Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ellis had never felt like this before the Infection hit. It was like a tidal wave of many incompatible emotions had swept him away amongst the dead, the devastation, the chaos. Of course there was confusion, then fear, and just a little bit of anger thrown in for good measure. By the time he had made his way to The Vannah, a supposed evacuation point, he wasn't even sure just what he was supposed to be feeling anymore.

How are you supposed to feel about the Zombie Apocalypse?

But he knew what he felt the moment he met Nick. Nick, axing this way through a sea of zombies just as Ellis had entered the lobby, chopping them to bits with a glint in his cool green eyes and a colorful vocabulary of swears on his lips. He'd been the first human, well, non-zombied human, Ellis had seen since he got to downtown Savannah. It was a welcome sight, the way he had swung his weapon with confidence, a cigarette hanging off his lip and yet perfectly secure. He'd turned towards Ellis, and nodded, a smirk starting to grow on his face.

'Hey kiddo, wanna help me out here?' the suave Northerner had called to him, as if they had known each other forever. And Ellis had felt his heart thud in his chest, it occurring to him that it wasn't just out of fear either.

'Uh, yeah, sure,' he'd answered, and they had killed zombies together. Once they were finished, Nick had clapped him on the back.

'Nice work,' he'd stated, flashing a smug grin his way. 'Want to tag along?' And Ellis had beamed back, excitedly.

'Okay!' was all he could think to say.

From that point on Ellis had declared the two of them 'bros', and followed the older man like a puppy. It had annoyed the gambler at first, but he eventually accepted it. And by eventually, one would mean it was two days in. Ellis wasn't sure how he'd won him over so fast, especially since the con man would still argue with Coach and Rochelle from dusk til dawn and back again.

It was in one of the safe rooms in the Mall that he realized his heart was still flying when talking to Nick, even though they weren't in any immediate danger. It only beat faster when their hands touched, briefly and accidentally.

It fluttered pleasantly when they would talk all by themselves, confiding in each other and sharing personal secrets that hadn't left their confidence before. He wondered if anyone else knew that Nick used to cut class just so he could go play pool, or that he loved Frank Sinatra but hated Frank Jr. Or that they shared a love for candy bars (while Nick preferred Twix, the mechanic's favorite was Milky Way, naturally. He had gone on for almost ten minutes about his love for those treats, and Nick hadn't even told him to shut up, not once).

It nearly burst from his chest in Rayford, oh God Rayford. Everything had all happened so fast, one moment they were arguing, and the next they were…. Ellis didn't even know what to call it really, but it involved stroking and lots of rubbing against each other. Before long he was coming all over their stomachs, and then making Nick do the same. It was confusing, and he couldn't wrap his mind around it, mostly because he had learned that guys weren't supposed to make guys feel like that. But he really liked feeling like that, and if he liked it, and it wasn't hurting anyone, he didn't see a problem. There were bigger things to worry about outside of who he was getting a hand job from. And for him, the best part wasn't the dry humping or the jerking off; it was when Nick kissed him after all of it. It was sweet, and seemed very out of character, like it was an intimacy that was rarely shared with anyone else. Ellis liked that. It had been the start of a sneaky relationship, one that was based on physical intimacy, covert journeys out of the safe houses, and a need to feel more than fear and sadness. He never thought in a million years that he would have willingly sought out sex with another man, but with Nick it was like he couldn't get enough of it. And Nick couldn't seem to get enough of him, either.

'Just so you know, this doesn't have to mean anything, kiddo,' Nick had said as he looked down at Ellis, about to take that one piece of the mechanic that no one had ever taken before. 'I'm used to just fucking and moving on.'

'Yeah, I-I know," Ellis had responded, heart sprinting at the prospect of having sex with this man. It hadn't been everything he dreamed it would be, but it wasn't wretched, especially considering they were both dirty and grimy and had little to no lubrication outside of a small bottle of hand lotion they'd found. They made do.

And his poor thudding heart had nearly broken when all of it had just stopped. It was like they had been going great, they had fucked once again, their third or fourth time, in the Shantytown of the swamp, but then…. Nothing. Not even an acknowledgment that anything had even happened. Not of the sex, not of the kisses, nothing. Ellis had tried to initiate one night, when Nick was on watch. The mechanic had sat next to him and tried brushing his hand again, like in the Mall, wondering if such electricity would run through the gambler, as it ran through himself. But Nick just pulled away and went back to talking about the best casinos he'd been to, and Ellis barely listened as dejection set in. But he'd let it go. It was more important to get somewhere safe, and he didn't want to be hung up on the way he felt that prickle of hurt when he thought about all of it.

And now he was in a panic. Because it was raining like mad, Virgil was waiting for them (but wouldn't wait forever), and Nick was MIA.

"He should have been back by now!" Ellis exclaimed, pacing the floor, the water lazily rising around his ankles. "He said he'd be back by sunset!"

"Sweetie, try to relax," Rochelle stated, placing her hands on his shoulders.

"But he said he'd be back by sunset and it's LONG past sunset," Ellis repeated, unwilling to stay in one place long enough for her comforting touch to phase him. "I shouldn'ta let him go alone."

"Son, you know Nick," Coach offered half heartedly. "He had to get more diesel, and he wasn't gonna let you come along." That was for sure. They had almost gotten back to the dock, past that garage sale and nearing the playground, when a horde had caught them off guard and low on ammunition. So Nick had removed the gas can he'd been carrying on his back, tossed it at the crowd, and ignited it with his last Molotov. It had staved off the infected, but put a dent in their fuel supply. It had occurred to him too late that they all had blunt and bladed weapons they could have used, and that there would be ammo back in the safe house they'd passed through earlier. Because of this thoughtless choice he felt incredibly stupid, which in turn made him stubborn and crabby. In the safe house the gambler announced he was going back for more fuel. Ellis had insisted that he go with, but Nick had been adamant that he was to go alone. It was his rash decision that had put them in danger, and he was going to fix it on his own. It was surprisingly noble of him, but in turn it scared the mechanic to death. 'If you try and follow me, kid, I'll throw you to one of those Witches,' the con man had growled.

'But Nick-!'

'STAY HERE.'

And so he'd stayed.

"I should've gone with him," Ellis repeated, ignoring Coach. "It was so stupid of me not to! Anything coulda happened to him out there! There are all those zombies, an' the Witches, an' the rain makes it damn near impossible to see anything-!"

"Ellis, you have to calm down," Rochelle stated, voice starting to sound strained. It was clear that she was worried too, even if she didn't want to show it. "…. And we need to figure out what we're going to do just in case….." She stopped herself, realizing that maybe it wasn't the best time to bring such a thing up, what with the youngest member of the group in such a tizzy.

"What?" Ellis asked, stomach starting to twist and gnarl. "Whaddya mean, Ro?" She sighed, and averted her gaze.

"…. We need to figure out when we're going to decide it's time to go signal Virgil," she replied, sadly. "… Because if he isn't coming back…." She trailed off, and opted to look out one of the barred up windows instead of continuing. Ellis wasn't sure if it was because she was sad, or because she couldn't handle the way he was looking at her. Coach ran a gloved hand across his face, and exhaled reluctantly.

"….. Son, you're gonna hate me for saying this, but she's right," he said, and Ellis just shook his head, unable to accept that. "If he isn't coming back-."

"Well then we have to go find him," the mechanic stated, crossly.

"Ellis-," Coach began, and Ellis held up his hands, shaking his head.

"No, if we're goin' to the boat I want to be sure that we ain't ditchin' him here!" he snarled. "What if we leave an' he was just delayed? What if we left him here alone, an' he came back and found us gone?"

"….. He said sunset," Rochelle murmured, still staring out the window into the blackness and rain. "…. I don't think we have to worry about that."

Ellis bit his lip, and continued to shake his head. "We can't jus' leave him here. I can't jus' leave him here! Rochelle, Coach, it's NICK. I can't jus' leave Nick here." He began to march towards the door.

"Ellis, stop!" Rochelle pleaded, reaching for his arm and yanking on him. "You can't go out there!"

"I'm goin'!"

"You CAN'T!" Coach stated, pulling him back into the middle of the room. Ellis tried to shove past the oldest member of the group, but the man's football background was in top form tonight, and he was blocking the smaller mechanic with ease. "If you go out there you could be killed!"

"But NICK could be killed too!" Ellis exclaimed, trying his best to move past, but finding it perfectly impossible. He suddenly couldn't breathe at the thought of it, the thought that somewhere in a sugar cane field, or an abandoned factory, Nick was lying on the ground, broken and dead…

The mechanic could feel that thudding mass in his chest start to crack apart again, and was about to lose balance.

"No, no no no," he stated, shaking his head, tipping towards the edge.

But there was a sudden pounding on the metal door to the safe house, making all three of them leap in surprise and fear.

"Goddamn it, would you open the door?" the familiar and sarcastic voice shouted, and Ellis straightened up, heart racing for what had to be the hundredth time at the sound of that voice. Rochelle sighed in relief, and rushed for the door, Coach by her side. They unbolted it and Nick burst in, new gas can in tow and sopping wet.

"NICK!" Rochelle exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. He chuckled and pat her on the back ."We thought you were dead! What happened to 'before sunset'?"

"Psh, like you can even tell if it's before sunset out there," Nick replied, setting the gas can down and leaning against the door, catching his breath.

"What happened to you?" Coach asked. "We thought for SURE you were-."

"Oh, well, going back through the Sugar Mill wasn't a walk in the park, but the rain scared the Witches off anyway," he replied, standing up straight and reaching into his coat. "Got the gas pretty easily, gave my ax a work out too. And actually, I probably would have been faster, but I had to get something else."

"Like what?" Rochelle asked skeptically, and Nick removed a plastic baggy from inside his coat. Inside the bag was a pack of cigarettes. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Hey, I was jonesing," Nick replied, and smiled arrogantly. "The trailer outside the factory had cigarettes, but I had to find something to protect them with. I'll be damned if the one pack of cigs I find is ruined by the goddamn rainstorm. THAT took me awhile, but I found something. And it looks like it did the trick."

"You had us worried out of our mind for cigarettes?" Coach asked, shaking his head. He was obviously irritated, but didn't seem surprised in the least.

"It's a filthy habit, I know," Nick replied, taking one out of the pack and lighting it with his Zippo. "But hey. We got gas. We can go, right?"

"Well let's wait for the rain to calm down a little, but yeah," Rochelle said, also irritated, but like Coach, not surprised. "Unless you wanted to stop for booze too."

"Nah, I'm fine," Nick winked, and then turned to Ellis, who hadn't moved from his spot. The older man grinned his way, and walked towards him. "Oh hey there, kiddo. Hope you weren't TOO worried. Aw Scarecrow, I think I missed you most of-."

Before he could finish his clever jibe, Ellis drew back and decked him across the face. Rochelle shrieked out a bit as Nick stumbled to his knees. His ring adorned hand cradled his cheekbone, and he scowled up at the younger man.

"WHAT the FUCK-?" he began, but Ellis pointed down at him, eyes blazing in a red hot fury.

"You FUCKIN' ASSHOLE!" he shouted, and before anyone could react he turned around and stormed up the steps of the safe house, leaving the other three survivors surprised at his outburst. They'd NEVER seen Ellis like that throughout the entire journey. They thought that he didn't have an angry bone in his body!

The mechanic wasn't familiar with the house in any way, shape, or form, but he found a room for himself to rage in, thinking that if he was left alone for a little while he could calm down at least a small amount. He kicked the side of the bed, and crossed his arms. Cigarettes. Fucking cigarettes. They were about to leave him behind because the bastard needed a nicotine fix. It was infuriating and ridiculous, but at the same time it was how Nick did things. And ultimately, Ellis was overjoyed that he was okay. Even if he was enraged.

The door to the bedroom opened, and Nick stamped in, looking probably just as furious as Ellis did. "What the FUCK was that about?" he demanded, and Ellis shook his head.

"If you hafta ask-."

"Christ, stop acting like my fucking ex-wife!" Nick sneered. "Why'd you clock me?"

"Why do ya THINK I clocked ya?" Ellis spat. "You had us all scared t'death, Nick! We thought you were dead, and the whole time you were just lookin' for cigarettes!But I guess I shouldn't be surprised, should I?"

"What's THAT supposed to mean?" Nick demanded, closing the door behind him so Coach and Ro wouldn't hear them fighting. It wasn't really their business as far as he was concerned.

"What d'ya think it means? It means you're so caught up in yourself that ya didn't care what WE were thinkin'!" Ellis threw back, resentfully. "Who cares if you're late, REAL late, so long as YOU'RE happy that's all that matters, right?"

Nick snorted, and mimicked Ellis' stance by crossing his arms too. Normally he'd just blow it off and let the antagonist stew in their own juices, but he felt that this should probably be hashed out. Especially since he had to trust Ellis with his life, ultimately. "Look, I'm back, aren't I? I mean, yeah, I was delayed and shit, but I'm SORRY if time management is kind of difficult during the goddamn Zombie Apocalypse, Overalls."

"Time management my ASS-."

"Hey, you don't know!" Nick snarled, pointing at him. "You don't know what I had to face out there! I didn't mention it downstairs because I didn't want to frighten Coach and Ro, but…. Well, it was pretty hairy out there. There were Chargers, there were Spitters, a few Hunters…. I was getting through by the skin of my teeth. For awhile there, I didn't think I was going to make it… So that's why I took so long."

Ellis examined his face for sincerity, and raised an eyebrow. "Is that true?"

"… No," Nick admitted, caught.

"I knew it!"

"Okay fine, so I really wanted cigarettes and lost track of time!" Nick snapped, starting to feel a little bit of shame. "The point is that I'm here now and we can go as soon as the rain stops!"

"No, the point is that you only care about how you feel," Ellis said, but it was less angry and more weary. "You don't let people affect you, so you think that you must not affect people either."

Ellis sat down on the bed, shaking his head, and Nick scratched his neck, uncomfortably.

"Is this about that whole sex thing?" the older man asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it, and Ellis snorted, but didn't answer. "Because, shit kid….I didn't realize that it meant all that much to you-."

"This isn't about the sex!" Ellis insisted, hotly. "It's about how we were gonna leave ya, all because you were too caught up with your stupid cigarettes!" He leaned his elbows onto his knees as he entwined his fingers together, trying to calm himself down, as he didn't want to give Nick the satisfaction of driving him this crazy. "I mean, THEY wanted to. I didn't. I was gonna go back an' find ya."

"…. Why the hell would you do that?" Nick asked, shocked. "If you thought I was dead-."

"I'm askin' myself the same question," the younger man replied, shaking his head. "…. Nick…. We were havin' a pretty good time, at least I thought so. I mean, we got along real well, an' we were havin' fun with the, the sex an' stuff… but then you just stopped. An' I was wonderin' if I did somethin' to make you change your mind?"

"So….. this IS about the sex then," the older man said, voice neutral and even. Ellis swallowed, and shrugged. Yeah…. It was. At the heart of it, it was. His anger had been so much more powerful than Ro's and Coach's because he had completely fallen head over heels, in spite of everything he was taught, in spite of how he thought he was supposed to feel when it came to romance and love and who to fall in love with. In spite of the fact it wasn't supposed to mean anything.

"So what if it is?…. It's just….. I really like you, Nick. I can't stop thinkin' about you, an' I was ready to go find you because I'm pretty sure I'd do just about anything for you if you wanted me to," he confessed, unable to keep it all in, needing Nick to hear it. Hell, he needed to say it, just in case there wasn't another chance. "Even before we did that stuff, I was crazy about you, real crazy… An' I thought that maybe you liked me too…?"

They were quiet for what felt like forever to Ellis. He'd tried reading Nick's face for any indication of what he was thinking. But years of being a gambler meant that the con man had perfected his poker face, and it was impossible to know what was swirling around in that mind of his.

So when he finally smirked, Ellis knew that he was going to get an answer from him. And yet he could also tell that he wasn't going to like what he was going to hear.

"I tell ya, kiddo, I thought for sure, for SURE, that of all the people I could have fucked, you would have been the one to shut up about it and never speak of it again," the gambler chuckled, shaking his head in amazement. "I mean, Jesus, look at you. You're a goddamn good ol' boy who no doubt feared The Gay more than you feared the zombies the first time you saw them. But NOW you just can't get enough of dick, huh? Like this whole 'end of the world' shit is your own personal 'Coming of Age' movie."

Well that seemed rather harsh to the younger man, and his stomach began to twist about again. "…. Wha-?"

"And you know, that may be, but Christ, you're clinging like a goddamn girl, and you should just knock it the fuck off," Nick stated, firmly. "Why is it that everyone I service suddenly thinks that I'm their Prince Charming, white horse and happily ever after included? I mean, Jesus, Overalls, what did you think was going to happen after that? Did you think that I was going to give you my pin and ask you to go steady?"

"No-!"

"Because we're two completely different people with completely different lives! And let's be completely frank here while we're at it," Nick continued. "Best case scenario: only HALF of the U.S. population is dead. Did you REALLY think, REALLY, that you and me would just settle down together? Because I didn't settle down for my high school girlfriend, or any of my rich boyfriends, or my GODDAMN wife. So WHY would I settle down for a backwater hick from Savannah, Georgia who doesn't know his way around a cock to save his life?"

The words cut deep, the deepest of any words that had cut the mechanic in his short life. He figured that had Nick just punched him in the gut an kicked him in the ribs a couple of times for good measure it probably would have been better than it was right now. He opened his mouth, making one more feeble attempt to get some word in edgewise, but Nick was too fast for him.

"So I'll give you a piece of advice, kiddo," he sneered. "Don't take any dumbass risks for me, because I sure as shit haven't done and wouldn't do the same for you."

Ellis really, REALLY hoped that he wasn't showing how much this was hurting. He tried to keep a hard face, tried to seem like he was just going to brush it off. But his stomach was clenching and his throat was tightening, and he knew, just knew, that he looked like he was going to cry. He really didn't want to cry, the humiliation was already at its boiling point and if any more came upon him he would need to crawl into a hole and just die. So he swallowed, took in a deep breath through his nose, and muttered an "Okay then." He stood up, turned around, and left the room briskly, knees wobbling. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have convinced himself that he meant anything to the cocky gambler? It should have been clear from the get go that Nick was only there because he knew he'd have a better chance of surviving if there were three other potential targets with him. Why not get a little sex from a willing mark while he was at it?

Ellis slowly walked across the hallway into the bathroom, and closed the door before he started to let the tears stream down his cheeks. He sank to the floor, wiping his eyes with his arm and trying to be as quiet as possible as his chest heaved.

Nick paused a few moments, looking out the window at the dwindling rain, and reached into his coat pocket to remove a cigarette. But his hand grasped the other object instead, and pulled it out.

That Milky Way bar wasn't easy to obtain. He'd had to double back AGAIN, back into the Sugar Mill (past a couple of Witches who hadn't been troubled by the rain) just to get it. Not only that, but in the room with the vending machine a Hunter had been waiting for him. He could hear it down the hallway, he KNEW it was in there. But he went forward anyway, and ended up pinning it down and strangling the zombie with his bare hands before he smashed the glass for that candy bar.

He snorted bitterly, and violently threw the chocolate into the corner. It was a stupid gesture anyway. And while he was at it, he swept his arm across the shelving on the wall, knocking books and knick knacks to the floor. Had he thought it wouldn't have drawn attention, he might have taken the entire room apart. But instead he just pushed down everything inside of him, and left the room with that usual cool smirk across his lips, hoping he wouldn't have to see how badly he'd wounded his companion, and hoping that he wouldn't show just how much HE was hurting too.

Chapter Text

Roanoke II was something of an ironic name. Perhaps not ironic, but certainly in dubious taste. Since the Flu had only affected the Western Hemisphere, and since those affected were mainly those of the United States (which sparked rumors of the U.S. military being behind the germ in the first place), the U.S. Government found itself with the task to rebuild, and with little to no help from their allies. The rest of the world practically said 'figure it out, and when you do, let us know'. The U.S. had to go it alone, though it had been picking up the pieces fairly well, despite the 36.3% of the population that had been lost.

Infected still roamed the countryside, by the thousands, either remnants of the first wave that had eked by through inserting themselves into the natural food chain, or those who had refused to be vaccinated (the number being surprisingly high). But all those who had been quarantined and vaccinated were sent back into a normal, albeit smaller, society that had precautions against the zombie hordes. While they wouldn't catch the Green Flu due to the vaccine, the population still had to worry about being ripped to shreds by the creatures that still ran free. Those who had contracted Green Flu and reached End Stage were declared beyond help, and the strict policy was to shoot them on sight. Now they were just part of the environment, and the towns and cities were fairly protected from them.

Roanoke II (formerly the calm town of Harriet) was in North Carolina, though it wasn't at the same location as the original Roanoke Colony. After the Flu had passed and killed most of the town's population, it became a harbor for refugees. The name was changed to reflect a new beginning.

This was where Ellis had found himself after being released from quarantine. He and Rochelle had both moved to this town for their own reasons. Ellis chose it because it was similar to home (Savannah, like the other cities most affected, was still so ravaged it was part of the forbidden Grey Zone), and Rochelle did because she had no one left but mechanic, especially since Coach had chosen to go North to be with extended family in Michigan.

So three years after the outbreak, they were living their lives, separately but closely, in this thriving community. Yes, a large fence still surrounded the town limits, as fences did around all populations, but there had been talk recently that it could possibly be taken down soon.

Ellis woke up that morning to the sound of birds singing outside the bedroom window of his cozy one story home. He rubbed his eyes, and looked at the clock. Nine a.m., Sunday morning. His day off. Days off were once a week, but he made the most of them. He tossed the covers off himself (disturbing his cat Dalton, who growled and jumped off the bed as well), and put on his robe, ready to face the day bright eyed and bushy tailed.

He walked into the kitchen, getting ready to brew himself a pot of coffee and fry up some eggs, when there was a knocking on the front door. He groaned, as knew exactly who it was on the front stoop, just as he knew that she would have some kind of breakfast food in tow. It was a Sunday routine that he'd come to sort of dread, just as he'd come to sort of dread one Barbara Dane. He opened the front door, and she smiled that cute little smile of hers, light freckles scrunching up with her face as she did so.

"Morning, Ellis," she said, holding out the pan of blueberry muffins.

"Mornin', Barbara," he replied, and he shifted his feet hesitantly.

He'd met her soon after she arrived at Roanoke II six months prior. She had come into the garage he worked at with a busted bicycle chain, since she said she didn't know of anywhere else to take it. After he'd fixed it she asked him if she could take him to dinner to express her gratitude. While he'd been reluctant to take her up on her offer, he did so, as she looked like she would have been absolutely crestfallen if he hadn't. At the time he thought that there couldn't have been any harm in doing such a thing, but when she had kept asking him to do things with her, he started to get a bit nervous. Usually when the girls in Roanoke II would take an interest in him, they would soon figure out that he didn't return that interest, and leave him be. No harm, no foul. But Barbara was just a bit persistent, even too persistent for Rochelle, who had wanted Ellis to start dating again for quite some time now.

'I just think it's time you found someone nice,' she'd cluck, and Ellis knew exactly what that meant. It was hard not to know.

"I made a lot of muffins for the church bake sale, and it turned out that I had a few extras," Barbara explained. "Can I come in?"

"You know, these are REAL nice," Ellis began, examining the pan, but before he could decline the offer she had strolled past him and into the house. "Sure, pull up a chair." He might have been attracted to Barbara at one point in his life. She had rich blonde hair, the color of honey really, and curves, and intense blue eyes. And she certainly fit the mold of who his family would have loved had they still been around to approve of a spouse. But her personality really grated him, mainly because she made him feel like he could never say no.

"So did you hear the news?" Barbara asked in her sweet voice, sitting across from him at the table as he bit into a muffin.

"Huh? What news?"

"Another zombie attack outside the town," she said, shaking her head. "It's in the paper this morning, Rochelle wrote the story."

"Aw man, that's the fifth this month," Ellis said, grimly. "What happened this time?"

"I guess Tom Mills was bringing in more supplies and was ambushed by about five of them. At least, that's what they think happened."

"Why don't they know?" Ellis asked, hesitantly, though he probably knew the answer.

"Well, because he died," she said, sadly, tearing part of her muffin off and taking a bite. "It says that they just tore him to bits." Ellis sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"That's awful," he said. He'd talked to Tom on occasion. He would be at the local watering hole, Carlisle's, drinking a beer, eating a burger, playing pool or darts. It was true that transporter drivers had a dangerous job, since they would travel in the Grey Zone from town to town, bringing and taking supplies to and from the large, stable cities. Why had Rochelle left him to read it in the paper instead of telling him herself? He'd miss Tom. "Man, that's a lot've attacks lately."

"Enough that they're going to bring in Z-Men," Barbara nodded.

"Wow," Ellis said, mouth filled with blueberry wholesomeness. For being a thorn in his side, she sure did make good muffins. "We haven't had to have Z-Men until now! I wonder what has the zombies all riled up?"

"Well, whatever it is, the sooner those guys get here, the better," she said, standing up and putting the rest of the muffins in the fridge. "I want the fences to come down, and I want to be able to go from place to place without a permit and a need to look over my shoulder. If you see Rochelle today you should ask her if she has any more info! I'd love to hear the dirt on this."

"I'm sure if she does she'll have sources to protect or somethin'," Ellis said, though he did make a mental note to call his friend at the newspaper and see what she knew. "Man, Z-Men. Never thought I'd see the day that Z-Men came to Roanoke II."

Z-Men were a group of people, men and women, but mostly men, who had been assembled by the Government for one very specific purpose: Infected extermination. The first group had consisted of people who had found themselves unlucky enough to be left behind, and had to fend for themselves while awaiting rescue. Ellis had been considered as a possible recruit for the job, but had been ultimately rejected when it was established that he'd been a Carrier, as opposed to an Immune. Since he'd had to remain in lock down until a vaccine was found, he wouldn't be trained with the others. While Ellis three years ago would have jumped at the chance to join this group of people, the 26 year old had no interest anymore, as he'd settled into his new mundane life quite nicely. While other towns and cities had needed Z-Men to come in and thin out the ghoul population, Roanoke II had never been in need of such a thing.

"You should definitely talk to Rochelle," Barbara said, and smiled amiably. "Well, I need to get back to my house before I go to Church, I promised Liz that I'd bring her one of my books and completely forgot it at home. Want me to save you a seat?"

"You don't have to-."

"But I like to."

"….. Yeah, fine," Ellis conceded, and she nodded happily as she walked for the door to the living room. "Thanks for the muffins, Barbara. See you in an hour."

"Of course, Ellis," she said, waving at him. Once he'd waited to hear the front screen door slam behind her, he jumped up and rushed to the phone. He knew that Rochelle would be at work, since work at the newspaper was her life. She wrote the article, she had to have SOME idea of when the Z-Men were coming. It was really exciting to think that they would be there soon, as Z-Men were pretty much superheroes in Ellis' eyes. He'd done their work, and couldn't imagine doing it for a living.

He dialed Ro's work number, knowing she'd be there for at least the morning, and waited, foot tapping impatiently.

"Roanoke Herald."

"Okay, when are the Z-Men comin'?" he asked, excitedly.

"I can't tell you that!"

"Yes you can! I won't tell nobody about it!" he jabbered, walking from the kitchen into the living room and plopping down in the Lay-Z-Boy chair.

"Well look, sweetie, I don't know WHEN they're arriving, specifically, but I DO know that tomorrow night there's going to be a town hall meeting about it," she said, and he heard her lean back in her chair. "And they may or may not be there. Which means they may or may not be arriving tonight."

"That's so COOL! Oh my God, I know it's wrong t'think it's cool, but it's so cool! I can't wait to tell Keith an' Dave about it, they might have lots've stories from when Laramie had Z-Men an' we can talk about 'em an' compare an' shit! I hope our Z-Men are cooler than theirs were! That'd really burn 'em!"

"We'll see. Chief Jacobs is NOT too happy that the Feds are getting involved, but you didn't hear that from me," she said, starting to dish now. "I think that the mayor has set them up with a couple of houses around town, but I don't know where, or who they are."

"Oh that don't matter, I just wanted to know when they were gettin' here," Ellis said, leaning back in his chair as well. "Coach says that they really did a good job up in Michigan, an' Dave said that the ones THEY had were able to flush out a whole nest've Witches!"

"Oh God, they didn't recruit Keith did they?"

"I hope not, if they know what's good for 'em," Ellis grinned. "Once it gets safer to travel we gotta go visit them."

"Yeah, sure," Rochelle said, though it was clear by her voice that she had no interest in going to Laramie. "Look, I'm trying to get more info on these Z-Men for tomorrow's edition, so I have to go."

"Workin' on a Sunday sucks, dunnit?"

"Yeah, but it's a HUGE story and I'm happy to have it. So hey, let's meet at Carlisle's tonight for drinks and I'll tell you everything I CAN tell you, okay?"

"Sounds real good to me, Ro," Ellis said. "I hafta get ready for Church anyway."

"Okay, sweetie. See you at seven sharp."

"Okay! Bye." He hung up, heart starting to pound. Z-Men! How exciting! He hopped up and rushed back to this bedroom to get ready, more of a spring to his step now. While no doubt others would lament the fact that such forces were needed now, he found it just a bit thrilling. And being a perpetual optimist, he knew that there would be nothing but good things to come with the Z-Men. They would be at their safest.

Dalton jumped on the bed, tilting his head at his owner, and Ellis tied his tie as he glanced at the cat. "Things're getting' interestin', Dalton!"

As Ellis got ready for Church, somewhere near Knoxville, Tennessee, a black BMW with a small trailer attached to it flew down the road, heading east. The two occupants in the car were listening to AC/DC CDs and singing along. Well, the driver was singing along. The passenger was chewing on a peppermint stick and trying not to lose his mind.

"Jesus Christ, can we please change the CD yet?" Nick asked, crossly, and his companion gave him a bad-tempered look. "We've been listening to this since Nashville."

"You know what your problem is, Nick?" Francis asked, gravelly voice more resigned than annoyed. "You don't know how to be flexible."

"I'm plenty flexible!" Nick insisted, crunching on the candy. "You're the one who's had 'Back in Black' on a loop the past two hours!"

"It's a great album, first of all, and second of all I'll switch it up before we get to North Carolina. You should open your mind to good music, not just that New Wave crap you like," Francis said, cigarette bouncing on his lips. Nick snorted, arm dangling out the window lazily. "Do you know what I hate?"

"Seeing as you hate everything, I'm loath to guess," Nick replied.

"I hate that we have to go to this shit town in the heart of The South, that's what I hate. I HATE the South," the former biker groused, turning down the music.

"Now that I can agree with," Nick nodded, solemnly. "Seriously though, put in a new CD."

"I'm driving, I pick the music," Francis said, and then squinted ahead. "Hm… That look like a group of freaks off the side of the road to you?" Nick followed his gaze, which landed on about half a dozen Infected as they munched on a deer carcass.

"Yep, it does," Nick replied. "Can we just drive past them, please?"

"Hell no!" Francis grinned, suddenly braking the vehicle. Nick grabbed the door handle in an effort to still himself at least a small bit, but it didn't do much as Francis turned the wheel and made them spin out, the trailer lurching along with the car. Once it came to a stop, Francis twisted himself around to remove a large shotgun from the backseat. "What do ya say, partner? Ready to kill some zombies?" Nick snorted, bleakly.

"Sure," he replied, reaching for his own weapon, an assault rifle. "Why the fuck not?" They threw their doors open, hopped out of the car, and mowed down the surprised Infected with ease. The creatures hissed and screamed at the assault, and both men barely bat an eyelash. Once they had confirmed that the creatures were dead, Francis bent over one of them, kicking it's shoulder.

"Dinner's over," he said, and Nick rolled his eyes.

"JESUS Francis, every fucking time!" he exclaimed.

"What? It's badass!"

"It's stupid is what it is," the former con-man replied, looking around their environment to see if there were any more threats.

"You're just pissed you can't think of good Schwarzenegger-isms," Francis stated, and spat his cigarette to the ground. "We're Z-Men. Snide jibes come with the territory."

"Whatever," Nick said, and sniffed a bit as he trudged back towards the car. "Can we please go now?"

"You're in a hurry," Francis said, though he walked back towards the BMW as well. "A few days ago when we got this assignment you wouldn't stop bitching, and now you can't wait to get to Roanoke II. What gives?"

"It's not that I can't wait to get there, but the faster we do, the faster we can start purging the place of fucking ghouls, and faster we can purge the place of ghouls, the closer we get to the end of this bullshit job," Nick replied, voice acerbic.

"When are you going to figure out that this job ain't ending any time soon?" Francis asked, shaking his head at his partner's naïveté.

"A boy can dream," Nick replied, and suddenly knocked Francis to the side and jumped in the driver's seat, slamming the door and locking it. "HA."

"Goddammit!" Francis spat, slapping his hand on the window, and Nick flipped him off, smugly. He held the smile until Francis got in the passenger seat, and took the not so hard punch to the shoulder with good humor. "Do we have to listen to The Cure now or some shit?"

"Yep."

"I hate The Cure."

"Sorry," the former con man said, smiling wryly as he started the car. "Am I the only one who finds the name Roanoke II kind of twisted?"

"How do you mean?" Francis asked, grimacing as Nick put his CD in the player.

"Well the first Roanoke Colony in North Carolina was back in the 16th century, and all of them disappeared without a trace," Nick explained. "Kind of sick to name this town after it. Bad omen."

"I think it shows cajones," Francis disagreed. "Like 'fuck you, zombies! We aren't going anywhere THIS time!'"

"Interesting viewpoint," Nick replied, glancing at him through the corner of his eye. "Whatever. Keep an eye out for any run down bars along the way."

"Well yeah, of course," Francis nodded, loading his handgun. "I'm having a full bar in my new house, no question about it." Nick nodded, and smirked. While he and Francis would butt heads, their shared love for alcohol had been the ice breaker that had solidified their partnership, among other things. "Roanoke II is only four hundred some miles away. We could make it in eight hours, seven if we speed."

"Who's going to stop us?" Nick grinned, pressing his foot to the pedal.

"Damn right, Suit!" Francis hooted.

Chapter Text

Ellis clocked out of work at six forty five, and silently fumed. Not only had be been called into work on his day off to tow and fix a car, the car had taken longer than he thought it would. Now he had to meet Rochelle in fifteen minutes. There was no time to go home and change, because Ro would get visibly irked if he kept her waiting. If anyone kept her waiting, really. So he just shed the top of the coveralls and tied the arms around his waist, hoping the grease stains wouldn't be too obvious. But Rochelle was much more forgiving of his fashion shortcomings than others might have been. She was fine as long as he didn't make her wait.

He locked up the garage and decided that it was a nice enough night to walk to Carlisle's. He could keep his truck parked at work and not have to try to find parking in the lot, which always seemed full even when it wasn't busy.

He entered the bar and restaurant, scanning the dimly lit room for his friend, and she waved at him from a booth across from the door. He waved back, and sat down across from her.

"Seven on the dot," she said, grinning, and he nodded.

"I probably smell like motor oil, but I'm not late," he replied. "How're you?"

"It's been a long and frustrating day, and I wish that more imports were coming back into the country," she replied, grimly. "Because I could really go for a good Scotch right now."

"Uh oh," Ellis said, smiling sadly at her. "What happened?"

"Everyone I've talked to has been incredibly tight lipped about the Z-Men," she said, rolling her eyes. "Chief Jacobs didn't return any of my calls, Mayor O'Dea isn't even in TOWN, the other cops just hung up on me… How am I supposed to write a story on them if I can't find out anything about them? The people have the right to know!"

"That sucks," Ellis nodded.

"Sure does. But how are you?"

"Called into work for emergency engine trouble," he replied, glumly. "Sunday got completely shot. All cuz some Government guy's car had a shit timing belt."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means I hadta go tow an' work on a car right after church an' didn't finish til fifteen minutes ago."

"That explains the coveralls. Was it the Z-Men?"

"No, some guy from CEDA," Ellis replied. The guy hadn't been the most pleasant person he'd ever met. He was impatient and condescending, acting like it was beneath him to ride in the pick-up truck with the chatty mechanic. Ellis had stopped trying to talk to him after the third icy 'I see' from the asshole. Yeah, CEDA hadn't changed much.

"Hmph. And oh, I saw Barbara at the grocery store while I was picking up some lunch. She told me you told her you couldn't go for a walk because of the broken down car," Rochelle said, shaking her head.

"Jeeze," Ellis said, shaking his head. "That was the one reason I was lookin' forward to workin'. She showed up with more baked goods this mornin'."

"You need to tell her that you aren't interested!"

"I'm tryin' to think of the best way to do it!" he insisted. "I don't wanna hurt her feelin's, that's the last thing I wanna do. But she needs to stop with the muffins. I never eat more than one, an' it feels wasteful throwing them out to the birds."

"You look like YOU could use a beer. You want the usual?"

"Yep," he replied, nodding, and she pat his arm as she left the booth to go to the bar. He hadn't really minded working on the car. He liked working on cars, after all. He just wished he'd had his Sunday. He could have found another excuse to get Barbara off his back.

Rochelle returned with his bottle of Bud, and tilted her head to the side. "So Barbara seems to think that she's wearing you down."

"Not likely," Ellis replied, drinking his beer. "I mean, you know me. Not all that interested in datin'."

"Only because you don't let yourself be interested in dating," she said, sardonically. "That's your own fault."

"Is not! The girls are nice an' all, but none've them are my type!"

"We both know what type you like."

He hated it when she brought up Nick, mostly because he didn't like thinking about Nick. Nick was a part of his life that had been filled with both the highest highs and the lowest lows. In their short journey together, he'd loved and lost more than most people his age. He never knew he could have felt so much love for one person, and then felt so, so awful when that love was stamped out. He didn't think of Nick much anymore, only when he saw nice suits, or when he found his old Bullshifters shirt in the closet. Then he would be overtaken with nostalgia and heartbreak so potent he'd have to collect himself before he could continue on with his day.

"Can we not talk about it?" Ellis asked, hoping for some kind of reprieve from his best friend's nagging.

"Here are your menus, sorry for the wait," Wednesday the glum waitress said, suddenly at their table, and Ellis grinned.

"All RIGHT!" he crowed, taking the menu happily. When Rochelle arched her eyebrows at him, he made a face at her. "What? I'm hungry!"

"Did you want to hear about our specials today?" Wednesday asked. She was usually the one who waited on Ellis and Rochelle when they went to Carlisle's, and Ellis enjoyed her more than Rochelle did. She'd been an orphan who had been assigned to Roanoke randomly. No one really knew what she'd seen or experienced, but the older people in town tried to keep her under their wings. She didn't take too kindly to many people, but like most folks, she liked Ellis. She tolerated Rochelle. "There's a catfish special today with sweet potatoes, and-."

"I don't think I need to, I already know what I'm gettin'," Ellis said.

"Surprise surprise," Wednesday replied, and turned to Rochelle "What about you? Do you know what you want?"

"Wednesday, you just gave us our menus. Unlike him, I like mixing it up a bit," Rochelle said, and Wednesday flipped her hair over her shoulder, sighing.

"I'll be back in a bit." With that she walked away, not even asking about more drinks.

"She's such a freakin' teenager," Rochelle said, shaking her head. "Do you think I was ever like that?... Ellis?"

"Huh?" he asked, pulled from thought. "Sorry, I wasn't listenin'."

"What's going on with you, sweetie?" she asked, drinking the last of her rum and coke. "You haven't been with anyone since…. Well, you know… I'd think you'd be interested in opening up again and just dating."

He wished that she hadn't said that. It wasn't that he wasn't interested in dating, necessarily. He would have loved to find a nice person. In theory Barbara SHOULD have fit the bill. She was nice, and caring, and laughed at his jokes and had the same interests as him. She was moral and she was strong willed. And so of course he felt incredibly guilty that he wasn't as interested in her as he should have been, just as he hadn't been interested in Beth, or Janice, or Eliza.

"I just have a lot on my mind, is all," Ellis said, trying to be vague, and decided to change the subject. "Oh! I meant to tell ya that I talked to Coach the other day!"

"Oh yeah?" she asked, taking the bait and perusing the menu. "How's he doing?"

"He an' his wife are fine, things sound like they're better up North. Winter up there kills those things real good, that's for sure. I bet they don't need Z-Men, no sir."

"That's why their cities are almost habitable again, I'd bet," she said, and scrunched her nose at the menu. "What the hell happened to that egg salad sandwich I like?"

"You were the only person who DID like it," Ellis laughed. How his friend could want anything other than the cheeseburger with onion rings was beyond him. "Egg salad's gross."

"Egg salad's fantastic, you're wrong," she sniffed.

"So ya didn't find anything else about the Z-Men, huh?" he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. She shrugged. "But there's a town meetin' tomorrow?"

"Yeah, and they WILL be there," she said, closing her menu. "I guess these two are vets, a couple of pros who were some of the first to be recruited. But Chief Jacobs wouldn't say anything else. Suffice to say, I'm going to be at that town hall meeting, ready to grill them."

"I'm real excited to see them!" Ellis said, voice chipper. "Z-Men are so cool!"

"They don't do anything that we haven't done," she replied, signaling Wednesday to come back to the table. "We could be Z-Men. Not that I'd want to. Maybe getting paid for killing zombies would give me a better taste for it, but I doubt that."

They ordered their food and continued to chat about everything and nothing. Yeah, she was still a bit hung up and bitter about her lack of story, but when she did give him a word in edgewise she did listen intently. He managed to steer the conversations away from Barbara and dating, and if she noticed she didn't question it. Once his burger and her salad arrived they were well into talking about drama with one of her co-workers, when Wednesday walked to their table, usually bored eyes kind of wide with wonder.

"You guys, guess what," she said, shoving Ellis over so she could sit in the booth as well.

"Hey!" he snapped at the teenager, and she shoved him again to shut him up.

"Don't you have tables?" Rochelle asked, smiling.

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter right now, you'll never guess what I just heard," she said, leaning in. "Chief Jacob's secretary told Carlisle who told me that the Z-Men are coming here tonight at 8:00."

"Here?" Rochelle hissed, slamming her hands on the table in shock.

"Chief Jacobs wants to discuss some things with them tonight apparently, but he's going to be late because of some other zombie sighting on the outskirts of town," Wednesday continued. "I'm supposed to seat them if they want to be seated. This is bullshit."

"Why's it bullshit?" Ellis asked.

"It just is."

"No, this is perfect!" Rochelle stated, seriously. "I didn't have a story thanks to Jacobs and his tight lips, but if HE'S going to be late, I can corner them and ask them a bunch of questions, profile them, actually get a story out of it."

"Aw c'mon, Ro, just let 'em have a beer an' dinner," Ellis chided, nudging Wednesday over a bit. "They've come from who knows where, they're probably real tired or some shit."

"Yeah right," she muttered, rifling through her bag for a pen and paper. "They'll be here any minute and I'm going to get a story. It'll be quick and painless."

"This will be interesting," Wednesday said, standing back up. "Dammit. I'm going to go watch for anyone I don't know. I hope they're cute."

"And eighteen years or younger?" Rochelle asked, and Wednesday pretended not to have heard it as she walked over to the front of the bar and grill. "I can't believe my luck!"

"You're gonna be real sad if they don't wanna talk to ya," Ellis said, shaking his head. "Me? I'm waitin' for the town hall meetin' before I introduce myself. Maybe they'll wanna go riding ATVs sometime. You know, within the limits, not in the Grey Zone. OR, maybe they WILL wanna ride 'em in the Grey Zone, an' I'll get to see 'em killin' zombies while ridin' ATVs! OH MAN that would be SWEET."

"….. Some things don't change," she said, shaking her head, and he grinned, taking a huge bite of his burger.

Nick slowed the BMW to a crawl on what had to be Main Street, looking at the lit up sign that promised hot food and cold drinks. He parked the car, reluctantly, and turned to his sleeping partner. Francis had been snoring in his seat for the last three hours of the ride, and Nick smacked him in the chest.

"HUHWHAT?" the former biker grunted, sitting up and getting caught in the seat belt. "Dammit, Nick, whatever happened to shaking someone?"

"We're here," the gambler said. "The Police Chief of this Podunk shithole said to meet him at this place, didn't he?" Francis wiped the drool from his mouth, and read the sign.

"Carlisle's. Yeah, this is it."

"Crap, I was hoping I got the wrong place. This looks like a dive."

"Hot food and cold drinks. That sounds tasty!" the thug stated, stepping out of the car.

"What do you think the odds of getting a good steak and nice glass of wine at this place are?" Nick asked, slamming his door behind him.

"Slim," Francis replied, stretching his legs and taking in a deep breath. "But a burger and a beer? I bet they're great here."

"I don't like hamburgers."

"You're tons of fun, Suit," Francis sneered, and Nick snorted. "I don't see any cop cars. I never thought I'd be pissed NOT to see one." Nick nodded, agreeing, and shrugged.

"If he isn't here we can split and go somewhere else," he suggested. "I know the settlements in Nevada have kept the legal brothels running."

"Fuckin' A," Francis grinned, slapping him on the back. "The Oldest Profession wins again…. I should also tell you something else."

"About what?"

"About who's meeting us tonight," Francis replied, hesitantly. The other Z-Man narrowed his eyes, feeling a bit cornered all of a sudden, and he crossed his arms. "I guess that Creevy is going to be here too."

Nick's eyes widened and he scowled, shaking his head quickly. "NO. Fuck no, what the FUCK?"

"I know, I know," Francis nodded, finding it somewhat ironic that HE was the calm one at the moment. "But CEDA bitched about lack of supervision on their end or some shit, and so Creevy was assigned-."

"Of all the goddamn people to assign to us it has to be CREEVY," Nick spat, kicking the road in a fury. "I hate that guy, the higher ups KNOW I hate that guy-!"

"Well we can't do anything about it now," Francis said.

"We sure can, I'm splitting."

"You can't split, you moron. You know what'll happen if you leave," the biker stated, and the gambler growled, snagging his hair in his hands in frustration. "…. Look, just mellow out, go through the motions, and we'll be on our way. He'll think he's in charge, but as long as we get results we don't have to answer to anyone but ourselves." The con man huffed, still raging but coming down just a little bit. "If you think you're gonna punch him, just kick me in the shin. It will make you feel better… But then I get to slug you in the kidney for every kick."

"You're so thoughtful," Nick said, sarcastically, and Francis grinned at him. "Jesus. At least it can't get worse."

"You got that right." Nick nodded, and slapped Francis on the back as well.

Ellis was fumbling with his wallet, trying to scrounge up enough cash to pay for his burger. Rochelle had rushed to the bathroom to check her teeth, thinking that perhaps she'd be able to get more cooperative interviewees if her pearly whites weren't filled with spinach and pepper. He had enough in his wallet for another beer too, if he really wanted it, but before he could decide, Wednesday rushed to the booth and slammed her butt down across from him.

"The Z-Men just walked in!" she hissed, and Ellis was going to turn towards the door, but she grabbed his arm. "DON'T look."

"Jeeze, Wednesday, why can't I look?" he asked.

"Because if you stare they'll know and it will be obvious and weird." He sighed, but didn't look, just so she wouldn't kick him under the table. "I think Carlisle is going to seat them himself, but then I have to take their orders. Worst part? They're both old. Like, late thirties."

"That ain't old," Ellis said, even if he was only twenty six he felt a need to defend people in their thirties. He'd be there soon enough. "Don't let Ro hear ya say that. She got real mad at me once when I said that this actress she liked was old, mainly because she was only three years older than Ro, an' if there's one thing I've learned about women, it's they don't like bein' told they look old. Unless they're your age, then they think it's great cuz they can probably get away with buyin' beer an' shit? But I've never known where the cut off is. What age do you girls start worryin' about that kinda thing?"

Wednesday didn't answer, instead glancing towards the Z-Men briefly, and then held her breath when the owner, Carlisle Smits, walked to the booth. "Wednesday. I'm not paying you to chat with the mechanic. Go and give them menus." Carlisle was the owner and head cook, in his thirties and from Maine, of all places. Most people in town really liked him, and not just because he made really great food at really moderate prices.

"I'm not really doing any of the chatting," she said.

"Come on, go give them menus."

"If I mess up their orders they'll shoot me."

"I doubt that. Unless you contract Green Flu in the next ten minutes." She stood up slowly, and Ellis gave her a sad smile.

"Ya want me to come with ya?" he asked. "Moral support an' all that?"

"What, like my own personal cheerleader?" she asked.

"I guess."

"Do I have to split my tips?"

"Would you just get over there, Wednesday?" Carlisle asked, though his tone was bordering on amused, and she snorted, and stalked over. "What's that they say about good help, Ellis?" Ellis shrugged, and his eyes fell to the table with the Z-Men.

Wednesday was blocking them as she handed them their menus and took their drink orders, and the mechanic shifted in his seat. Something seemed a bit familiar about the elbow he could see. He squinted, wrinkling his nose as he started to get a gut feeling that was…. cagey.

"Hey, I meant to ask you," Carlisle continued, and the younger man looked up at the owner of the bar, "one of my stoves has been acting weird lately. I don't think it's a big thing, but I was thinking that you know a lot about cars. Maybe you know something about stoves?"

"Well, I could take a look at it if ya want me to," Ellis said. "I mean, that's not really vehicles, but I know other handy man stuff. Did a lot of it for my Mom back in the day. An' my friend Keith, he was always dislodging somethin' from his house an' would call me an' our friend Dave over, an' we'd usually have to put somethin' back together, or at least drive Keith to the hospital-."

"Thanks, that sounds great, whenever you have time," Carlisle said, patting him on the shoulder. "….. So may I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"Well…. I mean, the Autumn Festival is going to come up in October, and I wanted to make sure I wasn't stepping on any toes if I asked Barbara Dane to go as my date," Carlisle said, trying to sound cool but clearly a bundle of nerves. "Because if you were going to ask her-!"

"Heh, no," Ellis said, smiling. "Not steppin' on any toes at all, believe me." It wasn't a very big secret that Carlisle carried a torch for Barbara, though the only person who didn't seem to know was the blonde girl herself.

"Okay, I just wanted to be sure," Carlisle stated, though he was obviously relieved. "I have to go back to the kitchen and make those Z-Men some complimentary buffalo wings. First impressions are the most important, you know."

"Yep. Thanks for the food," Ellis said, craning his neck to watch him go, and as he turned back around he saw that he had a full view of the Z-Men.

And his stomach felt like it collapsed upon itself.

Seeing Nick sitting at that table was something the mechanic could never have prepared for. It had been three years since he'd seen him last, his last mental image of the gambler one of him being shoved down a separate hallway on one of those godforsaken cruise ships, shouting and swearing and trying to say something but unable to do so. Ellis had been relieved at the time, as he was still really wounded from what Nick had said, but then an overwhelming sense of loss had overtaken him when he realized that Nick wasn't coming back. That he'd never see him again.

And now that he was staring at the guy, not fifteen feet away from him at that very moment, he was suddenly swallowed by a torrent of conflicting emotions. The strongest of which being pain. The horrible words, the horrible silence, the horrible END of them, it was back at the forefront of his mind and his soul after years of being an unpleasant afterthought. He couldn't move. He wasn't sure he could breathe. And he knew that it was one of those rare occasions that he couldn't say anything.

"She was cute," Francis said lowly, leaning into the table so only Nick could hear. "Kind of a sourpuss, but I like that."

"You like anything with a pulse," Nick replied, bitter that the only thing that resembled good beer on the menu was Heineken.

"You can't talk."

"True."

"I'm going to ask her for her phone number."

"Think the cellular signal has come back out here?" Nick asked, looking around wearily.

"If not now, soon," Francis stated, twisting his hands together, which made the leather gloves squeak. "Things are coming back to life, Nicholas. Now if only we could get rid of all those pesky zombies."

"Let me guess: You hate zombies?"

"Sure do."

Nick smirked, though out of the blue got an uneasy feeling in the back of his mind. He always had a knack for knowing when he was being watched; he had forever assumed that was why he was usually able to slip through the fingers of the law. And it was really making him sweat tonight. He slowly looked around the bar, trying to figure out where it was coming from, and his eyes stopped on a booth in the corner of the establishment.

For a moment he thought he was hallucinating. It was like he was thrown back in time, and he was staring at the hick mechanic he used to know, tied coveralls, tee shirt, baseball cap, everything. He blinked once, then twice, and was utterly convinced that he'd driven too long and hadn't had enough sleep. There was no way that Ellis was sitting in the same bar he was in at that very moment. Just no way.

When Nick saw him, Ellis froze even more. It was one thing to be an unnoticed observer, but now that he'd been caught red handed, he swallowed down a thick lump in his throat.

"Okay, my teeth are clean and not humiliating," Rochelle went on as she came back to the table. "I really need to talk to Carlisle about the amount of pepper he puts in that salad, it was a REAL bitch to get out of my….. Sweetie? Are you okay?" She followed his gaze, and when she saw just what Ellis was looking at, her jaw dropped. "Son of a bitch."

Rochelle's expletive served as confirmation that Nick was, indeed, there, and that made Ellis stand up sharply, suddenly at a loss for what to do. Panicking, he started to breathe in and out a little too fast, and Nick stood up too, slower than the younger man, but just as fixated.

"Nick?" Francis asked, wondering just why his partner was standing up. Nick held up a hand at him, and took one step forward.

OhmygodshitwhatdoIdothiscan'tbehappening, Ellis thought, knowing that he looked like a deer in the headlights and yet STILL unable to do anything about it. And he wasn't able to make any decision until Nick opened his mouth.

"…. El?" the Z-Man asked, voice soft, and his face ever so briefly spilling with nostalgic emotion. Brief enough that Ellis didn't notice it, and instead he just bolted from the bar, past Nick and Wednesdays and out the door. He felt like a true coward, but his legs were in charge now and apparently they decided that making a hasty exit was in his best interest. "Ellis!"

He was about to follow the mechanic out into the street, when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He reflexively turned around, and saw that it was Rochelle, yet another blast from the past. "Rochelle! What the Christ-?"

But he couldn't get any more words out, as she drew back and decked him right on the nose. "GOD DAMMIT-!"

"Asshole scumbag bastard motherfucking son of a BITCH!" she spat, and Francis began to howl with laughter, the previous and present actions amusing him entirely too much. She stamped past them both, and followed Ellis out the door.

Ellis just kept walking towards his truck, clenching and releasing his fists, head still feeling like it was swimming and drowning and in a fog. His stomach hurt, no, everything hurt, and he wondered if he was even going to make it to his car before he just gave way.

"Ellis!" he heard Rochelle call, and he turned around. "Ellis, wait!" He did so, and put on his best blasé face. "Oh sweetie, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he tried, and she shook her head, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"You don't have to be, honey," she said, steadily. "Really, you don't have to lie to me, are you okay?"

"Ro, I'm fine," he said, forcing a smile across his face and nodding. "That was weird, wasn't it? Can you believe that NICK is here?"

"Yeah, I punched him in the nose, I believe he's here."

"Oh jeeze, you didn't-."

"Damn right I did!" she snapped. "I'll go and do it again too if you want me to!"

"I don't want ya to!" Ellis said, shaking his head. "Man, you really didn't hafta do that!"

"I think I did!"

He sighed slowly, and forced a reassuring smile again. "Ro, it was three years ago. I'm over it, okay? I was just surprised is all. I mean, I never thought I'd see Nick again, an' then there he was in my favorite bar!" He paused, feeling his forehead start to knit, and fought it back as best he could. "It's weird, right? Like somethin' outta a movie…"

She studied his face closely, and narrowed her eyes. He hoped that even if she didn't fall for it, she would at least just drop it. "…. Is there anything you need from me right now sweetie? Like, a hug, or a drink, or a hit taken out-?"

"Ro, I'm fine," he said, shaking his head. "I think I'm just gonna go home and go to bed."

"Do you want me to stay on your couch? In case you decide that you want to talk?" she asked.

"No, I'm okay."

"Ellis, come on!" she exclaimed, getting a bit irritated. He was NOT okay, no matter how much he wanted to believe it.

"Seriously!" he exclaimed, harshly. "…. I'm okay. I'm just gonna go home. Go to bed. I'm beat, it's been a long day."

She didn't believe him. Of COURSE she didn't believe him, because she knew him far too well to believe that he could just brush this off. She'd seen the pain that he'd gone through over that asshole in the ruined suit, and she saw the same look in his eyes right now, no matter how much he wanted to hide it. But, at the same time, she knew that he was stubborn, and so she wasn't going to push it any further. Instead she just nodded, and took his hand in hers, squeezing it. "If you need anything or change your mind, PLEASE call me. You know me, I don't sleep soundly, I'll answer no matter what."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ellis said, and gestured to his truck. "I'm headin' out."

"So will I see you at the town hall meeting tomorrow?" she asked, cautiously.

"Um… Yeah, unless somethin' comes up," he answered, nodding, mind immediately trying to think of something that could come up. "I'll let ya know…. Have a good night." Before she could grill him some more, he continued walking to his truck.

It wasn't until he was sitting in his vehicle that he finally began to shake. His insides couldn't take it anymore, and he opened the door quickly, throwing up his burger, beer, and onion rings all over the asphalt. Once he'd finished losing his dinner, he wiped his mouth on his arm, swallowed down the chance of any more awful bile coming up again, and gripped the steering wheel. It had been a long while since he'd felt this awful, and he wished that he hadn't had to feel like this ever again.

But then, Nick had always brought out the most intense emotions in him.

Chapter Text

"Where the fuck is that asshole Creevy?" Nick asked, head tipped back and bloody napkin stuffed in his nose. Francis just sipped his beer and laughed some more to himself. "It's not fucking funny, Francis, I'm bleeding all over the goddamn place!"

"Actually it's really funny," Francis replied, voice nearly giddy. "And here's why: I never get sick of seeing people slap you in the face, or spit on you, or scream at you, or anything like that."

"You're an ass," Nick spat. "I swear to God if she broke my nose-."

"So when'd you meet her?" Francis asked, stroking his goatee pensively. "Before or after the Infection?"

"You've met her too, what do you think?" Nick asked, pinching his nose as hard as he could without blinding pain.

"When?"

"When did you meet her? You met her in Rayford!" Nick exclaimed, tipping his head back down to get a better look at his partner. "I was travelling with her and-!"

"Oh SHIT!" Francis exclaimed, hands smacking the table and craning his neck towards the door. "I remember now! THAT was Rochelle!"

"Brilliant."

"She looks damned good too! Man, the thought of her got me through some tough nights, I can tell you that," Francis said, punctuating the crude comment by bouncing his fist up and down, and Nick groaned as more blood dripped onto the table. "Keep it elevated, bro."

"Fuck off."

"Why's she so mad at you? Aw DAMMIT, you got to her first didn't you?" Francis asked, disappointed. "I made a promise to myself that I would never go for your sloppy seconds, who knows where you've been?"

"Need I remind you of that one night in Santa Fe?" Nick snapped, snidely, and Francis flushed a bit and chugged the rest of his beer in one large gulp. "But no, if it eases your dick I did NOT get to her first."

Before Francis could continue the interrogation, Wednesday set their food in front of them. "Can I get you two anything else?"

"Your phone number maybe?" Francis said, slyly.

"I'm sixteen."

"Oh. Yeah, I'm not going to jail over you."

"What about you, sir?" Wednesday asked, turning to Nick. She didn't know what exactly had gone down between him and Rochelle and Ellis, but she was pretty amused that this big shot Z-Man was gushing blood, compliments of the journalist. "… More napkins, possibly?"

"I'm good, scram," Nick mumbled, and she shrugged and left them to their food. "How quickly Rochelle left your mind."

"Well when she finds out I'm your partner she'll want nothing to do with me, thought I'd hedge my bets," Francis said, taking a big bite of his hamburger. "If you didn't do her, why's she so sore?"

Nick scowled, fumbling around for his sandwich, and shrugged. "Well…. I didn't sleep with HER…."

Francis chewed his burger a bit, thinking about the implications of that statement. Once it had clicked, he nodded, face neutral. "Ohhhhhh. So you fucked the little twitchy one?"

"The little twitch-? Ellis! His name's Ellis, Christ," Nick nipped, though he brought down the disdain a notch, since anger just made his nose hurt more.

"Oh, THAT'S the guy you wouldn't shut up about when we first started working together?"

"Yes, that's Ellis," Nick admitted.

"And she was mad about that? Pissed you picked him over her, right?"

"NO, it has nothing to do with-! I'm not talking about this, where the FUCK are Chief Jacobs and that scumbag Creevy!"

"That scumbag Creevy is right here," the officious voice said, and both Nick and Francis looked up to see Mark Creevy, a man in his mid forties, staring at the two Z-Men with both contempt and quiet annoyance. Next to him was a man in a cop uniform, mid fifties, peppery hair, and a look of wonder and resentment on his face.

"…. Boy, what happened to your nose?" Chief Jacobs asked.

"Nothing," Nick replied, hoping that the blood would just clot already. "Hello, Creevy."

"Nicholas," the government suit replied, looking to be just as thrilled to see Nick as Nick was to see him. "I see you haven't been here an hour and you've already found yourself in some trouble."

"It just seems to follow me everywhere, SIR," the gambler replied, though it was hard to be smug with a napkin stuffed up the nose. Creevy shook his head disapprovingly, and turned to Francis.

"Francis."

"Boss," the biker replied, though it was drenched in insubordination. "Long time no see."

"Are y'all gonna quit the happy reunion and introduce me?" Chief Jacobs asked, impatiently, and the three government workers turned to look at him.

"I'm Nick," the con man said, extending a hand. "This is Francis. We hear you've been having a zombie problem."

"You could say that," Chief Jacobs said, shaking both their hands earnestly and sitting down, Creevy following suit.

"So where's Mayor O'Dea?" Creevy asked, looking around. "I thought we'd be meeting with him as well."

"He would have loved to attend, but he's traveled to Raleigh on 'official business'," Jacobs said, wiping his brow. "Assuming everything goes according to plan, he'll be back in a few days. But so few things do lately. Hey Wednesday, darlin'? Can I get a Bud? And get Mr. Creevy here one as well."

"I'm not drinking on the job," Creevy stated, eying Nick and Francis for doing such a thing. Wednesday nodded from across the bar, and went to put in the order.

"Well now, did you find the place alright?" Jacobs asked the Z-Men. "Your boss here had some car trouble but otherwise found it alright."

"Wasn't too hard," Nick confirmed, sniffing.

"And the food and beer are alright?" Jacobs asked, turning to Francis, who gave him a thumbs up as he gobbled into more of his burger. "Well that's good to hear. We want to make you feel as welcome as we can. We here at Roanoke II are a hospitable bunch. If you need anything, please feel free to ask me."

"You got it," Francis said, chewing.

"That being said, I think you should know that if I had my way, we wouldn't have the two of you here at all," Jacobs continued, nonchalantly. "I think you Z-Men are glorified thugs with a badge and a penchant for killing things. My men could handle these problems all on their own, but that wasn't my decision to make, and my opinion fell upon deaf ears. While I'll cooperate with you, as that is my job, I will do so under protest. Understood?"

Nick and Francis slowly exchanged glances, sharing all knowing smiles. It wasn't the first time they'd been met by antagonism from the local law enforcement of a town. It was somewhat comforting to see that the resentment towards the feds from small town cops was still alive and well.

"Let me be the first to assure you, Chief Jacobs, that I can say with the utmost confidence that I will make sure these two men stay in line," Creevy said, a malicious flicker in his eyes as he said it. Oh Christ, Nick thought. Such a prick.

"Why do we need supervision anyway?" Francis asked. "That's not how it's usually done."

"Things change," Creevy stated. "With Z-Men of similar backgrounds falling more and more into scandal, we've pinpointed possible trouble makers to keep an extra eye on. You and Nick were at the very top of the list."

"Backgrounds my ass," Francis muttered. "CEDA shouldn't even be sticking it's nose in Z-Man business, you're the ones who fucked up the ENTIRE situation in the first place and WE have to clean up your mess!"

"All the more reason to make sure you do a good job of it," Creevy responded.

"This kind of bickering isn't giving me any faith in your organizations," Jacobs muttered.

"You said it, Chief," Nick said, finally removing the napkin and taking a bite of his sandwich. "So tell me. How many of these things have you killed?"

"I've lost count."

"Ballpark it," Nick said, chewing. "Twenty? Fifty? A hundred?"

"…. I would say that I have probably killed a little less than fifty," Jacobs said, voice low. "But I never do it lightly. I recognize that they are sick people, people who used to have lives, people who used to have families. Me and my boys, we have respect for them after we've killed them. You Z-Men? You just let them rot."

"That may be," Nick continued, setting down his sandwich and cocking his eyebrow. "But between me and my partner here? We've killed hundreds. We've emptied out nests, we've dismantled hordes and herds, we've taken care of business all over this broken little country. We do our jobs, and we do them well."

He sent a pointed look at Creevy, who had a dark gaze over his face.

"And last time I checked the info we got on you, you have had a dozen Infected attacks in the past two months, nearly half of which ended with casualties. Including a three year old girl who was snatched by a Smoker, am I right?" Nick asked, harshly, and Jacobs said nothing. "If you and your 'boys' could handle it, you would have gone out there, burned the ghouls, and it would have stopped after one, two tops. So just let us do our jobs, and the sooner you do, the sooner we'll be out of your hair and out of your shit town. Is THAT understood?"

Francis raised his eyebrows as he popped the last bit of burger in his mouth, amused and perfectly happy to sit back and watch his partner take the reins on this one. Jacobs stared at Nick for a few beats, and Nick stared back, just as Wednesday strolled by and dropped more napkins on the table for him.

"Well, I guess we understand each other, then," Jacobs finally settled on, and Nick shrugged, dabbing at his nose. The cascade had slowed to a languid drip, and he was pretty sure it wasn't broken. Somehow this didn't improve his mood. Jacobs turned back to the CEDA official. "Tell me, Creevy, what is on the agenda? I want to know just what my town can expect from you and these guys in the next couple days."

Creevy straightened his tie, and opened up his briefcase, removing his own scribbles and charts. "Town Hall meeting tomorrow. We'll lay out our plan for the people here, these two will answer some questions. Then they start up the patrols the next day. They won't go too far into the Grey Zone, as the Government understands that they're needed close to town should something happen."

"We know how it works, man," Francis said, before letting out a belch. "Let's talk about accommodations now. Where exactly are me and my partner going to be staying while we're here? I don't see any Four Star Hotels like in San Francisco."

"We have a house for the two of you," Jacobs answered, and Nick frowned, pushing his half eaten sandwich away. Francis gladly accepted it.

"I thought there were separate arrangements," the gambler said, skeptically.

"You thought wrong," Creevy responded.

"Aw come on, man, I have to share a house with him?" Francis exclaimed, turkey and lettuce flecking on the table. "It's going to be like 'The Odd Couple'!"

"Can you guess who's who?" Nick asked, though he wasn't too pleased either.

"It's all we can do for you," Jacobs stated. "This isn't San Francisco or anything. We're just a shit town, remember?"

"Well we certainly won't forget now," Nick replied, not missing a beat. "Are there two bedrooms at least?"

"What do you think we are? Hedonists?" Jacobs scoffed, and Nick smirked over at Francis, who shrugged, shaking his head. "Of course there are two bedrooms. Wouldn't want our Z-Men to turn sissy on us, would we?"

"It's a bit late for some of them," Creevy muttered to himself.

"J. Edgar Hoover would spin in his grave," Nick said, coolly. "Well could you take us to our house, please? We've been driving since eight a.m. this morning and my nose is killing me."

"Where are my manners?" Jacobs asked, though it was clear to the Z-Men that he'd deliberately misplaced them. "Just let me finish my beer and we will be on our way. Creevy, you can find your way back to your apartment, can't you?"

"I'll manage," Creevy said. "If we're finished here, I'm going to head that way. I will see you at the rec center tomorrow night, gentlemen…. It's so nice to see you two again."

Francis simply glared at him as he smiled coldly, and Nick shook his head. This day was just getting more and more headache inducing.

They followed Chief Jacobs' police car, and slowed to a stop at a two story house near the outskirts of town. "Oh my God, it looks like The Waltons," Francis muttered, shaking his head.

"This whole fucking town is like The Waltons," Nick muttered, killing the engine. "Or even creepier, 'Twin Peaks'. Christ, if I have dreams about weird dwarves who like to dance I'm going to have a panic attack."

"Never saw it."

Nick glanced over towards the cop car, and snorted. "Think if we stay in here he'll just go away?"

"Nope," Francis said, and was the first to leave the car, stepping into the dreamy mid September evening, bugs buzzing in the North Carolina grass. Nick rested his wrists on the steering wheel, really not in a mood to contend with this lawman anymore, but he just rubbed his temple, and stepped out of the car as well. He maintained a distance as he let Francis talk with the guy, and opened the trailer they'd been dragging with them. It housed a lot of things that many Z-Men wouldn't take along with them, but Nick and Francis weren't only a couple of the first ones, they had always been the more rebellious ones. There was a reason they were on the top of Creevy's supposed list. The trailer held Francis' Harley Davidson, Nick's vinyls, various other belongings, and crate after crate of liquor. Whenever they found an abandoned or run down bar in The Grey Zone, they would ransack it, taking all the good and favorite booze for themselves. It would be awhile before the really good stuff started coming back, so they just piggybacked on the stuff that had been left behind.

Francis waved off as Jacobs drove away, and he strolled up to his partner. "It's furnished, I guess. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms. All the appliances work. The border limits are about a mile that way, downtown is three that way. We've really stumbled into Bumblefuck, Nowhere this time. This is worse than Laramie."

"You're telling me. Between the local fuzz and Creevy I can't imagine how this could get any more terrible."

"Oh Betsy!" Francis cooed at his bike, hopping into the trailer and petting his Harley a bit. "I hope the ride didn't hurt you too much." Nick didn't say anything as he lifted up his box of vinyls and his small turntable. "Hey, I get dibs on the bigger room."

"I get dibs on the better bathroom."

"Fair enough."

Nick didn't say much more as he carried his first box into the house, flipping on a light and frowning. It was pretty threadbare, but wasn't terrible. The main room had a nice stone fireplace, and the steps were carved out of a sturdy looking wood. He wasn't sure how the kitchen was going to look, but for now he just wanted to claim a room and throw himself down on the bed. God he hoped the sheets were clean. It had been a bad day, and if the sheets weren't clean he was going to be even more pissed.

He had started setting up his music in his room (he did leave the bigger one for his partner, as his own not only had a bigger bed, but a nice window that overlooked some of the trees), when Francis knocked on the door.

"What a dump," he grumbled, and Nick shrugged.

"Sheets are clean anyway."

"We'll see about that… How's your nose?" Francis asked, plopping down on the bed.

"Hurts like hell."

"It's still funny."

"I'm not laughing."

"I've been punched like that by an angry chick before," Francis said, grinning at the memory. "But I completely deserved it."

"… You know, I did too," Nick admitted, though he didn't look up from his records. Francis sprawled back on the mattress, and chewed on his fingernail.

"I might be regretting calling the bigger room. My bed is lumpy," the biker stated. "This one seems pretty legit."

"Too bad."

"Nahhh, I think I'm staying here tonight."

Nick shoved him off the bed.

After Francis had left for the evening, Nick turned his record player on and listened to The Dream Academy as he stared up at the ceiling. He'd hoped that the music would have chased his lingering thoughts away, but here he was, mind wandering back to Ellis. It had completely thrown him to see the kid that night, and it brought back a lot of memories and emotions that he'd tried so hard to repress.

He'd had every intention of telling the mechanic that he hadn't meant any of the things he'd said near the Sugar Mill. His plan should have been perfect: just let him think that he didn't care about him until they were rescued. That way the little dolt wouldn't take any unnecessary chances on him, risking limb and life all in the name of…. Well, whatever it was. He was going to wait until they were safe, and sheltered, and no longer in the wilderness. Then he was going to explain everything, and let him know that he DID care about him, more than he'd ever thought he could.

But then they were separated. He hadn't planned for that, or that he would have tested as an Immune, and therefore sent to a whole other ship. He certainly hadn't imagined that he would be forced into experiment after experiment in the quest for a cure, and he REALLY hadn't imagined that they would then draft him for more zombie killing. By the time all of that was done, he knew that Ellis was long gone. He had just resolved to thinking of him as 'the one that got away'. Most people had one. Nick never thought he would, he always figured HE would be the one who got away and was pined over.

He now had to figure out just what he was going to do. Ellis almost certainly wanted nothing to do with him, if the exit from the bar (and the right hook from Rochelle) was any indication. He'd probably been living with Nick's words for the past three years. Shit. He rolled over in the bed, and rubbed his eyes. Three years was a long time to stew. And even if he hadn't meant them, he'd still said them. So maybe that wouldn't even matter anymore.

He'd have to sleep on it. Maybe sleep would be a welcome respite. He let the cotton envelop his body, and shut his eyes tightly. Welcome to Roanoke II, Nicholas, he thought crabbily.

Ellis woke up in a daze to his alarm going off incessantly at 8am. He must have slept through it's whining for at least five minutes, and he clumsily slammed at it, turning it off and rolling over. Even though he'd gone to bed at nine, he still felt like he was at the pinnacle of exhaustion. He'd tossed and turned all night, and had awakened once an hour with a sick feeling in his stomach and a heavy fog in his head. He trudged into the kitchen, desperate for something to eat, and saw that his phone had three missed calls on the answering machine. One was from Rochelle, who'd called at about ten the night before asking if he still didn't want to talk. The second was from Barbara, who had left a message asking if he was going to the town hall meeting and if he would perhaps like to escort her there. The third was from his boss, Rick, at the auto shop, taking pity on him and letting him have the day off since he had to work the day before. And with that bit of permission, he went back to bed. Once he realized that sleep just wasn't going to be in the cards, he moved to the couch and watched a horror movie while eating lunch.

This was ridiculous. He was afraid to leave his house in case he ran into Nick, but at the same time he didn't want to be a prisoner in his own home. That would be giving the guy too much power.

Someone began to knock at the front door, and he paused his movie and wrapped a blanket around himself more, the comforter bringing him a sense of security he really needed at the moment. He opened the door, and saw Barbara on the front stoop, worried look on her face.

"Oh. Hi Barbara," he said, not even trying to mask his disdain at the moment. "I went to the garage and your boss said that you were home today," she said, stepping inside.

"Aren't you workin' at the bakery today?" he asked, and she smiled at him, sitting on the couch and making no comment of the bloody site that had been paused on the screen.

"It's my lunch hour, silly. I was wondering if you wanted to escort me to the Z-Man meeting tonight?" she asked.

"Yeah, I got your message," he said, scratching the back of his head. "I'm actually not feelin' too well, Barbara."

"Oh no!" she said, standing back up and putting a hand to his forehead. "What's wrong? Is it a cold? The stomach flu? The regular flu?"

"I jus' feel off," he settled with, taking her hand away from his face. "It's nothin', but I think I'm gonna skip the meetin' tonight. Gonna try an' kick it before it gets out've control."

"That seems wise," she said. "I'll just ask Rochelle if she'll go with me. Do you want me to check on you after the meeting is over? Tell you all I learn?"

"Um, naw, that's okay," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sure I can read all about it in the paper tomorrow. Ro's gonna have an opinion one way or the other, she might call me..." She blinked once, and then smiled, even though it seemed a little hesitant.

"Well, okay," she said. "… You should get some sleep if you think you're coming down with something. Turn off the TV and just rest."

"Yes ma'am," he said, and she nodded, touching his cheek. Oh great, he thought, and stepped backwards. "Well, thanks for comin' by. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel better."

"I hope so," she said. "Being sick is no fun. Get some rest."

"Okay." He walked her to the front door, hoping they wouldn't find themselves in that always repeating awkward situation of 'will he kiss me or won't he kiss me?' Because he wasn't going to kiss her. "Well, have a good rest of the day."

"You too, Ellis," she said. "Feel better!"

"Thanks." She walked down the steps and back towards her bicycle, and he closed the door behind him, a whole other sour feeling rising in his chest. So he sat back down on the couch, ignoring her suggestion as he turned the movie back on, and pulled his knees to his chest. Dalton soon joined him, and he snuggled with his cat as he distracted himself.

When the phone rang around five thirty, he swore as he paused his third movie, disturbing the tabby with his abrupt departure. He stamped to the kitchen, and picked up the receiver with a resentful flourish. "Hello?"

"Are you going to the meeting tonight?" Rochelle asked.

"How'd you know I was home?"

"I called the garage and they told me you had the day off."

"Man, Rick hasn't heard of privacy I guess!"

"Are you going tonight?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't feel well."

"Is it because of Nick?"

"No, I don't feel well."

"Because if it's because of Nick I'll be there next to you the whole time-."

"I'm not a baby, Ro! It's not because of Nick!" he snarled. "I think I'm catchin' a cold!" He tried to sniff as hard as he could, hoping it would sound like impending illness.

"Well if you change your mind let me know," she said. "I have a few questions for them that you may appreciate. Such as 'what do you say to those who claim that Z-Men only care about furthering their own agendas rather than those of the greater good?' I was going to say 'pleasure' instead of agendas initially, but decided that would be a little obvious-."

"Fine. Great. Barbara's gonna ask you to escort her to the meetin' tonight."

"What is this? Cotillion?" Rochelle asked, snidely.

"It wasn't MY idea."

"Would you just tell her to knock it off already? I don't want her thinking that she and I are default besties or anything," Rochelle complained.

"You don't have the worst've it, okay?" Ellis stated.

"Are you really going to let him have this much power over you?" she asked, sternly. Seeing as he'd been asking himself the same question earlier, he didn't answer. "…. I think you should go to the meeting. Show him that you aren't scared. Somehow I think he'd get off on it if you were. You don't have to say anything to him, you can just…. Hold your head high."

Ellis sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, and cleared his throat. "… What time are ya headin' over there?"

"It starts at seven, so in about an hour," she said. "At least come so you can protect me from Barbara."

"I should be askin' the same thing've you."

"So you're going?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Good. Good for you," she said. "I have to get back to work-."

"Okay, bye," he said, hanging up quickly. He wasn't too pleased that he'd been convinced to go to the meeting, but he had no one to blame but himself. Once again, he was too susceptible. But at the same time, no. No, goddammit. He was going to that meeting because if he didn't go he would only see a coward when he looked in the mirror. He was going to that meeting, and his head was going to be held not just high, but incredibly high.

Now if he could just guarantee that he would keep this confidence as soon as he saw Nick again.

Chapter Text

Nick was getting ready to the best of his abilities. He hadn't slept well either, and hoped that it didn't show on his face as he fumbled with his tie. As he tied the silk around his neck, he heard Francis swearing down the hallway. Oh boy, he thought, and strolled from his room into Francis'.

"What's your damage, Heather?" he asked, suppressing a self important smile.

"I hate suits!" Francis bitched, yanking off the tie and sneering at it. "I wear leather when I kill zombies, why can't I wear leather when I TALK about killing zombies? Jacobs is an asshat."

"Agreed," Nick said, taking the tie from Francis' hand and helping him with it. "Just do what you always do. Shoot your mouth off, insult everyone around you, and then we can get down to our jobs and get the fuck out of here." Francis sighed, and nodded.

"You do it too."

"Damn right. We're the perfect team," Nick agreed, patting the biker's chest once he'd finished with the tie. "You can't pull off a suit to save your life."

"That's what I'm saying," Francis said, bending over to tie his shoes. "It's a good thing I set up the bar today because I just know I'm going to need a drink after this is over and done with."

"I'll join you on that one," Nick said, and straightened his own tie. "How's it look?"

"You look like a geek."

"Well you look like a narc."

"Narcs wear street clothes."

"I meant usually." Francis swiped at him, and Nick leapt back and chuckled as he walked out of the room. "Hurry up! Let's get this over with and then get tanked."

"Now that's a goal I can get behind."

The rec center was already filled with a large number of people by the time Nick and Francis met Chief Jacobs and Agent Creevy in the back parking lot. Jacobs stared at them as they pulled up in the BMW, looking deadpan and bored, while Creevy's face was much more antagonistic.

"Do I even want to know where you got that car?" he asked as Nick and Francis exited the vehicle, and Nick smirked, chewing on his bottom lip sardonically.

"Probably not, no," he said. "But I'll tell you anyway. I lifted it in the wreckage of Austin." Jacobs furrowed his brow, and Nick and Francis grinned at each other. Creevy sighed, morosely, and then took out a notebook.

"So it's going to go like this," he said, as Jacobs led them inside. "Chief Jacobs is going to introduce me, I'm going to introduce you, you'll keep your information brief, we'll allow a few questions from the citizens, and then you'll be on your way. If there are more questions, you can address them on your own time."

"Sounds fine to us," Francis stated, tugging at his collar a little bit. "Just step back and let us do our jobs and we won't have any problems." Jacobs said nothing as the Z-Men and CEDA agent followed him through the back ways of the building. "So what time do you think we'll be out of here?"

"It shouldn't take long," Jacobs replied, coolly, and opened a side door that led into a gymnasium. It had been cut in half by a large tarp-like net, which served to make their side a backstage of sorts.

"Stay here," Creevy commanded. "I'm going to go out first and explain exactly what it is we're doing here, lay out the goals-."

"Sure, do what you gotta do," Francis said, leaning against a basket filled with soccer balls, and Nick saluted mockingly. Before Creevy could make comment, Jacobs walked out into the open part of the gymnasium, and this made the CEDA agent feel obligated to follow.

Francis turned to Nick, bored. "Let's blow."

"Christ you're antsy."

"I hate public speaking."

"So I'll do the talking," Nick said, rolling his eyes as he examined his finger nails.

"Why can't we just kill zombies?" Francis muttered, pawing at his tie. "Why the dog and pony show? They didn't make us do this in San Francisco, or Reno, or even fucking Laramie-!"

"Because Creevy's an asshole who wants to apologize for and shame us if we fail, or take credit if we succeed," Nick explained.

"I'm writing the higher ups on this, whose idea was it to bring CEDA in this in the FIRST place-?"

"If I promise to buy you a hooker to suck you off it's over will you shut up right now?" Nick offered, hoping his companion would stop his complaining for just one second. Was this what it was like dealing with him during the Green Flu outbreak? "Shit, to save some money I'll do it myself."

"Not interested," Francis replied, tilting his chin up. "Not with Rochelle in the picture."

"Not that I'm heartbroken or anything, but who says that she's 'in the picture' anyway?" Nick chuckled, snidely. "She's barely on the edge of the frame-."

"Shut yer trap, Suit!"

Ellis was running late to the meeting. He had changed his mind about three or four times before finally deciding on for certain going. Then he'd walked into the building and back out of it twice more, before forcing himself into the main room where all the chairs and people were. He scanned the room quickly, hoping he'd see Rochelle, and swiftly rushed forward when he caught glimpse of her, the open chair calling to him. Unfortunately, it was between both Rochelle AND Barbara. Couldn't even sit next to her to spare me, thanks a lot Ro, he thought, and sat down quickly, hoping he hadn't brought too much attention away from the speaker as he rambled. Barbara smiled at him, mouthing 'feel better?'. He nodded, and shot Rochelle a look. His friend shrugged his way, and turned back to the speech.

"What'd I miss?" he whispered to her, and she shrugged.

"Just this CEDA suit explaining why they're here, as if we didn't already know," she whispered back. "We have an Infected problem. No shit." Ellis looked at the man in the pristine black suit, and wrinkled his nose.

"That's the guy whose car was givin' me so much trouble yesterday," he grumbled. "He was kind've a jerk."

"I'd believe it," Rochelle said. "He was talking to us like we were all idiots."

"You've lost a few good people," Creevy continued, and a sad murmur rose in the audience. "People you all knew, and cared about. Times are hard, and even though we're re-building, there will always be the threat of those who weren't as lucky as the rest of us. Mayor O'Dea thought that the best recourse was to bring in outside help, and while he is unable to be here to introduce them, I have gladly taken on that responsibility in his absence."

"Sure, he seems REALLY happy," Rochelle whispered in Ellis' ear, and he smirked at her, even though he was still apprehensive. And when Nick and Francis finally came out Rochelle subtly linked her hand in his, and while it made him feel a little better, his insides still roiled. He would have thought that three years and no contact would have prevented this feeling. Man, I feel like a real wimp, he thought, and sighed. So much for the confidence he'd mustered up.

Nick couldn't help but look around as the people half heartedly clapped for him and Francis. The applause and attention were things he would have loved under any other circumstances, but were muted by Creevy breathing down his neck. Not to mention that right in the middle of the room was his former lover, squirming in his seat and staring at the floor. Nick swallowed, guilt building up in him again, and didn't even notice the applause die down until Francis cleared his throat. He looked over at his partner, and Francis raised his eyes brows expectantly. After all, he HAD said that he would talk. But now he didn't know what to say. Francis mouthed 'come the fuck on!', and Nick shrugged, feeling many sets of eyes on them. He turned back to the crowd, and saw Rochelle glaring up at him, and saw Ellis chewing on his lip as the blonde next to him linked her arm through his.

Wait, what the FUCK?

Francis, seeing that the other Z-Man was having a lapse despite his promise, snorted, and then smiled at everyone. "Hi, Roanoke II!" he led off with, knowing he sounded a little too pleased considering the circumstances of their arrival. He could practically hear Creevy put a hand to his face. "So I'm Francis, and this is Nick… Pleased to meet you. Hope you guess my name….." He'd hoped that the Rolling Stones would prove to be the great equalizer. But he was met with blank stares. "….. So anyway, yeah, we're here just to…. keep things in line when it comes to those freaks out there beyond the fence in The Grey Zone."

"Oh my God," Rochelle whispered, now realizing just where she'd recognized this incredibly awkward looking Z-Man from. He looked so different in the suit. So… dopey. "Oh shit. Ellis," she whispered, nudging the hick, who looked up from the floor. "Ellis, it's Francis."

"Yeah, that's how he introduced himself," he whispered back.

"No, I mean…. It's that guy from Rayford!" she hissed, and Barbara looked at them both quizzically. "The guy who was in the biker vest and had the snarl and the bad attitude!"

"…. Oh hey, that is him," Ellis said, keeping his focus on the suited up biker. "Man, small world."

"You know him?" Barbara asked, and both Ellis and Rochelle ignored her.

"Francis and NICK?" Rochelle continued, and reached for her notebook. "Match made in hell I'd say."

"You know the other one too?" Barbara whispered, and Rochelle held up her left hand to shut her up while she wrote with her right.

"So yeah, if you ever see any zombies that might be considered a, well, 'threat'," Francis stammered, making air quotes, "you should give us a call. We'll kick their asses. Won't we, Nick?"

Nick didn't answer, he just continued to glower at the blonde girl whose arm was STILL in Ellis'. Francis snorted and shot him a dagger-like look, and then turned back to the crowd of people. "Okay. You get two questions and that's it."

"I have a question!" Rochelle announced, standing up abruptly, and Ellis scrunched up his face. If Nick hadn't seen him yet, and he hadn't been able to bring himself to look, he would certainly notice him now. "I'm with the Herald, and I was wondering just what you had to say to the accusations of Z-Men being opportunistic hooligans who take advantage of situations to suit their own needs?"

"I'll field this one, Nick," Francis stated, roguishly, as if Nick was even paying attention. "Look, Cupcake, we could waste a lot of time arguing about 'ethics' and 'proper conduct', but-."

"I was actually directing that question to Nick," she replied, icily, and Nick turned to her, pulled from his bitter little sulk. "What do YOU think about these accusations, NICK?"

Well she has some nerve, he thought. Yeah, she had been incredibly protective of Ellis from the moment they all met in The Mall. But for him it was one thing to knock him around in a bar, where alcohol would make tempers run high on a daily basis. For her to call him out, while he was working, in front of all the people he was supposed to gain the trust of? That just pissed him off.

"I think what kind of reporter questions someone about ethics not twenty four hours after punching a federal agent in the nose?" he threw back, snarkily.

"She punched him in the nose?" Barbara asked Ellis, who groaned, shaking his head. Jeeze, Rochelle, just sit down, he thought, hoping she would somehow sense his pleas.

"Federal agent my ass-!" Rochelle snapped.

"Bite me, Ro!"

"For the record, I found that incredibly funny," Francis piped in, as the people in the crowd began to turn and titter to each other questioningly. "But if you allow ME to answer that question, Princess-."

"I'm not your Princess!" Rochelle snarled, and Francis held up his hands.

"Whoa, calm down, Sugar! The independent woman thing, I getcha!"

"Are you two both completely shameless?" Rochelle asked, and Ellis grabbed her arm.

"Ro, c'mon, jus' sit down," he hissed, and for a fleeting moment made eye contact with Nick. The gambler's eyes managed to hold the mechanic's, and even though it was only a few moments, Ellis' heart began to speed up it's tempo. Oh no, he thought, bleakly. Don't you start this, dammit. Don't even THINK about starting this. He broke the gaze hastily, and once he did Nick ground his teeth. There had been something in that look, even if only for a second. And with just one look the gambler went from hesitant to determined to make more contact. Of any sort.

"Okay, I think that's enough," Creevy muttered, walking back to the forefront. "If anyone wants to assist Nick and Francis in their duties, do feel free to speak to me-."

"Hey, I still have to answer her question!" Francis said, stepping in front of Creevy, and giving Rochelle a smoldering look, as only the biker could. "Look. We do our job, just as you do yours. We get results. You can't argue with cleaned out cities and settlements from here to the West Coast. IF you want to ask me MORE questions, please, by all means, feel free to join me for a beer at that burger joint you punched my partner in last night."

Rochelle didn't say anything else. Instead she just sat down, feeling blood rushing to her face, and Francis winked at her. "Alright! Anymore questions?" he asked, but Creevy shook his head.

"No more questions," he stated, glaring at both the Z-Men.

"Hey, Ellis!" Francis continued, and the hick sank down in his seat as Nick glared fiercely at his partner. "You have some experience with these things, you should consider helping us out! I mean, you and Nick know each other really well-!"

"FRANCIS," Nick snarled.

"NO MORE QUESTIONS," Creevy repeated, absolutely livid.

"That wasn't a question," Francis muttered, and Nick grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back towards the blocked off area of the gym.

Rochelle said very little as she stood up and gathered her things, and didn't say anything until she noticed that Ellis was glowering at her. "What?"

"I'm real glad I came to this meetin'!" he snapped, and stamped away, leaving Rochelle and Barbara with the others in the crowd.

"…. Those two know each other really well?" Barbara asked, the point zooming over her head, and Rochelle shook her head, not sure whether she should go after her friend or not.

"….. Yeah, Nick was one of our companions from Savannah," she settled on, and then decided to go after him after all. "Ellis! Come back!" Barbara scratched her elbow, and looked back towards where the two Z-Men had gone.

"Ellis, would you please wait?" Rochelle called, more than able to keep stride with him but making sure to keep a few paces behind. He considered just rushing to his truck, but relented, and let her catch up. "Okay, so that was kind of….."

"….. Awkward?" he offered as they exited the building into the fall evening.

"That's a word for it, I was going to say excruciatingly uncomfortable," she said, wryly, and he snickered shortly, shaking his head. "…. I'm sorry."

"…. Okay."

"….Want to come by my place? Have a beer? Just forget about all this?"

"Yeah, that'd be pretty great," he said, and she wrapped her arm around his waist, feeling grateful that he so easily forgave her. "Can we watch a movie too?"

"How does 'Slap Shot' grab you?"

"Oh MAN I love that movie!" Ellis exclaimed. She smiled at him, nodding.

"I know you do, sweetie." At least the simple things in life could still distract him. She envied that.

Nick was fuming as he and Francis went back behind the giant tarp that separated the gym in two. "You're such a fucking douche!"

"I could say the same to you, Suit!" Francis snarled, knocking Nick off of him. "You said you'd do the talking! Of course I was going to fuck it up! I TOLD you-!"

"Who was that blonde anyway?" Nick muttered, off on a completely new tangent now.

"What?"

"Nothing!"

Creevy threw the tarp away from his face as he approached them, looking none too pleased. "Well. That was handled with the utmost integrity I'd expect from a couple of mental patients!"

"Whatever, Creevy," Nick muttered. "When we get results people won't even remember that fiasco my partner put on out there."

"YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO SPEAK-!" Francis protested.

"YOU ARE SO GODDAMN PATHETIC YOU CAN'T EVEN WING IT-!"

"Shut up the both of you!" Jacobs commanded, and both Z-Men did as they were told, though neither one was pleased about it.

"Chief Jacobs, I can assure you-," Creevy began, but the lawman shook his head.

"I'm more convinced than ever that you two are nothin' but a coupla Yankee boys playing Cowboys and Indians. If Mayor O'Dea was here to see this, he woulda sent you back to where you came from, I can guarantee that. But since he wasn't, you've won a chance to prove yourself. If you get results, which I HIGHLY doubt, you stay. But if you fuck this up, even remotely, you will be out on your asses back into The Grey Zone and I will make sure that your reputation precedes you at EVERY city and settlement you come in contact with. And that goes for you too, Creevy! It's no secret the CEDA is a disgrace-!"

"You watch yourself, Jacobs!"

"-And unless you can rein these two idiot mad dogs in, we're going to have a real problem! This may be your operation-."

"It's not HIS operation!" Francis snarled.

"-but it's MY town and I'll do whatever I can to keep it under MY thumb! You answer to me as well, Z-Men! Remember that!"

Before either Z-Man could protest or reply with snide witticism, Jacobs left them all behind the curtain. Creevy turned to them, glaring fiercely, and pointed at them both.

"Just remember the power I ALSO have in this situation, boys," he said through grit teeth. "Keep that in mind before you do anything you will both regret."

"It's hard to forget, I still have the markings you gave me in the name of Uncle Sam," Nick replied, and then grabbed him by the collar. "And if you so much as fucking TOUCH me, or my partner, I'll see those scars and give you twice as many." Creevy shoved Nick away, and blustered a bit to himself, backing down.

"Watch your ass," was all he said, and turned around to storm out the same way Jacobs had.

Nick popped his knuckles, and exhaled slowly. Francis paused for a few moments, and then shrugged. "You okay?"

"I just really fucking hate that guy," Nick muttered, voice solemn.

"I know, Nick," his partner said, and pat his friend on the back in an uncharacteristically kind manner. "Well I'd say we really earned that drink."

"No shit."

As they walked back towards their car, Nick couldn't help but notice the blonde girl that had her annoying little hands all over Ellis. Maybe not ALL over, but she may as well have! He tapered his eyes at her as she unchained her bicycle, and whistled sharply. She looked up, surprised, and nodded at him. "Can I help you?"

"You sure you want to be riding your bike when the sun's about to set?" Nick asked, trying to sound calm.

"Oh, it's okay, I do it all the time," she said, tucking some hair behind her ear. Francis leaned against the car, shaking his head. "… You're Ellis' friend, right?"

Nick's face barely changed as he nodded. "We were friends once, yeah… Who are you to him?"

"Huh?" she asked, peachy cheeks flushing at his question. Which annoyed him more. He hated it when girls played coy.

"You and Ellis. So are you his girlfriend or something?" he asked, a detached edge to his voice despite the fact the very idea was making him crazy.

She hesitated, looking at the ground like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and then looked back up at Nick. "Yes," she replied, firmly. In her mind, they were so close to being that way, so why not just confirm it. If she said it enough, maybe it would be true.

Nick felt a twitch of jealousy bite at him, and he nodded. "Well, that's great. Good for you." She nodded, twisting a strand of hair in her fingers, definitely picking up on a hostile vibe but not sure why she would be. "If you see any Infected peeping on you two, please do feel free to give me a call." And before she could say anything else he strode to the car, tossing himself into the driver's seat. Francis shook his head again, crawling into the passenger side, and Nick started the engine with a roar. He ran his hands on the steering wheel briefly, hoping to calm down a smidge before they went back to their house.

"…. I'm going to need a really big drink," he said, crossly.

Francis could tell that a serious brood fest was going to occur no matter what. It would be up to him to keep it from going into overdrive. "This is what we've been saving the Patron Resposado for."

"Shit yes."

"SHOTS!"

Chapter Text

Ellis had spent a majority of his morning inside the hood of and underneath cars. He could lose an entire morning under a car if he let himself, and since he was thankful for any distraction lately his job was something he was quite thankful for. It was no secret that he was one of the more skilled mechanics in town, and his boss, Rick, was happy he'd found good help. Even if he was constantly having to remind Ellis that, yes, he DID have to take breaks, and no, he couldn't go into overtime. Ellis would have KILLED for overtime at the moment, and it wasn't just because of the extra money.

Just as he was about to change another bout of oil, Rick pulled him out from under the Honda. Ellis yelped at the sudden movement of the wheeled board, and frowned.

"Hey what'd ya do that for?" he asked, impatiently.

"Go have lunch, Ellis," Rick stated. "And punch out when you do, okay?"

"I'm not hungry, yet, I was gonna eat at three-."

"No, go eat now," Rick demanded.

"I just hafta change the oil on this-."

"I'll take care of it, it's nearly two and you haven't left the garage since seven this morning. Go eat," Rick insisted, and Ellis rolled his eyes. "Go eat."

"Fine," Ellis conceded, sitting up and wiping his hands off on his rag. "But don't touch this car, okay? I promised that I'D do it and I intend to keep my promise."

"I won't," Rick promised. "Take as long as you need."

"I'll only need 'bout fifteen minutes-."

"Take an hour."

"But-!"

"We may be in the middle of a rebirth in society, Ellis, but labor laws still apply, even in a five thousand person town," Rick cut him off. "If you are into OT b the end of the week I'm going to be really pissed."

"Why can't ya just pay me the overtime?"

"Because that's not how I work. GO EAT." Ellis huffed, and nodded reluctantly. He didn't want to get out of the groove of the car, but if Rick was going to insist, he had little choice but to comply. And he didn't care about the overtime, he would work off the clock and without pay if it would distract him. Of course, things probably wouldn't go over so well with Rick if Ellis was somehow discovered working on a car at five a.m. At that moment he decided he needed to start a project at home.

One of the perks of working at Dare's Garage was that it was a hop, skip, and jump away from a very nice park. Whenever it was pleasant out, Ellis would take his lunch on one of the picnic tables, listening to the birds sing and the frogs croak in the small pond. That afternoon was particularly nice, a refreshing breeze billowing through the tree tops and cooling his face. He had found himself in a better mood that day, as it had been three since the embarrassing town hall meeting at the rec center. He sprawled on top of the picnic table, humming to himself as he ate his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. True, some people would ask him just how he knew a Z-Man, but when he wasn't very forthcoming they wouldn't push the issue. He hadn't seen much of Nick around either, which was fine by him. He figured that he and Francis must have spent the days patrolling around the outer borders of town, and then went home, if he was still the introverted lone wolf he had been three years prior.

As far as he knew Ro hadn't taken Francis up on that date. But he could tell that she wanted to. 'Just because I need to get an interview!' she would assert whenever Ellis would tease her about it.

He chewed his food slowly, eyes closed as he took in the beautiful weather. Autumn was definitely coming, he could smell it in the air. As much as Summer was the season that he and his friends had used as an excuse for mayhem, he'd always preferred the placidity of Fall. Fall meant change. He could use a change. Even though it was the season that his life had completely gone off track, he still liked it.

While he finished off his sandwich, he heard footfalls coming his way on the grass. He assumed that it was just a passer by, as this was a popular area for people to visit, but when the footsteps stopped, he opened one eye to see just who it was who was next to him. He'd assumed it would be Barbara.

So when it was Nick, he was caught off guard. He sat up slowly, eyes wide once again. The gambler nodded at him, hands in his pockets and frown on his lips.

"Hey," he said, trying to sound blasé, and Ellis nodded slowly.

"Hey," he answered. "How'd you know I'd be here?"

"I didn't, I was coming into town to pick up food for me and Francis," Nick replied. "We're on the East side of the fence, patrolling."

"Oh." Part of him was tempted to run again, but the rest of him was sick of running. This was his town too, dammit. He couldn't just turn tail and hide whenever he had to share space with his ex. Nick nodded a little, lip twitching slightly. It was a small comfort to know that he was nervous too, at least, and Ellis couldn't help but feel that old familiar heart flutter as he stared back at him. Yeah, he looked a bit older, and more tired. And there were new scars on his face, small ones, ones that just peppered his cheeks and jaw instead of distorting them. But the eyes, those steely green eyes with the haughty glint… those were unchanged.

"… Peanut butter and jelly, huh?" the older man said, pointing to the stain on Ellis' shirt. The mechanic brushed at it, embarrassedly, and shrugged.

"Yeah."

"Figures you'd like that."

"It's my favorite."

"Elvis' too."

"Naw, he liked peanut butter an' banana," Ellis corrected, showing his disgust for the recipe by grimacing. Nick smiled, amused. "Banana's're gross."

"… So it's been a long time," Nick continued. "How've you been, kiddo?"

Ellis shifted his body so his feet were resting on the bench, and scratched the back of his neck, nervously. "….. Okay. You?"

"Can't complain…."

"I guess not. Got a pretty good job, get to travel all over doin' what you do best," the mechanic said, politely. "You must be over the moon."

"Yeah, it's fine," Nick shrugged. "I mean, I wish I was in Vegas working the tables, but you know how it is. But hey, someday I'll get back to that. Once all this shit dies down."

"Yeah, that'd be pretty cool. I wanna get back to Savannah too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, me an' Keith an' Dave, we all said that as soon as it was ready for us, we'd all go back," Ellis said, smiling at the thought of it.

"…. So…. You look good," Nick ventured, taking a chance and hoping that he still had a lucky streak in him.

"…. Thanks."

"I thought I was hallucinating at the bar when I saw you….."

"Oh."

"And speaking of bars, I don't know much about this place." Hm, that was a little fumbling, he thought, but charged on anyway. "Maybe sometime we could go out and you can show me around town."

Ellis swallowed, uncomfortably, and then hopped off the table. "I'm real busy lately, Nick, I'm probably not the best person to do that….. I hafta get back to work." Even though the idea of going out with Nick was vaguely tempting, at least to a small part of him, his thoughts kept going back to the Milltown, and all those terrible things that had been said. He'd thought that the words had been long forgotten, but the more he thought about Nick, the more they came back to haunt him. So of course he had to say no. He just hoped he could get that through without any hassle from the older man.

Which was, of course, a pipe dream.

"Hey, hold on," Nick said, reaching for his shoulder, but Ellis pulled it away before he could make contact.

"I really can't talk right now," he replied coldly, crossing his arms, and Nick snorted, becoming more frustrated as each second passed.

"Bullshit, you have plenty of time to talk," he said, a frown curling his lips.

"No, I don't, I hafta get back to work," Ellis snapped, and shoved past him roughly.

"Jesus Christ, kiddo-!"

"Don't call me that!" Ellis snarled, still walking away. "I'm not a kid anymore, I'm twenty six for God's sake!"

"Fine, whatever," Nick replied, thinking that the mechanic was certainly ACTING like a kid as he attempted to keep pace with him. "Would you slow the hell down? I have a hard enough time keeping up with the Infected, I shouldn't have to chase after you too!"

Ellis shook his head, wishing that the guy would just back off. "I hafta get back to-!"

"You DON'T have to get back to work!" Nick protested. "You can give me five minutes! It's been three years-!"

"So what?" Ellis asked coarsely as he spun around to finally look at him in the eyes. "So WHAT if it's been three years? Last time we saw each other you were perfectly fine if we never saw each other again!"

"Last time we-? Fucking seriously?" Nick exclaimed, angrily running a hand through his hair. "Last time we saw each other I was being dragged off down a goddamn hallway trying my hardest to get back to you and Ro and Coach! Last time we saw each other I was kicking and punching and getting my face smacked with the butt of a gun, just trying to see you all one last time!"

"Look, can you just save your cons for someone who hasn't learned that you're full of shit?" Ellis snapped. "Cuz I'm still sick of 'em even if I haven't talked to you in three years!"

"I'm not conning you!"

"Lots has changed since then, an'-!"

"Oh, believe me, I fucking know," Nick scoffed. "For example, suddenly you're into pussy again, right?"

"Wha-?"

"Met a hot little blonde number after the town hall meeting, said that she was your girlfriend," Nick stated, quite visibly incensed by it. "Your taste in chicks isn't too bad, Overalls, but do you think she could lay off the 'Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm Routine'?" That had to be Barbara. Oh great, now she's tellin' people we're actually datin', Ellis thought, and was about to deny it out of habit. But as soon as he opened his mouth, he shut it again, and shrugged. Why not let the Z-Man live with that delusion?

"Barbara an' me aren't really your business."

Nick's eyes narrowed. He wasn't sure what he'd expected. Lord knew that he'd been fucking other people in that time. And he didn't even care if those people fucked other people. But with Ellis…. He couldn't help but feel incredibly green-eyed at the thought of that blonde kissing him, touching him, riding his dick and making him come. "….She sure seemed sweet as pie."

"Yeah, that's a change for me," Ellis taunted, that rarely seen Cheshire sneer growing on his face. It wasn't in his nature to deliberately hurt people, but right now he wanted to make Nick sting. Of course, he was an amateur, and the jibe barely phased the older man. You'll have to do better than that, kiddo, the Z-Man thought.

"Girls are probably a change for you," he stated, snidely.

"Well, like you said, three years is a long time," Ellis replied, sadly, and mustered up a bit of courage and willpower, willpower he probably should have had when he first met the con man. "An' frankly, Nick, you said yourself we're two different people with two different lives, an' that hasn't changed. Personally, outside of me fixin' your car or somethin', I don't think we should have anything to do with each other. Cuz I have nothin' to say to you. So jus' drop it, okay?"

Nick wasn't used to being written off like this. Even when he'd treated them absolutely horribly, his lovers would almost always come back. Especially when he didn't want them to. So this must have been a hilarious joke to that bitch named Karma. "….. El, come on," he said weakly, but Ellis shook his head, holding up his hands and walking away, and this time Nick didn't follow him. He hadn't been particularly cruel. But somehow that made it worse for the gambler. He watched helplessly as his ex-lover walked back towards the garage, vexed that it hadn't gone the way he'd wanted it to. He didn't know if he thought that Ellis would just forgive and forget, toss his arms around him, kiss him, or what. But now that he realized that for once his actions had actually pushed this person away for real, no matter the sweet talking, he snorted, and crossed his arms defensively. Well, this could have gone better, he thought, and turned around and walked back to his car.

Francis was pummeling an Infected with a baseball bat when Nick came back through the fence. "I hope you brought burritos," the biker said as he stomped on the creature's rib cage.

"I didn't get lunch."

"What the fuck?" Francis asked, smashing the zombie's skull for emphasis. "That was your one task! Bring back lunch!"

"I'm not hungry," Nick replied, yanking a peppermint stick from his pocket and unwrapping it.

"YOU may not be, but I'm starving!" Francis groused. "I was really looking forward to that burrito!"

"So go get a fucking burrito!" Nick growled, loading his gun.

"I wanted it now. I hate waiting."

"Look Francis, either shut the hell up or get your own damn burrito!" Nick spat, aiming at a long distance shambler and shooting it more than necessary. "I'm not in the mood."

"You need to get laid."

"Unless you're offering, shut up."

"Touchy!" Francis exclaimed. "Fine. I'll get my own damn burrito, Suit." Francis flipped him off as he slipped through the fence, but the con man didn't notice as he chewed on his candy and stewed.

After purchasing the burrito he had so richly desired, Francis blasted Metallica in Nick's car, knowing that such a thing would not have been permitted had his partner been there. Of course, Nick wouldn't have permitted him to eat the cheesy and sloppy burrito in his car either, but what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. As Francis drove down the streets of the town (probably a bit too fast), his eyes landed on the Herald's headquarters. Which wasn't much more than a small office building. He grinned, and braked the car violently, spilling burrito cheese onto the dashboard.

"Oops," he muttered, but didn't do anything about it. He'd clean it up later. Right now he had more important things to take care of. He parked swiftly, exited the BMW, and trotted up the steps to the building.

Rochelle was sipping coffee at her desk, doing a crossword puzzle instead of work. Crossword puzzles were the bane of her existence, and yet she couldn't help but take them on over and over again. She muttered under her breath at the clue 'Thai Transportation', and chewed on her pencil. Why do I do this to myself, she wondered, and tossed the paper down on her desk.

Just as she was about to pick it up again, she heard someone clear his throat. She looked up to see Francis, full leather garb (and a little gore for good measure) and cunning grin on his face, standing next to her desk. "Hello, Cupcake! I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

She blinked once, then twice, and before she went thrice she crossed her arms. "Well well. And what exactly can I do for you, Mister Z-Man?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and leaned forward on her desk.

"You're in trouble."

"Huh?"

"You never confirmed our date," he said, gruffly, and she inwardly swooned while outwardly remaining stoic. "So I thought that I would just… pop on by and try to get some concrete plans laid out. Like concrete."

"Yeah, I got that," she said, tucking the pencil in her tied up hair. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't a date, Francis, I thought that it was an interview."

"Interview, date, not much difference if you ask me," the biker said, smirking. "So what do you say, Sugar? Date?"

"I'm not sure," she said, spinning her chair around so he wouldn't see her smile. "You guys are kind of old news now. You've settled into routine, you've been keeping the zombies away…. I'd probably get more press covering Flossie Crandall's five hundredth pecan pie."

"Pecan pie?"

"Oh yeah, her pie is basically famous. She used to stuff it with plastic explosives and chuck them at the Infected," Rochelle explained, playing with her nails. "They'd try to eat it, and boom! Now it's just pie, but it's a good story, don't you think?"

"No I don't think!" Francis snarled, and she turned around, teasing smile on her face. "Human interest stories are bullsh-!…. Bunk! They're bunk! Me and Nick are better stories than pecan pie!"

"Well you know how I feel about NICK," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "But…. Well, if you're interested in being interviewed, it might turn the public opinion tide."

"Wait, it's a bad tide?" Francis asked, frowning.

"Eh."

"What's their problem? Screw the public!" Francis snorted. "Nick and me are doing a great job!"

"I don't dispute that," she said, tilting her head to the side.

"I don't see any of them going out and killing these things."

"Oh I know."

"Psh. Asshats."

She bit her lip, and pointed at his vest. "You have blood on you."

"Yeah, comes with the territory," he shrugged. "I hope it doesn't turn you back off."

"Who said I was turned on?" she demanded.

"Some things don't have to be said, Cupcake."

"What a line."

"So when's our date?"

"You mean our interview?"

"Whatever."

"Saturday afternoon?" she suggested. "I'll have to check my schedule of course, but I have a feeling that it's going to be pretty open."

"Mine might not be."

"Bullshit."

"Oh, you're okay with that kind of language?"

