Urban Dead: The Price of the Oath

[Cynical Cat]

"Yes," he agreed, "could be worse." He watched the purring cat through half closed eyes.

[Josh]

The first glimmerings of dawn were on the horizon as Petro slipped up to the next observation post. He'd woken up early and been unable to sleep, and honestly today was not a day he was looking forward to facing.

So he'd done the mature and responsible thing and run away for a little while. Grabbing a satchel, he'd begun a circuit of the observation posts on the perimeter, spreading his own form of good cheer.

As he approached the rooftop construction, which was looking more like a bunker in light of their recent human on human violence, he whistled low and soft, twice. There was an answering whistle, then he came out into sight.

"Morning boys," he said cheerfully, pulling the satchel around. "Figured you could use a pick-me-up."

The sentries had a rough go of it. Straight off the attack, they'd been put right back out on the line. So a little personal morale boosting was in order. And it was as good an excuse as any to get the fuck out of the mall.

[Caz]

Gwen snuggled up in the comforter, drawing it around them as well as the kitten, and slumped against him with a contented sigh.

"So much warmer here than out there," she said a bit sleepily.

[Cynical Cat]

Wendigo said nothing and lay back, stroking the kitten. It loved the attention. I guess my past doesn't mean anything to it either. Everything here is new, like the world.

[Caz]

As he laid back, Gwen took the opportunity and pretty much clambered into his lap, mumbling something. The cat was momentarily disrupted by the movement, then it, too, shrugged off the disruption and continued nuzzling against the ghoul's hand, purring loudly. Gwen smiled lazily and scratched the kitten beneath the chin, which drove it wild. Its tongue lolled out as it opened its mouth, purring loudly.

The girl closed her eyes.

"Thanks for coming to see me," she said, smiling lazily. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, eyes half-open as she lingered on the verge of sleep.

[Dark Silver]

A few hours earlier....
----------------------------------------------

"The name'a the father, the son, an' the holy ghost..." the boy murmured in his sleep, translating the Latin in Silver's mind. Melanie held Petro against her chest, still attempting to console him even as they slept beside the boy. His eyes opened, the words from Silver's mind fresh in his memory. In his raggedy pyjamas, he hopped from the bed, carefully feeling his way to the foot of the bed, where the dog slept. "Bjorn," Jared whispered to the massive husky. It opened an eye and 'wuff'ed in curiosity. Jared tugged on the lead to the dog's harness, and Bjorn jumped from the bed with a shake of his head, his collar jingling. "Bjorn," he said, "I need your eyes. Somethin' bad's happenin'."

He never moved, aside from the coughing, and the shivering of his body, from the place he had finally laid down at. In the fever which had followed the dizziness, and the pain, he realiezed for him, it was to late. Unless he was found, he would die in the dark, alone...naked and pitiful. But he was to weak, to filled with pain to get up, to call for help, his mouth and chin were covered in a sticky red glaze, even as his head was lain upon the cold tiled floor. the prayer repeated in his mind, something to keep him from being focused on what was happening in his body.

'Mr. Silver...' Jared's voice would sound inside the man's head as though he was right beside him. 'Where are you? I'm coming...'

The voice filled his mind for a moment, drowned out his prayer, then a echoing laugh accompanied it. /Get the hell away you sick fuck!/ he screamed within those dark confines, /Leave me alone.....I'm going back to you....you won..../ He wasn't rational, he honestly thought the boy's mental voice was the hordes, the ones who turned him.

But the images of where he entered flashed through his mind, the sign which gave the name of the store, Gadzooks!, shown brillantly, despite his mental hysteria.

The boy put a hand on the dog's head and attempted to 'show' him the location. "We gotta go," he said to the husky, scratching the dog on the side. "Let's go." In the dark of the night, which was nothing compared to the darkness that was all Jared ever saw, the dog led him through the mall. Eventually, Bjorn caught the scent and led Jared to the store, wuffing a bit to confirm it. "Mister Silver?" Jared whispered, a bit scared as they entered.

Behind the counter, the sounds of a harsh cough, followed by the thrashing of limbs was heard, as Silver responded to the voice.

Jared and the dog jogged as quickly as they could toward the noise. Bjorn stopped short, bent, and began licking Silver's palm. Jared dropped to his knees and groped blindly in the dark, finding Silver's shoulders. "Mister Silver, what--" he said, not even sure what he was going to ask.

The child's voice was clear, he was in pain, not deaf, and he thought he recognized it. The mulatto kid Petro and Melanie adopted, the blind one. Silver had never spoken to him, had only seem him around the mall. But if he was here...and the wetness at his hand wasn't blood, but that dog...

"Help....." he managed to croak out, between coughs, his body shaking with each, a stream of blood erupting from his lips, splattering on the floor near Jared. "Ace....."

The boy's eyes were large with terror as he held onto Silver's wrist, nodding. "Mister Ace is 'sleep right now," he said. "Mister Dorian isn't, I'm calling him right now. Just hold on!" Down in the infirmary, Dorian Davies was in the process of changing sheets on one of the beds when he heard Jared clearly telling him to come upstairs and bring someone. He knew the boy didn't fuck around, and was calling after Gil in a hurry.

He didn't move beyond the shivering, his body was refusing to respond, as much as his mind was trying to keep itself off the pain.

"Come on, Mister Silver!" Jared said urgently, shaking the man's arm. He could feel the fever even from barely brushing against his skin. "Stay awake!"

He groaned, rolling onto his back, from where he was on his side, his breathing shallow, and quick, the pain with each breath to much to allow normal breathing.

"Pain...hurt....bleeding......Ace...."

"They're coming," he said, putting a hand on Silver's forehead. "Just keep still, try not to move, it'll just hurt," he was babbling without thinking. "Dorian an' Gil are comin' and they'll get Melanie..." It was another few moments before the two men arrived, scrambling in the dark until Gil produced a flashlight. Dorian saw them behind the counter and set the stretcher beside Silver. "I... I didn't know what else to bring," he stammered. Jared moved out of the way, tugged Bjorn up with him as the two men carefully lifted Silver onto the stretcher. "I'll go get Mum!" Jared said, clinging to the dog as they ran from the store.

He coughed again as the two men lifted him up on the strecher, blood bubbling from his mouth, rolling down the side of his face. It was obvious whatever injuries were there, were severe enough. The blood he had lost was everywhere behind the counter, and over the front of his body.

"stop....no...." he managed to mutter out between shallow breaths and coughing fits.

"No what?" Dorian asked, leaning forward, brushing his grey hair from his eyes as he stared down at the man.

"dont tell...Melanie...Petro.." he managed to gurgle out, before his head just tilted to the side, his breath harsh in Dorian's ear

"They'll find out regardless," the man said tonelessly. "I knew you were hiding something. Saw the blood on the wheelchair you used for Gwendolyn." As he spoke they carefully guided the stretcher down the stairs.

Silver didn't reply, he simply closed his eyes, the blood trailing slowly out of the corner of his mouth. There were more important people..... he thought instead, as if in reply.

As they got him into the infirmary, they immediately moved into one of the curtained stalls. The only other people in the place who seemed to be vaguely awake were Gwendolyn and Reaper, who were huddled together beneath a blanket and trailing a string for one of Sherry and Mike's kittens. So thankfully, the place was quiet. "Where does it hurt?" Dorian asked, lighting the lantern and taking a damp rag from Gil, who was busy cleaning Silver of the blood to see if he was bleeding from anywhere else.

Silver's hand lifted up, weakly, then fell back as he groaned. "Chest...stomach....sides..." he said, listing off the pain. Apparently it had no center, it was everywhere, and he was, of course, coughing up the blood...

"It might be a popped lung," Gil said, gently running his hands down Silver's sides to feel for any broken bones.

His eyes opened wide, and his body arched upwards as Gil's hands ran down it. he all but stifled the scream of pain, his hands forming fists, bunching up the sheets beneath him.

The Irishman frowned. "Third and fourth thoracic," he said, "left side." Dorian brushed Silver's hair from his face and looked into his eyes. "You have to tell us everything, okay?" he asked. "Now, does it feel like there's pressure on your chest when you breathe?"

