Let the water hold me down

Tess steps over the thin river of dirty water that's gathered in the gutters along the street, careful to avoid where it's pooling around a heap of trash. It's been raining all day, slowly soaking the city under the steady trickle. Her jacket's giving up the fight, water seeping through the worn nylon and into the liner below, and she's not even remotely done with her day. Her stomach aches with hunger, and she's just got to get a few errands run, make a few extra cards. Add that to what Joel's getting from his work, and they'll have enough to actually afford some food tomorrow. Maybe.

She feels like she's been hungry all winter, angry all winter. Rations are lean, and the people who have cards to spare aren't throwing many of them Tess's way, despite the surplus of drugs she and Joel brought in before the weather locked the city down. Oxy only goes so far when there's so little to eat and everyone's putting food at the top of their list. There hasn't been a supply caravan in months, and the fishing fleet's numbers are dwindling, broken apart by storms, by raiders, or just boats that went out and never came back.

At least with the rain they can't burn the dead today.

She feels like the city's been under a haze of reeking, greasy smoke all winter as people fall to disease and starvation, hurried along by the occasional little outbreak of infected. The cremation piles have grown larger as the season drags on. It's miserable work, and Joel drinks himself into oblivion when he takes those shifts, when he comes back to the apartment stinking of smoke and meat and at the leanest times nearly smells good.

She shakes herself off in the entrance of the building, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness.

A few more weeks, she tells herself as she climbs the stairs. The QZ will get supplies, the boats will bring in a good catch, people will start spending their cards again. They just have to hold out a little longer.

Tess knocks on the scuffed door, then shoves her hands back in her pockets, clenching and releasing her fists. Her swollen knuckles ache, and she's sure her skin's split open in a few places, chapped and worn from the salty, scalding work at the cannery. Her thin gloves aren't cutting it, and she'd put the bigger, warmer pair in Joel's coat pockets last night. She'd been gone before he was even awake that morning, leaving him no room to argue with her about who was taking them. She smiles to herself, then kicks the door a couple times, stepping into the meager warmth as soon as it's flung open.

"Who the... oh, Tess. Hello." Kalju steps back and sets the bat back in its place by the door. "You're late."

"My fucking shift ran long because some dumbfuck got his hand caught in one of the machines, and we had to make up his quota," she says, pushing past Kalju through the door, hanging her still dripping jacket on one of the hooks. They'd had their pay docked, too, netting her half the cards she should have gotten. She's still fuming over that. "Maybe avoid the canned fish for the next little while, because he got his hand caught caught."

She'd stepped toward the writhing man, thinking of how she'd stabilize his arm, slow the bleeding before she'd pulled herself up short and gone cold. She doesnt help, she never helps, never gives herself away like that. She'd ducked her head and gone back to work when the screaming man had been carried off the floor of the cannery.

There's nothing she could have done anyway, she tells herself. Stabilize him for what? EMTs that weren't coming? Surgeons that had been taken by FEDRA for their useful skills and never seen again? She pushes it away, another thing that's not hers to worry about. Her responsibilities start with her and end with Joel and that's just how it is now.

Kalju gestures vaguely to the couch while he makes his way into the kitchen. Tess sinks down onto it and rolls her shoulders, then tugs one of the yellow and black blankets over herself.

The brothers' place is cramped with the three of them living there, plus Jakub's girlfriend, and sometimes Jakub's girlfriend's sister. It's bigger than the place she and Joel have, with actual rooms and not just a studio, but the building's in worse shape and drafty.

Tess lets her eyes wander around the space. The walls are lined with Bruins blankets, and she wonders where they got so many of them. They're all the same, so maybe they found a store or something, maybe a shipping container. They're draped over all the furniture, too, and a few are thrown over the floor like rugs. The only break from all the fucking yellow is a blue, black, and white flag hung on one wall.

Tess wiggles deeper into the couch.

"Who?" Kalju asks, calling from the kitchen.

"Didn't know him. I think he came in when they were letting people in this summer." She pulls her gloves off and winces at the state of her hands. "He looked new, you know?"

"Ah." He towers above her when he returns, big and bright in his yellow Bruins sweatshirt. "Drink?"

"Fuck yes."

The glass he hands her is filled with something a little more green than she usually considers drinkable, but she knocks half of it back anyway, savoring the warming burn that spreads down her chest and pools in her belly.

The taste, though.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, what is this?" she coughs.

Kalju sips his, sniffing deeply, a content half-smile on his face. "Gin. Blanca is making it. Good, yes?"

"No." Tess boggles at him, working her tongue around in her mouth. God, it has a texture. "No, it's... Jesus."

His face splits into a huge grin and he laughs. "No, fucking terrible, she is going to poison us all."

Tess shakes her head and stretches her legs out in front of her. "Well?"

"Yes, still there. Mal saw it last week, pulled up where the tides don't get it." He shakes his head, swirling his drink in his glass. "Guards all the time, though. They take shifts staying out there for a week, then a new group goes."

"How many?"

"Three, four. He is not so sure, maybe five."

"Fuck's sake," she mutters.

He lifts his hand in a shrug.

"I can't afford to bribe five guards."

"Maybe less," he offers.

"But I can't get all the fucking way out there and then find out there's five."

She chokes another swallow of her drink, then rubs the heel of her hand against her forehead.

"I can't make this work, can I?"

Kalju sighs and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I think it is too hard, too far to go, too many guards. That is not your shift even, how would you get there?"

"Joel knows someone who can get us on the shift, that's not a problem. It's the fucking guards."

"Always the guards." He nods, staring into his glass like there are answers there, then lifts it toward her. "To life without guards."

She lifts her glass in kind, and finishes off the drink. Her stomach considers rejecting it, and she shakes her head, swallowing hard. "Alright, tell your guy he can stop watching the fucking boat."

The wind is beating against the building, rain rattling off the windows with a timbre that implies ice, and she wants to sink to the couch and stay there until one of the brothers kicks her out, but she's got deliveries to make, weather be damned. She's ready to push herself off the couch when she freezes at the sound of boots on the floor out in the hall. Kalju goes still, watchful, but he's not moving to grab a weapon, and when the door opens on a tall, skinny figure in a yellow puffy coat he relaxes back into his chair.

The man freezes in the doorway, gaze locked on her, then his eyes dart over to Kalju.

"No worries, Eeka, this is Tess."

"Oh, right." He nods and shrugs out of his coat. He's like a miniature version of the twins, thin and wiry to their muscled bulk, and he regards her with the same pale gray eyes as his brothers. He hangs his coat near the door, then hesitates. "Uh, I can leave if..."

"No," Tess says. "This is your place. I've got to get going anyway. Thanks for the drink, Kalju, but I'll fucking kill you if you ever give me that again."

Eeka laughs. "Oh, that shit from Blanca? She can't even sell it. We've got gallons of the stuff."

"Great," Tess mutters. "Let's hope we don't all die from it."

She sighs and pushes herself up from the couch, glances over at Kalju. "Thanks for trying."

By the time she reaches the Statue Market, sleet is hissing against the metal awning. The tiny, miserable needles merge into the half-frozen mess on the street when they get there, deepening the already sluggish river. Tess pulls her jacket tighter, shoves her hands deeper into her pockets, like if she tries hard enough she can find some warmth that's hidden away there. She wipes her running nose against her shoulder, sniffling.

Fuck, she misses Kleenex. What she wouldn't give to stumble onto a warehouse full of those.

She laughs into the crook of her arm as she coughs. She'd sell them all. She wouldn't even keep a box for herself. She coughs again and mutters, "Where the fuck is this asshole?"

The crowd at the market is thin that night, the shitty weather keeping people away. She's still got half her stock in her pockets, regulars and casual customers alike skipping out in favor of staying dry and relatively warm.

Smart, she thinks. Smarter than I am.

She ducks her head when a FEDRA patrol rounds the corner, hunching her shoulders up around her ears. The group wanders through the market, scattering what's left of the shoppers and harassing the vendors. One of them peels away, and Tess slinks back into the doorway of the building, into a grimy alcove.

The soldier slips around the doorway and cocks his head back toward the street for a moment, but there's no sound of anyone following him so he steps closer and says, "I can't pay you this week."

She clenches her fist around the plastic bag she'd been drawing out and says, "Oh, get the fuck out of here, Roz, why are you wasting my time then?"

"You know I'm good for it."

"The fuck I do."

She moves to step around him, but he stops her with a hand on her shoulder, and she's very acutely aware that he's armed and she isn't. She steps back, caught.

"Tess, come on!"

She's seething. This piece of shit. She grits her teeth and considers her options.

She doesn't think he'd turn on her - he'd be out his weekly supply if he did. Sure there are other people he could buy from, but there aren't a lot of people who will deal with FEDRA, probably for this exact reason. He probably is good for it, but fuck, that means she'll be short of cards until someone else comes through, maybe until next week when he comes good one what he owes her. Not the worst - they've got enough with what Joel's making, maybe, but she doesn't like the risk.

She doesn't like how thin Joel's gotten, his sunken eyes and sunken cheeks and the fatigue that's always there no matter how much he sleeps. She just wants to get their heads back above water, and have enough to eat for a change. The loss gnaws at the pit of her stomach, and she's thinking about what to buy with the few cards they'll have, and she's about to just hand the pills over when she squints at him in the darkness and says, "How about we say these are on the house."

It's his turn to squint, and he asks, "What do you want?"

