Work Text:
Out there in the wild, their periods had almost completely stopped.
Natalie had tried to keep count, but after nearly two years of absolute shit hitting the fan, tracking her cycle had been the least of their worries.
Still, she remembered a few. The first one came right after the crash, when their bodies hadn’t yet had time to fully break down. That ended up being the last real period she had.
Everything after that was more like strange spotting — irregular, fading into nothing.
By the second summer, things got a little better.
As much as they could, anyway.
After months of semi-decent food and the relative absence of constant terror, every girl had at least one proper period.
And that was supposed to be a good thing — proof their bodies were recovering. That the damage from starvation, stress, and brutal cold hadn’t been irreversible.
That their bodies still had enough in them to bleed.
But out there, deep in the woods, it felt more like a cruel punishment than anything worth celebrating.
With no hygiene supplies, no painkillers, no proper shower, the girls would hide away in their cabins, whimpering quietly for a few days before dragging themselves back to routine.
Natalie never complained.
She never had anything close to what she'd experienced before.
She didn’t even have to take breaks from their work because of it. Sometimes there were brief cramps, and that was it.
She never said it out loud, but every time her period came, she exhaled in relief.
Sure, they were careful — but after what happened with Shauna, no one wanted to take any chances.
So she’d silently stuff torn cloth into her underwear and keep going, thinking how it could’ve been worse.
It could always be worse.
That was one lesson the wilderness taught them well.
The thing about coming back was — recovery turned out to be terrifying.
Everything that used to feel normal, familiar, safe — now seemed strange and confusing in the worst, most overwhelming way.
At night, the nightmares and panic attacks kept coming.
She’d wake up almost every hour, shaking from terror, soaked in cold sweat.
She’d wake Travis with her tears, sobbing into the fabric of his T-shirt.
An hour later, it was usually his turn — jolting awake with a scream, just as scared and crying.
Then it was Natalie’s job to calm him down.
And around it went.
Night after night, again and again.
In the morning, no matter how tightly they pulled the curtains shut, sleep would vanish with the sunrise.
Their bodies were still stuck in wilderness mode.
They kept the curtains closed, trying to ignore the heavy flakes of snow falling nonstop from the sky.
Natalie couldn’t remember winters like this in their area — not in years.
But of course, the moment they came back, the city got swallowed by snowdrifts.
Terror gripped her body every time the curtains shifted, revealing that blinding white outside — or whenever she had to step out for groceries.
The heaters in their tiny one-bedroom apartment were always cranked up to the max.
They didn’t want to feel even a hint of cold.
Even if the utility bills would be insane, it didn’t matter — nothing could scare them more than the memory of cold on bare skin.
Natalie tried not to think about it.
She and Travis were careful with the airline settlement.
They bought the cheapest apartment they could find in a not-so-great neighborhood, and picked up her dad’s old car from the trailer park.
That gave them time — enough for a proper hibernation through the whole winter, maybe even into spring, if her math was right — before they’d need to look for real jobs.
The truth was, they didn’t really remember what it took to live in a house.
Their first trip to the store turned into hours of wandering aimlessly through aisles of food, cleaning supplies, and household stuff — ending in tears on the floor of the laundry detergent section and a minor breakdown in the shopping mall bathroom over the overwhelming number of rice options.
After that, they put off the trip for new clothes for another two weeks.
Every morning, Natalie would step into the shower and get angry at the mirror for what it reflected.
Her body looked different now.
The scars were healing, her skin slowly smoothing over the remnants of frostbite.
But none of it felt right.
Her arms looked too big, her legs strangely soft, and her face — fuller, rounder — felt like it belonged to someone else.
She hadn’t gone back to her bleached blonde.
Now she wore a short, uneven bob, the natural color of her grown-out hair. Just like she’d said she wanted.
But something was off.
Everything was off.
She’d regained her pre-crash weight — and even a few kilos on top.
The doctor said that was a good thing.
He praised her endlessly.
And some part of her — the rational, deeply buried part — understood he was right.
But that didn’t mean she could accept it.
So Natalie kept wiping away her tears and pulling on one of Travis’s oversized shirts, hiding from herself.
Travis made breakfast. Actually, Travis made almost all their food now.
Natalie had never been much of a cook — and now, even less so.
Pots, spices, recipes… all of it made her panic.
Travis’s mom had given them a couple of beginner cookbooks with simple meals, and he actually seemed to enjoy them.
Except they skipped every page with instructions for red meat.
There was never any of that in their fridge.
Through trial and error, they figured out that chicken was a safe option — especially if it came pre-cut.
Sometimes rabbit, if they were in a good mood.
But no organs. Ever.
Travis often made stews — mushrooms and vegetables, mostly — but the real surprise was how much he loved baking.
