Author's Note: This is for the LJ 60 prompts in 60 days: Amputee.
I don't own the characters or Revolution; I'm just playing with them for a bit for fun, not profit.
Clomp jingle-jangle clomp jingle-jangle clomp jingle clomp.
Jason heard the familiar sound of well-shoed hooves on asphalt joined with the jangling of harness bells. Now, it was official. Now, they were in Chicago proper.
"Fresh corn, sweet corn! Fresh as a spring morn'. Ripe, juicy tomatoes. Great for risottos!"
Charlie Matheson grabbed his hand and tugged. "Nate, what's that?" she asked pointing at the bright yellow cart full of tomatoes and early corn being drawn by a bay horse festooned with purple feathers.
"It's an arabber."
"A what?"
"An arabber, a street merchant that brings produce into town and practically door-to-door." They had been very common in Philly, the idea having spread out of Baltimore. They were especally common in the up-scale neighborhoods around his house. Mother used to get the best bargains out of them, before Father had been promoted to Captain and they could afford a housekeeper. Then Mother couldn't deign to converse with such rabble anymore. Then Mother had to keep up with the backstabbing-tea parties and snubbing and social jockeying at social gatherings that was part and parcel of being an officer's wife. All while Father was away on a mysterious mission, only being able to return home once every two years or so. It was no wonder Mother went through so much wine these past few years.
Clomp jingle-jangle clomp jingle clomp jingle-jangle clomp.
"Fresh corn, sweet corn! Fresh as a spring morn'. Ripe, juicy tomatoes. Great for risottos!"
"How did you know?" Charlie asked curiously. Maybe she just wanted to know if she was the only ignorant one, or maybe she was beginning to sense something was off about 'Nate'.
Jason scrambled for a good cover; "They have 'em in Minneapolis, where I'm from. My mom used to get the best deals."
"Oh," then Charlie's hand tightened around his arm again, sending shivers of desire shooting through him. Charlie quietly asked, "What happened? Do you think he's okay?" while pointing discreetly at the driver's pinned-down pant leg.
Jason felt a wave of disbelief coupled to fierce protective urges. He knew Charlie was just a means to an end - getting Miles Matheson and a promotion - but he really just wanted to wrap her up and stick her in his pocket. That way he'd be able to keep her safe from the evils of the world, and the people who would exploit her innocence – like he was.
Charlie's crystal-clear blue eyes were still gazing at him inquiringly. Jason swallowed, hating to have to explain to her the dark side of life, and said, "He's fine, he's got his job and all. He probably lost it after The Blackout. Maybe during a battle, maybe after a battle." Maybe he lost it to Eaters. Maybe he lost it fighting against the Monroe Militia. Maybe he stepped on a dirty nail. Maybe he lost it to gangrene 'cause he couldn't get to a doctor in time. Maybe he got to the doctor, but the doctor was out of antibiotics. There were so many possibilities.
"Oh. Oh." Charlie said, first in acknowledgement, then in comprehension. Her hand dropped from his arm. Someday she'd have to learn the world wasn't one big cozy cul-de-sac, full of friends. Someday… Jason just hoped his inevitable betrayal wouldn't strip her of her charming naivety.
Clomp jingle clomp jingle-jangle clomp jingle-jangle clomp.
"Fresh corn, sweet corn! Fresh as a spring morn'. Ripe, juicy tomatoes. Great for risottos!"