a/n: Genuinely cannot believe I got this done after the week I've had. Hope you guys enjoy!

in my dream i was drowning my sorrows
but my sorrows, they learned to swim
surrounding me, going down on me
spilling over the brim
U2, "Until the End of the World"

The meeting moved fairly quickly after that. Susan found some volunteers for the power plant; the burial team was recognized and grew their ranks by a few; a "turning off" committee was formed to go around unplugging toasters and TVs so the power grid wouldn't immediately overload once they got it going again.

Stu was about to ask if there was any further business when a commotion started at the back of the hall. The doors burst open and a woman carrying a small boy ran through them. She was waving a sheet of paper and yelling, but she was so hysterical no one could understand her.

Larry, like everyone else, turned to see what was going on, and he recognized Lucy Swann, his girlfriend, and their sort-of adopted son, Joe. He shoved his way through the crowd to reach her. "Lucy, what's wrong? Is it Joe?!"

"It's Mother Abagail!" she cried. She hauled in a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, but it was no good. "She's gone!"

Conversation started as a low, confused murmur, but it quickly swelled. Stu, at the front, saw the potential for panic. "Everyone, calm down! Quiet now! Lucy, is that you? Come on up here and let's see what's goin' on. Give her space, y'all, clear a path!"

Larry wrapped an arm around her and led her to where Stu waited. He took the paper from her and read it, his expression growing more troubled with every word. He passed it to Frannie, who stared down in disbelief, and then passed it to Glen.

Stu scrubbed a palm over his face and stood a moment, one hand braced on his hip and the other covering his mouth. Finally he gave himself a little shake and walked to the microphone again. "Well. It seems Mother Abagail—well." He swallowed. Frannie gave him the note, and he glanced down at it again, as though the words might've changed since the first time he saw them.

"She's gone," he said. He called for silence when the crowed erupted. "She left. She said—she needs time to commune—with God. I guess sorta like…Jesus in the desert?" He frowned. "Not that Mother Abagail's Jesus, and I know she'd be mad at me for implyin' otherwise. She says we're not to look for her, and she'll—be back—when she's able."

This time he didn't try to quell them. There were shouted questions. Tears. Confusion and fear. Stu looked as shellshocked as they sounded.

Kai had been translating for Nick, and he looked at her with his good eye big. "They're gonna panic," he said. "Stu's gotta get control or we'll lose them."

She looked that way, but Stu was still frozen, indecision and confusion written in every line of his lanky body. Kai took Nick's hand and pulled him with her toward the front. She left him standing with Fran and went to Stu. She touched his arm, lightly, but he jumped like she'd smacked him.

He stepped back. Kai took his place at the microphone and cleared her throat. "Hi, hello. Everyone, please. Please, let's try to stay calm." She tapped the mic, and when that didn't work, she put two fingers between her lips and let out a piercing whistle that echoed around the hall.

They all stopped and stared at her, and she smiled a little. "That's better. Okay, look, I'm not gonna lie to y'all: I'm confused too. I don't understand why she'd do this, but…we've all come this far, haven't we? We followed dreams of her to Nebraska, or to here, or to both. Y'all just voted to confirm her selections for the Free Zone Committee." She offered Harold a nod of acknowledgement. "That took a lot of trust. A lot of faith. I'm not sayin' y'all have to believe in Mother Abagail's God, or even believe the same way she does, but if she says this…pilgrimage or vision quest or whatever is something she has to do, then we need to trust her."

"She's over a hundred years old!" someone called. "There are wild animals out there!"

"Wolves!"

"Coyotes!"

Kai held up a hand before they could go any further. "Do we really think that Mother Abagail has survived two world wars, a Great Depression, Jim Crow, the Cold War, major recessions, oil crises, and not one but two worldwide plague events only to be taken out by some overblown motherfucker with a mullet and a goddamn coyote?!"

That was met with shocked silence, but then someone laughed, and eventually it caught on like the fear had a moment ago.

"Pardon my language," she said, primly. "I'm just saying—Mother Abagail suggested a committee, and y'all voted to confirm us, so now trust us to lead this community while she's gone."

"We trust you, Kai!" a voice called. She thought it was Brad the vet, from their group.

"Thank you," she said. "That's all we ask." She glanced back at Stu, then out at the crowd again. "I'm goin' to hand things back over to Stu, so y'all be nice."

He gave her arm a brief squeeze as they swapped spots.

She went back to Nick, and he cut her a half-grin. "That was good," he said.

