For some reason, I'm focusing much more on this fic than my others...I'll try to remedy that, but I can't make any promises. I'm a loser... u_u;
Also, just reminding you these are also available at the NickxEllis comm on LiveJournal. If you haven't joined already, I recommend it! There are a lot of great people on that site, tons of very talented authors and artists.
Coach, Rochelle and Nick sat in the mess hall at one of the long lunch tables, an odd mixture of guns, ammo, and food spread out in front of them. They had woken up alone, still no sign of the military, or anyone else, for that matter. So they woke in survival mode, foraging for whatever they could find to help them stay alive.
"There's runnin' water here, and enough food here to last us for a while," Coach noted as he shifted, eyeing the cans and packages as if afraid they might sprout legs and run, "at least long enough for the military to come back here."
"That's cute, Coach, but why the hell would they come back?"
"They gotta have some kinda communication between the camps, Nick. Soon they figure out somethin' happened here and they'll be on their way to find survivors."
"Because the military is so reliable," Nick snorted in response. Rochelle and Coach sighed audibly.
"It's the best we can do for now," Rochelle mumbled around a mouthful of granola, "...does anyone want to go see Ellis?"
"Yeah," Coach answered, picking up a heavy shotgun and a bottle of pills, "meant to check on him earlier. Nick?"
"We'll understand if you don't want to, Nick," Rochelle added quickly, dropping the granola bar wrapper on the table with a flick of her fingers.
"Whatever," he grumbled and pushed himself away from the table, almost forgetting to snatch up a gun before heading off toward the theater.
Rochelle immediately headed to the back of the room where Ellis was, while Coach and Nick attended to something they should have done earlier; dispatching of the poor souls who were still left alive, albeit Infected, in their cages and gurneys. Placing the pistol against their heads and pulling the trigger wasn't hard for Nick, even though he reasoned that it probably should have been. After all, he'd seen these people alive and well just days earlier. But detachment was the name of the game, and it was the game he played best.
He could hear Coach cursing softly over his shoulder in regards to more red-doored cells embedded within the walls.
"Shit, Nick, they done all sorts'a things here. We got a couple'a Smokers and a Boomer...maybe a Spitter too, I dunno, she's too fucked-up lookin' for me to tell..."
Nick approached to help the man but them out of their misery, but Coach shook his head.
"Dead already, Nick. They didn't last long."
Nick turned, nothing to say, and began walking to the back of the room. Coach finished off the last of the Infected and followed.
The racket coming from Ellis' cell was enormous. The growls raised the hairs on the back of Nick's neck and made his hands tense on his gun.
"Ellis..." Rochelle quickly peeked into the room through the bars and the boy gave a horrific yowl before lunging toward the door, his claws striking against the metal. Rochelle jumped backwards and gave a startled yelp as Ellis growled again, prowling in a hunched position and watching intently. He lunged again and fell, then spat, teeth bared, at the door, not understanding why it was keeping him between him and his prey.
The boy kept trying, though; leaping and bounding off the walls, screeching and howling in frustration when he couldn't get to the humans that lay just out of his reach.
"One of us should try talking to him," Rochelle suggested softly. Without waiting for anyone to volunteer, she slid cautiously up to the partition in the door, slipping her fingers around the bars, "Ellis, sweetie..."
She was cut off by a shriek and Ellis lunged again. Rochelle cursed loudly and fell away from the door as the boy's hands scrabbled through the bars, slashing the air wildly. Rochelle gave a muffled sound of pain and sucked one of her fingers, torn by his wild claws.
"Or maybe we oughtta let him be for a while," Coach said, putting his hands to Rochelle's hunched shoulders and leading her away, "let's find some goddamn first aid."
Nick followed without a glance back.
None of them could work up enough nerve to go back until two days later.
It was nighttime and Nick woke suddenly, huddled under his sparse blanket. He lay there for an hour or so, trying to stay warm and get back to sleep. Ultimately, he ended up just staring at the ceiling or the sleeping forms of his two teammates.