"Did you HEAR my mouth when I punched your asshole partner in the face?"

"Hm HMMM. I like you." She bit her tongue, and snickered. "Fine. Carlisle's. Saturday. Five O'Clock. It's a date."

"It's an INTERVIEW, Francis," she said, warning him, but not too hard. He stood back up, and winked at her.

"Should I wear a suit for it?" he asked.

"Oh, I prefer the leather get up," she replied, quirking her lip, and he couldn't hold in a laugh. If he didn't have to go pick up Nick, he would have stayed there all day, volleying banter back and forth. He enjoyed the challenge. "Saturday then."

"Oh yeah, you can bet your ass."

"It would be a real shame if I lost my ass to the likes of you."

"JEEZE!" he hooted, shaking his head as he grinned dumbly. "You're a piece of work!" If he hadn't thought she'd smack him upside the head, he'd have thrown the stuff off her desk and laid himself out for her at that moment. No question.

"I aim to please," she said, removing the pencil and going back to her crossword. "Bye, Francis." He nodded, lightly hitting the door frame on the way out, and practically skipping back to the BMW. Oh man, Saturday couldn't come fast enough.

Chapter Text

Nick was in a rotten mood. Things had been going down hill since the previous evening. In hopes of getting his mind off of the crap going on in his life (and in hopes of finally breaking his sexual dry spell) he'd prowled along downtown Roanoke II. After most of the fish refused to bite, he picked up a brunette at the local nice Italian restaurant, romanced her, wined her, and charmed her all the way to the coat room. But in the middle of a pretty decent blow job, he got a little too excited and blurted out 'ELLIS' right before he could start his run for home plate. Suffice to say, after a slap to the face and serious case of blue balls he just went home.

THEN he'd awakened at five am thanks to a rather realistic dream involving a Smoker's tongue wrapping around his torso. He sat up abruptly, swearing and thrashing, to find that the tongue was, in fact, his sheets. After such a start he hadn't been able to fall back asleep. He'd tried reading, he'd tried watching TV, he'd tried listening to music, but none of it worked. Even jerking himself off hadn't stilled his mind. Of course, it probably hadn't helped that he'd started thinking about Molly Ringwald circa THE BREAKFAST CLUB and ended up imagining Ellis instead. It was admittedly weird to make such a transition, but his mind was fixated.

He thought of the mechanic's crooked grin, the way his lips would pout just a little bit when he was thinking, or frustrated. The way his lips had pouted two days before, oh God, those lips. They'd felt so good running down his neck, across his collar bone, wrapping around his cock and squeezing. Of all the people he'd been with, he couldn't think of a more perfect pair of lips.

He'd come into his sheets with a choked cry, unable to reach for the tissues in time, and that just made him even angrier. Now he had to do laundry.

How aggravating that his mind was so obsessed with Ellis. It had been two days since their confrontation, and it was like the stupid kid had wormed into his brain and his libido.

He stamped into his bathroom to continue cleaning himself up, and flipped the bright white light on. As he reached for tissues, he caught glimpse of himself in the mirror above the counter. He used to preen and primp in front of the mirror all the time, before and after the Infection hit. He'd always been concerned about his appearance, and he still was. Only now there were things that he was unable to change. He stood up straight, and frowned at the long and nasty scars that slashed down his chest. Sure, battle wounds were a good conversation starter in bed, but it was a fine line between the sexy and the grotesque. And Nick could not help but feel that his faded pink gashes were firmly in the second camp. They didn't make lovers run for the hills screaming, but they made him feel a bit more damaged than he'd like to admit. He opted to just take a shower instead, and turned on the water and away from the mirror.

Shower finished and stomach grumbling, Nick poked at his cereal, chin resting in his hand, mind flitting from place to place. What was he going to do on this lovely day off? There wasn't much to do around town. He could have tried to pick up another companion, but after the disaster the night before he wasn't really feeling it. He wasn't feeling much of anything outside of acrimony.

Francis came downstairs in nothing but his boxers, tattoos marking his body up and down. "Morning, Suit. Heard you yanking your crank this morning. You need to get laid."

Nick let his forehead fall forward, and it hit the table. "Fuck everything."

"That's what I'm saying! Go out and pick up some hot to trot small town ladies," Francis said, drinking straight from the orange juice carton. "Or dudes. Whatever you need to do to get out of this funk."

"Yeah, I tried that. Almost got some from a chick in a coat room. Then I said someone else's name and that was the end of it, mid fellatio."

"Ouch. That's the worst thing you can do!"

"No shit…. I don't suppose YOU'D be interested-."

"No can do, my man," Francis said, putting the OJ back. "Got a date with Rochelle. Jeeze, I know you're getting desperate when you're practically begging me for it."

"I'm not begging," Nick insisted. "You're just a pleasant alternative to my right hand is all."

"Sounded like your right hand was doing a fine job this morning." Nick stood up angrily and walked out of the kitchen. "Oh come on! That was funny, I don't care where you're from!"

Nick tossed himself on the couch and huffed. "What do you think the odds are that THE BREAKFAST CLUB is on right now? It would make things less frustrating if I didn't have to pull it from memory."

"Ohhh, I get it. Sheedy or Ringwald?"

"Ringwald."

"Nice choice," Francis said, pointing at him and nodding. "I'd go with Sheedy, but no one can fault ya."

"Judd Nelson too."

"That I cannot relate to."

"I might go kill zombies on my day off just to keep my mind off of this bullshit," Nick stated, voice still pissed. "I don't know where that damn hick gets off!"

"What'd he do?" Francis asked, though he wasn't all that curious. He just knew that if Nick could blow off some steam it would make their living conditions that much better.

"Little twerp says that he wants nothing to do with me outside of car problems," Nick snorted. "Jesus Hopping Christ, you'd think I killed his puppy or something! It's not MY fault that he was being an idiot! I was doing him a favor, God dammit!"

"I'm not going to ask, because I don't really give a damn," Francis said, shrugging, "but all I can tell you is that if that's what the problem is, you better pray for car problems." With that, he went upstairs to get dressed, leaving Nick on the couch to seethe and sulk. Yeah right, car problems, Nick thought, resting his chin on a balled fist.

But then a sly smirk began to grow on his face.

Francis came back downstairs a half hour later, after taking a shower and trimming his goatee a hair. He wanted to make sure that he looked presentable for Rochelle. She struck him as a classy broad who wouldn't stand for sloppy dress. He knew that impressing her would take a little bit more than a sleazy pick up line and a promise of whiskey shots. Though with her the whiskey shots might not hurt, she was intriguing that way. He peeked into the living room, expecting to see Nick, but met with an empty space. "Hey Nick? Where'd you go?" He wondered if he'd gone into town to start the snatch hunt, as you couldn't start too early. But soon he saw that Nick had actually gone outside to the shed where Betsy was housed. Francis thought that maybe he'd join him, make sure that what he'd said hadn't been taken to heart. He didn't want a thump to the head with a baseball bat under the guise of 'friendly fire' come Monday morning. So he walked out into the sunlight, and waved at Nick as he trotted his way.

"Hey Suit, you know what I said earlier?" Francis began, but saw that his partner was admiring Betsy. "Ah yeah. You've never really taken a good look at Betsy, have you?"

"Not really," Nick said, walking around the bike. "Didn't you get this when we were in Minneapolis?"

"Sure did," Francis confirmed, wheeling her out of the shed proudly. "Outside that club The Eagle, I think. You were inside doing God knows what, and I ganked this bike from one of those asshole rednecks who was protesting the place."

"Oh yeah, that's right," Nick said. "Didn't he say something like 'it's places like this and people like you that brought down the Green Flu from God in the first place!'?"

"Yeah, something like that," Francis said, shaking his head. "Idiot. He deserved getting his teeth punched in and his bike stolen."

"Aw, I hope you didn't do that just for me," Nick grinned, and Francis rolled his eyes.

"No, I just hate assholes," he said, unwilling to admit that yeah, it was mostly because the guy called everyone in the club (therefore including Nick) 'fags'. "She's my medal in the fight against them."

"Well she's a very nice bike, Francis," Nick said, bending down and inspecting the exhaust pipe on the Harley. "Hm. Exhaust pipe's a bit loose though."

"Oh, yeah, that's the one weakness she has," Francis boasted. "I've been meaning to tighten it up, but we've been hopping from place to place. Should have checked her over in Minneapolis when I got her, that was the quietest Infected population I've ever seen."

"It's ass cold up there, that's why," Nick said, poking at the exhaust a bit. "So what if this fell off while you were riding it?"

"I'd just pick it up and reattach it, it's not too hard," Francis said. "Might ask a pro to do it, because she's so special."

"Hm," Nick said, and then gave Francis an uncharacteristically apologetic smile. "Well, at least I know it can be fixed."

"Well sure, it would just be an exhaust," Francis said, shrugging. He was about to ask why Nick was suddenly so interested in Betsy…

But was cut off when the gambler deftly removed a pipe from the shed, and brought it down on the semi loose exhaust, over and over again. The 'clang!' noise echoed in Francis' ears, and his eyes widened as his jaw went slack. Nick kept hitting it until the exhaust fell to the ground, and once it had he tossed the pipe to the side, and picked up the disconnected piece of the bike.

The biker hadn't comprehended what had been happening until it was finished, and when Nick shrugged and tossed the exhaust away, the full impact of his actions finally got through.

"MY BIKE!" Francis wailed, knees buckling. "BETSY! OH MY GOD, BETSY WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU!"

"Relax, it's just an exhaust, remember?" Nick asked, making a face.

Francis stared at the wounded machine for a few more beats, and then turned his gaze to Nick. The gambler had never seen him in such a state, nor had he heard him scream in such a way. Not even when a Hunter had taken it's claws to his back. No, this was a whole other level of pain and mortification. Francis was then up on his feet, grabbing Nick by the collar. "WHAT THE FUCK?"

"Hey, calm down!" Nick exclaimed, trying to shove him off, but the grip was too tight. "Francis, buddy, seriously, don't worry about it-."

"Don't worry about it?" he exclaimed, shaking Nick violently. "YOU ASSAULTED MY BIKE!"

"AND I'm going to fix it!" Nick shouted back, thumping Francis in the ear with a cupped hand in an attempt to get away. Francis did drop him, clutching at his ear, but strode for Nick nonetheless. "I'm sorry that I had to do that, but I'm at a complete loss, okay man? I needed a reason to talk to Ellis, and he said that the only way he'd do it-!"

"I know, I know!" Francis exclaimed, no longer chasing after him and just surrendering to bewilderment and sadness. "The only way was if you had car problems, but WHY couldn't you have done something to your goddamn CAR?"

Nick scoffed, putting his hands on his hips. "Ha, yeah right. That's a Beemer."

"BETSY'S A HARLEY!" Francis roared, starting for Nick again, but the gambler held up his fists, ready to defend himself this time.

"And I'm going to get her fixed!" he replied. "I'll pay for it, she'll be good as new! Ellis is a great mechanic, he tinkered with cars and brought them to life when I didn't think he'd be able to. Re-attaching an exhaust pipe will be a cinch for him, okay?" Francis' shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand down his face. Unbelievable. True, he'd pulled stunts like this on Nick before (deliberately ruining a nice suit because a torn suit would garner more sympathy pussy if you said a Witch had almost killed you), so he couldn't go completely off the wall. But still. It was BETSY for goodness sake!

"…. So what am I supposed to use for my date with Rochelle tonight?" Francis asked, beaten.

"You can use the BMW."

"I'm going to crash it on purpose."

"Yeah right."

"Well I WANT to," Francis spat, kicking the dirt under his boots. "Man, Betsy was going to seal the deal, I just know it! Nothing gets a straight laced chick hot and bothered like a motorcycle!"

"Ro's a Beemer type, don't worry," Nick assured him. "The straight laced girls like a motorcycle, but they LOVE a BMW."

"I'm going to fuck her in the backseat."

"First of all, no you aren't," Nick protested. "Second on all, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this just an interview?"

"Shut up before I DO kill you."

"Okay, fine, fair enough," the gambler agreed. "So I owe you one."

"I think you owe me more than one," Francis muttered, turning his back on the bike, lest he start to cry. "Asshat."

Nick once again picked up the exhaust pipe, examining it closely, and having found it satisfying strolled back into the house behind his partner. Desperate times, Francis, he thought, and began to flip through the local phone book.

Ellis pulled the pick-up truck into the driveway of the house near the outskirts of town. He hadn't thought that anyone had lived there, he could have sworn that it was abandoned, but Rick sent him on a house call to this address. Boy I hope he didn't get the address wrong, Ellis thought as he parked. He stepped out of his truck, and grabbed his tool box from the bed, reading the information. Charles Wells had a busted exhaust on a Harley. That shouldn't take too much time to fix. He whistled as he strolled up the porch steps, and knocked on the door cheerfully. This was his last call of the day, then he got to go home, crack open a beer, and have the rest of the night to himself. Things could definitely be worse.

Of course, when the front door opened, his tune stopped and his smile disappeared. Nick, sonofabitch NICK, greeted him with a triumphant grin on his face.

"Hey Overalls, my exhaust could use some attention," he said, and Ellis glowered at him.

"What are you doin' here?" he asked, though he had a pretty good idea that, once again, he'd been had by the gambler.

"Oh, me and Francis live here for the time being," Nick replied, shrugging.

"Charles Wells my ass," the mechanic grumbled. "Why the fake name?"

"Because you wouldn't have come if I used my real one," Nick replied, aloofly. "This way I was sure to get the best mechanic to work on the bike."

"Do you even HAVE a busted exhaust?"

"Yeah, I do," Nick nodded, closing the door behind him as he stepped on the porch as well. "Francis' bike is kind of temperamental. The pipe fell off this morning while he was riding around the property."

"So why didn't HE call me?" Ellis asked, following him around the house towards the back shed. "It's his bike, after all."

"He's distracted," Nick said. "He has a date with Rochelle tonight."

"Oh, yeah, I heard about that," Ellis nodded, swatting at some gnats. "Isn't it just an interview?"

"Heh, probably, but not from the way he tells it," Nick chuckled, opening the shed door. "I'm sure Ro's in for a real treat tonight. So there's the damage." Ellis walked into the enclosure, and bent down, picking up the exhaust pipe.

"It's a little dented. Did he run into somethin'?" he asked.

"Who knows with Francis? Think you can fix it?"

"Of course I can fix it, this ain't nothin' but nothin'," the mechanic replied, popping open his tool box. "Probably only take me about fifteen minutes. Tops."

Nick chewed on the inside of his cheek. Fifteen minutes? That really wasn't a lot of time. Not that he thought it would take that much longer to just reattach an exhaust pipe he'd forced off. "Fifteen minutes, huh? That's pretty quick."

"Yeah, well, it's a simple repair," Ellis said, standing up. "Let me just get a better wrench from my truck an' I'll get right on it."

"Okay, sounds great," Nick said, nodding. Ellis nodded too, and left the shed. Okay, so this wasn't going to be too bad. The bolts and nuts were there, the pipe was in fine condition. He'd be in and out in less than a half an hour, and he knew that Nick didn't care enough about cars or motorcycles to stick around and watch him fix it. This wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be.

He fished the wrench out of the back of his truck, and trotted on back to the shed, whistling once again. "Awright, let's get this thing over with, shall we?" he asked as he looked over at Nick, who was a little breathless despite the fact it didn't look like he'd moved from his spot.

"You know what I noticed?" Nick asked, pointing at the fuel tank. "There are some dents on that thing too." Ellis looked to where he was pointing, and sure enough, there were two large dents on the slick black bike. Dents that, he was fairly certain, weren't there when he went to get his wrench. He looked from the dents to Nick, who just shrugged. "Crazy. Francis is a real character."

"Yeah, a real character," Ellis repeated, mouth thinning. "I guess I'll fix those too. That'll take a little longer."

"Ah, gee, well, however long it takes, I'll pay it," Nick said, rolling his shoulders and kicking a pipe away with his foot. "Shit it's hot out here. Would you like something to drink while you work on this?"

Ellis was going to decline; after all, this was insufferable and drinking something would just take up time. But it was true. It was pretty hot for September. And he hadn't had much to drink that morning. So he nodded. "Whatcha got?"

"Besides booze?"

"Yeah, 'sides booze."

"Water. Orange Juice. I think Francis has some sarsaparilla-."

"Aw man, sarsaparilla?" Ellis asked, suddenly excited. "I'll have that, especially if it's cold!"

Nick smiled, and gave him a thumbs up. "You got it, Overalls." The idea of ice cold sarsaparilla was undeniably tempting, and Ellis pulled out his various tools and supplies.

Not only did Nick bring him out an ice-cold soda, he also brought out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Ellis looked at the plate, nonplussed, and Nick just shrugged. "Thought you might be hungry too."

"Yeah, I guess I kinda am," Ellis admitted, and accepted both the sandwich and the soda. Nick nodded, and sat down on an overturned bucket. "You don't hafta watch me or nothin', I don't need company. An' you'll probably just find this borin'-."

"I've always wondered how you guys got dents out of cars," Nick replied, hopping over the veiled suggestion. "What's the big secret?"

"Oh well that's pretty easy, actually!" Ellis replied, and was off. It was fascinating for Nick to watch him work on the bike, especially since he was so chatty about what he was doing. The Z-Man wasn't sure if it was because he was so uncomfortable he needed something to talk about, or if it was because he was so passionate about the work before him. Either way, it was nice hearing him talk the way he'd talked three years prior. Nick just listened as he sat on the bucket, and didn't stop listening, even when the lecture got a bit technical. The mechanic was so enthusiastic he could have been reading the phone book and Nick would have remained interested.

"Man, this is a real nice ride, have you ever taken it out for a spin or anything?" Ellis asked.

"No, I don't ride motorcycles," Nick replied.

"No?" Ellis asked, looking up briefly from the wrench. "Huh. I'da thought you did."

"Why?"

"I don't know," the younger man admitted, straining to turn the bolt as far as it would go. "Me neither. Well, I used to ride ATVs and motocross. I guess motocross is KINDA like motorcycles."

"Don't you ride on motorcycles in motocross?"

"Yeah, I guess so. You should ask Francis to teach ya, it's real fun!" Ellis said.

"Eh, I don't even know how to ride a bicycle, I think that a motorcycle would be a bit much," Nick admitted, and Ellis looked at him, mouth dropped. "What?"

"You don't know how to ride a bike?" he exclaimed, and Nick snorted.

"Yeah, so?"

"What kid doesn't know how to ride a bike?" Ellis chuckled, and the older man scowled. "I mean, didn't your parents ever teach you how?" Nick frowned, eyes flying to the floor of the shed, and he shrugged.

"Yeah, my Dad couldn't really be bothered with that kind of thing," he replied, quietly. "He was pretty busy raiding corporations and shit…. And Mom was usually halfway through a martini shaker by the time I got home from school, so…" He scratched his nose, and shrugged again. Ellis paused, examining every facet of Nick's expression. Sadness wasn't really something he'd seen on the gambler's face, and it softened his chiseled features. God how fleeting vulnerability suited him. Ellis turned away, before he started hyper-focusing, and went back to work.

"Oh well," he settled on. "Bike ridin's overrated anyway."

"Hm. I know how to swim though."

"Yeah?" Ellis asked, smiling as he opened his tool kit again.

"Hell yeah. I can swim laps around anything."

"Even a dolphin?"

"Especially a dolphin."

"I'd bet not."

"Oh, it's on," Nick crowed. "That dolphin's going to be crying like a bitch when I'm through with him. We're talking 'Steel Magnolias' crying here."

"I never saw it, but my Mom said that movie's sad."

"Dolphin snot running down it's bottle-nose-."

"Aw gross!"

Around 4:30 Francis popped his head in the door, hoping against hope that Betsy would be ready in time for his date. "Hold on, what's wrong with the fuel tank?" was his greeting as Ellis continued to try to suction the last dent out.

"When you had your little bang up this morning apparently the tank got damaged too," Nick said, though he wasn't fooling Ellis at all. But the mechanic just nodded.

"Yeah, but they'll be good as new soon, I promise," Ellis said, smiling at him. "I'll even polish it all up for you, free of charge."

"Oh please, do charge him," Francis said, eyeing daggers towards his partner, who shrugged. "And make sure he leaves you a HUGE tip. So I guess that means I'm taking your goddamn BMW, huh?"

"Now a BMW ain't nothin' to sniff at," Ellis interjected, turning the crank on the suction cup. "I mean, I probably wouldn't own one. Give me a nice sturdy Ford truck an' I'm happy. But I remember this one time me an' my buddy Keith were goin' to car lots in Savannah an' just testin' the cars. We weren't gonna buy any, but it sure was fun to drive cars that we couldn't afford, even for ten minutes! An' the BMW was one of my favorites to drive, it was real smooth, an' you could tell that it had some power under there, even if it didn't flaunt it. Of course, then Keith had to ruin it all by callin' 'em 'Nazi cars'. Man, that was SO embarrassin', an' I know that they DID make engines for the Nazis, but-!"

"He's still talking?" Francis asked, and Nick shrugged as he smiled, amused.

"He talks a little," Nick said, meeting Ellis' gaze, his emerald eyes almost piercing. The mechanic's cheeks reddened, and he turned back to the bike. "But not too much."

"Could have fooled me. When you were singing his praises the other night you didn't say he was such a motor-."

"Hey, Francis, you're going to be late for your interview if you keep shooting your mouth off here with us," Nick said, sternly, and Francis looked at his watch.

"Oh shit, you're right," he said. "Keys?"

"On the hook in the house."

"Sweet. I'm out. Take good care of Betsy," he said, power walking towards the house. "And charge him full price and then some!"

Ellis turned back to the dent, cranking it a bit slower now. Nick didn't say much of anything as he continued to sit on the bucket, and an awkward silence hung between them. Nick chewed on his thumbnail, and stood up. "Did you want another sarsaparilla?"

"No, I'm okay," Ellis replied, shaking his head. "…. So you talked about me, huh?"

"… Yeah, a little, I guess," Nick admitted, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed and at a distinct disadvantage. "…. I'm going to go inside. It's kind of hot out here."

"Okay," Ellis said, nodding. "I'll come to the house when I'm done."

"Sounds good."

Ellis wasn't able to lose himself in the repairs this time. He had other things nagging at his thoughts, more important and yet more obnoxious things. Nick had talked about him? That was certainly interesting, and the thought of it was making his stomach tie up in knots. Oh no, don't do this, he thought, firmly. Don't start. I talk about Keith all the time and that didn't mean nothin'. Well yes, he'd definitely been attracted to Keith at one time in his life, but not these days. He just reminisced about his old friend because they had good times together. And he and Nick definitely had good times together before the Sugar Mill.

He yanked the suction cup off the dent and started grating away at the glue. Yeah, he was definitely charging Nick for this. Probably with interest. That's what he got for making him absolutely mental.

Nick was reading a book when Ellis knocked on the door as he entered the front hallway. "In here, Ellis." The mechanic popped his head around the corner, and gave him a thumbs up.

"I'm done-. Are you wearin' glasses?" he asked, and Nick snorted.

"Just when I read," he replied. "Trust me, I'm not too fond of them either."

"Naw, they're fine," Ellis said, shaking his head. "Just surprisin' is all."

"It's either that or a bitch of a headache," Nick said, standing up. "You clearly think I'm more badass than I actually am. In your mind I ride a motorcycle and don't have vision problems."

"Huh. Guess I overestimated you an' your coolness. Thought you were Han Solo, but you're jus' C-3PO."

"Har har har. So, how'd it go out there?"

"Oh fine," he said. "The bike looks good as new. Here's my bill for it." Nick took the invoice and read it. "I hope that seems fair to ya."

"It's fine by me," Nick answered. Had it been any other mechanic he would have found it to be highway robbery. But first of all, it was Ellis, and second of all, he had very obviously brought him out there under false pretenses. He had no room to be picky. "Let me just write you a check."

"Kay," the mechanic said, following him into the kitchen. "Man, you guys have a nice house."

"It's okay," Nick said, though he thought it was a plebian dump. "Could definitely be worse."

"Heh, yeah, could be the quarantine centers," Ellis said, and Nick paused briefly before writing out the check. "I assume this place don't have cockroaches. An' people who scream at night."

"True," Nick said, handing him the check. "There you go." And then he dug into his wallet to give him an additional amount of cash. "With something extra."

"You don't hafta do that-."

"Whatever, it's not a big deal," Nick said, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "So….. I was thinking that I'd take you out for a beer."

Ellis' brow scrunched up. "I don't know…."

"Just because you came all the way out here, and you thought that I was Charles Wells, and you fixed Francis' bike," Nick listed. "Nothing else, I'm not…. I just think that I owe you more than the money."

Ellis was going to say a steadfast 'no'. But instead, he said "Well…. Okay, sure, I guess."

"Yeah?" Nick asked, a half smile forming on his lips. "Cool. Francis has my car, so-."

"That's okay, I'll drive," Ellis said, waving him off. "I hope you're okay with goin' to the garage first, cuz I hafta give Rick the check."

"That's fine by me," Nick nodded. Hell, they could go to China first for all he cared, so long as he was going with Ellis. He didn't dwell on how obsessed he was with making up with Ellis, placing the blame on a lack of people to interact with. He knew he wasn't really ready to examine his feelings beyond that theory. "Tell Rick I said you did a good job."

"Of course I did a good job, I'm the best mechanic in town," Ellis boasted, and the uncharacteristic vanity from the kid only made Nick more eager to go out for that beer.

Chapter Text

"Chili cheese fries?" Rochelle asked, wrinkling her nose, and Francis looked up from the plate that had been set between them. "When I asked you to pick an appetizer I thought you would have picked something less disgusting."

"Disgusting nothing! Chili cheese fries are the food of the Gods," the biker said, popping some in his mouth. "Next time don't forget your Dictaphone in the car."

"Lesson learned," she said, setting out her recorder and flipping her notebook open. "Did you at least order the salad I asked for?"

"I actually made an executive decision and ordered more chili cheese fries for you," Francis joked, lips upturning ever so slightly.

"You did not!"

"Figured you could use some skin on your bones."

"You best be joking," she smiled, doodling in the corner of her paper.

"Yeah yeah, I ordered you a salad," he said, dangling a fry in front of her face. "Don't make me eat them all, Cupcake."

She huffed, trying to seem impatient but failing, and took the fry from his fingers. "Oh the things I do for a story."

"Speaking of this story we're here for, when are you going to start asking me questions?" Francis asked, mouth filled with food. "You made such a huge deal of this being an interview and you're stuck on the appetizer."

"I'm not stuck on the appetizer," she objected. "I have this notebook filled with questions!"

Well, there were a few questions. The rest of the scribbling was doodles, random thoughts…. Perhaps an adolescent mention of the biker across from her (R+F?, which was scrawled out violently).

"Well fire away then," he said. She flipped the page over, and arched her eyebrow.

"Fine…. First of all, Francis, do you think that Z-Men are still necessary these days, even though the Infected populations are waning?"

"I think that as long as there are zombies out there, Z-Men are going to be necessary," he said. "Yeah, maybe those freaks are becoming less and less of a problem, and maybe America is getting back to normal, but until they're all gone, we're needed."

"You don't believe that the police or private groups should be involved?"

"Police should focus on people problems, and private groups would focus too much on what they could charge the common shmoe," Francis answered, disdainfully.

"So you would say you believe in Governmental regulation?"

"Sure would."

"What do you want to say to your detractors out there? What do you want to say to people who believe that Z-Men are a waste of Government money, or an inhumane program that objectifies the Infected?"

"I don't objectify the Infected, that's sick!" Francis exclaimed. "We don't try to make them look sexy or shake their asses-!"

"No, no, I don't mean like objectifying strippers," Rochelle said, trying not to smile at his indignation. "I mean…. Okay, these were people. They ARE people, sick people. And you kill them for a living. The Government has decided to treat the Infected like monsters in a movie, and to treat the Z-Men like Superheroes. What do you say to those who think that's wrong?"

Francis tried to formulate an answer that went beyond 'fuck those guys!', and he scratched his head as he munched on his food. "Well…. I would say have they ever seen 'Old Yeller'?"

"'Old Yeller'?" she repeated.

"Yeah, that old movie with the kid and his dog-."

"I know what 'Old Yeller' is."

"Well then this will make sense to you," Francis said, firmly. "That kid loved his dog. They had good times. The kid would have done anything for that dog, and that dog would have done anything for that kid. But then that dog got sick, and it wasn't the kid's dog anymore. It was just a pissed off, ferocious, bloodthirsty mutt that would rip his throat out if it had the chance. And so the kid had to shoot his own dog because there was nothing that could be done for it anymore. And everyone who ever owned a pet in their life cried. And they cried not because they thought it was wrong, but because they knew that it had to be done, and they couldn't imagine having to do it to their pet.

"So this is probably going to sound really awful, but the Infected aren't our friends or family members anymore. They're just rabid mutts that would kill you in the blink of an eye. Z-Men like me and Nick, we make it so they don't have to be the ones to put them down."

Rochelle scribbled furiously, though his words were certainly resonating. "And what about those who say that you enjoy it? What do you have to say to them?"

Francis sniffed, running his hand on the wood of the table, frowning more now. "I don't think that we enjoy it. I don't get turned on by it, if that's what you're asking, or jerk off to the thought of it. I know that Nick hates it. But someone has to do it. And one more thing: if Old Yeller had torn that kid's mom's guts out, eaten his girlfriend's face, and chewed off his brother's leg, yeah…. Part of him might have relished killing the dog."

He finally made eye contact with her, both sets of brown eyes locking. She searched for meaning in his, noticing that they had taken on a glazed, glassy look. She may not have known him very well, but she had assumed that there would be no hints of regret or sadness in his gaze, that he was too rough and tumble for that. And yet there was that glimmer at that moment.

"And I think you know what I mean," he ended with, quietly.

She certainly did.

Before she could spiral into a bout of unprofessionalism, she closed her notebook, and smiled. "And what do you have to say to the ladies out there who want your phone numbers?"

"Oh shit, ladies want my phone number?" he asked, suddenly excited as he looked around for anyone she may have been referring to.

"Well maybe not right now, but with any controversial figure there will always be those who crave to share in it," she snorted, thinking of some of her colleagues in the Lifestyle section who had been gushing over both Z-Men.

"Well to them I say 'get in line', because with so many offers I have to be picky," he said, as Wednesday came over with their food. "But I have to say no to you."

"No to me… what?" Wednesday asked, sullenly, and Rochelle snickered to herself. Francis smiled her way, and then shook his head at the waitress.

"Nothing, kid," he said. "Thanks for the bacon cheeseburger."

"Jesus!" Rochelle exclaimed. "First chili cheese fries, NOW a bacon cheeseburger? I'm surprised you aren't morbidly obese!"

"I burn lots of calories fighting Tanks and killing Witches, this is my gasoline."

"You've been fighting Tanks and Witches?" she asked, nervously, as Wednesday hesitated to hear the answer as well. Francis shook his head as he splashed hot sauce on his burger.

"No, I was exaggerating," he stated, and Wednesday silently sighed in relief before going to another table. "Haven't seen any of those. They're so rare these days, I don't think we have to worry about them."

"Well that's a relief," Rochelle said, taking a bite of salad. "….. Can I have a bite of your burger?"

"OH HO HO, look who has buyer's remorse!" Francis crowed, and she made a face at him. "Any more questions?"

"No, I think I have enough to work with," she replied, smiling his way. He nodded, and held the burger in front of her face so she could take a bite.

As she chewed the disgustingly tasty food, her eyes shifted to the door of the bar and grill. And what she saw nearly made her choke, as Ellis and Nick walked in and asked Wednesday for a table.

"What the flying fuck?" she mumbled through the chewing, and Francis followed her gaze to the two guys as Wednesday placed them at a table.

"Oh yeah, Ellis was over this afternoon fixing my motorcycle," Francis stated.

"Hold up, you have a motorcycle?" Rochelle asked, momentarily distracted.

"You like that do you?" he grinned. "I'll take you for a ride sometime." Before she could be pulled into that enticing idea, she turned back to Nick and Ellis, who were pleasantly chatting as they looked at the menus.

"Fucking Heineken," Nick muttered, setting the menu down. "Would it kill them to try and get some good beer?"

"We got plenty've good beer," Ellis sniffed. "I'm gonna get a burger, is that okay?"

"Get what you want," Nick said. "It's not like this is a five star French restaurant where a salad costs twenty dollars."

"Thank God for that!" the mechanic said. "Well you should get somethin' to eat too, cuz I don't wanna be the only one eatin'."

"I'm thinking, hold your horses," Nick muttered. His sandwich the other night wasn't all that great. Though that could have been because his nose was filled with blood and he couldn't taste much else. "Ehhh…. How badly could they screw up gumbo?"

"That's REAL good here," Ellis stated, confidently. "You're gonna love it."

"We'll see," Nick said. "….. So it was cool of you to stick around today, even when you saw that I wasn't Charles Wells."

Ellis shrugged slowly. "I had a job to do. It woulda been hard explainin' to Rick why I didn't want to do the job."

"Yeah, I guess," Nick said, and closed his menu. "Gumbo and Heineken. Blech."

"Aw quit whinin' it's not so bad," Ellis scolded. "So who's Charles Wells, anyway?" Nick smirked, proud of his alias, and shrugged nonchalantly.

"The Man Who Broke Monte Carlo."

"I don't even wanna know, but I shoulda guessed it would have somethin' to do with gamblin'," Ellis said, shaking his head as he half smiled. Nick began digging through his pocket, looking for his wallet to make sure he still had enough cash for dinner, and set out a small black device on the table. "What's that?" Nick glanced at it, and then held it up.

"Since there's still patchy cell phone service out here Francis and I have pagers," Nick replied, straightforwardly. "You know, in case we're off duty and something happens. It buzzes like a goddamn vibrator and is clunky as hell, but it's the best Chief Jacobs could do."

"Wow, I didn't even know they made these things anymore," Ellis said, picking it up and examining it. "So you're on call, huh?"

"All the time," Nick nodded, as Wednesday walked up to them, glancing between the two with a knowing air about her.

"Are you two ready to order?" she asked.

"Yep! Wednesday, this is Nick, by the way," Ellis said.

"We've met," Nick said.

"Yep," she agreed. "Glad to see your nose is better." Both men looked away, awkwardly, and she took out her pencil and pad. "What would you like?"

Ellis raised his hand. "I'll have-."

"A burger, well done, American cheese, with onion rings and a Bud," she recited. He moped for a moment, sad that he was that predictable, but then nodded. "What about you?"

"Gumbo and a Heineken." Wednesday wrote it all down, and nodded at both of them. "And it's all going to be on one check, okay?" She smiled at Ellis, and then nodded.

"Okay," she nodded. "… So is there a reason that Rochelle is glaring at you right now?"

"Rochelle-?" Ellis asked, turning his neck and seeing Rochelle and Francis. "Oh wow, she looks pissed." Nick leaned into his chair, and saluted at the angry journalist arrogantly.

"Whatever you did, you're going to hear about it later," Wednesday said, and went to put their orders in. Ellis sighed, and turned back to Nick.

"Just ignore her," he said, shaking his head.

"Already done," Nick said.

"So could your pager go off at any time?" Ellis asked, still intrigued by it. "That's kinda nerve wrackin'. I'd be scared that it would go off at the worst possible time. Like in the bathroom, or in the shower, or at the movies."

"It doesn't go off all that often," Nick said, taking it back from the younger man. "I don't even think about it anymore."

"How's it been out there on the other side of the fence?" Ellis asked, curious, and Nick rolled his shoulders.

"It's been okay," he said, as Wednesday put their beer in front of them. "Had a nasty run in with a Jockey the other day, but besides that I haven't seen many Special Infected. We were hoping we'd be able to kill that Smoker that snatched that three year old last month."

"Oh God, that was awful," Ellis moaned, remembering how it had jarred the entire town. "Everyone was so upset. Her Mom had already been through so much-."

"I bet," Nick nodded, taking a sip of his beer. "No sign of it though. We don't know if it's moved on, or if it's just waiting…." He frowned, swirling his beer bottle. He leaned in close. "And don't tell anyone, but I think there's a Tank out there somewhere."

Ellis didn't draw any attention to them, though he did clench up. "How do you know?"

Nick rubbed his eyes, his fingers ending at the bridge of his nose. He pinched it, looking incredibly weary at that moment. "Remember when we'd be out there in the worst of it, and you would just get that feeling? Like 'oh hell, we haven't seen one of these in a long time, I bet there's going to be one around the corner'?"

"Yeah," Ellis nodded.

"Well that's how I've been feeling the past couple of days," Nick confided, free hand tapping at the table nervously. "I know they haven't been seen in a long time, but I just can't shake this feeling."

"What does Francis think?" Ellis asked, glancing towards the other Z-Man across the room.

"He knows what I mean, but doesn't think I'm right," Nick said. "And hey, I hope I'm not. We're going to suggest to Jacobs that they electrify the fence, just in case. Not that it would stop the Tank, necessarily, but it might make it think twice."

"Wow, that's crazy," Ellis said, frowning. "I mean, if it's just the two've you can you even fight a Tank-?"

"Don't worry about it, kiddo," Nick said, calmly. "We can take care of ourselves."

"I'm not worried," Ellis said, though it was a lie. "You've kicked enough Tank ass to know how it's done." Nick drank some more of his beer, and bounced his leg, fishing his pocket for a peppermint stick. Ellis watched him chew on the candy with fascination, and giggled. "What's with the peppermint?"

Nick arched his eyebrows as he sucked on it, and tugged it from his mouth to answer him. "Fills in the void quitting smoking gave me."

"You quit smokin'?" Ellis asked, completely flabbergasted at such a notion. "Wow. Good for you."

"Psh, well, it wasn't by choice, I can tell you that much," Nick muttered. "Just figured that hey, it was out of my system. May as well keep it out. Save some money, stave off cancer or whatever for a little while longer. The peppermint just gives me something to do with my hands."

"So who made you quit?" Ellis asked, tilting his head to the side. "…. Like, a girl, or-."

"Fuck no," Nick replied, adamantly. "Uncle Sam. No cigarettes in testing."

"Testin'?" Ellis asked. "What testin'?"

Nick paused, and found himself unable to look Ellis in the eye. If only because those bright blue eyes were filled with questions, questions that Nick didn't want to answer, because if he answered he'd have to think about things he'd much prefer to keep in the back of his mind. "…. Yeah, I don't really want to talk about it. So…."

Ellis blinked, but then nodded, and dug out his wallet from his pocket. "Naw, it's cool, I gotcha. I'm gonna put somethin' on the jukebox, any requests?"

That was one of the things that Nick had always liked about Ellis. He may have liked to talk, and he may have liked to ask as many questions as he could. But he always, without fail, knew just when it was time to keep his mouth shut. Nick chewed on the peppermint, and raised an eyebrow. "Sinatra?"

"Don't think they have it."

"The Smiths."

"Maybe. Any third choices?"

"They gotta have Bowie."

"What song?"

"Any Bowie's fine." Ellis wagged his head up and down, grinning again, and trotted over to the large red music player. Nick scratched his nose, and looked over at Rochelle. She'd stopped sneering at him at least. But she was standing up and marching to where Ellis was standing. Oh jeeze, Nick thought, and Francis looked over at him, giving him a look that cried 'thanks for ruining my date, dillhole'.

Ellis was trying to decide which Rush song he wanted to pick, when he felt a tapping on his shoulder. He looked to his right, and saw Rochelle, judgment written all over her face. "What?" he asked, turning back to the jukebox.

"You know what," she replied, voice low as she glanced back at the gambler, who had propped an elbow over the back of the chair. "What are you doing?"

"I'm havin' dinner," Ellis responded unworriedly.

"With Nick."

"I fixed Francis' bike, he wanted to take me for a beer to thank me," Ellis said.

"He probably damaged the bike in the first place just to get you over there!" Ellis couldn't help but smile a little bit at the thought, and selected 'Tom Sawyer' as the Rush song of choice.

"Yeah, I think that's exactly what he did, actually," Ellis said trying to decide on a David Bowie song now.

"And you don't find that incredibly manipulative?"

"Not if I didn't get manipulated. Which I didn't," the mechanic said. "I saw what he was doin', an' I decided to stay anyway on my own."

"That doesn't mean he didn't manipulate you."

"I'm not a kid, Rochelle, I can take care of myself," he stated, testily, still keeping his eyes on the jukebox.

"Even when it comes to Nick?"

"'Specially when it comes to Nick!" he hissed, giving her an annoyed face. "I mean, come on! Trust me, I haven't forgotten what happened, okay? I'm just grabbin' a beer an' a bite to eat with an old friend, nothin' more!"

She shook her head, glancing towards the gambler, and then looking back at her friend. "You are far too kind to him. You don't owe him anything, you know."

"I know that, but he has no friends here outside've Francis, an' if you're gonna start takin' all've HIS time-."

"Whoa whoa whoa, hold up!" Rochelle said, her turn to hiss. "Who said I was going to do that? I don't even know the guy, and we have NOTHING in common from what I can tell, so why do you think-?"

"Oh c'mon, you're practically droolin' over him," Ellis snorted, and nodded at Francis, smiling politely. The biker nodded back, and looked at his teeth using the reflection in his knife. Rochelle turned around to steal a look, and rolled her eyes, muttering about a lack of manners on his part. "If you take up his time, Nick'll need someone to entertain him. We both know he has a real hard time gettin' along with people, which just makes him more of a jerk. If I hang out with him, he won't be such a dick. It'll give him somethin' to do."

Rochelle exhaled slowly, no longer interested in arguing a point that she wasn't going to win. It was true that Ellis wasn't a child, and had grown up quite a bit since he was that wide eyed and romanced twenty three year old. She would have to trust that he would make the right choice for himself. "Well, so long as it doesn't turn into someONE to do."

"Go back to your date."

"Interview!"

"WHATEVER." She sniffed, snootily, and walked back to her table as Ellis finally chose a Bowie song that seemed to fit his companion.

Francis grinned at Rochelle as she sat back down. "I've paid."

"You didn't have to pay for mine, Francis," she said, flatly.

"She didn't separate the check, I took it as a sign."

"She never separates the check, she's incompetent that way," Rochelle muttered, digging through her purse so she could at least leave a tip.

"So, now what are we doing?" Francis asked as she threw a few dollars on the table. "What is there to do in this town?"

"Besides getting a permit to enter the Grey Zone and go to Durham?" she asked. "Pretty much nothing. I spend a lot of time at the library."

"Oh," he said, and looked over at Nick and Ellis, who were smiling and chatting again. All he knew was he wanted to get her away from those two so she would stop thinking about them. "Well, we could go to the library-."

"Let's just go back to my place," she stated, and Francis sat up straight. "Don't get your hopes up, buddy, I have a nice movie collection and more beer. That's all."

"Well that's fine by me," he said, knowing that he could probably maneuver his way around a movie and straight into the bedroom. The best part was that she was going to make him work for it.

Wednesday served Nick and Ellis their food, and the younger man watched the older as he took a first, hesitant bite of the gumbo. Nick chewed, eyebrows raising as he did so, and Ellis wrinkled his nose. "How is it? Okay?"

"…. It's pretty good," Nick agreed. "No oysters though."

"Well that's a good thing, oysters are sick," Ellis stated, satisfied with his friend's satisfaction, and bit into his burger. Nick shook his head. How could anyone not like oysters? "Whenever I eat oysters I get all itchy and puke my guts out." Oh, fair enough.

"Oh good, Ro an' Francis are leavin'," Ellis continued, and waved their way. Rochelle waved back, and he turned his attention back to Nick. "You don't hafta worry about her pickin' on ya. I think I explained everything okay."

"And what did you say?" Nick asked, adding more hot sauce to his gumbo.

"I jus' told her that you needed more friends outside've Francis," he said. "An' honestly, if she's gonna spend all her time with him now, I need someone to hang out with outside've her."

"What about BARBARA?" Nick asked, trying to contain the snide tone that went to her name, but failing. Ellis cleared his throat, and flushed a little bit as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Well…. You see, Barbara an' me…. We aren't actually datin' or nothin'," he said, embarrassed.

Though he held a straight face, Nick's inner self had an excited and lascivious grin on it's lips. "Oh?"

"Naw," Ellis said. "She'd really like to, I can tell youthat. She probably thought if she told you that we were it would somehow, I don't know, make it happen. But I'm not interested."

"… Well why the hell not?" Nick asked, intrigued. "She's cute, she seems pretty nice. A regular girl next door, the American Dream of women. What's the problem with her?"

"It's not with HER," Ellis said, shaking his head. "She IS real nice, and yeah, she's pretty. But I haven't really been much for datin' since we got here."

"Really? You haven't dated anyone?" Nick asked, surprised. "You're young, why the fuck not?"

Ellis shrugged, hesitantly. He wasn't sure why he was telling this to Nick of all people, but the words just kept spilling out of his mouth and he had little time to question it. "I mean, I HAVE dated. An' they've all been nice, an' pretty. But I just never felt any reason to keep it up."

"You haven't been laid in three years?" Nick asked, bluntly, and Ellis flushed again. Jeeze, this was a mistake, he thought, morosely.

"I didn't say that," he muttered. "There was one girl, Eliza. She's a florist in town-."

"You fucked the florist?" Nick laughed, and Ellis tossed a dirty look his way.

"Yeah, but it wasn't great or nothin', an' we stopped seein' each other," he said. "All the others got the hint, but Barbara just won't…."

"You should write her a pointed letter," Nick suggested, wryly. " 'Dear Barbara: You're a girl, so I'm sure you've read 'He's Just Not That Into You'. Take it to heart. Signed, Ellis.'

"Aw, that'd be so mean!" Ellis laughed, and Nick arched his eyebrow, about to come back with something else. But then the jukebox began to play the Bowie song that Ellis had selected for him, and Nick paused.

" 'Rebel Rebel', eh?" he asked, mouth sloping into a half smile. Ellis nodded. "Good choice, Aylus."

The mechanic nodded, scratching his arm. "Just thought it was a good song for ya." He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to the next question, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he took a gulp of beer before asking it. "What about you? How many people've you been with?"

Ha. Nick had been with lots of people. At least three in each place they worked in, and usually more depending on the size of the population. "… You know me, I get around fine."

"Yeah," Ellis nodded, and his lips began to pout a little bit. Nick stared at them a moment, and then looked away. "None've 'em stuck though, huh?"

"Nah, they never do," Nick replied. "The closest thing I've had to a long term relationship in this time is Francis. Nothing else has been serious."

"Is it ever serious for you?" Ellis blurted out, surprising both himself and the con man. He bit his lip, and his cheeks turned red. Wow, way to go, idiot. Nick poked at the tabletop a bit, and shrugged.

"Yeah, once or twice," he replied, keeping his eyes away from the mechanic.

Ellis paused, feeling that damn heartbeat start up again. He was usually quite intuitive, it was one of the things his Mom had always said about him when she was alive. But it had always been hard to read Nick. He'd thought he'd been able to back when they were running through hell together, but that had turned out to not be the case at all. So he couldn't really trust his gut when he thought that maybe Nick was talking about him. Wednesday arrived and set the check down on the table.

"Here you go, guys," she said, and both of them were thankful for her presence. "Pay when you're ready, or whatever. Just know the longer you hold up this table, the bigger tip I expect." She walked off to continue doing her job in a half assed manner, and Nick smiled at the mechanic.

"I like her," he said, and Ellis shrugged.

Chapter Text

Francis followed Rochelle into her apartment, and let out a low whistle when she turned the light on. To say that her home was a sty wouldn't be kind to sties. There were still moving boxes scattered about, papers everywhere, dirty dishes on the coffee table, and somehow her clothing had managed to spread out from her bedroom into the living room.

"Oh my God," he said. "Nick would have a heart attack if he saw this place."

"Luckily he won't be coming here anytime soon," she stated, wishing that she hadn't invited him over. Sometimes she forgot that her home wasn't the most organized. Ellis didn't care, and he was really the only person who would drop by. She had no one to impress, and now that she DID have company it mortified her. "… Sorry about the mess."

"I don't care, are you kidding?" Francis asked, walking right in and sitting down on the couch, making himself right at home. "Nice space. No roommate or nothing?"

"No, I don't think anyone else would be willing to live like this," she said, self deprecatingly, and went to the fridge. "Beer?"

"Pabst Blue Ribbon?"

"Hell no."

"Well what do you have then?"

"The lowest brow beer I have is Sam Adams," she said, tossing him a bottle. "Becauuuuuse, it's the ONLY beer I have."

"Well that will do," Francis said, taking the bottle opener off of Nick's keys and popping the cap off. "So what movies do you have? And if it's only one we might have a problem. Unless it's something kick ass."

She smiled as she sat in the chair, propping a foot on the coffee table. "They're in that cabinet over there. Go pick one out." He stood up and walked to the wooden cupboard, opening the doors and grinning. She did have a LOT of movies.

"Where did you get all of these?" he asked. "This town only has a Wal Mart and some of these things you could barely find on eBay BEFORE the Infection!"

She shrugged. "When I was allowed to go back to my place in Ohio to get my stuff I made sure to grab my movies first and foremost." He nodded, and admired the library before him. It wasn't filled with just chick flicks; there were kung fu movies, action movies, raunchy comedies, the works. "What can I say? I love movies."

"You're getting more and more amazing," he said, and she shifted in her seat as she watched him peruse. Oh Rochelle, you are treading on thin ice, she thought, eyes falling to his backside. She'd told herself that she wouldn't get involved with him. At least not until after the article was written. But there was a certain magnetism that she had felt in Rayford, and that same attraction had started to rear it's obnoxious head again. She wondered what the hell it was about Rayford; she knew that was where Ellis had first hooked up with Nick, and had she been given the chance she sure as hell would have hooked up with Francis there too. He wasn't her type for crying out loud! He was boorish, and a braggart, and was most likely a thug and a hot head. Plus, there was no way that he had a high school diploma, let alone a degree. And yet here she was, doing her best to keep herself from leaping across the room and seducing him.

Well, it WAS getting really annoying that the only thing courting and wooing her was her vibrator.

"Do you actually own 'Xtro?" Francis exclaimed, yanking a DVD off the shelf.

"Yep."

"I've never met a chick who likes 'Xtro'!" he said, motioning with it emphatically.

"Then you haven't met the right 'chicks'," she smiled. "And come on, it's an incredibly badass movie!"

"I don't usually hang out with incredibly badass women," Francis stated, throwing the DVD in the player and plopping back down on the couch. "You're kind of my first. Outside of Zoey, but she didn't give ME the time of day, so…."

"Do you still keep in touch with Zoey?" she asked, pulling a blanket around herself. Francis shook his head carefully, and cleared his throat. "Damn, I was hoping that I could try to light that spark in Ellis again….. Did you guys ever find your island?"

Francis smiled, though it was grim and mirthless. "We did."

"….. So if I may ask, how did you end up back here?" she asked. "You sounded like you had no interest in working with the military…"

Francis rolled his head about his neck, and set his beer down on the coffee table. "I took a chance, and it didn't work out for me…. Left the island to get some things I wanted. Louis and Zoey told me not to, but I didn't listen. I really wanted beer and cigarettes," he explained, brown eyes glazing. "And unfortunately, I walked right into a military convoy. And I was right back to where I didn't want to be. Sometimes I wonder what happened to the two of them, and what they thought happened to me. I still hope I'll run into them someday. But I can't bring myself to go back to the Island. Just in case I find something I don't want to."

She listened attentively, and reached out and placed a hand on his arm. He gazed her way, and shrugged. "But hey. I'm not alone or nothing. I have Nick."

"I pity you."

"Eh. He ain't that bad," Francis said, and turned back to the TV screen. "He's gone through a lot these past three years."

"We all have," she replied, unable to refrain.

"Yeah, but…. Well, it's not my place to say. But just take my word for it. He's gone through some fucked up shit, and… he needs me…. And I never thought I'd say this, and DON'T repeat it, but I need him just as much," Francis said, a bit firmly. She didn't say anything else, and wondered if she had just blown it by insulting someone so close to the biker, but Francis pat her hand. "No breaking up THIS band, Yoko."

Realizing it was a pleasant ribbing, she smiled, and shrugged. "Whatever you say…. Seriously, how could anyone NOT like this movie?"

"I know!... Well, it is kind of disgusting."

"I've seen worse."

"Yeah, me too."

"Another thing I noticed about the pancakes Carlisle makes is that they're kinda thinner than I'm used to," Ellis jabbered as he drove. "Not that I'm complainin', maybe they're like those crepes that you hear people talkin' about. I never had crepes before, but if that's what they are then I HAVE had 'em and I like 'em. A LOT. Keith'd always complain about crepes bein' French, but I never had nothin' against the French…" Nick just smiled as he stared ahead, listening intently but also finding himself very relaxed. It hadn't been a date, not really anyway, but it had gone swimmingly. He couldn't have asked for a better time, considering the circumstances. They had stayed at the table, talking about this and that, until almost nine, and when Ellis saw what time it was he whistled and said that they should probably head out, as the tip Nick was going to owe Wednesday was going to be large.

"What do YOU think of France?" Ellis asked, the question pulling Nick back to the conversation. "Ever been?"

"Only been once. It was pretty okay. The people I met were kind of jerks, but hell, I was a jerk right back they seemed to respond well to that," Nick said, and Ellis shook his head.

"Man oh man, that sounds wild," he said, turning the truck into Nick's driveway. "I don't think I'd fit in too well. They'd probably think I was stupid or somethin' on account've my accent."

"Like THEY can talk about accents," Nick sneered, and Ellis smiled, slowing the car and shifting it into 'park'.

"Well, here y'are," Ellis said, and looked into the windows. "Uh oh, no lights. Think Francis is still out with Ro?"

"I thought she'd be smarter than that, but it would seem so," Nick said, shaking his head. "He's going to be insufferable if he gets laid. He does this stupid victory dance-."

"No way!"

"I shit you not!" Nick smiled, laughing a little. "It's so obtuse, but he always does it."

"Man that's too funny, you'll hafta take a picture or somethin'," Ellis said, and Nick nodded as silence began to linger over them. "Well…. Thanks for takin' me out for beer an' a burger."

"Well thank you for fixing Francis' bike."

"That wasn't too hard," Ellis scoffed, waving it off. "I coulda done it blindfolded."

"Yeah right."

"Seriously! I can do it with oil changes anyway. Keith can't do that, last time he tried he got oil up his nose. That was a real problem."

"….. So, do you want to come in for a bit?" Nick asked, cautiously. Might as well try his luck. It had been a pretty good evening, and he thought that perhaps if he could get Ellis inside they might be able to extend it a little further.

Ellis hesitated, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel softly. It wasn't exactly subtle. He'd thought that Nick might have tried to draw it out a little bit before trying to get him inside, as the stories he'd brag about were all about delicate seduction. Of course, it had never been delicate with the mechanic, it had been blunt and apparent from that first connection in Rayford.

And even though he knew that it was a bad idea, even though his trust in the con man was shaky, and even though he still hurt despite the fun evening he'd had, his first instinct was to accept the invitation. He could feel arousal in the pit of his abdomen, reacting to the thought of Nick kissing him again, putting his hands all over his body, pleasuring him in waves and waves…

But he shook his head slowly, and shrugged. "No thanks, I actually hafta get home an' feed my cat."

Nick blinked, not sure he'd heard right. "Your cat?"

"Yeah, Dalton," Ellis said, nodding quickly. "Named after Patrick Swayze in 'Roadhouse', he hasn't eaten since this mornin' before I went to work."

"….. Oh," Nick said, and tried to recover from his obvious disappointment by shrugging. "Well yeah, cats gotta eat, I guess."

"Yeah, he gets real cranky if he doesn't," Ellis explained. "Pisses on my couch an' stuff."

Great. I'm being rejected in favor of feeding a willfully incontinent cat, Nick thought bitterly, and shrugged again. He was about to make some brusque comment, but Ellis opened his mouth once more.

"But I wouldn't mind hangin' out again sometime soon," the mechanic continued, hoping to clarify. "Cuz I had a good time tonight, just shootin' the shit an' stuff."

"…. I did too," Nick agreed, scratching his nose. It wasn't what he was hoping for, but it was something anyway. "Sure. Feel free to hit me up if you find yourself bored. I'll be around for awhile still."

"Okay," Ellis nodded, and grinned, relieved that he hadn't been bitched at. "Cool. I usually get done with work 'round five, an' I got ALL day on Sundays, so-."

"Fine by me, kiddo," Nick said, opening the car door. "Just call." He nodded, shot the younger man a half smile, and closed the truck door, strolling up the walk to the house. Ellis watched him, waiting a few moments before shifting back into Drive, and felt proud that he'd been able to resist that temptation. He then turned his truck around and headed for home.

Nick got inside, and let his head hit the door as he leaned back into it. Yeah, he was disappointed, of course he was disappointed. It had become quite clear to him that he wanted Ellis again, more than he wanted anything at the moment. With his other conquests in other towns across the country they would really just fuck around, nothing more. Yeah, a dinner here, a drink there, but he would try to move it to the sheets as quickly as possible. He now remembered that with Ellis he actually ENJOYED talking to him and spending time with him. How he'd found pleasant company with a motor mouth mechanic was beyond him.

He hit the door with his fist, but then immediately chastised himself for feeling this sore about the declined invitation. He still wants to see you again, dumbfuck, which is probably more than you deserve, he thought, and scrabbled for a peppermint stick.

As he got ready for bed he put The Smiths on his turntable, a specific song in mind. As 'Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want' warbled into the bedroom, he chewed on the candy and let his thoughts wander.

When Ellis got home, he fed Dalton first thing, and was pleased to find that the tabby hadn't pissed on the bed. It had been a long day, and he didn't want to have to worry about changing the linens when he just wanted to collapse and sleep. He quickly stripped down to his boxers, tossed his tee shirt on the bed and his pants on the floor, opened a window to let the breeze in, and snuggled up under the covers.

He was still bursting with pride that he'd said no to the worst kind of temptation. While it was a bit discouraging to find that he was STILL attracted to his ex in spite of the shit he'd been put through, at least he knew he COULD say no. Now he just had to keep saying no until Nick stopped asking, or until both Z-Men left. While it might not have been wise to keep letting himself be open to temptation by still spending time with the older man, Ellis didn't want to shut him out completely. It was great hanging out with him again. In some ways he'd missed his friend more than he'd missed his lover.

It was truly a pity that Nick had only gotten better looking in three years. It was like he still hadn't reached his peak at thirty eight, and even the small signs of age he had were worn well. His face was a bit more gaunt, and his hair had small flecks of grey around the temples, but overall he looked…. Great. Ellis hadn't been able to help noticing as they drank their beers that the gambler still had that slyly confident smirk when he was going to crack a joke, and that little disbelieving laugh when Ellis told an outlandish story.

Ellis licked his lips briefly, and noticed that his hand had started to creep down to his crotch, which was already beginning to harden just at the thought of the con man. As he brushed his length hesitantly, he thought of Nick brushing him, of Nick's fingers running up his thighs and massaging his hips. He imagined the smell of the gambler, that ever present fragrance that reminded him of molasses cake. His smell had permeated through the cigarettes and blood when they were travelling together, and now that they weren't on the run from death it was in full force, and lingered in Ellis' nose. It would take all his resolve not to sniff Nick deeply the next time he saw him.

He pulled out his cock and began to rub it with his palm, exhaling in measured breaths. The pleasant memories of the two of them were the focus of this fantasy, and he thought of the last time they had sex. It had been fervent as Nick had plowed him into the mattress of the cot, the shabby surroundings irrelevant. They could have been in a five star hotel and it wouldn't have been better. The sheets had twisted through his fingers as Nick had murmured in his ear with each plunge, saying his name over and over again. Kisses had been planted up his spine, and each had made him tingle and groan. Wasn't it always the case that the last time was the best time?

Ellis began to stroke himself harder, feet starting to slip against the sheets as he squirmed with the build in his stomach. He moved his free hand across his chest, pretending it was Nick's hand, and tweaked his nipple. Nick used to do that, oh GOD he did it just right too, it fell between pain and pleasure, and Ellis heaved a throaty moan, the pangs starting to become more urgent now. He pumped his fist harder, desperately. It had been a little while since he'd last done this, and he didn't remember it being this good. He rapidly licked his palm, hoping the lubrication would make it that much better.

Of course Eliza hadn't matched up, just as Janice and Beth wouldn't have, just as Barbara wouldn't have. Only Nick knew how to make every fiber, ever nerve, crackle and whir throughout his skin and organs. He bucked his hips into his hand, starting to pant now as he writhed in his bedding. "Oh God Nick," he moaned, back arching as he kept thrusting up higher and higher. "Nick, ahhh, N-Nick, NICK."

"Yeah, fuck me, El," he imagined the con man saying, no, begging. "I need you to fuck me, kiddo, Overalls, AYLUS."

Ellis nodded at the spectre's pleas, and cried out against the spasms as they ground and creaked inside of him, aching to get out even though he wasn't ready for them yet.

"And then I'm going to drive myself into you and make you come so hard you'll scream my name til you lose your voice."

Just as he was reaching his peak, something vaguely occurred to him in the back of his head. In the three years since he'd met Nick, whenever he would pleasure himself, no matter who he was thinking about, there was one consistency. The objects of his fantasies, from the girls on the autoshop calendar to those girls from that ballerina movie, would always be wearing white, a pristine white as bright as the suit Nick had worn. So perhaps Nick had been at the root of them the entire time.

Ellis sat up, gripping the headboard as he keened and mewled. He was about to lose it, and quickly snatched his tee shirt from the foot of the bed. And not a moment too soon, as seconds later he wailed out Nick's name one last time, body convulsing as he climaxed into the tee shirt, back arching so violently he had a momentary fear of it snapping. With each release he panted, and he fell back against the bed board, shoulders thudding it against the wall. He drew his arm across his face, wiping the sweat from his brow, and gulped for air, contentment washing through him. He chortled to himself. It was a lot of pent up sexual frustration, and he wrinkled his nose at the mess he'd made. Holy shit, he thought, tossing the sticky tee shirt across the room at the hamper, and glanced towards the door. Dalton the cat had plunked himself down, and even though it was dark Ellis was fairly convinced he had a judgment-ridden look on his face.

"Shaddup, Dalton, I never said I wouldn't fantasize about the guy," he smiled, peeling his boxers off as well and throwing them after the tee shirt. Well shit, this wasn't so bad. Just hang out with Nick by day, jerk off to the THOUGHT of Nick by night. That would be a fine compromise. For awhile, anyway. He knew that eventually he'd want more, even if he knew he shouldn't. But until that point came, he wouldn't worry about it.

Chapter Text

"Oh JEEZE, Boomer!" Francis shouted, aiming his gun and shooting at the swollen Infected. The vomiting creature soon exploded in a shower or bile and blood, and Francis grimaced. "Don't think I'll ever get used to those."

Nick propped his sunglasses on his head and chewed on his lip. "Hm. Haven't seen many of the special ones yet. And this week we've seen a Boomer AND that Smoker."

"Yeah, and we killed both of them handily," Francis muttered. The Smoker had been fairly simple. They had head it coughing two days prior, and flipped a coin to see who had to be used as bait. Nick had been the unlucky one, and it had suddenly seemed to him that his recurring Smoker nightmare had been prophetic. Because yes, he did find himself tied up in a nasty tongue, and felt that Francis had taken just a little too much time to dispose of the malevolent thing. But that didn't matter, as the Special Infected was gone, and the toddler finally avenged. "Did Jacobs ever get back to you about the electric fence idea?"

"He said that the barbed wire should be enough," Nick replied, reloading his rifle. Francis shrugged.

"Seems to work well enough so far."

"For now."

"You're more paranoid than usual today," Francis stated. "Hey, what time is it? Is it five? Are we off?"

Nick looked at his watch. "It's four fifty eight."

"Eh, that's close enough, I'm done for the day," Francis said, slinging his gun over his shoulder and walking for the gate. "Are you coming?"

"You can take the car, my ride isn't getting here until 5:15, I'll wait it out," Nick said, and Francis grinned at him. Nick eyed the grin, and scowled. "What?"
"Your RIDE happen to be Ellis?" Francis asked, swinging the gate lock key around his finger.

"Are we twelve year old girls? So what if it's Ellis? We're having a beer after work, who cares?" Nick asked, perturbed by Francis' constant ribbing.

"Still not getting any?"

"Fuck off, it's not your business."

"That's a solid no."

"WHY do you CARE? Jesus, concern yourself with your own dick, would ya?" Nick asked, hotly.

"Hey, can I come too?" Francis asked, ignoring the temper Nick was displaying, and the con man snorted. "Come on! I could use a beer too!"

"Why don't you just continue stalking Rochelle?"

"She works late during the week, if I do get the go ahead to see her it's not til eight, come on!" Francis whined. "Besides, I could use the guy time. She's a cool chick, but she definitely judges me. I hate being judged."

"I judge you all the time."

"Yeah, but I judge you right back. C'mon, let me come with!" Nick was about to call Francis a whiny bitch, when he was surprised to see Ellis' pick up truck pull up alongside the BMW. So instead he waved brusquely, his wave met with a very optimistic one out the window.

"Thought you worked 'til five!" Nick called as Ellis slammed the car door. The mechanic shrugged, grinning.

"Got off early," he replied. "Hey Francis! How're you today?"

"I'm in the mood for a beer, Ellis, what say you?" Francis asked, and Nick glowered his way.

"Well hell yeah, that's what me 'n Nick're doin'!" Ellis said, happily. "Wanna come with?" Francis turned to Nick, smiling smugly.

"Why sure!" he replied, voice mocking, which displeased the con man even more. Nick had many pet peeves, but one near the very tip top of his list was cock blocking. While he hadn't had any luck with Ellis in the past couple of weeks of hanging out, they'd both been having a lot of fun doing just that. Even when they weren't at Carlisle's having a beer, the mechanic would call the Z-Man and chatter on for hours about this and that. Nick had hoped that this meant he was getting closer to a chance at seduction, and had been playing his cards very carefully. If Francis tagged along, it would throw a wrench in the gears.

And frankly, those two had enough in common that Nick would end up being the third wheel.

"Alright, guys night out! I haven't had one of those since before the Infection," Francis said as he and Nick walked through the fence.

"What about when you hung out with Nick?" Ellis asked, and Nick wrapped the heavy duty chain around the fence's gate.

"That hardly counts," Francis joked, and the con man shook his head as he made sure to lock the gate tightly. "Aw I was just kidding, Nick!"

"Shut up," Nick muttered, shoving the key in his pocket. "Let's just go get some drinks, okay?"

"AND chili cheese fries," Francis added, opening the door to the BMW but lingering in the doorway.

"Aw hell yeah! I LOVE those things!" Ellis chirped.

"Oh goody!" Nick sneered, sarcastically.

"Oh boy, seems Suit here doesn't like chili cheese fries either," Francis said, giving Ellis a 'can you believe this guy?' look. "If Rochelle didn't hate you so much she'd probably consider you a partner in the fight against crummy food."

"Her hate for me far outweighs her hate for chili cheese fries, I guess," Nick shrugged, and began to open the door to the black car as well.

"Hey, you aren't riding with me," Francis stated, and Nick frowned.

"What? Why not?"

"Because Ellis came all the way out to the East Gate to pick you up, I'm not going to be the reason that gas went to waste," Francis said, though his raised eyebrow said otherwise. The biker was fully aware that his need for bro time was intruding on Nick's master (if futile) plan. So why not throw the gambler a bone by giving him the alone time with Ellis he so richly desired? Nick nodded subtly, and turned to Ellis.

"If that's cool with you," he offered, and Ellis shrugged.

"Sure is! Hop on in!" he nodded, and Nick's bitterness towards Francis subsided a little bit. Even if THIS act of apology still seemed like something a high school girl would do. So the gambler got in the truck, and Ellis revved the engine. "Oh MAN, I haven't had a guys night out since Keith an' Dave an' I were all livin' in Savannah! This is probably the best idea we've ever had!"

"Wasn't MY idea," Nick muttered, though Ellis was too excited to catch the small bit of resentment in his voice.

"I mean, hangin' out with you is great an' all, but for it to be a REAL guys night there hafta be at least three. That's a fact, I know it's a fact cuz Keith SAID it was a fact," he explained. "So Nick, when's the last time YOU had a guys night out? Did you an' Francis do that kinda thing when you were trainin' an' shit?"

"No, not really," Nick replied. He'd never actually had a 'guys night out' in his thirty eight years, as he'd never had a group of friends that he did things with. He'd always been a loner, ever since he was in grade school and much preferred reading a book under a tree to playing tag with a bunch of other kids. It was easier to move on from people if you didn't get attached. And plus, he was admittedly hard to get along with, so groups of friends tended to shun him away. Yes, he and Francis would hang out with other Z-Men during training, but they would always prefer Francis' company to his. Unless they were interested in fucking him. And there were a few of them, the best being those who didn't know they wanted to fuck him until just a few moments beforehand.

And yeah, his sexual proclivities didn't exactly endear him to large groups of males either. In his experience, he was either seen as competition (competition that couldn't be beaten), or as a threat to their masculinity (because shock and horror, they might just like having his cock up their asses!).

"Well you're in for a treat then, my man," Ellis said, confidently. "Cuz I bet me an' Francis know how t'really party!"

"Yeah, I'm sort of afraid of that," Nick admitted, and Ellis socked him on the shoulder gently.

The three of them walked into Carlisle's, and were seated right away by a more cheerful looking Wednesday. "Hey guys. Come on in. Have a seat and take as much time as you need looking at the menu. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Nick and Francis looked at each other, skeptically, and then back at Wednesday. "Okay, twerpette, what gives?" Francis asked, and she shrugged, exchanging a knowing glance with Ellis, who was trying not to smile. "And you, Motor Mouth? What are YOU smiling at?"

"I wasn't gonna say anything, I was waitin' for Nick to bring it up, but when he didn't I figured you don't get the paper," Ellis said, knee bouncing up and down. "Wednesday, go get a copy!" She nodded, rushing off, and the Z-Men still had no idea what to make of the situation.

"El, come on, what's going on?" Nick asked.

"So you haven't seen the paper?" Ellis asked, wanting to make sure.

"No we haven't seen the paper!" Francis said, impatient. "What's in the paper today? Should we be worried? Is this some kind of Candid Camera or Punk'd kind of thing? Because I hate practical jokes-!"

"Nothin' like that," Ellis promised, as Wednesday came back with the paper. "Oh here we are!" He opened the newsprint to the editorial page, and slammed it down on the table to show the two Z-Men. Nick and Francis read the largest headline, and the biker was the first one to whoop and pound the table excitedly.

" 'Z-Men: Reluctant But Necessary Weaponry'," Nick read aloud, and turned to Ellis. "So Ro's article finally got published, hm?"

"Yeah, it got published alright," Ellis said to him, smiling broadly. "Not only that, EVERYONE'S been talkin' about it. It's a pretty big deal, it makes you two out to be, like, dragon slayers or somethin'! She touched on how you got that Smoker, an' how you've been makin' sure we haven't had ANY attacks since you got here, an how you both do it because you think it's right, not because you're in it for glory or nothin'!"

Nick frowned, and looked over at Francis, who shrugged. "So I take it she got all this from him then?"

"Well she won't talk to you, Suit, so yeah," Francis said as Wednesday returned with their usual drinks. "Well thanks, Wednesday. You remembered."

"You just order PBR every time you come in here, it's not too hard," she said, and Carlisle left the kitchen, smiling gleefully and waving at their table. "Uh oh, boss man's gonna gush. It's what he does."

"Francis, Nick, and Ellis! So glad to see all of you! The men who protect me and the man who fixes stuff around my restaurant, truly you're an epic group," Carlisle said. "Just so you know, this round is on me."

"You really don't have to do that," Nick began, but Carlisle shook his head, adamantly.

"Nothin' doin', I'm buying these for you and that's that," he said, and Ellis and Francis both grinned and raised their beers up. "Hell, I'll even throw in an appetizer-."

"Chili cheese fries," Francis stated, and took his first sip.

"You got it," Carlisle stated, pointing at him. "We have a great French Onion soup too, just so you know, on special tonight. Sheesh, if you want one of those I'd be willing-."

"Please stop at the chili cheese fries," Nick commanded. "These two will eat you out of a livelihood."

"Alright, well, I just want to show my appreciation for what it is you do," Carlisle said, embarrassed but still tempted to give, give, give. "Just let Wednesday know if you need anything."

"Will do," Ellis nodded, and she smiled at him and went back to take more orders from others. "You two are like bonafide celebrities!"

"What all does she say in here?" Francis asked, picking up the paper and skimming her article. "Oh man….. She's good. Listen to this: 'There are those who wish to discredit the Z-Men by labeling them as 'thugs with badges'. While I can only speak on behalf of my own experiences, I believe that OUR Z-Men do not fall into that category. They take no joy in what they do, but they do it so we do not have to. I, for one, am thankful that they are so willing to do that for us.'… I'm in love, guys."

"She certainly knows how to write a puff piece, she oughta be writing propaganda for the Government," Nick said, coolly.

"Aw c'mon, Nick, it was a real nice article," Ellis said, perplexed at the con man's ability to grouse about such a favorable depiction. "What's wrong with it?"

"….. No, it's fine," Nick settled on, swirling his beer, and Francis rolled his eyes.

"Oh boy, break out the world's smallest violin," he said, and Nick kicked him under the table. "OW. You're such a dick."

"What's wrong?" Ellis asked the con man, voice a might concerned, and Nick shook his head, smiling at him gently. "Why don't you like the article?"

"That's not it, don't worry about it," Nick replied, winking at the mechanic.

Ellis was going to push a little bit more, but before he could Francis whistled and nudged his partner in the chest. "Heeeyyyy, Suit, don't look now, but there's a hot red head eying you across the room."

Nick slowly craned his neck to look where Francis was gesturing, and slyly smiled at the woman. She smiled back at him, and pursed her lips momentarily. Where had SHE been all this time? Sure, the article had probably greased the wheels, but he didn't care. He nodded at her, and turned back to his companions.

"Holy shit, I didn't realize they made them like that in North Carolina," he said, running his tongue across his teeth. Ellis frowned at the woman, crossing his arms, and bounced his leg up and down nervously.

"So what then, are you gonna go pick her up or somethin'?" he asked, coldly, and Nick turned back to him, a quizzical look in his eyes.

"Maybe," he answered, brazenly.

"Do it, you need to get laid," Francis stated.

"Thank you, Francis."

"Well why wouldya wanna go for HER?" Ellis asked, trying not to sound put off or jealous. Though he was. Frustratingly so.

"Because I haven't been nailed since we left Missouri, sport, and unlike YOU I can't go that long without going nuts," Nick said, and glanced back at the redhead.

Ellis looked back at her, trying to see the appeal but unable to do so, and turned back to the table, attempting to keep the moping to a minimum. But Nick could tell that his ex was upset by the thought of him excusing himself for a romp in the bathroom.

Initially, it pissed the gambler off. Why SHOULDN'T he go pursue the voluptuous female if she was willing and able? He was certainly free to do so, and Ellis had made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing from the con man outside of a buddy-buddy relationship at this point in time. For the kid to get all sulky and petulant was immature at best, and infuriating at worst.

However, it also occurred to Nick that if he DIDN'T go get his jollies at that moment, he would have better chance of getting in Ellis' good graces, and THEREFORE have better chance getting his jollies with the mechanic. Which he still wanted to do more than anything.

So he grit his teeth, and turned back to his friends. "Nah, not tonight."

"WHAT?" Francis asked, flabbergasted. "What do you mean 'not tonight'?"

"I'm okay, I have plans with you guys."

"You left me stranded in a thunderstorm to get some tail once, I call bullshit," Francis pointed out, but Nick shook his head.

"Not tonight." He casually looked over at Ellis, who was holding in a smile, rather unsuccessfully. But had he not been trying to hide it, he would have had a big goofy grin on his face, utterly delighted. And he didn't care that none of this should have mattered to him; Nick wasn't ditching him for some girl, even if they were just friends and she was guaranteed sex.

"I really don't want to have to listen to you whacking off anymore, so PLEASE do me a favor and either get some action, or do it in the shower or something," Francis said, shaking his head. "Got it?"

"Understood," Nick nodded, and Ellis did his best not to turn around and give the redhead a smug look.

As they shared a plate of chili cheese fries (even Nick indulged in a couple of them), Barbara Dane walked into the restaurant, hoping to purchase a quick dinner for herself. While she didn't particularly like the atmosphere at Carlisle's, she did enjoy the food. And Carlisle was more than happy to prepare something for her to take home. At first she didn't notice the group of men sitting around the table, as she was focused on grabbing a menu and deciding on something to eat. But she soon heard the familiar laugh that made her heart tingle, and she spun around to see Ellis and the two Z-Men drinking and eating together. Seeing Ellis out with friends, male friends, made her smile all the more, and she shook her head happily. She leaned on the bar, and waved at Wednesday. "Hey, can I order something to go?"

"Yeah, sure," Wednesday replied, planting herself at the computer. "What do you want?"

"The catfish sandwich with a side of fruit," Barbara replied, and her eyes fell back on Ellis. "It's nice seeing that he's finally made friends outside of Rochelle, isn't it?"

"Okay," Wednesday said, typing in the order for the kitchen.

"I was always so worried that he'd never find a good guy friend."

"Why do you even care?" Wednesday asked, skeptically. "It's not like it has any affect on you."

Barbara frowned a bit. She had never cared for Wednesday, and conversations like this reminded her why. "It's just good to know he has a good friend in that Z-Man is all."

"Who, Nick?" Wednesday asked, and chuckled sardonically. "Yeah. 'Friend'."

Barbara turned back to the waitress, confused frown adorning her features. "What does that mean?" Wednesday looked back at her, not having realized that she'd said that comment a bit louder than under her breath, and shrugged stiffly.

"Nothing," she tried, but Barbara's usually chipper face was stony, and she obviously wasn't going to let Wednesday go without an explanation. So Wednesday, taking a certain sadistic glee in making people squirm with offhand comments, wrinkled her nose and tossed her black hair. "Oh come on, Barbara. It's pretty clear that Ellis has the hots for the guy."

Barbara's head turned sharply to the waitress, eyes wide, and then flung back towards the table. "…. What?"

"It's the first and only time I've seen that guy look at someone like that," Wednesday said, airily. "He freaking worships the ground Nick walks on…" She trailed off, knowing she'd stirred up some trouble, and walked into the kitchen to tell Carlisle that the object of his affection was waiting for food.

Barbara tried to focus on something else in the room as she waited for her dinner, but she couldn't help but keep looking back at Ellis and Nick as they chit chatted with each other. She didn't know why Wednesday was making such brash assumptions about the two of them, and Barbara found it rather impolite to spread such an unfounded rumor. She was planning to simply brush it off, chalk Wednesday's opinion up to an overactive teenage imagination.

As she looked at them, Nick leaned into Ellis' ear, whispering something private and placing a hand on the mechanic's arm. Ellis slowly smiled, the smile on his face brighter than any smile she'd ever seen on him, and he looked at Nick, who raised his eyebrows slyly. It was a private moment unwittingly witnessed by the blonde woman, and Barbara's eyebrows drew together, her lips thinning to a subtle frown. What the hell was that about?

"Hey Barbara," Carlisle Smits said as he left the kitchen, and she jumped in place. "Oh, sorry! Didn't mean to startle you-."

"It's fine, Carlisle," she said, scratching her arm and forcing herself not to look at the two men at the table.

"Well, I have your dinner here," he said, handing her a bag. "That will be eight fifty. And I threw in a free side of soup, French Onion, I thought maybe you'd like to try it."

"Oh, thanks," she replied, handing him a ten and taking the bag from his hand. He nodded, his smile wilting a hair, and rang up her cash.

"Would you like your change-?"

"No, keep it, Carlisle," she replied, tucking the back in her arm and moving a stray clump of hair behind her ear.

"Okay then," he said, and shuffled his feet. "Say Barbara, I was wondering, if you didn't really have any plans for the Autumn Festival-."

"I'm sorry, Carlisle, excuse me," she cut him off, barely listening to him as she walked for the exit, and Carlisle nodded in defeat, and tapped his hand to his leg as he walked back into the kitchen.

As Barbara walked by, Nick raised his eyebrows, still goaded that she'd caused him such irritation with her dumbass lie. So he set his beer down and sneered. "So Barbara." She paused, face turning a deep crimson, and turned towards the three men at the table. "Sorry to hear about you and Ellis."

"Nick," Ellis warned, disapprovingly.

"…. I don't know what you're talking about," Barbara muttered, clenching her fists and making her to-go bag crinkle. Before Nick could say anything else, she rushed through the front door. Ellis frowned at his friend.

"You didn't hafta be a jerk about it," he chastised, and Nick shrugged.

"You know me, I'm a huge jerk," he replied.

"I can vouch for that," Francis nodded.

Once the appetizer was consumed, and after another round of beer, Francis pat his stomach, and exhaled in a satisfied manner. "Well, I think it's time for me to hit the open road. As much as I like you schmucks I have other business to attend to."

"You invite yourself and then don't even stick around," Nick tisked, and Francis shrugged. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go see a certain lady friend and congratulate her on a job well done," he replied as he stood up, and both Nick and Ellis made mocking hooting noises. "Aw screw both've ya. I'm taking your car, Suit. I need to pick up my motorcycle."

"Taking my car and stranding me so you can get your motorcycle, that's ridiculous," Nick said, making a face.

"I'll take you home," Ellis said, and Francis pointed at the mechanic.

"Thanks Motor Mouth, I owe you a solid," the biker said, and saluted the two of them. "I'm OUT. Tell Carlisle thanks for the beer." And with that, he left the bar, a little more spring to his step than normal. Nick shook his head, and pushed his empty beer glass away.

"…. Thanks for the ride," he muttered, and Ellis hid a smile.

"Not a problem. I used to give Keith rides all the time, especially when he was outta commission cuz've a busted car or a busted leg," Ellis said.

"Oh, joy, I've finally risen to Keith levels of inconvenience," Nick said, and Ellis shrugged as he snickered.

Rochelle's eyes were beginning to strain as she clicked away on her keyboard. Her most recent article had been quite the success, and while riding the high of that had been nice, she now had to come up with a new opinion piece. She wasn't sure if it was a step up from the small news blurbs she'd been writing, but it looked like she was now going to be one of the editorial writers. Which meant she needed to find opinions on an array of things, and fast. Her most recent opinion was on whether or not one of the Mom and Pop pharmacies should be allowed to deny access to birth control, as the owners didn't believe in it after such a population decrease. Seeing as she found that to be idiocy, her stance was easy, but her temper was flaring.

She was about to just write out 'BECAUSE IT'S DUMB' and call it a night, when her apartment buzzer went off. She crooked an eyebrow, not expecting anyone, and slowly stood up and walked for the intercom button. "… Yeah?"

"It's me, Cupcake," she heard the gruff voice say, and she gasped, stomach flip flopping. Though she didn't expect anyone, she REALLY didn't expect Francis. But perhaps she should have, as he WOULD be slapdash enough to just show up on her doorstep.

"…. What is it?" she asked, lost for what to say.

"Can I come up?"

She looked at her clothing, and groaned. Pajama pants and an Ohio State sweatshirt weren't exactly the sexiest fashion statements. She tapped her finger against the wall a few times, and then closed her eyes as she hit the button. "Yeah, but don't knock for three minutes, okay?"

"Uh, okay?" She buzzed him in, and rushed into her bedroom, frantically throwing the dirty clothes into her closet, making the rumpled bedding, and changing into a tank top at least. She quickly looked herself over in the mirror, and wished she had time to do even just a little makeup. But it was too late, as soon Francis was knocking on the door. Why didn't she say FIVE minutes? She threw water on her face, called 'Just a minute!' as she dried it, and then walked to the door, opening it with confidence.

"Hey," he said, stepping forward and leaning against the doorframe.

"Do you always drop in unannounced?" she asked. "At least when I was at work I looked somewhat put together."

"You look fine to me," he said. "…. Can I come in?"

"That depends, what are you here for?" she asked, guarded.

"I read your article and wanted to give you props," he replied. "Nearly made me blush." She could feel her own face turning hot, but outwardly shrugged.

"Glad you liked it… Yeah, come on in," she replied. After all, she'd straightened up, hadn't she? He followed her inside and closed the door behind him. "Now they want me to be in charge of a lot of editorial pieces. They say I'm more spitfire than their other guy. Which means I'll piss more people off, I guess."

"Nothing wrong with pissing people off," Francis said, thudding down on the couch. "I do it all the time."

"I'd believe that," she said, leaning against the breakfast bar.

"…. So I was thinking that since the article is out maybe I'd finally take you out on that date-," he started, but she held up her hands.

"Let's get one thing straight," she interrupted, and he shut his mouth, surprised. "I'm not some dumb biker groupie you can mess around with and then knock to the side, okay?"

"Ummmmm…. I know that-."

"Because I won't stand for that kind of arrogant bullshit. And I'm not going to be there just to inflate your ego at every turn," she continued, doggedly. "If you piss me off, I'm gonna let you know you've pissed me off. And I have a feeling that you're gonna piss me off."

"We talked about that earlier."

"I'm probably gonna piss you off too, because I can be a stubborn bitch when I want to be," she stated.

"Good, I like a challenge," he said, standing up from the couch, as it literally rising to it. She didn't more from the breakfast bar, but that didn't matter as he came to her, trapping her between the countertop and himself, hands resting on the granite but acting as a cage around her. She inhaled sharply, it taking every ounce of strength not to shake in anticipation. She'd sure been with guys before, met them at college parties, in bars, she'd even carried on an affair with one of her coworkers at her Ohio news station. But none of them had been like Francis. And Francis wasn't just a guy. He was a rough and tumble, devil may give a hoot MAN. And DAMN did he pull it off well.

"Francis," she said, carefully, and he leaned in, his breath grazing her chin delicately.

"Yeah?"

"…. I fucking love your vest," she stated, and it was as if those were the magic words, as Francis lunged in for the kiss. Their jaws met eagerly, and as they embraced he lifted her up, ready to carry her to wherever it was he could get on top of her. He started for the couch, but she shook her head and pulled her lips away.

"Bedroom!" she commanded. After all, she'd cleaned up the damn place, she may as well show it off.

"You got it!" he replied, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as they began kissing again.

He knew that as soon as he got home he was going to burst into Nick's room and do his victory dance, which would anger his partner to no end.

As Rochelle and Francis consummated their pent up lust for each other, near the East Gate, Creevy was sitting in his car, smoking a cigarette slowly. He let his arm dangle outside the window, the ash on his cig dangling precariously until he finally tapped it off. It floated to the ground slowly, and he looked at his watch. Jacobs was late. Being an incredibly punctual person, he never had been able to abide those who weren't. He stared at the dashboard of his car, and exhaled the smoke from his mouth.

By the time Jacobs did show up Creevy had gone through three cigarettes, and that wasn't to say that the Sheriff was especially late. The CEDA agent simply had a lot on his mind. Jacobs walked up to the window, and tilted his head down to look into the car. "You wanted to see me, Creevy?" Creevy nodded, and gestured to the passenger seat.

"Get in," he stated, voice flat. Jacobs hesitated a moment, but then complied, sliding into the passenger seat and slamming the door. "…. Did you see that editorial piece in the paper today?"

"So you've been reading our paper, have you?"

"Yes. It's something to do while I drink my coffee, have you seen it?" Creevy replied.

"I did see it, yes," Jacobs stated, trying not to cough as Creevy blew more smoke into the car. "That was a pretty convincing article. Word around town is that most people now see your boys as good things for the community. So I assume that you have called me here to gloat?"

Creevy mashed his cigarette out in the ashtray, lips thin and eyes narrow. After a few beats of silence, he turned towards Jacobs, expression betraying no indication of just what he was feeling. It was a hollow look, and it made Jacobs uncomfortable.

"I've been a part of the United States Government for the past twenty four years," he said, grimly. "I was hired right out of college and worked my ass off to get where I am today. I started at the bottom, ass kissing and bringing coffee to those above me, and now look at me. I'm a second tier agent, one of those picked to salvage a ruined agency. Many of my ideas are implemented and used by the military and the Z-Men, and now I'm overseeing two successful agents who seem to have this town on track to safety.

"But no, Jacobs," he continued, tone changing enough to make the sheriff jump in his seat. "I am not going to gloat because I am NOT happy about this!"

"…. I don't understand," Jacobs said, as Creevy slammed his hand on the steering wheel. "Your boys are doing a good job-!"

"Those two are hardly 'my boys'," Creevy muttered, lighting up yet another cigarette. "If they were anyone else, ANYONE else, I would be willing to gloat. But I can't take joy in their success."

"… I'm still lost, Creevy," Jacobs said, impatiently. "Yes, they're rough around the edges, and I don't like Z-Men in my town, but-."

"I spoke to their direct superior today, and do you know what he told me?" Creevy hissed, manically. "Your mayor has already contacted him, and after hearing about the progress those thugs have made, he's decided that this is their last assignment. When they are done here, they're done as Z-Men!"

"Well if you don't like them wouldn't that make you happy-?"

"No!" Creevy snapped, and took a long drag off his cigarette, hand shaking with anger. He shook his head, and grimaced, teeth grinding together. "Do you know what happens when they're released from duty? They get to retire and slide through life on their goddamn pension plan! Do you know how much the Z-Men GET for that?"

"I have a feeling I don't want to know."

"You don't. But I can guarantee that neither of them deserve it," Creevy said. "…. Which is why I've called you here tonight, Jacobs…. I believe that we can help each other."

"….. How, exactly?" the cop asked, skeptically, though he was admittedly intrigued.

Creevy turned to look at him again, a leer on his face that was downright unsettling. His eyes were glinting with a frenzied ire, and his lips pulled over his teeth. "I have an idea. It will not only get the Z-Men out of your town, it will get these particular Z-Men out of my hair for good. Think you'd be willing to help me?"

"…. I don't have nothin' against THESE Z-Men, Creevy, I don't want ANY Z-Men in my town again. Period," Jacobs said, voice low. "Now can you guarantee THAT?"

"…. Yes. Yes I can."

"…. I'm listening."

Chapter Text

"An' another thing they had at their wedding? One've them chocolate fountains!" Ellis jabbered over the phone as Nick lay back on the couch. "Rochelle said that it was some've the best chocolate she'd ever had, an' that the strawberries were fresh an' REAL juicy!"

"Uh huh."

"Maggie's real nice, you'd probably like her, she likes everybody, an' in the camps whenever they brought in new supplies for us she would cook up somethin' good for the four of us to eat! She'd always try to make somethin' sweet for the kids too, but Coach would always sneak some've it," Ellis laughed. He'd been talking about Coach and his wife Maggie for the past half hour, all because Nick had offhandedly mentioned their former companion. Somehow 'How's Coach?' translated to 'tell me everything there is to know about Coach and his new life in Michigan'. But the con man wasn't angry or annoyed. He just listened to his friend talk and read a magazine at the same time.

"Rochelle also said that Coach an' Maggie are thinkin' of adoptin' some kids that lost loved ones durin' the outbreak, seein' as there are still lots of kids without families. Wednesday's like that, she lives with Carlisle these days cuz he's the only one that can handle her."

"Mm hm."

"But anyway, when they got married I hadta send a gift with Ro since I didn't go with her, an' I WISH I could've seen the look on Coach's face when he opened the box to find a nice fryin' pan, what with it bein' an inside joke with all've us, but he sent a nice 'thank you card'-."

"Why didn't you go to the wedding?" Nick asked, flipping one of the pages of his magazine.

"Well cuz I didn't get a permit to travel out there," Ellis replied. "So anyway, MAGGIE said she'd do most've the cookin' with the fryin' pan-."

"Why didn't you get a permit, it's not like it's hard," Nick said, putting down the reading material now that he was getting a few words in edgewise. "I mean, you've done it before, haven't you?"

"Well, no, not really," Ellis said. "Never had to apply for a travel permit, now that I think've it."

"So hold on," Nick said, sitting up from the couch and switching the phone to his other ear. "You haven't left Roanoke II since you moved here?"

"No."

"Not even ONCE?" Nick asked.

Back at his house, Ellis' face was turning red. It wasn't like there was contempt in Nick's voice, but the surprise made the mechanic a bit self-conscious. Even when he was still in Savannah he rarely left the city. Yeah, he'd go to Whispering Oaks, and Atlanta, and that one time he went to New Orleans with his friends, but overall he pretty much stayed in town. Yes, he'd always wanted to travel, but lack of money and lack of travel companions made that hard. Now that travel was more difficult, he just didn't feel a need to leave.

"Not even once, no," Ellis said, quietly. He heard Nick click his teeth, and wondered what the Z-Man would have to say about it. He hoped it wouldn't be mocking.

"…. What are you doing right now?" Nick asked, which seemed a bit of an abrupt topic change. Ellis sat up from his chair, and scratched his head.

"Uhhhh, nothin'," he replied, eyes darting to Dalton, who was sprawled on the couch.

"Did you feed your cat?"

"Yeah….?"

"Sweet. I'll be at your place in a half hour."

"Wha-? What're we doin'?" Ellis asked.

"You'll see," Nick said, mischievously, and hung up. Elllis looked at the phone, and wrinkled his nose. Oh boy, why do I have a feelin' this is gonna be unwise, he thought.

Nick honked his horn in Ellis' driveway soon thereafter. The younger man opened the door and waved at him cautiously, and Nick stuck his arm out the window and gestured him to come forward. Ellis locked up his house, and trotted to the BMW. It was true he didn't know what Nick was planning, but he couldn't help but feel excited anyway. He opened the passenger side door and hopped in, grinning at the driver. "Okay, so what're you plannin'?"

"Road trip."

Ellis' smile faded, and his brow creased as he became slightly put off. "Oh, but Nick, I don't have a travel permit."

"Psh, you don't need one," Nick scoffed, waving him off and starting to drive again. "I'm Government, remember? I can take whoever I want out as long as they're in my custody. So what do you say, kiddo? Up for a night in the Grey Zone?"

Ellis swallowed, and scratched his elbow nervously. "But….. Is there even anything t'do in the Grey Zone? Isn't it crawlin' with zombies?"

"Not really crawling anymore," Nick replied, and flashed a grin his way. "Come on, live a little, Overalls."

"I live fine, jeeze!" Ellis sniffed, as he knew that he was probably more adventurous than the gambler. Had Nick ever gone swimming in possibly gator infested waters? Probably not. Had he ever drag raced? Well, maybe. Regardless, Ellis thought it was kind of insulting to imply that he wasn't daring.

"Well, I don't really have a plan since Durham is a bit further than I'd like to go for a night," Nick mused. "I'm sure we'll think of something."

"Okay, that's fine…. But what if we run into Infected or somethin'?" Ellis asked, and Nick motioned to the back seat with a crane of his neck. Ellis turned around, and saw a few guns and boxes of ammo. "Ah. You're prepared. Were you a boy scout 'r somethin'?"

"I was once. But I got kicked out."

"Oh. Well, at least some've their rules stuck with ya," Ellis said, and chuckled at the thought of Nick in the scouts. "I don't know Nick, what is there out there that you think I should see?"

Nick just smiled, knowingly, and shrugged. Ellis stared at him a few moments, and then huffed. "You ain't gonna tell me, are ya?"

"Just be patient, kiddo," Nick replied, aloofly. The mechanic slumped back in his seat, and crossed his arms. He didn't like being patient.

When they got to the East Gate, Nick got out of the car and told Ellis to drive through just so he could let them out and lock it back up again. Ellis' heart began to thud as he drove past the fencing, and he held his breath as he crept the car forward. Though Nick said it was okay for him to be on the other side of the fence, and while it was pretty exciting to be there, he still worried that they'd get in trouble. He slowed the car to a stop after Nick motioned with his hand to do so, and moved back to the passenger side after the Z-Man had locked up the fence.

"Gotta be sure that gets locked," the older man said, making small talk. Ellis nodded, and Nick began to drive down the asphalt. "Alright, kiddo. I'll show you where we're going."

"I hope it's somewhere fun!" the mechanic said, becoming more and more excited the further they got from the fence. "Aw man, Nick, this is like the time Keith, Dave, an' I played hooky from school the day of the pep rally! Keith was all 'I don't wanna go to the pep rally', and Dave was all 'hell no, let's just get outta here!', an' so we got in Keith's truck an' just drove! I was in so much trouble when my Mom found out, but at the time it was so much fun I didn't even care! We went to the movies, an' then we went to the Circle K to get nachos, an' THEN we went to the laser tag course and played a few rounds! I won, but Keith said I cheated, but I don't cheat. He was jus' sore was all."

"Mm hm."

"…. So where're we goin'?"

"You'll see." Ellis knew that he had to stop asking or else Nick would probably swat him. But he started to bounce in his seat eagerly.

Nick didn't stop the car until the sun had completely set and they were along a long stretch of highway, wooden fencing running up and down along the ditch. Nick looked up at the sky, and back at the car, before nodding his head stoically and pulling the BMW over. "Alright, Overalls, we're here." Ellis looked around, trying to discern just where exactly 'here' was, and he scratched his head and turned to his friend.

"Okay…. So what am I s'posed to be seein'?" he asked, and Nick killed the engine but kept the headlights on, and opened the car door, still sporting a 'butter won't melt in my mouth' smile. "C'mon, Nick, you dragged me out here with no explanation."

"Would you quit your bitching and get out of the car?" Nick commanded, and Ellis shut his mouth and did as he was berated. He closed the door behind him, and looked at Nick over the roof of the car.

"Okay, I'm out," he said, as if Nick couldn't tell. "What are we lookin' at?"

Nick smirked, and curled his finger up towards the heavens. "Just look up."

Ellis wasn't sure if it was a trick or not, so he examined Nick's eyes for sincerity, or a plot of some kind. But all he saw was bright green and subdued levity. So he slowly did as he was told.

And the sight took his breath away.

"Wow," he said, a smile breaking his face. "Would ya look at all the stars."

Living in the city for most of his life blocked the cosmos from Ellis' usual sky. Light from the populace was comforting, but it certainly suppressed the natural blinking of the stars and planets. When they were running for evacuation, they didn't have time to look up at the sky, lest it be their downfall. Even in Roanoke II there were enough competing light sources that the sky couldn't shine through. But in the Grey Zone, with it's lack of civilization, there was nothing to keep the stars at bay. And good lord, it was absolutely beautiful on a clear night. Nick removed a couple of guns from the backseat, handed one to the younger man, and sat on the hood of the BMW, just cheery at how Ellis was gawking at the sky.

"You must get to see this all the time," Ellis said, amazement lacing his tone.

"When we're on the road, yeah," Nick agreed. "That's the one thing that doesn't change from place to place. The sky in the New Mexico desert looks a lot like the sky in Iowa, which looks a lot like the sky out here."

"You're so lucky," the mechanic said, and Nick withheld a sneer.

"Well, as much as I hate being out here, if I can see the stars it doesn't completely suck," the Z-Man said quietly, loading his handgun. Ellis looked back at him, pulled from his fixation, and cocked his head to the side.

"You hate bein' out here?" he asked, strolling to the car and plunking down next to him. "Like, Roanoke II, or-?"

"Hm? Oh, no, not Roanoke," Nick replied, shaking his head. Well, he didn't LIKE Roanoke II, but he wasn't going to tell Ellis that. "The Grey Zone. No one likes the Grey Zone."

"Well, I s'pose I can understand THAT," Ellis said, laying back against the windshield and folding his arms across his stomach, staring across the horizon and into the night sky again. "…. But you like the rest've your job, right? You like helpin' people an' shit… right?"

Nick glanced over at him quickly, but then turned back to futzing with his gun. "Well not to sound like a complete asshole, but no. I don't like any part of this job." Such a confession made Ellis sit up.

"….. If you hate it, why do you do it?" he asked, surprised. Maybe he shouldn't have been, as Nick had never been one for altruism if it didn't benefit him as well. There wasn't much benefit to killing Infected for a living.

"This isn't exactly a choice I have, kiddo."

"How d'ya mean?"

"I mean I sure as hell didn't choose to join the ranks of The Few, The Proud, The Controversial," Nick replied, grumpily. "And neither did Francis."

"Well how could they force you though?" Ellis asked, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair. "They didn't hold a gun to your head or nothin', did they?"

"No, not literally," Nick agreed. "Okay, look El, when we went on the ship after New Orleans they hauled you off and tested you for the Green Flu, yeah?"

"Yeah…."

"And your results came back positive, so you were a Carrier, right?"

"Yep. Threw all us Carriers in isolation 'n shit."

"And then what happened?"

"Well," Ellis said, recalling memories that weren't exactly pleasant, "we were put in those camps until they came back with the vaccine…. Hey, didn't that happen to you?"

"Sure didn't," Nick replied, whipping out a peppermint stick. He unwrapped the plastic deliberately, and began to suckle on it. "Because MY test came back with no trace of the Green Flu in me. So they tested again. Still nothing. I was even injected with the goddamn bug, and nothing. I'm Immune, sport."

Ellis gaped at him like he'd gaped many times before, and he pat Nick on the back. "Well that's awesome, Nick!"

Nick gave him a mirthless smile, and crunched his peppermint stick. "It's not all it's cracked up to be, believe me. You Carriers had to spend time in those goddawful camps, and that sucks. But us Immunes? We were the building blocks of the Vaccination, and that meant that they withdrew enough bodily fluids from me to make Dr. Frankenstein blush." He removed his coat, and rolled up his sleeve with a flourish to expose his arms. Ellis' eyes widened at the needle scars that adorned his limb, ugly pink dots and blotches corrupting the otherwise smooth skin.

"Oh my God," Ellis said, and Nick rolled the sleeve down again.

"You should see my back," he chuckled, though it was forced. "Once they were done with my blood and spinal fluid, they wanted my time. Some Government fuck came into my room and asked if I would be interested in joining an elite group of zombie killers."

"An' what did you say?"

"I told them to blow me," Nick stated, and Ellis laughed, tickled by Nick's constant rebellion, which made the older man grin and chuckle too. "Hey, I was over killing Infected! So they then countered with 'we know who you are, we know you have warrants out on you, and unless you join up you will have your ass dragged off to prison once the penitentiaries are fully functional again'. So… I'm doing this because I don't really feel like going to prison.

"But hey, the good news is that as soon as they decide I'm done, all my warrants, ALL of them, AND my record go away. So I have THAT going for me. Pretty sweet, huh?" He snorted, and crunched into the peppermint candy.

Ellis blinked, and ran a hand down his pant leg. "….. That's awful, Nick."

"Eh. It's not too bad."

"No, really, it's awful," Ellis said, seriously, leaning forward and studying him, blue eyes filled with pity and anger. "I… I can't believe they're doin' that to you. Francis too?"

"Yep, Francis too," Nick nodded. "When they got him back in custody they retested his blood. Turns out he had a false positive the first time and was in the exact same boat as me."

"How can they jus' do that to ya?" Ellis asked, voice nearly shaking. He didn't realize he was angry until his cheeks were burning and his stomach was hurting. Nick glanced his way, and snickered in a bemused sort of way. "What? Why are you laughin'?"

"Same old Ellis," was all he said, and he smiled sadly at him. Ellis wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but if it made his friend smile, well, it couldn't be terrible.

"…. So what else happened to you?" Ellis asked, empathetically, and Nick exhaled slowly.

"…. Stuff…. But I don't really want to talk about it, if that's okay with you."

"That's fine by me," Ellis agreed, and leaned back against the windshield again, staring up at the stars once more. "I'm fine jus' sittin' out here lookin' at the sky with ya."

Nick leaned back too, mimicking Ellis' position and resting his hands on his stomach, and turned his head against the glass to look at the younger man. The way the younger man was so taken with the stars was both endearing and a little sad. It was as if the kid hadn't seen such beauty since before the Infection. Though, for most people that was the case; and for some there was little beauty left. At least the kid could find beauty in something as simple as stargazing. Nick knew that he'd managed to make it a really, really great time, even if it wasn't extravagant or filled with over-the-top romanticism. It was pretty much perfect.

At least, it would have been, had they not been disturbed by the bone chilling scream of a Hunter. Both men sat up sharply, and Nick deftly raised his Magnum, looking around. "Shit, shouldn't have parked by a bunch of trees."

"This takes me back," Ellis said, also raising his pistol and scanning the trees, the countryside, the fencing, everything. "I hate that sound."

"Yeah, me too," Nick agreed, trying to figure out where the growls were coming from. "…. Look, just stay behind me, okay?"

"And what if it comes from behind ME?" Ellis hissed, spinning around so they were back to back.

"Just be cool, kiddo, you've done this before," Nick said, voice calm.

"I'm cool," Ellis responded, though it wasn't completely true. While he knew that he could handle this, it had been three years since he'd been in such a situation. He hoped he wasn't rusty.

"…. I'm going to grab a better gun, okay?" Nick murmured. "Can you cover me?"

"Can you get me a better gun too?" Ellis asked.

"Yeah."

"Then yes, I can cover ya," the younger man confirmed. When they'd been doing this day in, day out, his weapon of choice had been a hunting rifle. He'd only used a pistol when he was desperate, and when zombies were right on top of him. If the Hunter took time to pounce, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hit him.

Nick threw the backseat door open, snagging a shotgun and an AK. "El, you want the shotgun or the-?"

But he wasn't able to finish, as the Hunter howled once more and made it's entrance, leaping from the top of a tree and pouncing on Nick. Ellis saw it and tried to shoot, but missed due to the stealth of the zombie. The Z-Man shouted out as it smacked him into the dirt, and Ellis twisted back around and let out a string of panicked vulgarities before kicking the zombie in the head. The Hunter squawked in protestation, but didn't get to say much more because Ellis unloaded his pistol into it's chest. Once it fell to the ground, Ellis rushed to his friend, panic rising in him.

"Oh my God, Nick, are you okay?" he exclaimed, dropping to his knees and examining the con man. Nick sat up slowly, running his hands down his chest. Nothing hurt, really, but the fabric was definitely ruined.

"Tits," he muttered. "Suit's wrecked."

"Well thank God that's the only thing that's wrecked!" Ellis snapped, irritated that Nick was caught up with his clothing instead of his well being. "Fuck, I'm sorry, Nick, I tried t' shoot it before it got on ya, but I'm a bit rusty-."

"Don't worry about it, I'd say you did a more than adequate job," Nick replied, looking at the dead assailant. Ellis sighed, and nodded half heartedly. "You saved my ass, that's good enough for me."

"I guess," Ellis said, and picked up the AK. "I bet I'd've done a better job with this thing."

"Not used to pistols huh?" Nick asked.

"It's not that, I just haven't shot one in awhile," Ellis answered, shrugging. "Big guns I'm okay with still, an' rifles are REAL easy for me since I used to hunt with Keith an' Dave, but handguns're harder. I'd only use 'em when we'd go to the shootin' range, which we didn't do that much, not as much as huntin' anyway. I guess I'm only good with 'em if the target is right on top've me. Or, heh, on top've you."

Nick stood back up, and brushed his pant legs off. "Sometimes you can't rely on the big ones, you have to work with what you have."

"What d'ya mean?"

"I mean I'm going to teach you how to shoot that pistol at long distances," Nick said, clapping Ellis on the back. The mechanic wrinkled his nose, and began to protest.

"I know how to shoot a gun-!"

"Jesus, don't get your panties in a twist, I know you know your way around a rifle or an AK, but you JUST said that you were rusty. So I'm just going to give you a refresher, okay?"

"….Fine," Ellis said, still feeling embarrassed. Nick nodded curtly, and walked back to the car to open the trunk, as he knew that Francis hid empty soda cans in it. Even though he was irked about the pack-ratting in his car, the cans were going to come in handy.

After he'd set up a bunch of the cans on the fence, he walked back to Ellis, and handed him his Magnum. "You can practice with this one."

"But this is your-."

"I'll let you use it," Nick said, stepping behind the younger man. "Alright. So what's the first thing you do?"

Ellis fingered the Magnum in his hand, and held it up haphazardly.

"No no no," Nick muttered, and stood behind the younger man. "Here, put your left leg forward a little bit." He put his hand on Ellis' left thigh and gently pushed it forward, and the touch made the mechanic take in a breath through his lips. "That should help balance."

"Uh huh," the mechanic nodded, swallowing, and Nick's other hand took his right arm, bringing it up to a straight position. The fingers against his skin gave him goosebumps, and Nick leaned into his ear.

"Now bring your left hand up and use it to keep your horizontal positioning level," Nick said, and Ellis nodded again, the breath on his neck making the hairs stand up straight. Oh God, why couldn't he just step back a little bit and give him some space? He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake the prickles and knots that were starting to cultivate.

"Which can are you going to aim for?" Nick asked, and Ellis glanced to the side briefly, and then began to look at the soda cans on the fence.

"Pepsi, I guess," he replied.

"Okay. So first line up your eye with the gun sights," Nick continued, and Ellis nodded, doing as he was told. "And then line THAT up with the can."

"Kay," Ellis nodded, and Nick ran his hand up the mechanic's arm before letting it go. Ellis couldn't tell if Nick was purposely doing this to torment him, or if he was really just trying to teach him how to shoot. Either way, his face was starting to burn and his lower regions were starting to tighten. Knowing Nick, it was probably all a huge ruse, and Ellis knew he probably should have shoved the older man off of himself. But he decided to believe that Nick was REALLY just trying to teach him how to shoot the handgun, and nothing more. And besides, the feel of the Z-Man's hands on his body was too nice to give up.

And Nick, of course, sensed this. Especially since he could just tell that Ellis was starting to break under the pressure of temptation.

"Remember, the sight picture should be right below the can," Nick murmured lowly, and Ellis nodded again, the body heat radiating off the older man and making it hard to concentrate. "And before you fire? Just breathe. The more relaxed you are, the better you'll shoot, okay sport?"

"Yeah, okay," Ellis said, even though he'd just become more worked up the longer he stood there, arm shaking a little bit. Nick placed his hand on it once more, as if to still the movement, but what Ellis did NOT see was that the older man had a wolfish leer on his face, enjoying the closeness just as much as the younger man was. He put a hand on Ellis' hip again, and the younger man drew in a sharp breath.

"Keep the left foot forward," Nick repeated, daring to let his hand move up Ellis' chest, "and keep your back straight." His hand pushed into Ellis' torso, making him stand up straight, and just as the Z-Man was going to move his other hand down to the younger man's crotch, Ellis stepped forward and pulled the trigger back. The gun went off, and Nick jumped in place, surprised at the sudden sound and the sudden loss of the Southerner's body in his hands. He scowled, and didn't even stop when Ellis hit the can on the third try.

