A thousand cicadas sang in one deafening, obnoxious performance that assaulted the team as their boat quietly drifted through the swamp in complete darkness, save for the moon and a thin blanket of stars. The humidity didn't die with the sun, but some of the heat did. Instead of torturous brutality, the air was more irritatingly damp and warm.

"Of course, cicadas survive a zombie apocalypse," Nick grumbled under his breath, squinting in the dark as he navigated around obstacles meticulously. Ellis had returned to his post a couple of hours ago, boredly staring out at the monotonous woods that surrounded the swampy area. At the conman's remark, he snickered.

"Talkin' 'bout cicadas, this one time, me and my buddy Keith went lookin' for gators to wrestle, an' boy was those cicadas hopped up! They was screamin' out there. I ain't never heard anythin' like it. It was hard ta even hear ya own thoughts. So, what we did was -,"

"I swear to God, I'll shoot you right off this damn boat if you don't shut up, Ellis. I can't handle the cicadas and your incessant talking at the same time," Nick snapped, interrupting the story. He angrily swiped his sleeved arm across his sweaty face and let out a loud, irritated sigh. He was starting to think he would've rather drowned earlier than be forced to spend another living moment out in this hellish swamp. It contained everything he hated in life; heat, germs, bugs, and zombies. All mixed up in one slimy, stinky stew that was practically being forced down his throat.

"The boy saved yo' drowning ass, you'd think you'd be a little more appreciative and just listen to one story," Coach commented mildly from where he stood at the side of the boat, leaning against the ledge. Rochelle nodded in agreement and casted Ellis a sympathetic glance. The southerner was hardly paying attention; he was used to the conman shutting him down, and at this point he'd caught a dragonfly and was letting it dance up his arm, an amused grin on his young face.

"I don't recall asking for your input, Coach. Besides, what do you want me to do? Bake him a nice apple pie made from scratch to remind him of his dear ol' ma? Maybe you haven't noticed, but we're stuck in a zombie apocalypse, helping each other to survive is part of the day. He looks happy enough with his new buddy, anyway," Nick scoffed, gesturing at Ellis and his dragonfly.

"I dunno, I think I woulda just left you under water," Coach said with a shrug.

"Ditto, pal," Nick sneered.

"Listen, boys, ya'll can have your little dick measuring contest another time. I'm getting tired. How much longer until we can take a break?" Rochelle interrupted.

"Look at the map and see where the nearest safehouse is – oh, right, Nick destroyed the one and only map we had."

"Really, Coach? I was drowning. The contents of my pockets were the least of my concerns."

"Do I look like I have a single shit left to give about your excuses? Maybe if you knew how to swim like a man, we'd still have the damn map!"

"I was still pulled into the water; it would've been ruined regardless! Maybe if you had been actually paying attention and contributing to the group for once, you would've spotted the zombie and killed it before it dragged me away, leaving us with a nice, dry map!"

"I was the one to point out the sound, you prissy fuck!"

"And what good did that do, lardass?"

"Lardass? Lemme show you what this lardass can do!"

Coach tossed his weapon to the floor and launched himself at the conman, who immediately caught his fist and twisted his arm painfully behind his back, landing his free fist across Coach's jaw. Coach howled in anger and pain, pulling against the conman, and managed to throw him over his shoulder with his one free arm. Nick landed on his back with a hard thud, air knocked from him, and he gasped as his lungs failed to pull in oxygen. Coach didn't waste a second in pinning the conman to the ground and delivering a blow to his face, a snapping noise heard as his nose was broken. Nick shouted out in pain and wrapped his legs around Coach's hips, using his weight to throw the other man off of him. He staggered up to his feet, clutching at his broken nose, blood gushing down his face.

"You broke my fucking nose!" he shouted. Ellis pushed Nick back as Coach picked himself up from the ground, and Rochelle manned the wheel, dubiously turning it every now and then, having zero experience with boats.

