Chapter Text
Yeah. One of you is a traitor.
Your heart sinks into your stomach as you hear Sam’s voice over the Comms, telling you this. One of you is a traitor. One of your friends – no, you cannot believe that.
You look over to Sara, jogging next to you, she looks back. You don’t say anything, but you don’t need to. You are both convinced: It’s neither of you. No, you wouldn’t betray Abel, never.
You don’t want to admit it, but it hurts that you got tested like that. That they played this game with you. It means they still don’t trust you. You – you understand, in a way, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Sam played along, too.
Who is the traitor?
Back at Abel you and Sara go straight to Dr. Meyers to be checked for bites, you came dangerously close to them this time. You’re quiet – even more than usual and once Dr. Meyers clears you, you head straight for the showers.
“See you at Dinner, Five!” Sara calls after you. You just lift your hand in a kind of agreeing wave as you leave through the double door.
You don’t want to talk. You don’t want to go stretch with the others. Your head is swimming. You need to be alone. Sort out your thoughts.
You’re still absentmindedly rubbing strands of your wet hair with the towel around your neck half an hour later, making your way towards the kitchen to get your ration for dinner, when Sam calls for you from somewhere to the left.
You ignore him the first two times you hear your name.
He does catch up to you before you can round the building, though, reaches for your elbow. You frown and pull it out of his grip, but turn around, lifting your brows expectantly, as if to ask ‘what?’.
Sam looks taken aback by the attitude for half a second, before his expression melts in that awful way he has – this ‘I understand what’s going on’ expression.
“You know I wouldn’t ever think you to be the traitor, Five,” Sam says, dark eyes serious as he looks at you. You’re angry at him for pinpointing exactly what makes you angry at him. Are you that easy to read? You frown and pull the towel from your shoulders, folding it just to have something to do with your hands.
“Five-“
“No,” you growl back under your breath, because you don’t want to talk about how it makes you feel, knowing people here think you’re the traitor, you’d do something like this. You don’t like to talk, even less about how things make you feel.
And anyway, what does it help? People still think you are a traitor. Scheming with Van Arc! You! After he made you run behind his car for hours! What did they think they were doing? Having a fun jog together, exchanging phone numbers?! He made you run through thistle bushes, through shambling zoms! He tied you to the car and just drove! He made fun of you while you ran for your life! You felt so violated and humiliated and no one came to help you for hours before Paula! And now? Now what, you are supposed to talk about how you feel?
“No. Five. You’re hurt, I get that, that’s okay. You’re allowed to be”.
Sam has that persistence about him – when he thinks he is on to something (and most of the time he is) he hooks in and he doesn’t let go until you spill your guts. You don’t know how he does it.
“I’m angry,” you reply bitterly, twisting the towel between your hands, because you are. You are so angry at everyone. How can they think you to be a traitor?! And who is the real traitor? Which of your friends would- could- you love them all and one of them-
“Anger is just a catalyzer,” Sam says and when you look back at him, startled at that strange statement, he shrugs and bites his lip, scratching his neck, “My grandpa always said that, you know when we- it doesn’t matter. Fact is, you’re hurt. I would be, too! I understand that – no one likes hearing people suspect you, among others, to be a traitor. Especially for a guy that does horrible things like- like tying people to cars and- you know. I get that,” he tentatively takes a step back closer to you and reaches out.
This time you just curl your mouth unhappily, but let him curl a hand around your arm, squeeze it gently. He leans in a little closer: “But I know it’s not you. Never you. I promise. I trust you, okay? You’re my runner Five. You’d never betray me. Us. You’d never betray Abel.”
Your eyes flicker from his hand around your arm up to his face. And you can’t stay angry – you’re still hurt, but now that you acknowledged that it is hurt and not anger, it just makes you sad and it exhausts you.
You nod, though, once and swallow. It takes a lot out of you to admit quietly, as if murmuring to yourself: “… How can anyone think I’m the traitor?”
Sam’s fingers spasm a little around your arm, like a warning, before he pulls you in for a hug. He squeezes you tightly and you swallow again, swallow against that knot in your throat. Your head tips down and your face meets his shoulder.
“It’s gonna be alright, Five. I promise. We’ll find out what’s going on,” he speaks into your ear and you nod again, hugging back finally, the towel still in your hand.
“… Thank you, Sam.”
You stand there for a while, just hugging and breathing each other in. It feels a little like a good yoga session with Three, breathing practice to make you relax.
“So, what was that with Evan and inviting you to the Caribbean?”
You groan.