"Hey look! I did it!" the younger man exclaimed, whipping around with a broad grin on his face.

"That might just be luck," Nick responded, sulkily, though Ellis was too excited to notice the resentment in his tone.

"Yeah, probably, but the tips you gave me were REAL good, an' I bet I'll get back to where I was before, right?" he babbled, as Nick crossed his arms. "Wow, that was pretty good. You're a real good teacher! Who taught you to do that?"

"Practice," Nick replied, walking back towards the car and plonking down on the hood. "And my handlers with the Z-Men."

"Like Creevy?" Ellis asked, offhandedly.

"NO," the older man snarled, and Ellis turned around to look at him, surprised at the venom in his voice. "NOT like that scumbag Creevy!"

Ellis, having decided he was done with target practice for now, cautiously walked over to his friend, stopping next to his friend and climbing back up on the hood with him. "….. Don't like him, huh?"

"To say the very fucking least," Nick replied, voice cold.

"….. So what happened with him that makes you hate him so much?" Ellis asked, and Nick went for another peppermint stick, but found he was out. The Z-Man huffed, and crossed his arms insolently.

"Feeling a bit curious tonight?" he asked, voice calmer now.

"Only if you want me to be."

The gambler shrugged slowly. As much as he knew Ellis would probably be the best listener he could ask for, he didn't particularly like the idea of opening up about his history with Creevy. The only person who knew about it was Francis, and even that hadn't been really Nick's choice. Francis had simply been there and helped him through the ordeal. If that hadn't been the case he would have just kept it to himself. And besides, he didn't want to burden the kid with this kind of angst. Ellis would probably take it to heart and try to do something stupid, like provoke Creevy. Which, as Nick knew, was a terrible idea.

"….. No, kiddo, I don't really want to talk about that shit," Nick settled on. "I think I just want to look at the stars."

While the enigmatic nature of Nick was starting to grate him, Ellis just nodded, and turned back up at the sky as well.

"Sure is awesome," Ellis said, dreamily, and Nick's lips twitched into a smile.

"Sure is," he nodded.

"Thanks for bringin' me out here," Ellis said, crooking his head to the side to look at his friend, and the gambler looked over at him too. "I've had a real good time with you lately…. An' I'm glad you ended up here."

Nick smiled, unable to deny that his stomach was fluttering, as much as he would have loved to do so. He didn't get butterflies, dammit. "I'm glad too," he admitted, and then looked back at the expanse.

Any other time he might have started working on his companion again; might have attempted to seduce him on top of this car with brazen promises and sexual finesse. Might have rolled on top of him and ground his hips down, hoping to wheedle out a moan and then finally, FINALLY, break the dry spell. But somehow he felt that right now didn't need to be about seduction, or sex. At that moment, on the car with Ellis, watching the stars and the occasional flash of a distant meteor, it was wonderful just the way it was.

They stayed out in the Grey Zone longer than they probably should have, but they didn't have any more run ins with Infected and time just slipped on by. It wasn't until Nick looked at his watch and noticed it was almost midnight that he decided they should call it a night. So he drove Ellis back to his house, the kid talking about getting a book on charting the constellations so they could 'do it again sometime'.

Nick stopped the BMW outside the house, and Ellis grinned at him. "So what're you doin' tomorrow after work?" the younger man asked, and Nick chuckled.

"Why?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I wanna go to the library and get that book about stars as soon as I can," Ellis replied, matter of factly. "Now that I can see 'em, sorta. Might be a fun hobby."

"Why do you need me to do that?" Nick asked, and Ellis shifted in his seat.

"…. I guess I don't." He scratched his head, and looked out the side window.

"….. Well, I could use some new books to read," Nick continued. "It's not like there's much else to do in this town but read." He chewed on his fingernail, and nodded. "Sure, if you aren't getting sick of me being around, that is."

"Naw," Ellis replied, shaking his head. "Not yet anyway."

"Okay. We're done patrolling at five."

"I'm done at five too, I'll just head right to the library," Ellis said, excitedly.

"Sounds good, I can meet you there," Nick said. Ellis smiled again, and turned for the door. But before he turned the handle, he paused, and craned his neck to look back at Nick. "What?"

As much as he wished he wasn't, Ellis was tempted to invite the older man in. Under the guise of having a beer, of course, well aware that if he did invite him in it would no doubt lead to more than beer. He was willing to forgo willpower for the night, but he simply shook his head. "Nothin'. I'll see ya tomorrow!" He opened the door and exited before he could change his mind, walking up the porch steps and unlocking his door, planning on taking a nice cold shower. But he did turn and wave once, which got a small honk of the horn in response before the BMW pulled out of the drive and back towards the road. Ellis crossed his arms, and shook his head. He wasn't feeling nearly as self satisfied by his abstinence anymore, and wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it up. He thought that time would make it easier, but instead it felt like his self pleasuring was getting more frenzied and his interactions with Nick were becoming more charged with an underlying tension.

"Just keep it together," he muttered, though he was fairly convinced that mantra wasn't going to cut it soon enough.

Chapter Text

When Rochelle called Ellis on his lunch break and suggested they get a bite to eat, he thought he heard an extra lilt in her voice. He knew that she and Francis had officially started seeing each other, but hadn't seen her since the day her Op-Ed about the Z-Men came out. He wasn't sure what to expect of his friend, but when he saw that she had a gooey grin on her face as she sat at the table at Carlisle's, he knew that things were going well. He sat down in the chair across from her, and raised his eyebrows.

"Long time no see," he said, happily, and she shrugged.

"Sorry, I've been kind of busy."

"So I heard," he ribbed, teasingly, and she gave him a look though she was still smiling pleasantly. "Now that you have yourself a boyfriend-."

"Let's get one thing straight, okay? He's NOT my boyfriend," Rochelle said, stubbornly. "In this modern day and age I think that I should be able to take on a lover and not have to right away label it as something that would be more seemly, okay?"

"Jeeze, I didn't ask for the feminist lecture."

"Well you got it anyway."

"I was just sayin' that you two are real close, and you take up all've Francis' time, really breakin' into Guys Nights."

"'Guys Nights'?" she asked skeptically.

"Yeah, we had a good thing goin' on for one night there, just drinkin' beer an' hangin' out," he said, and smiled at Carlisle, who handed him a menu. "We were havin' it right here before he ran off to find you."

"What exactly happens on Guys Night before a girl busts it up?" she asked, amused.

"Oh lots of stuff, Guys Night is practically sacred. Right Carlisle?"

"Hm?" Carlisle asked.

"Guys Night. Drinkin' beer, talkin' an' stuff," Ellis pressed.

"Oh, yeah. Don't forget poker, bowling, and private sexism."

"Sounds like a real humdinger of a night," she said, and Carlisle smiled at them as he walked back towards the kitchen. "Well sorry if I took away the Third Musketeer."

"Aw, it's okay, I'm just teasin' you," Ellis said, waving her off. "Francis or no Francis, I'm just happy we're all havin' fun. Maybe we could all hang out sometime!"

"Yeah, maybe," she said, though her tone suggested otherwise. "So Francis tells me you've been seeing a lot of Nick lately-."

"Ro, come on-."

"I'm just curious!" she persisted. "I'm not going to scold your or anything like that, okay?" He wasn't sure he believed her, but nodded anyway.

"Yeah, we've been hangin' out," he said, warily. "It's not like we can't hang out, you know."

"I know."

"We actually had a real good time last night," Ellis continued, feeling a bit more encouraged. "He took me out into the Grey Zone, and we just sat and talked and looked at the stars. Did you know that the stars out there are REAL pretty? I never knew I liked stars so much until I saw them last night, an' tonight we're gonna go get books-."

"Wait sweetie, back up," she said, holding up a hand. "He took you out into the Grey Zone?"

"Yep."

She wanted to tread carefully, as she knew that if she began a tirade it would ruin their lunch. "That's a little dangerous, don't you think?"

"Well, kinda," Ellis admitted. "We did get attacked by a Hunter-."

"Oh my God!"

"-But I killed it and saved Nick's ass," he finished, proudly. "So besides the Infected it's real great out in the Grey Zone. It's quiet, and there are so many stars, Ro." He really couldn't get over the stars.

She pursed her lips, and kept her mouth shut until well after they'd ordered and long after Ellis sang the many praises of the Z-Man. She wasn't sure what to think of all this. While she was still angry about how badly Nick had hurt her friend, said friend seemed to be well over it. She pushed her spaghetti around her plate, and nodded every once in awhile to give a semblance of paying attention to the mechanic as he yammered on and on about Nick.

But she wasn't doing too well, as Ellis began to notice that she had barely said anything in the time it took for him to eat his burger. He swallowed a mouthful of food, and sniffed. "…. Should I just stop talkin' about him?"

"You can talk about him all you want," she replied, but it was obvious that she didn't really mean that. His forehead creased, and he looked down at his plate.

"Everyone deserves a second chance, Rochelle," he said, simply. "And it sounds like Nick really could use one. Do you know what he and Francis had to go through?"

She straightened up slightly, trying to remain disinterested but finding it impossible now that Francis had been brought into it. "What are you talking about?"

"Bein' a Z-Man isn't all it's cracked up to be I guess," Ellis replied, cryptically. "At least that's how Nick tells it."

"What did he say?" she asked, voice tightening.

"Um, just things," Ellis replied, realizing that maybe it wasn't his place to talk about this, as Francis hadn't exactly given him the go ahead.

"Nuh uh, you can't put that on the table and then just take it away!" she said, severely. "Ellis, what happened to Francis and Nick?"

"… I probably shouldn't have said anything-."

"Well it's too fucking late now, what happened to my boyfriend?" she snapped.

"Thought you said he wasn't your boyfriend-."

"Stop! Tell me what happened," she commanded, and Ellis moved his hat up higher on his head. Well, no getting around it now. So he told her everything Nick had told him; about the testing, about the scars up and down Nick's arms and how the Government had blackmailed them into service. As Rochelle listened her reaction was very similar to Ellis'; she became more and more angry. And it wasn't the usual indignant anger that she held for stories like this. Before the Green Flu had spun everything on it's head, she would read stories like this and shake her head, complain about it to her coworkers and friends, maybe donate money to a cause that reflected her feelings. But then the anger would fade, and she would move on to another cause that riled her up but didn't keep her up at night. But this anger was in her gut, festering and raw. This was personal.

"….. Motherfuckers," she said, quietly. "Why didn't Francis tell me-?"

"Don't tell him you know!" Ellis exclaimed, waving his hands in front of himself. "Because if you tell Francis then Francis will know that Nick told me and then if he confronts NICK, then NICK will know that I told YOU and I'll be in huge trouble!"

"This isn't high school, Ellis, we're all adults!" she snarled. "Nick can put on his big boy pants and deal with the fact you tell me everything!"

"Not everything!" Ellis protested. "I didn't tell you that Nick secretly likes romance novels… Oh SHIT-!"

"But MY point is that I have a right-Wait, did you say romance novels?" she asked, suddenly surprised, but then shook her head. "Whatever! I just wish Francis had mentioned something. I'm fucking the guy for goodness sake."

"YOU'RE the one who said you weren't his girlfriend, maybe he would only tell that to his girlfriend."

"…. There might be a story in this."

"Oh C'MON!" Ellis groused, rolling his eyes. "Always thinkin' like a reporter! What if Nick and Francis don't want you writin' a story on it-?"

"But if it's true, don't you think that people should know?" she asked, cutting him off. "It could be happening to other people too, Ellis, and what's WORSE, what if the Government is recruiting rapists and murders in exchange for potential freedom?"

"Nick an' Francis aren't rapists and murderers-."

"I know that, but what if others are? And besides, you don't even know what they have on Nick-!"

"You don't know what they have on Francis!"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," she muttered, digging through her bag to find her wallet. In fact, she didn't want to be around her friend anymore, not right now. She knew that it was probably just the stress related to this new information, but her anger was boiling over, and she figured she better leave before she said something she'd regret.

"… So are we gonna keep fightin' like this if I keep hangin' out with Nick?" he asked, and the question surprised her. Yeah, Ellis did speak his mind most of the time, but he hadn't said much about his friendship with Nick as he knew she didn't approve . She shrugged, knowing it was petty and unrealistic to think that Ellis should listen to her when it came to his friend choices. Especially since she was spending so much time with Francis. But she couldn't help it.

"….. I don't want to," she said, laying out her share of the check on the table. "But I don't want to have to be there to pick up the pieces either, sweetie. It was really hard for me to do it the last time."

He sighed, and nodded slowly. "…Yeah, I know. And I'm real grateful you were there when you were, okay?"

"That means a lot," she said, smiling. "I just hate the thought that he'll hurt you again. And guys like Nick? They don't change."

He looked at the table again, sadly. "I hope you're wrong 'bout that." Oh Jesus, she thought. Way to say something to make things worse, you idiot. She quickly reached out to rub his shoulder.

"I know," she replied. "If it's any consolation, I really hope I'm wrong too…. I should go. But we should try again later this week, okay?"

He raised his eyebrows carefully. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, for sure," she nodded. "... But I can't promise that I won't do some digging on this Z-Man stuff. I just can't."

Ellis nodded too, and shrugged. "Well as long as Nick doesn't find out, I guess-."

"Don't worry about him, I'm sneakier than that, I'm a reporter for God's sake," she said, flippantly, and he laughed sharply.

"Okay, Lois Lane, whatever you say."

"… I just want you to be happy, Ellis," she said, jumping back to the previous conversation. "And if being friends with Nick makes you happy, then….. I will just have to learn to get over it."

"Okay."

"But that doesn't mean I want to hang out with him or anything, okay?"

"That's fine, I don't think he wants to hang out with you either," he grinned, and she chuckled sardonically as she shook her head.

"I'll call you," she stated, and walked for the door. Ellis waved, and turned back to his onion rings. Suddenly he wasn't all that hungry. He wanted to believe that Rochelle was misjudging the situation. After all, she hadn't been hanging out with Nick like he had, and she hadn't seen the kinder and gentler side of the gambler.

But then….. Hadn't he seen this back during the outbreak? Hadn't he interacted with Nick the exact same way, and hadn't it all turned out to be one big lie? He pushed his onion rings across the plate, and rested his chin in his hand.

Carlisle came out to clear the plates, and examined Ellis' morose face. "Hey, Ellis…. Everything okay?"

"…. I'm not sure," the mechanic replied.

"…. You want a beer?"

"No, I hafta get back to work soon."

"You want some ice cream then?"

"…. Maybe. Hey Carlisle? Can I ask you a question?" he queried, needing to talk to SOMEONE.

"Sure."

"Do you think that people can change themselves?" he asked, seriously. "Or do you think that you're always the same person?" Carlisle was caught off guard by the rather philosophical question from the mechanic, and he crossed his arms briefly, thinking about it a few moments.

"I need more context."

Ellis wasn't willing to give the exact context, so he decided to be a bit vague. "Well, say that someone is kind've a jerk. Or, okay, a big jerk. Do you think that they can change, or do you think they'll always be a jerk?"

"I think that for a jerk to change they have to want to change," the owner replied, shrugging. "So if something makes them want to change, then yeah. They can change…. Why?"

"No reason," Ellis said, and laid out his money. "I don't think I need that ice cream, I should get back to the garage." The answer had neither eased his worries nor exacerbated them, and while he would have liked to have a more black and white feeling about the concept, he realized that there were worse things than grey areas.

"How many books on stars are you going to look at?" Nick asked, leaning against a wooden shelf impatiently, and Ellis shot him a look.

"Oh knock it off, we've only been here about ten minutes," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Star charts are star charts, there isn't any difference between them that I can see," Nick continued to grouse, and the mechanic turned his chin up in defiance.

"Well I'm gonna pick the one that's best for me, if you're bored you can go look at the ROMANCE novels," he ribbed, and Nick snorted.

"First of all, shows what you know cuz I'm not into romance novels," Nick said, crossing his arms. "….. I'm into Jodi Picoult, there's a difference."

"Not a big one."

"And second of all I already have her new book, so I'm set in THAT department," Nick muttered.

"You're such a dweeb," the younger man said, unfolding a chart from one of the books, and the Z-Man scowled.

"Yeah, well, I have bad news, you are too," he retorted, suddenly defensive of his reading choices. Ellis snickered, aware he'd struck a nerve. "…. So hey, what are you doing Saturday?"

"Workin' from ten til two fifteen."

"…. That's kind of a random time frame," Nick replied, cocking an eyebrow.

"Rick doesn't want me goin' into overtime."

"Ah."

"But that's it," Ellis said, pulling out another book. "Why?"

"Well, there's all this shit in the shed out back that we have no need for, so I was going to clean it out. Thought maybe you'd want dibs on whatever we find in there."

"But… is that stuff yours to give away? I thought that place came all furnished and shit."

"Well yeah, but as far as I'M concerned it's abandoned property," Nick scoffed. "And plus I have this recipe for risotto that I've wanted to try out, and Francis informed me that he hates risotto. And since YOU like any type of food under the sun-."

"'Cept oysters. And bananas. And cottage cheese. Oh, and I'm not too big on sushi either-."

"Fine, except those things, so since you like risotto-."

"Never had it."

"You'll like it, and since you'll like it-."

"How do you know?"

"BECAUSE IT'S LIKE GRITS ONLY BETTER," Nick said, sternly, sick of being interrupted.

"That sounds AWESOME!"

"Good, great, happy to hear it," Nick said, wondering if he was every going to be allowed to spit out just what he was thinking. "So what say I pick you up around four, we sort through the shed, and I cook you dinner?" He was trying to be nonchalant. It wasn't like they'd never had dinner together before. Yeah, he'd never actually cooked for the kid. Hell, he rarely cooked for anyone outside of himself. But he liked to cook, and Francis didn't appreciate the finer things. Ellis might, and even if he didn't he would be polite and pretend he did.

And who could possibly resist a guy who cooked a nice dinner?

"… I don't know," Ellis said, shifting in his seat.

Hm, evidently Ellis could. Nick picked up a book to keep up the appearance of nonchalance, but he couldn't prevent a frown. "How come?"

How come? Because that sounded suspiciously like a date, that was how come! But Ellis wasn't going to acknowledge that. Nor was he going to acknowledge that what they were doing at that moment was suspiciously date-like. "Well… I don't know, how good is risotto?"

"It's pretty much rice, cheese, and cream," Nick replied, hopes raising just a wee bit. "And mushrooms if you're into that."

"I'm into that…. Well, sure, if you need someone to eat it, I'll eat it," the mechanic relented, finally settling on a book.

"Okay," Nick nodded. "So you picked a book, huh?"

"Yep!"

"Great. Now let's go get me a book."

"In the romance section?"

"Drop it, would you?"

"Ha, no way."

"Christ."

As Nick and Ellis perused the romance section, Mark Creevy had retreated to the library to read the paper. If there was one thing that could wind down his day with the drop of a hat, it was reading about other people's problems, and he needed to clear his mind for a bit. He wished that the Roanoke II library had better access to newspapers from around the country, but considering the travel between cities and towns he knew he couldn't be too picky. He'd love to be able to read the Washington Times to keep up with world events, but he had to settle for the Roanoke II Herald and it's puff pieces, from Z-Men to pecan pie baking old ladies. This was why he didn't bother to subscribe to it, he wasn't going to pay his hard earned money for the tripe the Podunk rag trotted out.

As he settled down in a large chair, folding the paper over, he snorted sharply when he saw an unwelcome sight in the romance section. Of all the places for Nick to be on a day like today, it had to be the library. It was as if Nick was stalking him everywhere, as if he couldn't turn around without seeing the Z-Man in the same vicinity. And while he knew that it wasn't as bad as all that, sometimes it would feel like that. That was what happened when you lived in a 5000 person town, he supposed. And he would have felt better about it if his plan had been able to click together in his mind, but there was a key component that had stymied him up until this point, a piece of the puzzle that was keeping him on edge and high strung. The Harvest Festival was two weeks away, so time was running out. And seeing Nick in places like this when all he wanted to do was read his paper in peace, well, it made him more desperate for his plan to come together.

He hid behind the newspaper when Nick's companion suddenly turned, holding one of the books up and seemingly reading the summary on the back in a teasing way. Where had Creevy seen him before? He peeked around the paper, a bit, just in time to see Nick make a face and swipe at the book. But the younger man leapt away deftly, laughing as he did so. Creevy squinted, running that familiar face through his memories, and then recalled that this as the mechanic that had towed his car when he first arrived to town. Now that the thought about it, he'd seen the redneck in the company of the Z-Man before. Either way, Creevy just wanted them both to leave.

As Creevy spied on the two men, Barbara Dane biked slowly past the library. It had been an uneventful day at the bakery, and she wanted nothing more than to slip into a nice hot bubble bath. But she was momentarily distracted by the familiar sight of Ellis' truck in the small parking lot. She hadn't seen much of Ellis lately. He hadn't answered his phone evenings, and the past Sunday he hadn't answered his door when she brought by a basket of biscuits. Yes, she'd seen him at Church, but he had rushed out before she could say hello. In fact, she hadn't made any contact with him since she had picked up dinner at Carlisle's, when he'd been out with that obnoxious friend of his. Obnoxious friend indeed.

So she hopped off her bike, chained it to a pole, and eagerly walked into the building.

It was almost serendipity.

"Oh GOD, how can you READ this stuff?" Ellis giggled as he flipped through a book entitled 'My Untamed Rancher'. "I mean, listen to this: 'She pulled the cotton fabric down from his alabaster shoulders-'. Oh Lord, '-and pulled him close to her heaving bosom. 'Oh Luke, Luke, I want you to show me the joys and secrets of love, those that I've never experienced-'', JEEZE, I can't go on!"

"I don't read romance novels!" Nick snapped, trying to grab the book back from his friend, but Ellis yanked it away again. "You are such a twerp!"

"How many times can you describe someone as an Adonis?" Ellis pondered, whipping himself around to avoid Nick's hands.

Barbara trotted up the steps, running a hand through her blonde hair in hopes of taming it after the October wind had tossed it about violently. She hadn't seen the object of her affection on the main floor, so that meant he had to be with the genre fiction and periodicals. Perhaps it was a little stalker-esque, but she didn't care. It was the kind of thing a person in a romantic comedy would do, wasn't it? Her flats clicked against the wooden floor as she rushed through the aisles, looking for Ellis, not sure what she would say to him. She would probably ask him if he would go with her to the Harvest Festival, no longer willing to wait for him to ask her. And she hoped that he would say yes, though there was no reason for him not to.

She paused by the periodicals and newspapers, chest heaving from the rushing she had done, and looked down the romance aisle. She'd found Ellis, it was true. But she'd also found Nick, who was trying to grab a book from the mechanic's hand, squirming against the smaller man's body and muttering expletives despite the smile on his face. Ellis was still laughing, that wonderful laugh and wonderful smile amplified more than she'd heard or seen before, all because of that FRIEND of his. Her brow knit carefully, and her fists clenched again. Why did that Z-Man have to monopolize the mechanic's time? And why hadn't Ellis ever smiled at HER like that?

Creevy tried to concentrate on his paper, but he had noticed that someone had paused not three feet away from his seat. He looked over, and saw the blonde girl who worked in the bakery he frequented on occasion. And she looked quite distraught about something. He followed her eye line, and saw that she too was vexed about the two men horsing around in the romance section. For a moment he was unsure as to why she would care, unless she was a die-hard believer in a quiet library. Which she may have been. But then it hit him; he'd seen her outside of the bakery environment. She had been at the town meeting at the rec center. He remembered because he had noticed how attractive she was as she slipped her arm in the mechanic's, and he had wondered how it was that hicks always got the cute girls…

But judging from how she was scowling at Nick and his companion, Creevy deduced that perhaps she wasn't taken after all, but simply wished she was.

And suddenly, the missing puzzle piece appeared before him.

He slowly smiled, and folded his paper. He had to proceed with utmost caution.

Barbara was going to turn and walk away from the sight, when someone to her right whistled. She jumped sharply, turning her head towards the noise, and saw the CEDA agent sitting in a chair. "It's amazing how they don't even notice we're here, isn't it?" he asked, and she swallowed, embarrassed that she'd been caught staring.

"I, I didn't notice," she lied. "I was just trying to decide if I wanted to get a romance or-."

"Please, spare me," Creevy said, and she averted her eyes to the floor. She looked up momentarily to see that Ellis and Nick had finally stopped squabbling and were now looking at some other book, snickering at the content of it. "He's known for this you know."

"…. Pardon me?"

"Nick," Creevy said lowly, hoping not to draw attention to them, though the Z-Man and his friend weren't paying them any heed, caught up in their own little world as they made fun of the soapy books. "I'll tell you one thing, if I believed in such things I would think that he was an incubus. I've seen him catch all types in his web."

"…. Web?" she asked, trying to sound unconcerned, but he could hear her voice catch.

"Oh yeah," Creevy nodded. "I've seen him charm the pants off everyone from single women to married men."

The very thought made Barbara's face flush. "Married-? But, if they have wives, why would they want to sleep with a man?"

Creevy shrugged, and they watched the two men walk away from the romances and for the stairs, backs turned the entire time. "That's one of the problems I have with the guy. He can get anyone he wants, but always seems to go for those who belong to other people. Just for fun. Just to mess with them."

"Really?" she asked. Right, hell if I know, sweetcakes, he thought, I'm just making this shit up as I go along.

"Truly," he lied. "He's relentless. I'm just sorry to see someone else falling for that crap."

"Oh, no, you don't understand," she said, shaking her head. "Ellis isn't like that. They're just friends, they knew each other during the Flu." Hm, interesting, Creevy thought, though he didn't let himself look surprised.

"Just friends. So that's what your boyfriend told you, hm?" he asked, and her face turned even redder. Though this time it may have been out of irritation. "I can assure you that Nick isn't 'just friends' with anyone."

"Why are you telling me this? Why do you care what I think and feel?" she asked, warily. Hm, good point, he thought. She certainly wasn't living up to his opinion of blonde females in the brains department. But he mustered up the most innocent look he could, and pat her arm, kindly. His touch made her recoil a bit, as his hands were clammier than she was comfortable with.

"I would just hate to see another innocent person get hurt," he said, voice oozing with overemphasized sincerity, and decided it was time to go in for the kill. "….. Listen sweetheart. Should you decide that you'd prefer Nick not be around your boyfriend-."

"They're just friends," she said, firmly, though both of them heard the uncertainty in her voice.

"Well, that's good. But should you open your eyes and decide you don't want them around each other, do get in touch with me," he said, removing his business card from his coat and writing out his address on the back. "I think that we can really help each other in this situation."

"….. I don't think it will be necessary," she said, though she accepted the card and shoved it in her purse. "You don't know Ellis as well as I do. He isn't like-."

"He isn't a fag?"

"Don't use that word around me," she snapped. Gosh she was full of surprises. "It's hateful."

"My apologies."

"I think your concerns are misguided, Agent Creevy," she stated, resolutely. "They're just friends, nothing more. You're reading too deeply into it, finding clues that simply aren't there. I would expect more from a Government official, honestly."

"…. Fine," he said, unfolding his paper again, though he was frantically trying to think of a way to entice her just a bit more. At least plant a seed of doubt. It was clear as day that this Ellis fellow and Nick were close, and while Creevy didn't know how close, it was close enough that it had this blonde beauty flustered. So romantic relationship or not, he could at least use insecurity to his advantage. "You're right, I don't know Ellis. But I DO know Nick." He removed a second card from his breast pocket, and placed it in her palm, firmly. "You should keep that in mind." And with a clipped gesture of his wrists he snapped the paper, ending the conversation. Barbara remained there for a few beats, but then stormed for the steps, ready for that bath more than ever now. She rushed down the stairs, and had to catch one last glimpse of the two men as they stood in line at the circulation desk. Were they standing awfully close to each other? She wasn't sure. Had it just been Creevy she wouldn't have given it a second thought. It had been fairly obvious at the town meeting that he did not care for Nick. But Wednesday had said something too…

Don't be stupid, Barbara, she thought, pushing the doors open and rushing for her bike. Rumor and innuendo do not make fact. Guys can be close too. She wasn't really into the idea of asking Ellis to the Harvest Festival with his friend around, so she resigned herself to asking on Sunday when she dropped off the usual baked goods. And that way she could make herself all the more enticing, and not worry about wind-snarled hair.

Back in the library, Nick and Ellis had finished checking out their books and were walking for the door.

"So what did you end up gettin'?" Ellis asked. Nick was silent for a moment, and then held up the book.

"Jodi Picoult," he said, quietly. Ellis pursed his lips tightly, trying his damnedest not to laugh. "… What?"

"Nothin'."

Chapter Text

Nick was carrying his record player down to the living room when he met Francis at the bottom of the steps.

"I need to borrow some condoms," the biker announced, and Nick made a face.

"Tell you what, just keep them, I'm not going to want them back," he replied, sidestepping his friend.

"Ho ho ho, you're a real joker," Francis sneered. "But seriously, can I get some from you?"

"What do I look like to you, a pharmacy?" Nick asked, setting his player on the bar and plugging it into the wall socket.

"No, you look like a friend who is in a generous mood," Francis stated, leaning on the bar and tilting his head to the side. "Ro's almost out, so I thought instead of using up the last of hers I'd just snag some of yours. Not like you've been using them lately."

Nick flipped him off a moment, but then nodded. "Fine, take as many as you need," he agreed. "… How long are you going to be over there tonight?"

"Gee, Mom, I didn't realize I had to check in with you."

"Oh Christ, shut up, I'm just curious."

"Probably all night. How come?"

"Well Ellis is coming by to help me sort through the shit in the shed," Nick replied, and walked for the stairs again in an effort to avoid the third degree. But Francis followed, more than ready to call him out on his evasive bullshit.

"Hold on, what's wrong with the shed? There's nothing in there but my bike, some tools, and a bunch of boxes left by the previous owners," he said, keeping a few steps behind as they went back upstairs. Nick shrugged.

"Just thought we could use more storage."

"Not likely, our job won't last forever, Suit, and you know it," Francis threw back, and chuckled snidely. "You just wanted an excuse to get Motor Mouth over here!"

"Yeah, so what if I did?" Nick snapped. "That's what I do! I come up with excuses!"

"True, but you've come up with a LOT of excuses to get him to come by," Francis said, smugly, as he followed Nick into his room. "Usually you've lost interest by now. Kid's playing hard to get and it's driving you up the wall."

"You know I'm not into the people who play hard to get," Nick muttered, gathering up his box of albums.

"I know, and that's why I'm confused."

"Look, just mind your own business, okay?" the gambler growled, carrying the box of records out of the room. "As far as you know we're just going through the shed. God knows what we'll find in it, I'm expecting at least three dead possums, and if we're here all autumn I'd prefer it be clean."

"Okay, sure, whatever you say," Francis said, giving up on a straight answer. "Hey, can I get those condoms while I'm in here?"

"Check the wooden box under the bed!" Nick called over his shoulder.

"Score!" Francis said, and dropped to his knees to reach under the bed. He jumped up with the wooden box in hand. He popped it open and shoved a few of the foil wrapped prophylactics into his vest pocket, and then turned to Nick's closet. He thought for a few seconds, and then cupped his mouth with one hand. "Hey Suit!"

"Whaaaat?" Nick groaned from the main room.

"Can I borrow one of your ties?"

"…. What?" Francis pulled a tie from Nick's closet, and rushed down the steps.

"I might want to play Blind Man's Bluff with Rochelle tonight but a tie looks classier than a dish rag," Francis explained. Nick's face went from confused to incredulous, and he grabbed for his tie.

"My tie is not going to participate in your sex games, get your own fucking tie," Nick said, yanking it from Francis' hand. "This is Versace for God's sake."

"What? It's not like YOU'RE going to wear it tonight when you're cleaning the shed," Francis snickered.

"Eat me."

"No thanks."

Eventually Francis got the hint that he should just leave his partner alone, so Nick was able to spend some time with his thoughts before he went to pick up the mechanic. These thoughts mainly consisted of 'just what is it you hope to achieve tonight?' and 'don't drop the ball'. How those two connected and intersected, he wasn't sure. He did know that if there was going to be one sure-fire method of manipulative seduction for the kid, it would HAVE to be through his stomach.

He better not be lying when he says he likes mushrooms, Nick thought as he laid out the multiple types of fungus on the table. While he was frustrated that the local grocery store didn't have the fancy stuff he would have liked, he should have considered it a miracle that they had more than the ones you find in cans.

By the time Francis announced he was going to Rochelle's, Nick began to feel his stomach start to roil. Which was incredibly obnoxious to the con man. He had NO reason to feel nervous about this. He could just read the situation, and if it was going in his favor, he could make the move he'd been aching to make since that night in the Grey Zone. Hell, since he saw Ellis in Carlisle's for the first time.

He looked at his watch, and swore. It was almost four, and he hated being late. So he rushed out the door, mumbling a few more swear words for good measure.

Ellis sat on his front stoop, chin resting in his hand and elbow on knee, and he tapped his foot impatiently. Where was Nick? When the gambler had offered to pick him up Ellis assumed he would be on time, but it was already four ten. And for Nick to be ten minutes late, that was saying something. So when the BMW pulled up not two minutes later, Ellis stood up, relieved to see that he hadn't been stood up. Nick honked, and Ellis waved eagerly, bounding for the car and hopping in the front seat.

"I was startin' to think you'd changed your mind," the mechanic said, and Nick shook his head.

"Just lost track of time, kiddo, sorry," the older man apologized. "Ready for some good old fashioned shed cleanin'?" Ellis might have been a bit insulted by the drawl the con man had adopted, but instead he just smiled and nodded.

"I get dibs on anything weird we might find," he said. "Any skulls, or pelts, they're mine!"

"I'm not going to fight you for that weird shit, Overalls, don't worry," Nick said, wrinkling his nose. "So what time do I have to get you home?"

"Huh? I don't have a curfew or nothin'."

"Well you have a cat that likes to piss on your bed if you don't feed him, that's pretty much a curfew," Nick replied, rolling his eyes. He never did like cats. Ellis chuckled a bit, and scratched the back of his neck.

"Uh, actually, I fed him already," he replied, hesitantly, and Nick quickly looked over at him. "Just cuz I knew you were cookin' dinner, and didn't know how long I'd be. So… Yeah, don't worry 'bout that."

Nick's lips parted in a subtle smile, and he shrugged. "Consider me not worried." In fact, consider me thrilled, he thought, and sped up his car.

Francis had been right: there wasn't much in the shed that needed sorting. They'd found a lot of tools, some folded up lawn chairs, and yes, a possum nest, which caused Nick to spin around and walk quickly from the shack and vow to never go back inside of it. 'You kill zombies for a livin' but can't even deal with a possum?' Ellis had teased, which made the con man flip him off from around the door. Ellis had picked up the pipe that had been used by Nick on the day of their friendly reconciliation, and tried to entice the possum to leave, but gave up after Nick threw a rock at it from a few yards away, causing it to hiss and spit. Ellis opted to close the door instead. He'd seen the damage a possum could do if provoked, Keith had a bunch of scars on his neck to prove they weren't to be toyed with.

"So are you gonna tell Francis that his bike shares space with an angry possum?" Ellis asked as they walked back up to the house, and Nick snorted, shaking his head.

"He doubted me and my predictions, he can learn the hard way for all I care," he replied, and Ellis snorted a giggle, which made Nick snicker too. "Well, I guess we're going to have an early dinner, Overalls."

"Well shit, things could be worse I reckon," the mechanic said. "Once the possum calms down I might go pick up that hatchet, it's a nice one an' I could use it with winter comin'."

"Ha, winter. You guys don't get winter," Nick said, sneering.

"Winter enough, Nick, I promise ya. You'll see," the younger man said, defiantly.

"Well, we'll see if I'm still here come winter," the gambler replied, not really thinking. Ellis bit his lip momentarily, realizing that it hadn't really occurred to him that Nick was eventually going to move on. That was the Z-Man's job, after all, so why hadn't he really thought about it? He swatted at a bug, and sniffed quietly, suddenly feeling less cheerful because Nick was going to up and leave him again, eventually.

Nick didn't notice the shift in mood, and hopped up on the porch. "You want anything to drink while I cook?"

"I… I don't know, I guess," Ellis said, pulled from his deliberations. "What do you have?"

"Check the bar in the living room, we have lots of shit," Nick replied, removing his shoes as they walked into the house. "There's a mini fridge with beer, but Francis has more beer in the pantry if you don't like the selection."

"I'll find somethin'," Ellis nodded, and Nick saluted at him, walking into the kitchen. Ellis moved to the bar, and noticed the record player on the wooden counter and a box of records on one of the stools. Curiosity got the better of him, and he began to flip through the albums in search of something to bring some levity to the situation. He searched for some group, any group, that he'd like. But Nick's albums consisted of two categories: those he'd never heard of (such as The Psychedelic Furs, Joy Division, and The Jesus and Mary Chain) and those he HAD heard of but wasn't too fond of (for instance, Dean Martin, and Leonard Cohen). He settled on The Beach Boys album 'Surf's Up', expecting some good old fashioned surf rock as he put it on Side B. So he was surprised when it was mellower, a bit more subdued and less poppy. But of course Nick would prefer this to the upbeat sounds of 'Surfin' Safari'. He smiled though, enjoying the sound, and turned it up, walking into the kitchen to see Nick chopping mushrooms.

"Hear you found the music," the gambler said, not looking up from his work.

"Yep," Ellis nodded, hopping up on the counter and lightly swinging his legs as he watched Nick prepare the food. "You like to cook?"

"Eh, I guess," Nick replied. "Gotta eat. I'd rather eat something tasty than shitty mac and cheese from a box."

"I wish I knew how to cook," Ellis sighed. "Mom always cooked, said that I didn't hafta learn cuz I'd find a girl who'd cook for me an' until then she'd do it… So much for THAT, huh?"

"… Yeah, so much for that," Nick nodded, pausing a moment.

"Did your Mom teach you?"

Ha, right, like his Mom knew how to cook. "Nope. Self taught."

"That's SO cool," Ellis said, a bit jealous. "I wish I could teach myself how to do that."

"It isn't hard. Just takes practice," Nick replied, dumping the mushrooms in the skillet. "Hope you like fungus." He smiled wryly, and Ellis' cheeks flushed momentarily, that look getting to him once again.

"I do," he answered, turning his face to the floor in hopes of hiding the blush. But it hadn't gone unnoticed by the older man, who smugly stirred the mushrooms around. "Hey Nick?"

"Hm?"

"Do you know when you an' Francis are leavin'?" he asked. Nick looked over at him, surprised by the question that seemed to come out of the blue, and then looked back at the food.

"No, kiddo, I don't know," he said. "It's really up to my bosses in Washington. And I haven't heard dick. That fuck Creevy might know, but I'm not asking him."

Ellis was silent as Nick added the rest of the ingredients to the pan, thinking that such a complicated recipe probably needed all of Nick's concentration, and waited until Nick had put the lid on the food to let it simmer before he opened his mouth again.

"…. So what did Creevy do to you that made you so mad?" he asked, and Nick turned to face him, eyes suddenly intense. Ellis immediately regretted asking the question, remembering that Nick had rebuffed his question before, and he really hoped that he wasn't going to get a good scolding.

Nick's first intention was to, indeed, scold the hell out of him for bringing that up again, especially since he'd said he didn't want to talk about it. But when he met Ellis' eyes, he could see that the blue spheres were worried more than anything. It wasn't morbid curiosity on his part; he was genuinely concerned.

"… I'll tell you later, okay?" he said. "I… It's not a nice story. Not something to talk about over dinner… Okay?"

"… Okay," Ellis agreed. This was a little better than his previous reply. At least this one implied that he'd tell him SOMEDAY. Nick took the lid off the food and stirred it, frown set on his lips, and Ellis regretted even bringing it up in the first place. "I never got a beer. You want one?"

"Sure," Nick nodded, and Ellis hopped off the counter and walked for the main room.

"What do you want?"

"Moose Drool."

"WHAT?" Ellis exclaimed, and Nick grinned at the kid's reaction.

"It's a beer from Montana. I got hooked on the stuff out West."

"That sounds GROSS."

"It isn't!"

"Gross," Ellis repeated as he walked into the living room.

"Well it's better than that piss YOU like drinking!" Nick called defensively, and turned his attention back to the meal.

Rochelle rolled over in her bed, snuggling up against her lover as he looked at the ceiling in a satisfied manner. "I told you the dishtowel would work just fine for that game, Francis," she said, gesturing to the now discarded makeshift blindfold.

"I wanted to class it up for ya, but you're right, it got the job done," the biker said, petting her hair.

"I'm not sure that one can 'class up' the sexy version of 'Blind Man's Bluff', but the fact you wanted to make an effort says volumes," she grinned, laying her head on his chest. He smirked to himself, and was about to suggest that they go for another round, but a 'ding' from the main room made her sit up.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and she quickly smiled his way as she grabbed her panties and a tee shirt off the floor.

"Nothing's wrong, my computer makes that sound when I have an email," she explained, clothing herself. "You just wait here, I have to check that."

"Aw, can't it wait?" he asked.

"Sorry, I told you before, work is important to me," she reminded him. "I'll be back in a bit, this might be the email I've been waiting for." He nodded, reluctantly, and spread his arms across her bed, thinking that maybe he could take a short nap before she came back.

Rochelle sat at her computer and opened her inbox, hoping that her efforts from the day before had finally paid off. Ellis had planted a seed in her brain, and she couldn't shake the growing fascination with the Zombie Extermination branch of the Government and how they operated. She had written one of her contacts, one who was adept at getting certain types of information that the reporter otherwise had little access to. She'd met him in a chat room when she was still working at that Ohio news station and trying to find a way to move up in the ranks (though she never got the credit), and was very happy to find out that he was still alive and as secretive as ever. She never asked Set, as he called himself, how he got his info, and she slept perfectly fine at night.

Here are the numbers you wanted was all the email said, followed by a list oh telephone numbers and names to match. She skimmed through them, and shook her head in amazement. Always good to have a hacker on your side, she thought, and began to write down the phone numbers.

Francis, having been unable to fall asleep with the sound of her keyboard clicking away, walked back into the main room of her apartment. "Sounds like that was the email you were waiting for, huh?" She minimized the screen, and turned around to smile at him.

"Yeah, it sure was," she said.

"Well what's the next article you're writing about?" he asked, and she glanced at the desk, guiltily.

"It's not important," she said. "You'd be bored hearing about my job."

"Aw come on, I liked your last article when you pretty much called those pharmacists Nazis, that was hilarious," Francis said, sitting on the couch. "You shoot your mouth off for a living, what could be more interesting than THAT?"

"Well… This one is kind of a side project I'm working on," she said, evasively. "I may not even write an article about it if I can't find anything solid. Hearsay and speculation does not an article make, you know?"

"And that sounds even cooler, you aren't making your case, Cupcake," Francis said, standing up and trying to catch a glimpse of what she was writing down. She smacked a hand over the phone numbers, and gave him a dirty look.

"Francis, it isn't your business," she stated, though it very well may have been his business. "It's… Look, if I give you a taste will you stop pestering me?"

"Probably," he nodded, trying to snatch the numbers from her hand. She huffed, wondering for the fifth or sixth time why it was she was so attracted to someone who acted like such a child, and slapped his hand away. "Ow!"

"So, I talked to Ellis yesterday, and he told me that Nick's recruitment into the Z-Men was a bit suspect," she said, mincing words carefully and not bringing him into it. After all, she promised Ellis that Francis wouldn't find out that HE'D been mentioned.

Francis' eyes narrowed, and he stopped trying to grab the paper. "….. Okay, look, I know that you want juicer stories to report on, but I think there are better things to talk about."

"Not me, if this one is true it's incredibly juicy," she said, opening the window again. "All of these men are Z-Men who have records, just like Nick, and I'm going to see if they had similar coercion tactics used on them. And these are just the ones who haven't gone back to prison for one thing or another, if I can get my hands on THOSE guys and find out just what they did to get sent back to prison-."

"You shouldn't dig too deeply into this, Cupcake," Francis said, shaking his head.

"I'm sure Woodward and Bernstein were told the same thing," she muttered. "I'm also going to give Creevy a call-."

"DON'T," Francis said, so sharply that Rochelle jumped in her seat and spun around to look at him. He regretted being so abrupt, but he hadn't quite mastered the art of subtlety, so he wasn't surprised that he hadn't been able to hide his opposition from his lover. "…. Listen here, if you start poking your nose into this, you might find yourself in WAY over your head. Especially if you go after a man like Creevy."

"Psh, right, because what on Earth could a CEDA agent do to me?" she asked, skeptically, and Francis shook his head.

"You know, Nick and I used to think that too, but I can tell you something," he replied, lowly. "He has his ways. And they're pretty fucking awful."

"… How do you mean?" she asked.

"I'm not going into it because it's not my story to tell," he replied.

"Francis-!"

"But Rochelle, please, PLEASE, just leave this alone," he begged, taking her hand in his. "If this goes well here, it could be our last mission, and-."

"You want me to keep this quiet because it might be your last MISSION-?" she exclaimed, appalled, but he snorted and shook his head.

"God, hold your horses, would ya?" he snapped, her stubbornness rubbing him the wrong way. "But MORE importantly, if you got on the wrong side of Creevy, he would retaliate. And then I would be arrested."

"Why would YOU be arrested?" she asked.

"Because I would fucking kill him," he muttered, lowly. "I didn't kill him after what he did to Nick, but I sure would if he did anything to you."

"…. Wow," she said, nearly speechless. "…. Francis, if this guy is so dangerous and awful, why don't you want him exposed for what he is?"

"Oh, I would love it if he was exposed, believe me," he answered, shaking his head. "I would love it if someone would show the world just what a motherfucker he is. But that isn't YOUR job. You're a damn good reporter, and you're smart as hell, but you write Op-Ed pieces for a town newspaper, Cupcake. I don't want you getting hurt just because you have a need to prove to yourself that you've got what it takes."

She didn't know whether to be incredibly pissed or incredibly touched. On one hand, he was skewing her sense of duty as a reporter to get the truth out there and making it seem like she was simply trying to climb the career ladder with scandal and sensationalism. And he was being just a little bit sexist in assuming that she was a little lady that needed protecting.

But he was also worried about her. And that was admittedly sweet.

"….. Okay, Francis," she said, giving him a kind smile and rubbing his arm. "If you want me to drop it, I will drop it." He breathed a sigh of relief, and nodded.

"Thanks, Cupcake. You'll thank me later, I promise."

"Oh I'm sure I will," she said, brushing his cheek with the back of her hand. "Tell you what. Why don't you go grab that dishrag and start up another game of 'Blind Man's Bluff'? I'll be there in a couple of minutes to try to dodge you, okay?"

Like he had to be asked twice. "Oh you got it, baby doll," he said, hiking the sheet up around his waist and rushing for the bedroom. "I'm gonna get you in under a minute this time!"

"Oh I'm sure you will," she sang, and turned back to her computer screen. She licked her lips once, and wrote out a message to Set.

Hey Set. These look good. I have one more favor to ask of you. I want you to find whatever you can on a CEDA agent named Mark Creevy. I'm not sure if I'm going to do anything with it, but I want to check a couple of things out about this guy.

She sent the message, and leaned back in her chair. While she didn't think she was going to do anything with it just yet, it would be nice to have for future reference. Just in case.

"I'm blindfolded!" Francis called from the bedroom, and she closed the computer window.

"You'll never find me, baby!" she called coyly, and strolled back into the bedroom.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Ellis was the first into Nick's room, and whistled at how bare it was. Once Nick joined him after cleaning up a bit, he looked at him and smiled carefully. "Man, you haven't put anything in here, have you?"

"No reason, not like we're staying," Nick replied, closing the door behind him and tossing their bundle of discarded clothing into the hamper for the time being. Ellis shrugged, and let the blanket, which was covering him, fall onto the floor. He walked to the window, and looked out at the trees. He remembered spending many fall evenings climbing the trees in his backyard. These trees weren't the same, no trees would compare to those back home in Savannah. But they were still nice. He wished his house had such nice trees in his backyard.

"You have a nice view," he stated.

"If you like trees."

"I like trees," Ellis confirmed. "Do you?"

"…. I don't really think about it," Nick replied.

"Is it weird to jump from place to place?" the younger man asked, still looking out over the property. He wasn't able to face the older man as he asked that question, as he didn't like to think about the fact that he would jump from Roanoke II as well, eventually.

"I don't know. I've done it since I was eighteen, so it's not all that weird to me," he answered. Shit, as soon as he graduated from high school and told his parents to go to hell he'd hopped on a bus to Vegas. That was the start of his consistent wandering, and so it was only appropriate that in this new society of being practically forced to stay in place (sans travel permit) he'd found himself in a wandering position again.

"I don't know if I could do that," Ellis continued, putting his hands to the window. "I mean, I like the idea of travelin', ya know. But not permanently. If I can't go back to Savannah, I'll stay here in Roanoke II. It's nice havin' a home, you know?"

"….. Can't say I do, I haven't had one in a long ass time," the con man said, feeling this conversation was getting a little too deep for his tastes. So he ran his tongue across his teeth as he walked up behind his newfound companion and snaked his arms around the toned chest. Ellis sighed contently, and set his arms on top of his lover's. Nick nipped at the mechanic's ear, enjoying the shiver that went through the body in his arms, and nudged his hips against Ells' ass. The kid turned around in Nick's embrace, and kissed him gingerly on the lips.

"You're still revvin' to go, huh?"

"You're the one who hadn't had much in awhile, I'm just trying to do you a favor," Nick said, though yeah, he was itching to go again. He began to kiss down Ellis' neck, delicately running his fingers up and down Ellis' back, and the younger man breathed in deeply, taking in that molasses scent that he loved so much.

"… Hey Nick?" he asked, a thought suddenly striking him.

"Yeah?" was the response, though it was more into his neck.

"… How come you stopped havin' sex with me?" he asked, shyly. Nick halted for a beat, and then cocked his head, confused.

"Huh?"

"Back when we were on the road, I mean," Ellis clarified, carefully. "You just kinda stopped, and you said it was cuz I wasn't any good, but tonight you said that was a lie, so I'm… confused, I guess." Nick exhaled slowly, and pulled away, vaguely ashamed. "Cuz, I know that I wasn't too good, since I'd never done it before, but-."

"Stop, just stop," Nick said, holding up a hand. "That's not…. I mean, yeah, you were green but you weren't BAD, okay? You were pretty good. Tonight you were REALLY good."

"Yeah?" Ellis asked, chest puffing out a bit with sudden confidence.

"Fuck yeah," Nick nodded.

"….. So what was it?" the younger man continued, sitting on the bed, and Nick huffed, not wanting to talk about it. "I hafta know, Nick, I know you don't like talkin' and you said a lot tonight, but please. I hafta know what I did wrong."

Nick put his palm to his forehead and rubbed an eye, stalling, as he hated going into his feelings and motivations. He'd never liked opening up about that stuff, and usually he would flat out refuse. Whenever his ex wanted him to talk about his feelings he would just clamp shut and not say ANYTHING for the rest of the night. So what if she pissed and moaned about it? But he didn't want to hear Ellis piss and moan. Not because it would get on his nerves, but because it would make him feel bad. And wasn't that the problem at the heart of it?

"….. Look kiddo, can I just leave it at it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me?"

"Nope."

"FUCK."

"Sorry! That ain't gonna cut it!" Ellie replied, firmly, and Nick ran his hands through his hair, wishing they could just start fucking again. "I need to know."

Nick looked at the floor, face screwed up in an uncomfortable frown, and he straightened up his back, rallying the spirit to bring it up. "Listen… So it started in Rayford, right?"

"What did?"

"Our… thing," Nick specified without getting too specific.

"Oh, yeah," Ellis nodded. "That was the time you dry humped the shit out've me."

"You have such a way with words," Nick said, sarcastically, and he sat down as well. "It started in Rayford. We did that, and I kissed you."

"Yeah."

"Then it was the blowjob near Whispering Oaks," Nick listed. "At that motel outside that amusement park, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." He blushed at the memory.

"And the make out sessions at any moment we had privacy."

"Yep."

"And then we had sex in the Tunnel of Love, right? That was the first time?"

Ellis agreed, smiling faintly at the memory. "Yeah."

"And then we were having SEX whenever we had a moment of privacy, right?" Nick continued.

"Yeah, but I don't-."

"And the Shanty Town, that was the last time, correct?" Nick asked.

"Nick, I don't understand-."

"Is that correct?" Nick asked again, and Ellis nodded.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, scratching the back of his neck. Nick nodded, and began to wring his hands together.

"I needed to know that it was real," the gambler said. "I was having a great time, and I was pretty sure that I was into you. But I wanted to be sure that it wasn't just because you were the only person I was fucking, and might be the only person I was fucking for the rest of my life. So I stopped fucking you, because I HAD to be sure that it wasn't just….. Fucking."

Ellis scratched his elbow, and nodded. "Oh."

"Yeah…. I really didn't want you to end up being like my ex wife. Because frankly, you're a much better person than she is…. Was," he said, bemused leer spreading across his lips. "I would have told you why, but I… I don't know, I didn't want you to know that I was that invested. Because… what would a hot twenty three year old see in a messed up thirty five year old who happens to give great head?"

"I never thought that-!"

"Well I know that now!" Nick replied, a bit harshly. He hated admitting his insecurities. "Jesus. But when I was in the Sugar Mill, and I had to get you that candy bar… That was when I knew. Because with most everyone else I've ever been with, I was never willing to risk much for them. I certainly wasn't going to take on a zombie to get them candy." Ellis chuckled, and shrugged. "I was going to get you aside, give you the candy, and start up again like nothing had happened. But you know what happened next."

"Yeah," Ellis nodded, sadly.

"I was going to tell you everything," Nick said, his fingers entwining tensely. "But then we were separated, and I didn't get a chance."

"….. Well, you told me now," the younger man said. "….. It was still a rotten thing to do, you know."

"I know… I'm….. I'm sorry," Nick finally said. "For everything... I fucked up."

Ellis placed his elbows on the bed and leaned back into them, and looked over at his ex. He figured that it took a lot for Nick to apologize for anything, but at the same time when he DID apologize, he probably really meant it.

So Ellis leaned forward again, and found Nick's eyes with his own, locking them together. He smiled at him, and rubbed his shoulder. "I forgive you, Nick. Of course I forgive you."

"…. Yeah?"

"Yeah. For sure," Ellis replied.

He knew he didn't deserve to be forgiven so easily. Once again, Ellis was so incredibly blinded by his affection for the older man that he was more than willing to absolve him of his sins. But at the moment, Nick was okay with that. So he flipped himself into Ellis' lap, and pushed him down into the bedding before starting to kiss him again. The kid drew his face in more, bucking his hips up into the con man's. The older man did the same, and moved his mouth to the mechanic's neck, hoping to coax out a dark mark that showed this kid was his and his alone. Ellis gasped at the feel of teeth on his neck, knowing he'd soon have a splotch to match the ones on his chest, but didn't mind. He couldn't care less who all saw the hickey. If Nick wanted to he could cover Ellis' neck in them and receive no complaints.

Nick rubbed his crotch against Ellis', both men already eager for sex again despite the fevered round not a half hour prior, and let his mouth move further down his body, determined to finish what he had started earlier, before Ellis had moved them along. Yes, he'd liked being moved along to that level, but he also had an ego that needed stroking. He took pride in his ability to suck someone off, and when the recipient was as enthusiastic as Ellis had been previously, it made him feel damn good. He licked the mechanic's shaft, which caused the younger man to shudder, and then once again wrapped his lips around it.

Ellis' back arched briefly, and he mumbled some jibberish as he slowly twisted in the sheets. Nick was indomitable in resuming this action, and Ellis wasn't sure what had possessed the older man but whatever it was he liked it. Nick smiled a bit as he sucked on the younger man, and moved his fingers to Ellis' inner thighs again, kneading at them so firmly he might leave fingerprints. He hollowed out his cheeks, drawing as much blood into the already aching dick as Ellis could stand. The mechanic's hips jutted up, but Nick was ready for them and he slammed them back on the bed, not letting them move anymore. The restraint was frustrating for the mechanic, who whined with aggravation and delight at the same time.

Why did I ever think that my own hand could ever compare to this? Ellis thought hazily, blood leaving his head and moving to the lower regions. He gripped the sheets in his fingers as he tried his damnedest to move, but Nick had him pinned. The older man began humming softly, the sensation shooting through Ellis and causing his upper body to flail. At least his back could still move, and it was going to start thrashing and whipping about, he just knew it.

"N-Nick, I'm real close again," he admitted, a bit ashamed, but it just make Nick suck harder, tongue assaulting him even more and throaty vibrations making him jolt. "Seriously, I'm not k-kiddin', I'm about to burst!"

But Nick kept going, as if baited on by the pleas. He pulled Ellis' knees up and bowed his arms around them, and the kid sat up as best he could despite being restrained from the waist down. He yowled with each bobble of the con man's head, his own head falling back as his stomach tensed up and his body began to shake. He wasn't sure what Nick was doing. The other times they'd done this Nick had pulled away right before climax, as if getting Ellis' cum in his mouth was unseemly. It had never insulted the younger man; after all, he wasn't sure that he'd want to get that in his mouth either. But now that it seemed imminent, and now that the orgasm was so close and the heat STILL unrelenting, Ellis was apprehensive and incredibly excited by the idea of it. So he shoved Nick's mouth into his crotch more, hoping to be completely consumed by the greedy and eager jaws.

"AHOHMYGOD!" he shouted as he finally came undone once more, and he fell back on the bed. The gambler drew all of it in, and sat up, wiping his mouth as he swallowed. He smirked at the sight of Ellis utterly spent, and leaned in to his face.

"How are you holding up, kiddo?" he asked, voice rumbling. Ellis nodded slowly, and opened his bright blue eyes.

"Good, real good," he replied.

"Haven't broken you, have I?"

"Nope, not even close," the mechanic replied, biting his tongue in a flirty fashion. "I could probably go all night."

"Oh yes?"

"Hell yes."

"So is that what you want?" Nick asked, and Ellis sat up, nodding.

"Yup," he said. "Makin' up for lost time an' all that."

"If you say so," Nick said, though he was clandestinely ecstatic. "So what's next?"

Ellis wiped his brow, and gave Nick a crooked smile as he pulled the older man down into the mattress with him. The gambler was caught off guard and squawked as the younger man flipped on top of him. "You're the one who's gonna cry out now."

"Oh?" Nick smiled, skeptical but amused at the kid's tenacity.

"Yep."

"Please, by all means, I'd love that," Nick said, resting his hands behind his head.

Ellis leaned in, but then pulled back, frowning. "I don't know if I'm as good as you want me to be-."

"Relax, Overalls, I'll walk you through it," Nick said, winking.

Soon thereafter, Francis had just about fallen asleep when the moans from down the hall began again. He reached for his second pillow yet again, growling as he did so, and tried wrapping the cushion around his ears. But no matter how hard he pressed it against his head, the feathers and down were no match for Nick's yowls and expletives. The biker rolled over in bed, and grumbled to himself.

"Asshats," he muttered, and shut his eyes tightly as 'Oh FUCK ELLIS!' exploded down the hallway. "ASSHATS." He was definitely staying over at Rochelle's the next time Ellis was spending the night. Of course the Motor Mouth was loud. But hearing Nick scream like that was just too much. At least his partner had shown restraint in the past. It was like he'd just completely thrown tact out the window and was going to awaken the entire town.

"Ellis, OH CHRIST FUCKING SHIT ELLIS!"

"Would you SHUT THE HELL UP?" Francis roared.

Which, of course, just encouraged Nick to make more noise.

"YES ELLIS, SUCK HARDER, GOD YEAH!"

"Oh I am killing him in the morning," the biker grumbled, and held BOTH pillows to his ears.

As Francis tried to tune out the lovemaking that was going on down the hallway, and as Nick was coming for the second time that night, Mark Creevy was sorting through a box that he had in the trunk of his car, small flashlight in his mouth. He'd held a few keepsakes in his car, just in case they came in handy. A few of the items were technically illegal to have possession of, even as a high up CEDA agent. But he couldn't bear to part with them. And now he was pleased that he hadn't.

He removed the jar of green scum from the box and held it up delicately. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, to fight the zombies with their own bodily fluids. Yes, it worked. If you could splatter a handful, others would take care of them for you. But then, you had the others to contend with. A little foresight would have gone a long way in that case. Once the Infection had waned, CEDA had commanded that all jars of Boomer Bile be destroyed. Creevy knew he should have burned this one with all the others. But then, he wasn't the only agent who was holding onto contraband.

He put the jar back in the box, and looked at his watch. Jacobs wasn't exactly known for punctuality, was he? He snorted, and closed his trunk.

It did bother him that he was so utterly and unequivocally bothered by Nick's presence in town. Had he been more careful he could have gotten the smug and reckless Z-Man out of his life for good. But he'd put too much stock in uncontrollable factors. Had he not been such a coward, he wouldn't make unmanageable things do his dirty work.

But at the heart of him, Creevy was weak, and he was well aware of it. He didn't have the balls to take on things that would put up a fight and possibly beat him. Smaller things, sure. He'd taken on many a smaller thing and won. But he was no match against Nick, or worse, Francis. So he had to be a bit more creative.

Jacobs' car drove up next to Creevy's, and the sheriff nodded, looking more than a bit peeved to be called out to the East Gate when it was nearly twelve thirty in the morning.

"Tell me you have a good reason to call me out here," the sheriff muttered, his pajama top poking out from the bottom of his coat.

"Did you get the truck?" Creevy asked, not acknowledging the bitter remark.

"Yeah yeah, I got the truck."

"Where is it? It isn't just in your goddamn driveway is it-?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm some idiot, of course it isn't," Jacobs snapped. "It's outside in the Grey Zone. Stashed it myself. No one saw."

Creevy nodded, and lit up a cigarette. "You're sure?"

"Sure as eggs is eggs," Jacobs nodded. "So when are we doing this?"

"We still need that third person," Creevy replied, calmly.

"We don't need him to gather them up," Jacobs said, impatiently. "The Harvest Festival is two weeks away, Creevy, we're running out of time-!"

"Unless you're willing to feed them for the next two weeks, I suggest you settle down," Creevy said. "We keep the truck out there. It becomes part of their environment. They don't get spooked by it, they don't fixate on it. I find that third person to tie down that alibi, and then we proceed. We have lots of time, Jacobs." He wasn't about to let his jittery accomplice know that he was feeling a little apprehension too. Sure, it was two weeks away. Well, one week and six days. But that time could fly. Especially with all the planning that needed to be done, the precise planning.

"Creevy, what I don't understand is if you hate Nick THIS much, why don't you just… Well, use your power to get rid of him," Jacobs said, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

Creevy threw his half smoked cigarette down on the ground, and snorted. "Believe me. That's easier said than done."

"…. So what makes you think it will work this time?" Jacobs asked.

Creevy sneered at the ground. "Well, at the moment I can't be sure. But I have faith that it will. Because it HAS to work out this time. If it doesn't work out this time, then he wins. And he can't win, Jacobs. He just can't win."

Jacobs eyed his collaborator, thinking that there was an underlying obsession that he couldn't possibly understand, that he didn't want to understand. All he knew was that he was going to great lengths to get his town back from Federal intervention, to get his town back in his own solid grasp. He already knew that he was more than willing to make a deal with this slippery CEDA agent to achieve that goal, but now he was starting to question just how far that CEDA agent would go to achieve his own.

"…. So just who is it you're looking at to help us?" he asked.

Creevy lit up another cigarette. "I'm back at square one…. But I'm working on it."

"Well you better be," Jacobs said, sternly. "Is there anything else you wanted from me tonight? Or am I allowed to go back home and get some sleep?"

"Just one more question for tonight," Creevy said, taking a notepad and pencil from his coat pocket. "Where would you suggest I go if I want to get a lot of meat for a good price?"

"…. What are you talking about?"

"It's your town, right Jacobs?" Creevy simpered. "Thought you could give me a recommendation."

"…. Goodnight, Creevy," Jacobs replied, turning around and walking for his car. Creevy shrugged, and went back to his car as well. The man needed more faith that all men get what they deserve. And Nick was definitely going to get what he deserved.

Chapter Text

Ellis rolled over groggily, slowly opening his eyes to the sunny morning, and found himself a bit confused. First of all, the sun didn't shine in his room like this usually.

Also, this wasn't his room.

He rubbed his eyes and sat up, momentarily puzzled, but then it all came back to him in it's pleasant glory. He looked down at his sleeping lover, and fell back into the pillow happily.

As he bounced about in the bed, trying to get comfy, Nick grumbled and stirred. "Why are you bouncing?"

"Sorry," Elllis murmured, yanking the covers over his chest again. Nick, knowing he wouldn't be falling back asleep now, sat up and stretched his arms above his head. There was seriously nothing better than waking up after a night of repeated fucking. While they hadn't gone all night as they had planned (sometime around one both men found they could barely move), it was still a morning to bask in the afterglow. As afterglow-y as it could be for Nick. It came pretty damn close with Ellis. He wrinkled his nose and slipped an arm across Ellis' chest, which made the younger man sigh softly and nuzzle into the arm. Nick didn't particularly care for nuzzling, but indulged his lover anyway.

"Mmmm, what time is it?" Ellis asked sleepily. Nick rolled his right half over to grope for the Rolex on the nightstand. He picked it up and squinted to read it, eyes inhibited by sleep and his not so perfect vision.

"It's nine."

"NINE?" Ellis exclaimed, suddenly shooting up so violently that it nearly sent Nick flipping off the bed.

"Jesus Christ-!"

"Oh SHIT, nine a.m., I have church in an HOUR," Ellis jabbered, throwing the covers off of himself and desperately trying to find his clothes. It took Nick a couple of moments to comprehend what had just happened, but when he did he huffed.

"Do you really have to go to church?" he asked, dubious, and Ellis yanked his boxers on. "I mean, it's not like they take attendance or anything."

"No, but I wanna go," Ellis replied, pulling his shirt over his head and plucking his jeans up.

"You're serious."

Ellis paused a moment, and then continued. "Yep, I'm serious. I like goin' to church when I can."

"I had no idea you were so religious," Nick said, shuffling around in the bedding.

"Well, I'm not Jerry Falwell or nothin'!"

"I think that was re-affirmed last night."

"Oh ha ha ha. I mean… It's just the UCC, it isn't all that preachy an' shit, just real nice people comin' together every week," Ellis said, hoping that Nick wasn't judging him. "Oh hey! You should come with me!"

"Huh?" Nick asked, suddenly cornered.

"Yeah!" Ellis said as he hopped up and down to put his socks on. "You can come to church, an' you can meet all the church ladies, and you can talk to Reverend Morris an' maybe make some new friends. Everyone at church is REAL nice, really!"

Nick swallowed, trying to think of something, anything to say. But before he could sputter out some lame excuse, Ellis grinned his way. "I'm just teasin' Nick, jeeze."

The gambler exhaled, putting a hand to his forehead. "Oh thank GOD for that. Think you're so damn funny, don't you?" he asked, and hurled a pillow at the mechanic in retaliation.

"Yep!" Ellis chuckled, ducking out of the way, and Nick shook his head, relieved and therefore not pissed that he'd been had.

"Okay, you twerp, I'll take you home so you can change and shower and shit. Can't go to church with cum stains all over your body."

"If I'da known I was stayin' the night I would've driven myself," Ellis said, watching Nick stand up and walk to the dresser.

"Whatever, it's not like I have anything else I'd be doing," Nick replied. "Well, just you, maybe, if you weren't such a choir boy."

Ellis flushed, as the idea was tempting, and plopped his hat down on his head. "You'll just hafta be patient," he said, and Nick strolled to his closet to remove a nice pair of pressed pants.

"I can be patient, kiddo, believe me," he said, knowingly, and winked at the mechanic. Ellis smiled shyly, and leaned against the wall.

"I'll get you to church someday," he said, though he had a feeling that he never actually would.

"I'd love to see you try," Nick snickered. "So what would it take to get you to forgo church?"

"Nick-."

"I'm just curious," Nick said, buttoning his pants. "Maybe not this week, but for future reference."

Ellis shook his head, though he was smiling. In reality, it probably wouldn't take too much. "None've your business," he replied, and raised his eyebrows coyly. "You'll just have to figure it out on your own."

"Whatever shall I do?" Nick asked, buttoning up his shirt. "Okay, I'll take you home, you won't miss anything." He closed the closet, and ruffled Ellis' hair as he passed him. Ellis wrinkled his nose, but followed.

They walked down the steps, going for the door quickly. Nick popped into the main room to get his keys from the bowl, and saw Francis asleep on the couch, having made a hasty retreat early in the morning. He snickered, and whistled to Ellis. The mechanic came over, curious as to what Nick was calling him over to see. And when he saw the passed out biker on the couch, he winced.

"Aw shit, you think we did that?" he asked.

"I'm thinking yes," Nick nodded, and clapped his hands sharply. Francis sat up, snorting away a snore, and his hand reached for a gun that wasn't there, as he wasn't next to his nightstand.

"ZOMBIES," he bleated, and Nick laughed while Ellis just shook his head. Francis turned around at the sound, and scowled. "Oh, it's just YOU."

"Yeah, just me," Nick replied. "I'm taking Ellis home."

"Good," Francis said, and Ellis' jaw dropped as he made an insulted noise. "It's not that I don't like seeing you, Motor Mouth, but you two kept me up far too late last night and I'm looking forward to sleeping the rest of the morning. Now if you don't mind, I would love it if you two would kindly fuck off."

"Fair enough," Nick agreed.

"… Sorry," Ellis shrugged.

"Hey kiddo, I have to talk to Francis for a bit, just meet me by the car," Nick said. Ellis squirmed a little, and as if psychic, the older man said in assurance, "It won't take long, you won't be late for church."

"Okay," the mechanic said, and left the house. Nick turned back to Francis, who finally gave Nick a proud smile.

"Look who finally got laid," the biker said, and Nick chuckled. "He gonna be coming over a lot?"

"Maybe," Nick shrugged.

"Should I be buying some earplugs?"

"You should probably get a whole package of them," Nick replied, proudly.

"Greaaaat," Francis said. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Just wanted to let you know that you can lay your claim to all my condoms," Nick winked. "Kid prefers bareback, apparently." Francis made a face.

"I already saw it last night, I don't need that visual in my head again," Francis said. "And I suppose you'll change your mind once we leave Roanoke II and you start hunting for new tail?"

Nick paused, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "…. I'll be back later." With that, he left the house.

They arrived at the younger man's house soon thereafter, Nick slowing the BMW to a stop in the driveway. Ellis glanced at the car clock, and exhaled. Nine thirty, he had time to get ready, Nick must have sped the entire way.

"I'll walk you up to the door," Nick said, casually.

"Okay," Ellis nodded, and they both exited the car. ".. Man, I just thought of somethin'."

"What's that?" Nick asked, pausing by the hood of the Beemer. Ellis stopped walking too, and shrugged.

"Well, I mean, I don't really care, but… Ro's gonna be pissed," he said, sadly. Nick sighed, and crossed his arms.

"Who says she has to know?"

"I do, she's one've my best friends, I'm not hidin' it from her," Ellis stated, resolutely. "An' she's gonna be mad."

"… Don't worry about that right now," Nick settled on, and rubbed the mechanic's shoulders with his hands. "She'll get over it."

"Yeah, but she's gonna scold me I bet," Ellis said. Nick didn't say anything, and instead brushed up against the younger man. "Aw, what are you doin'? I have JUST enough time to get ready an' GO-."

"You have plenty of time, relax," Nick purred, gently pushing Ellis onto the hood of the car. Ellis was going to protest, but when Nick nipped at his chin, he didn't find the motivation. Instead he lay back on the warm metal, and let Nick start to run his hands up his chest.

"Tell me something, kiddo, have you ever fucked on the hood of a BMW?" he asked, and Ellis shivered.

"No, I can't say I have," he replied, mouth going dry as Nick began to kiss his chest through the fabric of his tee shirt. "Oh jeeze, Nick, c'mon."

"C'mon what?" Nick growled, beginning to crawl onto the hood of the car as well, resting a foot on the bumper and pressing into his lover. Ellis groaned, hands scrabbling up Nick's back as the older man began to massage at his groin and suck on his neck again, the present hickey protesting.

Ellis was tempted to pull Nick down on top of him, no matter how awkward it was for the two of them on the slick metal surface. He'd had fantasies of having sex on a cherry car, that was for sure, and it seemed like once again Nick was going to motivate him to do something about his fantasies.

But not today. He was irritated with his sense of conscience and personal morality, as the stroking and the rutting felt SO nice. But he couldn't cave to Nick every time it felt nice, and this had to be the time to take that stand. Dammit.

"Oh shit, Nick, that feels GREAT, but I hafta go to CHURCH," he wheezed out, and Nick's head hung forward as he snarled in frustration. But he nodded, shoving off the car and huffing.

"FINE," he acquiesced. "If you have to go, you have to go. But I'm coming over tonight, dammit."

"Oh you're damn right you are," Ellis nodded, unsatisfied dick putting him in a snippy mood, and Nick chuckled, kissing him on the lips quickly and sharply. "You're for sure comin' by."

"Deal," Nick nodded. "That's fine, I have stuff I have to take care of today anyway."

"Like top secret Z-Man stuff?" Ellis asked, curiously.

"Sure, why not?" Nick shrugged, opening his car door.

"That's SO cool!" Ellis hooted, and walked towards his house. "Well, see ya tonight! What time are you comin' by?"

"How does seven grab you?" Nick called through the open window.

"Sounds good to me!"

"Sweet. See you later." Ellis waved as Nick revved the engine and pulled out of the driveway, and trotted up the front steps, grinning as he unlocked the door to his house. He would be counting down the minutes until seven.

Both men were too caught up in their post-coital satisfaction to realize that they were being watched.

For Barbara Dane had not forgotten that it was Sunday, and Sunday was the day that she baked food for the mechanic. She'd brought over a basket of popovers, found that no one was home, and thought that she would just bring them to church with her. But before she could bike away, she'd seen Nick's car coming down the road, and instead of continuing on her way she had inexplicably decided to hide behind some bushes. And therefore saw everything that had transpired between the two men on top of the car. She could have explained away why Nick was dropping Ellis off at home so early in the morning. She could have justified the flirty looks they were giving each other. But once the Z-Man had climbed on top of her crush and they'd started caressing, kissing, groping each other… There was no room for explanation.

Tears streaming down her face, she waited for Nick to drive away before climbing back on her bike. She swallowed as she wiped her eyes, and hung the popover basket on one of the handlebars before kicking off and pedaling for home as quickly and calmly as she could. How could I have been so stupid? she wondered, thoughts a bit muddled. How didn't I see it? How couldn't I have known?

You couldn't have known because it's Nick's fault, a petty and angry side of her thought. That CEDA agent said so; he does that to everyone he meets. People who wouldn't normally act that way, they act that way around him. She scowled as she rode, a sudden rage rising within her. She decided that she wasn't going to church today; she had other priorities.

Rochelle stared at her computer screen, hoping and praying that she would either a) find inspiration for her newest editorial (on a proposed ban on Halloween due to ghoulish overtones, an argument that she soundly fell on the 'against' side of), or b) find a distraction that was legitimate enough for her to set aside the editorial for the day. She was having luck with neither scenario. She clicked her fingernails on the desk, frowning at her blinking cursor, and rested her chin on her hand. She'd been admonished for being a little too 'ranty' in her last column, and was now trying to figure out just how she could scale back and make rational arguments when it was such an irrational topic.

She was about to click and see if Set had gotten back to her on anything, be it Creevy or CEDA or just Z-Men in general, when there was a knocking on her door. She slowly turned to it, not quite comprehending that it had just knocked. She wasn't expecting anyone, nor had she buzzed anyone up. This was alarming. She slowly stood, and walked to the door, putting her ear to it.

"Who is it?" she asked, cautiously.

"Hey Ro, it's Nick."

"Wha-? How the hell did you get in here?" she exclaimed through the closed door.

"Some old lady held the front door open for me," he answered, and she snorted bitterly.

"That completely defeats the purpose of a secure building," she muttered, opening the door to see him standing there with a coffee carrier and a white pastry bag. "WHAT are you doing?"

"I brought coffee and donuts," he said, stepping inside like she'd invited him or something. "Wow. Your place is a disaster zone."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, closing the door behind them and ignoring his snide remark.

"Like I said, I brought coffee and donuts," he said, setting the cup holder on the table. "I didn't know if you like coffee black or whatever, so I brought a soy latte and skim cappuccino."

"I hate soy."

"I'll just take that then," he said, sitting down at the table and tossing the bag alongside the other cup. "So. How's it going this morning?"

"I'm sorry, did I completely miss something?" she asked, though she sat across from him anyway. "Why are you acting like we're best friends?"

"I'm not acting like that," Nick scoffed, removing a bear claw from the bag and handing it to her. "I'm just here with food and drink. Also, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"And it wasn't something that could be discussed over the phone?" she asked, tearing off part of the pastry and popping it in her mouth.

"You could hang up on me," he pointed out, taking a sip of his soy latte. "Nay, WOULD hang up on me."

"That's true."

"Man you hold a grudge," he chuckled. "I didn't even do anything to you."

"Not to me, no," she said, grumpily enjoying the bear claw.

"I just find it funny that you are so goddamn relentless in your vendetta against me," he continued.

"I haven't done anything to you, thank you very much," she said. "I've had to listen to not one, but TWO men sing your praises for the past few weeks, and I haven't said ONE word to dispel them of such high praise."

"Well aren't you generous?"

"I could be doing a whole lot more to you, just so you know," she said, sipping her latte. "I was a regular Mean Girl back in high school, I have many tricks up my sleeves. If I had an actual vendetta against you, you'd know it."

"Ah."

"So let me cut through this sycophantic bullshit and just flat out guess: you're here because you want to talk about Ellis," she said, leaning forward, a stony look on her face.

"Bingo," Nick answered, pulling his own donut from his bag.

"Well I guess it's either this or I have to write that article," she said, shrugging as she took another large bite of pastry. "What about him?"

"I just thought that I should be the one to tell you that last night he and I had sex," Nick replied, and Rochelle choked on her food. "We fucked last night, we're probably going to fuck again tonight, and I have every intention of fucking him every night until it's time for me and Francis to move on."

"GAH-!" she choked out, reaching for the coffee, and he held up a hand.

"I thought I would tell you so that you would heap your vicious and unrelenting disdain onto ME instead of onto HIM," he explained, tossing one of the disposable napkins to her.

She swallowed her food, coughed a couple times more, and then glared at him. "Unrelenting doesn't even begin to describe the disdain I feel for you."

"I'm aware."

"I can't believe this," she said, shaking her head and drinking more coffee. "He and I talked about this, he said that he wasn't going to fall for your lies and crap."

"Who said it was lies and crap?" Nick asked, insulted.

"And now he's just back under your spell like some lost little puppy," she continued, ignoring his protests. "And the WORST part is that he doesn't even know he's being taken for a ride because he's convinced himself that it's different this time!"

"I'm not taking him for a ride!" Nick snapped. "I have no idea where you get the nerve-!"

"Where I get the nerve? I'll tell you where I get the nerve!" she snapped, pointing at him. "I get the nerve from having to help him piece back together his heart and self esteem after you smashed both of them under your cheap shoes!"

"My shoes aren't cheap-!"

"I get the nerve from listening to him talk about how he wasn't good enough for you. How HE wasn't good enough for YOU, can you believe that? I get the nerve from the fact that you broke his heart without even so much as a thought for how it would make that nice naïve kid feel!" she raged, throwing her half eaten bear claw down on the table for emphasis. "Dammit Nick, he was really screwed up for a long time because of you."

Nick's eyes had found a focal point on his donut, and he barely had the gall to look up from it. But he did, and nodded slowly. "I know."

She sighed, and poked at her donut again. "…. No, you don't, because you weren't there," she said, voice more tired than angry.

"….. Is it worth anything to know that I wish I had been?" he offered. Rochelle shrugged slowly, and rubbed her eyes.

"Can you prove that?" she challenged.

"No," he said. "I can't prove it. And I can tell you don't believe it. But frankly, YOU don't have to believe it. Because he does."

"… Let me be real with you, Nick," she said, seriously. "Ellis is….. He's a tough, rough and tumble, hard rock loving, beer drinking badass. He's someone I'd want on my side in a bar fight and someone I would bet on every time to win that bar fight.

"But he isn't just that tough-as-nails Good Ol' Boy," she continued. "He's human. He's more complex than that. I've never met anyone with a bigger heart than him. And because he has such a big heart, he feels things so much more than most people. When you hurt him, he felt it. Like REALLY FELT it. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I do. But guess what? What you just said about him being complex? Same goes for me. I'm not an asshole. Well, yeah, I AM an asshole, but that's not the only thing I am, okay? It's really easy to write all us assholes off as just being that, but the fact is I know there's more to me. And somehow Ellis figured that out too. And because of that, I'm going to try my hardest to break my pesky habit of tearing apart every relationship I've ever been in. I fucked it up the first time, but I'm taking this second chance and I am NOT going to fuck it up again."

She examined his face, and a half smile formed on her lips. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Damn right," he nodded, firmly.

"… Just so you know, I'm still not thrilled that you guys are starting this up again," she said, eating the last of her donut. She chewed thoughtfully, trying to figure out how she wanted to say her last piece. "But if what you just said was sincere, I can't really call myself 'livid' anymore."

"Progress," Nick smirked, raising his coffee cup, and she giggled in spite of herself.

"Yeah, progress," she said. "If HE forgave you for all that-."

"We're working it out," he insisted.

"-then…. I guess I forgive you," she said, reluctantly. He raised his eyebrows triumphantly, and finished off his donut as well. "Just be good to him this time. Because if you aren't, I'm kicking you in the balls."

He burst out laughing, and clapped his hands once as he shook his head. "I'm glad to see you're still feisty as hell, Ro," he said, and she all out grinned. "I always liked that about you."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," she quipped. "Should we tell our boyfriends we've come to a truce?"

"Do we have to?" he asked, tart expression crossing his face. "Because I can guarantee at least one of them will want to start going on double dates."

"Well, Ellis DOES like the idea of us getting along-."

"I was talking about Francis," Nick said, rolling his eyes.

"Really?"

"God, I can't tell you how many I've had to sit through with insufferable double dates, all over the country," he said, shaking his head. "At least with you and Ellis it would be fun-ish."

She giggled again, and stood up. "Well, as much as this has been not terrible, I do have an article I need to work on-."

"Say no more," he replied, standing up as well. "Just wanted to hash this out. Glad we could. I'm sure I'll be seeing more of you now."

"Well fine, but don't think we're going to go shoe shopping any time soon," she said, walking him to the door.

"Fine by me," he agreed. She opened the door for him, and he stepped into the hallway before turning around to say his goodbyes. She leaned into the door, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

"Really, Nicolas," she stated. "Don't fuck this up." And with that, she closed the door in his face.

Barbara Dane walked into the bar, glancing about nervously. It wasn't very busy for a Sunday afternoon, and the emptiness of the room made her slightly uneasy. That might have had to do more with who she was meeting with than the atmosphere, as Carlisle's was always fairly welcoming.

She tucked some hair behind her ear, debating if she should just go as Wednesday came out of the kitchen area. The teenager looked the baker up and down, and pursed her lips.

"Sit wherever you want," Wednesday said, coolly, and Barbara nodded. She sat down at the nearest table, and wrung her hands. Wednesday brought over a menu, and handed it to her brusquely. "Want anything to drink?"

"No thank you," Barbara said, shaking her head. "I'm just meeting someone, I'll wait for him."

"Kay," Wednesday said, and cringed with Carlisle poked his head out from the kitchen and grinned.

"Oh hi Barbara!" he exclaimed, and the teenager sighed. Once again her guardian was going to make a fool of himself. "What brings you in here tonight?"

"I'm just meeting someone, Carlisle," Barbara answered.

"Ah, I see, I see," Carlisle nodded, and Wednesday shook her head in a not so subtle way. "Well can I bring you anything? Maybe some sweet tea, or-?"

"I'm just going to wait for him, thank you," Barbara said, voice clipped. She was nervous enough without being doted on for no apparent reason. Carlisle nodded, and shrugged.

"Okay, well, if you need anything, let me know," he stated.

"Or let ME know, since I'm the waitress," Wednesday said, and walked back towards the kitchen. Carlisle smiled at Barbara one more time, and followed Wednesday. "You are such a Ducky, Carlisle, do you know that?"

"Huh?" he asked, and she didn't say anything else.

Barbara sat up straight when the door opened, as her 'date' was in the entryway right on time. She waved, anxiously, and Mark Creevy nodded and strolled to her table, a predatory smile on his face. He pulled the other chair out, the sound of it scraping across the floor making Barbara flinch, and sat down.

"Hello there, Miss Dane," he said, folding his hands on the tabletop.

"Hello, Agent Creevy."

"Let me tell you again how happy I am that you called," he said smarmily as he picked up one of the menus Wednesday had left on the table. "Was it hard getting a hold of me?"

"Not especially. You gave me TWO business cards, remember?" she asked, trying to sound confident and firm. "Kind of hard to not know how to get in touch with you. Like you REALLY wanted me to call."

He smirked, and folded his arms. "So tell me, Miss Dane, what is it exactly you wanted to meet about?"

"I'm sure you know," she said, quietly. "I…. I wanted to know what you meant when you said you could help me… With Ellis."

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, raising his eyebrows at her. "What exactly changed your mind, if I may ask?"

"That's irrelevant," Barbara said, as in her view it wasn't his business. "I just want to know how you can help me."

"…. Well, to help you, I need you to help me," he said, mysteriously. "But if you DO help me, I can guarantee that Nick, as I'm assuming it's NICK that is the problem, will be out of this town and out of your hair for good. Is that something you'd like?"

"Yes," she said, nodding tightly.

"He's fucking that mechanic, isn't he?" Creevy asked, twisting the knife. She closed her eyes, his crude description angering her, but she nodded again. "Figures. And you want the competition out of the picture, right?"

"Do you want my help or not?" she asked, heatedly.

"Feisty," he said. "I didn't expect that based on how you present yourself. But yes. I do want your help."

"So what do you need me to do?"

"Just be patient," Creevy said, as Wednesday walked out of the kitchen. She raised her eyebrows, surprised to see just who Barbara was meeting, and pulled out her pad and pen. "I'll call you when we need you and explain everything then."

"Can… I get you guys anything?" Wednesday asked, and Creevy shook his head.

"No thank you, I'm actually just leaving," he said, standing up. He turned back to Barbara. "I'll call you, Miss Dane." She nodded, skeptically, and wrung her hands some more. Wednesday eyed the blonde, and held up her pen.

"What can I get YOU, Barbara?" she asked, and Barbara looked back up at her.

"…. Nothing, actually," she said, also standing up and making her way for the door. Wednesday might have been irked that she'd just lost a tip, but was too confused about what had just happened. Before she could question it, though, other people walked into the bar, and she had to attend to them.

Chapter Text

Nick had barely been able to knock on Ellis' front door before it swung open, and he'd barely been able to say 'Hey, Overalls' before the mechanic had yanked him into a kiss and dragged him into the house. The second night of being 'back together' was just as physical as the first; they'd fucked each other for three hours with only a break for dinner. But since Ellis just ordered a pizza they were able to pass the time waiting for the delivery guy by fucking some more.

They eventually found themselves in Ellis' bed, tired and euphoric, and the younger man had fallen into a deep sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. But Nick, though worn out, was unable to fall asleep, and simply looked around the room and let his thoughts wander aimlessly. Ellis had definitely settled here. There were Jimmy Gibbs Jr. pictures on the wall, some memorial themed and others not, there was a Midnight Rider's poster on the door. And on the small desk there were pictures of Rochelle and Ellis around town, pictures of Coach and a woman who must have been Maggie. Even a school age picture of a young Ellis with two other boys, probably Keith and Dave. And one of an older woman who had to have been Ellis' Mom. Nick wondered if those photos were things Ellis had in his pocket throughout the entire Flu crisis. The one of his mother stood on the outside of the others, solitary and serene. Dalton the cat, whose usual spot on the bed had been taken up by the gambler, sat on the chair in the corner and glared at him, so Nick glared right back. Fucking cats. If the mangy tabby tried to take his spot back he would be in for a surprise. Could be worse; could have been a St. Bernard.

Nick envied Ellis' ability to make a home wherever he ended up. It was the exact opposite for the con man; he couldn't make a home anywhere, no matter how he tried. It became so tough he just stopped trying.

While he observed his surroundings, his thoughts kept going back to the same neurosis: completely screwing up again. It hadn't only been Rochelle that made him think about this possibility. When he was getting ready to go, Francis had made some offhanded comment about placing bets on how long THIS relationship would last. Nick had cussed him out and slammed the bathroom door in his face, his reaction so volatile that the biker had actually apologized for his remark. Obviously Nick was feeling a bit self-conscious.

He scratched his head, and looked over at his sleeping lover. The kid had curled up in the covers, snoring softly and mumbling every once in awhile. It would probably annoy Nick were he not so high on the situation. What made Ellis different from the others, so different that the idea of messing up again struck more fear into Nick than any of the Special Infected he had encountered in his life?

How do I not fuck this up?

How do I fuck up in the first place?

He ran a hand down his face, and noticed that Dalton had moved from the chair. He scanned the room, wondering where the cat had gone, hoping an attack wasn't imminent in the ultimate Battle for the Bed. He kept an eye on the room, warily, but still let his mind try to work through all this.

You're a cheater, for one thing, he thought, and groaned. He did have a hard time remaining monogamous, but in his defense he would usually only stray once he was either bored or fed up. And he almost always got fed up, since his taste in long term significant others wasn't so great. He liked Crazy, because Crazy was usually great in bed. It was too bad Crazy also had a penchant for throwing shit and leaving scratches and bruises (like his ex wife Holly, for example). And as for being bored, well, he DID have some control over how bored he was; he just never felt a need to make an effort to be entertained.

Luckily, Ellis wasn't crazy. And Nick WOULD make an effort to spice things up with the kid if he ever did get bored. So that wasn't really a threat.

The biggest issue, however, was not that he was known to stray. It was that he was also known to close himself off. He never had the guts to open himself up to his lovers, not fully. The first and only time he did that he got stomped on, and he didn't want to feel that way again, not ever. His first serious boyfriend, Sam, had done a real number on him, with the cheating, the manipulation, the absolute breach of trust. But then, what had he expected from his mentor in the con game? He had learned from the best, but had been played just as hard as those they'd conned together.

And since he didn't allow himself to trust anyone fully, he was still keeping things from Ellis, things that had really messed with him and things that the mechanic had asked about. Maybe it was Sam's fault. Or maybe it was his parents' fault.

Or, maybe it was his fault and he just had to take some fucking responsibility for once. Just had to let himself be vulnerable again. Because Ellis wasn't Holly, and he wasn't Sam. And most important of all, the gambler knew that Ellis would understand, and if anything it would validate their bond.

Now all he had to do was get the nerve to do it. So he shook Ellis gently, and the mechanic sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Wha-, what's goin' on?" he asked, voice sleepy. "Is there a zombie-?"

"No, nothing like that," Nick replied, smiling slightly. "We're in Roanoke II, not New Orleans."

"… Yeah, I know," Ellis said, though he was admittedly confused for a moment there. "But what's wrong, why are you wakin' me up?"

"… I have to tell you something," the gambler replied, voice tight. Okay, this was going to be harder than he thought. Ellis glanced over at his clock, still not quite registering just what was going on, and furrowed his brow.

"It can't wait 'til mornin'?" he asked, head still loopy from sleep.

"No, because if I don't do it now I might not do it at all," Nick admitted, nervously. He hated that he couldn't steadfastly say it COULD wait until morning, but the truth was that he didn't trust himself to not chicken out. So since it had to happen, it had to happen now.

"Well, okay," Ellis said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "What's goin' on?"

Nick chewed on the inside of his cheek, contemplating just how to go forward. He could try to pussyfoot his way there, or he could lead up with some long bullshit introduction that would stall for time.

But instead he just said "So you wanted to know how I got these scars, right?"

Ellis cocked his head to the side, and scratched his head. "Yeah, I did."

"…. Still want me to tell you?"

The younger man swallowed, surprised that the offer was on the table now. Whatever possessed his lover to bring this up at midnight was something he probably wouldn't understand. But he didn't care about that, and just nodded.

"Yes."

So Nick mustered up some nerve, and began to tell his tale.

This is probably going to seem roundabout, kiddo, but it's connected and it'll all make sense. Francis and I had a few pretty heavy duty missions together at first, but when things started dying down we were a little more laid back. I would say that this story started when we were in Sandy, Utah, because that was when we met Mark Creevy. He was up for a promotion, Deputy Director of CEDA actually, and wanted to show tenacity by representing CEDA's interests in this entire shit storm. Francis and I always found it so telling that CEDA never sent representatives to the really bad areas, only to the ones that were already pretty clear. I didn't really have an opinion of the dickbag at first, he kept to himself and just… observed. Sometimes he'd help out. He got in the way more than anything, but whatever. Francis and I could handle ourselves.

One day we were in one of the neighborhoods that was still under lockdown. Apparently it had been one of the worst places in Sandy for Infected, and no one had really gone to double check that it had actually been cleaned out. So that was our job. I went with Creevy, Francis went with one of our handlers, Morgan, this ex marine and kick ass son of a bitch. We just went through houses, making sure that all Infected were gone, that they hadn't holed up in attics and basements and shit, like any especially rotten infestation. And in one house, unfortunately, we found something pretty bad.

I'd heard noises above us in the attic, and so I yanked the ceiling door open and pulled the ladder down, ready to clean it out and call it a day. But when I crawled up there, it was… a lot worse than that.

There was a woman up there. She wasn't sick, I could tell that much by shining my flashlight on her. She looked a little bony, and scared, but she definitely wasn't Infected. She begged me to just leave her alone, but I pulled myself up and told her that she had to get out of the quarantine area. Creevy was right behind me. She refused, and I didn't really understand why… Until I heard something moving around in the corner. I shined my light towards the noise, and Jesus FUCK if it wasn't a kid. He was about ten, MAYBE eleven. And shit was he sick. His skin was grey, his eyes were wild, and he probably would have lunged and bit me if he wasn't tied to the wall, with a gag in his mouth. 'What the FUCK?' I think I yelled, and she explained that she couldn't kill him, couldn't let us kill him. He was sick but he was still her son, and she was taking care of him. I noticed the discarded meat on the floor, mostly animal but some of it was limbs of other Infected. I would have puked but I was too, I don't know, shocked I guess. I'd never seen this before. I'd never cared for someone so much that I could even comprehend doing something like that.

Creevy told me to shoot the kid, which made the Mom start to freak out. I told Creevy that one, he wasn't the boss of me, and two, I wasn't going to do that. Not with Mom watching. I'm an asshole, but I'm not a sadistic son of a bitch. 'Policy is to shoot Infected on sight!' Creevy reminded me. 'Yeah, I know, but we do have protocol for situations like this one,' I countered, even though they weren't as specific as this, because THIS had never happened before. We argued, and as we argued Mom got more upset, which made the Infected kid more frenzied…. It's really fucked up, but I think that a part of these things remembers their old life. It's like the disease doesn't have complete control of them all the time. And I think he was upset that we were upsetting his Mom.

I was about to call Francis with my radio so I could get Morgan, our ACTUAL boss, to weigh in, when the boy got himself so worked up he broke the ropes on his arms and ran right at us, yanking his gag down and just about ready to take as many bites as he could. I was planning on subduing him, I don't care how deranged he was, he was still smaller than me. Then I could get Creevy to escort Mom out, call Francis and Morgan and go from there. And yeah, I knew that I was probably going to have to dispose of him. I just didn't want to do it in front of her. But before I could do ANY of that, Creevy removed his gun and shot the kid in the face. Just mercilessly, without hesitating and without pity. Which is, yes, what we're supposed to do. But for fuck's sake, tap into some humanity and use your FUCKING judgment, especially when the MOTHER is RIGHT THERE.

Mom started screaming like a crazy person and ran at him, hitting him with her fists and scratching at his face. I was going to let her get a couple of bites in too, then help him restrain her before chewing him out for being such a goddamn asshole. But… He shot her too. Just shot her point blank in the head. I couldn't believe it. Of all the horrible and twisted crap I've seen on this job, that was by far the worst. We aren't supposed to do that, you know? Not if we can help it, and he could certainly help it. He claimed that she was a threat, that it was self-defense and that he had no other choice. But that was bullshit; she was about fifty pounds lighter than him for Chrissake! I really started to lay into him and told him that I was for sure reporting it, because there was no excuse for that. And he said 'If you do, you will be sorry.' But eh, I didn't believe him. I'm bigger than he is, I have more training than him, and I've dealt with a lot more shit than he has. What could a ratty little bureaucrat who picks on people smaller than him possibly do to me?

So when the inquiry came up, I was called as the key witness. And I told them everything. I would have loved to see him go down for that, but he didn't. It was too he said-he said, and they couldn't prove that he hadn't felt threatened. So he wasn't formally reprimanded. But he was also informed that he was out of the running for Deputy Director because of the negative publicity it had garnered. Douche totally deserved it. I thought that would be the end of it.

But in Santa Fe everything changed. It was nearing the end of our run there, we had pretty much cleared out the area around the city and we were assigned to check out this abandoned Church on the outside of town. There were reports of some pretty nasty Specials in the area. It was me and Francis, and then motherfucking Creevy showed up, saying he was there to sign off on the last of the problem areas in the vicinity. At the time I couldn't figure out why they would have assigned HIM of all people to me and Francis, given the history. But I found out later that he requested it…

He told us that he'd gone through before we arrived and found nothing, all we had to do was confirm it and that would be that. We'd wrap up and move on to the next. He told Francis to check out the main area and me to check out the bell tower. So sure, why not, as far as I was concerned the bell tower was great because it was small! 'Sure thing, Creevy,' I said, and we all went inside and went our separate ways, Francis staying down and me going up. I climbed the steps, Creevy following me, talking about various things. I thought it was weird that he was talking to me, since as far as I knew he hated me as much as I hated him.

It wasn't until I walked through the door into the actual belfry that I realized just why he'd been talking; he was masking the crying inside the room. Because the place was NOT clear, Overalls. There was a goddamn Witch behind the bell. I swore to myself and turned to go back out to get my shotgun, since I just had my pistol as I was TOLD it was clear. But hey, big surprise: something was blocking the door from the outside. I shoved on it a few times, thinking perhaps it was just jammed, but no. There was some give. Creevy was blocking it.

'Creevy you sick son of a bitch let me OUT,' I hissed, but all I got in return was a quiet laugh.

'I told you you'd be sorry,' was all he said.

So I couldn't get out. And of course I couldn't shout for Francis, or I would disturb her, and I couldn't drop her with just my pistol.

I was going to try and climb out the window and shimmy down the steeple, but before I could, Creevy broke something against the door. Don't know what it was. Sounded like pottery, probably decorative. Whatever it was, it pissed the girl off, and she was up and screeching and roaring at me. I only had time to yell through my radio to Francis before she was on top of me. I tried using my pistol on her, but it did practically nothing as she dug into my skin. I do remember screaming, but it didn't sound like it was coming from me. It was like I'd left my body and was listening to the screams from the outside, watching my blood splatter on the girl like I was watching some other poor sap being torn to shreds. Last thing I remember of that was the feeling of her claws scraping across my ribcage. Claw on bone, kiddo, it's a weird feeling. It echoes in your head and makes your chest vibrate.

Now this next part is Francis' side of the story, so who knows how accurate it is. But I'm told that he heard my radio call and bee lined for the bell tower. He said he could hear me screaming like the world was ending, that it was the only thing in all of Santa Fe that scared him. He threw the door open and I guess he found the Witch almost elbow deep in my chest. HE had his shotgun, though, so he disposed of her, and was at my side. Once, when he was drunk, he admitted that he started freaking out when he saw just what she'd done to me, like to the point of yelling and shaking me (that's a GREAT idea, Francis, shake the guy whose chest is bleeding profusely). So he carried me down the steps and out of the church, shoving me in the car and bolting. Not sure about where Creevy went off to, I never asked. Francis just said he found me by myself. That crazy fuck partner of mine drove a hundred miles an hour back into town and to the hospital. Even donated blood for a transfusion, evidently I needed a few just to get me through the surgery. He never admits that he was freaking out. But I bet he was. A nurse made a passing comment that implied as much. I'd bust his balls over it, but honestly, if the roles were reversed I can't say that I wouldn't have lost it a little bit. At that point we only had each other, you know?

When I woke up, it was three days later and Francis was keeping vigil by my bed. I think the first thing he said to me was 'About time you woke up, you big pussy'. And when I looked down at my chest, I was bandaged and stitched and it hurt to move, and breathe. But I was lucky, because I probably should have been dead. I told Francis everything I remembered. Would you believe it if I told you that deep down below that asshole bastard exterior there's a huge softy? Well, a softy who'll threaten murder on those who wrong his friends. Regardless, he refused a new partner and visited me everyday, practically berated me into recovery. We hate each other sometimes, but he's my best friend for a reason. He wanted to go after Creevy, but I convinced him that it was a bad idea, because he could wind up in a hospital bed next. Or in prison, if he was seen as breaking the terms of our deal with the Government. Or dead.

We were thinking of going to the higher ups at CEDA and reporting it, but there was no way to prove what happened, just like there was no way to prove what happened in Sandy. And shit, they seemed to reluctantly fall on Creevy's side every time he did something bad. And he's done a lot of bad things, things that don't even involve me, or Francis, or the mother in Sandy…

So, when I recovered, we just went on to the next. Laramie, Wyoming. We did our jobs, and I got my revenge on a SHIT TON of Witches that we flushed out. So that was good. So basically, kiddo, I got mauled by a Witch in Santa Fe and all I got was this lousy scar map.

He finished his story, and rubbed his eyes resignedly. That had taken a lot more out of him than he had expected it to, and while it was cathartic, he also felt extraordinarily exposed. So this was what it felt like to open himself up again. He'd almost forgotten how susceptible it made him feel, especially since whenever he'd opened up before it hadn't ended well and vulnerability was replaced with anger.

He carefully looked at his lover, and saw that Ellis had a mix of emotions competing for his face. Anger, relief, sadness, all three were apparent, and Nick didn't know how he felt about eliciting such sentiment.

"… I'll kill him," Ellis said, flatly.

"Well this is Deja Vu," Nick said, shrugging. "You and Francis both."

"But I'm actually gonna do it!"

"No you aren't."

"Watch me!"

"You aren't gonna do that because if you did something that stupid and threw your life away over a piece of shit like Creevy I probably wouldn't ever forgive you," Nick responded, sternly, and Ellis snorted, crossing his arms. "He isn't worth it, as far as I'm concerned."

"Nick-."

"Just forget about it, kiddo," the older man said. "Soon I won't have to deal with him anymore. That's all I want. I don't want any reason for him to make me do this longer than I have to. So do me a favor and promise me that you aren't going to do anything stupid. For my sake AND your sake."

Ellis was going to object, because as far as he was concerned Nick wasn't taking this nearly as seriously as he should have been. What about justice? What about Creevy getting what he deserved? But when he saw the exhaustion in the Z-Man's eyes, he realized that he did have to drop it. For Nick's sake, anyway. So he merely took Nick's hand in his, and nodded.

"'Kay," he said, and smiled bravely, which made Nick smile back at him. "…. Thanks for tellin' me, Nick."

"Well it wasn't easy and it was a change for me, so yeah, you should be thanking me," Nick said, gruffly, and Ellis chuckled a little before some of the words struck him. His heart wavered, and his eyes widened slightly. The change in his appearance didn't go unnoticed, and Nick made a face. "What?"

"… You changed for me?" Ellis asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Nick's forehead creased, visibly confused by the question and wondering where it came from. "Huh?"

"I mean, you said that was a change for you, an' you did it for me," Ellis said, trying to keep his voice in check even though he was becoming more and more excited. "So…. You changed for me?"

"…. Yeah, I guess I did," Nick said, not saying that it went beyond his opening up. But he didn't have to. Ellis just knew. And so the mechanic pulled the gambler's face into another long kiss, and both men hugged sweetly. Not desperately, or in a prelude to more sex. Just sweetly. Oh I'm so fucked, Nick thought as they kissed. Little twerp has me and I don't think he's going to let me go. But then, Nick didn't want him to let go either.

Though Nick was finally able to fall asleep after that divulgence, it was Ellis' turn to be kept up by thoughts. First they were rage filled, as he was still incensed about what had happened to the older man. His gut burned, and he wanted to go into town, find Creevy, and just kick his ass. But if Nick said not to mess with the guy, he wasn't going to. Though as time went on, his thoughts turned from the hate and vitriol towards Creevy and instead flipped to a much more powerful emotion: love.

When he was younger he would watch epic romantic dramas with his mother, usually because she asked him too. AN AFFAIR TO REMEMBER, AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMEN, and her personal favorite (and therefore Ellis' most hated), LOVE STORY. Whenever she was down, she would watch that movie, and ask Ellis to watch at least some of it with her. And he would, because if she wanted his company, he would give it to her. If he had a dollar for each time she said 'Someday you're going to find someone special, and I hope that she's like Ali MacGraw', he would have been rich by age fifteen. He'd always held his tongue, but every time she said it he thought 'So you want me to meet a girl who gets cancer and dies?'

But while he pretty much hated those kinds of movies, he had always been somewhat fascinated by the idea that they would espouse: true, undying, happily ever after (unless it's more romantic if it's tragic) love. He hadn't believed in it, if only because he'd seen enough broken marriages in his extended family. Or worse, marriages that should have expired long ago or never happened in the first place. Hell, his Dad had apparently claimed that he'd give his Mom the moon and stars, but then ditched out on her as soon as she told him she was pregnant. In Ellis' mind movie love didn't exist.

It certainly didn't exist between him and Nick. Nick was difficult, and sarcastic, and definitely held himself in a high regard without apology. All in all, Nick was a thorny person, and hard to like, much less love. He was snide, elitist, and just a little screwed up to boot. He wasn't the model of what Ellis had been told he would find when it came to a soul mate, by movies or his mother; he wasn't moral, he wasn't kind, and he wasn't a woman. They wouldn't be living the nuclear family lifestyle, with a modest house with a dog in the backyard and two point five kids. They wouldn't be the fantasy that Ellis had concocted in his mind when they were on the road to New Orleans, where they would be happy no matter what and never upset with each other, living out their days in Savannah having weekly barbeques. Hell, they may not even survive past Nick's inevitable departure from Roanoke II.

But none of that mattered to the mechanic as he glanced at the sleeping Nick. In spite of these things, he still wanted this. He still trusted Nick, just as Nick trusted him. Maybe that was more akin to love than any of those movie characters his mother loved and envied so much.

Dalton jumped onto the bed and found a place for himself between the two sets of feet, and Ellis picked him up and scratched his ears. He wasn't sure if what he was feeling was love, but that was alright for now. It didn't have to be. Whatever it was, it made him happy. He hadn't been this happy in a very long time.

So he curled up under the covers, letting Dalton squirm from his grasp to return to his small slice of bed, and dared drape an arm over Nick as he fell into sleep. In his half awake state, he felt Nick pull him closer, be it consciously or not, and so he smiled. Whatever this was, he was drowning in it.

"Do you know what I hate?" he muttered into Nick's ear, sleep about to overtake him.

"What?" Nick asked, voice heavy.

" 'Love Story'," Ellis answered.

"…. The movie?" Nick asked, turning over.

"Yeah. You aren't like Ali MacGraw at all," Ellis said, eyes closed and a smile settling on his face.

"…. Are you even awake?" Nick asked, skeptically.

"Not really."

"That explains it then," Nick replied, rolling back over. "Go to sleep, El."

"Okay."

Chapter Text

"You're gonna be pissed when I tell you what I see in these," Francis said, eyes gazing through a pair of binoculars as he surveyed the distant trees.

"Tell me it isn't a Hunter," Nick replied, peppermint stick lodged in his teeth.

"Nope."

"…. Please please PLEASE don't let it be a Spitter," Nick whined, yanking the binoculars from Francis' gloved hands.

"Bingo."

Nick swore as he saw the pig tailed hussy running around, jaw unhinged and Daisy Dukes leaving not enough to the imagination. To him, Spitters were the stuff of nightmares. Not just because they were filthy and their spit would melt your face; he was pretty sure that at one time or another, at least a few of them had been fairly attractive, if not a little trashy, women. Now they were swollen, drooling, and all around disgusting. It was a crime.

Plus, he had a pretty nasty burn scar on his left foot due to their acidic spit melting through an expensive shoe. Unforgivable.

"Tell me you can pick her off," Nick said, putting the binoculars down as Francis aimed his gun towards her.

"I can pick just about anything off these days," the biker replied cockily. "A steady diet of good booze, soul food, and sex has really done me good."

"I'm so happy for you," Nick snickered as Francis shot the gun. The Spitter fell, vomiting up a puddle of green spit that steamed into the October air. "Fewer and fewer."

"True enough," Francis agreed. "I bet we're out of here by the end of the month." Nick nodded, and brushed his hands together. "Shit, that's already what, three weeks from now?"

"Two and a half, actually," Nick said, flatly.

"But who's counting, right?" Francis muttered bitterly, checking his ammo. "So I'm going to be at Ro's tonight. If I only get two and half weeks more with her I'm spending that time wisely."

"You don't know it's going to be two and a half weeks," Nick said, though that did sound about right, given the fact they had killed less zombies this week than they had the first two days on the job.

"Well however long it is, Ro's and my relationship is on borrowed time," the biker said, picking up the binoculars again to hide the admittedly sad look in his eyes. "I don't see how those other Z-Men can juggle this job and their families. Can't do both."

"Can we not talk about it?" Nick groused, crossing his arms. "Since when do you give a shit about leaving a girl behind? You've left plenty before this."

"Sorry that with Ro I can't just toss her aside as easily as YOU can your conquests," Francis snapped, irritated that he'd actually tried opening up in an honest way and was steadfastly rebuffed. "Maybe you'll have an easy time just ditching Motor Mouth, but-."

"Hey, would you just shut up already?" Nick snarled, and Francis looked back from the binoculars. "I just said I didn't want to talk about this, can we just do our jobs and stop acting like a goddamn episode of '90210'? 'Oh no, Donna, if I go off to college and leave Dylan behind I don't know what I'll do', blah blah blah. Man the fuck up."

He expected Francis to start bitching at him for being such a grouch (like Francis could talk!), but instead the biker just chuckled.

"Oh boy," he said, shaking his head.

"What?" Nick asked, sharply.