"Or is it more in your abdomen?"

Silver shook his head, gulping in air, keeping his eyes closed, "center...solar...plexus" he said slowly, forcing the words out, "radiating...out...into...chest..."

The two doctors spoke to one another in hushed tones. "If it's his sternum or ribs, there isn't anything we can do other than repair his lung..." Dorian sighed. "Neither of your lungs are collapsed, but does it feel like a lot of fluid is in them?" he asked Silver.

As if in reply, his head fell to the side, and a mouthful of blood fly out, splattering on the whites. His breath was wet with it, as his body nearly double with the cough.

"Fuck!" Dorian snarled, slamming his hand into the headboard. Gillian put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. The silver-haired man sighed, then said, "Silver, we're going to have to intubate you... This is going to hurt..." Gil pressed his ear to Silver's chest, listening to his breathing. "Right lung," he said. "It's full of blood. Give him the goddamn shot, I'll do it."

Silver was well on the way to not hearing the men, his mind seemed detached, as if he was watching this from a distance. It was a odd sensation to him, but one he found himself readily adjusted.

His body laid on the table, he could feel the pain on the edge of his consciouness, but....he didn't care. He watched Dorian and Gil at thier work.

Without warning, Gil inserted a needle into Silver's thigh: the morphine. They waited for the painkiller to take effect for a few moments. Dorian had watched Melanie perform a similar procedure on Punt just days ago... "Okay, Gil, I can handle it... Silver, we're going to have to cut you open to drain the blood from your lung. It might hurt." As he spoke, he cut a tiny incision in Silver's side as Gil handed him the tubing from the old dialysis machine. Holding his breath, Dorian pushed the scalpel through the muscle tissue until he felt it against the membrane of Silver's lung, right between his ribs. He then inserted the tubing into the wound and pushed it into the man's lung with a bit of a sickening rush of air through the tube. The blood then began to leak out onto the fresh bedding.

The breath came easier as the blood flowed out of his lung, wheezing softly with each intake. the morphine clouded his mind, as the pain waivered, cut off by the drugs effects.

"The blast he was caught in might have caused massive internal damage and we'd never know," Dorian said hopelessly. Gil set a bucket underneath the tubing for the blood from Silver's lung. "If we had an X-ray, if we had an MRI," the thin man said, "if if if fucking if." Gil cast him a 'shut the fuck up around the patient' glare.

"Bleeding...." he managed to mutter out, in his half-feeling daze. The morphine was really kicking in, he hadn't felt this good in awhile. His hand weakly grabbed Dorian's coat, as he pulled the man down to him, lips trembling, "In animae, e nomeni patri"

Dorian put a hand on Silver's and whispered, "I'm going to do everything I can for you, okay?"

The man nodded, the look in his face, Dorian couldn't be certain Silver had understood him or not. Instead, the eyes drifted half closed, the chest starting tor ise and fall more steadily as the seconds drifted on.

"We've done all we can," Gil said, grabbing Dorian by the wrist and pulling him back. "You're his doctor, not a mourner, D." Dorian adjusted his spectacles and sighed. "You're right. I'll come back and check on him in a few hours..." Gil nodded. "I'll stay, watch him and Punt and the girl."

[Josh]

Melanie had awoken to find herself alone, and naturally her first thought was that Petro was just off pissing in a jar or some such. However, when he didn't return after a few moments, she yawned and crawled from the bed, dressing herself and planning on heading downstairs until Jared walked through the door. "Up late," he said with a massive, uvula-bearing yawn. "'M sleepin' now." "Do you know where your father is?" she asked. Jared closed his eyes for a moment, then told her where to find him. Hence why she found herself climbing up to the bunkerlike structure as well, slipping inside and shaking the fresh snow from her hair.

"So there I was," Petro was saying. "Buck fucking naked, outside the window, and the guy is running around inside with his fucking kitchen knife..." The sentries were already laughing at the story as he made an exaggerated hand gesture indicating the size of the blade, when they suddenly turned at the noise.

"Continue," Melanie said, waving her hand for him to carry on as she smirked, taking a seat and watching him.

"So then I hear the sirens," he said, his grin fading a bit. "And off I go down the alley. So it's all well and good, until three weeks later, when my fucking badge shows up at the station, because she'd kept it for a god damned souveneir. Anyway lads, I have to get on to the next post. Good work, you'll be off for a couple of nights after this." He collected the rucksack, then retrieved another couple of chocolate bars and tossed them over before walking over and kissing her on top of the head. "Fancy seeing you out here, beautiful."

"I have to escape my husband's vicious pregnancy curfew somehow," she said with a smile.

He squeezed her shoulder. "Don't even start on that one," he said. "C'mon, I have three more posts to cover, then we can get some breakfast."

"Sounds good to me," she said with a smile, taking his hand in hers, or at least in her glove. "It feels good to get some fresh air anyway." The bandages on her throat were still visible beneath her jacket collar and the scarf she wore.
He started down the stairs at a fast trot, obviously eager to keep moving. He kept his grip and didn't outrun her, but he did drag her a bit. "I was hoping you'd get some more sleep," he said cheerfully. "You needed the rest."

"Hard to sleep alone," she countered, jogging after him.

As they approached the second level and the makeshift bridge that had been rigged to the next building over, he stopped and turned toward her. "Hey, just want to say something while we've got a moment. You know I love you, right?"

She nodded, watching him with a faint smile. "Of course," she said, "I know you do. And I love you back."
He turned, pressing her against the wall, leaning down to look into her eyes. "And nothing is going to change that, okay? Nothing. I think you worry about it sometimes, and... don't, okay?"

She looked up to him, her cheeks and nose blushed pink as her breath vaporised into the air inches from his. "I... How..." How did he know? She realised with a bit of a sigh that it must have been Jared.

"It's the woman you are that I'm love with," he said. "And always will be. I don't... don't want you feeling like the carpet's going to get yanked out from under you."
She pressed herself against him, letting her eyes fall closed as she leaned into his chest.

"I just... The baby..." She sighed .

"Is going to make us both very happy," he said. "Together."

She didn't say anything, just leaned against him and let her eyes fall closed for a long moment.

He put his good arm around her waist, pulling her close. "I mean what I say, Angel. You're mine forever, whatever comes..."

"My friend had a miscarriage," she said quietly. "Her husband left her because they just couldn't handle the stress." She sighed and leaned against him, closed her eyes as a light wind picked up around them.

"He was a fuck," he said. "A worthless fuck."

"I don't blame him," she said quietly. "If I killed your child, I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

"I shouldn't have let you come along," he said. "My fault as much as anything. But if something happens, we go on together."

She shook her head, wet bangs clinging to her face. "I refuse to believe anything could come of that. It was a goddamn scratch."

"Okay, so if that's not what you're worried about, what then? Miscarriages happen, Mel. It wouldn't mean -you- did anything wrong. But it hasn't happened, so don't freak out on me." He kissed her. "I wouldn't leave you over that."

"It's the goddamn dreams," she muttered.

He shut her up by kissing her again, pressing her against the wall, crushing her body against his.
She hadn't been expecting that, and reacted with a bit of a nonsensical noise that was by no means a protest, sliding her tongue along the roof of his mouth as her hands anchored themselves on his hips.

When he finished, he grasped her neck in his good hand. "Don't ever doubt me, baby..."

"It's not you," she whispered, "it's me."

"You'll do the best you can, same as always, and a damn bit better than everyone else. I know that."

"This is coming from Mr. Superhuman, himself," she murmured, leaning back against the wall and holding him.

"I don't feel like Superman today," he said. "If I had the choice, we'd sneak down to the basement and fuck all day long."

"We can do that any day," she said, kissing him as she stood on the tips of her toes.

"Besides, Sherry's been working really hard on this. She's been wanting to ever since that boy died..."

"Sherry?" he asked, baffled. "Working on what?"

"A memorial," she said.

He closed his eyes. "Yeah." God how he wanted to dodge the whole fucking mess. He was shitty with funerals and memorials.

Her arms elevated, looped around his neck. "I know this isn't the way you deal with things," she said. "But you have to grieve just like anyone else."