"Tha's enough! Ya'll are teammates, we can't go wastin' our energy an' health on hurtin' each other!" Ellis hollered over the men's swapped insults.

"This is all because of your stupid story, Overalls!" Nick snapped, shoving the southerner away from him. His blood had streamed over his mouth, down his neck, and stained the collar of his shirt.

"Nah, I was planning on beatin' yo' ass eventually," Coach sneered.

"Stop! Both of ya just shuddup! Seriously, it's been a long day an' we're all tired an' hungry. Nick, jus' get us to a safehouse. I know you can get us there," Ellis said, steering Coach back to his side of the boat, talking to him in low tones. Panting from his mouth, nose ruined, Nick returned to the wheel, ignoring Rochelle, and gripped it so tight his knuckles turned white.

"Do you really know how to find the safehouse?" Rochelle asked quietly, eyeing the mess on his face. Nick grunted an affirmative. He was one of the best damn conmen out there before the apocalypse and relied on gambling and tricks to make a living for himself. He'd been a very wealthy man, and it was not just thanks to his suave skills. No, Nick also had a photographic memory. He could remember complex, small details after only studying something for a minute or so. A map was new for him, but he was sure he could still guide them to a much-needed reprieve.

The next hour was spent in tense silence; Ellis and Rochelle occasionally exchanged a few tentative words, but neither risked triggering one of their enraged teammates into another fit of violence. Finally, Nick pulled the boat up to an old, saggy dock.

"There's a safehouse up on that hill," Nick announced, waving dismissively at a hill about a hundred yards away. Coach was the first one off the boat; he stormed towards the hill in silence without so much as a look back at anyone, carrying his rifle close to his bulky chest. Rochelle made eye contact with Ellis and tilted her head in Coach's direction, silently telling Ellis she'd talk to him. The southerner nodded and they hopped off the boat; Rochelle went after Coach, and Ellis helped Nick tie the boat securely to the dock.

"You okay, Nick?" Ellis asked as they headed towards the safehouse.

"Absolutely. I'm fantastic," Nick grumbled, his audible breathing ragged.

"I'm real sorry."

Nick abruptly stopped walking and grabbed his shoulder, causing Ellis to nearly stumble over his own feet as he was whirled to face the conman.

"What're you sorry for, Overalls? For failing to spot the zombie? For telling everyone I can't swim? For pissing everyone off with your stupid hick stories? I can go on if I haven't struck the nail on the head yet," the conman said, his dark eyes flashing with raw anger, the area around his nose already swollen and bruised. Ellis flinched at the verbalization of his day's failures. He broke eye contact with the other man, casting his embarrassed, shamed gaze to the grass.

"Tha' ain't fair, Nick. Nobody saw the zombie, not even you. And I didn't mean ta tell everyone you couldn't swim. I couldn't get you onto the boat by m'self. You were jus' deadweight, an' I was real scared," Ellis muttered, throat clenching. Nick shook his head with a pained scoff, fists at his hips as he stared off at the safehouse.

"You should've just left me there," he finally said, resuming his stride towards the hill. Now it was Ellis's turn to grab his arm, yanking him back. Nick was stronger, though, and easily pulled out of the mechanic's grip.

"Don't say such a stupid thing!" Ellis said incredulously, catching up to the conman since he couldn't be stopped. His words went ignored, met only by the orchestra of insects in the swamp.

"Seriously, Nick, it ain't funny," he pushed. Nick stopped at the door of the safehouse and turned his head to look at Ellis. The mechanic had never seen the conman look so defeated, not ever. No matter what happened, Nick always emerged so cool and collected, a famous arrogant smirk on his handsome face. But right now, his perfectly groomed hair was a rumpled, unruly mess, his eyes tired and heavy with dark shadows, crooked nose busted and bloody, bruised and swollen. His impeccable white suit was all out of place; jacket draped over his arm, shirt soaked in sweat and clinging to every muscle of his torso, socks and shoes tucked under the same arm of the jacket.

