/Separation Anxiety/

A/N: Ahhh Chapter 10 what! I don't think I've ever written a story this long! [And the Iron Man one I have going doesn't going, 'cause that's a bunch of drabbles.]
I have to be perfectly honest: There was a point in time where the thought crossed my mind to maybe scrap part of this story or to simply go back and start re-writing the whole thing. But then there was more of a *begins second-guessing story contemplates starting over**sees reviews**;-;* You guys are awesome, and I don't think you can even begin to understand how much you make my day.

...let's go screw with Ellis' head some more.
I'm sorry this one's short and kinda pointless. ):
hinting at 'an enemy bigger than my apathy again.' :|

There's a difference between solitude and loneliness.—Maggie Smith

Day 3; 1630 hours

Ellis had never hated anything.

As a human being he'd gotten angry and annoyed, sure, but he couldn't remember ever really hating anything.

But he'd also never been abandoned before.

A bullet from his rifle brought his count to nine and painted the pavement a grotesque shade of red and purple, and watching the newly headless body linger suspended in the air for a moment before it crumpled left an empty feeling of victory. Sidestepping what remained of the male figure, the young Georgian shoved what ammunition he had left into the gun Coach had tossed to him only a few days before and tried not to think about it, the past few days feeling like eons. A grunt from a limp being just beyond earned a quick boot to the jaw, but upon impact it wasn't the former man's face that Ellis saw—it was Keith's.

There was some sick, unsettling feeling in his gut at the thought when its head snapped back, but he shoved it aside and told himself that it was just his annoyance getting the better of him. Ellis ground his teeth and felt nothing but betrayal.

Ever since he'd awoken alone earlier that day he'd had a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach and chest. As a result he'd spent the past few hours wandering aimlessly down a nameless street in a nameless town heading God-knew-where.

He'd never hated anything.

But now he hated Dave for being such a hard-ass at work, Paul for calling him and Keith both morons each time they came up with some asinine idea that almost killed them both. He hated Keith for lying to him, for not being there and protecting him when he'd needed it. He hated Coach for treating him like a child all the time, Rochelle for babying him, worrying too much and a few other things he didn't want to mention.

He hated Nick for being Nick, for being an ass. He hated Nick for almost everything, for making him think they could have been friends, for giving him the time that one night just to listen and almost care just to throw it all back in his face with everything that was happening now.

He hated Nick.

Ellis hated Nick.

Nick had called him stupid, annoying, hillbilly, hick, hayseed, Overalls, crazy, insane—

Ellis was not insane.

Maybe he'd been delusional or hallucinating from the pain, but he was not insane.

Keith had been real damn it all! Keith had been real and abandoned him and left him for dead.

But so had Dave and Paul...and Rochelle...and Coach...and Nick.

Ellis sneered, rifle rattling in his fist as something akin to the rage he hardly ever felt coursed through him.

How dare they! Who the hell did they think they were? What the hell—how could they leave him like this? He'd been willing to sacrifice his life in order to save the lot of them and what did they do? What did they do?

Nothing.

He'd been willing to give up everything just to keep them safe and alive and as a reward they had given up on him. Were they even looking for him? Did they care? Did they even notice he was gone? What, were they sitting back going Oh it's just Ellis or Oh hey, he'll show up eventually. He had a half-mind that Nick was probably sitting back and rolling his eyes going Eh, it's just Ellis.

Something behind him growled and he practically snarled.

It's just Ellis, don't worry about him. It's just Ellis, who cares. It's just Ellis, he's probably dead. It's just Ellis what the hell is he doing it's just Ellis why should I give a shit it's just Ellis he annoys the shit out of me anyway besides it's just Ellis—

"You sonuvabitch!" He screamed, the rest of words garbled by the emotions he'd been bottling up for the past few weeks and then his stride faltered, blinded by the hot, angry tears he'd been warring with ever since his separation had begun. "I just...I..."

He drew in a heavy, furious breath.

"I hate you!"

—hey El, where are ya? El, answer the God damn phone, would'ya? El, we're waiting at the corner by The Vannah. I got yer ma 'n I'll see ya there. What the hell Ellis? ELLIS ANSWER ME.

Ellis!

Keith hadn't been there. Keith had never been there.

He was on knees and shaking in rage and fear.

Ellis!

It wasn't that Keith didn't care. Keith was probably...(oh God please don't let him be)...Keith was probably dead.

Ellis finally realized how alone he was.

EL—

Something growled and then the world came crashing down.

—IS.