"That's me and a bottle," he said. "I'm the guy who always has something to say, but fuck if I know what to say about all this shit."

She slid down the wall until she was sitting, pulled him down with her. "Nobody expects you to know what to say but you," she whispered. "If you want to be quiet, do it. If you want to babble, fine. If you want to cry, do it. You don't have to hide away, not from me."

"It's not that," he said, sitting next to her and pulling a flask from the satchel. He took a slug, then passed it over to her. "I know where I stand with you. But I have to put on some sort of fucking show for the troops, make the sacrifice mean something, but keep them up and ready for the next time we face something like this." He tilted his head back, popping his neck, then finally admitted. "I don't know what to do. I can handle the action. Fuck, I'm even getting good at the organization. But this..." he waved his hand. "Never was good at this. We lost three guys out of our station once, fucking wreck. Had a big memorial and all. I got drunk and puked in the bathroom."

"Then let someone else handle it," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. "You don't have to do everything. Believe it or not, they understand."

He stared at the wall, tasting that bitter pill. There was a deeper issue at root there- if life could go on without him, what did he offer the world anyway? "I need to see what Sherry's got planned."

"She's been collecting names and photos," she said. "She and Alex, the little blonde girl from the infirmary. They're making a memorial wall for the families of the mall survivors."

He nodded. "Okay. Well, let's finish checking out the OPs," he said, rising to his feet. "Poor bastards came right off the fight and got shoved back out into the cold. Gotta let 'em know the boss is there for them."

She smiled and hopped up beside him. "They'll be glad to see you," she said. "Oh, and I have good news."

"Yeah?" he asked, snagging the flask and putting it away as he started over the bridge to the next building.

She followed behind him. "I checked on Punt and Gwen this morning. They're both doing well. I suspect Punt will be back to work in maybe a week or two, just with a lame arm."

"Good. We've lost enough lately," he said, smiling as he held onto the rope and made his way to the next building. As they reached the next level over, he looked back across the bridge, assisting her down. "Fuck, what a luxury. Crossing in broad daylight, chattering away. It's almost like a normal life."

"Til one of us slips and scrapes our noses," she said with a smirk, taking his hand and climbed down. "Oh, and Gwen had a great idea about what she can do to still help while she's laid up, as well. Industrious little thing."

"Do tell?" he said as he continued through the building. Even in the midst of the secure zone, they still moved warily. Never could tell what might lurch out of a closet and yell 'GRAAGH'.

Seriously. Melanie had always been wary, even before the outbreak. This had only fueled it. "She and some of the other patients--amputees, mostly, people who won't be back on patrol soon--are going to start knitting scarves and gloves so we have enough to get through winter."

"Well I'll be damned," he said, obviously very pleased at the notion. "Toldja she's a good kid."

"She's making friends quick, too," she said. "Not the brightest crayon in the box, by any means, but she wants to help."

He chuckled softly at that. "Honestly, I don't know her all that well. We met all of twice before the outbreak. Once was hauling her out of a building, and the other was..." he paused, searching for a word or two to describe the dinner fiasco.

"Was?" she asked, following behind him, curious.

"Aaaaaaaaah," he rubbed the back of his neck with a gloved hand as they approached the next bridge. "I, um, it was after her reconstructive surgery. I didn't even know that, well... okay, long story short, I'm at Sinclair's place getting my Bowling League medal, and I see a young lady in distress. I go to her rescue, one thing leads to another, next thing I know the mayor himself is kicking me out of a bedroom in his house being as how he came through the door with me astride his daughter..."
"Astride his daughter?" she said with a laugh. "Is that what they say nowadays?"

"I was trying to be quaint," he said. "If you prefer, I was riding her like a wild stallion."
He started across the next bridge, pausing to look at the mall with a satisfied smile. Seeing the ever-growing fortifications and changes and realizing that he and his made it possible never failed to give him a lift. "Anyway, the mayor kicked my ass out the door and my career ran into some serious turbulence at that point."

"So you saved this girl from a burning building and you didn't even recognise her? That's..." She chuckled. "That's so /male./"

"Excuse the fuck out of me!" he said. "She was half-roasted when I got her, and then I handed her off to the paramedics and watched the fucker finish burning down."

"Well the newspapers, TV, they usually show pictures of the victims before they got all burned up!" she said, shoving his shoulder lightly with her own and grinning.

"Like I was paying attention to that crap," he muttered. "You think I gave a shit that she was the mayor's daughter? I got a big shiny medal for doing my job, same as everyone else around there did their job."

"Well I doubt you even /knew/ she was the mayor's daughter, if she was, as you said, half-roasted."

"Yeah, but afterward when they were making a big fuss of it. All I cared about was that getting on TV made it easier to lift skirts." He paused, smiling happily at... something.

She jabbed him in the ribs. "Oh, come on, out with it."

"You probably don't know Heidi Marsh. She was the local star anchor for the Malton Morning News. Well..." he grinned wickedly. "Her and her intern, in a broadcast van."

"You're such a slut," Melanie said in an oddly affectionate tone. "But I can say that I'd probably do the same thing, given your... Ehm... Clout, as it were." Her eyes glittered. "Male or female intern?"

"Female. I dated her a couple of times afterward. Airheaded little blond thing," he shrugged. Probably dead by now, just like Heidi. "Was such a slut, damn you. I'm spoken for now." He started up the stairs. Next OP was on the roof of this building.

She jogged up behind him, swatted his ass. "Was," she corrected herself.

"What, was spoken for?" he said with a laugh as he topped the rooftop, then gave the signal whistle.

She elbowed him in the side. "Was a nasty, disease-ridden slut."

There was an answering whistle. He crouched down to grab a handful of snow, then slung it at her. "Hey, I always practiced safe sex. HEY BOYS! Good cheer from the mall!" He proceeded toward the little shelter.

"Safe sex? And here I thought a van was a weird location..." She followed slightly behind him.

"I always kept spare rubbers handy," he said, the picture of conscientiousness. "Though I did get a nasty cut on my elbow from the damned table they put all the equipment on. Bounced up a little too quick."

"In the safe?" she asked with a flash of white teeth.
He stopped, then turned to look at her as the joke finally penetrated his wits. "That was... fucking awful. I'm going to get you for that one tonight."

She placed a hand on her stomach. "Too bad you can't beat the shit out of me on a nightly basis, eh?"

"I've got other ways to get you back for that one," he said, holding up his fingers and wiggling them threateningly.

"We'll see how far that gets you," she chided.

His eyes glittered. "Yeah, we will..." He turned back, swinging the satchel around. "Early Christmas for the boys on the line," he announced cheerfully. "Food and drink."
She hung back as the militiamen swarmed him, al sorts of anecdotes and compliments and well-wishings aimed toward him simultaneously.

He grinned and passed around flasks and rations, talking, touching, moving through them, never focusing too long on one, but making them all feel as though he cared. He knew all the names, knew some stories, pointed out who he'd worked with before. A little more magic.

Melanie watched them give him the rockstar treatment until one of the men piped up, "Gen'ral, sir, it true you're gonna have a baby?"

He grinned broadly and slid through to grab Melanie, holding her hand up. "It's true. And thanks to you guys, I know my family's gonna be safe here."

There came a series of whoops, hollers, and congratulations as Melanie put a hand over her mouth, blushed, looked back to him.

He wrapped an arm around her, grinning like a kid as he waved. "Okay, okay," he said.
"Listen boys, I'd love to hang around a bit longer and chat you up, but I've got more goods to deliver to the posts down the line. Good work, and we'll have a special treat for you all when you come off duty today."

She chattered a bit with a few of the faces she recognised, then it was time for them to pull back and head to the next post. With a shy wave, she retreated and climbed out before him, this time.

He practically bounded down the stairs, whistling a cheerful tune as he went. "Fuck, but I needed this," he said as he started down the hallway.

She smiled as she watched him, oddly nostalgic. She didn't comment, however, just regarded him with the same support and affection that she always had.

They completed their circuit of the perimeter. Finally, it was time to head back for the mall, his rucksack empty as he looked back at home. He made a wry expression, an odd mixture of wistful happiness and lurking dread. "Well, it's not going to get any easier just hanging around out here," he said.