"You're sore."

"So I don't feel like you insinuating I'm the World's Biggest Douchebag, what's so funny about that?"

"Yeah right, like you care if I insinuate that," Francis said, putting the lenses back to his eyes as he looked for other Special Infected. "You're sore because you're actually falling for that hick kid."

"Francis, would you just drop it?" Nick asked, rubbing a hand down his face. Francis shrugged, and put the binoculars down in favor of his gun. Nick spit out his peppermint stick (really wishing he had a cigarette at that moment) and aimed his gun at a wandering Common as it crawled out from the brush. He pulled the trigger on his shotgun, and ground his teeth. Two and a half weeks. That wasn't much.

Before he could start brooding about it too much, the maniacal laugh of a Jockey tore through the air.

"Oh come on, first a Spitter and now a Jockey?" Francis said, fumbling for the binoculars again. "…. Yeah, he's right up there by that broken down truck-."

"I'm on it," Nick muttered, striding forward and thankful for any distraction given to him. Francis shrugged, perfectly fine NOT having to risk having his face ridden by the diseased little pissant, and leaned against the fence calmly.

Nick saw it hopping around in the bushes, it's stupid laugh making him more irritated than he already was, and he aimed his gun deftly. But, unfortunately, the Jockey caught him a bit off guard as it suddenly jumped at him without warning. It landed right on his face, like they usually did, and the gambler swore and flailed about trying to get it off of himself.

"FRANCIS, GODDAMMIT WOULD YOU HAVE MY BACK?" he exclaimed as the zombie ripped at his hair, and a gun went off, sending the creature to the ground. Nick yelled out in frustration as he clawed at his face, thoroughly disgusted. "Bout time you got it, you big fucking mo-." He trailed off, though, as it wasn't Francis who had shot the gun. Agent Mark Creevy was standing next to the biker, rifle propped against his hip as he smiled smugly. Nick snorted, and walked over grudgingly.

"Nice to see where my tax dollars are going," Creevy said, and Francis made a face over his shoulder that only Nick could see.

"What are you doing out here?" the gambler asked, sneering.

"Your job, apparently," Creevy jabbed. "Quite a thing to say to the guy who just saved your life."

"Hardly," Nick replied. "Somehow I don't think that preventing a Jockey from humping my face cancels out what happened in Santa Fe."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Creevy sniffed.

"Since when do you come out here and check on us anyway, Creevy?" Francis asked. "I don't think we've seen you at the West Gate in the entire time we've been here."

"Well funny you should ask, I did have a couple of things I wanted to check in with you two about," Creevy said, removing a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it up. He offered the pack to the two Z-Men, but both refused. "Could have sworn YOU smoked, Francis."

"Trying to quit," Francis replied, coolly.

"Is that something that lady friend of yours has instilled in you?" Creevy asked, and took a drag as he set his frosty eyes on the biker.

"I just don't accept cigarettes from ratfink bastards, thanks."

"Hm, good one," Creevy shrugged, unfazed. "Speaking of your lady friend, Francis, I heard rumor that she's been calling a few of our colleagues back in Washington and asking them questions. Specifically about me."

Francis crinkled his nose, trying to remain stoic though he was a little put off by this bit of news. "I haven't heard anything about that. Your source is probably full of shit."

"I find that hard to believe," Creevy replied, flicking some ash off the cig. "Now I'm not telling you how to conduct your relationship, but maybe you want to tell her that she ought to back off… I would hate to think that someone who disapproves would catch wind of this. You know how things are."

"If you've got somethin' to say, Creevy, I suggest you just say it," Francis snarled, suddenly standing up straight and looking more than imposing. He was about to move in on the CEDA agent, when Nick placed himself between the two men before Francis did something he would ultimately regret.

"Creevy, why don't you just blow, okay?" Nick snipped. "I'm sure Rochelle is only writing a follow up article about the Z-Men and CEDA for when it's time for us to get out of this town. After all, what could she POSSIBLY find out, right?"

"Well then why not simply ask me outright?" Creevy asked, unconvinced. Nick smirked sardonically.

"That's a good question, seeing as you have such a warm and welcoming personality," the con man replied.

"Francis, might I suggest that you tell your lady friend to keep her nose out of official government business?" Creevy asked, turning back to the biker. "Unless you're okay with the idea of her having to look over her shoulder wherever she goes…"

Before Francis could react, all three men were distracted by the sight of a familiar pick up truck coming up the road towards the gate. Nick cringed, wishing that Ellis had picked a different time to drop in unannounced. Wasn't he supposed to be at work right now, goddammit? He knew that Ellis wasn't necessarily going to hold back on their relationship, and that if Creevy saw that relationship as a weakness he might just try and exploit it, as he was doing with Francis and Ro.

Ellis hopped out of the pick up, paper bag in tow, and waved happily at his beau and beau's partner. It hadn't really clicked that there was a third man out there with them, and it didn't click until he saw just who that third man was. He paused for a moment, and scowled. What was that asshole doing out here? He didn't know if Nick wanted him to proceed or not, but he had a bag full of lunch for the Z-Men and didn't want to leave just because Creevy was out there. Just be civil, he thought. Nick doesn't want you messing with him.

"Hey Nick! Francis!" he called, walking to the fence and stepping through the gate. "Thought you guys might like some lunch!"

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" Nick asked, approaching him as neutrally as possible.

"Well I was out for my lunch break and stopped by Carlisle's to get a cola, and Carlisle asked me to bring you two some sandwiches, on him," he replied, steadfastly ignoring the CEDA agent.

"Sounds great," Francis said, though his blood was still boiling and lunch wasn't going to quell it anytime soon. "What kind of sandwiches?"

"Philly cheese steaks," Ellis replied, and Francis scoffed.

"Hardly! It's not a Philly cheese steak if it isn't made in Philly!" the biker groused. "I grew up there, man, I know what I'm talking about!"

"Well I don't see why you're complainin' since they're free an' all," Ellis said, defiantly, and kept that defiant face as he focused on Creevy. "Sorry, Carlisle only made two. Guess he didn't think you'd be out here today."

"Oh that's just fine," Creevy said, anxious for the hick to leave. "I already ate."

"Why aren't you at work?" Nick asked, voice low, and Ellis shrugged.

"Rick said that my lunch break had to be two hours today cuz of overtime," Ellis replied, sensing that Nick didn't want him around if Creevy was around. Part of him was flattered, but the other part was slightly miffed; he didn't need to protect him from the Big Bad CEDA agent. He could hold his own just fine, and he wasn't going to antagonize the jerk. "If he isn't gonna pay me for two hours, I'm not gonna work."

"Seems fair," Creevy said, and Nick glowered at him.

"So… I thought lunch might be nice, since Carlisle offered to give it to you for free," Ellis kept explaining. Had he somehow gotten in trouble for coming out here? He couldn't have known that Creevy was going to be around! Nick accepted the bag of food, and nodded stiffly.

"Great, thanks Ellis," he said. Ellis nodded, and chewed on his lip a bit, Creevy watching it all in fascination and sadistic glee. Nigh sighed, knowing that if he didn't acknowledge the kid in any other way it would weigh heavily (why did he always think that he was doing something wrong when Nick was unresponsive?), so he gave him a quick smirk. "Still coming by tonight?"

Ellis nodded, smiling back in the slightest of ways. "Yep. Feedin' the cat too."

"Good," Nick nodded. "I'll see you then."

"Okay. Hope you like the sandwich, Francis, even if it isn't a 'real' cheese steak."

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Motor Mouth," Francis replied, snatching the bag from Nick's hands and digging into it for the meal.

"Okay," Ellis nodded again, and refrained from sneaking a glare at Creevy. He placed all of the blame on him for this awkward meeting. At least he wouldn't be around that night. He just had to hope that Nick's frame of mind wouldn't be completely shot after this interaction. "Alright, see you guys later."

"See ya, Aylus," Nick said, the term of endearment slipping out. He could have kicked himself, but seeing how it made Ellis grin ever so slightly took away the regrets he might have had. As soon as the mechanic had slipped back through the gate and crawled into his truck, Creevy turned to Nick, a creepy grin drawn across his teeth.

"Robbing the cradle this time, aren't we Nick?" he asked as Ellis drove back down the road.

"Don't see how it concerns you," Nick replied, icily.

"It doesn't concern me yet," Creevy stated, examining his nails. "I just find it interesting is all. Never thought you'd set your sights on a redneck hayseed whose Mom is probably his sister-."

"STOP TALKING," Nick snarled, and it was Francis' turn to get between the two men, chomping on the cheese steak all the while.

"Oh wow, and you're PRICKLY about how I refer to him, this IS interesting," Creevy continued. "Word to the wise: tell your hayseed that if he knows what's good for him he won't be as nosy as Francis' lady friend."

"I think it's time you left," Nick growled.

"Probably," Creevy nodded. "Watch out for Jockeys, Nick." He walked back through the fence, and hit the lock. "Don't forget to lock up."

"I always fucking lock up," Francis muttered as he chewed, he and his partner scowling after the CEDA agent as he got in his car and drove off. "Do you think anyone would miss him if we just did away with him and buried him out here?"

Nick snorted. "Probably not."

"I'm fucking serious, why don't we just do that?" the biker asked, kicking the ground.

"Because I'd rather not add first degree murder to my rap sheet, thanks," Nick muttered. "Not when we're this close to having all of that expunged from the record."

"Might be worth it."

"I highly, HIGHLY, doubt that," Nick replied, leaning against the fence. "You might want to encourage Ro to either be more subtle or just stop snooping altogether."

"Believe me, she and I are going to have a talk," Francis said, sourly. "... Can you hold down the fort for awhile?"

"Why?"

"I want to talk to her sooner rather than later."

"Well seeing as we've encountered TWO Specials today and one of them tried to fuck my face I'd rather you stay-."

"You can handle it, you're a tough guy," Francis stated, thumping him on the arm and slipping through the fence as well.

"If you come back here and I've been ripped apart, or smashed into the ground, or face-fucked to death I'm going to haunt you," Nick called, bitterly. "And we aren't talking about a Casper the Friendly Ghost haunting either, I will go full Amityville on your ass!"

"Amityville was a hoax, you big wuss," Francis called, climbing into the BMW.

Rochelle was eating a robust lunch of yogurt and granola as she sat in her cubicle, taking a break from working (though it was more taking a break from playing Spider Solitaire on her computer) for a half hour. She wrinkled her nose, the yogurt fine but unable to compare to an actual lunch, and she wondered if it would seem too relationship-y to surprise Francis at HIS place of work for a lunch date. But she didn't have to ponder it too long, as soon thereafter the biker had walked into the office space, striding right for her desk. She tossed her yogurt in the garbage, assuming he was surprising her for a date, and smiled.

"Hey you, you read my mind," she said, standing up to hug him, but then she noticed how hard his eyes were.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked, voice stern. She paused a moment, and tilted her head.

"Um, yeah, what do you want to talk about?" she asked.

"In private," he stated. "Is there somewhere we can go-?"

"I guess the copy room," she replied, and led the way, wondering just what had put a bee in her lover's bonnet.

They walked into the cramped space and she closed the door behind them as he leaned against the work table. She turned around, and shrugged. "Sooo… What's up?"

He tapped his foot on the floor a couple of times, arms crossed, and then sniffed. "So is it true that you've been doing some research on Creevy?"

Oh great, she thought, thinking that she'd been sneaky enough to get away without interrogation. "Who said that?" she asked, stalling for time. She hadn't told anyone, after all, since she hadn't told Ellis who therefore couldn't have told Nick.

"Is it true?" he repeated, a bit angrier since she was being a bit vague. She shrugged a little bit.

"….. Well, yeah, just a little bit-."

"Ro, I told you to leave it alone!" Francis exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table, and she leapt at his forcefulness. "WHY can't you just leave it alone?"

"Hey, Francis, you are completely overreacting!" she snapped, voice a hiss in an effort to not draw attention. "I'm barely doing ANYTHING, okay? I was calling a few of your colleagues and superiors in Washington just because-!"

"I don't care why you were doing it, you need to stop!"

"Why the HELL would I stop?"

"Because he's on to you!" Francis spat hoarsely. "He knows you're looking into him, Cupcake, he KNOWS."

"….. How could he possibly know? I haven't told anyone-!"

"CEDA sticks together, okay, so as soon as you called their offices and asked a question they let him know," Francis explained, crossly.

"Well my questions were perfectly innocuous, so he has no reason-!"

"Creevy doesn't care about reason, if he thinks that you are some kind of threat, he will retaliate!" Francis cut her off, and she growled, becoming more and more frustrated with him. "If you knew the shit he's done-!"

"So tell me the shit he's done!"

"Hell no, how do I know you won't go and publish it?" he threw back. She crossed her arms, blood rushing to her face as her anger grew.

"I'm not going to publish a half story, baby, but if there's a full story there I sure as hell am going to write SOMETHING on it!"

"Why? Why can't you just leave it well enough alone? This isn't YOUR fight!" he exclaimed.

"Journalists put themselves in those fights so everyone knows about them!" she replied. "If people knew what CEDA and the Government was doing, things might change for the better!"

"You're so naïve," he said, shaking his head. "People don't care about where the Z-Men come from. They just care about results. And I'm going to keep getting results because I want OUT. If you write a story about us, about Creevy, you may not only affect YOU, you could completely fuck up Nick's and my freedom! You could put all of us in danger, and Nick and I have NO INTEREST in being in any danger! We're in danger whenever we step outside that fence, and we'd prefer to be safe when we aren't on the clock! And YOU shouldn't take it so lightly either, Cupcake, because you may think you have complete control of this, but I promise you that you don't."

"…. I will stop calling Washington," she conceded. "That I'll do. But Francis, I'm not dropping this. It's my job to report the news-."

"You write an opinion column! Your job is to write feminazi opinions that gets more subscriptions to this hillybilly rag!" he exclaimed, and her hands flung to her hips.

"ExCUSE ME?" If there was one thing she wasn't going to take from him it was insults to her livelihood.

Oh shit, that was probably going a little too far, he thought. "…. Um-."

"How dare you?" she snarled.

"Cupcake, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he began, trying to hoist himself at least partially out of the hole he'd dug, but she was having none of it.

"I don't care how you mean it, how DARE you say that about my job here?" she demanded, clenching her fists. "This may be a small town, and it may not be a gig that is going to get me to Diane Sawyer status, but I LIKE my job and I'm going to do it to the best of my abilities! And I don't need you undermining what I do just because YOU never had the balls to take on that asshole!"

"Hey, I have balls-!"

"Jesus Christ, I can't even look at you right now," she said, turning away and crossing her arms furiously. "I can't believe you. You should go."

"But-!"

"GO, FRANCIS," she spat, still not turning around. Francis, surprised that this had taken such an angry turn (though knowing that he shouldn't have been surprised), made a move for the door, ready to slink away with his tail between his legs…

But then he remembered something, and spun back around. "HEY WAIT A MINUTE!" he exclaimed, and she twirled around, surprised. "Why am I the one in trouble? You lied to me!"

"When?"

"You said that you weren't going to look into this! You told me that you were going to leave it alone!" he shouted, pointing at her. "You're full of shit!"

Oh Hell, that's a good point, she thought, though her face remained incredulous. "I never said that I wasn't going to-!"

"You did! You said, and I quote, 'If you want me to drop it, I'll drop it'! You said that!" he exclaimed. "And yet somehow you managed to completely twist it around so I'M the one in trouble?"

"You are in trouble!" she volleyed, still angry.

"Women! I can understand why Nick prefers fucking guys, if I had a good head on my shoulders I'd've just gone with dudes, but NOOOO, I have to prefer pussy to dick!" he barked. "You drive me crazy! Look, as far as I'm concerned I've done MY job! Leave Creevy alone if you know what's good for you! And don't come crying to me when you find yourself the target of CEDA's wrath, because I won't be going to any pity parties you throw yourself!" With that, he went back through the door.

"Well FINE!" she shouted after him, craning her head out of the copy room. "Next time you get an itch that your hand just can't scratch you can FORGET coming by MY place! Consider the candy store closed to you, buddy!" She snorted, and left the copy room, noticing that one of her colleagues, Iris Hoyt, had witnessed the entire thing. The middle aged etiquette columnist was staring at her with shock and horror, and Rochelle sneered at her. "WHAT, Iris? Miss Manners wouldn't approve? And YES EVERYONE KNOWS YOU LIFT YOUR ADVICE FROM MISS MANNERS!" Iris Hoyt swiftly turned around and rushed down the short hallway, fearing for life and limb, and Rochelle put a hand to her forehead and leaned against the wall, morosely.

Back at the gate, Nick was leaning against the fence and chewing on a peppermint stick. Stupid Francis, he thought bitterly, paranoid that another Jockey was going to show up. Even the sandwich hadn't improved his mood, but then Jockeys and shady CEDA agents were enough to make anyone's stomach turn. He ran a hand down his face, and snorted.

But just as those things could make him sour, the sound of pick-up truck tires on road could completely flip that feeling. He turned around to see Ellis pulling up again, and he couldn't help but smile as the mechanic stopped the vehicle. "What are you doing here?" he called as Ellis hopped out of his truck. "You already brought me a sandwich."

"Well I wanted to say 'hi' too," Ellis smiled, walking to the chain link and standing against it, fingers curling through the metal. "Creevy made that kinda hard."

Nick grinned, linking his fingers through the same chain links so their fingers were tangled. "Hi."

"Hi."

"When do you have to go back to work?" Nick asked.

Ellis sighed, glumly. "Soon, actually. Which sucks."

"No time for a round in the truck?"

"You're a freakin' machine!"

"Is that a no?"

"Yeah, that's a no," Ellis sneered. "Where'd Francis go?" Nick rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Ro's been snooping a bit and he's pissed," Nick said. "Guess she's been looking into Creevy or some shit. And Creevy got wise to it."

"Aw man. Should she be worried-?" Ellis began, concerned, but Nick shook his head again.

"Don't worry, Overalls, she's either smart enough to know when to stop or she's smart enough to know how not to get caught," he responded, though he said it more for Ellis' sake. He would have preferred that Rochelle back off, since intelligence hadn't helped HIM against the CEDA agent.

"Yeah, she's pretty smart."

"But don't YOU start snooping or anything," Nick stated firmly.

"Yeah yeah, I won't."

"And it's not because I don't think you're smart-."

"Jeeze Nick, I know, c'mon…. I should get back to work," Ellis said, pushing off the fence. "But I'll give you a call later tonight."

"Alright," Nick nodded, and picked up his gun again. "Talk to you later, kiddo!"

"Yep!" Ellis called over his shoulder. "Talk to you tonight! Love ya!"

He then clamped a hand over his mouth. Oh FUCK, he thought, and spun around to see if Nick had heard him. Nick HAD stopped in place, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"What did you say?" he asked, and Ellis wasn't sure if it he actually hadn't heard him or if he hadn't believed what he heard.

"Um.. what?" the mechanic countered with, stalling.

"I didn't hear what you said, what was it?" Nick replied, and Ellis exhaled gently, trying not to look too relieved.

"I just said…. See ya," he tried, and Nick shrugged.

"Sure will. Later." Ellis nodded and waited until Nick turned before he rolled his eyes and hit himself in the forehead. Dummy, he thought. You'll scare him off if you aren't careful. But he did smile to himself as he walked back to his truck, as being in love was a nice feeling. Even if he didn't want to share it just yet, he could still bask in it.

Chapter Text

"Do you wanna go to the Harvest Festival with me?"

At any other time it would have been a perfectly harmless question that wouldn't have ruffled Nick's feathers. After all, it was a simple invitation, it wasn't too much of a commitment, and it was something that couples did together. Had Ellis asked it at any other time, it wouldn't have thrown Nick the way it did.

But the fact of the matter was that Ellis asked it when Nick was in his favorite place to be: balls deep in panting and moaning mechanic.

They'd met up after both their respective workdays were done. Nick had every intention of trying to be something of a gentleman that day: just take the kid out to dinner, maybe have nice conversation or something. But once Nick had picked him up from his house and driven into town, Ellis' thought it would be best to lean in and chew on his earlobe. So Nick immediately drove to a more secluded part of town and they began to fool around in the backseat of his BMW.

He wasn't sure that Ellis had said anything at all, as his head was swimming and his lower extremities were building so delectably that he might have been hallucinating.

"What?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as he tried to concentrate on his thrusts.

"The Harvest Festival's in a w-week!" Ellis ground out, gripping the armrest of the backseat door as he received his lover's gyrations. "There's pie bakin' contests, an' hayrides, an' a dance, an-AH GOD MORE'VE THAT, l-lots've food-!"

"Ellis! Is now the best time?" Nick groaned, speeding up to try and harness his orgasm.

"Okay!... OH shit, Nick, I think I'm gonna come," he wheezed, craning his head back to try and see his lover.

"Not on the seats!" Nick blurted out, and Ellis huffed incredulously.

"Where else am I s'posed to do it?" he exclaimed. Nick moaned, the thought of his leather seats getting messy unappealing, but Ellis had a point: he should have thought about this before.

"Fuck!" he choked out, blood starting to boil more. "Okay, don't worry, it's leather, it'll clean up."

"Whatever, I don't care!" Ellis whimpered, and Nick laughed and began to bite at the nape of his younger lover's neck. Ellis wailed, knuckles turning white as his muscles began to quiver, and Nick hooked an arm around his waist. "OH JESUS GOD!"

"Fuck! Oh FUCK! EL!" Nick cried, a slackjawed grin spreading on his face. Balls deep was definitely the best place to be.

Once both men had wailed incoherently through their climaxes, they slumped into the seat, limbs entangling and chuckling at each other. Nick brushed hair from Ellis' eyes, and clicked his teeth.

"Hmm, nothing like a round right after work," he said, stretching his arms up the leather seat and sitting up. Ellis grinned, and turned to his side to look at him.

"When do I get to do that?" he asked, resting his temple against his hand.

"Do what?"

"Be on top."

"Oh that. Well, let me pencil you in for October 32nd," Nick replied, cockily.

"There aren't thirty two days in October, Nick," Ellis snorted.

"My mistake. November 31st."

"Har har har."

"Would you prefer the forty third of Junetober?"

"I get it, I get it," Ellis sighed, and instead of dwelling just shifted against the seat again. "Never done it in a BMW before."

"Enjoy it?" Nick replied, running a hand through the kid's sandy hair.

"Yeah. But you're a bad influence," the mechanic chuckled. "Sex in public, that's not somethin' I do usually."

"You'll get used to it," Nick said, lying back into the leather. Ellis snickered a bit and ran an arm across his forehead. "…. So what was that you were saying about some Harvest Festival?"

"Oh yeah!" Ellis chirped, smiling. "Every year this town has a Harvest Festival, and there's pie bakin' contests, and carnival games, and hayrides, and there's a dance, it's pretty much just kind of a fun night in the middle of town. They did it before the Green Flu when this place was still called Harriet, and Roanoke II kept on doin' it. I went last year, it was pretty fun! Oh, an' there's a pie walk!"

"A pie walk?"

"Yeah, it's like a cake walk, but instead of cake it's pies," Ellis said. "Oh, and a dance. There's a dance too."

"Yeah, you mentioned that."

"Oh yeah. So do you wanna go with me?" Ellis asked.

Shit, Nick thought. This kind of shindig didn't really sound like his kind of thing. He wouldn't have been caught dead at such an event on his own, since hayrides were dirty, carnival games were a HUGE con (he should know), and he didn't particularly like pie. And the idea of a dance made him shudder.

"I don't dance," he stated.

"Like, you can't dance? Cuz I can't dance either-."

"No, I can dance," Nick corrected. "I just don't dance."

"Oh… Well, we wouldn't hafta go to the dance," Ellis offered. "I mean, we don't hafta go to the Festival either, if you don't want to…. Do you just not want to go with ME, or-?"

"Stop stop stop," Nick demanded, holding up a hand. "Why do you think that I wouldn't want to go with YOU?"

"…. I don't know," Ellis said, nervously. "Just cuz… Well we weren't goin' out or nothin', but Keith didn't want to go to Prom together even as just friends cuz he thought that was embarrassin'-."

"Fucking Christ, kiddo, it's not because of that," Nick said, perturbed that he'd been compared to KEITH of all people. "Just because Keith was freaked by his gay tendencies-."

"Keith isn't-!"

"-doesn't mean that I am," Nick continued. "I'd French you in the middle of Main Street without pause or shame. I just don't dance. And I don't usually like 'festivals' of any type."

"Oh," Ellis said, relieved that it wasn't a matter of embarrassment. Why he'd even thought that in the first place, he didn't know. That was a silly fear. He was, however, admittedly bummed that Nick hadn't accepted his invitation to the celebration. "Well, that's good. But I don't think we should do that on Main Street… It's a small town, after all, and some people might not like it too much."

"All the more reason to do it," Nick smirked, putting his clothes back on reluctantly, as he knew that they really should get out of this spot and find something to eat. He glanced back at his boyfriend (it was still weird thinking in those terms, as it had been so long since he'd had something more than a fling), and when he saw the poorly hidden disappointment on the mechanic's face he sighed, irritated. Not at Ellis, at himself for what he was about to do.

"Okay," he said, grumpily. "I'll THINK about going to the Harvest Festival with you."

"Yeah?" Ellis asked, looking up and eyes much brighter now.

"No guarantees, but I'll think about it," Nick reiterated. Ellis didn't have to know that when he said he'd 'think about it' that usually meant 'yes' but was a way to save face. But the younger man knew enough about the older man that he'd already figured that out.

"Well that's just fine, Nick! Thinkin' about it is all I ask!" he said, cheerily, and began to put his clothes back on too. "…. So now what're we gonna do? It's not even six thirty." Nick shrugged, and fumbled for his keys.

"I don't know about you, but I could go for a sandwich," he replied, and shot the younger man a wolfish leer. "What say you? How do reubens sound tonight?"

Ellis returned the smile, and nodded. "That sounds great!"

"Great. We just have to stop and get a few things."

"Oh, what do you need?" Ellis asked.

"Rye bread…. And corned beef…. And honestly I can't remember if we have sauerkraut or not. I know we have Swiss cheese and Thousand Island Dressing, because Francis practically subsists off both those things."

"Ew."

"This is why I'm the cook," Nick nodded. "So we need bread and meat." Ellis shrugged.

"Tell ya what. Drive back to main street, I'll go to the butcher shop, an' you go to the bakery. They have real good bread there," Ellis suggested.

"The only place with 'real good' rye bread is New York City," Nick grumbled, climbing back into the front seat.

"Well then I suggest you get a travel permit and start the drive early," Ellis tossed back as he also awkwardly climbed over the seat into the passenger side. "Oh, and bring extra guns and baseball bats with you, seein' as it's still a wasteland."

"Yeah yeah yeah," Nick muttered, and buttoned his shirt back up. "We should do this more often."

"Heh, right," Ellis chuckled, and the con man plucked the bottle of lube from the floor of the back and put it back in it's rightful place: the glove compartment. "Do I even want to know all the secret places you keep the KY?"

"Come on, let me keep some air of mystery about me," Nick winked.

They drove onto Main Street and Ellis showed Nick exactly where to park. It wouldn't have been too difficult to figure out, since the bakery and the butcher shop were on the same block, but to park in the exact middle between the two was pleasing to Nick's inner obsessive compulsive.

"How much corned beef should I get?" Ellis asked as he exited the car.

"Think of the amount you'll eat, then double it, and then triple it in case Francis is home when we get there," Nick replied as he circled to the trunk of his car. He popped it briskly and removed a blanket. "I'm going to clean up the backseat, then I'm going to get the bread."

Ellis squirmed at the thought of the mess, but Nick winked at him and it quelled his embarrassment. "Okay. They just got a new bread slicer! You should ask for it pre-sliced!"

"Duly noted," Nick said, and Ellis trotted over to the butcher shop, thinking that three pounds would probably be enough. He'd seen Francis eat before, the guy could put away quite a bit of food if he put his mind to it.

He pulled the door open and stepped into the shop, fluorescent lights buzzing and the smell of flesh catching in his nose. While he usually had money for fancy meats, he'd never had anyone to eat them with. He rarely associated with his colleagues outside of the garage, and Rochelle had never really been a meat loving kind of person.

Which was why he was surprised to see her at the meat counter, pointing at a New York Strip with intent and longing. He raised his eyebrows, and whistled. She turned around, and huffed, waving at him.

"What are you doin' here?" he asked as he walked her way, and she snorted.

"I'm in a bad mood, I want steak," she replied, voice downright grumpy.

"You eat steak when you're crabby?" he asked, skeptically. "Don't girls usually eat ice cream and brownies?"

"I've never been one for conforming to stereotypes," she said.

"Well why're you in a bad mood? Was work bad?" he asked, taking a number.

"No, work was fine," she replied, removing some cash to pay for her steak.

"Well why don't ya come over to Nick's house for dinner, he's gonna make reubens."

"Will Francis be there?"

"Probably."

"Disinterested," she snipped, and accepted the wrapped steak in exchange for her cash. "Tell Nick hello for me."

"Still sore at Francis, huh?" he asked, and she crossed her arms.

"You act like I'm overreacting," she replied, arching an eyebrow. "He's acting like a macho jerk who thinks I can't take care of myself. It's insulting. I don't take that shit from my colleagues and I sure as hell won't take it from my boyfriend."

"You aren't still goin' after Creevy, are you?" Ellis asked, and she shrugged, about to make up some less than forthcoming answer. But both were distracted by the door opening and Mark Creevy himself walking into the shop. Rochelle wrinkled her nose at the coincidence, and Ellis crossed his arms. The CEDA agent saw them across the shop, and smiled politely.

"Evening," he said, nodding his head. "Nice night for a steak, wouldn't you say?" Rochelle mumbled some form of acknowledgment, while Ellis just looked at the number in his hand, hoping they would call him soon so he could get his food and go. Being around Creevy not only made him angry, it also gave him the willies. "Oh, Lois Lane? Was that you I saw digging through the dumpster outside my apartment building yesterday morning at, say, one a.m.?"

Rochelle barely reacted, glad that Nick had taught her how to present a good poker face while they were traveling together. "Do I look like the type of person who'd go dumpster diving, Agent Creevy? It was probably some homeless lady looking for aluminum cans."

"Hm, perhaps," Creevy said, unconvinced. "Can't imagine that this town has much of a recycling program. Or much of a sanitation program. Or much of anything other than nosy newspaper reporters and the modern day 'Beverly Hillbillies'."

"Well just so you're aware I'm pretty certain the town is probably as big a fan of you as you are of it," Rochelle volleyed back to him.

"Well, just so YOU'RE aware, it's just as easy for me to find your apartment as it was for you to find mine," Creevy replied, voice low, and Rochelle arched an eyebrow as Ellis began to step forward. "Whoa there, Jethro, no need to get defensive. We're all here just to buy some meat, let's keep it that way. I think your number is up." He pointed at the number ticker on the wall, and Ellis looked at his ticket briefly before confirming it. He glowered at the CEDA agent, and went to the counter, taking Rochelle by the elbow gently. He didn't want to leave her too close to the other man.

"What can I get you?" the butcher asked.

"Three pounds of corned beef, please," Ellis said. "Sliced nice and thin." The butcher nodded, and went to work on his order. A second butcher left the back room, and then sighed when he saw Creevy sitting at one of the tables, patiently.

"He's back?" he muttered to himself, and Ellis and Rochelle exchanged quick glances.

"He come here often?" she asked, casually, and the butcher, unaware he'd been heard, turned to her in a surprised fashion.

"Hm? Oh, well, sort of," he confirmed, making conversation. "He's been buying a couple pounds of meat every day for the past few days."

"A couple pounds every day?" Rochelle asked, immediately smelling something fishy.

"Yes," the butcher confirmed, moving to turn the number ticker. "How one small man can eat so much red meat is beyond me, and I'm a butcher!"

"Well hey, I like red meat a lot," Ellis said, feeling a bit defensive.

"Yeah, but a couple pounds every day is not only a lot of meat for one guy, but it's expensive," Rochelle pointed out, quietly. "That's just weird."

"Hey, business is business," the second butcher said as the first returned with Ellis' beef. He turned over the number, and called out 'Number forty!'

As Ellis and Rochelle had had their not so pleasant run in at the butcher shop, Nick stood in line at the bakery, tapping his foot impatiently. For some reason it was the place to be in the late afternoon, and he snorted, stomach grumbling and really wanting a reuben. He did get to the front, however, and smiled at the elderly baker woman.

"What can I get you, dear?" she asked, hand shaking slightly as she adjusted her glasses. Nick leaned on the counter, giving her that charming smile.

"I hear that you have some really good rye bread at this bakery," he said, and glanced at her name tag, "Agnes."

"Oh, it's nothing too special," she said, humbly.

"Regardless, I would love to get a loaf of that if you have any left," he said. "And I was told to ask you to slice it for me."

"Ah, you heard about the new bread slicer," Agnes smiled, and began to shuffle for the back room. "I'll be right back with your bread!" He nodded, and continued to lean on the counter, eyes inspecting the other baked goods. He tried to limit the amount of sugar he ate, as his stomach was more susceptible to getting cushier as he got older. But some of those cupcakes were looking extra tantalizing…

So it was lucky for him that he lost his appetite when Barbara Dane left the kitchen with a tray of macaroons. They made eye contact, and both of them held in sneers and instead went with cold nods. She began to set out the coconut cookies, lips pursed, and he tapped his fingers on the counter, now wishing that Agnes was young and spry and quick on her feet.

"…. Have you been helped?" Barbara asked curtly, uncomfortable but willing to do her job.

"Yeah, Agnes is slicing me some bread," he replied, just as curtly.

"Alright," she said, and crossed her arms, leaning against the built in shelving. "….. If I may ask, what's the bread for?"

Nick couldn't help the smug smile that crossed his features. "Cooking dinner for a date."

Were she still holding the tray of cookies she may have hit him in the face with it. But instead she opted to wrinkle her nose. "So you think that you cook for him once and he's yours?"

Nick straightened up. Oh toots, you have no idea who you're dealing with here. "No, I think I make him come repeatedly and he's mine," he replied. She jerked up like he'd slapped her in the face, and perhaps it had been a little harsh, but he didn't give a shit. As far as he was concerned she was a manipulative little bitch who'd given him needless grief. So why not gloat a bit? "Food isn't the only way to his heart."

"….. Why him?" she asked, voice filled with sadness. "Of all the people here in Roanoke II, why him? You can have your pick of anyone here, don't you know that?"

"Anyone, hm?" he asked, unmoved.

"Yes, anyone," she reiterated, angrily. "Do you think I haven't seen the way girls look at you? The way some guys look at you? Why does it have to be him?"

Nick shifted his weight, and exhaled slowly. He didn't think he needed to justify his romantic inclinations to someone who saw herself as competition. If anything he just should have told her to suck it up and fuck off. But instead, he ran his hand on the counter top and remained steadfast.

"Because I want him," he answered, honestly. "Which sucks for you, I guess."

She chewed on her lip and looked out the window sadly, before shrugging. "Well, we'll just see who's here to pick up the pieces when you're gone."

"Who says I'm going anywhere?" he asked, suspiciously. If he didn't know any better he would have thought she was threatening him. She shuffled her feet briefly, and shrugged.

"Z-Men don't stick around forever, after all," she answered, though her eyes were shifting a bit more than he was comfortable with. Before he could question it some more, the object of both their affections walked into the shop with the corned beef in his hand.

"Three pounds oughta do it I'd think!" Ellis announced, and then saw the awkward situation he'd stumbled into. "Oh. Hey, Barbara."

"Hello Ellis," she said, still stinging. "…. I was going to bring you some apple tarts on Sunday, but it sounds like you already have someone cooking for you."

"…. Yeah, I guess so," Ellis said, uncomfortably.

"…. I just have to wonder why you ever accepted the things I brought you if you never wanted them in the first place," she continued, clearly trying not to get emotional.

"Barbara, I'm-," he began, but before he could respond further, Agnes returned with the sliced rye bread. She held it out like it was some trophy to be coveted, and smiled at Nick. "Here you are, young man. One loaf of rye bread. That will be three dollars."

"Agnes, you're a gem," Nick responded, setting the three dollars on the counter. "Come on, kiddo, let's blow. Take that as you will, Barbara. And thanks again, Agnes."

Ellis shook his head reproachfully, as he didn't like that Nick was being such a dick to Barbara. After all, he'd always been taught that it wasn't nice to kick someone when they were down. But he followed him out anyway without comment, since that was something about Nick that wasn't going to change.

"So guess who I saw at the butcher shop," Ellis said, cautiously.

"Who?"

"Creevy."

"And not a damn was given by Nick," the older man said coolly.

"He was buyin' meat."

"Like most people at butcher shops."

"But the funny thing is that he was buyin', like, lots of it," Ellis continued.

"So the little rat likes meat," Nick said, shrugging. "No more Creevy talk. Reuben talk only. Fuck, I seriously can't remember if I have sauerkraut or not."

"Do reubens need sauerkraut?" Ellis asked, taking the hint.

"HA. That's like asking 'do collard greens need…. Collards.'"

"Wow.

"I tried."

"I also saw Ro. She's still mad at Francis."

"That figures," Nick replied as they got back into the BMW. "If he wants to get out of the doghouse he should do what I always did."

"What's that?" Ellis asked, plopping into the passenger seat.

"Tell her he loves her," Nick shrugged.

"Well now does he love her?" Ellis asked, surprised, but Nick shrugged.

"How should I know? Whenever Holly was mad at me I'd just say 'I love you!', and she'd forget about the fight," he said. "I didn't mean it after awhile, but it got me out of the doghouse every time. Called it my Failsafe."

"That's pretty much awful."

"Eh."

They returned to the house soon thereafter, carrying their food and chatting about reubens versus rachels (Ellis was staunchly in the turkey is superior to corned beef camp, while Nick thought that was nonsense). Nick opened the front door and whistled loudly. "Hey Francis! I hope you didn't eat all the Thousand Island Dressing, because I'm making the best damn sandwich you'll ever eat!"

"It'd be better with turkey," Ellis muttered.

"Didn't ask you," Nick replied, and they walked into the kitchen to find Francis sitting at the wooden table, a ponderous look on his face. "Hey big guy, do we have sauerkraut?"

Francis looked up, his face like he'd just seen a ghost, and Nick paused after setting the bread and meat on the countertop. The gambler crossed his arms and knit his brow.

"What's wrong?" Nick asked, voice no longer light. Francis swallowed, and Ellis looked from Z-Man to Z-Man, the tension nearly flooring him. "Francis. What's wrong?"

"… I just got off the phone with Morgan," he said quietly, and Nick immediately straightened up. Morgan only called for two reasons: either to ball them out, or to tell them that they were moving on. He'd only had to ball each of them out on the job once before; after they had left Austin and Nick had kept the car as a souvenier, and after Francis had knocked out the bigot in Minneapolis. But overall Morgan only called when it was time to leave. And since neither Nick nor Francis had engaged in any felonious activities, Nick just knew it was time to go.

"He can't seriously be moving us yet," Nick said, and Ellis looked at him nervously. "We haven't even been here a month, there are still plenty of those things crawling around at the North Gate!"

"Nick-."

"No, fuck that!" Nick exclaimed, raging. "We JUST got here, and I'm not about to pack up my shit in the next THREE days and shove off-!"

"We're done," Francis interrupted. Nick shut his mouth, not sure he'd heard his partner right.

"….. What?"

"After Roanoke II," Francis continued, standing up, the shock slipping away slowly and turning into an excited grin. "After this mission is finished, Morgan says that we're square. Our debt will be paid, our records and warrants will be purged, we'll be retired, and we'll be free."

Nick wasn't sure he'd heard him right. He ran a hand through his hair, and tensed up. "….. Are you sure you heard him right?"

"No mistaking it, Suit," he said.

"Bullshit, you have to be mistaken."

"I'm not! You can call him yourself if you don't believe me. He said that we have probably three weeks left, a month tops."

"Hold on," Nick said, still not quite ready to believe it. "I'm not buying what you're selling. Wouldn't we have heard about this earlier-?"

"We were supposed to find out a couple weeks ago," Francis said. "After we killed that kid snatching Smoker Mayor O'Dea went to Washington with a glowing review. Morgan said that was when the decision was made and he informed Creevy, who CONVENIENTLY forgot to tell us-."

"Big goddamn surprise!" Nick barked.

"-so that's why we hadn't heard of it until now," Francis continued, not breaking his train of thought. "Sure, we have to go through the motions and Morgan will probably bust our balls just for the hell of it-."

"Oh he'll enjoy that too."

"-but who CARES because we are FREE after things are done here!" Francis hooted, grabbing Nick by the shoulders and shaking him in glee. "We're done! We are fucking DONE!"

Nick began to laugh as Francis shook him, the reality of the situation finally sinking in, and the two agents cheered and embraced, their sentences finally running out. The con man pat his partner on the cheek, and then turned to Ellis. The mechanic was standing there anxiously, smiling as widely as the other men and keeping himself from hooting and hollering, as much as he would have loved to do so. Nick strolled up to his boyfriend, and shrugged blithely.

"May have to forget about the reubens and make some steak instead, eh kiddo?" he asked.

"Whatever, I don't care what we eat!" he replied, letting Nick run a hand across his back and the con man shrugged.

"Well I'm lazy, so I'll probably stick with the reubens, but steak tomorrow. For sure," he stated, tugging the younger man closer and planting a quick but strong kiss on his mouth. Ellis clamped his hands on Nick's jaw line, and Francis suddenly bolted for the door to the living room. Nick pulled away from the kid, and turned quizzically. "Hey, where are you going? We're celebrating!"

"You two can celebrate in whatever way YOU like, I'm going to do it in my own way," he announced, and the two others followed him out of the kitchen.

"Meaning?" Nick asked, and Francis grabbed his motorcycle keys from the bowl on the shelves.

"I'm going out. I have to take care of something," the biker replied, mysteriously. "Enjoy your sandwiches, guys." He left the house, and Nick turned to Ellis, shrugging.

"Whatever floats his boat, eh kiddo?"

"Uh huh," Ellis nodded. "So what does this mean? What're you gonna do when you're free to do whatever?"

Nick brushed his hand across his nose, still riding the high and not thinking about what it actually meant. "Fucked if I know. Right now I'm going to make dinner, and then suck your dick. Sound okay?"

"Sounds like a good short term plan to me!" Ellis nodded.

"Good. And who cares what order it's in?" Nick asked, as he began to unbuckle Ellis' belt.

"Not me."

Chapter Text

Rochelle poked at her half eaten steak, the medium rare meat no longer appetizing now that she was full. She wasn't sure if gorging on a New York Strip was any better for her than gorging on a pint of cookies and cream, but she told herself that at least it was a protein. Besides, it wasn't like she ate it all the time. She pushed her plate away, contemplating if she wanted to do the dishes now, or indulge further by opening a bottle of Merlot. THAT would be worse than Ben and Jerry's, but oh well. Fuck it.

She walked into the kitchenette and removed a corkscrew from the utensils drawer, trying to decide if she was in the mood for a gross out comedy or a shoot 'em up action flick. While she mulled such a choice in her head, she poured a glass of wine and walked to her computer. She still hadn't heard from Set. She didn't know if that meant that he was unable to find anything, or unwilling to look. She knew that it was a lofty request to ask a hacker to dig into official Government business, but Set had always claimed that he was the best. After all, he'd chosen a name that implied God-like power and chaos, so why shouldn't she think that he would rise to the occasion? She sat at her desk and clicked on her email, expecting the usual spam and junk mail that would pile up in the course of a day. For having a hush hush email account it sure accumulated a lot of garbage.

But she was surprised to find that there was, in fact, an email from Set. She clicked on it, and read it with harnessed excitement.

That vague manilla envelope you probably got a couple days ago? I hope you didn't throw that out.

She paused a moment, remembering that there had, in fact, been a blank manilla envelope with the rest of her mail.

"How did he….?" she began, but then snorted, crossing her arms a bit. Of course he could find out her address. He was a goddamn hacker. The thought of it made her feel a little uncomfortable, and she squirmed momentarily before going to her mail pile and removing the parcel. She was glad she hadn't thrown it out; she would have loved to attribute it to her gut, but knew that it was more likely laziness that had prevented her from doing so. She ripped the paper, and removed a small stack of documents with a piece of stationary attached to them.

Hello Friend, it read. You must be onto something serious if you want me to look into a Government official with so much clout. I found this Creevy fellow a hard nut to crack, and haven't really cracked it fully. At least, I haven't found a way to do so safely. This is what I have found. Bank statements, cell phone records, etc. So, not much. If I find anything else, I'll send it snail mail. Please be as careful as I'm being, this guy has some secrets. –Set

"You never cease to amaze me, God of Storms and Chaos," she smiled, and began to flip through the papers. Set was right, it wasn't much. His phone calls weren't very long, and were mainly local or to Washington. She flipped through it, uninterested. She did have to admit that it felt a little underhanded to be going through his stuff, especially since it appeared that he wasn't doing anything.

But when she stumbled upon an electronic invoice from a UMoveIt Rental in Durham, it gave her pause. She looked at the record, eyes narrowing. Creevy had rented a truck almost a week prior that was supposed to be for three days. It had also been noted on the record that it was going to be picked up by one Ed Jacobs. She had to read that again, and then huffed, confused and frustrated because of it.

"Why the hell would Creevy need a UMoveIt truck?" she muttered. And where WAS the UMoveIt truck? She certainly hadn't seen one near his apartment building when she had been there digging through his garbage (that was still a private humiliation, dumpster diving for a story). And what did Chief Jacobs have to do with any of it? She put the papers back in the envelope, sure that there was an answer in there somewhere, and thought that if she ruminated for a bit maybe it would jump out at her. And what was better rumination than a movie?

She was about to put SCREAM in the DVD player (what would Gale Weathers do?, that was her motto), when there was a sudden knocking on her door. She paused, blood running a bit cold. Once again, she wasn't expecting anyone, and she didn't like that someone had gotten as far as her door. Especially given the veiled threat that Creevy had sent her way in the butcher's shop that afternoon. She swallowed, thinking that maybe if she was quiet whoever it was would go away… But then, maybe if they thought she wasn't home they would break in. FUCK she thought as the door was knocked upon again. She considered her weapon options, ready to defend herself if necessary, but after a third knock she heard Francis say "Ro?" She exhaled, relieved it wasn't Creevy, but now annoyed that it was her ex. Was he her ex? Whatever he was, she didn't want to see him.

"Who let you in?" she demanded.

"That old lady on the first floor held the door."

"Goddamn her straight to Hell! THIS IS A SECURE BUILDING!"

"Can I come in, Cupcake?" he asked, voice trying to sound pitiful.

"Francis, I don't think I'm ready to talk to you yet so why don't you come back some other night?" she suggested, crossing her arms.

"I really need to talk to you," he said, now a bit more pleading than he usually allowed it to be. She furrowed her brow, surprised by the tone, and decided that yes, she was going to unchain and unlock the door. But he couldn't stay long. She wanted to stay mad just a little bit longer. So she opened the door with an aloof look on her face.

"What is it?" she asked, noticing his hands were behind his back.

"Can I come in?"

"… Fine," she relented, stepping aside so he could enter. He did so, still keeping whatever it was behind his back a secret. "So what was it you needed to talk about?" She she closed the door he removed the object from behind his back, revealing a potted cactus. "What is that-?"

"I bought you a cactus."

"Uh huh, I see that, but why?" she asked, accepting the plant. He took in a deep breath, readying himself for the explanation, and he wrung his hands together, the leather gloves squeaking.

"Alright. So I felt bad about what I said to you the other day, and I wanted to try and make it up to you somehow, so I went to the florist to get you some flowers," he explained. "But then I thought 'wait, flowers die, that's bullshit', but I figured I was already there and could get you something more permanent. So then I thought 'well, I could get her a spider plant, plants live longer than flowers, that's money better spent.' But then I thought that remembering to water the thing may be a hassle, since you work weird hours and don't have a set time at home ever.

"But THEN I saw they were selling cactuses! Cacti? Cacti. They were selling cacti, and those don't need to be watered all that often. You could go, like, weeks without watering it and it won't die! So bam! Perfect gift! Better than some stupid roses, that's for sure!"

She looked at the plant, and then back at him. "Um… Thanks?"

"Point is I felt bad and wanted to get you something."

"You think that buying me a plant is enough to make up what you said?" she asked, skeptically, and set the cactus down on the countertop.

"Um.. No… Well wait, what did I say again?"

"You called me a Feminazi!"

"Now hold on, I know I didn't call YOU that!" he protested. "Twisting my words- I said you wrote Feminazi columns!"

"Oh, you're right, that's much better!" she sneered. "It's not ME that's a genocidal sexist, it's my opinions!"

"Well now obviously I didn't mean that, I was mad atcha!" Francis exclaimed. Hm, maybe I should have gone with the roses, he thought. She snorted, shaking her head.

"Stupidly, I might add," she quipped.

"Not stupidly! You told me you were going to leave Creevy alone and you didn't! You lied to me, of course I was mad!" he barked.

"Well that may be, but you didn't have to attack my column, Francis!" she stated. "You don't have to disparage my career! The work I do IS important, and yes, sometimes it's dangerous, but it's what I do! You don't hear me complaining when you go out and kill zombies!"

"That's different!" he insisted. "I don't take unnecessary risks when I'm out there!"

"Bull! You're the one who was bragging about how you once rode a Charger like a bucking bronco just for the hell of it!" she pointed out.

"… I regret telling you that story."

"Francis…," she said, voice gentler now. "…. Look, ever since The Green Flu, I haven't had much going for me. " She crossed her arms, sadly. "My family's dead, my friends are dead or scattered across the country, and I followed one of the few friends I have left to a small town that doesn't have much room for hard hitting journalism.

"But I still take it seriously. I'm a reporter, and it's my job to take it seriously. This job is one of the only things I have left, and if I have the chance to pursue the dream that I left behind, I'm sure as hell going to take it," she said, determinedly. "And if that means I have to put myself in a little danger, well, I'm going to do it. It comes with being a journalist, small town or not…. And I'm sorry I lied to you, I shouldn't have. But if you can't accept that this is what I do and that it gets tense from time to time, maybe we shouldn't be together. Because you really have to accept my job if you're going to accept me."

Francis sighed and crossed his arms, looking a bit perturbed. She assumed that he was going to say 'no dice!' and that would be that. But instead he scratched his head and groaned.

"Fine, no more telling you not to do things," he agreed. "It's pretty clear that it's useless to do so anyway. Sorry."

"Good, glad you see it my way."

"Now can I say something?"

"Proceed."

"Good," he said, crossly. "When I was first recruited for Infected Extermination I was counting down the days until they let me go. Sure, in some ways I had a blast. I got to travel with my best friend, I met all sorts of people, and the job may have reeked but the company was good. I liked it because it made it easier to keep things temporary. I was always moving on, and that was an excuse not to give a shit. I figured when I was done with this gig that would be the one thing I would miss about it. Well, that and Nick, but don't tell him I said that!

"But today I got the call. We're done after Roanoke II, Cupcake," he said, popping his knuckles, and she tilted her head to the side, surprised. "I always imagined that when I got the call my first thought would be 'I'm going to L.A.!', or 'I'm taking the bike cross country and picking up tail in every state!', or at the very least 'SHOTS!'. But when it came today, none of those thoughts entered my head… Well, maybe 'shots!' did, but not first. The first thing I thought was 'I can't wait to tell Ro, even if the stubborn witch is mad as hell at me I'm going over there, and I'm telling her that even though she drives me absolutely bananas I'm STILL thinking of her'."

Rochelle was absolutely stunned by his words. When she had initially started fooling around with the biker, she held no illusions that it would be anything but permanent. She'd prepared herself for his ultimate departure, and figured that while it was going to suck a little when it ended, goodbyes were a necessary part of life.

So now that it sounded like he had at least small intentions of sticking with her for a short while, assuming she'd have him, she was momentarily conflicted. She'd planned for a relationship with an expiration date, especially since he was brash and boneheaded and the complete opposite of her. How could she switch mentalities so quickly?

But she found it easier to do that she thought, as she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He tensed up, surprised by her reaction, but then happily hugged her back.

"You're such a dick," she muttered.

"How come?" he laughed into her hair.

"Because you weren't supposed to make me fall for you, asshat!" she bit, though he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Sorry, Cupcake."

"God you're a jerk. No wonder you and Nick get along so well." He snickered, and lifted her up off the floor. "UGH! Francis, put me down!"

"No can do. Not til we get to the bedroom. Make up sex is the best kind of sex."

"You're a pig," she sighed, but was more than happy to be carried that way. She didn't have one more thought in her head for the papers Set sent her that night. There were better things to think about.

"Well Nick, I gotta say, those reubens were pretty good, but I still like them better with turkey," Ellis said as he helped Nick clear the dishes from the table.

"You have no taste, that's your problem," the older man said, though he didn't take it to heart. They'd each eaten two, after all, so the sandwiches couldn't have been too bad. Reubens, beer, and music, that was how they were celebrating Nick's impending freedom. As The Kinks played on the record player, the music wafting in from the living room, both men were ready to move to the couch for music listening, chatting and (hopefully) heavy petting.

Nick plunked down first, and Ellis followed suit, drinking more beer from the bottle in his hand as he rocked his hips with the music. Both men were on their third brews, and both were feeling it despite the protein filled sandwiches. "Did you know this song was about a man the whole time?"

"Yeah, that's kind of the point of 'Lola'," Nick said, smirking as he took another sip of beer too.

"I never knew it 'til Keith told me about it," Ellis replied. "That actually happened to him once you know. He was flirtin' real hard with a girl at a bar. Well, he THOUGHT it was a girl, but turns out it was a drag queen. And the drag queen thought he knew! Man, they were both SO surprised!"

"Yeah, well, that happened to me once too, but I went with it," Nick smiled, resting his arm on the back of the couch and leaning in.

"I bet you did."

"Best decision of the night, that was," Nick said, setting his beer down on the table and ready for the heavy petting he'd promised himself. He took Ellis' tee shirt in his hands and twisted the fabric, enticing his lover with a cock of his eyebrow, and the mechanic smiled and shoved Nick back on the sofa before crawling into his lap. He took the shirt lapels in his hands and tugged Nick to his mouth. That's more like it, Nick thought, and placed his hands on the younger man's hips, clamping them tightly. "Think you might be up for another round after this afternoon?"

"Um… I don't know," Ellis said, embarrassed. "I'm kinda… sore, I guess-."

"Say no more," Nick replied, hiding his disappointment. Should have restrained yourself, Nick old boy, he thought, and nipped at Ellis' chin. "Nothing wrong with this."

"Or maybe I could have a turn-."

"Keep dreaming."

"Fine," Ellis sniffed, thinking he would have to keep wearing him down for a turn on top. Nick kissed up his jawline and wrapped his arms around his lower back, and Ellis sighed happily, thinking that this was probably one of the best days they'd had together. In fact, the entire time back together had been practically perfect, and part of him was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He really hoped it wouldn't. This week together had been the best time of his life, he couldn't imagine it going to pot. And now that Nick didn't have to go, it could possibly extend further.

That is, if Nick wanted it to. That was the problem. He knew that Nick didn't like staying in one place for too long, and he wasn't sure that he could compete with the call of the open road.

"So what're you gonna do when you're done?" he asked suddenly, pulling his lips away. While he hated that he might have just forced the other shoe to drop, he had to know. It had been eating away at the back of his mind ever since Francis had told them Morgan had called.

Nick crinkled his brow, wondering WHY of all times Ellis had to bring this up now. The truth was that he hadn't really thought about what he was going to do when his indentured servitude came to an end.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I guess I have to figure that out, huh?"

"Well, not tonight," Ellis said, smiling though he was nervous. "Tonight you just hafta be happy." Maybe it was better he not know. At least not tonight.

"Oh I'm happy, I'm beyond happy," Nick said, grinning. "I'm also a little toasted, but don't tell anyone."

"Good, that's a job well done," Ellis smirked, grinding down on Nick's lap. The older man hissed as he chuckled, taking Ellis' wrist in his hand.

"If you aren't up to it don't tease," he commanded, dick twitching. But he was familiar with the fun that came with teasing. He loved teasing.

"Sorry," the younger man apologized, though he rutted against him again. Nick sat up, snagging his other wrist in his hand and trying to push him off his crotch (though he wasn't trying too hard), but Ellis snickered and forced himself more into his lap.

"Gah, you're such a child sometimes," Nick groused, going for Ellis' lips again, but the mechanic pulled away cheekily. "TEASE. Do you want me to go to the Harvest Festival with you or not?"

"Really?" Ellis asked, eyes lighting up. "You're gonna go?"

"Well I may as well, right? What else am I going to do next Friday?" Nick asked, and Ellis nodded. "But it better be at least somewhat tolerable. If not I'm holding you responsible."

"Okay, that's fine," Ellis agreed. "You're gonna have a good time, it's gonna be a great festival."

"If you say so," Nick said, and then simpered as he sang along with the song and bounced Ellis on his hips. "'Well I'm not the world's most masculine man, but I know what I am, and I'm glad I'm a man, and so is Lola, lo-lo-lo-lo Lola'-."

"You're drunk, that's the only reason you said yes," Ellis sulked, but his sulks ended when Nick attacked his mouth again. He smiled as Nick's tongue slipped into his mouth, and he pulled him closer by the collar before pushing him away again. "Lie back."

"Pardon?" Nick purred, and Ellis arched an eyebrow.

"I said lie back," he repeated, and Nick happily obliged. Ellis sat himself across the con man's pelvis once again, and ran his hands up his chest slowly. "Take off your shirt."

"Feeling bossy tonight, eh?"

"Just takin' advantage of the fact you're tipsy and willin' to listen," Ellis replied, and Nick snickered as he unbuttoned the fabric, spreading his knees just a small bit to see how the younger man would react. Ellis placed himself between them, and curved his chin down to make contact with the older man's lips again. Nick was surprisingly okay with the pushiness from his boyfriend; in fact, he was kind of enjoying it.

"Now…. Put your arms around me," Ellis demanded, and Nick did so, starting to chew on the mechanic's earlobe. Ellis sighed sharply, but still tried to maintain that control of the situation. He liked being in control, and the fact that Nick was playing along just made him more amorous.

And Nick was surprised to be so willing to play along. In any other situation he would have wrestled control back into his hands, but with Ellis he was more than happy to just go with the flow. He hadn't felt that way since…. It must have been Sam.

"Now what should I do?" he asked, pawing at the tee shirt.

"Well-," Ellis began, but jumped when the cordless phone began to jangle. Nick snarled, incredibly resentful of the interruption, and put a hand to his forehead. "You gotta answer it?"

"Probably," the older man mumbled, sitting up and reaching for the phone, groin aching. If it wasn't important he was going to be pissed. "Hello?"

"Well well well, if it isn't James Dean," the voice of Merle Morgan stated over the line, and Nick sat up fully, surprised and a little bit alarmed.

"Uh, hey, Morgan," he said, swallowing a stammer and hoping it wasn't clear that he was bordering towards drunk. "What's going on?"

"Tell me that Francis told you that I called earlier," Morgan snorted, and Nick chuckled.

"He did, yeah," the gambler said, finally standing up from the couch, much to Ellis' slight disappointment. Nick held up a hand and mouthed 'Be right back' before excusing himself into the kitchen area. Ellis knew that it was important for Nick to talk to his boss, but at the same time he knew that he'd lost the power in the situation and probably wouldn't get it back. So he sighed, and turned on the TV.

"Glad to hear that my boys can still communicate at least," Morgan said, and Nick sat at the kitchen table, smirking. "Dean and Brando, the adventure concludes."

"Yeah, sounds like it."

Nick didn't like authority, but he had a hell of a lot of respect for Merle Morgan, Assistant Director for the Federal Bureau of Infected Control and Extermination. On the first day of training, before Nick and Francis had even been assigned together, they had carried bad attitudes and bitter rebellion. Merle Morgan had given them the condescending nicknames James Dean and Marlon Brando, and while it had meant to be insulting at first, the names had evolved into terms of endearment. Morgan had never taken any of Nick's shit or guff, but then he hadn't punished him for it either. He'd just verbally spar right back, and almost always win. Nick loved that.

Nick never really understood why Morgan had given them the chances he had. When he had been their handler during training, the biker and the con man were petulant, angry, and downright jerky to their commander. And yet Morgan had somehow seen through that and broken through it via patience and tenacity. And a little berating, of course. Morgan had seen something in the two dysfunctional survivors, and he ran with it. Nick's most vivid memory of his boss was when he'd been completely torn down by him. He'd been out drinking and fucking until five thirty in the morning, returning to the dormitories (more like barracks) worn out and falling down drunk. Morgan had been up early for a run and found the con man slumped against the brick wall, half asleep and singing The Velvet Underground to himself. Morgan had yanked him up, dragged him inside, and shoved him under a cold shower stream. While Nick had sworn and flailed and cursed at him, Morgan steadily kept him in place until the gambler stopped protesting. Once Nick had given in, Morgan hadn't yelled at him. Hadn't punished him. He'd only said 'Listen James Dean. I know you think you have a raw deal, and that you don't give a damn what I think of you. I can't force you to take this seriously. But I think that you have some potential, more than most of the others who've found themselves in your situation. So if you aren't going to do it for me, or for your countrymen, or your country in general, at least consider doing it for yourself.'

And then his handler had made him not only go to the training that day, right at seven in the morning, he'd made him stay until ten that night, four hours past the usual time. From that moment on, Nick had found respect for an authority figure. It was a strange and new sensation, and Nick knew that it was reserved for Morgan and Morgan alone. Which was why he wanted to impress him so very badly. When they had become some of the best Z-Men FBICE had to offer, Morgan couldn't have been prouder. The same could be said for the Z-Men when their handler had been promoted to the D.C. Assistant Director.

"So I'll be coming out there at the end of your mission," Morgan continued. "Just as a formality, to sign off on Roanoke II and to rub it in Creevy's face."

"Nice."

"I never said that, for the record," Morgan said, as his position required his disdain for the CEDA agent to remain covert. He'd heard the stories and seen the damage, though, and wouldn't forgive nor forget. "And then you'll be on your way. So tell me, Nick, what are you going to do now that your time with us is coming to an end?"

Nick leaned back in the chair and sighed, still unsure. "You know, Morgan, I don't really have any plans. I'm just celebrating tonight and planning later."

"Did I interrupt a celebration?" Morgan asked, and Nick could hear many a question in his voice, mainly regarding just HOW he was celebrating.

"…. Kind of."

"Then I won't keep you long. I'll cut right through the bullshit. At the end of the year I'm receiving a promotion in the Bureau. I've been selected to be the new Deputy Director of FBICE."

Nick leaned forward again, genuinely surprised and thrilled. "Wow. That's pretty great, boss. Congratulations. That makes Francis' and my news downright inane."

"Oh shut up," Morgan said, and Nick chuckled. "Look, this does concern you though-."

"I don't see how. I'm free, man! Free as a bird!"

"You're drunk."

"Am not. At least, not too much."

"Shut up. Anyway, it DOES concern you, and here's why," Morgan continued, and Nick could tell that he was smiling. "When I move on up, I'm going to need a replacement. I was told that I got to have a say in who that person is. And I want to recommend you."

Nick crinkled his brow, skeptical and stunned and just a little confused. "…Bullshit."

"Not bullshit," Morgan laughed. "I think it would be a good fit."

"I think you're the drunk one."

"Nick, seriously," Morgan said, and Nick put a hand to his forehead. "I want you to be my replacement. I really do think that you would be a great Assistant Director for FBICE."

Nick rubbed his eyes, sobering up by the minute, and swallowed. "Why me? I mean, why not Francis?"

"Francis would be another choice, but I think you'd do better," Morgan said. "You two are matched in skill and experience, but you are better with people. Probably thanks to that con man past of yours, you get people. You're one of my great success stories, and I want you to take over for me."

"… Would it have to be in D.C.?" Nick asked, eyes glancing towards the door to the main room ever so briefly.

He heard Morgan laugh. "Not necessarily. I'm sure there are a lot of Assistant Directors in this operation who'd love to be in D.C. It would depend on where you'd want to go."

"….. I don't know if you're asking the right person, Morgan," Nick said, quietly. "I mean, I'm flattered. I'm really flattered. But it's ME, man. I have a record, I have a past-."

"And when you're done all of that goes away," Morgan said.

Nick tapped his hands on the table, not sure of what to say or do. On one hand, he couldn't see himself in that job. Not because he couldn't do it, necessarily, but because, well, it was a huge change. He didn't know if he could achieve such a change and succeed. But on the other hand, it intrigued him. It definitely intrigued him.

"….. Can I think about it?" he settled on.

"Well hell, I don't need an answer now. You sure can think about it," Morgan said, and Nick nodded to himself. "If you can give me an answer by the end of your mission in Roanoke II, that would be great."

"I can probably do that," Nick agreed. "….. Thanks for thinking I could do such a thing, though. It means a lot."

"You shouldn't sell yourself so short, Nick," Morgan chastised. "I'll let you get back to celebrating and talk to you soon."

"Sounds good. Night Morgan."

"Night James Dean."

Nick hung up, and set the phone down on the table before staring at it, suspiciously. Had that really just happened? He shook his head, not sure what to think, and instead stood up and strode back into the main room.

Ellis was watching an old movie on PBS, and looked up at his lover. "Hey, look, 'The Thing from Another World' is on-. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, for sure," Nick said, hiding his apprehension. He wasn't going to say anything. Not yet. "It's been forever since I've seen this movie."

Nick wasn't the only one with a lot on his mind. For in the Grey Zone Creevy and Jacobs were driving in silence. Jacobs was in the passenger seat, watching the scenery go by as they travelled. He hated the Grey Zone. If he could avoid travelling through it he did, and while he'd been making more trips out there as of late it didn't make it any better. But Creevy was stone cold as they drove, ignoring the eerie quiet of the area and the occasional Infected that would appear on the side of the road or in the bushes.

"You parked it out this way?" Creevy asked, and Jacobs nodded. "It's like a jungle out here."

"Hardly," Jacobs disagreed. "It's just your usual forest, Creevy. I don't s'pose you see many of those in Washington." Creevy didn't answer, and merely followed the directions Jacobs gave him until they had come to a small clearing. Once they saw the bright yellow and black moving truck, Creevy killed the engine, and clicked his tongue.

"Perfect," he said. "Great size and everything."

"And who's gonna drive it?" Jacobs asked as they both left the car. "You said you found someone. Who is it?"

"Barbara Dane."

"Wha-? The baker?" Jacobs asked, completely thrown. "But… But come on, Creevy! She's barely twenty five! She's cute as a button and sweet as honey, hell, I buy donuts from her! She puts sprinkle smiley faces in the glaze! You think that she'd have the nerve-?"

"She does have the nerve, believe me," Creevy said, resolutely and moving to his trunk. "You shouldn't be fooled by that virginal image she's made for herself, she's just like all humans: driven by greed, driven by envy."

"But she's-!"

"She's perfect," Creevy snapped, popping the trunk lid and reaching into the storage space. "That other side of her is a real turn on, I can say that much. It's a comfort to know that even the sweetest women have weaknesses that can make them as weak as us men, am I right?"

"I don't rightly know if I agree with that," Jacobs said, and then gasped when he saw the jar that Creevy removed from the trunk. "JEEZUM H CRACKERS, Creevy! Is that what I think it is?"

"It is, in fact, Boomer Bile, Jacobs," Creevy confirmed, examining the jar.

"That's illegal-!"

"Not if you're Government."

"Untrue, no one but Senior CEDA and FBICE agents can have that, and even then it has to be under lock and key," Jacobs said, rattling off the rules he'd learned when it came to that kind of weaponry.

"So I cheated, but I SHOULD be a Senior CEDA agent," Creevy muttered, voice dripping with bitterness. "This is our ticket, Jacobs. This is what's going to set the ball in motion."

"I'm not comfortable with such a dangerous-."

"I don't care of you're comfortable!" Creevy snarled. "You're in this, Jacobs, whether you like it or not! There's no backing out now!" He opened the door to back of the truck, and gestured back to his car with his head. "Unless you want to make the best use of your handgun, I suggest you get in the car and not move." Jacobs hesitated, but then nodded and climbed back into the agent's car.

Creevy removed a rifle from the trunk of the car, and then climbed up the side of the UMoveIt truck. He lit up another cigarette, and leaned over the open trailer door. He drew back his arm, and heaved the jar of Boomer Bile into the cargo space. As the jar shattered, Creevy pulled himself back up top and got his rifle ready. Shortly thereafter a discordant group of screams flew through the wind, and Creevy took a long drag of smoke off his cigarette, steadying himself.

As the enticed and irritated Infected rushed forward from their anonymous hiding places, Creevy held his rifle steady. They would most likely go straight into the truck, but should he distract any he was ready. The vehicle began to rock as the zombies scrambled inside, knocking into the sides and each other, snarling and biting and clawing for the puke. One creature, a young woman, did notice the CEDA agent up top, and hissed, starting to hoist herself up the side. But Creevy was too quick, and aimed his rifle to shoot her right between the eyes. Her neck snapped back, and she crunched to the ground. The short ruckus didn't deter the other zombies one bit as they piled into the truck.

Jacobs watched in both horror and fascination. He hadn't seen this many Infected in one place since before the Flu had subsided, and it brought long forgotten memories back to the forefront of his mind. There had to be at least fifteen that had crammed their way into the storage unit, and were there more Infected in the area the truck could probably have fit a few more. But as it was they were already like sardines as they scrabbled for the vomit. Creevy swiftly jumped down and yanked the back door shut, locking it.

"Jacobs," he called, and the sheriff swallowed, too stunned to move. "Please get the chain and lock from the backseat." Jacobs remained still, but was pulled from his catatonia when Creevy shot his rifle off in the air. "NOW."

The sheriff yanked the heavy iron chain and lock from the seat, and rushed over to Creevy, sure that he didn't want to tempt the man with the larger gun. Creevy wrapped the chain through the metal loop, and latched the lock shut with a satisfying 'click' just as the back door began to rattle.

"… Alright," the CEDA agent said. "So. We just leave them here for a week."

"….. How are you going to keep them alive?" Jacobs asked, still in awe.

"I've been buying meat the past few days and freezing it," Creevy replied. "There's enough for all of them. Besides, we want them a little hungry. It'll make them angrier. Just like a junkyard dog."

"You're going to open that door-?"

"Fuck no, I'm drilling a hole in the roof, I'm not crazy," Creevy said.

"But what about water-?"

"You think I haven't planned for this?" Creevy asked, thoroughly insulted. "If you knew this illness like I did, Jacobs, that wouldn't have entered your mind. Somehow these things can go without water for much longer than you or I could. There'll be enough moisture in the meat to keep them alive."

"…. Look, I hate these things as much a the next person, but even I think this is a bit barbaric-."

"But what we're going to do with them isn't? Christ your priorities are screwed up," Creevy muttered, not even flinching as the metal banged and shook. "We're done here. This lock will hold them. I'll come out here and feed them, don't worry about that. In a week this will all be over and done with."

Jacobs looked at the truck, the snarls and screams disturbing him to the core. So he nodded, eager to get away as quickly as possible. "Let's go."

"Happily."

Chapter Text

Roanoke II carried many remembrances of the town it used to be before the Infection. While it disposed of it's former name, it held onto some of it's dearest traditions. One of those traditions was the Harvest Festival, or Autumn Festival, or Fall Festival, depending on whom you spoke to. The people of the town thought that it was especially important to carry on the tradition after the Green Flu, to keep life as normal as possible. Even if the Flu had originally in the same festive month.

Ellis had truly enjoyed this celebration. He liked the community it fostered, the smiles it brought to people's faces, and especially the food. God how the food was awesome. As he got ready to head into the main stretch of town that day, he made a mental list of all the foods he was going to partake in. It sort of reminded him of a much smaller scale Georgia National Fair, something that he missed dearly in this new life. While the Harvest Festival ultimately couldn't compare, at least it could bring forth a pleasant nostalgia.

Rick had closed the garage early that day specifically because of the festival, and Ellis had gone straight home to get ready. He knew that Nick and Francis weren't going to get off work until five, like usual, so he would have two hours to kill before his date arrived. Rochelle had grudgingly agreed to hang out with him until then, and while she wouldn't admit it he KNEW that she was excited too.

He put on his favorite Midnight Riders shirt and a nicer pair of jeans. He wasn't going to dress like a tool, but he did want to look a little classed up. Any bit of effort he showed Nick in that area would get him brownie points, and brownie points were always a good thing. He considered not wearing his trusty cap, but changed his mind, thinking that would be TOO weird and obvious.

He was thinking of heading out a little early so he could pig out a bit before Nick arrived, as he knew he'd get disapproving looks if he indulged in foods that the gambler was no longer willing to eat freely. Corndogs and sweet potato pie, here I come, he thought, but just as he was about to walk out the door his phone rang. He hesitated, thinking that maybe he'd just let it ring, but then relented and picked it up quickly.

"Hello?"

"Hey sweetie, you need to come over right away!" Rochelle said, voice a little frantic.

"Ro, if there's another brown recluse in your bathroom, you're on your own, I'm hittin' the festival early," he said.

"First of all, you suck, because if there WAS a poisonous spider in my bathroom I would probably get bitten and die. And you'd feel bad. But second of all, there isn't a spider in my bathroom, it's bigger than that," she said. "Come over."

"Aw c'mon! I wanted to eat before Nick shows up and whines about the fatty food!" Ellis complained.

"It will take ten minutes, stop your bitching and come over here!" she exclaimed.

"Can I at least get a 'please' or somethin'?" he asked, and she huffed.

"Please? Pretty please with sugar on top?"

"I coulda done without the sarcasm, but yeah, I'm comin'," he said, and hung up. Better feed the cat, who knows when I'll be home, he thought. He knew that if Nick had his way he wouldn't be home until tomorrow morning. Hell, if ELLIS has his way he wouldn't be home all weekend.

He rushed to Rochelle's, the tempting thought of junk food still at the forefront of his mind, and hit her intercom repeatedly just to be annoying. It clicked on and she snapped 'you're such a child!' before buzzing him up. He cackled to himself and trotted up the steps, hoping that she wasn't lying and that it WOULD only take ten minutes tops.

She opened the door for him even before he could knock and pulled him inside before slamming it shut again.

"Jeeze Ro, what's got you so jumpy?" he asked as she spun back around.

"Things don't make sense!" she replied, rushing for her kitchen table, which was more cluttered than usual "So you know how I've been looking into Creevy?"

"You aren't STILL doin' that!" he exclaimed, disapproving.

"Spare me, of course I am," she replied, picking up a few papers. "So my contact, Set, he's been sending me some stuff via Snail Mail about this guy-."

"I really wish you wouldn't-."

"- and it's weird, Ellis, really weird," she said, putting a form up in front of his face. "Look, he rented a UMoveIt truck a couple weeks ago, right? How come there haven't been any moving trucks around town?"

"I'm puttin' off corndogs for THIS-?"

"And look what I just got yesterday from Set!" she continued, ignoring Ellis' less than enthusiastic commentary. "He never returned the truck! He reported it as stolen, AND Chief Jacobs signed off on a police report that was sent to the UMoveIt in Durham!"

"Well that's why you haven't seen it around town! It was stolen!" Ellis said.

"But there was no truck to begin with, Ellis! I've been outside his apartment multiple times since the date on this sheet, and not ONCE was there a moving truck outside of it," she insisted. "So where has this truck been?"

"If it was stolen-."

"Where would it go? You need a travel permit to get out of town, and there are cops at the open gates to check for those. If a truck was stolen it wouldn't have gotten out of the city limits," she continued.

"….. Okay, I'll admit that that is kinda weird," Ellis said, scratching his head. "But nothin' that's criminal. Creevy's done some bad things-."

"How would you know?"

"Because Nick told me!" he said, exasperated at how nosy she was being. She was downright obsessed.

"Well hey, if you know something-!"

"NO. Stop askin' me about stuff I can't tell you, it's bad enough I mentioned it in the first place!" he stated.

"UGH, fine," she said, shrugging it off. "… But don't you think-?"

"I THINK I want to go to the Harvest Festival and get some corndogs before Nick shows up and whines that he can't eat them," Ellis interrupted, holding up his hands. "I also think you should just leave it alone, cuz Nick and Francis'll be done soon and you shouldn't do anything to jeopardize that."

"Well la dee da," Rochelle said, sarcastically. "I'm sad to hear I'm the only one who's at all concerned about how shadowy this guy is-."

"You aren't the only one concerned, but until Nick is out of danger I'm not helpin' you one bit!" he snapped, and then groaned because he knew Rochelle was going to jump all over that. WHY do you have such a big MOUTH? he thought to himself as she pointed at him.

"Okay, see, that's interesting! WHY is Nick in danger?"

"Ro, PLEASE!" he begged. "I just wanna go to the Harvest Festival and I just wanna make sure that Nick and Francis get out of this Z-Man stuff in one piece! Two pieces, cuz there are two of 'em. Look into Creevy all you want after that, but leave it alone for now!"

"….. Dammit," she muttered. Of course Ellis had a good point. Her inherent inquisitiveness was a hard beast to fight, but she knew that, at the moment, she had to fight it. "… Do you need an escort to the Festival? At least until Nick shows up? Because I'd like some company until Francis does."

Ellis shrugged, still a little sore but pleased that he had managed to convince her to drop it, at least for now. He knew he'd have to nag and remind her that Nick and Francis would also be affected by her investigating, but he had no problem with that.

"Sure. But we hafta get corndogs."

"You're obsessed," she tisked, and he snickered.

"Maybe a little bit." She shook her head as she grabbed her keys, and playfully shoved him.

"And how are things going with your favorite Z-Man?" she asked, curiously. She was actively trying to seem interested and supportive of their relationship, especially since Nick and Francis weren't necessarily leaving as early as they had thought.

Ellis smiled dreamily, and nodded. "Good, real good. He's been in a great mood lately cuz of the news they got. Well, a good mood for Nick is still kinda sarcastic, but it's a happy sarcasm."

"That's good," she acknowledged as they stepped into the hallway.

"And….. Okay, I'm gonna regret tellin' you this, cuz you have a big mouth-."

"Not as big as yours!"

"-But….. I think I love him."

Rochelle stopped mid-door lock, and spun around, smiling widely. "Sweetie, that's awesome!"

"Wow, you're actually happy about that? I thought you'd've been all 'now Ellis don't get your hopes up about Nick', blah blah blah," he said, skeptically, and she waved him off, scoffing.

"Well that might be sage advice, but I'm not raining on your parade THAT much! You're in love, Ellis! That's wonderful!" she chirped. "What did he say when you told him? Tell me everything, it couldn't have been as bad as when Francis first told me he loved me, I said 'thank you', how awkward-!"

"Uh, I haven't told him," Ellis admitted.

Rochelle finally locked her door and they strolled down the hallway, her eyes narrowing slightly. "How come?"

"Cuz what if he just says 'thank you' like you did to Francis?" he admitted. "I'm just gonna wait 'til the time is right. Then we'll see."

"Do you think he doesn't love you back?"

"No, I just….. I wanna be sure. So I'm waitin'."

"Well, that's up to you, I guess…. I did eventually tell Francis I loved him back, you know."

"That's real nice of you."

They arrived on Main Street just as a crowd had gathered around the wooden stage that had been set up in the Town Square. Such a crowd before the dance started meant that it could be only one thing: the pie contest, followed by the pie walk. Flossie Crandall was the obvious frontrunner, though there were a couple of Dark Horses in the running.

"This is so ridiculous," Rochelle said, but Ellis was standing on his tiptoes to try and see what pies were up and who was in competition.

"I really hope she doesn't win with that pecan pie again," he said, disapprovingly. "We get it. She killed zombies with it. Who cares? Oh my GOD look who's up there, Ro!"

"Who?" she asked, trying to stand on her tiptoes too and using his shoulder for a brace. "Dammit, why are so many people into pies in this town?"

"It's Wednesday!" he exclaimed, and Ro scoffed in disbelief, trying to crawl on top of him. "HEY-!"

"Holy SHIT!" she hissed, the sight of the raven haired and surly teen on stage perplexing her. Wednesday had her arms crossed as she stood over her sweet potato pie, chewing on her lip and eyes shifting from the judges to Carlisle, who was giving her a thumbs up in the crowd. "I bet she learned from the master."

"Aw, I hope she wins and I hope I get to participate in the pie walk, AND I hope I get her pie!" Ellis jabbered, letting Rochelle ride piggyback on him. As he tried to see over people while holding his friend up, he noticed Mark Creevy standing to the side of the crowd, eating a corndog and watching the pie contest with little interest. He was about to point him out to Rochelle, but decided against it. He could only take so much of her commentary, and he wanted her to NOT think about Creevy at the moment. Chief Jacobs moved up next to him, eating a funnel cake and saying something to the CEDA agent. Creevy nodded, and looked at his watch. Ellis snorted, and looked back at the pie contest, pushing the Government Official from his mind.

As Ellis and Rochelle watched the pie contest, Nick and Francis were finishing up their patrol at the West Gate.

"I'm going to eat about three corndogs, four pieces of cornbread, probably two pieces of pie, and wash it all down with beer, lots of beer," Francis listed as Nick loaded the trunk of the car back up with their weapons.

"And then you'll have a heart attack at the end of the night," the gambler sneered, the very idea of all that food disgusting to him.

"Come on, it sounds like the only thing to do at this stupid festival is to eat food, so that's what I'm gonna do," Francis stated gruffly. "MAYBE I'll bob for apples if Ro makes it worth my while."

"Do you know how many germs are in one of those apple buckets?" Nick asked.

"Hell, I might even take her on a spin around the dance floor if she wants me to, I'm in such a good mood!"

"Psh. Dancing sucks."

"GOD you're no fun! Why are you even going to this stupid thing if you hate everything so much?" Francis asked, locking the gate.

"Oh, it's ME who hates everything? Talk about pots and kettles! Besides, I want to get laid, so I do things I don't necessarily want to do in the pursuit of that goal," Nick replied, double checking the lock by tugging on it a couple of times. "Ellis wants me to go, so I'm going."

"Whipped."

"As if you can talk!"

"True. What's happened to us, man?" Francis asked, a bit morosely. "We used to be the most eligible bachelors in the bureau. Now look at us. Monogamous and shit. If I didn't love her I'd be disgusted with myself."

Nick smirked as he got in the driver's seat of the BMW. "So what, are you going to stick around here for her once we're done?"

"Huh?" Francis asked, closing the door behind him. "I don't know. Maybe? I figure it would be me over you, right?"

Nick chuckled, and shrugged as he started the engine. He actually didn't know how to respond to that, as he hadn't let himself think about it. Probably because he didn't want to know what he'd ultimately come up with, be it staying or going. He would have to make up his mind eventually, but he preferred to put that off as long as he could. There were too many factors, and he would rather just not think about them.

"… I hope there's some kind of vegetable at this stupid thing. NOT okra. And sweet potatoes don't count," Nick changed the subject.

"If you just opened your mind to sweet potatoes you wouldn't have any problems," Francis said, defiantly.

While Nick and Francis drove towards the Main Street, Barbara Dane was weaving through the crowd, pulling her lavendar sweater around her frame a little more. She wasn't cold, she was just a bundle of nerves. She looked around for Creevy, and when she saw him near the stage she felt her body begin to shake. They were going to go through with the plan tonight, and yet she still had a very unclear picture of just what they were going to do. She scooted through the other revelers, and tapped Creevy on his shoulder. He turned his head to look at her, and smiled eerily.

"Well you made it," he said. "I was starting to think that perhaps you'd changed your mind."

"No," she said, shaking her head, and Chief Jacobs looked her over. She opened her mouth again, but found herself at a loss for words to see him.

"Don't worry about him, he's with us," Creevy stated, and Jacobs nodded stiffly. "Alright, let's go somewhere a bit more private so I can brief you on your tasks." She nodded again, glancing up at the wooden stage. Pies. She longed for the days when her most complicated problem was burning a pie. She made brief eye contact with Wednesday, and then turned away sharply.

"Yes, let's," she agreed, and followed Creevy off through the crowd. He took her by the elbow, grip a bit forceful, and she flinched.

Once he'd pulled her into a quiet alley, he reached into his pocket and removed two small keys. "I'm only going to tell you this once, so listen carefully. You are going to hop on your bike and you are going unlock and to go through the West Gate into the Grey Zone with this key-."

"What-?"

"AND once you're in the Grey Zone you are going to turn down the third dirt road on the left, following it for about two miles. You'll be in the woods, near a stream. In a clearing you will find a UMoveIt truck. You will find keys in the glove compartment. Drive that truck back to the West Gate, unlock the fence, open it up, and open the back door. That will be locked too. You use THIS key for that. But when you do, I suggest you get back in the driver's seat and shut the door. Quickly."

"I don't understand-."

"Once you're done, and you'll know when you're done, believe me, drive the truck back out to the clearing. Do NOT lock up behind you, the gate has to remain unlocked," Creevy continued, reaching back into his pocket and removing a lighter. "Once you've parked it, torch it."

"Agent Creevy, I can't-!"

"You not only can, you WILL do this," Creevy snapped, taking her wrist in his hand and squeezing it.

"But what if I get attacked-?"

"You'll bring this too," he interrupted, removing a large handgun from his holster. "It will protect you."

"I don't even know how to shoot-!"

"You'll learn. You'll probably have to, and quickly," he simpered , his breath right on her face. "No time like the present, cutie-pie."

"I don't know-."

"Just think about the rewards. Think about WHY you're doing this, and you will find the strength," he said, finger wrapping through her blonde hair.

"I don't even know WHAT I'm doing!" she exclaimed, pulling her face away from his hand.

"The 'why' is the most important thing!" he snapped. "Take your beau back, Barbara! Take back what's yours! Don't be the spineless victim Nick loves to prey upon!"

She swallowed, fear and determination duking it out in the pit of her stomach. She was admittedly terrified of Creevy and the way he was behaving. But his words still resonated with her. She couldn't for the life of her handle the idea of Ellis being with that cruel and malicious Z-Man. So even if she didn't know what she was about to do, she needed to feel that it was justified, and that it would solve her problems.

So she accepted the gun, and nodded weakly. "When should I go?"

Creevy looked at his watch. Five ten. Nick and Francis were most certainly done patrolling by now. "Go in an hour." He placed the gun in her hand, and lightly brushed her palm as he pulled his away. "Remember all the things I told you. Don't deviate, and it will all work out."

She nodded, placing the gun in her purse, and rushed off before the willies got the better of her.

Nick and Francis parked the car on one of the side streets in town, as Main Street had been closed off to all vehicles. Nick locked the doors to the Beemer, and listened to the slightly distant sound of music in the air.

"Couldn't you park closer?" Francis complained as they strolled the blocks towards the Town Square. "We've been walking all day, I think I'm getting blisters on my feet. I HATE blisters."

"Stop your whining, I didn't have a choice," Nick replied. "Everyone in town is here, where else was I supposed to park?"

"I don't know. Just closer."

" 'Just closer', how inspired. God you're dumb." Francis slugged him in the kidney. "OW! If I piss blood I'm going to kill you."

Once they did arrive at Town Square, the actual popularity of the festival was fully apparent. It was a sea of people in front of them, some heading towards Carlisle's for discounted drinks, others heading towards the park for the hayrides, and still others remaining near the booths set up on Main Street.

"So how the hell are we supposed to find them in this crowd of people?" the gambler bitched, a bit flabbergasted that this festival was so popular.

"Just keep our eyes peeled, I guess," Francis shrugged. "Heh, I could get out the binoculars if you want!"

"Smart ass," Nick said, looking at his watch. Almost six. He knew that the dance started in about an hour. While he wasn't about to dance, he figured that if he hadn't found Ellis by then, he'd go to One Eyed Jacks, the roadhouse on the other side of town that was hosting the event. Surely the mechanic would be there.

"Aw yes, sweet potato pie for sale!" Francis hooted, and beelined for one of the stands with merriment and anticipation. Nick, not wanting to lose his partner too, followed. He wouldn't be caught dead alone in this hick festival.

"So are you going to dance?" he asked Francis as he stood in line for pie.

"Maybe. Depends on what they play. If it's rock and roll, sure. If it's country, fuck that. Why are you so hung up on dancing?"

"I can honestly say I don't know," Nick admitted, irked. "Because Ellis is probably going to want to dance, but he won't SAY that he wants to dance, so I either get to be a) the dweeb who dances at a hoedown, or b) the asshole who doesn't dance with his date."

Francis made a whip cracking noise and flicked his wrist, and Nick was about to thump him in the head when he heard "Hey Nick!" to his right. He turned to see Ellis and Rochelle walking towards them, Ellis carrying a pie in his hands.

"Oh Jesus, did you buy a whole pie?" Nick exclaimed, and Francis hopped right out of line at the thought of FREE pie.

"No, I didn't buy a whole pie," Ellis sniffed. "I got selected in the pie walk and I won one of Wednesday's sweet potato pies!"

"Wednesday makes sweet potato pies?" Francis asked.

"Yeah, pies that win the red ribbon in the pie contest, actually," Rochelle said. "Flossie Crandall won, AGAIN, but Wednesday came in second. Ellis was pretty excited."

"I was, I was REAL excited cuz I love sweet potato pie an' it was real nice that Wednesday won," Ellis jabbered, and Francis licked his lips and tried to poke at it. "HEY, get your own pie!"

"You can't eat a whole pie by yourself!" the biker protested.

"How would you know?" Ellis stated, yanking the pie away from him. "Nick, tell him to back off my pie!"

"Go buy your own pie, Francis," Nick muttered, wondering how many times the word 'pie' would be said before the day was through.

"Oh come ON, sharing is something you shoulda learned in pre-school!" Francis snapped, and Rochelle rolled her eyes.

"You're both babies, I'll buy you a slice of pie, Francis," she said, hopping in line.

"Must be nice to have a sugar momma," Nick teased, taking the pie from Ellis. "Give it here, kiddo, I'll put it in the car."

"I'll come with ya!" Ellis said, cheerfully. "Ro, Francis, meet us at One Eyed Jacks at seven!"

"We can come right back," Nick said, but Ellis shook his head.

"No, I want some time alone with ya," he said, resolutely, and Nick grinned.

"One Eyed Jacks in an hour," he repeated, and snagged Ellis by the arm as they walked towards the BMW. At least Ellis wouldn't whine about the parking job.

Once the pie was securely in the backseat, Nick closed the door and turned to smile at the mechanic. "So how many corndogs have you eaten?"

"Just one."

"Lies."

"MAYBE two. But I won't eat any in front of you, I promise," he said, holding up a hand in scouts honor. Nick shrugged.

"Do what you want, kiddo, I don't like corndogs," he said, shrugging. "Though ACTUALLY, thinking about it I would LOVE to see you put a big corndog in your mouth and eat it nice and slow…"

"Nick, c'mon," Ellis said, cheeks turning pink.

"So what did you want to do at this festival? You have your pie, you've had your corndogs, the dance isn't until seven," the con man continued, leaning against the car lazily. "…. How are we going to pass the time?"

"We could go on a hayride!" Ellis suggested.

That wasn't what Nick had been implying.

"Ugh, hayrides are annoying," he said. "SO annoying. The hay makes me itch. And it gets in my clothes. AND the horses smell."

"Aw, but they're fun. You still don't like horses?" Ellis asked.

"Not really."

"Hm….. Well we don't hafta go on the hayride."

But once he said that, Nick saw that a disappointed look had crossed the mechanic's face.

So of course they went on the hayride. And even though Nick hated the stink of the horses, and even though the hay poked through his pants and made him itch, he subtly linked hands with Ellis, doing his very best not to bitch.

"Don't ya just love the fall colors?" Ellis asked as the wagon bumped and jostled on the road. "I love all the colors that come out this time've year. And all the smells, like woodfire and leaves. It's supposed to rain next week so we gotta enjoy it while we can, you know? Did I ever tell you about the time that Dave and I went into one of those haunted houses at Halloween time? Well, it wasn't a very good haunted house, our church was puttin' it on and so it didn't have any 'demons or demonic symbols', so no witches or ghosts or vampires or nothin'. Instead it was just, like, mummies? I guess mummies aren't demonic."

"No Keith?"

"Oh no, Keith was there, he was one've the mummies!" Ellis laughed. "He came out at the top of the steps of the mad doctor's laboratory-."

"Laboratory? Mummies aren't in-."

"I know, but it was what it was," Ellis shrugged. "So he came out at the top of the steps, but his feet got all tied up in his wrapping! He tumbled down the steps, hitting every one right on his ass! Broke his coccyx in THREE places."

"How does someone even do that?" Nick exclaimed, so loudly the teenagers on the other side of the wagon shot him a dirty look (as they didn't appreciate an interrupted make out session).

"I don't even know!" Ellis said, and began to laugh at the memory. "MAN it was one've the funniest Halloweens ever! Mainly because he couldn't move from his bed, but he still managed to throw cherry bombs through his bedroom window at trick or treaters who were tryin' to egg his house! Course, then one exploded in his hand-."

"Enough!" Nick begged. Ellis complied, and held his mouth shut while he tried his best not to laugh. "Jesus Christ when I meet Keith I swear I'm going to kick him just on priciple."

"…. When ya meet him, huh?" Ellis asked, arching his eyebrows. Nick flicked some straw off his pants, and nodded.

"Probably won't even phase him."

"Probably not, no," Ellis said, and brushed up closer to his beau.

Barbara had managed to find her way to the UMoveIt truck without running afoul any Infected. She had barely been able to control her bike she was shaking so hard, and now that she had gotten to her first destination she had a tiny bit of solace. From her perspective, it looked like a normal truck. She carefully walked to the driver's side, and opened the door. She settled into the seat, and opened the glove compartment to find the keys, just like Creevy said. She picked them up gingerly, and knit her brow. This all seemed very strange. But she did as she was told, and started up the engine, slowly pulling the van out from the trees.

Her mind wandered as she drove. She wondered if Ellis was at the Festival right about now, if he was with Nick. If they were having a fun time and if he even thought of her these days. If he even thought of her, well, ever. Did he ever think about those baked goods she would make him, look forward to them? Did he ever think about her when he ate bread from the bakery, or when she would sing in the choir at church? Or had he never given her a second thought, just as he hadn't given any of the women in the town a second thought? Sure, she'd been warned by others who had pursued him, but she was just convinced that she was special, that she was the one he would open his eyes to. And now she had to wonder if it wasn't just one big delusion…

And if it was just one big delusion, why was she even working with Creevy in the first place?

The road started to get a little bumpy as she drove down it, and she muttered, pulled from her thoughts in an effort to keep the truck under control. She'd only driven a mid sized moving truck once in her life, when she helped her college roommate Becca move from Austin to El Paso. And even then Becca had done most of the driving. As the truck bumped and jostled, she bit her lip, begging the vehicle to calm down and stop giving her a hard time.

And THAT was when she heard the noises in the back. There were clawing sounds behind her head against the metal, clawing and yowling and moaning. Her heart began to race harder, and she felt a cry rise and leave her throat. She continued to shriek and yell with each noise and thud behind her. She gripped the wheel and sped up, not quite thinking that she would outrun the noise, as the noise was in the truck just as sure as she was.

"OH GOD!" she screamed as the wails and shrieks grew louder and multiplied, and she braked the truck and spun it around once she saw the chain linked gate. The racket from the back was nearly deafening, and she put her hands to her head, shaking it back and forth in disbelief.

As if acting on survival instinct and survival instinct alone, she leapt from the driver's seat and into the temperate October night. The only thing going through her mind at the moment was what Creevy had said to her, and she fished the keys out of her sweater pocket, unlocking the gate first and shoving it open. She then turned to the door to the back of the truck, and unlocked the padlock, throwing the flap up to see many Infected in the metal cage. What had she expected? People, maybe. She'd hoped it was people. But now that she was staring into the frenzied and glowing eyes of the monsters, she spun around and ran back to the driver's side, slamming the door shut and covering her ears.

The Infected, not having seen natural light except through a slit in the roof, were confused at first, their howls and snarls subsiding momentarily. But once it was clear that they could move from the small cramped space, they all ran for the freedom.

The truck swayed and rocked, and Barbara held the steering wheel in an effort to keep still, screaming and whimpering with the motions. Once it had stopped, she floored the accelerator pedal, speeding back into the Grey Zone, leaving the zombies to roam freely towards the commotion of the Harvest Festival.

As she drove she wept, horrified about what she had just done, still terrified and unable to calm down. As more Infected began to make appearances in the brush, she honked the horn fervently in an attempt to scare them off. It seemed to work, and she kept honking it, trying to stave off her panic and hysteria.

But she screamed loudly when a large, veiny, behemoth of a zombie suddenly burst in her path. It roared, beefy arms flailing through the air in a rage, and Barbara might have fainted had she not seen a Tank before. True, she had only seen one once before, at a distance. But she had seen the damage it could do, as she saw it crush a car without so much as missing a beat. She stared in horror at the beast in front of her, jaw trembling and knuckles white. She had no time to be shocked, however, as it smacked the truck angrily, cracking the windshield, and Barbara quickly switched gears to reverse, hitting the pedal and flying backwards. The Tank's interest did not hold on her, however, as it was more interested in the smells and sounds of the dozen-some Infected that were going towards the town. This gave Barbara a stay of execution, and she switched gears and swerved around it awkwardly, wheels peeling against the dirt road. She managed to keep control of the truck, speeding forward and speeding down the road, though she continued to scream hysterically as she did so.

Chapter Text

Nick had made good on his promise to himself not to dance. He'd merely nursed a crappy beer (One Eyed Jacks didn't even have Heineken so he had to settle for Michelob) and watched his three friends dance and laugh with each other. He was happy that this had appeared to satisfy Ellis, as he wouldn't have appreciated the sad puppy look. He'd already had to endure it for the hayride.

He swirled his beer slowly, and looked around at the people in the establishment. They were all so pleased with their lives in this monotonous and somewhat restricted town. While they had thrived, Nick felt that he would suffocate. So this posed a problem. A very large part of him held that wanderlust that had always consumed him, ever since he was a kid. That part of him was eager to get the hell out of this town once and for all, just as he'd been eager to leave most towns with few exceptions.

But as he watched Ellis dance with Rochelle and Francis, that other part of him, the part that was growing more insistent each day, was completely and utterly stuck on staying with the mechanic. He sipped his beer and grimaced, God he hated macrobrews, and leaned his chin into his hand.

The fast song began to dissipate, and the dancers on the floor were left in a state of limbo that all who dance are familiar with. The transition wasn't exactly smooth, and Nick snickered, thinking of the days when he DID dance, and DID take bumps of coke on the dance floor, and DID live for the lights and the music and the excitement of it all. He suddenly felt old, and rubbed his eyes.

As the fast song finished, a hard rock power ballad started up. Ellis' eyes widened, and he pumped his fist in the air.

"Oh my GOD you guys, it's the Midnight Riders!" he exclaimed, always amped whenever his favorite band came on.

"Oh no," Rochelle muttered, as she had honestly had her fill of the Riders three years ago on the road. She remembered this song well, it had played in Rayford at a doomed wedding reception. Ellis had turned on the music at that park, only to bring on a horde and startle a Witch Bride. It hadn't been a good memory. And yet somehow this hadn't tainted Ellis' love for this song.

"Bout time they slowed this shit down," Francis said, pulling Rochelle into his body. "I was looking for an excuse to hold my girl close."

"Like you need an excuse," she said, rolling her eyes, but she entwined her arms around his back, more than happy to dance slow with him. Ellis smiled at the two of them, and shuffled his feet before moving away from the dance floor. Dancing by yourself when the song was fast was more than acceptable. When it was a slow song it was just pathetic. So he scratched his neck, ready to sit down and wait it out.

But before he could sit, someone tapped on his shoulder. He turned to see Nick, face fairly neutral.

"Oh hey," Ellis said, and smiled at him cheerily. "I was just about to come sit with you."

"I remember this song," Nick said, lip twitching a bit. "You just HAD to turn on that damn sound system, didn't you?"

"Heh, yeah," Ellis nodded, scratching his neck. "That was almost a disaster. But I love this song, so it was worth it."

"I could've killed you."

"But you didn't. Instead you gave me a hand job."

"Heh, yeah.….. So I assume you want to dance," Nick said, reluctantly, and Ellis cocked his head to the side.

"We don't hafta," he replied, even if the idea was a nice one to him. "I haven't slow danced in a long time. Never was good at it. And I've NEVER done it to the Riders…" He trailed off, wistfully. So Nick huffed, and took his hand, pulling him back to the dance floor. "Nick, wait, if you don't wanna-."

"I don't care," Nick replied, not stopping until they were smack dab in the middle of the crowd.

"But people'll see us-."

"Yeah, well, let them see," Nick replied. "Who cares what they think?" It was easy for Nick to say that, as he didn't live there. Roanoke II wasn't a hotbed of bigotry or anything like that, but it was still a small town, and in Ellis' experience it wasn't the most open to things that were different from the norm. Two men dancing would certainly be outside the norm.

"Well," Ellis said, hesitantly, "if you think about what happened in Rayford, this IS kind of our song."

Nick snorted. "As regrettable as that may be, yeah. It kind of is."

So Nick put one hand in Ellis' and wrapped the other around his back, and suddenly none of their various grievances with dancing (be it judgy neighbors or opposing music tastes) mattered to either of them. Ellis nuzzled closer to the older man, feeling both immense joy to be with him, and yet a lingering sadness as well. He still hadn't had the nerve to ask what the gambler's plans were after his job was finished, because he was scared of the answer. He glanced at Francis and Rochelle, and made eye contact with the reporter, who gave him a subtle thumbs up as Francis pulled her tighter. Ellis had the feeling that Francis was probably going to stick around, as the biker was so completely head over heels for her that a band of wild horses probably couldn't pull him away. But Ellis wasn't sure about Nick's resolve.

He closed his eyes, resting his chin on Nick's shoulder, and was embraced tighter as well. Many eyes were on them, including a few of Ellis' previous pursuers who now fully understood just why they'd never had a chance with him.

"What I do for you, Overalls," Nick said, and Ellis chuckled.

"Oh what? You asked ME to dance, you know."

"First the hayride and now slow dancing," the older man complained. "To the Midnight Fucking Riders of all people. Francis is right, I am whipped."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I'm really enjoyin' myself," Ellis offered. Nick smirked. "First I win a pie, then I get you on a hayride, and now you're dancin' with me."

"Best Harvest Festival ever?"

"Well….. maybe."

"What about last year's was better?" Nick demanded.

"Last year there was kettle corn."

"Screw kettle corn. Kettle corn sucks."

Ellis grinned and fell back into Nick's embrace. He felt like teasing a bit more, even though of course this Harvest Festival was better than the last. Hell, each night had been better than the last, and it was as if it was all culminating up to this moment.

I should tell him I love him, Ellis thought. I should tell him now, even if I don't know how he'd react to it. He should know how I feel. I WANT him to know how I feel. He pulled his face back to look at his boyfriend, and Nick raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"What?" he asked, and Ellis smiled bit by bit, heart fluttering and just about ready to put everything on the line. Ready to tell him that he loved him, loved every bit of him and needed him.

But as he was about to open his mouth, Nick's pants suddenly began to vibrate against his leg. Thrown for a moment, both men looked towards the buzzing, and Nick shoved his hand in his pocket, removing his pager. He looked at Francis a bit anxiously, who had noticed his partner's apprehension an also stopped dancing, and both of them wordlessly rushed for the door. Ellis and Rochelle, knowing exactly what this meant, went with them.

"We need to find a pay phone," Nick said sternly as he shoved the door to the outside open. "Once we get the location of the problem-."

"Uh, Suit?" Francis said, making him stop and shut his mouth. Nick was about to snap at him for dawdling, but when he just froze and listened he also heard the screams and howls that were coming from across town.

"Fucking shit, that sounds like it's down by Town Square, doesn't it?" he asked, and Francis huffed and nodded.

"God I hate running. Weapons still in the car?" the biker asked, Rochelle and Ellis a few paces behind them.

"Sure are. How the hell did they get inside the fence?" Nick snapped as they rushed down the street.

"Hell if I know! We locked the gate, right?"

"I'm SURE of it, I know we did!" Nick replied, and noticed that Rochelle and Ellis were on their heels. "What do you guys think YOU'RE doing?"

"Keepin' an eye on you!" Ellis snapped back. "It sounds like there's a goddamn army of them up there, and you're gonna need help!"

"Oh HELL no!" Nick exclaimed. "No way are you two getting involved with this, Francis and I know what we're doing! We've fought off a few dozen at a time many times before!"

"Oh c'mon, it's not like we haven't done it before!" Ellis exclaimed.

"That may be, but we're not about to let you guys risk your lives when Francis and I can handle it on our own, right Francis?"

"I wouldn't mind the extra man power," Francis said, and Nick could have slugged him.

"Let's just get back towards the Square for now," the con man spat, turning down the side street where the car was parked. "Ellis and Ro, backseat!"

They sped the Beemer into the middle of Town Square, brakes screeching in protest as Nick stopped it practically on the curb. He turned around and faced Rochelle and Ellis, pointing at them sharply.

"STAY HERE," he commanded, and hit the trunk release button as he tossed the door open. Ellis crossed his arms and leaned into the seat, while Rochelle shrugged.

"Kind of pushy, isn't he?" she asked, and Ellis snorted.

"You have no idea," he muttered.

"He just wants you to stay safe," she suggested.

"That's always his thinkin'," the mechanic said, shaking his head. He wasn't as flattered by this as Nick would have thought.

Both Nick and Francis looped around to their weapons stash, and grabbed their own personal favorites, the AK for Francis and the combat shotgun for Nick. "Okay, so we have to kill the Infected and avoid the townsfolk."

"Easier said than done," Francis mumbled. "When was the last time we actually saw Infected and non Infected in the same goddamn place?"

"San Francisco?" Nick asked, loading his gun.

"Yeah, that's a long time."

"Not to worry, Francis," Nick muttered, and strapped a machete to his back as well. "It'll all come back." With that, he ran forward, shooting an Infected woman who was shambling after a teenage boy. The zombie immediately collapsed to the pavement, and Nick turned to go after the next.

Francis pointed at a screaming woman. "You! In the flower skirt! Duck!" She did so, covering her head, and he mowed down her pursuer before turning and smacking another Infected in the face with the butt of his gun. It grunted as it fell back, and the biker shot it straight in the chest, the body convulsing with each bullet.

"You were right, Suit, it's like riding a bike!" Francis crowed as Nick got on one knee to get a better aim.

"I don't know how to ride a bike!" the gambler called back as he shot.

"God you're no fun!" Francis laughed.

Ellis and Rochelle watched from the backseat of the car, both of them gripping the seats in front of them and waiting with baited breath.

"This is going to sound incredibly wrong, and I'm pretty damn ashamed of myself for saying this, but Francis looks FINE killing those things," Rochelle said, both nerve-wracked and aroused.

"I was thinkin' the same thing 'bout Nick," Ellis nodded. "I thought that all the time back when we were all goin' to New Orleans, there was this one time that he took his axe to a Charger right before Whisperin' Oaks? He, like, jumped out've the way and just THWACKED it in the back! Oh my GOD it was so awesome, an' right afterwards he took me into one've those motel rooms an' we started makin' out-!"

"Okay, I get it," she said.

"MAN, I wanna help them or somethin'!" Ellis complained, feeling a bit too anxious to just sit and watch them.

"Calm down, sweetie, they know what they're doing," Rochelle said, rubbing his shoulder.

Nick swore as an Infected clawed at his face, and he shoved it off before removing his machete and slashing it in the neck. Blood splattered on his suit, and he sighed, frustrated yet another piece of nice clothing had been sacrificed to his job. Francis growled as he kicked an Infected in the chest, and made sure to shoot in point blank in the face.

"This isn't so bad," the biker mumbled, tallying up the dead. Infected: ten. Townspeople: zero. This was getting under control, and he was about ready to just coast through the rest of the fight.

But then the ground began to shake. Both Z-Men paused, just as Ellis and Rochelle looked at each other in the BMW, just as more screams began from down by Carlisle's and as an angry bellow ripped through the October sky.

"Christ I hate being right all the time," Nick said as a Tank thundered into view in the distance. "CHRIST I HATE BEING RIGHT ALL THE TIME!"

"What are we doing?" Francis exclaimed. "Suit, what's the plan?"

Nick swallowed, and snarled a hand in his hair. They hadn't fought a Tank just the two of them. The only Tanks they had seen as Z-Men were when they were with OTHER Z-Men, just as the Tanks they'd seen during the Outbreak were fought with their travel companions. The two of them fighting it was certainly doable, but the odds were in favor of the Tank, easily.

It was then that Ellis and Rochelle left the BMW. "Hey Nick!" the mechanic called, and Nick turned to look at him, eyes betraying just how at a loss he was. "Want some help?"

"No way!" Nick snapped, pointing at his friends. "No WAY, you two aren't trained, you're civilians, and this is TOO DANGEROUS-!"

"Save it, Nicolas, it's not like we haven't done it before!" Rochelle snapped, throwing the trunk back open to find a gun that suited her.

"That doesn't matter! It's against procedure to let civilians-!" Nick began, and Francis shoved past him and trotted to the trunk as well.

"Fuck procedure, since when do you care about procedure?" Francis demanded.

"Since it was made clear we could lose our deal with the Government if we break that rule, that's when!" Nick snarled. "I'm not going to have my deal taken away because El and Ro wanted to relive three years ago!"

"I don't' wanna relive anything!" Ellis snarled right back, getting irritated with the refusal of help. "There's a goddamn Tank-!"

"And you AREN'T ALLOWED to help!" Nick shouted at him, but Francis held up his hand, knowing that time was wasting and the Tank was about to do some serious damage.

"They are if we deputize them!" he announced, and turned towards Rochelle and Ellis. "We have the right to deputize any civilian we see fit, and I see these guys as fit, dammit!"

"Francis-!" Nick began to protest, but the biker was resolute as he held up his hand.

"We can't take it on without them, Suit, and you know it!"

Nick growled. He didn't like the idea of putting Ellis in danger, but he also didn't like the idea of letting the Tank do any more harm. It was true; they did have the ability to deputize civilians. And he knew from first hand experience that Ellis and Rochelle knew how to dismantle a Tank. So he nodded gruffly.

"Fine, great, but hurry it up, would you?" he growled. "That thing's going to take this place apart."

"Right," Francis nodded, and turned back to Ellis and Rochelle. "Alright, by the power vested in me by the Federal Bureau of Infected Control and Extermination I hereby declare you two honorary and temporary Deputy Agents, now get out there and KICK SOME TANK ASS!"

