Chapter Text
JUNE, 1963
He actually likes being out here, which is surprising, but it’s smaller than the city proper, and quieter, and the people here are all here to get good food and produce and they don’t give him weird looks like some people do in the city. Matty was always better at moving through the streets, moving through people, so the city suited him but-- Well, like he said. This ain’t too bad.
Even so, by the time the afternoon is crawling to its height, Bullseye’s getting bored , and Katherine and Jack, two of the members of the Flock, are nice and all, but they’re working more than he has to, so they don’t have much time for him, and their daughter, Mack, has books and stuff that she’s reading when she gets bored, which is a lot, so she isn’t even talking to Bullseye much.
He’s taken to either stealing raspberries-- it’s peak season, and they’re tart and sweet and all sorts of good, and he’d talk about that to anyone who would listen, but not much people talk to him other than Mr. Fisk and Mr. Wesley and Matty, and none of them really care too much about his berry opinions-- or throwing them, seeing if he can land ‘em in purses and strollers and down shirts and stuff.
‘If’ being rather a useless word here, ‘cause of course he always makes it. Doesn’t ever miss, but he’s gotta abort a couple attempts when Katherine gives him a look and it’s that kind of look that members of the Flock sometimes give him, all sad and worried-like, the kind that means he’s gonna get a talking to by Mr. Wesley later.
The early summer sun is hot and it bakes into his skin, and whenever Bullseye leaves the safety of the pop-up tent, he can feel sunny tendrils baking down onto his scalp, so he grabs as much of the hair as he can and piles it on his head like one of those messy buns some of the ladies do at Home when they’re gonna be working in the fields all day. He’s not too good at it, all things considered, and it’s got a mighty weight to it, but it’s better than feeling the skin on his scalp feel like it’s slowly melting, and it’s better than the back of his neck getting all sweaty, and really, it all means that he can see better and can aim better.
And if even gets Jack peering at him all curious-like, because he doesn’t think Jack’s ever seen him with his hair up. Bullseye can’t really tell what he’s looking for though, so he ducks his head to avoid feeling his looks, wringing his hands over themselves. Never much liked people starin’ at him all too long, especially not when he can’t hide behind his hair.
He’d ask if they could just leave , but he was invited along for a reason . Matty’s been gone for days , maybe even a whole week, and he’s coming back home today. A little heat and too many people’s worth it ‘cause it means he gets to be the first one to say hello to Matty after his trip, and Matty’s always awful funny after his trips. Sometimes in a not-so-good way, but that’s usually only when he’s climbing into the window of the big House in the middle of the night and covered in blood and doesn’t have much in the way of words or emotions.
(During those times, Bullseye sleeps in his own bed, usually, because he’s never liked blood and even if it’s on Matty, that’s not really better and sometimes it’s worse, really. But he’d be a rotten liar if he said he’d never curled up in bed with Matty after he came home and fell asleep while Matty was still sitting up in bed, his katana strung across his lap and still covered in filth and still kinda empty in the face, because he’d never get to falling asleep without him.)
This is different, ‘cause it’s the middle of the day, and the longer Matty’s away, sometimes, the funnier he gets when he comes back.
Like taking a ‘vacation.’ Matty’d told him about those once. Said your family’s supposed to save up and up and up for about a year and then you have extra money to leave your city and go on a little getaway. For holidays and for kids, he said. ‘Disneyworld’ and the ilk, though Bullseye’s not too sure what that is other than something to do with a mouse. He didn’t have much of an answer when Bullseye’d asked why anyone would ever want to vacation away from Home when it’s so nice, and he dropped the subject a mite too quick after that.
He must be getting lost in his own head and thoughts again, because the girl, Mack, she’s sitting up and she tugs on his arm and says, “I think your brother’s here,” in that small kinda quiet way she sounds, and in less than a second, Bullseye gets up so fast to peer out of the tent and look at the front of the marketplace entrance that his vision kinda blurs out and statics for a second, leaving him wavering where he stands. Sure enough, Matty’s comin’ through, and he looks mighty tall and a little out of place amid all the folks in their farmer’s clothes and nice dresses and all.
