Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Piper believed in many gods. She would have to, with so much overlap in the world and so many differing versions of the same stories.

She believed in the god of Abraham, who led the Jews from Egypt and razed a poisoned world to start anew.

She believed in the gods of Greece, who facilitated odysseys before they had a name, giving purpose and reason to life, death, and everything standing between. 

She believed in the gods of the Norsemen, who gave power and magic to the written word, building great halls and sailing great distances in pursuit of blood and glory.

She believed them all--and believed that power and purpose gave these gods footholds in the world through the hearts of their followers. Varying points of her life had led her to follow each path in pursuit of some personal truth.

And then the world ended. None of the gods she had acquainted herself with seemed to have any answers. For all she could see, it seemed that each one had taken their hands off of the Earth and left it to die…and all of their followers with it. 

Piper had stayed in one place as long as she possibly could, unsure of what to believe. The god of Abraham and the god of Becky the Baptist had two vastly different agendas, in her experience, and she’s not sure which one prompts the old woman in her dreams to insist that she get up and move. A safe haven in Colorado. More people, more hope. A chance to pick up pieces that she had grown accustomed to stepping around. Living instead of surviving. It sounded too good to be true. 

But the Other’s promises sounded even less believable. Peace of a different shade--where need is eliminated, wants are fulfilled, with no pressure or change or discomfort. She could have whatever she wanted, without ever needing to fear it being pulled out from under her. Friends. Family. Love. A security so strong and so complete that she would be set for life. 

She hasn’t followed Christianity in over a decade. But despite her aversion, there’s no doubt in her mind that the darkest devils speak beautiful words with beautiful voices. So with as many supplies as she could stand to carry, she struck out northward instead of to the west. 

Her car lasts as long as she can push it. If the internet were still available, she might have been able to research how to siphon gas, but she sets out on foot through the small sliver of Oklahoma she has to pass through in order to cross from Texas to Colorado. It’s slow and miserable work--especially for someone who had never been much for exercise in the first place--but there are enough roadside stops and small towns on the way that she’s able to rest and scavenge for supplies just often enough to keep her moving. She keeps her thoughts from growing too loud or too dark by playing music--when she’s able to find a place with enough electricity to charge her aging ipod--or by singing or telling stories when things get too quiet. 

She passes into Colorado without seeing a living soul--unsurprising, as she hasn’t seen one since she struck out from Amarillo. And even that one was a passerby, on his way east to New York City. She hopes he found what he was looking for. As the plains give way to forests and rocky paths, her path gets slower and more convoluted. 

Four months of hiding. Two weeks of travel. And nothing but a god she doesn’t like and a devil she doesn’t trust to keep her going. By the end, she wonders if this is some kind of purgatory after all--if she’d died when Captain Tripps swept the nation, and some cruel genie’s version of wish fulfillment had sent her on that grand adventure she had always wanted, at the cost of everyone she ever loved. If it weren’t for the spray-painted missives of some unknown travelers on their own sojourn, she might think that she’s the last living person on the planet. 

The signs for Boulder have been ever more frequent, mileage ticking down as she takes to the road for what might be her last day or two of travel. It’s been a long time since she had allowed herself to do much thinking beyond the basics--don’t sleep all day. Travel by daylight. Move fast, the nights are getting colder. Conserve water, but don’t risk dehydration. Look for more ibuprofen at the next rest stop. Anything beyond this and she runs the risk of asking too many questions…or worse, doubting that she had made the right choice after all. If she makes it to Boulder and finds another ghost town full of bloat-throats and misery, she doesn’t know what she might do.

This focus nearly overrides the first foreign sound she’s heard in days. It takes her another few steps before she hears it again, steps stilling as her mind slowly breaks from the mantra of “keep moving” and the words of the song she had been trying to remember from a radio show that she hadn’t heard in years. 

A voice. She hears a voice. It tries again. “Hello? Someone out here?”

“Hello?” She asks back, turning quickly to try to find its source. She only sees trees and tarmac for a minute or so, but just as she starts to wonder if she’s finally cracked after all--or worse, that she’s dreaming, about to see the Other Man yet again--a figure steps out onto the road a few yards ahead. 

She sees the high-visibility jacket before anything else, but as the figure approaches she feels some of her tension ease. This isn’t the Other Man, but an unfamiliar face, dressed like a deer hunter with a jacket, vest, and beanie to protect him from the chill air around them. For a moment they stare at each other, then the man’s bearded face breaks out into a warm grin. “Holy shit, sorry about that. It’s been a while since we had anyone new come in. How are you doing, did you get here okay?”

His presence catches her off-guard almost as much as his friendliness, and through her shock she can only ask one thing. “You…are you real? I’m not dreaming, am I?”

He shakes his head, crossing the space between them to look her over. “Real as can be! Man, you’re lucky, too; it’s getting cold enough that they’re saying the snowy season might start up soon. I’m Teddy--Teddy Weizak. Welcome to Boulder.”

He holds out a gloved hand and she takes it without thinking, the rough woolen texture and the strength of his handshake cementing in her mind that she really is speaking to a living person for the first time in almost twelve weeks. Relief crashes over her like a wave, strong enough to make her knees shake, threatening to give out completely. Her eyes burn, a hard lump forming in her throat that makes it hard to speak. “...Piper. I’m Piper Crain. Holy fuck, I…I almost didn’t think I’d find anyone here. I haven’t seen anyone alive since…since September, I think. Everywhere I’ve been, Texas, Oklahoma, everything’s…everyone is…” 

He nods, picking up where she trails off, smile faltering a little. “Yeah, it’s…yeah. But don’t worry, you’re here now. There’s a few hundred people in town--and Mother A, too. She’ll want to see you face to face pretty soon. Is there anyone else with you?”

“Just me.” Her mind is spinning, finally allowed to realize the weight of her journey for the first time since she left home. The urge to cry is strong, but she can’t manage to cross from urge to action. It’s a familiar pain that settles in her chest instead. “I…I can’t believe it. All this time…you’ve been here all this time.”

He puts a hand on her shoulder, using his free one to rub at his nose with the back of his glove. “C’mon, let’s get into town. You’ve got to be freezing. We can get you some food and answer any questions you might have. I know I had a lot when I first got here.” Gently, he guides her into moving again, starting down the road and past a worn sign marking the city limit. He pulls a radio from his belt and announces to someone at the other end that he’s “found another one by the highway”, and distantly Piper is aware of a voice answering in kind. More people. Hundreds. Maybe not purgatory after all.

The gods might have turned their backs on the world, Piper knows. There’s no way that something that nearly erased humanity’s footprint on history itself was done by anything that had their best interests at heart. She doesn’t follow Abraham’s god. Not like Mother Abigail does. But if that god is what led her to collect the country’s last few people in one safe place, she can’t find much reason to distrust him…not like the promises the Shadow of Las Vegas hissed into her ear. She could almost think that she could start again in a place like this. Especially if all of the refugees are as friendly as the man chattering away at her side.

Chapter Text

“Hey, you feeling okay?”

Piper’s head pops up as she comes back from where her thoughts had drifted off to, reflexive “Huh?” leaving her lips before she’s able to process the question. “Oh, sorry.” She adds out of habit, shaking her head to clear it. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why, what’s up?”

It had been a few weeks since her arrival, and she had settled in about as much as one could settle in at the end of the world. It was hard to keep track of the days without some kind of routine to mark their passing, but being around people and having something to do other than stew in her own misery had done her a lot of good. She had bounced around between a few different jobs around Boulder--cleaning out the local elementary school, gathering supplies to stock the doctor’s office, going through town on house calls to check up on newcomers and longtime residents alike. It was too easy for someone to get too wrapped up in everything that they had seen, pulling away from the group instead of reaching out for help. For now she has been helping out in the communal kitchen in the community center--housing the auditorium where many of Boulder’s laborers and city watch would come to eat and recover after their long days. 

Crow raises an eyebrow as they look her over. They were relatively new to the town themself, and the camaraderie of someone who was outside of the gender spectrum and another pagan to boot was a comfort she hadn’t known she needed. It wasn’t like Bumfuck, Texas had many kindred spirits so close to the broom closet. “You’ve been quiet all day. More than usual. You all right?” 

“Yeah!” She answers a little too quickly. She had been in the process of cutting leftover stew meat and lining portions onto slices of bread sitting on sheet trays along the counter. The resulting sandwiches would need to be brown-bagged (with gravy that Crow had made from the rest of the stew, for dipping) for the watchmen and laborers to pick up on their way to work the next morning. She slows her movements, reaching up to use the back of her hand to brush ginger hair away from her forehead. “Well…kind of. Not really. It’s not really a…good day, you know?” She uses a finger to point toward her temple, lips pulling up in equal parts grin and grimace. 

“Damn. Wanna talk about it?”

It’s a sweet offer. Piper knows she probably shouldn’t decline. She’s seen enough of the people that keep their issues to themselves to the point of “checking out”, spending days in bed lost in spiraling thoughts of survivor’s guilt and existential dread. There were a few times that she had been tempted to do the same. “It’s…I’m not sure how much there is to talk about.” She begins at last. “It’s just…all of it, you know? It’s hard to put into words. How everyone’s spending all of their time trying not to think too hard about how fucked everything is. Five months, almost six, and everything anyone ever knew is over. There’s hardly anybody here that knew anyone else before all of it went down…” She thinks of the people she had known, and the state they all had ended up in, and her stomach lurches. 