"Is that the official pledge?" Ellis asked Nick as he yanked a hunting rifle from the trunk.

"It's close enough," Nick shrugged, and clamped a hand down on his boyfriend's shoulder. "You better be careful, kiddo."

"I will," Ellis nodded.

"Because if you get hurt I reserve the right to punch you in the nads." Ellis laughed a little, and shook his head.

"Do I get to do the same?"

"Sure, why not?" Nick nodded, though he didn't seem amused or joking.

"Don't worry, Nick, I'll be okay," Ellis said, quickly brushing the con man's arm. Nick nodded again, and then turned towards the large, angry zombie.

"Alright, let's fuck this walking tumor up!" he snapped, and the four of them ran towards the hulking creature.

The sight was not pretty. Though the four of them were focusing on the Tank, the damage it had done was already apparent. Cars had been overturned, pieces of the street were ripped up. There were wounded trying to crawl away, and just a couple of bodies that weren't moving at all. The Tank bellowed at the four of them, lifting another car high above it's head, and Nick yelled 'MOVE!' as it flew through the air. All of them scattered quickly, the car just missing Francis by a hair, and began to shoot their guns at the beast while it was empty-handed.

Ellis aimed for the knees, remembering that if you could take the knees out you would practically immobilize the large freaks. The Tank snarled and turned towards him, dragging it's knuckles as it charged, and Ellis remained in place before leaping out of the way at the last minute. While size had some advantages, the inability to turn on a dime was a weakness for the large zombie. Ellis rolled behind an overturned car and reloaded his gun. As he did so, he heard sobbing a few feet away. He quickly turned to see what was going on, and saw a bleeding Wednesday weeping relentlessly over Carlisle Smits. His body was contorted in disgusting angles, part of his torso crushed by a large piece of asphalt. Ellis winced, pausing to grieve for a moment, but then turned his gun back towards the Tank.

Rochelle decided that a little strategy might go a long way, and so she ran into Carlisle's swiftly, shoving past cowering townspeople and leaping over the bar. She grabbed a bottle of whiskey and yanked the pourer out of the top, throwing it to the floor. She stuffed a dishrag into the neck, maneuvering the cloth down into the alcohol. It wouldn't be as strong as a petrol filled Molotov, but it would have to do. She dumped more alcohol on the rag, and turned to the door. She shrieked as another chunk of asphalt went through the window, and fell to the floor to avoid the shower of glass and wood, the other people in the bar crying out. She sat back up, brushing glass from her clothes and swearing as some of it slashed her palm, and turned to the rest of the people in the bar. "Does anyone have a lighter?"

Francis grumbled to himself as he had to reload again. "Why won't this thing just fucking DIE?" he complained, and was about to aim once more. But then one of the Infected launched itself at him, knocking him to the ground violently. "FUCKING FUCK!" He turned over and shoved the clawing and grasping zombie by the chin as it pummeled his chest with it's arms. "Little help here?"

"I gotcha!" Nick called, taking a short break from the Tank to shoot at the zombie on Francis. His momentary distraction made it so he didn't notice the Tank raising a mailbox above it's head.

"NICK WATCH OUT!" Ellis exclaimed, and Nick turned to see a blue metal projectile soaring his way. He leapt out of the way and crashed into the pavement, barely missing the mailbox. He swore as his chin dug into the road, and sat up again in an attempt to aim and shoot. Francis knocked the dead Infected off of himself, and saw Rochelle rushing out from Carlisle's with a flaming bottle. She flung it at the large creature, and it broke right on it's chest. While the fire didn't spread as fast as other Molotovs she'd used in the past, it still extended across the zombie, causing it to snort and howl.

Ellis jumped over the hood of the car and rushed to Nick, helping him stand up. "You really gotta keep movin'!"

"Thanks for the tip!" Nick replied snidely as Ellis pulled him back to the car with him. "Christ, my chin feels like hamburger." Ellis looked at is as they got in position, and grimaced. "That bad?"

"No no no," Ellis insisted, and moved his attention back to the Tank as it started to falter. "…. I can see bone though."

"GODDAMMIT," Nick stated, shaking his head.

Francis clutched at his ribs and wheezed, as the Infected on top of him had beat on him a bit harder than he realized, and Rochelle stole a look at him as she reloaded. "You okay there?"

"I think I cracked a rib," he said, and followed her towards cover as the Tank made one final push for them. "Seriously? Were Tanks always this bad?"

"I don't remember them being 'good', if that's what you're asking!" Rochelle retorted. The Tank wheezed as it lumbered their way, but was no match for Nick and Ellis as they ran forward and shot it in the back. It rasped and gurgled as it fell to the street, and lay still, the smell of it's burning flesh permeating the air.

Nick's first thought was to turn to Ellis, and he did so, examining him for injuries. "Are you okay?" he asked, putting his hand to the mechanic's shoulders and looking him over. Ellis nodded.

"Just a coupla bumps an' brusies, I'm okay," the younger man said, and looked over the older man's shoulder to see Rochelle and Francis. "Are you two okay?"

"I'm fine," Rochelle nodded. "Just cut my hand and face. Francis' ribs hurt though-."

"It's nothin'," Francis said, and whistled lowly as he finally looked at the damage. "Oh fuck. This is bad, Suit."

Nick looked around as well, stomach starting to tumble. Cars were overturned, injured people were scattered about, Carlise's windows were smashed. And then there were the bodies. Now that the Tank had stopped overpowering all other noises, the crying and moaning was apparent. He saw Wednesday strewn on her guardian's body, saw a dead woman on the sidewalk, and a few more corpses dropped about. He put a hand to his forehead, and exhaled slowly.

"Yeah, Francis," he agreed. "This is bad."

They heard more shots, and turned their weapons to see Creevy and Jacobs disposing of the last of the normal Infected. While it was frustrating to see the two of THEM doing the job, it was also a slight relief that it was done, that the attack on the town was finished.

"What the HELL happened here?" Creevy demanded as he stepped over the zombie bodies.

"What does it LOOK like happened here?" Nick snarled back. "A goddamn zombie massacre happened!"

"Jesus CHRIST is that a TANK?" Jacobs asked, pointing at the burning mass and covering his nose and mouth.

"Well it ain't The Great Pumpkin," Francis said, still clutching his ribs as sirens began to sound in the distance.

"How did all these things get inside?" Creevy asked angrily, and Nick rolled his eyes.

"Not quite sure yet, Creevy, we've had other things to attend to, like KILLING them!" he snapped, rage rising more and more.

"Jesus Christ," Jacobs murmured as he saw the death and destruction that surrounded them. He removed his hat, and muttered a silent prayer as the sirens became louder and louder. Nick groaned and leaned forward, winded and lightheaded, trying not to think about what this could possibly mean for him and Francis. "Those'll be ambulances. Looks like there are a lot of wounded."

"There could have been more," Rochelle said, setting her gun down on the ground.

"Lois Lane, may I ask what you and Jethro are doing with Government weapons?" Creevy asked, tone accusatory.

"Doin' more'n you did," Ellis snapped, as Nick sat down on the ground. "Nick? Are you okay?"

"Dizzy," was all Nick said, as the ambulances slowed to a halt in the street.

"We have to get you guys to the hospital," Rochelle said.

"You too, Cupcake, your hand looks like shit," Francis said, taking her wrist in his palm and examining it. She finally noticed Wednesday, and sighed sadly.

"Oh no," she murmured. "Carlisle?"

Ellis nodded carefully. "….Yeah." The reporter shook her head in disbelief, thrown that her town had changed so much in a short amount of time.

"I'll ride with her," she said, the slight motherly instinct undeniable in her at the moment. "Francis, think you can drive?"

"I'm not too banged up."

She handed him her keys. "Then take my car. Ellis, you drive Nick. We'll all meet at the hospital," she stated, and began to trot to Wednesday. "See you guys there!"

Francis took in a shallow breath, as anything deeper would have met with protests from his torso, and turned to Ellis. "Even if he bitches don't let him drive."

"I can drive fine!" Nick snapped, and Francis smirked.

"Whatever. Where did she park, Ellis?"

"Down by the school," Ellis replied, watching Rochelle coax Wednesday up off the ground and pull her into a hug while gesturing to one of the EMTs.

"Thanks, good to know," he said, ignoring Creevy as he walked around him. "He's gonna complain, but don't let him drive."

"Fuck you, Francis," Nick snapped, and the biker shrugged and rushed towards the park. Creevy looked at his watch, and then surveyed the damage again. Nick couldn't tell, but there seemed to be a little more panic in the CEDA agent's eyes than he was used to seeing. If there was one not-so-critical thing to say about Mark Creevy, it was that he rarely showed any kind of emotion whatsoever outside of disdain and sadism. To see a weaker emotion, like apprehension, was different. The CEDA agent turned to him, gaze now a glare.

"I'll get to the bottom of this and let you know what I find," he said stiffly. "You should get that chin looked at."

"Sound advice," Nick spat as Ellis helped him up.

"C'mon, let's get you to the car," the mechanic said calmly. He wanted to get his boyfriend away from the CEDA agent as quickly as possible, before he did something he'd regret.

"I'm driving," Nick said, but Ellis lifted the keys to the BMW from his pocket. "HEY-."

"Knock it off, Nick, I'm drivin' and that's that," Ellis stated, trying not to focus on the damage that the town had accrued. Rochelle was right; it could have been worse. But that didn't make the situation any better. He did slip his other arm around Nick's waist, trying to give the older man at least a little comfort. It didn't go unappreciated, but it did go unacknowledged, as Nick was unable to focus on anything but the pain in his chin and the shit storm they'd found themselves in.

Chapter Text

"Holy God I look like Frankenstein's monster."

Ellis rolled his eyes. "You've had worse, Nick."

"Yeah, under my clothes, not on my face."

Nick had had an inkling that he was going to need stitches. As soon as Ellis had told him that his jaw bone was visible in his wound, he KNEW that sutures were inevitable. But actually seeing them pissed off his vain side. Ellis smiled sympathetically, and pat his shoulder as they sat in the waiting room. Nick was done, but Francis and Rochelle were still being seen, and neither of them wanted to leave until they knew just what was happening with the others.

"Well for the record, I think the stitches are sexy," he offered, and Nick couldn't help the smile that grew on his face.

"Don't say that too loudly, if the nurse finds out we aren't brothers she'll be pissed we lied," the older man said, though he was caressing the kid's arm seductively. Ellis smirked mischievously, and leaned in to kiss the con man ever so quickly, just in case the nosy nurse DID come back. Not that she could do anything at this point, as Nick had been discharged and they couldn't be kicked out of the waiting room. It was admittedly a little awkward to be waiting there with all the other people waiting on the wounded from Roanoke II. Especially since Nick could feel the glares of a few of the townsfolk directed squarely at him. He just kept his focus on Ellis and the clock. How long could it take for Francis to get checked out? Of course, with the other wounded the biker may not have been a high priority. Regardless, Nick was antsy to leave.

Both men sat up straighter when Rochelle walked into the waiting room, hand and forehead bandaged. She waved at them, looking downright exhausted, and plopped next to Ellis.

"How's Francis?" Nick asked, and she shrugged.

"He'll be out soon, nothing's seriously damaged," she replied. "A couple of ribs are cracked, but that's about it."

"And your hand and head?"

"Stitches on the hand, bandage on the head. Not a big deal."

"And what about Wednesday?" Ellis asked, cautiously.

"Concussion," she replied, solemnly. "They want to keep her overnight for observation. Not to mention they had to sedate her because she was so upset. "

"I bet," Ellis nodded, frowning. "Man…. What's gonna happen to her now? Are they gonna take her to Durham an'-?"

"I said that I'd take her in until they sorted that out," Rochelle stated, and both men looked at her, surprised. "What? Why are you so shocked?"

"You never struck me as the type who would get along with teenagers," Nick replied, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't, generally, but where else is she going to go?" Rochelle asked, sternly. "I doubt that Carlisle even planned for somewhere for her to go should something happen to him, so until that gets all worked out, well, I'm holding on to her."

"Why can't she just stay with one of the foster families in Roanoke II?" Nick asked, and Rochelle glared at him. "I'm just asking-!"

"Because she doesn't get along with lots've people in town," Ellis explained.

"And the other sanctimonious foster parents in Roanoke II collect kids like little trophies of goodwill," Rochelle snorted, sardonically. "That wouldn't gel with her. Until it is official that she has to go with them, she's my responsibility."

"Ro, that's real awesome of you," Ellis said. Rochelle shrugged again, leaning forward in her chair.

"Girl's been through enough shit. Losing everything sucks, I can't imagine doing it twice," was all she said. "Nick, how's your chin?"

"How does it look?" he grumbled, and she tilted her head to the side to study it.

"Aw, come on now, don't be such a baby," she replied. "So you got stitches. Big deal."

"That's what I've been tryin' to tell him," Ellis nodded.

"I got them on my hand," she offered, shoving her hand in Nick's face, and he smacked her wrist away.

"The hand is different from the face."

"You're so conceited," she muttered.

"That's what I'VE been sayin'," Ellis agreed, and Nick stood up, sick of them picking on him (even if it was merely his perception that they were picking oh him).

"I'm going to the bathroom," he announced, and stamped towards the men's room. Rochelle shook her head, thinking that he sure was being childish considering how some people had it much worse than him. Ellis, on the other hand, stood up and followed him like a puppy.

Nick walked into the restroom and went straight for the mirror, pausing to tilt his chin up and to the side. So long as the scar wasn't too obvious he could probably live with it. And if Ellis didn't mind it, well, that was a bonus. It was just one more headache on top of countless others because of what had happened. He wasn't looking forward to the paperwork that was going to come from this entire thing, or the awful stares he was going to receive from the townspeople. They'd done their job as best they could, and even if they tried to explain that many more could have been dead, that wasn't a good enough defense for the five who were, in his experience. Maybe Morgan would re-assign them somewhere else to finish out their time, that might make things a bit easier. He scratched his scalp, and turned when the door opened and Ellis walked in.

"How's your chin?" the mechanic asked, sympathetically.

"…. Fine," Nick replied, deciding not to bitch about it this time. "I wish they'd hurry the fuck up with Francis."

"I know," Ellis said, wishing they would hurry up too, as his lover was getting edgy. Edgy Nick wasn't a pleasant person to be around. "… I know that you're mad about the stitches and all, but….. I'm just glad you're okay."

Such a statement was a bit cloying, and Nick barely stopped a cynical sneer. But he did stop it, and gave Ellis his best smile he could at the moment. "I'm glad you're okay too, kiddo." Ellis nodded, and walked up to him, hugging him tightly.

"I thought that mailbox was gonna be the end've you," he said, imagining Carlisle's broken body and how it could have been Nick.

"Well, it wasn't," Nick said, but hugged the kid back anyway. "It'll take more than the USPS to kick me off this mortal coil. Sorry to say you're stuck with me for awhile."

"Aw darn," Ellis grinned.

He was waiting for Nick to suggest that they go into one of the stalls for some 'alone time'. This was always Nick's M.O.; get touchy feely, and then go in for the kill. And yet the suggestion wasn't coming, and while Ellis was sort of relieved (as sex in an ER bathroom just seemed wrong to him), he was a bit worried that it hadn't come up. That meant Nick was distracted by things he wasn't talking about, and that made the mechanic nervous.

They left the bathroom to find Rochelle flipping through a Cosmo and tapping her foot.

"Am I the only one who finds it great that this issue of Cosmo has Kinky-Sex-Resulting-In-ER-Visits in it?" she asked, and then sat up when Francis finally came into the waiting room. "Hey baby!"

"Well well well, the big wimp finally returns," Nick said, and Francis flipped him off with one hand as he applied an icepack to his ribs with the other.

"At least I don't look like someone too a meat cleaver to my face," was his only retort, and Nick snickered as he pat Francis on the back. "Aw, another scar to add to your collection."

"You're just jealous because I came off looking more badass than you," Nick replied, winking at his partner. "What pain killers did you get?"

"I told them to shove their painkillers up their noses," Francis replied, stubbornly. "Nothing a little Tylenol can't fix." He didn't want to say that he was trying to seem tougher than he actually was. He would have LOVED some Oxycodone, as his ribs were killing him, but didn't want to find himself high as a kite and completely useless like in the old days.

"Do you need anything? Rochelle asked. "Do we need to get some Tylenol, because I don't think I have any-."

"Don't worry about it. Fuck, can we just go home, please? I want to forget any of this ever happened and just go to sleep," Francis said, shying away from her touch.

"I second that," Nick agreed.

"Yeah, we can go. But I'm going to go check on Wednesday first, can I meet you guys in the parking lot?" she asked, rubbing her eyes, and the other three nodded. "It won't take long, I just want to see if she's awake."

"We gotcha, Ro, don't worry," Ellis said, and she nodded curtly before walking back towards the rooms.

"Was she this much of a Mother Bear type when she was with you guys during the Flu?" Francis asked, fully aware of her plan and honestly surprised by it.

"Yes," both Nick and Ellis said in unison.

As they walked to the parking lot, all three of them groaned when they saw that Mark Creevy and Chief Jacobs were waiting for them by the BMW.

"You have GOT to be kidding me," Nick muttered, shaking his head. "Why are THEY here?"

"Whatever reason it is, I'm guessing it's not good," Francis sighed. "I hate CEDA agents."

Creevy motioned for them to come his way (as if they had a choice since he'd stationed himself by the Beemer), and the Z-Men strolled right up to him and Jacobs, Ellis keeping a few steps behind. "What's going on, Creevy? Came to check in on us?" Francis snipped. "That's so sweet. Almost makes my teeth hurt." Creevy sneered, and pointed at them.

"You two really fucked it up this time," he said, and Nick and Francis exchanged glances before turning back to him. "Nothing can save your asses after this."

"Okay, I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a LITTLE curious as to what you're talking about," Nick stated, crossing his arms.

"We went out to the Gates after all the ambulances left, son," Jacobs said, though his voice wasn't as resolute or tense and Creevy's was. "Thought we'd see which side the Infected broke in on. Seems that they entered through the West Gate."

"Well there you go, we told you the security on your fences should have been better," Francis said impatiently. "If the fence had been electrified like Nick wanted they wouldn't have been able to break through-."

"That's the problem, you pea brained moron!" Creevy snarled, and Francis' face snapped to him, surprised by the outright verbal attack. "They didn't HAVE to break in because the gate was UNLOCKED."

Nick and Francis looked back at each other again, momentarily panic stricken, both scanning their memories to see if they had locked it. Which, Nick remembered, they had. Not only did Francis lock it, Nick had double-checked it. Like he did EVERY time they left one of the Gates. So he turned back to Creevy, incredulous gaze on his face.

"I cry bullshit, we locked that fence today!" he snapped.

"Appears that you didn't," Jacobs said, quietly.

"I don't care how it APPEARS, because we LOCKED that GODDAMNED GATE!" Nick protested. "Francis locked it, I double checked it-!"

"Then do you care to explain how it came unlocked between the time you got off patrol and the time the Infected came into town?" Creevy demanded.

"The hell if I know, but we locked it!" Nick insisted, and Francis nodded adamantly. "I remember it!"

"Seems your memory is flawed," Jacobs said, and Ellis' stomach began to twist and knot.

"The only people who have keys to those gates are the four of us," Creevy continued, obviously relishing every minute of this confrontation. "Neither Jacobs nor I left town today after the Harvest Festival began. YOU were the last people at the Gate who had the ability to lock or unlock it. YOU are the ones who left it unlocked. And since you left it unlocked, you are responsible for what happened today."

"Hang on-," Francis began, but Creevy held up a hand.

"You're to blame for the five people who died, for the people injured, for the property damage and the emotional damage," the CEDA agent continued as Nick and Francis became angrier and angrier. "You have proven yourselves to be the reckless and incompetant hoodlums I have always pegged you for!"

"Jesus CHRIST FUCK YOU!" Nick exclaimed, barely restraining himself from lunging at his nemesis. "There's no way you can prove that! We did our jobs and now you're trying to pin something on us because you have a grudge against me! It's a goddamn witch hunt out here!"

"It's no such thing, you're simply angry that I've called you out," Creevy sniffed.

"No, I'm angry because we locked the fucking gate!" Nick raged.

"Then how did it come unlocked?" Jacobs asked.

"I don't know, alright?" Nick snarled, and Francis glared at the two accusers. "I don't know how it came unlocked, but it's not on us! We locked it!"

"Can you prove it outside of your word?" Creevy asked. When Nick and Francis said nothing, he simpered smugly. "Didn't think so. It's really a shame. Merle Morgan had such high hopes for the two of you. But then, Nick, you haven't really been the same since that unfortunate incident with the Witch in Santa Fe, have you?"

"Sonuva BITCH!," Ellis snapped, the sudden interjection from the mechanic surprising them all, as he'd managed to fade into the background until that point. but Creevy laughed snidely, recovering from his surprise quickly.

"Careful there, 'Deliverance', wouldn't want you saying something you'll end up regretting," he said.

"Oh, would you sick a Witch on me too?" Ellis asked as he stepped forward menacingly, and Nick calmly but firmly took him by the wrist. "I know you wouldn't actually try an' hit me, cuz you're just a big coward who has other things do the dirty work for him! Unless it's kids or women, of course!"

"I don't know what he's been telling you, but I can assure you that any injury Nick received on the job was due to his own ineptitude and nothing else," Creevy said, leaning against the BMW victoriously.

"Yeah right, not cuz he testified against you an' you lost your chance to be Deputy Director of CEDA or nothin'!" Ellis snarled, and Nick gripped his wrist in warning. But Ellis was having none of it. "No, Nick, I'm not scared've this guy! He's nothin' but a pathetic little pussy!"

"Interesting choice of words, seeing as the two of YOU are a couple of goddamn faggots," Creevy threw right back.

Ellis tried to jump forward to pummel the CEDA agent, but Nick held him steadfastly. However, no one had a grip on Francis, and the biker was the one to leap forward. He drew back his fist and smashed the CEDA agent right across the jaw, the impact so hard that Creevy whipped around into the BMW, setting off the alarm. And just as soon as Francis had hit him, Jacobs had removed the handcuffs from his belt and slapped them across the biker's wrists right as Rochelle was leaving the hospital. She paused momentarily, and then swore and rushed forward.

"What the HELL is going on out here?" she shouted, and Francis gave her a sheepish smile.

"Aw nothin', Cupcake, I was just going against character and White Knighting for these two losers," he said, and Nick shook his head.

"Fucking moron!" he spat. "You do realize you're spending the night in jail now, right?"

"Oh really? I thought that these metal bracelets were the next big thing," Francis snarked back, and Rochelle moved into Jacobs' path.

"Chief Jacobs, where are you taking him?" she asked, eyes quickly leaping to Creevy, who was pulling himself up the car and cradling his jaw.

"This man just assaulted a Government official, I have to take him in," Jacobs said, sullenly.

"Jesus, what did I miss?" she asked, turning to look at Nick and Ellis, but both men looked bitter and defeated and didn't answer her. So she merely followed the policeman, demanding he give her as much info as he could about Francis' options. Creevy moved his jaw about to check if it was broken, and when he deemed it alright he simply sneered again.

"I had always figured that you two would go the way of other Z-Men recruited in a similar fashion," he said to Nick. "It's just too bad that you had to take five innocent people with you. I hope you take the hardest fall of ANY Z-Man in the history of FBICE. Lord knows you deserve it."

"You deserve worse than him or me," Nick spat, nearly trembling with anger. "Everyone knows it, but they don't have the balls to do anything about it. This system is so fucked sometimes I wonder if we weren't better off with maurading ghouls thinning out our population. At least the zombies don't hold grudges that can fuck a person over again and again." Creevy shrugged, and walked back towards his own car, smiling to himself, satisfied despite the jaw pain.

Rochelle exchanged a few more terse words with Jacobs, and then went back to Nick and Ellis. "Well, I can't post bond tonight. Hopefully Francis can hold on until morning," she said, rubbing her eyes.

"I think he'll be okay," Ellis said, thinking that of all the people in the Roanoke II jail Francis would probably be the scariest. If he didn't know him he wouldn't want to mess with the biker.

"What happened, guys?" she asked, and Nick just walked past her for his car. Ellis looked after him, and then turned to the reporter.

"Wait here a minute, kay?" he asked, and she nodded, though her patience was wearing thin.

Ellis walked up to Nick, who was just leaning against the car, contemplating his next move. The mechanic hesitantly shoved his hands in his pockets, and raised his eyebrows. "What can I do, Nick?" he asked.

The simple question almost wasn't enough to pull Nick from his thoughts, but he did turn to look at his lover, green eyes suddenly lifeless. He ran a hand down his face, and shrugged. "I don't know, kiddo…."

Ellis' heart hurt to hear the defeat in Nick's voice, and he took in a breath through his nose and put a hand on his shoulder. "Okay….. Look, I'm gonna ride with Ro, get my truck, check on my cat, and then come by your place."

"I don't-."

"C'mon, don't argue, I'm comin' by and stayin' with you tonight," Ellis overlapped. "We'll figure stuff out in the mornin', okay?"

Nick exhaled slowly, and nodded, unable to find the strength to put up a fight. Ellis smiled bravely, and brushed Nick's cheek with his hand.

"Okay. Leave the door unlocked for me," he continued. Nick nodded again, and finally opened his car door. Ellis waved, and followed Rochelle to her car, filling her in on all that had transpired in the parking lot. The gambler watched them go, and slid into the front seat of his car, pulling the door shut behind him. He glanced at his watch, and sighed. To think that my biggest problems a few hours ago were hayrides and dances, he mused, morosely. He started the engine, and swallowed slowly. He knew that everything was going to fall apart now. So his first priority was to get home, take a shower, and drink himself stupid.

Ellis leaned his head against the window, the heavy silence in the car not daunting him. Usually he hated silences, so he would try to fill them with whatever came to mind. Sometimes that was car facts, other times it was Keith and Dave stories. But right now he didn't have the energy for either, and felt that Rochelle was probably in the same boat as himself. He glanced over at her and saw how she was concentrating on the road so intently. He scratched his face, and furrowed his brow.

"What do you think is gonna happen now?" he asked, genuinely curious and not trying to fill the void. She glanced his way, and then huffed.

"Don't know, sweetie," she replied, gently.

"….. They locked the gate, Ro," he said, voice determined. "Both of 'em say it was locked."

"…. Well, then it was probably locked," she agreed, knowing that both Nick and Francis were persistent when it came to their responsibilities, even if they hated them. "But unfortunately, Ellis, that doesn't matter now. Because somehow it got unlocked, and they were the last ones there. So I'm afraid that this is going to fall on them."

"What do you think will happen to them?" he asked, sort of repeating his original question. This time, Rochelle wasn't going to be vague.

"They'll probably be punished for it, one way or another," she answered, coolly. It wasn't the words Ellis wanted to hear, even though he knew they were the truth. So he turned back out the window, and tried to focus on anything but the truth.

Nick had already climbed into bed by the time Ellis had arrived at his house. The mechanic looked through the entire main floor for the con man, and then ventured up the steps into Nick's bedroom. He'd found him under the covers, facing the wall, a bottle of Jameson on the nightstand. Ellis bit his lip, wondering just how much his boyfriend had had to drink before he got there, and quietly closed the door behind him. Nick didn't even stir as Ellis carefully walked to the bed, and only did so when he rolled over to reach for more Jameson.

"Nick, don't," Ellis said softly, moving the bottle out his grasp. Nick scrunched up his face, and looked the mechanic up and down.

"Or what?" he challenged, though he did leave the bottle in place. Ellis didn't answer, feeling that he'd already won that battle, and instead sat at the foot of the bed, not sure of how to proceed. "….. Are you going to get in bed or something?"

Ellis nodded, permission granted, and removed his hat and tossed it on the floor. He figured he was allowed to just leave his clothes strewn about arbitrarily, as Nick had done the same with his own shirt and pants, and so he stripped down to his boxers and climbed under the covers with the drunk gambler. Unlike the heavy silence in the car, this silence was eating away at the younger man.

"… Do you wanna-?" he began, but Nick shook his head.

"Too drunk," the gambler replied, voice muffled by the pillow.

"Okay."

Nick ran an arm across his eyes, head loopy and muddled with alcohol. The body heat from his boyfriend was palpable, warming the gambler and tickling his skin. He couldn't muster up the will to roll over and face the younger man, so they just lay there, close and yet completely isolated from each other. Ellis swallowed the sickness in his body, about to clutch at his stomach, but before he could Nick heaved out a long, depressed sigh.

"El," he murmured, and Ellis looked over at him, stomach roiling more. But instead of saying anything else, Nick merely turned over and pulled the smaller man into a hug. Ellis blinked, surprised that this kind of intimate outreach had occurred, but then hugged him back, grasping at him tightly. Neither man was going to say what he was thinking, but both of them had the feeling that there would be few nights left for this for the two of them. Ellis buried his face in Nick's shoulder, and the grip around his torso tightened. Both of them slowly fell asleep, limbs entangled and hopelessness sinking all around them. The only comfort they had was that at least for now they could still hold each other.

Chapter Text

Barbara Dane's eyes slowly blinked open, awakened by a crick in her neck and the sound of birds. She blinked a couple of times, vision adjusting from sleep, and then gasped and sat up straight. She was still in the UMoveIt truck from the day before, still in that clearing. As she rubbed her eyes and shook, rather chilly, she quickly remembered what had happened. Once she had passed the Tank and gotten back to the clearing it had taken her a long time to calm down, at least calm to the point that she could get her wits about her. Unfortunately, by that time, it was too dark for her to find her way back to the town limits. She'd decided that it would be too dangerous to travel by night when she only had a bicycle and a gun she wasn't comfortable with, so she opted to stay in the truck for the night. Now it was morning, and while she knew she would probably find her way back to town easily, she was still reluctant. She ran her hands through her hair, worried about what she would find outside, and back in town. She felt horrible guilt, and horribly manipulated by Creevy. But then, she also knew she was just as much to blame; she hadn't had to help him. She knew that he was up to something, but her jealousy and desperation had turned her into the kind of person she's always held in such disdain. She sniffed, willing herself not to start crying again, and shook as she grabbed her bag from the seat next to her. It was time to go back, she couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. She would be safe back in town.

She opened the door, and looked around hesitantly. If she had learned one thing from the day before, it was that Infected could be hiding in plain sight, and the slightest disturbance could alert them. She dug through her purse, trying to find the lighter that Creevy had given her. After all, his last instructions had been for her to destroy the truck. She trembled like a leaf as she dug for it, swearing to herself and starting to panic.

A noise to her left made her turn sharply, and she saw an Infected man lumbering towards her, groaning and grasping her way. She shrieked, stumbling back and tripping over a rock. She landed on the grass, and clawed her way back up to her feet, starting to run. But the Infected had all of his attention on her, and he rushed after her. She sprinted as best she could, losing a shoe in the process, but he was too fast, and tackled her into the shallow creek she had driven over. She cried out as she hit the cold water, and kicked madly as he rutted and squirmed on top of her.

"GET OFF!" she screamed, even though she knew it was pointless to give it orders. She clawed at it's face, pushing it's mouth away from her as it swiped and snarled and grabbed at her sweater. Barbara's free hand shot into her purse, forgoing the lighter completely and removing the handgun instead. She shoved the barrel of the gun into it's mouth and pulled the trigger. Her arm wrenched back with the force, and she cried out in pain, but the Infected was much more affected, as it's head exploded behind it. It fell to the side, gore and grime dripping into the stream and turning the clear water a sickly shade of pink. Barbara took in a few gulps of air before craning her neck and throwing up the little that was in her stomach, adrenaline surging and pulsing through her. She wept in fright, and tried to pull herself away. But the Infected still had a death grip on her sweater. She hiccupped and unbuttoned the purple cotton, removing it from her body and therein freeing herself from the ghoulish captor. She scrambled up from the water, arm killing her and fear overpowering her, and ran for her bike. Forget destroying the truck; she just wanted to get back to town before any more of these things were alerted to her presence.

"So there is a chance that, if Carlisle wasn't too specific in his will, you'd be placed with Annalise and Harvey Martell," Rochelle explained to Wednesday as she drove. The teenager was wrapped up in the backseat, staring at the floor, and Rochelle was trying to get her to say something at least. "They already volunteered their home to you, if you'd rather stay with them-."

"I heard that their house smells like wet socks," Wednesday said, and Rochelle wrinkled her nose as she drove. "….. I don't know if Carlisle would have put anything about me in his will. I don't know if he even HAD a will."

"He probably had something, Wednesday, he did own a restaurant," Rochelle said. "And I'm sure that wherever you do end up in town they'll be more than happy to let you stay with me whenever you want."

"Maybe." Rochelle dropped the subject, able to tell that the teenager didn't want to talk about it anymore. So they remained silent until she pulled the car up next to the police station. "Why are we here?"

"Long story."

"Abridged version?"

"Gotta get my boyfriend out of the clink," Rochelle said, killing the engine, and Wednesday's face actually registered a slight difference in emotion. "We'll be back soon. Do you need anything?"

"No," the teenager muttered, and looked out the window. Rochelle nodded slowly, thinking that what the girl needed was some serious therapy, and closed the car door before walking into the police station.

She had expected that she'd have to go to the courthouse and post bond to get Francis back on the street. So imagine her surprise when she got a phone call just before leaving for the hospital from Francis saying that he was being let out, and that Creevy wasn't going to press charges. When she'd asked what he thought that meant, Francis had said bitterly 'Well it's not a change of heart or nothin'. He's gloating. It's his way of saying he's taking pity on me because I'm fucked regardless'. Even if that was the case, she was perfectly fine not having to worry about assault charges aimed at her boyfriend.

She walked into the police station and saw Francis leaning back in a chair in the waiting area, smug look on his face as he passed the time. She whistled, and he turned to face her, smiling, though it wasn't the smile she was used to. It was more fatalistic.

"Cupcake to the rescue!" he said, standing up, and she nodded, taking his hand.

"How are you holding up?" she asked.

"Nothing I can't handle," he shrugged. "How are YOU holding up?"

"I have Wednesday in my car and I haven't heard shit from Nick or Ellis," she answered. "I have to stop at work briefly but then I can take you back to your place."

"Can we get some breakfast first?"

"Gonna have to be the bakery, Carlisle's is closed until further notice," she said, quietly. "And it's not just because there's police tape all around the property. Don't mention any of that in front of Wednesday."

"You got it."

While Rochelle and Francis reconciled inside, Wednesday pressed her face against the window glass. She had gone from shock, to misery, to numbness, and the rollercoaster of emotions was taking it's toll on the girl. She ran a hand along the glass, blinking slowly, and then pushed away from it, not sure what she was seeing was real. For Barbara Dane was speeding down the street on her bicycle. She was covered in mud, wet, and had a look of absolute panic on her face. Wednesday's sullen gaze followed the older woman as she biked past, and was only drawn away when Rochelle opened the car door.

"Whaddaya say, Wednesday, do you want to come to the bakery?" Rochelle asked. Wednesday pondered a moment, Barbara leaving her mind, and shrugged.

"I'm not hungry," she replied as Francis hopped in the front seat.

"Okay," Rochelle said. "Then option two. I go to work first and pick up my flash drive. That way you can get hungry."

"Aw Ro, I'm kind of hungry now," Francis whined, and she shot him a dirty look. "… But whatever, what's a few more minutes, right?"

"Right," the reporter agreed, and turned the engine back on.

She didn't know if leaving Wednesday and Francis alone in the car was a good idea, as Francis seemed like the type who would stick his foot in his mouth and make a sad situation that much worse. But she figured that if she was speedy enough inside she wouldn't give him enough of a chance to make a dumbass comment that would upset the teenager. So she power walked through the hallways of the Herald, also hoping to avoid chit chat with coworkers and her boss altogether. After what happened the day before, the newspaper would be in a tizzy for as many stories as possible, and she didn't want to see how bloodthirsty her colleagues could be. Partly because she could be just as bloodthirsty, and when it was affecting those around her it made her feel like a complete hypocrite. So she rifled through her desk drawer and plucked her flash drive from it, pocketing it and trying to rush for the door.

But just as she walked past her boss' office, he called, "Rochelle! Come in here, I want to talk to you!" She groaned silently, and turned around with a smile on her face.

"Hey Jack, what's going on?" she asked sweetly, stepping into his office and closing the door behind her.

"Did you have an idea for your next Op-Ed column?" he asked, leaning back in his chair and clicking a ballpoint pen top over and over and over again. She tried to ignore the horrible little noise, and shrugged.

"Well, I was thinking that for my next topic I could cover-."

"Well trash it."

"But you don't even know-!"

"I have a better one for you," Jack said. "I hear rumor you were there when the Tank showed up."

Rochelle shuffled her feet, not comfortable tooting her own horn when it came to zombie killing. But it was, after all, the truth. "Uh, yeah, I was there."

"Heard that you helped fight it and barely got a scratch on you, save your hand and forehead," he said nodding at her injuries. "Pretty impressive."

"Thank you."

"And I think that your involvement in this is the perfect example to be used in your next column," he said, holding up his hands as if framing his idea. "'The Failure of the Z-Men'."

She frowned, thinking that perhaps she should have just left her flash drive in her desk, and crossed her arms. "I don't follow."

"Well think about it," he said. "After what happened yesterday, those agents aren't going to be very popular. And if a normal woman like you had to come in to help-."

"To be fair, Jack, I'm not exactly run of the mill when it comes to dealing with zombies," she interrupted, hiding how insulted she was by what he'd said. "I DID fight them from Savannah to New Orleans, all shapes and sizes. I'm an outlier that doesn't reflect how the average person would fare-."

"Well it doesn't reflect well on them either," he bit, not appreciating the contradiction. "I think that if you followed up your previous story with a complete panning it would be great news. Coming full circle and all that."

"…. Jack, no offense, but I think that's the kind of story that's left better to sensationalist hacks," she replied, trying to smile it off. But Jack wasn't smiling.

"I think that it's the most obvious follow up."

"Well that may be what YOU think, but I disagree," she said, firmly. "I stand by my previous column."

"But after yesterday our paper can't be seen as 'pro' FBICE, not after that failure."

"Failure? Jack, come on! Yes, it's horrible what happened, but if the Z-men HADN'T been here it would have been MUCH worse!"

"Listen Rochelle," Jack said, getting annoyed that she was daring argue with him about this, "I'm the editor of this paper, and I tell you what to write. Those two Government hacks completely blew it and our town is paying for it! People lost loved ones, places of business have thousands of dollars in damage thrown upon them. We need to let the people know that we don't support that!"

"It's not a matter of supporting that, Jack, it's a tragedy and it's awful, but tragic and awful things happen all the time!" Rochelle said, heatedly. "That doesn't mean we blame the people who are trying to fix it!"

"Let me put it this way, Rochelle," Jack said, eyes narrowing. "If you value your job at this paper, you will write this story. I don't care what your actual views are, and I don't care that you've been screwing one of the guys you're going to write about. Because if you don't write this story, you're fired. Understand?"

Rochelle shut her mouth, stricken by the ultimatum. Never in a million years did she think that it would come to this, especially at a small town paper like the Roanoke Herald. On one hand, she did value her job, immensely. Not only did it pay the bills, but she was doing what she loved to do, at least in part. Like she had told Francis, this job was such an important part of her life, and the thought of walking away from it was hard to swallow.

But, at the same time, she could pay the bills in other ways, and those ways wouldn't make her feel dirty and sick to her stomach. So she straightened up, and crossed her arms.

"Tell you what, Jack," she said, "I'll make this a lot easier for both of us. I do value this job. I enjoy working here, I enjoy telling people the news, and at times I even enjoyed working under you even though your background doesn't compare to my Masters from Ohio State. But even though I do value this job, I value the truth more, and I am not going to put this job above my integrity. You don't have to fire me, because I quit. I'll have my desk cleared out in fifteen minutes tops. And I won't let the door hit me on the ass on the way out either." So with that, she turned on her heel, and left the editor's office for the last time. She walked as tall and proud as she could, and while she knew that it was the right decision, she couldn't help the fact that she still felt a bit like shit because it had to end like this. Sometimes doing the right thing really sucked.

Ellis awoke with Nick's arms wrapped tightly around his torso, and for a fleeting second thought of how nice it was. He wished he could have stayed in the bliss of early morning memory stall, but soon remembered just why Nick had been clinging him so tightly, and why he had been doing the same to his lover. He snuggled in closer, defying the time and his work responsibilities. He couldn't imagine working today. He gently untangled himself from Nick's arms and sat up slowly, leaving the bed to pick up his scattered garments. He pulled his clothes back on as he watched Nick sleep. He had expected the guy to wake up at the same time he had, as usually whenever Ellis got up Nick got up too. But today he just kept on sleeping. The mechanic didn't know if it was because of the alcohol in the Z-Man's system, or if he had just completely shut down and wouldn't wake up for anything. His mother would get that way sometimes, when she was really upset or glum about something she would lie in bed for hours and never leave. Ellis was used to that kind of behavior, but it didn't make him any less disturbed by it. Whatever it was, the younger man was surprised and just a little bit vexed. He tied his boots, thinking that work was going to suck today. But hey, that was alright, because Rick was so paranoid about OT that he would probably give Ellis time off after today, no questions asked.

He finished lacing his boots, and sat down next to Nick, shaking him gently. Nick made a small noise, and turned over, groaning more as he did so.

"I think my head went through a cement mixer last night," he mumbled, and Ellis chuckled, happy his lover was talking at least.

"I'm not surprised, you were pretty drunk when I got here," he said, shrugging. "I didn't give ya much of a head start, but I guess you wasted no time."

"Yeah….. I didn't, like, say anything stupid or do anything stupid, did I?" Nick asked.

"No. You didn't say much of anything," Ellis replied. "You just…. Slept, I guess."

"Ah… Because sometimes I say dumb things when I'm drunk," he said, though what he really meant was mean things. At least it sounded like he hadn't last night. He winced, grabbing at his forehead. "Cement mixer AND a jackhammer."

"Do you want somethin'? Like, aspirin, or-?"

"No, no no no, not yet," Nick replied, shaking his head. "Just let me…. I have to gauge how sick I actually am. Then I'll try to take something."

"Fair enough. Look, I hafta go and talk to Rick about gettin' a few days off this week," Ellis began, and Nick rubbed his eyes.

"Not on my account, I hope."

"No," Ellis lied. "I just wanna take some days off, seein' as yesterday was pretty bad. But I don't have to work too long today, and can come right back, if you want me to."

Nick sat up, head throbbing and mouth dry as sand. "I don't know if I'll be functional today."

"Well, I can come by tonight then if you want," Ellis offered, trying to sound cheerful.

"….. Maybe. I'll call you and let you know, I might just cozy up to the toilet today and leave it at that," the older man stated.

Ellis didn't really want to leave Nick alone, not with a sullen disposition and a full bar, but he also didn't want to baby the Z-Man. So he simply nodded in agreement, and stood up. "Okay. Whatever you want, I'm good either way."

Nick nodded slowly, and thumped back into the pillow. "I doubt he is, but if you see Francis downstairs tell him to leave me the hell alone today."

"Will do," Ellis replied, nodding at him. "Okay…. Well, talk to ya later."

"Mmhm."

Ellis quietly crept from the bedroom, down the steps, and left the house into the sticky October day. He looked up at the sky, wrinkling his nose. Dark clouds had started to roll in, and it smelled like rain was coming. It had been awhile since they'd had a good thunderstorm, so the thought of one was a glimmer of excitement amongst the bleak tidings. Even though he knew Nick didn't necessarily want him around that day, he was still planning on stopping by that night, if only to get an update on the situation. Until then, he had to simply distract himself with work and then get the next few days off.

Eventually Nick did crawl out of bed, as his dry mouth was becoming unbearable and ibuprofen was tempting him more than the blankets were. He trudged to the bathroom, nostalgic for the days when he could recover from a night of heavy drinking without so much as a bat of the eyelashes. He'd be feeling this one all day, that was a given. He removed two pills from the bottle and swallowed them before chugging as much water as his stomach would allow, and leaned his hands against the mirror, stilling himself in hopes of not throwing it all up. Note to self, don't binge tonight, he thought, and turned on the water for the shower.

Toast was the only food that sounded at all palatable to him, and he sat at the kitchen table telling himself that he needed to choke it down whether he was hungry or not. Of course, it wasn't just the hangover that had killed his appetite; he knew that there was going to be a phone call, and that his fate completely depended on the discussion that went with it. The gate was locked, he was certain of it, and there was no way that it could have come undone. Not without a key. And it wasn't his or Francis' key that had been the culprit. He was convinced that Creevy was somehow behind this, even if that seemed entirely improbable and just a little paranoid. But for the life of him he could not figure how else it could have happened.

As he cleared his plate into the sink, the phone did begin to ring. He paused, temporarily terrified to answer it, but then shoved off the sink and walked into the main room. He picked up the phone, resolutely.

"Hello."

"Hi, Nick," Merle Morgan said over the wire, voice not nearly as jovial as it had been the last time he'd called. Bad sign, Nick thought, and sank to the sofa.

"….. Hey boss….. I take it you heard about yesterday's incident."

"I did, yes," Morgan said. "Got a call late last night. Was on the phone all this morning, trying to sort this shit out, figure out what's going to happen now."

"And what did you figure out?" Nick asked, absentmindedly tapping his leg. There was a pause on the line, Morgan so quiet Nick wondered if he'd somehow gotten disconnected. But before he could say anything, Morgan huffed, and Nick remained quiet.

"Why don't you tell me what happened first," Morgan suggested. So Nick did so, down to every detail. How they'd locked the gate and yet the Infected somehow got in, how the Tank had done the most damage, how they'd recruited Rochelle and Ellis to help. He detailed the injuries they received, detailed the hospital visit and how Francis ended up in jail overnight. Morgan listened, only interrupting to ask for clarification, and didn't question anything Nick said. It was somewhat comforting to know that at least his boss was willing to listen.

"….. So now that you know our side, what should I know about what happens next?" Nick asked.

"Well….. There's going to be an investigation," Morgan said. "They want you and Francis to come up to D.C. in three days. It will just be a questioning before a committee. You'll tell them what happened, Creevy tells them what happened on his side, any other witnesses they deem relevant will also speak. Then they'll determine if you're accountable for what happened with the gate and the lock… If they decide that you ARE to be held accountable, it will go to trial."

"Okay….. What will the charges be, do you think?" Nick asked, illness rising up in him again.

"I'm sure they'd love to get you for murder, but honestly I can't see it getting anywhere higher than negligent homicide."

"Oh goody."

"Hey, you asked, I answered," Morgan said, solemnly. "Then it's up to the jury."

"Okay….. Assuming we're found not guilty, what does that mean for our jobs with FBICE? And our end of service?" Nick asked, nervously. He heard Morgan sniff, and clear his throat. "Morgan?"

"….. Nick, if the committee finds you guys culpable, then you lose your badges," the Assistant Director said, regret lacing his tone. "So even if you're found not guilty, you still won't be a part of FBICE anymore."

"….. Well, I can live with that," Nick stated, some hope in sight. "I mean, we were going to be done soon anyway, so if we can just convince ONE juror that something's weird about this whole situation-."

"You don't understand, James Dean," Morgan interjected, sternly, and Nick shut his mouth. "That would mean that your deal with the Government is null and void, and THAT would mean that all amnesty and immunity is gone."

"….. So what you're saying is that if the committee finds us responsible, JUST the committee, we're going to prison based on our old warrants?"

"….. Yeah," Morgan said, and Nick put a hand to his forehead.

"So basically we're screwed either way."

Morgan sighed again, and Nick could have sworn he heard ice clinking in a glass, as if his boss had needed some liquid courage to make this phone call. "Unfortunately, Nick, someone is going to have to take the fall for this. And the higher ups in FBICE and CEDA seem to think that you two are the perfect candidates for that."

Nick stood up and started pacing the main room, swallowing down more bile and nausea. "We locked the gate, Merle. We locked the goddamn gate."

"I believe you."

"No, really, we DID," Nick insisted.

"Nick, I believe you!"

"It has to be Creevy, he did this somehow, he MUST have!"

"I wouldn't put it past him, he's had a hard on for you since Sandy and he's done shit just as twisted in the past, Sandy and Santa Fe not included," Morgan agreed. "But when it comes to the hearing, you can't prove a negative, James Dean. You will need to prove that Creevy DID do it, instead of proving that you didn't."

"That's basically impossible," Nick argued.

"…. I know…. And you gotta believe me when I say that it KILLS me that it's come to this," Morgan said, sadly. "If I could fix this, or at least make it a little better, I would. God knows I would. But unless you can find evidence that Creevy did this, Nick, my hands are tied."

Nick sank back down to the couch. He had a feeling it would be bad. But he'd thought that if he and Francis could have at least been found not guilty things could have been okay, at least somewhat. He rubbed his eyes, headache coming back, and shook his head.

"…. So I take it your offer for the Assistant Director job is off the table," he said, lightly, and Morgan chuckled a little.

"Seeing as my boss said that you were 'incompetent' I'm not sure that would go over so well."

"It's so goddamn ridiculous," Nick muttered, leaning forward.

"I agree, I'm just as pissed as you are."

"No, I mean…. I've been called every name in the book," the Z-Man muttered. "From liar, to cheater, to psychopath….. to slut even… And the only one that really gets me is 'incompetent'."

"Well Nick, that's because you're good at your job and you know it…Do you want me to call back tonight and tell Francis-?"

"No," Nick replied, shaking his head. "I'll tell him, I should tell him."

"Alright… So what are you thinking?" Morgan asked.

Nick was actually thinking of a lot of things. The gears in his mind had started turning as soon as it was obvious that jail time was almost a given, and they weren't going to stop turning any time soon. He'd been in sticky situations before, and he'd found his way out of them. This was one of the stickiest, that was true, but he was going to maneuver his way out of it.

Unfortunately, he knew that such maneuvers never came without sacrifice. And he closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair.

"…. I'm just thinking that I'm really, really sorry for letting you down," Nick muttered.

"You haven't let me down, Nick," Morgan said, voice a bit surprised. "I'm going to do what I can. Just… Be ready."

"I'll be ready," Nick replied, cryptically. "….. Bye Morgan."

"Bye." With that final note, Nick hung up the phone. No Morgan, I haven't let you down yet, but I'm about to, he thought. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and scrunched his eyes closed. Though it was a hard decision to make, and the cowardly one as well, he had made up his mind. Even if his heart was hurting along with his choice.

Mark Creevy sat in his living room, trying to read but finding it impossible to concentrate due to his frayed nerves. He hadn't slept well the night before, tossing and turning and rolling around in the bedding. While things were technically going according to plan, there was one large factor that had completely thrown the severity of the situation into orbit. He had not expected a Tank. In his mind, the Common Infected would have sufficed; Nick and Francis could have disposed of them but still taken the fall for leaving the gate unlocked. People probably wouldn't have died, and they would merely lose their jobs and serve their sentences. Now that five deaths were thrown into the mix because of the Tank, well, it had become much more serious. That is, should things for some reason trace back to Creevy (which he doubted, but was considering nonetheless), he wasn't sure he could weasel his way out of it like he had done so many times before.

He set his book down, no longer interested in reading about The Crimean War, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Calm down, he thought. It all points to them. None of it can come back to you. He rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the knots in his muscles, and only stopped when there was a pounding on his front door. He stood slowly, contemplating getting his gun, but pushed that thought from his mind when he heard Barbara Dane call 'Agent Creevy?' through the door.

He opened the door to see her looking unsettled and frantic. "Miss Dane," he said, smiling at her. "Hadn't seen you since yesterday. I was starting to get worried."

"Agent Creevy, can I please talk to you?" she begged, and he opened the door wider in invitation. She walked inside his apartment, hugging herself and looking around apprehensively.

"What is it you wished to discuss?" he asked, closing the door. She spun around, chin trembling.

"You lied to me!" she exclaimed.

"When did I lie to you?" Creevy asked, voice bored. "I never lied to you about anything. Shall I assume we're talking about what you did yesterday?"

"What I did? You made me do it!" she cried, the fear and guilt absolutely apparent. That might be a problem, he thought. "You made me go out there and release those, those THINGS-!"

"That's an interesting turn of phrase, considering I didn't MAKE you do anything," Creevy said, slowly moving towards her. "You went out there of your own volition-."

"But you asked me to help you-!"

"And once again you're twisting your memories around," he interrupted. "YOU approached ME because you wanted Nick out of the picture."

"But you're the one-!"

"I think what you need to understand, Barbara, is that you are just as culpable in this as I am," he said, still moving in on her. She hadn't noticed his slow charge forward, and once she had she began to back up. "YOU'RE the one who was willing to do whatever it took. You could have backed out at any time. You could have told me 'Mark, I don't want to do this anymore', and I would have just as easily found someone else." He backed her into a bookshelf, and she squeaked as she hit the wood. "But instead you chose to continue, just as you chose to drive the truck, and to open the gate. You CHOSE to do it."

"But I didn't know that there were Infected in the truck!" she whimpered.

"What ELSE would have been in the truck?" he laughed, snidely. "You aren't stupid! You knew it was something shady!"

"But I didn't want those people to die!" she moaned, eyes starting to water. "You didn't tell me that people were going to die and that I was going to help cause it!"

"…. Yes, the Tank was unfortunate," he conceded. "But collateral damage happens."

" 'Collateral damage'?" she said, voice rough as her eyes started to narrow. "How can you say that? They were people! Carlisle Smits was a person, Josie Gaylen was a PERSON! Big Ed McGill ran the bait shop-!"

"Like I give a SHIT what these people did!" he snapped, slamming his hand into the bookcase, making her cry out in surprise. "The point is that yes, it didn't go the way it was supposed to. But it ENDED the way it was supposed to! Nick and Francis are going to take the fall for this. I don't know what you're so scared of. There is NO WAY they can trace any of this back to you, or me. We're in the clear."

Barbara tried to suppress her quaking, and pursed her lips. "… I don't know if I can live with the guilt-."

Before she could finish her thought, Creevy had grabbed her chin in his hand, squeezing her cheeks tightly. She shrieked, starting to flail, but he slammed his other arm across her chest, immobilizing her against the books. He pressed his mouth to her ear, his sticky breath catching within it.

"You will learn to live with it if you know what's good for you," he whispered, shaking her face once. She wimpered, fearful tears starting to fall down her face, and he snickered. "Believe me, cutie pie, if you even think of letting your conscience get the best of you, you will regret it. I'm a goddamn CEDA agent. Do you think that if you disappeared anyone would notice?" He chuckled, his nose bumping against her temple and making her clam up. "Or do you think that if a certain mechanic were to just vanish into thin air that anyone would REALLY give a damn?"

"Leave him out of this-!"

"Oh but how can I? You did it all for him, didn't you? Why not keep lying for him too?" Creevy asked, tone seeping with venom. "Do you think he'd notice you if he knew just what it was you'd done for him?"

"Fuck you," she spat, and he squeezed her face harder.

"Don't think I haven't thought about it," he hissed in her ear, running the arm across her sternum down her chest, hands lingering too long over her breast. She jerked her pain-free shoulder forward, knocking him off of her finally, but he didn't care. His point had been made. "To summarize: if you say anything to anyone, any little thing, both you AND that hillbilly you're so fond of will regret it. Lots of people before you have."

Unable to make herself listen to any more, Barbara ran for the door, bolting through it and running down the hallway. Creevy slammed the door shut, and put his hands to his forehead. If that didn't put enough fear into her he didn't know what would. He banged his hand against the wood, hoping that this was a loose end that had been fully tightened.

Chapter Text

"Do you want more eggs?" Rochelle asked a glum Francis as he poked at his plate.

"No thanks," he said.

The fact that he had added the 'thanks' was enough to make Rochelle worry about her boyfriend's state of mind. Nick had called her place the night before, asking to talk to Francis. Once the biker had finished on the phone, and after he'd nearly punched a hole in her wall, she'd learned that both Z-Men were going to have to go through a hearing. And it seemed like neither Nick nor Francis were optimistic about the probable outcome. Between caring for Wednesday while she mourned and caring for Francis while he brooded, she felt like her schedule was filling up very quickly.

"Do you want anything else before I start putting the food away?" she asked, standing up from the table, and Francis shook his head.

"No."

So she merely loaded up the dishwasher and let him continue to sulk. She looked at the couch, wondering if any of the noise of cooking or eating was going to awaken the sleeping girl. But apparently Wednesday could sleep through World War Three if she was tired enough.

"Do you know how emasculating it is for him to take our guns?" the biker asked out of the blue. "I understand that we're in trouble and shit, but dammit, we aren't going to go on a shooting rampage or nothin'!" Rochelle smiled sadly to herself, and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, baby."

"I hate this."

"I know," she replied, sitting back at the table and rubbing his hand. "Are you going to call Nick? Tell him you're here and not jumping off a bridge?"

Francis shrugged. "He'll figure it out."

"….. Should I call him to make sure that HE isn't jumping off a bridge?"

"That's Ellis' job," Francis smirked. "Besides, it's better to just let him stew on his own. After the whole thing with The Witch he learned how to sulk like the best of them."

"What thing with the Witch?" Rochelle asked, quizzically.

"…. Just more Creevy bullshit, Cupcake," Francis replied. Rochelle didn't ask what that meant, even though she was curious. "….. How did he do it?"

"How did who do what?" she replied, standing again and massaging his shoulders.

"How did Creevy set us up? He HAS to have set us up, I just can't figure out how," he grumbled as she worked on a knot in his shoulder. He smiled a little as she massaged him, she gave damn good massages. He'd never known a girl who could work his stress out in that way. Well, outside the 'legitimate masseuses' he used to visit, but he didn't have to pay Ro to do the things they would do. And Rochelle did it better anyway. "Are we sure that he was at the Festival the whole time?"

"Yeah," she nodded, digging her thumb into the knot. "Talking to other people yesterday, it sounds like he arrived early and didn't leave... And frankly, isn't THAT convenient?"

"Huh? Yeah, I guess so," Francis nodded, and hissed as she hit an especially sensitive area. "Easy!"

"Just relax…. But I mean, it's a bit too convenient, don't you think?" she continued, wheels starting to rotate. "He's made it no secret that he has nothing but disdain for this town and it's inhabitants. So why would he go to a Harvest Festival that only accentuates the problems he has with it?"

"Hey, Nick went didn't he?"

"Only because he wanted to get laid."

"Hm. True."

"But Creevy had no other motivation, outside of needing to be SEEN there," she continued, massaging harder the more her mind worked. "….. I think I'm going to go see if I can get my hands on that police report about the moving truck."

"The what about the what?" he asked, his turn to not follow her train of thought as it chugged along.

"Well, I know this hacker who's been giving me some information about Creevy-."

"I told you to drop-!"

"SPARE ME, please!" she snapped, kneading his shoulders harder. "He sent me this rental truck record. Creevy rented it a few weeks ago and then reported it stolen soon thereafter. But it's not like we've seen any rental trucks around town, right? And what would he need to move? You guys were going to be here awhile longer."

"Yeah…. But what does that have to do with-?"

"I don't know yet, but I can't imagine it's NOT connected….." she said, and removed her hands from his shoulders. She thought for a few moments, and then chewed on her fingernail. "I'm going to the police station to get that police report."

Until this moment, Francis would have been entirely fed up with her need to keep digging and prodding for information on Creevy. But now he was just thrilled that he had a sneaky and nosy reporter on his side. "So do you want me to come with you?"

"No, you should stay here in case Wednesday decides she does want to actually get up today," Rochelle replied, casting an eye at the couch again. "And if she does, make sure she eats something. She hasn't been eating much."

"I know how that is," he mumbled, and she snorted as she put her boots on.

"You ate three eggs, four pieces of toast, and five sausage links."

"Yeah, that's not much for me!" he insisted, and she snickered as she put her raincoat on. Just in case.

Rochelle drove into town and parked her car outside the police station, hoping that getting a copy of the report wouldn't cost too much. Even though she had a very comfortable safety net, being unemployed for the foreseeable future made her very nervous, and any expense was going to chap her ass at least a little bit. She got out of her car and confidently trotted up the concrete steps and into the station, chin held high and flirtatious smile on her lips. If she wanted that police report given to her today instead of later, she'd have to use a little extra motivation. And she'd also learned through the years that looking especially sweet could get her a lot of information she wouldn't otherwise get.

Of course, in her experience, it worked a lot better when the person she wanted info from was a man. And the officer on duty that day happened to be a woman. She wrinkled her nose, knowing that she'd have to use persistence instead of wiles.

She walked up to the desk and cleared her throat, and in turn the officer put down her book and looked at her, frostily. "May I help you?" the officer asked.

"You sure can," Rochelle replied. "I need to request a police report. And I kind of need it as soon as possible…. Like, now."

The officer folded her arms over each other, and gave Rochelle a condescending crook of the eyebrow. "You do know that it does take a little longer to get a police report than that, right?"

"Usually, sure, but this is sort of an emergency," Rochelle replied. "Soooo, if you could do me this favor-."

"First of all you'll need to fill out a form," the woman cut her off, and Rochelle's eyes narrowed. And people wonder why I get along better with guys, she thought. "Once you fill it out it may take a few days to get you the report."

"Okay, is there any way, any way at ALL, that I can get it today?" Rochelle asked as the officer handed her the form. "Because like I said, it's important."

"What do you need it for?"

"… Why does that matter? I'm fairly certain that it's public record," Rochelle replied.

"…. We're too busy to go digging up police reports willy nilly," the woman replied, obviously perturbed that Rochelle wasn't being forthcoming. "With what happened the other night and usual police work-."

"Oh yes, I can tell you're INCREDIBLY busy, with your Karen Kingsbury novel and jelly donut taking up all of your time," Rochelle snipped, receiving yet another glare as she walked to a chair. Bitch, she thought, and scribbled out the pertinent information.

Once she was finished, she returned to the desk and slammed the sheet down in front of the officer, who hadn't picked her book up again, having been shamed by the reporter.

"Is there any way that I can get you to do this by tomorrow?" Rochelle asked as the officer looked over the form to see if she'd missed any of the information boxes. "Because I really need it as quickly-."

"I can tell you right now that you aren't going to get this police report," the woman replied, once again cutting her off. Rochelle crossed her arms.

"What the hell? Why not? I filled out your form, I'm willing to pay whatever fee you want me to pay, and I know, for a FACT, that police reports are supposed to be available to the public! So what gives you the balls to say that I'm not going to get one?" When she noticed the angry look on the woman's face, and remembered that the woman had the power to throw her in jail, Rochelle swallowed, and shifted her weight. "If, uh, I may ask? Respectfully?"

The officer couldn't help but smile a little bit, and exhaled, shrugging . "It isn't because I'm hiding something from you or being spiteful. Though I'm VERY tempted. It's because no such incident has been written up or filed at this station."

Rochelle took the form back, double checking the info she'd put in. Creevy's name, the time frame that it would have happened, the description of the crime itself, all of that was correct. At least, she thought it was.

"Well, maybe the date is wrong-."

"It has nothing to do with the date, it's the incident itself," the officer continued. "A moving truck hasn't been reported stolen in the past few weeks. Heck, that kind of thing hasn't been reported in the past few YEARS, before and after the Green Flu."

"Are you sure?" Rochelle asked, completely thrown.

"I'm positive. That's something strange enough that I'd remember it," she continued, picking up her book again. "Sorry. I don't know where you heard that a moving truck had been stolen, but you were taken for a ride."

"… I'm thinking I'm not the only one," Rochelle replied. "… Thanks anyway. Enjoy your terrible book." With that she turned and walked out of the police station.

Ellis hopped up the front steps of the Z-Man's house, a cheerful grin barely able to be contained on his face. Even though there wasn't much to be cheerful about today (he'd heard from Nick the night before and was told about the hearing, and how the consequences were dire, not to mention the impending storm clouds that were darkening the entire sky), he was going to find cheer in whatever area he could. And he had some good news that had been bred from the bad, and couldn't wait to share it with his boyfriend. He opened the front door, and poked his head in before calling "Hey Nick? Where are ya?" He knew that Francis was spending all his free time with Rochelle as of late, and that because of it he would have some alone time with the gambler. While Nick may have been reluctant to be optimistic about anything, maybe he would at least appreciate the time together.

He was fairly certain he heard footsteps upstairs, so he strode up the steps and through the hallway. "Nick? Are ya here?"

Nick's head craned through his bedroom door, clearly surprised to see the mechanic in his house. "What are you doing here?" he asked, tone mildly accusatory. Ellis stopped in place, and wrinkled his nose bashfully.

"I… I just wanted to stop by and say hi," he said, tentatively stepping forward. "Is that okay?" Nick crossed his arms, and then nodded.

"Yeah, yeah kiddo, of course it's okay," the older man said. Ellis exhaled, and smiled again, stepping into the bedroom. "What's, um, what's going on?"

Ellis just kept on grinning, and walked past his boyfriend. "I didn't tell you last night because…. Well, I just didn't. But I wanted to tell you now that I have a surprise for you."

"Yeah?" Nick asked, eyebrow rising.

"I talked to Rick yesterday about lookin' into gettin' some time off," Ellis explained, sitting on the bed, "an' he said that if I wanted to I could use my vacation days I have comin' to me. So I said that yeah, I would really like to use them for this week."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Cuz I thought that I would go to D.C. with you," Ellis continued, sitting on his hands nervously. "I know that you probably don't wanna talk about all this stuff with me, and that's fine, but I at least wanted to be there to, I don't know, support you and stuff. And since Ro quit her job she thought that she'd go too, but she has to come back early in case Wednesday needs anything, so she wouldn't be there the whole time. But I would!"

Nick paused for a few beats, and then ran a hand through his hair. "Kiddo, that's a nice thought, but remember, you have to have a travel permit to go up to D.C.," he said, patiently, and that was when Ellis' smile turned into a full out beam.

"Well yeah, I know that, and that's why I got THIS," he said, and took a piece of paper out of his jeans pocket. He unfolded it and held it up for Nick to see. The older man squinted a bit, not making a move for his reading glasses, and Ellis pointed at the signature. "It's a travel permit! I went in early today and applied, and they said that I could have a whole WEEK with this thing. So I figure that we can go to D.C. and I can be there for the hearin' and you won't even have to smuggle me out of the city limits or anything like that!"

Nick showed no reaction for a moment or two, but then finally did smile at his lover. "Well hey Overalls, that's really thoughtful of you. Your first time traveling out of Roanoke II for more than just star gazing."

"Yep! I thought it might be a nice surprise, well, as nice a surprise as it can be," Ellis said, trying to sound optimistic.

He wasn't sure what Nick was thinking. It was hard to tell sometimes, as the gambler was quite good at shutting his outward emotions off when he wanted to. Even for an intuitive guy like Ellis it was hard to sort out at times, but he decided to take the smile at face value. Even if it was a little bit sad.

"I mean, I don't hafta go if you don't want me to-," Ellis started, but Nick shook his head, and abruptly tugged him up from the bed, placing a long kiss on his lips. Oh good, he likes this idea, the mechanic thought, and put his hands on Nick's shoulders, expecting the kiss to be cordial and appreciative. But at the same time he wasn't surprised when Nick's arm snaked around his back and pulled him closer. He beamed even more as the kisses became fiercer, and began to melt as Nick ran his tongue into his mouth. At least he was opening up again; Ellis wanted to believe that it was a good sign. He pulled his mouth away shortly to catch some breath, and Nick leaned in again, holding him tighter.

"Let's fool around," the older man suggested, and Ellis nodded.

"Okay!" he agreed, and they began to kiss again, their jaws fighting and grinding against each other. He rutted his hips up against Nick's, and the gambler pulled away and unbuckled his belt, arms almost wobbly as he did so. It was odd to see the subtle lack of composure, and Ellis fixated upon it briefly before Nick's hands went to his own belt buckle. So the mechanic ignored it and yanked his tee shirt off, tossing it on the bed.

"God you're sexy," Nick murmured after pulling away, putting his hands on Ellis' chest and running them up and down and around.

"Well so're you," Ellis replied, unbuttoning Nick's shirt as well and flipping the cloth over his shoulders. Nick didn't reply, and snagged Ellis' face in his hands again, attacking his mouth once more. The younger man threw his arms around Nick's shoulders, wiggling out of his pants and happily falling back on the bed as Nick removed his own slacks. The con man landed on top of him, grinding down on his crotch and extracting a satisfied groan from the mechanic before reaching for the nightstand drawer. "Oh, you're already ready?"

"Is that a problem?" Nick asked, tartly.

"No, I'm not complainin'," Ellis said, though he did find it a bit strange. But he didn't question it any further, instead choosing to remove his boxers and get on with it.

As Nick rocked into him, Ellis couldn't ignore the fact that he was being held so tightly he could barely breathe. Usually when they had sex there was little constraint; Nick liked being free to move about and contort in whatever position he saw fit. But right now he was squeezing Ellis so close, moaning with an air of pain about it, that Ellis nearly couldn't keep his attentions on the pleasure involved. Nick's arm hooked across Ellis' shoulder, and he whimpered 'Ellis' with every movement. While the sex was good, like it usually was, the younger man couldn't help the suspicion that something was off. No, not off. Something was flat out wrong.

He craned his neck distractedly, gazing around the room and trying to just focus on coming, when his blue eyes quickly fell on a duffel bag by the door to the bedroom. Initially he didn't think much of it; it made sense, as they had to go to D.C. in two days and he had to bring his things in SOMETHING. But….. it made the younger man that much more uneasy. He held Nick's shoulders, vocal chords starting to act of their own volition as he began to pant and moan with his building pleasure, and tried to think about how everything was okay. Everything had to be okay. It was okay because they were like this, forgetting the world and the problems that were stalking them. Things weren't so bleak, and Nick wasn't practically falling apart as he thrust into him, and his heart wasn't suddenly petrified.

"Nick!" he cried out, his lungs barely able to get that through even, and Nick moaned raggedly, releasing just as Ellis' own climax finally made it's appearance. Both men yelled as they came undone, and while Nick's usual response was to go limp and ease his grasp, today he continued to hold Ellis close, as if he didn't want to let him go. Ellis heaved in thick breaths, and looked over at the bag again as his hazy thoughts started to piece themselves back to coherence. He ran a hand across his forehead, and pushed Nick up so they could look each other in the eyes.

"…. What's with the duffel bag?" he asked, squarely.

Nick blinked, his green eyes briefly flicking to the side, and then he shrugged. "Going to D.C. in a couple days, just wanted to be prepared for the trip."

"You've packed already?" Ellis asked, raising his eyebrows.

"You know me, I'm a planner," Nick replied, and pulled himself up from the younger man. He broke eye contact and began to put his clothes back on, the entire time Ellis watching him suspiciously. The gambler looked back at him as he buttoned his shirt, and snorted. "What?"

"No garment bag or nothin' for your suits?" Ellis asked. Nick sniffed, brushing his nose with his thumb, and shrugged.

"Just haven't packed those yet."

"….. Nick, what's goin' on?" Ellis asked.

"Nothing!"

"You're lyin', I can tell," the younger man replied, softly. "You're lyin', and you're actin' weird, and I want to know why."

Nick opened his mouth to protest again, but then seemed to think better of it. He buckled his pants, and sat back down on the bed, still not looking at the younger man. He entwined his fingers together, and frowned. "…. Have you ever been to prison, kiddo?"

Ellis shook his head. "No."

"Ever been to jail?"

"No."

"Not even overnight for a drunk and disorderly? Or as a lesson the local police tried to teach you and that dumbfuck Keith?" Nick asked.

"No, I haven't," Ellis answered, wishing that Nick would just look at him.

"Well, I've done it," Nick admitted, voice tenuous. "From the time I was twenty two to the time I was twenty four I was in Nevada State for grand theft auto. And let me tell you, kiddo, prison sucks. I'm just lucky that was the only thing they actually put me away for back in the day, because two years was more than enough for me. But now, Francis and me? We're fucked. Even if we aren't convicted of five counts of negligent homicide, we're still done with FBICE, and since we're done with FBICE all our warrants will be pursued and charges will be filed. So I'll be going to prison for fraud, assault, extortion, and theft."

"Nick, you aren't goin' to prison-."

"Hey, I appreciate your blind optimism to a point, but now it's just getting annoying," Nick snapped. "Here's the thing, Overalls: if I stick around here, I AM going to prison."

"No you won't because the hearin' hasn't even happened yet, and Rochelle's workin' real hard-."

"It doesn't matter how hard she works, kiddo, we're not going to get off."

"Aw Nick, you just gotta have a little faith, cuz I think that you have a good chance-."

"I'm leaving," Nick blurted out, firmly, and it shut the younger man right up.

"…. Huh?" Ellis asked, hoping against hope that he hadn't heard him right. Nick scratched his neck, still unwilling to look at his boyfriend, and he sighed sadly.

"….I'm not about to go to prison for something I didn't do, nor am I going to go to prison for crimes that I've already paid for with my time and risk to my life. So…. I'm leaving."

Ellis took a few moments to process this new information, the dread in his body turning into…. He wasn't even sure what it was. Shock maybe.

"What do you mean you're leavin'?" he asked, in disbelief. "Where are you gonna go?"

Nick shrugged. "The Grey Zone, probably."

Ellis nodded slowly, and asked the last question that he could think of. "…. Are ya ever gonna come back?"

"… Probably not."

Yes, shock was a good way to describe it. Shock and anger. "…. Were you even gonna tell me?" Ellis asked, voice thick as he grasped the sheets in his fingers.

Nick finally looked over at him, hearing the anger and the heartache, and closed his eyes. "Yeah."

"When?"

God how he hated what he was about to say. "I…. I was going to leave a note-."

"A note?" Ellis cut him off, starting to tremble. "So, what, you were gonna let me go on and on about how I was gonna be there for you, fuck me one last time, and then let me walk out that door and not even TELL me that I wasn't gonna see you again?"

Nick swallowed, and nodded. "….I guess."

Ellis remained glued to the bed for a few more seconds, and then threw the covers off of himself, snatching up his clothes. "Unbelievable."

"El, come on-."

"Don't 'come on' me like this is somethin' that's okay!" Ellis exclaimed, yanking his boxers back on. It was his turn to refuse to make eye contact now, and he stared at the floor as his heart began to tighten once again. He was damned sick of how much his heart could hurt over this man. "You were just gonna go without sayin' goodbye? You were just gonna go an' leave me behind without tellin' me why-?"

"Hey, I was going to explain it all in the note!" Nick protested.

"A NOTE DOESN'T COUNT!" Ellis shouted, the ferocity making Nick jump. "It doesn't count! You don't even have the balls to tell me to my FACE why you're leavin-!"

"I didn't tell you because you'd act like an idiot if I did!" Nick snarled back. "You'd either beg me to stay, which I'm NOT going to do, or you'd beg to come with me, which isn't happening because it's too dangerous out there! It was going to be easier that way-!"

"For you!" Ellis spat, pulling his shirt over his head. "It would be easier for YOU because you wouldn't hafta see this! You'd cheat me out've sayin' goodbye to you, but FUCK, who CARES as long as you don't hafta deal with it, right?"

"You're overreacting!" Nick said, though he knew that this wasn't exactly true.

"The hell I am!"

"Jesus, Ellis, see it from my perspective! I was going to do it because I was trying to protect you-!"

"Protect me?" Ellis exclaimed, absolutely livid. "HOW is that protectin' me? Protectin' me from what?" Nick huffed, not wanting to explain his reasoning, but going forward anyway because the kid was stubborn as hell and would demand an explanation.

"If I had given you the chance to insist on coming I would probably have said yes, and then you'd be living in the goddamn Grey Zone, where Infected are all over the place!" he barked. "I knew that I had to keep that from happening, so I was going to make sure that you didn't even have a CHANCE to get that idea in your head!"

"How goddamn thoughtful."

"You should be thanking me!" Nick spat, and Ellis laughed incredulously.

"Yeah right! It's just like back at the Milltown!" he said, shaking his head vehemently. "It's nice to know that I still don't get a say when it comes to the decisions in our relationship!"

"That's NOT what I was doing!" Nick shouted.

"Yes it was! You did that at the Milltown when you lied to me and said all those awful things, and you were gonna do the exact same thing with that goddamn note!" Ellis shouted. "You haven't changed a BIT!"

"That's not fair-!"

"How isn't it fair?" Ellis raged. "It's true, isn't it? You knocked me aside at the Mill so it would be easier to not feel responsible for what I did, and you're knockin' me aside now because it's easier for you to do that than it is to face how much you're fuckin' me over! You're full of shit!" He stamped for the bedroom door, and Nick snagged at his arm. But the mechanic yanked away.

"Goddammit, Ellis, this is EXACTLY why I didn't want you to know!" Nick snapped after him. "Where are you going?"

"I'm leavin'!"

"Hang on-!"

"Why should I? You weren't gonna!" Ellis said, shaking his head.

"Jesus CHRIST Ellis, stop! It shouldn't end like this!" Nick exclaimed, starting to feel a bit of panic come to life inside of him. "I want to remember us as… as, FUCK, as HAPPY! What we did today wasn't just one last fuck, dammit, it was the way I wanted to remember you by!"

"But how would I have remembered you?" Ellis demanded, knocking Nick's hand away again as they came to a stop at the top of the steps. "I guess I would've remembered you for what you are, huh? I would've remembered you as the selfish sonuvabitch who didn't let me say goodbye!"

"But we're here now! You can say goodbye now-!"

"Only because I caught you!" Ellis snapped, voice snagging. "If I hadn't caught you you woulda done it anyway, not worryin' about what it would do to me, not carin' about me-!"

"Oh 'you you you,' you're only thinking about you!" Nick shouted, losing his temper. "How it would have affected you, how it makes you feel! What about me, and how much this sucks for me now?"

"I'm thinkin' about US!" Ellis shouted back. "It's not you versus me, it's the two've us together in this! At least I thought it was, but if you don't care-!"

"STOP SAYING THAT!" Nick cried, taking Ellis' shoulders, and the younger man squirmed, his lover's grip desperate and a little painful. "HOW can you think I don't care about you? After everything that's happened, after the great time we've had, after how many times we've laughed and joked and horsed around! After all the times I've just watched you sleep, and held you and kissed you and had sex with you…" He put his hands to Ellis' face, resting his forehead against the younger man's, starting to shake and not wanting to let him go. Ellis put his hands to Nick's, blinking back tears as he took in a deep breath, smelling that wonderful molasses smell that he craved and needed. "I hate that you think I don't care about you because I do! I can barely stand how much I care because I can't remember caring for anyone this much!"

"Nick," the mechanic whispered, gripping the gambler's hands tighter, and Nick kissed the bridge of his nose, trying to get through to him, kissing his lips, his cheeks, and cradling his chin and jaw in his hands just as he'd done not forty minutes prior.

"I've shared everything with you but no matter what happens I don't get to be with you! I'm either in the Grey Zone without you, or I'm in jail without you! I'm going to be without you no matter what, and I hate it!" Nick jabbered. "We were just getting started for God's sake! I would cut off my right arm for more time with you, I would!"

"Nick, PLEASE-."

"It's killing me that I have to do this because you're… you're the BEST thing that's happened to me!" the older man confessed, all out quaking now, the emotions getting the best of him. "You're the only good thing that's happened to me! You said I haven't changed, but I have, because when I'm with you I feel like a better person! I've never felt like a good person, I've never BEEN a good person, but you make me feel like I am! I want to be a good person for you, and when I'm with you I think I can be! I haven't cared for anyone like this since Sam! I, I love you, okay? God, I LOVE you, and I love you so much it hurts! It fucking hurts!"

Ellis heard the words, and at first he was overjoyed. At first he was excited to say that he loved him back, finally say those words that he'd been dying to say, and hug him, and kiss him, and try to convince him to stay and fight for the love that they both had for each other.

But then….. He remembered that Nick had previously referred to those words as his Failsafe…. Those words were used to get him out of the dog house, and if he was ever in a dog house, this moment was it.

So he took a step back and shoved Nick away from him. The older man's mouth opened slightly. "… Ellis?" he asked, the question feeble. Ellis shook his head resentfully, and gripped the staircase banister.

"Go to hell, Nick," was all the mechanic could get out.

The words were like a kick in the gut to the older man. He moved backwards one step in disbelief, and could do nothing but helplessly watch the younger man rush down the steps and out the front door, slamming it behind him. Nick took in a shaky breath, then another, and one more before exhaling the little air he'd been able to gain. He suddenly needed to break something. Anything. Because if he didn't break something he was going to burst into tears.

He spun around and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door and fist connecting with the mirror. The glass shattered with a horrible noise, his knuckles gashing with it, and as he watched the shards fall to the floor his legs finally gave way. He slowly sank to the tile, trying not to hyperventilate but failing, and hugged his knees to his chest as he gasped for air. It had never hurt this much. Not even with Sam. This was the single handed worst pain that Nick had ever been in, and as he tried to calm down and stop the anxiety attack, he couldn't help but feel as if part of his very essence had gone out the door along with the mechanic. So he just closed his eyes, the heartbreak causing all of his body to protest as he forced it to stay inside.

Chapter Text

"I can't believe that you have a miniature white board," Francis said to his girlfriend as she scribbled on it furiously. "You are a huge nerd, Ro, do you know that?"

"Why does having a white board make me nerdy?" she demanded. "If anything it makes me organized."

After she had returned home with the new information about the police report, Rochelle had interrogated Francis for any and all relevant information on Creevy. And after some gentle nagging, which had transformed into shrill badgering, Francis had told her all the things Creevy had done: the woman in Sandy, the Witch in Santa Fe, and the various rumors and stories that didn't even have to do with Nick and Francis. It had left her completely horrified and more determined than ever to take Creevy down. She was already thinking of book titles, fancying herself to be on the same level as Woodward and Bernstein. True, she wasn't taking down the President or anything, but it would feel just as sweet to her.

"Well that may be, but it's kind of Conspiracy Theorist TV Host too," Francis smirked, and she flipped him off with her free hand until it was clear said hand needed to hold the white board in place. "Alright, Glenn Beck, what are you coming up with?"

She turned the white board to him to reveal the names 'Creevy' and 'Jacobs', along with the phrases 'moving truck', 'police report', and 'Infected', along with various scribbles and lines and symbols. "Okay go fuck yourself for the Glenn Beck comment, first of all. But as you know, Set sent me info about Creevy's truck that he rented. HE rented it, but Jacobs picked it up." She pointed to the 'Jacobs' box on the white board. "Then this phantom truck went missing, and he sent the UMoveIt people a copy of a police report that claimed it was stolen. Jacobs was the one who filled it out. HOWEVER, no such report exists!"

"Okay," Francis said, nodding, as Wednesday exited the bathroom in Rochelle's bathrobe. "So what?"

"Well, clearly a truck was rented," Rochelle continued, eying Wednesday as she walked into the reporter's bedroom to get dressed. She hadn't been willing to leave the apartment, and it was unclear if she was going to be willing to leave the next day, or the day after. Rochelle had deemed that a few days off wouldn't be the end of the world for the girl, and had called the school and left a message saying that she wouldn't be in. However, she was worried that the girl's grief was going to consume her, and that perhaps keeping her in a routine would be more beneficial down the line. Dammit, only two days as a pseudo Mom and the reporter was already stumped. Rochelle lowered her voice, and leaned in closer, as she didn't want the fragile teen to overhear anything that might upset her more. "So why would Creevy need a truck if he isn't moving anything of his?... What if he was moving something else?"

"Like what?"

"…. Francis, you said yourself that the Infected haven't herded like that outside the fence naturally in the weeks you've been here," she explained. "…. So why did they decide to herd the other night, the night that the gate was coincidentally and mysteriously unlocked?"

Francis leaned in to look at the white board, and shook his head. "….What are you thinking, Cupcake?"

"I'm thinking that it's pretty suspicious," she replied. "I'm thinking that not only is Creevy behind this, Jacobs has to have something to do with it too. I'm THINKING that they used the truck to physically bring the Infected towards town and then trashed it and covered their tracks by reporting it stolen. Now, yeah, I don't know how to prove it, especially since they were seen in town the entire time of the festival…. But, if you can overlook that detail….. FUCK."

"It isn't a bad theory, Pudding Pop," Francis said, rubbing his eyes. "Creevy would sure love to nail us for something. Ever since Nick screwed him out of that promotion that asshat's been aching for it."

"And it's not like he hasn't used Infected before, like the Witch," Rochelle said. "It's a solid theory. It's just completely circumstantial."

"So we got squat."

"It isn't squat, per se, but we are kind of back to square one," she agreed. "No wonder he's gotten away with so much shit. Slippery bastard."

"More slippery than an eel in a Porta John."

"Ew, Francis-."

"What?"

Rochelle was about to explain why that simile was rude at best and positively revolting at worst, but was distracted by her bedroom door banging open and Wednesday stamping towards the fridge. "Um, Wednesday? Everything okay?"

"Yes," the teenager said, nodding her head and checking the fridge for an unknown item.

"…. Well, there's soup on the stove if you want some," Rochelle offered, and Francis shifted in his chair. He hadn't spent much time with teenagers in his life, and Wednesday seemed to be a formidable challenge.

"I'm not hungry," Wednesday replied.

"You just opened the fridge-."

"Looking for orange juice," the girl muttered.

"Eat some soup," Rochelle said, firmly. "You haven't eaten anything all day, you have to eat something." Wednesday sighed, reluctant to give in but giving in nonetheless. She removed a bowl from the cupboard, and ladled out one spoonful of soup, deeming that satisfactory and within Rochelle's parameters. The older woman wasn't going to argue; as long as Wednesday was eating SOMETHING, that was fine by her. She went to the fridge and removed part of a baguette, thinking that it would be the next logical step up. But as soon as she put it on the table, Wednesday took one look at it and began to cry. Which made Francis leap up from the table like her tears were acid. Rochelle gave him a look, and inexplicably thought for a moment 'he'll be an awkward Dad someday' before turning to the crying teenager.

"Honey, what do you need?" she asked, sitting down next to her, and Wednesday shook her head, wiping her eyes with her wrist. "…. Hey Francis, can you do me a favor?"

"Yeah," he said, anxious for an excuse to leave the room.

"Can you take my laundry downstairs and throw it in the washing machine?" she asked.

"Laundry?" he asked, wrinkling his nose skeptically. Rochelle jerked her head towards the door, telling him to just get out for a while, and he nodded. "Uh, sure, I can do that, Cupcake."

"Thanks baby," she said, and waited for him to gather up the basket and exit the apartment before turning back to Wednesday. "Wednesday, talk to me. What can I do to help?"

The teenager shrugged, reluctant to talk but needing to talk to someone. "…. He used to make bread every Saturday."

Rochelle smiled sadly, glancing at the baguette. "Carlisle?"

"Yeah," the teenager nodded. She pushed the bowl of soup away, and couldn't help but smile. "It was different every week. One week it would be beer bread, another week it would be honey wheat., another week it would be onion rolls. He was planning to make Pan de Muertos in November during the Day of the Dead celebration in Mexico… I really miss him."

"I know."

"…. He was the only person here who called me by my real name," she remembered. Rochelle's face didn't change, though it had never occurred to her that Wednesday wasn't it, despite the fact it was an obvious referential nickname. "But not in front of anyone, because he knew I like Wednesday better than Marcy."

Marcy, huh? Rochelle thought, but made no comment on it. "He was a great guy. A lot of people are going to miss him, myself included."

Wednesday shrugged. "Yeah, they'll miss him, but no one really knew him, you know? I mean, he had some friends, but he mainly kept to himself, messing with recipes and stuff. He had some family left up in Maine but he never talked about them. He didn't really go out on dates. I think he was still hung up on his fiancée, the one who died during the Flu. I just wanted him to find love again because he lost it in such a fucked up way."

Rochelle hadn't known any of this about the girl's guardian, but tried not to look too surprised, as that would simply re-enforce the fact that few people really understood or appreciated Carlisle. "That's so hard."

"GOD, I don't know what Barbara didn't see in him," Wednesday muttered, feeling all the more bitter now that he was dead. "No offense to Ellis, because he's cute and all, but Carlisle would have treated her like a goddamn princess. Ellis is obviously into dick for God's sake!"

Rochelle couldn't help but guffaw, which in turn made Wednesday giggle too. "Don't tell Ellis I said it like that," the teenager said.

"I won't."

"JESUS, she even went on a date with that creepy CEDA guy over Carlisle!" Wednesday continued, getting serious again, and Rochelle raised her eyebrows. "What the HELL could she have possibly seen in that goddamn weirdo over Carlisle?"

"….. Barbara went on a date with Mark Creevy?" Rochelle asked, starting to piece a few things together bit by bit. Wednesday shrugged.

"Yeah, a couple weeks ago they were at the restaurant," she confirmed, nodding. "They didn't really stay long, but they were definitely talking. And I saw them at the Festival talking too, with Chief Jacobs. I don't think they're together, but there's something going on there. What he has that Carlisle didn't, I don't know."

Rochelle tapped her hand on the table, stomach starting to flip and flop with butterflies. "When did you see Barbara talking to him?"

Wednesday was a bit confused about why she was suddenly being questioned about the blonde baker, but tried to remember. "When I was on stage during the pie contest. I don't think I saw her again after that. She looked kind of nervous, maybe she went home…. But I DID see her the next day, she was biking through town. It was weird though."

"Why?" Rochelle asked, leaning in and scrawling notes on the white board.

"She was covered in mud and looked like she'd been sprayed with a hose or something," Wednesday replied, hesitantly. "….. Why are you writing this all down?"

"I'm just trying to keep track of a few things, honey, don't worry about it," Rochelle said, though she was becoming more and more excited. She set aside the notes, and smiled kindly at Wednesday. "…. So maybe I'll try to make some bread this week. Did you have a favorite that Carlisle would make?"

"… Hot cross buns," she answered, smiling slowly.

"I think we have a project for this week, what about you?" Rochelle asked.

"Can you bake?"

"…. I can read a recipe," Rochelle replied, coyly.

"Oh boy," Wednesday said, smiling again. Which was a relief to the older woman. "… Thank you, Rochelle. I know that I'm kind of a pain to you sometimes. I just…. I don't…." She trailed off, crossing her arms. Rochelle, knowing exactly what it was like to be a teenage girl who felt isolated from a lot of the world, merely smiled at her.

"I getcha," she reassured the girl. "So I'm going to go make sure that Francis isn't combining the whites and the reds in the laundry. So enjoy your soup and I will be right back, okay?"

"Okay," Wednesday nodded, and stood up to ladle out some more from the pot. Rochelle swiftly picked up the white board, and power walked out of the apartment for the laundry room. Wednesday may have busted this thing wide open.

As she left the apartment to go find Francis, a loud clap of thunder made her shriek a little bit. It was soon followed by the sound of rain hitting the roof, and Rochelle sighed in relief. The heavens had finally opened up. It sure seemed like a good sign to her.

The storm was pelting the windows of the Z-Men's home with a noisy fury so violent that it sounded like a hailstorm instead of a simple rain. It had delayed Nick's departure, as driving into the Grey Zone was dangerous enough without compromised visibility. And besides, he was still feeling so broken that he could barely make himself walk, much less drive. He had sat on the floor of the bathroom, staving off a panic attack for hours and trying to stop the shaking. When he'd finally forced himself off the floor and into the shower, he'd contemplated swallowing everything in the medicine cabinet just for giggles, but decided against it when he thought that would be even more pathetic than he already felt. With his luck he'd wake up in the hospital and have to suffer through THAT humiliation on top of every other one that had piled on as of late. Plus, that would be more grief than he'd ever want to put Ellis through. He'd already done enough damage.

He was mildly surprised that it was still so painful. He didn't know what he'd expected. At least with Sam drugs and a sex binge all over Sin City had numbed his anger and sadness. This time the very idea of that made him feel even more sick to his stomach than he already was. He'd managed to fuck it up again, even when he'd promised himself that he wouldn't. Of course, sometimes even the best of intentions didn't work out. He was pretty much convinced that he was destined to screw up the best things in his life, so maybe going into the Grey Zone alone wasn't the worst thing he could do. At least he had never let himself down. Not too much anyway.

He did wish that he had been able to give Ellis some closure. He especially wished that his confession of love had been taken to heart instead of rebuffed. At first he thought that it meant that Ellis didn't love him back, and while he couldn't be sure if that was fully true, he did realize that, more likely, the mechanic just hadn't believed him. But then, why should he? Nick hadn't given him much reason to.

He jumped slightly as another thunderclap rumbled through the house. No sign of it letting up just yet. It sounded like a big one too. Nick hadn't heard storms like this in a long time, not since the Sugar Mill…

Well, if there was one thing the gambler could do, he could at least dispel any notions the kid had regarding his feelings for him. He owed Ellis that much, especially since last time they'd ended the mechanic had lived with his lies for three years, lies that had plainly messed with his head. Now he just needed to figure out what he was going to say, and how he was going to say it. A note was obviously out of the question. And he couldn't bear to do it in person, he was still a bit cowardly in that regard. Besides, Ellis might refuse to see him. So instead, he let his mind piece together exactly what he wanted to say, and went for something that was in between the two; he walked into the main room, and picked up the telephone.

Ellis lay on the couch, miserable and drained, and listened to the thunderstorm outside as he flipped channels aimlessly. He hadn't gone home right away, choosing instead to drive around town in the rain, trying to distract himself and yet only dwelling on everything that had happened. Dalton had been able to tell that something was wrong with his human, and had jumped up for a cuddle on the mechanic's chest. Such an action was appreciated, but did very little to make Ellis feel any better. He'd considered drowning his sorrows in beer, but decided against it. It was better to drown sorrows with old movies rather than alcohol.

Heartache was a feeling he had hoped to leave behind long ago, and yet here he was, distinctly aching tremendously. Everything that had happened that day was replaying in his mind, cruelly and repeatedly. He was still angry that Nick had initially planned to just skip out without indication or warning. But along with the anger was the regret that it had ended the way it had. Once again, his relationship with Nick had finished far too abruptly and with too much pain and angst for Ellis to bear. Yet this time instead of weeping relentlessly (that still embarrassed him to this day, even if no one had witnessed it) he had merely folded in upon himself, letting numbness take over. He was more willing to feel nothing at the moment than to hurt immensely.

He shifted his weight, thumping the pillow under his fist to fluff it up slightly, and moved the viewing from sports to the classic movies channel. He'd hoped that he would find The Three Stooges or some old timey B-Sci-Fi film, knowing that those not only provided great distractions, but were fine movies to fall asleep to. He wouldn't mind just passing out and sleeping for a few days, anything to stave off the inescapable pain in his heart.

So he was incredibly irritated when the movie on the screen was CASABLANCA.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he grumbled, and was about to flip off the TV with a bitter flourish. But his movement was too fast, and the remote fell on the floor just out of reach. "DAMMIT." He was about to sit up, but Dalton growled and stretched out across his chest, making it damn near impossible to move. "Dalton, c'mon!"

The cat wasn't in a cooperative mood, and instead of getting off he merely nuzzled into Ellis' chest more. The mechanic scowled, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, and decided that FINE, he would finish the movie. It was almost over anyway, and he was convinced that whatever was next would have to be better than this.

Interestingly enough, his mother had never liked this movie. In her entire repertoire of romantic cinema, CASABLANCA was very low on her list. When asked why (not by him, he hadn't really cared) she would always explain that it didn't have the happy ending she liked in her romances. Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergmann SHOULD have been together because they were in love, and NOTHING should have come between them if they could have helped it. It's one thing to die of cancer; it's quite another to get on an airplane with someone you don't love in favor of staying with the one you do.

" 'If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life'," Rick Blaine told Ilse Lund as she protested vehemently. Ellis snorted, wishing that the damn film would just run out. Mainly because it seemed that he was being mocked by it. He was familiar enough with the movie's end to draw enough parallels between it and his present situation. Rick telling Ilsa they can't be together and given the situation it's the best for them both. Ilsa probably hating him for it as he breaks her heart, and yet reluctantly admitting to herself that yes, he's right. Even if he's making the decision for her, he's right.

" 'Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of,'" Rick continued, and Ellis knocked Dalton off his chest so he could finally turn off the sound to the TV. " 'I'm no good at being noble-'." He muted the TV sharply.

"Shut up, Rick," he muttered, watching the flickering screen as Bogie gently raised Bergmann's chin in a loving manner. The mechanic ran a hand across his face, wondering why he was doing this to himself. The most frustrating thing was that, had he not been going through something similar at the moment, he would probably like this movie.

As he curled up on the couch again, watching the rest of the movie on mute, he began to get more and more irked. Not at the movie, and not at his present situation, but at himself. He couldn't help but think of how he was turning into his Mom, with the sulking and movie comparisons. So he finally flipped the TV off, and left the main room for the kitchen, thinking that maybe a beer wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. He wandered by the countertop, and was about to open the fridge when he saw that his answering machine was blinking. He had been gone earlier, and he had fallen asleep on the couch for a short while, so to find a message or two wasn't too surprising. He noticed that the number '3' was blinking over and over again, and he sniffed as he hit the button.

"Message one," the robotic voice said stiffly.

"Ellis, sweetie, it's Rochelle," the first message started off. "You and Nick need to give me a call, Francis and I have been talking with Wednesday and I THINK we've pieced some things together. I tried Nick's house too but no one answered there either. Where are you guys? Call me, for real, this is big!" He'd hardly listened to the message, and deleted it as soon as it was over. He didn't want to talk to Rochelle right now, as he would have to tell her about what happened and then he would get a big fat 'I told you so!', which he wouldn't appreciate in the very least.

"Message two," the voice stated, and he nodded impatiently.

"… Hey, Ellis," Nick's voice said, and the mechanic nearly had to sit down he was so shocked. He hadn't expected to hear from him, that was for sure. "You might just delete this as soon as you realize it's me, but I thought I'd roll the dice on this one… Look, I'm calling because, well, it's obvious why I'm calling. I wanted to say a couple of things before I go, things you need to hear…. Firstly, I never wanted to hurt you, I swear I didn't. I still think that what I'm doing is best for….. Shit, and there I go again justifying it. God, screw that."

Ellis heard Nick sigh deeply, and he did sit down now, waiting for him to continue.

"…. Rochelle predicted it, Overalls. She told me not to fuck it up but I did it anyway. It's all on me, just like the Milltown was. I hope that maybe someday you'll forgive me, even though I won't be there to be forgiven. And I'm sorry I won't be. I know you're mad that I kept it from you, but I also know you're mad because I'm leaving in the first place… And I admit it's kind of the coward's way out, but it's the only way I know how to do things, ultimately. Please tell Francis that he should ditch out as well, I don't want him to take the entire fall for me, I want him to run for the hills too. Even though he probably won't. He's always been stronger than me.

"I can't excuse it, and I can't explain it," Nick continued. "I can only apologize. So, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't going to tell you I was leaving, and I'm sorry that I hurt you. Again. God, I have a real knack for that, don't I? I hate hurting you, El, I do. Seeing you sad and knowing it's because of me, that's the worst. I also wanted to say-."

The machine interrupted with a harsh beep, and Ellis' eyes widened. Goddamn piece of shit technology cut him off! he thought, leaping up and rushing for it, as if he could somehow get the rest of the thought.

"Message three," the voice said, and Ellis held his breath, hoping that it was Nick again.

"Your answering machine can eat my ass!" Nick spat, and Ellis couldn't help but laugh, the endearing grumpiness from the con man making him exultant and despondent at the same time. He would miss that grumpiness. "Clearly I don't have much time on here, so I'll just get right to it. When I said that I loved you, I meant it. You don't believe me, and hey, I don't blame you, I've given you no reason to trust anything that I say. But I don't want to go the rest of my life, however long it may be, living with the fact that you don't think I love you. Because I do. I think I've probably loved you since…. Fuck, that goddamn Tunnel of Love at Whispering Oaks maybe? Probably. I should have said it a long time ago, but remember? Coward."

Ellis had slowly sunk to the linoleum, just listening and processing it all in a stoic manner. He clasped his hands together, and propped them up on bent knees, brow knit and mouth set in a serious frown.

"You're the world to me, El. The thought of you haunted me for three years, and I guess it's just going to have to haunt me for more. But I think I'll be okay being haunted by you. There are worse things that could do that, that's for sure…"

There was one more bit of hesitation, and Ellis held his breath, waiting for something else. Anything else.

"Bye, ki-."

And the machine cut him off once more, before he could call the younger man by their favorite term of endearment. Ellis smacked his hand against the sink cupboard doors in frustration, and stood up sharply. He'd never hated his answering machine before, it was kind of surreal. He was about to knock it to the floor, but instead just exhaled slowly. While it was a lot to hear, and a lot to think about, Ellis knew that every word of it was true. He knew that Nick was probably just as heartbroken as he was, he could hear it in the words, the tone, all of it. And if Nick was every bit as heartbroken as he was, that meant that he DID love him, and DID want to be with him despite his noble idiocy. What was it with noble idiocy anyway? Rick let Ilsa go because of it and now Nick was doing the same to him.

"… Most romantic movie of all time my ASS," Ellis snapped, and bolted from the kitchen, looking for his keys. Fuck noble idiocy, he wasn't going to be like Ilsa and just let this happen. Nick may have been right, letting him go may have been the right decision. But Ellis had followed Keith's every whim, he'd tried to get gators to wrestle each other, he'd hit a Witch in the head with a frying pan just for fun, and he'd let himself fall in love with a mildly screwed up con man. He wasn't known for making traditionally 'good' decisions, and in THIS case he wasn't going to start now. He snatched up his keys, put on his hat, and left the house into the storm, hoping that he wasn't too late.

Chapter Text

After a failed attempt at taking a short nap, Nick trudged down to the main room, grumpily locking the front door as he passed it, and flipped through the records in the box. He had one specifically in mind, and hoped that it would prove as helpful as it had in the past. To him, if sleep wasn't available, Jameson and music would be satisfactory substitutes. As he removed Supertramp from the collection, and laid the worn vinyl on the player, he sniffed, memories of the many times he'd played this album filling him with some hope that it would alleviate at least some of the sting. He set the needle on the specific song, GOODBYE STRANGER, and sat at the bar top, reaching for the whiskey. He considered a glass for it, but decided against it and instead chose to take a large gulp straight from the bottle.

He listened to the words of the song, as they had given him peace of mind before. After his divorce from Holly, whenever a relationship ended for him the song would remind him that he would now be free, that he could live his own life by his own rules and not be tied down. After all, that was the point of GOODBYE STRANGER, with it's up tempo quasi-disco beat. He'd lived his life like this song for so many years that he figured it wouldn't fail him now.

And yet all he could think as the lead singer told him that sweet devotion was not for him was that it was completely and utterly full of shit. Jesus this song is far too happy for it's own good, he thought bitterly. For the second time in his sexual life he didn't WANT to be free. At that moment he decided that once the rain was done he was definitely out. He would leave that letter of apology for Francis, take the gun he'd hidden in the basement, and venture into the unknown. And staying in Roanoke II a moment longer was going to be too much. Survival would keep him busy. He dragged a hand across his mouth, the whiskey leaving a sour taste on his tongue, and rested his forehead in his palm. And he didn't think he'd ever be able to listen to Supertramp again.

He was about to take another shot of Jameson, when there was a pounding on his front door, a pounding so hard that it rattled the frame. He jumped a bit, and shook his head, thinking that Francis had been locked out. Fucking dumbass, bring your keys with you, he thought, believing that he'd have to delay his escape because of his partner's return home, and tried to compose himself lest the biker know that something was wrong. So he swallowed, and held a stoic frown on his face as he walked for the ever rattling door. He unlocked the bolt and opened it, expecting to see his partner and ready to give him shit for leaving his keys at home.

But instead of Francis he saw Ellis, sopping wet and chest heaving as he stood in the doorway. Nick's poker face immediately gave way to a surprised one, green eyes widening and heart starting to bang against his ribs.

"…. El?" he breathed, voice barely audible due to his surprise and the rainstorm. The mechanic stepped inside and closed the door behind him, and both men gazed at each other silently. The younger man was the first to open his mouth, as the older one thought that if he said something, anything, this would abruptly end and he would somehow find himself in the bathroom again.

"I got your message," Ellis stated, taking his wet hat off and tossing it on the floor. Nick might have cared if he wasn't so stunned.

"Yeah?" he asked, and the kid nodded, neck stiff. He took in a breath, and looked at his lover with earnest eyes.

"….Stay," he said, tone begging and taut, his fists clenching. It was one last ditch effort to try and change the older man's mind, no matter how futile it might be. Nick closed his eyes, trying his best to fight off those awful feelings again, God he hated how the younger man would bring out all the emotions he'd so easily staved off before.

The gambler shook his head, defeated. "I can't," he replied, voice all but cracking.

Ellis sighed, blinking slowly, and then shrugged. "Well…. Then I'm comin' with you."

"Ellis-."

"No, Nick, you don't get to do this," Ellis interrupted, firmly, though his voice was quivering slightly. "You don't get to make that decision for me, okay? I'm not a kid, an' I get to decide what I do with my life. And I'm goin' with you."

"But-."

"No!" he snapped, shaking his head. "You said you'd want me to go with you, and so I'm doin' it. If I don't go with you, I'll regret it, okay? Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, an' for the rest've my life!"

Nick couldn't hold in a surprised laugh, though his eyes were glassy as he crossed his arms. " 'Casablanca'?"

"No! Well, yeah, but so what if it is?" Ellis snapped, slightly irked that he'd been questioned in his choice of words. "An' it's not even a good line really cuz I'd regret it today an' tomorrow too. Point is I don't want you to go without me. I can't let you go without me because if you go an' I'm not with you, I… I won't feel right!" He gulped the lump in his throat down as best he could, though it was hard when Nick was looking at him like…. That. Whatever that was, Ellis wasn't sure. God he was so hard to read at times. "I don't think I'd ever feel right again for the rest of my life, I'd feel…. Wrong'r somethin'. I don't know how to explain it!" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, wishing that he were smarter. He felt that if he were smarter he would have come up with something eloquent and persuasive. "I can't let you go without me because I'm not willin' to lose you, I don't think I'll ever be willin' to lose you!"

Nick was trembling, as trying to keep in everything was really starting to overcome him, and he took in a deep breath through his nose and tried one last time to dissuade his young lover. "You're home is in Roanoke II, Overalls."

And Ellis shook his head, almost serenely despite the fact he was so full of anxiety. "No, see, that's just it. It isn't. Savannah was my home because, to me, home is a place that you feel safe an' accepted an' loved no matter what, the place where you feel the most comfortable and the place you can and want to see yourself for the rest of your life. Roanoke II isn't my home, Nick, YOU are. You're my home, and I don't want to be apart from you again, not for three years, not for ten years, not ever. Because I love you, I do, I should've said it when you said it an' I'm REAL sorry I didn't! I love you so much I don't want to see what I'd be like without you!"

As Ellis spoke, Nick finally stopped fighting his inner battle, and let the tears fall, tears that he had never let himself cry over the kid. He granted himself the relief and nodded as he listened, not sure if he was feeling joy, or fear, or what the hell it was. Whatever it was, though, it had won, and he was just letting himself experience it.

Ellis, seeing Nick shed a couple of tears, put his hands to the older man's face and smiled comfortingly. "Please let me come with you, Nick. I don't want to be…. I don't know…. Lost, I guess."

Nick was absolutely and utterly floored by all of this. In his lifetime he had had many, many relationships, and of those relationships only a few went through turbulent times and uncertainly. And of THOSE few, he had never found himself at either end of a touching and honest confession of love and caring. He'd never thought that he would ever be deserving of such a poignant speech, nor did he ever think that he would feel the exact same way about the person who would hypothetically do that. But then he met Ellis, and for the first time in his life Nick had been completely and utterly swept off his feet by someone who had just as much love to give back.

So he put his hands on Ellis' and set his forehead against the younger man's, nodding slowly and composing himself a bit before saying, "God yeah, kiddo, come with me, please come with me." Ellis grinned as a couple of tears fell from his eyes as well, scared and happy at the same time, and they began to kiss, finally one again and never willing to split. Not ever and not for anything.

The gambler ran his hands all over the soaked tee shirt, not even caring that his own shirt was getting wet as well, and drew his hands through Ellis' hair as he attacked his lips. Feeling Ellis melt further and further into his arms only encouraged him more, and he grasped through the cloth as he pulled him in as close as he could. Ellis drew his mouth away to let Nick move his lips down his neck, and he looked at the ceiling dizzily, aching to charge ahead without pause or hesitation.

"Should we go upstairs-?"

"No, has to be here," Nick replied, suddenly pushing the coffee table back against the couch to make more room on the floor and knocking the record needle off the spinning vinyl.

"But Francis said-."

"I don't care what Francis said, I need you right now and right here," the Z-Man growled, and the younger man wasn't going to argue. "Toss that blanket down on the floor while I go get stuff."

"You bet," Ellis said, and was a bit confused when his lover ran into the kitchen. But he attended to the blanket, listening to the violent rain beat against the windows as he did so. Soon Nick returned with a bottle of lubricant clutched in his hand. "You keep lube in the kitchen?"

"After the last time we did this in here I figured I could never be too careful," was the sly reply as Ellis plopped down on the floor. Nick crawled on top of the mechanic, hovering over him as the rain splattered windows drew streaky shadows across both their faces and bodies, and began to unbutton his shirt. Ellis watched patiently and expectantly, removing his wet tee shirt as well and dropping it on the floor before reaching for the older man's pants. As he futzed with the button and zipper, Nick studied him, still basking in the fact that not only did he finally love someone again, but that someone genuinely loved him back. The two conditions had never intercepted before, and it was making him almost delirious with happiness. Ellis made a triumphant noise as he yanked the slacks down from Nick's waist, and focused on his own pants as the Z-Man slipped his boxers off. Once they were finally naked, they began to embrace again, the ferocity of their kisses set aside for the moment in favor of gentility. Nick held the younger man close, grinning like a dope, and took in a whiff of his sandy hair. "Not to sound needy or anything, but can you say it again?"

It was vague, but Ellis knew exactly what he meant. "I love you."

Nick pulled away, chewing on his lip briefly. "I…. I need you to do something for me," he said, hesitantly, as if he wasn't really sure that he could go through with asking it.

"What?" Ellis asked, a quick flash of lightning lighting up his blue eyes for a brief second.

"I… I need you to…. Ugh, this sounds so fucking corny but…" Nick ran a hand through his hair, clearly needing something but still a bit too proud to ask. He growled, frustrated that he just wasn't able to ask it even though he needed it so badly.

"Nick what is it? I won't laugh, I just need to know, I'm about to go nuts here not know-."

"I need you to…. I want you to fuck me," the gambler said. Ellis raised his eyebrows, a bit confused.

