubbled jaw. Besides, it's hard to stay mad at a face like this.

~*~

The water was hot for about three minutes. Not enough time to wash the soap out of his hair—not that he had even begun to use any yet.

At first his closed eyes had twitched at the slight temperature drop and then a suspicious frown had worked its way to his mouth as he turned the knob all the way to hot... only to receive a lukewarm cascade of slowly cooling water.

And so, his usual luxurious shower habits had turned into a frenzy of too much soap being scrubbed a little too hard all over in an effort to beat the quickly ticking time between tolerantly lukewarm shower to unbearably cold shower. Unfortunately, Nick found himself shaking and shivering under the freezing water as he washed out the remains of what should have been a very liberating shower.

Shaking and shivering, teeth clattering together, the conman stepped out of the shower and fumbled for what he prayed was a clean towel. Half-drying himself off and half trembling into what he was sure was hypothermia, the man shuffled his way into the bedroom he had claimed as his own.

He had spent the time it took Ellis to shower to find a mismatched pair of unused blankets and sheets. He had thrown the probably filthy used ones into the corner and spent his sweet time making the bed to the perfection he expected. Hell, why not treat himself when the next bed could be days, months or... maybe never again?

Frowning at the thought the conman threw the damp towel over into the pile of old blankets and climbed gingerly into bed. He'd like to not think that tonight may be the last night he'd be in a proper bed... especially since he was spending that time alone. The thought made his heart ache—especially knowing that on the other side of the wall slept what he could confidently say the love of his life.

Goddamn, no matter what he always had a knack for pissing off whoever it was he was with. It may be his greatest fault, but it was something he couldn't change. Besides... Ellis had to get use to the fact that he'd sacrifice himself if it meant he would live.

If it happened, the kid would learn to live without him... The thought made Nick's heart ache painfully, unexpectedly. Why exactly was that? Because it hurt to think he could move on? Hurt to think that maybe he would be all right if he died? Or because it hurt to think that maybe he couldn't? Or wouldn't... From what it was worth, Nick had no intentions of dying and leaving Ellis' alone. He needed El as much as Ellis needed him.

Even as he lay there alone, shivering slightly as his nude body attempted to recover from the fiasco of a shower, his heart aching, eyes burning, he couldn't help but smile. Love had that strangely warming affect. No matter the circumstances.

With the thought of a sunny future ahead, Nick closed his eyes and let himself drift off into sleep.

I will never let you fall,
I'll stand up with you forever,
I'll be there for you through it all,
even if saving you sends me to Heaven.

Chapter Fifteen You're my obsession
My fetish, my religion
My confusion, my confession
The one I want tonight
You are my obsession
The question and conclusion
You are, you are, you are
My fetish you are.

He was half-asleep when the door creaked open. Immediately the conman jolted upward, one hand reaching out instinctively for a gun that was not there. His green-gold eyes narrowed, blinking hard against the darkness. He heard soft footsteps across the wooden floor. It was a gentle padding that eased his mind—this was not something to fear... This was—

Ellis. The young man came to the bed and with two gentle hands reached out to take the others face and pressed a kiss to the startled mans lips. Nick blinked up at him, one hand reaching out for him. His fingertips touched warm skin. It took his sleepy mind a moment to realize that every inch of Ellis was bare.

Ellis lips pressed to Nick's ear, voice soft, bare arm brushing against Nick's chest. "Now ya can make love to me."

Nick's mouth dropped opened slightly, blinking, but slowly his lips curved into a grin. One calloused hand, bruised and scuffed, lifted to Ellis' curls. Those fingers twisted in the softness of those locks, each thread of hair curing him of any ailments. There was something magical in that touch.  

Ellis' eyes seemed to glow, despite the darkness of the room. His body was arched slightly and little slivers of light coming from the boarded windows played across his bare skin like an artists strokes on a canvas. There was just something... something calming. Something... unexplainably serene in that moment.

Grinning back Ellis shifted one knee across Nick's hips and adjusted himself over him. Blinking slowly, breaths coming deeply between his parted lips, Nick lifted up to rest his fingertips to Ellis' hips. It was barely a brush, but that touch was enough. It was simply enough to know that Nick was there.

Ellis leaned down, lips hovering barely an inch from the others. One finger traced across that prickly stubble, along the man's jaw until lifting to his lips. His thumb brushed across that surprising softness. Thumb gave way to his fingertips as he touched more insistently at those lips, as though he couldn't quite believe the gentleness of them.

Nick reached out, hand taking the one touching so reverently at his mouth. But instead of pulling it away, he pressed those fingertips firmer to his lips, mouth pressing into a kiss.

Ellis couldn't help but chortle shyly, for the first time breaking their eye-contact. It wasn't because he was embarrassed... no, that wasn't the word. Overwhelmed? Not quite... Nick just did something to him... something that seemed to cause all the blood to rise to his face at the thought of such a gesture. Before Nick could worry himself that something was wrong Ellis returned tenfold with a lip lock that could have very well bruised them both. The kiss, however, spoke more words and erased any more doubts either one of them could have possibly conjured over the past few days. They were together.

Ellis broke the kiss, lips swollen as he smiled. He shifted onto his knees, reaching back to slowly tug away the sheet that separated their bare skin. Nick's breath hitched slightly, lips twitching into a smile, hands lifting to palm the young man's hips and he guiding him back to his lap.

Ellis took in a deep breath, hands running across the conman's abdomen, hips shifting forward ever so slightly. Nick chuckled quietly, reaching out to run his hands down those pursuing arms. He had to admit. Ellis had an amazing physique. Maybe it was from working on cars... it probably helped that he had been lugging around a shit-ton worth of zombie-murdering gear... but he had to admit... Ellis was perfection in the form of flesh. His thumb smoothed across the splash of blue ink across the young man's toned arm, admiring it. It was fitting of Ellis to have it... Nick couldn't quite pinpoint why... but there was an alluring quality to it.

Ellis twisted down, lips pressing to the man's neck with slow, wet kisses, fingers inching lower on the older man's stomach. "Wait..." Nick said suddenly. Ellis blinked, easing himself back against Nick's thighs. The conman shifted them back towards the headboard. He lay in a near sitting position against the few pillows he had managed to find. He leaned over the side of the bed, reaching about blindly until, "Ah-ha." He lifted up a bottle of lotion.