Crow’s affirming hum brings her thoughts away from the city she had left behind. She feels an absurd jolt of shame, a nervous laugh bubbling up from her chest as she shakes her head quickly. “Anyways,” She blurts before her thoughts can get any darker than they are. “I didn’t mean to get all heavy there. It’s harder to distract myself now that the world’s gone so quiet. I never thought I would miss trash TV. Or streaming services--I’d kill to binge some Buffy right about now.”

She feels weaker somehow, now that some of her thoughts have been brought into the light. She knows she’s not as surefooted as Mother A, or as easily adaptable as Stu, the boy-scout type that’s been arranging the town’s efforts toward finding normalcy. In fact, all of Boulder’s de-facto leadership seems to be so certain of themselves. Their confidence that things will somehow, some way end up as “okay” has rubbed off on the vast majority of the other residents. 

Most of them, anyway.

“It’s okay, you know. Not being okay, I mean.” Crow says at length. “I mean…all of this has been incredibly traumatic. For everyone. It’s normal to have bad days…I know I do.” 

It’s meant to be comforting, but Piper only feels worse for putting them into the position of needing to comfort her. Not for the first time, she regrets not digging through an abandoned pharmacy on the off chance of finding some Zoloft. Gods knew that she might be able to handle these lows a little better if she had. 

Before she can formulate an answer, a new voice breaks in: “Hawk, I’m telling you, there’s not a soul in town that hasn’t seen this movie. I don’t know how you haven’t. It’s a classic!” 

“Last I heard, it was some kind of weird cult classic, wasn’t it?” In the doorway stands Harold Lauder, the author of the last several road signs that Piper had followed into town. They had only met once, right before a town meeting three or four days after her arrival, but she had heard from Crow that he was a much nicer guy than looks might suggest. He seems to be much more lively nowadays, having lost that half-feral, guarded look he’d worn in the hour or two they had shared space with all of the town’s residents. She wonders if that’s due in part to the other figure that steps into the kitchen.

She’s seen Teddy a handful of times more frequently than she’s seen Harold, but that isn’t saying much. Between her busywork and his role in the city watch, she feels like they’re a couple of pinballs crashing into each other for a moment or two before skittering back toward different destinations--a quick hello, a smile and wave, and away they have to go again. He has to be the most familiar stranger in Boulder, as far as she’s concerned. But here he stands, bright and energetic as ever, gesturing over to Crow with a wave.

“Crow, back me up here. Hawk over here lived his whole life without ever seeing Labyrinth, and he doesn’t get what he missed out on.” 

“Wait, like David Bowie, Muppets and tight pants? That Labyrinth?” Crow sets aside the last of the condiment cups they had been putting gravy into, leaning a hip against the counter. A slow grin spreads over their lips. “...You really never saw it?” 

Harold’s cheeks flush, the stain creeping up over his ears as he ducks his chin a little. “I mean, it isn’t like I never saw any movies. I guess I just…missed that one.” Petulance is an interesting color on him, Piper observes. He normally carries himself with such confidence…it’s an endearing change.

Just as Piper busies herself with putting the finished sandwiches into small plastic bags, Teddy speaks up again. “See what I mean? How about you, Piper, you’ve seen it, right?” 

She jumps a little, surprised to be brought into the conversation. It’s not like Crow hasn’t offered to have her hang out with the group during their usual after-dinner talks, but more often than not she’s found an excuse to slip away and return to the house she hasn’t bothered to wholly move into, content to camp out on the couch in the living room and peck her way through the books left on the shelves by people that were removed from the building long before she arrived. It was easier that way, she found. More preferable than feeling like an outsider intruding on a friendship that was doing quite well without her.

She can’t slip away now, brown eyes meeting Teddy’s blue. He’s smiling, waiting expectantly for her answer. But at least he’s touched on a subject she knows something about. “...It’s one of my favorites.” She admits with a smile of her own. “I used to watch it on repeat as a kid--I can probably quote it if I tried.”

He beams at this, clapping Harold on the shoulder, earning a laugh out of the slighter man. “Told you! I’m telling you, if I ever get the okay to build that theater, we’re going to have to educate you on everything you missed.” 

“Piper was just talking about how much she misses TV.” Crow comments lightly, bringing the condiment cups over in two stacked handfuls, setting to work on sticking a cup and a sandwich each into lunch bags to be set aside for the morning. “Maybe that theater of yours can run a miniseries or two when you get it up and running.”

“You’re setting up a theater?” The curiosity is too much for her to ignore. She’s sure that there must be at least one or two movie theaters in Boulder, if the buildings are still structurally sound. 

“Yeah! There’s this big open-air amphitheater on the ridge downtown that would be perfect. If I can get the okay to build a screen, set up a projector booth, we might even get a food cart and a popcorn maker out of one of the old buildings to set up at the top…but that’s after we sort out the technicalities. I keep meaning to bring it up to someone on the top of the chain, but there hasn’t really been a good time.” Teddy’s eyes light up as he explains, hands moving to illustrate the vision he has in his mind. 

The vision sounds pretty great, as far as Piper is concerned. Passing the last sandwich over for Crow to pack up, she hums in approval. “That sounds like a great idea. It’ll do people good to have a reason to come together. Other than town hall meetings, anyway. There are a few movies I always wanted to see on a big screen.” 

“If you have any suggestions, I’m all ears. Otherwise I’m just going to pick all of the things Hawk hasn’t seen yet. We gotta get some culture into this boy.” His grin only grows as Harold gives his arm a playful shove, earning a snort of laughter from Crow along the way.

The conversation is easy--so much easier than Piper expects. She had expected to need to find a reason to excuse herself from listening to the other three talk amongst themselves, but they keep looping her into their train of thought as the kitchen is steadily cleaned and the lunch bags set up on the counter for the breakfast crew to distribute with the next morning’s meal. They talk about movies, which then leads toward music, and she has to fight to keep from talking too much about the things she had known and liked before the world went to hell. She still didn’t know any of these people very well, after all…and matching their energy was an old and hard-learned habit. No sense in making herself look like a fool by talking too much and interjecting more than necessary. 

Thankfully if any of the group thought her contributions were out of hand they didn’t mention or seem to mind. In fact, they seemed to enjoy her inclusion, continuing as the four lock up the center for the night and head out into the streets to head to their respective homes. Crow and Harold break away toward one street, bidding the other two a good night as Piper heads on toward her own, accompanied by Teddy as he “has to head that way”, and after a while the conversation lulls after a debate about good movies, bad movies, and wonderfully bad movies that the world has largely forgotten about in the days before Tripps. 

After a stretch of silence that’s more organic than it is awkward, the man at her side speaks up again. “...So, go ahead and tell me if I’m asking a stupid question, but how’s life been treating you since you got here? You settling in okay?”

Once again she hears his question before the words properly process in her mind, but he seems to take her moment of silence as confusion instead of comprehension. With a self-conscious laugh, he goes on. “I mean…we see each other every day, but I think this is the first chance we’ve had to really stop and talk.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket, tapping one free from the rest and holding it between his lips to light. He takes a drag, letting a long plume of smoke out into the cold evening before adding, “This isn’t bugging you, is it?” as he gestures to the object in his hand. 

“No, no, you’re fine. I don’t mind, most of my family smokes.” Smoked. She tries not to think about the change in tense. “I, uh…I’m doing okay.” She adds, brushing her hair behind her ear. The coat she had taken from the communal storage sheds is a little too big, but it’s warmer than the old hoodie she’d come with. Despite this, she keeps wearing the same few band tees she had brought along with her, partially out of comfort and partially to leave more resources for people that might need them more. She slips her hands into her pockets to draw the coat closer around her. 

“That’s good.” He brightens a little at her answer, taking another drag from his cigarette. He lets it hang between his lips instead of holding it in his hand, favoring keeping his own hands in his pockets and away from the chill. “I mean, you probably know since you’ve been on house call duty before, but…there’s a lot of people around here that aren’t great at telling people when they need something. The world’s been focused on every man working for himself for so long that it’s hard for people to change their habits.”

“It’s been a long time since people cared enough to want their fellow man to succeed.” She hums in agreement. “...At least, caring enough to do something about it instead of saying how nice it would be.” She can’t keep a tinge of dry sarcasm from her voice at the comment. 

“I take it you’ve got some experience in the matter.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Maybe a little.” She worries for a moment that she’s gotten too dark again, trying to think of another joke that she can use to break the tension she’s created. Everything she can think of is darker humor, gallows humor, and sure to make everything worse. Maybe she’d been on her own for too long, after all. 

If Teddy notices the tension at all, she can’t tell as he moves to pat her on the back. “I guess there’s something good about the world going to hell, then.” He decides with a chuckle. “We’re in this together. So if you need anything at all, just let me know, all right? Crow speaks pretty highly of you, and any friend of theirs is a friend of mine.”

“They do?” That was a surprise. She assumed that their friendship was the fair-weather sort, borne of familiarity from working together, even if they did have more in common than expected. 

“Of course! Apparently you’re both into that witchy stuff that Mother A doesn’t like, so that makes you all right in their book.” He nods, taking another drag. “Just don’t curse me or anything, and we’ll be great friends. I’d make a really ugly frog.” 