"Well shit, Nick, we do that all the time-."

"NO, I mean…. I want you to top," Nick replied, almost bashfully.

Such a request surprised the mechanic. No, utterly floored him. He sat up, propping himself on his elbows, and raised his eyebrows about as high as they could go. "REALLY?" he gawked. "Are you sure? Cuz you usually fight tooth an' nail to not be on bottom, so I wanna be sure that YOU'RE sure."

Well, Nick wasn't one hundred percent sure. He'd rarely allowed himself to be on the bottom. In fact, the only times he'd been on bottom were when he was with Sam, and when he was hooking himself just so he could eat. The latter had always sucked for obvious reasons; johns don't care about going slow or being gentle, at least they never did with him. With Sam it was…. Great. But because he'd let himself go and trusted his first love so deeply, only to be screwed over, this association was bittersweet at best.

So when he craved being on bottom, it was usually because he was in need of being taken care of. He wanted Ellis to tend to him and make him susceptible. Not that he was going to phrase it like that, but the kid had been so eager to do it in the past it shouldn't be too hard to convince him. He wasn't one hundred percent sure, but he was sure enough he wanted this to happen.

"Yeah kiddo, I'm sure," Nick nodded, rolling off the kid onto his side. "I want you to do it tonight."

Ellis began to chew on his fingernail nervously. His first instinct was to be elated, as he had been hoping for this for awhile. But he was also anxious now that it had been offered. That meant that Nick really expected it of him, and probably expected it to be pleasurable.

"Um, yeah, I wanna do it, but what if I'm no good?" he blurted out, and was horrified that he'd said such a thing, as WHY would he want to even suggest that he wouldn't be any good? "Cuz yeah, I've been in charge before, but it was just with girls, not with guys, an' I'm pretty sure it's kinda different-."

"Overalls, the anatomy is different but the principle is pretty much the same," Nick said, lying on his back, trying to convince them both that this was a good idea. Even though he needed it, he was still anxious. And seeing Ellis anxious too wasn't helping.

"I just don't wanna fuck it up," Ellis replied, voice tenuous, and Nick shook his head.

"I'll talk you through it," the older man said, re-assuring him as best he could. So Ellis nodded, and took in a calming breath. He straddled over his beau, planting hands by his shoulders and knees by his hips, and leaned in, kissing him once more. Nick crooked a hand up behind Ellis' head, trying to draw him in more and darting his tongue in the mechanic's mouth. Ellis whined happily, and ground his groin right into Nick's before slowly snaking down his body, lips flicking down his chest and abdomen. The older man sighed as the sensations teased at him, and he laid his hand on Ellis' head again, directing him to focus on his quickly stiffening dick. The younger man took the hint and ran with it, taking his lover's cock into his mouth and beginning to work his magic on it. Nick exhaled sharply as he bucked his hips up, pleased that he'd taken the time and effort to teach the kid so much about pleasuring others with his tongue and mouth. He sat up slightly just so he could watch what Ellis was doing, and couldn't help but whine at the sight of his lover sucking on him so greedily. Christ those lips, he thought, letting his head drop back.

Ellis teased his tongue in cadence with his bobbing, fingers drumming ever so gently at Nick's hips. Whenever Nick was in charge he would get him ready to go in this way before proceeding further, and so Ellis figured that it was the best way to go for tonight. He would always been aching for more stimulation of any kind when it was done in such a manner, and he hoped that the same would go for his boyfriend. So he drew as much blood to Nick's lower regions as he could without making it dangerously arousing, and Nick licked his lips and huffed through a growing smile.

"Oh Jesus, Overalls," he mumbled, jutting his hips faster, attempting to get further into Ellis' mouth. But the younger man smiled to himself and removed his lips, which made the older man whimper a titch, which in turn made Ellis snicker. "WHY are you stopping?"

"I got better things in store," Ellis replied, voice nearly a purr as he crawled back up his body and reached for the bottle. He sat up and ran the lubricant on his fingers, and Nick tried not to project how apprehensive he was. He leaned back on the floor again, bending his knees in anticipation, and Ellis smiled at him.

"I'll start slow," he said, and Nick nodded as the younger man ran his hand across his ass and paused at his entrance. "You ready?"

"Mm hm," Nick confirmed, closing his eyes tightly. It had been awhile, so he knew it was going to be tight. He barely made a noise as the first finger went in him, but when Ellis' second finger did the same he yelped, the discomfort returning briefly. Ellis removed his fingers quickly, worried he'd managed to hurt the older man, but Nick shook his head. "No, keep going."

"But-."

"It's going to be awkward at first no matter what you do, just keep going," Nick demanded, knowing that it would get better with more movement. So Ellis nodded, and did as he was told, moving his fingers inside again and starting to wiggle them. Nick bit his lip, trying his best to relax, and was finally able to do so as the mechanic gently set the free hand on his chest, the reassurance all Nick needed to finally calm down. He exhaled slower this time, and let Ellis go slowly and carefully. As his body became accustomed the movements inside of him, Nick's arousal started to pique and flicker. Ellis stretched him slowly, the very sight of Nick beginning to writhe making him all the more fervent. He smiled to himself, pleased to hear the soft moans leaving the gambler's lips, figuring he was on the right track. He pushed in even more, and Nick's arms thumped on the floor in response, tongue flicking his lips swiftly. The image tantalized the younger man, and he began to kiss Nick again as his fingers fought the muscles that surrounded them.

Nick grunted as a digit barely brushed at the bundle of nerves inside, and he pulled his lips away, no matter how sweet they felt against Ellis' velvety ones. "El."

"Yeah?"

Nick sat up on his elbows, swallowing as Ellis continued to wiggle. "Fuck me."

"You want it now?" Ellis asked, tweaking one more time with his fingers, and Nick hissed, not really wanting the fingers to stop but knowing the kid's dick would feel even better.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Now, now now now." So Ellis removed his fingers and applied more KY to his hand, running it up his cock and trying not to bounce off the walls with excitement. He slowly positioned himself just right, trying to mimic the way that Nick would do it. He glanced down and looked his lover square in his green eyes, quickly sweeping a hand through the con man's dark hair.

"Ready?" he asked, hopefully. Nick spread his legs a little more in response, and cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he confirmed, blood running hot. "You better make me come, Aylus."

"That's the plan," the mechanic quipped, and with that, he entered his lover. Both men moaned, and Ellis had to stop, the tension taking him by complete surprise. It had never been this snug with the few girls he'd been with, and the pressure was both delectable and unnerving. So this was what it felt like to top. He could certainly get used to this. He started to push into Nick, going as slow as he could make himself go, and dug his elbows into the blanket as his lover grasped at his biceps. "Oh SHIT Nick!"

"Different huh?" Nick asked, wincing slightly, and Ellis nodded over and over again.

"Real different! GOOD different!"

"Yep."

Nick willed away the protests his body was giving, and kept his mind on what it felt like to have the mechanic inside of him. Yes, it had been so long since he'd been in this position that it was a bit uncomfortable, but he was going to find the pleasure in it no matter what. He spread his legs further, and pulled his bent knee up against his chest as Ellis leaned in to kiss him some more. As their jaws ground and fought each other, the younger man dared to sink in fully, and Nick huffed as that spot he'd neglected so long was full on hit at just the right angle. "That's it, right there," he breathed, and Ellis grinned and repeated the movement. "FUCKING A, kiddo!"

"Good?" the mechanic asked, and Nick nodded feverishly. "Good." And he leaned in and began to gnaw on Nick's neck, the biting causing Nick to gasp again. Ellis had been the recipient of so many hickeys from the older man, hickeys that were blatant and possessive. It was his turn to leave dark blotches all over the gambler, blotches that would let the world know that HE was claimed too.

The throbbing in his neck, paired with the way his insides were starting to awaken, made Nick's hands slap to the floor, fingers scraping at the blanket and wood.

"El, good God, more," he begged, and Ellis nodded, starting to pound into him a bit too excitedly. The con man cringed at the sudden pain and tensed up. "AH, easyeasyeasy!"

"Sorry!" Ellis exclaimed, pulling out completely. "Sorry, sorry, we can stop if-!" But Nick shook his head fiercely.

"Don't stop! Just… Ease up," the older man suggested. "Try… Try longer and drawn out, okay?" He wasn't completely thrilled that he had to act as tutor, but hey, he'd asked for this and he said he'd guide the younger man. So the mechanic nodded, and moved in again, slowly. Nick nodded back, the urgent pain once again being replaced with a slowly building pleasure. "Yeah, that's right, better." Ellis rolled his hips, and Nick yelped, prostate hit once more. "BETTER, just keep doing that!" Okay, back on track, the younger man thought as he leaned in to kiss him again. He hooked an arm around Nick's lower back, their chests slipping against each other as he thrust slowly and deliberately. Nick wrapped his arms around his lover's waist, pulling him in more, and Ellis keened, realizing that his muscles were starting the build. He wasn't sure he'd have much time now, and he still needed to make Nick come. So he kissed the older man again and began to thrust faster now, but not as haphazardly as before. He was still drawing them out. He was just drawing MORE of them out.

Nick's own dick was starting to flush as bright as his cheeks were, and he winced as his insides began to twitch. He pulled his mouth away so he could groan and mewl more openly. "You know I love you right?" he wheezed, and Ellis tilted his head to the side as he continued, albeit slower. "I wasn't-JESUSFUCK-I wasn't lying. I do."

"Yeah, I know," Ellis nodded, rocking into him again and making him cry out again. Man, he'd never thought that Nick could turn out to be such a screamer. "Of course, it could just be cuz I got my cock in ya." And he punctuated with a harder thrust, which made Nick's back arch up off the floor as he wailed. "Man I like hearin' you yell."

"Do it again, you haven't heard shit yet," Nick baited, and Ellis fully sheathed himself once more. Nick moaned fully, no longer inhibiting himself. He was for sure going to yell, and it was going to be loud.

But while he was looking forward to yelling, and while he liked the sparks of energy rushing through him, there was something that he liked best about this: Ellis was being gentle, and thoughtful, just as he was in everyday life. He was caressing him, kissing him, and touching his heart. He wasn't drilling him, or boning him, or fucking him even. He was flat out making love to him.

The younger man wrapped his fingers around Nick's member, stroking it at the same tempo as his thrusts, and the two stimuli made the older man pant and writhe on the blanket, free leg slipping against the cloth hysterically. "More, Ellis! MORE!" The command prompted the younger man to perform the coup de grace, the move that would always get him just where he needed to be. So he pulled Nick up and into his lap, wrapping his arms around him tightly as he rocked his hip up over and over again. Nick, fully filled and repeatedly hit time after time, slammed his own arms around the younger man, resting his chin on the kid's head. He huffed out desperately as his muscles tensed and scraped, beginning to lose control. Ellis kissed his chest, hands scrabbling down his sweaty back as the older man moaned, teetering closer and closer. Oh God, please let me get him there first, Ellis thought, his own panting starting to get louder and louder.

"Nick, I'm so close!" he cried, needing to release but unwilling to do so until his lover had. It would probably only take a couple more movements for both of them, judging by the way Nick was snarling the kid's hair in his ringed fingers, and so Ellis wanted to be sure that the last ones really counted. He pushed up and in, yanking Nick down as far as he could, and it sent the gambler well on his way to climax. He began to cry out loudly as he drew the mechanic in, holding Ellis' shoulders tighter as he wailed more with each propulsion, and Ellis started to groan and bawl too.

"Oh fucking God EL," Nick moaned, muscles contracting in anticipation, and gibberish and profanity toppled from his mouth as he finally came, the orgasm seizing him violently. He shouted as it rocked his system, and Ellis began to convulse too, finally letting himself release, the release greatly appreciated as the orgasm practically made him black out. He hadn't even realized he'd been yelling until it occurred to him that his throat was kind of raw. He fell back, his elbows hitting the floor heavily, and breathed out as his body pulsed and vibrated while coming down. He hazily looked up at his older lover perched on top of him, gulping in breath after breath. Nick's eyes were barely open, but he held that satisfied smile on his face as he looked down at Ellis. He gently brushed the sandy hair from the mechanic's eyes, and leaned in, setting his lips right next to Ellis' ear.

"Good job," he whispered, and nibbled on the younger man's earlobe briefly. Ellis sucked in a breath, utterly worn out from all the activity that day (physical AND emotional) and yet still shivering at the tickling. Nick rolled off of him, and splayed out on the floor, the sound of the rain once again the loudest noise in the room.

"…I wanna do that more often," Ellis announced after a couple moments of silence, and Nick snickered.

"We'll negotiate later," he said, sitting up on his elbows as well.

"Okay, I'm holdin' you to that, cuz I could see myself gettin' a real taste for this," Ellis chirped. "A REAL taste for it. Hell, I might just challenge you for the top every time we have sex from now on."

"The hell you will," Nick sneered.

"I'm sure I'll find a way to convince ya," Ellis winked, nudging Nick playfully, and the older man rolled his eyes even though he was still grinning.

"….. So you're serious?" he finally asked, needing to be reassured again (another reason he didn't care for being on the bottom: it made him revert back to being kind of needy). "You're coming with me? That wasn't just posturing-?"

"No way," Ellis denied, shaking his head adamantly. "I'm comin' with you." Nick's lips twisted into a crooked grin, and he shrugged.

"Damn kiddo."

"What?"

"Well…. About a half hour ago I thought I'd blown it," he muttered. "I thought you were so mad-."

"I'm still kinda mad," Ellis snipped, and Nick chuckled, finding the slightly indignant tone cute. "But that doesn't matter in the long run. I just wanna be with you, mad or not."

"Even though I pissed you off, huh?"

"Well yeah," Ellis said, scratching his head. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do when you love someone?"

"…. Maybe. I don't know."

"Well, you've been in love before haven't you?" Ellis asked. Nick had mentioned Sam in passing a few times without going into detail, and Ellis assumed that if there was someone Nick was going to love at some point in his past, it was probably him.

"….. Yeah, but it wasn't exactly the healthiest relationship, so I'm not about to reference it when it comes to how I go about this one," Nick admitted, scratching the back of his head as he lay back down. "And anyway, I've already kind of messed up a few times."

" 'Kind of' messed up?" Ellis asked, skeptically, and Nick snorted.

"Okay, really messed up," he admitted. "But I won't do that again."

"Yeah, you better not," Ellis agreed, looking down at him sternly. "Nick, I swear to God, if you pull any shit like that again-."

"Believe me, I won't. I swear I won't," Nick promised, having learned his lesson.

"Okay then."

"So if you're coming with me, what are you going to do about all your stuff?"

"Give it to Ro," the younger man replied, finally lying down as well and facing his beau.

"What about Dalton?" Nick asked, hesitantly. He knew that as much as Ellis bitched about that cat, he loved the pissy little tabby. Ellis' face visibly fell, and he shrugged, trying to be strong.

"Well…. I'll miss him, but he should stay here with Ro," he replied, sadly. "…. But that's okay, cuz he an' Ro get along like peas an' carrots."

"'Peas and carrots'?" Nick asked, smirking.

"Yeah? So?"

"What does that mean?"

"It means they get along well!" Ellis explained, not appreciating the growing amused grin on Nick's face. "Like, peas and carrots go good together in food, and they go along good together in real life. It's not a weird phrase-Why are you laughin'?"

"GOD you're such a hick!" the older man laughed, and Ellis was about to protest, but Nick cut him off by kissing him sharply on his lips. So the mechanic decided to ignore the pithy insult, and let Nick lean him back onto the blanket. It was probably the last time that they'd be able to do this so freely, without fearing what was behind the corner our outside the door. So even though they were tired, both were more than willing to have one more go. Nick crawled on top of Ellis, rutting against him and about to start the cycle all over again.

But before he could, the front door to the house opened swiftly, making both men's stomach's drop. Again.

"Hey guys?" Rochelle called, and the two men only had enough time to scarcely cover themselves with the blanket before she entered the main room. "Guys, are- HOLY SHIT!" She clapped a hand over her eyes and spun away, embarrassed, and Francis came up behind her. Once he saw the two men on the floor, AGAIN, he squawked indignantly.

"SHARED SPACE!" he barked, pointing at them, and Nick shrugged as Ellis covered his face with his hands. "What have I told you guys about the shared space rule?"

"Extenuating circumstances, big guy," Nick offered, but Francis shook his head vehemently.

"Nuh uh! That doesn't matter! This is a shared space and I told you not to fuck in here!" Francis spat, as Rochelle pulled her hand away, still a bit mortified. "You have a goddamn queen size bed upstairs! WHY do you like the floor so much?"

"Lots of room to move around?" Nick tried.

"I'm not buying what you're selling, Suit, it's a queen size bed! I TOLD YOU-!" Francis began, pointing at him, but Rochelle held up a hand.

"Francis, stop!" she demanded. "We have more important things to talk about right now! Dammit guys, we've been trying to get a hold of you both for the past few hours, why didn't you answer the phone, Nick?"

"Long story," the con man said, stretching, and Ellis, finally giving up on being saved from this situation, removed his hands from his face and sighed, morosely. "What's up?"

"LOTS is up," Rochelle said, plopping down on the couch to talk to them, all business now in spite of their post coital nakedness. "I think we've figured this out. We don't have any solid evidence yet, but we have a few leads. Would you two be up for going out and looking for proof?"

"What sorta proof?" Ellis asked, still pulling the blanket up around him more.

"I think we may have a third person who was in on this whole frame up, sweetie," she replied. "I left my white board in the car, but I can go and get it-."

"You do that, Ro, and while you do, I think that Ellis and I should probably go get a bit cleaned up before you start to play Nancy Drew," Nick said haughtily. "So how about you and Ned Nickerson over there leave me and Bess to go get ready?"

"Are those Nancy Drew characters?" Ellis asked, eyebrow cocking as he stood up with his boyfriend, the blanket not leaving their waists. "How do you know Nancy Drew characters?"

"No comment," Nick quipped smoothly. "Francis, sorry about breaking the rules again."

"Shared space," Francis muttered, shaking his head as the two other men walked past him.

"We'll be down in a jiffy!" Ellis called over his shoulder, suddenly filled with hope that maybe things were going to finally turn around.

"It may actually be about fifteen to twenty minutes," Nick amended, slyly. "Maybe even thirty."

"You wish thirty," Ellis chuckled.

"Ouch!"

As they walked up the steps, Rochelle shook her head and turned to Francis, who was still seething about the living room and the blanket.

"I don't think that George and Bess ever ditched Nancy in the middle of a case so they could go down on each other," she huffed, crossing her arms.

"If they did I would have read those books cover to cover."

"Also, I think they were cousins," she recalled, suddenly weirded out by Nick's casting choices.

"If they did anything in the kitchen this time I swear to GOD I'm gonna cram your white board down that slut's throat," Francis muttered, hoping to plot some kind of revenge against his roommate.

Chapter Text

"Okay, hold on, so let me just recap here," Nick said, holding up his hands. They were all sitting around the kitchen table, having just wrapped up Rochelle's explanation, white board and all. "Wednesday says she saw Barbara talking to Creevy on two separate occasions, and then saw her biking whilst covered in mud the day after the Tank attack?"

"Yep," Rochelle nodded.

"….. How does that prove anything?" he asked, snidely, and Francis flipped him off as he chewed on some Swiss cheese. "No offense, Ro, but the testimony of a traumatized kid isn't exactly bulletproof. Especially when there's no other evidence backing your theory."

"No shit, dumbfuck, that's why I want to go out into the Grey Zone to find said evidence," Rochelle snapped. Nick was about to throw something back, but Ellis leaned forward.

"Why do you think there'd be somethin' out there?" he asked, and Nick shut his mouth, crossing his arms.

"Wednesday says that Barbara was covered in mud and all wet," the reporter said, pointing at the scrawling on her board. "But it hadn't rained here for a few weeks before today. Why would she have been wet and covered in mud if she was just on a pleasant morning bike ride?"

"And remember, Suit, there's a creek a few miles outside the West Gate," Francis said, handing Rochelle a piece of cheese. "That might explain why she was all Swamp Thing-y."

"Maybe," Nick said. "Or maybe it's just coincidence."

"You're so negative," Ellis muttered.

"I'm pragmatic!"

"I think it's a big enough coincidence that I'M going out into the Grey Zone with Cupcake here," Francis said, putting an arm around Rochelle's shoulders. "YOU don't have to come, but when she saves our asses you have to at LEAST buy her a beer."

"Oh it will be more than beer," she stated.

"Can I come too?" Ellis asked.

"Now THAT'S a team player!" Francis hooted, and Nick rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, Overalls? You're going on this wild goose chase?" he asked, disbelievingly.

"It's better'n nothin'," Ellis sniffed at him. "I think if Ro thinks that there's somethin' to it, there's probably somethin' to it."

"THANK you, sweetie," she winked at him, and smiled smugly at Nick.

"Think of it this way, Suit," Francis offered, leaning forward, mouth full of cheese. "Barbara has a damn good reason to work with them."

"What'd that be?" Ellis asked, and Francis turned to the youngest person in the room.

"You, Motor Mouth," he said, flatly, and Ellis sat up straight. "What, that didn't occur to you?"

"Oh Christ," Nick said, rubbing his eyes. "…. Okay, clearly the blood is finally going back to my brain, because THAT suddenly makes sense to me."

"Me? Why me?" the mechanic asked, and Nick snorted.

"Because she HATES the fact I'm boning you, kiddo," he replied.

"Bingo," Rochelle said, pointing at Nick. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, Ellis. And it isn't a big secret that you and Nick are together."

"But that doesn't mean that she'd be willin' to KILL people!" Ellis exclaimed.

"No?" Nick asked as Rochelle snorted in agreement with him, and Ellis turned to him, fiercely.

"NO," he snapped. "Look, I know that you don't like Barbara, okay? I'm not exactly her best friend neither, but I know her well enough to know she wouldn't do THAT."

"Even if it meant getting Nick out of the picture so she could move in on you?" Rochelle asked, and Ellis turned to her too.

"Yes," he answered, unyielding. "Barbara is a little annoyin', sure. But she wouldn't hurt anyone."

"…. Maybe not knowingly," Francis suggested, leaning back in his chair and putting his boot on the table.

"Foot down!" Nick snapped, and the biker sneered at him as he followed the order. "And what do you mean knowingly?"

Francis shrugged, and furrowed his brow. "Well come on, Nick, you know Creevy. Manipulative little fucker, that one. He could have left out a few of the details of his plan."

Ellis didn't say anything else on the matter, and opted to sink in his chair instead.

"So what do you suggest then, Ro?" Nick asked as Rochelle glanced at Ellis.

"Well, I have to get back to Wednesday tonight ASAP, but I think that come morning, once the rain has stopped, we all go out there and see what we can find," she replied, knitting her brow at how down the mechanic suddenly looked.

"Except Creevy took our guns," Nick said. "I have the Magnum I hid from him, but-."

"I have a baseball bat," Rochelle said, matter of factly. "And Francis tells me that you have a shed with some freaky shit in it."

"And a possum," Nick quipped.

"Regardless, I'm sure we'll find ways to arm ourselves," the reporter continued, waving him off. "Remember when we had nothing BUT axes and crowbars at the Vannah? We made due until we found that gun shop. We can do it again."

Nick sighed, and rubbed his eyes. He knew that if they did this it would make it difficult for him and Ellis to go on the run. At least, hard to get a head start. But if something DID come of it, if they did find something to solidly link Creevy and Barbara and Jacobs to the attack on the town, it would be worth it. It was a gamble. But it had been a long time since he'd REALLY gambled on something.

"… Well fuck," he said, shrugging. "Yeah, let's do it. I'm in."

"Fuck YEAH you're in!" Francis cheered, leaning across the table to slug him on the shoulder. Nick grunted in response, and rubbed his now sore arm. "I have a good feeling about this, Suit! Isn't my baby the smartest chick in the whole world?"

"This 'chick' doesn't appreciate being called 'chick'," she responded, coolly.

"Sorry Cupcake."

Nick looked over at Ellis, finally noticing that the younger man was being inordinately quiet, and saw that he had a frown on his lips. The gambler exchanged glances with Rochelle, and she took his silent cue and stood up. "Well, I think I need to get back to my place. It's getting late and Wednesday hasn't been sleeping very well-."

"No need to explain," Nick said, standing up as well. "What time are we meeting? Shit, WHERE are we meeting?"

"I'll meet you guys here and we'll leave at eight a.m. sharp," Rochelle replied. "I'll bring whatever blunt instruments I can find. And donuts."

"And coffee," Nick suggested, lightly tugging on Ellis' arm and prompting him to stand up too.

"Fine, and coffee," she huffed. "Francis, walk me out."

"Sure thing, Sugar," he said.

As Francis walked out with Rochelle, Nick and Ellis walked up the stairs, not much being said between them.

It wasn't until Ellis sat on the bed and crossed his arms that Nick finally decided to break the silence. "Hey." Ellis looked up at him, nervously, and Nick tilted his head to the side. "I thought you'd be happy about this, Overalls. You and me might not have to go on the lam."

Ellis shifted his weight. "I am happy about this," he said, though his voice lacked any life to it.

"…. You sure sound stoked." Ellis sighed, and flopped back on the bed. "Hey, I'm the one who usually sulks and broods, don't take my schtick."

Ellis rubbed his eyes, and shook his head. "…. This might be my fault."

Nick unbuttoned his shirt, getting ready to sleep like the dead. "I don't really see how."

"Don't you?" Ellis asked, sadly. "If Barbara did do this it was probably because of me. And that really sucks, Nick. Five people might be dead cuz've her crush on me."

"Yeah, HER CRUSH on you, not YOU," Nick said, folding his pants and hanging them up in the closet. "Can't you see there's a BIG difference there?"

"… I guess," Ellis said, though he didn't sound too convinced. Nick turned around and sat on the bed next to him.

"Kiddo, believe me. This isn't something you should be losing sleep over."

"Even when five people are dead?" the younger man asked, crabbily. He knew that Nick had the ability to brush these kinds of things off, but he had a harder time doing so. Nick covertly rolled his eyes, and put his hand on Ellis' leg.

"…. El, this was going to happen no matter what, okay?" Nick said, trying his hand at being comforting. "Even if Barbara hadn't agreed to it, assuming she did agree to it, Creevy would have found a way. He always finds a way. So if you should be blaming anyone, you should be blaming him."

"But-."

"No, knock it off," Nick stated, starting to get grouchy. He was tired, he was in a little bit of pain from the earlier activities, and his patience was wearing thin. "You're not going to blame five deaths on the fact that you didn't want to eat Barbara's pussy, okay?"

Ellis wrinkled his nose and shot Nick a disgusted look. "Man, you sure have a way with words, d'ya know that?"

"So I've been told," Nick smiled, and clapped Ellis on the back. "So tell me, Overalls; are you going to let this eat at you?"

The younger man sighed, and shrugged as he too started to remove his clothes for bed. "I'll try not to." Nick nodded gruffly, and rolled over to his side of the bed.

"I guess that's all I can ask," the gambler said, pulling the covers over his body. He was done trying to convince his lover. If Ellis was going to blame himself, Nick didn't think he could do much about it. Maybe he'd send him to talk to Rochelle in the morning. He rolled over to look at his nightstand, and closed his eyes, determined to get SOME rest from this exhausting day.

Ellis looked back at him, not sure of how he felt now. His beau made some good points; of course this wasn't HIS fault. He shouldn't have had to worry about rejecting Barbara and her doing something completely insane because of it. But it was in his nature to feel bad about these kinds of things.

Nick, sensing that Ellis was still down albeit quieter about it, rolled over and propped his head on his hand. "El." Ellis turned over to look at him, raising his eyebrows. "…. Really, this isn't your fault. That would be like saying it was Jodie Foster's fault that John Hinckley shot Reagan in the chest. Are you saying Jodie Foster almost killed the Gipper?"

Ellis smirked, and shook his head. "No."

"Damn right no. She's freakin' Oscar Bait. So don't blame yourself for something your own personal John Hinckley did," Nick stated, that wolfish leer spreading on his face again, and Ellis couldn't help but smile. The older man always had a way of making him feel better.

"Jodie Foster," he muttered, lightly knocking at Nick's shoulder with his palm.

"I'm just saying," the gambler shrugged.

Ellis shook his head in disbelief, and rolled back over. "Night, Nick." Nick chuckled, and draped an arm across the mechanic's torso.

"Night, Aylus."

"I've found a problem with your plan, Ro," Nick announced as he sat in the backseat of Rochelle's Honda, leg bouncing up and down nervously.

"Would you stuff it please?" she hissed through grit teeth, though the problem with her plan was starting to dawn on her as well.

Things had started well. Donuts and coffee satiated them, a few choice blunt and bladed objects had lifted their spirits (Rochelle did have a baseball bat, and Francis found a small scythe in the shed, while Ellis had picked up a tried and true frying pan in the kitchen), and all of them were feeling at least somewhat optimistic that they would find SOMETHING beyond the gate.

But what they had forgotten was that the evening after the Tank attack, Sheriff Jacobs had placed his men at every gate in an effort to 'keep the town safe'. And technically, Francis and Nick weren't supposed to leave town until Creevy could escort them to the hearing in Washington D.C. So when they drove up towards the West Gate and saw a man in blue, all of them groaned.

"So what're we gonna do?" Ellis asked, trying not to sound as panicked as he was feeling. "How're we gonna get these guys past the cop? What if he calls Jacobs and Jacobs calls Creevy-?"

"Calm down, Motor Mouth," Francis snapped, craning his neck around the passenger seat to give Ellis a stern look. "Just be cool. I've found that confidence will get you pretty far in situations like this."

"I wish I had that much faith in our luck," Nick muttered, shaking his head and yanking a peppermint stick from his coat.

"Sorry Francis, this isn't STAR WARS and I'm not Obi Wan Kenobi," Rochelle muttered, and then pointed her finger over her shoulder at Nick. "Nick, turn your face towards Ellis and pretend to be asleep. Francis, do the same."

"I can't turn my face towards-."

"Just turn it away from MY window!" she snapped.

"You think just pretending to be asleep will trick him?" Nick snapped, though he complied hesitantly.

"Just chill, guys, I got this. Palm the candy and shut the hell up," Rochelle replied, pulling the car up slowly to the policeman and rolling down her window, her smile wide and confident. "Morning, officer! What can I help you with today?"

The policeman scratched his head, caught off guard by how blasé she was being about venturing into the Grey Zone. And not only the Grey Zone, but a part of the Grey Zone generally unused as a road out of town, as there were no main highways that close on the west side.

"Ma'am, do you have a travel permit?" he asked, his timidity not hiding itself well.

"Oh how stupid of me, I sure do," she said, and snatched her purse up from the floor of the car, Ellis smiling just a little to widely.

"I'm going to need to see all your travel permits, folks," the officer said, leaning further into the car. Nick kept his eyes closed and silently swore. He and Francis, of course, didn't have them, since they would usually flash their badges. Even though this dumb rookie didn't seem to recognize them, he sure as hell wouldn't let them through without the proper papers.

"Shit," Ellis murmured, reaching into his pants for his wallet and giving Nick a nervous look.

"Oh, well, these two sleeping guys here don't have travel permits," Rochelle said, gesturing to Nick and Francis, and Nick could have strangled her then and there. She could have at least tried to make up some phony baloney excuse! Or let HIM make something up!

"Ma'am, if they don't have proper permits-," the rookie began, and the reporter held up a hand sharply.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" she exclaimed, angrily. "I'm sorry, but Officer…." She made a huge point to look at his nametag. "Officer Brennan. Do you have any idea just WHO these two sleeping beauties are?"

Jesus, Cupcake, don't give him an excuse to try and figure that out, Francis thought, and could just tell that Nick was gritting his teeth and about ready to smack the reporter upside her head.

"Well I don't-."

"THESE two men are a couple of officers in the United States Army , Officer," she said, matter of factly. "I am going to escort them back to Fort Bragg because their car broke down. THEY don't need travel permits because they're Army."

Officer Brennan scratched his head, knowing that protocol was protocol. But at the same time, soldiers were ALWAYS treated with a certain sense of respect, and undeniable exceptions could be made for them.

"… What were they doing in Roanoke-?" he began, and Rochelle rolled her eyes dramatically.

"What were they-?" she hissed, and gestured towards Francis with her head. "HIS Grandmother is ill, and so he came to town to see her before she passes on! Is that really too much to ask for our troops?"

"Well no! No, it sure isn't! But then, what is HE doing here?" Officer Brennan asked, pointing at Nick through the window.

"Please. This is a very difficult time for Major, um, Tom," she said, and Francis snorted. "And because of that Major Major-."

"His name is Major Major?" Officer Brennan asked, momentarily skeptical, and Rochelle smacked the steering wheel.

"Yes, it IS as a matter of fact!" she snarled, and Officer Brennan held up his hands, defensively. "I asked him and he said that he is part of a long familial line of majors whose last names are Majors. You can look it up. This is becoming more and more embarrassing for you, isn't it?"

"… Sort of," Brennan nodded, and Nick was barely able to restrain a laugh at how badly she was shutting this guy down. "…. Well, if they're Army…. Do they have identification-?"

"In the trunk, unfortunately," she said sweetly. While the three guys were thinking that they were done for, she was much more optimistic. She knew she'd already won this. This town LOVED the armed forces. To question it was considered downright un-American.

So Officer Brennan gulped, uncomfortable with bending the rules but compelled to do so. So he just nodded and took a step back. "Well, if that's the case… Yes, you can go on through."

Rochelle smiled sweetly, the kind face making Brennan loosen up slightly. "Thank you so much, Officer Brennan. We all appreciate it."

"Of course, anything for Uncle Sam," Brennan said, and saluted at her. "I'm so glad that they weren't awake for this. I'd be so embarrassed-."

"Well don't worry, I won't tell them, I promise," she said coolly, and nodded as he went to open the gate. Once the car drove through the chain linked fence and down the road a ways, Nick and Francis both sat up. All three men were looking at her like she had started speaking in tongues. She glanced at all of them, be it to her side or through her mirrors, and shrugged. "What? Obi Wan Kenobi ain't got nothin' on me, am I right?"

"Cupcake, when I said that confidence can get you places, I had NO idea that it could pretty much take us to the moon," Francis hooted, and she shrugged.

"Over the years I've learned how to get what I want through persuasion and perseverance," she quipped, and looked at Nick through the rearview mirror. "So what do YOU think, Mister Con Man?"

"I think I want you coming to Vegas with me next time I go," Nick smirked.

The two Z-Men directed the reporter as best they could, as they had only been out near the creek in question a couple of times. Nick eventually insisted that they park the car, as the rain had stirred up so much mud it was getting hard to drive. Of course, then he began to whine about his shoes as soon as they started walking.

"All I'm saying is that if we do find something and we do get off the hook, I won't be able to replace these shoes!" he groused, lifting a food and looking at the slick reddish mess on the leather.

"You shoulda planned ahead and worn sneakers," Ellis stated, shaking his head.

"I don't own sneakers!" the gambler spat, the very idea laughable.

"What about the ones you would wear to the gym in St. Louis?" Francis called over his shoulder as he and Rochelle walked ahead.

"Then what would I wear to the gym? They don't allow street shoes!"

"So buy a new pair of sneakers!" Ellis exclaimed.

"No! I don't need another pair of sneakers, I don't WEAR sneakers!"

"You SHOULD be wearin' sneakers right now."

"I will concede that I should be wearing something other than Prada shoes when walking through the goddamn shithole that is the American South, but I will NOT wear sneakers with a nice outfit like this."

"WHY are you wearin' a suit when we're out in the woods?" Ellis demanded, knowing that the suit was going to be the next topic of bitching.

"Because I don't wear jeans and tee shirts!"

"God he's such a queen," Rochelle murmured, and paused when she heard the rush of flowing water. "Guys, shh! I think I hear the stream!"

Ellis and Nick stopped arguing long enough to hear it too, and Francis clapped his hands together. "Alright kids! Like Nick said earlier, let's play Hardy Boys and look for clues!"

"I said Nancy Drew earlier," Nick pointed out.

"Hardy Boys are better," Francis volleyed back as he and Rochelle walked towards the sound.

"Bullshit Hardy Boys are better," Nick muttered, and Ellis snickered. "What?"

"I always liked Scooby Do myself," the mechanic replied, trotting to follow the others. Nick wrinkled his nose, trying his best to keep up while keeping his shoes as clean as possible. Which wasn't all that clean.

"Fuck," he muttered.

"Holy SHIT!" he heard Rochelle exclaim from a ways up ahead, and he set aside his personal neuroses about cleanliness to rush towards her voice. It didn't sound scared, or even nervous in any way. Just filled with awe. He moved a hand to his belt, making sure the gun was still there, and ventured forward into the brush towards the running water.

When he caught up with the other three, he noticed that there was, indeed, a stream, but that Rochelle and Francis had run even further ahead. When they did finally catch up to them, Nick let out a low whistle, finally seeing what they were looking at. "….. Well. THAT isn't something you see in the woods every day."

A large and damaged moving truck was situated between a few trees, the front door hanging wide open as if someone had just left it. Rochelle furrowed her brow as she stepped forward, choking up on the baseball bat as she approached the mostly closed back flap.

"Cupcake, watch yourself," Francis said carefully, walking behind her in case something should pop out from the inside. It wouldn't be the first time any of them had been caught off guard by an Infected, but that wouldn't make it any less unpleasant. The reported jutted her hand forward, gripping the metal handle ferociously, and heaved the metal door up as best she could. It slowly retracted upwards, and the smell that assaulted her from the inside made her wretch and nearly throw up her coffee and donut.

"Oh GOD!" she exclaimed, turning away, and Francis peered inside before shaking his head.

"Is there somethin' in there?" Ellis asked, the frying pan raising above his head and Nick reached for his gun, but the biker shook his head.

"Just blood, rotten meat, shit, and piss," he said, turning away before he started gagging too. "And a dead zombie. Looks like it's been chewed on a bit. I'm thinking we found the missing moving truck."

"Sick," Ellis muttered, and Nick nodded, knowing he was NOT going anywhere near that. Not without gallon upon gallon of hydrogen peroxide, or rubbing alcohol. Or a haz-mat suit. "So what, is this somethin' we can use?"

"Not by itself," Nick said, shaking his head. "So far this just proves that someone took the truck. It could still have been stolen, technically."

"Fuck," Francis said, walking away from the awful stench and towards the water. He wanted to rinse off his face repeatedly, as if it would wash the smell from his nose. Rochelle tapped her foot on the ground, and ventured up into the front seat of the truck, as Nick and Ellis scanned the mud for something, anything. The rain had just about washed everything away, possible footprints, possible tire tracks, anything that would have shed some light on the situation. Nick shook his head, and looked back at the creek. It was higher than the last time he'd seen it, the rain choking it and coursing through the woods. He huffed, and shrugged.

"Come on, Overalls, let's go see what we can find if we follow the water," he said, gesturing with his head, and Ellis nodded.

"Okay," he agreed. "Hey Ro, if you an' Francis need anything just holler, okay?"

"Uh huh," Rochelle called, giving a thumbs up through the window.

Ellis let his pace linger so Nick could keep close, the con man still preoccupied with his shoes and moving slowly because of it. Ellis might have let him fend for himself otherwise, but today he was feeling extra protective. He wasn't sure if it was because they'd run into a Hunter when they'd gone this far into the Grey Zone before, or if it was because Nick was so close to being taken away in other ways. So for whatever reason, Ellis was sticking close. "Hey Nick, did I ever tell you about the time Keith tried to use mud in a game've paintball?"

"No kiddo, I can't say I have," Nick said, starting to chew on another peppermint stick. He'd gone through three since they'd awakened that morning, the candy consumption the only thing hinting at his anxiety.

"Well, me, Keith, and Dave were playin' paintball against the Mains Brothers. The Mains Brothers were these hulkin' guys who were always pushin' people around on the paintball course, and we'd lost to them practically every time we played against 'em. But this one day, we were playin', and Dave'd been taken out, and Keith thought that we should be like the movie 'Predator' and cover ourselves in mud so they wouldn't see us. He pretty much stripped down to his tighty whiteys and rolled around in a mud pit like a pig! I wasn't gonna do that, cuz I didn't wanna get all muddy. I LIKE gettin' muddy, but I was worried I'd lose my clothes and that woulda just been a DISASTER. And 'sides, I wasn't gonna get my truck all muddy-."

"You don't say."

"I do say! So anyway, I was taken out pretty quick after that, so it was just Keith versus the three Mains Brothers. And you know what? The whole coverin' himself in mud thing worked! He was all stealthy and shit, he hid in a tree and took two've 'em out! He would won too if he hadn't slipped on account've all the mud, cuz he fell from the tree and belly flopped right in front've Chet, the oldest Mains Brother. Chet shot him right in the ass. Keith was sore for days, both his ass AND his ego! Did you ever see the movie 'Predator'?"

"Long time ago."

"That's an awesome movie."

"I bet you liked the guys with all their shirts off the best."

"Nuh uh," Ellis denied, and Nick scratched at his back. "…. I mean, that was okay, I guess. But I think I like guys like you better."

"Guys like me?"

"Not many muscles."

"Thanks," Nick said. He was about to insinuate that he was blessed in other areas, but then noticed something along the creek's bank. "Hey, look at that."

"Huh?" Ellis asked, following Nick's pointing finger to see a corpse on the muddy bank. "It's a dead zombie, Nick, so what?"

"No, look at what it has in it's hand," Nick replied, walking forward and not caring about the mud anymore. He squatted next to the Infected, and rolled it over. A lavender sweater was clutched in it's fingers. He tugged on it, the hand giving way easily, and looked over at Ellis, who was looking at the sweater with knit brow. "Recognize this, Overalls?"

Ellis nodded slowly, his fears confirmed. He'd seen Barbara wear it many times. It was a plain and mundane sweater, but it was no secret that it was one of her favorites. "It's Barbara's."

"You're sure?" Nick asked, withholding the triumph in his voice. True, they'd found something that would place her at the scene, something that could possibly exonerate him and Francis. But seeing Ellis so unsettled took any glee from the situation.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Ellis nodded, stiffly. "…. So she was out here."

"Looks that way," Nick agreed, standing up. "….. Are you okay?"

"… Sort of," Ellis settled on. "…. You're right, you know. It's not my fault, I get that. But this still sucks, Nick." Nick nodded tartly, and walked to his beau and pulled him into a hug. Ellis accepted it, squeezing his lover tightly and taking in a deep whiff, knowing the gambler's smell would calm him down.

A sharp whistle cut through the air, and the two men looked back towards the truck site. "Hey guys! Ro's found something!" Francis yelled. Nick turned back to look at his boyfriend, and smiled kindly.

"Should we go over there then?" he asked, and the mechanic nodded.

"Yeah. If only cuz we got somethin' to show them too."

They walked back to the truck site, and saw Rochelle in the storage compartment, shirt collar covering her nose. Nick snorted, disgusted that she'd gotten inside of it. "I truly hope you're going to take a bleach bath when you get home, Ro," he said, and she turned to look at him, making a snide face.

"You just be glad I'M the one who climbed in so you didn't have to, I have a feeling you aren't very good at the game 'Nose Goes'," she said, hopping out of the truck and removing the cloth from her face. "But we found something."

"Well jinkies, Velma, what is it? A clue?" Nick asked sarcastically, and her snide look became more severe.

"I don't know, Daphne, why don't you climb in and tell me?" she retorted, and both Francis and Ellis snickered. Nick rolled his eyes and stepped closer.

"Daphne?" he asked, though he was smiling slightly.

"VELMA?" she threw back, and then pointed at the back of the holding area. "Look. Broken glass."

"That doesn't get you a Scooby Snack."

"Well Jesus, Nick, climb in and take a look at what the glass is from!" she snapped.

"I'd rather not, thanks," he said, holding up his hands.

"I climbed in, Suit," Francis said, eying the sweater in the gambler's hand.

"Your shoes aren't Prada."

"Oh for FUCK'S sake, if you're going to be a pussy, fine!" she said, and went back further into the truck to grab what she'd found. Both Ellis and Nick stifled disgusted gags, and she came back holding a metal cap in her palm. "Recognize this design? Because I knew it when I first laid eyes on it." Nick looked at it from a distance, and Ellis plucked it from her hand, now more intrigued than revolted.

"Hey, isn't this the lid to a Boomer Bile bottle?" he asked, turning it in his hands.

"Bingo," Francis said, crossing his arms.

"That's different," Nick said, scratching his head. "Those things are illegal now. I know I handed over my supply and they were burnt to a crisp."

"Me too," the biker nodded as Rochelle jumped out from the back. "Seems that one was smashed in there. And what's a better use for a Puke Bomb than luring Infected over? They sure can't be used for anything else."

"CEDA and FBICE are the only people who had access to them," Nick said as Ellis handed it back to Rochelle, who tossed it to Francis.

"It could have been in his truck originally and broken when someone stole it," Rochelle said, and Ellis growled.

"Oh C'MON, Ro, you can't believe that-!"

"Oh I don't, sweetie, don't worry, but it can for sure be argued-."

"No it can't," Nick said, shaking his head. "These things don't just break by falling over or being jostled around. You pretty much have to whip it at something."

"Well he could argue that it belongs to one of you-," Rochelle began, but Francis also shook his head.

"Beeeep, wrong," he stated, taking the cap from her. "Every bottle of this shit is labeled and given a serial number. Morgan told us that during Week One." He turned the cap over and scraped away some dried vomit to reveal a small string of digits. Ellis and Rochelle leaned in to look at it. "And every serial number is recorded to an owner. They were checked off when they were destroyed. Those unaccounted for were usually claimed as used. It's not hard to hold onto these things even after the ban. I knew a few other guys who would report them as used so they could skirt by with an illegal supply. Creevy probably did that."

"I never understood why anyone would want to hold onto that stuff," Nick muttered, as he'd never liked Boomer Bile. "We found something too." He held up the sweater, and Rochelle's eyebrows raised.

"Recognize it?" Ellis asked her, and she nodded slowly.

"Where did you find that, guys?" she asked.

"Downstream a bit," Nick replied, stoically. "I'm thinking Barbara was definitely out here."

"No kidding," Francis said, and was about to clap Nick on the back in celebration of their possible impending exoneration. But before he could, they all jumped at the sound of a distant 'moo'. Ellis raised his frying pan above his head, heart starting to thud in his chest, and Nick swore, removing his gun from his belt.

"Are we goddamn serious?" he asked. "A fucking Charger when we only have a hand gun and a few crappy melees?"

"At least it's a Magnum?" Rochelle suggested, looking around to see where it was coming from.

"A Magnum isn't as effective as an AK when a freakin' bull of a zombie is running at you," Nick groused as Francis gleefully held up his scythe.

"I didn't think I'd get to use this thing, this is AWESOME!" the biker crowed, and Ellis laughed nervously. At least one of them was excited for this fight.

"Spread out," Rochelle stated. She couldn't count the times that they'd clumped together and all been completely bowled over by the hulking zombies. "I swear to GOD if I get knocked over-."

Before she could finish her thought, the Charger exploded from the trees, going right for Francis. The biker had just enough time to smirk and jump out of the way, and the zombie smacked into the truck. It stumbled back, disoriented, and Francis brought the scythe down across it's back. It grunted out, flailing it's beefy arms, and the others moved forward, Rochelle and Ellis swinging and Nick shooting. The Charger barely had any time to turn around before the blows rendered it powerless, and it collapsed to the mud.

"…. You know what sucks the most about this?" Nick asked, reloading his gun.

"What?" Ellis asked.

"I'm not getting paid for this." Ellis paused, and then removed his wallet, taking a dollar from it and handing it to Nick. "Oh how sweet, thank you."

"Just think, three years ago there would have been a horde accompanying that fuck," Francis said. "Things are definitely looking up!"

"Wow, optimism from Mr. 'I Hate Everything'," Rochelle muttered. "Let's get the hell out of here before anything else DOES come."

"I think maybe you should've kept a better gun, Nick, cuz if we DO end up out here that Magnum might not hold 'em all off," Ellis said as they began to walk back towards the car with the sweater and Boomer Bile cap.

"Wait, what?" Francis asked, scratching his head. "Why would you end up out here?" Nick snorted and shot Ellis a look, and the younger man flushed, knowing he'd put his foot in his mouth.

"Never mind," Nick said, shaking his head, but Francis crossed his arms indignantly.

"Suit, what is he talking about?" the biker asked, and Nick shrugged, thinking that if he didn't say anything Francis would either drop it, or get distracted by something else. Unfortunately for the gambler, the biker wasn't going to drop it, and there were no distractions. "Oh my GOD you were going to ditch out on me, weren't you?"

"Francis, come on," Nick said. "It doesn't matter what I was GOING to do, because now it looks like we have-."

"Shut the hell up, you asshole!" Francis snarled, at once livid now that Nick had all but confirmed his suspicions. His sudden anger came as a surprise to the other three; not because Francis rarely rose to anger, as he rose to anger a lot of the time. It was because this anger was laced with a palpable pain that everyone could sense. "God you're a scumbag!"

"Oh my GOD I JUST got out of the doghouse with THIS ONE," Nick exclaimed, pointing at Ellis, "so don't tell me that now I'm on YOUR bad side! You're such a baby-."

"Fuck you!" Francis spat.

"Francis, seriously, it doesn't matter now-!" Nick insisted, but the biker wasn't in the mood to hear any of it, and he flipped him off. "….Francis!"

The biker stopped walking and turned around, eyes fiery, but perhaps only fiery to hide how hurt he was. "After everything I've done for you and the shit I've had to put up with from you, you were just going to treat me like one of your goddamn flavors of the month and shove off!"

"Hey, I've done just as much for you and put up with MORE from you-!"

"Can you guys PLEASE stop it?" Rochelle snapped. "Right now we need to focus on what we found out here! We got a serial number that might trace back to Creevy, and we found Barbara's sweater! We have to figure out what we're going to do now. I don't know about you guys, but I want to take a crack at Barbara before we do anything else. It would be better if we got an actual confession of guilt before we proceed with the Creevy stuff. So quit your cat fight for a little while and look at what's more important."

"Agreed," Nick said, crossing his arms. "I'm more than willing to put it aside if you are, Big Guy."

He'd expected Francis to grudgingly nod and agree to it, with a load of bellyaching and bitching to boot. Usually Francis just liked being mad for the sake of being mad and really liked having an excuse to whine about something. But instead the biker just continued to glare, and turned from Nick and kept walking. It was so frosty the gambler could have sworn that if he'd exhaled he could have seen his breath. Rochelle sighed, and raised her eyebrow at Nick, showing that while she didn't approve of his actions, she didn't approve of her boyfriend's either. As she went to catch up with Francis, Ellis carefully put his hand in Nick's.

"… Sorry," the mechanic said, softly, wishing he hadn't opened his mouth.

"….. Not your fault," Nick shrugged, and they walked at a languid pace to deliberately avoid Francis.

Chapter Text

Barbara Dane had just removed piping hot onion rolls from the oven when Agnes shuffled into the back and informed her she had a visitor. Barbara had been immediately nervous, as she was worried that she would find herself face to face with Mark Creevy for some reason. True, he hadn't bothered her or even contacted her since their confrontation at his apartment, and yet she still had an uneasy paranoia lingering about her. So when she left the kitchen and saw that Creevy wasn't out in the store, she was momentarily relieved.

At least, until she saw that it was Rochelle that was waiting for her. Barbara paused a moment, cautiously wiping her hands on her apron, and put on her bravest and least wary face. She moved to the counter, and tilted her head to the side.

"Hi Rochelle," she said, kindly. "Is there something I can do for you? Would you like a loaf of bread, or maybe some muffins, or-?"

"Actually Barbara, I'd just like a few moments of your time," Rochelle replied, voice a bit sweeter than the blonde was used to. Usually Rochelle would give Barbara as much heed as she would give a gnat. Barbara had tried to be friends with her, as she thought that becoming friends with Ellis' friends would get her some points. But the reporter had never been keen on the idea, and Barbara, try as she might, had never been able to call her a friend. So the fact that she was in the bakery, out of the blue, was off-putting.

"Well, I'm kind of busy-."

"Do you have a break coming to you soon?"

"I can take my break whenever I want-."

"Take it now."

Barbara hesitated a moment, but then nodded slowly. "Where do you want to go and talk?"

"Somewhere private."

"….. I suppose the alley out back would be best."

"Alright."

They walked in silence out the front and around the block, the tension bubbling up more and more with every step. Barbara had a feeling that Rochelle was going to talk about the Tank attack, even if she had no reason to. It was just a feeling she had. She hoped it was just her guilty conscience having a panic attack, but she just knew it wasn't.

They paused outside the back door to the bakery, and Barbara crossed her arms nervously as she leaned against the brick wall. "What can I help you with, Rochelle?"

The reporter said nothing, and merely looked at her with a neutral expression across her features. Barbara met her gaze, and shrugged. "Rochelle. What do you want?"

"… Been getting a bit colder around here lately, hasn't it?" the reporter said, seemingly making small talk. Barbara was caught off guard, and tilted her head to the side. "I mean, I know that I've been reaching for long sleeved shirts more, and I'm from Ohio. We know cold weather up there."

"…. I guess it's getting colder."

"You're from Texas, right? I would think that any temperature change below seventy would just be unbearable."

"I make do."

"…. It was kind of cool last Friday," Rochelle continued, arching an eyebrow. "Were you at the Harvest Festival before the Tank attack? Because I have to imagine that you were wearing a sweater."

Barbara shrugged slowly, averting her eyes. "…. I don't remember."

"Well who does remember what they're wearing the day that something terrible happens?" Rochelle said, flippantly. "Though I do remember what I was wearing the day the Green Flu broke where I was. It was this awesome, bright pink Depeche Mode tee shirt. I love that band, and I loved the way the shirt looked on me. But I can barely look at that shirt anymore. Too many bad memories. It just hangs in my closet, left alone and never worn. Part of me thinks that I should get rid of it, but there's this other part that just can't quite part with it. It will always remind me of those few days I spent with Ellis, and Coach, and Nick… I really do miss the days when that shirt was just my favorite shirt."

"…. I'm sorry to hear that."

"It sucks when your favorite shirt gets wrecked for you, doesn't it?" Rochelle asked, aloofly.

"I don't know, I've never had that happen."

"Really? Never?"

"Not that I can think of."

"Well, what about that lavender sweater I've seen you wearing around town lately? What are you going to do now that it's like good ol' Depeche Mode?"

Barbara shifted her weight. "… I'm not sure what you mean. That sweater is in my closet."

"Is it?" Rochelle asked, tilting her head to the side. "Because some friends and I took a road trip this morning and found one eerily similar to it. Never thought I'd find something like that out beyond the West Gate. In the hands of an Infected."

"….. That doesn't sound like MY sweater."

"Doesn't it?"

"No. Like I said, mine is in my closet," Barbara repeated, and Rochelle snorted, starting to lose her cool. She had half expected the blonde baker to snap by now, as Barbara had always come off as being meek and fragile. Apparently many had underestimated her. This just irked the reporter even more, and so she slapped her hand against the brick wall.

"Cut the crap, Barbara!" she snapped. "I know it's your shirt, just like I KNOW you were out by the West Gate during and after the Tank attack!"

"I don't see how you could know this, seeing as I went straight home after the pie contest and stayed there all night and into the next morning," Barbara insisted, stubbornly.

"Wednesday saw you on your bike the next day, covered in mud and all wet. You were out by the creek and you left your sweater out there to prove it!" Rochelle snarled.

"I don't know who Wednesday saw, but it certainly wasn't me," Barbara said, stiffly. "That sounds like the story of a very sad and very traumatized girl. I feel very bad for her, I do, and I'm not saying she's a liar. I'm just saying that she doesn't know what she saw. And MY sweater is hanging in my closet….. And honestly, if I ever DID lose it, I would just go to Wal-Mart and replace it. I've done it before. I love it, but it's a dime a dozen there."

"Jesus CHRIST Barbara!" Rochelle finally exclaimed, anger finally exploding off of her. "Stop bullshitting me!"

"I'm not doing that," Barbara said, and started to pass the older woman. "Rochelle, I have to go make muffins, so if you'll excuse me…"

The reporter would have loved to take the pan to said muffins and smack the blonde across the face with it. But instead, she decided that perhaps another strategy would work. So Rochelle stepped in front of Barbara's path, and looked at her very, very pointedly. "Barbara. Please. I understand that you're scared. Shit, I would be really scared too. I know you aren't a bad person, I would even go so far as to say you're a GOOD person! A good person who has made a huge mistake. Don't you want to make it right? Think of all the people who lost someone! Don't you think they deserve to know what happened?"

Barbara didn't try to walk around her this time, and for a brief moment, Rochelle was sure that she had gotten through to her. It was clear that for that one moment, the baker wanted to tell her everything. Or if not everything, at least something.

But then Barbara shook her head. "….. And what if I said that more people would be hurt if I said anything?" she asked, quietly. Rochelle began to open her mouth, but Barbara held up a hand. "No, just listen to me!... I don't want anyone else to get hurt. Especially not Ellis."

"... Did Creevy threaten you?" Rochelle asked, reaching for Barbara's shoulders, but the blonde took a step backwards. "Barbara, what did Creevy say? Did he make threats against Ellis-?"

"STOP," Barbara snapped, waving her hand violently. "….. Tell Nick that if he really DOES love Ellis, he should just take the fall for this."

"…. Barbara-," Rochelle began, but the younger woman strode past her, rushing into the bakery through the back entrance. Rochelle scratched her head, and looked at her watch. Time was certainly running out, as Nick and Francis were due in D.C. the next day. True, the hearing probably wasn't for another day after that, but once in Washington they would have little to go on.

She kicked a cardboard box, and stamped towards her car. See if she ever bought cookies from that damn bakery again. But what irked her the most was that mild mannered Barbara Dane had outlasted her interrogation. Back when she was seventeen she could have made any of the girls in her homeroom answer any question she threw at them. Especially the withdrawn and meek ones. While she wasn't per se proud of her Queen Bee behavior, she could at least recognize that it was, in some ways, a gift. So for Barbara to be able to withstand her questions either meant a), Rochelle was losing her touch, or b), she was incredibly determined to keep herself safe. Or, more likely, keep Ellis safe.

"Fuck," she muttered, and stamped out of the alley.

For the entire rest of the morning Nick had avoided any room that Francis was in. If Francis was in the kitchen, Nick was in the living room. If Francis was in the living room, Nick was upstairs in his bedroom. If Nick heard Francis coming, he would automatically stand up and stride to a different part of the house. Seeing as Ellis was following Nick wherever he went, the mechanic had long grown tired of playing a game of, what he called, 'musical rooms'. 'Why are you bein' such a chicken about this?' he'd asked his boyfriend, and Nick wouldn't answer and would instead opt to move to yet another room. After Rochelle had left to try to get some answers from Barbara, Ellis had put his foot down and demanded that Nick go into the kitchen and talk to his partner.

"Why should I talk to him? He's being a huge baby!" Nick protested, and Ellis shrugged.

"Cuz he's one've the only people in the entire world who can stand ya maybe?" Ellis suggested, and Nick scowled. "Just sayin' that you shouldn't burn bridges so easily in that regard."

"Oh ha ha."

"C'mon, Nick," Ellis said, settling on that and that alone, and the older man sighed dramatically before rolling his eyes.

"… You're a pill," the gambler said before leaving the living room and venturing into the kitchen.

Francis was sitting at the table, sloshing a glass of sarsaparilla around pensively, and Nick lifted his eyebrows as he closed the door behind him. The biker looked up briefly, and then focused on the glass again. Nick nearly rolled his eyes, but restrained himself and sat down across from him at the table.

"… So are you going to act like a bitch the entire rest of the day?" he asked. It probably wasn't what Ellis had in mind, but dammit, the fact he was even in here talking to the whiner was, in his opinion, leaps and bounds into the reparative.

"Fuck off."

"I take it that's a yes," Nick muttered, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "So what's it going to take to get you to get over it?"

"I don't know. You dying a painful death?"

"That's a bit extreme."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Nick pinched at the bridge of his nose, annoyed that Ellis had convinced him to do this, and huffed. "Do we have to do this the way we did things back in training?"

Francis finally looked up from the drink, eyebrow arched ever so subtly. "We haven't done things that way since….. Was it Santa Fe? Before the Witch?"

"I think it must have been," Nick confirmed, letting his arm drape behind his chair lazily. "So what do you say? Is this how we're going to work this out?"

Francis pushed his glass away, and nodded firmly. "Yeah. Let's try it. But easy on my ribs."

"Easy on MY chin."

So they both stood up from the table, chairs scraping across the floor, and walked through the back door to the house and out into the backyard.

Back when they were training together, Nick and Francis hadn't exactly taken a shine to each other off the bat. It had started in Rayford, when Nick had called Francis a monkey, and Francis had called him Colonel Sanders. The antagonism had become a bit more belligerent during training, when name calling evolved into flat out verbal abuse towards each other. After one particularly disruptive spat during a session, Morgan had taken both men out of the room and made them march out of the building into the humid D.C. air. Once they were outside, Morgan had simply said 'duke it out'. Both men questioned it, and once it was clear that their handler wanted them to literally bare knuckle box their issues away, they protested. So he downgraded it to a simple round of fisticuffs. To which Nick and Francis reluctantly acquiesced. After a five minute fight, leaving both men bloody and bruised, Morgan asked them how they were feeling. And surprising to both of them, they realized that they felt better. So during training and after they were partnered together, Nick and Francis would duke it out if they got really mad at each other. Morgan said that since they always felt better afterwards, their problems couldn't be that invasive.

Ellis whistled as he walked into the kitchen, his personal goal for the moment to retrieve an apple. As he took one from the bowl on the countertop, his gaze jumped to the backyard, and on Francis and Nick, who had planted themselves about twenty five feet away from the house. Ellis chewed on his fruit and watched in confusion and awe as the two Z-Men exchanged a few words, and then began to throw punches. The mechanic's first reaction was to go out and stop them, and he began to set off for the door. But then he instead decided just to watch carefully, as he was able to recognize that maybe the two agents needed to get this out of their systems. So he observed at a distance, shaking his head and wincing as he munched. He wasn't going to try to understand their friendship, as he found it nice that a couple of introverted and anti-social crabs had become so close. Even if they were beating each other up.

Nick and Francis soon re-entered the kitchen from the backyard, superficial cuts and bruises peppering their already marked faces and bodies. Nick groaned as he sat back at the table, and hissed slightly as he touched a cut above his left eye. "Shit, Francis, I think I'm getting too old for this kind of conflict resolution."

The biker shrugged coolly as he opened the fridge to remove two beers. "Old man."

"You're five months younger than me."

"Whatever."

Nick winced as he shifted his weight and accepted the beer that the biker set in front of him. "So are we cool then? I think you might have ruptured my spleen, so we better be."

Francis took a long gulp of beer, and wiped his mouth on his arm. "Actually, Suit, no. I'm still pissed."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Hey, I'm just as surprised as you are!"

"What's it going to take? Are you going to have to knock out my teeth or some shit?" Nick demanded.

"Jeeze, I don't know! And as much as throwing a few more punches sounds tempting, I don't think it'll help all that much!" Francis growled, crossing his arms. "…. You really pissed me off."

"… Yeah clearly."

Francis' forehead wrinkled in thought, and the biker drank some more beer before continuing. "You were really just going to blow town? I mean, really? Without a word to me or nothin'?"

Nick snorted, not happy that he was, once again, going to have to pay for something he didn't even do. But he nodded slowly. "I was going to leave you a note though."

"Oh wooow, a note, how fuckin' great of you."

"Yeah, I've learned that leaving a note isn't an acceptable form of saying goodbye, okay? So there's no need to harp on that."

"It just pisses me off that not only are we friends, but I've had your back probably a million times and you STILL were gonna ditch out!" Francis snapped.

"A million times, huh?" Nick said, sarcastically.

"Yeah! AND I gave you about five pints of blood when you needed that transfusion! I gave you BLOOD, man!"

"Okay, first of all, the human body only has about ten pints in it, so if you gave me FIVE you probably would have died. Try one pint. MAYBE two if you were a pig headed jerk to the medical staff, and seeing as you ARE a pig headed jerk, sure. I'll give you two," Nick simpered, leaning forward on the table. "SECOND of all, DROP DEAD! You think I'm ungrateful for all that? Because I AM grateful! If I could do the same for you, if you were on a goddamned doctor's slab bleeding out I would roll up my sleeve and tell them to take as much as they're allowed!"

"And yet you were going to take your little boyfriend and vamoose with nothing but a post-it note goodbye!"

"You don't know how long that note was, it was practically a novel!" Nick sneered. "So what, is this about the fact I was leaving, or the fact that I was leaving with ELLIS instead of you?"

Francis' jaw opened, about to protest, but then it shut, and instead snorted. "Look Suit, let's just get one thing straight and clear. I like pussy. Aside from that one time in Santa Fe, I'm all about the ladies and I have a great chick who I really dig! I'm not in LOVE with you or anything-!"

"Well fuck, I know that, I didn't mean it ROMANTICALLY," Nick said, shaking his head.

"Okay, good! Cuz it's NOT that I have the hots for you or anything," Francis said, drinking more beer in a macho fashion as if to further prove his point. "….. But yeah, Suit. Why would you take Motor Mouth with you and just leave me, your PARTNER, in the lurch?"

Ah ha, Nick thought. Well, yeah, that would be a bit less superficial than the problems fisticuffs would usually solve. He scratched the back of his head, and slowly shrugged. "Okay, this is going to sound bad but bear with me… In the note-."

"Oh for God's-."

"SHUT UP. In the note I… I DID tell you that I thought you should run too," Nick admitted. "And…. I DID say that if you decided to run too, we should, like…. Pull some 'Shawshank Redemption' shit and meet at that beach park you liked so much outside of San Francisco."

Francis studied him, trying to discern if the con man was being sincere or merely conning him. "… Point Lobos?" he asked, voice a slightly less frigid temperature. Nick smiled cautiously, and nodded.

"Yeah, that place… Didn't you call it 'Porn Lobos'?"

"Yeah, only cuz there were, like, ten pairs of panties scattered all over the dunes."

"Some of those might have been because of me."

"Yeah, me too….. Well, that's not so bad…." Francis trailed off, and the gambler could tell that he was still a little sore about the whole thing.

"…. And in terms of Ellis and me asking him… Well, I was going to do the same to him, he just caught me and called me out on it."

"So you HAD to ask him?"

"No, I didn't have to," Nick said, firmly, hoping to dispel any thoughts that didn't reflect his true motivations. "I wanted the kid to come with me because I'm crazy in love with him…. And for me that's kind of a big deal. I mean, you DO know that, right?"

Francis couldn't help but chuckle, and nodded as he shrugged. "Yeah, I do. Shit, just you SAYING it is kind of a big deal."

"Right?" Nick said, smirking. "And don't even try to tell me that you wouldn't do the same with Rochelle. I know you would take her over me in a heartbeat. A HEARTBEAT."

"… Yeah, probably." Both of them chuckled sadly, knowing that while they were still partners and loyal to one another until the end, they had both found people who would, ultimately, have to come first. It was different for the two carefree Z-Men, and it was as bittersweet as it was divine.

"…. Regardless, I'm sorry," Nick finally said. "I'm sorry I wasn't going to tell you about that, and I'm sorry I knocked the wind out of you. And punched you in the back. And stomped on your feet and pulled your hair-."

"You fight like a girl, that's all you have to be sorry for," Francis said, and Nick leaned forward more on the table, relieved that he'd repaired the other important relationship in his life.

"Good," he muttered, propping his chin in his hand and drinking more beer.

"And I'M sorry that I was a whiny douche about it," Francis said. "Oh, and I'm also sorry that Rochelle and I totally fucked on this table one night and I never told you about it."

Nick leaped up from the table, spewing beer in disgust and alarm. "JESUS CHRIST FRANCIS!" he gurgled, his neurotic sanitation obsession causing him to writhe and try to futily wipe his hands and arms off on the rest of his body.

"Yeah, it was some night you were at Ellis' place and the moment took us," Francis said, propping a foot on the wood, smiling triumphantly.

"Whatever happened to your 'shared space' rule?" the gambler exclaimed.

"Oh please, you break it too!"

"We don't eat off the living room floor!"

"Speak for yourself, sometimes that's the only place to put a pizza, man!"

"God I hate you!" Nick snapped, and Francis shrugged as Ellis walked into the kitchen.

"Aw hey, you guys look like you're back to normal!" he chirped, and Nick shook his head at his partner, who just smiled at him smugly, his revenge served cold and expertly.

"Yeah, you could say that," Francis said, and Nick was going to really tear into him, but before he could the front door opened.

"Guys?" Rochelle called.

"In here, Cupcake!" Francis called, and grinned at Nick. "She's REALLY familiar with this room."

"I hate you so goddamn much," Nick said as the reporter entered the room.

"Oh good, you guys are back to normal, at least SOME news is good news," she muttered. "Get me a beer, I need it."

Ellis complied, and brought one to her as she sat at the table. "What's wrong, Ro? I take it talkin' with Barbara didn't go so well, huh?"

"No it didn't," she nodded as Ellis started to sit down too, but Nick took him by the shoulder and shook his head. "For being a lackadaisical girl next door she sure knows how to keep her secrets."

"Seriously? You didn't get anything out of her?" Nick asked, crossly. "Jesus Ro, for being a self proclaimed Heather Chandler in high school you sure don't know how to take down the town Betty Finn."

"Oh wow, using Eighties pop culture to wound me, you just keep living up to every stereotype," Rochelle bit back. "Point is, I don't know what to do now. She isn't talking."

"Well okay, so we don't have her statement," Ellis said. "That's okay, we have the Boomer bile cap, Francis has it, yeah?"

Francis grinned. "True!" he said, reaching into his vest pocket. "We definitely..." He trailed off, and started scrabbling his hands in his pockets. "Uh.... Okay, it's not there."

"WHAT?" Nick exclaimed. "You lost it?"

"Francis," Rochelle muttered, putting her hand to her forehead.

"HEY, might I REMIND you that a CHARGER attacked us?!" he exclaimed. "I probably dropped it while we were fighting!"

"We can maybe go back for it?" Ellis suggested, weakly, but Nick shook his head.

"I don't think we can trick another cop with a cock and bull story about being military," he said, grimly. "And I'd prefer not to send you and Ro out there without backup or good weapons when we can't even guarantee that we would find it."

"Well we still have the shirt and Wednesday's statement-," Ellis began, but Rochelle shook her head.

"I'm pretty sure that if she hasn't already replaced that shirt she's going to," she said, bitterly. "And I completely believe Wednesday, but others may question what she saw, given her mental state at the time. And I'm pretty sure that Barbara's gonna keep her mouth glued shut."

"Well yeah, she has to keep her ass safe," Nick muttered, but Rochelle shook her head.

"No, it's not because of her," she said, and turned to look at Ellis. "It's because of you, sweetie."

"Me?" Ellis asked, scratching his head. "Why me? What do I hafta do with-?"

"I'm thinking Creevy threatened her," Rochelle explained. "Well, more specifically, you. She basically said that if she confessed, more people would be hurt, and that if you, Nick, really loved Ellis you would just take the fall for it…. I think that she thinks that if she confesses, Creevy will go after Ellis next."

"The hell he will," Nick snapped. "Like I'd ever let him get within a MILE-."

"That may be, but she's pretty convinced of it," Rochelle interrupted. "And she's not budging."

"Great, what are we supposed to do then?" Francis asked, frustration starting to seep in. 'If she doesn't own up to it, we're boned. Like dildo up the ass boned, no offense Nick and Ellis."

"None taken," Nick shrugged, and Ellis slowly raised his hand.

"What if I tried talkin' to her?" he suggested, meekly, and the other three looked at him. "Think maybe that'd help?"

"Psh, yeah right, why would that make any difference?" Nick scoffed, but Rochelle was catching on. She nodded at Ellis, pointing emphatically.

"Actually, yeah sweetie, that would probably help a lot," she replied, and Nick narrowed his eyebrows. "Think about it, Nick. Barbara helped Creevy for him. She's keeping silent for him. I bet she'd confess for him too."

"Ah haaaa, I get it," Francis said, stroking his goatee. "Nice thinking, Motor Mouth. Creevy used her crush on you, now you're gonna do it."

"No I'm not!" Ellis protested, heatedly. "I'm not gonna make goo goo eyes at her or nothin', I'm just gonna ask her, honestly, to please tell the world what happened. She might listen to me."

"She'll listen more if you got you flirt on," Rochelle said, arching her eyebrow, but Nick held up a hand.

"Vetoed," he stated, flatly.

"What, the flirting won't be real or nothin'!" Francis exclaimed.

"Not just the flirting, the whole damn thing!" Nick threw back, angrily. "I don't want him anywhere near that man eater!"

"Um, Barbara Dane is hardly a man eater," Rochelle said, chuckling at the very thought. "I don't think she'd even qualify as a man taster."

"Regardless, I say no," Nick reiterated. "Me or Francis can go talk to her-."

"Oh sure," Rochelle jeered, slamming her hands on the table. "Because she just LOVES you and wants to respect YOUR wishes. Please. She hates your guts, and I'm pretty certain that Francis scares her."

"I am kind of scary," Francis admitted, shrugging.

Ellis looked over at his boyfriend, quizzical and confused. "Why don't you want me talkin' to her?"

Nick glowered at the floor, being out voted but trying to remain steadfast. His face turned gloomier and gloomier as his arms crossed stubbornly. "Can we talk in private, kiddo?" he asked. Ellis exchanged glances with Rochelle, who made an encouraging face, and then nodded.

"Sure," he nodded, and he and Nick walked for the kitchen door.

"Oh, and try not to have sex on the kitchen table while we're gone!" Nick called over his shoulder, snidely. There was enough time to hear Rochelle snap 'Francis!' before the door closed behind them.

Ellis followed Nick up to his bedroom, the tension hanging over him stubbornly. He wasn't sure of what Nick's problem was, but whatever it was it was incredibly personal. He could sense it. He closed the door behind them, and sat on the bed as Nick paced by the window.

"What's wrong, Nick?" he asked. "I mean, are you jealous, or-?"

"Not jealous," Nick interjected, holding up a hand. "Not that. Just… Look, you'll go in there, and she'll have all the power. We need something from her, something that's going to completely change her life for the worse. And if she's smart, she'll know that she has all the aces…. And I just…" He trailed off, scowling again, and leaned against the wall. "….. What if she wants you to sleep with her?"

Ellis tilted his head to the side, completely thrown by such a suggestion. "Oh come on-."

"Two to one that's what happens when you walk through that door, El, I would bet a fortune on it," Nick said, tapping his foot nervously. "And, you know, back in the day I might have liked those odds. Hell, I might have encouraged you to do it just because it would get me and Francis off the hook. I've done stuff like that for other people-."

"For Sam, you mean," Ellis said, neutrally, and Nick paused. The kid was catching on to where all his neuroses came from.

"….Yeah, for Sam… Francis will probably want you to do it. Rochelle, I don't know about her, but she might too. And I know that I should just suck it up and let it happen if it means freedom for us… But I really don't want you to do it," Nick said, somewhat conflicted about how he was supposed to feel about it.

Ellis sighed silently, and then smiled his best reassuring smile. "Well hell, Nick, I think you're just thinkin' in worst case scenarios here!"

"Yeah, well, we can't all be optimistic all the time you know," the older man muttered.

"Sit down," Ellis said, hitting the bed airily.

"I'd rather stand."

"Would ya just sit down?" he repeated, less patient this time, and Nick huffed, but did so, though he kept a small distance between them. Ellis carefully took his hand, and raised his eyebrows at his lover. "I'll do just about anything to get you an' Francis off the hook here, but I probably hate that idea as much as you do, probably even more than you do. So I'm not gonna do that, Nick, okay? There'll be other ways to help you guys."

Nick nodded slowly, somewhat reassured. "… Yeah?

"Yeah," the younger man nodded, and balled his hands into fists. "You know, the more I learn about this Sam guy, the more I kinda hate him. Cuz I know you pretty well, Nick, an' while I bet you acted like that kinda thing wasn't a big deal or nothin', I know you probably hated it."

Nick smirked, the bad memories only getting so far before he shooed them away, and nodded. "Yeah. I was doing a lot of things I didn't want to do because he wanted me to."

Ellis gently rested his chin on Nick's shoulder, and the gambler squeezed his hand tighter. "Well, thanks for not makin' me do things I don't wanna do."

"…. I'm just worried that if I did want you to do it I'd be singing a different tune," Nick admitted.

"I bet not," Ellis said. "I never met that sonofabitch, but I can tell that you're nothin' like Sam."

Nick turned his head to look at his boyfriend, and all out smiled at him. It was for sure a relief, as there were definitely parallels between the two relationships. Hell, the twelve year age gap was even the same. So he placed a hand on the back of Ellis' head, and winked at him.

"Best thing I've heard all day," he said, and Ellis grinned before pecking him quickly on the lips. "Alright. So when are we going to talk to Barbara?"

"We?"

"If you think I'm staying here while you go to her place you're wrong."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Fine, I won't talk to her, but I'm waiting in the car," Nick said as they both stood up. "No way I'm leaving you completely alone with her. If you find yourself in trouble, adjust the shades or some shit."

"Like a spy or somethin'!"

"Yeah, like a spy or something."

Chapter Text

"How does a baker afford a house like this?" Nick asked, leaning over the steering wheel and looking at the gabled house in disbelief. "I mean Jesus, she can't be paid more than minimum wage, right?"

"I think she came from money, an' when her family died she got all've it," Ellis replied, scratching his head.

"Well why even have a job then if she's so loaded?" Nick asked, knowing if HE didn't have to work he wouldn't.

"Maybe she wants somethin' to do?" Ellis suggested. Unlike Nick, if he came into money for some reason he'd still want a job, just to keep the boredom away.

"Crazy."

They had waited until three, as they knew that was when Barbara got off work if she was working the morning shift, and then drove out towards her home. Neither man had said much of anything, both thinking too deeply about what this meeting could bring, and what it could mean for them.

"…. So you're just gonna sit in here?" Ellis asked, skeptically.

"Yep," Nick nodded. "I won't storm the house or anything, so don't worry about that."

"Unless I move the shades," Ellis smiled, and Nick grinned, nodding.

"Yeah, unless you use the spy move we talked about," he agreed. Ellis snickered, though his laugh didn't last too long before he swallowed and crossed his arms. "What?"

"…. I'm kinda nervous," he admitted. "I mean, this is kind've like the last chance, isn't it?"

"….. Yeah, probably," Nick agreed.

"I just wanna help, an' I wanna get it right, cuz if I don't get it right an' she doesn't tell me what happened then-."

"Don't think about that, kiddo," the older man said, yanking a peppermint stick from his pocket. "Just do your best. And if it doesn't work, well, there's still the Grey Zone."

"Heh, yeah, I guess so," Ellis said, trying to smile but finding it difficult. "Well, I guess I'll head over then. I don't know how long it'll take."

"Whatever. I'll be here." Ellis smiled at him, and nodded.

"Kay."

He slowly walked up the porch steps, examining the house. He'd picked Barbara up here that one time they went out to dinner, but he hadn't really looked at her home. At the time he'd been too nervous about dating again to notice anything about the quaint abode, and now he was even more nervous but still managing to hyper focus on the design. There were flower boxes in the windows that housed purple salvias, and wind chimes hanging from a hook. The coziness of the house reminded him of his home in Savannah, and it filled him with a temporary sense of sadness as he knocked on the door.

His stomach turned when the door opened, and the wide eyed blonde's face peeked out from the frame. When she saw who it was, her demeanor changed visibly, eyes widening and mouth tensing. He nodded at her, and raised his eyebrows nervously. "Hey, Barbara."

"Hi, Ellis," she replied, hand gripping the door. "… What can I do for you?"

"Can I come in?" he asked, tentatively. She quietly drummed her fingers on the wood, and then nodded, pulling the door open widely. "Thanks." He looked back briefly at the car, and while it didn't go unnoticed by her she didn't say anything, and just looked back as well.

Nick chewed on his peppermint stick violently. He knew that their gazes wouldn't meet, at least not strongly, so he didn't even try to hide a vicious glare as she closed the door behind the two of them.

"We can sit in here," she said, gesturing to a sunny room to their left, and Ellis nodded, walking in and sitting down on the grey loveseat. She hesitated, not sure of where to sit, and then pointed towards another room. "Do you want something to drink, or-?"

"No, I'm okay," he said, shaking his head. "Look, can we talk?"

She chewed on her lip, and shrugged. "I take it you're here to talk about the same thing Rochelle wanted to talk about, and if that's the case, I can tell you right now that you're wasting your time."

Ellis shifted in his seat, and wrung his hands together. "Well, I can say right now that I'm not like Ro when it comes to talkin' about stuff like that. I won't be all… I don't know, accusatory, I guess. I just wanna talk, cuz I think that we have some things to talk about. Not just about that whole mess neither."

She twisted her shirt in her hand absentmindedly, and then nodded, taking a seat in the chair across from him. "Alright…. What do you want to say?"

Ellis sighed, and took off his hat. "First of all, I think that I owe you an apology."

She wrinkled her nose and looked in her lap, embarrassed and shy. It was so hard for him to believe that this reticent and self conscious girl could have helped Creevy do something so awful, and yet he knew that she did. The guilt was pouring off of her. "Wh-why do you think you owe me that?" she asked, brushing some hair behind her ear. Ellis leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked at the floor.

"Well, cuz….. I shoulda been honest with you from the get go," Ellis said, scratching his head.

"What do you mean?" she asked, and they finally looked each other in the eyes. Of course she knew what he meant, but she wanted to hear it. And realistically, he needed to say it too.

"…. After that date we had after I fixed your bike, I walked you up to the door of this house, remember?" Ellis asked.

"Uh huh," she nodded, smiling scantly. "It was a really nice evening. It was the best night I'd had here since I arrived. I had a lot of fun."

"Well good, I did too," Ellis nodded. "But…. You know, I messed up."

"What do you mean? I had a great time."

"No, I know you did, and I had fun too," Ellis said. "But at one point you said that you thought we should do it again. And I shoulda told ya that I woulda loved to, but not in the way you wanted to."

She gulped, looking at the floor again, and shrugged. "So you didn't like me-?"

"I liked ya! I did! You're a real nice person, Barbara, and I think that we probably coulda been great friends," he said, sadly. "But I just wasn't interested romantically. That's kinda how it always went in town, with all the girls I went on dates with. They never stick, and I don't really know why… Well, I do know why, but I didn't THINK I knew why."

"Because you're gay?" she asked, flat out.

Ellis had never thought of it in those terms. It had never occurred to him that he was a gay man, as in his family and his friends circle back in Savannah it wasn't something that was talked about. He'd never dwelled too long on the fact that he would fixate more on, say, Sawyer than he would on Kate when he and Keith would watch LOST, nor did he think about how his eyes would more likely fall on Dale Henrickson in math than they would on Julia Harris, who was practically throwing herself at him between geometry problems.

"…. I was gonna say cuz I was still hung up on Nick, but…," he trailed off, and she sighed, quite obviously frustrated to hear the Z-Man's name. "And I shoulda probably told you that I wasn't ready to-."

"Why didn't you say anything?" she said suddenly, eyes narrowing. "I said we should do it again sometime and you said 'yeah, sure'. I saved a seat for you at church every week and you almost always took it. I baked you desserts and pastries and you ALWAYS accepted them. I practically made a fool of myself thinking that you liked me but were shy, or liked being wooed, or… or I don't know what! WHY didn't you just tell me you didn't want to date me?"

Ellis crinkled his nose, and looked at the floor, wringing his hands harder now. "…. I didn't wanna hurt your feelin's, I guess," he answered, shrugging. "Everyone else kinda lost interest when I didn't do nothin'. I thought you would too. But you just kept gettin' more…. Interested. And it just became harder and harder cuz it was gonna be uglier and uglier if I brought it up."

She averted her eyes towards the window, balling her hand in a fist and putting it to her mouth in thought, trying to understand why things had turned out this way. "Well it was worse this way, you know," she said, sadly.

"Yeah, I know that now," he nodded, raising his eyes to hers.

"….. Ellis, I fell in love with you," she said, brushing a tear from her face, and he winced, absorbing a bit of the pain she had, as that was what he always did.

"But… you don't even know me, Barbara," he said, and she shook her head.

"No, I do love you and I know I love you because I can't find anything wrong with you," she continued, and it was Ellis' turn to shake his head.

"See that's just it, Barbara," he said, utterly flabbergasted by her naivete. Of course, he'd held similar naive thoughts back on the road to New Orleans, about him and Nick and their future together at that point. "There's plenty've things wrong with me. Like, I talk too much. And I kinda follow people a bit too easily, like without questionin' 'em? Cuz ya see, I did that with Keith an' Dave ALL THE TIME back in Savannah, and that kinda got me in a lot've trouble sometimes. And hey, I wasn't exactly honest with ya, cuz I'm kind've bad about confrontation unless it's somethin' really botherin' me. And that got me into trouble this time, obviously."

"I think you're the perfect guy, Ellis."

"….. Then that just proves my point even more," Ellis said, sadly. "Like, here, take Nick."

Before he could continue she scoffed, shaking her head. "I don't want to take Nick."

"Well you're gonna hafta cuz this is important," he said sternly, and she kept her arms crossed, but slowly nodded. "…. Nick ain't perfect. At all. First've all he's grouchy practically all the time. And he has a criminal record, so there's that, not to mention he's stuck up and real sarcastic. And he does these things that he THINKS are in my best interest, but if he'd just ask me instead've assumin' things he'd know that he was wrong. But he never asks. And he has a real hard time understandin' why people may be mad at him-."

"Sounds like a real catch you have there," she murmured.

"Well that's just it," Ellis said, smiling slightly at the thought of his boyfriend. "He's all those things, but that's just part've who he is. When you love someone, it's not like you don't SEE their faults, or think they're perfect. You just…. You love their faults too… And that's how I know you don't love me. Because if you DID, you'd know I wasn't perfect. Cuz no one's perfect, right?"

Though his words were obviously stinging her, there was a look of resigned realization across her face. She brushed another tear from her cheeks, rejection never welcome but understood regardless. "….. So you really love him, huh?"

Ellis nodded slowly. "Yeah….. I really, really do. I don't know what I'd do if I lost him again. So yeah, I guess I AM here cuz've selfish reasons too, I can't lie about that. But I still want you to do the right thing."

"Yeah, because of him."

"Not just because of him," Ellis disagreed. "Because you know you should do it. We both know you should do it. For the whole town and for everyone who lost someone. For Josie's kids, and for Big Ed's wife, for Benjamin's parents, and for Wednesday…. And honestly, for your peace of mind too, Barbara. Cuz I know you well enough to know that this is gonna eat you up."

Barbara chewed on a fingernail, and sucked in a breath through her nose. "Ellis, you don't understand. If I tell the world everything, he'll… he'll take it out on you to get to me."

The mechanic leaned back on the sofa, crossing his arms. Rochelle had mentioned that he had probably entered into it somehow. He just didn't know how seriously. Never in a million years would he have imagined that he'd be the target of a government agent's ire, but then there were a lot of things he'd done that came as a surprise to him.

"…. Mark Creevy, right?" he asked, wanting to confirm it, and she nodded. "What did he say to you?"

She blinked, obviously tempted to keep her mouth shut but also aching for an excuse to let off a bit of the pressure she'd been feeling for the past few days. "… He said that not only would no one believe my word against his, but that he'd make you disappear and that no one would even notice," she replied. "And he said that I'D disappear too."

"…. Wow."

"I'm scared, Ellis. I'm really scared! I've found myself in this awful situation, when all I wanted to do was to get you to stop paying attention to Nick for two seconds and pay attention to me."

Ellis nodded, heart starting to race. Here she goes, he thought, and leaned in closer. "So Mark Creevy said he could get rid of Nick if you helped him?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Yes… But he never told me how! He just told me to take a truck to the West Gate and open it up. I never knew what was inside. Maybe I should have known, or figured it out, but I didn't, I swear I didn't!" she said, the confession starting to tumble out of her mouth. She told him every bit of information, from the initial meeting to the rendezvous at the festival to the Tank and the zombie by the end of the creek. He listend patiently, trying to look outwardly supportive even if he was horrified. And oddly, sympathetic.

"When I saw what I had done, what IT had done, I tried to confront him," she said, wrapping up the confession. "I told him that I didn't think I could keep silent about it. But he…. He said those awful things, and slammed me into a shelf and put his hands on me-!"

"Did he hurt you?" Ellis asked, suddenly angry.

"No, not too much, he just scared me," she said, shaking her head. "….. I wish I could take it all back, I wish I'd never agreed to help him, and I WISH that I hadn't been so damn stupid. Because now he's going to find out that I told and he's going to hurt you."

"He's not gonna hurt me," Ellis replied, shaking his head reassuringly and patting her knee, though not lingering TOO long for obvious reasons. "I know a lot about this guy from what Nick an' Francis have told me, and believe me, he's not gonna touch me. He's too big a coward to try anything to my face. He was just usin' that to get at you, Barbara, really he was. I won't let him, and Nick for sure won't let him."

She ran a hand through her hair, and looked him in the eye timidly. "… And what will happen to me? I mean, I assume I'll go to prison…. I'm part of the reason five people are dead, after all…"

"…. Well now I don't know the answer to that," he said, softly. "…. But you know, I bet since you wanna make things right, and since you're gonna be honest and since you're a good person otherwise…. They might be willin' to be easier. Especially since you didn't know. And hey, I'll vouch for ya."

"… You have no reason to vouch for me, Ellis, why would you do that?" she asked, though she was touched by his kindness.

"Cuz I think part've me owes it to you," he said, honestly. "And cuz… You aren't the bad guy, Barbara. Creevy and Jacobs are."

He took her hand gently and squeezed it kindly, and both sets of eyes met for the longest moment they had ever met and would ever meet. So she chewed on her lip one last time, and nodded gently. "Alright…. You're right, Ellis…. I'll tell. I don't think I could live with this much longer anyway. But…I'm really scared."

His eyes softened, and he shrugged slowly. "You'll have people who're there for you. Things have a way of workin' out, ya know?"

"I hope you're right…. I don't know if I deserve having people here for me-."

"Aw c'mon," he said. "I think you do. An' even if no one else does, I'll be here, remember?"

"… You're incredibly forgiving," she said, stunned. "Why are you so willing to help me when I was trying to make Nick go away?"

"… Well, cuz everyone deserves a second chance," he replied, solemnly.

"That's very kind," she replied, even more heartbroken that this wonderful person didn't want her the way she wanted him. But she didn't want to harp on it, and therefore didn't show that pain with the apprehension. "… Should I go to the police station-?"

"No, if Jacobs is in on it that'll be too dangerous," he said, shaking his head. "Just stay here. Nick'll call his boss and we'll go from there, okay? I'll let you know as soon as I know, probably tonight…. If you want to come with me you can, or you can stay here-."

"I think I'll stay here," she said, abruptly. "….. I'm not going to run or anything-."

"I know," Ellis nodded.

"-I just want one more day in my house…" she said, trailing off.

"Okay," he said, standing up. "You're gonna feel better, Barbara."

She said nothing as she walked him to the door, and simply watched as he walked through it onto the front porch. He turned around, and smiled at her. "I'll call you tonight."

"Alright," she said, nodding. "And I want to apologize too."

"Well I bet you can probably put that in some kinda formal statement-."

"No," she interjected, shaking her head. "I mean, I DO want to apologize to them, but right now I meant to you."

"Me?"

"Yes….. Because I wanted to take Nick away from you," she said, shamefacedly. "I was so convinced that he wasn't right for you, and that I was." She glanced over his shoulder towards the car, looking at the older man as he sat in the car, clearly watching them ever so carefully. "It wasn't my business. So please accept my apology. And apologize to Nick too."

"Consider it accepted," he replied, patting her arm. "…. He may not be willin' to accept it, but don't worry 'bout him. I'll still let him know."

"Alright," she said, and he walked down the steps back towards the car. "Ellis?"

"Yeah?" he asked, turning around.

"…. You're probably right about me not really loving you," she said, voice barely audible to the mechanic. "But I do know that I just want you to be happy… And if I can't give to you by myself, I'm going to have to give it to you through Nick's freedom."

"…. Are you doin' this just for me?" he asked.

"No," she answered, and was able to say it honestly. "I'm doing it for many reasons. Your happiness is just one of them."

He swallowed, incredibly touched by her words. Just as he thought, her affection for him had attributed to lot of pain and suffering for many people. But it was also a constructive force that was going to help ease that pain and suffering. His prediction was right, and yet he didn't know how to feel about it, about any of it.

"…I'll call ya," he reminded, waving, and she nodded before walking back into the house.

He opened the car door and slid into the seat, turning to face Nick. The gambler was looking at him expectantly, and he nodded. "She's gonna do it."

Nick exhaled, a smile breaking across his face as relief spilled all over him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, she is," Ellis confirmed. "…. She's scared, but she'll do it anyway."

"Good."

"And she wants to say sorry to you," he continued.

"Psh, whatever."

"Nick, really, she feels bad."

"Feels bad she got caught."

"No, she feels BAD bad," Ellis insisted. "I accepted her apology. You don't have to, but I did. Who knows what's gonna happen to her, she doesn't know. But she's gonna tell everyone everything because she knows it's the right thing to do. And because she knows it's important to me."

"Did she say that?" Nick asked, skeptically.

"No, but she didn't have to," Ellis said, voice a little sad. "You know, that's one thing I can say about Barbara Dane. She really does care about me. Cuz she said she just wants me to be happy, and that since you do that she wants you to be free."

Nick was about to shift the car into gear, but he paused, and sighed irritatedly. "… God dammit."

"What?" Ellis asked, eyebrows raising as Nick unbuckled his seatbelt again and opened the car door.

"Just wait here," he muttered.
"What are you gonna do?" Ellis asked, nervously, and Nick made a face.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to start a cat fight," he said, closing the door behind him. "Won't take a minute." Ellis leaned back into the seat, hoping that Nick wouldn't take all his hard work and throw it out the window.

Nick knocked on the door pertly, and stepped back a bit when the door opened. Barbara was visibly surprised to see him there, and she glanced at the porch flooring immediately instead of making eye contact. "What is it?" she asked, voice rigid.

Nick took one step forward, cautiously. "… I won't take much of your time…" He tried to say what he wanted to, though it was hard for him to do so, as doing so meant he would have to have a heaping helping of humble pie. And Nick never did care for humble pie. He shoved his hands in his pockets stubbornly, and she looked up from the porch.

"What is it?" she asked, impatiently.

"… Thank you," he said, respectfully. "It's…. Just thank you."

She nodded slowly, and looked him squarely in the eyes. "Do you love him? Do you really and truly love him, Nick?"

While he didn't think that he needed to justify or confirm his feelings for Ellis to anyone, especially not the self-proclaimed competition, he nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I do. More than anything. I'm well aware that I don't deserve him, and I'm also well aware that I need him a hell of a lot more than he needs me. But God help me I love him and I'm incredibly happy that I'm lucky enough that he loves me back. And I intend to keep him with me for the rest of my life, however long that may be."

She blinked a few times, and then put her arm on his shoulder. "Please take good care of him, Nick. That's all I'm going to ask of you in all of this. Just take care of him."

"…. I think he's going to be the one who takes care of me," Nick admitted. "…. Well, see ya around, I guess."

"I guess," she said, and stepped back inside her house.

And that was all they had to say between the two of them. As she closed the door, Nick scratched his head, and spun around to walk back to the car. Ellis stuck his head out the window, face dubious.

"You didn't screw it all up did you?" he asked, and Nick smirked at him.

"No," he said. "But thanks for that vote of confidence."

"So what DID you do?"

"Just had one more thing to say to Barbara."

"Well it sure didn't look like a victory dance from here," Ellis said as the older man closed the car door behind him.

"Nah," he replied, shaking his head. "Okay kiddo. Let's get back to my place and give Morgan a call."

"Think he'll know what to do?" Ellis asked as Nick started the car.

"He always knows what to do."

Ellis nodded as they began to drive, and he placed his hand on Nick's thigh. "Well that's great news. I'm feelin' the best I've felt since… since-."

"Since last night?"

"Heh, yeah," Ellis said, blushing a bit. "And I can't WAIT to tell Ro that I was able to do what she couldn't do! She's gonna be so jealous!"

Nick grinned as he kept his eyes on the road, and snickered. "Going to rub it in her face?"

"Yeah, maybe a little bit."

"I'm a bad influence on you, Overalls."

"So this is it, then!" Ellis chirped, squeezing Nick's leg. "We've got Creevy! With Barbara to point the finger at him and all the evidence we have-."

"I'm not celebrating until he's in handcuffs or some shit," Nick replied, skeptically. "Creevy's tricky. He's gotten out of other things similar to this. I'm pretty much going to have to see him in prison before I believe he's done for."

"You're pessimistic."

"And you love every bit of it," Nick grinned. It was true that he was feeling more optimistic than usual. And that made him more nervous than anything else.

Though the way Ellis was squeezing his leg did let off SOME of the pressure. Of course, it just built up another pressure.

Chapter Text

"Do you think I have to wear a suit?" Francis said as he walked into Nick's room the next morning. Nick sat up in his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The sudden movement in the bed caused Ellis to sit up too, and the younger man looked at the clock groggily.

"What time is it?" he mumbled.

"It's a quarter to seven, do you think I have to wear a suit?" Francis repeated, and Nick kicked the covers off of himself.

"Couldn't hurt to," he said, standing up and stretching.

"Do you think it could hurt if I DIDN'T wear one?" the biker asked. "I really don't want to wear a suit."

Ellis rolled back over, wishing that he could have slept a bit longer. "Did Morgan ask ya to wear a suit?" he muttered, and Francis shrugged as Nick walked for the closet.

"He said that he strongly suggested it," Francis replied.

"That means wear a suit, Big Guy," Nick yawned, and Francis snarled before stamping out of the room.

"Why couldn't he've let us sleep a little longer?" Ellis whined into the pillow.

"If he's pissy, everyone has to be pissy," Nick replied, picking out the proper suit for transport.

"What time are they comin' again?" Ellis asked, finally sitting up and accepting that he wasn't getting any more sleep.

"Nine a.m. on the dot," Nick replied, deciding one of his grey suits would be best. It would be drab enough anyway, and subdued. "Which means they'll be early. Which means I should go make breakfast."

"I think I'm just going to wear my usual clothes!" Francis called from down the hallway, and Nick rolled his eyes.

"Wear a goddamn suit!" he shouted back.

Morgan had been cautiously optimistic when Nick had called him the night before to tell him the news about Barbara. Cautiously optimistic and reserved, exactly how Nick expected him to be. After all, the gambler could recognize that they weren't off the hook yet, so of course their boss would recognize it too. Morgan had given them confirmation that a separate government vehicle would pick Barbara up soon after them, and so long as she didn't open the door for anyone but them and kept her mouth shut she would be safe. He'd then told them that the transport for the Z-Men would go as scheduled (though he would send FBICE agents instead of permitting Creevy to do it), so as not to raise any suspicions, and that there were a few more ducks to set in a row before anything could be guaranteed. What those ducks were, he wasn't going to say. The lack of absolute certainty had made both Z-Men nervous, and the nerves went through breakfast and coffee.

Ellis thought that by the time he came back to the house with his packed suitcase that Nick and Francis would have finished eating, but the reality was that they had barely touched their food during his absence, and wouldn't touch it much more. So he did the dishes while the two agents watched the clock, and stole quick glances at them as he scrubbed the pan.

"… So Ro's not going to be here then?" Nick asked, quietly, and Francis shrugged.

"She had an early meeting with a lawyer to talk about becoming Wednesday's guardian," Francis said. "She said she'd try to make it back before I go, but I'm not holding my breath. Once she gets Wednesday in a better place they'll come out to D.C."

"Okay," Nick said, nodding, and he looked back at Ellis. "Hey Overalls? More coffee?"

"You got it, Nick," Ellis agreed, though before he could get more from the pot there was a harsh knocking on the front door. Nick inhaled sharply, and looked at his watch.

"Hmph. 8:45," he said, and smiled grimly. "Told you they'd be early."

"Fuck," Francis said, and slammed his fork down on the table as Ellis shoved away from the sink. "…. At least it's not Creevy, right?"

"Or any other CEDA agents," Nick nodded, standing up and walking for the front room. He knew that with fellow FBICE agents they would at least be treated with mutual respect. Morgan would have seen to that.

He opened the door to see two other Z-Men on his porch. They were a couple of young ones, probably Ellis' age (if not younger), which not only made Nick feel old, it made him feel a little defensive. "Jesus Christ, are you two even legal?" he sneered, which prompted the other agents to exchange glances.

"I'm guessing that you're Nick," the blonde said, and extended a hand. "I'm Agent Wayne, this is Agent Zegers. We're here to escort you to Washington D.C. as ordered by Director Merle Morgan."

Francis snorted, as he opened the door wider to walk outside. "Yeah yeah yeah, we get the spiel, kid, we've said it many times before, so spare us."

Wayne and Zegers exchanged glances again, and then looked back at the older agents. "Oh yeah, these are the right guys," Zegers said, smirking. "Morgan told us a LOT about you."

"So what is the exact procedure here?" Nick asked, as Ellis peeked his head around the door curiously. "Where are we going, who are we seeing, when are you going to tell us-?"

"That's information that's classified," Wayne said, matter of factly.

"Great," Francis said. "So just get in and shut up, is that what you're saying?"

"It's just procedure," Zegers said, coming to Wayne's defense. "Besides, considering some of the circumstances that Morgan alluded to, one can never be too careful, am I right? Was there anything you wanted to take care of before we hit the road?"

"Hey, I have a question," Ellis said, thinking that the question should apply to himself as well as the Z-Men. "So I was wonderin', is it at all possible that I could drive these two? I mean, I have a feelin' I know the answer to that, but I just thought-."

"Sorry, they have to be escorted by government officials," Zegers stated, flatly.

"Yeah, I had a feelin'," Ellis repeated, scratching his neck. "Just thought I'd ask. Well, then could I ride with ya? I just hafta go grab their stuff, but it wouldn't take but a minute-."

"Are you related?" Wayne asked, looking from Ellis to the two other agents.

"Well….. I'm Nick's, uh," Ellis began, shuffling his feet, and Nick held up a hand.

"He's my boyfriend," the gambler stated, emphatically, and Ellis nodded.

"Yeah, what he said," he agreed.

Wayne and Zegers exchanged yet another glance (Nick was getting sick of the looks they shared, and he wondered if he and Francis did the same thing; if so, he was going to stop), and Zegers shook his head. "Sorry," he said, and Ellis' shoulders visibly slumped. "The only people who can accompany in these kinds of situations are legal spouses of the transportees."

"Hm, funny you should say that, since I know for a fact others have had their girlfriends and fiancés go with them," Francis spat, narrowing his eyes. Nick rolled his eyes, expecting this as soon as Ellis brought up the possibility. As much as Morgan, Francis, and a few of the other agents and higher ups in FBICE didn't give a damn about sexual preference, a majority of the macho Z-Men paled at the very thought of two men doing anything remotely more than platonic. Nick had fought hard to get the respect of his peers; since Wayne and Zegers didn't know him, they weren't going to make exception.

"That's not fair," Ellis began, but Nick stepped away from the agents and took his boyfriend by the elbow. "Hey, where're you takin'-?"

"Let's go get Francis' and my bags, kiddo," he said, not wanting Ellis to do something or say something he'd regret.

"But-!"

"Come on, let's go," Nick reiterated, firmly, and Ellis snorted and followed him into the house, keeping his mouth firmly closed.

At least, until he and Nick were halfway up the steps. "That was bullshit!" he snarled, and Nick shrugged.

"Yep."

"I can't believe-! You know, if Ro had been here an' Francis asked if she could come with they probably would've said 'yes'!" he fumed, following Nick brusquely.

"Probably. Welcome to the reality of being gay in a closed minded America, kiddo," he replied, walking into his bedroom to grab his bag. "Morgan sent two kids from the Charlotte office to pick us up, you can't seriously tell me that you expected them to be waving rainbow flags for us."

"Well no, but if they make exception for other people I don't see why they can't make exception for us!" Ellis groused as Nick handed him one of his bags. Nick wasn't going to dwell too much on it; he was used to it, and wasn't feeling particularly interested in giving his lover a pep talk that could rival any inspirational GLBT film from the past ten years. So instead he just smiled at him and kissed him on the head as he walked by.

"This works out better," Nick said, walking to Francis' room, Ellis trailing him.

"How do you figure?" the mechanic snorted.

"You take our stuff in the Beemer and follow us," Nick said, calmly. One of them had to be the calm one. It was a true role reversal. "That way we have transportation outside of Ro's shitbox Honda if we find ourselves on the way back to Roanoke II. We can't all fit in it comfortably AND have our stuff in it."

"Psh, God willin' you guys get to come back here," Ellis muttered, still steamed. "… I just really wanted to ride with ya, Nick…. Just for support and all."

Nick would have liked that too. The difference was he hadn't gotten his hopes up based on unlikely assumption alone. "Well I'll be fine," he said, rubbing Ellis' shoulder. "Or was it support for you too?"

"… I dunno," Ellis said, grimly. "I thought that Barbara's confession would've just… I don't know, fixed everything. But you're still goin' to Washington and Morgan hasn't told you much've anything, has he?"

"He's just being cautious," Nick replied, doing his best to sound nonchalant. "I bet he gets the hearing delayed by a bit, anyway. And I'm also betting he wants something other than Barbara's word."

"Like what?"

"I'm not sure, kiddo!" he snapped, and then reined himself in before he snarled anymore. "…. We'll just have to see. Until then, just follow the car. Wherever they take us, you'll be there too eventually."

Ellis nodded, letting the terse words roll off his back. "Yeah, okay… How long does it take to get to Washington D.C. from here?"

"I don't know, about five hours maybe," Nick answered, and suddenly Ellis grinned. "What?"

"I've NEVER driven a BMW for that long before!" he exclaimed, at once excited. "Aw MAN this is gonna be AWESOME!"

"Oh I'm so glad you got over your angst so quickly," Nick groused, and they carried the bags down the steps.

"Does it have turbo in it's engine?" Ellis asked, cheerily. "Cuz if it does I'm SO gonna do that! I'm gonna be like James Bond all through North Carolina and Virginia all the way to D.C.!"

"If you crash my car I'm never forgiving you," Nick muttered as Ellis threw an arm around his shoulders. At least he was feeling a little better. The same couldn't be said for the older man, no matter how much he faked it.

They loaded the stuff into the BMW, and once Ellis slammed the trunk shut it was time to say their temporary goodbyes. Ellis shrugged, and pointed at the government car. "If they drive like grannies can I ride their asses?"

"Only if you want to be put on a list," Nick grinned, and Ellis' face looked stricken.

"A list?"

"Yeah, it's like the No Flying List but it's in every cop database in the country," Nick said, squinting at the sun. "They keep an eye out for the license plate and if the car ever gets pulled over, they'll get a larger fine than other drivers. And their license will be suspended."

"Whoa, seriously?"

"No," Nick chuckled, and the mechanic snorted.

"Very funny."

"If you drive close enough I will make provocative hand gestures to put up in the back window purely for your entertainment," the gambler said. "So you get to piss them off AND be rewarded for it. I think it's settled. Do it."

"Hey Suit, can ya hurry up with the goodbyes?" Francis called, impatiently. "Starsky and Hutch are getting anxious!" Nick flipped Francis off over his shoulder, and grinned at Ellis.

"Alright, James Bond, see you in five hours," he said, winking at his lover. "Maybe we'll get put up in a fancy ass hotel."

"With a huge bed?" Ellis asked, playing along as Nick put a hand on his cheek.

"Yep. And a Jacuzzi and room service," the older man agreed.

"Sounds great."

"Fuck yes," he said, and looked over his shoulder quickly at the escorting agents before planting a long kiss on Ellis' lips. Ellis wrapped his arms around Nick's back, holding him tightly even though he was going to see him in five hours. It was going to be a long drive, even if he was driving a souped up car.

After saying their goodbyes, Nick walked to Agents Wayne and Zegers. "Fine, let's go."

"Sounds good to me," Wayne said, and pointed to the backseat. "You two ride in the back."

"No shit," Francis grumbled, opening the car door and throwing himself on the leather seat huffily. Nick followed, giving one last wave to his lover before ducking in and closing the door.

"Say, Starsky and Hutch," he said, leaning forward so he was between Wayne and Zegers.

"You wanna not call us that?" Wayne asked.

"You wish. Anyway, I know the policy is to usually lose people who are following us a bit blatantly. Confidential locations, never can be too careful, blah blah blah. But think you could let the kid keep up?"

Wayne wrinkled his nose as he started the engine. "Why would we do that? We're bringing the two of you to an undisclosed location that civilians are not supposed to know about until after the hearing. Not to mention we're transporting problem agents-."

"Problem agents?" Francis snarled, and Nick held up his hand at his more volatile partner.

"Spare me, guys, you know we aren't going to try and bust out of this car and escape, okay? And undisclosed location my ass, we all know that even if he wasn't following us I would turn around and call him once I arrive, just as Francis here is going to call his girlfriend," he said, incredulously. He fished into his pocket for his wallet. "So here, I'll give you guys something to grease the wheels a bit if it makes you feel a little better about yourselves and allowing him to do that." He removed a handful of cash and held it up between the two of them.

"Are you bribing us?" Zegers asked.

"Yep," Nick nodded. "Sure am… Look, you can report me to our superior, but honestly I don't think Morgan is going to care TOO much. So why not take the cash and use it tonight on the town in D.C.? I know of a couple good bars and strip clubs. Well, that's assuming they aren't in the Grey Zone, I'm not sure of the borders there, it's always changing you know."

Wayne and Zegers exchanged a couple of final glances, and neither said a word as Zegers accepted the cash.

"I don't seen anyone following us, Wayne, do you?" he asked.

"Nope," Wayne agreed, and Nick nodded, satisfied.

"I thought as much," he said, and turned around to wave at Ellis through the window. The mechanic waved back, and Francis rolled his eyes.

"Gag," he said. "If you're going to do this the entire way to Washington let me know so I can swallow my tongue."

As Ellis followed he fiddled with the CD changer, trying to find something that he would like. Most of it was Nick's taste in music, which was fine. But he would have liked something a little more upbeat for a long drive. He hit the fifth button for the player, and then cheered when Motley Crue began to play.

"YEAH, thank God for you, Francis!" he grinned, and pat the steering while to the beat while he followed, blasting the kind of music Nick would not approve of in his sleek car.

