"Hey, Ellis?"
"Yeah?"
"What's the date today?"
Ellis scrunched his face cutely and scratched at the side of his head. "Ya know… I ain't really sure… We got here late December… probably 'round Christmas. I only know 'cause they kept sayin' that we was like a late Christmas gift or somethin'… They ha'n't see too many Survivors comin' outta New Orleans an' so they sorta figured everyon' was done bein' saved an' stuff… But then we four came 'long an' rekindled the hope!" He grinned, obviously proud of that thought. "We sure surprised them."
"Uh-huh…" Nick replied absently. He adjusted the collar of his dress shirt—trying to, at least cover some of the hickies that the mechanic had so generously smothered him with that morning. It was a failed attempt at best and eventually Nick gave up, realizing he really didn't mind that much. He caught the young mans grin in the corner of his eye and turned to slowly meet his gaze.
Ellis' grin widened. "I sure got ya good, di'n't I?"
Nick's eyes teased the other suggestively for a moment and Ellis was almost positive they were about to tear clothes off again, but, instead, the conman clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and moved to the door. "Oh the explaining you'll have to give to poor, poor Coach and Rochelle." Ellis flushed crimson at this before following.
Though it was as they walked down the hallway towards the mess hall that Nick became very aware that he hadn't seen Coach for days—Rochelle for at least a week. Where had they gone? He vaguely recalled Coach's farewell, but he hadn't seen him since… And Coach with his heavy-set build and immense height wasn't exactly someone you didn't notice lumbering about. Where had they run off to?
"Ellis…?" he started curiously.
"I know whatcha yer thinkin' an' yes, Coach is still on this cruise ship. I've talked ta him a couple times over the last few days—"
"What? When?"
"Gettin' food an' stuff fer us." Ellis paused and then whispered, "It's like he lives there…"
Nick laughed. "Why does that not surprise me?"
Ellis grinned knowingly and continued, "But, yeah… anyway, he told me tha' Rochelle was gunna transfer ta the North Atlantic ta be with her family an' stuff. She also got some reportin' job out there an' so I think she's actually gunna be back ashore reportin' on the progress pretty soon… But tha' was like two or three days ago… I think she might be gone by now…"
Did he feel a great sense of loss knowing that the woman was probably gone out of his life forever? Not really. He and Rochelle hadn't always seen eye-to-eye but he respected having her as a part of the team—even if she had a habit of wasting bandages on little nicks and bruises.
It was like she couldn't stand seeing blood and did her best to cover up anything and everything—from little scratches to gaping wounds. The worse part is that she seemed to have no discretion between them. It was more than once that he simply had to throw up his hands and let her baby one of his many scratches along the way just so he wouldn't have to argue with her. Yeah, she had probably caused him the most headache throughout their journey to New Orleans. But, hell, she had saved him more than once and he remembered that too.
He was startled out of his quite musing when Ellis' hand snaked in his. Nick looked to the other and the southerner was smirking. Lately he had been holding that kid's hand a lot… not that he minded, but when he really thought about it, it was a rather new experience. He had barely even held her hand when they had been married. That thought alone actually made his fingers twitch violently—and Ellis noticed. The younger man gave him a worried frown. Nick pretended to not notice.
The ship was, as usual, lively at this hour—it was somewhere near noon and practically everyone was awake, wandering about aimlessly or making rounds back to the survivor/deceased lists to check for friends and family. Nick and Ellis, however, made their way to the mess hall where—not to either of their surprise—they spotted Coach.
In the big mans defense, it looked like he had was volunteering his time cooking—because he was dressed in a volunteer outfit. The moment that he spotted his two friends, he quickly waved them over.
"Well I'll be damned, Nick!" The former coach said, slapping the conman roughly on the shoulder. Nick did well to not flinch, but he gave the other an annoyed scowl (he was definitely back to his old self.) "Look at you, all smilin' and full of life." Coach paused for a moment—eyes wandering slightly and he looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he gave Ellis a healthy smack on the shoulder too, "And you, Young'un. Good for you."
They played catch-up as they ate—but mostly Coach did all the talking. Apparently, Coach had been very lucky—most of his immediate family had been found alive and transferred all around the New Orleans's vessels and they were waiting for another transfer before the rest of them could be reunited. It was good news—great news. Coach was probably one of the luckiest men alive right about now, and to be honest, Nick was happy for him… even if he was growing increasingly more annoying as he went on and on about all his amazing luck.
But then big mans ranting soon came to an end. He suddenly looked very concerned. "How have ya'll been findin' your families? Any good news?"
Nick shifted slightly and frowned, but Ellis spoke for them both, "Uh—oh… yeah… Nothin' real good though. Well, except fer Nick. Nick's got a sister in the North Atlantic evac area." Oh, Ellis and his big mouth. The southerner cringed visibly, realizing he had probably offered more information than Nick would have cared to. It was obvious in the way that Nick was now looking at him.
"Really?" Coach frowned thoughtfully, "North Atlantic? That's where Rochelle transferred. You should have gone with her."
