The sun was merciless.
He had wandered for hours, though in his feverish mind he thought it to be days, the heat sapping what little strength his sickness hadn't already claimed. In the desolate, arid wastes of the Commonwealth, water - purified or else - was hard to come by, and he had already drank the remaining mouthful earlier that morning.
Now he was without; without food, water, medicine, and he was damn well sure that this would be the end for him.
Well, he thought bitterly, let death come. I don't give a shit anymore. You've taken everything else I care about, haven't you? What's one more name on the list?
''The hell is wrong with you, huh?'' Russell hadn't been able to answer, wincing in agony as he tried to sit himself upright only to have pain seize him, his breath drawn sharply and his teeth grit. Hancock leered. ''You tryin' to get yourself killed?''
Russell took a deep, ragged breath, forcing a smile. ''Clearly it didn't work.''
Hancock only glowered in response, clearly unamused. ''Yeah, clearly not. That shit ain't funny, Russ. Not now, not ever.'' He appeared to scrutinise the barely conscious man closely, before letting out a gusty sigh of relief mingled with dread. ''You scared the shit outta me, y'know that?''
Russell pursed his lips. ''Sorry.''
''No, you ain't 'sorry'. Don't pull that shit with me. You should know better. I told you to wait, I fucking told you to…'' Another sigh. ''Why the hell didn't you listen to me?''
Russell was silent for a long moment. ''I don't know.''
''You do. You do fuckin' know.'' Hancock's voice dripped with ire, his face contorted into a disdainful grimace, but his eyes were pleading, almost saddened. ''C'mon, Russ. Talk to me. Don't push me away when shit hits the fan, 'cuz that's when you gotta stick close more than ever.''
''I just- I just had a moment, that's all.'' Hancock was unconvinced, and Russell sighed, forcing himself to continue. ''I just wondered: what's the goddamn point, y'know? In all of this? All we do is… all we do is fight, and fight, and keep on fighting. Every goddamn day… making it to the end has no guarantee. I just…'' He sighed once more, allowing his eyes to fall shut. ''This… I don't know if this is the kind of life that I wanna live… that I think I can-''
''No.''
Russell opened his eyes. ''What?''
''No,'' Hancock repeated, slowly, making sure that Russell was listening to every goddamn word, ''We keep on fighting because we ain't got a choice. We spend everyday with guns in our hands and no idea whether or not we're gonna make it to the end of that day. You wanna quit because shits getting tough, that it? You think others aren't thinking the same way? You think they don't depend on you to keep their heads above water?''
Russell glared, nonplussed. ''That isn't what I-''
''No, it is what you meant. I know you, Russ. I know when you're keeping shit bottled up, hoping I won't notice. Well, here's a surprise for you: I do. I do, and I know what it means when you start 'forgetting' to be careful when we're out there, risking our goddamn lives for a can of fucking stale food. It's selfish, that's what it is. Do you have any idea how cruel that is? To just 'decide' that life ain't worth living? What about the people that care about you, huh? What about… what about me?''
Hancock didn't seem to notice the tears threatening to spill, but Russell did. ''Hancock,'' he started, his voice cracked and broken. He swallowed, hard, suddenly aware of tears in his own eyes. ''I don't-''
''No, don't say anything. You pull this shit again, and… and I'm gonna walk the fuck away. Y'hear me? I ain't sayin' that shit lightly. I can't… I can't go through this again. I can't. Do you have any idea how goddamn worried I was? If I was gonna get here and find out that you were dead? Don't you fuckin' dare, Russ. Don't.''
Silence hung between them for what felt like a long time, until Russell finally nodded, slowly. ''Alright, Hancock. As long as we've got each other… we've got something good to fight for.''
''Yeah,'' Hancock smiled wearily, leaning his head against Russell's shoulder. ''Yeah. You're damn right about that.''
One last wave of noxious heat rolled over him before his vision blurred and his legs unhinged. He came crashing to his hands and knees, kicking up dirt as he did so. He managed to cast one last glance forwards before all consciousness slipped from him, and the last he saw in the shimmering expanse of nothingness was a figure moving toward him.
/ — /
''Come on, man. I get the appeal of a nice little nap in the sunshine and all, but for Christ's sake, get the hell up.''
He didn't stir, but the words cut through the darkness of his unconsciousness like a blade through flesh. Painful, and irritating. He grumbled something unintelligible before the voice spoke again and he was vaguely aware of hands gripping his shoulders.
''I know you're in there, you asshole. I ain't gonna sit here all day while you get your beauty sleep. Think you're fuckin' royalty, do you? Well, newsflash: you ain't no princess, and you sure as hell didn't prick your goddamn finger on a spinning wheel.''
That did cause him to stir, and he squinted up at the dark silhouette through narrowed eyes. ''What…?''
''Yeah, yeah, that's right. Rise and shine. It's me, your guardian angel,'' croned the man with an impatient smile. It took a long few moments for his eyes to begin to adjust, especially with the sun blazing down on him, being blocked out by his savior.