He imagined Ellis was laying beside him, a muscular tattooed arm wrapped around his waist. He could almost feel the breath on the back of his neck, hear the soft chuckles and the drawling voice.
"Shit, Nick, yer freezin'. Why didn't you say somethin', I'da warmed you up if I'da known."
"Mmh," Nick responded to no one. He closed his eyes, trying to feel calloused fingers tracing the ridge of his hip and the strong chest against his back. Of course, Nick's imagination had its limits, and he couldn't pretend he wasn't alone in the bed.
Alone and sleepless.
Sighing, he sat up, slinging his legs over the side of the cot until his bare feet were flat on the cold floor. He slipped on his shoes and jacket, slung the blanket over his shoulder, grabbed his gun, and snuck out.
He was glad the school seemed to be eternally lit; if there were any environmentalists left in the world, he was sure they'd pitch a fit if they knew, but he had had enough of wandering around in the dark with only a flashlight to guide him.
Nick was surprised to note the relative silence from Ellis' cell. He slunk up to the viewing window and peered in. Ellis lay curled up tightly in the far corner, and even in the spare light, Nick could see him trembling with the chill.
The gambler pursed his lips together in a thin line, lifted the bar of the door, and went in.
Ellis immediately snapped his head up and bared his teeth. He hopped to his hands and feet and Nick braced himself for the lunge, ready to knock the boy back, but the attack never came. Ellis was growling as loud as ever, and staring at Nick with something like fear. Curious, Nick lifted up the gun to see if that was what made the boy so wary. But his eyes were on something else.
The pipe.
Nick held it up experimentally and Ellis gave a shriek and backed up as far as he could, hunched and hissing like a cat.
"You're afraid of this thing?" Nick sliced it through the air and he could have sworn he saw Ellis wince. Nick would have laughed if he didn't feel so awful. Slowly, he backed away from the boy to give him room.
"Because I hit you with it. Is that why?" he continued and Ellis relaxed a little, scuttling forward aggressively as if to show he wasn't afraid. Nick held up the pipe in self defense and Ellis promptly stopped in his tracks, eyes trained on the length of metal, "Make a deal with you, kid. If you don't attack me, I won't attack you. Here...brought you something."
He tucked the pipe under his arm and grabbed the blanket with his now-free hand, tossing it over Ellis. Ellis fell onto his back with a scream and clawed wildly at the blanket until it was thouroughly shredded and he was free of its clutches.
Nick watched somberly and with bitter disappointment. It was stupid to get so upset over a blanket being shredded, he knew, but it was a gift. A goddamn gift. If he had given the mechanic that blanket just a few days earlier, he would have lit up and grinned and clutched it closely to him as if it was the most thoughtful gift in the world. But Nick was a few days too late, for a lot of things.
He slipped down to the ground, sitting cross legged, the gun by his side and the pipe laying flat in his lap.
"I gave that to you to keep you warm, you retard," he muttered, keeping his eyes on Ellis. Ellis looked up from sniffing the blanket, growled, prepared to lunge, then noticed the pipe and backed off. He snuffled the blanket and crawled under its blanket, peering out from underneath it at Nick as if the conman couldn't see him. Nick chuckled.
"Still as stupid as ever," he said, then immediately regretted it. Ellis wasn't stupid. Hadn't been, at least.
Crazy, yes.
Naïve, yes.
ADD, hell yes.
But stupid, no. And Nick told him so with a deep breath.
"Sorry, Overalls. You're not stupid. You're...strange, but you're not stupid. I guess I always meant to tell you that but I never did...or if I did, I can't remember."
Nick was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of Ellis' stomach growling.
"Hungry?"
Ellis continued watching him from under the blanket. He breathed, deep and even, and whined softly. Nick thought it was kind of cute.
Until Ellis leapt out from under his cover and toward Nick, teeth bared and claws spread wide.