Ellis couldn't help himself. He laughed. "Conman through an' through, Nick. Jesus. Want me to lather ya up an' give ya a massage while we're at it?"

Nick snorted. "For one, that sounds nice, but no. Two, I think it's a fair assumption they're not coming back," Nick pumped two globs into his hand, "And three, I know I roughed you up last time. I'd rather not hurt you again. If this is all we have... We'll make due."

Ellis blinked before smacking his palm to Nick's lotion filled one. Nick started, glaring, but that annoyed look quickly became a startled gasp as Ellis promptly shifted back and then slicked the older man's cock, grinning devilishly.

Nick clicked his tongue, shaking his head in mock disapproval as he slicked the remaining lotion to his fingers. He grabbed a fistful of Ellis' hair and forced him closer. The young man purred approvingly, hips rising, back bowing as he hovered over the other, mouth descending into playful nips that darted across Nick's throat.

Nick gripped Ellis' ass with both hands, forcing him a little closer until inserting one finger into him. Ellis shuddered under the intrusion, but his teeth returned, unrestrained even as Nick moved about inside of him. It wasn't until the second finger entered him did he take a moment to bring in a few shuddering breaths. He didn't get the chance to completely recover before Nick guided him back, fingers retreating and re-entering him properly.

Ellis shifted back, each inhale allowing him to ease the other a little deeper inside. Finally settled the young man smirked, rolling his hips. This elicited a soft, almost vulnerable moan from the other. Ellis grin became impossibly bigger and he began a slow, rhythmic rock that, much to his delight, was met with equal eagerness.

Their breaths left their throats, rough, unrestrained, gasping and shaking. With each movement Ellis could feel the others thighs flexing underneath him, the warmth of his body rising as sweat began to build on their bodies. Their rhythm was blissful, almost sinful. Like such pleasure should not be for humans to ever experience. But if this was a sin, then Ellis would die proudly with them. He would never regret, never second-guess or dwell on these feelings. This wasn't just sex. Not like before. Before it had been rough, almost animalistic... but now, their eyes were locked, movements in perfect sync, soft moans and gasps only strengthening their unexplainable bond.

But then Ellis stopped the rocking suddenly. The pleasure was nearly overwhelming. He could feel the pleasure rising and spreading through his groin, pushing him further to the edge, but he wanted to savior this moment... Relish in it.

"I love you, Nick." He sealed the words with a gentle kiss to the mans bruised lips. Nick's hand's rose, taking the others face, mouth working against his as the kiss deepened, tongues gliding across each other. They pulled away, panting.

"And I love you, El." He was smiling. That genuine smile. It wasn't a wide-grin, but more of a subtle upward twitch of his lips. But the way his eyes looked—perfectly gentle, absolutely sincere. This was Nick's smile. A smile of love.

The older man didn't let Ellis move away and instead one hand snacked around his back, hand pressing into the curve of his back as he arched Ellis' body closer, other hand firmly pressed to Ellis' curls as their lips met over and over between their soft moans. Their bodies bumped together, gliding across each other as sweat moistened their pressing bodies. Ellis could feel the firmness of Nick's stomach against his own, even the roughness of his chest hair. He had to admit... He was perfectly content with such sensations. And then the pleasure returned with intensity, as thought it had not forgotten where they had left off.

Ellis' body shuddered in the release, thighs tightening against Nick's hips, feeling the muscles of his lover quaking underneath him. Their breaths caught and struggled to escape in trembling moans. It was a moment of pure bliss—caught in the arms of a lover, gasping in each others pleased noises as their bodies gave in to each other.

Bodies shaking still Ellis twisted about into the conman's arms, sinking against him as the other instinctively pulled him closer. The length of their bodies touched, skin against skin, and all though there was nothing necessarily sensual about it, it was definitely satisfying. Heart beats thundering, but smiles on their lips, they held each other. Ellis was confident that their love was strong enough to survive anything. No man, zombie or God could weaken this bond. Nothing could ever take this away from them.

~*~

It was barely morning but they were all already up and moving. Their clothes hadn't been exactly properly washed, but most of the stank had been wrung clean and shook out from a night of drying after an intense scrub in the tub. Nick probably wouldn't vouch for it being like-new, but he didn't complain. And that was saying something.

"How's your leg, Coach?" Nick asked. The conman was checking and rechecking his weapon. He brushed at a scuff mark absently, brow knitted together in mild annoyance at the blemish.

"Great." Coach moved across the kitchen, arms out wide, grinning hard. "These pills have been helpin'. After a good nights rest.. well, I feel like new. How'd you two sleep?"

Nick opened his mouth but Ellis beat him to it, "Perfectly." The conman sent the other side-ways smirk and Ellis winked back, grinning in return.

"Well," Coached continued, oblivious. "It sounds like the rain has calmed down some. If we're lucky, a few flares in the air will bring him to us." They had found the flares under one of the beds in a small little tackle-box. Whoever had so meticulously laid them out had probably not meant to leave them. They assumed they never got the chance to get them.

"Sounds good." Nick pulled on the first-aid he had been carrying since Whispering Oaks. He had gone through all of the bandages three times now. But for some reason he found himself simply refilling it instead of discarding it. He wasn't sure why... but he had grown attached to it. "Let's go then."

As Coach predicted, it was no longer pissing down. Unfortunately, there was still calf-deep water to wade through, bloating bodies to avoid and hidden debris that caused them to trip more than once.

Shins bruised, thighs burning, they pushed their way through the flooded Burger Tank. Everything was exactly as they remembered. Only more rain-damaged. Papers floated across the water, not unlike the corpses outside, and Nick even took time to comment on a trail of money soaking in its watery grave. The cash register lay open and broken fifteen feet away. They continued on without further comment.

Standing on the docks, Coach reached into his waistband and pulled out a bright orange flare gun. He gave his companions a short nod and without a word raised his muscular arm into the air. Grimacing slightly, finger poised on the trigger he gave one last exhale before pulling the trigger.

There was a hiss as the flare shot from the gun. It left a stream of curling smoke that the big man squinted against. Three pairs of eyes lifted to the Heavens following that smoking trail. Then there was a pop followed by an explosion. White lit the sky. The rain sparkled like crystal from the glow. The flare shot high into the sky for a few more seconds until arching slowly. The ball of white hissed for only a few seconds more before disappearing into nothingness.