She shrugs. "You're a good customer, we've got a good thing here, don't we?"

He nods slowly, wary now that her anger's faded.

She holds the bag out but keeps her fingers wrapped tightly around it. "What do you know about Castle Island?"

He frowns, and looks over his shoulder. He's been away too long, and they'll come looking for him pretty soon, so the clock is ticking here. Tess shakes the bag.

He looks back at her and she can see the confused look on his face even in the darkness. "The salt works?"

"Yes, the salt works. How many guards are there, and are any of them in the market for anything?"

"Yo, Roz!"

"Tess, I gotta..."

She hands him the bag and it quickly disappears into his jacket. Tess feels the loss like a blade.

"You owe me, Roz. I want to know about the salt works."

He nods, then turns, rejoining his patrol.

"The fuck, man?"

"Lay off, I had to piss."

Their voices fade, and Tess beats the heel of her hand against the wall in frustration, then lowers her head to her chest while she steadies her breathing.

It's well past curfew when she makes it back to the apartment, keeping to the shadows and moving cautiously through the alleyways of the city. The legs of her jeans are soaked through up to her knees, and she can't feel her fucking toes. Her stomach's growling and churning in turns as the nasty liqueur sloshes around in her otherwise empty gut. The lightbulb's blown in their hallway again, and she doubts anyone's going to bother replacing it this time.

She certainly isn't.

She pulls off her boots and wet socks just inside the door and leaves them in a heap there, tomorrow's problem. There's a lamp burning on the table, and Joel's there, pencil poised over a notebook, eyes sweeping over her.

"You're late."

"Oh, don't fucking start with me, Joel."

She throws the cards and the remaining bags of pills on the table for him, and mutters, "Take care of this. I'm fucking showering."

He sighs, and she stops and stares at him. He gestures vaguely with one hand, waving the pencil in the air. "There's no water. It's off all through the building."

"Oh for fuck's sake!"

She stomps away and strips off her wet clothing, throwing them into a heap in the bathtub before drying her hair with the last clean towel. She tries the tap anyway, and is rewarded with the pipes making a pathetic thumping noise in the walls.

"I told you..."

"I fucking know, Joel!"

Warm clothes make her feel a little better, and she's nearly calm when she slumps into a chair across the table from him. It lasts all of a few seconds because he gestures to the piles and says, "We're short."

"Yeah, I fucking know! You think I don't know that?"

A muscle jumps as he clenches his jaw, and he looks away for a moment. Then his eyes are back on hers, glittering in the lamplight and he says, "And that doesn't strike you as a problem?"

"What was I supposed to do, Joel? Go to my fucking union rep when they shorted everyone on their pay today? Wrestle the fucking FEDRA guy for his payment?"

"This is why we shouldn't fucking deal with them."

"Half your fucking regulars are FEDRA! This is not my fault, Joel."

He drops his head to his hands and drags his fingers through his hair. "Fuck. I know. I didn't..."

The air is filled with the sound of their ragged, angry breathing. She closes her eyes and rubs her hands over her face.

"It's fine," she says, almost meaning it. "It's just been a shitty day, and there's not a goddamn thing I can do about it. Finish that up so we can go to bed."

She rummages in the kitchen while he hides their cards and pills away, eating a couple stale crackers that taste like chalk. The last of the water in the kettle is lukewarm when she washes the dry crumbs down, and she leans against the sink and waits for her stomach to settle, for Joel to douse the lantern and crawl into bed. The rotten egg smell that wafts up from the drain isn't helping, so she pushes off and makes her way to the bed in the darkness.

The bitter disappointment of the day feels overwhelming when she lays down, a weight plastered over her that makes it hard to breathe. She holds herself perfectly still, eyes fixed on the blackness of the ceiling as her throat tightens and her pulse pounds in her ears. She rubs her eyes and sucks in a couple ragged gasps.

He rolls toward her, and she jumps. She'd thought he was asleep.

"Hey," he murmurs, just on the edge of hearing. His hand rests just below her breasts, warm and solid, thumb stroking over her sternum. She relaxes on a shaky exhale, letting the motion soothe her.

"We're fine," he says. "We'll hit the FEDRA market tomorrow, and then I can go to the Archway market after my shift. If the weather clears up there's supposed to be a ship coming in, and they'll need people to unload it, so I can pick that work up."

She nods, and just his voice is enough to quiet her mind and let her brush away the last of the clinging disappointment of the day. She mutters, "The fishing fleet is supposed to be back in a couple days, so that'll mean extra shifts'll be up for grabs at the cannery. We'll be okay, we just need to prioritize food for a little while."

He moves closer and kisses her temple, and she turns into his warmth.

"Things'll get easier in spring," he mutters, and she wants to believe him.

Tess flexes her numb fingers and nudges the toe of one boot against the other, knocking free a silvery piece of fish skin that clings to it. The fleet hasn't returned yet, but there's still the catch from the smaller boats that work the local water to process, and half a shift is better than no shift. She looks out of the grimy window as she waits in the queue for her ration cards, and watches the boats tied up along the dock. One of the fishing boats is being pushed away, its crew calling out to each other, and a little row boat maneuvers around it. Tess sighs.

She needs to let it go.

It's only going to get them both killed, and for what? They've already got ways in and out of the QZ, and sure, there's a chance of getting caught by a patrol when they're coming out of a tunnel or crossing the buffer zone, but the water isn't going to be any safer.

Shit. Joel's right and they're both gonna drown if they ever get a boat. Fuck.

She watches the crew pull away from the dock, then speed out across the harbor. Light dances on the water, sparkling in the spray. She wonders how far they go. She's heard that there are groups living on the islands farther out, and she's studied her maps to figure out which ones might be best. It all seems out of reach, and she rubs her cold hands against her cold face, and nearly jumps out of her skin when Helen pops up right next to her.

"'Sup, loser?"

"Ug," Tess replies, pushing Helen away.

The other woman laughs, snapping insults at the guy in line behind them, the guy she cut in front of. Tess tenses, but it seems okay, unlikely to escalate.

"You're gonna get yourself killed," she mutters.

"Meh," Helen says with a shrug. "The mining crew is starting up. Leaves the first week in May."

"You're not seriously going?"

"Triple pay, plus a bonus if you volunteer early, which I'm getting, thank you very much. That'll be my work for the year, Tess. I won't have to spend the winter freezing my tits off gutting fish."

"It ain't real," the guy behind them says.

"What?!" Helen looks offended. "What the fuck ever."

"I'm serious, it's a trap. They're trying to get rid of people."

Tess turns and squints at him. She doesn't know this guy, but his accent marks him a local, and she's seen him around for long enough to know he isn't new. "Where'd you hear that?"

"No where, kid, but it's the truth. There's no fucking coal mines, they're just gonna drive everyone just out of sight of the walls and shoot you. Leave you where you fall just like they did when they were evacuating people in the beginning."

"That's just fucking stupid, why would they shoot people who want to work, Todd? You're fucking paranoid."

"Just watch. No one who goes out to the mines'll come back, no sir." He makes exaggerated air quotes in Helen's face, and she slaps his hands away.

"Next!"

Tess steps up to the soldier and waits for him to make his notes in his ledger, frowns when he hands her two 4-cards. It should be three. Even for the short shift it should be three. She stares down at the cards, then lifts her eyes to his. There's no malice or anger, just a blank weariness there, and the guy shrugs slightly.

"Come on, man," she says.

"It's what we've got today."

She drops her head back and stares at the ceiling of the building for a moment before she stuffs the cards in her pockets and stalks out into the cold wind, leaving Helen's dreams and Todd's paranoia behind. She ducks her head and turns the collar of her jacket up, then blinks at the boy that's walking in stride with her. She hadn't heard him approach - he was just there.

He looks up at her with dull eyes, one of which is ringed with fading bruises. "You Tess?"

She knows he's a courier, but her irritation has her snap, "Who's asking?"

He just waits, looking up at her.

She sighs. "Yeah, what do you want?"

He fishes a plastic bag out of his pocket and opens it, carefully paging through the scraps of paper inside. He holds one up, but doesn't extend it toward her.

"Well?" she asks, irritated.

He raises his eyebrows and waits.

"Oh for... fuck's sake, I know you've already been paid to deliver this or you wouldn't be here."

"I got here fast, that's gotta be worth a little something." He raises an eyebrow and grins, showing off his missing front teeth.

She drops her shoulders and takes a deep breath. She pulls out her small stack of ration cards and thumbs a 1-card away from the rest. The kid's eyes are on them all, and the tip of his tongue darts out as he considers pressing his luck.

"Oh no, fuck off. You get this," she holds us the single card, "or nothing."

"Fine."

She swaps the card for the note, folds the rest of her cards away, and asks, "Who sent you," but he's gone when she looks up.

She winds her way through the streets to the bar, and frowns at the exterior.

There's nothing about the outside of it that screams 'Fireflies', but it raises her hackles just the same. One, it's new, and when she shoves her way through the heavy, sticking door, it's full of new people looking clean and well-fed. She recognizes a couple guys from the docks, and one that works in the clothing sorting place in Area Four, but that's it, and the place is pretty crowded.

Two, there's not a single bit of propaganda of any kind whatsoever on the suspiciously clean walls, like someone's trying so hard to be discreet that they've made it obvious.

Three, Marlene's fucking lieutenent is hunched over a drink at the bar, talking intently to the whip-thin girl behind it.