She’s caught off-guard by that, startling a real laugh out of her. The sound surprises her almost as much as the joke. “Don’t worry,” She promises. “It’s a bad season for frogs. I wouldn’t be that mean.”

“Then we’ll get along just fine.”

Sooner than she likes, they reach the house that she had been assigned, just as the last threads of light are fading from behind the trees. “Here’s my stop.” She gestures to the darkened doorway with her thumb. “How much farther do you have to go?”

“Well, we, uh…passed it about two blocks ago.”

“And you let me keep talking? Why didn’t you say anything?” She’s mortified that she might have missed any hints that he was trying and failing to break away, but the worry stops in its tracks with his reply:

“I wanted to make sure you got home okay. Don’t worry about it--I’m not too far out of my way. Take it easy, Piper.” He waves, smile as easygoing as ever, turning to head back down the way they came. Then, turning back, he adds, “Me, Hawk, and Crow are all heading to Mother A’s for tea tomorrow around lunch. Consider yourself invited!”

Consider herself invited. The familiarity of being voluntold to be social brings a warmth to her chest that she’d nearly forgotten. She grins, raising her hand to wave him off. “All right, see you then. Good night, Teddy.” 

It’s habit that keeps her on her porch, making sure that he doesn’t get jumped by some unknown Something…or maybe just reaffirming that what had just happened had been real. Anomalies in the routine she had built for herself…but definitely nothing to be bothered by. She lights more candles than usual as she settles in for the night, seeking out more warmth and light than she had been allowing herself to have since her arrival. Maybe in the morning she’ll finally move into a bedroom and feel like she’s going to stay a while, she decides, but for the night she’s content to settle in on the couch as usual. It gives her something else to look forward to when the morning comes.

Chapter Text

It had always been easy to find Mother Abigail’s house when the Boulder Free Zone was first established. She had been such a driving force, a familiar face, a cornerstone in this apocalyptic shitshow that many of Boulder’s new residents wanted to stay close. Tents and vans would be set up in the immediate area outside of her little bungalow, with people coming day in and day out to visit and gather near the woman that had started it all.

Mother A doesn’t seem to mind, even if people like Ray--a spitfire of a woman who goes around town as Abigail’s eyes and ears--likes to gripe about it now and again. She likes the company, she says. Too many people forgot about community before the world went to pot. So long as no one starts any trouble and respects her privacy, they can stay wherever they like.

The gathering crowds have thinned in the weeks since, but people still like to stay nearby. Teddy gives a few familiar faces a wave as he passes them by, trotting up the steps to knock on the newly-painted front door. He isn’t surprised when Crow is the one that opens the door to invite him in, just as much as he isn’t surprised that Harold hasn’t shown up yet. While a part of him hopes it's because he just didn’t get up in time, the rest of him knows better. For reasons he has never mentioned, Harold just didn’t like being alone with Mother A. He makes it a point to have one or two people with him any time they cross paths. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Mother A has this way about her…she can take one look at you and tell you exactly what was going on in your head. Harold, on the other hand, is one of the most closed-off guys Teddy has ever met. He can smile and carry on with the best of them, but he always left the impression that there's a lot more going on just below the surface. Hitting social marks while keeping his cards close to his chest. It’s been slow going, but Teddy is bound and determined to get him to show his hand. It has worked a little--ever since the younger man had pulled him back from falling into a pit of Tripped-up corpses, he has tried his damnedest to get his new buddy Hawk to see that he has nothing to worry about. There isn’t anything to have to hide from anymore, and he 's a likable guy when he lets himself let go. But for all he tries, it always feels like every brick he manages to pry out of that wall only has two more lined up behind…with Harold stacking more all the while.

Crow, however, has been doing as much good as they could since the trio had come together. And an observant eye can tell that there’s a certain something building up beneath the surface. Teddy can’t be happier about it--the world ending had only taught its survivors that life is short. No matter what might be keeping them alive, be it Mother A’s insistence on God’s will or Glen Bateman’s insistence on sheer luck of the draw…everyone can agree that happiness is hard to come by anymore. And if his two best friends fall in love, that’s the best thing that can happen to them.

Mother Abigail greets him warmly as he makes his way into the dining room, making a point to reach out to take his hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Theodore.” She says, as if she isn’t the first person in over a decade to insist on using his full name. “Thank you for coming. I’ve been looking forward to having a sit-down with all of you.” 

“Thanks for inviting us.” He returns with a grin. The table is laid with an honest-to-god tea set, he finds, though none of the pieces seem to match completely. Two of the cups have different floral prints, each of the saucers looks like it came from a different set entirely, and the teapot doesn’t have a lid, only another saucer placed over the top. Then, with a chuckle, he adds, “We’re not in trouble, are we?”

This earns a laugh from the old woman, shaking her head as she folds her hands on the table. “Oh no, nothing like that. I just like to reach out and touch base with people from time to time. If I had my way, I’d be inviting someone new for tea every day, but my energy can only go so far. Today it’s your turn.”

“Hope you don’t mind, but I might have a tag-along coming, too.” He feels the need to say, meeting Crow’s quizzical glance with a quick wink. 

“I don’t mind at all--I figured something might be goin’ on when I set out one too many cups this morning. I had the feeling we’d have another guest.” There’s that knowing look again. He wonders for a moment if Mother A had ever had children. If so, they likely never got away with anything under her roof. 

Another knock on the door catches their attention, and it’s Nick that goes to answer--which makes Teddy jump a little. Has he been there the whole time?--but in a moment Piper is ushered into the dining room bearing a tupperware bowl and a sheepish smile.

“Hey, glad you could make it!” He’s on his feet before he realizes, taking the bowl with a “Lemme get that for you” before he feels the contents shift. Curiosity leads him to pop open the corner of the lid, peeking inside. The smell that hits his nose is unmistakable. “Wait, are these cookies?”

Piper’s hands come together, twisting at a ring she wears now that the bowl is no longer in her hands. He’s seen her wear that Pink Floyd shirt a few times before, but now she’s put a blue flannel shirt over it, sleeves cuffed up to her elbows. Her hair is braided back instead of its usual ponytail, and the effect softens her somehow. “Yeah, I uh…wanted to bring something.” She says, jolting Teddy back into the moment. Just how long had he been staring again? “I can’t guarantee how good they’ll be--the recipe I used to use is just peanut butter, sugar, and an egg, but without any eggs…” She laughs nervously, gesturing helplessly to the bowl in his hands. “I’d heard somewhere that you could use oats instead, or vegetable oil…but I couldn’t remember how much of each to use. They’re edible, but…not my best.” 

“I bet they’ll taste just fine,” Mother A rises to her feet, taking up her cane to approach the pair with a smile.  “You know you didn’t have to bring anything but your smiling face, Piper. I’m glad you could come.”

“I was raised southern, Mother Abigail, I couldn’t just come empty-handed.” She relaxes a little, taking the older woman’s outstretched hand between her own and leaving Teddy to bring the cookies back to the table. 

The two continue their small talk as Crow leans over and asks, “Hey, did you see Harold this morning?”

Something in their tone makes him frown. “No, not since last night. He doesn’t normally eat breakfast at the Hall.”

They hum, sitting back a little in their chair. “He wasn’t at home, either. I knocked on his door to see if he wanted to walk together.” 

“Maybe he went out for a run.” Teddy offers. “Sometimes he goes around town when he can’t sleep. Why, worried he’s going to ditch us?” He leans over a little in his chair to elbow them, pleased when he gets them to smile. 

“No, nothing like that. He’s normally pretty on-time, though.” They have a point. But any habit can have its off-days.

“Maybe his watch battery died. It’s hard to keep track of time when everything’s so different now.” As carefree as he sounds, there’s something at the back of his mind that won’t settle, leaving a creeping uneasiness in its wake. He tries to push it aside as Mother A and Piper return to the old dining table, taking seats in mostly-matched chairs. 

“He’ll be along here shortly.” The former sighs as she settles into her seat again, leaning the end of her cane against the edge of the table. “Actually, all of this change is part of the reason I invited you over. I wanted to visit a while about what you all thought about it.” 

“What we think about it?” Crow echoes, raising a brow. “No disrespect, but haven’t you heard enough of that from everybody lately?” 

“Not everybody.” Mother A turns that knowing gaze to the redhead sitting to her left, a smile on her lips. “I make it a point to know everyone that comes through to our happy little home…and while I know we’ve had us some good talks on your way here, I’m curious to know your opinions now that you’ve been here and seen us a while.” 

Piper’s eyes go wide for a moment, floundering a little before she speaks. “I mean…it’s pretty great so far. It’s not perfect, but what is? It’s good to know that people are trying to make the best out of a situation that…well, no one could ever be prepared for.” 

Mother A hums, sitting up a little to reach for the teapot at the center of the table. One weathered hand steadies the saucer at the top as she pours a measure into Piper’s cup, then Crow’s, then Teddy’s, then the empty cup to her right before filling her own. She indicates that there’s sugar in one bowl and powdered creamer in the other, for those who like either. The cows were hit with Tripps just as much as the humans were, but at least humanity had managed to make a few things shelf-stable before they bit the big one. 

"You know you don't have to play nice like that." She comments, eyes bright as she sits back in her chair. "It's an almighty mess, and I don't mind the Lord hearin' me say so. We're doing the best we can, that's true, but the getting here wasn't pretty or pleasant. Even if almost nobody wants to talk about it." 