His savior.
No, this wasn't what was supposed to happen.
''Who...'' was all he could manage, barely leaving him in a croaking whisper. He realised how dry his throat had become, and coughed roughly, which only sent sharp pains through his skull.
''Just take it easy, big fella. You ain't exactly in any shape to be getting yourself all worked up, alright?'' The man studied Russell for a long moment, frowning at how dry and cracked his skin was, how sunken and dark his eyes had become, and mostly at the infected gashes across his left eye. His hand twitched as if he would reach out to examine it, but he refrained from doing so. Instead, he lifted a half-filled waterskin to Russell's cracked lips, urging him to drink.
Russell, in no position to argue, allowed himself to drink if only to relieve the sandpaper feeling in his throat lest he break out in another coughing fit. Purified? The thought crossed his mind as he drank, and then it was spilling down his chin and he was leaning for more as the man took the waterskin away with a short, amused laugh. ''Yeah, you can get more later. For now just take it easy; don't want you puking your guts up, not that I think there's anything to puke, but, y'know, let's not find out, alright?''
Russell took a breath, ragged as it was the water certainly helped to smoothen the burning in his throat and lungs. He forced his feeble body upright, hooking his elbows on his knees for support as he reeled forward, his head pounding with the movement.
Now he was able to steal a glance from the man that had rescued him from unconsciousness. He was young, and something about his face made Russell believe that he didn't belong. He promptly dismissed the notion, realising that it made little sense, and nodded in thanks to the man.
''How long was I out?'' he asked, figuring it'd be easier to start with the necessities than the more curious questions that seemed to sit at the front of his mind.
His savior gave a genuine shrug. ''Beats me. You could've been knocked out for days or hours, hell if I know.''
Figured. Alright then, that's fair. Couldn't expect him to have known that.
''And how did you end up coming across me then, huh? You sure as hell don't look like someone who's used to the Commonwealth.''
The man let out another amused laugh, hazel eyes crinkling softly. He was young, Russell realised, probably just out of his teenage years. What the hell was a kid doing walking through the Commonwealth unarmed?
''So that's what this shithole is called?'' He gazed across the arid expanse as if looking at it through new, enlightened eyes, and then returned his attention to Russell. ''Damn, the more you know, huh?''
''That didn't answer my question.''
''Right,'' the youth uttered, running a hand through dark hair. ''Truth is, buddy, I ain't got a fuckin' clue.''
Russell remained unconvinced. ''How could you not know? It isn't as if you were the one passed out for God knows how long.''
''Hey, I ain't Columbo.''
''I don't know who that is.''
''Sure you don't,'' he laughed, in a way that nonplussed Russell. He sat back on his haunches, looking around again. ''Y'know what, you remind me of someone I know. He's just as clueless as you are. Doesn't know shit about anything. But that doesn't matter right now. We've gotta get you on your feet or else all this'll have been for nothin'.''
Russell's brows knit together despite the pain that doing so brought. He was unsure whether or not he was being insulted, but in truth he was much to feverish and pained to care.
''Just how the hell are you gonna do that?'' Russell asked, half-serious, half-bemused. ''I was on the brink of death, and frankly, I wasn't asking to come back.''
A brief look of pain crossed the man's face before vanishing behind a stern smile. ''Oh, you're gonna come back, you're gonna come right back and sit your ass down in a nice comfy chair with a bottle of whiskey and a cigar. Put your feet up, nice and relaxed. You get me?''
''Not really, no.''
The man made a face that suggested he had little expectations that Russell would, which further referenced that whoever it was that Russ reminded him of, he continued to do so.
There was something about him that almost made him seem on edge himself. His eyes kept flickering around nervously, and he kept throwing the occasional glance over his shoulder as if he expected someone or something to be there.
''Why do you keep doing that?'' Russell asked finally.
''Doing what?''
''Looking over your shoulder.'' The man seemed hesitant to answer, as if whatever he might say, he was certain would make little sense to Russell, and he fumbled around with his thoughts for a few moments longer until Russell elaborated. ''You don't have to worry about anything getting you out here. 'Cept maybe molerats or roaches, but I mean, surely you've come across them before, right?''
The man scratched the shadow of stubble on his chin pensively, then shrugged with a light smile. ''Nope, haven't met any of your world's boogeymen just yet. Though, if your biggest worries are roaches, I think I'll be fine.''
''Somehow I think your idea of roaches and mine are very different.'' There was something about how the man said your world that seemed to cling to Russell's mind, and he wanted desperately to know more. This guy sure as hell wasn't some religious fanatic, his head was on top of his shoulders and he seemed to know his ass from his elbow relatively well. Still...
''Where are you from, really?''
