The group was at last assigned chores and responsibilities, as well as permitted to go on their own throughout Sipsey. Alex drifted around the hallway by his quarters, sweeping sand and debris into neat piles. Despite his affinity for doing as little work as possible, he was relieved to have been made useful. Even in a foreign place, sitting idle had him uneasy.

While he swept away, he imagined a permanent stay at Sipsey. Gareth hadn't drawn up an escape plan, yet they had been told they could leave whenever they wanted. Of course, that could have been a lie. The same lies had rolled off Alex's tongue to newcomers at Terminus.

Steps approached from around the hall's corner. Alex hoped it was one of his people, but to his disappointment, it was Gabby.

Oh no.

Her face lit up as she neared him, and held up two small objects he couldn't make out.

Oh yeah, nearsighted.

"Al-ex!" she called in a sing-song voice.

He forced a smile and leaned the broom against the wall. "Hey, Gabby."

Already he felt like he was doing something wrong. Having inadvertently seen her breasts made him feel he had betrayed Theresa. Though he had seen many other women's chests during their relationship—dead ones. But at that point they had become meat and nothing more. He licked along the roof of his mouth at the thought of how good women's breast meat tasted.

Gabby stopped before him. "I know you said you didn't want anything, but…" She held up a case for contacts, and one for glasses. "Once you find out how much better you can see…"

"Don't I gotta be fitted for some or somethin'?" he asked.

She gave a playful roll of her eyes. "Well, yes. But at least try them. They're both for nearsightedness and if they don't work, you can—"

"Thanks." He grabbed them from her hand.

"Oh, don't worry." She waved him off. "You'll still be able to see your pretty brown eyes either way. You know, brown eyes are so underrated."

A ragged breath escaped his lips. "So you got all these supplies from every place you could find around here. That's why me and mine couldn't find anything. 'Cause you people had gotten to it already. Sorta plays into your favor if you think about it. Make us so desperate we have to come here or we'll starve to death."

Did I just accuse her of luring us into a trap? The irony wasn't lost on him.

Her bright expression darkened. "We had to think of ourselves first."

We first, always.

"Is lettin' us in here still thinkin' of yourselves first?"

"It is because we need the help. As you can see…" She turned her head, glancing around the hall. "This place is huge."

"And why's it suddenly so hard to maintain?"

"It's always been hard to maintain. We've been looking for new people for a year now, and they're not as easy to find as you'd think. But you and yours? You're a godsend."

"So what happens if you don't need us anymore?"

She batted her eyelashes and grinned. "We'll always need you."

Why don't you go see if Martin wants to fuck you?

He gave a nod. "Guess that makes sense."

"Listen, I understand you don't trust us, I wouldn't either. Especially not after you know what we did to take this place. I promise you though, you're vital to us already and you can have a home here."

He pursed his lips. "Mm-hm. Yeah, I'm glad to hear that, but I'm gonna put these in my room and try 'em later. I wanna finish my job here."

"Oh, okay." She clapped her hands together. "Such a good worker. Well, you let me know how it goes, Alex."

"Sure thing," he agreed.

The prospect of living there permanently had lost a bit of appeal.

Dairy day was upon them. The Sipseans had fresh dairy twice a week in their breakfast and lunch. For this lunch, they served the same goat cheese and cucumber sandwiches they had on the road, but with added tomato slices and basil leaves. Despite the tasty sandwich paired with an onion and potato soup, Alex hoped someone would catch a piece of meat soon. Naz and others had said they came back with a deer or quail now and then.

Sitting at a cafeteria table alongside Gareth, Cynthia, and Albert, Alex wiped his bowl clean with his finger and licked off the remains.

"These people love their carbs, don't they?" Gareth said, holding up and scrutinizing his half-eaten sandwich.

Cynthia took a gulp of water from her glass and said, "Mama was always goin' on low-carb diets. She made these 'quote cheesecakes unquote' with no crusts and Sweet 'N Low that were just god awful."

Gareth smirked. "And how much did she weigh when she died?"

She set her glass down, licking her lips. "Oh… well… two hundred."