"Fuck," Tess whispers, and considers turning right the fuck around and leaving, but then Tommy sees her and waves her over to the little booth he's claimed.

"Fuck," she whispers, and joins him.

"What's eatin' you? I'm buyin', so you don't need to get all worked up about that."

He gives her a wink and a broad smile, and she can't help but smile back at him. His hair's smoothed back from his face, still wet and shiny from the rain.

She slides into the booth and says, "This isn't really helping your case that you're not involved with them anymore."

He looks startled at that, then glances around like he's confused. "Who, Tess? This is just a bar I found. They got good deals on stuff that's not antifreeze." He gestures to the second drink on the table, and lifts his own.

"Mmhmm."

She curls her fingers around the glass and pulls it toward her, but leaves it on the table for now. It's a tempting amber color, not even cloudy, and the glass is bright and clean.

"I told you..."

She waves him off and says, "Yeah, okay. Fine. What was so important that you sent a courier for me?"

He opens his mouth, then closes it, frowning. Probably trying to work out how to ask her to help with some shit that's Firefly business when he just told her he wasn't with them, and she can see the gears turning.

It's kinda cute, she has to admit. She's gonna feel a little bad saying no to him. She's gonna feel worse when Joel hears about it.

"You and Joel are pretty good at gettin' around here. Gettin' through, uh... certain obstacles."

She nods slowly.

"The uh... big obstacle. The one that goes around the city."

"Yes, Tommy, I get what you mean."

"And you know the ins and outs of what papers folks need. The kind that look legit, like someone came in all proper like."

Her spine stiffens, and she forces herself not to react. It takes everything in her to not throw the drink in his face and leave.

"I mean," he continues, "if someone needed to get in, and get papers..."

"Stop."

"I'm just..."

"Abso-fucking-lutely not," she hisses. "I can't fucking believe..."

"Hey, hey!" He holds his hands up and ducks his head. "I was just thinking out loud, I ain't asking you to do anything. I know that ain't something you do."

"Don't even ask, Tommy. Don't even think about it. This is why you wanted to talk to me? To figure out if I'd help you..."

"No. No! Tess, no. Fuck. I swear. I ain't askin' you to help with something like that." He rubs the back of his neck, and takes a big slug of his drink. He shakes his head hard and says, "Shoot, I fucked that up, didn't I? That is not what I wanted to ask, and I was an asshole to even bring it up."

She wants to believe him. He's looking at her with those big eyes of his, and she wants so badly to believe him.

"Okay." She nods. "Okay, so what do you want?"

He leans forward, back on track now. "I kinda need a favor."

"Mmm."

"It's nothin' big. I need you to put in a word for me."

She narrows her eyes. The list of people who would consider any word from her to be good is vanishingly short. "A word to who?"

"Your radio guy."

She shakes her head automatically, not even thinking it through.

"No."

"Tess..."

"Tommy, it's not..." She collects her thoughts, and says calmly, "He's picky about who he works with. You don't even need him. There's a guy in Five you can use, why do you need my guy?"

"The guy in Five is so drunk he can barely get the messages out. And he's even worse getting replies. He ain't reliable. You know he ain't."

She doesn't deal with Taschen much, but he's never been that bad when she has. Still, things can turn quickly, and she doesn't blame anyone who falls deep enough into a bottle that they can't get out. It's a completely reasonable reason, and she's got no reason to distrust it.

But she does.

"I'm not asking for you to promise you'll get him to work with me. I'm just askin' for you to see if he will. To put in a good word, and that's it. That's all."

She rolls the heavy tumbler around on its base, swirling the liquid within. "Who are you sending to?"

"I got some friends outside."

She looks up sharply.

"Not like that. Not with... them. Just folks I met out there. There's some settlements in the area, and they check in, say if they've seen raiders, say what the infected are doing. It's just keeping an eye on things. Lettin' me know they're still alive."

The liquor is sharp in her mouth, smokey fire and woodsy spice. It's from before, and she closes her eyes to savor it, taking another swallow of it before she sighs and looks at Tommy again, studying his face. He's so open and warm, and she wonders if Joel ever looked like that before the world broke him.

"I can't promise anything," she says slowly.

Relief blooms over his face, and he smiles wide, eyes bright. "I know."

"I'll talk to him, but he's gonna do what he wants, Tommy. He's not gonna give a shit what I say. My good word's not gonna mean shit to him."

"I know, that's all I'm askin'. And I don't want special treatment or anything. Tell him I'll pay full price and I'm good for it."

She finishes her whiskey and stands. "I'll get in touch in a few days."

He stands with her and pulls her into a hug. He smells of soap and clean skin, and his arms are warm around her.

"Thanks, Tess. You're the best."

She puts off going to Abe for a couple days, but she can't wait forever, and despite the temptation to just ignore Tommy's request, she figures she'll ask anyway, just to see what the deal with Taschen is. She's probably got messages to pick up, even though business has been abysmally slow over the winter. The FEDRA caravans should be coming in again, though, so Lin should be contacting her.

If the caravans were coming again.

If Lin was still alive.

Tess sighs.

The line's pretty short today, only two people ahead of her, but whoever's inside is talking forever. She shifts back and forth on her sore feet, boots painfully tight, and resists the urge to lean against the wall and slide down to the floor. Someone pushes past her in the narrow hallway, and Tess nearly snaps before she recognises Gabriela.

The dark haired woman smirks, a knowing little smile that makes it clear she knew Tess was about to take her head off for line-jumping. The other two people look back over their shoulders, then the first one darts forward as soon as the door opens. She collides with the red haired man trying to exit, and everyone shuffles around and murmurs annoyed apologies.

"Chaos," Gabriela declares.

Tess nods her agreement, and looks the other woman over, trying to work out what seems different today. Her pretty, dark hair is pinned in a messy bun, and she's dressed in layers for the changeable weather. Tess recognizes the long sweater as one she'd traded to Abe, and the fit of it flatters Gabriela's thin frame, buttoned over her chest and pulling open over her stomach.

Tess's eyes widen, and she darts her eyes up.

Gabriela gives her a smile, shy. She nods and says, "It's getting harder to hide now."

"Oh, wow." She can't quite bring herself to offer congratulations, because it seems like a horrifically stupid thing to be doing, but Tess knows she's biased on that count. Gabriela looks happy enough, so Tess asks, "Everything's going okay?"

She nods, and says, "So far, so good. I haven't even been sick or anything."

Her chest hurts. The sudden tightness in her throat nearly strangles the words to nothing. "Well, here's hoping that lasts."

The door opens, and the line shuffles forward, and Gabriela takes her chance to go inside the apartment, leaving Tess alone in the hallway.

She presses the heels of her hands to her eyes and breathes slowly. For a moment she's caught in the past, in the cramped apartment with Jeff sitting on the edge of the tub, rubbing her back with one hand and keeping her hair out of her face with the other. She can feel the stretched skin of her belly, tight over the kid that seems to be going out of their way to make her miserable in every way possible, the kid she's wildly in love with even as she retches again, and Jeff murmurs sympathetically.

She gives herself a hard shake, and concentrates on the peeling wallpaper, the musty smell of the hallway. She fights to ground herself in the present, and wraps her arms around herself to stop shaking.

Fuck.

She rocks back and forth on her feet, grateful the hallway's empty, no one to witness her little breakdown. She takes a deep, shaky breath, then another, and rolls her head back and forth.

The door to Abe's floor opens behind her, and she takes a quick glance over her shoulder, nodding quickly to the older woman who queues up behind her, before dropping her head to stare at her own feet.

She squeezes her eyes shut and catalogs their supplies in her mind - the cards they have at the apartment, the pills they have under the floorboards. She goes through each of the stashes they have outside the walls, each bit of gear, each can of food, each bullet.

She's got herself back together when the apartment door opens.

Abe looks tired and annoyed, but that's his usual look. He doesn't even pretend to look through the logbook he keeps before he says, "Nothing for you today, Theresa."

She sighs, and slumps back in her chair, casting her eyes over the cluttered shelves and racks of his office. Wires hang everywhere, and boxes spill over with electronic parts. She focuses on an old radio with a wide, oblong dial.

"Well, fuck."

"It's still early in the season. Maybe I'll have something for you next week."

When she doesn't pick herself up and leave immediately, he raises one bushy eyebrow.

"Do you need to send something?"

"No." She chews at the side of her thumb, worrying at the nail and the dry skin around it. "No, I have something to ask you."

He cocks his head to the side and waits.

"Have you heard anything about Taschen? Is he being less reliable than usual?"

Abe frowns. "I haven't heard anything, but he and I don't really have much to do with each other. You'd think we would, given our mutual interest, but we try to stay on our own sides of the city. Why?"

"I heard he's drinking more. That it's a problem. Have you had more people asking for your service?"

Abe frowns, considering. He flips back a few pages in his notebook, then shakes his head. "Not that I've noticed."

She picks at a healing blister on the palm of her hand. "Are you taking new customers?"

He pauses. "That depends."

"Because someone asked me if you were."

"That depends," he repeats. "How well do you know this someone?"

She laughs. "Pretty damn well. You know Joel's brother's back in town."

His face closes off and she knows his answer before she's even properly asked the question.

"I'm aware," he says.

"He's having trouble with Taschen. He says he's having trouble getting messages in."

"I haven't heard of anyone else having trouble with Taschen."