"…Nah," Nick drew in a slow breath, trying to calm his suddenly pounding heart. "She and I weren't very close."
"You should at least send a notice to her that you're all right."
"Well, thanks, Coach. I'll keep that in mind." Mind your own damn business, Coach. Good guy, but your heart is sometimes bigger than your brain. Leave it be.
Of course, Coach didn't. "Well, I'm sure she'd be happy to hear from you."
"Uh-huh." Nick felt his brow twitching slightly.
"Wouldn't hurt."
"Right."
"Hey!" Ellis interjected loudly. They both looked to him and he flushed, fumbling for words. "So, uh… um… any news on when we can return ta shore? Ya seem like yew'd know Coach… bein' all volunteer-y an' all."
Coach seemed to decide whether or not to question Nick's suddenly sour mood, but he reluctantly moved on without comment. "Yeah. They're working on cleanin' out the city and sanitizin' it. It'll probably be at least another month before they move the vessels back to shore and set up the new stations there… Where do you two plan on goin' after all this, anyway? I know I'm headin' back home and I'm gonna start helping with the clean up of good ol' Savannah. You're welcome to join me, Ellis…" He hesitated for only a moment, "Nick."
"I'm not much for cleaning up other people's shit," the conman replied instantly.
Coach scoffed. "Where's home for you then?"
Nick shook his head slowly, almost annoyed with the lack of information Coach had seemed to gather on him, but in reality, Nick shouldn't have expected any differently. He never offered information about himself and it was becoming painfully obvious as their conversation continued.
"I have an apartment in North Carolina," the conman said, shrugging slightly.
Although, to be honest, he hardly even went there anymore. It had become more or less a quiet retreat when he was having a particular bad string of luck. He'd go 'home', relax, re-gather himself and continue on the road with his conning and gambling. His landlord had no complaints—he always paid on time and never caused any trouble…
Well, except for one time when he had been followed home by a particularly angry man… The guy had practically torn down Nick's door with a golf club and trashed his apartment with savage rage even a Tank could be proud of. Nick had been able to pawn it off as a random attack to the police (and to his landlord) and no one had thought any differently. Except, probably, for the poor sod left to serve time. Losing 30 grand didn't usually sit well with most. But, hey, it wasn't Nicks' fault the guy was so damn gullible. Too bad he had to use that 30 grand to fix up his apartment. Well, lesson learned.
"Well, how about you, Ellis? You wanna come back to Savannah with me?"
There was a long silence—an uncanny silence—and Nick looked to the southerner. Ellis was staring down at the table, frowning deeply. When he finally spoke, he didn't look up. "No… I love Savannah an' all… But there's jus' too much shit there tha' I don' wanna think 'bout… I ain't got no one left there no more an' goin' back there jus' won't feel righ', ya know? I think… I think tha' I'll…" he trailed off.
But then Nick elbowed him sharply and Ellis looked to him, startled. "How does Oak Ridge sound?"
"Oak Ridge?" Ellis looked confused.
Nick had to keep himself from sighing. "North Carolina?"
It took Ellis a few seconds to catch on, but when he did he beamed. "It sounds real good, Nick. Real good."
Nick ruffled the mechanics hair roughly, "You're god damn right it sounds good, kid. You're stuck with me forever, remember?"
Ellis giggled under the touch, swatting playfully at the other's hand, "Yeah, yeah I remember."
Coach raised one eyebrow slightly, but never voiced whatever he was thinking. Instead he simply shrugged mentally.
In the end, it seemed they had both found someone to live for.
A/N: This chapter kicked my ass. It was painful to write but I hope it's not too obvious I struggled with it. I needed to get some info in and it was a damn fight to do so and keep it interesting. (Shit it almost seems like I could end the damn thing right here, but I'm too selfish to do that LOL)
(pointless rambling here)
I was playing City 17 today… Turned a corner and shot a burst of fire at a Jockey that scared the shit out of me—hit a wandering Witch too. So I booked it—like mad. As I'm trying to climb over some rubble behind me I hear Coach's rumbling voice going "Hold on, I got somethin' for ya!" all the while the Witch's screams are getting closer and closer… And Coach suddenly stops me dead in my tracks as he starts to heal me. Of course, I start screaming at him and punching him, tried to pull out my health pack and back-peddle at the same time to get him to let go—but no, the Witch got me. I was… so pissed… Stupid… bots… seriously… Not to mention they let me die—twice after I turned off an alarm on another level and they were too stupid to figure out how to get up there. –shakes head- Bots. I swear. They drive me crazy.
I like making jabs at Rochelle because she's annoying. Today while playing she kept grabbing me and trying to heal me and I took pills and then an adrenaline after Ellis gave me one (I HATE her touching me)… and then she started to heal me again anyways and I kept smacking her and getting away and AGAIN she came after me and frustrated I yelled out "NO MEANS NO ROCHELLE. JESUS CHRIST!" and… now, I was playing in the lodge that I work in… and there were people… and they all gave me a O_o expression… I about died of embarrassment… stupid Rochelle…
I got a late start on this chapter but I was determined to post a chapter today! So ha! Got one posted before midnight, so I win!