"I wasn't trying to be funny," Nick said, voice quiet and flat. Before Ellis could respond, his heart breaking, Nick pulled open the door of the safehouse and went in.

The safehouse appeared to be the old cabin of a swamp hermit. There was a small living room and kitchen, one cramped bathroom, and one bedroom. The couch had a pull-out mattress, to their surprise. Since Coach and Rochelle had gotten there first, they'd already claimed the bedroom. Nobody was shy in this group anymore. There was no energy to waste on embarrassment; Rochelle would share a sleeping space with anyone if it meant being comfortable, and the others felt the same. Coach was rummaging through the kitchen for food while Rochelle searched the bedroom for anything useful.

"Everyone come get some dry clothes to sleep in," she called out, organizing options on the bed. She and Ellis never had a problem with clothing; they fit in pretty much anything they found, both being lean. Coach had the hardest time, and there was no pleasing Nick. Still, pajamas were easy, they just needed to be dry. Ellis desperately wanted to continue the conversation from outside with Nick, but the other man seemed to have already pushed it out of mind. He was already joining Rochelle in the bedroom to grab his pajamas, a simple undershirt and black sweatpants, disdainfully leaving behind the boxers – even in the midst of an apocalypse, his germaphobia wouldn't allow him to wear used boxers, even if they looked clean – but grabbed a pair of socks. Ellis accepted a shirt and plaid pants, boxers and socks, without even sparing any of it a glance.

"Nick, those are the only sweatpants and they have elastic and a drawstring, gimme those and take these plaid pants," Coach said with a resigned sigh. Nick scoffed, pushing past the larger man to change in the living room.

"Look at my face and see if I care whether or not you fit in those pants. I don't wear plaid," he said. Nobody could argue with that logic, though it didn't stop Coach from mumbling expletives beneath his breath. Not wanting to bloody his pajamas, Nick sat on the closed toilet in the bathroom and tilted his head back for Ellis to examine.

"It's busted pretty darn good. This is gonna hurt," Ellis warned, holding the side of Nick's jaw with one hand to prevent him from pulling away. The glare he received indicated that the conman was aware and simply wanted it over and done with.

"Alrighty, on three then. One -,"

Ellis snapped Nick's nose into place without bothering to count to three, finding it easier to set a bone properly when the person was not expecting it. The conman jerked against his hand and hissed in pain, a fresh burst of blood oozing down his face. Ellis fisted Nick's hair with one hand, not letting him resist the help as he washed the blood away with a clean, wet cloth in the other hand. The conman didn't object or resist, though. He simply sat back, head tilted, allowing the help. Ellis waited for sarcastic comments, jokes, or small talk, but none came, much to his dismay. When his face and neck were clean, leaving behind only the bruising and swelling, Nick stood and changed into pajamas. He didn't even complain about the shower not working. It all felt so wrong. Ellis put together an icepack for him and set up their bed, stacking the couch cushions in the corner. He made the bed the way he knew Nick liked it; fitted sheet over the mattress, a top sheet tucked in neatly, and a light comforter. The hermit's cabin had a generous supply of pillows and blankets, thankfully. He placed one plump pillow on Nick's side, and three on his own side.

The team sat in the kitchen to eat their dinner together. There were plenty of canned foods to choose from; green beans, corn, baked beans, sweet potato, ravioli, beef stew, chicken noodle soup, and tuna fish. Coach had even found a large container of homemade, dried, jerky of unknown origin. This would definitely leave with them. Ellis chowed the ravioli down heartily, it being his favorite canned dinner, with a heaping side of all the vegetables. Rochelle shared his enthusiasm, as did Coach. Nick moodily toyed with his green beans, his breathing audibly congested through the swelling, appetite absent.