She nods. She pulls a strip of dry skin off, and winces as it tears open a little wound. The blood's bright against her pale hand. She presses her thumb to the wound and curls her fist around it.

"He'd like to know if he can use your radio."

Abe steeples his fingers in front of his face, watching her closely.

Tess pays well for his services. She doesn't threaten him, or try to wheedle her way to better prices. She knows his worth and respects it. She watches him try to figure out how to tell her to fuck off without offending.

"He has certain associations," Abe ventures, cautiously.

"He does." She agrees. "He did", she corrects. "He's not with them now."

"Theresa."

"He's not." She runs her hands over her face, then rubs at the wet smear of blood her hand leaves behind. She says, "I really don't think he is. He's an idealistic dumbass, but I think the shine wore off that particular cult when he was out there with them."

He thinks for a long moment. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, probably." She picks at a hangnail and wonders if she believes that. The skin around her knuckles is puffy, swollen. She pokes listlessly at the back of her and says, "He's a good guy. I came here from Texas with him and Joel."

She lifts her eyes to meet Abe's and says, "I wouldn't have made it here without him."

Abe's face is impassive for a moment, then he looks down. "I have to think about Gabriela, now. I have to be careful. I can't get involved with Firefly bullshit."

"I know." She slumps, holding her head up with one hand, then shakes herself and sits up straight. It's business. That's all. "It's fine, forget I asked."

"No, if it's Joel's brother then he's family to you. I don't want to turn your family away."

She reels back a little, frowning. "No we... we're not..." She shook her head. "It's not like that."

Abe arches a furry eyebrow at her. "Mmhmm. What's it like, then?"

She glares. "Not like that."

He shakes his head. "You're so stubborn, Theresa. Stubborn and stupid."

"Hey."

"He gets one message sent a month, pays double for received messages, and if I get even a whiff off of him that he's sending to any of the Firefly cells, anything, he's out on his ass and I've never heard of him before in my life."

"Thank you, Abe."

"You're out, too."

She freezes. She studies his expression closely, looking for the bluff, but it's not there. She rubs the back of her hand across her mouth and considers the full implications.

She can't afford to lose her connection to the world outside the walls of Boston, and the little radio she uses to talk to the guy in Lincoln is pretty fucking limited. Without Abe, they'd be cut off at the knees. She and Joel would be able to survive doing legitimate work for FEDRA, but it would be cutting it so close.

Joel at least has skills and a profession that's in demand as FEDRA continues to rebuild the city to their liking. Herself, though... she's burned enough bridges and sold too many lies for that. She can't suddenly declare marketable skills she's never had before, and besides, FEDRA snatches up anyone with actual medical training, and keeps them for themselves.

She'd be gone as soon as word got around.

Still...

"Okay," she says. "Alright, that's fair."

He pulls his glasses off and wipes them on his shirt. "I'm not fucking around, Tess."

"I know." She stands, heading for the door. "I know."

Two days later, and the fishing fleet isn't back. Tess stares down at the two 3-cards she's been handed, and then up to the FEDRA kid who's handing them out that day.

"Come on, what the fuck?"

He shrugs. It's not his problem, but clearly someone anticipated the reaction, because there's an armed guard behind him today.

"You guys aren't meeting your quotas. Why should you get paid like you are?"

"We're not meeting our quotas because you're not giving us enough fucking fish!"

The guard shifts, hand resting idly on the pistol holstered at his waist.

"Plenty of people who wanna work. You wanna keep running your mouth? I can replace you if that's what you want."

She bites down hard, stifling the anger and shaking her head. She clenches her fingers around the meager pay, and shoves the cards into her pocket.

"Good." He makes a show of writing in the log book, and lifts his eyes to hers. "You get half pay tomorrow, Servopoulos, and if you don't show up you're off the work rota for the rest of this cycle."

The kid's smirking at her, and she wants to beat the expression off his face. She nods once, short and jerky. The queue's gone quiet, everyone watching, waiting to see how bad it gets.

There's a note of gloating authority in the kid's voice when he says, "I couldn't hear you. Do you understand me?"

She nods again, and chokes out, "I understand."

She's still shaking when she leaves the cannery, seething and terrified and utterly powerless. She stalks away quickly, then flinches at the small presence that falls into step beside her.

"Oh, what now?" she snaps, heart thudding in her chest.

It's the same kid from before, and he shrugs, unbothered. The bruise around his eye has faded to a sickly yellow. "I don't read 'em, only deliver 'em."

"Do you even know how to read?" Tess asks, absently, fishing in her pockets for something to give him. She can't afford to give him a ration card, even a 1-card. She comes up with a bread token, and hands it over to him.

"Uh, yeah? Fuck you."

"Oh yeah?" She unfolds the paper and frowns. "Who sent this?"

There's silence, and Tess looks around, but she's alone.

She tucks herself into a doorway and studies the note. She reads it twice, and crumples it into a little ball, flings it into the first smoldering trash barrel she passes. The timing fills the pit of her stomach with dread, and she wants to strangle the truth out of Tommy.

But Marlene's been making overtures for months, trying to secure Tess's help with her bullshit.

It's a coincidence. It has to be.

And this request is getting ignored like all the others anyway, so it doesn't matter.

She's halfway across the Market zone, trying to work out what she can afford with her meager cards when she stops in her tracks, swears, and diverts to the checkpoint into Area Two.

The building's a mess.

The front facade has slumped sideways, giving the place a drunken look. Tess squints up, sure it's not the right building, but then she spots the yellow paper sun stuck in one of the few windows that's not shattered. There's not any clear way in from the front, so she picks her way through the cluttered alley, then in through a gaping hole in the back.

It's a narrow maze of slumping walls and sagging ceilings, and she moves slowly in the darkness. The hair on the back of her neck prickles up, and she's ready to turn tail, when a voice whispers, "Stop."

She freezes.

"Hands up."

"Oh for fuck's sake, you asked me to come here."

"Yeah, and you've made it clear you want us all gone, so forgive me for being a bit skittish."

It's not Marlene, but the voice is familiar, feminine. Tess mulls that over while she raises her hands.

"You armed?"

"I just got off my fucking shift, no I'm not armed. Jesus."

"Third door on the right."

She proceeds slowly, listening behind her as the other woman follows. The door sticks at first, then gives, and the room beyond is cramped with a collection of beds and shelves, crates and tables. A teenage boy is aiming a gun at her, and Tess hisses in annoyance.

"Come the fuck on."

The other woman pushes her forward with her gun in Tess's back.

"Move."

She steps in, and hears the woman follow her.

"Toby, go watch the street."

The boy nods and slips out, closing the door behind him.

"Sit."

Tess drops into a chair at the table.

"Can I put my fucking hands down now?"

There's a pause, then, "Yes."

She rests them on the table and says, "This is not exactly helping your cause here."

"FEDRA's been on us pretty hard lately. We can't afford to take chances."

She steps around to the other side of the table, and slides into the chair opposite.

Tess regards Marlene's lieutenant, takes in her thin frame, her young face, and says, "Make it quick."

She nods. She's wiry and she keeps the pistol within reach on the table as she lights a candle. Her dark eyes watch Tess closely.

"I'm Kim."

"Great."

She purses her lips and looks away for a moment. Then, "We'd like to hire you."

"We?"

"My... family. Myself and my family would like to hire you."

Tess scoffs. "Family. Right. Okay, I'll bite. What does your family need me for? And where the fuck is Marlene, she's the one I deal with."

Tess sees it then, the flicker of worry. Fear. Kim looks down and says, "Well, that's the job, isn't it?"

Tess waits. She doesn't let her mind jump ahead to what might have happened to Marlene. She focuses on the frightened young woman, and waits.

Kim rubs a hand over her mouth and says, "Marlene's outside, and we need her back in."

The frown that creases Tess's face is genuine. She knows the Fireflies come and go from the QZ as often as she does. They've never needed her help before. "So get her in. What the fuck..."

"FEDRA caved in our tunnel. They..." She clenches her jaw and snarls, "There were four of us in it, four of my friends, and those fuckers stood around and laughed while they all died screaming."

Tess frowns, thinking back, then says, "You had something up near Causeway. That's what that was?"

"Yeah, 'infrastructure collapse' is what they're calling it, but it was a slaughter."

"Okay, cost of doing business, I guess." She ignores the glare and leans back. The long shift is catching up to her, and she's cold and aching and just wants to be back to the apartment. She's pissed at herself for even coming, for letting herself get dragged into this knowing she's going to tell them to fuck off anyway. She can find other ways to make her cards - she doesn't need this.

"What the fuck do you need me for?" Tess asks. "You can't tell me you don't know another tunnel to use."

"We're being watched too closely, and you know what state the tunnels are in right now. Most of them can't be used in the winter."

"Oh, fantastic, and now they'll be watching me."

"They don't know about this place. It's the last safehouse we've got."

Tess is stunned a little by the admission. That's tipping their hand a bit more than she'd expect, and it underscores how bad things are. Kim watches her closely, gauging her expression. They both fall silent until Tess says, "Alright. I'm listening."

The relief on the other woman's face makes her look even younger, and she leans forward eagerly.

"Whoa," Tess says. "I'm listening, I'm not agreeing to anything."

"Well, fuck, listening is more than you've done before, so I'm gonna count it as a win, okay?"

Tess nods and bites back a smile. "Fair enough."

"We need to get Marlene back in, but we're looking toward the future, too. We want a safer way to get people in. Not...," she interjects before Tess can complain, "not militants, not soldiers. Just people who need the safety of the QZ."