Piper nods, teeth running over her lip as she thinks her words over. "You're not wrong. It's just hard to put it to words. Everything happened so fast, and everyone around us  just... I mean..."

"It's a shitshow." Crow finishes matter-of-factly. "The whole world ended faster than any of us could blink, and no one's around to tell us how to pick up the pieces. And there are too many pieces around to pick up, anyway." Then, clearing their throat, they add a little more sheepishly, "...Sorry for swearing."

The older woman only laughs, shaking her head. "Don't you worry about that--I'm old enough and wise enough to know when polite words simply don't suffice. You're absolutely correct. Now that we're done running around like chickens with our heads cut off, it's hard to tell what way is up."

Teddy can’t remember the last time he’d had tea, he thinks, listening to the exchange. At least, not the kind that didn’t come in a big teal can that he could pick up for a dollar at 7-11. For an absurd moment as he picks up his cup for a sip, he’s reminded of afternoons spent with his sisters and their dollar-store tea set made from pink plastic and poorly-painted flowers. It’s an effort to keep from sticking his pinkie finger out, mind replaying their indignant cries of it being “the right way”. The nostalgia makes his chest ache. The drink itself is nothing to write home about, as far as his coffee-saturated palate is concerned. A little weak, a little earthy. Probably needing sugar. He reaches for the carafe. 

“But you must have some thoughts about how things ended up the way they did. Mr. Bateman thinks it’s human folly. Ray says it’s divine providence. You know how I feel about the divine, but the Lord’s messages to me are more concerned about ‘how’ than ‘why’. What do you all think about it? Why here? Why us?”

“I thought it wasn’t right for you to question things like that.” Crow commented with a smile, taking a drink from their own cup. It wasn’t an unfamiliar comment--in fact, they had gotten into a pretty good debate with Mother A a time or two about their respective beliefs. To everyone’s credit, they both seemed to be pretty hard to offend. 

The older woman huffs a laugh through her nose. “Contrary to popular belief, the Lord and I have had a few heart-to-hearts over the years. I don’t doubt His decisions for us, but I do question His methods from time to time. Even Jesus himself asked God to take that cup from his lips when he saw what was in store.” 

“You know…” Piper begins, cradling her cup in her hands. “People keep saying that there’s no real correlation between the survivors. Race, age, health history…people here are all across the board. But I’m not so sure it’s totally random.”

That piques Teddy’s curiosity, eyes brightening as he reaches to take a cookie from the bowl in front of them. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” She seems to be choosing her words. “I mean…people around here all have these, like…things about them. It’s hard to explain, it’s like…” She waves a hand in the air, looking for the word she wants. “Like, Mr. Bateman. He was painting things he saw in his dreams for a long time before anybody started getting sick. And Tom--I’ve never met anyone that was so good at knowing what people were thinking without them having to say anything. And Joe’s able to pick up any musical instrument and play it perfectly just by watching someone else play. Almost everyone has something like that about them that’s just…left of center.”

Abigail’s pleased laugh startles them all, the sound reminding Teddy of a witch’s cackle. Not quite Wicked Witch of the West, but something less unnerving. Madame Mim, maybe. She claps her hands with a wide smile. “That’s right. In fact, that’s what allowed me to reach out to you all through your dreams…all I had to do was follow the shine.”

Another knock at the door breaks their concentration, and Nick, who had been leaning against a doorway nearby to watch the exchange, stood from his place to answer the door yet again. This time the figure he brings back is Harold, out of breath and also holding a small container. The familiar blue tin brings a bright grin to Teddy’s face, standing to pull his friend into a one-armed hug. “Hey, Hawk, welcome to the party!”

The younger man’s chuckle eases that lingering dread that had been sitting at the back of his mind, as does Harold’s acceptance of the hug. “Sorry I’m late. I went for a run before sunrise and found a corner store that we haven’t dug into yet. That’s where I found these.” He holds up the cookie tin with a smile that shows only a little of his nerves. “They might be a little stale, but they’re still pretty good. I figured we should put them to good use.” 

“Glad to see you, Harold, come on in.” Mother A’s smile doesn’t falter for a moment, gesturing for the boy to take a seat between herself and Teddy. “The tea’s still hot, go on and have some. We were all just talking about the shine that brought us all together.” 

“Man, you and Piper are spoiling us for cookies, Hawk.” Teddy chuckles, opening the tin to set it next to Piper’s bowl. 

“I’m just surprised it’s not sewing supplies.” Crow comments, reaching to take one for themselves.

“Did everyone's grandmother have a sewing tin like that? I thought it was just a southern thing.” Piper shares a grin with Crow, who shakes their head.

“I think it’s an everyone thing.”

“Wait, what’s the shine?” Harold breaks in, sitting forward a little to add sugar to his tea. 

“The shine…well, it’s what ties us all together. The threads that I was able to pull to get everyone here when the Dark Man’s plans were put into motion. Each and every one of us has a touch of it…or more than a touch, in some cases.” Mother A explains. She reaches for one of Piper’s cookies, setting it carefully on the edge of her saucer. “Used to be, when I was much younger and much more curious about how it all worked, I would try to see how far it could go. I’d reach out in my dreams to lands I’d never even heard of, talked to people that were just like me. People that knew things, that saw things…things that most of the rest of the world just couldn’t pick up on. One of those friends I made called it ‘shining’. He’d picked it up from his grandmother somewhere up the line. People blessed with the ability to be more…and use that gift to help people, when the need arose.”

Her words have everyone at the table entranced, though Teddy is aware of Harold tensing at his side. His fingers curl into a fist as it sits on the table, knuckles slowly turning white. That unnerved feeling creeps back into the older man’s mind.

Mother A goes on. “Everyone in Boulder is here now because I reached out again, when the lights of the world started going out. I followed their shine to find them, and they followed it right back to come to me. You all did.”

“I didn’t.” Crow reminds her, biting into a butter cookie with an audible crunch. They had definitely been sitting for a while. 

“All the same, you’ve got a shine to you, too. I believe you wouldn’t have found me otherwise.” She doesn’t seem bothered at all, taking a bite out of her own cookie before humming in approval. “Miss Piper, these turned out delicious.”

Piper’s cheeks flush under the compliment, smiling into her cup. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“So you’re saying this…shine,” Harold speaks up, frowning as he stirs his tea. “It’s in all of us. And that’s what protected us from the superflu?” 

“I can’t say for sure. But it would make an awful lot of sense, wouldn’t it?” She shoots the boy a wink. “I just know what I’ve seen, and what helped me find all of you in the first place. At any rate, you’re not the only ones to notice that we all have our strengths. It’s our differences that make us unique. But our similarities are what will keep us together. Community…we need community now more than ever.”

The conversation turns toward other things--goings-on in town, events that the community is trying to put together, and Crow brings up some history on precognition and divination that they’d picked up from research done over the years. Instinctually, Teddy takes stock of the moods at the table, wondering for a moment if this is what his own particular brand of “shine” is supposed to be. Everyone he met had a certain feeling to them, a baseline aura of sorts that swung one way or the other if something was very right or very wrong. 

Crow is a shade of purple, dark and rich. When they’re in a good mood, like now, it feels like standing in the forest on a crisp morning, when the temperature is the perfect middle ground between comfortable and cool. Their laughter sends a fluttering of birds free from the trees, seeking out new adventures to land in.

Harold, on the other hand, is a deep blue--nearly black. Like the night sky. Most days it’s cloudy and thick, but more often lately those clouds part and reveal an impossible expanse of stars, shining brighter every day. Those clouds are rolling back in now, though, heavy with the promise of a storm. He makes a note to talk to him about it later. Maybe that old corner store had more than cookies to be found.

Piper is a shade he’s still trying to learn. It gets better with familiarity. So far he doesn’t see the color, or the scene it plays out,  but he knows the feeling well. It’s that warm, nostalgic feeling that comes with the smell of a heater turning on for the first cold days of the season. A sweater that’s soft--not fluffy, but worn, and when she lets out a squawk of laughter at one of Crow’s jokes, it feels like the morning sun dawning over his face. 

So far, everyone is in a state of equilibrium. It’s almost enough to settle that restless feeling raising the hairs at the back of his neck. 

Too soon, the visit draws to a close, and Mother A insists that they don’t help her clean up, choosing to walk them to the porch instead. “If I don’t have a chore or two to get done before the end of the day I get stir-crazy. Leave me something to clean.” She says, chuckling warmly as they make their way out of the front door. “And Piper, you come back to me in a day or so to ask whatever’s still on your mind. My door’s always open to you.” 

“How did you--?” Piper begins, but her confusion melts into realization, shaking her head. “...Right. Shine. Yes, ma’am, I’ll…I’ll come back by.”

“Plenty of tea to go around. And bread, too--I have a sourdough starter that should be ready by Wednesday, come see me then and we’ll bake together, how about that?”

“I’d like that a lot.” Her smile brings that warm sunlight feeling back. Teddy wishes he could figure out just what image that feeling’s supposed to mean.

As Piper and Crow head toward the community center to start preparations for dinner, Teddy catches Harold’s arm, keeping him from following after quite so quickly.

“Hey, Hawk, you uh…you doing okay?” He asks, hoping that his worry isn’t too obvious.