Almost every day, the sweet smell of something fresh and warm drifted out of the kitchen.
He liked getting creative, coming up with something new each time out of almost nothing.
Natalie felt like everything came easier to Travis.
He’d spend hours fussing over cooking, while she’d pick at her portion for just as long, sometimes unable to swallow a bite.
But one night, after another nightmare, Travis told her how he tried to keep control by focusing on cooking—on the process itself.
As if while doing that, he was holding everything firmly in his hands.
And after that, eating felt a little easier.
They both had plenty of quirks to come to terms with.
Honestly, Natalie found Travis’s strange habits easier to deal with than her own.
She got used to his aimless nighttime wanderings through the dark kitchen.
To how often he fell asleep lying on the floor because his back ached from the soft mattress.
She got used to his massive collection of teas.
Seriously, they could open a tea shop right in their apartment.
Travis bought every little box of tea he saw on the shelves and stuffed them into the kitchen drawers, brewing something new every evening to read with in bed.
Natalie got used to stumbling over books scattered all around.
And Travis had gotten used to not getting mad when she spilled coffee on them.
He’d learned to fall asleep to the sound of the TV because Nat couldn’t sleep in silence.
He watched Friday night shows with her, though he didn’t hesitate to point out the dumb plot holes.
Travis got used to her always being behind the wheel and to ignoring the mess in the car.
They were both learning to accept that their lives would never be the same.
That their quirks had become the new normal.
And that routine—no matter how hard and painful—slowly pulled them in.
Lulling their heightened vigilance to sleep.
But this morning was different, bringing with it new—yet old—surprises from her body.
Natalie woke up from pain.
Terrible, piercing pain, like a heavy stone had dropped onto her stomach.
Her legs went numb—not from the cold, but differently, as if they’d simply turned to cotton wool.
She gasped, pulling her knees to her chest, curling into the fetal position, and the next thing she felt was warm liquid spreading over her thighs.
Something she’d known before, something she had forgotten, but had to remember very quickly.
“Fuck,” she groaned, reluctantly swinging her legs off the bed.
Travis stirred beside her at the movement. It was still about an hour until dawn, and they’d only just fallen back asleep.
Natalie didn’t want to wake him, but that was impossible.
They’d gotten so used to each other’s presence that even the slightest absence was felt instantly—through sleep, fever dreams, or whatever else their minds conjured.
“You okay?” Travis asked, his voice thick with concern as he sat up and looked at her.
“No,” Natalie said, then quickly corrected herself when she saw the alarm on his face. “I mean... yeah. I got my period.”
She glanced down. A big red blotch had spread across her plaid pajama pants.
She wanted to cry. Or scream. Or both, all at once. Anything to make her dumb body stop messing with her.
“Whoa.”
Travis rubbed his eyes and pushed his messy hair back. “I mean… that’s good, right? Isn’t it?”
“Fucking fantastic,” Natalie muttered as she stood—only to let out a sharp cry and collapse back onto the bed.
Every sudden movement sent stabbing cramps through her lower belly.
Travis immediately shifted to her side, sitting close without touching her, just trailing his hand along the sheet near her knee.
He had no idea what to do. Afraid to make it worse.
“No?” he whispered, so softly it was barely audible.
But of course she heard him. Of course she did.
“I need a shower,” she said, her voice trembling—from the pain, from the tears she was trying to hold back.
Travis nodded, waiting.
“And to clean all this up.” Natalie motioned to the bloodstained sheets.
“God, we look like a scene from some cheap horror movie.”
She covered her face with her hands, breathing just a little steadier.
Travis exhaled, catching onto that thread of calm like a lifeline, trying to let it soften his own tension.
“I’ll wash it. Go take a shower,” he said, already stripping the bed as soon as Natalie managed to get up again.
He watched her unsteady figure as she made her way to the bathroom.
She didn’t have to explain to him how to wash out blood.
Unfortunately, he already had more than enough experience with that—for far darker reasons.
Standing under the warm spray, Natalie watched him, yawning as he bent over the sink with the sheets and her pajama pants.
In the dim light, with his hair still messy from sleep, he looked so peaceful, almost soft.
For a moment, she thought they were just regular people.
A regular couple.
And nothing about this morning was strange at all.
And then it hit her: it wasn’t just a comforting thought.
It was true.
There were plenty of strange things in their lives.
But this wasn’t one of them.
Natalie smiled faintly, wringing the water out of her hair.
It was made of pieces like this, their new life.
This was the truth—the thing they were quietly reaching for, the thing they were too scared to even dream about.
Rummaging through the kitchen first-aid box, Natalie realized she had absolutely nothing she needed.
She hadn’t even thought about her cycle before this morning.