"That's what the fucking gates are for."

"You know they don't always let people in," Kim says. "They've been turning people away all winter, and they send hunting parties out at night to track them down and kill them. You know that."

Tess nods. It's an open secret that the population is closely monitored, the numbers kept in check. She's seen the bodies, stripped of anything valuable and left to rot in heaps. It's impossible to tell if it was raiders or FEDRA, but she's had her suspicions all along.

"The tunnels are good for a couple people to use, people who are familiar with them, but it's risky to take groups through."

"How many people are we talking here?"

Kim shrugs. "It's planning. We are just planning."

Tess presses her hands against the scratched surface of the table, spreads her fingers wide. She wants to leave. She wants nothing to do with this. Her stomach aches from hunger.

"What do I get out of all of this?"

"We have connections outside. We're not just isolated groups anymore. We're organized. We can move supplies around safely, and we can get things you can't. We already got food and medicine into Boston before our tunnel was brought down on top of us. We're bringing in things that people need, things FEDRA isn't. How hungry have you been this winter, huh?"

"I'm fine. I've got my own connections outside."

"Yeah, and when's the last time you've heard from them?"

Tess narrows her eyes and says, "Get to the point. I get Marlene back inside in exchange for...?"

"A week's worth of food, enough for two people. Some aspirin, some antihistamines, and an unopened tube or antibiotic cream."

Tess sits back and crosses her arms. "So you think risking my life - and my partner's life - is worth, what? A few packets of ramen and a handful of expired over the counter drugs?"

Kim's expression darkens, her lips twisting. "We have..."

"You have nothing."

"Two weeks of food."

"Are we done here?"

Tess pushes herself up, stretching out her tired muscles. She's wasted too much time with this, and now there's no time left for the market. She'll go home empty-handed, and they'll fight about it, then maybe fuck about it, and then tomorrow will be just as miserable as today.

"We can get ammunition."

Tess doesn't even look back. "Good for you."

"Just think about it," Kim calls after her.

It's nearly curfew when she crosses into Area One, and the guards take their time checking her papers, getting overly handsy searching her. She knows it's a game - make the citizens late, then arrest them for fun. She hurries away from the checkpoint, scanning the street ahead of her for lurking soldiers. She doesn't run - that would just draw more attention, but she walks quickly, trying to keep from looking over her shoulder. No one stops her, and she smiles a little at the warmly glowing window of the apartment.

It's not Joel, though, it's Tommy, lounging at the table in a clean shirt and dark jeans. She looks around like Joel might be hiding somewhere, and Tommy says, "He took an overnight at the water plant."

She hangs her jacket up, and crouches to unlace her boots, trying to ignore the anger bubbling up in her chest. That he'd be here after her meeting with Marlene's second in command is too much, right?

Surely.

"I didn't mean to get stuck here. Curfew just kinda snuck up on me."

"Mmhm."

There's a little pan of soup simmering on the stove, filling the air with an inviting aroma, and her stomach grumbles. She stands slowly and watches him.

"I made dinner. It ain't from your pantry, I brought it over. Thought it'd be nice for us all to have dinner together, but, well..." He gestures to the empty apartment.

Tess nods. She's hungry enough that she's not sure she cares where the food came from. It swirls around the pan when she stirs it, and thick and inviting, and it's better than anything they've eaten in months. She prods a piece of chicken, and just feels so fucking tired. She's spent the winter barely keeping her and Joel fed, and Tommy's got clean clothing and chicken soup, and she's not sure why she's fighting so hard.

She pours part of it into a bowl and asks, "Joel eat any before he left?"

"Yeah, Tess, I fed my own fucking brother, thank you very much."

"That's not what I... oh, forget it."

She pours a little more, and gives him the rest. It's hot enough that it burns her mouth, but she can barely make herself slow down, it tastes so good. She shovels it into her mouth and watches Tommy out of the corner of her eye.

He's eating more slowly, thoughtful, and she's sure he'll have another stab at asking about Marlene, but he looks up and says, "Joel said you found another one of them detective books."

She pauses, spoon halfway to her mouth, then laughs. "Yeah, I did. And you can borrow it when I'm done with it."

"Aw, come on, Tess, you're still reading that computer book."

"I'm almost done, and it's not really about computers. Well, kind of. It's more about mafia stuff, but... techy. Cyberpunk. You want it when I'm done?"

He wrinkles his nose. "Maybe if I get desperate. I like the detective ones better."

She swirls the soup in her bowl. It's got big chunks of vegetables and is thick with rice. Worry turns her stomach. She finishes it off, each bite methodical.

They clean up in silence, the years on the road together settling them into comfortable patterns. He keeps sneaking glances at her, always when he thinks she's not looking, and she lets him think he’s getting away with it. He'll ask eventually.

She's got him squared away with blankets for the couch when he says, "Hey, Tess, about what I asked you a couple days ago."

She nods. There it is.

"I know I said I was just askin' for no reason, but I could use your help."

She sighs. "I'm not helping Marlene get back in."

"It's not..." He shakes his head. "Marlene can take care of herself. It's the other person I'm worried about."

"What other person?"

He laughs a little, bitter. "You didn't even fuckin' hear 'em out, did you? They got someone else that needs in, someone from the civilian group that the Fireflies were helpin' get here. And when they got here, a bunch of 'em all got killed when that tunnel caved in. Twenty people who just wanted somewhere safe to live, all fuckin' dead. Only reason Marlene's still alive is she got held up behind 'em and didn't go in with the main group."

Tess stares at him. "Kim said four."

"Four Fireflies."

Tess raked her fingers through her hair. "Shit, Tommy."

"You know what it's like out there. Come on, Tess, they just want a chance to start over, and everyone they know is dead now. They just want a chance. Just like I did when I came back. Like we all did when we first got here. I know you remember what it's like out there."

"There are three people strung up on the gallows in Charter Square right fucking now, Tommy. I knew that guide. He was good, and careful, and he still got himself hanged for smuggling people in."

"He wasn't as good as you are."

"Oh, fucking don't. Don't. Tommy, I'm not doing this for... For what?"

"Food? They got food, Tess. They got a network of fuckin' farms, and they'll take even more of them this year from FEDRA. You and Joel are barely eatin' enough to keep yourselves going, so don't fuckin' tell me you don't need food."

She stares at the floor and shakes her head.

"They got other stuff, too. They took a whole fuckin' Army base."

"No."

“You can’t pretend like you’re gettin’ by okay. When’s the last time the two of you actually had a full meal?"

Tess shakes her head. "Tommy..."

"Come on, Tess. You need the work."

"Not badly enough to die over it."

"You'd rather starve to death than deal with someone who's actually tryin' to make things better? You that pigheaded?

"That's not what this is about and you know it, Tommy. I'm trying to keep us alive. I'm trying to keep your brother alive."

"So am I, Tess." He spits her name like a curse. "Yours ain't the only way to do things."

He stands there, hands on his hips, and looks away from her, clenching his jaw. He looks so much like Joel her chest hurts. He shakes his head and sighs.

"Just think about it. Since when do you care who you work with? You never had any problem gettin' your hands dirty when we were traveling, and you sure as hell did a lot worse when we were out there."

She flushes, ducks her head at the memories. She looks down at her hands and flexes then slowly. She can see the tendons stretched tight, the bones beneath. Her skin's chapped an angry red from the work at the cannery, the relentless cold. She nods once.

"I'll think about it."

His whole body relaxes, and the smile he gives her is dazzling. "Thank you."

"I'm not agreeing to anything."

"I know."

"I'm not doing this for them."

"I know. Jesus, you're somethin' else, you know that?"

He sounds so utterly exasperated she can't help but grin at him.

"Part of my charm."

"Yeah, whatever, look... don't mention this to Joel, okay?"

She freezes, her spine stiffening with unease. "What?"

"Just... He ain't gonna like it, so just don't tell him."

"Tommy, how the fuck am I supposed to do a job like this without telling Joel."

"I'm not sayin' don't ever tell him, just... you make up your mind first. No reason to get him all worried about nothin'."

She nods slowly, searching his face. "Okay. That's... reasonable."

He nods like it actually is reasonable, and she turns toward the bed. She tips her head back on her stiff shoulders and stares at the stained ceiling for a moment before she turns back, watching as Tommy tucks the blankets around him on the couch.

"Hey, Tommy?"

"Yeah?"

"I talked to Abe."

HIs eyes light up. "Yeah?"

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry. He's not taking new customers now. I tried, but... well, he's just not."

"Aww, well... shoot. Thanks for tryin'."

She wakes to the sound of voices in the kitchen, a stab of fear through her chest before she recognizes both of them. She burrows back under the blankets while her heartbeat slows, listening to the low conversation, the early morning sounds outside the apartment, the soft patter of rain against the window.

She groans. Why does it fucking rain so much here?

She stays in her nest until she hears the door close, and the locks click in place.

"Did you actually get any of the soup last night," she calls.

"What?" he asks, startled.

She sits up, pulling the blankets with her like a cloak, looking to where Joel's standing in the kitchen. "The soup Tommy brought. Did you get any of it?"

"Yes, I got some fuckin' Firefly soup last night. You worried he ain't sharin' with me?"

"No." She rubs her hands together, adjusts one of the oversized socks that had twisted itself around her foot while she slept. "No, it's just sometimes you lie about whether or not you've eaten to make sure I get more."