Nick was up in a second, the pipe connected with a dull thud and Ellis was sent sprawled across the room with a high yelp. He scrabbled to get up and backed away again, his breath ragged. Nick stood in the corner farthest away from him, heart beating furiously in his chest.
"Goddammit, Ellis, I'm not food! Jesus Christ!"
Ellis screamed back, threatened and hungry but too much aware of his own safety to attack again.
"Jesus," Nick repeated, digging into his suit pocket for a Nutri-Grain bar he had squirreled away earlier, "here. Food."
He tossed the bar down onto the floor in front of Ellis, who promptly pounced on it as if it were a rabbit and he a fox. He tore through the packaging, sending pieces of grain and fruit and plastic flying, then wolfed down the remainder in the span of a few seconds.
Well, no wonder. The last time Ellis had eaten was probably four days ago.
Leaving just the mauled wrapper behind, Ellis reared his head back and made a face of disgust, opening and closing his mouth to remove the taste of oatmeal and blueberry from his tongue. But despite the taste, he prowled around to lick up the little bits he missed, causing Nick to grimace.
"This floor probably hasn't been cleaned in ages. Guess you don't mind, though."
What diseases could the kid catch that were worse than the one he already had?
Ellis continued traipsing around the room on all fours, sniffing for more food. The scent trail led him up to the gambler and when they noticed their close proximity, they both leapt back with startled yells.
"Holy shit!" Nick grabbed his chest and groaned, "You're gonna give me a fucking heart attack, Ellis. I don't have any more food."
Ellis breathed loudly through his nose snuggled back under his blanket. He gathered up a scrap of it in his claws and dug his face into it, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. With something like a complacent growl, he glanced out from under the cover at Nick.
"In the morning," Nick said, picking up his gun and the pipe, "in the morning, I'll bring you more food."
He backed out of the room, too wary to turn his back on the boy, and closed the door, slipping the pipe back into its place. He watched Ellis for a while, and Ellis watched him back.
"I miss you, Ellis," he said softly, and could feel hot tears that he wouldn't permit himself to cry, "I miss you a whole goddamn lot."
Ellis didn't take his eyes off the man, even after he began to walk away.
"Nick, you coulda been killed."
Nick leaned against the chair, chewing absentmindedly on a rubbery waffle. He had expected the little speech from Coach. Honestly, he didn't even want to tell them he had gone into Ellis' room last night, but he was sure they'd notice the presence of Nick's blanket.
Besides, what did he care? Ellis was his lover...ex-lover? It didn't seem right to think of him that way.
"Actually, Coach, I was killed. What you see right now? A ghost. Ooooo," Nick waggled his fingers at the older man, who raised an eyebrow so high Nick thought it might shoot off of his forehead. Rochelle choked on her glass of water.
"Point is, Nick, we're all we got now," Coach continued, "Now, I'm not sayin' we should stop seein' the boy, but goin' alone is just downright foolhardy."
"But he's okay, Coach," Rochelle said. Nick mentally put Rochelle at the top of his best friends list, "You think he'll like Spaghetti-O's, Nick?" she plucked a can from the pile and inspected the expiration date.
"Probably. Loved them before, remember? Especially those stupid alphabet ones."
"These aren't alphabet, but they have meatballs," the woman noted. Nick shrugged.
"It's good enough. He definitely wanted some Nick meatballs last night."
Rochelle smiled coyly and sniggered and Nick promptly took her off his best friends list.
"El, look what we got for you," Nick held the can up to the bars and tipped it back and forth in his hand. Ellis watched them from the back of the room, still covered by Nick's ripped blanket. He gave them his usual growl of warning.
"Should we go in?" Rochelle asked. Coach shrugged.
"Nick went in alone last night and nothin' happened."
Nick took that as a cue and slipped the pipe from its hold. He retained a firm grip on it; that pipe, he knew, was the only thing that would keep them safe. The three slipped inside and shut the door behind them.
Ellis, not knowing what to do, arched his back and snarled. He was still incredibly wary of that pipe, skirting around Nick whenever the gambler got too close.