Not five minutes later did the sound of sloshing footsteps turn their attention back to the Burger Tank. A lone Infected stumbled from the doorway, blinking at them as it came out into the open. It's left foot drug, both hands lifted, fingers and hands twisted like an old man heavy into arthritis. It gurgled, hissed and charged towards them. It made it two and a half steps before Ellis put a bullet between its eyes. It toppled over lifelessly, twitching and foaming.

The southerner swallowed thickly, barrel dropping. His mouth twitched into a frown and his eyes lifted. The sound of more Infected—wailing and crying, practically announcing their vicious intent echoed off the trees and walls.

The sound of three guns clicking was barely audible. Ellis shifted his feet, shoes digging into the mud fermenting under the water. He felt the ground suck at his feet. He took it as a good sign. Like Mother Earth was holding him steady. But with a glance to his right, he knew better. Nick was the one holding him up. And he would never let him fall. The thought made the young man smile.

The three readied themselves for the incoming horde.

They all prayed that Virgil would come.

And all of our cards are on the table

Tell me what you want to do

Just don't tell me that it's too late
Don't tell me that it's too late now

Please don't tell me that it's too late

For me to love you.

Chapter Sixteen

Standing trial for your sins,
Holding onto yourself the best that you can.
You are the smell before rain.
You are the blood in my veins.

Mercy. They were fresh out. Them, the world, God. Mercy no longer existed. And so they shot down every Infected that stumbled, clawed and crawled their way at them. But as there were no mercy for the Infected, there was none for the Survivors.

Nick was the first to run out of ammunition. A few more disbelieving clicks of the trigger on his last clip confirmed it. He checked his jacket and pant pockets, shrugged helplessly and threw down his useless gun until readying his axe.

Ellis ran out next. His shotgun may not have had nearly as many bullets, but his aim had always been true. He had managed to slaughter handfuls of Infected with each pull of the trigger. But now bullet-less, the weapon was rendered useless. He switched to his pistol—which had barely enough ammunition to reload twice.

"Coach?" Nick asked nervously. He took a step back further on the dock, heel moving dangerously close to the edge. He glanced anxiously at the ever-decreasing breathing space . "How's the ammo, buddy?"

Coach shook his head. "Not good," he replied solemnly. Pointedly he released the empty clip and slapped in a new one. The gunfire continued—steady, unrelenting. But it wouldn't stay like that for long. It couldn't. They were running out of time.

Nick swallowed hard before glancing to Ellis. The southerner had an odd, but effective shooting stance. One-handed he could take out an Infected between the eye—consistently. Ellis took out three more and reloaded until noticing the other looking at him.

"Hey, El...." Nick started curiously. He eyed the waters again. "Can zombies swim?"

"Swim?" Ellis glanced to the ocean as well. "I... I don't know."

There was a loud horn over the sound of the Infected and the three turned to face the ocean. In the distance the bright beacon of the Lagniappes lights illuminated through the rain.

The good news was Virgil was coming. The bad news is he would never get to the docks in time.

Click. Click. Coach looked down to his weapon, seemingly surprised that it was empty. He looked to Nick and the conman nodded slightly.

The gambler grabbed a fistful of Ellis' shirt, "Guess we'll find out. Now jump!" He shoved the mechanic and together they half jumped, half fell into the water. Coach was close behind.

Ellis fully expected to begin to sink under the weight of the gasoline tank—but it proved to be more of an awkward lifejacket than a rock. With effort the mechanic righted himself, chin barely above the water and craned his neck left and right. The rain from above was hitting the oceans surface so hard that the  impact was stinging upwards into his eyes. The young man brushed at his burning eyes, other hand reaching out blindly. He knew that someone had to be nearby—he could hear them splashing. He only prayed it wasn't a zombie he was reaching so desperately for.

"Ellis?" The voice forced Ellis to open his eyes despite the sting. It was Nick. Hair no longer slicked back but feathering down his face, gray-gold eyes squinting hard, a crooked grin. "You all right?"

"Yeah," Ellis said. He blinked. "We float."

Nick laughed but it quickly turned into a choke as he gulped down a mouthful of water. Spurting the conman recovered—ignoring that Ellis was now sporting a grin. "Where's Coach?" the conman asked. He spit out another mouthful of water that attempted to drown him as he bobbed violently in the current of the Lagniappe. "I don't... I don't see him."

Ellis glanced about. Through the darkness and the rain it was nearly impossible to see far. The waters churned and tossed them about callously and it was becoming harder to right themselves as a new wave forced them face first into the water. Every way they looked they saw nothing but empty oceans. Coach was no where in sight.

Ellis felt his heart rate climb. Adrenaline coursed through his body and he could feel himself shaking. It wasn't from the thought that the waves were constantly attempting to drown them—but the fact that Coach was somewhere lost in the seas.

An image flickered before Ellis' eyes—it was Rochelle. Lifeless, her body soaking crimson as she lay slain in the swamp all those days back as he held her corpse in his shaking hands. How he had tried to push her insides back into her... how the life had been gone from her eyes even as he did it, how he--

"Ellis! Ellis!" Nick reached out to grab at the others chin, forcing his eyes towards him. "We have to get in the boat."

"Coach," Ellis replied, barely a whisper. Nick didn't hear him and instead pushed him insistently as the boat drifted closer, engines cut and now at the mercy of the current.

Grunting, Nick grabbed a fistful of Ellis' t-shirt and one-handed swam to the boats side, the limp mechanic proving to be not even the slightest bit helpful in his state of numbness.

"Virgil!" the conman called. He shoved Ellis closer to the boat and a wave pushed them even further, damn near smacking them against the side. It took all of Nick's effort to kick and claw at it to keep from being sucked underneath along with Ellis.

The next time the boat dipped under the descent of a wave, Virgil reached down with both hands to grab Ellis. It was a miracle that the old man had enough strength to pull Ellis onto the deck. Nick didn't even get the chance to inform the captain that Coach was missing until a familiar hand reached down during a rise of a wave and grabbed him roughly by one arm.

With a smirk Coach hauled Nick onto the deck along side Ellis. The mechanic stared at the big man like he had just sucker-punched him for no apparent reason.

"Nice swim?" Coach asked. He was grinning at them both.

