Gabriel! Get up Gabriel! GABRIEL!
He struggled to rise from his dream until he nearly threw himself into consciousness. The sheets stuck to him in a haphazard way, he was sweating and it tangled him further in the twisted bedding. It was a moment before he could steady his panicked breathing, reminding himself it was just a dream he brought his hand to his face, still trembling, and covered his eyes.
"Give it a rest, Gabe." He said to himself in a weak voice, suddenly sounding much younger. His adrenalin was still causing him to shake and he was too rattled to try and drift to sleep again. He threw off the sheet in disgust and headed downstairs, Fisher's low snores reassured him that he hadn't woken anyone. He headed to the kitchen and found the sink in the dark, twisted the rusty tap and splashed the cold water onto his face and neck. He stood there hunched over the sink, letting the water drip from his chin. Letting out a shaky breath he willed himself to calm, closing his eyes once more.
Images flashed before his eyes, the flames throwing dangerous shadows across threatening men, the screaming girl. Her face was mostly a blur in the dream, he wasn't sure if he really remembered what she looked like, what Cale had looked like. He had no warm memories of that place, only the haunting screams of a desperate girl. Many years, and more miles had made the whole thing seem like a lifetime ago, and yet it still plagued him. Possibly why he continued to live like a criminal, hoping to bury the past with an ugly present. Trying so hard to erase that frightened voice from his mind.
"She's dead. It's not your fault." He sternly told himself, the thought of sleeping again made him uneasy, but he would have to try if he wanted to be any help to Fisher tomorrow. He fumbled around in the dark for the bottle of scotch he knew was beneath the sink and poured himself a small glass, gulping down a burning swallow with relief.
A loose floorboard groaned deeper in the café, he set the glass down silently and felt along the counter for the kitchen knife he knew was there. There were definite footsteps now, they approached hesitantly, as though trying to mask their advance. He stooped down below the counter, where he knew shadow would mask his presence completely. His eyes adjusted slightly, the kitchen was still a blur of murky darkness, but he could see the difference in the dark of the café, and the figure that passed through it. He waited until it passed his hiding place and then rose up silently on his toes behind it. His left arm swept around and groped until it could pin both of the intruders arms down and with his right hand pressed the edge of the blade warm flesh.
"You picked the wrong people to fuck with, pal." He said as he dragged the blade upward against the skin in threat.
" Gabe!" A familiar voice squeaked. "It's me!" He dropped his hands away in utter surprise, trying to check the surge of adrenalin that was now pulsing furiously through his veins.
"Jesus, Heather, I'm sorry."His voice came out hoarse, he fumbled for the lights on the wall bathing the kitchen in a warm yellow glow. Heather stood in the center looking very small, her eyes were wide with fright and her hand trembled at her throat, a smear of red across her hand where she had been bleeding. "Oh fuck," He said stupidly, grabbing a towel from the counter and splashing a bit of the scotch over it. He went to dab at her throat and she flinched a little, shame burned through his body and he instead handed the towel to her so that she could press it against her wound. "I'm so sorry." He repeated himself pulling his hand down over his face.
Heather gave a nervous chuckle. "You scared me there for a minute. Thought you were gonna cut me." She laughed again but it seemed forced. Gabe tried to give her a reassuring smile but the truth was that he nearly had, hell, there was blood on the towel, there was no 'nearly' about it. But it could have been worse, much worse, and that's what made his blood run cold. "I'm okay." She waved away his mortified look, "I didn't feel nothing. Honest." Her smiled seemed more genuine this time and he tried to stamp down his own panic. He sat down heavily at one of the tables, his nerves completely shattered for the evening.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't sleep." He dragged his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture.
"Yeah," She said sheepishly, bringing the bottle of scotch with her and two glasses when she sat down next to him. Her hand touched her throat unconsciously, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped already. "I heard."
"Oh… " He couldn't think of anything else to say, a burning shame swept through him. "Sorry." He accepted a half glass of the scotch and sipped on the sharp drink, staring into the amber fluid.
"Don't be. Everyone has nightmares. Heck, I'd be shocked if you didn't." She reached across the table and placed her hand on his arm in a comforting way. "It's really okay. I'm really okay." He appreciated the gesture but withdrew his arm to rub at his temples.
"Now why'd you go and do that? Act like I'm poisonous to you." She crossed her arms and scowled at him, it was one of the only times he had seen something other than a smile on her face. The change in her demeanor surprised him, as did the sudden topic shift.