She slid her arms around his waist and leaned on him, squeezing him tight. "Like I said, you don't have to do everything," she murmured. "You can grieve in private. Just show your face and let Sherry know she did a good job with this."

He nodded. "Just feels like I owe them more. Anyway, let's go. I gotta talk to the punk-ass..."

"Nobody here owes anyone," she said sternly, then kissed him and followed him into the mall. After asking around, it was determined that Sherry was in the infirmary, discussing something with one of the doctors, probably hers.

He trotted down to the infirmary, pausing to shuck his bulkier cold-weather gear in his room enroute. "Yo, looking for tall, blond and abrasive," he said as he came in.

"You know," Dorian said pointedly, "the blonde's almost gone from her hair. I'd suggest tall, loud, and caustic if it were me." He smiled and checked Petro up and down. "Looks like your woman's taking care of you," he said with approval. "She's in back, talking to Gwen."

"She'll always be my little blond pain in the ass," he retorted. "Yeah, Mel glued me back together after my latest misadventures." He slapped the other man on the shoulder. "Thanks. Anything going on I need to know about?"

The slim man frowned and nodded. "Got some bad news about Silver," he said quietly.

His stomach plunged. "Talk to me. What?"

"One of his lungs collapsed... He tried to leave the mall or something. Jared found him. There could be massive internal trauma we don't know about here." He sighed. "He's been hacking up blood left and right. Gil and I did what we could, but he's in shock. Delirious. I'd say it's less than fifty-fifty now."

"And Mike cleared him to leave the infirmary?" he said incredulously.

"What?" Dorian said, eyes widening.

"That's what he told us last night." He paused. "Of course, that's just the sort of thing he'd lie about, the stupid motherfucking cocksucker."

"Nobody cleared him to do a damn thing," Dorian said with authority. "Especially Mike. He's one of the smartest people we have here. Not the type to pull that bullshit. Anyway... Ellen's been discharged, Punt's recovering on schedule, and Gwen's doing fair. We might have to re-open her and cut out that bad kidney of hers before it causes trouble. But she's got... Ehm... Moral support."

"I can guess who. Okay, keep me posted on Darek. If anything changes, I want to be the first guy outside of here to hear about it. Dorian, do me a favor and fix him up so I can kick his ass properly for this shit." He headed for Gwen's bed.
Gwen's bed seemed to be the hub of activity for the infirmary, although that wasn't saying much as generally the wounded weren't active. She and Reaper were still beneath the comforter, the cat snuggled up comfortably between the two and visible only by her giant amber eyes peering out into the room. Sherry straddled a chair backwards before them, chattering about something, and Ellen was arriving with a pot of coffee for the women to share. "Hey," the brunette said as she saw Petro, smiling.

He stared at Reaper and Gwen in bed together. Okay, she moved quick. Idle curiosity worked its way through his mind, wondering if Reaper was, well, functional in that fashion. "Hi," he said, rather dumbfounded by the scene.

Both were still fully clothed, however, and simply appeared to be leaning against each other, equally exhausted. "Mornin'!" Gwen chirped, yawning rather like a bear or lion might and then brushing her bangs from her eyes. Sherry glanced up and waved casually as she finished jotting something down on a clipboard. "Thanks," she said to Gwen, "and... As an afterthought, sorry I beat you up a while ago."

Okay, that was really guaranteed to set his mind spinning. "I need a drink," he announced.

Ellen offered him a cup of coffee, which Sherry handed over. "Something up?" Gwen asked.

"Need to steal the punk-ass here," he said, gesturing toward Sherry.

"I'm done anyway," Sherry said, flipping Petro the v-sign with an indignant smirk.

"Anyway, thanks, guys. I'll make sure they get on it. Keep your ass in bed, though," she said to Gwen. "I'm older than you," Gwen pointed out. Sherry huffed and waved a dismissive hand, muttering something about how she couldn't be concerned with details. She stood and beckoned for Petro to follow. "What's up, Chief?"

He stepped them out of the infirmary, lighting a cigarette. "Mel told me you've been setting up a memorial service," he said, offering her a smoke.

"Been /trying/ to," she said, taking the cigarette and lighting it as she plodded alongside him. "Not much to go on, you know?"

"Yeah," he said, blowing a cloud of smoke in front of him. "What are you thinking about doing?"

"Easier t'show than tell," she said, "follow me." She led him to a storefront that had been abandoned long before the outbreak, through the employees only door, and into an office. Inside, four of the displays normally reserved for things like mall maps and promotions had been covered in white paper. Upon closer inspection, a series of photographs, articles, and notes in various penmanship were visible. Photographs of departed friends and family as well as wishes from their living counterparts. It had no order and no frivolty.

He looked at it. The names he knew, the faces he'd committed to memory. "Gonna put this out in public?" he asked, staring at the wall.

She rolled her eyes. "Um, yeah," she said. "How else will people be able to add to it?"

He ignored the sarcasm. "Good then." He turned away from the faces, heading for the door. "What else are you going to need help on?" he asked.

"We're uh..." She looked to the side. "Gonna have a--um... Church service."

"Got somebody to speak at that?" he asked, puffing furiously on his cigarette.

Again, she shuffled her feet a bit and looked away. "They, ah... Wanted... Me."

He braced himself. "You up to it? If not, I can come up with something."

"'Course I'm up to it," she said. "I just... The whole God thing..." She told him then of the only time she'd ever gone into a church, when she'd asked the priest for advice on what to do regarding her stepfather's murder.

"We didn't do church," he said when she was done. "Moved around too much, no way pa was going to stand for it anyway..."

She chuckled. "Yeah, pretty much the same. But... There are a lot of people who believe here, and if they want me to, then I will. The whole damnfool thing was my idea," she said. And she'd obviously been keeping it under wraps for some time.

"Good," he said. "Good work. Keep at it. Just let me know when, where and what, hey?"

She nodded. "'Course I will," she said. "Oh... And..." She turned and rifled through the stacks of photos and clippings that lined the desk, finally coming up with a few. "I found these," she said, oddly not specifying where, and handed them over. A photo of Petro's old fire district, their entire crew all polished up for archival purposes. As well as a clipping regarding some lifesaving event or another.

He stared at it for a long moment. His own unscarred face stared back at him, grinning like an idiot. Steve was two over, Haley, Jim, Macintosh. All so damned young. Far as he knew, he was the only one left alive from the old crew. He stared at it a long time, then gave her a small smile. "Ninety-fifth anniversary of the precinct. Even Jim got drunk for that one."

"Steve had them in his room," she said quietly.

He nodded. "Always was a sentimental bastard..." He took the picture and carefully slid it into an inner pocket of his coat, along with the clipping. "Thanks."
"No problem," she said. "I just figured you should have them... He really looked up to you, you know. Whether you realised it or not. Whether even he did."

He grinned ruefully. "It's odd. It really is. We never... I'd've died for the man, but we never really knew each other."

"It's like me an' my mum," she said, shrugging. "We never talked, never really got to know one another, but the bond was there."

He nodded. More truthfully, Steve was another one of the people in his life that he'd just slotted into a role, tended to as needed, and frankly took for granted until he was gone. "We'll never forget them," he said. "All of them." He gestured toward the wall.

"Yeah," Sherry said. Her eyes were glossy, admittedly, and she pointed to a few photos she'd stapled to the white paper. They were people Petro wouldn't recognise, of course. "They're the only reasons I'm here right now," she said. He'd notice that one face was blacked out with a marker. He could probably guess whose.

He nodded. "Anything else we need to do here? I'm fucking starving."

"Nope, just figured you should know before I plan on unveiling her. Whenever she's done." Sherry stubbed out the cigarette on an ashtray that was literally overflowing.

He crushed out his own cigarette. "Good work," he said. "When you're done with this, the 1st gets a week off, you figure out who you want to pull in from the Militia or the Guard to make good your losses. You're going to be hitting the horde leaders when you go back out, so you're going to need to be in top shape. But until then, fuck your doctor up down and sideways and get some R&R."