Though now, in hindsight, it seemed obvious—of course it was going to come back, and of course she should’ve been at least a little prepared.
But that was just another part of civilized life she had completely forgotten about.
With a sigh of frustration, she slammed the lid shut and stood there, holding a roll of cotton in her hand.
“I’ll go to the store,” Travis said, already pulling his jeans off the floor and scanning the room for a sweater.
“It’s too early. Everything’s still closed,” Natalie snapped, checking the time.
“And I really don’t think I can go anywhere with this.” She waved the cotton at him.
In the wilderness, there was nothing to be embarrassed about.
Everyone’s clothes were filthy anyway, and everyone understood the circumstances.
But walking through town like this, blood trailing down her legs, barely held back by a wad of cotton?
That was too much.
“I’ll go to the 24-hour one. Alone.” Travis kept getting dressed without hesitation.
“You sure?” she asked, watching his confident movements, while feeling none of that confidence herself.
The nearest 24-hour store was pretty far from their place.
Ten minutes by car, maybe.
But that wasn’t even the biggest issue.
In all this time, neither of them had gone out into the snow alone.
They always left together, holding on to each other like a lifeline through a maze.
Travis didn’t handle snow any better than she did.
“Natalie, just tell me what you need.”
He was fully dressed already, reaching for his puffer jacket.
His voice almost sounded calm, but Natalie caught the tension anyway—in the twitchy way his hands moved, in how he avoided her eyes.
“To be honest, I don’t even know,” she admitted. “I can’t remember. Tampons, pads, maybe… something?”
She trailed off mid-sentence, biting the inside of her cheek, suddenly unsure.
“Something else?”
Travis looked at her with such open, genuine care it made her stomach clench—this time not from cramps.
“I want cheese chips,” she blurted out too fast, and he burst out laughing.
“Okay. I’ll be back soon.”
Travis grabbed the car keys, his wallet, and rushed out the door before he could second-guess himself or let fear creep in.
Natalie tried to shake off all the bad thoughts.
Once upon a time, going out alone into the snow meant a death sentence.
Now it was just a regular Monday.
Nothing to worry about.
But she still worried.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever stop.
And she wasn’t sure she should.
She lay on the couch in their kitchen-living room combo, wrapped in a blanket, pressing the collar of Travis’s shirt to her face and slowly breathing in his scent with every inhale.
On the TV, Red Shoe Diaries with David Duchovny was playing.
Natalie had been watching a lot of those late-night films and shows—insomnia’s usual companions, sometimes with Travis curled up next to her.
To her own surprise, she’d realized she actually enjoyed this kind of erotic trash.
She liked how it let her stop thinking for a while and just follow the pretty pictures on screen.
And Travis liked to joke that pretty soon she’d be reading cheap porno paperbacks, just like a 1950s housewife.
Sometimes Natalie thought about it seriously.
The key clicked in the lock after another episode, and she immediately sat up on the couch, peeking over the TV to look at Travis, too painfully exhausted to actually get up.
He stood on the doormat, soaked with snow, holding two full grocery bags.
“That was awful,” he exclaimed, yanking off his coat and boots. “I hate winter, I hate snow, I don’t want to step outside again until spring. Seriously.” He paused, catching his breath. “How are you?”
“I…” Natalie laughed. “What is this?”
“Everything you asked for.”
“There’s obviously way more here than what I asked for.”
“I didn’t know exactly what you needed.”
Travis sat down on the couch, nudged her legs aside, and handed her the bags.
One of them was filled with tampons and pads. It looked like he’d grabbed one of everything the store had.
“Holy shit,” Natalie breathed, sifting through the pile of hygiene products.
Even with all this crap, she was pretty sure she’d never used half of it. She usually just grabbed the cheapest thing she could find—for anything, really.
“What the hell does triple absorbency even mean?”
“If only I knew,” Travis muttered, leaning his head back against the couch and closing his eyes, soaking in the warmth of their apartment.
The second bag was all sweets. Of course there were cheese chips. Five different kinds. And then the ones with vinegar, paprika, peanuts, and a ridiculous amount of Snickers bars.
“No, seriously, Trav—did you rob them?” Natalie stared at him in disbelief, unable to stop another wave of laughter, even though every giggle made her belly throb with pain.
“Unfortunately, I had to pay,” he said, pausing for a beat as he surveyed the absurd pile of pads and candy spread across the couch—then burst out laughing too.
They spent the rest of the day like that: watching reruns of random shows, eating chips, and drinking endless cups of tea. A different flavor each time. Travis kept refilling the plastic bottle with hot water every half hour without complaint, pressing it gently to Natalie’s stomach.
Just another part of life they had to get used to.
No one was planning to complain.