He shrugged. ''Here and there. It doesn't matter. I'm sure you've figured out by now that I'm not exactly a regular here, but, like I said - that shit doesn't matter.'' He got to his feet, dusting off the dirt from his jeans (jeans, Russell realised, and then noticed how odd the man's clothing was), and extended a hand. ''What matters is making sure that you don't stay out here like a flaming pile of dogshit.''
Russell stared at the proffered hand, hesitant. ''While that's very flattering, I don't even know your name, or your intentions, for that matter.''
''Eddie Dean,'' he answered simply, not without a little impatience, pointedly reaching for Russell's hand. ''And as far as intentions go, just think of this as keeping my end of the bargain.''
He took the hand, and was pulled roughly to his feet. His legs were still shaky and he staggered forward a little until he regained his balance with the help of Eddie. He wanted to ask just what the man had meant by 'keeping my end of the bargain', but found himself distracted. Years of misplacing his trust had led to very little left to give, and as reluctant as he was to accept help from a stranger - especially one as mysteriously omnipresent as this man was - he couldn't help warming up to him.
''Y'know, Eddie, you remind me of someone too. Someone I used to know...'' the words trailed off; perhaps he had more to say, but found that he was unable to continue.
Eddie, sensing that there was something tender there, decided not to poke around at fresh wounds, and instead, he clapped Russell on the back. ''Yeah? That's real nice. Look, buddy, I've gotta cut this short. You're gonna wake up soon, for real, and I've gotta make sure I've said my piece before you do.''
Russell flinched. ''Wake up? You mean I've been-''
''Dreaming, yeah. What'd you think this was?''
Russell thought for a moment, the barest hint of a smile forming on his lips. ''Well, you did say you were my guardian angel.''
''Alright, wiseguy,'' Eddie laughed, shaking his head, ''You ain't wrong there. I'm a goddamn miracle.'' He sobered up, regarding Russell with a seriousness that wiped the smile from his face almost instantly. ''Alright, here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna wake up, gonna feel like fuckin' shit. When you do, you gotta ignore whatever you feel and get the hell up. If you keep headin' East you'll come across a town. Small town, but some of your folk are gonna be hauled up in there. You've gotta get to them, and when you do they'll help you, alright? They'll give you the fix you need to prevent you becoming a sack of bones, and then you'll start to feel better after a while. Easy enough, right?''
Russell nodded, slowly, feeling the same headache that tugged at his consciousness returning, but Eddie grabbed his shoulder and squeezed, hard. ''C'mon, quit daydreamin' princess. You've gotta get yourself bandaged up and shit. You understand?''
''Yeah, yeah. I do, but-''
''Great, that's all I needed to hear. Alright, Russ, buddy. It's time for me to vamoose.'' Eddie squeezed his shoulder once more, smiling with what appeared equal parts worried and relieved, and then everything faded.
/ — /
When he awoke, the first he felt was a dull, burning ache across his face and shoulder, which almost instantly seemed to jump from mild to severe, where it felt as if someone was pressing a red-hot poker to his face. He winced, forcing his eyes open, shielding them as best as he could from the merciless white-hot sun.
He sat up, looking around. Eddie was gone.
He found it ironic that the first thought that sprang to mind was that he didn't remember telling the man his name, but then again, if he knew exactly where Russell would find help, what's to say he didn't know every damned thing there was to know about anything? It was possible, wasn't it? After all, it was a dream, and in dreams anything is possible.
The rough, sand-paper burning in his throat returned and he was racked with a fit of dry coughs.
He spat phlegm onto the gravelly dirt where he noticed a waterskin propped against a small rock by his side. He reached out, humouring himself; there was no way that it was real, and to his surprise, it was.
I'll be damned, he thought, deciding not to question whatever supernatural force made it possible (or instead realised that he was much more delirious than he had assumed, and he was now at the pinnacle of his fever), and lifted the waterskin to his lips, drinking greedily. Water spilled down his chin and dripped onto his shirt, the fire in his throat quenched.
For a good few moments, he sat there, panting breathlessly and tiredly, until he remembered what Eddie had said.
''Keep headin' East. There'll be a town there.''
A town.
It could, he realised, be a trap. It wasn't the first time that someone had feigned genuinity and gained his trust, only to lead him into raider territory or worse, where he'd be forced to fight his way out. Why would this be any different?
No, it was different. Eddie was different. He'd seen his fair share of nervous kids with no place in the Commonwealth, jittery and antsy at every bump in the night. This kid was different. He wasn't afraid, not because he was tough, but because he was unaware.
Whether it was the fever or not, Russell knew that Eddie Dean was somehow not from his world.
He walked for hours, the sun sinking low in the sky until it disappeared behind jagged mountain tops; with it, the unbearable heat faded, and Russell felt better for it.
The infection, however, was ever-present and worsening, and if he didn't find medicine soon, he would surely die.
Over the horizon, shimmering in the remnants of the heat that clung desperately to the soil, dark shadows came into view. As he grew closer, the shadows had begun to take shape as buildings, and he realised, both horrifically and thrillingly, that the mysterious man from another world had been right.