DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.
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Ben Hawkins was trying to stay focused on his work, for the scant three hours he planned to devote to it this morning. But that wasn't easy, knowing as he did that the carnival had come to this backwater solely to enable him to find and question the man who'd made his father's death mask.
No one mentions a "circuit" no more, he thought grimly. They've all just accepted that Management's crazy. Except for the ones who don't believe Management exists - an' they think Samson's crazy.
If jobs weren't so hard to find, half the crew woulda walked out by now.
He paused, leaning on his wheelbarrow, for a look around. Most of the rousties were working, with surprising good cheer. A few women were still at the outdoor breakfast tables...
He averted his eyes quickly, and resumed pushing the wheelbarrow. But when a sidelong glance convinced him the women weren't looking his way, he stopped again and gazed at them.
Sofie, with only a coffee cup in front of her, sitting alone and looking glum.
At another table, Lila, Rita Sue...and Ruthie. Lila and Rita Sue were having a spirited conversation, but Ruthie was just staring into space.
Ben found himself thinking, She looks awful thin. Or am I just imaginin' that 'cause o' who she's with?
As he watched, Rita Sue finished eating and left. Lila seemed to want to continue chatting with Ruthie. But Ruthie rose from the table and walked over to join Sofie.
She said something, then sat down opposite Sofie. From a distance, her body language seemed tentative - certainly not impolite. But whatever she said next apparently offended the younger woman. Sofie made some brusque reply, pushed her chair back, and strode off.
Oh, hell. Did Ruthie say somethin' to her about me?
No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than he felt himself blushing. Who do I think I am? Both o' them have way more on their minds than me. Ruthie's prob'ly forgotten all about what she felt for me. What she thought she felt for me...
Nevertheless, he hurried to catch up with Sofie as she headed for what had been Lodz's trailer. He didn't let himself dwell on the fact that it was Ruthie for whom he was most concerned. That was over, it had to be! And Sofie was just a friend. He might at least be able to have a friend without risk of hurting her.
He slowed himself and his wheelbarrow to normal walking speed, then called out, "Hey, Sofe!" Hopefully, she'd think he had just spotted her. "Sofie, wait. What happened?" Her gait alone showed that something was wrong.
But when he joined her at the foot of the trailer steps, she said tersely, "Nothin'."
He wasn't buying it. "What?" he pressed.
After a long hesitation, she told him. "Ruthie says she's seen my mama."
Oh God. He couldn't imagine what Ruthie had meant, where that had come from.
Reflexively, he said, "I'll go set her straight." Then he wondered, Why did I say that? Like I think, even now, I have some kind o' special relationship with Ruthie, some responsibility for what she says?
Or do I just want to know what's wrong with her?
Sofie was shaking her head. "No, no. No, don't say anything."
"It ain't right!" he protested.
Sofie murmured, "It's okay." Then she leaned close, and surprised him with a soft kiss on the cheek before she slipped away and went into the trailer.
He stood looking after her, troubled by what had just happened...and by what hadn't.
I hope for her sake that kiss meant nothin' more than gratitude.
Whatever it meant, it didn't make me feel nothin' at all. Maybe that kind o' kiss shouldn't make a man feel nothin'. But when Ruthie just touched my face, I was mortified by what it did to other parts o' me!
Nothin' gets me hard these days. Watchin' the cootch used to do it, but no more. Has somethin' inside me died? Am I just...a shell?
Maybe it was that damn vision did it, the explosion that seemed like the end o' the world. Maybe goin' through that, even in a vision in Belyakov's trailer, killed somethin' in me, an' I'll never be a normal man again...
And then he remembered.
Ruthie.
It had been hours after the end-of-the-world vision...
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A wan, but blessedly alive, Ruthie looked up at him with shining eyes and said, "I heard you callin' me, from real far away. It was you! Your voice brought me back!"
He loved her, wanted her, ached for her. But he was determined to give her up, never risk putting her in danger again.
Ruthie was clutching his shirt. He clasped her hands. He only did it to move them away from his body - but contact with her stirred him, as it always had before.
He saw the anguish in her eyes as he turned away, and he knew he was breaking her heart. But he made himself say, "I just don't want you thinkin' you owe me nothin'. That's all."
He left quickly...to hide his erection.
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If somethin's dead in me now, he realized, it warn't the fault o' no vision Belyakov forced on me. I killed it myself - prob'ly forever - when I walked away from Ruthie.