"That's what I thought." He bit off a chunk of his bread crust. "Deprivation never works. How many times have we tried to trick our bodies into thinking we're not hungry? You can't trick it."

"My mom went on diets too," Albert said, licking his spoon. "Low-fat ones. She was probably a hundred and forty pounds before… things."

"Wouldn't have lasted," Gareth said, tearing off a piece of the bread.

Alex wiped his mouth with a napkin, shaking his head at his brother's certainty of the health of a woman he never met.

Albert sighed, from what Alex thought was Gareth's comment until he said, "I don't like this crowd. I can feel them staring at us."

"We're strangers, new blood. Can you blame them?"

"No, but that doesn't mean I like it." He gathered his items onto his tray and stood up with it. "Well, I'm out of here, guys."

"I'm gonna go too," Cynthia announced. "I don't like goin' no where without someone I know." She arranged her tray and rose to her feet, then headed alongside Albert to deposit them.

"Mm," Gareth began, taking a sip of his drink, "we never got a chance to talk about yesterday."

"What about yesterday?" Alex asked.

"Uh, the cleavage queen?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, she found me in the halls earlier. Gave me glasses and contacts to try on."

"I see. She wearing a bra this time?"

"Well, I didn't look. Though I might've gotten a little snippy with her after she said brown eyes are 'so underrated'." He made a face.

Gareth smiled and bowed his head. "It's hard to believe sometimes."

"What?"

"Oh, you."

Alex leaned forward. "What? Why?"

"Hot chick hits on you like that and you're offended."

He smiled a bit. "Yeah well, my wife's hotter, man."

Gareth laughed. "You could've been a nineteen-fifties stick figure husband." He picked up his sandwich and took another bite.

"Oh, like a Ken doll?"

He shook his head. "No, you have to have muscle tone for that." Alex breathed a laugh and began to reply when Gareth interrupted, "Oh, I almost forgot; did you tell Theresa about what happened?"

His face fell straight. "Nah, man. I don't think it's a good idea, least not right now."

"Not a good idea to tell me about what?" the throaty voice of his spouse asked from behind him.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…

Alex turned in his chair to see Theresa standing beside Martin, her eyes darting between him and his brother. Wondering why he hadn't heard them coming, he glanced down and found Theresa wore slippers, and Martin sandals.

Sandals? Of all the times to wear sandals, it had to be today.

"Alex?" Theresa's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Oh, um… I…" he sputtered.

"Uh-oh," Martin muttered. "You're in trouble."

Her face tightened. "Alex, not a good idea to tell me about what?" She looked to Gareth. "Gareth, what?"

"Um…" Alex searched for the words. "G—Gabby she's been—me and Gareth—hitting on us."

Her eyes went ablaze. "What!?"

"Did it yesterday," Gareth chimed-in. "Came, sat down with us, then leaned over and flashed us. When I talked to her for the interview she was all sweet smiles too. Don't know what her angle is, but I worked it just enough to give her the idea I might be into it so she'd tell me more. I'm not into it, by the way."

Martin scratched his cheek and appeared to muffle a laugh. Why he was amused by Gareth's information, Alex didn't know.

Theresa took a hard step forward. "And why were you going to keep this a secret?"

"Well, 'cause you've been stressed out and I didn't want you to—"

"Are you serious? It's not your choice to decide if I get stressed out by something."

"I know, you're right, I—"

"No, you don't know. What did you think I'd do? Go off and smack her like I did Kaylee? Is that it? You don't want your crazy wife to get out of hand again?"

He stood up. "No, I—"

"Hey," Martin interrupted. "Folks are lookin' at you two."

Alex took a look around the room to see most people staring at them from their seats. "Let's talk about this in private."

She nodded and took the lead past the tables, out into the hallway and around a corner. Crossing her arms and glaring at him, she said, "Okay, give me your side again."

"I wasn't gonna keep it from you forever," Alex explained. "Just until we were a little more settled."

"Did you tell her to stop?"

"No, but I didn't reciprocate. I didn't wanna get under her skin when we just got here. I'll tell her to stop now, I promise."

