Disclaimer: I don't own any of the recognizable characters, Valve does. I wish I owned Nick though.
Ellis clocked out of work at six forty five, and silently fumed. Not only had be been called into work on his day off to tow and fix a car, the car had taken longer than he thought it would. Now he had to meet Rochelle in fifteen minutes. There was no time to go home and change, because Ro would get visibly irked if he kept her waiting. If anyone kept her waiting, really. So he just shed the top of the coveralls and tied the arms around his waist, hoping the grease stains wouldn't be too obvious. But Rochelle was much more forgiving of his fashion shortcomings than others might have been. She was fine as long as he didn't make her wait.
He locked up the garage and decided that it was a nice enough night to walk to Carlisle's. He could keep his truck parked at work and not have to try to find parking in the lot, which always seemed full even when it wasn't busy.
He entered the bar and restaurant, scanning the dimly lit room for his friend, and she waved at him from a booth across from the door. He waved back, and sat down across from her.
"Seven on the dot," she said, grinning, and he nodded.
"I probably smell like motor oil, but I'm not late," he replied. "How're you?"
"It's been a long and frustrating day, and I wish that more imports were coming back into the country," she replied, grimly. "Because I could really go for a good Scotch right now."
"Uh oh," Ellis said, smiling sadly at her. "What happened?"
"Everyone I've talked to has been incredibly tight lipped about the Z-Men," she said, rolling her eyes. "Chief Jacobs didn't return any of my calls, Mayor O'Dea isn't even in TOWN, the other cops just hung up on me… How am I supposed to write a story on them if I can't find out anything about them? The people have the right to know!"
"That sucks," Ellis nodded.
"Sure does. But how are you?"
"Called into work for emergency engine trouble," he replied, glumly. "Sunday got completely shot. All cuz some Government guy's car had a shit timing belt."
"I don't know what that means."
"It means I hadta go tow an' work on a car right after church an' didn't finish til fifteen minutes ago."
"That explains the coveralls. Was it the Z-Men?"
"No, some guy from CEDA," Ellis replied. The guy hadn't been the most pleasant person he'd ever met. He was impatient and condescending, acting like it was beneath him to ride in the pick-up truck with the chatty mechanic. Ellis had stopped trying to talk to him after the third icy 'I see' from the asshole. Yeah, CEDA hadn't changed much.
"Hmph. And oh, I saw Barbara at the grocery store while I was picking up some lunch. She told me you told her you couldn't go for a walk because of the broken down car," Rochelle said, shaking her head.
"Jeeze," Ellis said, shaking his head. "That was the one reason I was lookin' forward to workin'. She showed up with more baked goods this mornin'."
"You need to tell her that you aren't interested!"
"I'm tryin' to think of the best way to do it!" he insisted. "I don't wanna hurt her feelin's, that's the last thing I wanna do. But she needs to stop with the muffins. I never eat more than one, an' it feels wasteful throwing them out to the birds."
"You look like YOU could use a beer. You want the usual?"
"Yep," he replied, nodding, and she pat his arm as she left the booth to go to the bar. He hadn't really minded working on the car. He liked working on cars, after all. He just wished he'd had his Sunday. He could have found another excuse to get Barbara off his back.
Rochelle returned with his bottle of Bud, and tilted her head to the side. "So Barbara seems to think that she's wearing you down."
"Not likely," Ellis replied, drinking his beer. "I mean, you know me. Not all that interested in datin'."
"Only because you don't let yourself be interested in dating," she said, sardonically. "That's your own fault."
"Is not! The girls are nice an' all, but none've them are my type!"
"We both know what type you like."
He hated it when she brought up Nick, mostly because he didn't like thinking about Nick. Nick was a part of his life that had been filled with both the highest highs and the lowest lows. In their short journey together, he'd loved and lost more than most people his age. He never knew he could have felt so much love for one person, and then felt so, so awful when that love was stamped out. He didn't think of Nick much anymore, only when he saw nice suits, or when he found his old Bullshifters shirt in the closet. Then he would be overtaken with nostalgia and heartbreak so potent he'd have to collect himself before he could continue on with his day.