"You're not." He said, his tongue felt awkward in his mouth. He had never been much of a talker, and expressing himself was never a high point.
"Coulda fooled me." She humphed at him and took a deep swig of her own drink her eyes glittering.
He didn't really know how to explain, he hadn't been completely unaware of Heather's growing interest, but then he hadn't really thought she was serious either. He was a useless drifter, and a dangerous one at that. His palms started to sweat while he tried to figure out how he could explain to her the multitude of things that were wrong with him.
"I see the gears are turning. Don't bother with whatever excuses you've got to make up. I'm not interested." He could see she was hurt and hated that he done that, she stood and started to walk from the table. He reached out before he could stop himself and grabbed for her arm. She stopped easily but her face looked closed up.
"I'm the problem Heather, I'm the screwed up one."
"It's not you, it's me?" She smirked at him. "Ain't ever heard that one."
"That's exactly it." He sighed as she rolled her eyes at him. He continued on awkwardly now, needing her to understand. He stood and paced by the chair, his eyes darting in and out of eye contact, she leaned against the table waiting for more. "Heather, you're a fine girl," He corrected himself quickly. " a fine woman. If I would have met you ten years ago I'd be nipping at your heels every chance I got, making dumb excuses to be around you. By now I'd have you chasing little ones around the house, we'd be running a little part shop and Fisher wouldn't have to hunt in the wastes ever again."
She was clearly startled by his sudden jumble of words, she felt heat rise to her face as she thought of them having children together, wondered absently if there'd be any girls.
"But." The one word brought her crashing back down into reality. His voice was so earnest she hated for him to shatter her bliss. Before she lost her nerve she dove forward and pressed her lips up against his. For an agonizing moment she thought he was going to rebuff her, but then his frozen lips moved, gently returning the kiss. She ran her hands through his hair and pulled him up against her, his kisses were delicate at first, afraid she might break, but he kissed her with need now. His hands drew up her back, caressing her skin as his fingers slipped beneath her shirt.. Chills jumped up her spine as she leaned her body against his, his tongue traced along her lips and then deeper. She groaned with a smile and then broke away from him, trailing kisses down his jaw to his neck. He tasted sharply of sweat as she dragged her lips along his tender skin and it drove her wild. She ran her own fingers across his bare chest and down his taut stomach. She found his lips again and explored his mouth with her own tongue. She started to fumble with the elastic at his waist when she felt herself hoisted in the air and set on the table bodily. She grinned until she felt the cold of his absence. She opened her eyes and saw he had retreated several steps back. She felt flush with excitement and a little frustrated they had stopped..
"I can't do this." He eyed her warily and his chest was moving rapidly, she was a little out of breath herself.
"Why the heck not? I do somethin' wrong?" She sounded angrier than she meant but the rejection after an initial breach had her confounded. She stood up, trying to regain her composure and not look as though she had just been unceremoniously dumped.
"No," He said quickly shaking his head, his eyes held a haunted expression. "I'm a bad person Heather. I know you don't see that, but it's true. Folk in this town know it's true. And I'd just bring you nothing but the worst kind of trouble. I ain't right." His voice shook as he said it, knowing he hated himself more than anyone could. They stood in silence for an uncomfortable moment, Heather trying to let some kind of understanding trickle through what he had just said.
"Well, I just want you to know, that you're not a bad person, because I know it's true." He opened his mouth to argue but she pressed her fingers to his lips, effectively silencing him. "And Fisher knows it's true. And I just want to tell you, so that someday, you'll know it's true. And then maybe you won't have to deal with all this baggage you've made for yourself." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, a small smile curled her lips upward. "You should start that part shop, get out of the scavenging trade, I know the men you ride with, men who make you feel like you're not really a man, just a thug. And that's not you, no matter how hard you hide from it." She finished the last of her scotch with a final swig and squinted her eyes. "You know where to find me if you change your mind, goodnight Gabe." She turned on a heel and walked out the door.
He leaned against the table and let out a slow breath. Half of him wanted to chase after her, finish what they had started here in the café, get their own house in town somewhere, settle down. Make a life. The other half hated himself even more now that he had hurt Heather, the woman who only had a smile for everyone. Hated that he was a coward, he shouldn't want those things, he had told himself a long time ago that he'd never make a family in this place. The Wastes was no place for a family. And he was no kind of man for a family.
