Chapter 4

Creedy wiped the sweat from his brow, his chest heaving as he settled down to rest for a while. His attention was drawn to Chaz once again, and he just watched her for a while, pounding nails into the framing of the new roof. He shook his head a little, then glanced over his shoulder as Quinn sat down next to him.

"Don't tell me you've taken a fancy to someone," Quinn chided quietly. Creedy only sent him a look, and went back to watching.

"She's a piece of work, that one," he replied after a beat. "But I think it'll be good to have her around." Quinn snickered, shaking his head.

"Well it's not like I can really say anything." Creedy looked up sharply, quickly following Quinn's gaze.

"You and Alex?" Quinn shrugged, but the sly grin he wore held Creedy's answer. "You stud, you." That comment earned Creedy a quick slap, and he cackled evilly. "I should have known."

"Get back to work," Quinn ordered, wearing an uncharacteristically bright smile. Creedy groaned as he stood, carefully following the outside walls back to where he was working. Chaz glanced up and smiled, pausing to wipe a trickle of sweat from her forehead. She'd long since shed the long sleeve shirt, opting as Alex had to help out with the construction. As dusk fell, workers slowly started streaming off the roof, which was coming along much more quickly than Chaz would have predicted. If it rained now, only a few drips would come through. Tomorrow they would start gathering stones and rocks to cover the entire span of the rooftop. Quinn and Chaz were the last left on the roof several minutes later, and as Chaz stood up, Quinn was at her side. "We should go on in. Get cleaned up."

"You got the water running?" she asked quickly. He flashed her a quick smile, following her down the makeshift stairs to the top level of the castle. "Jesus, I've needed a shower for two weeks."

"It won't be hot water," Quinn said slowly, grimacing slightly as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

"Water is water. Makes no difference when you reek as much as I have lately," she said with a quiet laugh.

---

Chaz sighed, a goofy grin sliding into place as she tipped her head back under the slow stream of water. Quinn was right – it was just plain cold, but feeling the soot and grime wash away was priceless. She pulled out the rubber band holding her hair back and slid it over her wrist, quickly rinsing out her hair. A moment later, she had a towel wrapped around her and was pulling a comb through her hair, growling as she worked through the tangles. She quickly pulled on the clothes she'd washed earlier in the day, thankful they'd pretty much dried. After a quick inspection of the holes in the knees of her favorite pants, followed by a heavy sigh, she hung her towel up on a hook and left the room, moseying into the kitchen for a cup of the coffee taunting her nose.

"Well, you definitely smell better." She smiled, setting down the coffee carafe before looking over her shoulder. Creedy was leaning against the doorframe, water still dripping from his dark curls.

"And you do too. I didn't smell you coming in," she retorted. He grinned, the conversation lulling as he poured himself a cup of coffee as well, leaning against the counter as he sipped. "Kids asleep?" she asked after a moment. He nodded, scratching his beard with a thumb.

"I think Quinn and Alex are, too," he said. She nodded, staring into the steam rolling from her drink. "They turned in, anyway."

"So what's on the agenda after the roof?"

"Are you all about work or do you ever let your hair down?" he asked with a smirk. Her eyebrow rose, but she didn't say anything. "The radio tower, most likely." She nodded, turning away from him.

"My hair is down," she said quietly after a beat, running her fingers through the damp strands as she hoisted herself onto the counter. He watched with an amused smile as she pulled a mini sewing kit out of her pocket, quickly threading a needle and going to work on the holes in her pants.

"Wouldn't it be easier to do that if you weren't wearing them?" he asked, a bemused tone to his voice. A quick smile flashed over her lips and she shrugged.

"You just want to get me out of my pants again." His smile disappeared quickly, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks. Her eyes met his for a moment, and she grinned. He snickered, shaking his head, and she only cut the thread, starting on the hole in the other leg of her pants.

"So what does 'Chaz' stand for anyway?" he mused. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her hands pausing for a moment.

"Chastity," she answered with a small snicker. "Doesn't really fit any more."

"And why's that?" he asked slowly, a quirky grin sliding across his lips. She met and held his eyes for a long period, brow arched, and shook her head in amusement.

"I'm sure you can figure that out," she said flatly, but the twinkle in her eye remained.

"So was he the one that made you decide you didn't believe in love, or did you have a collection?" She sighed, shaking her head.

"You're relentless, you know that?" He shrugged, setting his empty mug in the sink. "Collective experience, and not just my own," she said quietly. "When your biological mother leaves you when you're three and you bounce from foster home to foster home until you're fourteen, you start noticing things."

"So the mother who gave you that necklace wasn't your real mother," he surmised. She shook her head slightly, heaving a sigh.

"She was my last stop," Chaz said, leaning her head back against the wall. "I moved in with her a couple weeks before my fifteenth birthday. I stayed with her until I turned eighteen. She was the closest thing to a mother I ever knew." He nodded, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Before that, I lived with a closet prostitute, a group home mom whose boyfriends didn't last as long as a roll of toilet paper, and a feminazi that hated men."