"Can we not talk about it?" Ellis asked, hoping for some kind of reprieve from his best friend's nagging.
"Here are your menus, sorry for the wait," Wednesday the glum waitress said, suddenly at their table, and Ellis grinned.
"All RIGHT!" he crowed, taking the menu happily. When Rochelle arched her eyebrows at him, he made a face at her. "What? I'm hungry!"
"Did you want to hear about our specials today?" Wednesday asked. She was usually the one who waited on Ellis and Rochelle when they went to Carlisle's, and Ellis enjoyed her more than Rochelle did. She'd been an orphan who had been assigned to Roanoke randomly. No one really knew what she'd seen or experienced, but the older people in town tried to keep her under their wings. She didn't take too kindly to many people, but like most folks, she liked Ellis. She tolerated Rochelle. "There's a catfish special today with sweet potatoes, and-."
"I don't think I need to, I already know what I'm gettin'," Ellis said.
"Surprise surprise," Wednesday replied, and turned to Rochelle "What about you? Do you know what you want?"
"Wednesday, you just gave us our menus. Unlike him, I like mixing it up a bit," Rochelle said, and Wednesday flipped her hair over her shoulder, sighing.
"I'll be back in a bit." With that she walked away, not even asking about more drinks.
"She's such a freakin' teenager," Rochelle said, shaking her head. "Do you think I was ever like that?... Ellis?"
"Huh?" he asked, pulled from thought. "Sorry, I wasn't listenin'."
"What's going on with you, sweetie?" she asked, drinking the last of her rum and coke. "You haven't been with anyone since…. Well, you know… I'd think you'd be interested in opening up again and just dating."
He wished that she hadn't said that. It wasn't that he wasn't interested in dating, necessarily. He would have loved to find a nice person. In theory Barbara SHOULD have fit the bill. She was nice, and caring, and laughed at his jokes and had the same interests as him. She was moral and she was strong willed. And so of course he felt incredibly guilty that he wasn't as interested in her as he should have been, just as he hadn't been interested in Beth, or Janice, or Eliza.
"I just have a lot on my mind, is all," Ellis said, trying to be vague, and decided to change the subject. "Oh! I meant to tell ya that I talked to Coach the other day!"
"Oh yeah?" she asked, taking the bait and perusing the menu. "How's he doing?"
"He an' his wife are fine, things sound like they're better up North. Winter up there kills those things real good, that's for sure. I bet they don't need Z-Men, no sir."
"That's why their cities are almost habitable again, I'd bet," she said, and scrunched her nose at the menu. "What the hell happened to that egg salad sandwich I like?"
"You were the only person who DID like it," Ellis laughed. How his friend could want anything other than the cheeseburger with onion rings was beyond him. "Egg salad's gross."
"Egg salad's fantastic, you're wrong," she sniffed.
"So ya didn't find anything else about the Z-Men, huh?" he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. She shrugged. "But there's a town meetin' tomorrow?"
"Yeah, and they WILL be there," she said, closing her menu. "I guess these two are vets, a couple of pros who were some of the first to be recruited. But Chief Jacobs wouldn't say anything else. Suffice to say, I'm going to be at that town hall meeting, ready to grill them."
"I'm real excited to see them!" Ellis said, voice chipper. "Z-Men are so cool!"
"They don't do anything that we haven't done," she replied, signaling Wednesday to come back to the table. "We could be Z-Men. Not that I'd want to. Maybe getting paid for killing zombies would give me a better taste for it, but I doubt that."
They ordered their food and continued to chat about everything and nothing. Yeah, she was still a bit hung up and bitter about her lack of story, but when she did give him a word in edgewise she did listen intently. He managed to steer the conversations away from Barbara and dating, and if she noticed she didn't question it. Once his burger and her salad arrived they were well into talking about drama with one of her co-workers, when Wednesday walked to their table, usually bored eyes kind of wide with wonder.
"You guys, guess what," she said, shoving Ellis over so she could sit in the booth as well.
"Hey!" he snapped at the teenager, and she shoved him again to shut him up.