"Oh," she said, "speaking of doctor... He wants back in. The First, that is."

"Don't know if that's the smartest move," he said. "Not that you guys aren't pros, you're the first motherfucking Irregulars. But you're boss now, you know what the concern is."

"I was just curious as to what you thought," she said, "'cause I'm admittedly biased..."

"Can he keep it professional if you go down?" he asked. "Or will he make a decision based on his relationship with you that could get the whole unit killed?" He lit a fresh cigarette. "If need be, I'll be the bad guy on this and tell him no. Honestly, if we're going to rebuild the 2nd we can use him more over there."

"That's the only thing I'm worried about," she said. "As much as I love him and as much as you love Mel, people like us still have that detachment. I could keep the First going if something happened to him; you could keep going if Mel died. But Mike... I don't know if he could do that."

"Then he doesn't go," he said. "If he wants field duty, he goes out with the 2nd. I'll let him know." He reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "It's for the best, punk-ass."

"I know," she said. "I just don't want him to think I'm doing it to keep him off the front line. Which is undoubtedly what he's going to think."

"The 2nd will still be front line," he said. "And they're going to need another Irregular around to show them how it's done. Right now we have Decimus, Punt will be back up soon enough, and... well, fuck knows what's going to happen with Darek," he said, gritting his teeth. And he hadn't even told him about the horde leader, either.

"What happened to him?" she asked, taking a step closer.

"He fucking got up, walked out of the infirmary, told me and Mel that Mike had cleared him to leave. His guts are fucked all to hell and Dorian says he's fifty-fifty at this point, the stupid motherfucker."

Sherry's eyes closed and a pained look shot over her face. "God damn it," she whispered. "He told me... Told me he was going to die. I thought he was just being melodramatic."

"He's a stubborn fucking cocksucker and he wants to die after what happened to Jamie and Chad. I told Dorian to get him fixed up so I could kick his ass properly this time."

"If he wants to die then fucking do it," she said, sighing with frustration. "Don't just keep one foot in the door to keep me up at night, you know?" She snorted. "I hated that fuck when I first met him. You remember how he thought we were fucking?"

"You didn't know him before," he said defensively. "Just how tight would your head be screwed on if you lived with Mike for years and then had to kill him after he killed your hypothetical child?"

"Can't have kids, remember?" she said. "But I know what he went through, so don't you dare sass me." She sighed. "Since we all came to the mall... Me an' him have been talking a lot, actually."

"I'll talk to him if he comes out of it," he said.

"Gwen's worried about him, too. Apparently they got pretty chatty while they were both laid up," she remarked.

"I'll talk to his stupid ass," he said.

"Take it easy," she said. "He's drugged out, might not have really been thinking. Or at least he was when I last saw him."

"I know, but he needs a jolt right now anyway. Needs to be reminded that this is bigger than any of us, and we've all taken our hits since this started. We don't abandon each other."

"Whatever you think will help," she said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I loved the two of them like they were my own family," he said. "More family to me than my own. And he loved him more than anything on the planet. But we have a family to take care of here and now."

"Just... Try not to be too hard. He's fragile right now," she said lamely.

"I've been taking it easy on him for a while now. I think he needs a kick in the nuts to remind him of what a man's job is."

She chuckled. "As long as you think it'll help," she said. "All I care about is making sure he doesn't hurt himself anymore."

"Nothing else has worked so far," he said with a shrug. "I'll give it a whirl. You want to get some breakfast with me?"

"Sure," she said, "Sex Machine is still asleep with the kitties."

"Sex machine?" he inquired, smirking. "See, doctors and nurses are great for that sort of thing. They know anatomy."

"Mm, seriously," she said with a contented sigh. "Like this little closet back behind the infirmary, too..."

He suddenly got very quiet as they headed for door.

She glanced down at him. "Don't tell me this is the one time in the goddamn world you're shutting up voluntarily and I don't get to know why..."

"Nothing," he said innocently. "Nothing at all."

"Don't tell me you've been in our closet!" Sherry moaned. "Fuckin' defiling our holiest of holies...!"

"No, I was just planning on it. But fuck, like I want to go where -you've- been. I have standards, y'know."

"And iiiiii've got cooties!" she said, kissing his cheek.

He ostentatiously wiped his cheek. "Oh, just fucking drool on me, why don't ya? Ass." he mimicked.

She licked the side of his face. "Okay," she said, "I did."

He thumped her nose. "Quit flirting. I'm spoken for."

"I can't flirt with anyone anymore!" she said with a pout. "You're gonna be Daddy Petro, Melanie's... Well... Melanie, Mike's already mine... Here I was thinking I could get dibs on the new girl but she's got a boner a mile and a half long for you..."

"I wasn't the one she was in bed with," he pointed out. "But nice of you to finally admit you were interested," he shot back with a smirk.

"Who's that guy, anyway?" she asked. "He offered to help with the memorial, but he didn't have anyone he wanted to add." She then shoved the shorter man into a wall with an innocent whistle. "I wouldn't fuck you with Dorian's dick," she said.

"Because you'd much rather I was the one doing the penetrating," he said, ruffling her hair. "Reaper... is a long story." He pulled her aside. "He's sort of one of them. A quasi-shambler."

"Well, yeah," she said, "but what I meant was where the hell do you find a quasi-shambler kitty-cuddler anyway?"

"He saved Silver and Carter after the attack they made. Then he saved Gwen when she was sitting on the rooftop. So he's earned his keep. We keep him in fresh meat, which we've got fuckloads of in the trenches, and he works with us. And..." he shrugged. "Maybe more. Maybe we can give him a real place here."

"Bet Frank's gonna be reeeeeaaaal pleased about that," she said. "But hey, nice enough guy to me. And she's sure... Uh... Fond of him."

"Frank's happy about everything. I'm thinking he'll either go out with the 1st or the 2nd when we get operations going again. You got any problems with working with him?"

"Other than the fact that he's a gloomy-doomy twat, nah," she said with a grin.

"Okay. We'll see how it shakes out. Depends on what happens with Darek. Carter's supposed to be back up soon too, so that'll be four, five if Silver can get back into shape. I want to keep both units at ten." He strolled into the 'cafeteria', grabbing one of the trays they'd salvaged from a local school and heading for the cook pots.

"Lenny and Harv are gung-ho for it," she said. "Gil and Freddy from the Guard."

"Good. The sooner we get them integrated before silly-ass rivalry shit breaks out, the better." He started plunking stew and the treat of the day, dried apricots and strawberry slices onto his tray. "Keep an eye out for that. We want to make the Guard as comfortable as possible, get them worked in here so this is their home as much as it is ours. By the way, I'm keeping FM back to start running the training school for the troops."

"Sounds good to me." She paused for a moment, mulled over a few more names.

"Marley's sharp and tough," she said. "If the Irregulars didn't work for him, he'd be a helluva commander or whatever the fuck you're gonna call 'em." She thought for a moment. "Punt found this woman, Ellen, who want with him on his raid. She's tough as nails. She was the one who made the coffee this morning."

"I'm going to formalize Marley's command of the militia this afternoon," he said. "Breakdown will go like this... we'll have me as top boss, you running the first, Darek running the second if he comes back, Decimus otherwise, Marley for the militia, and I've got to discuss with Melanie who's going to run the overall Guard operation. Maybe that Freddy guy, or Gil, not sure which. Gil was wobbly at first, but he got his shit together when he had to take over." He started in on the stew, then tried one of the dehydrated strawberry slices. "Oh yeah..." he said. "This is good. Try one!"

She humoured him and grinned. "That's good, inded," she said. Then: "Gil was wobbly? The big guy? Hard to imagine that."

"Moment of truth," he said, taking another bite. "When Mel was down, he had the whole operation in his hands, and he was scared shitless." He studied her for a moment. "Think you can relate to that."

"Yeah," she said. "Only he rose to the challenge and I plugged myself." She took a long sip from her thermos.

"Not referring to that," he said. "I'm referring to yesterday," he got up and went over to the big coffee brewer, pouring himself a cup, then returned, taking a sip. "Fucking overbrewed mud," he groused. "When I told you that you had the 1st, you looked like a regular deer in the headlights."