She sees him freeze, then he goes back to pouring water through a strainer, catching dried leaves and twigs and whatever the fuck else is in there, passing for tea.

He sits next to her and hands her a steaming mug of minty smelling water. She leans into him as she sips it. He's been back a while, already stripped off his work clothes and put on sweats and a wool sweater that's too small for him. She needs to trade that for something more useful to both of them. There's no use having a shirt they both can't wear.

"So," Tess says.

He looks up, wary, exhaustion painting dark circles around his eyes.

"Tommy talked with me while he was here."

"Okay."

"He's not the only one talkin' to me."

"Okay?"

She turns the mug in her hands, looking at the faded red white and blue logo printed on it, a banner proclaiming 'The Spirit of Massachusetts' and asks, "Why would Tommy ask me not to talk to you about something? About a job?"

He frowns, then rubs his fingers at the crease between his eyes. "Oh, what the fuck."

He shoves off the bed and stomps across the room. Cabinet doors slam, and the glass clanks together with the bottle when he drops them to the table. The cloudy liquor splashes into the glass, and he swallows it in one long, gulping swallow. He splashes another inch into the glass and says, "What fucking job?"

"I'm being played," she says. She stands and paces toward him, bringing the blankets along with her. She bangs the mug down on the table and plants her arms on either side of it, leaning toward him. He reads her well enough to pour a generous splash into the mug before topping off his own glass. "I know I'm being played. I just don't know if Tommy's being played, too."

"What fuckin' job, Tess?"

"Marlene's stuck outside."

He snorts. "Good."

"Right? But here's the thing, Joel." She takes a burning swallow of her drink. "We're hungry. We're down to what, a couple dozen bullets for the 9mm's and nothing for your fucking revolver. Lin's been radio-silent all winter, and god only knows if he's ever gonna pop back up, and if he doesn't, we're back to square one finding a supplier."

"Tess..."

"I don't want to deal with the Fireflies, but we're pretty close to being absolutely fucked here. You see that, right?"

His jaw works and he stares into the glass. "We don't smuggle people, Tess. For fuck's sake, if we get caught bringing a goddamn Firefly in, we'll be lucky to hang."

"I fucking know that. And they've sold some fucking sob story to Tommy."

He shakes his head sharply. "He fuckin' asked you to lie to me?"

"No. Well... no. He just wanted me to decide if we were doing the job before I said anything to you about it."

"'Cause he's fuckin' workin' with them again and he don't want me to know about it."

"I think he's just... god, Joel, you know how he is better than I do. He's just trying to help someone. And I don't give a shit about Marlene, or this other fuckin' Firefly, but I do give a shit about you, and this winter has not gone to plan, and we're both suffering. When's the last time either of us went to bed and we weren't hungry? When's the last time you didn't feel exhausted, when you weren't freezing, when your skin wasn't splitting open for no fucking reason? Joel, we are starving, literally, actually starving so we need to make this work. We make it work until the caravans start up again, and then we can tell Marlene to fuck off."

He stares down at the table, and she thinks the glass will break from how hard he's clenching it, and fuck, she does not want to stitch up his hand because of something so goddamn stupid. She reaches across the table and brushes her fingers across the back of his hand.

"Look at me."

When he lifts his eyes to her they're bottomless, pain and anger twisting his features. She holds his gaze, tilting her head just slightly. He relaxes on a long, shuddering breath, and she nods.

"If we do this... if... we do it on our terms. Not theirs. I haven't agreed to anything, and they need us. We're in charge here."

He slumps into a chair and rests his elbows on the table. "So we bring her through a tunnel?"

"Which one?" she laughs, bitter. "The ones from Thatcher and North are both half underwater, and they found the one near Morton last summer."

"They cave that one in?"

"Not that I know of, but we're not risking it in case they're still watching it. They watched the Medford one for ages before they blocked it off with all those fucking gates."

"Halfass job of that. We should be able to get that one open again."

"Not when it's this cold and wet. We'll die of fuckin' pneumonia. No, we'll have to do something else. We can dodge the patrols by the wharf at the south corner, then make our way around the buffer zone."

He shakes his head. "We wouldn't even make it ten feet. That's where they caught Reno."

"Really? Fuck, I didn't know that."

They stare at each other across the table before she drops her head into her hands. "We can't even do this if we want to, can we?"

"What about that boat Kalju's been watchin' for you?"

She shakes her head. "God, we must be desperate if you're asking about the fucking boat."

"Whadda ya want me to say, Tess? It ain't a bad idea. FEDRA's stretched thin keeping the wall guarded, and they're usin' all their boats to keep the fishing fleet safe and guard the warehouses. Something small, something quiet, we'd slip right past 'em."

"We can't afford the boat Kalju's been watching. There're just too many guards."

He rubs his jaw, scratching at the sparse hair there. "How many?"

She slumps back, pulling the blankets around her. "He's not even sure. Maybe five."

"Five? It's fucking salt, what the fuck?"

"Everyone needs salt," she mutters, leaning forward and folding her arms on the table. She rests her head on her arms and says, "It's an essential mineral, and we're not getting it from all the processed food we used to eat. They use it in preserving, too. It's what they trade to the other QZs, what they sell."

"Huh."

She folds her arms up over her head, hands clasped over the back of her neck. "God, we're so fucked."

She hears him stand, the chair scraping over the bare floorboards that creak as he rounds the table. He nudges her as he crouches by her side, pulling one arm away so he can see her face. She rolls her head toward him.

"I'll tell them to fuck off," she says. "They''l have to find someone else."

He shakes his head. "We got favors we can cash in. It ain't five guards because we get the right one, and they'll take care of the others for us. We go for the highest ranking one, and don't fuckin' worry about the rest."

She stares at him for a moment, working through the logic. She nods slowly, props her head up on one arm. "Okay. Yeah, okay. I've got someone I can work with on that. We still need the papers for the work shift out there. All of this is pointless unless we can actually get there."

"I got that. I told you that fucker Larsen can get us those."

"I don't trust him."

He shrugs. "He's good for it."

"This is gonna cut into our stock of Oxy."

"It's just fuckin' sittin' there anyway, not doin' us any good. Where's Marlene holed up at? We gotta figure out the patrol timing."

"I don't know. I didn't even fucking listen to what her lieutenant was saying." She groans, then sits up straight, stretching the tired muscles in her back. "I'll get word to her and hash it out." She takes a deep breath and looks away from him, at the dingy kitchen and the slowly lightening sky outside. "If we get caught..."

"We won't."

"If we do, I'm not... I'm not letting them take me. I won't be made an example of in one of the squares for everyone to watch." She darts her eyes back to his face, making sure he understands.

A muscle in his jaw jumps, and his eyes narrow, but he nods and curls his fingers under her jaw, drawing her to him for a slow, fierce kiss.

"Then we go out together."

They shuffle onto the boat before dawn, clutching their forged work papers with numb fingers. A light mist filters down from the sky, and the water below is dull and gray. The work permits and IDs are checked at the dock, and it's not the usual glance that they get at the checkpoints - these assholes are really looking at them. Tess keeps her face as neutral as she can, concentrating on the cold to keep her mind off the forgeries, off all the moving pieces that need to line up just right, and how none of them are things she can control.

They're through without incident, though, and Joel gives her fingers a brief squeeze as they're herded forward by the crew of the barge that will take them to the work site.

The boat is wide and low to the water, and anything that might have been on the deck's been stripped away leaving a flat area that fills with workers, all swaying together as the boat pulls away from the dock. Tess shoulders her way to the middle, pulling Joel along behind her.

The water grows choppy the farther they get from the dock, and the boat stays to the center of the waterway. Tess turns to look at the crumbling skyline that crouches beyond the QZ, the shattered buildings listing this way and that. A particularly large wave lifts the boat, then pitches it down, and Joel leans his forehead against her shoulder, hands clenched in the fabric at the back of her jacket. He stays there for the rest of the cold, damp ride.

The boat sidles up to the dock that runs along the island, and the big fort looms above them, a couple soldiers milling about on top. The group of workers shuffle off the boat, stopping at a checkpoint at the foot of a towering obelisk.

"What the fuck," the woman behind her mutters, the irritation in her voice laced with fear.

Tess glances over her shoulder.

"The fuck are the checking IDs for again?" someone else whispers. "They think someone jumped onto the fucking boat."

A wave of terror washes over her, and settles cold in her stomach. Has someone noticed they weren't supposed to be there? She chances a look back toward Joel, and he's running his eyes over the dock ahead of them, the soldiers and work bosses there, and she knows he's working out the right order to take as many of them out as possible. She reaches back and touches her fingers to his.

There's nothing to do but wait, to inch forward in line and wait, to hand her forged papers to the guard and wait.

The guard glances at her ID, bored, and waves her through with an indolent hand. "Mind the rocks," he says. "They're sharp."

She glances at him quickly, getting a good look at his face, and the name that's sewn into his uniform, Asmund. He meets her eyes for just a moment. She nods, and says, "I'll be careful," and hurries after the others.

The wind whips over the low ground at the base of the fort, and they follow a wide, cracked sidewalk around to an open area on a gentle slope pockmarked with wide, shallow pits, each ringed with a border of rough gray stone. Crude flagpoles jut up at odd angles from each, and the different colored pennants snap in the wind. The workers start to spread out, moving to their assignment, and she feels a moment of panic, uncertain where to go, what to do.