"Thanks. I'm glad it worked."

"So far."

Stu adjourned the meeting and told everyone to go home and try to get some rest. She didn't want them looking for her, so they wouldn't—much. But first thing in the morning they would send a few people around town and out into the woods just to check the lay of the land. Volunteers nearly overwhelmed him, and he told them to assemble in front of Mother Abagail's house at seven the next morning.

With that they were dismissed, and the committee members headed to Rae's for their first official meeting. Larry took Lucy and Joe home, and by the time he got there they were settled in with drinks and a roaring fire. He took the beer Rae offered him and dropped down into a chair with a long, gusty sigh.

"That kid was just starting to come out of his shell a little. I'm afraid this mighta set him back a month or more," he said, in reference to Joe.

"What happened?" Fran said. "How did he find the note?"

"Lucy left because he had to pee, and when she got him outside he got upset. He started trying to drag her somewhere, Lucy didn't know where, but he was so agitated she finally gave in and went with him. He took her to Mother Abagail's house, and the note was on the hall table."

He took a pull of his beer and sat a moment fiddling with the label. "It's funny, because when we got to the meeting Lucy asked me where she was. I told her I didn't know, but then with everything else I forgot about it."

"I never even thought about it," Stu said. "I was so worried about havin' to speak in front of everybody and the nominations and everything. She didn't even really cross my mind."

Frannie rested a hand on his back. "I don't think any of us thought about her. We were all busy, all preoccupied."

"That's what she wanted," Glen said. "She left when we were all busy elsewhere, when no one was looking for her. Kai probably saved us from a goddamn riot with that little speech of hers. The thing about the mullet was especially inspired."

Rae paced away from one of the picture windows that dominated the back wall. "We should be out looking for her, not sitting around here chatting about it."

"She told us not to," Nick said.

Rae threw out an arm in frustration. "You of all people, Nick!? Yes, she told us not to, but she's old! She's clearly not in her right mind!"

Nick's mouth twisted in a frown. "You can't have it both ways."

"What does that mean?" Susan said.

"He means we can't take her word as gospel when it suits us, but then when she does something we don't like call her a senile old woman," Glen said. "And he's right. He was right when he said it about the committee nominations, and he's right this time, too. Either we have faith in her, like Kai said tonight, or—we don't. If we choose the latter then this whole goddamn thing goes up in smoke and we look like we drank Mother Abagail's Kool-Aid."

"That's not—of course I have faith in her! But there are bears out there! And it's not cold, but she's old and she always needs a shawl, even in the middle of the day!"

"We're all worried about her, Rae," Kai said, her voice quiet.

"In my opinion we're wasting far too much energy worrying about her when the real problem's right across the mountains," Glen said. "I don't think he's playing tiddlywinks over in the desert. Have any of you dreamt recently?"

"Crucifixes," Stu said. His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot. He'd taken off his tie and rolled up his sleeves, and he had one ankle propped on the knee of the other leg. His foot jogged up and down in agitation. "Who's he crucifyin'?"

"Drug addicts," Nick said. "Alcoholics. Anyone who breaks his rules."

"We can't keep relying on dreams for information," Glen said.

Stu shot her a long look. "What are you sayin', professor?"

She lifted her hands in a shrug. "You're a smart man, East Texas, despite all appearances to the contrary. I think you can figure it out."

Larry snorted. "He might be smart, but I'm dumb as a rock. Explain, please."

"She's talking about spies, Larry," Kai said.

There was a brief lull while it penetrated, then he jumped to his feet like a scalded cat. "Spies?! You mean sending some of our people—there?! To him?! That's suicide! Murder!"

"Not necessarily," Fran said, a stubborn line forming between her brows. "Glen's right. We need information. Solid info, not dreams that he may or may not be influencing."

He looked around the room with wide, incredulous eyes. "You're kidding me. All of you think this is a good idea? Sending our people across the mountains, across the desert, to the guy who regularly haunts our dreams and who we believe is crucifying anyone who disagrees with him!?"

There was a silence while they all looked at each other. Finally Rae spoke up. "Yes, Larry. We all think it's a good idea. Or, at least, a necessary one."

He huffed. Shifted his weight. His chin dropped to his chest and he shook his head. "Fine. Fine! If we're doing this, I volunteer."

"You can't do that, Larry," Glen said. "None of us can. We're needed here. Everyone would notice if one of us vanished."

"Shit," he muttered. He fell back into his chair and swiped his beer off the table. "Okay, then—Judge Farris."

