To The Pits

past— days since the first flood: 489

"Up against the wall!" The man yelled, pressing the barrel of his gun into his back. "Head against the wall!"

He did as he was told. Palms pressed against the cold concrete, forehead between them.

The gun left his back but he stayed where he was. He didn't need to give them a reason to shoot him.

There was a shuffling of feet, more commands. A man was pressed next to him, same position. Another. Four more. By the time the room fell into silence, there were ten heavy breathing paces that filled the room. And if he thought about it for long enough, he knew exactly why they were all there.

"On charges of disorderly conduct, breaking and entering, burglary, assault, manslaughter, and murder; you have all been sentenced to death."

It was a slaughter house.

The voice was heavy with the burden of being the messenger, but it rung loud and clear like the colour red and drawled as if in boredom.

"Ready—"

If these were his last breathing moments, he had nothing to think about. He'd lost everything. Never had a mother or a father. The floods had taken his cousin. He had no happy place, no light of his life.

"Aim—"

He was scrambling to hold onto something, a wild panic in his mind that only he could feel. Against the wall, his hands curled into fists, his forehead creased. But on the backs of his eyelids, he could see a sunset. Swirls of red and orange and pink, burning clouds, burning sky. A sun.

"Fire."

Loud shots rang out in the small space. He couldn't feel any difference — but maybe that was what death was; indifference. Apathy. He waited for the pain, waited to feel his body give away from under him.

The man next to him slumped to his feet, a few more following suit, but there were still laboured breaths that mimicked his own.

"Turn around, arms behind your head."

Again, he did as he was told.

When he glanced to the left of him, there were two other men who hadn't been shot. One with long black hair, Samoan in ethnicity, the other with a bleach blonde streak on the right side of his head.

They glanced back at him with confused eyes.

The man in front of them coughed, gathered their attention, and then thrust his hands inside his suit pockets. His blue eyes were ice. "For some… unfathomable reason… Hunter sees past your nameless, faceless, expendability. You must've done something to please him, all of you. Your second chance starts now. When, and I say when because it will happen, you stuff up… the bullets left in these guns will be for each of your heads."

present— days since the first flood: 1476

Meredith had never felt so comfortable with a stranger constantly hovering over her. Yes, it was infinitely weirder and more nerve wracking than when she was by herself, but… it was better than having no one and being completely alone.

He had these slate blue eyes, ones that followed her everywhere she went, ones that made her feel safe and nervous at the same time, and when she looked back at him, found the courage to meet those eyes head on… he never looked away. Like she was offering him relief by just making eye contact.

Sometimes the tension was palpable. Sometimes her fingers would brush against his when she passed him a cup of tea or coffee and her entire body would flush, sometimes she could feel his anger radiate through the room and then he'd look at her and it would just disappear.

The change was welcome. But she had to admit that her wanting him to stay? It was because she liked the mysterious, brooding man who had quite literally just rolled into her life.

When she walked out of her bedroom, boots clunking down the metal stairs, Meredith wasn't surprised to feel his eyes glued to her form. He'd been here for four days now and not once seen her in clothes that she kept for non-working purposes.

The dark blue skinny jeans, the oversized grey cotton sweater, the winter boots on her feet… he had to know that she was leaving.

She looked up, sent him a little smile. "I'm going to go get some more supplies. I need more food and some more water…" Trailing off, she saw a flash worry in his eyes. "Unless you want me to stay."

Dean stayed quiet for a long second before he looked away. "It's okay, you can go."

Meredith shook her head, grinned softly again as she ducked to catch his gaze. "You can come with me, if you want?"

The way Dean looked at her was the way he almost always did — a mix between confusion, appreciation, admiration… like she was one of the first people that had ever shown him what kindness looked like.

Then, he nodded, stood from his seat at the bench and pushed his arms through the leather jacket that was hanging on the hood of his car. "How far away is it?"

Well… Meredith dropped her eyes to the ground a sent him a sheepish smile, rubbed the back of her neck as she threw the other one onto her hip. How would she explain this one? When she looked back up at Dean, his gaze was watching her expectantly, crease between his eyebrows.

"You might want to leave the jacket off," she murmured through a grin.

He sent her a dubious look, utterly confused. "It's freezing out there, I think I want to leave the jacket on."

"We're not going outside."

"What?"

She couldn't really find the words to explain just exactly what was about to happen, but instead looped her fingers through his and tugged him towards the car that was outside, and fuck was it chilly when he stepped through the threshold.

Meredith didn't give him time to react to their interlocked hands because the second she tugged the car door open and motioned for him to look past the seat, wooden stairs that descended into the darkness of nothing became his focus.