A guy bumps into her shoulder as she hesitates, and says, "Come on, don't just stand there."

She snaps her eyes to him, and he's a short guy, balding, nearly swallowed up in the bright yellow Bruins sweatshirt. She falls in behind him as he walks down the beach where a stack of buckets waits.

"Get the seawater and dump it in one of the pools with a green or blue flag. Don't make it look like you're sticking with me, but don't get out of sight of me either."

"Right," she says, grabbing a bucket. Joel's looking at her, worry creasing his face, and she's sure he hasn't heard anything over the sound of the wind and the water. She gestures to the buckets with her chin, and picks her way over a tumbled down seawall. Joel crouches beside her, and they bend their heads close together as they fill the buckets.

"Get water, fill pools," she says. "The green or blue ones."

He nods, then starts, "Did he say..."

"Hey," a guard calls. "The fuck are you doing? We don't pay you to chitchat."

They nod quickly, hauling up their buckets.

Her gloves soak through almost immediately, and she's forced to pull them off and stuff the sodden things into her jacket pockets. Her boots hold out a bit longer, but the big stone blocks are slick and uneven, and soon enough she's ankle deep in the freezing water. The water creeps up the legs of her pants, and the sleeves of her jacket, and splashes onto her chest and back as she works.

It's a struggle to hold onto the bucket. The plastic handle is slippery, and spins around the metal each time she tries to readjust her grip. Her thighs and shoulder burn from the repeated exertion, and she's shaking when a shrill whistle sounds, and buckets thump down around her with a chorus of groans. She scans the area, looking for the yellow shirt, and staggers toward the man that's resting against an overturned bench.

She slumps to the ground next to him, meeting Joel's eyes as he takes a position across the sidewalk, backed up against a statue.

"This is halfway?" she asks.

The man laughs. "This is a third of the way. We get two breaks, three shifts of three hours, then back to the ferry."

"Oh, fuck me."

"There's lighter work up where they process the salt, but they only let asslickers up there." The guy pulls his thick leather gloves off and shakes his hands, rubs them together.

"Where is it?"

"Instead of going left off the ferry dock, go right, toward the lot that's full of the burnt out shipping containers. I guess that place was crawling with 'em when FEDRA took this area over. Go along that fence toward the water, and it's tucked up under that pier. You're gonna have to get in the water to get it."

"Well, I'm already fucking soaked, so."

"Yeah, Kalju should have warned you."

She shrugs and shakes her numb hands. "Doesn't matter."

The whistles shrills again, and she moans.

"That's it?"

The guy offers her a hand up and says, "Six more hours. You got the hang of this now, so I'm moving off. Just keep doing the same thing."

The clouds have burned off by their next break, and she and Joel huddle together in the bitter sunlight, wind stinging their chapped faces.

"This was a terrible idea," she mutters.

"I've had better days," he says.

"I can't... I'm serious, I can't..."

He glances around, then digs a little plastic bag out of his shirt pocket. She swallows the orange and white capsule he offers and mutters, "I should have thought of that."

He swallows his own and says, "Cannery work got you soft."

"Fuck you."

She's three buckets full of water in before she feels the little spark bloom in her, filling her with a staticky energy. The ritalin buoys her but sharpens everything - the cold, the hunger, the dragging wetness of her clothing rubbing against her skin. It's good, though, that sharp edge, that blurring energy. She's grinning to herself as she works. Her heart pounds with elation when the whistle sounds at the end of the shift.

She looks around the beach, at the weary workers collecting their buckets back into a pile, gathering their shed jackets. A ragged line is making its way back to the dock, herded by a couple guards. Guards she doesn't recognize. She tries to look without looking like she's looking, but she doesn't see the guy from earlier. A worried glance at Joel gets her a barely-there shrug, and she makes her way slowly along with the rest.

They queue up, waiting for the boat, and she's trying to ignore the dread, the thought that they've done all this for nothing. The guard changed his mind, the guard got pulled to a different shift, something went wrong and they've worked so fucking hard for nothing. The calories they've wasted, she thinks.

The boat bumps against the dock, and the line shuffles forward.

"Hey, you two, come with me."

The soldier with the name patch that says Asmund. He's got his rifle in hand, pointed at the ground in their direction.

There's a murmur that rolls through the crowd of workers, a soft chorus of fear. Tess looks towards them, taking in the frightened looks on their faces. She looks back at the guard. "But..."

"Now."

They follow him back toward the fort, up the slope to the tall stone wall. He ducks behind one of the bits that juts out and lights a cigarette, then holds the pack up. "You want one?"

She looks at him askance, then says, "No thanks."

She digs around under her clothing, until she's got the bag free of where she's wrapped it to her torso with a compression bandage. Bags, actually, and she's glad she thought to double up, because the pills are safe and dry. She hands them over and watches as the guy turns the bag, looking it over.

"I'm not feeling like doing my round tonight, you know." He slips the bag into the front of his jacket and leans against the wall. "Think I'll stay right here. My partner's around though, so you should get hidden. Next round's in two hours and they'll walk along the north fence. If you get caught, I've never seen you before."

She nods, and they head into the darkness, sticking to the deep shadows at the base of the fort. It's a tall, unbroken wall, and she feels trapped between it and the open area around it, eyes scanning for the best way to get down to the beach.

"This ain't... there's no place to get out of sight here."

"I guess it wouldn't be a very good fort if there were places to hide," she hisses.

"We can't fuckin' stay out here. First patrol that comes through'll see us."

"I know that."

"We're sitting ducks."

"I fucking know that, Joel."

"Tess..."

"Hey!" She waits until he's looking at her, really looking, not just casting his eyes around in a panic. "Hey," she says, softer now. "This place was a fucking park. There's walking paths, and playgrounds, and who the fuck knows what else. We have time. We'll find someplace. Right?"

He nods, calmer, and she pulls his head down to hers. They rest together briefly before she says, "Come on, let's go around this side toward the harbor."

They stay as low as they can, and the muscles in her legs are burning by the time they stop in the dubious cover of a bare shrub. She's well on her way to crashing, and she wonders if Joel's got any more uppers, or if she's just going to have to power through.

"Fuck," she whispers, panting.

"You alright?"

"Peachy. Okay, I think..." She squints into the darkness. "I think the fence is through those trees. We need to follow it to the water."

"The fuck are we gonna do that if they patrol the fence?"

"We can hide under the pier where the boat is."

"... in the water."

She stops. Okay, well, he's got a point. He catches her hand and pulls her after him, toward the trees.

"Joel."

"Shh. Come on."

They follow the raised sidewalk until a dark opening looms beside them, and they duck into the low culvert. They waddle along until they're centered, and brace themselves above the trickle of muddy water. Her legs tremble slightly, and she presses her fists into the tops of her thighs. She's about to ask if he's got any more pills, when the mouth of the pipe lights up in the beam of a flashlight.

They freeze.

The light bounces around outside, off the trees and overgrown grass. She can hear the footsteps now, heavy on the sidewalk, coming ever closer. She makes herself breathe slowly, steadily, then reaches down for the knife she keeps in her boot, thin and razor-sharp, but she left it at the apartment in case they were searched. Her fingers clench on nothing and she keeps her eyes on the opening of the culvert.

Then the light's gone, and the footsteps fade, and she lets out a shaky breath. Joel reaches out and brushes her cheek with his fingers, and she can't really see him but she nods into his hand, tangling her fingers in his as they wait. Ten minutes, she thinks, but it's hard to tell. Twenty, and she squeezes his hand, and they move stiffly back out into the darkness.

The fence looms to their left, and she realizes with a chill that a group of infected are milling around absently in the rubble strewn parking lot, just visible in the thin light of the rising moon. They shamble in circles, then wheel off to the north, moving as one into the night. She and Joel inch their way forward.

They stop under a massive tree that's perched above a line of big rectangles of rock that mark the edge of the beach, the barrier giving way to a thin line of rock and sand below. The water laps gently at the shore, a soothing rhythm, softened by a ragged line of pilings that jut from the water, protecting the little cove. The pier stretches out over the water, inky blackness below. She leans on one of the rocks, thinking.

"We're gonna have to use some kind of light to find it," she whispers.

Joel's quiet for a bit, then, "Yeah, don't see any other way. We'll have to be quick about it."

"I think," she says, "I think if I just strike my lighter but don't let it catch I can see enough? We've just got to get a general idea of where it is."

"Alright, let's do it."

They move over the rocks, boots slipping against the algae, pitching them into the water. She gasps at the cold, breath sticking in her lungs. Behind her Joel swears under his breath. It's even colder under the pier, and she shuffles forward in the hip-deep water, waiting until she really can't make herself go any farther.

Joel bumps into her when she stops, and she staggers until he steadies her, holding her to his chest until she's got her feet under her again. She leans back into his warmth.

"Ok, I'm gonna... wait, you should close your eyes," she says. "Keep your vision adjusted."

"Yeah, alright," he says, hooking his fingers into her belt. "I'm ready."

She pulls her thumb along the wheel, hardly feeling the rough surface her fingers are so numb. The sparks glow briefly, barely touching the darkness. She tries again, and sighs.

"I can't see anything."

"Well," he says. "Shit."

"Yeah." She rubs her thumb back and forth across the cold metal. "Okay, I'm just gonna light it, figure out where the fucking boat is, then put it out. Ready?"

There's a pause, like he's thinking, trying to come up with a better idea, then, "Yeah, I'm fuckin' ready."