Nick glanced towards the docks they had just leapt from. Many Infected and congregated there, reaching and screaming hoarsely out at the ocean, but for the most part they did not follow. A few were pushed in from the masses and floundered helplessly for a moment before sinking below the waters into their watery graves.

Guess that confirmed the belief that zombies can't swim.

"God damn, Coach," Nick grunted. He struggled to slip off the gasoline tank. It clanged loudly on the wooden deck and Virgil grabbed it and began to drag it inside before it was tossed overboard from the rocking waves. "How the fuck did you get here so fast?"

"Hell, I'm a great swimmer," Coach said proudly.

Nick's expression indicated he didn't quite believe it. "But you're..."

"Black?" Coach asked, one eyebrow raised. He looked like he was attempting to be serious, but he had this half-grin that indicated otherwise.

Nick laughed, hard. "No. Well, yes. But, no. You're injured. How the hell?"

"Why don't you just wipe that look off your face and get you and  Ellis inside and dried off," Coach said, patting Nick hard on the shoulder. "Now hurry up." A wave rolled the boat heavily to the left. Coach stumbled on his bad knee but still somehow managed to grab hold of the doorframe before disappearing inside.

"Ellis, hey. Let's get that thing off you," Nick said. He slid the gas tank from Ellis' shoulders and then helped him to his feet. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Ellis said. "Coach... Coach is all right." He still sounded stunned.

"Yeah he is." Nick grabbed the gas tank with one hand and Ellis' elbow with the other. He quickly lead them inside. "Apparently, Coach is full of all sorts of surprises." The gas tank clanked loudly as he dropped it beside the other two. "Hey," Nick said more gently. He took both of Ellis' shoulders and faced him fully. "Are you all right? You look really out of it."

"Sorry... I..." Ellis reached up to grab at his sopping wet hat that  had stubbornly stuck with him through their watery escapade. "I jus'..." He wrung the hat nervously between his hands, frowning. "I guess I jus'... It... It don't matter, Nick. I'm all right."

"All right... If that's the story you're sticking with, then fine. But I'm here when you need me." Nick tugged off his wet suit jacket before shaking it hard. Water splashed across the floor and rained on a nearby stack of newspapers. "Oops..." He cleared his throat before draping it across a stool. "Look, I don't know about you, but I want to get dried off. Or maybe a shower. I haven't decided yet."

"All right," Ellis agreed quietly.

"First though, I'm going to talk to Virgil. I'll be right back. Try to find something for us to change into."

With one last lingering look Nick left Ellis to his own thoughts.

The mechanic stood mutely for a moment before one shaking hand lifted to palm his forehead helplessly. Every time he blinked now he saw that image of Rochelle's corpse. For awhile he had forgotten. Well, forgotten may not be the right word, but his mind had done something to force him to forget the sight of it. He knew it had happened, but for the life of him he hadn't been able to remember the details. Now the details wouldn't get the fuck out of his head.

Ellis squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head hard before shuffling through the tight-space towards what he remembered had been the storage for clothing.

Closet opened he stared into the racks of hanging clothes, both hands clutching the doors hard. Although he was staring directly into it, his eyes seemed to not be seeing it. Maybe it was the sight of a pink scarf bundled around one of the hangers—probably belonging to Virgil's wife—that re-sparked even more vivid images of his deceased friend.

The stark pinkness of her shirt was what always made her easy to spot. Even in the darkness of the death around them Ellis had always been able to spot her. Bright pink illuminating among the dead. He had always found it sort of strange, maybe a little unsettling of how well she stood out among the Infected, but in the end, it had always been easier to spot her.

But that wasn't true, was it? Because she was dead now. That  splash of color hadn't been enough to save her. But it should have... hadn't it? He should have seen it.

Keep your chin up, Ellis. We're gonna get outta this together. All of us. She had said it with such confidence as he stood, crushed, gun clutched in his hand as he stared at the deserted evac center in the mall. Her words had quickly shaken him out of his despair and without missing another beat he had continued to lead them onward through the mall as though those words themselves had been the ultimate truth.

His knees were shaking so badly that the young man finally lowered himself to the floor, shoulders hunched forward, arms wrapping about himself tightly. He was shaking hard. The coldness of the ocean had soaked him thoroughly, enough that he felt chilled to the bone. The memories weren't helping either. Was it the coldness or the horror that now shook his limbs? It was hard to tell... Emotions or water?

Red. That was the color of the swamp water. As he thought back at that moment he could distinctly remember the taste of blood on his lips. It had been hers, hadn't it? His stomach churned at the thought and he felt a wave of dizziness overtake him. He could remember the feel of those quivering organs as he touched them. He hadn't been gentle. He remember how his fingertips had slid over her insides, how his nails had dug in, how they had molded to fit his clutching hands as he tried to force it back inside.

Ellis unwilling found himself retching as the memory re-assaulted all of his senses. He could smell it. Taste it. Feel it. And, god. To think that he had forgotten it. How could you forget something like this? How could you forget the feel of a friends blood soaking your arms and face? How could you forget the smell of copper? How could you? How was it possible?

When faced with the thought of having lost Coach, the memory seemed to have resurfaced tenfold. Like having suppressed it only let it marinate in his mind all this time. Now that he could remember it vividly he felt himself sick with guilt. He hadn't even stopped to pray. Stopped to thank her. Stopped to remember her.

"Ellis?"

Ellis hiccuped and turned, pale, red-eyed and trying hard to keep his stomach from betraying him again.

"God damn, El." Nick was at the others side instantly, one arm snaking around him as he helped him to his feet and then eased him on a nearby chair. "Are you seasick? What's wrong?" Ellis shook his head hard, fingers brushing shamefully at the tears attempting to escape from his eyes.  They burned. "Ellis, baby, it's all right. I'm right here. You're gonna be all right."

Nick pulled the younger man into his arms. Wet clothes stuck to wet clothes and the warmth of their bodies mingled through that wetness. Ellis' fingers caught the back of Nick's head, tangling in those locks, other hand twisting into the dampness of his shirt. He clung to him desperately. Nick held him all the tighter, soft words of reassurance leaving him as he and the boat rocked them gently together.