"Oh, so that's where you got it," he said, trying to lighten the mood. She shook her head.

"No, I got it from watching three of my friends go through at least a handful of relationships where their boyfriends told them they loved them and punctuated it with boxing practice." Creedy cringed. "Two failed relationships of my own, thankfully not as bad as theirs, and I realized that love is just like the Easter bunny."

"How's that?"

"It's a nice fairy tale, but when it comes down to it," she said, lifting her head to look at him, "it's nothing but bullshit."

"You just haven't met the right kind of guy, then," he said slowly. She snickered, shaking her head as she looked away.

"Here we go with the soul mates shit again," she muttered.

"I didn't say the right one," he responded, "I said the right kind. That leaves room for your obvious distaste for the idea of a perfect match."

"I guess," she answered with a shrug. "Truth is, I don't really know." She licked her lips. "And I'm getting to the point where I don't really give a shit." He clicked his tongue, crossing the kitchen to stand next to her and brush her hair out of her eyes.

"That's a sad point to reach." His voice was nearly a whisper, and she looked up at him slowly.

"I hate to break it to you," she said, "but romance is just a ploy to get into a girl's pants."

"Not always," he retorted, that amused smirk returning. Her face remained expressionless, and his smile slowly slipped away. "Sooner or later, you're going to meet someone that's going to change your mind, and you're going to miss out on so much if you don't take a chance and let someone in, you know that?" Her eyes fell, and she turned her head away slightly. He sighed, his breath ruffling her hair. "You sure do like to cuddle for someone so cynical."

"It's easier when it's dark," she said with a shrug. "Like back in the day when people turned to online dating services. Easier to wear your heart on your sleeve when you're not looking into someone's eyes."

"So that's it," he said, as though he'd just had an epiphany. Her eyes darted up to his questioningly. "You stay as far away from me as you can without being too obvious during the day, but at night…" he trailed off, shaking his head. She swallowed thickly, looking away again.

"Look," she started with a sigh. "There's too much to worry about right now. The kids, finding food, rebuilding—"

"And that makes you think you don't have time for someone else, then," he interjected. She squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her forehead.

"I'm not good at this," she said after a long pause. He smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her cheek. She stared down at her hands in her lap until he lifted her chin with a finger, her eyes meeting his timidly. His thumb traced over her lips lightly, and she pulled her face from his grasp, sliding off the counter and taking a few steps away from him. "I'm really not good at this," she amended with an uncomfortable laugh. "The longest relationship I've ever had lasted a whole month, and it probably should have been over much longer than that."

"Why's that?" he asked, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I didn't trust him any further than I could throw him," she said with a quiet snicker. "He hated archery, anyway. Never went to any tournaments or anything."

"How did you have tournaments with the dragons, anyway?"

"Underground shelters," she said with a shrug. "Fortified buildings, military bases. It wasn't as spread bad there until a few years ago, really. I mean, it was bad, but we still functioned. Things like that were an escape, I guess. Some sense of normality."

"But not normal enough to let someone in." She glanced at him sharply, quickly turning away again. "You know, not every person you open up to is going to break your heart or try to use you, Chaz," he said carefully. "Believe it or not there are people out there that aren't assholes."

"People like you, right?" He only looked at her, even as she turned back to him. "I don't even know you. I met you a week ago. I don't know anything about you but your name and that you're Scottish."

"What do you want to know?" She sighed, shaking her head and starting toward the door.

"I'm going to bed."

"Chaz…" She stopped, not bothering to turn around. He scratched his forehead with a thumb. "I don't expect you to trust me overnight. All I'm asking for is a chance."

"For what?"

"Whatever happens," he said after a pause. She shook her head, continuing up the stairs to the bunkroom. She settled into his bed, curled into a ball, clutching the sheets tightly under her chin. A moment later, she heard him enter the room, a quiet sigh breaking the silence before he moved, the bed creaking as he sat. She closed her eyes as he laid down, and he crossed his arms behind his head, staring up at the bunk above them. Going against her better judgment, she rolled onto her other side, sliding closer to him and lifting her head onto his chest, her arms tucked between them. A sad smile touched his lips, and he toyed with her hair, tentatively at first. She relaxed against his side, her breathing evening and slowing. When he was sure she was asleep, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and sighed, returning to staring at the bunk above.

---

Alex was leaning against the doorframe as Creedy walked down the hallway. Her eyes met his for a split second before she went back to staring into the bunkroom, a concerned expression on her face. He stood next to her, leaning in through the doorway and looking back at Alex with a questioning look. She shook her head with a sigh.

"She's been in there all day," Alex whispered. Creedy sighed, glancing back at Chaz all curled up in his bed, the blanket pulled over her head. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Creedy said with a touch of puzzlement. "Has she said anything?" Alex shook her head no. "Nothing?"

"Nothing but a moan here and there, when she moves." Creedy nodded, resting a hand on her shoulder. She watched him walk to the bed slowly, pausing for a moment before sitting. Chaz let out a quiet whimper as the bed moved, curling into a tighter ball. Alex heaved a sigh and left the room.

