June 2, 2011
~*~ SW ~*~
Shane's snagging laundry off the lines when the search teams return. He looks down to where Judith's in the chest carrier gumming her teether. They've learned to attach it to her carrier with one of the pacifier clips.
"Nåna's back, baby girl." She responds by blowing a spit bubble at him and waving the drool-covered teether. "Best finish the laundry first though, or your mama will fire us off the laundry crew."
It doesn't take long to finish dropping the clothes into the basket. He drops the basket on the long table inside the laundromat door and the teenager on duty shoos him away while she starts folding. The delay means Anaya's beaten him to the vehicles, but that's to be expected since she always waits on the benches outside the school house when one of her parents is due back.
The frustration of the ongoing hunt lingers in Scout's expression even as she meets his eyes. He just wraps his arms around her and Anaya, watching some of it ease when Judith protests both being squished in the middle and not being able to see Scout.
"Missed you," she says, brushing a kiss across his lips as she pushes back enough to pluck Judith from the carrier. "Where's Lori?"
"Helping Jazz wrangle sheep." The help's probably not absolutely necessary, since Jazz doesn't lack for animal-crazy young helpers at the moment. But if Lori wanted to spend time with her nephew, he's more than happy to fill in with the laundry.
"Has the lambing started then?"
He shakes his head. "Moving the ones he's weaning to new paddocks."
Now that she's got the baby, he snags her duffel, but Anaya tugs it away and heads off toward the laundromat. "You have time to catch a shower before the team meeting."
She scoffs, but begins the trek toward their cabin. "Not much to report other than that damned map and notebook are hopefully a short ticket to hell for the man who made them."
"Damn. Still no solid leads?"
She shakes her head. "We went through the towns along 96 with a fine-tooth comb. Found two dead camps and a lot of gutted stores. Some asshole was a firebug in Junction City. Most of the town's a burned out husk."
Arsonists added to the mix is not something he wants to think about, but it fits the general lawlessness of some groups.
"Should finish the half of the remaining list from the map this week when my teams go out."
"Keep getting the uneasy feeling they're not in one of the larger towns."
"We aren't, so that makes sense. No community that has lasted is actually in a town."
Anything else is cut short as Anaya catches back up to them, taking Scout's free hand. She's coped with the alternating parents out on the search remarkably well after the first couple of weeks. Shane just hopes it ends soon. Everyone needs closure on this particular chapter of things.
~*~ GS ~*~
Gabriel woke up this morning to a pamphlet of instructions, the materials and tools for building raised beds on his balcony-porch, and a note to check in at Greenhouse Two for soil and plants when he was done. While some part of him wants to balk at the blatant guidance of his time, another feels grateful that once again, Carol Dixon's left him little time for idle hands despite his day off the farm crew.
He's dressed in his clerical attire, which he somehow has several changes of despite only coming to Homestead with the clothes on his back. Construction really merits less formal clothing, but with his sins weighing so heavily upon him, he needs the reminder of the man he's supposed to be, rather than the man he is.
After his morning trip to the nursing home, years of making minor repairs on the church make the project go quickly enough, although he ends up with beds for more than just his side of things. The other apartment's empty, so he supposes it'll all be his domain for now. He's managed to avoid the group meal for both breakfast and lunch thanks to the tiny kitchenette in the apartment.
No one in Homestead is unwelcoming of his presence here, but they've grown accustomed to Hershel Greene's spiritual leadership. They aren't really looking for a priest so off kilter he can barely manage his own faith most days. It leaves him adrift as to his purpose still, although Carol is right that the elderly are happy enough to have him visit daily.
Realizing there's no more avoiding people in general, he packs away the tools to return to Carol later and dusts off his clothes.
Greenhouse Two is one of a pair of large greenhouses inside the thicket walls. There are a half-dozen more greenhouses its size out on the Eldridge farm, but these two hearken to an ongoing policy of spreading resources out among the properties.