Ellis would have stopped crying, had he thought he the right to. Why in the hell did he think he had had the right to move on? The right to seek love and comfort from Nick? Even now as the other held him, Ellis could be nothing but grateful. He knew how incredibly frustrating it was for the conman. For Ellis to keep falling back, retreating into a disarray of emotions. But, fucking god damn, Nick was still there. Always fucking there. Every fucking time.

He had to keep holding on. Had to keep fighting. He had to be brave. If not for himself, then for Nick.

I am not as brave, beautiful, and patient as you are
But I am safe in your arms I listen as you say
"I'm proud of who you've become
and the person you will be tomorrow..."
And I know I would give anything up for you...

I'll follow through I promise to hold on
I'll never let go won't let you down
If you can stay proud I'll be brave somehow...

Chapter Seventeen

Where is the coastguard
I keep looking each direction
For a spotlight, give me something
I need something for protection
Maybe flotsam junk will do just fine
The jetsam sunk, I'm left behind
I'm treading for my life believe me
How can I keep up this breathing?

Nick had been holding the younger man in his arms for nearly an hour now. Ellis had stopped crying and curled into his lap, one hand clutching the fabric of the conman's dress-shirt like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His face was tilted towards Nick's chest, eyes oddly distant, almost blank—like his entire face was now. Nick was beginning to fear the mechanic was slipping back into that emotionless mask like before.

So finally, working up the courage, Nick spoke quietly, "Ellis... Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

Ellis was quiet for a long time until a slow sigh escaped him. He shifted slightly in the others arms, and his head tilted upwards, blue eyes meeting green. "Wha' do ya think happens to us when we die?"

Nick blinked at the question. "How philosophical of you..." The gambler shrugged slightly. "I don't know. I never really thought much into it. I've never had a reason to."

"Do you believe in God?" It was barely a whisper. Nick's eyes drifted downward to the other again. Ellis was curled closer, lips pressed into the hand clutching the older man. He looked scared. Uncertain. Nick didn't know how to reply, so he didn't. The words that wanted to leave him weren't at all comforting. "I'm not so sure tha' I do anymore. But at the same time... I'm scared that maybe there is jus' nothin' after all this."

"And what's so bad about that?" Sure, the thought that you did what you did in one life and then poof all done... was a bit depressing. But that was why Nick had lived his life doing whatever the hell he wanted. Well, at least until these damn zombies decided to fuck everything over.

Ellis' brow furrowed. "To think tha'... one day you're here... then the next you're gone. Tha'... all that's left is a vague memory by those who are still alive who remember you... Tha'... Tha' seems so wrong to me. Like... that's it. You become jus' a memory an' that's it. No soul... jus'. Gone."

Again, Nick couldn't quite think of anything comforting to say so he simply stayed silent. He knew Ellis was working up to say something else. He had something heavy on his mind. And whatever it was, it was weighing down his heart too.

"When Rochelle died, Nick, we didn't even stop to remember her."

Ah... that was it. Nick shifted his arms a little tighter around the young man. He frowned. Ellis was right. In the moment, they had all felt a surge of despair and pain... but by the morning they were back on their feet. They had never stopped to mourn her.

"Man, if all we get is one lifetime... Only get one chance to make memories with others.... Then I wanna make sure tha' Rochelle gets the remembrance she deserves." For the first time in over an hour Ellis uncurled himself from the others arms and shifted out of Nick's lap and onto the bed beside him. "I wanna..." Ellis searched hard for the words. "Wanna take the time to remember her... properly."

"Yeah..." Nick said gently, reaching out to rest his hand on the others shoulder. "Yeah, we'll do that. All of us."

~*~

They waited for the rain to stop. It was two days later when the clouds gave way to blue sky. By morning the sun had revealed itself to still be alive despite having been a no-show for over a week. It had been warm. Almost foreign. Like they had forgotten what the warmth of the sun felt.

By the evening, Virgil had cut the engines and let the boat drift. The sun was setting, the sky aflame with the vibrant colors soon to be of yesterday.

Ellis had found a small plain white plastic container. He had spent the rainy nights and the rest of the evening drawing on it with a thick black sharpie and a thinner one that often ran out of ink that he had to wet the surface with his tongue to re-spark life into it.

The entire container was covered in a forest of black ink and flowers, with scenes of airborne doves and peacefulness unlike that of what had become their current life. For some reason, sending her off in nothing more than a plastic white cup seemed unfitting. So Ellis had let his mind drift and allow the inner artist in him to paint pictures that somehow came from his hand. He never seemed to remember doing a detail here or there... but when he looked down at his ink-stained knuckles, he knew it had to of come from him.

Nick had left him alone most of those few days as he drew. The conman would stop in every so often, make a quiet compliment before drifting away when he never got a response. And so after wandering around the small fishing vessel for probably the hundredth time, Nick had once again come to a slow stop beside the drawing mechanic.

Nick opened his mouth to speak but stopped. He rocked back on his heels, hands in pocket before moving to speak again—Ellis beat him to it. "I'm done," the young man said.

Nick blinked. "Oh... oh okay." Nick nodded slightly. "Now what?"

"Did you get that candle?"

"Yeah." The conman fished out a small white candle from his pocket. It was already half melted, but it was the best he had gotten from Virgil. "Will this work?"

Ellis nodded slightly, took the candle and placed in the middle of the container. He smiled slightly.  This would do. "Let's go."

Now that the sky was darkening it made the whole lighting-a-candle-in-Rochelle's-memory all the more vivid. Ellis held the decorated vessel in his hand, the candle was lit and his skin danced with the soft hue of the flame.

Inside the container lay two folded letters; one from Coach and the other from Ellis. As much as Nick had thought, he couldn't think of anything worth writing down. Nothing that the other two wouldn't write themselves. It's not that he had hated Rochelle... he just didn't know what to say to her.

"Rochelle," Ellis started quietly. "Without you, we wouldn't be here. I jus' wanna thank ya... for everythin' ya did. For givin' us hope an' for watchin' my back all those times. I can't ever thank ya enough... An'... An' I promise tha' Imma find your lil' sister, an' yer ma an' pa, an' make sure  that they know tha' ya died a hero." Ellis' mouth twitched, eyes misty. "So... thanks."

The young man passed the vessel to Coach and the big man took a moment to collect himself. His voice sounded strained. "Thank you, Rochelle. For your smiles, your laughs and your jokes. For keeping us going when things got bad. You were like a little sister to me. And I won't ever forget you and everything you did for me."