Matty’s carrying a suitcase in one hand, and he’s got a suit jacket draped around the handle, leaving him in just a white button up and slacks. He’s using one of those canes of his to make sure nothin’ gets underfoot (he doesn’t use them much at Home, but then again, he expects Bullseye to keep the floors clean at all times), and he’s clean. No blood, which means he’s probably gonna be in an okay mood.
Bullseye all but clambers closer to the fruit and veggie stands to meet Matty where he’s coming. “ Matty ,” He breathes, and grins, and tries to reach over the boxes to grab at Matty’s wrists when he comes in close, but Matty doesn’t let him, casually sliding just a hair back away from him.
But he’s smiling, too. Matty doesn’t smile so big, and he doesn’t laugh so loud ever, but even this small turn of the lips, Bullseye knows, means he’s real real real happy.
Instead of letting Bullseye grab him, Matt selects a peach, his fingers running over the few on display until he finds one he likes the feel of, and he’s supposed to pay, but he’s Matty and it’s their fruit anyways, so Bullseye doesn’t make a fuss.
“Afternoon, Bullseye,” he says in greeting, and it sure is a lot nicer than he normally is.
“Hi, heya Matty, was the trip good? Are you glad to be back home? Home’s been awful lonely without you, you know, and Mr. Wesley was even meaner than usual this whole entire week, but you know what, he made it up when he said I could go to the markets today and hang out with Mack and Katherine and Jack and all and--”
He slowly cuts himself, because Matty’s barely listening, just smiling and kinda sidling around the side of the produce stand.
Bullseye glances back at Katherine and Jack, and they look a little uncomfortable, but their backs are straight and their lips are pulled into a smile, and even if it’s stiff, they’re at least not yelling at Matty to pay. Matty gives them a small two-fingered wave around the peach and ducks under the tent to be shielded from the sun under the tent.
For someone who lives outside a lot, Matty’s skin isn’t so good under the sun, and Bullseye’s seen him red red red , red as a lobster before. Right now, he just looks a little flushed and hot, but he still looks good and healthy, and yeah he’s thinking that just ‘cause he ain’t seen Matty in a week, but it’s also ‘cause sometimes Matty comes home… wrong .
It’s the same kind of wrong that he gets when he comes back from meetings with Mr. Fisk in his office, and it’s the same kind of wrong that Matty gets when he comes back home after a weekend in the Shed. Bullseye can’t get him to say much, and he doesn’t talk much or move much, and he doesn’t look like he’s feeling much of anything.
But now, he looks relaxed, and he’s not injured like Missions sometimes make him, and he makes careful work of cutting up slices of the peach he chose with a pocket knife, not caring too much it seems when he gets peach juice all over his fingers. He sits in the dirt; even though Matty talks about fashion and not being gross and dirty , he still sits in the dirt just the same as Bullseye does when they’re home, and Bullseye kinda finds it funny when Matty pretends to be some fashion-minded city man.
“You’re home for good now? Are you happy to come home? Was it a fun mission?” Bullseye asks again, and oh it’s nice to have someone who can understand him when he talks too fast and quick and tumbles over his words, because all week the people Mr. Wesley have told him to go hang out with would ask him what and can you repeat that and speak up, boy! And Bullseye didn’t know how to tell them that this is just how he talks .
But Matty always understands, and he gives Bullseye an amused look, like they’re sharing a secret. “You know the answer to that. They’re never fun.” He smiles, and there’s a relaxation to him that he doesn’t have all that often. Maybe he really is happy to be home.
