Work Text:
The Last Page
Manic laughter.
Groans, panting and... more laughter.
Just seconds before, Nick had fired a shot from his gun. He could still feel how his muscles tensed at the recoil, how the adrenaline pushed through his veins and accelerated his heartbeat.
The same hand that had pulled the trigger was now ripping pages out of a notebook, while he ran away from Troy's reach. He couldn't talk anymore, he just howled and cackled, but his thoughts were still the same. You are not a scientist.
You are crazy. Like me.
No, they weren't the same. Nick had killed since the apocalypse started, but he had never enjoyed it - would never have gone as far as to systematize it. Every single person he killed or had witnessed his group kill still haunted him. Troy on the other hand had started mass murder without batting an eye. And yet... Troy wouldn't use these words to describe what he did. His talk of science, was it any different from Celia's talk of salvation?
Science.
Troy tackled him to the ground. The warmth of his body against Nick's back, his weight on him. Closeness. A week ago he had still thought the man would kill him - and he would have, probably. Right now Nick felt as alive as he hadn't felt since way back in LA. The force of the collision let them roll over, and over again, and Nick could feel Troy's hands struggle against his, to get his notebook back.
He let it go.
Troy rolled off of him and stayed on the ground, clutching his notebook and holding it to his body like a treasure. Maybe Nick could have stopped laughing, but now that he saw Troy clinging to his science, that he saw him on the ground, in distress, he couldn't help it. Another wave of laughter left his lungs, and Troy, watching him, smiled as well.
"I think we can be friends now."
They both kept lying on the ground. Nick's chest still quivered, but he slowly calmed down. Friends. And much to his own confusion, he didn't think that was a horribly bad idea.
In the end, they didn't kill each other. Nick looked to his side and saw right into Troy's eyes, saw that the other still watched him. There was an undeniable interest in the way Troy looked at him. Almost... longing.
The sound of dogs barking and gunshots echoed through the night. "Sounds like they got the boar," Troy said quietly. He didn't move yet, but Nick did. He slowly sat up.
"You gonna stay here? Do some science?" Nick teased him. Troy groaned and sat up as well. "Fancy to report to my father that you left me behind, Clark?"
Silence. Troy stood up and cleaned his pants from the desert dirt. "Well, neither do I," he finally told the younger. "Get up, back to the cars."
The calmness of the moment was gone, the expression in Troy's face seemed to change. For some reason it seemed like the taller had enjoyed this moment of weakness, of rolling around like silly kids. Lying on the ground below him. And now that he had to show some leader skills again, he seemed distant. He was focused, but his smile was gone.
Nick slowly got up as well, watched the other leave the spot they had stayed behind at. Scattered around him were the sheets he had ripped out of the notebook. He bowed down, picked up some pages and held them into the shine of his flashlight.
They were all empty. He could feel the disappointment rise in his chest. Either it was all fake, or he had ripped out the pages in the back of the book. But then his gaze fell on one sheet that wasn't blank. He quickly pocketed it, without reading it, before rushing back to the group.
He forgot about the note in his pocket. If it wasn't for the ranch running out of new clothes, and Patricia offering to do the laundry, it would have been gone. But as things were, a couple days later, Patricia stood in the doorway of his little project - Russell's old house - and held the folded sheet of paper under his nose. "Do I have to worry?" she asked.
Startled by her presence, and confused as to what she meant, Nick just shook his head and pocketed the note, again. He didn't even recognize it at first, busy as his mind was with the charred walls. And then Luciana left and Nick truly forgot about it all.
Only once more he was reminded on the night of the hunt, when he went down to the pantry and met Troy. Troy - who was amazingly tame around him now. Who would give him looks he didn't share with anyone else. He still was a cocky bastard but... something had changed.
This time he had taken the note out of his pocket, before bringing his laundry to Pat. It rested in a drawer in his nightstand. He had thrown a quick glance on it, a few short sentences hastily scribbled, barely readable. And then Jeremiah had paid him a visit and - the note had vanished again before Nick really read it.
He got the note out again two days later. He had just decided to join Troy's militia, to earn his place at the ranch, blend in with the people. He even cut his hair short, to mark a new beginning, of a life without Luciana. A life with his family. A life with Troy.
"Keep your enemies close, right?"
His own words still resounded in his mind, as he sat on his bed, the page from Troy's diary in his shaky hands. He wasn't sure what he had expected. Maybe the formula, by which Troy had calculated his own time to turn. Maybe some machiavellian footnote, some last words that would prove his insanity, his disregard of the lives of so many others. Maybe Nick had hoped for something silly, some really stupid thoughts quickly noted down, which he could use to expose Troy as... not as brilliant as he obviously thought he was. Or some lines showing the pure evil soul of his, which he then could use to win Madison over in mistrusting him.
Nick didn't get any of that. He read the lines over and over again, and with each time his chest felt heavier, his hands were shaking a little more. Troy's blue eyes came back into his mind, how he had started to look at him after he spared his life. The warmth of his body, when he tackled him - not to hurt him, but just to reclaim his book.
"He's a goddamn killer," Nick mumbled quietly to himself, as if he had to reassure his thoughts were valid. What he read in Troy's note didn't seem dangerous or vile at all. It actually sounded much like him, back in the day, when he ran to his drug den at the church.
If only I could disappear. I just want to vanish. Please let me go.
Swallowing down his sadness, which rolled over him when he thought of the times he had those thoughts himself, Nick started to rip the page into pieces. He made sure that nothing remained, no two letters were still connected on the same snippet.
He swore to himself that reading this wouldn't change a thing.
And yet - everything changed.
Because Nick opened up around Troy. Because Troy, in turn, saved his life on Madison's risky rescue mission. Because Nick couldn't forget it. Not when he looked at Troy's calm expression, while they were planning the perimeter patrol. He didn't even think about his options, when he offered to be his suicide note, now that he realized that Troy wouldn't just send his men to die. That he would not hesitate to do it himself, if the time had come.
"Feeling blue, Nicky?"
They had shared some coffee and tea that night. And it was Troy who handcuffed Nick to the bed in the infirmary, when the younger fought the anthrax poisoning. Not just as a safety measure - but also to make sure he'd rest.
Maybe it was the note from Troy's diary, that ultimately gave Nick the courage to kill Jeremiah. Because now he understood that the monster he had seen in Troy and the ramblings of the old man were connected. He had seen a glimpse of Troy's past, and also a glimpse of what could be, if Troy was given a chance to do good.
And maybe it was the note that led him into Troy's house at the night of the shootout, trying to save the killer who had now become his friend.
"I don't want you to die."