Harold takes a beat to answer. The clouds get thicker, his smile seeming stale. “Yeah. I’m fine, why do you ask?”

The lie doesn’t surprise him. He meets it with honesty. “A little worried, that’s all. How early did you set out on that run today, you look kinda beat.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s any Red Bull left in town. I didn’t think to look for any when Crow and I went out to that craft store, either.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, man, I’ll just go to bed early tonight. Try to even it out.” 

Teddy hopes that’s the case, though he knows better. Being underestimated is one of his finer traits--he isn’t simple-minded. He just likes the simple things. But trying to tell people that he could see when they were feeling bad had only caused him trouble throughout his life. It’s better to wait it out, until that storm eventually passes…or Harold decides he trusts Teddy enough to tell him before it breaks. The kid doesn’t seem to know what to do with friends that care enough to worry. He’ll get there eventually. 

He claps Harold on the arm, turning them back toward the street as his arm settles around his shoulders. “You’d better. If you slack on the job tomorrow, I’m not gonna cover for you.” He teases, earning a warmer, more honest laugh in return. 

The storm will pass…or it will break. But Teddy will be there to help pick up whatever mess was left behind. It’s the least he can do.

Chapter Text

A week or two passes before the next bad day hits. They all start the same--a fairly normal morning routine of waking up, dressing, brushing teeth, but then it hits. The Dread. A weight in Piper’s chest that doesn’t crush or squeeze, only sits and waits, growing more with every passing minute. Things that only take a minute or two suddenly take up too much time, putting her routine further and further behind. Small setbacks like dropping the kettle she had been filling at the sink feel insurmountable. The thought of having to go out to the community center to start breakfast for the labor team is just as impossible. The time it takes to dress and walk the mile or so to get there would make her later and later…and how would she explain her lateness? She was awake on time. She had been fine when she woke up. But things aren’t fine now.

The time she needs to leave by ticks away. The time she would need to arrive there ticks by, too. The Dread keeps her rooted to the spot, watching with a mixture of numbness and guilt as she drinks a pot of tea and slowly rots in the familiar hate her dysfunction leaves behind. 

Mental health days are for people that do more, she tells herself. The guys on the body crew, on the city watch…the ones that had looked death in the face and kept right on marching. Why can’t she be like them? A few hours of work and she would have had a free afternoon to do whatever. Why, all of a sudden, is it so hard to even get out of the door?

It strikes her, about a half-hour after she was supposed to be in the kitchen, that someone might come by to check on her. This brings a new shade of fear and shame to her overbearing gray of the morning, and finally spurs her into moving. She can’t be here when they show up. She doesn’t have a good explanation as to why she’s shirking her responsibilities. And the pity or disappointment she would see on their face would cut her deeper than anything she could ever tell herself. 

She doesn’t have the energy to dress completely, trading her pajamas for sweat pants and her worn hoodie before slipping on running shoes that had been on their last legs when she’d found them in a thrift store years before. She pulls her hair up into a high ponytail to keep it out of her way, heading out the back door and through the gate into the alley behind to avoid any familiar passers-by. It isn’t until she’s away from the suburban sprawl and well into the tree line that she wishes she had thought to bring a book or a crochet project…anything to keep her from having to be alone with her thoughts. At least in her kitchen she can avoid thinking at all. But now that she’s officially avoiding her responsibilities, other guilt rears its head.

Her first and most insistent thought is that she doesn’t belong here. And it’s no one’s fault but her own. So far everyone in Boulder is exceptionally good at functioning. They’re just as wounded and scared as anyone else, but it never stops them. They’re able to smile, make friends, go through their lives as if life can go on…with stumbling blocks so imperceptible that they never seem to falter. 

She had never been the kind of person that someone could call to action. Throughout her life, there were always others that were bolder, braver, with ideas and adventurous streaks that they were happy to lead the way on. And Piper was always happy to trail along behind. The supporting cast. The second lead. Comic relief at best--what the hell is she doing here? Pretending to be the hero? Trying to convince everyone that she’s not just here because Tripps is a bastard that thinks it’s funny to kill the obvious protagonists and leave some NPC behind instead?

A fresh wave of loathing bubbles up in her, lips twisting in frustration as she shoves her hands hard into the pocket of her hoodie. She’s being pathetic. She knows she is. Every time she goes too deep into these feelings she knows how bad it sounds. Of course she should be grateful. The world fucking ended and here she is, standing at the threshold of the other side. There are people here, good people…and against all odds they seem to like her. She’s terrified to know what might change if any of them knew why she was so late to leave home in the first place.

Too scared to live, the Shadow Man had told her. Too scared to die. A coward, through and through. Executive dysfunction is a bitch when functioning is the only thing people are able to do anymore. She thinks yet again of the people she’s lost, of how capable they were. How strong. How resilient. Why is she here when they would be much better suited to stand in the face of the apocalypse? Why did they endure so much and grow so strong just to be cut down at the finish line?

The well of loathing boils over, spilling out of her lips in a strangled scream. It surges through her body, thick and burning, and she rounds on a nearby tree in an attempt to get it out. She kicks at its trunk, beats against the bark with open palms, throat raw under the strength of her cries. Her eyes burn, but no tears fall, caught behind some wall in her psyche that her worst emotions hide behind. Only the hate comes through, leaving her to lash out at the tree until her strength fails, knees buckling under her to leave her in a heap at its roots. She puts her back to the trunk, pulling her knees up and staring out into the treeline with a feeling of overwhelming emptiness. 

Maybe she doesn’t belong here. Maybe it’s better if she leaves. But where would she go? There’s nothing waiting for her at home but death. And if she goes west, chasing the lights of Las Vegas…would the good outweigh the dread, even with Flagg’s empty promises and grifter’s grin? Would it be easier to leave all of this behind and start over again?

Heavy footfalls startle her out of her thoughts. For a moment her heart clenches in fear at the possibility of Flagg reaching out to her again after their missed appointment. But these steps are too quick, haphazard, stumbling to a stop from what sounds like a running start. “Hey!” A voice calls into the quiet. “Somebody out here? Everything okay?” 

Oh fuck, it’s Teddy. She curls into herself a little, trying to make herself seem smaller as she curses her bad luck. Of course he’d be patrolling right in the middle of her breakdown. Can’t she catch a goddamn break?

“Hello?” He tries again. More footsteps in damp leaves. He’s getting closer. If she stands and tries to run, he’ll catch her for sure. Just as she hopes he’ll pass by and give up, he breaks through the trees to her right. “Oh shit, are you okay? I heard screaming, did something happen--” He breaks off as she turns to meet his eyes, recognition dawning  over his face. In an instant he’s scrambling to reach her, kneeling to put his hands on her hands, on her arms, inspecting her for injury. “Piper, what happened? What are you doing out here; are you hurt?”

His worry comes off of him in waves. The last bits of her loathing have returned to their home in the hollow of her ribs, turning her stomach as it settles back into shame instead of rage. “I’m okay.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, energy all but spent. “I’m fine. It’s just…” She can’t find an explanation worth using. Trying to put this emotion to words feels like Sisyphus and his stone. Too much and not enough all at once. “...It’s just me.” 

He studies her for a long moment, brow furrowing before he shifts to take his legs out from underneath him, sitting beside her on the ground instead. “...Wanna talk about it?” He asks. His radio hisses, someone’s voice reporting that a section is clear. He shifts, turning the device off with a telltale click. 

“I…I don’t know.” She shakes her head, brushing a loose lock of hair out of her eyes. Her palm is scraped raw from her outburst, skin broken in a few places and stinging as dots of blood meet the cold air. “I don’t know where I’d even start.”

“Take your time.” He moves again, settling in at her side and leaning back against the tree. “Whatever you need. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

She doesn’t know what to say, waiting for a moment to see if he would make good on his word. When he doesn’t make any move to do anything but sit by her side, she lets out a slow sigh, leaning a little so that her arm rests against his. The contact helps ground her a little. Slowly, after a long stretch of silence, the words come at last. “Do you ever wonder…why us? Why a bunch of strangers are here at the end of the world and no one else is?”

He takes a bit to answer, shifting a little to pull a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. The familiar scent of smoke hits her nose as he lights up, letting a smoke-laced sigh into the air. “...Sometimes. I mean, we talked about it the other day at Mother A’s place. We were all chosen for some reason or another.”

“Yeah, but…” She hesitates a moment, trying to find the right words. “What if…what if we get to whatever Mother A says we’re heading toward, and it wasn’t divine providence after all? If some of us weren’t chosen because we were good or smart or useful…but because some sick fuck thought it would be funny?” She looks down at her hands, scuffed and scraped from the rough wood. “Look at me, Teddy. I’m not cut out for this. I can think of twenty good people back home that would have handled this better. That should have been given the chance.”

The urge to cry returns and she swallows against the painful lump building in her throat. “Everyone here is so good at…moving on. At finding a place to be. Not that they’re not hurt or healing from all of this, but…” She shakes her head with a sigh, eyes on the trees in front of them. “They’re so much better at handling it. And it’s not what they’re doing, it’s just who they are. They can stand up to the pressure. But I can’t. I’m trying, but…I just can’t. The only reason I’m not dead already is a mix of dumb luck and cowardice.” Too scared to live, the Dark Man’s voice hisses in the back of her mind. Too scared to die. 