The flame hurts her eyes, and she squints around frantically. The forest of pilings rise around them to the underside of the pier, and the black water spreads out and melds into the looming shadows. It's disorienting, nonsensical, and she's shaking until...

She snaps the lid closed with a satisfying click and wades forward. She shoves the lighter in her pocket and stretches her hands out in front of her, trying to gauge the distance and direction. She thumps right into one of the pilings and startles back into Joel.

"Fuck!"

"Easy," he murmurs. "We're still pointed in the same direction. Just forward from here?"

"Um. Yeah, yeah, I think so. Shit. It's so fucking dark. I think it's close."

"Alright. Just go slow. I can see the way out well enough, so once we find it we'll be alright."

"Okay," she mutters. "Yeah, okay."

She takes small steps, the water swirling around her legs, but then it's around her knees, and she bumps into something that's not a piling, and runs her hands along it. Joel reaches around her and says in her ear, "I reckon that's a boat."

She feels her way forward, finding the rope. It's sodden and stuck, and takes ages to untie. She can hear Joel moving around behind her, and she gives a little cry of triumph when the knot finally gives.

"Get in," he says.

It's awkward and far more difficult than she expected, her wet jeans trying to drag her back into the water. She sloshes over the side, and braces herself against the bottom as Joel eases the boat back, turns it to face the harbor. It thumps into a piling and she winces.

Then the boat rocks wildly, dipping so low she thinks it'll flip before it pitches the other way as Joel hauls himself in. She sits up on her knees and grabs at the next piling they thump into and holds them as steady as she can until he settles. She finds a bench spanning the little boat, and sits, facing him, facing backward, and feels along the sides.

"Lower," he says, and she adjusts her seeking hands until her fingers curl around the smooth handles of the oars.

"There's two?" she asks.

"Well, four," he says. "Two pairs."

"That's what I meant."

There's a small splash, and the boat glides forward. "Lemme get us out from under this before you start in."

"You've done this before."

"Few times. On vacation."

He doesn't elaborate, and she doesn't ask. Suddenly they're out from under the pier, and she blinks at the change, looking around owlishly. She can see the u-shaped brackets on the sides of the boat now, one set holding the oars Joel's using. She slots her in, and dips them into the water. He pulls on his, and they're thrust forward again.

"Hug the shore or cut across?" he asks.

"Uh. Fuck, I don't know. Across?" There's a screech to their left, in the direction of the parking lot, and she shivers. "Across," she says.

It's awkward at first, each of them hissing instructions to the other, until they find a rhythm. She can see better here, out in the open, and looks over the boat as she rows.

It's low to the water, a graceful swoop of fiberglass and wood. Small, but she can already imagine the cargo they can fit in it. Joel's seated at the very back, on a wide bench, feet braced against the sides. She looks over her shoulder at the pointy front of the boat, pitched slightly up as they move along the harbor.

She stops rowing, resting the handles of the oars on her legs. The night air is cold, and the wind cuts right through her clothing, plastering the wet fabric to her skin. She tips her head back and looks up at the stars, and for a moment she's dizzy, lost between sky and sea, then she laughs.

"Holy shit."

She can hear the smile in Joel's voice even if she can't see his face in the darkness. "Just hittin' you, huh?"

"Holy shit!"

"Yeah, yeah, you got your fuckin' boat. Don't let it go to your head."

She claps her hands over her mouth and shakes with the delight of it. "Holy shit," she whispers into her palms.

The current is sluggish but it's enough that they're both exhausted by the time they pass the jagged husk of the QZ and make their way up river.

"I'm gonna die," she mutters.

"You'd better fuckin' not," he says.

They pull slowly on the oars, being as quiet as possible, scanning the rocky bank until she finally spots the thin breakwater that juts out from the land. She squints, eyeing the shore until she thinks she sees the trees, and points them in that direction.

They hop out, boots splashing in the shallow water, and they pull the boat up the shore until they can tie it to a scraggly little tree, the musty tarp they'd found under one of the seats the only cover they can give it.

"Is this far enough up?" he asks.

"Uh. Yes?"

"You don't know."

"I do not." She stands, panting slightly, hands on her hips. "I mean, the tide can't come up river this far, surely. Can it?"

"The fuck do I know about tides, Tess?"

"Well, this is the right place, I'm sure of that."

"Where the fuck's Marlene?"

She shrugs, realizes he can't see her in the darkness and says, "There're some buildings through the trees. This..." She takes a deep breath, trying to get enough oxygen back into her body to slow her heart, even her breathing. She's fucking spent. Her legs are trembling. "There's a road over there," she points, "and a park that way. And a restaurant..." She turns, looking around. "This way."

They make their way to the street, and pause, listening, watching.

A big apartment block's come down in a haphazard hill of rubble, spilling over what must have been a line of cute row houses. Weeds and small trees spring up wild through the destruction. Toward where the river curves back to the north is a mostly intact building, the restaurant. Tess plods toward it on heavy legs, stopping in front of the once-posh exterior.

She sways a bit, and for a dizzying moment thinks she might pass out. She clenches her teeth together and tries to focus, then flinches at the sound of a voice.

"You lost out there?"

"Look for the light," Tess mutters. "Blah blah blah."

Marlene steps out of the shadow of one of the walls, peering into the darkness behind her and Joel.

"Any trouble?"

"Nah, it went off without a hitch," Tess says. "We're pros at this shit."

"Good. I suppose you pros know the patrol schedule?" She settles onto a rock, stretching her legs out in front of her.

"As a matter of fact, we do. Where's the other guy?"

Marlene hesitates, glancing behind her. "Around. How soon can we leave?"

"Where's our payment?"

Marlene huffs out a little laugh. "I've got it. You know, you'd be so much better off if you'd just..."

"Save it." The skin at the back of her neck is crawling, and she hears Joel shifting relentlessly behind her. "Where the fuck is the other guy, Marlene?"

"That's not your problem."

"This whole fucking thing is my problem! What the shit..."

There's a movement behind Marlene, a small shadow that breaks away from the other and makes its way forward. Tess feels herself go cold, a radiating, frigid ache that has nothing to do with the temperature. Her fingertips tingle with it.

The girl is small, with huge, solemn eyes and wispy hair that's doing its best to escape from the stocking cap on her little head. Her oversized sweater reaches nearly to her knees. She's so small, Tess thinks. She can't even be three years old.

"I told you to stay back," Marlene says gently.

"Mmm. Go now?"

Tess swallows hard and manages to whisper, "What the fuck, Marlene?"

"I'm sorry." She holds her hands up, placating. "I'm sorry, but I knew you wouldn't help if you knew."

"You're goddamn right, we wouldn't help," Joel grates out, his voice starting low and rising to a roar.

His fury snaps her out of the miasma of pain, and she steps forward, holding him back with her arms, fingers spread wide to get her point across. Not now. They glare at each other in the low light, and she's sure he'll push past her to Marlene, and then what the fuck is she gonna do? She pushes her fingers into his chest until he falls back a step.

The girl shies back and hides behind Marlene, and Tess feels a tangible relief when she's out of sight.

"This is not what I agreed to," she says evenly.

"I know."

Tess meets her eyes, and the reality of how badly she'd been played sinks in. Fury bubbles up in her chest.

"We're leaving. Figure it out on your own."

Marlene seems unconcerned and lifts a box from her side. She hefts it a couple times before tossing it Tess's way. It rattles when she catches it.

The cardboard is scuffed but not torn, and there's no water damage that she can find. She picks open one end, and the brass gleams dully in the moonlight. She closes it and hands it to Joel, and his hands are shaking when he takes it from her. Tess lifts her head.

"You'll get the rest when we're inside," Marlene says.

Tess drops her head and stares at her feet, then nods once. "We'll take you in, get our payment, then we're done. You don't contact us for jobs, you don't get into our business, and you don't ever let our names cross your lips again. Are we clear?"

Tess thinks she sees the disappointment in the other woman's eyes, but it's gone in a flash, lost to the darkness. Marlene nods and says, "Perfectly clear."

"You stay the fuck away from Tommy, too, Marlene," Joel grates out.

She shakes her head and pulls the kid onto her lap, tucking her hair back under her hat. She boops the kid on the nose and is rewarded with a giggle that feels like a knife in Tess's chest. She hears Joel suck in a ragged, pained breath.

"Tommy's a big boy, Joel. You can make demands for you and Tess, and we're good, but you don't speak for your brother."

He starts to move toward her, and Tess feels a ripple of fear shoot down her spine. She trusts him in all things, but this might have pushed him too far. She's grabbing at his sleeve when the kid turns her big eyes toward him and he stops in his tracks, shaking. He stalks away without a sound, down the street toward the squashed row houses.

Tess shakes her head. "You're an absolute piece of shit, Marlene."

"It had to be done. It was important. She's important."

Tess turns to follow Joel, then glances over her shoulder. "She's another kid that'll be dead before the year's out. We're leaving at one AM. I don't want to hear a fucking peep out of either of you until then."

She stalks away into the night, after Joel, feeling everything in her chest splinter apart. The tears that cling to her eyelashes are icy. She's too far away to hear Marlene murmur, "Don't listen to the mean lady, Ellie. You're safe with me."

Notes:

Damn, this story has been a long time coming. Thank you to everyone who encouraged me as I struggled to write Boaty McBoatface. You are the best.
Find me on tumblr.

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