"Don't you have tables?" Rochelle asked, smiling.
"Yeah, but that doesn't matter right now, you'll never guess what I just heard," she said, leaning in. "Chief Jacob's secretary told Carlisle who told me that the Z-Men are coming here tonight at 8:00."
"Here?" Rochelle hissed, slamming her hands on the table in shock.
"Chief Jacobs wants to discuss some things with them tonight apparently, but he's going to be late because of some other zombie sighting on the outskirts of town," Wednesday continued. "I'm supposed to seat them if they want to be seated. This is bullshit."
"Why's it bullshit?" Ellis asked.
"It just is."
"No, this is perfect!" Rochelle stated, seriously. "I didn't have a story thanks to Jacobs and his tight lips, but if HE'S going to be late, I can corner them and ask them a bunch of questions, profile them, actually get a story out of it."
"Aw c'mon, Ro, just let 'em have a beer an' dinner," Ellis chided, nudging Wednesday over a bit. "They've come from who knows where, they're probably real tired or some shit."
"Yeah right," she muttered, rifling through her bag for a pen and paper. "They'll be here any minute and I'm going to get a story. It'll be quick and painless."
"This will be interesting," Wednesday said, standing back up. "Dammit. I'm going to go watch for anyone I don't know. I hope they're cute."
"And eighteen years or younger?" Rochelle asked, and Wednesday pretended not to have heard it as she walked over to the front of the bar and grill. "I can't believe my luck!"
"You're gonna be real sad if they don't wanna talk to ya," Ellis said, shaking his head. "Me? I'm waitin' for the town hall meetin' before I introduce myself. Maybe they'll wanna go riding ATVs sometime. You know, within the limits, not in the Grey Zone. OR, maybe they WILL wanna ride 'em in the Grey Zone, an' I'll get to see 'em killin' zombies while ridin' ATVs! OH MAN that would be SWEET."
"….. Some things don't change," she said, shaking her head, and he grinned, taking a huge bite of his burger.
Nick slowed the BMW to a crawl on what had to be Main Street, looking at the lit up sign that promised hot food and cold drinks. He parked the car, reluctantly, and turned to his sleeping partner. Francis had been snoring in his seat for the last three hours of the ride, and Nick smacked him in the chest.
"HUHWHAT?" the former biker grunted, sitting up and getting caught in the seat belt. "Dammit, Nick, whatever happened to shaking someone?"
"We're here," the gambler said. "The Police Chief of this Podunk shithole said to meet him at this place, didn't he?" Francis wiped the drool from his mouth, and read the sign.
"Carlisle's. Yeah, this is it."
"Crap, I was hoping I got the wrong place. This looks like a dive."
"Hot food and cold drinks. That sounds tasty!" the thug stated, stepping out of the car.
"What do you think the odds of getting a good steak and nice glass of wine at this place are?" Nick asked, slamming his door behind him.
"Slim," Francis replied, stretching his legs and taking in a deep breath. "But a burger and a beer? I bet they're great here."
"I don't like hamburgers."
"You're tons of fun, Suit," Francis sneered, and Nick snorted. "I don't see any cop cars. I never thought I'd be pissed NOT to see one." Nick nodded, agreeing, and shrugged.
"If he isn't here we can split and go somewhere else," he suggested. "I know the settlements in Nevada have kept the legal brothels running."
"Fuckin' A," Francis grinned, slapping him on the back. "The Oldest Profession wins again…. I should also tell you something else."
"About what?"
"About who's meeting us tonight," Francis replied, hesitantly. The other Z-Man narrowed his eyes, feeling a bit cornered all of a sudden, and he crossed his arms. "I guess that Creevy is going to be here too."
Nick's eyes widened and he scowled, shaking his head quickly. "NO. Fuck no, what the FUCK?"
"I know, I know," Francis nodded, finding it somewhat ironic that HE was the calm one at the moment. "But CEDA bitched about lack of supervision on their end or some shit, and so Creevy was assigned-."
"Of all the goddamn people to assign to us it has to be CREEVY," Nick spat, kicking the road in a fury. "I hate that guy, the higher ups KNOW I hate that guy-!"