He doesn't see anyone inside the humid building, just rows and rows of seedling plants like he used to see in the plant nurseries each spring and summer. Several panels are open, allowing airflow as the day heats well into the nineties. Even the heat-loving plants would smother in here otherwise.
"Hello?" he calls out. There's a partitioned area near the far side of the greenhouse. If it's like the others he's been in to bring seedlings out to the fields, it's a makeshift office of sorts.
A woman with her blonde hair up in a long ponytail pops out of the office and blushes. He recognizes her as the single mother who lives in the downstairs apartment on the other side of his building. Jessie, he thinks her name is.
"Sorry. Was taking a break. Were you waiting long, Father Gabriel?"
"Not at all. Carol sent me by to pick up soil and plants for the balcony garden project?"
"Ah. Well, she's got a general list of what she wants people to grow, but the actual list is up to you."
"I assume tomatoes and peppers, due to the time of year?" He's grown both at the parsonage, along with a few other vegetables.
"Definitely." She wheels a wagon from it's spot near the door and stops in front of the tomato plants. "These are supposed to be as much for your personal use as turning any excess over to the kitchens, so do you have a favorite?"
"What would do best in the raised beds?"
"Cherry tomatoes, the smaller ones like Romas. The big slicers really need more room and get too spread out."
"Both then."
The easy agreement gets him a gentle smile from the woman, and she loads four plants of each type in the wagon. "Got a pepper preference?"
"Bell and banana. I'm not much of a fan of the jalapeno and hotter varieties."
Those get added in the same quantity as the tomatoes, and he does a mental estimate that he's covered half the beds with allowing for the supports the plants will need later.
"Let's see, what's good for the heat now? Cantaloupe might spread too much and take over the whole porch. Peas and green beans? Maybe crowders, if you like those. Butternut squash, with a good support. Oh! Eggplant."
She smiles and it takes him a minute to realize she's reached the end of her ideas.
"Eggplant, yes. And the crowder peas and green beans."
There's a lot of trellis building in his future, but he's seen the bamboo supports on other balcony gardens that were planted earlier.
She makes a happy sound and loads the selected plants in the wagon. "Do you cook?"
"When I have time, which I suspect I'll have more of here."
She plucks a few other small pots, and he recognizes the herbs more from the trend of them being sold fresh in the supermarket than from personal use. "Basil and mint near the tomatoes and peppers. Oregano wherever, and rosemary with the beans. Parsley goes with most, but not by the mint."
"Did you garden much before?" he asks, curious with the small tidbits she's tossing out about the herbs.
"Honestly? I never even had houseplants. My ex-husband wasn't fond of that sort of hobby. I've just been learning as much as I can since we came here in February. I was a hair stylist before, and I still do that a few days a week if there's need, but it's not in high demand. So I've learned the greenhouses and take a couple of watch relief shifts."
It fit with the information Carol's given him and that he's picked up in his admittedly limited conversations with other residents.
"I suppose this world is made for learning new skills." He gives her a weak smile. "Is there a general method for getting soil to the upper levels?"
"Teenage boys."
The answer's unexpected enough that he actually laughs, which makes her smile.
"Follow me." She tugs the wagon behind her outside the greenhouse. She uses her radio to summon assistance, which appears in the form of a trio of teenagers that she sets to filling buckets and loading onto more rugged wagons than the one his plants are on.
"Shall we go get these planted before Carol thinks you're shirking chores?" she asks. The teasing tone she uses gets him a narrow-eyed look from one of the teens and he tries to give the boy a reassuring smile. It's only partly effective, as he's eyed carefully as the boys finish the job they've been assigned and follow them to his apartment.
He is almost amused. If only the teenager realized just how damaged he is. There's no way he would return the minor flirtation even innocently, not now.
~*~ DD ~*~
Daryl refrains from laughing as his mud and worse spattered wife trudges toward the house. From the wet clothes, she's rinsed the worst of it off before heading to the cabin, but he's glad of the bin on the porch they use to discard work clothes.