"Judge Farris?" Stu said, frowning. "He's…old."

Glen glared at him. "Thanks, East Texas."

He let out an exasperated breath. "I just mean—it won't be an easy trip, either there or back. Especially back, because it'll be winter by then."

"He's old, but he's smart," Larry said. "He's got a good head on his shoulders, and no one over there would suspect him. This old Black guy, a retired judge, turns up and says, I don't know—he got fed up with the loosey goosey bullshit over here and wanted to go somewhere that believes in law and order. That, ya know, crucifies its drug addicts. They'll buy it."

Glen nodded. "It's a good idea. All for Judge Farris?"

They all voted yes.

Susan leaned forward in her chair, her bright eyes intense. "I nominate—or whatever—Dayna Jergens. She was with me…when we met Stu and Fran. She's tough, smart, and knows how to bide her time."

"Seconded," Fran said. "I almost pity that asshole if he comes face to face with Dayna."

They voted yes for her too.

Nick tapped Kai on the shoulder and handed her the note he'd been working on for the last several minutes. She wondered why he hadn't signed it to her instead, but maybe he didn't want Frannie to know until they'd talked it over.

When she read what he wrote her eyes went wide and flicked up to his face. "Nick…"

His good eye was steady, his mouth a thin, firm line. "It's a good idea, Kai. I don't—like it—exactly, but…remember what we said?"

She chewed her lip. "He's more than he seems. But, Nicky—!"

"I know." He combed a hand through her hair and held on for a moment. "You were thinking it, too. Weren't you?"

A brief sigh. A long, tortured silence while they watched each other with knowing eyes, the look saying a million different things. A thousand conversations had in the space of a few silent seconds. Finally she gave a brief, stilted nod. "Yeah. I was."

The exchange had been entirely in sign, and the others watched them with confusion. Even Fran, who could understand the words, didn't know what they were talking about, but she had a sort of cold inkling that she shoved away as impossible.

"Y'all gonna share with the rest of the class?" Stu said.

Kai rubbed her forehead and slumped back in her chair. She cast Nick another glance, lifting a brow, and he nodded. "Nick and I—nominate Tom Cullen."

The room erupted.

She held up both hands. "Okay! Okay! We know. Every single thing you're saying, we know. But—we stand by it. You think they won't suspect Judge Farris? They probably won't even question Tommy."

"We'll give him a cover story," Nick said. "If he repeats it enough he'll remember it. That, and instructions on what to do, how to be careful, when to come home, what to look for. He's developmentally challenged, yes, but he's—a lot more than he seems. There's something special about him." His mouth quirked, almost ruefully. "More than the obvious, I mean."

Rae crossed her arms over her chest. "We all know that, Nick. No one's arguing that. But—we can't send him into that lions' den! He's—innocent!"

"That might be what saves him," Glen said.

Rae gave her a sharp look. "What do you mean?"

"We know he's clever. Flagg, I mean. Clever like a fox or a snake. Judge Farris and Dayna, going in with carefully-crafted cover stories, with agendas, might…be the sort of thing he could discover."

"Then why are we doing it?!" Larry cried.

"Misdirection," Nick said.

"What?"

"Like an illusionist. You make sure your audience is looking over here"—he waved his right hand—"while the trick is happening over here." He waved the left. "If Flagg does discover either Judge Farris or Dayna, or both, they'll distract him. It wouldn't occur to him to look at someone like Tom—or someone like me, for that matter, but I can't go—and he'll be able to get in, get the info we need, and get back out again."

Susan rattled the ice in her glass. "So we're sacrificing Judge Farris and Dayna? Is that what you're saying?"

He rubbed his palms on his thighs and glanced at Kai. "Hopefully not. But—maybe."

"Jesus Christ," Larry muttered, disgusted. "Forget reinventing politics. First night as an official committee and we've reinvented the goddamn CIA!"

"I think they're right," Fran said. She'd sat quietly listening to the entire exchange, mulling the idea over in her her mind, and she saw its wisdom. She didn't like it, but she understood it. "I second Tom Cullen."

Stu eyed her, surprised. "Well. Nominated and seconded. Are we ready to vote? It has to be unanimous, or we start over."

The went around the room casting their votes. Larry was clearly pissed, but he voted aye anyway. They all did.

"Okay." Stu swallowed. "That's it, then. We'll send Judge Farris, Dayna Jergens, and…Tom Cullen west to Las Vegas as spies."

"Fuck us," Larry said, his mouth a grim line, "and the horses we rode in on."