"It wasn't the responsibility thing," she said after a long while. "It was... like it just made what happened to Steve /real./"

He took another drink of coffee. "You did a hell of a job yesterday, by the way."

"Yeah?" she asked. "T'tell the truth, I haven't had time to really go over it in my head."

"Yeah," he said. "You're ready to lead now."

"Well as Descartes said, no greater tutor than necessity," she said.

He smiled at that, then winced and touched his cheek. "Fucking rotters." He fidgeted the wrap around a little. "Gotta get the dressing changed soon. Fucking nice to have fresh sterile gauze for a change."

"And a new sexy war wound," she said. "Man, that quasi-shambler guy took a lot of fuckin' damage. Shoulda seen how awesome you looked tossed over his shoulder. Very heroic."

He finished off the coffee. "Go fuck yourself with a broom," he grumbled, standing up and getting another cup before returning. "Took four of those bastards by my lonesome. He just took out the boss. God damn slacker."

"Fuck myself with a broom?" she asked with a laugh. "You going to yap like that around Petro Junior?"

He stared at her for a long moment, a rather incredulous look on his face. "I'm gonna have to watch my fucking mouth?"

"Unless you want Mel fucking you with said broom, I'm suspecting you will," she said.

"Ah fuck," he said, obviously truly disturbed by the notion.

"Aw, cheer up," Sherry said. "I'm sure you'll have, uh, dozens of Kodak moments to make up for it."

He cast a gimlet eye upon her as he finished his breakfast. "About that broom..."

"Oh, hush, Daddy," she said.

He picked up his tray and carried it over, dumping it with the rest of the dirty dishware. "Fucking punk," he muttered.

When he returned, Sherry was sitting there with a smug look. She shook her head. "Mike an' I were talking about it this morning... Never thought I'd see the day when your vulgar, promiscuous ass decided to settle down with fucktrophies."
He cocked his head. "Never thought I'd see the day where I'd be in charge of something like this, either. World is a funny place."

"Yeah," she said, "it is. But I like it. And I like where it's headed."

He got another cup of coffee. "Yeah, yeah, me too. Who'd've thought it a year ago, the two of us actually doing something this big?"

"Year ago I was getting arrested for murder," she said with a chuckle. And proceeded to tell him the story of the auto crash, followed by how she'd awoken in the hospital to find herself in police custody.

"Some people just get no luck," she said.

"What is it with us and momentous wrecks?" he said, lighting a cigarette.

"Dunno," she said. "I just conked my head real bad... Can't remember anything other than the fact that Ron... Wasn't moving. And nobody was doing a damn thing to help us."

He nodded. "Day this went down, I caused a mass wreck out on the freeway. Dunno if I ever told you about it. Then I met Frank, and it was all downhill from there."

She chuckled. "Yeah, you mentioned it." She reached forward and trailed her finger along the scar he'd received that day. "Aint that how you got this little beauty?"

"Yeah, you should see the helicopter whose ass I kicked in the getting of it, hey?" He grabbed her neck, pulling her down for a big slobbery kiss on the forehead. "Anyway, I gotta get back to work. See you this afternoon."

"I might drop in and see Silver later," she commented, wiping her forehead on her sleeve.
"But first I'm going to go have Mike eat me out and get some tea."

"Too much information," he said cheerfully as he headed out of the cafeteria.

She whistled innocently and beaned him straight in the back of his head with her spoon.

He flashed her the single finger salute as he departed.

[Dark Silver]

He groaned, stirring in the bed, eyes opening, the dim lights blinding to him. The voices came through the dense fog of his mind, "He's waking up, Someone call for the general."

More murmuring, checking and probing as he stirred. A digital thermometer in the ear, an eyelid pulled open to check pupil dilation. The standard indignities of hospital care. The nurse smiled and squeezed his arm. "The general is coming to see you," she said reassuringly.

He didn't move, just laid there, as they probed and prodded and checked. He still wasn't fully out of it, his mind only slowly coming out of the dregs of sleep.

Petro's voice in the background. "Anybody need to be here for the next bit of a while?" "No." "Then I want some privacy."

The "nurses" filed out after that, one saying, "We'll be out there if something happens." The voice had cut through the sleep, but he didn't respond to it, he didn't move, other than just breathing.

There was a rustling sound as Petro settled into the chair next to him. "You there?"

"Where else would I be...." he said, the voice was low, hoarse, with just a touch of dirision in it, but no mirth.

"This shit's got to stop, Derek," he said. "You're going to pull through this, and then you really have to get your shit together."

"Your team was coming in...you had wounded....I could have waited..."

"Bullshit," he said. "You've been looking for a way to die for a while now. It stops now. Jamie and Chad were like my family too, Darek, but we have a family to take care of here, and if you don't take care of yourself, you're letting them down and you're fucking pissing all over the memory of your wife and son, because you damn well know that Jamie would want you to do your god damned job here."

"If I was looking for a way to die....I could have left myself get blown up with that horde...." he said, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The drugs and sleep were wearing off more quickly, becoming slowly more coherent. "Jamie wanted me to protect her and Chad....instead...she died..killed our son...and I killed her. I'm a murderer Petro."

"You did what you had to do to protect yourself. She was long gone when it happened, one of them," he said. "You're not a fucking murderer. She would've wanted you to live and honor her god damned memory."
[03:30] DarekSilver001:
"Yeah..." his eys closed, and he swallowed. "Listen...don't blame Freeman....I lied when I said he gave me permission to leave....he didn't know shit...he wanted me to remain inbed...honestly, I'm surprised Dorian and Melanie fell for it..."

"I know you lied. You listen to me, Darek, I'm not cutting you anymore fucking slack on this anymore. You will recover, you will fucking do your job. We need you here. Got me?"

"You really have grown into this General bit haven't you Petro? King of Castle Caiger...commanding his troops. My unit is gone, what do you expect me to do here...those men trusted thier lives to me, and I let them down..." He almost sat up in his bed, his eyes fixed on his friend, "Do you realieze how long it will take to retrain new men?"

"Your men died saving the Caiger," he said, standing up. "You still have Decimus, Punt, and Carter. You'll rebuild and do your god damned job." He let the rest slide by. Fact was he was the boss, general, whatever, and Darek would either do his job or be replaced, friendship be damned. "We've got a grace period from the weather, and we're going to use it to put down as many of the smart ones as we can before spring rolls around and they come at us again. I need my best people out there if we're going to have a chance."

"I'll be damned lucky to be back on my feet by the time the winter ends. Punt and Decimus knows the regimen...they can train the replacements...take them out..." His face went bland, "I heard Dorian and Gil before I went out.....they still don't know how bad I am inside."

"You're going to make it," he said simply. "I'm not losing another one."

"If it's my time.....let me go. Don't be like me. I lost my world the day Malton died, yours is just starting." His eyes, usually so hard and clear, were mudded, not only by the drugs, but by something within him, "You were made for times like this old friend."

He lit a cigarette, casually defying infirmary rules, then offered Darek one. "It's not your time. I need all the good people I can get."

Silver shook his head, letting it sink into the pillow. "I should have died in that blast....would have if not for that...weird lookin bloke, from what I was told. He took me and Carter, brought us back to the Mall...you could use a guy like him on your team...."

"Planning on it," he said. "Darek, have you heard a god damned thing I've said? You are not meant to die here, not yet. You've got work to do."

"I heard every word you said, every last one. I'm just making sure you have it in your head, things may not fall like you want it to. However the chits fall, when I'm back on my feet, I'll still have to get get over the time laid up. If I don't...well..."

"You will and you will," he said.

He nodded, putting his eyes back on the ceiling. "Who found me anyway,,,,I didn't think anyone could have where I finally fell."

"Reaper found you. The strange bloke. There's a story and a half there."

"No, I meant after I mean in the mall"

"Jared found you. The kid's good. So no more sneaking off. You'll stay here, you'll listen to the fucking docs, and you'll let your body heal."

"Aye m'leige" he half joked, his forehead wrinkling for a moment.

"You know I could kick your smart ass around the room right now," he grumbled as he rose to his feet.

