My first (finished) fanfic for the wonderful game Left 4 Dead 2! :D It's a bit of mindless fluff, but whatever. I'm still happy with it. (Oh, and watch out. I may get bored one day and get Nick preggers. I already did fanart of it!)
The Story of Keith
The four survivors sat in the darkness, the only light coming from the moon that drifted into the safe room and a tiny kerosene lamp that glowed yellow, tinting each of their faces. Rochelle smiled at Ellis as he wound his cut arm with a bandage. Nick was talking with Coach, trying to get the old man's real name from him. Coach just smile jubilantly and laughed a deep, rumbling one from the depths of his belly. The young country boy looked up and smiled, and Rochelle could see he was about to start one of his signature stories of Keith. Before he could begin, Rochelle took her chance. "Ellis, sweetie, I know you're about to start talking about Keith. Why don't you tell us about him. Did he...get infected? Is that why you talk about him so much?"
Ellis' eyes darted to her and then down. He was frowning. Everyone was watching him now, Nick especially closely. This was the first time Ellis hadn't had something to say immediately after any question was asked. "Nah, man, Keith 'n' me never fought none of them zombies together."
"Then where is Keith?" Nick couldn't hide the hurt in his voice, the fear that Keith may have been...something more than just a fairy-tale creature in Ellis' crazy adrenaline-fueled stories. His hands clenched together, his taunts of Coach's real name forgotten. He stared intently at Ellis' downcast face with an occasional glance to Rochelle and Coach. Coach fiddled his thumbs and, like the father everyone was sure he had been, waited patiently. Ellis took a deep breath.
"This one time, I wasn't with Keith. He'd gone up to Virginia in a plane, but the pilot, he lost control or somethin'. Next thing me an' my buddies know, there's Keith, lying there in the morgue-" Ellis' hand drifted up to his watering eyes, his Southern voice cracking. Everyone was surprised. Keith, this magical, indestructible person that Ellis was always talking about, in a morgue. The truth seemed impossible to grasp. Ellis continued. "We buried him last year. Keith's mama, she jus' cried and cried and cried, but I don't think anyone cried as much as me. I l-l...I really liked 'im, ya know? He was my best friend, my brother. Man, I think 'bout all these fun adventures we been havin', an' I can't help but miss Keith. He always had the prettiest smile...."
It was at this moment that the other three survivors realized that Keith- dead Keith- wasn't just Ellis' old best friend, the accomplice in an unending amount of childish stories, but Keith was someone the Ellis couldn't replace, and this zombie apocalypse, this Hell, just made Ellis think more and more about the things he lost. It made sense, then, that Ellis always smiled. It made sense Ellis was always happy. He didn't want to be a the downer, not in this situation.
Coach's hand gripped Ellis' knee, a firm gasp of reality connecting Ellis to the real world. The father-figure in their lives spoke up, his deep voice, the Southern drawl that faintly matched Ellis. He had his own question. "Ellis, son, what about the time you tried telling us a story about you an' Keith, but it turned out to be about us? How could you tell Keith that story?"
Ellis smiled gently, a little bit of pride in his ocean-blue eyes. "Well, me and Keith are together right now, you know? I keep," he fumbled and pulled up his coverall top, unzipping the pocket. Everyone stared anxiously as they had never seen this pocket before. The young mechanic pulled out a small picture sewn to a patch of shirt fabric. He gave it to Coach first, who stared for a moment and passed it on to Nick. "That's me an' Keith, when he broke his two legs. Careened right off that cliff, I tell ya." Ellis let out a small chuckle. "An' that's the piece of fabric from the time me an' Keith went to the Bull Shifters concert. That's his shirt, a course. I figure we be closer like that."
Rochelle couldn't help but wish she hadn't mentioned it. Ellis' story pulled at her heart strings and tears formed in her almond eyes. Even in describing his best friend's, probable lover's, death, Ellis managed to keep a smile. She could hear Coach sniffing. Nick, though, remained quiet. She had yet to see the picture of Keith because Nick kept it in his trembling hands. Rochelle's eyes darted to the image, mostly black in the darkness. The yellow light from the kerosene lamp shined on a single tear. "Nick?" She asked, her hand drifting to his shoulder in a sisterly gesture. Nick pulled away and got up, thrusting the picture into Rochelle's lap. He went to the back of the safe room and sat by himself. No one questioned this.
Coach spoke up, the father in him deciding there was enough sorrow in the world and everyone should be getting some nice, much-needed rest. "Okay, kids," his burlesque voice was firm but loving. "Time to turn off the lights. Ellis, do you feel up to keeping watch tonight?"
"Sure do, man!" Ellis, story forgotten, seemed to be happy again. His face was beaming as he grabbed up his shotgun. Rochelle smiled and leaned back in her sleeping bag. It was nice to finally sleep after a long day of seeing God's wrath on humanity. Silence fell upon the safe room until Coach fell into his own personal slumber- a dreamland of chocolate and footballs. His snoring echoed against the safe room's thick walls. Rochelle breathed heavily, sleep apparent. Ellis listened patiently for Nick's sleep-breathing, the noise telling him it was safe to move closer to the man.
He must have waited at least an hour, but Nick just wasn't falling asleep. He carefully got up, the only light to guide him the faint one from the moon. Ellis grabbed a pistol on the way (ever since the infection hit it was always a 'better safe than sorry' moment) and made his way to Nick. Ellis could hear Nick's heavy breathing, not of sleep, but of tears. Had Nick been crying?
Ellis plopped down next to the older man and smiled, knowing Nick couldn't see him. "Howdy there, Suit." He chuckled warmly. Ellis could have sworn he felt Nick smile a little, but dismissed the thought as his imagination. That would have been so very out of character for the cynical man it wouldn't even have been funny. And that was hard to say. Nearly everything in Ellis' mind was a fun joke or story.
"What's with the name, Overalls?"
"Well, I jus' figured since you call me overalls all the damn time, I should git ta call ya by what ya wear, and that seems to be yer suit. Anyways, I jus' wanna tell you Keith an' me were pals an' all, but it's different between us. I mean, Keith ain't never saved me from no humpin' monster, or no guy that played with his little buddy too fuckin' much, or some bitch that can't do nuthin' but complain. Not sayin' that I don't miss Keith, ya know I do, but I l-l-love you Nick." Ellis grabbed Nick's hand, and, thought Nick tried to pull away, Ellis kept his hold. "I'm sorry to have upset ya."
Nick leaned his head back against the wall of the safe room. The day had been hard on him- fighting through the murky swamp water had drained him. He pushed off his shoes with his feet and groaned. His back ached, and frankly, he was getting too old for this. Ellis bent over- he was so lean and agile- and helped Nick get off the wet socks that fitted to his feet. Nick muttered a quiet thank you. They could barely see each other, but that didn't matter so long as both knew there was someone to sit next to. In all his many years of conning eager women (and the occasional man), Nick would have never suspected to need human beings so very desperately. He pulled Ellis close and breathed in the younger man's dirty, sweaty, swampy smell. "I love you, too."