II
Interlude: Leroy
II
The end of the world can make any man drink. Fortunately, Leroy already is.
At first, he actually thinks it's just the alcohol. He's so drunk he's imagining the end of the world in all its fiery, doom-y, death-y horror, that has to be it. He'll sober up and the world will be back to normal, because nothing as terrible as this could truly happen.
But the alcohol loses its grip, and the apocalypse doesn't. The sky is still burning and the world keeps roaring with destruction. This is actually happening, he realizes. He is watching the world end, and hearing it and smelling it too.
He's not drunk enough for this, he decides. In fact, there is probably no such thing as drunk enough for this - but he can try.
II
Chapter four: When everything's made to be broken / I just want you, you know who I am
Mary Margaret
II
Mary Margaret hasn't seen this part of town since before the end of the world, and the change shakes her to the core.
Masts are fallen across building and streets like a game of dominoes played to horrible effect. A few fires are still raging, while other places only the embers and ashes remain. Cars are littered along the street, most of them wrecks. And above all, it smells of fire and ashes and death.
David squeezes her hand as he notices her expression, and she looks down at their linked hands. His fingers laced with hers feel so natural, as if they've held hands a million times before. She met him yesterday and yet touching him, holding hands with him and even kissing him makes it feel like she knows him. Or at least her body does.
The truck finally pulls up, and she can see that a building has collapsed over the road and made any further driving impossible. She can also see the car parked just a few feet away and David tenses at once.
"It was the car they took," he says quietly. This time, it's she who squeezes his hand. His eyes soften in gratitude before he lets go and stands up. Moments later he has jumped off, and turns towards her with his arms out. She lets him lift her down, and her body hums with the familiarity of his body close to hers.
It's unnerving and thrilling at once, much like her discovery that she could breastfeed Emma. As happy as she is that she's able to feed the baby that she's starting to think of as theirs, it is still bothering her that she has no idea how.
"Looks like they never made it back to the car," Sean says, and the three men exchange worried glances. Graham pulls out his gun, and David rests his hand on the gun Gold gave him. She can feel her own fingers itch, and she fights the urge to pull out her bow.
David takes her hand again as they move into the debris, his palm warm against hers. They move carefully, almost edging forward rather than walking. As they move past half of a wall, Mary Margaret can finally see the Dark Star pharmacy. The windows are shattered, and the open sign has fallen to the pavement. One of the buildings next to it is slowly burning, while other looks relatively unharmed.
Graham looks tense as he moves closer, his gun held ready. In the distance, metal screeches against metal before a loud thump; another building collapsing, she supposes.
The door to the pharmacy is open, and they see why the moment they enter; those who entered never left, their bodies littering the floor. There is Mr. Clark first, buried underneath fallen shelves, dried blood around his head. An accidental death, by the looks of things.
The others are not. There is blood and signs of struggle, and two of the bodies still seemed locked together even in death. Mary Margaret draws a sharp breath as she takes it all in, then turns and buries her head against David's chest.
"Dammit," David says quietly, his voice tired and sad with just a hint of anger lurking behind it. He rubs her back (as much as the quiver and bow she has strapped on allows) softly however, and presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head.
"Michael and Walter," Graham says quietly, as if it's a eulogy. "Dammit!"
"Did they run into looters?" Sean asks, his voice shaky.
"I don't know the two others," Graham says, and Mary Margaret shifts to get another look at the bodies to see if she recognizes them. They don't look familiar, but it's hard to tell when one of them has deep burns on his face. "They might be."
"I think they were fighting over this," Sean says, holding up the large backpack. Mary Margaret guesses it's been filled with medicines and similar useful items. "I'll take it back to the truck."
David looks ready to protest, but then sighs and just nods. However ghoulish it is, what is in there may save lives, Mary Margaret knows, and it won't help the dead. The thought makes her shudder anyway, and she leans her head against David's chin and tries to fight back the tears.
"I'll check the back," Graham says tiredly. "Why don't you see if there is anything for Emma here? The others may not have thought of that."
"Right," David says. He kisses the top of her head again before reluctantly stepping away.
"Are we going to take the bodies back with us?" Mary Margaret asks, carefully moving around the pools of blood that makes her want to empty her stomach.
"We do sometimes," David says quietly. "But there are so many..."
He trails off, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw.
"Sometimes," he repeats, and she has to fight the urge to walk over and embrace him and just hold him. Instead, she focuses on lifting a fallen shelf and is rewarded with a welcome sight.
"Diapers," she says, and David looks up.
"Pacifier," he says in return, holding up a few items.
She nods at that, and they continue searching in silence until they've covered most of the floor. They do end up with a small load of diapers, pacifiers and children's medicine, as well as a couple of toys. Sean returns as well, telling them he's going to check next door, and David just wordlessly gives him the gun.
This is the world now, she thinks painfully.
"I'll find Graham and we'll see what we do about the bodies, why don't you take these to the truck?" David suggests to her and she nods. He helps her gather all the items in her arms, and then looks at her for a moment while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and caressing her cheek with his thumb.
"What?" she asks self-consciously.
"I'm sorry you had to see this," he says.
"You didn't cause this," she says and he closes his eyes again. "David. This wasn't your fault."
He sighs, then leans forward and presses a lingering kiss against her forehead. "Thank you."
He steps away and heads towards the back and she watches him for a moment longer before walking outside. With her arms full, the journey back to the truck is full of near-trip disasters, but she makes it and gratefully dumps it all into the back of the truck where the backpack already sits.
She takes a moment to just lean against the truck and breathe, steadying herself. Even with what she's seen today, she doesn't regret insisting that she would come along. Somehow, the thought of David seeing all this without her there feels worse.
When she has composed herself, she starts on her way back. She has just turned the fallen wall when she halts abruptly, her mind screaming at her that something is terribly, terribly wrong.
It takes her a moment to realize why. There is a new car at the other end of the street. A parked car.
Someone else is here.
She whips the bow out, and her fingers seem to know what to on their own because she has an arrow ready in seconds. With that, she moves forward while crouching down as fast as she can manage.
Peeking inside, the scene before her makes her hot and cold at once.
There are three men, one older and two younger. The older one has a rifle pointed at David, who is on the floor. Graham is standing a few feet away, his gun on the floor in front of him, while Sean is lying at the feet of one of the younger men.
All but one body has been moved, so she guesses that's what her friends have been doing – and were probably surprised.
"Kick it here, or your friend dies," the older man says. His voice makes something in her almost hiss. No. David isn't dying. No. Emma needs him, and she, she cares about him, she... She wants him, she thinks, the first time she's articulated it so clearly to herself.
So she doesn't think. She lets the arrow fly. It buries itself in the right shoulder of the older man, just as she aimed for. He grunts, falling forward to his knees and dropping his rifle. David lunges for it, while the two younger guys turn around in confusion.
She already has another arrow ready.
"Want to risk it?" she says to them with a bravado that she doesn't know the source of, but it isn't put on. She is certain she could take both down. She just doesn't know where that certainty comes from. "Step away from my... David."
The two hesitate, which is enough. David has managed to get his hands on the rifle, and Graham has picked up his gun.
"Let it go, Spencer," Graham says. Oh. Albert Spencer. She remembers his name being mentioned as the leader of another group of survivors.
"This isn't yours to take," Spencer replies.
"We're willing to share half with your group," David replies, leaning down by Sean. Sean makes a faint noise, so he is alive. She lets out a soft sigh of relief. "We can split the resources, we can..."
"Half? Share? I take what I want, boy. This is a new world," Spencer replies angrily.
"That doesn't make it yours," David counters angrily and the two glare at each other.
"You think it's yours, boy? That you're going to be the shepherd of your little group of sheep? You were just saved by a girl," Spencer says scornfully, turning to look at her while clutching his shoulder in obvious pain.
"Woman," she corrects automatically, and she can feel David's eyes on her, caressing her with his gaze.
"You don't know who you're dealing with, girl," Spencer counters, and she meets his gaze evenly.
"I know exactly who you are," she says, thinking of school and pupils and children. "You're the bully. And I'm with him all the way no matter whom I have to deal with."
Spencer looks ready to murder her if he could, but he says nothing.
Sean groans again, and David eases one arm around the other hand and hauls him to his feet. Graham steps up on the other side, allowing both to hold on to their weapons while hoisting Sean between them.
Mary Margaret keeps her bow on the two younger men, ready if they try anything, but neither of them move as Graham and David manage to get Sean to the door.
"Don't follow us," Mary Margaret warns.
"This isn't over," Spencer warns her.
"It can be," David says softly, and the two men look at each other again. Whatever David sees in the other man's face, it makes him sigh.
She waits until David and Graham have moved Sean further outside before she follows them by carefully stepping backwards and keeping her arrow ready to fly. They're not followed, though, and as they walk Sean starts regaining his senses and even manages to walk the last part himself. Eventually, they make it back to the truck without incident.
The men help a still groggy Sean up on the truck, and then David jumps down as she lowers her bow. Before she can say anything, he takes two hurried steps towards her and crashes his lips onto hers.
The bow and arrow clatter to the ground, and she links her arms around his neck to press him even closer. It's a hard, almost desperate kiss, all their adrenaline now fuelling something else entirely.
"I'll drive," Graham says, and Mary Margaret is pretty sure the sheriff is averting his eyes. She has no breath to apologize for the spectacle they must be making and isn't even sure if she wants to.
David lifts her up, taking the opportunity to kiss her at a different angle before sitting her down at the bed of the truck. His lips linger against hers for a moment longer, then he reluctantly breaks it off, picks up her bow and arrow and climbs up himself. They sit down by Sean, who is looking at her with far more respect than she can remember from before. (Not that he was disrespectful in any way. None of them have been.) A moment later Graham drives off.
David takes her hand again, his thumb making slow caresses. She closes her eyes and exhales, feeling some of the tension finally letting go.
"Was archery one of your classes?" David asks.
"No," she says, opening her eyes again. "I don't know where that came from."
"You're full of surprises," David remarks softly. She glances up at him, noticing the new bruise along his jawline. Maybe she should have buried an arrow in Albert Spencer's other shoulder as well. "I like it."
Sean makes an amused noises, then touches the back of his head and groans. "Bastards."
"What happened?" she asks softly.
"We decided to move the bodies next door – let the fire claim them. A sort of cremation," David says. "We were just going back for the last one when they walked in on us. I think they drove in from the other direction, that's why we didn't see them."
She nods. She suspected it was something like that. It makes her realize she could very well have walked in to find their corpses, and the thought makes her want to scream.
"You saved us," David goes on, and Sean nods.
"I wasn't going to let you die," she says fiercely. David smiles faintly at that, lifting their linked hands to his lips and kissing her knuckles.
"I know," he says simply, and she thinks he might actually.
II
Despite the day's events and their muted mood, they still stop at the library on the way back. Might as well, after all, and it will spare them a trip in the future. (And they might need Gold's favors, a part of Mary Margaret is starting to realize, after what happened today.)
The library doesn't look like much of a library, Mary Margaret has to admit. It looks like someone has cut through it with a knife, deep gashes and scars through the building. It smells of ashes, but isn't burning, so she and David step inside while Graham takes the opportunity to check out the building next door and Sean stands guard by the truck.
Bookshelves have fallen over inside, books littered everywhere. David regards the mess dubiously, while Mary Margaret feels another stab to her heart. So many books. She knows it's not a priority when the world has ended, yet it still makes her feel sad to see books as part of the ruins.
"You like reading?" David asks and she glances up to see him look at her with gentle eyes, as if he's picked up on her sadness.
"Yeah," she says. "I was just rereading Anna Karenina before..."
She trails off, and he steps closer, touching her arm lightly as if in comfort. But his hand lingers, and the comfort simply becomes a touch.
"Gold didn't say what kind of books he wanted," David says. "I guess we can just pick out whatever we find that is still readable."
"Yeah," she agrees, but neither of them move. They simply look at each other, and the heat in David's gaze makes Mary Margaret's cheeks blaze.
"Mary Margaret, what you did today..." he begins, clearly trying to find the words, yet she can see how much it meant to him just by his expression. She doesn't need the words. So she pushes herself up on her toes and kisses him; a wordless expression of why she did what she did today.
His lips meet hers eagerly, catching her bottom lip between his and brushing his tongue along it. His arms go around her, pressing her closer as she tilts her head and her lips part against his.
He lifts her up, walking a few steps to press her against a wall as she hooks her legs around his waist. He kisses her thoroughly and leisurely, and she laces her fingers in his hair and feels breathless.
Her lips are swollen by the time he eases her back down her feet, nibbling lightly at her lips before breaking the kiss. They're both breathing hard as they press their foreheads together and just stand still for a moment, and she runs her hands down his chest and feels it rise and fall under her palm.
"Let's find some books," he says, his voice husky. She nods, leaning forward to kiss him lightly before stepping away.
They work in silence, finding a couple of empty boxes and then filling one each. It's an odd assortment of books that Mary Margaret end up with, an illustrated history book about the Vikings mixed with romance novels and Beatles biographies and two Miss Marple and a collections of short stories, and several others. David probably has a similarly mixed collection, but she does notice him tucking a few books away from the rest.
Sean is still clutching the rifle and watching the street as they walk outside. A few minutes later Graham exits the building next door, carrying a tool box and a bag.
"No one alive left inside," he says shortly. "Found some food and tools."
David nods, not pressing for details. As Graham passes her, Mary Margaret squeezes his arm in comfort and she can see him close his eyes and look infinitely sad for a moment. For Walter and Michael too, she's sure. For everyone.
They've all been numbed by too many deaths, she thinks, but they're not immune.
II
Back at the camp, Gold and Leroy are waiting for them. Ruby hurries over the moment she sees them as well, bringing with her the survivor they found the day before, Dr. Whale. A doctor in the camp will be quite handy, and they have him take a look at Sean's head first of all.
Gold smiles faintly and almost knowingly when he sees them, and Mary Margaret isn't sure what she thinks of that.
After the truck has been unloaded and the sad news about Michael and Walter (and Tom Clarke) delivered, David looks at Mary Margaret and she knows what he's thinking without him needing to say a single word.
Emma.
Linking hands, they walk inside to find their baby.
They find Emma resting in her crib. The sight is enough to make David smile despite everything, and he hurries over to lift her up. Granny smiles at that, then slips out of the room to leave them alone.
"Emma," he says softly, pressing a lingering kiss to Emma's forehead and rocking her gently in his arms. She makes a noise that might be happy and he smiles.
"I think she might be hungry," Mary Margaret says as Emma continues making noises.
"Oh," he says. He glances at her. "I can leave the room."
"No," she says, feeling the slight heat in her cheeks but continuing anyway. "Stay."
Wordlessly, he eases Emma into her arms. He watches as she sits down on the cot and then pulls her sweater up enough to allow Emma access to her breast. After a moment, he sits down next to her and gently caresses Emma's head while the baby feeds.
Mary Margaret leans her head against his shoulder, drinking in his and Emma's nearness. It's almost enough to drown out everything else. Almost.
"I'm sorry about your friends," she says.
He closes his eyes. "I hadn't known them that long, but... Yeah. I'm sorry too. About all of this. It's all so wrong."
His hand has moved around her back to rest on her hip, stroking her skin lightly. If he's even aware he's doing it, she isn't sure.
"This feels so right," he murmurs after a moment. "You and me and her. Everything else is so..."
"I know," she whispers back. Emma is clearly finished feeding and she shifts the baby in her arms, but it's David who gently pulls her sweater down without comment.
She holds Emma for a few minutes longer, and then David does; and it feels so very much like a family and their baby. It nearly makes Mary Margaret choke up, and David kisses her temple as if he knows.