"Did the sheep win today?" He can't help teasing just a little. Normally, he is the one covered in muck at the end of the day. Technically, he was, since he got roped into helping Eugene with a project, but he's had time to shower.
"Not one of those ornery little snots won today, despite all efforts otherwise," Lori declares as she flings her sodden T-shirt into the bin and follows it with her cargo pants and socks after kicking her work boots into their own bin.
"Y'all do the castration too?" It's the only thing he can think of to make the project take from lunch until supper time. Lambs are little terrors sometimes, but separating them from the ewes doesn't usually take hours.
She nods, padding into the cabin in her bra and panties. He idly notes that she's developing muscle tone in ways he suspects she's never had since she began her training routine with Scout. Even with Scout out of Homestead for four days, Lori's stuck to it faithfully enough to tire even him out.
"Need company?" he asks before she can make the turn into the bathroom.
"Where are the kids?"
"Abby hightailed it next door when she realized Scout was home and Carl was up at the sports field debating if they had time to swim before supper when I came down here."
She smiles over her shoulder. "Be a shame to get clean clothes wet, wouldn't it?"
He can take a hint.
~*~ Oscar ~*~
"Your lady's looking awfully proud of herself," Oscar says as Axel sits down with his tray. Both of his fellow former inmates are sitting with him tonight, probably because he's at the table nearest where they can make puppy eyes at their respective ladies working on the supper shift.
Axel isn't eyeing Angela like she's the last drink of water in the middle of the Sahara tonight, though. Oscar's used to Axel's ongoing surprise at Angela's continued interest. If he were a negative man, he'd even use the term 'whipped' at how much Axel follows Angela's lead. But that's not him, not anymore, and honestly, he envies the older redneck his relationship with the pretty Latina thirteen years his junior.
Axel doesn't answer right away, which is definitely odd for the chatterbox. Oscar nudges Tiny, hoping he might have a clue since Melina and Angela work so closely together, but the big man looks as puzzled as Oscar.
"Anybody home?" he asks, reaching out to rattle the tray in front of the older man.
That finally startles Axel out of his stupor. He blinks a few times and reaches in his shirt pocket to retrieve a small square of paper.
Oscar pulls the ultrasound in close, recognizing the tiny blobs well enough from his own children's early ultrasounds. "I don't know whether to congratulate you or wonder how fast you'll go bald, man."
"Twins?" Tiny says, leaning in to study the ultrasound photo.
"I did not expect Cricket to draw in Baby A and B on that screen," Axel manages at last. "Angela just decided to stop that shot of hers last month, and all those cautions about it could take months."
"Apparently, you're making up for lost time?" Oscar teases. "You are a bit on the elderly side for a first time father."
"Shut up about that, man. Was worried enough about the idea of being a father when she talked me 'round to it, and now there's two?" Axel runs his hand through his hair nervously.
"You act like you don't get along with the kids here at all," Tiny says. "When you been teaching the school kids how to work on small engines down there at the garage."
While several teenagers drift in and out of informal and formal lessons on the vehicles and larger farm equipment that Jim and Rosia host, it was Axel who had the idea to teach the younger interested kids how to work on the weed eaters and other small equipment used on property. Oscar is still impressed himself at watching an eleven-year-old disassemble and reassemble one of the boat motors used by the foraging teams.
"Babies are different. Kids can tell you what they need." Oscar's surprised to see an actual tremor in Axel's hands as he retrieves the ultrasound and tucks it back in his pocket. His friend ducks his head as he adds one last bit. "Ain't got no damn idea about babies."
"Seems like there's a pretty easy solution to that problem."
"What's that?"
"Offer to babysit." Oscar points to where Christian's escaped his high chair and is toddling between relatives at supper, begging bites and wandering to the next. "Betcha Cricket could use a break now and then."