Trying to stifle a sob the big man passed the container now to Nick. The conman stood silently, holding it in his hands. To be honest, he couldn't think of anything to say; that was exactly why he hadn't written a damn letter. The man swallowed hard, cleared his throat and blinked. "Well, Ro. We may have never seen eye-to-eye... but. Thanks. For everything. Even the snark remarks. On the inside, I laughed. Really." Nick struggled to think of something else to say but gave up. He looked to Ellis and the mechanic nodded.

The conman leaned over the side of the boat and gently set the container on the water. The current caught it immediately and it began a steady pace away from the boat—where it would go was hard to say. But they watched it drift and drift. As the sun fell the candle light was only brighter. It became a small glowing dot in the horizon until it finally disappeared.

They stared into the waters for a long time after.

~*~

"Whattya doin'?" Ellis asked. Nick turned towards him and then grinned. He lifted a piece of paper up. "What's tha'?"

"Well... I remember that whole discussion we had. And what you said. About people only being memories and whatnot." Nick smoothed out the paper. "Just... writing some memories down. Call me vain, but I don't want to be forgotten. Maybe one day everything will go back to normal. And someone will find this letter and know that at least someone got out of this alive." The conman paused. He was squinting against the sun, and the light was causing a sparkle of gold to flare across that green. Ellis tried not to become a cliché and get lost in them. "Want to write something?"

Ellis shook himself from his daydreaming and leaned against the railing beside the other. Pen in hand the young man scribbled only two sentences across the paper:

My name is Ellis Edwards, and I am in love with Nicolas Gates. Put that in the history books.

Nick laughed out loud upon reading it. "That's your message to the future?"

Ellis nodded slightly, unsmiling. "That's it." He was beyond serious and that made Nick laugh again.

"Well, you, sir," Nick said, rolling the letter small enough to fit into an empty wine bottle, "have an eye for history." He slid the letter into the bottle and corked it tightly. The conman leaned over to steal a kiss from the mechanic and Ellis' serious expression turned into a sheepish grin. "Well, cheers to us." Pulling Ellis into another kiss the conman tossed the bottle over board. It hit the water and bounced back to the surface until drifting off with no place in mind.

Both hands lifted to take Ellis' face and their mouths worked together, tongues twisting, lips meeting over and over in unrelenting devotion.

~*~

They were lying side by side in a bed that, really, was far too small for two men. To be fair, they were expected to make use of the bunk beds, but after damn near suffocating each other with tongues earlier that day, they couldn't quite separate their beating hearts. They were snuggled under the blankets together in nothing but boxers and Ellis had taken it upon himself to begin to absent-mindedly stroke the conman's chest.

Nick's chest hair was a strange thing, but not unpleasant. Nick wasn't effeminate, but he wasn't the epitome of manliness either (Ellis had seen him queen out over one too many stains on his suit to see him as that manly), but when it came to a physical sense, Nick was... rough. But in a good way. In a ruggedly handsome sort of way that Ellis wouldn't have ever found himself attracted to before. But damn... now he couldn't think of anyone else he'd rather have touching him. The very thought sent his heart racing.

Ellis let out a soft noise, hand drifting lower, fingers trailing down the middle of the older mans chest then stomach until very blatantly taking a handful of Nick's cock. Nick jerked at the bold touch.

"Well, that's forward," Nick said. His groggy voice suggested he had been on the verge of falling asleep.

Nick cleared his throat, eyes focusing on the young man. Ellis was grinning at him—and still fondling him quite blatantly. Nick's eyes narrowed slightly but then he craned his neck, pressing a kiss to Ellis' lips. The other returned the kiss eagerly until shifting on top of him. Bare chest pressed hard against bare chest, heat already eliciting all sorts of hormones to begin to rage.

Nick's hands struggled under the blankets until finding skin—and bare ass. Nick couldn't help but grin. Ellis had been busy. Working off his boxers without his knowing. Guess Ellis had been planning this for a while now. Nick wouldn't complain. That would be stupid to.

Fingers threaded through the conman's hair insistently, pulling and tugging at it. Prickles of pain, excited and welcomed pain, only fueled the arousal already growing in the conman's boxers. The pressure of the other grinding against him was only helping.

Ellis adjusted his legs across the other, hunched awkwardly in effort to not bash his head against the bunk bed above. His shoulders grazed the springs overhead and he twisted about. The cold metal sent his flesh into goosebumps, nipples becoming almost painfully hard.

Nick drug his fingernails across the others sides, forcing him close again and into a series of nips and wets kisses. Both hands captured Ellis' head, fingers twisting into his hair as he forced the other closer, teeth now focused against the curve of Ellis' neck. Ellis' breath left in a soft hiss and moan before he retaliated with his own series of aggressive kisses, littering across Nick's throat and chest.

But now, enough was enough. With the amount of bite marks and hickies they had given each other it was almost like battle wounds now. Ellis forced them apart, scooting back enough to rip the older man's boxers away. Nick's hands came to guide him back and with some effort the two became united.

The lack of room to maneuver wasn't exactly inhibiting their love making. In fact, quite the contrary. Ellis pressed his forearms into the metal above, forcing his body downward, his hips swiveling and dipping. Each downward thrust forced a startled gasp from the mechanic, his breaths shaking, trembling as the conman was forced deeper within him. Nick's body flexed and shook, hands running across the other, body doing everything but speaking to assure Ellis he was doing a damn fine job on his own.

Despite the fucked up world outside and the prospect of what they were going to be facing tomorrow, they were both satisfied, more than satisfied, with the thought that in the middle of it all they could still find the chance love and be loved. Be them all damned or not in the days following, for now, in this moment, they had everything they could ever want and need.

Not knowing how to think
I scream aloud, begin to sink
My legs and arms are broken down
With envy for the solid ground
I'm reaching for the life within me
How can one man stop his ending
I thought of just your face
Relaxed, and floated into space

Chapter Eighteen- End

There's something that I can't quite explain
I'm so in love with you
You'll never take that away
And if I've said it a hundred times before
Expect a thousand more

"We're gonna be back out there tomorrow," Ellis said quietly.