"What the hell…?" Dean trailed off. He looked so confused, so intrigued, so young in that simple moment, and when he lifted his eyes to look at her smug smile, he tried to fight his grin. Tried.

"It's been here for a long time and I've used it as long as I've been here," Meredith let out a little chuckle. "They wouldn't give me a car so a couple of the guys in town told me about some tunnels and helped me build some stairs… It leads right to the refuge centre, Town Hall, where they give out our food shares."

He paused and looked back down into the darkness. "You walk into town in that thing?"

Meredith shrugged and another smile fell across her lips. He was really struggling to understand this, but it was better for him to know than for him to get lost looking for her. "It's not so bad, I guess. Once you get used to it."

He'd never known of a place like this. Central, or where Hunter and his wife ruled the biggest city left (or what was left of Vegas), was nothing like this little town. Central functioned like any major city would have if the floods hadn't hit, functioned just fine with electricity and running water and cars and general trade… but this place? There was all kinds of food lined up on a large table, a buffet of sorts, where the people would buy whatever they wanted. It was like a supermarket, only… not.

"The only days we have trading are Wednesdays and Saturdays," Meredith was saying as they pushed through the milling crowd. "It's not just money, either — you can trade food for food, clothes for food, money for food… anything, really, as long as it has some kind of worth."

But he was astounded, looking around with wide eyes and hands stuffed into his leather jacket, fists clenched tight. And then he was grinning. "This is amazing…"

Meredith laughed at him and raised a shoulder. "We do what we can. The Authority don't really come through this part of town a lot, only if they're searching for someone or they need a decent repair done on one of their cars."

She gave him a few empty bags, some coins, sent him on his way and followed with an amused gaze as he tried to figure out what to get for the both of them to eat. It was hot, almost oppressive in nature, but her presence gave him a freshness that he could work with.

Not thirty minutes later, she pulled him away with a gentle grin and tangled her fingers back through his, tugged him towards the exit of the of marketplace.

When they emerged from the tunnels, Meredith stopped short. He almost ran into the back of her, almost toppled her over onto the cold floor, but halted just long enough to see her sudden change.

There were two black SUVs parked outside of her workshop. And the only people who owned big SUVs like the ones in front of them nowadays were the Authority.

"Dean…" she breathed, her delicate features pulling into a frown.

"Go."

She turned, looked at him, already shaking her head, but he wouldn't let her. He left the bags in the pit of the empty car, laid his heavy hands along her cheeks, caressed the soft skin. "Go, I'll tell them that I went out looking for you and couldn't find you, okay? I'll tell them that we're waiting for a part for my car to come in, but you have to go, alright?"

"Dean—"

"Go."

Meredith looked at him with torn eyes. She looked at him like it was the last time she was going to see him, gazed at him with a frown and pursed lips, and Dean couldn't stop himself when he ducked forwards and pressed his lips against hers. Softly. So soft, barely there, but she still tangled a hand in his top and pushed back.

When he pulled away from her, there were tears streaming. He kissed her again, wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, could taste the salt of her tears as they moved between their joined lips.

For the last time he pulled away, pressed his lips to the crown of her head, and turned away completely.

Walking away from her was torturous. Like hell on earth.

He'd known her, been here, just four days, and he felt like their connection was beyond words, beyond anything he could comprehend.

But he knew why the Authority was here. And it wasn't for her — it was for him. Back to the pits.

He sauntered through the metal doors, not even pausing once as he took in the form of a slimy man with snake-like eyes and a bushy bearded man with a beady gaze. Orton. Harper.

Sniffing, he stuffed his arms into his jacket pockets.

"So nice of you to finally join us," came a voice from behind him. He didn't have to turn around to know that the voice belonged to a giant of a man. "Beginning to worry she'd kidnapped you or something, Dean."

"No such luck," he deadpanned.

"Where is she?"

"Dunno, was out there looking for her."

"Not like Meredith to up and leave without a valid reason."

He turned his slate blue eyes to stare impassively at tattooed man. "If I knew where she was, don't you think I'd have my car fixed by now?"

"By the state of the dishes in the sink," Orton drawled, "the blanket on the couch… the repaired bathroom… have you been playing house, Ambrose?"

Dean's skin crawled. The tattooed viper had been here before, had seen her bathroom, knew her name. But he had to show that he didn't care. He didn't. "Problem, Orton? I mean, I knew you were lonely, but I didn't know you were that lonely. Should go back to Vegas, get laid or somethin'."

Orton hissed at him. He lowered his face, sent back a deadly smirk. Push… shove.

"We're going, you have a fight to get ready for," Harper called out, wild eyes latching onto the giant who was standing behind him.

"My car doesn't work yet."

"Ride with me," the giant boomed, and Dean sent a look over his shoulder at Show. "If you keep your mouth shut, we'll have no problems.