"Well we can't do anything about it now," Francis said.
"We sure can, I'm splitting."
"You can't split, you moron. You know what'll happen if you leave," the biker stated, and the gambler growled, snagging his hair in his hands in frustration. "…. Look, just mellow out, go through the motions, and we'll be on our way. He'll think he's in charge, but as long as we get results we don't have to answer to anyone but ourselves." The con man huffed, still raging but coming down just a little bit. "If you think you're gonna punch him, just kick me in the shin. It will make you feel better… But then I get to slug you in the kidney for every kick."
"You're so thoughtful," Nick said, sarcastically, and Francis grinned at him. "Jesus. At least it can't get worse."
"You got that right." Nick nodded, and slapped Francis on the back as well.
Ellis was fumbling with his wallet, trying to scrounge up enough cash to pay for his burger. Rochelle had rushed to the bathroom to check her teeth, thinking that perhaps she'd be able to get more cooperative interviewees if her pearly whites weren't filled with spinach and pepper. He had enough in his wallet for another beer too, if he really wanted it, but before he could decide, Wednesday rushed to the booth and slammed her butt down across from him.
"The Z-Men just walked in!" she hissed, and Ellis was going to turn towards the door, but she grabbed his arm. "DON'T look."
"Jeeze, Wednesday, why can't I look?" he asked.
"Because if you stare they'll know and it will be obvious and weird." He sighed, but didn't look, just so she wouldn't kick him under the table. "I think Carlisle is going to seat them himself, but then I have to take their orders. Worst part? They're both old. Like, late thirties."
"That ain't old," Ellis said, even if he was only twenty six he felt a need to defend people in their thirties. He'd be there soon enough. "Don't let Ro hear ya say that. She got real mad at me once when I said that this actress she liked was old, mainly because she was only three years older than Ro, an' if there's one thing I've learned about women, it's they don't like bein' told they look old. Unless they're your age, then they think it's great cuz they can probably get away with buyin' beer an' shit? But I've never known where the cut off is. What age do you girls start worryin' about that kinda thing?"
Wednesday didn't answer, instead glancing towards the Z-Men briefly, and then held her breath when the owner, Carlisle Smits, walked to the booth. "Wednesday. I'm not paying you to chat with the mechanic. Go and give them menus." Carlisle was the owner and head cook, in his thirties and from Maine, of all places. Most people in town really liked him, and not just because he made really great food at really moderate prices.
"I'm not really doing any of the chatting," she said.
"Come on, go give them menus."
"If I mess up their orders they'll shoot me."
"I doubt that. Unless you contract Green Flu in the next ten minutes." She stood up slowly, and Ellis gave her a sad smile.
"Ya want me to come with ya?" he asked. "Moral support an' all that?"
"What, like my own personal cheerleader?" she asked.
"I guess."
"Do I have to split my tips?"
"Would you just get over there, Wednesday?" Carlisle asked, though his tone was bordering on amused, and she snorted, and stalked over. "What's that they say about good help, Ellis?" Ellis shrugged, and his eyes fell to the table with the Z-Men.
Wednesday was blocking them as she handed them their menus and took their drink orders, and the mechanic shifted in his seat. Something seemed a bit familiar about the elbow he could see. He squinted, wrinkling his nose as he started to get a gut feeling that was…. cagey.
"Hey, I meant to ask you," Carlisle continued, and the younger man looked up at the owner of the bar, "one of my stoves has been acting weird lately. I don't think it's a big thing, but I was thinking that you know a lot about cars. Maybe you know something about stoves?"
"Well, I could take a look at it if ya want me to," Ellis said. "I mean, that's not really vehicles, but I know other handy man stuff. Did a lot of it for my Mom back in the day. An' my friend Keith, he was always dislodging somethin' from his house an' would call me an' our friend Dave over, an' we'd usually have to put somethin' back together, or at least drive Keith to the hospital-."
"Thanks, that sounds great, whenever you have time," Carlisle said, patting him on the shoulder. "….. So may I ask you a personal question?"
"Sure."