"Unless you grew a new pair of nuts, you couldn't even kick my ass if I was dead..."

He kicked the bed with his foot. "Don't tempt me, fucker. My ribs are still creaking from the last time, and you know what a nasty, underhanded fuck I am."

"Let me mend up...and we'll see who can kick whose ass when..." he inhaled, the breath came wetly,, and a fresh spurt of blood came out of the tube in his side. "Your lucky bro....you managed to find you someone to love in the chaos. Whose gonna do that for a fucked up freak like me eh?"

"Get your shit together before you even start thinking about that sorta thing, man. And if you wanna dance, you're gonna have to get on your feet again." He cracked his knuckles loudly, wincing as it strained his torn-up shoulder. "And next time, I won't hold back, either."

"And maybe next time I will hold back a lil more..that way your wife won't find you so bruised up...."

"Big words from a guy in bed," he taunted.

Silver shook his head, before closing his eyes, "Let me sleep....I'm sure you got better things to do than making my blood pressure rise."

"Yup. I'll see you tonight, brother." He turned and walked from the room.

[Cynical Cat]

Wendigo slipped out the bed, trying not to disturb Gwen or May. He shifted the covers around her, making sure she would stay warm. May watched him through slitted eyes. He began to put on his weapons harness and armour.

[Caz]

"You're not gonna stay?" she asked sleepily, trailing a stray thread from the blanket across the mattress, which the kitten swatted at with sleepy gusto. She accidentally reached out too far and tumbled off the pillow, only to find Gwen's hand waiting to keep her from falling off the bed entirely.

"Careful, you," she admonished the cat.

[Cynical Cat]

"I've rested," he replied. "Need less than you. Going to look around and make sure everything's okay. You sleep."

[Caz]

"Y'gonna come back?" she mumbled sleepily. She propped herself up on an elbow and watched him as the cat wound down, finally choosing the crook of Gwen's elbow as a good place to spend the night and curling up against her with a loud, rumbling purr.

[Cynical Cat]

"Maybe. See how it goes. They might need my help for something."

[Caz]

"Well if they don't, could'ja come back?" she smirked. "You're a good listener an' I'm," she yawned again, "really chattery."

[Cynical Cat]

"Rest," which was for Wendigo a diplomatic reply. "I will see you latter."

[Caz]

She yawned and murmured something along the lines of, "Mm'kay," before she settled back down onto the pillow, the cat still purring away.

"G'night, you," she said, scratching the tiny kitten on the top of her head. May yawned in response and plunked her head back down.

[Cynical Cat]

"Goodnight," he replied and walked out of the impromptu hospital.

[Caz]

She mumbled something in response that wasn't an actual word and for the next few hours, Gwen was dead to the world.

[Pcm979]

Early that morning, having left Petro asleep with the boy and the dog, Melanie had been quite restless. She strolled the rooftop and chattered at the patrollmen a bit, but sleep was hard-pressed to find. And so she wandered down to the infirmary, which for the moment wasn't terribly active, in order to check up on some of the patients she'd been seeing as well as to have Phillip change the bandages on her neck.

After that was done, she skirted the various wards, raised an eyebrow at Gwen and the ghoul, who appeared to be playing with one of Mike and Sherry's cats, and decided to pay Punt a visit.

She pulled back the curtain and stepped in.

He was asleep, having done a number on the bed getting comfortable with his injuries. He was snoring slightly, occasionally snorting wetly. It seemed the lung still wasn't quite clear.

Fortunately, they'd been able to repair his lung and remove the tube, so at least he could lay on his sides if he so desired. Melanie watched him for a moment, then decided there wasn't much she could do.

As she turned to leave, her hip collided with the tray of surgical instruments, sending them scattering noisily to the floor.

He snorted and uncurled himself from the semi-foetal position he'd adopted, looking oddly like a guard dog disturbed by a neighbour's cat. He blinked widely a few times and awkwardly adjusted his makeshift eye patch, which had slipped.

"Wuzzat?" He whispered sleepily.

"Sorry," she said quietly, "it's just me. Came in to check up on you and I'm knocking shit over."

"Nrf." He said, flopping back down to the cot and pawing at his face with his good - well, least bad hand. He scowled at it's stubborn refusal to unclench, then looked up.

"Howzaneck." He asked reedily, new to this politeness thing.

"Oh..." She said. "We were outside... I was bitten, but it just bleeds a lot. Nothing too bad," she explained with thinly-veiled worry. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." He said, wriggling into a sitting position, which was proof in itself that his condition was improving. The day before he couldn't have done it.

Melanie smiled. "Good," she said. "Jared will be happy. He was worried sick."

Punt nodded, prising his clenched fist open with his teeth. "'E's a 'ood 'id." He enunciated through his half-closed mouth as his thumb uncurled.

"Yeah," Melanie said, sighing a bit. "And he really looks up to you. Already talking about what he wants to get you for Christmas," she said with a chuckle.

She looked to his hand.

"It might work better if we got you a glove or something..."

"Y' think?" He asked, testing the fingers carefully. "I, eh, didn't take the meds." He admitted sheepishly. "Didn't think thin blood'd be good inna fight."

She sighed and uncrossed her arms, walked toward him.

"That," she said, taking his chin between her thumb and index finger, tilting his head up so he couldn't escape her eyes. "Isn't going to help anything."

He looked abashed, only rendering the tableux even more bizzare. Alistair Punt, six feet tall and heavily muscled, who'd recently taken on a Zombie Leader single handed and set his own broken arm, being cowed by the tiny Melanie Booth.

"Well." He said defensively. "What about m' lung? If the blood'd been thinner..."

"It doesn't turn your blood to water, Punt," she said, sitting beside him on the bed with a bit of a chuckle. "It thins at the molecular level. Nothing you--or your lung--would notice."

"Oh." He said, not even sure what a molecular level was.

She sighed the way a teacher might while dealing with an overzealous pupil, and affectionately brushed his shaggy hair back.

"I wouldn't tell you to do anything if it wouldn't help," she said.

"Yeah." Punt said, not used to being mothered either. "I jus' thought..." He paused. "I'm not good at thinkin'." He concluded.

"It's okay," she said. "You don't have to think. You don't have to do anything other than get well." Her hand brushed his bangs back again as she spoke. "I'd hate to be the one to have to tell the boy that something happened to you just because you didn't want to do what I said," she said quietly.

"Sorry." He said meekly, conveying the impression that, if standing, he'd be shuffling his feet in shame.

"It's fine," she said with a supportive smile. "I won't hold it against you. You did save the entire mall, after all." The redhead smirked.

"Jus' doin' my job." He said, having mentally filed the task in a brightly-coloured folder marked Civic Duty. His sense of duty had been the only thing that had stopped him going feral before Jared had helped him.

"Yeah, well you do bangup job of it," she said with a smile. She stood and moved to the nightstand, digging through a series of various ampuoules and bottles until she found the Cumodin they'd given him during the operation.

"I'm going to give you something for your arm," she announced, "and then you have to start taking the Accutane. Deal?"

"Okay." He said obediently. "If it gets me up ‘n’ movin’ quicker, I'll do anythin'." When not asleep or being visited by Jared, he was going quietly and stoically spare.

"Good," she said, then filled a hypodermic with the blood thinner and made her way back to him. "Stretch our your arm as best you can," she instructed.

He extended it, revealing the large, puckered scar below his elbow that went almost the whole way around. To someone with a minimum of medical knowledge, what had happened was easily imagined; His arm had been turned into a Pez dispenser.

She slid her thumb gently across the scar tissue, feeling for a good vein for the injection. Fortunately, the veins on his forearm were prominent, no doubt due to its condition. Careful and attentive, she massaged his arm to get some circulation going, then carefully injected the Cumodin. She was a real professional; he'd hardly feel it.

"Should start tingling in a moment," she said.

It really wouldn't have mattered if she'd slammed it home like a bullet; Punt was somewhat hardened to pain. "What's new?" He asked with a weak grin.

"Tingling in a good way," she said pointedly. She began to massage his palm, her thumbs slowly working the blood back into his dry veins.

