Author's Note: Yes, the Phoenix knows that this a big gap between updates, but I had family over for the past week and haven't found time to write. I hope this is enough to satisfy.

I'm still planning my next big DAT fanfic, and another that's a crossover with Spider-Man -laughs menacingly-

Oh, and for those who are also reading Shells, too -cough- SparkingDiamond -cough- the update is comin' for that, too.

And God, I've been neglecting Brian and J.D., so I'm taking a little break from Sam/Laura, and giving J.D. some trauma (that's coming in the next chapter), and a crush for Brian ;)

No Words Here

Chapter Three: The Ties That Bind

"This is incredible

Starving, insatiable

Yes, this is love for the first time…"

—Dashboard Confessional

"How bad is the situation?"

"Pretty damn bad, all things considered."

"The casualties? How many casualties?"

Vice President—sorry, President Becker questioned a rather serious-looking General Pierce, looking over papers and files splattered all across the table inside one of the Top-Secret military tents at the U.S. Embassy.

"Sir, honestly we have no clue," General Pierce answered, clearly a lie. "It is defiantly millions… perhaps even…"

"What? What?"

"Sir, there are close to seven billion people on the planet. We may have lost nearly one and three quarters of a billion people." General Pierce glanced down. "And, for the odds of surviving above the upper half of the country…" he trailed off. "There are eight million people in New York City, and only about five hundred to a thousand came out alive."

President Becker sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing them with a piece of blue cloth. "What is the population of the refugee camp?"

"5,892,956… that's the exact number, but it is growing, sir. We have another problem too, Mr. President."

"Yes, General?"

"Every day," Pierce began, "there are a growing amount orphans arriving there… no allegeable legal guardians… so… we don't know what to do, Mr. President. We keep them in 'orphanages', sir. But…" he was sounding less confident by the second. "Sir, what do we do?"

A low roar enveloped Brian as he sat in a half-fetal position on his chair in the dining hall. The place had ten large rows of what looked like giant picnic tables. One knee was bent, crammed against his body, and the other leg was swaying freely. He hadn't come here to quench a thirst of satisfy a hunger; just to escape from his family for a second or two.

Over the past week or so, he'd been to more funerals than he could count, which was saying something. Tessa's, his grandparents', two cousins', an aunt's, and his good friend from school, Mark. All of them. Dead. Gone forever.

"Um… excuse me, is this seat taken?" a young woman, around his age, asked, gesturing to the empty space next to where he was seated.

"No, please, uh… sit…" he lapsed into nervousness. She wasn't a pretty girl. Nope—she was gorgeous. She had bright red hair falling to her shoulders, curling a bit at the ends. Freckles graced a friendly face, as did bright blue eyes and a drop-dead-toothpaste-commercial smile. She had a small blue gingham sling that held a tiny young baby, only about a month or so old. The baby, too, had ginger locks and azure opticals and was squirming a bit in the girl's sling-like thing. Feeling awkward, Brian asked. "Is the baby… ?"

"Mine? No," she answered, sitting down, laughing a little. "He's my brother, aren't you Brennan? Say 'hi'," she commanded, but when that failed, she waved his chubby little arm for him. "My name's Gwen, by the way, and you are?" Gwen held out a hand.

"Brian… uh, B—Brian Parks…" he answered with a bit of stutter of embarrassment, taking the hand and shaking it.

"You're alone." Gwen observed, tilting her head to the side.

"Yeah," Brian began as Brennan began to gurgle, creating spit bubbles on his lip. "That's why I came here… I just didn't want to be by my family right now…"

"You're lucky," she muttered, staring at the bare concrete ground. "You have a family…"

"What do you mean?"

Her eyes looked as if they were glazed, as the pair of identical sky blue irises seemed to stare right into his soul. "Brennan and me…" Gwen whispered, her once confident voice toned down to being barely audible. "Six kids… six kids were in my family, and Brennan are the only ones left…" tears welled up in her eyes, and the sound Brian loathed most in the world commenced. Muffled sounds escaped her mouth, but she quickly tried to fight the tears.

Suddenly, all of the funerals he'd been to didn't matter. His own self-deprecation drowned in sympathy. He'd just met Gwen, but Brian comforted her as if they'd known each other for a million years. He put a hand on her shoulder for support, and she turned her head, smiling through all of those tears.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Michelle Chapman roared into her ex-husband's face. "What were you thinking, Tobey? This girl hasn't seen you in ten years! Ten years!" she repeated for clarity. "Does she even know?"

Tobey shook his head shamefully, trying to avoid Michelle's eyes as they stood outside of the residential tent. "No… no, she doesn't…" he replied finally, staring at the horizon, as if something was there. After what seemed like forever, he added, "Do you want me to leave?"

"Honestly? Yeah. I do. For the sake of both of our sanities." She muttered, looking at Tobey with an eagle-eyed glare. Michelle sighed before she continued, "You have other places to go, Tobias." It was the first time since their wedding day that she had called him 'Tobias', and nobody called him that. His mother didn't even dare. "Other places… where you're actually wanted."

She turned his face toward his. "And it's not here."