"Well…. I mean, the Autumn Festival is going to come up in October, and I wanted to make sure I wasn't stepping on any toes if I asked Barbara Dane to go as my date," Carlisle said, trying to sound cool but clearly a bundle of nerves. "Because if you were going to ask her-!"
"Heh, no," Ellis said, smiling. "Not steppin' on any toes at all, believe me." It wasn't a very big secret that Carlisle carried a torch for Barbara, though the only person who didn't seem to know was the blonde girl herself.
"Okay, I just wanted to be sure," Carlisle stated, though he was obviously relieved. "I have to go back to the kitchen and make those Z-Men some complimentary buffalo wings. First impressions are the most important, you know."
"Yep. Thanks for the food," Ellis said, craning his neck to watch him go, and as he turned back around he saw that he had a full view of the Z-Men.
And his stomach felt like it collapsed upon itself.
Seeing Nick sitting at that table was something the mechanic could never have prepared for. It had been three years since he'd seen him last, his last mental image of the gambler one of him being shoved down a separate hallway on one of those godforsaken cruise ships, shouting and swearing and trying to say something but unable to do so. Ellis had been relieved at the time, as he was still really wounded from what Nick had said, but then an overwhelming sense of loss had overtaken him when he realized that Nick wasn't coming back. That he'd never see him again.
And now that he was staring at the guy, not fifteen feet away from him at that very moment, he was suddenly swallowed by a torrent of conflicting emotions. The strongest of which being pain. The horrible words, the horrible silence, the horrible END of them, it was back at the forefront of his mind and his soul after years of being an unpleasant afterthought. He couldn't move. He wasn't sure he could breathe. And he knew that it was one of those rare occasions that he couldn't say anything.
"She was cute," Francis said lowly, leaning into the table so only Nick could hear. "Kind of a sourpuss, but I like that."
"You like anything with a pulse," Nick replied, bitter that the only thing that resembled good beer on the menu was Heineken.
"You can't talk."
"True."
"I'm going to ask her for her phone number."
"Think the cellular signal has come back out here?" Nick asked, looking around wearily.
"If not now, soon," Francis stated, twisting his hands together, which made the leather gloves squeak. "Things are coming back to life, Nicholas. Now if only we could get rid of all those pesky zombies."
"Let me guess: You hate zombies?"
"Sure do."
Nick smirked, though out of the blue got an uneasy feeling in the back of his mind. He always had a knack for knowing when he was being watched; he had forever assumed that was why he was usually able to slip through the fingers of the law. And it was really making him sweat tonight. He slowly looked around the bar, trying to figure out where it was coming from, and his eyes stopped on a booth in the corner of the establishment.
For a moment he thought he was hallucinating. It was like he was thrown back in time, and he was staring at the hick mechanic he used to know, tied coveralls, tee shirt, baseball cap, everything. He blinked once, then twice, and was utterly convinced that he'd driven too long and hadn't had enough sleep. There was no way that Ellis was sitting in the same bar he was in at that very moment. Just no way.
When Nick saw him, Ellis froze even more. It was one thing to be an unnoticed observer, but now that he'd been caught red handed, he swallowed down a thick lump in his throat.
"Okay, my teeth are clean and not humiliating," Rochelle went on as she came back to the table. "I really need to talk to Carlisle about the amount of pepper he puts in that salad, it was a REAL bitch to get out of my….. Sweetie? Are you okay?" She followed his gaze, and when she saw just what Ellis was looking at, her jaw dropped. "Son of a bitch."
Rochelle's expletive served as confirmation that Nick was, indeed, there, and that made Ellis stand up sharply, suddenly at a loss for what to do. Panicking, he started to breathe in and out a little too fast, and Nick stood up too, slower than the younger man, but just as fixated.
"Nick?" Francis asked, wondering just why his partner was standing up. Nick held up a hand at him, and took one step forward.
OhmygodshitwhatdoIdothiscan'tbehappening, Ellis thought, knowing that he looked like a deer in the headlights and yet STILL unable to do anything about it. And he wasn't able to make any decision until Nick opened his mouth.