Agent Creevy had a feeling that something was wrong. It had started the night before when his direct superior had called him and told him that he was no longer going to escort Nick and Francis to Washington D.C. At first he hadn't thought much of it; he figured that Morgan had put up a fit and CEDA had complied. But after thinking about it, and sleeping on it, he began to feel a little paranoid.

So while Nick and Francis were crossing the border into Virginia, Creevy was on his fifth cigarette and drumming his fingers on the table. He'd contacted his bosses and they weren't being extremely forthcoming. He'd even contacted Morgan but received no answer to his calls. Yes, something was incredibly wrong.

He'd driven out past Nick's and Francis' house and saw that the BMW was gone. Which meant that one of the two's lovers had to have gone with them. And if they had been permitted to bring their lover with that meant that there was leniency, and if there was leniency…..

He'd driven home and had been sitting at the table since, chain smoking and trying to figure out just what he was going to do now. True, he had no solid reason to feel this way, but his gut was wrenching.

He jumped when there was a pounding on his front door, and he spun around as he blindly smashed his cigarette into the ashtray. He stood up and rushed for the door, flinging it open to see a frazzled and sweating Chief Jacobs in front of him.

"Creevy, we have a problem!" the lawman said, shoving past the agent and entering the apartment.

"Yeah, come on in Jacobs," Creevy muttered, closing the door as Jacobs turned back around.

"She left," he said, pointing a shaky finger at Creevy.

"Who left? What are you-?"

"Barbara Dane!" Jacobs exclaimed, eyes wild. "I saw her! I saw her leave and that means we are screwed!"

"Would you just slow down, you're hysterical!" Creevy snapped, though his heart was starting to pound in his chest. "What about Barbara Dane? What do you mean she 'left'?"

Jacobs took in a deep breath, trying to calm down, and wiped his brow. "I was driving out through her neighborhood not a half hour ago, and I saw her leave her house and get into a black town car with tinted windows. The men escorting her were wearing black suits and black ties, and the license plate said that it was from Washington D.C. It was Government, Creevy, no mistaking it. I've seen my share of Government vehicles, before and after the Flu, and this was one of them. She's going to talk."

Creevy listened to Jacobs, and chewed on his fingernail until he had ripped part of it down to the quick. "…. You can't be sure. I told her that if she talked-."

"What does it matter now what you told her? She's going to be untouchable!" Jacobs said.

"You forget that I AM Government, Jacobs!" Creevy snarled, pointing at him. "I have the connections-!"

"Not if FBICE has her, and not if she's told them everything!" Jacobs exclaimed.

"If WE get our stories straight and keep OUR mouths shut it won't matter what some bitch from this Podunk hole says!" Creevy snapped. "You're a cop and I'm government! We just have to keep quiet-."

"BullSHIT we have to keep quiet!" the sheriff said, the sudden change in tone surprising Creevy. The government agent tilted his head to the side, and attempted to put on his best nonplussed face.

"What does THAT mean?" he asked. "If anything DOES come of this, which I doubt it will, but if anything DOES come of it we need to stay the course and just-."

"I'm not stupid, Creevy," Jacobs interrupted, suddenly, a mad look in his eyes, and Creevy shut his mouth. "Barbara's going to talk. And whether we like it or not, SOMEONE is going to listen to her. If they weren't going to listen they wouldn't have escorted her out of town. And I have a feeling that in the end, if I do what you tell me to do, I'll end up screwed over. If I keep MY mouth shut, you'll run yours and spin everything to be my fault. You'd probably twist it around so much that YOU would make yourself out to be an innocent victim, am I right?"

… Well probably not a completely innocent victim, Creevy thought, and crossed his arms. "So what are you saying then, Edward? Please, just tell me, have the decency and the balls to explain just what it is you intend to do," he said, coolly.

Jacobs shrugged slowly, and then cleared his throat before muttering a 'Dammit'. The agent paused momentarily, and then raised his eyebrows. "What's wrong?" he asked, and Jacobs shook his head.

"Heartburn," he replied, putting a hand to his chest.

"It acts up when you're stressed, doesn't it?" Creevy asked, calmly. As much as Jacobs didn't want to admit it, he did nod slightly. This had been an issue for him ever since he was a teenager; lots of stress would turn into a burning pain in his chest. "I can understand that. I have the same problem, actually…. First of all you need to calm down."

"How can I calm down?" Jacobs demanded.

"There's Pepto in the bathroom," Creevy said, gesturing towards it nonchalantly. "Once you taken some I think we both need to just sit down and talk about this. You're getting worked up over something we have some control of. I know how things work in Washington D.C. You have to trust me."

"…. In your bathroom you say?" Jacobs asked, wiping his brow again, and Creevy nodded slowly. "…. Alright. Maybe you're right…. I'll be right back." Creevy nodded again as he watched his co-conspirator walk down the short hallway towards the bathroom.

Jacobs winced as he opened the medicine cabinet above the sink. This was a bad attack if even moving his arms was too painful. Perhaps Creevy was right. Perhaps he should just calm down and trust him. This was a slight hiccup, that was for certain. But Barbara's word might not hold up against two law men. Especially if all the evidence was destroyed. He twisted the lid off the bright pink bottle and took one large gulp of Pepto, and looked around the tiled bathroom. This apartment sure was nice. Creevy obviously had SOME sway of he was living in this building on government money. He leaned in to look at the detailing on the wall, taking another drink of the antacid.

Of course, that's assuming she actually got RID of the evidence, he suddenly thought. He swallowed the liquid heavily, the idea of that abruptly striking more panic into him. He opened his mouth, and began to call, "Creevy-?"

But before his thought could come to completion, a muffled popping sound filled the bathroom. Three forces struck Jacobs sharply in the side, the shoulder, and the neck, and he tipped over into the bathtub, his body smacking the porcelain as he dropped the bottle of medicine. He looked up hazily just in time to see Creevy withdraw his gun from behind the throw pillow, feathers floating to the floor. The agent tossed both to the side as he went to examine his former partner in crime. He got on his knees, looking to see where the blood was falling. Very little was on the floor, as most of it was confined to the tub and the sheriff's body. Creevy sniffed a bit, and shook his head at Jacobs as the cop gasped for breath.

"You local law enforcement types are all the goddamn same," he said to him. "You talk a good game but when it comes to playing with us in the big leagues, you choke." Jacobs tried to speak, tried to call out for help, for anything, but he found it impossible to say much beyond gurgling heaves and gasps.

"I don't know what would have happened, honestly," Creevy continued. "We maybe could have kept quiet and been okay. But it was clear that you weren't going to be able to handle that, you shit kicking waste of a badge. You shouldn't have come to me with this. As soon as you stepped through my door, you were dead. That's something no one ever quite got about CEDA: we always have a Plan B, no matter how unpopular."

He simply watched as Jacobs heaved and gasped for air, and didn't stop watching until the life slowly drained from the law man's eyes. Once Jacobs' body slumped in a final motion, Creevy stood up and began to chew on another nail. Directing him into the bathroom was wise… but it was still going to be a pain in the ass to clean this up. Mainly because the idea of lifting the large body was daunting at best. He wouldn't be able to carry him, not subtly anyway.

He sighed, angrily, and looked at his watch. He'd cleaned up messes like this before, but it still annoyed him. No time to be wasted, he moved out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen for the necessary instruments. Thank God for tiled bathrooms; they were easier to clean.

Chapter Text

After a long and tiring drive, the Z-Men filled car finally arrived in Washington D.C. Nick began to whistle 'Our Country Tis Of Thee' just to be a pain in the ass, and Francis snickered and drummed along on the arm rest. Wayne and Zegers didn't react, though Nick could see in the rearview mirror that the blonde agent was frowning as he drove.

"Alright, so which is it?" Nick asked. "Some sequestered hotel or some kind of holding cell deep in FBICE headquarters? I'm dying to know, truly dying."

"You'll see," Zegers muttered, and glanced through the side mirror. The BMW was still there, the driver still looking awake and determined despite the long lonely drive. "Your friend is tenacious. And I think he's been riding our asses the entire drive up here."

"He only said he'd do that if you drove like grannies, in his defense," Nick chuckled.

"Well seeing as he looks right out of high school he probably WOULD think we were old and slow," Wayne jabbed.

"Har har," Nick sneered. "Seriously, where are you taking us? I want to know if I should prepare for a hotel room or a jail cell."

"You'll see," Zegers repeated.

Nick sank back in his seat in a huff, and turned around to look at Ellis again. Ellis waved quickly, and Nick tried his best to keep the forced smile alight. But in the other car Ellis could tell that something was bothering his boyfriend, and it wasn't just because he was no longer making lewd and erotic gestures with his hands. So he held the wheel steadily, and waited nervously to see just where they were going to end up.

Both Nick and Francis were surprised when the car drove into a primarily residential neighborhood, which seemed like a strange place for the two of them to be housed, especially given that this was going to be a supposedly undisclosed location.

"Well what the HELL are we doing in this part of town?" Francis asked.

"This is where you're going to be staying," Zegers said, voice a little bitter. "I guess it pays to be buddy-buddy with the Assistant Director of the D.C. branch, huh?"

"Heh, it sure does," Nick said, smugly. "But that doesn't really explain just where he's going to…. Oh God… Oh GOD-."

"What?" Francis asked, surprised and alarmed by the sudden shift in Nick's tone. Nick began to mutter a multitude of curse words, and crossed his arms, so the biker gave him a quizzical sneer. "What's crawled up YOUR ass and died?"

"Jesus Christ, don't you get it?" Nick asked, bitterly. "We're going to HIS house."

"Who's house?"

"MORGAN'S HOUSE."

Francis was about to scoff, but then he leered, and pointed at Wayne and Zegers. "HA! It must burn your guys asses to know that if YOU were in this position you would be going somewhere a LOT worse!"

"It can't get much worse, you ass!" Nick snarled, and Francis looked at him, incredulous.

"Are you shitting me? We could be on our way to a goddamn jail cell, Suit! Why are your lacy panties in such a knot?"

"Because if we stay at Morgan's that means that Morgan is going to meet Ellis!" Nick groused, crossing his arms and glaring out the window.

Francis looked back at the BMW, and then resumed staring at his partner. "Why is that a big deal?"

"Because it just is, okay?" Nick snapped. "Drop it, would ya?"

Francis tilted his head to the side, and then began to snicker. "Oh. I get it."

"Shut up."

"For you this is like taking Motor Mouth to meet your parents!" the biker laughed, clapping his hands together and kicking the seat, which made Zegers grunt and spin around to glare at him. "Oh my GOD you have no idea how much I'm going to enjoy this! OHMYGODI'MGOINGTO-!"

"Shut UP!" Nick snarled, punching Francis in the shoulder, and while the biker squawked at the blow he still laughed.

"You're worried Ellis is going to embarrass you-!"

"Let's get ONE THING clear!" Nick snarled, punching his shoulder again, multiple times.

"OW, hey-!"

"I'm NOT embarrassed of Ellis!" Nick snapped. "It's MORGAN I'm worried about! You see how he acts around all the people I introduce him to! GOD, if he isn't telling horrendously embarrassing stories he's scaring them away with his obnoxiously crass and… well, OBNOXIOUS behavior!"

"Just cuz it makes you squirm," Francis chuckled, toning it down so as not to endure any more slugs to the arm.

"This is going to be disastrous, I'd rather be in a holding cell," Nick muttered.

"We could arrange that," Wayne offered snidely.

"Shut up."

They finally stopped the car outside the two story row house. Nick and Francis had never been to Morgan's house since he'd been promoted, as they had been perpetually on the road since his days as their mentor. But they were definitely surprised that he lived in some fancy looking row house. In Nick's mind his friend had lived in a barracks or something, and while that wasn't realistic it still seemed MORE realistic than a goddamn row house.

Wayne and Zegers opened the doors for them, and they walked them up the short walkway towards the front door. Nick looked over his shoulder to see Ellis pulling up in the BMW, and he turned back towards the door. At least the money he'd spent had been worth it.

Wayne rapped upon the wooden door smartly, and soon it opened to reveal none other than Merle Morgan, who nodded at all of them. "So. I see you all made it here in one piece. At least, without one set of partners killing the other set."

"It wasn't easy," Zegers muttered, thinking about the nasty hand gestures that had gone on for the five hours in the car. It was like transporting two unruly teenagers.

"Well thanks for restraining yourself, gentlemen, I can take it from here," Morgan said, and once given the go ahead by the Assitant Director, Wayne and Zegers left their transports and moved for their car.

"Enjoy the strip clubs tonight!" Nick called after them, and Francis smirked. Morgan, unsure of what that meant but sure he didn't want to know, shook his head.

"James Dean and Marlon Brando," he said to his favorite agents as he kept a professional smile on his face. "Great to see you, though I wish the circumstances were a little bit better."

"Hey man, weddings and funerals aren't the only thing to bring friends together," Francis said, shaking his hand gruffly. "And being framed, apparently."

"Well come on in," Morgan said, though his eyes suddenly rose up and his attention was elsewhere. Nick followed the gaze and saw Ellis standing at the bottom of the steps, hesitant and shy. All the stress of seeing his boss, mentor, and friend had nearly taken all of Nick's attention, but now seeing his boyfriend looking kind of timid brought him back to the fear of said mentor embarrassing him. But he didn't show this, and simply nodded at the younger man, coaxing him up the steps.

"Morgan, this is Ellis," the gambler said, and Ellis stopped on the step below his lover. Morgan looked him up and down, and the scrutiny made the mechanic swallow and remove his hat. He'd heard a lot about this man, and he knew Nick respected him above all else. Suffice to say, the younger man found himself daunted.

"Nice to meet you," he said, outstretching his hand.

Morgan paused one more moment before accepting the handshake. "So you're the one who's been putting up with Nick lately."

"Thanks," Nick snipped as Ellis chuckled.

"Yeah, I guess," the mechanic replied.

"You must be patient," the assistant director said. "Okay, everyone inside."

"But our bags-," Francis protested, but Morgan shook his head.

"Get them later, we have stuff to talk about," the oldest man said, opening the door wider so they would all walk in, which they did.

"That doesn't sound good," the biker muttered.

"Well, it isn't bad either," Morgan said, closing the door behind them and locking it. "I'd say that it could be worse."

"That's relative," Nick grumbled as he took off his shoes. "Sure, it could be worse. We could be being chased by man eating lions while battling ebola."

"Oh for God's sake," Ellis said, rolling his eyes.

"OR, alternatively, you could be out in the wilderness during the outbreak again," Morgan said, snarkily. "Which you aren't. So quit bitching." He gestured towards the living room. "Have a seat."

"Heh, good one Morgan," Francis snickered, and Nick glowered at him.

"Brown noser."

"Cry baby."

"Dumbass!"

"MANWHOR-!"

"Enough!" Morgan barked, and the two lower agents shut up and sat down on the couch, Ellis sitting between them. "Christ almighty, still going at it like cats and dogs. You must REALLY be patient, Ellis."

The mechanic shrugged. "I guess," he smiled. "But they aren't like this all the time, just some've the time. Usually they're pretty good. Course, I spend more time alone with Nick and my friend Ro spends time with Francis, so maybe the time apart is what does it. It used to be that way between my buddy Keith and his brother Clint, MAN they'd FIGHT an' FIGHT-!"

"Holy shit you have a lot to say," Morgan said, and Ellis flushed a bit.

"Dude, Morgan," Nick began, a bit miffed at the lack of tact, but Morgan held up a defensive hand.

"Didn't mean to offend, Ellis, I'd love to hear more about this Keith fellow over dinner, but right now I have other things to talk about," he said, and sat in the chair across from them.

"Should I go?" Ellis asked, but Morgan shook his head.

"It's nothing confidential, don't worry," he replied. "Stay. What else would you do?" Ellis smirked and shrugged, pleased to be included. "First thing's first. I've managed to delay the hearing until the end of the week, pending further investigation."

"That's only three days," Nick said.

"It's all I could get from that shithead (off the record of course) McCarthy at CEDA," Morgan said, scratching his head.

"Why do they even have a say?" Francis spat.

"Same reason Creevy was with you guys in the first place," Morgan stated, sternly. "Come on, you know that."

"I still hate it."

"Anyway, it's been pushed back," the oldest man continued, leaning back in his chair. "Last I heard Barbara Dane and her escorts passed the North Carolina/Virginia border. She's safe. Judging from what you told me she said about the whole plan, I wanted to get Jacobs in for questioning too, so after she was picked up, two more agents were sent out for him."

"Why?" Nick asked, skeptically.

"Because it's going to take two witness statements to take Creevy down," Morgan explained, patiently. "I'd rather cut a deal with a small town cop with an up-til-now clean record than let that fucker Creevy (off the record) go. He's walked too many times, he isn't walking again if I can help it."

"Okay," Nick said, nodding. "Yeah, that makes sense. So until they bring Jacobs in, what are me and Francis supposed to do?"

Morgan smiled slyly. "Sit, wait, and relax here," he said.

"I am okay with this plan," Francis nodded. "Do you have beer?"

"Yep. And every sports package my satellite dish has to offer."

"FUCK YES!" the biker crowed, pumping a fist. "I'm set!"

Nick wrinkled his nose, and Ellis glanced at him. "Nick? You okay?"

The gambler paused in thought, and then shrugged. "Seems pretty straight forward. Too bad I hate sports and I've never liked your taste in beer, Morgan."

"Well there are other things to do around here," Morgan said, standing up. "Alright, NOW we can go get your bags, Francis."

"Oh get mine too," Nick said, subtly scratching Ellis' back.

"Get your own damn bag, Suit," Francis said, but Ellis raised his hand.

"I'll get it, I hafta get mine anyway," he said, standing as well.

"Oh, well get mine too then," Francis replied, leaning back into the sofa. Morgan rolled his eyes, but nodded.

"Lazy," he muttered, and turned to Elis. "I guess we're porters today."

"I guess," Ellis replied, still a little meeker around the Assistant Director. He followed him out of the main room and out the door.

Morgan strode ahead confidently, and Ellis followed his pace, trying to think of something to say. But Morgan was too quick and did it himself. "So that accent. Georgia?" he asked as they walked down the steps.

"Yessir, Savannah, born an' raised," Ellis said, nodding.

"Nice city."

"…It was once."

"It will be again," Morgan said, kindly, and Ellis shrugged as he popped the trunk. "So I take it that was where you met Nick then?"

Ellis crinkled his nose, completely surprised that Morgan had figured that out as opposed to assuming they met post-Infection. "How did you-?"

"I'm not psychic, but I had enough info to piece some things together," Morgan said, reaching into the trunk to grab the first of the bags. "I knew he was involved with someone while he was trying to evacuate, and I knew that they were from Savannah."

"He told ya about that?" Ellis asked, surprised.

"A little bit here and there," Morgan said. "A lot of it went unsaid. But I know him well enough that I can guess things about him."

Ellis was going to say something more about trying to unravel the enigma that was Nick, when a slow moving car turned the corner and carefully made it's way down the street. Morgan's eyes narrowed as the black vehicle inched by, it's window lowering to reveal two men wearing suits and sour expressions. The gazes they possessed made Ellis' neck hairs stand on end, and he watched nervously as they passed by and continued on. Once it was further down the street, Morgan shook his head.

"Creeps," he muttered, closing the trunk.

"Who WERE those guys?" Ellis asked, lifting his and Francis' bags while Morgan carried the two that belonged to Nick.

"CEDA agents, I'm sure," he said.

"But what were they-?"

"Intimidation," the Assistant Director replied. "McCarthy's angry with me, so he's making it a point to show he's keeping a watchful eye."

"Cuz you're goin' after Creevy?"

"He doesn't know I'm doing that. But he probably has a hunch," Morgan said as they walked back up the steps and paused at the top. "He knows Creevy's history with Nick, just as he knows how valued Nick is within FBICE."

"He's valued?" Ellis asked, feeling pride rise inside him.

"Oh yeah. He and Francis are kind of big deals," Morgan said. "McCarthy probably figures SOMETHING'S up due to the delay with the hearing."

"…Are you scared of him?" Ellis asked. "Should Nick an' Francis be-?"

"Nope," Morgan stated, his lack of worry apparent. "He's at the same level I am but in a different organization. We don't blatantly fuck with each other. Just passive aggressively."

"Sounds kinda annoyin'."

"That's government for you."

Ellis looked back down the street, wondering if the car was going to loop back around. But it didn't, and so he scratched his head and sighed. "So I guess what we take from this is… CEDA's watchin'."

"Yep. CEDA's watching," Morgan nodded, and was going to open the door. But then he paused, and instead turned to look at Ellis. "So Ellis. You and Nick?"

Uh oh, he thought, unable to help comparing it to when his high school dates would take him in to meet their dads. "Um… Yeah. Me and Nick."

Morgan nodded, looking down the street in contemplation. Ellis swallowed, wondering just what was going to come next. Perhaps an interrogation, or a 'you're not good enough' kind of rant. But instead, Morgan hissed through his teeth, and turned back to Ellis. "He treat you okay?"

"Huh?"

"Nick. Does he treat you okay? Treat you well?" Morgan asked, firmly. "Because people who've been mistreated their entire lives tend to have a hard time treating others well."

Ellis shrugged slowly, unsure if he was uncomfortable that this had come up, or relieved that it seemed to be a known fact that Nick was a bit damaged. "Well…. He does treat me well. Better than he did. I think he's learnin' still, but he's doin' his best."

Morgan nodded slowly, and then turned back towards the door. "Sometimes that's all we can ask for… Alright, let's see if they've found my liquor cabinet yet." Ellis smirked, and followed Morgan inside.

They entered the main room just as Francis had started hovering around the mahogany cupboard. "Alright, sleeping arrangements will be as follows," Morgan said, and Nick snorted.

"Christ, it's like training all over again," he muttered. "You aren't taking us to a shitty hollowed out dormitory, are you?"

"Keep up the smart ass comments and I will," Morgan said, gruffly. "There's a guest room upstairs, second door on the left. Nick and Ellis get that. Francis, this couch pulls out."

"Hey! Why do I hafta take the couch?" Francis squawked, hands flying to hips.

"Because there's two of them and one of you," Morgan replied, and Nick pointed at his partner and laughed snidely. "Just deal with it."

"I hate pullout couches, they're lumpy!"

"Well don't pull it out for all I care!" Morgan growled. "That's the end of it! Got it?"

"… Yeah."

"Help yourselves to whatever's in the fridge, but don't TOUCH my liquor cabinet," Morgan said, catching the biker before he opened it up in a huff. "Bathrooms are upstairs and down the hall on this floor. Make yourselves at home and remember: technically you're being held here. So that means there are a few other rules to follow."

"So no gallivanting around town and ending up in the slammer?" Nick smiled.

"More like no leaving the property at all," Morgan said, grimly.

"WHAAAAT?" Francis roared, though it was incredibly whiny.

"Bullshit!" Nick exclaimed, standing up, and Morgan held up his hands.

"Hey hey hey! I don't want to hear it!" he snarled. "I had to pull a lot of strings to get that compromise, and if you two go traipsing around town like a couple of entitled frat boys I'll look bad! I'm well aware it sucks, but don't bitch at me!"

"Fuck everything," the gambler groused, and Ellis shook his head sadly, also disheartened by this news.

"That silver tongue of yours expresses so much," Morgan quipped sarcastically. "Just be glad you aren't-."

"Yeah yeah, in a jail cell," Francis said, and Morgan nodded, not really all that perturbed at their reactions. He knew that of all the Z-Men he trained, these two especially hated being caged.

"I guess I'll take my shit upstairs," Nick muttered, grabbing his bags off the floor and walking for the steps.

"I'll come with ya," Ellis said, taking his own bag and keeping pace with the gambler. He had a feeling he was going to have to talk him down once again. If that was one of the things he had to do to keep Nick mollified, well, so be it.

He studied the walls as he climbed the staircase. Whenever he went to someone's home he would like to try to figure them out based on their decorating alone. There were a few military related pictures of Morgan's platoon during Desert Storm, one of him and his first group of Z-Men (Nick and Francis included, tucked near the back looking not nearly as official as the others), and a few pictures of D.C. landscapes. But at the very top of the steps there was a picture that gave him pause. It was a family portrait taken no more than five years prior, judging by how old Morgan looked in it. There was a woman, two teenage daughters, and a young son who couldn't have been more than ten, maybe eleven. The photo was hard to look at, since it was clear that Morgan lived alone in this house. Ellis pulled his attention away to follow Nick into the guest room, thinking maybe it was best to not ask what had happened to the people in the photo.

Nick heaved his bags on the bed, still in a bit of a snit, and turned to his boyfriend. "Well kiddo, I hope you didn't have your heart set on sight seeing with me, because that's out of the question."

"That's okay," Ellis said. "I didn't have my heart set." That wasn't entirely true. He had entertained a fantasy that he and Nick could walk around D.C. and look at all the historic sights, but he knew that if he showed that he WAS disappointed it would just make Nick feel worse than he already did. "I'm sure we can figure out stuff to do around here. I bet Morgan has board games, and he has cable! And you have a deck of cards, if you remembered to bring it."

"…. I did," Nick nodded.

"AND, if you want I can go out and buy anything you want me to buy," Ellis said, earnestly. "I can get more board games, and movies-."

"Foreign movies?" Nick asked, and Ellis wrinkled his nose.

"…. I guess," he said, though he was thinking more of the horror variety. He walked slowly towards the gambler, a sly smile growing on his lips. "Aaaand, I could probably go get us some other things that can just stay in here."

He was expecting Nick to chuckle and leap at the insinuation. But instead the older man made an embarrassed face and shrank into himself a bit. "El, it's my boss' house."

"So? I mean, he seems okay with it-."

"That's not the issue, of course he'd okay with it," Nick replied, crabbily. "If he wasn't okay with it do you think I'd respect him as much as I do?"

"Well then what's-?"

"Think about it! How did YOU feel when your lovers spent the night at YOUR Mom's house?" Nick asked.

Ellis scratched his head. "Well, I never brought any've 'em home," he admitted, thoughtfully.

"Okay, fine, then use your imagination and tell me how you THINK it would be if you brought me home to mom," the older man tried, but Ellis' eyes fell to the floor, embarrassed like. "Yeah, see? It would be a little awkward-."

"It's not that," Ellis said, shaking his head. "I…. I don't know if Mom would've wanted me to bring you home."

Nick's mouth opened briefly, his initial instinct to say something snide about the South and bigotry. But he held his tongue. After all, it was Ellis' MOTHER for goodness sake. So instead of his first thought, he planted himself down on the bed and crossed his arms. "Oh no?"

"… I don't know," Ellis shrugged. "It never came up. You're the first guy I've ever been with, ya know?... I don't know what she woulda thought."

Nick reached out and tugged on his lover's arm, prompting him to sit down on his lap and face him. He had no idea what the kid's mother was like. All he knew was that she was a single mother who singlehandedly raised the kid sitting atop his lap. She had to have done at least SOMETHING right. So he decided to bullshit like the best of them. "I bet she would have just wanted you to be happy."

"…. Ya think?"

"Yeah. I do."

The words were enough to prevent a dark funk from overtaking the younger man, and Ellis took Nick by the back of the head and pulled the con man's lips to his own.

Nick ran his hands up Ellis' back, practically forgetting his apprehension at the earlier innuendo, and contemplated yanking the kid on top of him roughly. But before he could, Francis walked by the door to their room on the way to the bathroom, and stopped specifically to make a face at the two of them.

"Already making use of the guest room I see," he said, and both men shot him similar looks.

"Jealous," Ellis said, smugly, and Nick snickered as he pulled the kid closer to his chest. Francis scowled, shaking his head.

"You're a bad influence on him, Suit," he said. "When you two are done humping each other, Morgan wants to know what we all want for dinner. We're still in a different kind of prison, but at least OUR prison cook gives us a choice of pork chops or shish kabob."

"Shish kabob!" Ellis exclaimed.

Francis was about to protest (as his heart was set on pork), when Morgan came up the steps as well, a hesitant look on his face. "Hey. What bit you on the ass?" the biker asked, and Morgan looked at him skeptically before turning to Nick and Ellis.

"Just got off the phone with one of the agents sent to pick up Jacobs," he said, voice pensive. "He wasn't at work or at home."

"Did they try to bakery? They do have GREAT donuts there," Nick said, eyes glinting.

"Hm. Maybe," Morgan said, scratching his neck. "They're going to keep looking around. He's around there somewhere and they'll call when they have him."

"Good," Nick said, keeping Ellis on his lap. "So tell me Morgan. I hear rumor of pork chops versus shish kabob. Care to comment?"

"If you help me out in the kitchen it could be both."

"BOTH!" Ellis exclaimed, turning to Nick. "Help him out!"

"Sheesh, you had to say that out loud, didn't you?" Nick asked, finally making Ellis stand up so he could do the same. "We aren't starting dinner yet, are we?"

"No, it's far too early for that," Morgan said, shaking his head. "… We're going to open the liquor cabinet and drink some Talisker."

"YEAH!" Francis said, clapping his boss on the back. "Just let me give Ro a call and I will BE there! Where's the phone?"

"There's one in the study, and you'll owe me for the long distance," Morgan said, pointing in the general direction.
"Cheap ass," Francis muttered, but trotted into the study anyway. He'd pay it. He really wanted to talk to Rochelle, after all, and would gladly pay Morgan to do so.

Rochelle had been feuding with bread dough all afternoon. After meeting with a local lawyer and receiving some promising information regarding obtaining guardianship of Wednesday, she thought she'd try to surprise the teenager with hot crossed buns. However, two things had ruined this: one, the dough wasn't rising the way it was supposed to, and two, it was because of one that she had to ruin the surprise, as she asked Wednesday just what it was she was doing wrong. Turned out she hadn't added enough yeast. Tablespoons versus teaspoons, she knew the difference but hadn't read it right and felt like an idiot. So when the phone rang she was hands deep in dough. "Wednesday, PLEASE get that!"

Wednesday looked up from her share of the dough, and smirked maliciously. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm just as doughy as you are."

"GUH, I can't win," she said, and snatched up the phone despite the sticky dough on her hands. "Hello?"

"Hey Cupcake!" Francis said charmingly, and she smiled widely. "We made it to D.C."

"Are you in jail?"

"No. We're under house arrest at Morgan's place. Nick and Ellis got the guest room. It's bullshit."

"There are two of them."

"But if YOU come out here-."

"If I go out there I'm getting a hotel room," she said, scoffing. "Especially if Wednesday comes with me." The teenager mouthed 'I want to come with you!' but Rochelle waved her off.

"But I can't leave Morgan's house! What am I supposed to do if you're at a hotel?"

"Masturbate I guess."

"You'd think we were married or somethin'."

"So what have you heard about Barbara?" she asked, cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear, which just got dough on her shirt. She silently swore, and Wednesday chuckled and shook her head.

"I guess she's on the way and in custody, so nothin' wrong there," Francis said. "They're still trying to find Jacobs, but I guess he's playing hooky and not at work."

"….. Hm," she said, crinkling her nose. "That's weird. Are they still looking?"

"Oh yeah, they'll find him," Francis said, voice optimistic. Which was an admitted change for him. "The hearing's been moved to Friday, but we probably won't even need it. You may not even have to come up to D.C.!"

"That would be good if that were true," she said, both because she wanted her friends off the hook and also because she was still trying to scrimp and save money where she could. "Well babe, I'm making bread right now, so I should be going, but please keep me updated. And I'll see if Jacobs shows up. If he does I'll email. Do you still have email privileges at Morgan's house?"

"Sugar, we're eating pork chops AND shish kabob tonight, what do you think?"

"Dammit! I wish I was under house arrest at his house!" she said, and she heard Francis chuckle. "Alright. Call me tomorrow, okay?"

"Alright. Love ya."

"Love you too." She hung up the phone and washed her hands off before going back to town on the dough. "… Hey Wednesday? When you went to get the ingredients, did you happen to see Chief Jacobs car anywhere?"

Wednesday shaped another roll and put it in the pan, shaking her head all the while. "No, not that I remember….. Why?"

Rochelle shrugged. She didn't want to alarm the girl that something might be going wrong. After all, there was no reason to believe that. Francis wasn't worried, so why should she be?

"Just curious is all," she said, blithely. Wednesday studied her face, and the reporter could tell that if she didn't say something her own doubts would be too evident for Wednesday NOT to say anything. "How the HELL did you get your rolls so round?"

"Oh you like that do you?" Wednesday quipped. "They do make yours look like lumps of bleh."

"Thanks," Rochelle said, dropping said lump in her pan. She decided to focus on the baking instead of the fear that something was amiss. But it was going to remain at the back of her mind. Just in case.

Chapter Text

"Ah, AH! AH, OH MY GOD NICK!" Ellis cried out as he moved up and down on Nick's dick. "Mmm, mm-Nick! Hit it again, Nick!"

Nick cringed through his panting. His plan had been so foolproof in his mind. He knew that Ellis was most quiet in the morning. There was usually a window of little to no talking from the mechanic within the first hour of awakening. So when Nick woke up at quarter to eight with a raging hard on, he thought that hey, he could take care of that AND get a quieter Ellis in the process. Just because Morgan was down the hall and the idea of their exceedingly loud love making drifting into his earshot sort of mortified the gambler. So when he acted as alarm clock by going down on Ellis' cock, he thought the repercussions would be few and far between.

And yet, somehow Ellis was louder than ever as he bounced on top of him. Nick was trying to drive himself up into the kid at faster intervals to get him to finally come and stop SCREAMING, but it only made the noises louder, no matter how much Nick would have loved to stifle them.

"Oh God, Nick, I'm close, I'm real close I think I'm gonna go off any second!" Ellis moaned, and Nick hoped that was the case. "Oh God! Oh GOD!... Just keep goin', I'm almost there!"

Nick moaned, the incredulity intermingling with the pleasure as his groin and abdoman creaked and protested. He couldn't help but dart his eyes to the door, wondering if Morgan could hear it all. Of COURSE he could hear it all, CHINA could probably hear it all. He sat up from his splayed out position on the bed, teeth gritting as he worked his best to get the kid off, but Ellis' cries just increased more and more.

"OH FUCK! OH FUCK NICK," the younger man outright bellowed, and that was all Nick could handle. He wrapped an arm around Ellis' lower back and put his other hand right on top of Ellis' mouth, hoping to silence him at least a small bit.

Ellis' eyes moved from the ceiling to the con man, and they narrowed quickly. Clearly he didn't appreciate being silenced. Well sorry kiddo, I don't appreciate you howling like a goddamned coyote. So the younger man cried into Nick's hand, albeit grudgingly, and mumbled his satisfaction through the fingers.

Nick's dick began to shudder and strain, and as his own muscles started to tense up he stroked Ellis' crimson shaft feverishly. His own vocalizations started to increase, and his heavy breaths turned to moans, which soon thereafter began to turn into wails. "Oh SHIT…. Oh my God, squeeze again, PLEASE do that again," he begged, and when Ellis did contract his muscles Nick mewled out sharply. "OH GODDAMN-!"

Before he could continue, one of the mechanic's hands slapped over his mouth. Nick was surprised at it, and his green eyes glowered at the younger man, whose eyes were sparkling mischievously. It was as if he was saying 'If you can do it, I can do it.' It was just like the bad old days on the way to New Orleans.

So Nick nodded as both their mouths were clamped over, and both men yelled with abandon as they broke all over each other, their cries mostly prevented from leaving the room. Mostly.

As they heaved and gasped for air, Nick snickered. "You looked like you were ready to punch me in the balls"

"Well you covered my mouth an' I wasn't bein' THAT loud," Ellis retorted, though he wasn't very upset.

"You have no concept of your volume."

"I do! I wasn't bein' very loud!"

"You wish."

"I wasn't." He stretched his hands above his head, and smiled down at his boyfriend. "Kinda like our saferoom time, huh?"

"More like kind of like high school," Nick said, remembering that to keep his parents from finding about his sexual activities he would definitely fasten hands over his tryst partners' mouths. Especially if they were boys.

"Well I still don't think I was bein' too loud," Ellis grumbled, removing himself from Nick's lap and plopping down next to him. Nick tweaked at the younger man's abs, and the mechanic huffed. "HEY."

"Sorry," the gambler said, though he didn't mean it. "So. Shower and breakfast?"

"Oh hell yeah, I'm HUNGRY," Ellis nodded, standing up and digging for soap and clothes in his suitcase.
"I can't blame you, you were probably screaming away the calories-."

"I don't scream!"

"…. You scream a little."

"Shut up!"

They walked down the steps, dressed for the day and ready to raid the fridge (since the had full permission to do so). But when they walked into the kitchen, they saw Morgan sitting at the table, frowning to himself.

"Hey, Morgan," Nick said, and the Assistant Director looked up at the two of them, a bit surprised to see them up so early. "How does eggs Benedict sound for breakfast?"

The oldest man smiled, though it was a little lifeless, and he nodded. "If you're cooking I'll eat whatever you serve," he said.

Nick noticed the lack of color in his boss' voice, but didn't touch on it. For the moment he would chalk it up to lack of sleep. "Eggs Benedict it is then."

"With ham an' stuff?" Ellis asked, hopefully.

"NO, with tomatoes and spinach," Nick replied, and Ellis made a face as he sat down. "What?"

"That doesn't sound like eggs Benedict to ME," the mechanic sulked.

"Deal with it."

Nick listened to Ellis and Morgan converse while he cooked, though Morgan wasn't doing much talking. While that was the usual circumstance when it came to Ellis, he couldn't help but feel more and more nervous as the minutes ticked by. It wasn't until the eggs were done and Francis trudged into the room that Morgan finally stood up.

"I'll get forks and knives," the oldest man in the room announced, and walked to the drawers by the fridge. "Also, I have some bad news."

"That has to be the worst segue in the history of segues," Nick said as he set plates on the table.

"Well I wanted to wait for Francis to be here too and it's not the easiest topic to bring up," Morgan said, giving Nick a look as he handed out the silverware. "I was considering waiting until after breakfast, but decided that the more time we have to fix it, the better."

"What's going on?" Francis asked, taking a big bite of the food. "Hey, this isn't ham-!"

"It's Jacobs," Morgan interrupted, sitting down. "No one can find him."

"What do you mean no one can find him?" Nick asked, suddenly not hungry for his breakfast. "It's a small town! He has to be there somewh-!"

"Be that as it may, he's disappeared," Morgan cut him off, unappreciative of the severe tone in his mentee's voice. "Our guys waited outside his house all day and night and he never came home. They asked his wife if she knew where he was, she didn't know. They were going to go down to the police station and ask them, but I have a feeling that his men aren't going to know either. Gentlemen, Jacobs is AWOL."

Nick scowled and slammed his fork down on the table. "GOD. DAMMIT."

"Well what does that mean?" Ellis asked, a bit panicked that the prospect of freedom was slowly slipping through their fingers. "They still have Barbara's statement! Shouldn't that be enough to get Nick and Francis off-?"

"I don't know," Morgan said. "Well, in a little while here I'll call my superiors and see what I can get-." Nick stood up from the table and stamped out of the kitchen before his boss could finish his thought. "Nick, would you stop acting like such a child for just THREE minutes and hear me out?" But the gambler didn't answer. Ellis sighed morosely and put his hands to his face as Francis crossed his arms heavily.

"So many bees in that man's bonnet," Morgan muttered.

"Well can you blame him?" Francis asked.

"No, but I still have some calls to make and I WISH that he would calm down for a few minutes while I try to figure something out," Morgan said, massaging his temples. "I'm going to see if Barbara's statement will be enough to at LEAST get you two off the hook, Jacobs or no Jacobs. If Jacobs ran that, and it looks like he did, that should be enough to implicate him. FBICE might be willing to let it go that far, and if I lean on my boss a bit I could probably make it happen so long as it's ME who has to deal with CEDA."

"Did your guys even figure out where Jacobs was last seen?" Francis asked, reluctantly eating more eggs, and Morgan shook his head.

"Not to my knowledge. They were going to keep asking around-."

"Fucking amateurs," Francis stated, standing up. "And they call themselves FBICE. This new breed of Z-Men needs to man the hell up." With that he stood up from the table and strode for the phone.

"Who are you going to call, Marlon Brando?" Morgan asked, a small wry smile on his face.

"I'm calling the only person in that shithole of a town who can get results at the drop of a hat," Francis stated crustily,

"Ro?" Ellis asked.

"Damn straight," Francis confirmed, and dialed quickly.

He took the phone out of the kitchen, leaving Morgan and Ellis alone. The mechanic shoved his food away and stood up to go find Nick.

"When you see Nick tell him when he's done crying into his pillow and writing in his diary he should come back in here," Morgan said, cutting into more eggs. "Hope isn't lost."

Ellis nodded, not sure he believed it, and went to find his boyfriend.

He found Nick standing by the window in the guest room, silently fuming. Ellis stepped inside, and raised his eyebrows. "Can I come in?"

"You already did."

"Oh…. Well, can I stay?"

"Sure." He ran a hand down his face, and sighed. "I thought we were going to get out of this."

"You don't know that you won't." Ellis said, walking up next to him. "Morgan said that he was gonna make some calls-."

"He's always making calls."

"- and it sounds like he's gonna try real hard to get this to go in your favor," Ellis continued. "…. At least thank him for tryin'."

"He hasn't done-."

"He's done a LOT, Nick, and you know it," Ellis said, firmly. "And hey, Francis is callin' Rochelle right now to see if she can come up with anything, so don't get all pissed off just yet. Things could still turn out okay."

"…. Doubtful."

"Well at least go tell Morgan you appreciate how hard he is workin'," Ellis suggested. "And hear him out. It sounds like he's gonna pull out all the stops."

Nick snorted, as he didn't appreciate the lecture. Especially since he knew that Ellis was, once again, right.

"….. I don't doubt that he's going to try, kiddo," Nick said, softly. "I just don't think I can handle it if he doesn't succeed. And I HATE the fact that he has to keep going to bat for me like this, especially since if it doesn't work out he's going to lose a LOT of credibility."

"I don't think he cares about that," Ellis said, gently brushing Nick's arm.

"Well he may not but I do…. I never told you this, but he was going to recommend me for his job," the gambler said, leaning against the wall and staring out the window some more.

"…. Huh?" Ellis asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Morgan is getting a promotion at the end of the year, and he told me that he was going to recommend me for the Assistant Director position in D.C.," Nick replied. "….. And I didn't say anything because I didn't…. I didn't know what you'd think. I didn't know if you'd be happy, or upset, or if you would come with me or if you'd decide to stay behind-."

"You woulda asked me to come with you?" Ellis asked, starting to grin.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" Nick said, nodding. "Of course now that doesn't matter… He's been doing so goddamn much in all this, and I feel like it's just one big failure after another and I've… I don't know, fucked it all up."

"You didn't fuck anything up."

"And I know that, but I can't help but… GOD, I just want this to be over for all our sakes," Nick said, hitting his head against the wallpaper.

"…. Well, maybe it will be," Ellis said. "…. I can stay up here if you guys wanna talk or somethin'."

Nick sniffed, and shrugged. "Whatever…." But he did leave the bedroom with one goal in mind, and that was to talk to his mentor.

He found Morgan out back on the deck. He closed the screen door behind him, and Morgan looked up from the railing. "So," the older man said. "Have you calmed down?"

"…. Yeah," Nick nodded. "Mostly."

"Are you ready to hear out my plan?"

"Morgan, I HATE that you have to come up with yet another plan," Nick said, leaning against the wooden rail.

"Well what else would you suggest I do?"

"I don't know! I just want this to be over!"

"It should be over soon enough."

"You can't know that."

"Fine. If I can HELP it it will be over soon enough," Morgan said, ever patient. Nick huffed and drew his eyebrows together. "… What's on your mind, James Dean?"

"... You're doing far too much for me and Francis," he said, quietly. "It pisses me off that you have to keep getting us out of hot water, even when we shouldn't BE in hot water in the first place."

Morgan sighed carefully, and pat Nick on the back quickly and firmly. "Nick, if I didn't think you deserved the help, I wouldn't give it to you. Hell, I would like to remind you of the MANY times I didn't put up with your shit."

"Yeah, but you've saved our asses a lot of times and I never know how to make it up to you," Nick said, grimly.

"Well I'll tell you what," Morgan said, cocking a smile at his mentee. "If this blows over, to make it up to me you'll take the job of Assistant Director-."

"Morgan-."

"AND you'll do a great job and show everyone that my faith isn't misplaced in you," Morgan continued, ignoring the protests. "And, well, if things don't work out you'll have nothing to thank me for, so you won't owe me shit. How about that?"

"I'm pretty sure that even if they declare we're in the clear I won't be up for that job."

"Why not?"

"Because of this whole mess."

"Please. Memories aren't very long in FBICE when it comes to this kind of thing," Morgan said. "They aren't amnesia-ridden like CEDA, but they'll probably overlook this. Especially if Barbara stands by her statement."

"Even if Jacobs ran off?"

"In my eyes, if he ran, that means he's hiding something," Morgan said, shrugging. "If I can convince my superiors of that, you should be golden."

"If."

"Ye of little faith."

"Me of little reason to have faith."

"How did you manage to find someone to put up with your woe is me shit?" Morgan asked, and Nick pulled a peppermint stick from his coat pocket.

"…. Just lucky, I guess," Nick replied, shrugging.

"Damn right you're lucky," Morgan said, firmly, and Nick chuckled. "Seriously. I don't know if your taste has changed or if you were holding out on me all those years, but that kid you brought here is above and beyond the others."

Nick smirked, and sucked on the candy stick. "…. Yeah, I know. I'm just glad he made such a good impression-."

"Good impression? Hell, I wish my daughters would bring home guys like him, but they're WEST COAST guys. I'm sick of vegan friendly cooking," Morgan said, and Nick laughed. "It's hard not having people around who'll argue in favor of meat…." He trailed off, scratching his nose with the back of his hand, and Nick strove to find any way to take the conversation off Morgan's wife and son.

"I think if vegan food was put in front of him Ellis would think it was some kind of sick joke," Nick said, and Morgan laughed.

"He and I had a good talk yesterday. I hope you intend to hold onto this one."

"I do."

"Never thought I'd see the day."

"Me neither…. Thank you, Merle."

"For what?"

"…. Just for having our backs. We both appreciate it," Nick said, looking at the wooden deck. He always did have trouble with these touchy feely moments.

"… My pleasure, James Dean."

While Nick and Morgan stood on the deck, Francis was trying for the third time to get a hold of Rochelle. He tapped his fingers on the wall, growling to himself as her phone rang and rang, and straightened up only when he heard someone pick up.

"Hello?" Wednesday asked.

"Wednesday, it's Francis, is Rochelle there?"

"Are you the one who's been calling all morning?"

"It's not even been an hour! And yes, I've been calling because I need Rochelle to do something for me," he said.

"….. Gross, Francis, didn't you know that phone sex is SO 199-."

"Not that! Can I talk to her?"

"She's still sleeping."

"Wake her up then!"

He heard the teenager mutter a few choice words to herself before the 'clunk' of the phone being put down hit his ears. He began tapping his hand against the wall again, and turned to see Ellis going to the fridge for some orange juice. "Hey, pour me some've that, would ya?" Ellis nodded, and the biker turned so he could lean against the wall. Ellis handed him the orange juice and took his place at the table, craning his neck towards the deck door.

"What do ya think they're talkin' about?" Ellis asked.

"Who knows?"

"They're pretty close, aren't they?"

"Yep," Francis said, wondering if Rochelle happened to be sleeping in Taiwan.

"How come you guys an' Morgan are all so close? That doesn't happen too often, does it? I mean, he had to have trained lots of people," Ellis postulated, and Francis switched ears.

"Well Motor Mouth, during the Flu Morgan lost just about everyone in his family," Francis said, having to qualms sharing such information. "His daughters only escaped it cuz they were in Europe at the time, but everyone else? Gone. Lost his wife, his son, his parents, his younger brothers…. I think that me and Nick probably fill in for the siblings."

Ellis was fully aware of what it was like to lose most everyone, and a distant pain quietly swelled inside of him as he looked at the Assistant Director through the window. "Man," he said. "How does he keep goin'?"

"I don't know. How did you?" Francis asked, and then there was a rustling on the phone line that made him stand up straight again.

"Hello?" the groggy voice said.

"Cupcake, it's Francis. I have some not so great news."

"Were you the one who was calling all morning?"

"It wasn't even an hour!"

"Whatever, it was annoying. I was trying to sleep in."

"Did you even hear me? I have bad news."

"… Jacobs is gone, isn't he?" she asked, and he took a drink of juice.

"Mm hm," he grunted, and he heard her sigh. "Seems like he ran off. Never came home, hasn't been seen since yesterday morning. Probably got wind of the shit storm coming his way and split."

"Shit. So what does that mean for you guys?" she asked.

"Not sure yet. Morgan's gonna try to use it to our advantage," Francis said. "But I'm not sure…. So I was THINKING that YOU like playing Woodward and Bernstein. How would you like to play it one last time?"

"…. I might be intrigued," she said. "Seriously? A couple of government agents can't find him. Why do you think I'LL have any luck?"

"Because you're ruthless?"

"…. I am ruthless," she acknowledged, and he could hear the grin in her voice. "So what, you want me to go find Jacobs?"

"Or at least his trail," Francis said. "Then come up here to D.C. with whatever it is you find-."

"I can't come up there tonight," she said, voice lowering.

"Well why not?"

"Because the memorial service for the victims of the Tank attack is tonight and it's very important to Wednesday that she go. Yesterday was a good day, today is a bad day, and I need to help her through it," she said, firmly. "I'm not carting her off to D.C. when she needs to say goodbye to Carlisle-."

"Okay okay okay, I get it," Francis said, a bit irked but somewhat understanding. "Just… If you find anything, call. Whatever you find might be able to help Morgan out."

"Okay… Okay, so when do you need this info by?" she asked, and he heard her rifling around her apartment.

"As soon as possible?" he asked. "I don't know where you'll start-."

"Well that's not too hard," she scoffed. "Since Jacobs and Creevy were working together, wouldn't it make sense that he MIGHT check in with his partner in crime before he ran off? From how Barbara told it, according to Ellis anyway, Jacobs wouldn't blow his nose without Creevy's input."

"So?"

"So I'm going to Creevy's."

"THAT doesn't sound like a good idea," Francis said, and Ellis looked over at him, the alarm in the biker's voice catching his attention.

"If you haven't figured out by now that I can take care of myself-."

"It's not that!"

"Then I'll call you when I get some information," she continued. "You know me. I have a few tricks up my sleeves."

"… I guess," Francis said, though he sounded just a little bit skeptical.

"Well, if it has to be ASAP I'm going to let you go," she said. "I'll call."

"Be careful."

"I'm always more careful than you."

"True."

"Bye."

"Yeah, bye." He hung up the phone, and st it back on the charge cradle. "Well. Once again we turn to a girl to do a man's job."

"Nothin' wrong with that," Ellis said, shrugging.

"It also appears that I'm dating a single mom."

"I'll buy the cigars."

"Sarcasm! He IS a bad influence on you!" Francis said, clapping Ellis on the shoulder. "Come on outside, I have to tell you guys just what Ro's doing."

Ellis followed Francis outside and immediately strolled to Nick, leaning against the balcony railing the same way his boyfriend was. "Hey," he said, and Nick nodded at him.
"Hey."

"You talk to him?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Francis has some news about Ro and her plan," Ellis said, slipping his hand in Nick's tentatively.

"Oh boy. Velma has another plan," Nick said, sarcastically.

"Her plans have worked out pretty well thus far, Daphne," Francis said. "Morgan, how long can you wait until you call your boss?"

"I was hoping to do it by noon-."

"Plenty of time for Ro to work her magic," Francis said, proudly. "God I love that woman."

"I'm confused. Is her name Ro or Velma?" Morgan asked, scratching his head.

"Long story, Boss," Nick smirked. "But I can tell you that you're going to like her and she'll be yet another person who you think is too good for the likes of me and Francis." He glanced at Ellis briefly, and the mechanic flushed a little bit.

"Sounds promising," Morgan said, smiling at their optimism.

Chapter Text

Rochelle chewed on her thumbnail as she drove towards the semi-nice apartment building, glancing at the clock. Ten am. If Creevy was keeping up with his old routine, or more likely, if he'd left for D.C. already, she shouldn't have any problems. Normally she wouldn't worry too much about said problems.

But since Wednesday didn't want to be alone in the apartment that morning, the reporter had irresponsibly taken her along for the ride. Oh lordy, if the proper authorities found out I was doing this there would be no WAY that they'd grant me guardianship, she thought, mind nagging a bit. But duty called, and her help was needed. If anything this would teach Wednesday to be as sneaky as she was. Yeah, sure, justify it to yourself, she thought bitterly, and parked the car outside the brick apartment building.

"Hm…." Rochelle said, looking towards the spot that Creevy usually parked his car. "Alright.. His car is gone, so that's a good sign."

"How do you know he didn't just park it somewhere else?"

"Because he never does, when I was kind of snooping around the first time that was one of the things I noticed about him," Rochelle answered.

"…. That's kind of creepy, Rochelle."

"Tell me about it," the reporter said, opening the car door. "Okay… Okay, I need your help."

"Hm, that seems sketchy."

"Wednesday…" Rochelle began, trying to keep her patience, especially since there was a lot on the teenager's mind. And since, yeah, this WAS sketchy. "… I'm one hundred percent convinced that this guy is responsible for what happened last week." God, it hadn't even been a week. It felt like months had passed and it had only been a few days. There was so much on all their minds that time was oozing slowly. "And so I want to take him down. But I'm going to need a bit of help right now, since my plan is kind of….. fly by the pants and two person required."

Wednesday shifted in her seat, and the reporter held up her hands. "You don't have to help, it's definitely creepy. I can figure something else out-."

"This is some weird 'Harriet the Spy' kind of shit," Wednesday said.

"Yeah, but this is going to be a little bit felonious as well."

"Whatever. I'll do it."

"… Okay," Rochelle said, smiling a bit.

They two of them walked up to the front door of the apartment building, and ran her finger down the apartment number box. She stopped by Creevy's name, and checked the apartment number. "204," she said to herself. "204, 204. I have to remember that."

"Why?"

"Watch and learn," the older woman said, and hit the intercom buzzer button marked 'office'.

"Care to tell me just what you're going to do?" Wednesday asked, crossing her arms.

"Just follow my lead and when the property manager takes us on a tour, keep her distracted."

"Tour-?" Wednesday asked, but shut her mouth when the intercom crackled.

"Yes?" the saccharine voice said, and Rochelle held up a finger at her companion.

"Hi, I'm here because I saw your sign that said you had two bedroom apartments for rent," she said, chipperly. "I know I probably should have called, but-."

"Oh no, that's fine, I'll buzz you in!" the voice over the intercom said, and the door made a shrill noise. Rochelle winked at Wednesday, and opened the door for the two of them.

"Like I said," she continued as they walked inside. "Just follow my lead, stay cool, and when a tour comes up, you go with her."

"What are you-?"

"I'll catch up," Rochelle waved off. "You're going to learn a valuable lesson today, Wednesday."

"What's that?" the teenager asked, and Rochelle smirked to herself.

"How to sneak around like the best of them," she replied as they stopped outside the office, and she rapped on the door.

"Hello!" the property manager said cheerfully as she opened the door. "My name is Lara Palmer, I'm the PM at this building. Come on in!"

"Thanks!" Rochelle said, matching the enthusiasm as she and Wednesday stepped inside. "Again, sorry about the short notice, but we saw the sign and just had to try our luck."

"On no, Walk Ins are perfectly alright," Lara said. "Sit down, sit down."

"I'm Rochelle, and this is my… this is Wednesday," Rochelle said, not exactly sure WHAT she would call the teenager in relation to her.

"Hello," Lara nodded at the teenager, who nodded sullenly. "Didn't you work at Carlisle's?"

"…. Yes," Wednesday nodded, examining a hole in her sweater cuff. Lara, having realized she'd said something wrong, cleared her throat and turned to Rochelle.

"So, you said that you were interested in a two bedroom?" she said, voice strictly business.

"Yes we are," Rochelle confirmed. "See, long story short, Wednesday is going to be in my care from now on, or so it appears, and my one bedroom apartment just isn't enough space for the two of us. We're tripping over each other all the time, aren't we, Weds?"

Wednesday made a face at the until now never used nick name, but nodded anyway. "Yeah. Real pain."

"So I thought that a two bedroom might be better for the two of us, and after asking around town I heard that this place was pretty great," Rochelle said.

"Well that's great! Was it from a current tenant?" Lara asked, scribbling a few notes. What they were for, Rochelle wasn't sure.

"Uh, yeah."

"Who?"

Wednesday glanced at her soon to be guardian, wondering just how she'd answer, and the reporter barely bat an eyelash as she continued to smile.

"Mark Creevy," she replied. "He has nothing but positive things to say about it here. From what he's said I think it would be a good fit."

As Lara rambled about the usual information that comes with renting there, Rochelle came up with some on the spot questions that were relevant and insightful. Had Wednesday not known any better she would have thought that they really WERE looking for a new apartment.

"Well, would you like to see a couple of our openings?" Lara asked, and Wednesday straightened up in her seat, taking the cue.

"I think that sounds great," Rochelle said, standing up as well. "I would love to… Oh wait! What time is it?"

"Um, it's about ten twenty," Lara said, tilting her head to the side, and Rochelle put a hand to her forehead.

"Shoot!" she exclaimed. "I told my lawyer I'd give him a call five minutes ago!"

"Your lawyer?" Lara asked, hesitantly.

"In regards to my guardianship of Wednesday," Rochelle said. "Rats!... I mean, maybe we can come back a different time-."

"But when?" Wednesday asked, finally playing along the way Rochelle would have liked her to. "We have to go out of town tomorrow and then when we get back I'll be back in school and I want to have a say too!" Good job, kid, Rochelle thought, and Lara smiled at them.

"Well, if you want to use my phone you are more than welcome to," Lara said.

"That's very kind, but I don't know how long it's going to take, the tour may not start for another fifteen minutes," Rochelle said, feigning concern effortlessly.

"Ro, if you want we could get a head start on the tour and you can catch up," Wednesday suggested sweetly, and internally Rochelle made a note to high five her. Perfect transition.

"That could work," the reporter nodded, and looked at Lara hesitantly. "Is that alright with you?"

"Oh, of course it is!" Lara nodded, happy that a potential rental wasn't slipping through her fingers due to a phone call. "Please do, I'm going to show you guys 207 and 308, so just come find us."

"That sounds great, I'll make it quick," Rochelle agreed. "Keep me updated, Weds."

"I sure will, Shelly!" Wednesday said, coming up with her own fake nickname. Rochelle gave them a thumbs up, and began to dial her own phone number, not hanging up until Lara had shut the door behind her. As soon as she was alone in the office, she began to look around, wondering just where it was that the spare keys would be found.

Oh LORD girl, this is so illegal, she thought to herself. None of this would even be admissible in court if you found anything, but if you implied to the guys that something significant WAS in Creevy's apartment maybe they could find a way to get a warrant or something. She knew very little about how the courts worked outside of 'Law and Order' re-runs.

She opened the closet behind the desk, and pumped her fist in triumph. All of the keys were hanging on hook after hook, labeled in an organized way that was quite convenient for her. She moved her hand down the line, and plucked the keys to 204 from the wood. She looked at her watch, thinking that five minutes could be a sufficient amount of time to talk to a lawyer. She pocketed the keys, and walked ever so slowly towards the apartments they were going to seek out.

As she walked towards 207, she walked past Creevy's apartment. She paused momentarily, thinking that it would probably be wise to actually make sure that Creevy wasn't there, realizing that if she walked in with a set of keys just to find the agent sitting at the kitchen table, well, she'd be in a world of trouble.

She waited, and knocked again. When he didn't answer the second time, she figured that she would be fine to proceed when the time was right. So she continued down the hallway to 207, entering the showing nonchalantly and genially. "Sorry again!" she said. "So what's this place like?"

Lara was incredibly friendly and persuasive. So much so, in fact, that Rochelle actually found herself thinking that hey, maybe they WOULD move into one of these two bedroom apartments. At least, she did think that until Lara went over the rent price, which was a bit out of her range as she was unemployed at the moment. Though it was a good point: Wednesday couldn't sleep on the couch forever. She would need her own room, which would probably come up when she applied formally. But she couldn't think of that right now.

They got an application from Lara and said that they would see themselves out. Once Lara had gone back into the office and closed the door, Rochelle held up the keys to Creevy's apartment. Wednesday sucked in a breath.

"Whoa. Are those what I think they are?" the teenager asked.

"Yep."

"Rochelle, this is nuts," Wednesday said.

"Yeah, probably," Rochelle said, walking back for the steps. "You don't have to come with now, I just needed you for the showing-."

"Oh hell no, I'm coming with," Wednesday said, following her.

"What? I never meant for you to go up there with me-."

"Too late, I'm coming, this is far too exciting."

"…. I'm a terrible influence, and this NEVER comes up to the authorities in charge of your guardianship. Got it?" she asked, and Wednesday nodded. "Okay, deal."

They paused outside Creevy's door, and Rochelle held up a finger. "Okay, ground rules: don't touch anything. We aren't leaving prints if we can help it. If you have to touch something, use your sweater cuff. Second rule: if I tell you to do something, you do it. No questioning, just do it. We may find ourselves in a bad situation and I will keep you safe if you let me. Third rule: whatever we find, we leave. We can't bring evidence out because it would be inadmissible. We just find it and let Francis and Nick's friend find reason to retrieve it. Can you follow all these things?"

"For sure."

"Good! Then let's go on in, shall we?" Rochelle asked, slipping the key in the lock and opening the door.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" Wednesday asked as she stepped inside carefully, looking around his apartment.

"Well, I'm pretty sure that if Jacobs ran, he would tell his partner where he was going," the reporter said, gently closing the door. "Maybe Creevy wrote down an address, or a phone number. Anything that can give us his wherabouts…" She trailed off, as there was a tickly smell in her nose, a similar smell that would follow her down the cleaning supplies aisle at the grocery store. "… Does it smell like bleach in here to you?"

Wednesday sniffed, and wrinkled her nose. "Yeah. So? So he cleaned."

Rochelle shook her head slowly. "Wednesday, the last time my apartment smelled THIS much of bleach I was living in off campus housing and me and my roommates had spent the entirety of our move in weekend scouring the bathroom of a mold colony AND the most disgusting stains ever in the sink, tub, and toilet."

"Nice."

"Yeah," Rochelle nodded, walking towards the origin of the smell. It got stronger and stronger the further she got into the apartment, and it almost floored her as she opened the bathroom door by pressing against it with her elbow. She whistled, the floor, tub, everything sparkly clean, cleaner than the rest of the apartment.. Wednesday took in a deep breath.

"I love the smell of bleach," the teen said, and Rochelle gave her a quick look. "What's wrong?"

"….. Wednesday, I'm not sure that Jacobs is going to come back," Rochelle murmured. "It's REALLY clean in this bathroom…. And the rest of the apartment is fine, but not pristine."

"So? Maybe he likes it to be extra clean where he poops."

"Yuck, no wonder you and Francis get along," Rochelle said, wrinkling her nose and stepping further into the bathroom. "But no… I'm thinking that there was a huge mess to clean recently. I bet Jacobs did come here. But I'm not sure that Creevy let him out alive."

"All because of a bleach smell?" the teen asked, looking a bit disgusted-like at the tub.

"It's the best way to get blood out of something," Rochelle said.

"… Can you prove it?" Wednesday asked, and Rochelle sighed.

"That's the problem," the reporter said, bitterly. "No I cannot."

"Well, but Francis' friends could, right?" the younger woman asked, scratching her head. "If you get a search warrant or something-."

"I don't think there's enough reason to do so."

"Well what about trace evidence? The blood might be gone, but if Creevy did kill Jacobs he may have left SOMETHING behind, like a hair, or-."

"But sweetie, that's the problem," Rochelle said, sad to see that the girl was trying so hard to hope for something. "Bleach completely denatures DNA. Just rips it to shreds. If there was some kind of trace evidence, like a hair, or skin, the Clorox or whatever would have made it useless."

"So what then? Does this mean he's going to get away with it?" Wednesday asked, starting to tremble with anger. Rochelle looked at her helplessly, and shrugged. "That's it? Just 'eh, I don't know'? Rochelle, if what Barbara says is true he planned an attack that killed five people-!"

"I know, Wednesday!" Rochelle exclaimed. Jeeze, it isn't MY fault he's incredibly tricky, she thought. "And it makes me sick that he might have, but if we can't prove it, we can't prove it!"

"But if he murdered Jacobs-!"

"I KNOW, WEDNESDAY," Rochelle said, a bit too snappy this time, and she shut her mouth regretfully when the teenager averted her eyes and crossed her arms, withdrawing. Between breaking and entering and making her feel like shit, you're really gunning to lose the Guardian of the Year Award. "….. At this point, I am just concerned about Francis and Nick getting out of this. It might be the only thing to aim for now."

"But what about Carlisle? It isn't fair, Rochelle! It's pretty clear that Creevy is the person who masterminded the whole thing, and if he gets out of it-!"

"I know it isn't fair," Rochelle said. "…. Sometimes things… Sometimes they don't end up fair."

It wasn't what Wednesday wanted to hear, of course. She was about to say something else, when there was the sound of the front door lock turning. Both women gasped and looked at each other, as the door opened, the idea of becoming nothing more than a bleach scent at the front of both their minds.

"What do we do?" Wednesday hissed, and Rochelle pointed towards the bedroom. The front room was blocked from view, if they could find ample hiding before Creevy entered the hallway they could probably evade discovery. Probably. They rushed silently from the bathroom and into the bedroom, hearing Creevy rustling around in the front room. He swore loudly, and a clatter banged in the kitchen. Rochelle's heart was racing, and she scanned the room quickly. The closet was probably smaller than the ones Lara had shown them earlier (this being a one bedroom apartment, after all), so that was out. But his bed was large. She dropped to the floor, pulling Wednesday with her, and they scooted under the large metal frame, their shirts catching on the carpet and exposing their stomachs to the harsh berber. Wednesday made a noiseless face at the pain of rug burn, and Rochelle took her hand, trying to comfort her and keep her silent at the same time. She put a finger to her lips, and Wednesday nodded, closing her eyes.

They could see Creevy's feet as he entered the room, and they both held their breaths when he sat down on the bed, the mattress pressing closer to their backs. He exhaled heavily, grumbling to himself about this and that, and grabbed something off the nightstand. Rochelle listened carefully, recognizing the sound of a phone number dialing slowly. Wednesday breathed quickly, and Rochelle squeezed her hand in an effort to calm her down. If he heard her practically hyperventilating they would be exposed and it would be over.

"…McCarthy," he said, matter of factly. "Yes, I know you wanted me to call you today… Wait, hold on a moment, sir, let me put you on speaker phone."

He fiddled with the phone and soon the women heard the man on the other end of the line say "Better?"

"Yes, much," Creevy said. "I want to pack for my trip to D.C. while we talk."

"That's fine, Mark," this McCarthy said, his voice that of one who smoked at least a pack a day, and probably not filtered either. "Listen, I was going to call you about that FBICE hearing that you are coming in for."

"I know they started yesterday," Creevy said as he moved to the other side of the bed, setting what had to be a suitcase down on the bed. "I wasn't sure when they wanted me to testify, but I guess it won't-."

"The hearing has been delayed, Creevy," McCarthy said, which made Creevy's feet pause not two feet from Rochelle's face.

"….. What do you mean it's been delayed?"

"Seems some accusations have come to light, and some new information that's making FBICE a bit reluctant to continue just yet," McCarthy said. "Have you ever heard to a girl named Barbara Dane?"

"….. She's a baker in town," Creevy said, and Wednesday turned to Rochelle, who was listening intently.

"She's been telling a few yarns about you and some local cop named Jacobs…. Do you know what that might be about?"

"What kind of yarns?"

"Says that you two worked with her to plan the zombie attack on the town," McCarthy replied, coolly. "Said that you personally hired her to unwittingly release a dozen or so Infected upon the town."

"….. Wow. She's really that petty," Creevy said, and Rochelle wrinkled her nose, a bit confused. Petty?

"…. I don't understand what you mean by that-."

"Sir, I don't know what she told you, but Barbara and I? Her accusations in regards to ME are nothing short of the vindictive ramblings of a spurned lover," he said, haughtily, and Rochelle and Wednesday looked at each other in shock and awe. Really? THAT is the route he's taking? Rochelle thought, baffled.

"A spurned lover?"

"Yes. She and I had a brief and tumultuous relationship. I broke it off because I felt that she was getting a bit, oh, I don't know, clingy I guess,"

"Hm…. Well, are you saying that she's made it ALL up?"

"….. I can't say that I would know for sure in THAT regard," Creevy said, sitting on the bed again. "I don't think that there's any evidence that would suggest that I did anything like that-."

"…. Well no, no evidence," McCarthy said. "But I guess Jacobs is missing. FBICE has been looking for him, and he's no where to be found. I think they're starting to believe that he ran off. And that seems pretty guilty to ME, Creevy."

"Wait, so are you saying that FBICE is actually believing these things that Barbara is saying despite the fact Jacobs isn't there to confirm or deny-?" Creevy asked, his voice starting to rise.

"It's more evidence than we have against those two Z-Men," McCarthy pointed out. "I'd prefer a confession over speculation any day, especially since those guys have been denying it so much. And what are YOU so worried about? You said yourself that she's got it out for you."

"But how can you know she isn't lying about him too?"

"Because you yourself said, at the very beginning of your time there, that he was reluctant to work with the Z-Men and you. That sounds like motive to me. And he RAN, Mark. Frankly, if Morgan calls back saying that they want to drop it, I'll probably just let them drop it."

Rochelle smiled broadly, squeezing Wednesday's hand harder, who squeezed back.

"Sir, FIVE people are DEAD-."

"And we have a girl who has confessed to conspiracy with Jacobs. I'll tell Morgan to put out an APB on that man across the country. We'll catch him, and justice will be served. I'm okay with that. I'm NOT okay with putting two men in prison for something they didn't do. No matter HOW obnoxious and smug these two men happen to be."

"…. Sir-."

"And I KNOW you have a personal vendetta against Nick," McCarthy interrupted, shortly. "I suggest you get over it."

"…. So do I even need to COME to Washington-?"

"Only if you want to. It's not necessary, though, as I don't think there's going to be a hearing. Morgan will see to that. It will probably be announced tomorrow or Friday."

"I'll still come out there after I hang up… McCarthy-."

"Let it go, Mark."

"Sir-!"

"Let it go!... I have a meeting. If I see you in D.C., I see you in D.C. If not, your job in Roanoke II will be up soon. I'll be in touch." With that, McCarthy hung up, the dial tone practically deafening. They heard Creevy slam the phone back into the cradle, and then both of them jumped when he yelled in anger and smashed it against the wall. They watched his feet storm out of the room, and heard him stamp down the hallway and out the door of the apartment, his rampage terrifying but now moot, since he was no longer a threat to the two of them. They crawled out from under the bed, and hugged each other in relief.

"This is good news!" Rochelle said, pulling Wednesday out of the bedroom lest Creevy come back.

"That was far too close, Rochelle!" Wednesday said, adrenaline pumping through her veins. "Oh my GOD, is this what you DO?"

"Trust me, my job is RARELY that exciting," Rochelle said. "Or terrifying, depending on who you talk to. Is this Harriet the Spy enough for you?"

"I'll never go Harriet the Spy-ing again, can we please get out of here?" Wednesday asked.

"Oh, so gladly," Rochelle said, nodding. "I have to call Francis. And figure out how to get these keys back to the office."

"Just drop them by the door and PLEASE LET'S GO," Wednesday exclaimed, no longer intrigued by intrigue.

"Okay okay okay!"

Nick looked at his cards, raising an eyebrow. He licked his lips, trying to think of what move he wanted to make next. He pondered his options, and then looked at his companion. "…Do you have any Queens?"

"Sorry," Ellis said, smugly. "Go fish." Nick snarled, taking another card from the pile and scowling all the while. It was yet another round of these ridiculous game, and he was losing. Not only was he losing at a kid's game, but the manner in which they were playing made it doubly humiliating.

It had been Nick's idea to play strip poker. Ellis had complained that Nick was too good at poker, so they changed it to Go Fish. And after four lost rounds in a row, Nick was about to have to give up his shirt.

"Nick can I have your Jacks?" Ellis asked, coyly, and Nick glared at him. The kid had two cards left, and Nick had two Jacks. The gambler reluctantly handed him the cards, and Ellis laughed in triumph as he laid down all four Jacks. "Yeah! I win again!"

"DAMMIT."

"You know, it's been a bit cold since I lost my shirt a few rounds back, I think I want yours now," Ellis said, grinning, and Nick rolled his eyes.

"This is bullshit," he groused as he unbuttoned the fabric.

"You're such a sore loser," Ellis said, enjoying the view for multiple reasons. "C'mon, I want my bounty and I want it now."

"I'm working on it!" Nick growled, removing his shirt and handing it to the younger man. Ellis hummed happily as he put the shirt on. He wasn't swimming in it by any means, but it was definitely a little big on him. "This sucks."

"It's not all that bad," Ellis said, shuffling the cards again.

"Easy for you to say, you twerp, you're kicking my ass at the stupidest game in the world!"

"Awww, poor guy," the mechanic said, sarcastically, and Nick fumed. "All I know is that if we'd played poker like you wanted I'd've been naked by now-."

"And I'd've been going down on you, it would have been win-win," Nick said, and Ellis flushed a bit.

"No need to be a cry baby," the younger man said, dealing out the cards again. Nick accepted them, hoping to catch up.

"That shirt on you doesn't count, you know," he said.

"I know."

"Also, WHY did you keep your hat and socks on over your shirt?"

"….. Cuz I wanted to tease you a bit," Ellis said slyly, winking at Nick. Nick threw down his cards, and crawled across the bed to start kissing his boyfriend. He never could resist conniving seduction. Ellis smiled as he took Nick's cheeks in his hands, leaning against the bedboard. Before things could get much further, there was a knocking on the door, and Morgan said "Hey, I'm not opening this door lest I walk in on something that will embarrass all of us, but Francis is on the phone with Rochelle. And it sounds like she has some news. Come downstairs."

Even though Morgan hadn't opened the door, Ellis had turned beet red, and Nick made a 'oops' face at him as he pulled away.

"Can I have my shirt back please?" the gambler asked, holding out his hand. "And my socks, and my watch, and my belt-."

"I don't think that those should've counted," Ellis grumbled, giving the accessories back along with the shirt.

"It's not my fault I wear a lot of pieces of clothing," Nick smirked, putting his shirt back on. "And HEY. You were winning. Quit bitching."

"If those hadn't counted I'd've taken your pants a long time ago!"

"Yeah, well….." Nick smirked at him before singing, "Sorrrryyyy." Ellis swatted at him as the con man jumped back, and they both redressed.

They walked down the steps to find Francis sprawled across the couch, still on the phone. "You're insane, Cupcake, you're completely insane….. No, I don't think that it's the same thing as what I do for a living, okay? I think that it's REAL different!"

"Uh oh," Ellis said, knowing all too well the 'Rochelle's in trouble' voice.

"Do you think I could also add that what you did was REALLY illegal?" Francis barked into the phone. "…. Don't give me that, I haven't done anything illegal since I became a Z-Man!... BETSY DOESN'T COUNT, I woulda thought a liberal like you would have LOVED me defending Nick's honor like that!"

"Christ," Nick said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Well that's fine, but-….. NO, I….. So what, still no sign of Jacobs then?" Francis asked, sitting up on the couch. "…. Bleach?... You don't-…. Blech."

He continued to talk, leaving Nick and Ellis to listen in silence, picking up bits and pieces. Morgan eventually entered the room, leaning against the doorframe and studying the biker as he talked and listened. By the time he'd hung up, Francis had a look on his face that seemed confused at the very least.

"…. Hey," Nick said, waving a hand in front of the biker's face. "What did Ro say? Did she find Jacobs?"

Francis scratched his beard, and squinted his eyes. "No…. But she doesn't think he'll be found," he said, and Morgan walked futher into the room. "I guess that she KIND of went into Creevy's apartment-."

"WHAT?" Ellis exclaimed, putting a hand on his head.

"-And it stunk to high heaven of bleach," Francis continued. "And I guess after she left his apartment she ran into one of his neighbors who did see Jacobs entering the apartment and never saw him leave. She DID see Creevy carrying a bunch of garbage bags to his car….. Like, a LOT."

"Hmmmm," Morgan said, shaking his head. "She doesn't think he was just taking a bunch of trash to the dump, does she?"

"Nope," Francis said. "I guess Jacobs' car was parked down the street for awhile, but then was gone, according to this neighbor. Clearly she's just speculating, but knowing what we know about Creevy, I'm guessing he killed Jacobs, cut up the body, and disposed of it AND the car into the Grey Zone."

"Oh Jesus," Ellis said, the very thought making him sick to his stomach.

"Yeah, that seems par for the course when it comes to Creevy," Nick nodded, not surprised in the least. Morgan huffed, and rubbed his eyes.

"Did she say anything else?" he asked, conveniently ignoring the fact she broke into the man's apartment. He figured that karma wise it evened out.

"Just that it sounds like he's on his way to D.C.," Francis replied. "He was pissed because it sounds like if YOU push hard enough, Morgan, they'll agree to cancel the hearing."

"Well, that's good news!" Ellis said, at once excited, and Nick raised his eyebrows, not as sure.

"How could they do that?" the gambler asked. "They only have Barbara's word, and if Jacobs is dead-."

"Honestly, James Dean, without a body FBICE would probably be satisfied to believe that Jacobs ran off out of guilt," Morgan shrugged. "It's a bit suspect, but… I'm willing to settle for it. We can't be sure WHERE Jacobs is. And that's actually working to our advantage. If Creevy did kill him to keep you two in hot water it backfired. I'm calling my superiors right away and then McCarthy to finish this once and for all. By two this afternoon, you guys will be off the hook."

Ellis sucked in an excited breath, and Francis put a hand to his head. "Are you shitting me?" Francis asked. "Is this really going to happen? Are we off the hook?"

"Not officially, but I'm going to say with confidence that yes…. You and Nick are going to be off the hook," Morgan stated, smiling at all of them. Ellis put a hand on Nick's shoulder, thinking he'd be met with similar enthusiasm, but the con man wasn't as excited as the other two men.

"So, what? Is Barbara Dane going to take the fall for everything?" he asked, hesitantly.

"No, I think that what will probably happen is that she will plead out to a lesser charge, and the blame will be on Jacobs," Morgan said, crossing his arms.

"And Creevy?" Nick asked.

"… There's nothing to connect him-."

"What about Barbara's word?" Ellis asked, and Francis held up a hand.

"Creevy's claiming that she's lying because he dumped her or some shit," Francis interjected.

"And you buy that?" Nick snapped, and Morgan rolled his eyes.

"Well I don't believe it! But it's too 'he said, she said'," the Assistant Director said, evenly. "We have to take the victories where we can."

"What about the truck?" Ellis continued. "Did they find the truck-?"

"They went out to the spot she told them to look, but if there WAS a truck there, it disappeared," Morgan said.

"We saw the truck, Morgan, he must have moved it when he was disposing of Jacobs' body," Nick said, voice pissed.

"Be that as it may, there is no truck and no other witness. It isn't a good enough connection."

"He's right," Francis said, nodding. "So maybe Creevy gets off. That sucks, Nick, it really does. But WE probably aren't going to go to jail! We're probably going to be off Scott free, and then we're back on the road to freedom! Isn't that good enough for you?"

"….. No," Nick said, shaking his head. "As a matter of fact, it's not. I want Creevy to go down for this. I want him to finally pay for all the shit that he's done, and I want him to go down for trying to pin this on me and Francis."

"Well what exactly do you propose we do about it?" Morgan asked, shaking his head. When Nick didn't answer and just sighed grumpily, the oldest man nodded. "Exactly. Take this for what it is, Nick. It's a blessing. You won't even have to deal with that jackass anymore in a short while."

"I doubt that very much so," the gambler said, and Ellis took his hand in an attempt to calm him down.

"If you think of any ideas I'd like to hear them," Morgan said cordially, though it was also a bit of a warning to drop it.

"What the fuck ever," Francis said, grinning. "I'M just stoked that we're almost out of this mess! Ro is going to flip out!"

"Ro sounds felonious," Morgan said.

"She's a firecracker all right," Francis agreed, as if the implication of the word Morgan used was a badge of honor. "Nick why can't you just BE HAPPY for once?"

"Because I wanted Creevy to go down for what he did!"

"Well Nick, I want to go on a dream date with Linda Hamilton, but that just ain't gonna happen," Morgan snorted. "Sometimes you don't get what you want, and you move on."

"But that's the thing, Morgan! Creevy WON'T move on!" Nick exclaimed, and Ellis frowned, hating to see his boyfriend so stressed out. "He's going to come after me until I'm dead or in jail! ESPECIALLY when he catches wind of that promotion!"

"Promotion?" Francis asked, but the other three men ignored his confusion.

"And I don't know about YOU, but I would kind of like to stop him before he hurts me, or Ellis, or someone else just because he's obsessed with getting revenge on me!" Nick spat.

"Nick," Ellis said, scratching his back soothingly.

"So you DO have an idea?" Morgan challenged, thinking that Nick was just rehashing his problems and that it wouldn't do any good to do so. But the gambler's eyes narrowed, and he nodded stiffly.

"Yeah, actually, I do," he said. "….. I catch the goddamn bastard myself."

Ellis didn't like the sound of that, and he gave his lover a questioning look. He was hoping that Morgan would tell him that he was talking crazy, and yet the assistant director looked more intrigued than doubtful. "Meaning?" he asked, and Nick shrugged, scratching his face.

"…. I'm thinking I get him to confess to me."

"GOOD LUCK," Francis guffawed. "You'd have to get him somewhere he's caught off guard, you'd have to PROBABLY get it on tape-!"

"I can make that happen," Morgan said, raising his hand, and Nick raised his eyebrows.

"Oh? Legally?" the con man asked.

"Oh yeah," Morgan said, nodding. "There are people in the Justice Department who would LOVE to find a reason to take down a CEDA agent. And it's not like Creevy isn't known for past sketchy deeds. They could probably get a wire tap set up for us based on Barbara's word and yours, Nick, with what happened in Santa Fe."

"Seriously?" Francis exclaimed. "You're like James Bond or some shit!"

"Not really," Morgan said, looking at him like he was crazy.

"Well you're some kind of crazy badass government guy," Francis back paddled, and Ellis crossed his arms, still not on board with this.

"So what, I get wired up and then egg him on?" Nick asked, and grinned. "That actually sounds like a lot of fun."

"Well…. If you're willing to do that, Nick, I'm sure we could probably set SOMETHING up nice and legal like" Morgan said, and Ellis didn't like the sound of that at all.

"Yeah, I'm willing, I'm more than willing," Nick said, nodding.

"Hang on," Ellis said. "Nick that sounds real dangerous to me."

"Eh, not really," Nick said, brushing his apprehension off. "I'll be wired, we'll be in public, and one on one I can take the guy."

"Nick, he might have murdered Jacobs!" Ellis exclaimed. "An' you said yourself he's done other bad shit!"

"Yeah, and this is a chance to stop him from doing MORE bad shit!" Nick exclaimed right back. Ellis backed down, shaking his head and dissatisfied but not willing to fight about it, and Nick turned back to Morgan. "Yeah man. Set this up. I'll do it."

"Alright," Morgan nodded. "First I'll make the call to get you two off the hook, and then I'll make the call to make YOU, James Dean, a Rat."

"Sweet," Nick said, and Ellis turned and walked out of the room quickly, a bit too upset to stick around to watch Morgan do so. Nick's eyes followed Ellis as he walked out of the room, and he exhaled, crankily. "Okay. I guess I'm in the dog house now."

"Uh ohhh," Francis sang, and Nick slugged him in the side. "OW!"

"Pardon me, guys," the gambler said, excusing himself to go talk down his lover from his agitated state. Morgan shrugged, understanding the apprehension Ellis was feeling. He was apprehensive as well. But if Nick got something into his head, he wouldn't let it go easily. So the assistant director just went to the phone to make his calls.

Chapter Text

Nick paused outside the guest room, and listened carefully. He didn't hear Ellis doing much of anything, so he knocked on the door.

"Yeah?" Ellis called, voice morose.

"Hey Overalls, it's me," Nick said. "Can I come in please?"

"Yeah."

Nick opened the door to find Ellis looking out the window, arms crossed and face…. Not really mad. More…. worried. The con ma shut the door behind him, and leaned against it, and the mechanic looked at him slowly, eyes filled with worry. "What's wrong, kiddo?" Nick asked, raising his eyebrows. "Are you pissed off at me now?"

"Huh? No, I'm not pissed at ya," Ellis said, shaking his head as if it were absurd to suggest such a thing. It was hard to Nick to understand how Ellis' initial negative emotions were never anger, but then we can't all be short fuses. He ventured forward, and stopped a couple feet away from his boyfriend. "I'm just frustrated is all." Nick nodded, crossing his arms, and Ellis scratched his elbow carefully.

"With what?" Nick asked, and Ellis sighed.

"Everything," he answered. "With the whole situation, like how they can't pin point it on Creevy or nothin'…. And…. Kind've with you."

"Me?" Nick asked, not all that surprised but acting as if he were. "How come?" Ellis shrugged, casting his eyes to the floor, embarrassed. He removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair.
"Is it kinda selfish of me to say that I'm frustrated you're gonna do the honest thing?" he asked.

"….. No, I wouldn't say that," Nick said, shaking his head. "Remember how I acted when you wanted to talk to Barbara?"

"Heh, yeah," Ellis nodded. "But… I mean, this is kinda different you know. No, it's real different. Barbara's harmless."

"I wouldn't say she's harmless, kiddo, she helped-."

"Come on, Nick, you KNOW it's different," Ellis interrupted, sternly.

"…. I don't see how-."

"YES, you do," Ellis snapped. "This isn't a girl with a crush who's confused and gullible! This is a man who's killed in cold blood and who tried to kill you!"

Nick huffed, about to start arguing right back, but decided that HE should be the one to keep the clear head. So he held up his hands, and looked the younger man right in the eyes. "…. Can I explain to you why I have to do this?"

"You don't HAVE to do-."

"I DO. Can I explain to you why?" Nick repeated. Ellis raised his eyebrows, but nodded slowly. "Okay…. Wanna sit down?"

"I guess," the mechanic said, shrugging, and they both sat down upon the mattress.

"…. I know you don't want me to put myself in harm's way," Nick said, calmly. "But I really have to do this Ellis."

"…. Why?"

Nick sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Because in a roundabout way, this is kind of my fault," he said, grimly.
"Whaddaya mean?" the younger man asked, leaning back on his hands. "How could any've this be YOUR fault?"

"It's kind of my fault because I SHOULD have gone after Creevy when he tried to kill me," Nick answered, solemnly. "I shouldn't have been thinking about what the consequences to me might have been, or thinking that 'oh, well, I'll just leave it be'. I shouldn't have assumed he would have considered us even. I should have gone after his ass. I was too lazy."

"Lazy, huh?"

"….. Okay, lazy and scared," Nick admitted, scratching his head. Yeah, it had been fear. It was like he hadn't wanted to poke the lion again. He felt even more shame now, realizing that fear was his main motivator. "Fuck…. If I hadn't been such a pussy-."

"Oh come on," Ellis said, shaking his head. "The guy almost KILLED you. I don't think anyone could consider you a pussy. It's a miracle you survived, Nick. Any normal person woulda been scared."

"Well, good reason or not, five more people are dead because of it," the gambler said, shifting on the bed. "…. And I think that I should help make things as right as they can be. I know you're worried about me, but hey. It's not like the guy can bring a Witch with him to our meeting, am I right?"

"No…. But he could bring something else," Ellis said. "Like a gun."

"Yeah, he could. But he'd be an idiot to do that in public, right?" Nick said. "We'd meet in a public place, kiddo. And Morgan and Francis will probably be there to back me up, and if not THEM, someone else will be."

"I guess," Ellis nodded, and clasped his hands together. "I just got a real bad feelin' about it, Nick."

The gambler took the back of the mechanic's head in his hand, and smiled slyly. "Tell you what. If something goes wrong, I'll owe you a beer."

"That's not funny," Ellis said firmly, pulling away, and Nick shrugged.

"Okay fine, a beer and a burger."

"Why are you jokin' about this?"

"…. Because I want you to feel better about it," Nick replied, quietly. Ellis' eyes softened, and he looked at the quilt they sat upon. "...So want to fool around to forget about it?"

"No," Ellis said, shaking his head. "I'm still a bit miffed and don't wanna have sex."

Hm, Nick thought, the honesty appreciated but not what he wanted to hear. He chewed on his lip, and leaned back a bit. "Oh….. Okay." Maybe he hadn't won. "Is…. Is there anything I can do to-?"

"To make me wanna have sex with you right now so I'll shut up?" Ellis snapped, and Nick jerked back as if stung.
"No!" he snarled, temper starting to fray. "God, do you really think that that's all I wanted from this conversation?"

"You just said that you wanted to-!"

"Not just for my benefit though! And not just to shut you up or anything like that!" Nick insisted. "… I mean, you don't really think that, do you? That I just use sex to shut you up?"

"….. No," Ellis said, well aware that he had been trying to wound his lover out of spite and frustration. "No, I don't really think that."

"Well then do me a favor and don't imply that you do," Nick growled as he crossed his arms and looked at the floor. "I'm not like that anymore." Ellis kept his eyes on the blanket, and Nick exhaled. "You believe that don't you-?"

"Yes," the younger man nodded, feeling bad for even considering fighting dirty like that. "I'm sorry. I do believe you, I really do."

"Okay," Nick said, and finally looked back at him again, green eyes not as stern now. "….. I have to do this, Overalls."

"…. I know you think that," Ellis sighed, rubbing an eye with the palm of his hand. "…. But that doesn't mean I hafta like it, does it?"

Nick smiled sadly at him, and pressed their foreheads together briefly. "No, it sure doesn't." He squeezed the kid's shoulder, and Ellis sighed, resignedly.

"Well, as long as it doesn't mean that, I guess," he said, shrugging. Nick nodded, knowing he'd won, if you could even call it winning, and pulled away. "Just… Don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"You know me, I don't do stupid things as a rule," the gambler said, standing up and tugging the younger man up with him. "In fact, I'd say that between the two of us, YOU'RE the one who'd probably do something stupid."

"Hey," Ellis said, swatting at him, even though it was probably true. In a general sense, anyway. "Well if Ro can break an' enter into Creevy's apartment, I suppose you can go out with him in public and try to get a confession outta him, huh?"

"Yeah, I think so," Nick agreed, pulling the younger man to him and kissing him. He knew that Ellis was still a bit too upset to fool around. But the least the older man could do was make the mechanic feel a bit safer and more secure. So he hugged him close and kissed him tenderly. Ellis let himself get lost in the embrace, and nuzzled his face against Nick's stubbly cheeks.

"You still aren't getting' any," he insisted.

"I know."

"…. But I wouldn't say no to makin' out a bit."

"Duly noted," the gambler grinned, and began to kiss him again, letting the younger man press him against the wall.

After a while of heavy petting (and more hickeys garnered) they walked back out into the kitchen, finding Francis at the table with a bowl of pumpkin seeds and Morgan out on the back deck again. Nick looked at his partner quizzically, and the biker chewed on his thumbnail instead of the food.

"Looks like YOU'VE been busy," he said, pointing to the splotches on Nick's neck, and Ellis turned a bit pink.

"Not much else to do when under house arrest," Nick shrugged. "Looks like Morgan's been just as busy though. What's he doing out there?" Francis finally popped a pumpkin seed in his mouth, and glanced back at their boss before replying.

"He's been talking about the hearing," he said, and Nick nodded, crossing his arms. "I don't know if him going outside is a good sign or a bad sign. He needed privacy, I guess. But is that good or bad?"

"I don't know," Nick admitted, shrugging again.

"I bet it's a good sign," Ellis said, trying to be optimistic despite his negative mood. "I mean, I bet he's really puttin' the screws to them and doesn't want the two've you to see it! Yeah, he's probably bein' a real jerk and's real embarrassed about it! I bet that's it."

Hm, he doesn't know Morgan the way we do, Nick thought. Morgan was the type to show off his Alpha Male scare tactics, not hide them. But he didn't say anything, and just watched as the oldest man in the group paced back and forth on the wooden deck. Francis leaned back into the chair, and shrugged. "Think he's tearing whoever he's talking to a new asshole?"

"Doubtful," Nick said. "He's probably being incredibly polite in his meanness. How many calls has he made?"

"Um... I think it's his second one," the biker said, holding out the bowl of pumpkin seeds to Ellis, who took a handful. "The first one didn't take too long. But he took them both outside."

"What was the first one-?"

"I don't know, Suit, stop asking me questions!" Francis snorted, and Nick held up his hands defensively. "Jeeze."

Morgan soon hung up, and walked back into kitchen, a drab look on his face. Nick and Francis exchanged looks, and the gambler held up a hand. "Let me guess: they aren't going to cancel the hearing?"

"Oh come on," Ellis muttered, shaking his head and crossing his arms. "Seriously? They're seriously not lettin' Nick and Francis-?"

"I never said that," Morgan said, coolly. "I just decided that I really want to punch my boss in the face."

"Because he didn't want to cooperate?" Francis asked.

"Oh he cooperated," the Assistant Director said, shaking his head.

"… Well Morgan, if he cooperated doesn't that mean that we're off the hook?" Nick asked, not sure what he was supposed to be feeling at the moment.

"Yeah, you're off the hook, but I had to agree that not only would I take the heat and do all the paperwork on my own, not to mention deal with McCarthy and any other CEDA agent who has a problem with this. And apparently I have to wash his car for a year."

Nick paused a moment before starting to laugh. It took Francis a couple more seconds, but he joined in, standing up and throwing his arms around Nick's front, leaping on his back. Nick wavered under the weight, but held his own for a short while as the three government ages celebrated together. Ellis beamed as he watched them laugh and cheer, and Francis yanked him into the celebration.

"So why did it take so long to talk on the phone if it was that easy?" Nick asked, and Morgan exhaled, clapping him on the back.

"Talking to my boss wasn't hard, it was my friend at the Justice Department I had to twist some arms with," he replied. "Dale needed some persuasion to get that wire tap in front of a judge, but when I told him that we had a couple of people willing to attest with no evidence (and when I told him that we'd be going after the same guy he's been wanting to go after for awhile now), he said that he would make sure the wire is nice and legal."

"So when will that be ready?" Nick asked, and Ellis' jubilation began to cease again, brought back to the reality of his boyfriend putting himself in such a position.

"Tomorrow," Morgan said. "Nick, I suggest you call Creevy tonight, tell him you need to talk with him tomorrow afternoon, about…. Well, I'm not sure what about. He'll find out that the hearing is off soon enough."

"So…. What is he supposed to use as an excuse?" Francis asked. "He'll probably find it suspicious if Nick just wants to 'talk' for no reason. "Nick held up a hand.

"I can make him think that we have something that he wants," he suggested.

"Do you?" Morgan asked.

"Psh, no. But he doesn't know that."

"What would you possibly have?" Francis asked, scoffing.

"Gee, I don't know, how about a Boomer Bile cap?" Nick suggested, sneering at his partner.

"But we lost that cap," Ellis stated.

"But CREEVY doesn't know that," the gambler replied. "Seeing as it has a serial number that will go straight to him."

"Don't you think he would have looked for that?" Francis asked.

"Maybe… But more likely he just torched the truck without checking it, especially if he was panicking," Nick said. "…. So as long as I make him THINK I have it, he'll want to meet with me. Like, urgently."

"Whatever your strategy, you'll need to make him verbally admit to what he did," Morgan said, firmly.

"I have some tricks up my sleeves," Nick said, waving him off haughtily.

"Well alright then," Morgan said, though he did seem a bit hesitant at Nick's confidence. "So. That's what's going to happen."

"Is there any way that you guys can make sure that Creevy doesn't… you know, do nothin' to Nick?" Ellis asked, trying to come off as not TOO worried, but healthily concerned. Nick looked at his boyfriend, expression not really readable to the mechanic, but before he could try to decipher just what it meant Morgan smiled at him.

"He'll stay in a public place and won't go too far, right Nick?" the oldest man asked, giving the gambler a look. Nick raised his eyebrows, not sure if he should agree to that. After all, he couldn't predict just what would happen. If Creevy wanted to go somewhere, he would probably go with him. "And to make sure we know where he is if he DOES go far, we'll put some kind of tracking device on him. The type we used on zombies when we were still trying to figure out the Vaccine."

"Oh how nice," Nick spat, and Francis chuckled as he took the phone out of Morgan's hand. "Don't you think one of those fucking collars is a bit conspicuous?"

"I'm sure we can tweak it, James Dean. And I thought you liked gaudy jewelry, and WHERE are you going with my phone, Francis?"

"Calling Ro!"

"You just keep racking up the long distance, Marlon Brando!" Morgan called after him. "Worse than my daughters as teenagers."

"I can imagine," Nick nodded, and looked at Ellis carefully. The mechanic smiled at him, trying to be brave. "Think kiddo. At this time on Friday this should all be over."

"… Yeah," Ellis nodded. "I sure hope so."

Mark Creevy got back to his apartment in D.C. right at five thirty seven p.m. He always liked to see how fast he could make road trips, as punctuality was an incredibly important trait, even when he had no place to be. He walked inside his small apartment, sighing deeply. It was always good to be home, even if he had to leave so shortly thereafter.

He'd heard the bad news when he stopped at a diner outside of Richmond. Nick and Francis had slipped through the Government's fingers, all because he'd put too much trust in a woman to keep her mouth shut. Had he known where Barbara Dane was hiding he would have hunt her down and snapped her slender neck. Instead, he had to take solace in the fact that she was probably going to prison while he was skirting by again. At least he had that to cling to. He still had time to figure out what to do about Nick.

He put some water in his tea kettle and scrounged the cupboards for tea. Before he left for Roanoke II he'd nearly emptied his cupboards of food, but he'd always leave the tea behind. Tea was nice to come home to. He waited for the water while sitting at the table, staring at the wall and thinking about very little outside his disappointment and anger.

Just as the tea kettle began to whistle, his phone began to ring. He stood, fluidly removing the water from the stove before snatching up his phone. "Mark Creevy."

"Hey Creevy, hear the good news?" Nick said, smugly, and Creevy grit his teeth, more anger bubbling up.

"What do you want?" he asked, bitterly.

"Oh, you know, just checking in with our delegated CEDA agent to let him know that Francis and I are no longer under scrutiny. Hearing's been canceled. The world keeps turning for everyone but… You, I bet."

"So I heard," Creevy said, ignoring the mocking as best he could, though crabby didn't even begin to describe how he was feeling. "I assume that means you will be going back to Roanoke II next week?"

"Probably, but I thought you might like to know that I have something that may be of interest to you."

Creevy's eyes narrowed, suspicion setting in. "What are you talking about?" he asked, and heard Nick chuckle a bit.

"You seem to have misplaced a Boomer Bile cap."

A sudden panic rose in the CEDA Agent. When he'd moved the truck to a different location he'd assumed that the remnants of the bile jar had remained inside of it. He hadn't thought to look. Obviously he should have. "Where did you get that?" he demanded, standing up and pacing the kitchen.

"Back of a VERY messy moving truck on Monday. I bet I know who the serial number will match to."

"….. What do you want?" Creevy asked, voice absolutely venomous.

"To meet. Discuss various options. I'm pretty sure you can't weasel your way out of this situation, Creevy," Nick said, and the CEDA agent could just picture the shit eating grin on his face. Which made him even angrier.

"… Where and when?" he asked, mouth tight as he twisted his shirt in his free hand.

"Tomorrow afternoon at two p.m. At that coffee house you CEDA folks seem to like so much, Wilde Roast, is that what it's called?"

"Yes…. Fine. I'll be there." And with that he hung up forcefully.

Back at Morgan's, Nick hung up as well, smiling smugly at Francis. "It's all set! I'm meeting him at Wilde Roast at two."

"And we'll be in a van across the street, waiting for him to spill his guts," Morgan said, patting him on the back. "As soon as he talks, we have him. But DON'T actually flat out blackmail him, Nick, PLEASE. I'm already putting a lot of my stock in you and if you did that it would just make us both look bad."

"When have I ever blackmailed someone?" Nick asked. Francis and Morgan each had a 'you've got to be kidding me' look on their faces. "… After the Flu, I mean."

"Uh huh," Morgan said, smirking. "Well… There we are. Are you going to go try and reassure your friend in the living room?".

Nick shrugged. "I think he'd rather not think about it at the moment, I'll just… leave him be." Ellis had opted to not be in the room when Nick called Creevy, as he much preferred watching sports to watching his boyfriend play Donnie Brasco. "Whatever. It'll all be over tomorrow night."

Francis took the phone again, walking for the deck.

"NOW what-?" Morgan began, but Francis waved him off.

"Telling Ro."

"Of COURSE, why would I even bother asking?" Morgan asked. "I'm going to go start dinner. Ask Ellis what kind of potatoes he wants. His options are baked and mashed."

"Not fried?" Nick asked.

"No."

"Why not fried?"

"Because I said so!"

Nick walked into the living room and found Ellis watching SportsCenter. There was a pensive and distracted look on the mechanic's face, and Nick leaned against the doorway. Oh kiddo, you just need to trust me on this, he thought, and ventured forward, slowly.

"Hey," he said, and Ellis turned around, looking at him calmly.

"Hey," was the response.

"…. Morgan wants to know what kind of potatoes you want. Mashed or baked," Nick said, and Ellis tilted his head to the side to look at his boyfriend.

"Those the only options?" he asked.

"So it would seem….. What are we watching?"

"SportsCenter," Ellis responded, smiling a bit. Nick knew nothing about sports, but he just knew that he was going to feign knowledge. Anything to get the kid talking to him in spite of his hesitance.

"Alright! How many points did the Angels score?" Nick asked, and Ellis laughed. "What?"

"First of all, it's runs, not points, and second of all, baseball season is over, Nick."

"Oh….. Well, fine. Football. How many goals did the 49ers get?"

"…. Oh Nick," Ellis said, putting a hand on the older man's thigh.

Dinner had been joyous for the Z-Men, as Nick and Francis were practically on Cloud Nine. The concept of being off the hook was one thing, but the idea of finally taking out the thorn in Nick's side made the two of them even more delighted. Morgan wasn't as over the moon, though he did seem pretty happy. Ellis was trying his best, even though he could not, for the life of him, shake the bad feeling in his gut.

When he was little he would sometimes get bad feelings like this one. Sometimes nothing would come of those bad feelings. He'd not want to go to school because he was convinced there would be a pop quiz he wasn't ready for, but then there wouldn't be one. But then there were the times that bad things DID happen when he had that feeling. Like when he went to bed incredibly nervous one night and woke up the next morning to hear about a strange illness that was spreading across the East Coast. When he was a boy his grandmother had thought he was one of those medium types, and while that would have been REALLY cool, Ellis didn't believe in that anymore.

But it was still hard to ignore that gut feeling, mainly because it HAD been right in the past. It had been right when it really mattered.

After some more heavy petting before bed, Nick fell right asleep, but Ellis hadn't been able to do so. He'd tossed and turned, but ended up sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees. He didn't think that sleep was going to be easy to catch that night. So he eventually kicked the covers off and left the guest room. He slowly plodded down the steps, thinking he'd go sit on the deck for awhile, at least until he was sleepy, but then saw that Francis was still awake by the soft glow of the TV. So instead of going outside, he walked into the living room, and stood by the couch. Francis didn't look up from the TV, and Ellis wondered if he'd learned how to sleep with his eyes open, or if he was just being anti-social, or if he was REALLY interested in that knife set.

"You know, those knives don't actually cut through piping," the biker finally said, pointing at the infomercial.

"Yeah, I know," Ellis nodded. "Keith tried it once. Ended up with a broken knife and a severed tendon in his hand."

"Nice."

"Can't sleep either, huh?" Ellis asked, finally sitting down next to him on the couch.

"Not that, I'm just waiting for Ro to call."

"This late?"

"Oh, she and Wednesday decided they're coming up tonight," he explained, making a face at the commercial. "Wednesday really needed to get away from Roanoke II after the memorial, I guess she asked if they could come up here early. Should be at the hotel in about and hour. Til then, I'm up."

"Oh," Ellis said, scratching his head. "That's… I don't know, too bad for Wednesday that she's so upset but good for you and Ro. It was pretty obvious you miss her."

"Eh, sort of," Francis said, still a bit unwilling to admit that he was so attached. As if the constant phone calls weren't evidence enough. "So. YOU can't sleep, huh?"

"Nah."

"… Cuz you're worried about tomorrow," Francis said, not even formulating it as a question because it was so obvious. Ellis nodded slowly. "Well we have lots of infomercials for crap. If those don't put you to sleep, you're probably mentally ill."

Ellis laughed, a bit, and shook his head before sighing wearily. "Nick doesn't get why I'm so nervous," he said, quietly, not sure that Francis would want to hear it. But he needed to talk to someone about it, and Rochelle wasn't an option at the moment.

"He wouldn't. He's a pretty intuitive guy, but that doesn't mean he knows how to deal with the feelings he reads oh so well," Francis replied, as if it were so damn obvious.

"Well what are you, his therapist or somethin'?" the younger man asked, dubiously.

"No, his best friend. It's the same thing, only I don't get paid by the hour."

Ellis laughed, and Francis grinned at him. He'd LOVE to get paid by the hour to listen to Nick complain. He'd be well into retirement by now if that were the case.

"You're lucky," Ellis said, propping a pillow behind his head. "You aren't worried or think he shouldn't do it, so when Ro gets here you'll sleep just fine."

Francis cleared his throat and wrinkled his nose, hesitantly. "Well, I wouldn't say that," he said, and Ellis turned to look at him better.

"Whaddaya mean?"

"…. I don't really want him doing this," the biker admitted, and Ellis frowned. "Morgan doesn't either."

The mechanic sat up straighter, a bit perturbed by this confession. It was nice knowing that he wasn't alone, but at the same time if he wasn't alone in his opinion why did he appear to be? "Well if you two don't want him doin' it why are ya lettin' him?" he demanded.

"Oh come on. You can't tell me you think me or Morgan can stop him!" Francis snapped back. "If Nick gets something in his head, he does it. Period. It's what he does, it's how he rolls."

"How so?"

"Well he won YOU back, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but he respects Morgan so much, wouldn't he listen to him?" Ellis asked, back down from his anger a small bit. Not worth arguing over, at least not angrily, he thought.

"Maybe… But I think Morgan gets what this is about," Francis theorized, "and knows Nick needs to do this."

" 'Needs'? He doesn't NEED to."

Francis finally turned away from the TV screen to face the younger man. That was how Ellis knew that what he was going to say was important. "No… But he THINKS he does… I've been Nick's free therapist long enough to know the guy was haunted by two things: losing you, and what happened with the Witch in Santa Fe. He never went after Creevy for what he did, and I think part of him regrets it. And since he has YOU back, now there's just one thing left to fix, in his mind.

"So he's gonna fix it," Francis continued, chewing on a nail. "Even if he has to take stupid and unnecessary risks to do it."

Ellis nodded slowly, and turned to look at the blinking screen. Of course Francis was one hundred percent correct. Nick did need to do this for his peace of mind. He'd said as much earlier that day.

"Yeah, I know…. I just…. It's like I just got him back, TWICE, an' now I might lose him again," Ellis said, sadly.

Hm, I guess I am the unlikely therapist to everyone, Francis thought.

"I had this whole… I don't know, plan with Nick," Ellis continued, wistfully. "I realized that I don't wanna… That I can't live without him. I just wanna have him with me like…. Forever."

Francis scrunched his eyebrows together, and then snorted incredulously. "Oh my GOD."

"What?" Ellis asked, confused by the biker's reaction to his heartfelt statement. As Nick's best friend he should have been at least a little pleased with the words. He could have faked it, anyway.

"This is unbelievable," Francis muttered.

"What?"

"You're gonna ask Nick to marry you!"

The suggestion caught the younger man off guard, and his eyes widened. "WHAT?"

"YOU are gonna ask the ol' slut to marry you!"

"Hey, don't call him that, he isn't a slut!" Ellis snarled, defending his boyfriend's tattered honor. Someone had to.

"Oh please, he used to be a BIG slut. Huge," Francis laughed, and Ellis scowled even more.

"Well he isn't anymore, say it again an' I'll kick your ass!"

"Easy tiger, I'm quaking in my boots," Francis smirked. "But you're right. That's true. Thanks to you and your Savannah Voodoo Monogamy curse he's definitely not a slut anymore."

"'Kay, first of all, Francis, Savannah doesn't have voodoo. That's New Orleans."

"The South's the South, whatever."

"SECOND OF ALL, don't go tellin' Nick that I'm gonna do that! It'll scare him off! And besides, I'm not gonna do that!" Ellis groused, crossing his arms. "I mean, he wouldn't say yes. The whole marriage thing didn't work the first time for him, I'd think he'd he real scared of it or some shit by now."

Francis shrugged. "Yeah…. But monogamy never worked for him before and it's working with you. So… Who knows?"

Ellis looked at him again, and then back at the TV.

"Course, you'd have to move to Iowa or something," Francis continued, and Ellis covered his face with the pillow, not completely thrilled with the direction this conversation had taken. "And I'm not visiting you guys in Iowa, I don't care how much Nick needs a therapist or how much Rochelle whines about missing you."

Ellis removed the pillow from his face, and whacked Francis in the chest with it. The biker grunted, and turned back to the TV. The mechanic smiled softly at him, and then cleared his throat. "Hey Francis?"

"Yo."

"…. Can you do me a favor?" he asked, cautiously, and Francis looked at him slowly.

"Maybe…."

"… Can you promise me that you won't let nothin' bad happen to Nick tomorrow?" Elis asked, hesitantly.

It was a tall order, and Francis suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "Hey, Motor Mouth, I don't-."

"Just cuz I know you saved his life in Santa Fe and I know you two wouldn't let anything bad happen to each other, so…. Please?" Ellis asked, trying not to sound too weak or whiney. But he knew that if there was one person who was going to go out of his way to watch Nick's back, it was Francis.

The Z-Man swallowed, put on the spot and not sure what to say. But he figured that it should be fairly easy to make sure that Nick came out of it unscathed. Precautions were being taken, and both he and Morgan would be on standby. So really, it should have been a pretty easy promise to make. So he met Ellis' eyes, and nodded gruffly. "I promise."