The little girl, Mack, she’s pretending she isn’t wide eyed as she reads her book, but lotsa folks get like that around Matt. He’s got lots of names and lots of jobs and sometimes he’s mean and sometimes he helps out a lot, and no one’s quite sure what to make of him because he sure doesn’t talk as much as Bullseye. Most of the kids, they seem to like Matty, especially when he’s being lazy and just letting them crawl all over him, but Mack’s a bit older and she told Bullseye that really they’re much too old for all these kid games , and Bullseye didn’t really understand her much, but he knew enough to realize that that meant she wouldn’t take too kindly if he threw a raspberry at her .
“Yeah, but you smiled and all, so I thought maybe-- You know.” Bullseye shrugs. If they were Home and no one was around, he’d be able to sit close to Matty without Matty pushing him away, but they’re not Home and there are people around, so he doesn’t even bother trying, even if it makes his body jitter and shake from how much he wants to.
‘Cause the truth is, he missed Matty. As annoying and mean and rude as he is, he’s still someone to talk to and someone who will actually listen , and he’s been gone for a while now.
“No,” Matty says, and gives a one-shouldered shrug, and hands Bullseye a slice to the peach he’s holding. Bullseye takes it, and Matty’s quiet, and for a second, he thinks that maybe Matty’s just done talking for the day. He does that sometimes, just up and decides that he’s finished for the day, and nothin’ Bullseye says will get him to engage anymore.
Bullseye pops the slice of peach into his mouth, not much caring that he’s getting sticky juice all down his arm, and almost chokes on it in excitement when Matty’s next words are, instead, “Describe the market.”
It’s a game see, one they play sometimes, and it’s been a while, and it’s funny , because Bullseye can describe so many things to Matty and always, always, always, Matty will somehow be able to describe stuff that even Bullseye missed, and Mr. Fisk says he’s clever and that he’s got clever eyes, so that’s saying a lot.
But, well, Matty’s got a secret, too. He’s got his Gift and he’s usually not so obvious about it, but in this little game, Bullseye knows why Mr. Fisk likes Matty so much. Matty just knows things that no one should be able to know, like he’s reading minds. Maybe he is; God could have made Matty psychic.
He scrambles closer to Matty, kind of angling out of the tent to look out at the aisles. It’s not as busy as it was a couple hours ago, must be winding down, but there’s still a considerable crowd of families and folks all on their own, and he narrows his eyes to start out easy.
“Lady with a real pretty flowery dress. It’s kinda hangin’ off her, and Matty, I bet you she’s gonna drop that head of lettuce by the time she leaves, she’s kinda fumblin’ around with way too much stuff.”
“What color is her hair?”
“Hm. Like… dark, dark brown.”
Matt leans forward, considering, the pocket knife just hovering over the remainder of the peach. “Her hair is pulled up, rather messy?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s pregnant, but she doesn’t know it yet. Cigarettes in her purse, dress a little too tight, because she hasn’t figured out why she is gaining weight yet.”
Bullseye howls with laughter, and angles towards a man, this time. “What about this guy? He’s got-- oh, Matty, he’s kinda gross. Must be a farmer, what with those over alls, and he’s got a big long beard. I bet he stinks.”
The man in question is lingering around a stall, and he’s a big man, but his face is all carefully neutral like he’s trying to be awful careful about what he looks like to others. He’s sweaty.
“Oh, he does.” Matty says, and there’s one of his strange little smiles on his face, the kind where Bullseye’s not sure if he’s actually happy, or if he’s findin’ somethin’ awful cruel to think. “He’s got caaaaancer.” He wriggles the fingers in the knife-wielding hand all spooky-like, and Bullseye snorts.
“Well, God bless’m.”
“I can smell the pig-shit from here. Doubt he’s going to be seeking much medical attention.”
Katherine keeps giving them two a look , like they’re being obnoxious and strange, and she keeps staring at Matt like she’s afraid he’s gonna pounce like one of the foxes out in the woods, but if she’s gonna be mean about them, Bullseye’s gonna try not to care. He’s happy Matty’s coming Home, and there’s nothin’ she can do to stop it. Just ‘cause she’s not so special like he and Matty doesn’t mean she’s allowed to get all jealous that they’re playing this game.