Their youngest doctor may not look as pregnant as her counterparts, but Oscar can't imagine any woman edging toward her third trimester turning down babysitting. Christian's young enough to still be a baby, but old enough not to feel fragile to a man not used to babies.
"Think she'd be okay with that?"
Of the three of them, Axel seems to be the one with the most hangups about his former incarceration.
"Wouldn't suggest it if I thought she'd be offended, man."
Axel finally smiles, one hand held over the pocket with the ultrasound. "Damn, man. I'm gonna be a daddy to twins."
This time, his friends' amusement only makes the redneck grin even bigger.
~*~ Jesus ~*~
Maybe it's because they had spent so much time with Jazz sharing his music, but collecting his own copies has been the solace Jesus needs to keep the almost overwhelming quiet of his trailer at bay.
At least one benefit of the apocalypse is free access to all the CDs he likes. He doesn't dare listen while out on runs, not even with Oso's senses on guard, but the two trips he's taken outside the gates, he's brought back a handful of treasures. Some are new to him, with others being old favorites.
The knock at the door rouses him from his half drowsy state listening to the current CD. It's obviously not Enid, because the girl doesn't knock, and it's not Olivia, because she would knock only as a warning that she's coming in. He pads over to answer the door, surprised to see Aaron and Eric waiting.
"We had some mechanical issues coming back from an eastern run. Hilltop was closer," Aaron explains, smiling a little sheepishly. "Olivia thought we might crash here?"
Both men have hiking packs like Jesus uses on extended trips with their sleeping bags, so he nods and steps back to let them enter the tiny living room. He notes they can't resist looking around curiously, although he doesn't blame them. He was the same the first time in their home.
"Saint Saëns?" Eric remarks, tilting his head to listen to the music still playing as he eases his pack to the floor.
Jesus nods. The CD doesn't contain the oboe piece that was the reason Jazz had the composer on his list, but he likes the other works more than he expected. "A friend's recommendation. Classical wasn't really in my realm of knowledge before."
"Most people go for Mozart or Bach or similar to learn." Eric picks up the CD case. "This must have been interesting to find. Not exactly something that would be in a Best Buy."
Considering the date on the back of the CD is 1997, Jesus agrees. "Raided the band room at the local high school," he admits.
Eric laughs. "That's a resource we haven't tried, Aaron."
The other man just smiles. "I think you've got a large enough collection as it is."
Despite the words seeming to indicate a lack of interest, Jesus would bet his favorite knife that the couple will be following his example if Eric's really interested in finding more music.
"Do you play?" he asks. It always seems that most lovers of classical music are musicians themselves.
"As a hobby, yes. Regularly, not since college. Alexandria has many things, but a piano isn't one of them."
"And I can't see Deanna approving of the effort to haul one back," Aaron says.
Both men take a seat when Jesus indicates and he fills the kettle. They're both tea drinkers, although he doesn't know if it's by preference, or like him, a habit picked up out of necessity in the last year.
"If you ever get the chance to visit Homestead, they have one in the community center. One of their people was a band teacher before and still gives lessons. They can put together a tiny orchestra at this point."
He leans against the counter, waiting on the water to boil. "That might be a selling point to Deanna, you know. Music lessons for the kids. I'm sure Carol would be happy to explain her reasoning on why they do it."
Eric is tapping along unconsciously to the still playing music. "It helps relax you when you study, improves memory, and aids with math skills. Early training in music actually boosts brain development in kids. And that's just listening to music. Lessons increase the benefits, and adds in fine motor skill improvements."
That makes a vague connection in Jesus's brain stronger. Jazz did mention he started lessons young to improve coordination.
"Sounds like you've got most of the reasoning down already."
Aaron looks thoughtful. "He's right, and I'll bet you aren't the only one who can teach. Maybe we pitch it to Spencer instead of his mother though."
That catches Jesus's attention as he readies the tea. "Spencer? He's still stepping up now that his mother's up and about again?"