"Would you have told her to stop if I hadn't found out?"

"Yes."

"When?"

He let out a sharp sigh. "I don't know, I didn't have it planned out."

Her arms fell to her sides and she scowled. "So this is what you really think of me? A loose cannon that needs to be controlled."

"Tess, you know I don't think that."

"Then why didn't you trust me to not do something I'd regret!?"

"I—I don't know, I screwed up. I'm sorry." He slid forward and reached for her hand.

She pulled back. "No, just leave me alone, Alex." She turned and headed back to the cafeteria.

Alex began to follow her when she spun around. "I said leave me alone!" She raised her hands and whirled back around, marching around the corner.

His heart pounding and chin quivering, he had to make it up to her. Or at least take some sort of action. Gabby.

Where'd she be at noon?

He turned and barreled down the hall, hoping to bump into someone to ask when he ran into Naz.

"Hey, Naz?" he called.

She stopped before him and smiled. "Hi, Alex."

"You know where Gabby is?"

She brought her fingers to her lips. "Um… I think I last heard she was in her office."

"Her office? At lunchtime?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes she has things to do that run late. I don't ask."

"Alright. Thanks," he said as she gave a nod continued on her way.

Alex pulled a map of Sipsey from his pocket and began following it to Gabby's office. He had hoped to avoid confronting her, but she had crossed a line by coming between him and Theresa. Even if the fight was his fault, Gabby was the cause.

If he told her straight up to cease her advances, would she get mad? Kick him or all of them out? Reaching the steps to the next floor, he thought of what would have been done to her at Terminus. A warning would have been issued for her to stop harassing them, and if she ignored it, she would have ended up in a traincar.

A jab of longing hit him. Troublemakers at Terminus had been easy to deal with. He could always count on his fellow residents to provide a hospitable environment. Without that home field advantage, problems were tricky. Yet if he didn't act on the complication it would only worsen.

Alex crumpled the map in his hands as he made it to the second floor. Being the agreeable one left him ashamed. He had been the one always waiting for someone else to act, for his big brother to protect him and take action. The one who hesitated to bash the head in of the man who threatened to kill him and then shoved him against a car. Instead, he was relieved when Theresa took over and killed the thug for him.

"You better be just as sweet, Alex."

Was he without the self-respect to allow himself anger if someone hurt him? Deep down, he always felt he deserved it. How could he have the audacity to be upset that someone harmed him after the horrible things he had done?

Yet he hadn't cowered when Sasha tried to kill Theresa, nor when Ally threw his wedding band into the fire. But as with Gabby, they had harmed Theresa too, and protecting her was never hypocritical.

When he arrived at Gabby's office he found the door open. Taking a deep breath, he slipped the map in his pocket and knocked on the doorframe.

Gabby grinned from her desk, littered with knick-knacks and stacks of paper, and stood up. "Alex! It's so good to see you." She made her way across the room to him. "Did you try the—"

"You need to stop hittin' on me," he interrupted.

She tilted her head. "What are you talking about?"

"You've caused problems for me and my wife and that ain't okay. We don't have to stay here, you know."

She narrowed her eyes. "What problems? What's she done?"

He clenched his fist. "Argued with me 'cause I didn't wanna tell her about you flashin' me and my brother."

She glanced down. "Okay listen, I don't know what you think I've been doing, but I haven't been flirting both and you and Gareth. Why would I do that?"

"I don't know and don't care, but please stop. This place has everything we need, but we don't need someone tryin' to mess with any of relationships. Like I said, we don't have to stay here."

Her face fell. "Did Gareth back you on this?"

"Yeah," he lied. "Didn't come himself 'cause this is my problem. Flash him all you want, he don't seem to mind, but leave me alone. I'm not interested."

She grew silent for a few moments before asking, "Do you know the difference between a wolf and a sheep?"

"What?"

"No one here is a sheep, Alex, and no one here is a wolf. We try to maintain a balance between the two. One that lets us be strong and human at the same time."

Alex knew how Gareth would respond to that.

"And which one am I?"

"You've struck a good balance between the two so far. Just keep it in the middle, okay?" She tilted her head again and smiled.