"Overalls, food," he held out the can for Ellis to inspect. Ellis, his heightened senses smelling what was contained inside the can, cautiously came forward, obviously still hungry.
"Good boy!" Rochelle cooed and the boy snapped his head up to stare at her. Nick rolled his eyes.
"He's not a dog, Ro."
"I know," she responded quickly, embarrassed.
"Just give the boy his food, Nick," Coach sighed heavily, "no use in tauntin' him."
"I think I know what I'm doing," he snapped back, "you said he's not all Hunter, and that means he's still Ellis, somewhere. So he should be able to trust us. Just gotta remind him."
He stretched his arm out further. Ellis paused for a moment, then took the steps necessary to reach him, sniffing the can. Then, like lightning, he took the can into his mouth, hurled it into the wall behind him, the pounced on it before it had time to hit the floor. Razor sharp claws tore open the metal and he began scarfing down the insides, his mouth covered with bright orange sauce and tiny pieces of noodle.
"Okay, that's a little gross," Rochelle said.
"Hope the boy don't hurt himself. Them edges look sharp."
"Don't think he cares, Coach," Nick said, but he was pleased. Ellis had been less than an inch away from him, and hadn't attacked.
It showed much-needed promise.
Against the warnings of Coach and his own better judgment, Nick went back to see Ellis that night, when the world outside was dark and stagnant and made the interior of the school burn in its everlasting light. He slipped through the door and sat against the wall next to it, holding the pipe so he was sure Ellis could see.
Ellis gave a slight growl and paced against the back wall.
"Relax. You'll like this," he said and pulled out a crumpled plastic bag half-full of stale Fruit Loops. He opened it and tossed one Ellis' way. The boy leapt in an impressive display and caught it between his teeth, ready for another bite the second he hit the ground.
Nick chuckled and couldn't help but remember all the times Ellis would try and catch food in his mouth. The kid was awful at it, and it used to make Nick so angry that the boy would waste food when there was barely any to be found. But when food was finally available, when they were safe and okay, he found he liked watching Ellis bob back and forth with his head tilted back and his mouth wide open, ready to catch the little morsels. It provided slight amusement in an otherwise unamusing place.
And a couple of times, Ellis had flicked pieces of food at Nick in an effort to get him to participate. He never did, and snapped at the boy for it, and now he regretted not humoring him when he had the chance.
He regretted a lot of things.
"Want another?" he asked, fishing a handful of cereal from the bag. He knew the taste probably didn't appeal to the mechanic, but food was food and Ellis, even in this state, knew it.
Ellis made a strange noise deep inside his throat and opened his mouth. Nick paused for a moment, then took a piece of cereal and flicked it toward him. Ellis caught it again, expertly. Apparently becoming a zombie improved your hand-eye coordination, something that Nick certainly never would have expected.
They kept on for an hour or so. Nick was expecting to go through the whole bag of cereal, but Ellis lost interest before reaching that point. Nick kept trying to throw the little frosted circles at Ellis' mouth, but the boy didn't care to be involved anymore, and the bits of cereal just bounced off his head. Ellis regarded the stray pieces, unimpressed, on the floor.
He wiggled underneath the blanket, curled up in his customary little ball and watching Nick as he always did.
"Miss your hat, Overalls? Is that why you keep hiding under that thing?"
Ellis snorted.
"Yeah. Well, I miss it too. Somehow, you look even more like an idiot without it."
Nick wondered vaguely why he had to continue putting on such a tough front for a guy who didn't even understand him.
He briefly considered leaving the rest of the cereal in the room, but decided against it; Ellis knew Nick to be the bearer of food, and that was one of the things that kept him safe.
Nick closed the door and locked it, then glanced at Ellis.
"If I bring you another blanket tomorrow, will you rip that one up too?"
Ellis made another strange noise and retreated further under the cover until his face was hidden.
Nick took that as his cue to leave.