"Nff." He grunted as she worked. "'S better." He whispered hoarsely. "Thanks." He added suddenly. He couldn't really fathom why he was getting all this attention, but he knew from experience that people got cross if he said that out loud.

"Not a problem," she said, her hands now beginning to do their work on the ridge of his thumb and fingers. The blood was returning now, and with it would come a tingle like a limb that had just fallen to sleep.

His overly-long nails had dried blood and body fluids caked underneath them from his battle with the leader. They were still sharp. His hand twitched slightly. "I don't know as much as you." He said randomly, offering an insight into his worldview. It was almost medieval; She was one of the elite, and he was one of the castle guards.

"Then let us take care of you," she said with a smile. "Jared brought up a good point last night," she said absently. "He calls you Uncle and calls me Mum, so it's time I started treating you like a sister." She chuckled a bit, then instructed him to try opening his hand.

He did so, and found it considerably easier. "Thanks." He said again, wheezing a little. All the talking had taken it out of him. "C'n I have some water?" He asked, looking pained. "I hate bein' sick." He muttered.

"No," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I completely forbid it." She disappeared from the curtained-off area and returned a moment later, handing him a bottle.

"Yeah," she agreed, "being laid up is a pain. I should've stayed after I got my blood," she gestured to her neck, "but I wanted out so bad..." She laughed.

He nodded in understanding and drained the bottle in one go, the plastic buckling as he sucked the liquid out. "Thanks." He said again, more clearly. "Look after y'self, too." He said awkwardly. "Y' got a family. 'N' people look up t' you."

"So do you," she replied.

"Then look after y'self as much as y' want me to look after m'self." He said triumphantly. It wasn't often he scored a point in conversations.

She laughed and shook her head a bit. "All right," she said, "I will. How's your other arm?"

He looked down at the trussed arm and waggled it experimentally. "Better." He concluded. "Not the first time." He added.

"Don't know anyone in Malton breaking bones for the first time," she said with a smirk. She glanced up and down his body, patted him on the shoulder. "Well, It's my professional opinion that you're going to live through this to see another stack of zombies." She opined.

"Nice t' know." He said with a weak grin. Well, at least he knew how to handle a stack of Zombies. They were easy.

"You up to a visit from the boy?" she asked.

"Sure." He said affably. "If he's got nothin' better to do." He said dubiously, then inwardly winced. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. Now he was going to get a chewing out, he could tell.

Melanie sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "You're all he talks about," she said, "he'd come see you before he'd come see me. There is no 'better thing to do.'"

He scratched his head, testing his hand. "I dunno what he sees in me." He admitted.

"You accept him," she said. "People here... Some of them haven't taken too kindly to the boy. But you don't care about his abilities. You don't care about his eyes. You don't care that he's half black. You just accept him."

He grunted dubiously and shrugged. "Well, I'm not goin' anywhere." He said with another stab at humour.

"Good," Melanie said with a grin. "Otherwise we'd have to hunt you down, right?"

"Somethin' like that." He said with a chuckle that petered out as he ran out of breath.

"I'll go get you some more water," Melanie said, "and then I've got to be on my way. Gwendolyn's stitches might need to be redone," she muttered. She returned a few moments later and handed him the water. "You still have those pills I gave you?" she asked.

"Er, yeah." He said and fished them out. He stuffed them in his mouth and chased them down with water right then, to prove that he was following her orders.

"There we go," she said, smirking at him. "I can get you well yet."

With a squeeze of his shoulder, she told him to damn well take care.

"Yes, ma'am." He said meekly. He found himself oddly looking forward to Jared's visit. They had a rapport.

"All right," she said, "I'll send some food down with Jared as well. Get well soon," she smiled as she spoke, then was ducking beneath the sheets and headed back to bed.

Punt burrowed back beneath the sheets and started counting again. After giving up on the sheep, he settled on the bottles. He was far more experienced with them.

[Pcm979]

The boy arrived about three hours later, peering meekly from behind the sheet and whispering: "Uncle Punt? You in there?"

"Fm." Punt said, a large mound underneath the sheets. He pushed his way up and whispered, "Yeah kid. Sit down." He wriggled to make some room.

The boy carefully felt his way to the edge of the bed, then clambered up onto it and proffered his gift: a thermos. "It's soup," he said.

"Soup!" Punt said enthusiastically, taking the thermos carefully and resisting the urge to snatch it from the blind boy's hands.

"I can get more if you want, too," he said proudly. The earmuffs hung around his neck as opposed to on his head for the moment, and he 'watched' Punt intently.

"This is jus' fine." He grinned, ruffling the boy's hair. He briefly wondered, again, what made him deserving of all this fuss.

"Don' bother worryin' about it," the boy said in response to that thought. "I like you 'cause you're like me. An' 'cause we helped each other."

"That works." Punt agreed. The two of them thought alike. Punt struggled with the thermos briefly, eventually unscrewing it with his teeth. "Wan' some?" He asked around the cap.

The boy nodded. "It'll warm me up," he said with a smile. "It's cold out."

"Mabye bein' in bed all day ain't so bad." He joked, taking a swig of the soup and handing it over.

The boy reached out for the thermos and completely missed it, slowly feeling his way around. His elbow bumped into the canister, causing a little of the hot soup to splash onto the blanket as well as onto his hand. He yelped a bit and whimpered. "I'm sorry! Sorry!"

Punt cursed and fumbled, eventually getting the thermos into his trussed-up hand. He flipped the wet part of the blanket aside and shushed the kid, taking a look at his hand.

"I didn't mean to--" Jared was still stammering, shrinking back as though afraid.

"It's fine. Lemme see." He said commandingly, grabbing the boy's hand.

Jared didn't say anything, just let Punt take charge of that situation. The boy's hand was bright red, but not blistered. He sniffled a bit. "'M sorry... I'll go get you more soup..."

"Jus' sit still." Punt said, and fumbled for the water bottle. For once, it was a good thing that it was so bloody cold. After another few moments of unscrewing the cap with his teeth, he slopped some of the cold water onto Jared's hand. "There." He said, attempting to screw the cap back on while it was still in his mouth. "No fuss."

The boy whimpered a bit and drew his hand to his chest, both appearing and acting a lot younger than his thirteen years. He hunched down and seemed to move back a bit, as though still somehow afraid that Punt might lash out at him even though, through what he could see in Punt's mind, he knew he wasn't upset.

"Hey, 't's fine." Punt said, putting an arm over the boy's shoulder. "It's just soup. Not th' end of th' world."

"I'm sick of fuckin' up," the boy said. "I want eyes."

Punt didn't have anything to say. He wordlessly proffered the soup with his other hand, keeping a tight grip on it this time.

The boy took a sip, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Thanks," he said.

"'S fine." He took a sip himself and paused. "Kid, you ain't fuckin' up. Yer dad 'n' I fucked up at lot more 'n you at your age." Another sip and pause. "'Sides, I bet they can do somethin' for your eyes when we get outta here. Doctory things." He said vaguely, as though talking about magic.

"You think we're gonna get out?" he asked, resting against Punt's shoulder.

"Well, yeah." Punt said as though it were obvious.

"I hope you're right," the boy said. He didn't say anything more for a long few moments, then just leaned against Punt's side with a sigh and didn't move for a long while.

[Josh]

He spotted Reaper from the second level and bounced over to the defunct escalator, sliding down the side. He landed and stopped in front of the ghoul. "Let's talk," he said, emulating the other's no-nonsense style.

[Cynical Cat]

Wendigo turned. "What about?"

[Josh]

"Sherry's okayed taking you into the 1st Irregulars. That's the hunting group we went into the factory with. The job's gonna be hunting the smart ones, while we have the winter giving us an advantage."

He looked around, made sure nobody was in earshot.

"You know the danger of being around here. Best way to earn your place here is by proving yourself in the field."

[Cynical Cat]

A flash of anger shot through his veins. "Proving myself? I have already proven myself."

[Josh]

"To me, yeah, and to the rest of the 1st. But nobody else here knows jack shit about you, and you know why this is fucking delicate. Kids get lost sometimes."

He looked at Reaper. "You took care of my people. I want to do right by you."