"…. El?" the Z-Man asked, voice soft, and his face ever so briefly spilling with nostalgic emotion. Brief enough that Ellis didn't notice it, and instead he just bolted from the bar, past Nick and Wednesdays and out the door. He felt like a true coward, but his legs were in charge now and apparently they decided that making a hasty exit was in his best interest. "Ellis!"
He was about to follow the mechanic out into the street, when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He reflexively turned around, and saw that it was Rochelle, yet another blast from the past. "Rochelle! What the Christ-?"
But he couldn't get any more words out, as she drew back and decked him right on the nose. "GOD DAMMIT-!"
"Asshole scumbag bastard motherfucking son of a BITCH!" she spat, and Francis began to howl with laughter, the previous and present actions amusing him entirely too much. She stamped past them both, and followed Ellis out the door.
Ellis just kept walking towards his truck, clenching and releasing his fists, head still feeling like it was swimming and drowning and in a fog. His stomach hurt, no, everything hurt, and he wondered if he was even going to make it to his car before he just gave way.
"Ellis!" he heard Rochelle call, and he turned around. "Ellis, wait!" He did so, and put on his best blasé face. "Oh sweetie, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he tried, and she shook her head, putting her hands on his shoulders.
"You don't have to be, honey," she said, steadily. "Really, you don't have to lie to me, are you okay?"
"Ro, I'm fine," he said, forcing a smile across his face and nodding. "That was weird, wasn't it? Can you believe that NICK is here?"
"Yeah, I punched him in the nose, I believe he's here."
"Oh jeeze, you didn't-."
"Damn right I did!" she snapped. "I'll go and do it again too if you want me to!"
"I don't want ya to!" Ellis said, shaking his head. "Man, you really didn't hafta do that!"
"I think I did!"
He sighed slowly, and forced a reassuring smile again. "Ro, it was three years ago. I'm over it, okay? I was just surprised is all. I mean, I never thought I'd see Nick again, an' then there he was in my favorite bar!" He paused, feeling his forehead start to knit, and fought it back as best he could. "It's weird, right? Like somethin' outta a movie…"
She studied his face closely, and narrowed her eyes. He hoped that even if she didn't fall for it, she would at least just drop it. "…. Is there anything you need from me right now sweetie? Like, a hug, or a drink, or a hit taken out-?"
"Ro, I'm fine," he said, shaking his head. "I think I'm just gonna go home and go to bed."
"Do you want me to stay on your couch? In case you decide that you want to talk?" she asked.
"No, I'm okay."
"Ellis, come on!" she exclaimed, getting a bit irritated. He was NOT okay, no matter how much he wanted to believe it.
"Seriously!" he exclaimed, harshly. "…. I'm okay. I'm just gonna go home. Go to bed. I'm beat, it's been a long day."
She didn't believe him. Of COURSE she didn't believe him, because she knew him far too well to believe that he could just brush this off. She'd seen the pain that he'd gone through over that asshole in the ruined suit, and she saw the same look in his eyes right now, no matter how much he wanted to hide it. But, at the same time, she knew that he was stubborn, and so she wasn't going to push it any further. Instead she just nodded, and took his hand in hers, squeezing it. "If you need anything or change your mind, PLEASE call me. You know me, I don't sleep soundly, I'll answer no matter what."
"I'll keep that in mind," Ellis said, and gestured to his truck. "I'm headin' out."
"So will I see you at the town hall meeting tomorrow?" she asked, cautiously.
"Um… Yeah, unless somethin' comes up," he answered, nodding, mind immediately trying to think of something that could come up. "I'll let ya know…. Have a good night." Before she could grill him some more, he continued walking to his truck.
It wasn't until he was sitting in his vehicle that he finally began to shake. His insides couldn't take it anymore, and he opened the door quickly, throwing up his burger, beer, and onion rings all over the asphalt. Once he'd finished losing his dinner, he wiped his mouth on his arm, swallowed down the chance of any more awful bile coming up again, and gripped the steering wheel. It had been a long while since he'd felt this awful, and he wished that he hadn't had to feel like this ever again.
But then, Nick had always brought out the most intense emotions in him.