“And I know it’s selfish.” She adds, fingers picking anxiously at the pilling fibers of one sleeve. “I’m lucky to be here. I’m lucky to be alive. I’m lucky that I came all this way and found something to show for it because there are so many people that didn’t, but…” But she doesn’t deserve it. Not this ungrateful, broken thing quietly rotting away while everyone around her is finding the strength to get back on their feet. A fresh wave of shame comes with the realization of  just how long she has been talking and she ducks her head, letting out a soft curse. “...I’m sorry. I’ll be okay, it’s just…a lot. I guess today is when it decided to come to a head. And in a couple hours I’ll feel like an idiot for breaking down, shove all of these feelings back into the box, and I’ll be able to go on like a functioning member of society until it all comes crashing down again.” 

Teddy shifts, resting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. The unexpected movement startles her, but she relaxes into him without a second thought. The scent of smoke and detergent clinging to his jacket leaves a nostalgic ache in her chest. With a soft sigh, he speaks at last. “Hey…you don’t have to apologize. I’m just sorry I don’t know the right thing to say. But I can guarantee you that people around you…aren’t as okay as they look. In fact, I bet you money that they’re doing the same thing we are--putting on a brave face for the whole town and letting shit hit the fan behind closed doors. Don’t you think?”

The thought doesn’t surprise her. She had considered it, but it still feels like everyone involved is much further along in their recovery than she is. Then, something in his phrasing hits home. “The same thing we are?”

“Oh yeah,” He chuckles softly, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “You think I’m this charming all the time?” He’s grinning as she looks up to him, and she feels him relax as he earns a weak but genuine laugh for the joke. His voice is softer as he goes on. “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about how things were. It’s hard not to--everything we had, everything we were…hard as we try, there’s no getting it back. Hawk said something about it the other day: ‘who we are and who we need to be to survive are two different things’. I’m not the person I was before Tripps. I don’t think anyone is.”

“But the problem is,” He continues, “Everyone’s been surviving for so long that now that there’s a place to settle, they’re having to learn how to live again. And make peace with the fact that we all have to live without a lot of the people we thought we’d have forever with. We’re here, and they’re not, and it sucks. And that’s not going to stop hurting anytime soon. But I think…that’s okay. It’s okay for it to hurt…and for everyone to break down about it sometimes. You’d be crazy not to.”

She lets out a soft, affirmative hum. The Dread isn’t releasing its hold on her heart, but its grip is easing up somewhat. Pulling it up and out of her, giving words to her thoughts, has made them smaller somehow. Tangible, but…manageable. “I guess that’s right. With everyone trying as hard as they are…Not everyone can succeed all the time.” 

“Damn right. And…” He seems to hesitate a little, choosing his words before going on. “Just because other people are hurting…doesn’t mean that you need to keep quiet about it when you are, too. We’re here for you. I’m here for you. …Even if this is all I can do.” He concludes with a nervous chuckle. 

In a few words he’s hit one of her reservations dead-on. She allows herself a weak smile as she turns a little, winding an arm around his middle. “You’re doing more than you think. …Thank you, Teddy.”

He freezes a little before relaxing, giving her a gentle squeeze. Piper can hear the smile in his voice. “Anytime. Whatever you need.”

“But that means it goes both ways, you know.” She insists. “When you have to start fighting it…when the Dread gets too loud. My door’s open, okay? Anytime.”

“You got it.” He chuckles, taking another drag from his cigarette with his free hand. After a moment, he lets out a curse, wiggling a little to click his radio back on. “Almost forgot,” he mumbles. “Gotta check in or they’ll think something happened…” 

As if on cue, the walkie spots out a voice as it crackles to life. “--ammit, does someone have eyes on Weizak?”

He leaves the cigarette perched between his lips as he flashes Piper a grin, bringing the radio up to his mouth. “Present and accounted for. Sorry, boss--I saw a deer and tried to track it down. It gave me the slip. We’re all clear over here.”

There’s a beat of silence before the voice returns. “How about you warn someone before you go MIA like that, all right? We don’t have enough people to send y’all out on a buddy system--if you get into trouble you’re on your own until we can find you.”

“Sir, yes sir. I’ll be more careful next time.” He promises, shooting his companion a wink. Clipping the radio back onto his belt, he lets out a sigh. “Speaking of the Dread. Looks like there’s never a shortage of things to do around here.” Gently, he extricates himself from the embrace just enough to take Piper’s hands in his, helping her to her feet. “C’mon, what do you say to some patrol time? If they want us to be on a buddy system so bad, I’m happy to oblige.”

He’s grinning as he makes the offer, and she finds she doesn’t have the heart to decline. She really doesn’t want to be alone right now anyway…especially not now that she’s feeling so much less like an outsider looking in and a lot more like one of the family. “...Sure. I could do with the distraction.” 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He’s beaming now, keeping one of her hands in his as he starts back toward whatever unseen path he was walking along when he had heard her scream. “I’m a champion distraction, you know? For example…have you ever seen Dirty Dancing?”

“Hasn’t everyone? Don’t tell me you’re about to bust a move out here, because if you fall on your ass, I’m not helping you up.” It’s easier to joke than it used to be, she finds. Even if she’s not the person she was. 

He laughs, fingers tightening around hers. “Wow, harsh. No, I mean, I was talking about the amphitheater to Hawk this morning and he told me he’d never seen it. Can you believe it? That’s like saying you’ve never seen Breakfast Club. I mean, at least he’s seen that, but the list of movies this kid’s missed out on is getting insane…” 

Piper could get used to this, she thinks. Having a place to be. People to be with. She’s not sure she could ever think about the place she’d been without being overwhelmed with the back-breaking guilt of being the one left behind. It could get easier, though. At the very least, she’s not alone. 

Teddy, ever the gentleman, still insists on walking her home once his patrol ends. It’s turning into a ritual at this point--anytime they’re in the same place, she can count on him to stay by her side until she reaches her front porch. “One of these days, you’re gonna have to let me walk you home.” She quips as they stop in front of her house. “I feel bad making you double back every other night.” Much to her surprise, he hasn’t let go of her hand for longer than it would take to light another cigarette, or pick up a fallen branch to toss it off of their path. His fingers tighten around hers one more time before they fall away completely, waving her off before his hands slip into his coat pockets instead. 

“Don’t worry about it. If I minded, you’d know.” He promises, backing up a step. “You coming to dinner at the Hall tonight?” 

She nods. “Yeah, I just have to clean up a little bit. Make myself look presentable.”

“Like you haven’t been trying to beat up trees in the forest?” He grins, laughing as she throws a playful punch at his arm. 

“Yeah, careful or you’ll be next. I’m a menace, remember?” Her smile softens, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “...Thanks again. For all of this. I have to find a way to pay you back sometime.” 

“Don’t worry about it. Or do--I’m a big fan of dark beer and breadsticks.” He starts down the street with a grin, raising a hand to wave back to her. “I’ll see you in a while, okay, Fighter?”

The warmth in her chest nearly burns the last of the Dread away. It’s there, but it’s had its run for the day, content to slink back into its cave and sleep until the next opportunity for attack. She’s very glad to see it go. “I’ll be right there. If I don’t get the chance, grab Harold an extra dinner roll for me, will you? He’s skin and bone.” 

He assures her that he will, starting down the long road back toward the community center. She’s sure that she will have to explain where she had been during the morning, but she’s sure she can blame something simple like allergies or a bad migraine. She has no doubt that Teddy will keep their meeting to himself unless she feels the need to bring it up in front of the others. It’s no secret, but she’s just not sure that she can be vulnerable in front of Crow and Harold just yet.

But she might be. The possibility only makes the warmth in her chest grow, feeling like the afternoon sun she would feel in the park she had grown up playing in. Secure. Free. She isn’t the person she was, but she might not be as worthless as she had thought. Not in the eyes of the people that matter. And as she goes inside to run a shower to clear her head, she finds that the gap between herself and the friends she’s made isn’t as insurmountable as it had been before.

Chapter Text

Life in Boulder isn’t bad. It’s not great, but not bad. The main issue is the sheer amount of space to be dealt with, but that’s to be expected when the country’s population dwindles down so low that they can all fit into one tiny suburb. The clean-up crew had done well to clear out a place for the initial Free Zone to set up shop, but now there’s talk of expanding into the city, cleaning up more places. Sending scouts into the area to look for more supplies that will be needed when winter finally sets in. Gas, oil, electrical tools…things they’ve been content to do without. Things that could wait until later, when there were less pieces to pick up and put together.

But later has to come eventually. And while the days are still fairly comfortable, the nights are getting cold…fireplaces and gas heaters will only take the survivors so far. 

“Maybe if we find a police station in the city, I can finally pick up my uniform.” Teddy jokes one afternoon, leaning back in the folding chair that had been set up on Crow’s porch. The afternoon is just bordering on warm, and the group had decided to spend a free afternoon in the sunlight, attempting to crochet a few things to get ready for the colder season. Piper and Crow are something close to experts, in Teddy’s uneducated opinion, picking up balls of yarn from a basket on the ground between them and weaving it into shapes with nothing but a hook and some time. 

“Dream on,” Piper chuckles, finishing yet another square and setting it with its mismatched brothers on the top of the basket. “Peacekeeping is one thing, but I’m not sure if Officer Weizak is something the world is ready to see.”