"This one time, me an' Keith was playin' manhunt in my backyard, an' we ended up in my ma's kitchen 'cause I was tryin' ta escape, an' Keith knocked over a box of lemonade powder. It spilled everywhere! Well, it was real late at night, an' we didn't wanna wake my ma, so we sorta panicked in our rush ta clean it up. Keith used a soaked paper towel, but it only turned the powder in'ta real lemonade! There was lemonade everywhere, all over the kitchen! I laughed so hard, it woke my ma, an' she was real mad. She mopped it all up. Keith was so embarrassed," Ellis chuckled at the memory, nearly choking twice as he told the story through mouthfuls of ravioli.

"Honey, chew your food, I don't think anyone has it left in them to save another life today," Rochelle said, not ungently, an amused smile on her face. Ellis nodded, turning his cap backwards as he dug into his meal. He glanced over at Nick's meager choice and frowned.

"Aren't ya gonna eat somethin' more?" Ellis asked through a mouthful of food, offering a piece of jerky. It was rejected.

"I'm not hungry. Chew your food before you choke," Nick mumbled.

"What, now you're gonna be a big baby after one little scuffle?" Coach demanded, swallowing the last of the corn. Nick glowered at him venomously.

"No, as if I'd let someone as pathetic as you ruin my appetite. Not everyone needs to devour a village for dinner."

"Oh please, you've been a sulking brat ever since we got here."

"Why are you so obsessed with me? Mind your own business."

"Obsessed? You wish, pretty boy."

"You're the one calling another man pretty."

Ellis waved his fork in between them, startling the two bickering men as pieces of food flew off the metal, the only female in the group heaving an impatient sigh.

"Can you guys jus' make up already?" the southerner demanded. Rochelle was already giving up on the men; she reached over and grabbed another can of black beans, thumbing the tab up and yanking the lid off with a determined look on her face. She'd tuned the fighting out the second it broke out.

"Ain't nothin' to make up for, he's just being sensitive. And chew your food, it's not that difficult," Coach snapped.

"I'm not being sensitive. I'm tired of the whole ordeal…which you started."

"There it is, you're hung up on who started it like a child. And it was you, by the way. You were mean to Ellis after he saved your life."

"How the hell is it your business? You should've kept your stupid comments to yourself!"

"Lesson learned."

"Yeah, right."

Their argument was interrupted by Ellis choking on his ravioli, startling Rochelle, who was sitting across from him, as he suddenly gagged and coughed, nothing coming up even as he bent against the table.

"Christ," Nick swore from beside the choking mechanic. He leaned over and hit Ellis hard in the back as Coach stood, his chair scraping against the floor. The hitting didn't work; Nick got up and grabbed Ellis, wrapping his arms around his torso, clasping his hands together in front of him and tugged back.

"You're not doing it right," Coach insisted, moving around the table to help.

"Shut the hell up," Nick shouted as the food came up and landed on the kitchen floor, quickly followed by vomit as Ellis heaved over Nick's arms. The southerner shuddered, taking in gulps of air. Rochelle was already returning with a wet towel; she mopped up the floor as everyone settled back into their seats.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Can't you do something as basic as chewing?" Nick snapped. Ellis was blushing heatedly and shot him a glare.

"Thanks for your concern," he said with an indignant sniff. He took a sip of water as Rochelle patted his arm comfortingly. Coach sighed.

"Alright, hell, Nick, I'm sorry for lashing out on you. And for breaking your nose. It's hot as balls out there and I can't stand the heat. I don't get how you can stand under that blistering sun in that suit of yours, just the sight alone made me angry. Can't explain it," Coach said apologetically.

"I can't stand the heat either, I get it," Nick replied.

"So, we cool now?"

"Yeah, we're cool."

Ellis shook his head incredulously, wishing he would've choked earlier in the day if that was all it took to bring the two teammates together again. Dinner ended pretty quickly after that, in a much lighter mood. They packed up whatever they'd be able to comfortably carry, and then each pair separated to their respective beds. Coach even shook Nick's hand, as if ensuring their mended relationship. The handshake turned into a test of strength, which led to arm wrestling until Rochelle was yelling at them from the doorway of the bedroom like an angry mother.