He packed up his gear and set himself up for an extended trip, running away again. It was the best way, he wasn't sure he could face Heather's smiling face again tomorrow. Or Fisher's knowing stare, couldn't stand to disappoint the people who cared about him so much. He packed up some rations and left several caps for the food he had troubled Fisher for. Before he left he stooped under the kitchen counter and replaced the half empty bottle of scotch with a full one he had found on his last excursion, pre-war. He knew Fisher would enjoy it, he hoped he would understand. He hoisted his bag over his shoulder and set out into the night.
Traveling on his own was something of a blessing, he needed the time alone, time for his thoughts. It was simpler just worrying about where his next meal would come from, and possibly where the next molerat would pop up. He followed the highway that stretched northwest, zigzagging his way, crossing plenty of ground to find the best loot. He wasn't in any hurry to get back, food and water he had, sleep he found at night, sometimes under the clear sky, sometimes in a long abandoned home. The routine was soothing, get up, eat, search for worthwhile junk.
He thought a lot about not going back, the further out he got, the more the idea appealed to him. He had gotten too comfortable in Vertville, sure he extended his travels to other towns, but mostly he came back to call it 'home'. The word made him feel trapped, made him afraid. Like at any moment it could all be torn away. It would have been nice to have said goodbye, but he knew himself, knew it would be easy to fall back into the old habit. Pretending he belonged with them. It would be easier this way, maybe better on Heather too. Might be he could send back some caps, keeping his distance but not feeling as though he had completely abandoned them.
He continued north further than he had before, the area more mountainous, he skipped it for the reasons that everyone skipped it, it would be a pain in the ass to hike up, and might have nothing to offer. He decided to push on this time, maybe it would pay off, and the sooner he finished scavenging, the sooner he had to decide if he would return to Vertville at all, or if he'd just move on completely. He kept an eye out for predators, they weren't so common this high up, but his paranoia had kept him out of trouble more than once. The hills grew higher still, and he was panting to find footholds in the rocky ground, it took him the better part of an hour to hike his way up once he started having to climb. The sun beat down and there wasn't much of a breeze to offer relief, he started to wonder if this had been a good idea after all. He stumbled onto a small game trail just as he was sure he wasn't going to be able to climb much higher, he noticed a little sheepishly that it seemed to lead further down the mountain, something he probably would have been able to find if he had bothered looking. It curved around the hill and disappeared behind a bend, it looked well worn, and recently used. He pulled up his hunting knife in case he should come to surprise something nastier than a crow.
He followed the trail, aware of his surroundings, there was a different smell up here, he couldn't quite place it. He shook it off as the stone echoed strange noises to his ears, voices. He slowed his pace and pushed his head around the corner of the next rock outcropping to see who was up ahead.
The path widened substantially once it passed this bend and there was a man standing at the far end, goading a woman who knelt in the path. Her arms and legs bound together and she looked roughed up. He was encouraging her to try and run again with the heel of his boot. The rage bubbled up inside him and before he knew what he was doing he had stepped out from behind the rock, his face grim. The man turned at the sudden movement and opened his mouth to shout when Gabe's hunting knife found itself lodged in the man's chest. The shout came out as a wheezing gasp and he clutched at the knife before blood bubbled up from his lips and he collapsed face first into the ground.
Gabe retrieved his knife quickly and wiped the blood off on the man's shirt. The woman sat crouched nearby, uncertainty clouded her features. He supposed she didn't have any more reason to trust him than she had the man who now lay dead in the dirt.
"Are you alright?" He asked her, approaching slowly holding the knife out to show he meant no harm. She looked suspicious but didn't draw back when he moved to cut her bindings. Once her arms and legs were freed she nodded. He looked around and saw that the path led further into the mountain. "Are there more of them?"
She still looked a little out of sorts, half starved and beaten, but she seemed to be getting more alert. She nodded again, rubbing her wrists where the rope had chafed them painfully.
"Ten? Maybe?" She shrugged. "Some had gone to sell off water up north. The rest are spread out in the grove, but they won't be expecting any trouble." He nodded his thanks and started to move on. She hesitated a moment, eying the rifles strapped to his back. "If you've got a spare gun, I know how to use one." He eyed her carefully, he wasn't in the habit of arming strangers. "They've got my family." She said quietly. Something in her eyes told him she wasn't lying, he gave a quick nod and pulled them both out, one for him and one for her. He probably wouldn't be lucky enough to be able to take any others out with his knife without getting shot first.
"Alright, let's go find your family." They both set their faces in a determined way and marched down the path, rifles at the ready.