A threat.

"I'm glad we're on the same page then." He turned and slipped out through the doorway before she could reply.

A surge of adrenaline rushed through him as he began down the corridor. Telling off Gabby would not be an instant fix for his and Theresa's problem, but it was a start.

The echoes of Gabby's voice then made Alex stop in his tracks. Tip-toeing back, he heard what sounded like a phone conversation and recalled Sipsey's telephone system.

As he began to turn back around, he caught, "…oh, just give Naz's husband a sandwich."

Naz was married? He hadn't seen her with a man.

Shaking it off, he started toward his room figuring he might as well try on the glasses and contacts the ridiculous woman gave him.

Theresa had been absent from dinner which Alex expected. It was best to give her space when upset, so he abstained from trying to find her. Gabby ignored him when she saw him in the cafeteria, paying her attention to Gareth instead.

Afterwards, he followed a few of them to one of the three recreation rooms in the complex. It was nicer than the one at Terminus, though he noted most things there were. The room was painted an unsavory shade of dark green, but contained a pool table, television, stereo, and various games. He began to ask if they had Candyland, but knew Theresa wouldn't be up to playing their special version that night.

Scanning the semi-crowded room of unfamiliar faces, he wondered where she was. Despite wanting to give her space, he was uncomfortable being totally unaware of her whereabouts in the strange place.

From behind an older, taller man, Martin appeared and scurried up to Alex with glass half-full of a golden liquid. "Hey man, just a heads up: I told that guy Josh you were like Picasso and drew sharpie tattoos on us once. Now he wants you to do that for people here."

Alex glanced behind Martin, searching for wherever or whomever he got the glass of what he assumed was alcohol from. "Man, I didn't agree to—"

"You don't have to do it. I was just tryin' to relate when he said he sculpts or some shit. You could do that eagle thing like you did on my wrist. That was fuckin' awesome." He raised the glass to his lips and took a long swig.

"Yeah fine, whatever. Uh, have you seen Theresa?"

He sniffled. "Yeah, I saw her headin' back to our dorm with Cynthia to study calculus and eat cookie dough in their nighties."

Alex cracked a smile. "They really go back to our quarters?"

"Yes, they actually did. I saw 'em before I came this way. Don't know where the rest of 'em are which sucks 'cause I wanted to get Albert shit-faced. And hey, don't worry about the girls and have a drink. I mean, watered down, stale, flat, light beer wouldn't still be too hard for your palette, would it?"

Knowing Martin was prodding for a rise out of him, Alex ignored the remark. "No, I can't right now, I need to take a shower. They had me pullin' weeds in the garden."

"God damn, you're uptight."

His ears rang.

Uptight?

Alex scoffed. "I am not uptight."

"Then blow it off and have fun. Look where we are. If we don't stay here, you'll regret not havin' had a vacation."

"I'll come back when I ain't so dirty, alright? Damn, dude." He shook his head as Martin smirked and took another sip of his drink.

Alex rubbed at his eyes, turned around, and headed back out the door.

The very idea of him, Alex, being uptight sent his head into a tizzy. Did Martin have any idea who he was talking to?

However, being lax wasn't an option. Though when he could get away with it, he had done a less than stellar jobs on mundane chores at Terminus. That laziness hadn't struck him at Sipsey yet. He was nowhere near comfortable enough to slack off.

Arriving at the showers, something about the quiet of the empty room amplified the noise in his mind. His head started to ache.

Uptight? he thought again as he began undressing. Setting his clothes on the sink counters, he realized he had forgotten to get a clean set from his room.

I'm not uptight, I'm too lazy to go get clean clothes. I'll shower and wear the sweaty ones back to the rec room. See? Not uptight.

Martin's comment affected him more than he cared to admit. He tried to push it away and instead concentrate on the heavenly hot water that flowed from the showerhead. However, it was useless.

Pre-turn Alex wasn't uptight, that was for sure. His former self he considered an aimless, lazy, failure. One who stayed in a dead-end relationship for two and a half years with a woman who poked holes in their condoms trying to use pregnancy as a trap. The woman he remained with for six months after discovering her scheme because he didn't want to confront her, nor be alone. Wanting to be that guy again was absurd. Why had he spent so much time fantasizing about his old life?