Rochelle stared at the staircase for a few minutes before she finally worked up the nerve to walk up it. She swallowed, pressing booted feet firmly and carefully upon his step, the sounds of Coach and Nick rifling through the kitchen masking the creaks beneath each footfall. For the life of her, the producer could not explain why going upstairs suddenly bothered her so much, but perhaps it was the fear of what she might come across that was eating at her so. As she neared the landing an ungodly stench assaulted her nostrils and she stumbled backwards, the back of her hand pressed firmly to her face.

"Shit!" How they'd managed to miss the smell when they'd first entered the beaten looking home was beyond her. Perhaps her mind had been too focused on what Nick had filled her in on when she'd first woken up, practically waving the wallet beneath her nose before Rochelle had snatched it from his ringed hand to study it herself.

The odor of decay almost had her gagging and then suddenly she rushed through the first door she saw, afraid of what she would find.

Ellis, oh God, Ellis please...

If she found him...in this room...

She swallowed, almost sobbing at the thought. "Ellis?"

(The young Southerner stumbled and cried out, crumpling to his knees and biting at his lip to hold back a scream. He ground his teeth at the realization that he'd lost both his pills and his wallet. He hissed and whimpered, his arm was burning.)

"Ellis, are you in here?" In some ways, she was hoping she wasn't going to get an answer. It was almost preferable that he was beaten, defenseless, and alone rather than...

(The floorboard squeaked and he yanked out his pistol, aiming at nothing save for stale air and releasing a silent scream.)

...Rochelle didn't want to say it, let alone think it.

(Ellis lurched forward, half-delirious with pain and exhaustion. There was a rotten smell in the room that he found himself following with only a small trace of reluctance, pulling his body forward as he crawled through the little amount of light streaming through the boarded window.)

Nick frowned at the water bottle by his feet as he snatched it up off of the dirty linoleum, his brow puckering as he hinted the last few traces of moisture still lingering within it. Coach hummed at the amount of crumbs on the small, square table before him, having dug through the cupboards around the room and found little more than bleach and dust along with moldy bread that had clearly seen better days. He glanced up when he saw the conman's back bristle out of the corner of his eye.

"You find sumthin'—"

"He was here," The lanky man cut in, hand clenched tightly around the plastic bottle, causing a series of crackling noises to erupt from it. The response he received was a dull exhalation of air when they both realized that the boy couldn't have gotten too far. His gaze flickered to the heavyset man with eyes widened slightly in shock. "Ellis was here."

(He dragged himself toward the dead body, not even thinking about what he was doing as his fingers came into contact with the first aid kit clutched securely in its deceased fingers. Ellis jerked backwards when its arm brushed against his knee, gagging at the sensation but forcing himself to continue.)

The floorboard squeaked beneath Rochelle's foot as she carefully approached the dark corner of the room.

"Ellis?"

(Its grip slacked only marginally as he clawed at it, tearing it open and yanking out as many bandages as he could. Hands full and nowhere near satisfied and scurried backwards, forcing as much space between himself and the body as he could as he slumped against the wall.)

She could see a figure curled against the wall in the shadows and her shoulders sagged in something that was almost relief.

"Dammit, Ellis, you really had us all worried."

(It was crude and hurried, but he somehow managed to wrap his wounds, gauze clenched tightly in his teeth as blood slowly stopped trickling from his nose. His forearm screamed at him as it came it contact with its bindings and he nearly bit through his own lip at the pain.)

Rochelle stopped just short of it, somewhere in the back of her mind knowing that everything was terribly wrong by at the same time wanting to feel something that wasn't worry or fear.

She knelt to the floor.

(Ellis was sent reeling, nauseous and hysterical and wanting the entire ordeal to be over.)

Rochelle kept a hand pressed to her nose as she timidly reached for the shaded figure's.

(Ellis finally managed to bandage himself as best he could and threw his head back against the wall as he sobbed.)

"Sweetie, come on," Something was yelling at her not to touch it.

"Rochelle!" Nick's voice was heard but unanswered, something in him desperate to leave because he just knew that they were so close to finding Ellis now.

She reached toward it anyway.

"Rochelle!"

(He was unconscious before he hit the ground.)

"Ellis, this isn't—" Its jaw slack, the body rolled to meet her as her hand grasped its shoulder.

Rochelle ran out of the room screaming.

Ellis matched her cries with his own as the figure above him clawed at his chest.

A/N: Well, just to clear up confusion: Ellis did in fact bandage himself up and and he's a few hours worth of walking away from the other three, practically on the other side of town.

And Keith isn't real. c: