Scott's immediate observation of post-apocalyptic southern England was the cars. They were everywhere; glossy shells worn down by dust and decay; headlamp sockets like skulls where bulbs had been stolen, tyres taken too; windows shattered so that the wind howled through them. In the US - with the exception of major transport arteries - they'd travelled miles on empty roads. Here, every scrap of tarmac was infested with vehicles; everything from convertibles to lorries.
Nearly an entire four months spent at the Sanctuary had lulled his senses to the realities of the apocalypse. He'd forgotten the stench of decay which clung to most of the world.
Now, the smell pulled him back into days gone by, wandering dusty roads with rot as much of a constant companion as his own shadow: oozing fluid from infected, decomposing livestock carcasses, smoke and cinders. The smell was muted by ice but traces still escaped to cloak the land in a dull reminder of death.
So far – from the few miles he'd seen of it – the UK had a distinctly haunted quality. If the apocalypse in the US had been horrific, over here it was downright tragic. Clumps of clothes billowed on the wind; children's toys scattered roadsides; broken technology languished in gutters.
There were fewer marks of violence and more signs of ruined lives: family homes deconstructed across a barren landscape. It struck a deep chord into every witness, the physical manifestation of despair.
Thunderbird Shadow swiftly dealt with the roadblocks – and presumably the bandits too although there were no signs of a struggle – then matched their speed, a constant presence overhead like a guardian angel. Every now and then she would grow faint, faded by low cloud, and in those moments Scott was shaken by a rush of fear that their reunion had been an illusion.
He tried to keep an eye on the aircraft at all times, cheek pressed against the window so that cold bled into his skin. The uneven road surface drilled into his head but the subsequent pain was worth it if it meant he could see Shadow.
Relief and shock had blurred together into a dizzying concoction that made everything seem unreal and unfocussed. Or perhaps that could be blamed on the exhaustion, which was as persistent as the clouds and threatened to overwhelm him at any second.
The only things keeping him awake were the sudden jolts of potholes and Gordon's constant fidgeting, accidentally knocking their knees together or stabbing an elbow into his ribs. Scott silently willed a distraction to appear – some sort of fidget cube or perhaps one of those gel stress balls with beads inside – but had no such luck. He was stuck with Gordon's antics for the next couple of hours: drumming heels and chewing on hoodie drawstrings or even cracking his knuckles which made both Virgil and Ellis cringe.
Yeah, car rides had never been fun with four brothers and the apocalypse hadn't changed things.
At some point Scott must have drifted off. The next time he woke, there were significantly less trucks in the convey and sprawling houses had given way to rolling countryside.
Tension had formed a painful ache in his neck which radiated down his spine and he'd somehow wedged his foot awkwardly under the seat in front as it came back to life with a rush of pins-and-needles. He lifted his head from Gordon's shoulder – who, to give credit where it was due, had held himself remarkably still for fear of waking him – and rubbed the grit from his eyes with his knuckles as he tried to figure out where they were.
He wasn't the only person to have fallen asleep. Marisa, John and Gordon were the only ones still clinging steadfastly to consciousness and John's grip on it seemed loose, head pillowed on the hoodie he'd bundled between his shoulder and the door. Theo and Jasmin were entangled like newborn kittens, no surprise. Virgil had curled into his seat as best he could, Alan slouched against his side to use him as a backrest. Finch had slotted herself neatly into the footwell, snoring too. And above, their faithful Shadow kept pace with them, patiently slow despite Kayo's love for speed.
The passing scenery was unfamiliar. Vegetation had reclaimed the land – Scott spied the occasional house which had been entirely engulfed by ivy and fungus – and some roads were impassable. Old pylons poked their heads above the mess of leaf-bare forests, cables dragged down by reaching branches. Without the intense radiation suffered by the States, Mother Nature had taken over with a vengeance.
View once again obscured by goliath hedgerows, Scott returned his attention the sky. Or more to the point, Thunderbird Shadow. She had suffered several battle wounds since he'd last set eyes on her which was to be expected but still filled him with dread.
Just how many horrors had Kayo gone through since they'd all been split apart? He eyed a scorch mark towards the rear of Shadow's hull and repressed a shiver. They'd already lost one Thunderbird to fire; how close had they come to losing a second?
He propped his arm against the window and twisted to peer out of the back. The glass was spotted with sea salt – although they had already driven a lengthy distance from the coast – but he noted clouds billowing inland as if the fog were chasing them.
The truck lurched as the tyres dropped into an unavoidable pothole – which more resembled a chasm – and he accidentally smacked his head against Gordon's. A series of military-graded curses ensued from both of them.
"Ow, Jeezus, shit." Gordon shot him a rueful look. "I've already had one brain injury in the past year, Scooter. I don't need another one."
Scott tipped his head back against the window with a groan.
"You're not funny." He glanced up at Shadow's hull, an inky gleam amid the gloom. "How long have we been driving?"
"Too long," Gordon grumbled, lifting his feet up to sit cross-legged on the seat. "I dunno. Couple of hours?"
"Two hours, four minutes," John reported, nestling his chin in the crook of his elbow as he leant heavily against the window.
Gordon looked vaguely impressed with himself. "I wasn't far off."
It took another hour to reach their destination. Traversing apocalyptic roads was time-consuming at best, deadly dangerous at worst and harrowing no matter what. Some were entirely impassable – blocked by fallen trees or overgrown hedges or debris or even hordes which were too badly decomposed to travel far – and so they were forced to cut across country, up soggy slopes and along gloomy valleys which had not seen the sun in days.
Mud slicked the windscreen, churned by tyres which struggled to cope with the terrain. Thunderbird Shadow was forced to use a grapple to pull them out of the sludge at one point. The wipers whined, pushed to their limits and further still, yet the weather continued to decline. Fog was closing in quickly, erasing hilltops from sight and transforming innocuous items – skeletal trees, stray animals, even a decrepit tractor – into childhood monsters.
"This like a horror movie," Jazz commented, hands pressed to the vent in the hopes that the heater would kick back into action. "I feel like, I don't know, frickin' Slenderman or something is about to loom out of the fog."
"Our lives are already a horror movie," Alan pointed out. "There are literally zombies everywhere."
"Not everywhere," called the GDF driver, who had been trying to pretend as if he weren't eavesdropping when he had in fact been incredibly obvious about it for the past ten minutes. "Hence the detour. There's a great big horde of the bastards which we've got to avoid. Mind you, these tracks are a lot easier when it hasn't been pissing down for the past week. All it does is rain. Not even the apocalypse can improve British weather, ay?"
The driver's confidence installed a little reassurance, but Scott still felt uneasy. It was probably the lack of control – not only was he not at the wheel, he didn't know for certain if the Creighton-Ward manor would be their final destination – but while he was sort of self-aware enough to recognise that, he couldn't actually overcome it. So, he kept his eyes on the sky and hands tucked under his thighs to keep from tapping, uncomfortably conscious that visibility was getting even worse.
Finally – mercifully – they burst free of the field through a beaten-down section of fence and rattled along a tarmacked road. It was a twisting, turning snake full of blind bends but soon opened out onto a wider, flat section. An old street sign welcomed them to a village although the letters were too badly eroded to read and had been mostly eaten by green lichen which looked a concerningly similar shade to the parasite in its natural form.
To Scott, the village was unrecognisable. The apocalypse had torn up every shred of familiarity and replaced it with jarring imagery; blood spatters; wrecked cars; looted shopfronts; flower arrangements which had rotted away to dust; a palpable sense of dread like a whisper which couldn't be pinned down. Thunderbird Shadow accelerated for a quarter-second before Kayo recalled that she was supposed to be keeping pace, an old habit of hers when approaching home.
A glance across at John confirmed these suspicions. The rest of them knew the Creighton-Ward estate but John knew the surrounding area too, including the nearby village. This had once been an affluent, postcard-pretty place. Now, it lay in ruins.
It was sad on a surface level sense of the word, but Scott had no emotional attachment to it and so it looked like any other apocalypse ashes. But for John - who had spent so much time here when Penny had dragged him home during brief respites from university – it was a lot more painful. He turned away from the window and braced himself against the seat in front, ducking his head with a strained breath. He looked vaguely waxy as if he were about to be sick.
"Should we roll down a window?" Virgil offered quietly.
John gave a half-shrug, screwing his eyes shut.
"Are you gonna throw up?" Theo asked. "Like, for real?"
"If I do, I'll aim for Gordon," John muttered.
Gordon tossed up his hands. "What did I ever do to you?"
"Would you like the list in alphabetical or numerical order?"
"Is this because I cut in front of you in line for the bathroom on the plane?"
"What do you think?"
"I think you would absolutely hold a grudge like that because you're a petty bitch."
Scott leaned forward to joke with the driver, "Is there any chance that we can leave these two here? They can walk. They'd be fine."
The driver cracked a hearty laugh. "I'm under orders to get you lot to the Creighton-Ward Survival Camp and let me tell you, Miss Penelope is not someone I'd care to cross. Who am I to say if those stories have any truth to 'em? But either way, that's one scary woman."
Any traces of amusement faded from Gordon's voice. He sat up, fingers slipping over the beads of his bracelets as he tried to focus his nervous energy on anything other than tapping before asking hesitantly, "Stories?"
"Stories, rumours, whatever you want to call 'em." The driver's gaze flickered to the shadow in the rearview mirror; hungry infected prowling in the side street, heads rising as the throaty engine alerted them to the presence of food. "Scavengers don't come near this place for a reason, that's all I'm saying."
One of the details seemed to grate, a mismatched edge protruding from the rest. It took several minutes for Scott to realise what it was – the driver had referred to Penelope as Miss. He wasn't surprised to learn that she'd ditched the title but it was jarring; too much had changed. Still, the idea of scavengers steering clear out of fear of her and Kayo was pretty funny… thoroughly believable too.
Recognition trickled back to him as they turned onto the long, curving road that led to the manor gates. Bare trees stood guard, branches forming a canopy overhead to cast them in dappled shadows. The road was partly flooded in places, slowing them to a frustrating crawl, but finally the gates came into view.
The fence had been made electric with barbed wire along the top and two trenches around the exterior and interior. It was an intimidating display of force when combined with the security cameras overlooking the entrance, not to mention the reinforced gates – colossal iron structures made fiercer by barricades. Thunderbird Shadow vanished beyond them to touch down on her designated landing spot.
The sight was softened by a hand-painted sign welcoming survivors. Penelope's cursive writing yanked at a chord in Scott's chest. He resisted the urge to climb out of the vehicle before it had stopped moving as the gates parted and they inched forwards into the manor grounds.
The place could be described as both familiar and unknowable in the same breath, as if the manor had been demolished and rebuilt in an identical design. It looked exactly as Scott could recall from his memories and yet had changed so drastically that it served as a sharp reminder of just how long it had been since he had last stepped foot on this soil. He fumbled for the door handle, staggering upright as if controlling his body from afar, shaken by the disbelief of actually being here.
Gone were the pristine lawns and rose gardens. Flowerbeds had been transformed into vegetable patches, horticultural arrangements torn up and replaced with various fruits. The original greenhouse had been joined by three others; heavy-duty structures which could withstand the turbulent weather and had the capacity to contain enough plants to keep up with demands throughout winter. It was difficult to spy much out from the front of the manor, but Scott could glimpse the white turrets of a couple of beehives tucked behind the greenhouses and the edge of a large chicken coop.
Kayo had clearly sent word ahead for the windows were filled with curious faces both young and old. A few survivors were continuing to work outside despite the rain, hoods pulled low in the face of bitter drizzle as they tended the gardens. They looked up at the creak of the closing gates, curiosity piqued, but politely turned away when Thunderbird Shadow powered down and Kayo swung herself out of the cockpit. She paused halfway up the driveway, glancing over her shoulder to the front door of the manor and held up a hand, counting down on her fingers, five, four, three, two-
John bolted from the truck before the door had finished opening as if he had a sixth sense for the person who stood behind it. Penelope didn't hesitate either. She hadn't bothered to tie her laces, feet shoved into work boots far too big for her, so her run was clumsy, but John caught her as she threw herself into his arms.
The rain was coming down quicker than ever but neither of them made any attempt to move inside. It was possible that they were oblivious to it. Penelope buried her face in the crook of his neck and clung to him, shared words too quiet to be audible at a distance.
"This is real," Virgil murmured, gravel crunching underfoot as he stepped around the truck to stand at Scott's side. It sounded like a statement but something about his expression made Scott wonder if it were a question after all. "We're really here."
"It's real." Kayo wrapped an arm around Alan's shoulders and tugged him close. Her gaze was soft and unguarded as she watched Penelope and John. "It doesn't feel like it, but it is."
A haunting idea of failure had kept Scott from running to Kayo at the airfield – the cold, inescapable certainty that he had let her down and could never begin to make up for it – but the feeling was weaker here. The world beyond the fence was obscured by a scrummy film of fog so that nothing seemed to exist outside of these grounds and similarly his memories had grown hazy except for that one, horrific moment when they'd been torn apart from each other.
It was stamped into his mind in crystal clarity; Scott could recall the blazing desperation in Penelope's eyes and Parker's feral fury as he'd tried to reach them. Faded shouts echoed in his ears. The knot of disbelief in his chest loosened into relief as he pushed himself away from the side of the GDF truck and broke into a jog which became a run.
Wherever the blame lay for the events which had led to gasped pleas on his knees on the floor of a satellite and Penelope's attempted sacrifice – none of it mattered now. Penelope turned away from John, ghosting a hand over his shoulder before darting across the final few yards to meet Scott.
They collided in a fierce hug, clumsy with relief. Words were lost in the complicated chokehold of emotion, but Scott could read the desperation in Penelope's tight grip, her fingers digging through his hoodie to leave bruises on his back as she tried to assure herself that he was real.
He pulled her closer until he could tuck her under his chin, struck by a jolt of pure pride in her for not only surviving but building this safe place. Another wave of cold drizzle plastered his hair to his scalp but he ignored it, warmed by fondness and the heat from inside the manor which still clung to Penelope's clothes.
"Hey," he whispered, unable to keep his voice from wavering.
"Hey yourself," she whispered back, damp and choked but oh-so-familiar.
She lifted her head from his chest to study his face. Her eyes were swimming with tears as she reached up, fingertips skimming the faint scar on his chin with pained understanding.
Scott bit back a comment, battling to keep his composure as shock fizzed under his skin, but Penelope seemed to sense it anyway as she let her hair fall loosely in front of her face again to hide the twisted scar that carved across her cheek.
Had it been even a fraction higher, she'd have come dangerously close to losing an eye. As it was, it continued down her jaw to paint a sharp line over her neck, blotted by a faded burn. She ducked her head and Scott swore that something in his heart actually shattered because Penelope should never ever have felt like she had to hide from him.
But he couldn't find the damn words. Sentiments floated obstinately within his reach, untranslatable so that he could only hope Penelope's long history of reading deeper meanings within actions would allow her to understand everything he couldn't say. He raised her chin with two fingers until she met his gaze. Fragile trust solidified into something deeper; she flinched as he gently tucked her hair behind her ear but didn't move away.
She swallowed, taking a deep breath before venturing, "You missed a few developments."
A faintly hysterical laugh bubbled up. "So did you."
"Evidently." Penelope's smile crumpled into a more tender expression. "I can't believe you're here. I thought…"
"I know."
Scott exhaled shakily.
"I know," he repeated.
Penelope rose onto her toes to press their foreheads together, cupping the back of his neck to encourage him to lean down. He closed his eyes, letting his hands fall to her shoulders as he finally began to let himself believe that this wasn't all just a very realistic dream.
"I told you I'd find you," Penelope murmured.
"You did," Scott agreed softly. "Although technically…" He straightened back up to let her spy his teasing grin. "I found you first."
Penelope stared at him for a long moment before letting out a genuine laugh. "I've missed you."
"Well, that's good to hear." Scott tugged her close to impulsively kiss her forehead. "Because I've missed you too."
The rest of the reunion passed in a blur, blended together by too many emotions and sheer exhaustion, but Scott could pick moments out of the memory haze and study them like screenshots.
There was Penelope's laugh as Virgil enveloped her in a bear hug; Alan's enthusiastic greeting when Penny held him closely followed by hushed reassurances as she sought any evidence of lasting damage from the satellite incident; her delight at meeting Finch; the uncertain reunion with Gordon; Penelope's reluctance to let him see her face and his subsequent hurt that had Kayo pulling him aside for a private conversation.
Virgil was the one to introduce Ellis and Marisa and co to Penelope and Kayo, glossing over the gory details of their shared history in favour of highlighting less traumatic moments. Most of their time in the Minnesota bunker was edited out of the story for later discussion but their leap of faith onto the train and recovery of the military jet from the GDF airbase made the cut.
Penelope greeted them all warmly, ushering Marisa and Ellis upstairs while Kayo watched them go with narrowed eyes.
"Don't," Scott interrupted before she could say anything. "Kayo. Do not try to intimidate her. Marisa is… She's a good person, okay? You can trust her."
Kayo turned a shrewd stare on him, expression schooled into unreadable neutrality. It wouldn't take a big stretch of the imagination to believe that she could read his innermost thoughts. He shifted, pretending his discomfort was due to the way his damp clothes were clinging to his skin and not because there were certain ideas related to specific people in his head that he really didn't want Kayo knowing. He'd forgotten her uncanny ability to sniff out secrets from a mere glance.
Relief at their reunion had softened her. She didn't press the matter nor tease like Scott had anticipated, just tilted her head towards the staircase where the others had vanished and enquired quietly, "And Ellis?"
"Ellis is trustworthy," John confirmed, exchanging a look with Scott. "There's a strong chance that not all of us would be here if it weren't for her."
Kayo crossed her arms, folding her hands around opposing biceps in an attempt to conceal a flinch. It was practically imperceptible and could have been brushed aside had it come from anyone else, but this was Kayo. She leant heavily against the wall and tipped her head back to stare at the panelled ceiling, drawing a deep breath. There was a forbidden question on her face; one to which she didn't really want to know the answer.
"Could've phrased that better, Johnny," Gordon muttered, the first words he uttered since returning from his secretive conversation with Kayo. He pried off his filthy boots and tossed one at John, shooting a guilty glance at Kayo as it sputtered mud over the floorboards.
She levelled him with a deadpan stare. "You're cleaning that up."
"I think John should." Gordon relented with a sigh as Kayo merely arched a brow. "Yeah, okay. I'll do it later."
He sidestepped the puddles which had formed from their dripping clothes and beckoned Jasmin and Theo into the circle of light thrown by the chandelier.
"Oh, right. Introductions." Alan reached back to snag Theo's wrist. "Relax, Kayo doesn't bite."
"Don't I?"
Alan shot her an exasperated glance. "This is my- uh, this is Theo. And Jazz. Guys, this is my sister."
Theo looked as if he were facing down a half-starved lion. He cleared his throat and tried to fix a smile on his face which looked like more of a grimace. A tiny, subconscious half-step put him closer to Alan's side in a feeble attempt to hide from Kayo's stare should she decide that she disliked him. Alan's grip on his wrist tightened slightly, a swift squeeze of reassurance.
Jasmin surreptitiously dug her elbow into Theo's ribs as she sidled past him.
"Hi." She stuck out a hand. "I'm Jasmin. I've heard a lot about you."
Kayo glanced down at the offered hand and shook it. "A lot, huh?"
"A lot." Jasmin gave a firm nod. "Please teach me everything. You're officially my role model."
"Um, hello?" Gordon cast her an offended look. "I thought I was your role model."
"No. You've been replaced."
"What happened to loyalty?"
"What happened is that Kayo is so much cooler than you."
Kayo abandoned her attempt to psych out Theo and let her frown melt into a delighted grin. "Oh, I like this one already."
She clamped a hand on Jasmin's shoulder, a hint of mischievous glee in her gaze as she steered the kid towards the stairs.
"I've got a feeling that you and I are going to get along." She turned to call over her shoulder, "Theo. Do you want to see your room or would you rather stare at Alan with heart eyes all day?"
Alan dropped Theo's wrist as if he'd been burnt. The two jolted apart so quickly that it was a wonder they didn't break the sound barrier. Theo made a curious, squawk-like noise and darted after Jasmin, practically skidding in his haste. Kayo's laugh echoed down the stairs, a sound that all of them had sorely missed.
"Oh my god." Alan stared after them in horror. A furious flush was working its way up his neck. "Oh no. No, no, no. Kayo is going to be…"
"Insufferable?" Virgil supplied, trying not to sound too amused.
Alan tossed his hands up.
"Yes! Exactly! She's not gonna let this go ever. This is a disaster. And it's not even like- She's going to make it weird and awkward because there's not even anything going on so she's totally reading into stuff which doesn't exist."
"Really?" Gordon asked, treading the line between genuine confusion and light-hearted teasing. He sank onto the lower step of the staircase as he waited for Penelope and Kayo to return. "Because you're literally the same shade as Thunderbird Three right now, so it kinda seems like maybe there is something going on."
"What? No! That's- I mean- Why is everyone looking at me? Scott's been flirting with Marisa for weeks now but no one jokes about that."
"Throwing Scotty under the bus," Gordon sighed in mock-sadness. He shook his head. "Loyalty is truly dead. Also, um, hello? I've been making jokes about that all the time."
Scott massaged his temples with a growing sense of resignation. "There is nothing going on between myself and Mari."
"Yet," Virgil corrected.
Scott shot him a betrayed look. "Whose side are you on?"
Penelope's laugh interrupted the developing squabble. She propped herself against the banister to observe the chaos, carefully angled so that her scar was concealed by shadows.
"I leave you alone for five minutes and this is what happens."
John caught the dry hoodie that she tossed him.
"Don't worry," he replied wryly, muffled by fabric as he hauled it over his head. "This family is still just as much of disaster as ever."
"Not even the apocalypse could change that," Kayo noted, half-draped over the railing of the second floor to peer down at them. She gestured over her shoulder at the corridor, amusement evaporating to be replaced with something fond if not also a little uncertain. "We've got some spare clothes that'll probably fit you. Get warmed up and then we'll… You know. Talk. Catch up. All that fun stuff."
Gordon peeled off his socks and held them up to watch them drip onto the floor. "I like that plan."
"Get your ass moving then." Kayo pushed herself away from the railing, then hesitated. "Oh, and for the record? You picked good people to team up with. I… like them."
Penelope's gaze drifted up to meet hers. Silent communication crackled between them. Kayo's smile held a hint of challenge. Penelope just looked exasperated but then reconsidered, catching Alan's shoulder as he passed her on the stairs.
"Theo seems lovely."
Alan buried his face in his sleeves with an unholy screech. "Are you kidding me? Penny? You too?"
The manor had been entirely transformed since Scott had last visited. Certain areas retained their familiarity as if they had been plucked out of the past; hell, Parker's quarters appeared practically untouched. The only sign of activity was the disturbed dust and clean windows; bedsheets wrinkled where someone had lain on top of them; closet left partly ajar and a borrowed coat hooked over the back of the en-suite door to dry off, rain still glistening on the collar. Similarly, the secondary kitchen tucked away towards the back of the manor had also been left alone, as had the sunroom/library in which John had once spent most of his time during visits.
But the rest of the place? It had been stripped of its identity and forged into something new. Scott had to redraw his mental map to find his way around; the manor had so many corridors that it had been a struggle not to get lost even pre-Z-Day.
Even John seemed a little muddled by the new layout although Virgil appeared to memorise the general gist of things quickly enough. Kayo led them on a seemingly endless tour, going into more detail when it came to areas of actual interest such as the dining room which had been turned into a mess hall or the walk-in-wardrobe which was now covered in foam soundproofing and purported to be a comms hub.
It was a strange mismatch of pre-Z-Day aristocratic finery – valuable artwork staring down from walls and thousands-of-dollars-worth of crystal pendants dangling from chandeliers – and the brutal ruggedness of survival necessities. The place seemed to hum with energy; constant conversations filtering through the walls to mix with the low-level murmur of generators in the basement and dull groans of an English winter as wind and rain lashed against windows and roofs.
People seemed friendly, offering polite greetings with curiosity carefully restrained behind their smiles. One thing was abundantly clear – they all had a lot of respect for Kayo and Penelope. A large, muscular guy stumbled aside to let their group pass, mumbling hello with a clumsy wave and a quick glance of question at Penelope who gestured for him to carry on without answering.
"Clarence," Kayo clarified once he was out of earshot. "Calls himself our demolitions expert. He's rigged the exterior fence with explosives in case of attacks." Her smile grew frosty. "Be that by infected or scavengers." Something dark and ugly laced her voice. "I'd enjoy seeing one blow up far more than the other."
Penelope instinctively raised a hand to her face, closing her eyes as her fingertips brushed the raised scar tissue there. Clearly scavengers were a topic to be avoided.
"He prefers to be known as Fuse," she corrected softly. "You know that."
"It's a stupid nickname," Kayo protested, slowing so that she fell into step beside Penelope. She pressed their shoulders together in silent support until Penelope let her hand fall. "He should pick a better one if he wants me to use it. Besides, it's hilarious calling him Clarence. It's just… Clarence. You know?"
Penelope turned her head to hide her secretive smile from Kayo's view, a clear sign that they'd had this very same discussion on multiple previous occasions. There was an easy comradery between them at first glance but a longer look revealed a deeper connection; unwavering trust forged in precious seconds between certain death and salvation.
Kayo's every move was interwoven with Penelope's; a constant awareness of her presence and thoughts and feelings; a delicate dance that was as instinctual as the human desire to protect loved ones. In turn, Penelope seemed equally as aware of Kayo's actions, her own behaviour forming a dedicated orbit with Kayo at its centre; steadfast devotion that ran both ways and was quite unbreakable.
Another five seconds passed in which Kayo seemed to search for something within Penelope's body language: assurances, fears, any sign of continued discomfort after the reminder of the origins of her scars. Penelope said nothing but turned her hand so that her knuckles brushed Kayo's wrist. Kayo straightened up slightly at the touch and moved to take the lead once again.
"I'll show you around the grounds tomorrow." She swung a hand towards the window where rain ran in heavy rivulets down the pane. "Provided it's not raining again, I mean."
"There's not much to show," Penelope interjected. "It's primarily food production. Of course, there are backup defences and leisure spaces too – gardens and what-not – but I don't recall any of you being particularly green-fingered."
Kayo's steps faltered. "Pen. You put a lot of work into it. Don't write it off like that." There was a distinct note of pride in her gaze as she glanced over Penelope's head at the rest of them. "Just wait 'til you see some of the plants she's growing in the greenhouses."
"That was a team effort," Penelope protested. "A lot of people helped. I can't claim sole credit. Your chickens on the other hand…"
"They're not my chickens."
"You're the only person they'll let near the eggs." She nudged Kayo with her elbow. "I didn't know how violent they could be until we started keeping them."
Kayo gave a good-natured sigh. "They're not violent, Pen."
"They peck and they cluck and they're generally flappy."
"Could be worse. Zombies bite."
Penelope swatted her. "I thought you were supposed to be giving the grand tour?"
The majority of rooms had been converted into housing. Bedrooms had been split into three smaller rooms by way of curtains which were nailed into the ceiling so that more families could be catered. Bathrooms were now shared facilities with helpful whiteboards with erasable markers hung outside the doors to keep track of whose turn it was on the cleaning rota.
A guest suite had been converted into a medical centre and a sitting room served as a children's playroom. The kitchens still retained their original purpose but the main living room resembled a war room: maps projected onto walls and note-scattered tables and even lists of horde locations which updated automatically whenever the GDF uploaded new data to the shared server.
"People have a choice," Kayo explained. "They can stay here as permanent residents or they can rest and recover until they feel ready to move onto either the GDF camp or the nearest private bunker."
"The private bunker which just so happens to be run by my Great Aunt Sylvia," Penelope elaborated, voice deliberately light so that it was difficult to learn her feelings about this fact. "So, we know that it's a decent place unlike so many others which have fallen foul to corruption."
Kayo's gaze flickered to Scott. "My father's there."
"What?"
Scott wasn't sure whether he'd spoken or if Virgil's shocked exclamation had come first. He couldn't keep the surprise off his face, certain that he looked like an idiot but unable to care.
He'd nursed a healthy sense of grief for Kyrano – it was impossible not to mourn someone who had been a part of the family for so many years – but equally their paths hadn't crossed since Jeff's funeral. He'd known that Kayo had spoken to him on Z-Day but a part of him had since assumed that the man was dead.
"Kyrano is holed up in a bunker?"
The figure he recalled from his early twenties would never have settled for such a fate. It was difficult to imagine Kyrano content to secure his own safety while the family he had once sworn to protect had been torn apart. Not that he had owed them anything but still. Maybe Scott was a little hurt.
Not quite as hurt as he had been when Kyrano had announced retirement immediately after Jeff's disappearance but at least that had been understandable. But this? Why remain in a bunker when his daughter was running a safe zone? It made no sense.
Kayo's shadowed gaze suggested that she shared a similar sentiment. She turned away and marched on ahead, continuing to talk as they hurried to catch up with her.
"He… helped." Her tone was grudging, a little rough with wounded feelings that she wouldn't dare admit existed. "When we were first setting up here, he helped."
"Kayo," Penelope chided gently.
Kayo dug her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants with a growl.
"Fine. He may have also helped a little in our search for you. Not that he was much use. And then he ran back to Sylvia's bunker like a scolded dog because he's a coward."
There was an awkward silence.
"Okay," Gordon whistled, just to break it. "So, uh… Not getting on so well with your pops, huh?"
Kayo went to snap, then hesitated. The tension drained from her shoulders as she leant against the window, bracing her hands against the cold glass. A spark of pure pain stabbed through her voice with a crack as she confessed tiredly, "He let me down."
"Kayo," Scott murmured, placing a hand on her upper back. "Hey. You don't have to tell us now."
"There's nothing more to say. He…" Kayo took a steadying breath. "I needed him and he wasn't here. I asked him to stay and he left. Story of my life."
She shrugged Scott away, voice sharpening into something brisker.
"You should call him though. He was upset to hear that you were… lost. Anyway, come on. Penelope hasn't shown you her project yet."
Penelope paled. "I didn't plan on… Not yet. I don't think…"
"Relax, they'll love it." Kayo's steely stare implied that if any of them dared to not love it then there would be consequences. Probably painful consequences. Certainly consequences that they would do well to try to avoid. "Do you want me to explain or…?"
"No." Penelope exhaled in a rush. "No, I'll… I'll introduce it."
A spacious room with large windows lay on the second floor. It had once been home to a piano which had since taken up residence in the sunroom/library and the area was dedicated to another type of art. There was a sign on the door but Penelope sidestepped to conceal it with her hip, reluctant to let them pass until Kayo caught her gaze and gave a firm nod.
"Woah," Alan murmured, craning his neck to glimpse the highest shelves. "This is awesome."
The room was filled to the brim with artefacts: historical, artistic, scientific and so on. They were gathered into orderly collections complete with little signs on scraps of cardboard to explain each one. There were tables and display cabinets and shelving units as tall as the notably high ceiling.
Virgil crouched in front of a table, eyes wide as he breathed, "Is this…?"
"I've been collecting museum pieces," Penelope confessed, voice threaded with nerves. "I felt it was important to preserve history and culture. All these artefacts were left to ruin and I couldn't let them be lost. So, I've gathered as many as I can."
John's smile was hopelessly fond, filled with wonder as he examined a table covered in fossils. "Why were you so apprehensive to show us this?"
Penelope knitted her hands together. "I… You see… It's…"
"She named the museum after you," Kayo cut in. She reclined against the doorframe, stretching like a newly awakened cat, confident now that she had seen their reactions and knew none of them would react badly. "Well, specifically after John and Virgil. It's more their scene, isn't it? But hey, if the rest of you feel left out, then I named some of the chickens after you."
Alan looked up. "Really?"
She laughed. "No. Actually, that's a lie. I did name one of them after Gordon. It's a dumb looking thing with feathers that stick out at odd angles so it reminded me of you."
Gordon's attention had been fixed on Penelope; the same sort of gentle longing as awarded to the sun by the moon; gaze made heavy by the knowledge that she didn't trust him to see past her injuries as if his feelings had ever been so superficial. He registered Kayo's comment a few seconds too late and settled for a half-hearted jibe in return, but his eyes kept drifting back to Penelope.
"Penny." Virgil finally found his voice. "This is incredible."
John stepped into the centre of the room and studied it in silence. Then, without a word, he pulled Penelope into a hug before gripping her shoulders and seeking her eyes.
"You're a remarkable person. You know that, right?"
She let out a damp laugh. "I try."
"It's true. This is fantastic and I'm honoured that you… I didn't think- I'm not supposed to…" He swallowed. "I'm not supposed to be here. If you look at the probabilities, I shouldn't be alive. But I am. And just being able to see you again would be enough of a gift but you've created this. So, thank you. I'm proud of you. And I- I love you."
Penelope smacked his bicep. "John Tracy. You swore to me years ago that you'd never make me cry. And yet here you are! What have you got to say for yourself?"
"Not a lot to be honest."
She caught his hand, studying the faint scars criss-crossing his palm.
"You're my family," she whispered, stealing a glance up at him to check that he'd understood every word she'd left unsaid.
"Yeah, Pen," he agreed softly, drawing her close again. "We are."
The first night was strange; a collection of rushed words and vulnerable silences, desperately hoping that one another could read the delicate nuances in the ebb and flow of each conversation. Uncertainty plagued every interaction; the apocalypse had changed them so that they no longer fit in their pre-arranged puzzle pieces and had to learn how to be around each other again.
Less than twenty-four hours earlier, they had been on Canadian soil. Scott could still recall the bitterness of apprehension, the heavy certainty that had pressed at the back of his mind that they wouldn't be able to find Kayo or Penelope.
He'd never been gladder to have been proved wrong in his life. But at the same time, it seemed too easy. He'd been preparing himself for a worst-case scenario only to be presented with the best possible outcome and he wasn't sure how to believe it, let alone trust that it would last. It seemed unacceptable in the same manner as his mattress had seemed too soft upon his return home from deployment, as if there were a disconnect between his brain and his senses.
Now, braced against the edge of the bed in their shared half of the room, he was forced to lean forwards and duck his head between his knees. There were so many feelings crammed under his skin that they threatened to overwhelm him. The wave of emotion was dizzying like vertigo.
He tightened his fingers around the bedframe until the edge bit his palms. His pulse was elevated, pounding at his temples so loudly that his ears seemed to ring again. Everything grew a little fuzzy at the edges like a polaroid photo that had not finished developing. He was struck by a rush of fear that the world was coming undone or perhaps that this was all just a dream after all.
He picked out Virgil's voice from the background thunder but his brother sounded as if he were underwater, distant and indistinct. Everything floundered in-and-out of focus.
He raised his head to fix his sight on the curtain dividing the room; thick fabric; royal purple; rich velvet with dusty edges where it trailed on the floor; gently swaying in the wake of constant movement which curated a light breeze throughout the manor. The window was on the other side of the curtain but if he closed his eyes and honed his hearing, he could just about focus in on the dull drum of heavy rain.
A shadow cut a line through the lamplight which had pooled around his ankles as Virgil stepped to stand in front of him. The movement seemed to carry an echo; blurry and accompanied by flashes of colour behind his eyes. He pressed the heels of his hands against them, pushing his fingertips into his temples in a feeble attempt to restrain another wave of light-headedness.
A gentle grip wrapped around his wrists; it was difficult to tell if Virgil was trying to ground him or count his pulse. Probably both. Somehow Scott suspected he wouldn't get away with claiming mere tiredness.
The voices on the other side of the curtain had gone quiet. He entertained a fierce longing for the privacy they'd taken for granted in their house at the Sanctuary.
Technically, they could have accepted Penelope's offer to let them take over Parker's old quarters but it didn't take a psychologist to realise that she was deeply uncomfortable with the idea of anyone invading that space. So, now they were here. He glared at the curtain as if the innocent family on the other side would somehow sense his wish for them to leave.
Virgil's hold tightened a fraction. "What's going on?"
"I don't know," Scott muttered because that sounded less concerning than everything is too much for no fucking reason and I kind of want to crawl out of my skin. "It's- This. This whole situation. Since when do good things happen without a catch? It's putting me on edge. We never get wins this easily."
Virgil released his wrists and sank onto the bed beside him. His gaze was searching, softened by tiredness and the instinctual worry that science couldn't explain which had drawn him upstairs while everyone else was still talking in the private kitchen.
"Bad things happen for no reason," he said at last. "Sometimes good things do too."
"Not to us," Scott replied darkly.
It was easier to be sarcastic and deflect than to give a voice to the bewildering mess of thoughts that he had no idea how to untangle. Because maybe history had taught him to be wary of good things but it still struck him as ridiculous that the cause of the anxiety that had taken him captive was happiness. Talk about a paradox; feeling happy made him so scared of losing it again that he lost the ability to experience it in the first place.
It was exhausting. He'd been strung along like a kite by the elation of relief at reuniting with Penelope and Kayo but now the adrenaline had worn off and the crash was brutal. He flopped onto his back, running a thumb along the scarred ridges of his knuckles as he considered all the sacrifices which had brought them this far. All these months later and he was still scared of happiness.
Laugher echoed up through the floorboards from the room below; light and love and life; warm voices recounting memories whilst forging new ones, unafraid to let themselves feel. He wasn't envious, just sort of resigned.
He was okay. He had a healthy baseline now. He should have been over the moon but instead he was staring at the ceiling, hidden away from everyone except for Virgil who was looking at him as if he could see right through him.
He scrubbed his sleeves over his face and hid behind them for a moment. The mattress dipped slightly as Virgil lay down beside him. The manor was too full of survivors for anywhere within its walls to be considered silent but in this room - tucked away at the end of a long hallway at the top of the house - it was quiet enough for him to catch his breath without being overwhelmed again.
"I'm more scared of losing them now that we've found them again than I was when we'd actually lost them," he confessed in a rough whisper.
Virgil rolled onto his side to face him, voice warmed by more affection than Scott knew what to do with.
"You know our rule about not considering what-ifs? I think that should apply to the future too. You can't keep thinking about what might happen. It's a dangerous line of thought just like going over what we could have done differently in the past has always been a bad idea. It's the apocalypse. If there's ever been a time to live in the present and let the future take care of itself, then this is it."
And- Yeah. Virgil had a good point. If only it were that easy to focus on the present; to live in a moment without worrying about the next or dwelling on the past.
"You can work on it," Virgil said quietly because apparently he was a frickin' mind-reader. A flicker of some internal battle flashed across his face before he added, "I'm going to hug you now."
"Do I get a choice?"
"No."
Scott let out a surprised laugh, swiftly cut off as the air was driven from his lungs when Virgil hauled him into the type of bear hug that could have probably cracked ribs. Not that he was complaining.
He lifted an arm to hug him back and registered familiar fabric under his hand, still infused with pre-Z-Day traces of aviation fuel, fabric softener and even a hint of cologne. Sure, it was green plaid as opposed to red but it was still a welcome jolt of normality.
"Where'd this come from?"
It took Virgil a few seconds to realise what he was referring to.
"Oh, the shirt? I must've left it here at some point." He hesitated, continuing in a hushed voice as if confessing a secret, "Kayo gave it back to me."
"Huh."
"I know."
"Did she say anything else after I left?"
"Not much. She won't talk about whatever happened without Penelope's permission and I don't see that being granted any time soon. I think we're all still processing that we're together again. There are a lot of conversations that won't be had for a while yet."
"So… Kay's been wearing your shirt."
"Seems like it." Virgil rolled onto his back again, drumming his hands against his stomach as he thought. Rain filled the semi-silence, vicious lashes against the windowpanes and tiles. "She seems more… open, doesn't she?"
"Kayo?"
"Mm. Not just more tactile, but less afraid to speak up."
"I wouldn't say she's ever been scared to speak her mind."
"No, not voicing opinions. I meant emotions. She'd run a mile from any discussion of feelings pre-Z-Day but now…"
"Losing people changes things. Not that she actually lost us but you know. Same principle. It's still nearly a year without us. Months of Penelope's influence too."
Virgil stifled a chuckle.
Scott eyed him suspiciously. "What?"
"Nothing. I just can't stop thinking about Kayo wrangling chickens."
"Don't make me laugh."
Virgil draped an arm across his face to conceal his smile. "Are you feeling any better?"
"A bit, yeah."
"I'll take that."
"Another point to you."
"Well, I did promise to drag your ass out of trouble even if the trouble happens to be your own mind, so I'm only doing my job."
There was a brief pause.
Scott let out an undignified snort.
"What?"
"…Kayo and those chickens."
Mid-morning found him outside, back propped against the kitchen door and elbows balanced on his knees as he nursed a mug of hot water and honey (the only option given both coffee and tea supplies had run out weeks ago and attempts at finding more had proven unsuccessful).
He'd slept in later than intended but the air still held the bite of residual night, as of yet unstirred by the rising sun. Frosty grass crunched as he ground his heels into the soil. Lacy spiderwebs glittered, strung from low-hanging branches like dreamcatchers.
There was a precarious idea of beauty about it that seemed unfitting given the blood-smeared town only a handful of miles away. He crooked his index finger through the mug handle and inhaled the little whisp of steam. After the non-stop chaos of the past couple of weeks, it felt good to just sit and breathe for a while.
The squeak of hinges alerted him to the opening door. He stuck out a hand to catch his balance before he could topple backwards. Kayo managed to repress a laugh but amusement rang clearly through her body language as she slipped outside and knocked the door shut with her heel.
He shifted sideways to make room for her, biting back a curse as the cold stonework bled through his trousers. Kayo brought welcome warmth as she folded herself neatly onto the steps and pressed against his side, lacing her fingers together across her knees.
"Are you…" Scott searched for the correct phrasing and came up empty handed. "…good?"
Kayo exhaled slowly, letting the tension leak from her spine. She tugged the band out of her hair and raked her fingers through it, revealing a flash of a new scar towards the base of her neck that had gone unnoticed in the darkness of their shared room – nightmares and disbelief had drawn them all back to one another throughout the night so that dawn had seen them tangled together across Penny's oversized mattress.
"You're here. So, yes. I am now." She tilted her head to glance at him. "Why?"
"I heard you in the comms room this morning."
Most people had heard Kayo if he were entirely truthful. Not even soundproof panels could have muted her shouts as she'd torn into her GDF contacts earlier. There had been accusations and refusals and several choice words that had left even Scott taken aback. Kayo had chewed them out for not contacting her sooner about the planned landing at the shuttle site or even that a radio link had been established with Canadian territories at all.
Penelope had ushered them all downstairs for breakfast, warning them that it was best not to interrupt. Given the way Kayo's voice still held a cutting edge even an hour after the call had ended, that had been a wise suggestion.
"They're assholes."
Scott knocked their shoulders together in solidarity. "Yep. Most of them are."
"They should have told me."
"But they didn't. And we still made it."
"Hey Scott? Let me be angry about it, okay?"
"Okay." He ran a thumb around the rim of his mug, tracing divots where the paint had chipped. "Sorry."
"It's fine. I just need to…" Kayo grimaced as if the words tasted as sour as an unripe lemon. "…feel what I'm feeling and let it pass."
She yanked at a tuft of grass that had snuck between the flagstones.
"Penny used to go on these rants about 'emotional maturity'." She made sarcastic finger-quotes but her gaze was soft. "Because, you know, it was just the two of us. So, we couldn't afford to hurt each other. Which meant we had to use our actual words. It was… kind of a learning curve."
A flutter of movement caught Scott's attention. A tiny robin had alighted on the closest branch of the gnarled oak tree. Its red chest was a flash of colour against the greyscale winter landscape, puffing up as it sang proudly to the clear blue sky.
At his side, Kayo watched it with a hint of wonder in her eyes. Her grip on her knees loosened as she relaxed into the sunlight. The heart of December was bracingly cold and the distant hills were pale with a dusting of snow but it was warm in the sun.
"Was it difficult?" Scott asked before he could talk himself out of it. On the surface it seemed like a stupid question – of course surviving had been difficult – but he knew Kayo would understand his true meaning; there was an entire world of silent questions hidden within those three words.
"Yes."
She reached out hesitantly, navigating the faded scars on his wrists left by rope burn from all those months ago on the satellite. They had been overshadowed by far greater violence since then but Scott still flinched. Her touch grew impossibly gentle.
"It was difficult for you too."
It wasn't a question.
Kayo's gaze was searching when she finally looked up at him. "I'd have torn them apart, you know?"
"The zombies?"
"It wasn't zombies who hurt you."
"I mean… They did. I've got the bitemarks to prove it."
"Not like this." Her fingers skimmed his forearm to the tiny, almost unnoticeable scars left by needles. She lowered her forehead to his shoulder, inhaling deeply. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Scott couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. "You've got nothing to apologise for. And even if you had been with us, this isn't… This isn't something you could have prevented. It was my screw up, okay?"
Kayo cuffed him on the back of his head.
"It wasn't your fault, idiot. The Hood… He manipulates people. Trust me, I know that from experience." She faltered. "John told me he's dead."
"How do you feel about it?"
"He hurt you. I'm glad he suffered."
"Kayo…" He set the mug aside so that he could wrap an arm around her. "He was a part of your life in your childhood. You're allowed to have complicated feelings. I'm not going to see that as a betrayal or any crap like that, okay?"
"I know." She shrugged. "But I mean it. I'm glad he suffered. We might have shared the same blood but he sure as hell wasn't my family."
The robin finished its song and flew away, vanishing amid the apple trees.
"I actually came to find you for a reason," Kayo admitted. "I need to borrow your height. I'd ask John but he's busy."
"Borrow my…? What?"
"You can reach the ceiling. I need your help putting up decorations."
Scott shot her a bemused glance. "You don't even celebrate Christmas. Why are you decorating?"
"Forget Christmas, this is for Penelope's birthday."
He was struck by the urge to laugh. Forty-eight hours ago, he had been preparing himself for the worst. Now, he was about to help his sister decorate a manor for their best friend's birthday. He was used to life changing in the blink of an eye but it rarely changed for the better like this.
"Alright." He let Kayo haul him to his feet. "Let's fix up some decorations."