Rubbing a bit too with the shower brush, he tore the scab from a cut on his hip he received from a thorn a week earlier. He winced at the sharp sting and beads of blood that pooled from the raw skin.

Alex hurried to dry himself and re-clothe, then held a wad of tissue paper against the wound and headed for the infirmary. The pain wrenched him from his racing thoughts, thrusting him into survival mode even though it was a minor wound.

Through the halls and up to the fourth floor was the infirmary. The door stood open and Alex froze when he saw Kaylee standing behind the examination bed.

Oh no.

He considered leaving but he had to bandage his cut.

"Oh, hi," Kaylee said, giving an awkward smile. "What happened there?"

"Uh, I accidentally tore off a scab in the shower."

"Well, there's bandages in that box on the table and some ointments in the drawer behind me."

"Thanks." He started for the box when Kaylee headed past him toward the door out. "Wait, you don't gotta go."

She stopped by the doorway and turned to face him. "You don't need me. It's not like Cynthia threw another vase at you."

Despite the incident with Cynthia, that day had been one of his fondest memories of Terminus. Chatting with Kaylee and introducing Theresa to smoking marijuana was a time post-Siege Terminus was a real sanctuary. It seemed like years ago.

He stepped over to the cardboard box and pulled out a roll of gauze and tape. "It's a big place, but we can't avoid each other forever. And I'm too damn tired to be mad right now." He strolled over to the drawer that housed the ointments and pulled it open.

Kaylee moved back over to the box and delved through it, though she didn't seem to be looking for anything in particular. "Hey, you know, I never told you this, but I—I could tell when I met you, um… that you were an artist because of your hands. The way you held the pen when you wrote my name down on the list, I knew right away."

Alex rolled up the side of his shirt and tucked it between his underarm to allow usage of both hands. "Just from writin' my name?" He uncapped the tube of ointment and deposited a generous amount on his tender wound.

She turned around from the box. "My mother always said we all have hands made for something. Like mine are for healing, yours are for drawing. And… oh, Gareth's are for pointing the way."

He smiled as he taped the bandage down. "That's for sure, but he's been listenin' to us more since you left. He knew he lost it with Beth and it was really big of him to admit it. You should've stuck around for it." He let his shirt fall back down and placed the supplies on the counter.

"Well… it was me leaving with her that prompted all of that. Maybe my abandoning you was just what he needed."

"Are the reasons still there?"

"Huh?"

"Why you left, you can't have done a one-eighty on the reasons why you left. Maybe you did one on the fact you acted on 'em, but not why you did."

She glanced down before giving a small, somber smile. "'Primum non nocere.'"

"After all this time?"

She shook her head. "I know, it's stupid, but… there's some things about yourself you can never shake, you know?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Alex ran his thumb over his fingers. The man who occupied his body before the turn had used the same hands to draw and paint. Of all the things he had come to dislike about that other guy, he was grateful he left him with such a talent. Perhaps designing sharpie tattoos on Sipseans would be good for him.

"Oh, and by the way," Kaylee began, "I think Theresa's hands are made for holding and helping." She paused. "Same for Mary too."

"You sayin' I married my mother?"

"Oh, no I mean—"

"I'm kidding."

She laughed. "Oh, okay."

"Oh hey, speakin' of, which of 'em's Naz's husband? I must've missed him."

She furrowed her brows. "What?"

"Her husband. I heard Gabby talk about him, but I'd never seen Naz with him, I don't think."

"He's dead."

"But I heard Gabby on the phone talkin' about givin' him a sandwich."

"Well, then it was past tense because he croaked a while back. Type one diabetic couldn't get his insulin in time. Went into a coma for a while, then died. Or something like that. I didn't ask for specifics."

Alex took several steps forward. "But she said 'give Naz's husband a sandwich.' Present tense."

She scratched her head. "She did? Well, then she's putting a sandwich on his grave… No, no, you must have misheard."

"Guess so."