“I’m not sure Officer Weizak is something anyone is ready to see.” Crow agrees, huffing a laugh through their nose. Instead of squares, they seem to be working on another hat. It’s anyone’s guess if this is going to be for donation or for them to keep--the pair have been working in their free time in preparation for winter for over a week, now that they have the supply to work with. 

“Damn, harsh.” He grins, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He’d had to ration them for a while until the latest supply run, but now he’s wondering if he should cut back. It might be years before the world’s supplies run out for good, but he figures it might be better for his health anyway. After a moment’s debate, he puts them away again. “Hawk, help me out here--don’t you think it’s a good idea to get some official threads for our new roles in society?” 

“We’re practically rent-a-cops, dude.” Harold, having tried and failed to learn the basics of his friends’ crafting skills, has been relegated to winding balls of yarn instead, pausing as he detangles a snarl in a fluffy, purple skein. “Mall security had more power than us.” He smirks, and Teddy meets it with a bright grin.

“You’re all failing to see the potential here.” He decides with a theatrical sigh. “Oh well. I guess I’ll have to suffer.” 

“Oh, speaking of power,” Piper offers, tying a slipknot with a few deft movements and starting a new square with a different color of yarn, “They’re talking about holding a ceremony when they get the electricity running. Get everybody together to celebrate out back behind the power station, from what I hear.”

“Oh yeah, that was supposed to be under wraps until everything got confirmed.” Teddy decides to light up anyway. The urge is too strong to ignore, and he needs something to do with his hands. He sticks a cigarette between his lips, speaking as he fishes in his pocket for a lighter. “So naturally everyone knows about it. They’re thinking about setting up tomorrow, so that we can have the power on by Saturday. There’ll be drinks, music, the whole shebang.” 

“I can’t wait. It’s been hell trying to get by without any music playing; I should have looked for one of those battery-powered CD players when I was on the road.” She adds, cursing softly as she finds a knot that had been wound into the skein. 

Crow hums an affirmative. “Though, Larry was telling me that we probably can’t have the power on all the time. Just certain areas during certain hours--between sundown to sunup in the residential streets, the community center during mealtimes and meetings, things like that. And major places like the hospital will be on the grid no matter what.”

Harold leans to put the ball of yarn he’d been winding into the basket, completed at last. “Makes sense. We’ll need that for emergencies, but putting too much strain on the system might be more than we can fix. It’s not like any electricians made it through the apocalypse.” 

“Necessity breeds innovation. You’d be surprised what someone can figure out when the alternative is freezing your ass off--fuck--” the yarn Piper had been untangling slips from her hands, rolling across the porch and toward the grass. Teddy bends to pick it up the same instant that Piper does, and their fingers meet. 

He has an apology on his lips, but when he meets her eyes, it vanishes. Along with most of his capability for higher thought. This close, he’s able to note several details that polite distance takes for granted--the freckles on her face, the warm cast to her brown eyes as they catch the afternoon light…all things he thinks about more often than he should. 

Teddy isn’t an idiot. Well, he would say, not a complete idiot. He’s had it bad for several girls in his life--and he’d even held down nice, solid relationships with a few--but not in a while. That had been a few years before the world ended, when life was easier and people were much more likely to pass in and out of his life like cars on the highway. But those had been different…they’d never started out as his friend. And anymore, there’s precious few friends in the world to have, much less ones willing to do more than just give him the time of day. Friends that pass the fair-weather stage and get into the real shit, the kind of things that keep them together for years to come. What he has going here is much, much too important to mess up.

He catches himself staring, feeling heat crawl up his neck as he lets out a laugh, pressing the yarn into her hands before leaning back to sit up properly in his chair. “Sorry about that.” He says, recovering his composure in record time. 

“No worries,” Piper clears her throat, sitting up as well. She untangles the knot she had been struggling with, waving him off with a smile that’s visibly nervous. “It was my bad.” 

Harold and Crow share a knowing look, twin smirks on their lips. The penny drops as Teddy wonders for the first time if this crush he’s been nursing on one of his best friends might just be reciprocated. The thought makes his heart feel like a cat kicking at a toy, thumping hard at his ribs. 

“You guys sit tight, I’ll be right back.” Harold says after a moment, standing and stretching with a groan. “I have to run to the house real quick.”

“What for?” Crow asks, prompting Teddy to snort, a wide grin pulling at his lips.

“Hawk over here can’t shit at someone else’s house. Nothing to be ashamed of, man, do what you gotta do.” His grin turns into a laugh as Harold reaches over to shove his shoulder. The exchange is so different from how things had been in the first few weeks of their friendship, where Harold didn’t seem to know whether or not to get angry with Teddy’s good-natured teasing. It took a long time for the younger man to admit that he’d lived a completely different life before Tripps hit--one where any sort of jokes made toward him were at his expense. Sometimes painfully so. 

But now, he’s laughing, saying, “Fuck off, Weizak.” before trotting down the porch steps and making a turn toward his house just down the street. 

“Don’t fall in!” Piper calls after him with a smile of her own, earning a laugh from her companions as they settle back into their seats. 

It isn’t until Harold’s been gone for a minute or two that Teddy pops his hands on his knees, making his way to his feet as well. “Aw, shit. Larry wanted me to rope Hawk in on security for the party--I ought to do that before I forget.” 

“Dude, I swear my bathroom’s clean. I don’t care if you need to go.” Crow jokes, using their crochet hook to gesture back toward their door. 

Teddy’s caught, in a way. He did need to talk to Harold for more than just the party, but he waves Crow off with a chuckle. “Yeah, I know. Just trust me; you don’t want me to go here. It’s for your own safety.” It’s only a little fib, and he gives the pair a wave as he heads down the porch in the direction his buddy had gone. “Don’t go anywhere; won’t be long!”

Harold’s house is only two down from Crow’s, which can almost be chalked up to divine providence, If Teddy believed in such a thing. It’s good that they have each other, he thinks, slipping his hands into his pockets as he keeps a leisurely pace. It’s done them both a lot of good. Absently, he realizes that the cigarette still hanging between his lips hasn’t been lit. He’d forgotten about it completely. After a moment’s consideration, he pulls the pack from his pocket, tucking it back in with the rest.

He’s about to let himself into Harold’s house when he hears hushed voices nearby, It’s Harold’s half-whisper that catches his attention first: “I just don’t see why we have to wait so long.”

That came from the strip of yard between the houses. Teddy’s curiosity piques when he hears a female voice answer. “You know the rules. Everything in its time, all right? We have to do things in a certain order or the whole thing falls apart.” 

Teddy’s heart is in his throat, unable to shake the feeling that he’s listening in on something he shouldn’t be. The porch has a railing around the sides, and he backs up and creeps up to the edge. If he leans just right, he can see Harold standing in the grass, talking to a familiar face. 

Nadine Cross, the town’s resident schoolteacher, is a figure that no one’s really seen much of, since she arrived. She had been with Larry, musician and now council member, and a nameless little kid they’d picked up that everyone had just taken to calling “Joe”. She’s startlingly pretty at first glance, with a thin figure and pale blonde hair, and once upon a time Teddy had been quite taken with her. At least…until a few awkward conversations had given him the impression that something about her wasn’t quite right. On the rare occasions that she can be found outside of her house or the school, she seems like some kind of animal waiting to spring into action. But those wide, haunted eyes hold a kind of wildness to them, he’s found. One that makes him wonder if she feels like she’s the prey or the predator when she thinks about striking.

And now here she is, bundled up in a coat and scarf and looking like she’s about to spring once again, half-turned as if she had been in the process of walking away when Harold had kept the conversation going. He speaks up again, voice a little softer…more unsure. “Yeah, but…do we have to do it at all? There’s got to be another way, right? Can’t we just…I dunno, leave? We could do pretty well on our own--we know the way.”

“We can’t.” Nadine’s voice is firm, thin eyebrows drawing hard into a frown. “And you know why we can’t. There’s too much that we need to do here. And if even one thing goes wrong, it’s both our asses on the line.” 

He hates the way Harold’s shoulders shrink, unconsciously making himself smaller. Her expression softens, reaching out to pat Harold on the cheek. “Just be patient for a little while longer. Soon, okay? Soon we’ll be able to put all of this behind us.”

“...Okay.” The sigh that Harold lets out is heavy, and Teddy can all but feel the storm clouds rolling in over his mind. “Okay, I’ll figure it out. I just hate all of this radio silence. I hate the waiting .”

“Well, get used to it. Or you can give up and rot out here for the rest of your life. Your choice.” Nadine’s hand falls away, voice losing the gentle encouragement she had only moments before. “There’s no future for us here, you know that. So do what you have to do: shut up, keep your head down, and wait until we need to move.”

Teddy’s mind is spinning. What could they be talking about? Waiting for what? What were they planning to do, and where would they go if they left? There’s nothing out in the world anymore…nothing except the Walking Dude and his outpost in Las Vegas. The thought makes his blood run cold--Harold couldn’t be thinking of trying his luck down in the devil’s den, could he?

Movement makes him scramble back, and in a snap decision, he opens Harold’s unlocked front door and slips inside, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible. His breath is heavy and his heart has leapt back into his throat, hands tight on the doorknob as he can faintly hear the two outside exchange more words. He needs to think quickly. As he hears footsteps on the porch outside, Teddy turns and books it to the downstairs bathroom, closing the door and counting heartbeats until he can hear Harold enter the house.