"You okay?" Creedy asked quietly, rewarded with a harsh shushing sound from somewhere under the blankets. "What's wrong?" he pressed, pulling the blanket away from her face. Her hand flew to cover her eyes, and she turned her head into the pillow. Her skin was red from being so warm under the sheets, her face scrunched up. He sighed, sliding to lay down next to her.

"Oh, don't move so fast," Chaz groaned.

"What's wrong?" he repeated, gently rubbing her arm. She swallowed thickly, flipping the blanket back over her head.

"Migraine." Her answer was muffled by the pillow.

"Do you have anything for it in that handy little backpack of yours?"

"Yeah…" she said slowly.

"But…"

"Dilemma," she whispered. "Live with the pain for a few hours, maybe puke a couple times if you keep moving so much." He let out a quiet laugh. "Or take a pill and get rid of the headache and sleep like I'm dead but not rest at all because of the nightmares."

"Your medication gives you nightmares?"

"Yeah. Codeine. Don't know why, but they're straight from the depths of hell." Her voice was weak and distant, nearly silent.

"Where do you keep it?"

"Front pouch of my bag." He nodded, sitting up and receiving another whimper.

"Any special directions while I'm up?"

"Food first, full glass of water."

"Right," he said, standing. "I'll be right back." He jogged down the stairs, smiling a little when he saw Alex. "Migraine," he said with a small shrug. "She needs something to eat."

"What's she taking?" Alex asked, smirking as Creedy dug through the cabinets to find something to feed her.

"I don't know. Something with codeine."

"Slice of bread will work," Alex said, opening the bag sitting next to her on the counter and pulling out a single piece. "She doesn't need a whole meal." Creedy glanced over his shoulder at her, giving her a single nod as he moved to fill a glass of water, taking the bread as he passed. "She'll be fine," Alex promised, receiving a wave with the bread as he walked away. She shook her head, turning back to her coffee. Creedy took the stairs two at a time on the way up, setting the glass of water on the floor, the piece of bread sitting on top.

"You ready to sit up?" he asked quietly, pulling the sheet back a little. She sighed, opening her eyes into little slits.

"Anything you can do about the light first?" He glanced at the window and nodded, quickly covering it with an extra blanket. When he turned back, she'd pushed herself into a semi-sitting position, already taking tiny bites of the bread as she clenched the glass of water in a trembling hand. He unzipped the front pocket of her backpack and pawed through. "It's the orange bottle." He nodded, wiggling it at her before struggling to open it.

"Just one?" A small nod. She took the pill halfway through the bread, draining the glass. He took it from her and set it back on the floor. "So you'll be alright then?"

"Stay with me," she asked quietly, hunkering back down under the blankets. "Just in case I have a dream." He nodded, pulling his shoes off and sliding under the sheets with her. He lay on his side, gently sliding his arm under her head and pulling her closer to him, his other hand sliding through her hair in a slow rhythm. Her eyes opened and closed slowly, finally staying shut for a while, and he let out a sigh. "I'll be fine," she promised quietly.

"Do you get them often?"

"Not really," she said with a small shrug. "Makes up for all the time I don't have a headache though."

"So you breathing harder," he continued, speaking as quietly as he could without his voice cracking. "Is that the drugs or the headache?"

"The drugs." He nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear and moving his caresses to her arm. "It's a combination of acetaminophen, codeine, and caffeine."

"And it works?"

"Like a charm," she said, pressing a little closer to him. "Am I keeping you from anything?"

"Not at all." With her forehead pressed against his chest, his voice vibrated through her, somehow melting the pain away.

"Keep talking," she requested quietly.

"I thought sound bothered you," he said, pulling away a little to look at her. She wrapped an arm around him, pulling him back to where he was.

"Just talk to me until I'm asleep," she said, digging her fingers into his back. He chuckled.

"Can I move a little?" he asked, the amusement remaining in his tone. She groaned, but nodded, and he rolled onto his back, watching her shift against his side, her head resting on his chest.

"Nothing about dragons."

"Okay, well…" He sighed, trying to think of something to say. "You know, it's not easy to just talk constantly."

"I don't care what you say," she said with a quiet laugh. "Just talk. Hell, say the alphabet or count to a thousand. Just keep talking."

"When I was eight, my brother and I used to skip class and go down to Glasgow Green," he started, running his fingers up and down her spine, smiling as she arched closer to him. "This one day, he was seventeen, his girlfriend came with us, and instead of skipping rocks on the river like we always did, he left me sitting on a bench and ran off into the bushes with his girl. I sat there for hours by myself, just watching people walk by and stare, and finally I got so mad at him I went looking for him. So I walk over to the bushes," he continued, a smile growing on his face as he recalled the day, "and I crawl through into this little clearing and my mouth drops open, and I can't remember why I was so mad at him to begin with. There they were, naked as could be, just working up a sweat, you know…" He trailed off as a quiet snore escaped her. He sighed, brushing her hair away from her face and planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "That was the day I got my education."