Ellis was lying in bed beneath the covers, staring at the ceiling. The lights turned out after the bedroom door closed, and he listened to Nick make his way over to their bed. The mattress dipped with his added weight, cheap metal creaking as the other man settled in. And then there was silence in the darkness, the only noise being the muffled song of the cicadas. Minutes ticked by and Ellis turned his head to look at Nick; the conman was on his side, facing away from Ellis, an icepack resting between his face and the pillow to bring down inflammation while he slept. He wasn't sure if the conman was still awake; his breathing was slow and steady and he was unmoving, but Nick never snored anyway. Ellis, lying on his back, crossed his arms beneath his head and tried to sleep. He closed his eyes and did his best to empty his mind.

You should've left me there.

The image of Nick's tired, bloody, bruised face burned behind his eyelids. He opened his eyes and looked at Nick again; the man still hadn't moved, though now Coach's bear-like snoring reverberated from the bedroom. It was amazing that Rochelle was able to sleep through it, but then again, her snoring wasn't too far behind in volume. They could've formed a band with the cicadas. He grinned in the dark, imagining what their cover photo would look like.

I wasn't trying to be funny.

The grin immediately fell from his face. Why would Nick say such an awful thing? He hadn't expected those words to come from the conman's mouth. The guy was so cool and collected. Nothing phased him. He never stayed down or cried, even when they missed the helicopter by mere seconds from the rooftop and the rest of the team was in tears. He'd immediately started making a plan for the next move. He was strong and brave and…Nick.

Ellis's throat tightened and he felt guilty. What if he'd just never noticed Nick silently suffering? What if he only assumed Nick was always okay, when he was dying on the inside? The southerner rolled onto his side, now facing Nick's quiet form, anxiety clouding his head and sending his heart into an uncomfortably fast pace.

"Hey, Nick?" he whispered tentatively.

Silence, no movement.

"Nick," Ellis said louder, the anxious urgency clear in his voice. His teammate released a deep sigh.

"What is it, Overalls?" he asked reluctantly, not turning around. The mechanic propped himself up on one arm, somehow mildly relieved at the sound of his voice.

"Are you…Are you okay?" Ellis asked, unsure how to turn his concern into words. He'd never met someone so stoic and intent on bottling their feelings. He didn't know how to check on him.

"Am I okay?" Nick repeated as if it was a stupid question. "Ellis, go to bed."

The back of his neck warmed. The whole encounter was embarrassing. But he knew if he didn't follow through, he'd be stuck seeing his afflicted image behind his eyelids all night.

"Why didja say that stuff outside?" Ellis asked, voice soft and hushed. A pause turned into extended silence, and the anxious concern he felt started turning into anger as his patience wore thin. He hissed his name again.

"Christ, please, go to sleep; I'm exhausted," Nick responded impatiently, voice thick with bone-deep exhaustion. No, this wasn't going to just slip by. Ellis grabbed Nick's shoulder and yanked him onto his back. Hovering over him, he looked at his bruised face, his eyes blinking wide in shock before narrowing. He moved as if to sit up, but Ellis slammed him back against the mattress, not caring that the movement made a loud creak in protest; the snoring didn't even pause from the bedroom.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Nick snarled, reaching up to push him away, but Ellis was faster. He easily pinned down the other man, leaning over his torso to restrain his arms.

"You're gonna tell me what you were sayin' outside," Ellis said calmly.

"What I'm going to do is kill you the second you let go. I'm going to beat the South right out of you. You'll be talking like a normal person when I'm done," Nick promised sweetly. His eyes flashed in the darkness, jaw clicking audibly as he gritted his teeth.

"Start talkin', I ain't gonna let you go ta sleep 'til you say it all," the mechanic insisted, ignoring the threat, digging his fingers into the conman's wrists from how hard he held him against the mattress.

"What do you want me to say, Hayseed? It was pretty clear and simple. You should've left me there. What else is there?" Nick hissed, the muscles in his arms flexing as he struggled against the redneck's hold.