The meeting didn't go much longer after that. They were all tired, and worn out from politicking. Once it broke up Nick and Kai dragged themselves back home. He stopped in the kitchen for a snack, but she went upstairs to their bedroom to wash her face and undress.

When he joined her she was sitting on the bed in a t-shirt, her knees drawn up to her chest and her forehead pressed against them. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. Shed his trousers and his undershirt, then crawled in next to her wearing just his boxer briefs. She didn't look up, so he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him in situ.

She shifted just enough to wrap her arms around him and press her forehead to his sternum. He ran a hand through her hair, the other arm loosely around her body. He waited. He knew what she was thinking, because it was all the same things he was. They'd made a case for sending Tom west, but was it the right decision? Or were they sending a sweet, innocent man whom they both loved to his death?

Finally she looked up at him, her brilliant eyes imploring. "Tell me we're doing the right thing," she signed.

He raised his hand to do just that, but hesitated. Finally he just spread his fingers in a shrug and shook his head. "I feel like…we're not doing the wrong thing. But the right one? I just don't know," he said. "I know that if Flagg catches him or he gets hurt, that's on me."

"No!" She gave a sharp shake of her head and sat up further so that she could use both hands. "No, honey, we all voted for it. I nominated him along with you. If you hadn't done it…I would have."

"Why?" he said. "It defies all logic. I don't understand it. But the idea popped into my head and I just couldn't get it out. I knew I had to say something. I knew I had to convince them."

Her head tilted. "What about convincing me?"

"I figured if I was thinking it you were, too."

She sighed and got up to crack the window. The nights were cooler here than one could expect somewhere more humid (or with lower elevation), but up in the converted attic bedroom, the day's heat got trapped. They had the AC on, of course, but the fresh air was nice. Oddly, Boulder smelled very little of the dead.

She stood for a moment listening to the night sounds he couldn't hear: crickets, an owl, some cats either fighting or fucking, and very little else. Often you could hear music or snatches of conversation floating from other houses or the street this time of night, but Mother Abagail's disappearance had sent them all scurrying. Everyone was battened down like frightened mice, and for the first time she thought, maybe, Mother Abagail had made the right choice in leaving.

"We rely on her too much," she signed as she turned.

"Supposedly she has a direct line to God. It seems like if we were going to rely on anyone…" He let the thought trail away with a wry half-smile.

"The committee's purpose is for us to start relying on ourselves. We come from different places, different backgrounds, but we're all…" She waved a hand, searching for the word, and he lifted a brow.

"Damaged?"

She frowned. "Nick—"

"I'm not talking about disabilities, Kai. I mean…marked. Every single one of us has lost people we love, pre-flu. A parent, a sibling, a spouse. We know how to deal with the hard shit, the type of shit that sometimes breaks people. So here we are, unbroken despite everything, and the old lady we all followed here dropped it in our laps and took off. She told me—"

He broke off and his hands fell to his sides. He turned his face away, but before he did she caught the gleam of something in his good eye, and a certain twist to his features she didn't quite recognize.

She crawled back onto the bed and knelt next to him, fingers laced together in her lap. She waited, as he had done, with a level of patience that was unusual for her.

Finally, without looking at her, he started to sign again. "She told me we were to do nothing until she said otherwise. She told me to act as her voice on the committee, and to urge them to be patient. To wait. She said she was waiting for a sign or…I don't know. Direction from above, and once she got it, then we'd know what to do."

She tapped the back of his hand, and at last he faced her again. He absorbed her expression with a stoic one of his own, but his chin dipped to his chest. "I should have told you," he said.

Still she said nothing.

"How—if we're truly supposed to be running this place, being a government or whatever—how are we supposed to do that if we have to wait on God to approve every decision?! I thought the whole point was for us to do this! To not be a theocracy!" His signs were fervent, his forehead creased and face scrunched. The bed shook from the force of his gestures. "It just doesn't make sense! And now she just—leaves?! It's not right, Kai! It's not fair!"

He fell back against the pillows and let out a long breath. Scrubbed a hand over his face. "As if anything about this life is fucking fair."

She took his hands in hers. Kissed the center of each palm as her eyes searched his face. She ran her fingertips along the strong line of his jaw and over the softness of his mouth. Then she smiled, just a little, ruefully, and combed her fingers through his beard before she kissed him. He pulled back, startled, but after a confused moment leaned in for more.

The kiss deepened, lengthened, turned from easy and sweet to hot and breathy. She nibbled his lip. His tongue stroked against hers. He reached for her, to pull her into his lap, but she stopped him.