They continue on for a while as the market slowly dries up. Jack had said to him, on the way down here, that it’s only open on the weekends, and when Bullseye’d asked what day it was, because really he’s got no way of knowing, Jack had said ‘Saturday’ and had given him a look in the rearview mirror like it was mighty strange that Bullseye wouldn’t know what day it is.
Well, he knows how many days Matty was gone-- five-- but he’s never had much of a reason to know about, say, Tuesdays, or Fridays and that stuff. Sundays he sometimes pays attention to, because Matty’d said once that when he was a kid, he used to go to church on those days, and it made Bullseye really rather curious about going to church only on one specific time in the week, rather than devotin’ most of your days to God and all that.
But, anyways, they continue their game until Matty’s finished his peach and has taken to stealing handfuls of raspberries from the stand, getting in the way of Katherine and Jack as they try and start packing everything up. They had a lotta customers, according to Mack, and he knows lots of people were staring at him like he was so strange and interesting, and one old lady had even asked if he was Jack and Katherine’s ‘cause she’d “never seen this cutie around.”
Bullseye doesn’t realize he’s been spacing out again until he gets a berry lobbed at the side of his head and Matty is crouched in front of the tent, bracing it up with his arm while they take it down.
“Earth to Bullseye,” He says, and Bullseye slowly gets up out of the dirt to leave the enclave of shadows. Didn’t even realized he’d been spacing out, doesn’t know how long. But he kind of ends up standing there awkwardly by Mack while Matty, Katherine and Jack pull the tent down together.
He wouldn’t be much help if he tried, and this way he can turn to Mack and say, “Hope I get to come with you folks again.”
She looks at him for a moment and then back at her parents and Matty, and gives a small shrug. “I think you were only here for him.”
“Whaddya mean?”
Mack just shrugs and slips the book she was reading under her arm. She stares at Matt for a while, and says, “Well, he really only talks to you. So maybe that’s why Mr. Wesley let you come with us today.”
He doesn’t really know what she means, though, ‘cause she talks like she’s speaking in secrets. A lot of them at Home do that. They don’t say much to him or Matty, but it’s all got meaning after meaning after meaning layered into it, and sometimes Bullseye’s just not learned enough to really get it all.
Bullseye shuffles in the dirt, watching the dust kick up around his toes and settle on the leather of his sandals. “Maybe,” He says, ‘cause he doesn’t have much else to say, and most everything is being packed back up in the back of the truck they brought so he’s being ushered over anyhow.
He goes quick, since he doesn’t want Mack sitting next to Matty, he wants to sit next to Matty. And besides, sometimes car rides make him queasy when there’s soooo many people in them, so he wants to call dibs on the middle seat in the back, which means Mack ends up on one side and Matty on the other, his long legs pushed up tight to accommodate his height and the briefcase he brought with tucked on his lap. The cane he brought-- and Bullseye knows it’s that special one of his, that’s got that really pretty blade hidden inside and no one ever knows-- leans against the window, and he wonders if Matty knows there’s a couple flecks of dried blood on the seam where the sword pulls out from.
Must not, considering how clean he is everywhere else.
Katherine and Jack hop into the front seats, and Bullseye realizes that they’ve been awful quiet since Matty showed up. They’re already quiet, but they’ve barely said a peep. Matty just has that effect on people, Bullseye supposes.
They pull out from the marketplace and begin the drive Home, shoulder to shoulder, and really, Bullseye just hopes Matty did such a good job on his Mission that he won’t have to leave Home for a while yet, that Mr. Fisk will say something to the effect of wow, what a good job you’ve done, take a break and stay in the Big House for a month. But that doesn’t really sound like how Mr. Fisk talks, and Bullseye knows if Matty does a good job, it always means there’s other jobs he can be tasked with.
The slow-descent of the sunset glints off Matty’s glasses as they drive down the road, and he’s still got that same small self-satisfied smile he had when he first came to the marketplace.