Title: The Game

Characters: Jeremiah, Kurdy, Smith

A/N: I wrote Jeremiah fic! I wrote Jeremiah fic! Wheee! I hope the characterization isn't too off. This is my first attempt at something in this fandom.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Jeremiah is owned by MGM and whomever owns them at the moment…

"I dunno, man." The scowl on Kurdy's face sat deep as he stared contemplatively into the fire. The tongues of flame morphed into unfamiliar sharp shapes stabbing away at the darkness. His dour look eased suddenly, a deep, rumbling laugh escaping from his throat. "No, wait. I got it, I got it. Twinkies."

"No shit?" Jeremiah looked skeptical, squinting his eyes at the dimly-lit Kurdy-shape next to him. He mulled over the other man's answer, the sharp crackling of the fire the only counterpoint to the silence. Even Smith kept his mouth shut, which was, Jeremiah thought, a miracle of nearly-divine proportions. Then again, the strange little man already laid himself out next to the fire, probably dozing. "Out of every damn food factory in the world, you'd want the Alliance to start up the one where they made Twinkies?"

"Yeah," Kurdy's frown returned. "Hey, I liked Twinkies, okay? They were fun to eat! I used to break 'em in half, y'know? Lick the frosting out before eating the cake outside. What about you?"

"Me?" Jeremiah tilted his head to one side, eyebrows arching together. "That's easy, man. Oreos."

"Oreos?"

"Yeah, c'mon. You gotta remember Oreos. Chocolate cookies on the outside, white filling inside? Everybody pried them apart to just eat the filling. And if you stuck 'em in the freezer, you could peel the filling out in one piece. Double-Stuf Oreos, man. That's what I'd want."

"Oreos, that's good." Kurdy nodded, his long dreadlocks falling across his wide shoulders as he angled his head towards the third member of their team. "How 'bout you, Smith?"

Jeremiah rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated chuff of air. "Leave him alone. The guy's sleeping."

"He's listening. The man is listening..."

"He's not listening. He's sleeping." Jeremiah shrugged. "And I don't think he can play the game."

"Jeremiah. Markus put us all on the same team. Anybody on the team can play the game, right?"

"Okay. Okay." Jeremiah raised his hands up in surrender. Smith playing the game. Fucking ridiculous. "Fuck, okay. What's your answer Smith?"

Long moments passed before Smith stirred, his eyes staring quizzically up at the seated Jeremiah. "Answer to what?"

Jeremiah grunted in frustration. "See? He wasn't even paying attention."

"Jeremiah, would you just shut the fuck up?" Kurdy leaned closer to Smith. "We got this game going talking about shit we miss from the Old World, and what we'd bring back if we could. We're talking about snack foods. Which one would you wanna bring back?"

"Me?" Earnest confusion settled on Smith's face as his gaze volleyed from Kurdy to Jeremiah and back to Kurdy.

"Yeah, man," Kurdy said encouragingly. Dealing with Smith was like talking to a little kid sometimes. Or some of the younger recruits back at the Mountain. You just needed to be patient, and thanks to his leadership position with the Alliance Army, Kurdy cultivated massive amounts of patience. "What snack would you bring back from the Old World?"

Smith shook his head. "I really don't wanna..."

"C'mon, Smith." Kurdy gave the other man an expectant grin.

Smith frowned, eyebrows furrowing together. He crossed his arms behind his head, forming a makeshift pillow for his neck. "I dunno. I guess, Reeses' cups? Twix maybe? Y'know, candy that came two in a pack? I always liked how there was always two of 'em. So when you were done with the first one, you had another one."

Kurdy bobbed his head in agreement. "That is an inspiration, Smith. See? He can play the game."

Jeremiah smirked, for once amused and not angered at what the little man was saying. "I stand corrected. C'mon. We gotta get some sleep. Long drive tomorrow."

The following morning dawned clear, bright, and Smith-less. Kurdy ran a quick sweep of the perimeter around the dwindling fire, not finding any trace of the third member of their team. "Fuck, where did he run off to now?"

"Dunno, man." Jeremiah busied himself with kicking dirt into the fire to put it out. "But if we don't hit the road soon, we're gonna miss the meeting in Yarbourough. We gotta book."

"We'll book. We'll book." Kurdy sighed, peering through breaks in the trees. "I gotta find him."

"Okay. I'm packing all our shit into the truck. If you're not there in ten minutes, I'm leaving both your sorry asses out here in the middle of the woods. Got that?"

"Yeah."

Jeremiah knocked the surrounding ring of rocks free from the smoldering campfire. "He'll show up."

"Yeah."

The search for Smith took Kurdy fairly far from their campsite, where he spotted a familiar figure crouched down low on his haunches. Smith held his camera out, cap still secured around the tiny pinhole "lens." Kurdy started to hurry towards Smith, his heavy boots clomping hard on the grass. Smith tilted his head in Kurdy's direction, held a finger to his lips, and silently beckoned his friend closer.

Curious, Kurdy eased carefully next to Smith, following where the camera aimed. There, a few feet in front of them, swathed with twigs and bits of grass, was a small clutch of eggs.

Hatching eggs.