"Graham and I have a few things to do and discuss," he says reluctantly.
"I'll see if Ruby or Granny or Leroy needs help with anything," she says.
He nods, then eases Emma back into her arms before kissing her briefly but tenderly.
"I'll see you later," he says, then kisses Emma's head. "And you."
They walk outside together, exchanging a long look before he walks briskly away. She waits until he's out of sight until she starts walking. She is going to see if Ruby or anyone else need a hand, but first she's going to see someone else.
Gold is waiting in his office, and she can tell he's expecting her.
He told her war was coming. He may have been right, and she can't risk David and Emma on a bet that he is wrong. The stakes are too high.
"Had a bit of an adventure today, dearie?" he asks. "Saved the day, I heard. Sadly, there are many days yet to come for your charming little family."
"I need to protect them," she says, lifting her head slightly. Gold meets her gaze, and she thinks she might see a flicker of genuine respect in his eyes. Or perhaps he simply wants her to think it genuine.
"You can," Gold says. "You and David establish your small kingdom and allow me to help you in my modest way, and you will live to see Emma grow up into a charming young woman. I can promise you that."
Mary Margaret swallows slightly at that, the image of the small baby in her arms becoming a woman almost staggering.
"All you have to do is let me do what I do," Gold goes on. "You can be your heroic noble selves and I can be... Not."
"Why didn't you join Albert Spencer's group?" she asks. "Wouldn't he be easier to make the sort of king of the hill you seem to want?"
Gold smiles. "I prefer the noble heroic types. Frightfully annoying to deal with, but much less likely to double-crossing."
That's not the whole answer, she is certain, but she is equally certain he isn't willing to share the full story. And yet, she does trust him in a strange way.
"I'm sure David looks forward to annoying you frightfully," she says and Gold smiles as she walks towards the door. "As do I."
With that, she exits.
II
She's already fallen asleep by the time David enters their 'bedroom', and she wakes to the sound of him trying to quietly get to bed without waking her. She smiles at that, then props herself up on her elbows. Emma is still sleeping, oblivious to the world.
"Hey," Mary Margaret says softly.
"Hi," he murmurs sheepishly. "Sorry, I was trying to..."
"It's fine," she assures him, and he sits down on the mattress and looks dead on his feet. "Is it late?"
"Yeah," he admits. "We erected some new barricades in case Spencer decides to go after us directly. I hope he'll let it go, but..."
"You can't bet on it when the stakes are so high," she says and he nods tiredly. She notices the small pile of books he's put by the mattress. "Didn't you give the books to Gold?"
"Oh," he says, glancing down at them. "I did, I just kept three of them."
He holds up the three, and she sees that one is a picture book for toddlers, another is a children's book for older children and the third is Anna Karenina.
"I thought... For Emma. When she grows older. We could read to her," he says and she isn't sure what makes her breath catch the most – the use of 'we' in connection to the future or the image of him reading to Emma.
She reaches down and cups his head in her hands and kisses him so very softly, brushing her lips against his upper and then lower lip before tugging lightly. He leans into it, sighing happily into the kiss. Even so, she's quite aware that he is exhausted and needs his sleep.
"You don't have to sleep on the floor," she says as he kisses her cheeks and then her nose.
"I'm not letting you sleep on the floor," he points out sternly, biting her nose very lightly as if for emphasis.
"I know," she agrees. "I meant... We can sleep on this cot. Both of us. Together."
His eyes widen and his lips part, and she can't resist the urge to brush her lips against them again.
"Just to sleep," she whispers against his lips. "For now."
"For now," he agrees, an unspoken promise that one day – maybe even one day soon – there will be more. He kisses her softly, another unspoken promise, then moves around and slips under the blanket from the other side. The cot isn't exactly roomy, but she doesn't mind his body pressed against hers. She moves to lie on her side as he does the same, and they link hands and press their foreheads together.
They fall asleep like that, curled up together with Emma just a few feet away; one very right thing in a world of wrong.