"It wasn't fair of her to put that on you, especially knowing how you feel about God, and how you felt about being on the committee."

"I should have told you what she said."

"Maybe. But it wouldn't have changed anything. I still would've voted the way I did. What are we supposed to do, Nicky? Just be in limbo here until she gets back? What if she dies out there? How much does her God protect her from the weather? Or falls?"

His mouth quirked. He took a moment to pull off his eyepatch and set it on the nightstand. "I never thought God was that direct. Not anymore."

She chewed on her thumbnail. "Have you ever read the Bible?" At his look she held up a hand. "Okay, okay. I'm just asking because—there's this scene in Genesis where God is walking in the Garden with Adam and Eve. Just like…some guy. There. Walking around. It's such a…homely image. So different from the God who tortures Job or allows His son to be crucified."

She smoothed the sheet over her knee, her brows drawn together over stormy eyes. "I just mean…maybe God walks with Mother Abagail in a way He hasn't in a long, long time. Or…maybe she's His new…test. Abraham on the mountain commanded to murder his son but he's stopped at the last minute. Job suffering everything a man can suffer and still not denouncing his faith."

Nick's gaze was fixed on some point in the near distance as he thought that over, but eventually it flicked to her again. "Who's being tested here? Us? Or her?"

"I don't know," she said. Their eyes met. Held. "But I guess if it's us…then we just failed."

"Or maybe it's all bullshit," he said with a sardonic twist to his lips.

"Maybe," she said. "But we had the dreams. About her. About him." She smiled a little. "About each other. And now here we are. So maybe it is all bullshit. But I think that kind of attitude is what…leads to the problems that got us into this mess."

His nose scrunched. "What do you mean?"

"It's not that I think religion is a necessary component to a functioning society, but I do think a sense of…consequence is. Look at the state of the world before all this happened. Within like what, fifteen years? They were saying the planet would be irrevocably altered by climate change. We'd been at war in Afghanistan since 2001. The greatest wealth inequality gap in history. We elected…ugh, I don't even wanna touch that one. And the message he ran on was racism and misogyny and America First isolationist bullshit. And most of that is just here!

"Viruses like Captain Trips were expressly forbidden in the Geneva Convention, and yet. And I seriously doubt we were the only ones playing with things we had no business touching." She lifted her arms to indicate the world around them. "We'd lost sight of the consequences. We thought we could just go along doing whatever the fuck we wanted and nothing truly bad would happen—at least not to the rich assholes calling all the shots."

He lifted a brow. "Captain Trips, the great equalizer."

"To a point, yeah. Because you know they all fled to their secret bunkers and private islands and shit, and the sense I'm getting is that it was useless. We don't know for sure, of course, and it'll be a while before we do—but a disease with such a high communicability and fatality rate isn't going to be deterred by a private island."

She drew in a long, shaky breath and let it out slowly. "All I'm saying is we need to be aware that our actions have consequences. Maybe they're…Biblical, or maybe they're just…we did a really shitty thing and now people are mad. I don't know. But while I don't really believe in the…God part of all of this, I do believe in…something. There's a reason we're here, and if the God part makes people feel accountable, then fine. There it is."

He gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "So what do you think the consequences for going against Mother Abagail's word will be?"

"People are going to die. Maybe Judge Farris. Maybe Dayna." She pulled her knees up again with a troubled sigh. "Maybe Tommy."

"Maybe us."

She cut him a look, eyes wary. "Maybe. I hope not. But maybe. That dream—"

"Babe. I think Glen was right about the dream. Bullshit meant to get under your skin." This time when he tugged her to him she went, curling up against his side tucked under his arm. "I don't know why, but I think sending Tom is…what we should be doing." He scowled. "How can the right thing feel so goddamn wrong?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's wrong for us. Even wrong for Tom. But somehow right for…all of this. For…some ineffable plan."

He looked down at her and lifted her chin for a kiss. They lingered over it, and their thoughts were similar: if only they could stop worrying about ineffable plans and bigger pictures and divine consequences and just concentrate on this. Each other. The warm scent of skin and the soft, sweet feel of lips meeting.

After, she thought. She pulled away long enough to smile at him, then brought him back for more. After they figured out Flagg. After they were all safe. They could build something here, in Boulder. Or anywhere. And they had their entire lives to do it.

there's clearly not too much left of this fic, and I'm trying to get it out to y'all, but it's the end of the semester so I am BUSY! Kind words always help :)