"Good morning," Smith whispered gently.

Kurdy had the weird feeling that the greeting wasn't meant for him but for the tiny, peeping chicks.

Smith removed the camera's lenscap, staying completely still for a good number of seconds before covering the pinhole again. He then stuffed the camera back into his knapsack. "We hafta go before the parents come back."

"Yeah. Yeah, how did you know about the nest?"

Smith just gave an enigmatic shrug and started walking back in the direction of the truck. Kurdy jogged after him. No fucking way was the little guy going to leave his sight again.

"Hey, Smith."

"Yes?"

"I got another thing to ask. About last night. That stuff you said. It wasn't another one of your 'I can't remember so I'm just gonna say weird shit I picked up from other people' answers, right?"

A meek pout settled on Smith's lips. "I didn't wanna lose..."

Kurdy took a deep breath and sighed. "Smith, you can't lose the damn game. it's just a fucking game. it's supposed to be fun. If you couldn't remember, just say so. Hell, I can't remember jackshit about a lot of things from the Old World. Doesn't mean I gotta lie about it."

"But I needed an answer."

Kurdy shut his eyes for a moment, gathering up his thoughts. "It's not that, Smith. It's just...I'm still trying to convince Jeremiah that you're not a complete fucking nutjob, and you're not helping. See, Jeremiah? He's got his own problems with that Voice you think you hear in that little head of yours. He's letting that influence his opinion of you. Now, apart from the crazy ass God says shit, you're an okay guy. He's not getting that. You understand, don't you?"

Smith appeared lost in thought for a moment, eyes focused on the ground right in front of his feet. "Yeah. I understand. You think I should talk to him, or something?"

"I dunno. You got something to say to him?"

"Maybe."

They arrived at the truck just as Jeremiah plopped the last of their gear into the back. "You found him?"

"Fucking right, I found him!" Kurdy beamed. "Smith, you can go on ahead. I gotta take a leak." He sprinted back towards the woods, leaving Smith and Jeremiah staring awkwardly at each other.

Jeremiah wasn't one for awkward silences, especially between him and a crazy guy. "Smith, hop in the truck. I'll run the heater. Get both of us warmed up, okay?" He swung the driver-side door open and clamored into the seat.

Smith stayed in his spot, fingering the canvas strap hanging the knapsack on his shoulder. "God says you got an open invitation to do what you wanted to Him. Whenever you're ready. You just gotta ask."

The horn blatted sharply as Jeremiah punched the steering wheel. "Ask and ye shall receive, huh?"

"Something like that."

"Seriously, man. What the fuck is your deal? This God shit is getting old, really fast. I mean, okay. I'm pretty sure Kurdy thinks it's kinda cute, and he's keeping you around like you're an abandoned puppy he found in a shoebox lying on the side of the road. He's got a soft spot for lost animals. Me, though? I don't know what your fucking problem is. You wanna think God talks to you? Fine, whatever. Don't start dragging me through your crazy head and trying to convince me to see what you see. It ain't gonna happen, my friend. Now get in the damn truck."

Smith raised his head slightly, realization spreading. 'My friend'. Jeremiah just included him in that tiny circle of acquaintances he considered himself close to. Grinning timidly, Smith climbed into the passenger side of the truck, shoving himself into his usual place in the middle and balancing his knapsack on his lap. He clutched his hand around the canvas straps again, stroking the material absently between finger and thumb. A strange look of confusion dawned on his face, which switched to recognition, and finally, to awe. "Cracker Jack," he said in a surprised whisper.

Jeremiah answered with a bored-sounding "hmm?"

"What I'd bring back from the Old World. Caramel popcorn and peanuts. And...I had..." His features lit up immensely. "I had a huge collection of the prizes you got inside." He spoke as if finding his voice for the very first time, each syllable worthy of worship, of gape-mouthed wonder.

"Cracker Jack," Jeremiah repeated. Oh, well. No one ever said you couldn't change your mind about your answer in the game. "Yeah, but all the damn peanuts..."

Smith grew more animated and eager by the second. "They always settled to the bottom. That was the best part! Eating through all that caramel corn to get to the peanuts. And the prize."

"You're not crying over this shit, are you, Smith? You do realize, this is only a game. If you're gonna get nostalgic over sugar, we need to get you out of the Mountain more."

Smith pursed his lips together and nodded, wiping his face with the back of his coatsleeve. "I'm...okay." The fog started to drape across his memories, the barrier locking him from his past impenetrable once again. But it was enough. More than enough. His softly murmured thanks was easily drowned out by the sudden arrival of Kurdy.

"I was gonna ask if you fell in," Jeremiah mocked.

Kurdy answered with an annoyed grunt as he settled next to Smith.

"Smith changed his answer." Jeremiah pulled the truck into gear and they started off down the road.

"Oh, really?" Kurdy quirked an eyebrow. "Changing the rules of the game, huh?"

Smith heaved his shoulders into a shrug, heart still light and fluttering over the gift bestowed upon him. No words ached to leave his throat. The Voice stayed blissfully silent for a time, and Smith settled back in his portion of carseat, tranquilly enjoying the amicable bickering between friends.