"How 'bout why wouldja say that? We can start there. Why do ya think I shoulda left you?" Ellis pushed, chest rising and falling quicker with each anxious breath, his eyes meeting Nick's in the darkness.

"What does it matter? I said what I said." Nick stopped resisting against Ellis's hold. He relaxed into the mattress, eyes dulling.

"It matters ta me! I woulda never left you. You don't…You don't even know how terrified I was when you didn't pop back up from the water. I woulda traded my life for yours. You're so important ta this group, ta me. What's wrong with you?" His passionate words didn't stir any life back into the conman's eyes, he was unaffected by the desperation and anxiety that hovered above him. Nick's gaze had turned away from Ellis to the boarded window.

"Keith and Dave are looking for you. Coach's family is already waiting for him with the military. Ro's got her dad and sister with the military, too. You know who's looking for me, who's waiting for me? Nobody. I had nothing but a plush life to lose when this apocalypse started. I don't have family; my dad was an abusive piece of shit and my mom died when I was young. I don't have any siblings. I don't have tight friends like Keith and Dave. I started thinking a few weeks ago about what my goal is. There isn't one. What's even the point, then? Living each day on rationed canned food and whatever dirty water we find, constantly running ragged and battling zombies all day every day. For what? Why would I be so desperate to cling to such an empty, desolate world? It's not like we'll reach help and suddenly the world will manifest back to normal life. Nothing will ever be the same. There's no point in my survival, and that's an honest fact. If I died right here and now, nobody would care. You guys would leave my body for zombie chow and continue to move forward, as you should."

Nick didn't sound emotional or hesitant as he spoke. It was like he was talking about the weather, each sentence stabbing at Ellis's heart further and further. His light blue eyes filled with tears as he realized that Nick didn't carry an ounce of self-worth anymore, that he no longer valued his life. It hurt and scared him, and his grip on the other man loosened.

"I would care. If you died…it would kill me. If you got separated from our group, I would look for you, I would wait for you. You have ta survive. If not for your own sake, then for mine, 'cause I don't want ta think about going on without you. Sure, the world won't never be the same. But that's okay. It's a fresh start, Nick. You can start over an' do whatever you want, be whoever you want. Stay with me. Join me, Keith, an' Dave. You'd like them, they're good people, and you're so cool they'd like you, too. But…please…Don't for one minute think that ain't no one cares 'bout you, because you're wrong. I care. A lot." Ellis snuffled, a few tears escaping, trickled down his cheeks. Nick stared up at him in surprise.

"Are…Are you crying?" Nick asked incredulously, his voice tinged with a restrained laugh. He reached up and wiped at Ellis's wet face.

"Christ, relax. I'm not going to off myself or something. I just don't have anything to live for is what I'm saying," he said gently, cupping Ellis's tear-streaked cheek. He was stunned that the kid was crying over him, that he felt so deeply about Nick's state of mind. It gave him a weird feeling in his chest, and he realized nobody had ever cried for him before. His heart skipped a beat, and he studied the sad, young face staring down at him with a look of dismay. The mechanic really did care; Nick didn't doubt a single word he spoke, and it warmed him.

"There's plenty ta live for. I can show you. Stay with me, I'll show you, I swear," Ellis said, voice broken, more tears trickling down his cheeks. Nick nodded and pulled the kid down flush against his body, wrapping him tightly in his arms. Ellis didn't even react; he merely buried his face into Nick's neck, the tears hot against his skin, and Nick's quiet laugh rumbled against Ellis's chest. He rubbed the mechanic's back comfortingly.

"Everything's okay, Ellis. I'm fine. Really, there's nothing to worry about or be so upset over. I'll meet your redneck buddies if it'll make you happy," Nick murmured, running his fingers through Ellis's free curls.

"It's not ta make me happy; I want ta make you happy," Ellis said.

"I know, Overalls. I know. Go to sleep."