Okay, he thinks. Keep it cool. Anything could be going on…he can’t make assumptions without knowing all the facts. Whatever’s going on…Harold is definitely in over his head. And Nadine is definitely the root of this bad news. Whatever she’s saying to poison that poor kid’s mind against the Free Zone and push him into cutting ties and leaving town, maybe he can push the scales the other way. But he’ll have to be clever about it.

He takes a moment to wipe the stress and fear from his face and posture in the bathroom mirror, shaking off his panic and trying to put it out of his mind. Everything’s okay, he tells himself firmly. Just a couple of guys on a day out with their friends. He turns and flushes the toilet to give the illusion that he’d just let himself in for a bathroom break, wetting his hands in the sink and coming out of the bathroom, drying them on his jacket as he goes.

Harold is visibly surprised to see him, he finds. The boy looks a little more pale and haunted than he had before, and it’s a second’s space before he can see that mask of confidence pull back up into place. “Hey man,” He begins, voice a little too chipper. “I didn’t see you come in.”

“Yeah, I decided to take a leaf out of your book and come in to keep from grossing out our fairer friends.” The lie is easy, but it doesn’t sit well in Teddy’s stomach. He hates the way it feels to be keeping something to himself…but it seems that Harold’s been doing a lot of the same. He grins, hooking a thumb toward the bathroom door. “I wouldn’t, uh, go in there for a little bit if I were you. I thought you’d be upstairs; where’d you run off to?”

“Oh.” Harold thinks for just a second too long, putting on a smile of his own. “I had a trash bag by the door I didn’t take out yet--thought I’d throw it in the dumpster while I was thinking about it.” 

Teddy had heard better lies from his nephews. But much like with his nephews, Teddy’s an old hat at not showing his hand immediately. “Gotcha. Look, I’m actually glad I caught you. I wanted to talk to you about something, if that’s okay.”

What little color that had tried to creep into Harold’s face drains right back out in record time. His smile falters. “Sure, man, what’s up?”

Teddy rubs the back of his neck, choosing his words carefully. “So I know you and Crow have this…flirty thing going on. And I wanted to pick your brain on the whole me and Piper situation. If I should do something to turn it into a situation, you know?” 

Harold blinks, visibly thrown for a loop. “I, uh…what? There’s not…there’s nothing going on with Crow…” The younger boy’s ears go a bright red, and the color creeps across his face. “What kind of situation are you talking about?”

Lying by omission feels better than outright lying . Teddy relaxes a little, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Well, it’s pretty obvious that there’s something between you guys, that whole ‘will they, won’t they’ back-and-forth kind of thing. I just wanted to make sure that it wouldn’t be weird with us all being friends if I decided to see how Piper felt about me. I’m thinking the time might be right to shoot my shot.” 

The more he speaks, the more he realizes that he’s not lying at all--with all of this uncertainty in the air around him all of a sudden, he’s not sure if the time is all right , but it’s certainly not all wrong . Plus, if he can get Harold to think more about what Crow means to him than about whatever hold Nadine has on him, he might head off whatever trouble they’re planning before it starts. 

Two birds, one stone, his mind offers. It’s almost a pun, considering their names. The thought makes a brighter smile pull at his lips. Much to his relief, Harold seems to relax, too. 

“No, I think…I think that’s a good idea. You should go for it. We’ve all kind of been waiting for something to happen between you two for a while.” He meets Teddy’s smile with one of his own, the former unable to hide his grin.

“Yeah? I guess I wasn’t hiding it all that much. I dunno, Hawk, there’s just…something about her. She’s not the kind of girl I used to go for, but like, in a good way, you know? She’s…more real. Steady. And when she comes out of her shell, it’s kinda like…” He stretches for a word to describe the rose-gold aura around her, and finds it better in feeling instead. “...Like warm vanilla sugar, and sunlight on your face. That kind of feeling.”

Harold takes a second, raising an eyebrow before the majority of his stress seems to be swept away. It’s still there, lingering in the shadows around his eyes, but it looks like Teddy’s efforts at distraction have worked after all. “...Wow. That’s startlingly poetic, coming from you.” He teases, and now it’s Teddy’s turn to shove his arm with a laugh. 

“Maybe some of your writing expertise is rubbing off on me, Shakespeare.” This is much better. Harold’s storm clouds aren’t quite as heavy, and Teddy can see a few stars beyond. Only the brightest ones…but it’s a lot better than it was. “Anyway, what is it about you with Crow, though? I mean…what are you holding yourself back from? The whole world went to shit, why not go after something good when it’s right there in front of you?”

They head out through the door--Harold’s apparent bathroom break forgotten, but Teddy sees fit not to mention it, letting that illusion stand--turning back down toward Crow’s porch again. Their pace is a little slower, not wanting the others to hear the conversation. Harold rubs his lips thoughtfully before answering. “I, uh…I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s kind of like…” 

Here, Teddy can see something come over his friend that he’s only seen a time or two since he came into town. The heavy cast to his brow melts away, making his face seem lighter, but not at all like the way he looks when he forgets all of his worries and relaxes for once…this is quite the opposite. Those wide eyes are full of fear, uncertainty, vulnerable in a way that can’t be covered by anger and thorns. Not this time. “It’s like…they’re good. Really, really good. And I can’t…I don’t want to…it’s kind of like…” So exposed, he can’t even hide behind his prose. The sight makes Teddy’s heart ache, reminded very much of the nearly-twenty years standing between them. 

In another life, they might have been brothers. Or uncle and nephew--Katie’s oldest kids were almost Harold’s age. Twenty years old and on the threshold of life…right before life took the fast lane to hell. He wants to throw an arm across his shoulders, bring him into a hug the way he can with Piper, wordlessly telling him that it’s okay, that everything’s not as black-and-white as it seems…but Harold needs a more subtle touch. 

“We accept the love we think we deserve.” He says at length. 

“Wow, there’s a line. Where’d you get that one from?” Harold’s trying to put his mask back up, but he can’t manage it. Teddy takes advantage of the vulnerability he sees, and presses on.

“It’s from a movie. A good movie--I should find a copy so we can see it sometime. It might do you some good. Anyway…it’s true, though. It might not look like it, coming from somebody else, but…you deserve a lot better than you think you do.” Much better than Nadine. Teddy can’t get the image out of his head--the way Harold had shrunk into himself under her words…and the sickly satisfied light in her eyes when she saw that those words had hit home. 

“And you think Crow might be it?” He asks, tone somewhere close to his usual skepticism. 

“I think they might be. If you let them. There’s not a lot to lose if you try, isn’t there? Or, I should say…” He shakes his head, choosing better words. “There’s a lot more to lose if you don’t .”

“Maybe.” Much to his surprise, Harold hasn’t brushed his words off just yet. He sounds contemplative as he slips his hands into the pockets of his coat. “...Maybe.”

“Just think it over for a while. Without trying to talk yourself out of it--you told me to go for it without even hesitating. Why can’t you do the same for yourself?”

They’ve reached Crow’s porch by this point, finding the pair right where they left them. “Welcome back.” Piper greets with a smile, partway through a brightly-colored square. Teddy resumes his seat with ease, noting that Harold takes a second to compose himself before passing through to the far side, settling quietly into his chair. 

“Hope you guys didn’t miss us too much.” Teddy quips, hoping to clear the last of the stormy air around his friend’s countenance. “Couldn’t get Hawk to commit to party security, but I think he’s coming around.” He shoots the boy a wink.

Harold’s confusion only lasts a second, recognizing the cover-up before he smiles, shaking his head. “I might make an appearance, watch them throw the switch, and put my ass to bed. I haven’t been sleeping well at all.”

“Excuses.” The older man teases, before turning his eyes back to Piper and Crow. “Also--you guys have seen Perks of Being a Wallflower, right?”

Crow nods, but it’s Piper who lights up at the title. “Oh, that’s a good one. It’s heavy , but so good. I couldn’t watch it more than once a year, though--and only on a really good mental health day.” 

Harold scoffs, looking over to Teddy with an incredulous smile. “Are you kidding me? Perks of Being a Wallflower? That’s where you got that line from? How can you be over here telling me how much you like The Rock when you’re over here watching chick flicks?”

“Because I’m a man of culture , Hawk.” He laughs, shaking his head. “And it’s not just a chick flick--it’s got some heavy shit in it.”

As he settles back in his chair to try to describe the plot enough to get his friend hooked, the bad feeling at the back of his mind finally comes to the surface: he knows why Nadine’s presence has unnerved him so badly. And it’s here, in this bright, safe place that he can see it the best: he sees the peaceful blue of Harold’s night sky, the cool purple of Crow’s misty forest, and the warm golden-pink of Piper’s sunlit field…but he hasn’t gotten a color from Nadine. He’s stood in front of her for a conversation more than once, and didn’t feel a damned thing. Just cold, bleak emptiness…like there wasn’t anything to read. 

He’d met people that he couldn’t read before, but never someone that felt for all the world like there was nothing there. The feeling makes his stomach lurch, a visceral wrong-ness that he feels in the back of his teeth. He wonders for a beat if he should seek out Mother A to ask her about it…or if he should wait until he has more information to work with.

It’ll be all right, he decides at last. He just needs to keep his head down and his ears up for a little while longer…he has plenty of time to figure out what’s going on.