They were leaning against the boat's railing, shoulder to shoulder, both squinting against the high noon sun. It smelled and tasted like sea-salt and the thickness blanketed them in a strangely comforting way. He didn't look afraid as he said it, more thoughtful. His brow was furrowed, a slight frown on his lips, the blue of his eyes as bright as bright could be.

"Yeah..." Nick shifted slightly, his arm slipping under Ellis' to take his hand nonchalantly. Ellis blinked at him, but Nick continued to just stare out at the waters without any indication that he noticed that curious stare. Green eyes searched that seemingly endless expanse of water. He swallowed thickly, blinking once. "Don't worry, El. We're all going to get out of this. Together, all right?"

Ellis flexed his fingers under the older man's and Nick's grip tightened. Ellis smiled. "I really hope so, Nick."

"Hey." Hand slipping away from his, the conman shifted onto his elbows and slowly worked off the ring on his middle finger. The ring wasn't exactly the most intricate thing, almost plain except for a worn of design engraved into the gold. He took Ellis' right hand and slipped it onto his ring finger. Ellis flushed red. "My father gave that to my mother. Sort of a tradition, I guess. Husband gives it to the wife, then wife then gives it to the eldest son when he's of marrying age and... so on. Don't ask. It's kind of a weird tradition."

Ellis admired it, a lopsided grin wrinkling his face cutely. "You callin' me your wife, Nick?"

Nick snorted in response, but he didn't sound offended or annoyed at the suggestion. "Well, no. But. You know what I mean." He struggled for a moment. "I was married once... but I never gave it to her. Never crossed my mind, actually. Sort of forgot about the whole tradition." He shrugged, and slowly a look of embarrassment seemed to overcome him once he realized exactly what he had just implied.

Frowning, Ellis looked to the ring again and then slowly twisted it off. Nick looked at him, startled, and his face slowly fell.

"Ya put it on the wrong hand, Nick." The mechanic slipped the ring onto his left hand and then tilted his wrist, letting the light dance off it. In the natural light he could make out some of the designs. They looked like words, but Ellis wasn't sure if he recognized the language. Was it Italian? Or French? Maybe something else...

His thoughts tumbled away as fingers twisted in his hair and he felt Nick's lips to his forehead, tender, almost unimaginably so. When he finally pulled away he had tears in his eyes—but he was also smiling. And that smile was so very, very beautiful.

The next morning their feet touched land again. By the next week, the bombs were falling.

~*~

They had struggled every step of the way to the bridge. Hordes had descended on them as though they were the last feast they would ever see. Guns in hand they had cut them down, tore them to pieces and left them withering and coughing phlegm and blood as they lay dying in the streets.

They had left a trail of death behind them. Every corner they had turned was now littered with the dead, their festering wounds oozing in the Louisianian sun. Faceless corpses that would soon decay with no one to ever cry for them.

But now, the bombs fell. They shattered roads and struck down buildings like angry gods. More than once the bombs had come far too close. A half-dozen times or more the devastation had been so great they had to backtrack to find another route. But they had found the way. After almost a week, they had found a way.

The bridge was barely even standing. It was a miracle that the weight of all the abandoned cars and Infected hadn't already forced it to collapse into its misery. It bowed and groaned under all the weight, whining with discontentment and wanting nothing more than to sever its lines and collapse into the sea below in eternal peace.

Leading them was Coach, muscles flexing, blood damn near soaking him throughly as his machete cleared the way. At the end of the bridge in a clearing that God himself must have created just for them, waited the promised helicopter. Six men moved towards them, unsoiled uniforms separating them from the creatures trying to tear them to pieces. The blades hummed even over the chaos around them, encouraging them to move faster.  Closely behind Coach was Ellis, a little behind him, Nick.

"Nick!" Ellis called. He pointed ahead as he glanced back at the conman. Nick smiled. He saw it too. Their saviors. At least, they had to hope.  It wouldn't be the first time a rescue had gone bad. But in his heart, Ellis knew this was the end. He just didn't realize exactly what that meant until the moment came.

Their eyes met—briefly. Like every other little moment when they would catch each other's gaze and continue onward, a shy smile now adoring their features. But this time, Nick's gaze shifted right, his mouth opened slightly and his fingers flexed, gun lifting. Ellis' eyes were barely fast enough to follow Nick's gaze—but then a blur, a scream, a horrible, terrible awful scream, and Nick was gone. Swept off the bridge, swept out of his life in a handful of incomprehensible seconds.

A wave of dizziness over came Ellis. His gun slipped from his fingers as they drew numb, his vision faded, head light, heart heavy. He made two steps toward the edge of the bridge Nick had been carried off. He wasn't exactly sure what he meant to do, follow, probably. Something inside of him compelled him to leap off that bridge—the only regret being that the two of them had to be reunited in death.

But then a hand caught him under one arm. He twisted against that hand, but another grabbed his other arm. He must have started screaming. Because they looked at him as though uncertain that they had just grabbed hold of a Survivor. Uncertain if they should toss him back to the ground and put a bullet in his head in an act of pity. Ellis' cries were savage, nearly inhuman. Ellis wept and begged them to leave him behind.

The soldiers did not let go.

~*~

One month later...

He walked the same route, saw the same faces, said the same greetings every time he came. He came here at least once a week, if not more. Whenever he had time he would quietly excuse himself and slip off. No one ever questioned where he was going—they probably knew. They probably felt sorry for him. That was why they never asked questions.

"Right this way."

He followed without a word. It was always the same lady, always in that same white uniform. Always with that same sympathetic expression. He sometimes wondered why she never asked why he always came back; but decided the answer was clear.

"How is he today?" Coach asked quietly. They drew to a stop. The door was locked heavily. The woman pulled out a key and began to undo each one.

"Worse than usual. He keeps talking to himself and getting irate. We've had to sedate him a few times since your last visit. And... lately he's been talking to.. someone named Nick?"

Coach swallowed thickly and he felt a burn in his eyes. "A man worth more words than I could find to describe." The lady paused, looking at him until she nodded slightly.

The door opened to a sight Coach would never get use to.

Vacant eyed, curled onto himself the young mechanic sat. His eyes were wide—but lifeless. He twitched slightly as the door opened, but made not other indication that he realized he was no longer alone. Coach moved slowly into the room before sitting against the wall opposite of the other. The door closed.