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Five minutes later he was at the door of her trailer. Sofie might not want him to follow up on that strange remark Ruthie had made; but he still had to do it, for his own peace of mind.
Ruthie was dead, if only for a while. Can she be seein' ghosts because o' that?
My God. What have I done to her?
No! There's no connection, there can't be! My grandma told me Scudder's been dead for years. I was able to see him, an' I ain't never been dead. He only stopped appearin' to me when I began wantin' him to appear.
But...I still gotta check on Ruthie.
The trailer door was open. He gave a light tap on the frame, then pulled back the curtain.
Ruthie was alone, and she started violently. "Ben!" Composing herself, she managed a smile that could have passed for casual. "C'mon in."
"Thanks." He went inside, dropped into the nearest chair, and asked awkwardly, "How ya been? I, uh, heard you gave up the snake act."
Ruthie sank into another chair. She was thin, he noted - thin and worn, dressed as if she no longer cared about her appearance. He'd been avoiding her for months, and it came as a shock to see her so changed from the still-glamorous older woman who'd taught him to love.
But she said, "I'm fine. Just couldn't feel the same toward snakes after one o' them damn near killed me. But I hadn't done that act for somethin' like ten years, till I started it up again last summer, tryin' to help the carnival take in more money. It wasn't addin' that much anyway, so I've gone back to bein' Gabe's talker."
"Uh, yeah. I'm glad Gabe's arm is okay, an' he's wrestlin' again."
Christ, he thought uneasily, it never occurred to me to tell Gabe when to begin actin' like that arm was healed. How the hell did he know? I suppose I should just be glad he did know, somehow. But how? Could Ruthie possibly -
"How are you?" she asked. "Still havin' them nightmares?"
"No. They stopped - I dunno why." Yes, I do. When Belyakov got his claws into me, Scudder let go. An' I ain't sure whether that's good or bad.
"Glad to hear it," said Ruthie. She was studying him intently - too intently. It made him edgy. "Even so," she said, "you look like you've been under a lot o' strain. Too many worries for one so young."
"I'm all right." Sure I am. It's been weeks since anyone beat me up, stripped me naked, hung me up by my feet an' flogged me, or buried me alive!
She shook her head. "You look like you got the weight o' the world on your shoulders. An' I heard that while we were in Ingram, you came back one night all banged-up an' bloody."
He almost choked. Is she readin' my mind? Aloud, he said, "Had a run-in with some robbers. It was three against one, an' they beat me up 'cause they were pissed at my not havin' nothin' worth stealin'. No lastin' harm done."
"I'm thankful for that." Her eyes were suspiciously bright.
"Uh, Ruthie." I'd better get to the point. "The reason I stopped by...I was wonderin'...uh, Sofie mentioned that you told her you'd seen her mother."
Ruthie sat for a long minute, looking down at the hands she was twisting in her lap. At last she looked up. "I figured that was why you were here," she said steadily. "I'm sorry I upset Sofie. She didn't give me time to explain. I saw Appy in a dream, o' course. An' I meant to tell Sofie that in my dream, her mama was happy an' smilin'. But I shoulda just kept my mouth shut. Dreams don't mean much, anyway."
He sensed that there was a double meaning in that last sentence, but he didn't know how to deal with it. "Hey, I'm relieved. I was afraid we had, maybe, ghosts around here." He gave a nervous chuckle - and wondered if it sounded as false to Ruthie as it did to him.
"Ghosts?" she said lightly. "Or a crazy woman?"
"Ghosts!" But he knew he was turning beet-red. Damn! I really was afraid she was seein' ghosts. But there ain't no way I can make her believe that.
He got to his feet. "I should be goin'. There's an errand I need to run later, an' I oughta get some more work in first."
She didn't try to detain him. Without rising or looking up at him, she said, "Yeah, it's best you stay on the right side o' Jonesy."
"Ruthie..." Impulsively, he leaned down and took her hands in his. "Stay well, y'hear?"
She had to meet his eyes then, and he realized hers were moist. "I sure will try to. You take care o' yourself, too."
Oh, Christ. I was wrong. Nothin's changed, with either of us!
He wanted to keep holding those hands. Or rather, to hold more of her. To find the comfort in her embrace that he'd found before, to prove himself the strong, mature man she deserved...
Instead, he beat a hasty retreat.
But this time, he knew, she had seen his erection.
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The End