"Yeah. Even far enough to have butted heads with her a couple of times on changes that need to be made. We've got guards on the gates finally, and they're working on cameras now that we know what to look for," Aaron says.
"That's a huge improvement right there. You can't cover everything, and that gets worse the larger the property, but to not make the effort at all? I think I'm still amazed y'all got so lucky no one violent found you first."
"We would end up overrun, even now, if someone did." Aaron looks a little exasperated. "Deanna's still holding strong on not training everyone, just supply runners, so Spencer's opting for escape routes and safe houses to meet up in."
"Is that what you two were out doing?"
"Yeah. We don't want to just hand out the other community locations, since that's a security risk. But if we have a few safe havens, our people can flee and wait on reinforcements."
It was the sticking point of the alliance agreement. No one wanted to force any ally to essentially create a small militia if they weren't inclined to, but it's why he suspects Alexandria will continue to be the Achilles heel of the Virginia communities.
"I know of a few locations that might work well that we could get to quickly and defend. I'll ride out with y'all tomorrow and show you."
"That would be much appreciated."
Eric's doing more fiddling with his mug than drinking the tea. "Can we ask your honest opinion on something?"
He nods.
"Honey's less than diplomatic in reminding us we're welcome at Homestead, and the smaller group definitely appeared to be inclusive. Is that the reality there, or just a small segment of the population."
"I can't speak for everyone there, obviously, but I didn't see any signs of problems when I was there. Honey's older sister is married to a woman, and you've met Christopher and Tim. Denise might be a better advisor on it though, because she's lived there and not as a member of Clan Dixon."
He's honest enough with himself to know that his viewpoint could be a sheltered one.
"We've agreed to visit in the fall. Eric thinks there's more potential for us as a family there, although with Spencer stepping up, things may change at Alexandria."
Aaron's soft smile at his partner makes Jesus's loneliness flare up, just a little. He reminds himself of the potential in his future by a pat to the vest pocket where Jazz's letter is safely secured along with the Polaroid of him, Honey, and Logan.
Just like the couple before him is being patient with their future plans, he can be too. He just wishes they could get the radio-email project finished. He misses interaction with all of them.
Noticing that they've finished their tea, he collects the mugs. "It might be more comfortable for you two to take the bedroom," he suggests. "I can take the couch."
Eric glances to the well-worn couch. "I don't think it's fair to kick you out to that poor excuse for furniture. Can you even fit on it?"
He laughs. "The joys of being shorter than you two is that yes, I can fit on the couch, and we won't have to move things around for you to have space for your sleeping bags." Fitting just Jazz's in here, when he and Logan stayed with Jesus, was a tight fit all by itself.
"If you're sure." At his nod, Eric stands and reaches for his pack. "Would a shower be too much to hope for?"
"Help yourself."
He busies himself with washing the mugs after Eric disappears. Aaron sits pensively at the table, fiddling with the CD case. He's so quiet it startles Jesus when he does speak.
"He wants children. I don't want to get his hopes up and it end up a pipe dream even in Georgia."
"I can't speak for adoption availability, because that hinges on factors no one really wants to think about on orphaning a kid, but you wouldn't be excluded from consideration there. Seems to be really up to the kid more than any of the adults."
"Like Logan?"
"Yeah. There are a lot of adopted kids there, and it seems the kids decided where they wanted to be." He thinks about the other factor. "I don't know that anyone would offer to surrogate, but I can't say that it's an impossibility either in the right situation."
At his age, future children aren't really something he really thinks about, but he can see where Aaron and Eric have reached the point of it being a factor.
"I don't think Eric cares either way, on adoption versus biology."
"And you?"
"I always figured adoption would be on the table one day, once we weren't trailing through Africa."
The shower cuts off and Aaron shakes off his pensive mood. "So, when are you giving in to peer pressure and moving to Georgia?"
It makes him laugh. "Probably the day after Honey kidnaps me?"
Even if it's just for the night, he's glad to have friends close.