"Hey, Ellis. I just came by to..." The big man cleared his throat. No matter what he said, nothing ever seemed right. Hey, kid, I know you've completely lost it, but I'm still your friend and I still remember everything you did for me. I just came by again to see if there's a little bit of you left. But, no. Not today. Today there was that nothigness. "How... how are you doing?"

Ellis didn't reply. He very rarely did. One time when Coach had entered,  Ellis had thought they were back on that rainy night when they had become separated from Nick. Ellis had been infuriated, insisting that they go out and look for him. No matter what Coach had said, no matter how many times he told him this wasn't that night, Ellis refused to believe him. Ellis had even tried to knock him senseless like had had all that time ago. But then he had come to a startling realization—this was not this night and Nick was very much dead. Ellis had crumpled to the ground in a heap of sobs and wails.

But every time Ellis spoke or noticed him, it had never been good. Coach almost preferred the days like this, when Ellis would sit, hallowed eyed and unmoving. Shit, they both tore at his heartstrings, but something about watching Ellis attempt to tear himself apart at the thought of losing Nick... Coach wasn't sure how many more times he could witness it.

"Ellis." Coach fished in his pocket. He tried to hold back the emotion, the uneasiness, the second thoughts. Was this the right thing to do? Would it just make Ellis hurt more? "Ellis, I promised I'd get this back for you. I'll talk to the lady here, make sure she lets you keep it but... but I just wanted to make sure you got it."

"Sir, you have to give us everything. Sir." The young soldier was almost as distraught as Ellis. Every time he tried to reach for the piece of jewelery, the only thing on Ellis' naked and battered body, the man would scream and yell, curling onto himself in effort to protect it. His hands were covered in blood, the ring soaked as he pressed the bloodied thing to his chest. He was sobbing so hard, talking in between gasping breaths with unintelligible words.

Everything has to go. Every little piece of yourself, every little thing that's seen this horrid chaos has to be burned. Every picture you ever carried in that old wallet of yours, that wedding ring, that necklace you got from that someone special, it all has to be destroyed. If you're lucky, we may burn you too—but only if you're Infected or a Carrier. So you better pray that there's something wrong with you, kid, because you don't look so good.

But they were neither. And their lives had been spared. Coach had traded the nightmare to be a volunteer at the makeshift orphanage where sad-eyed children begged to hear fairy-tales that now broke his heart while Ellis had taken solace in a room with four-padded walls and an empty heart...

Out came the golden ring, scrubbed clean of any signs of blood and gore. Smelling of disinfectants and hospitals. Coach lifted his hand slightly and Ellis' gaze shifted. Those blue eyes stared at the ring. He did not move.

"I thought you might want it back. I know they said everything got destroyed, but I knew how much it meant to you. The soldier that took it, Private Garris, he's partly to thank too." Ellis continued to stare. Coach smiled slightly and set the ring in the middle of the floor between them. "When you're ready, take it. I'll be back tomorrow to see how you are."

Blank-blue eyes never lifted as Coach quietly excused himself and the door was latched and locked behind him.

It took him hours to build the courage, the strength, to crawl those few feet. He cradled the ring in his hand, hunched over on his knees, face pressed into the ground. He wept as images of that day returned. Of those green-gold eyes flashing in that bright sun—how they had almost looked gray. Remembering those tears, that smile. And of that promise that they would be together forever.

The city's not the same,
But all the streets they know your name.
They ask me all about you, but my answers pull up lame.
I'm staggering in last night's clothes and it's starting to rain.
And you are gone, gone, gone.

~*~
3 months later...

She looked at him oddly, like she had never seen him before. Out came the clipboard and she scanned through the names. She seemed to find what she was looking for and so she led him down the hallway, glancing back at him every few moments as though she still couldn't grasp why he seemed so familiar. The locks on the door were undone, the door unlatched and was opened. He entered with a slight nod and she left him, door closing behind.

He stood quietly, hands in his pocket. He was smiling slightly, but the pain behind his eyes was immense. "Hey, El... What the hell are you doing in here?"

Ellis glanced over. Even though his heart lifted, his mind simply sighed. Even though he willed his emotions to die, tears still filled his eyes. "You're not real, Nick. Go the fuck away." How many times had the ghost of the man he loved walk in through that door the exact same way? That little grin, slight sway to his gait, hands in pockets, suit completely unsoiled and of perfect whiteness. This suit, oddly was not white. It was black.

Nick moved closer, he had a slight limp and he grimaced as he moved. He eased himself to sit beside the mechanic. Ellis stubbornly turned away. A flurry of tears escaping the corners of his eyes. Even though he wished with all his heart that these hallucinations were real, ultimately they never were. He would fling himself into Nick's arms, sobbing and clutching only to soon realize that the arms that held him back were not really there. It broke him every time. Destroyed him a little more inside.

"Hey," Nick rose one hand, taking Ellis'. Ellis jumped at the roughness of those hands. The familiarity of them. How they felt so fucking real. "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. But I'm here now. Ellis? Look at me. Please."

Ellis looked the other fully in the eyes. Ellis' mouth was a tight-line, eyes fierce. "Tha's whatcha say every time, Nick. Don'tcha get it? You ain't real." With his free hand he reached up to brush away his tears. "You're fuckin' dead, man."

"That's what I keep hearing." Nick twisted their locked hands together gently. And it felt so fucking real as his thumb brushed over the top of Ellis' hand. But it always did. It always fucking did. "Ellis, baby, I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere." He leaned over to end the few inches of space between them with a soft kiss to Ellis' cheek. The mechanic could feel the stubble brush against his face, the warm exhale of his breath, the wetness of his lips as they left him. "I'm really here." The conman's voice shuddered with emotion. He squeezed Ellis' hand hard. "A lot of shit happened. It took me awhile to find you, but I swear to God, Ellis, I'm here now."

A sob left the mechanic and he shifted over, head resting against Nick's shoulder, both of his hands coming up to clutch at Nick's arm. Nick shifted back against him, head resting against Ellis'. "You're really...? It's really you?" Ellis managed.

Nick let out a breathy chuckle, burned with emotion. "Yeah, Overalls. It's really me."

Ellis believed it. Every time.


[Ramirez]
A/N: Thanks for reading! I wrote this some time ago over an expanse of some 6-8 months. It was quite a struggle for me and I may one day go back and re-write some sections.