Ellis nodded, feeling at least a bit better, and stood up. "Thanks, man…. I think I'm gonna try an' sleep now. Especially if Ro's gonna be around tomorrow. She'll probably wanna drag me all over D.C."

"Hey, better you than me, man," Francis said, and Ellis grinned. "Night."

"Night."

He walked back up the steps and into the bedroom, crawling back under the covers with his beau. As he tried to get comfortable, Nick threw an arm over him in sleep. And so Ellis smiled, and spooned into his sleeping boyfriend's body. Francis was talking crazy. Their relationship was fine the way it was, and it wasn't like they had been together that long. Weren't you supposed to court each other before getting married? Sure, they had this deep connection with each other, and Ellis knew that they had been pining for each other for three years. And they did know each other inside and out. But…. Marriage? It was a bit crazy. And besides, they had at least ONE hurdle to get through before he could contemplate that seriously.

Tomorrow night at this time, he kept repeating in his head until the monotony of it finally put him to sleep.

Chapter Text

"Would you watch the chest hair please?" Nick snapped at Francis as he taped the wire down to his chest.

"It's kind of hard when you're like a goddamn bear," Francis bit back. "Did you ever consider waxing your chest before we did this? Because, heh, this is gonna SUCK when it's time to remove it."

"Just shut up and tape it down," Nick grumbled, shaking his head. He probably could have at least shaved his chest. But…. He knew that Ellis liked his chest hair, and he was already treading towards hot water by doing this in the first place.

They'd been in Morgan's office trying to get ready for the meeting. Their boss had left to go retrieve the supposed tracking device, leaving the two Z-Men alone and Francis to strap Nick up. They'd been bickering the entire time, as was their usual custom when working.

"If you weren't such a freakin' graceless dumbass this would have been done a long time ago," Nick complained.

"Hang on, let me readjust this strip," Francis said, and before Nick could protest he'd ripped the tape from his chest. The con man yelled out, "GODDAMMIT!" as he leapt away in pain, and Francis did his very best not to laugh a bit spitefully. Nick turned back to him, eyes blazing, and the biker shrugged.

"Bet you wish you'd waxed now, dontcha?" he smirked, and Nick strode for him, just about ready to punch him in the nose, but before he could Morgan entered the room.

"Before you two kill each other I want to show you something really neat," he said, reaching into his pocket to remove a small box. "So you want to know the cool things your tax dollars pay for?"

"This better be good," Nick muttered as he and Francis gathered around the small box. Morgan opened it up to reveal a gold ring with a few stones in it. "Nice. Just my style. Why do I care?"

"Someone's had his chest hair pulled out by tape, hasn't he?" Morgan asked, and held up the ring. "You care because THIS is what's going to keep YOU in my sight during your meeting. It has a very small tracking device in it and it should blend in with the other gaudy jewelry you love so much."

"My jewelry isn't gaudy!" Nick protested as he took the ring from Morgan's hand, examining it.

"It's kind of gaudy," Francis said.

"Says the guy who has a goddamn skull ring," Nick sneered, still sore (figuratively and literally) from the tape incident. "Sweet. Much more subtle than those collars the Infected used to wear when they were tracked."

"One would hope so," Morgan said, and Nick put it on his left hand's middle finger. "Fits right?"

"Like a glove," Nick said, nodding. "Think I can keep it, maybe?"

"Doubtful," Morgan said. "We're all set. Court order is on the level, everything we're doing is nice and legal and my friend at the Justice Department is on stand-by. We just have to finish taping you up and we'll be golden. How are YOU feeling about all this, James Dean?"

"Fine," Nick shrugged as Francis began taping him up again. "If you do anything else to rip my hair out I swear to God-."

Morgan's phone rang before Nick could finish that sentence, and he picked it up swiftly, happier to hear whoever it was on the line than to hear cranky partners kvetch at each other. "Morgan."

"Agent Morgan, this is the security desk, I have a motley crew of people here who want to see you. I said that I'd need to get your okay first."

"Who are they?" the Assistant Director asked, skeptically.

"Well, the pushy leader's ID says her name is Rochelle-."

"Send them up," Morgan said, and hung up. He hadn't met this Rochelle person yet, but from all the things he'd heard about her 'pushy' seemed to be the perfect descriptor. "Alright, your friends are coming up to see you off, Nick."

"What?" Nick asked, and looked at Francis harshly. "Since WHEN were Ro and Ellis coming up here?"

"Since I haven't had time to see her since she got in early this morning, crashed at the hotel, and then decided to take Wednesday out for breakfast, that's when," Francis responded crankily. He wasn't used to having to share time with the teenage girl, though he knew that he was going to have to get used to it. So, he'd make time when possible. "What, you don't want to see Motor Mouth before you head out?"

"It's not that I don't WANT to, but I don't want to make a big deal out of this like I'm going off to war or something," Nick said as Francis put the last of the tape on his chest. "If I make a big deal out of it he'll just get more antsy and worried about it when he doesn't need to be." He smoothed the tape down on his chest, and poked at the small microphone. "Can we promise me that this isn't going to break?"

"Just don't slam into any walls and you should be good," Morgan snickered.

"I don't think Creevy could do that," Francis said, and reached for one of the pieces of tape on Nick's chest. "Hey, that one's a LITTLE off-."

"FUCK OFF," Nick snarled, smacking his hand away.

"I just don't want the mike to miss out on any important details!" Francis grinned, swiping for him, and Nick rushed around Morgan's desk in a retreat, leaving the Assistant Director to put a hand to his face. "Aw come on, Suit, don't be such a baby!"

"You're a sadist!" Nick spat, trying to fake the biker out by moving in both directions, but Francis wasn't tricked. "Seriously, dude, BACK OFF!"

"Best and brightest," Morgan muttered, and there was a knocking on his door. "PLEASE come in."

A pretty African-American woman poked her head in the door, smiling politely. "Hi, is this-?" She paused when she saw the ruckus that was going on, and a disapproving sigh left her mouth. "Oh. Yeah. This is the right office." She shook her head at Nick and Francis.

"I take it you're Rochelle?" Morgan asked, and she opened the door wider to reveal Ellis and a teenage girl.

"Yes, and you're Merle Morgan," she said, as Ellis waved at him and the teenage girl remained hesitant. "And I see Beavis and Butthead are up to their usual MTV-esque antics."

"Hey Cupcake!" Francis called, grinning from ear to ear as he left Nick behind the desk. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"

"Hi Baby, what are you doing to Nick?" she asked, as Nick waved at her sullenly. "Oh wow. That's quite the look for you, Nicolas."

"Oh man, Nick," Ellis said, stepping forward, and the con man shrugged. "You look…. You look like… I don't really know what to-."

"I look like a run of the mill rat, that's what I look like," Nick said, reaching for his nice shirt.

"You suggested this, Nick, so don't complain about being a so called rat," Morgan reminded him. "Hello, Ellis. And who is this?" Wednesday barely moved from her place outside the office door, and Rochelle turned back to her.

"This is Wednesday, she's my…. I'm going to be her guardian," the reporter replied, and motioned for the teenager to come in.

"Hey," Wednesday said, cautiously. "Hey Nick. Francis."

"So what are the three of you gonna do while Nick goes undercover?" Francis asked, and Nick rolled his eyes as he finished buttoning his shirt. It wasn't even undercover for God's sake.

"Well, we actually have a day of sight seeing set up, don't we Ellis?" Rochelle prompted, stepping next to the younger man and scratching his back. She knew that both he and Wednesday needed some distraction time this afternoon, and she figured the best way to do that was to drag them around D.C. "Wednesday wanted to see the stairs that were in the movie 'The Exorcist', and Ellis wanted to go to the Lincoln Memorial. So that's what WE'RE doing."

"Good," Nick said, relieved that SOMETHING would distract the mechanic. He caught his boyfriend's eye, and smiled reassuringly at him. "Hey, kiddo, I'm going to the vending machine for a soda. Want to come with?"

"Yeah, okay," Ellis nodded, and followed him out of the office. He'd never been in a building that looked so official before. There were a number of offices and meeting rooms, and many agents, just like in the movies. Though Ellis did have to admit that the agents here did look a little worse for wear and a bit more frazzled than Mulder and Scully ever did. That must have been the difference between being an agent in a small town like Roanoke II and an agent in a large city surrounded by VERY infected Grey Zone: Nick and Francis looked like they got SOME sleep. These agents looked like, for lack of a better word, zombies.

Ellis nodded at one of the agents, who nodded back with a vacant expression before turning to Nick.

"New one, eh Nick?" he asked as he walked past, and Nick sneered at him over his shoulder.

"Jealous, Harrigan?" he threw back, and Ellis chuckled nervously.

"Nick," he said, disapprovingly.

"He deserved the jibe. We fucked once and he ran right back into the closet," Nick said, shrugging, and Ellis turned around to get a better look at the agent now that THIS had been disclosed. But he'd already turned down the hallway and out of sight. "Wait til you see the vending machine. It's almost always broken and only distributes RC cola."

"No way, really?" Ellis asked as he followed Nick into a small break room area.

"… No, not really," Nick smiled, and pointed at the Coke machine. "It does eat quarters though, so I hope you have bills… Also, I wasn't really going for a soda."

"I know, you hate cola," Ellis nodded, and the gambler smirked. "So why DID we come over here?"

"Just wanted to get out of the madness in Morgan's office," he replied. "…. I was thinking that tonight when I get back, maybe we can… go out to dinner? Like, a nice dinner. There are some really nice restaurants here, and it's been forever since I've gone to a nice dinner. Or, in our case, it's been NEVER."

Ellis wasn't so sure that he could even think about a nice dinner at the moment. He was a bit on edge. Not to mention, he hadn't packed many nice clothes. Hadn't packed ANY nice clothes, really. "Um….. I don't, uh, I didn't bring anything I could wear to a nice place."

"That's okay. If you're going to those steps in 'The Exorcist' you'll be in Georgetown, there's lots of shopping over there," Nick said. "If you want I can spot you some money-."

"What? Naw, Nick, I don't need any money for clothes," Ellis said, shaking his head as he leaned against the vending machine. "You don't hafta pay for anything. I make enough at the garage-."

"I wasn't implying that," Nick cut him off, scratching the back of his head. "I just…. I want to take you out to dinner tonight… Just the two of us. So I can show you off and shit."

Ellis glanced at the vending machine, unable to help a small smile that was growing on his face. Yes, he was still nervous about what Nick was going to do that day, but the ever-charming gambler was making it really hard to stay worried, at least for now. "Well… Maybe Ro and Wednesday will be willin' to do some shoppin'."

"They're girls. Of course they'll be willing to go shopping."

"I'm gonna tell Ro you said that," Ellis threatened, and Nick smirked as he pressed him up against the vending machine. The mechanic sighed sharply, caught off guard by the sudden position he'd found himself in. "Nick, we're at your JOB-."

"Psh, like that's ever stopped me before," the gambler purred, and Ellis laughed quietly.

"You seriously never get enough, do ya?" he asked, and Nick shrugged as he teasingly bucked his hips forward. The younger man gasped, and smacked his lover lightly against the side of his head. "I'm not doin' this in a GOVERNMENT BUILDIN'."

"Aw, you're no fun, we've done this in YOUR place of business before," Nick said, thinking about the time they'd had sex on the workbench in the garage.

"Well that's different, this place is… a lot more serious," Ellis settled on, though he did make one teasing motion with his own hips. Nick grunted, and pinned Ellis' arm against the machine. "If I promise that we'll do this later, will ya let me go?"

"Only if you promise to keep that promise," Nick said, finally pulling away and letting the kid have some breathing room. "Alright, Overalls, You're free to move away from the vending machine, even if it's leaving my dick incredibly dissatisfied."

"Well, mine is too, so…" Ellis shrugged, and poked Nick in the chest.

"I suppose they'll want to get going soon anyway. We have some things to go over before two," Nick said, and the mechanic's face visibly fell.

"I figured," Ellis nodded. "…. Nick?"

"Hm?"

"….. Do you really have to do this?" he asked, cautiously.

"You know the answer to that."

"Okay… Nick?"

"Whaaat?"

"… Where are we goin' for dinner tonight?"

Nick's lips curved up, knowing that the mechanic had ultimately accepted that this was going to happen whether he liked it or not. And as he'd said before, Ellis didn't have to like it. It was a fine compromise.

"We're going to The Oceannaire," the gambler replied, placing an arm around his shoulders languidly as they walked back down the hallway. "Reservation for two."

"Sounds nice," Ellis said. It would be pleasant to finally have some alone time after sharing a house with Morgan and Francis the past couple of days. "I guess we'll just go sight seein' while you go an' do that. Maybe I'll get some new CDs or somethin', see if the Midnight Riders new album is out yet. They keep hintin' and not deliverin', man, it sucks!"

"That's because they suck," Nick said, and Ellis snorted.

"Your music taste is too snobby!" the younger man said. "You were singin' that 80s shit in the shower this mornin', after all!" Nick made a face is if wounded.

"What could possibly be shitty about Simple Minds?" he demanded, squeezing his lover close as he began to belt out 'Don't You Forget About Me' in the middle of the government building. Ellis snickered as other FBICE agents looked at them like they were crazy, and he shook his head. Nick was probably just trying to distract him. No harm in trying.

"You're obsessed with 'The Breakfast Club'," the mechanic muttered.

They walked back down the hallway and into Morgan's office, Nick ceasing the singing right before they walked in the door. Though they had, of course, heard him.

" 'Breakfast Club'?" Rochelle asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Best John Hughes movie ever," he replied.

"False, 'Sixteen Candles'," she retorted.

" 'Pretty in Pink'," Wednesday interjected.

"Chick movies," Francis grumbled. "I see you managed to forget the soda." He cast a knowing glance Nick's way, and the gambler shrugged.

"I thought you hated soda," Wednesday said, and Ellis snickered that Nick's ruse was so completely obvious. It wasn't HIS ruse, after all, he has nothing to be ashamed of.

"He does," Rochelle smiled, and Morgan looked at his watch.

"Well gents, as much as I like debating overrated pieces of cinema and how great soda is or isn't, we should probably be on our way," he said, clapping his hands sharply.

"Hang on," Rochelle said, holding up a hand. "I can't speak for Ellis, but I know that I want to know when you guys are finished. Like, the moment of. How are we going to know when it's over?"

"I can call you," Morgan suggested, and Rochelle shook her head slowly.

"Iiii don't have a cell phone, there's no point to in Roanoke II," she said. "No service."

"Me neither," Ellis said, nodding. "Yeah, how are we gonna know? Cuz I wanna know the minute it's done."

"Well," Morgan said, scratching his head, "when FBICE agents go into low service areas we give them pagers-."

"Oh yeah, like the ones you guys have," Ellis said, looking from Nick to Francis and back to Morgan. "Can you give us one've those?"

"I'm sure I can," Morgan nodded, reaching into his desk. "Here, use mine. It's ancient and probably makes a better paperweight than anything else, but it will do."

"How 1980s," Wednesday said, and Rochelle closed her eyes briefly. They'd need to work on politeness. She took the pager from Morgan, and nodded.

"This will work out fine," she said.

"Oh good," Morgan said. "Okay, sorry folks, but I have to ask all non-FBICE agents to go. We have to go over a few things and set up stuff in the van before we actually go to the coffee shop."

Ellis looked at Nick anxiously, arms crossing across his chest as if to defend himself from the departure, and Nick just gave him a comforting wink before nodding at Morgan. "Agreed, the faster we get there, the faster it will be over," the gambler said, and fully turned to his boyfriend. "Remember. Nice clothes."

"Yeah," Ellis nodded, smiling bravely, even though the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach was flaring up in full force. "I'll get somethin' nice." Nick pat him on the shoulder and kissed his temple. Ellis absentmindedly put a hand to Nick's cheek as he received the kiss, and took one last good look at him. "See you tonight."

The older man noticed that it was more of a command than a neutral statement, and he nodded emphatically. "You sure will." That irresistible mischievous smile reappeared on his lips, and he began to sing again. "Don't you try to pretend. It's my feeling we'll win in the end. I won't harm you or touch your defenses. Vanity, and security. OH!"

Normally he wouldn't sing like this in front of people. That was reserved for the shower. But if it would cheer his lover up, he would do it.

Francis smirked, and joined in. "Don't you forget about me!" they sang, and Rochelle shook her head as Ellis laughed, the civilians leaving the office. "DON'T DON'T DON'T DON'T!"

"God dammit," Morgan muttered, closing the door behind them and trying his very best to put up with the two not so talented singers.

Now it was a waiting game. Two pm came and went, and at two fifteen Nick was actually sipping on a cup of coffee he bought at the Wilde Roast. It occurred to him that they'd never actually come up with a plan for if Creevy didn't show; he had just assumed that the CEDA agent would have. He was usually quite punctual, probably more punctual than Nick, and that was saying something. The con man took another sip, the hot beverage burning his tongue a bit, and he swore. Darn fine coffee, but darn hot too, he thought grimly.

Morgan and Francis were down the block and around the corner, waiting in the ugly grey van. Apparently it had either been the van that looked like it belonged to a child molestor, or a van that had bagel advertisements on it. They'd opted for the child molester van, as at least THAT would be inconspicuous. They could hear everything Nick was saying, but he didn't have anyway to hear them. He imagined that they were debating whether or not to call it off. Asshole, I have seven pm dinner reservations, Nick thought, and sat down at one of the tables outside the café. There weren't many people outside, as the late October air seemed to be a bit too chilly for the lot of them. Nick preferred this to sweltering.

"Just give me ten more minutes, guys," he said, knowing that his colleagues could hear him. "I got a feeling he'll be here soon." He didn't have anything of the sort. He just wanted to believe that was the case.

In the van, Morgan and Francis stopped bickering for two seconds to listen to what Nick was saying. Francis crossed his arms and nodded. "See? HE wants a little more time. We should give it to him."

"I'd rather we just call off the whole thing. Creevy's usually impeccably on time, I say he called our bluff," Morgan said, rubbing his eyes. Arguing with someone who always HAD to be right, even if the arguments didn't make any sense, was exhausting.

"Nick's the one who's putting his ass on the line, I say that we listen to what HE wants."

"I know that's what you say," Morgan muttered. "Fine. We'll give him ten more minutes, but that's it. Then we pull the plug and just…. Forget it, I suppose."

Nick drank more of his coffee, and huffed. If this didn't happen today, he wasn't certain that it was going to happen at all. So he really REALLY hoped that Creevy was stuck in traffic or something. At least the coffee was waking him up after a night of tossing and turning.

He was about to pitch a fit and tell Morgan and Francis that he was giving up, when Creevy's familiar car drove up next to the curb. He honked the horn once, and Nick looked up from his drink. When he saw the window roll down, he smiled to himself. "Show time guys, Creevy's here."

Francis hooted and hit the side of the van, while Morgan exhaled, not sure if he was relieved or disappointed. "Okay, let's get this party started, eh Morgan?" the biker asked, and the Assistant Director nodded.

"I guess so," he said.

Nick walked up to the car window, and bent down to look inside it. "Greetings Agent Creevy," he said. "Care to join me for a cup of coffee?" He held up his cup, and grinned.

"Get in," Creevy said, flatly. Nick paused, hesitance crossing his features, and he tilted his head to the side.

"Thought we agreed to meet here at this coffee shop," he said.

"We've met," Creevy replied. "Now get in."

"You're changing our arrangement."

"Either get in, or I leave."

In the van, Morgan growled. "Don't you do it, James Dean," he muttered.

"Why not?" Francis asked.

"He should stay in a public place," Morgan said, listening to hear what Nick would say to that.

Nick chewed on his finger for a moment, and weighed his options. True, he was supposed to stay in a public place, at least Morgan wanted him to. It was safer that way, and there would be witnesses if Creevy tried anything. But, on the other hand, Nick didn't want this opportunity to slip away. If Creevy left now, he might not have him alone again. And besides, he DID have a tracking device on him. So Morgan and Francis would have to follow at a distance. It wasn't like they wouldn't know where he was. Plus, what could Creevy do? Nick knew that he needed outside help and the element of surprise to go after anyone stronger than he was.

So, he shrugged. "Whatever. Talking out here or in there is all the same to me. Sure, let's go," he said, and climbed in the car, making sure not to spill his coffee.

"I might just kill him," Morgan snapped as Francis crawled over the seat into the driver's side of the van. "Insubordination and reckless behavior, not a jury in the world would convict me, I'd probably be given a medal."

"So we follow them," Francis said, starting the engine. "I can keep us out of sight, you just look at the tracking and tell me where to go, okay?" Morgan didn't say anything as he watched Nick's dot begin to move on the screen. Francis looked back as he started the engine. "Where am I going?"

"Go back onto Grove and turn right."

Nick settled into the lumpy seat of the car, and examined his fingers under the guise of vanity. In reality he was glancing at the ring, hoping that Morgan and Francis weren't too far behind. "So," he said. "Where are we going?"

"Just driving," Creevy said, and turned up his radio a small bit. The Z-Man was surprised to hear Lou Reed's 'Transformer' playing on the sound system, and he raised his eyebrows.

"You like Lou Reed?"

"He's fine."

"Wow. We actually have something in common," Nick said, going for another sip of coffee. He glanced out the side mirror, wondering if he'd be able to spot Francis and Morgan's van, but saw nothing of the sort. Keeping out of sight, makes sense, he thought, though he did feel a bit uneasy. "So. Are we going to talk?"

"Where is it?" Creevy asked, keeping his eyes on the road as he drove.

Nick stretched a bit. Now we're getting somewhere. "It's safe."

"Show it to me."

"No," Nick scoffed. "Let's talk first."

Creevy continued to drive, eyes staring ahead. His words had sounded angry, and yet his tone had been fairly even. Now he wasn't saying anything, he was just looking out over the road as he drove. It was a bit disconcerting, actually, and Nick cleared his throat, trying a new strategy. "So why didn't you notice that this was missing from the back of the truck? I would have thought a sneaky guy like you would have thought of that base to cover."

"I put my faith in other people and it always disappoints me," Creevy said. Hm, that's a bit too vague for my tastes, Nick thought.

"In what way?" he asked, trying not to seem too eager by leisurely drinking some more coffee before setting it back down in the cup holder. He looked out the window of the car, the nearly barren trees catching his eye. The colors probably had been great a few weeks ago. Now everything just looked dead. There were a few crows perched in one of the skeletal trees, and as the car pulled to a stop light he watched the birds cry and screech at each other.

"I was always told that hard work and tenacity will get you everywhere you wanted in life," Creevy said after a pause, and Nick turned to him. He looked as if he hadn't moved from his position. "My father said that if I studied, and worked, and devoted my life and energy to one goal in life, I would get everything I wanted. So I busted my ass. I worked, sacrificed fun, friends, time, a LIFE, and you know? It did get me somewhere. To a point, it got me somewhere. I became a CEDA Agent, one who was so well respected I was up for a promotion that would skip an entire level. I was a Wunderkid.

"And then you came along," Creevy said, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard the rubber made rough noises of protest. He began to drive again, shaking his head. "You, a man who hasn't worked an honest day in his life. Someone who's manipulated, schmoozed, and stumbled into a life you don't deserve."

"That's your opinion," Nick scoffed, downing more coffee now.

"It's a fact!" Creevy snarled, and Nick briefly jumped. The song 'Satellite of Love' began to play off the album, and Nick would have been thrilled if he wasn't so caught up in the conversation. "It's a FACT. I've read your file at least a dozen times. More even. I know everything there is to know about you. You were raised in Los Angeles, your Dad was a corporate lawyer and your mom a professional housewife and golddigger. You were great in school, accepted to a couple Ivy League colleges, scholarships to a few Big Tens. But you decided to tell all of that to go to hell and split for Vegas to learn how to wheel and deal as, what I would imagine, a big 'fuck you' to your Dad.

"Run ins with the law, broken relationships, a rich inheritance and a ravaging infection later, you were hand plucked for an elite job, a job that people like ME had to earn. But that's just part of you, isn't it? You slide by and get whatever you want as if it's serendipity," Creevy said. "And then you get to retire at age thirty eight with a fat government pension coming to you, left to coast through the REST of your life with your flavor of the month boyfriend. While I'm stuck in one job that I will never, ever get out of, all because of YOU."

"Because of me, yeah RIGHT!" Nick laughed snidely. "YOU'RE the one who shot that civilian in the face, douchebag, not me! I just reported it because it was wrong! It's your own damn fault that you're stuck as a lower agent for the rest of your life, not mine! You've coasted too, buddy, everyone knows you've gotten away with lots of fucked up shit and NO ONE does anything about it! You should count your lucky stars you just lost out on a promotion. Anyone else would be in prison!"

"I do what I have to do to uphold the Order of things! I'm Government! It's in my right to do whatever it takes!"

"Bullshit!" Nick said, not as emphatic. Not that he didn't want to be emphatic, it just didn't come out that way. "You slide by just as much as me! And speaking of sliding by, THIS is some news that you're going to love! Listen to this: I never had to work hard in school to get straight A's, I know SHIT about sports but usually manage to win HUGE in sports gambling by picking the team name I like better, and as soon as I'm done in Roanoke II I'm NOT retiring! I was offered the position of the D.C. Assistant Director of FBICE, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to take it! So yeah, Creevy, maybe I'm charmed and you've been dumped on in spite of all the hard work you've done. But that's probably the Universe's way of telling you that you can get fucked!"

As he ranted, it occurred to him that he wasn't feeling right. His head was swimming a bit, and the song was echoing in his head in an eerie, otherworldly kind of way. He put a hand to his face, rubbing an eye before pointing at the CEDA Agent. "You may not get everything you want in life, Creevy, but that's all on you, not on me. You can try and have me killed, and you can try and frame me, but I'm going to keep coming back because that's karma." He swallowed, all of a sudden feeling very sleepy, as if the coffee hadn't done anything, or made things worse. He leaned his head back against the seat, and squeezed his eyes shut briefly to try and fight the feeling, but he suddenly felt like he was sinking under the waves of a very dark and very desolate sea, Lou Reed's voice the only thing he could hear now. And his eyes didn't open again, as he fell into that Lou Reed infested ocean, and passed out.

Creevy looked over at him, and then back at the road. He pulled the car over, and stopped it in a very large and abandoned parking lot. "I have something to tell you, Nick," he said, as he carefully unbuckled Nick's seatbelt and daintily unbuttoned his shirt. Just as he suspected, the wire was taped to his chest. He tilted his head to the side, and leaned back again. "I don't like Lou Reed. I just figured it would knock your guard down." He lifted Nick's limp arm, and grasped his wrist as he removed the ring from the con man's finger. He knew Nick like he knew the back of his hand, and THAT ring was new and serving a different purpose that decoration. He opened his window and tossed the ring through it, watching it hit the ground. "I don't like Lou Reed, and I never should have trusted Barbara Dane, or Edward Jacobs, to do my job. The only person who could remove this great white whale was me. I know that now." He started driving again, speeding quickly towards his destination, a maniacal grin on his face.

Back in the van Francis had stopped, but both he and Morgan were a bit put off by the strange ramblings coming over the wire. He was waiting for any indication that Nick was moving again, as his foot was getting itchy to hit the accelerator.

"Third time could be the charm, I suppose," they heard Creevy say, and Francis began to chew on his thumb violently.

"What's he talking about?" he asked, and Morgan just stared at the map. Come on. Move, he thought as if his thoughts could will it to do so.

"Third time WILL be the charm," Creevy continued. "…. So Morgan and Francis, in case you haven't figured it out, I'm not stupid."

Both Z-Men's faces snapped to look at each other, surprised and horrified.

"Just thought you'd like to know that Nick and I are going for a ride," Creevy said, his voice crackling over the wire as rustling and thudding distorted it.

"GO!" Morgan shouted at Francis, whose foot slammed on the pedal.

"I guess my sacrifice in all of this is that I've fully incriminated myself, but I think I like it better this way. I think in this life I've led I'll be at my most satisfied when I finish what I started in Santa Fe."

And with that, the wire tap made a crunching noise and went dead. It had probably hit the pavement and shattered about the asphalt.

"Francis, drive faster!" Morgan barked.

"I'M GOING AS FAST AS I CAN!" Francis shouted. "Are they moving?"

"No, they're still in place, go down this road and turn left at the second street!" Morgan snapped.

"Why isn't he moving?" Francis asked, speeding ahead and turning left so sharply the van's tires squealed. "What the hell is going on?"

Morgan shook his head, and looked at the screen. According to this, they should have been right on top of Creevy's car, and yet they found themselves in an empty parking lot.

"What the FUCK!" Francis exclaimed. "How could they not be here! The map says they're supposed to be right here-!"

"No," Morgan said quietly as Francis braked the van. "All the map says is where the tracking device is supposed to be. So… the tracking device is here, and they're long gone."

Francis paused a moment, and then shook his head before opening the door to the van. "Francis!" Morgan called, but the biker ignored him and began to rush around the lot, looking for somewhere, ANYWHERE, the car could be hiding. Even though he knew that it wasn't likely, a small part of him wanted to believe that they hadn't just let his partner get taken by a psychopath like Mark Creevy. He scanned the lot for a disrupted view of ANY kind, and He yelled at nothing but his frustration, kicking the asphalt with his boot as he did so, and Morgan honked the horn to the van.

"He isn't here!" the Assistant Director shouted as Francis took in a deep breath, trying to keep from having an all out panic attack.

"FUUUUCK!" he bellowed, hands flying to his head. "FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

"Francis! Get your ass in here, we don't have time for this!" he shouted. "Save it for when we get McCarthy in my office!"

"We had him!" Francis exclaimed, though he did trot back to the vehicle. "We fucking had him a BLOCK away from us and now we're FUCKED! NICK is FUCKED!"

"Get in the van," Morgan stated, firmly. "We have work to do." Francis did as he was told, and Morgan slid over to the driver's seat, seeing that Francis was shaking too hard to control the temperamental vehicle.

"Work to do?" the biker asked. "What sort of-?"

"Getting Nick back, obviously!" Morgan snapped. "Call McCarthy at CEDA, tell him to meet me at my office ASAP. Tell him it's an emergency."

"Yeah, yeah, that makes sense," Francis nodded, picking up the phone from the cup holder. "…. Oh shit."

"What?" Morgan asked, and Francis slumped back into the seat. "What, Francis?"

The biker sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. "… What am I going to tell Ellis?" he asked, voice uncharacteristically soft.

Chapter Text

Ellis wasn't sure how he'd found himself in the jewelry store. It started when they were walking along some stores and shops in Georgetown, getting him some nice clothes and checking out various books. Around the time Wednesday and Rochelle began arguing about whether or not the reporter would buy 'Twilight' for the teenager, Ellis decided it was time to take his leave and told them he'd be in one of the other stores in the small area. And that store happened to be one that sold jewelry. It had initially been because he didn't want to get too far from his companions, but soon he was actually looking at various items, without a goal or a clue as to why he was doing it. He scratched the back of his head and removed his hat briefly, at once feeling self conscious looking the way he did in a fancy shop like this one.

The things Francis had said the night before hadn't been taken to heart at first. The biker was, like usual, making a big thing out of nothing. But the more that Ellis tried not to take it to heart, the more he couldn't help but think about the very idea of marriage, namely the very idea of marriage to Nick. Would it really be all that different? Probably not. Of course, the mechanic was still convinced that the label itself would probably scare the gambler off, and so he knew that he wasn't about to ACTUALLY bring it up to him.

Of course, if Nick did get that job as Assistant Director of FBICE in D.C. it would be legal…

He shook the thought from his head, and instead opted to just look at the rings that were available. JUST look. He smiled a bit to himself, knowing exactly what the con man would like and what he wouldn't like of the jewelry in the store. It was comforting knowing that he was completely confident in his knowledge of Nick and his tastes.

"Can I help you find anything today?" the salesman behind the counter asked, and Ellis flushed momentarily before shaking his head.

"Just lookin' right now, thanks," he mumbled, considering turning tail and leaving the store. But before he could, Rochelle and Wednesday walked in, carrying their bags and chit chatting back and forth. In, once again, bickering tones.

"You're a jerk," Wednesday huffed.

"I beg your pardon! You'll thank me someday when you're happily married to a great guy who treats you with respect and dignity!" Rochelle snapped, shaking her head and then waving at Ellis. "Hey Sweetie. Of all the places I'd look for you I never thought I'd find you in here of all places. What are you-?"

"Nothin'! Just lookin'! It's not a big deal!" Ellis exclaimed awkwardly, and before Rochelle could question it he went on to the next. "Hey Wednesday, did you get your book?"

"No."

"You COULD have if you had wanted to," Rochelle pointed out.

"Yeah, there was no way I was going to do that with YOU," Wednesday said, and Ellis tilted his head in confusion. Wednesday sighed, as if embarrassed to even recount it, and said "She said that the only way she would buy me 'Twilight' was if after I was finished with it we'd sit down and have a 'frank and honest' discussion about what makes a healthy relationship and how women aren't prizes to be won."

"Wow. You sure sucked the fun out've that book," Ellis said to his friend, and Rochelle sniffed, crossing her arms.

"Those were the stipulations. She chose not to agree to them. I bought her Barbara Kingsolver instead," Rochelle said. "You got a book out of it. Next time bring money." Wednesday was about to respond with a sarcastic and whiney comment, but before she could the reporter hopped topics. "Sooooo, what are we doing in a jewelry store, Ellis?"

"I told you, I was just lookin' is all," Ellis claimed, scratching the back of his head nervously. "I, I might want to get a watch."

"Uh huh," Rochelle nodded, though she clearly wasn't buying it. Before she could continue to prod and tease, the pager in her purse began to go off. "Oh wow! They're done already?"

Ellis felt a wave of relief rush through him, and he exhaled slowly. "That's good! And kinda quick, isn't it? I thought these sorta things took awhile or somethin'."

"Well, I have to go find a phone so I can call back, just to confirm it," Rochelle said, and was about to ask the jeweler, but decided against it when it was clear that he was mad that they were all loitering without buying. "There's a bar a few doors down, I'll go ask them. Be right back, guys."

"Kay," Ellis said, and turned back to the rings. He never really understood Nick's love of jewelry for his hands. Ellis certainly couldn't see himself wearing anything so fancy, at least not unless it was a wedding ring, of course.

Stop thinking about that, he chided himself, and was about to roll his eyes at his inner turmoil, but saw that Wednesday was watching him. He looked away, and shrugged. "What?" he asked.

"….. So what about that one?" she asked, pointing at a silver ring with twisting designs on the band.

"What about it?"

"Think Nick would like it?" she asked. "Or is he one of those 'I don't wear rings unless they're made of man's man things like titanium'?"

"Are you kiddin'? You've seen the ones he has, they're gold and shit," Ellis said, shaking his head. "I think he'd think that titanium was… I don't know, stupid. He'd probably like the silver…. Or maybe that gold one right there-."

"No, not the gold one," Wednesday said, shaking her head. "You should get him the silver one. Then get matching gold ones for the wedding bands."

"WHY does everyone think that I'm gonna ask him to marry me?" Ellis asked, blushing once again.

"You aren't?"

"We've only been together for a few weeks!"

"Rochelle says that you were together during the Flu."

"That was…. That was WAY different," Ellis said.

"And I thought that you were totally pining after him for three years."

"… Never mind," he said, firmly. Sure, they'd been pining after each other. But that, in his mind, didn't count.

"Well, anyway, the silver one is nice if you're really thinking about getting him something," she said. "Engagement ring or not."

"Thanks…" He turned to the girl, and smiled kindly. "How are you holdin' up, Wednesday?"

"….. I'm holding," she nodded. "…. It's nice to be away from all…. That." She wrinkled her nose, and before she could dwell longer she turned to look at other ones.

After a few minutes, she pointed to another silver ring. "That one's really nice. Hey, sales guy."

"My name is Trent," the salesman said, and Wednesday shrugged.

"Whatever. How much is that one going for?" she asked, pointing at the second ring.

"Did you save up enough money in your piggy bank?" he asked, acerbically, and she glared.

"She isn't interested," Ellis said, shooting her a look.

"Was it you who was then?"

"… Maybe. How much is it?" he asked. It wasn't like he was going to buy it. He was just wondering.

"Four hundred and fifty dollars."

Now he REALLY wasn't going to buy it.

"Dang," he said.

"Well what about that one?" Wednesday asked, pointing at the first one.

"That's two hundred and fifty. It hasn't been moving so it's on sale," the salesman said. "Not many men like rings that have too much design to them, it seems."

"Hm," Ellis said, chewing on his fingernail. He was about to ask if he could see it, just because he was curious, of course, but before he could Rochelle came back into the store. Oh good, now I won't have time to get it, he thought, and smiled at her. "Hey Ro! What did they say? Is it all done?"

Rochelle walked forward, trying to keep a calm face, but he could see by her eyes that she hadn't liked what she'd heard on the phone. "…. Hey guys. Let's go to the car, shall we?"

"Oh don't tell me they're gonna be late," Ellis said, huffing a bit. "I mean, I understand that these things kinda take time, but Nick was real excited about that dinner we're goin' to."

Rochelle chewed on her lip, and looked at Wednesday, who looked at her guardian and back to Ellis. "We'll talk about it in the car," was all she said.

Ellis could feel a deep alarm in the very pit of his stomach. Yes, Rochelle was keeping her cool very well, but he could tell by her eyes, and her body language, that something was very wrong. He scratched his elbow nervously, and nodded. "Yeah, okay," he said, and smiled as best he could. It was as if acquiescing to her request would somehow make everything okay, that if he did this she would then tell him that oh yes, Nick was finished with his job and he was on his way back to Morgan's and they would finally have their whole lives ahead of them. So he tried to keep a calm demeanor about himself as they walked back to the car, even if there was a tension lingering over them that was ripping at his gut.

He sat in the passenger seat of the car, and turned to Rochelle, who was staring ahead blankly. "Okay, so what was so important that you had to wait for the car?" he asked, attempting to sound blithe.

She turned to look at him, and took in a deep breath. "Well, that was Francis…. Sweetie, there's some news… It's…." She trailed off, and looked out the window again, trying to gather herself.

The dread was still rising up in him slowly, bubbling and fizzing through his defensive denial. "…. What's goin' on, Ro?" he asked, stomach starting to hurt.

She took in a deep breath through her nose, obviously pained to have to be the one to break the news to him, and she took his hand. "It's Nick, sweetie…."

"… Is he dead?" Ellis asked, softly. That was his initial thought, and a strange overpowering numbness seemed to take over, as if steadying him for the answer.

"No!... No, he…" she struggled with the words, mouth open as she tried to string a coherent sentence together. "…. He was-."

"RO, PLEASE," Ellis exclaimed, the numbness suddenly shattering so violently that Wednesday jumped in the backseat of the car and Rochelle flinched. "Please tell me what's goin' on-!"

"Creevy, it was Creevy!" Rochelle answered, closing her eyes and gripping the steering wheel. "He got in the car with him, and something went wrong! He… He took him, Ellis. He took him."

Numbness went to fear, and fear went to horror. "Oh God," Ellis murmured, leaning forward in his seat. Even though he'd worried and fretted about this exact scenario, now that it had come to fruition he realized that his worry and fretting hadn't prepared him for it. Not even a little bit. His insides clenched and tumbled, and he put his hands to his forehead.

"Francis said that we need to go back to Morgan's office and that they're trying to figure something out," she said, trying to be comforting no matter how futile it was.

"And then what?" Ellis asked, voice muffled by his arms. She started the car, and shook her head.

"They're going to talk to McCarthy, the CEDA guy, and then they're going to send out a shit ton of agents to look-."

"I thought he was being tracked!" the mechanic exclaimed, voice thick and fearful, and she shook her head.

"Creevy threw the device out the window, he saw right through it," she said. "They think that he figured everything out before Nick even showed up, if he drugged him it took planning."

"Dr-drugged?" he asked, and Wednesday pulled her legs up to her chest, the sudden storm of intense emotions too much for her.

"They don't know for sure," Rochelle explained, trying her best to keep calm for his sake. "But… Nick had stopped talking a bit before the tape ended. And we both know that Nick likes to talk back to Creevy, so they think that-."

"I'm gonna throw up," Ellis announced abruptly.

"What-?"

"PULL OVER, I'm gonna throw up!" he repeated, hands clasping at the door handle. She did as she was told, and pulled the car off to the side of the street. He threw the door open, and leaned over the parking lot asphalt, vomiting up his lunch. Rochelle winced, and rubbed his back soothingly as he rode out the sudden nausea. Why do I always throw up when I'm this upset? he thought bitterly as he wretched and heaved. Tears stung at his eyes, but he forced them back, because if he cried it was as if he was giving up.

"… Ellis," she began, but he ignored her. "…. You need to calm down-."

"HOW CAN I CALM DOWN?" he demanded, yanking himself back into the car.

"I don't know how but you NEED to!" she said coarsely, and he shook his head, but she took him by the cheeks. "No, listen! You need to calm down!"

"I can't believe you're sayin' that-!"

"You need to calm down because you need to keep your wits about you!" she said, firmly. "We don't know anything yet, Francis and Morgan and on top of this doing the best they can. They are going to tear this city apart looking for Nick, you KNOW that. And Nick would want you to be calm. You're no good in a panic."

"Ro, he's been KIDNAPPED-!"

"I KNOW," she said, voice extremely stern now. He needed to gather himself, and the only way he would do it was if she stunned him to silence. He shut his mouth, looking as if he'd been slapped, and averted his eyes as he began to shake. She took his hands in hers, and squeezed them as reassuringly as she could. "Listen to me. Yes, this is bad. And yes, I know you're scared, I'm terrified and I'm not nearly as close to him as you are. You must be fighting ever impulse to just….lose it.

"But you CAN'T lose it, sweetie," she continued, petting his face. "You need to keep your head because Nick needs all the help he can get right now, and for you to help you NEED to be calm."

He nodded a few times, breathing in through his nose and attempting not to start panicking and gasping. "….. The last time I saw him I didn't even tell him I love him," he said, that awful realization being the only thing that came to mind.

She closed her eyes, his words damn near breaking her heart, and she swallowed down the lump in her throat as she shook her head. "So you tell him when you see him next."

"But what if I never see him again?" he asked. She chewed the inside of her cheek, and shook her head at him.

"Don't say that," she commanded, voice trying it's best not to shake. "You never gave up on Nick in the past, don't you dare do it now."

Ellis took in a shaky breath, finding it infinitely difficult to be at all optimistic about this. Yes, Nick was indelibly smart, and resourceful, and Francis and Morgan were no doubt going to bust their asses and devote all resources to finding him. But that didn't matter to him at the very heart of his emotions. All that mattered was that his boyfriend was in trouble, and Ellis was absolutely powerless in the face of it.

So he leaned forward, hands to his head, trying not to let utter helplessness completely consume him. Rochelle was right. He was no good to Nick if he was an emotional mess. Nick would want him to be strong, to keep a clear head and stay calm. But all he could think about were the scars on Nick's chest, and how this time it could be much, much worse.

Nick had to fight to open his eyes. They were drooping stubbornly, and it felt like it took all of his strength just to be able to see again. His vision blurred briefly, and he looked around, head rolling about dazedly. Okay, where the fuck? he thought, and tried to put a hand to his head. But he was unable to lift his arm. He looked down, eyebrows drawing together, and saw that his left arm was duct taped to a chair. He snorted, and looked at his right arm. Same deal. He tried lifting them again, and attempted to lean forward to give himself a little leverage. But he could barely move his torso as well, and saw MORE duct tape around his chest.

Oh, I get it. That sadistic son of a bitch totally kidnapped me.

"FUCK!" he snarled, struggling against the restraints. The chair he was in rocked back and forth, and he didn't stop trying to move until he nearly tipped over. Figuring that it would be better to remain sitting and not on the floor, he stopped moving, and closed his eyes. "Okay… Okay, calm down," he muttered to himself. "First step: Chill. Just… Chill." Maybe the first step is to stop talking to yourself, he thought, and chuckled a bit maniacally. Second step, figure out where you are.

He looked around, and could honestly say that he had no idea just where he was. He craned his neck, looking up towards the ceiling, and noticed a staircase behind him that led up to a bell. So… I'm in a church, he thought, thinking that Creevy was really going for the obsessive nostalgic angle. No Witches though. So he had that going for him. He tried twisting one of his arms in the duct tape, thinking that maybe it would give a bit if he was slow. He winced as he tried twisting it, and chewed on his lip in concentration. When it was clear that that wasn't going to work, he swore again.

Fucking asshole, he thought, wondering just where his captor had gone. He shook his head grimly, having not realized just how obsessed Creevy was with him. He probably should have figured, as the guy was like a persistent and insidious shadow that would trail him wherever he went. He really should have seen this coming.

Well, Francis and Morgan have to know that something went wrong, he thought, and wrinkled his nose. So they were no doubt working hard trying to find him. He looked around again, and his green eyes fell on the boarded up window. There were small cracks in the wood that light was shining through, so he knew it was still daytime. He strained to listen for any noises that might give him a hint as to where he was. Judging by the disarray of the dank and mildewy room, he had to assume that it wasn't frequented often. If at all.

Before he could try to figure out if there was any signs of life outside, the door on the far end of the room opened slightly, and Nick's head whipped towards it, shifting the chair against the wood floor as best he could. Mark Creevy slipped through the gap in the door, carrying a hand gun in one hand an a bolt cutter in the other. "I forgot just how fucked New England is in the Grey Zones still," the CEDA agent said, closing the door with his foot. "You wouldn't believe the amount of Infected that are crawling around outside right now."

"Oh yes?" Nick asked, feigning interest. "How fascinating. Never thought about it before. Also, WHAT THE FUCK YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE?" He rattled the chair a bit, and Creevy smirked, his lips drawing across his teeth in a cadaverous grin.

"So, welcome," he said, putting his gun away. "It isn't perfect, but I'm pretty satisfied, how about you?"

"Not sure what's supposed to be satisfying me," Nick said, snidely. "The duct tape, or the fact it smells like piss in here. Or maybe it's a mystery third thing that I'm unaware of."

"You wound me," Creevy replied, walking behind Nick ever so slowly, the gambler trying to move his gaze to keep an eye on him. "You'd be surprised by how tough it was for me to find the perfect church this morning. I was up at the crack of dawn, driving around the Grey Zone, searching for an ideal that I wasn't sure could be found outside the Southwest. And yet here we are."

"….. I don't know, man, this doesn't look much like that church in Santa Fe outside the bell tower," Nick said, finally catching Creevy in his eyeline as the CEDA agent stopped circling him and paused a few feet away. The older man shrugged, and looked around the belfry calmly.

"I remember this church," he said, voice flat. "Used to know people who went here. It was a really popular sanctuary during the Infection, which might be why it used to be such a hotbed for Infected. This part of the Grey Zone is still rather raucous, actually. All the buildings are boarded up, chained shut. I had to clean this place out of ten separate zombies after breaking the chains." He held up the bolt cutter for emphasis, but continued. "I didn't want any of them disturbing us."

"Yes, those pesky, tactless Infected," Nick grumbled, getting really irritated with the conversation.

"… .A Boomer Bile Cap? REALLY, Nick?" Creevy asked. "That was all you could think of?"

"I thought it was pretty good, actually," Nick sniffed. "YOU seemed to fall for it. Unless you're Meryl Streep now."

"I'll admit, I DID fall for it at first," Creevy said, pacing in front of him. "But then I began thinking. I know you well enough to know that if you DID have something like that, you would have just taken it to Morgan, who would have made sure that I was taken down."

"Yeah, I'm REALLY wishing I had snagged that stupid thing when I had the chance," Nick muttered.

"I'll bet."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"What exactly is it you think you're going to achieve by doing this?" The Z-Man moved his fingers and hands as best he could in emphasis. "So you've kidnapped me, you're probably going to try and kill me, and… then what? You've kidnapped a Federal Agent, dumbass! I'm not some civilian, or willing to just stay quiet. And even if you DO kill me, Francis and Morgan are no doubt fully aware of what's going on, so-."

"Spare me," Creevy said. "I have no intention of 'getting away' with this. I know that everything I'm doing here is going to change my life. But I've adapted before. And I know that there are anti-Government hillbillies and psychos who live in the Grey Zone. I'm sure I won't find it that difficult."

"Ah yes, a tempting alternative if there ever was one," Nick said, snorting. "You know, that was MY Plan B when you tried to frame me… Frankly I liked it better when you were trying to frame me."

"I'm sure," Creevy said.

"Do you know how goddamn pathetic you are?" Nick continued, laughing a bit. "I mean JESUS, most people would have just let it go after trying to get me the first time. I didn't even report you when you tried to kill me, I let you off scot free for God's sake."

"You know that wouldn't satisfy me."

"Obviously. Hence why I said you're pathetic. Tell me, do you fantasize and dream of bad things happening to me 24/7? Because you totally seem obsessed enough. CHRIST, you aren't going to know what to do with yourself after this is over and done with," Nick needled.

"I'm sure I'll manage," Creevy said, and stepped forward, setting the bolt cutters on the creaky floor. "Besides. I plan on giving myself plenty of happy memories to keep me going for awhile."

"I'm not comfortable with being your masturbatory fodd-."

Before he could finish the snide comment, Creevy slugged him across the face. Nick's head whipped to the side, and a mass of stars exploded momentarily in his head. "FUCK!" he shouted, leaning forward a bit, the pain more potent than he thought it would be.

"I'd never masturbate to the thought of you," Creevy said, lowly. "Contrary to what you may believe, not everyone wants you to fuck them." Nick chuckled a bit through the pain, really feeling like pressing his luck. Maybe he was a bit of a masochist, he didn't know.

"That's not what I'VE heard, but I suppose it makes sense with you since you're obviously TERRIFIED of a hot, throbbing cock being shoved up your ass."

This earned him another smack to the face. He kept in a yell, as he wasn't caught off guard this time, and instead licked his lip, tasting blood. Must have cut it on a tooth, he thought, and turned back to Creevy, shrugging. "Whatever, man. Hit me all you want. Frankly, you kind of hit like a sissy. I've had worse from my ex wife, and she was terrified she'd break a nail."

Creevy snickered a bit, and squatted to be face to face with Nick. "That may be. But I do have some help, you know."

"Yeah, well, you never could do anything to me without having SOME form out outside antagonist," Nick said, not sure what Creevy meant by help, as they were alone in the room.

"You'll be interested to know that THAT part of this isn't quite ready yet," Creevy said as he checked his watch, his words a bit confusing to the gambler. "For now, it's just me. Well, me and a few other things." He walked back towards the bolt cutters, picking them up off the floor, and it was then that Nick actually began to get nervous.

"You know, I'm really, really interested in primate behavior," Creevy continued, opening and closing the blades of the cutters slowly. "Learning about it is kind of a hobby of mine, that and military history. I have so many books about chimps, and chimp culture and how they aren't too different from us humans." He glanced over at Nick, mouth slightly open as he played with the implement in his hand. "Chimps are just as bad as people when it comes to violence. They kill each other over territory, over food, over other chimps. And, rather amazingly, they've mastered and fully appreciate the use of tools."

"… So you watch a lot of National Geographic," Nick said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Good on you."

Creevy turned towards Nick, and walked his way. "When chimps fight, some of the first things they target are the fingers," he continued. "After all, hands can grasp, fingers can scratch. Best to immobilize the built in weapons first, you know." He continued to step forward, holding up the bolt cutters. "As much as chimps are nuts, I admire their instincts."

Nick knew what was going to happen. He knew that it was inevitable, and that all he could do was sit back and just deal with it. But, like most people in that situation would do, he couldn't quite reconcile that reality, and shook his head. "Goddammit, Creevy, back off," he warned.

"I don't really know what you think you're going to do if I don't," the CEDA agent said, placing the blades around the gambler's left pinky finger.

"Creevy, I SWEAR TO GOD-!"

"I'm sure you do, but I'm fairly certain He can't be bothered," Creevy said, and slammed the blades shut.

Nick had been in various amounts of pain in his life. When he was young it varied from minor nicks and cuts to a broken arm. In his adulthood it mostly consisted of having the crap beaten out of him. During the Flu, of course, there were Tanks and Hunters and Smokers and other creatures that all would take certain physical tolls. And the coup de grace, of course, being the Witch that had torn into his insides. That one was no doubt the worst.

Losing his pinky to a pair of bolt cutters? That got the silver.

He let out a long and howling scream, the sudden throbbing overtaking every other sense, and he twisted his arm as best he could, though it just wouldn't move. Creevy merely watched the reaction with a mellow smile on his face, taking quite the joy in seeing his nemesis yowling in pain.

"AHGOD! YOU BASTARD! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Nick cursed at him, the feeling of the blood oozing out of his hand horrifying him about as much as the pain did. "You sick sadistic son of a BITCH-!"

"Oh knock it off," Creevy sneered, setting the tool down on the floor before yanking Nick's forward by the collar, keeping the gambler's face mere millimeters from his own. "Make your sham of a badge proud and DEAL with it. There are worse things I could have done, and believe me, I'm so very tempted. But I've restrained myself."

"Oh how fucking kind of you," Nick snarled, trying not to look at his finger on the floor. He would probably throw up if he looked for too long.

"ONLY because I have better things in store," Creevy amended, his cold eyes burrowing into Nick's jade green ones before shoving him away roughly. "Just because I'm not doing it, it doesn't mean I won't be able to enjoy it. In fact, I think that I'm going to gather the most joy out of this situation from my big finale. Which is a bold statement, as that right there?" He pointed at the severed finger. "THAT was pretty fucking awesome."

"You superiors must be so proud," Nick replied, head tipping back as he tried to still his rapid breathing. He knew that one couldn't die from a severed finger under normal circumstances. But one could faint if they didn't catch their breath properly. And he'd rather not faint.

Creevy looked at his watch, and wrinkled his nose. "Unfortunately, we still have a little time to wait. But I can be patient if you can be."

Nick breathed through his nose, trying his very best to ignore the pain. "Doesn't seem like I have much choice, does it?" he asked, grimly.

"No, not really," Creevy agreed. "I'm sure we'll find ways to pass the time." And with that, he smacked Nick's jaw again. The gambler groaned, and spat blood from his mouth.

"….. I take it Yahtzee is out of the question?" he asked sarcastically, and Creevy shook his head.

"I forgot my dice at home."

"Damn."

Nick turned away from the CEDA agent and stared at the wall, his hand killing him and his face stinging. He flexed his fingers, the pain becoming sharper at the nub that used to be his pinky, and he laughed in disbelief. And yet instead of thinking about the pain, or his fear, all he could think about was Ellis, and how worried he probably was. He winced, and exhaled slowly. And the worst thing was, he wasn't sure that he could just tell himself that he'd make it up to the kid when he got out of this. After all, he wasn't entirely sure that he WOULD get out of this.

So, he closed his eyes, and for a few moments just pretended that they were going to that nice dinner, and that he was going to officially ask Ellis to move to D.C. with him, and that he was going to spend the night in a warm bed with his arms around the mechanic.

Chapter Text

Francis had met McCarthy only a few times, and had never really drawn any strong opinions of him. He had always gathered that McCarthy was a run of the mill Government employee: by the book, humorless, and completely officious.

He was, of course, exactly right. From the moment McCarthy walked into Morgan's office, he was defensive, suspicious, and reluctant to listen to anything the FBICE agents had to say. It wasn't until Morgan played him the playback of the recording that he would even deign the thought that one of his most talented (if not least trustworthy) agents was capable of kidnapping. Francis had to hold his tongue a few times, and there were a couple moments that he thought he would punch the Assistant Director of CEDA in the spleen. Had Morgan not been there, the biker probably would have ended up with another assault charge coming his way.

"If your organization wasn't still so shady, corrupt, and broken, none of this would have happened in the first place!" Morgan snarled.

"I don't think we can place blame on an entire organization based on the actions of one rogue agent," McCarthy replied, crabbily.

"Knowing your organization, it doesn't seem like it's just ONE rogue agent," Francis sneered.

"So it turns out that Creevy is a bad apple-."

"I'm pretty sure it's the barrel that's rotted through," Morgan barked.

"So what is it that you want ME to do?" McCarthy snapped back, crossing his arms defensively. "I highly doubt that Agent Creevy is going to be answering his phone, after all, if he HAS gone rogue."

"HE KIDNAPPED-!" Francis began, but Morgan held up his palm and pressed on his shoulder, stilling him in his chair.

"McCarthy, cut the shit," Morgan said, voice low. "You have spewed so much of it when it comes to Creevy, I highly suggest that you stop now. This person has done countless things that have warranted his removal from your organization, and frankly, that have warranted prison time, and yet you and your superiors have swept it under rug, after rug, after rug. If you keep defending him, when he has put the life of a high ranking FBICE agent at risk, you are going to fall as well. Probably not as hard, or far, but it will be a black eye on your career, and I would make DAMN sure that you are always remembered as the Great Enabler."

Ah yes, Francis thought, smiling smugly. Sometimes it was best just to let Morgan take over. His mentor had such a way with words, after all. McCarthy glared at him, and stood up from his chair.

"… I will make some calls. I will put some of my men on it even though this is NOT what their job description entails. I'll even personally write up a recommendation that Creevy be stripped of his badge. But honestly, Morgan, I don't know if I can do much else. I have no idea where he would have gone, he hasn't contacted me and probably won't contact me…. I obviously made mistakes when it came to Mark Creevy."

"NOW he figures it out," Francis groused as Morgan stood up as well, and McCarthy glared at him viciously.

"I think that YOUR biggest problem is that Creevy is one of our cleverest agents," he said, simply. "I'm not sure we could find him even if we wanted to. Which means I'm not sure that we'll find your agent either. At least…. Not until it's too late."

"… And if that's the case, I'm going to make sure that someone takes the blame," Morgan said, coolly. "So. I propose that you put your BEST men on it. For your sake."

McCarthy straightened his tie a bit, and said nothing as he left the office. Francis smirked, and turned to Morgan after the CEDA agent had departed. "Can you teach me how to sound so goddamn threatening without saying one threat?"

"It's a gift," Morgan said, going back to the recording. He wanted ANY indication of what Creevy was thinking, be it in his voice, or in the background noise, or what. He couldn't help but blame himself for part of this. He hadn't liked the idea of trying to wire tap the CEDA agent, after all, but once again his fondness for Nick had clouded his judgment. He sighed, putting the head phones to his ears and listening again.

Francis leaned against the desk, and waved to get his boss' attention. Morgan removed the headphones. "… So how many FBICE agents are on this?"

"Half the D.C. department." Morgan answered, restarting the recording again and listening intently. There really was nothing there that he could find.

"…. We should be out there," Francis said.

"We'd be completely lost if we did."

"Well we should do something!" Francis said. "I don't want to sit around just waiting for updates from our guys, especially since it just seems to be bad news whenever we do get an update!" They had only received one update from the field, and that was Harrigan saying that they had found Creevy's car, but it was abandoned. And soon thereafter someone had reported a stolen car in the same area. It seemed like quite the coincidence.

"We can't do anything but wait, Francis, you know that," Morgan said, voice weary. "We have to stay here instead of running around D.C. blindly. There's an APB out on Creevy and Nick."

"But-!"

"Francis! We NEED to wait!" Morgan snapped, and the biker growled, stamping to the wall and putting his arms against it. He knew that there wasn't much they could do right now. He just didn't want to accept it.

The phone rang, and Morgan grabbed it as Francis spun around. "Morgan?... I…. Yes, that's fine, let them up!" he snapped, and slammed it down. "Security desk needs to stop pestering me, goddammit."

"No shit," Francis said, irritated that they'd built his hopes up for a short moment. They remained in silence a few moments, as Morgan replayed the recording and listened intently. The biker listened to Creevy's mocking words again, and groaned. "…. Look, what if you stay here and I go out? I can get a car, I can go searching-."

"Look Francis, do what you want, alright? I understand that you're antsy, and I can't stop you from going out and looking for Nick, but I am staying right here and waiting for more information to come to me."

"And what if no new information comes?" Francis demanded. "He's going to kill him, Morgan, doesn't that concern you? Cuz it doesn't seem to!"

Morgan was about to slam his hands on the desk and start ripping into Francis for even implying such a thing, but before he could the door to his office flung open. Ellis rushed into the room, looking frazzled and terrified, and the Assistant Director stood up. "Ellis-."

"Have you heard anything?" the mechanic asked as Rochelle and Wednesday trailed into the room. "Has anyone heard anything, has Creevy called, or-?"

"No, nothing yet," Morgan said, quietly. Ellis was going to ask another question, but then he noticed Francis leaning against the wall, staring at the floor. The mechanic's face contorted into a brutal snarl, and he suddenly shoved the biker, who slammed into the wall.

"HEY-!" Francis yelled, but Ellis pointed up at him.

"YOU SAID YOU'D MAKE SURE HE WAS SAFE!" he shouted. "YOU PROMISED ME-!"

"Ellis, hang on-!" Francis exclaimed, still a bit thrown that the usually carefree and happy southerner had exploded in such a violent way.

"FUCK YOU!" Ellis shouted, swiping at the biker, and Rochelle and Morgan both ran forward to try to separate them as Wednesday tried to sink into the corner of the room. "DON'T TELL ME TO HANG ON, I TRUSTED YOU-!"

"Ellis, stop!" Rochelle exclaimed, and Francis grabbed Ellis' shirt, yanking on him and shaking him.

"JESUS CHRIST HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL RIGHT NOW?" Francis roared in the younger man's face. "He's my BEST FRIEND for FUCK'S sake!"

"STOP IT!" Rochelle cried, forcing herself between the two as Morgan shook his head vehemently. "Goddammit, you two need to stop! This isn't productive-!"

"I don't care what's productive, he promised me that he'd keep Nick safe and he didn't!" Ellis snapped, still glaring daggers at the biker, who was now glaring daggers right back.

"Listen here you fucking hick, I did what I could, it wasn't MY idea for Nick to get into the goddamn car with Creevy!"

"So it's NICK'S fault?" Ellis yelled in disbelief.

"NO-!"

"KNOCK IT OFF THE BOTH OF YOU!" Morgan roared, sick of the fighting, and Francis shoved off the wall and stormed out the door, punching the frame as he did. Rochelle ran a hand across her face, and she went after her boyfriend, though she kept her distance. When he was like this, he wanted to at least have the illusion of being alone.

Ellis put his hands to his face again, and exhaled. Yelling at Francis hadn't made him feel better. If anything it made him feel worse, and his hands shook as he pulled them away. It was then he noticed Morgan looking at him with the utmost pity, pity that both upset the mechanic and yet calmed him down a little bit. "….. 'M sorry," he said, softly, to both Morgan and Wednesday. "I…. I don't know what got into me, I shouldn't've done that."

"…. I know what got into you," Morgan replied, calmly. "And from what Nick and Francis have told me, I think Miss Deitz here does too." Of course Morgan understood grief. When he was told that his son had, in fact, contracted the Flu in spite of not showing symptoms until they were in quarantine, he'd nearly taken the head off the doctor who told him that there was nothing that could be done. He'd already lost his wife, and had thought that maybe his boy had gotten lucky, like the girls had. He had to be pulled off the doctor before he did something he'd regret. So to see a raw, uncontrollable rage and fear and sadness in Ellis was completely understandable to him.

Ellis nodded, and pressed his hands against the wall. "I just… I'm so scared."

"I know."

"An' I…. I just want to find him," Ellis continued.

"So do I. So does Francis. The only person at fault here is Creevy, and we're going to find him, okay? I'm working my ass off to try and figure out if there's any clue where he might have taken Nick."

"Well what're you doin' to figure it out?" Ellis asked, wiping his brow with his arm.

Morgan pointed to the headphones. "Listening to the recording, trying to figure out if there are any sounds that might give us an idea what direction he may have been driving in."

"Okay," Ellis nodded, hugging himself. "… Is there anything I can do to help? I really, really wanna help, Morgan."

Morgan sat back down at his desk, opening the computer screen up again. "I know you do. I think first and foremost you should go work things out with Francis. I don't want one of my best agents distracted by a fight."

Ellis nodded quickly, and smiled at Wednesday. He hoped he hadn't completely freaked the girl out with his actions, but even if he had, he had a feeling that Wednesday would understand. "I don't…. Where would he be-?"

"Try the break room."

"….. Um-."

"Turn right and go down the hallway until you see the recycling bins," Morgan said, putting the headphones back on. "Then turn right. Can't miss it."

"Kay."

Ellis walked down the hallway quickly, and after turning right by the recycling bins there was, indeed, a large room with drawn blinds. He walked to the door, fully intending to just walk in and start apologizing. But he paused in the doorway at the sight in the break room.

He was incredibly surprised to see Francis clinging to Rochelle like his life depended on it. His big arms were wrapped around her curvy frame, and his face was buried in her shoulder. She was stroking his back with her fingers, whispering private and probably soothing words as she hugged him. It was very rare that Francis would show this kind of emotion, as for him worry and fear usually came out as anger and frustration. To see it coming out as despair was jarring and upsetting. Ellis swallowed, and decided that this moment was meant to be private, and so he turned around and walked back towards Morgan's office, heart hurting even more now.

He walked back into Morgan's office, and found Wednesday listening to the recording while Morgan chewed on his fingernail. When the older man saw the confused expression on the mechanic's face, he shrugged. "New set of ears might be enlightening. Seeing if she can hear anything that I couldn't."

"Oh."

"Did you find Francis?"

"Yeah. He needed to be alone, I'm gonna talk to him later," Ellis said, and removed the hat to run a hand through his hair. He watched Wednesday listen to the recording, and she frowned a bit before removing the headphones.

"Sorry. I don't know, it all just sounds like Lou Reed and obsessive jabber," she said, shrugging.

"That's what I thought too," Morgan said as she set them down on the table.

"Well, what if I take a listen?" Ellis asked. "I mean, I don't know anything 'bout D.C. and what I should be listenin' for, but I really wanna try."

"Yeah, sure, go ahead," Morgan said, handing the headphones to the mechanic. Whatever would make Ellis feel helpful AND would take his mind off stewing was okay in all their books, and the Assistant Director hit the play button, watching the mechanic's face as he listened to the recording.

Ellis held his hands to the headphones, his heart thudding as he heard Nick talking to Creevy. It was as if he was listening to a live phone conversation, which was eerie and mildly upsetting. He leaned against the desk, taking in the entirety of what happened in the car, trying to concentrate on anything that might have stood out. It was hard to keep himself from starting to get completely worked up again, as hearing his lover's voice was welcome but painful. He leaned his face forward and closed his eyes, trying to picture just what it had been like in that car. Why did Nick have to get in that car? And people thought he was the impulsive one.

It wasn't until Creevy said his last words that Ellis opened his eyes. He removed the headphones, scratching his nose with the back of his hand, and he gripped the desk.

"Well? Did you hear anything?" Morgan asked, and the mechanic shook his head morosely.

"No," he replied. "I mean…. Somethin's off, but I don't…. I don't know what it is!" He kicked the desk with the back of his boot, and shoved away.

Before Morgan could ask him what he meant by that, Francis and Rochelle returned to the office. "Any news?" Rochelle asked as Francis took his place in another corner of the office.

"No," Morgan said, shaking his head.

"Of course," Francis muttered.

"Okay, maybe we can't do much here but we can at least try and piece some things together," Rochelle stated, her need to solve problems peeking through her worry.

"Such as?" Morgan asked, and she pulled up one of the chairs so she could sit down.

"Well, for starters, do you think that Creevy would stay within D.C., or do you think he would take Nick out into the Grey Zone?" she asked, looking between the two Z-Men.

"He has most certainly taken him out into the Grey Zone," Morgan stated. "That area is so poorly monitored because there's no one there, the abandoned buildings are the best places to hide. We've put men out there, but there's so much of it around here it will take a very long time for them to search through. Days."

"So we need to narrow down the Grey Zone a bit," Rochelle said. "Do you have a map of the city and the surrounding zombie areas?"

Morgan nodded, and went to one of his large metal cabinets. As he did so, Ellis turned the computer around to replay the recording. Something was there. He just couldn't put his finger on it. Morgan spread the map out on the free space of the desk, and grabbed a pencil. "So here is where we are," he said, circling a vague area. "Wilde Roast is up here." He circled an area in the Dupont Circle area on the map. "The Grey Zone is above Cathedral Heights and Edgewood, and the opposite banks of the Potomac acts as borderlands along the West, East, and South."

"Well let's assume that he went North since he was in Dupont Circle," Rochelle said, covering up the other directions of the Grey Zone. "If Nick was drugged Creevy would only have a certain amount of time to get him out of the city, so I can't imagine that he'd turn around and drive BACK THROUGH the city just to take him across the Potomac. He'd need time to get Nick to wherever he was taking him."

"Okay, that would make sense, but that's still a lot of area to cover," Morgan said, voice tired. "There are some pretty hairy areas up in that part of the Grey Zone, he'd have to be nuts to go into some of them."

"I think it's pretty clear he's off his rocker," Francis said, gruffly.

"Good point. Well, I'll make some calls, tell them to focus more on those areas," Morgan said, reaching for his phone.

Ellis had closed his eyes, listening to the recording again. He didn't know what it was, but something was nagging at him. He listened to what Creevy was saying about Nick's past (Ellis knew Nick was smart, but he had no idea he was THAT smart), and listened to Nick smart off. He listened to Creevy keep talking in spite of the fact Nick was no doubt unconscious by the end of the recording, the implications of that disturbing, and listened to a rustling sound that must have been the wire being ripped out of Nick's shirt.

"…I'll be at my most satisfied when I finish what I started in Santa Fe," Creevy's voice crackled in the recording, and it made Ellis shudder. But he was compelled to click the player back a bit, just to hear those words again. "…I'll be at my most satisfied when I finish what I started in Santa Fe."

And at that moment, his gut instinct suddenly knew what had him so worked up. He played those words back one last time, and his eyes snapped open, wide and ablaze. He took the headphones off, and threw them down on the table. "Oh my God, I just figured out what was weird about that recordin'!" he exclaimed, and the others all looked at him. "I mean, it's nothin' like WEIRD weird, but I figured out what's kinda eatin' at me! It's the last thing Creevy said, about finishin' what he started in Santa Fe."

"Well, he tried to kill Nick in Santa Fe, so we figure he's going to try to do that again-," Francis began, but Ellis shook his head vehemently.

"Yeah, but I mean….. Why not just say he's gonna kill him? Why the weird dramatic flair?" Ellis asked. "Why not just shoot him in the head right there if he wants to kill him so bad?"

Morgan nodded slowly. "You think he had something else in mind?"

"Uh huh," Ellis nodded, heart racing again. "He wanted to make it, like, special I guess? There's no other reason to kidnap Nick unless he had a bigger plan!"

"I suppose," Rochelle said. "What are you thinking he had in mind, sweetie?"

"He wants to finish what he started in Santa Fe," Ellis said, and suddenly it clicked for Francis too, and the biker pointed at him.

"Holy fuck, Motor Mouth," he said. "You're right."

"What am I missing?" Rochelle asked, and Ellis turned to her.

"He probably wants to make this personal, like, to try and make Santa Fe happen all over again! He almost got Nick there, but cuz of Francis it didn't work," Ellis explained. "But now that it's JUST Nick, there'd be no one there to bust in and stop it!"

"Ellis, you aren't saying the whole thing-!" Rochelle said, frustrated like, but the mechanic turned to Morgan.

"Hey, in the Grey Zones up there are there any old churches?" he asked, and Morgan snorted.

"Yeah, lots."

"And do any've them have bell towers?"

"Yeah, a good number of them do," Morgan said. "So you think that he's going to take him to a church with a bell tower?"

"It's just a hunch, but if he wants it to be like Santa Fe that would make the most sense," Ellis said, adrenaline pumping. "Can you put a lot've your guys at the churches up there?"

"I'm the fucking Assistant Director, of course I can," Morgan scoffed, and grabbed his phone.

"So now we know where to look, let's get out there!" Francis exclaimed, finally stoked to be able to have SOME idea of where to go. "I'll get the guns and-!"

"Francis, hold on," Morgan said, and the biker huffed in frustration. He was sick of holding on!

"Why? I know D.C. well enough to know where a bunch of CHURCHES are!"

"I don't want you going out into the Grey Zone by yourself, okay? And I have to be here to get the calls and coordinate everything, especially if I'm going to be trying to get all the information from all these guys up in Zombieland."

"I need to get out there!" Francis complained.

Morgan was about to try and explain to him again, but before he could Ellis raised his hand. "I'm goin' with him!"

This, in Morgan's eyes, was an even worse idea. "Oh no."

"What do you mean 'oh no'? He's volunteering to go with me!" Francis said. "That's two people, that was the deal!"

"It's not that easy, Francis," Morgan said. "I'm sure that Ellis is damn good at killing Infected, but-."

"I'll go too," Rochelle interrupted, and Morgan rolled his eyes. "What? You think I can't keep up with them? I'll have you know-!"

"I'M SURE YOU CAN, but you're civilians!" The old and tired argument came out, and Ellis scoffed, shaking his head.

"Oh c'mon!" he exclaimed, thinking that quibbling over something like that was ridiculous considering they were no doubt running out of time.

"I'm sorry, but on a case like this I can't just deputize you so easily! We're dealing with an agent from ANOTHER organization, and unless you're already an FBICE agent I can't authorize it!"

"Morgan, with all due respect, he's my partner and Ellis' boyfriend! You can't expect us all to stand here and just twiddle our thumbs, not when our friend is in trouble!" Francis snapped.

"Oh yes, because it's just that easy! You guys think that you're Harry, Ron, and Hermione going to save Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets or something?" Morgan exclaimed.

The reference floored everyone.

"…Wow," Wednesday said, impressed. "You read Harry Potter?"

"My kids did," Morgan said, gruffly. "ANYWAY, you guys aren't-!"

"Well hang on," Francis said, and pointed at both Rochelle and Ellis. "Nick and I already deputized them during that Tank attack back in Roanoake II. So, I mean, you wouldn't be deputizing them NOW, because it's already, uh, happened…. Does it work like that? Is that a good enough loophole?" Nick was usually the one who thought of the more creative loopholes. Their boss paused a few moments, weighing the argument.

"…. Good enough for me," Morgan finally said, and Ellis nodded, rushing out the door. "HEY-! He doesn't know where he's going-."

"We'll catch up to him," Rochelle said as Francis bolted out of the office as well.

"For God's sake, take my cell phone in case you need to call me," Morgan said, reaching into his pocket and tossing it to Rochelle. "And I'll call you with any news I get."

She accepted the phone. "Sounds good, thank you Morgan." She followed, but called over her shoulder "Wednesday, stay here-."

"Gladly," the teenage girl said, and plunked down in one of the chairs on the other side of Morgan's desk. He sighed, hoping that HIS superior wouldn't catch much wind of this, or if he did, wouldn't ask questions. For now he had some calls to make. As he dialed up his telephone, he glanced at the teenage girl who was in the chair across the desk. Instead of dwelling on the fact she was the age Max would have been, he opened up the bottom drawer of his desk and removed a book.

"You like Harry Potter?"

"Yeah..?" she replied. He slid the book over the desk, and she lifted it up to read that it was a biography of FDR.

"That's better than Harry Potter," he said, and sat down in his chair. She smirked, and shook her head.

"I'm sure… You're worried, aren't you?" she asked.

"….. Of course. Aren't you?"

"Well, I don't know Nick very well, but…. Yeah. I'm worried. For him AND Ellis," Wednesday acknowledged. She sniffed, and before either of them could linger on the worry, she opened her mouth again. "So thank GOD that I have this book on FDR to take my mind off things." Morgan shook his head, smiling. While he hadn't liked the idea of playing babysitter, at least she was snarky.

Nick huffed in the chair. His hand hurt, his head hurt, and, interestingly enough, he was bored. Creevy hadn't said much of anything for the past half hour, he was just looking at his watch every few moments. His finger had started to coagulate, even if it still hurt like a bitch. He cleared his throat, and Creevy looked up from his watch. "So as great as this time we spend together is, what exactly are you waiting for?" Nick asked, voice a bit hoarse due to the lingering pain. "I'll be honest, this is a torture worse than pulling a 'Lord of the Rings' on my finger."

"Oh don't worry," Creevy said, once again looking at his watch. "It won't be long now."

"WHAT won't be long?" Nick asked. "Are you waiting for this one to scab up before going for the next? I mean, whatever floats your boat, man, but the dread that usually come with torture is being replaced with ennui."

"…. So where did you meet him?" Creevy asked, ignoring the complaints.

"…. Huh?"

"Jethro Clampet. Where did you meet him?"

"Fuck off. I'm not talking about him with you, douche bag," Nick snapped.

"Oh ho ho, a little discretion when it comes to a lover of yours, that's different," Creevy said, snickering. "Usually you like to brag about the ways you make them scream and pant."

Nick didn't say anything, swallowing quickly.

"…. Really, you're no fun. I like learning all I can about you, Nick, and that's the only thing that isn't in your record," Creevy said, leaning his head against one of the wooden pillars.

"What IS your obsession with me, man?" Nick asked, incredulous. "I mean, don't you think that it borders on pitiable?"

"I don't think it's pitiable to have a nemesis," the CEDA agent responded. "All the greats had one, in real life and in the literary world. Adams had Jefferson. Moriarty had Holmes. I have you."

Nick chuckled a bit, rolling his eyes. "Wow, that's even MORE pathetic."

Creevy's eyes narrowed. "What is?"

"The fact that you have designated me your nemesis!" Nick cackled, shaking his head. "I mean, shit, if you were my nemesis, that would imply that I had some kind of RESPECT for you! Which I fucking well don't!"

"Big words to say to the man who holds your life in his hands!" Creevy snapped. "I nearly killed you once-!"

"Noooo, YOU didn't do shit! You just locked me in a room with a Witch," Nick scoffed. "Anyone could do that! What do you want, a cookie or something?"

"I just cut off your finger-!"

"Oooh, yeah, feel good about cutting a finger off a hand that's duct taped to a chair," Nick scoffed, finding this needling to be incredibly cathartic. "You're SO badass."

"Shut up!" Creevy exclaimed. "You always had a problem with authority, Nick, and you never respected me as your superior-!"

"Newsflash, asshole: YOU WEREN'T MY SUPERIOR! The only person I had to answer to was Morgan, YOU were just brought in because your organization pissed and moaned it's way to having a faux influence over what we do, but EVERYONE knows that CEDA is barely hanging on by a thread anymore. FBICE is and always will be the superior organization, and CEDA has no control over it. Just like YOU have no control over me!"

"You really oughta be careful what you say-."

"Why? Creevy, I clearly have some freaky little 'Fatal Attraction'-y hold over you, but, and I hate to break this to you, the feeling isn't mutual. Like that teenage girl said to David Bowie in 'Labyrinth' (not that I'm comparing you to the incomparable David Bowie, mind you), 'you have no power over me'," Nick rambled, mixing his metaphors. Man that hand wound must be fucking with your head, he thought. "I don't go to bed every night thinking of how much I hate you, and I don't wake up every morning wondering what I can do to get back at you. To be perfectly honest? You just aren't worth it."

Creevy looked like he was about to come over and cut off another of Nick's fingers. But instead, he just strolled to the gambler, slowly and deliberately. "Last chance, Nick. You've spent so much of our time together deriding me and undermining my authority. If you just once, just ONCE, admit that yes, I have the upper hand here, that I've HAD the upper hand in these situations before, and that because of that I deserve your respect…. I will go easy on you. That's all you have to do. Just eat a little bit of humble pie, and I will change what I have in store."

Nick raised his eyes to look at Creevy in the face. And he smiled a little bit, before spitting on him. Blood tinted saliva ran down the CEDA agent's cheek, and Creevy pulled back, wiping it off on his arm. "Very well," he said, and looked at his watch. "Well, perfect timing. She should be ready soon. Maybe about a half an hour, really."

"… Who?" Nick asked, watching Creevy walk towards the door to the bell tower once more. "Who'll be ready soon?" Creevy ignored him, and left the room. Nick let his head tip back again, and he rolled his head from side to side. He didn't appreciate the coyness, and glanced down at his hand again. Though he wasn't sure that it was going to matter, as in all likelihood he wasn't going to survive this, his vain side shook his head at his now four fingered hand. "God. Freakshow."

The door opened up again, and Nick was considering making a snide comment about Creevy making up his mind. But when he saw just what the CEDA agent was carrying, his blood ran cold.

For in Creevy's arms was a very real, very knocked out, Witch.

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST," Nick exclaimed, tensing up, and Creevy walked into the room, the limp female Infected swaying in his arms.

"Nick, I'd like you to meet my lovely assistant," Creevy said, and let her fall to the floor. She hit the wood with a thud, her straw-like hair covering her face. "As you can see she's a little tired right now."

Nick rattled in the duct tape, his inherent and understandable fear of Witches rocketing up the stress scale. "What did you do to her?" he asked, trembling. Creevy shrugged.

"Same thing I did to you, I drugged her," he replied. "Of course, she didn't have an open coffee cup so it wasn't as easy. Had to use a tranquilizer dart. She's been out for awhile now. But she should be waking up in about, oh…" He looked at his watch. "Half hour. Give or take."

"How do you know-?"

"How much to give and how long it takes?" Creevy asked, anticipating the question. "Fair question. But I've Gone To Salem enough times to know just the right doseage to give her." Nick closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I take it you've heard of Going to Salem?"

"I'm familiar with the charming colloquialism, yes," Nick said. Going to Salem was a code that had popped up through the various cities and, unfortunately, Government agencies that referred to drugging a Witch so one could have sex with her. There had been a huge crackdown in FBICE when it was revealed that a number of agents in the Chicago branch were participating in such activities. Nick had always assumed that it had gone on within CEDA as well, but he never heard anything. It wouldn't surprise him if CEDA just didn't pay attention to it. They didn't pay attention to the Flu in it's early stages, after all.

"But you've never done it yourself?" Creevy asked, skeptically.

"It may come as a shock to you, but rape isn't my idea of fun," Nick said, trying to sound vindictive, but the Witch sprawled out on the floor was controlling his emotions and he wasn't able to hide his fear.

"It hardly counts with these things."

"So I take it you 'indulged' a bit with this one too?"

"I never kiss and tell."

"Sick fuck."

"You're one to talk," Creevy shrugged, sitting back down on the wooden step. "Now all I have to do is wait. She'll wake up soon enough, dazed. In a little bit of pain. And PISSED, no doubt."

"And you've laid me out here on a freaking silver platter, I get it," Nick said, sneering. "Fish in a barrel, Creevy."

"You call it cheap, I call it efficient," Creevy said, smiling at him. "And this time I'm going to watch. I'm going to make sure that the job gets done. The last time I got too confident, and we all know how THAT turned out."

Nick looked at the girl on the floor, and through his paralyzing fear he could feel a small bit of pity. Though she was mutated and contorted, he could tell that she was young, probably barely twenty, if that. Wounds and scars and filth covered her exposed skin, and who knew what Creevy had done to her. With the theories about Infected having some recollection of past events and emotions, the gambler couldn't help but feel a little bad.

Of course, once she woke up she would probably tear him to shreds, so the pity only went so far. "So, what? You're just going to sit here and watch?" the gambler asked, looking back at his captor.

"That's… yeah, that's the plan," the CEDA agent nodded. "I'm going to climb up those stairs about the time she starts to stir, keep out of sight. Then I'll make sure she takes care of you, and then…. That will be it. I'll go into the Grey Zone and…. Start anew. Maybe head to Mexico. I feel like this is going to be my opus, Nick. YOU are going to be MY 'Requiem'."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Nick said. "… Can you please do me one thing? Like, a last request of sorts?"

"Perhaps. What is it?"

Nick sighed, eyes falling on the Witch as the fear began to mingle with acceptance inside of him. "I don't want them to find me."

"… What do you-?"

"Your beef is with me, not with Francis or Morgan… Or Ellis," he said, closing his eyes. "When she's done…. Bury me. Because if they find me, whatever she leaves behind is going to be really fucking awful. And I don't want Ellis to see that."

He knew that people always said that it was worse not knowing. Of all the folks he'd talked to during the testing, they were so worried about the loved ones they hadn't seen, or heard from. One woman said that she'd rather know that her mother was dead than having to wonder if she was. He appreciated the sentiment. But in this case, he had to believe that not knowing what happened to him couldn't possibly be worse than seeing that all that was left of him was a pile of torn entrails.

Creevy tilted his head to the side, and nodded firmly. "I can definitely do that for you," he agreed. Nick nodded back, and looked up at the ceiling. Sorry, kiddo, he thought. Definitely better you not know.

Chapter Text

3 Years Prior

Ellis grinned up at the ceiling of the dank and creepy shack in the middle of the swamp. He had a few reasons to be smiling, in spite of all the shit around them. The first, of course, was that the party of survivors had found a bunch of canned food inside the house next door, the one Rochelle and Coach had taken. They'd eaten like they'd never eaten before, and not only had Nick found the best bounty, but he'd let Ellis have the canned peaches.

The second reason was because he'd just had sex with Nick for the fourth time. And it had been the best sex yet. Sure, he still hadn't been allowed to look at his friend in the face while they did it, as Nick always insisted on doing him from behind, but that didn't really matter. He knew from the way that Nick would sprinkle kisses up his spine that there was something there, even if the con man didn't really show much affection outside of their private time. Now Nick was lying next to him, smoking a cigarette and slightly smiling as well. Not as big a grin as Ellis', but there was still a faint beam.

"I hope Ro an' Coach didn't hear us," Ellis said. Nick chuckled lecherously. "What?"

"Well, I TRIED covering your mouth, but when you bit me it became pretty clear that you weren't going to be silenced," the older man said. "So I'm thinking that yeah, they probably heard us."

"Shit," Ellis said, cheeks turning a little pink. "… Sorry I bit ya."

" 'S okay, I've been bit by worse."

"By the zombies you mean."

"And by my exes."

"Ha ha ha." Ellis said, turning over to face him. "Man, I haven't been in a swamp like this for a long time. You ever been in a swamp before?"

"Well, I've been to the Everglades before, if that counts," Nick said, taking another drag off his cigarette."

"Oh it does, that's like the best swamp in the whole country," Ellis said, and listened to the noises outside. There were the usual bugs, and the distant groans of alligators. And, of course, noises made by the Infected. They were happy to find some re-enforced houses along the way, so the noises could be just that during the night: noises. Not threats. "Man…. You know, bein' in this swamp makes me think: this'd be a real good setting for a horror movie."

"… What?" Nick asked, rolling over to face him as well.

"Well just think about it!" Ellis said, grinning. "I mean, this is just such a perfect place to have some crazy horror shit happen! Like a werewolf, or a serial killer-."

"Or… zombies?"

"Okay, well yeah," Ellis said, snickering a little bit. "But, see, you NEVER see horror movies in swamps. 'Friday the 13th' was at a summer camp, 'Nightmare on Elm Street' was on a street, 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre' was in the country, 'Hellraiser' was in the city-."

"Okay, I get it, you know your horror movies," Nick said, leaning over the cot to smash his cigarette out on the floor. He was running low. Better keep an eye out, he thought.

"They're pretty much my favorite movie genre," Ellis nodded as Nick pulled himself back up into the bed. Ellis gingerly plucked an eyelash off the older man's face and blew it into the air before asking "Do you like horror movies?"

"… No," Nick said, momentarily distracted by what just happened. "Uh, no, I don't, they're stupid."

"Aw come on, ALL horror movies are stupid?" Ellis asked, skeptical.

"Well, I DID kind of like zombie movies, but now that I've lived it I'm not as enthused," Nick said, mouth crooking into a half smile. Ellis giggled, and rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine, let's see….. Alright, so I can think of one that I actually like, yeah. 'The Haunting'."

"You mean that movie with Catherine Zeta Jones? That movie sucked."

"NO, not the new one, the old one," Nick said, wrinkling his nose at the suggestion. "I liked that one enough. Haunted house movies are fun when they aren't over the top and obvious."

"So you like ghooost stooooories," Ellis said, voice kind of low and spooky, and Nick giggled in spite of himself. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"Psh, no," Nick scoffed, and the mechanic frowned.

"You're no fun! What about all those TV shows about ghost hunters and stuff? They're always seein' things and hearin' things!"

"And how convenient the things they hear and see NEVER show up on camera or audio."

"Okay fine, but this one time my buddy Keith stayed over at his grandma's house for a month in the summer, like he usually did, and one day he was playin' in the backyard and looked up at the attic window, and he saw his grandpa lookin' through it down at him, but his grandpa had been dead for, like, A YEAR. And when he looked back, he was gone."

Of course a Keith story would enter into it. Nick sighed, figuring he wouldn't sway the kid of this belief, but he'd at least give his two cents. "Kiddo, I don't think that people are haunted by actual souls of other people who have died that continue to exist. But I DO think that people CAN be haunted."

"…. I don't understand."

Nick propped himself up on his elbow, and tried to formulate just what he meant. He knew he didn't have to dumb it down or anything; in spite of his outward appearance, Ellis was pretty sharp. He wasn't quite certain of how to phrase it. But he was going to try. "Well…. I think that people can be haunted by memories, and past experiences, and regrets. And I think that that can be pretty bad at times. So maybe ghosts are just memories of shitty things that are bringing out guilt and pain."

"So, why did Keith SEE his grandpa then?"

"Keith probably THOUGHT he saw his grandfather because he missed his grandfather," Nick responded, rationally. "I don't think that there was a ghost in the attic, I think there was probably the memory that was getting to him that day. Especially if it was the first summer trip he'd been on there since his grandfather had died. Not a ghost. Just a sad memory. Or happy, depending on how you look at it."

"Hm…. Yeah, I can kinda see what you mean by that," Ellis nodded. "Everyone's got stuff they regret, and people they miss."

"Sure do."

Ellis turned back over to stare at the ceiling. "Yeah, you're probably right. But still, I think it's cooler to believe in REAL ghosts, the kind that slam doors an' make cold spots," he said, and Nick smirked as he rolled back over to look at the ceiling as well.

"Well, that can make for a good story," he agreed. "And in the utmost fairness, I didn't believe in zombies either. So I could be talking out of my ass."

"Yeah, you could be," Ellis said, shaking his head as he continued to smile. "Tell you what. If I die, just to prove a point I'm gonna come back and haunt ya. Just so you see that ghosts DO exist."

"Great. So if, when all is said and done, you're gone, I'll get a Patrick Swayze style haunting on my ass?" Nick chuckled.

"Yup," Ellis nodded.

"Well fine, I accept that challenge, but same goes for you," Nick said, grinning at his lover. "If I'M gone at the end of this, I'll haunt you too."

"Thought you didn't believe in ghosts."

"Again, didn't believe in zombies either." Both men laughed, and he was about to say something haughty, but his stomach growled. "Crap." Ellis looked at his belly.

"Shouldn't've given me the extra peaches," the mechanic said, sadly. He didn't like the way Nick was looking a bit more emaciated with each passing day. "You should really stop givin' me half've your second can, man, we all get two."

"Whatever. I wasn't going to eat all that food," Nick muttered. "And besides, you wouldn't shut up about how much you like peaches, so…." He trailed off, and looked away from the younger man.

"…Well it was real nice of you," Ellis offered. "You didn't have to do that is all."

"…. Yeah, I know," Nick replied after a brief hesitation. He was well aware that he didn't have to do that, and had it not been Ellis he probably wouldn't have done that. But even though he was hungry, and even though he would have enjoyed the peaches, canned or not, he'd felt compelled to give them to his fuck buddy. And that concerned him.

Nick had only felt like this once before the Infection hit. It was like a tidal wave of many emotions he hadn't understood before had swept him away amongst all the bullshit, and frustration, and pandemonium. Of course there was lust, then all out horniness, and just a little bit of affection thrown in for good measure. By the time they had made their way to this Shantytown, he wasn't even sure just what he was supposed to be feeling anymore.

How are you supposed to feel about a person you've just met, and yet can't see yourself without in spite of your past experiences and opinions about relationships?

Ellis brushed some of the hair from Nick's face, and the con man pulled his head away, embarrassed. "Oh gross Overalls. My hair is probably disgusting right now. Between the grease, the sweat, the swamp, and the gore, I imagine it feels like a brillo pad."

"Naw, it feels fine," Ellis said softly, smiling kindheartedly at him and running his hand through it fully. The feel of Ellis' fingers in his hair made the older man shiver to himself, and he looked at the kid, really, really looked at him. Their eyes met, and the mechanic raised his eyebrows at the con man. "What's wrong?"

What as wrong was that Nick was falling in love. And he wasn't sure he could trust it.

"…. Nothing," Nick said, and rolled over. "I think I just need some sleep."

"Yeah, me too," Ellis agreed, and turned the lantern light down so it was nothing but a soft glow. "Hope you don't have bad dreams about me hauntin' you!"

Nick didn't answer, and stared at the wall a very long time before going to sleep. And as he did fall asleep, he decided that he wanted to be sure, HAD to be sure, that he was actually feeling what he thought he was feeling.

And so began the chain reaction that led to the haunting Ellis had promised him.

Ellis stared out the window of the BMW, his frustration and anxiety tipping towards the breaking point. Morgan had given them a list of churches with bell towers in Tenleytown, and so far none of them had been right. Morgan said that once they were done with Tenleytown they could move on to another area, but at the moment they were on the way to the fourth church, and not at all optimistic.

"Well, we can cross that one off the list," Rochelle said, shaking her head as she scribbled the church off the quickly compiled record in her lap.

"This is bullshit," Francis muttered as he drove, honking at various Infecteds that wandered in their path. "FUCKERS! Outta the way!"

"Just run them over!" Rochelle said.

"Ha, yeah right, I'm pretty sure Nick would kill me if I ran these things over with his Beemer," the biker chuckled, shaking his head. Ellis smiled in the back seat, as he could just see Nick having a spaz attack at the thought of disgusting zombies leaking all over his precious car. "Alright, where's the next one?"

"Saint Columba's, on Albemarle," Rochelle said, and sighed wearily. "... Ellis, sweetie, how are you holding up back there?"

"Fine," Ellis replied, sullenly. The churches they had searched had only frustrated him, as they always found a lot of Infected, but little else. His seemingly brilliant idea of looking in churches with bell towers was looking more and more like an abject failure. He never liked being wrong, but now he NEEDED to be right.

Rochelle was going to turn around and try to give him some kind of pep talk, but before she could the cell phone rang. All of them looked towards Rochelle's purse, and she quickly dug through her bag, muttering a couple of choice words at her lack of organization. "Ah HA!" she crowed once she pulled it out, and answered. "Morgan?... Hold on, let me put you on speaker." She clicked the button, and said "Okay, go ahead."

"Just got updates from McLean Gardens, Cleveland Park, and American University Park," Morgan said. "All churches with bell towers were clean. Rock Creek Park said they had two more to check, and Harrigan called from Petworth and said that they're about to start out there. So that leaves…. About a dozen areas left in the Grey Zone. How's Tenleytown?"

"Pretty bare," Francis replied. "We only have a couple left. Where should we go next if we don't find him?"

"Christ, I don't know," Morgan sighed. "…. I would suggest Friendship Heights, it's just North of where you are right now."

"Shit," Ellis muttered in the back seat.

"Is that Ellis?" Morgan asked, and the mechanic's stomach turned. He hadn't wanted Morgan to hear him.

"Yeah," he admitted, scratching his head nervously. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. We're all frustrated-."

"I'm not frustrated, I'm scared outta my mind," Ellis tossed back. "I thought that this was a brilliant idea, that he'd for sure have Nick in some church somewhere-."

"It IS a good idea, sweetie," Rochelle said, trying to be supportive, but Ellis shook his head.

"Well obviously it isn't!" he said, not wishing to be patronized. "If it was a good idea we'd've found him by now!"

"Ellis, there are so many churches with bells in D.C.-," Morgan said, wearily.

"Well we might not have time to go through all've 'em!" Ellis cut him off. "There has to be a better way've doin' this!"

"Like putting ALL available men on it," Francis grumbled.

"You KNOW we can't do that," Morgan replied, testily.

"Well somethin' is missin', cuz there has to be somethin' special about the place Creevy chose," Ellis replied. "IF he did choose it. I coulda been full of SHIT and just leadin' us on a wild goose chase."

"I thnk that your theory is sound, Ellis, I really do, but you're right; there must be another piece that would make one church better than the others," Morgan said. "Francis, you were there the day Nick was with Creevy in Santa Fe. What do you think we're missing?"

Francis huffed, as he hated being put on the spot like this in high tension situations. During the Infection Bill would take these kinds of questions, and when he was with Nick travelling about, well, Nick would do it. But it was true, he was the only one there that day. So he scratched his head as he drove, and wracked his brain. "Well….. I mean, maybe it's the kind of church. It was like this Pueblo-y looking thing, like stucco and shit."

"Aren't going to be many of those in the Northeast, Marlon Brando," Morgan said. "Anything else?"

"I don't know! That day is kind of a blur for me, okay? Criminey, the only thing I remember clearly is carrying him out of the Church, with the big red doors."

"That may be something!" Rochelle said. "Red doors, are there any churches with bell towers AND red doors?"

"Or were they brown doors?" Francis suddenly asked, and both Ellis and Rochelle groaned. "I'M SORRY! The only things I remember about that day are Nick almost bleeding to death, and how much he was screaming as the fucking WITCH ripped into his chest!"

"Hey, Francis, come on," Rochelle said, disapprovingly. He could at least try being tactful when Ellis was in the back seat.

"Beyond that, nothing else was important or sticks out in my mind," Francis continued, ignoring his girlfriend. Why be tactful when the truth was going to be unbelievably harsh? Francis, at this point, was positively certain that they weren't going to find Nick alive, if they found him at all. After all, Jacobs had never been found.

"Come ON, Francis!" Morgan snapped. "I need to go on more than that!"

"There is no more!" the biker snapped. "It was a stucco church with a bell tower! It was abandoned, and it had a Witch! The end!"

Ellis had considered just tuning the biker out, as he already had enough stress in his mind and didn't need his yelling to be added to it, but then he had another thought. It was a bit crazy, and he had a feeling he was grasping for straws, but he leaned forward over the passenger side seat to talk into the phone more directly. "Morgan?"

"Yeah, Ellis?"

"Are there any parts of the Grey Zone that are kinda, like, Witch heavy?" Ellis asked, grasping his hands together.

"Witch heavy?" Rochelle asked.

"Well cuz Nick said that places like Laramie had nests of them, or somethin', and I was wonderin' if maybe there are any nests in the D.C. area?" Ellis asked.

Morgan paused, but then said, "Well, the difference between D.C. and Laramie is that a nest of Witches in a small town like that can be completely deconstructed with the right agents on the case. Nick and Francis took care of that in, what was it? Two weeks? Three?"

"Three, yeah," Francis replied, turning onto the road with the next church.

"But in D.C.? Christ it's a nightmare," Morgan explained. "Yes, there was a really large nest in Mount Pleasant. We have no idea why they congregated there, they just did, and FBICE tried sending in agents. After losing about ten good men, we decided to do The Last Resort."

"What's that?" Rochelle asked.

"Burn 'em," Francis replied, grimly. "If an area is too fucked up, just burn it to the ground and salt the earth."

"Thank you, Francis," Morgan replied, thinking that his explanation was less than flattering. "So that's what we did with that area. Sure, there are still Witches around, I'm sure, but-."

"Where is that?" Ellis asked.

"Ellis, the area's practically cinders, it's like an Infected wildlife refuge!" Morgan said.

"WHERE IS IT?" Ellis repeated. "If that's where a lot've Witches are, that's probably where Creevy took Nick! I know you said that it's kinda gone, but is there ANYTHING left? Is there a church with a bell tower left standin'?"

"…. Let me look," Morgan said. "I'll call you back in a couple of minutes." With that, he hung up.

Ellis began to bounce in his seat, and Francis looked at him through the rearview mirror. "Don't get your hopes up just yet, Motor Mouth. This might be another dead end."

"I know," Ellis acknowledged as Francis pulled over, not wishing to go any further in case they'd have to turn around and go in the opposite direction. "But I have a feelin' about this. I think this is what we needed….. Hey Francis?"

"What?" the Z-Man asked, leaning his head against the seat.

"….. 'M sorry," Ellis said, repentantly.

Francis turned towards the side window, looking at the various shambling Infected, and shrugged. "Yeah, me too," he agreed, still not looking at him. But that was good enough for both of them, and like that the hatchet was buried.

Rochelle, content with their reconciliation, nodded to herself. "I didn't even have to facilitate a détente, I'm so proud of you two."

"Oh fer cryin' out loud," Francis began, but the phone began ringing again and he snatched it from her lap. "Morgan, give us something to smile about."

"Break out the pearly whites, guys, I think I have something," Morgan said, and Ellis held his breath. "Yes, it's true that Mount Pleasant, the torched area, has practically burnt to the ground, but there are patches of a couple buildings that are still standing here and there. Including a few churches. One of which has a bell tower."

"And that's a real Witch filled area?" Ellis asked, hopefully.

"It definitely is," Morgan confirmed. "Last numbers taken were still in the dozens. AND, there had been rumor that there was a circle of CEDA agents that were going up there to do some unsavory things."

"Creevy included?" Rochelle asked.

"Unsubstantiated, but I wouldn't be surprised," Morgan said. "The best part? It's directly north of Dupont Circle, where Creevy picked Nick up. It would be a straight shot to that Church with little bullshit."

"That has to be the place!" Ellis exclaimed.

"I'm going to send a team-."

"No way, we're going," Francis insisted.

"Yeah," Ellis agreed.

"… I'm not going to convince you otherwise, am I?"

"Fuck no, sir," Francis said, and Rochelle grinned as she reloaded her gun, getting ready for the inevitable next fight. "We'll call!"

"You better. Guys, in the words of the classic and immutable 'Hill Street Blues'… 'Let's be careful out there'," Morgan stated. "Rochelle, take down the following directions."

"Got it, Morgan," Rochelle said, and as he told her how to get to the church, Ellis felt like he was about to burst. True, he was terrified of what they'd find at that church, be it empty, or worse, death. But this had to be the one. He just knew that it was the one.

He began to load his own pistol, forcing down a nerve bundled knot in his belly. Whatever they found there, he just knew that it was going to be final. And that scared him to death.

Nick, in what he assumed was the last half hour of his life, spent the time looking at the thing that was brought to kill him. He'd never really dwelled when dealing with Witches. Back on the road to New Orleans they hadn't had the time; they would need to sneak by or dispose of them as quickly as they could. When he dealt with them as a Z-Man, he would just dispose of them as methodically as possible, especially when he had to face them AFTER Santa Fe. It was as if he thought if he went quickly, he wouldn't have to admit to that fear he'd developed. But now that there was one of those fears sprawled at his feet, he HAD to admit to it. Even if she was at her most benign. It seemed ironic to him, and he took in a shaky breath.

Creevy looked up from his fingernails, and saw how Nick was just staring at the girl on the floor. "Wondering what her story is?"

Nick looked up. "….. Not really," he said. He'd never been one to wonder those things. That would make it harder to kill them.

"Good answer. Best to look at them as the monsters they are."

"I didn't say that."

"You thought it."

"No, I really didn't," Nick protested. "Maybe I did at first. But part of my job is reconciling that I've had to kill hundreds of sick people because they were beyond help. I don't lie to myself and just call them monsters to make it easier for my conscience."

"World's smallest violin," Creevy replied. "You should have known it would come down to this."

"Come down to being kidnapped by a psychopath?"

"No," Creevy said, shaking his head. "Come down to being taken out by an Infected. That's how it works out for lots of Z-Men. You'll be no different. You aren't special."

"I never thought I was," Nick said, but then smirked, "Well, maybe I did a LITTLE bit."

"Well dispel yourself of those thoughts."

"Nah, I think I'll hold them until she rips my insides out. Just because it'll piss you off so much."

Creevy was about to volley back a snide remark, when they were both distracted by an abrupt, soft moan from the girl on the floor. Nick tensed up, breathing in through his nose, and Creevy began to smile.

"Ahhh," the CEDA agent said, leaning back against the wooden pillar. "Looks like she's coming around." He stood up, and ventured forward until she was directly beneath him. He squatted down and grabbed her by the hair, as she was still so out of it she didn't pose a threat. He held her face up for Nick to see, and her mouth moved slowly, as if speaking silently though he knew she couldn't talk. "So sleepy, Pretty Girl." Her eyebrows drew together slightly at the sound of his voice, and he let her drop back to the floor, the 'thud' echoing off the walls.

"I think that's my cue to take my seat," he continued, standing back up and wiping his hands off on his pants. "I should have brought popcorn or something."

"Psh, you're so careless," Nick said, trying to sound blasé, but his fear betrayed him. Creevy, gratified that the fright was so apparent, shrugged, and turned, going towards the steps. "You know, Creevy, you may think that it's all going to be over in a few minutes, but that's NOT the case."

"Oh no?" the CEDA agent asked as he began his climb up the steps.

"Nope," Nick replied, eyes following him as he ascended. "I can guarantee you that even when I'm dead you're STILL going to be as miserable and useless as you are right now. Sure, you'll probably be riding a high for awhile, cuz you're sick like that, but mark my words: you're still going to have regrets that won't leave you."

"Good to know. Regrets like you have?" Creevy asked, taking his place at the top of the steps and sitting, legs dangling over the landing.

Nick scoffed, and shook his head. "Actually… No," he said, smiling calmly. "I mean, yeah, I regret getting in that car with you, but overall… I'm perfectly happy with how my life ended up."

"Oh I'm SURE," Creevy mocked, and Nick shrugged.

"That isn't bullshit," he replied, a serene sense of tranquility washing over him like a stream of water. "I've come to realize that even though it's ending, I'm in a good place. So yeah, it sucks that it IS ending at the hands of a schmuck like you, but…. I had a good job. I had respect from my colleagues and my boss. I had friends, for the first time in my life I had actual friends, and for the first time in my life I had someone who loved me, really REALLY loved me. And I loved him too…. It might not have been a very long life, Creevy… But it was a damn good one."

Creevy glowered, as he'd hoped that there would have been the desperation and fear that usually consumed a man when he was about to die. So seeing Nick like this, calm, blithe, accepting; it steamed him. He slowly walked back down the steps, and leaned in close. "You're perfectly content knowing that your little queer buddy is going to live the rest of his life not knowing what happened to you?"

Nick exhaled slowly, noticing the Witch starting to groggily shift around on the floor. "…. Okay. So I do have one regret outside getting in the car with you… But at least I'm don't have all the shit that's going to follow YOU the rest of your life."

"Oh, this again?" Creevy asked, attempting to sound bored.

"Face it, Mark," Nick said, shaking his head. "You're going to be haunted until you fall down dead. And EVERYONE is going to realize just what a goddamn fraud you are."

Creevy lifted the bolt cutters and hit him across the face with them. FUCK that one hurt, Nick thought, a burst of red clouding his vision for a moment. "Do you want me to go for another finger?" the CEDA agent demanded, and Nick didn't say anything, running his tongue across his teeth to make sure they were all there still. Not that it really mattered all that much. "I didn't think so." He set the cutters back next to the chair, and grabbed Nick by the collar. "Not that your opinion matters anymore, as you'll be dead in an hour from now, but just remember this: I was one of the best that CEDA had to offer."

Nick smiled smugly at him. "Which is why it burns you that's I'm better."

"You AREN'T," Creevy hissed, and Nick shrugged lackadaisically.

"Yeah, I am. And I think THAT is what's going to haunt you the most, asshole."

Creevy's hands suddenly moved to Nick's throat, and they began to squeeze. It wasn't a gradual and dread building pressure either, it was hard and incredibly painful right out of the gate. Nick gagged, closing his eyes and finding this to be a STRANGE change of events. He hadn't expected him to do THAT. He tried wrenching his face away, but found it damn near impossible to do so. It was alarming to not be able to breathe at ALL. Yes, he'd choked before, on a jellybean when he was five, but his Dad had swiftly thudded him in the back, dislodging the candy. It had been scary, but brief. This was a whole new sensation, and he wondered if this was how that Hunter felt when he killed it to get to the candy bar for his lover. If so, bad form, Nick, he thought hazily.

It seemed that this was the way he was going to go, but the Witch made a light, drowsy noise.

"… Sorry, Precious, you're right," Creevy said, and pulled his hands away. Nick gasped for air and swallowed, even though it hurt to do so. "I'll leave him for you." He lit up a cigarette, and arched his eyebrow at the slowly coming to girl.

Nick coughed, wheezing for air, and rasped out "Good to know I can STILL press your buttons even when tied to a chair."

"Not for long," Creevy said, and began to climb up the steps again.

"No, I suppose not," Nick nodded.

As Creevy made it back up to the top of the steps, and as Nick watched in horror as the Witch's eyes began to flutter ever so slightly, the familiar BMW drove down the street, doing it's best to weave through the sea of Infected. Ellis was practically pressing his nose against the glass as they came upon the church and it's grounds, and he nodded when it came into view. "There it is! That has to be it!"

"It sure looks like it would be," Rochelle said. "First church we've seen that isn't a pile of ash."

Francis slowed the car down as a Smoker's tongue suddenly thwacked against the windshield. "God!" He rolled down the window a crack. "Hey asshole! You can't smoke a car! I don't CARE how skilled your tongue is!"

"They're getting weird," Rochelle said, and jumped when a female Infected threw herself against the side of the car. "Jesus!"

"It's real bad out here," Ellis said, amazed. He hadn't seen it this bad since going to New Orleans. He was about to make a comment about the droves and droves of them, when he noticed that there was a car parked by the church. "Oh man! Guys, did you find out what kind've car Morgan said was stolen by the place Creevy's car was found?"

"Yeah, it's a Honda Accord, like my car," Rochelle said. "They're so easy to steal-."

"THAT'S THE CAR!" Ellis exclaimed, pointing at it frantically. "THAT'S IT THAT'S IT FRANCIS STOPSTOPSTOP!" Francis braked the BMW, and looked over at the Honda. "OH my GOD we found them! We found them, they gotta be in there! And if Creevy's still here maybe that means that Nick's still alive-!"

"That's all well and good, Motor Mouth," Francis said, but then pointed out at the expanse that surrounded them. "But in case you haven't noticed, we have a problem."

"What do you mean?" Ellis asked, wringing his hands together.

"Just look outside," Francis replied, dourly. The mechanic had been so excited to see the car, it hadn't really computed with him that there were lots and lots of Infected out there. And once he did take the time to take a good look, he exhaled slowly, and whistled.

"…. Oh man," was all he could say at the slouching and considerable group of Infected that seemed to completely surround them. All that stood between him and Nick was a flashback to hell.

"So what's the plan?" Rochelle asked, softly, a bit daunted by the sheer number of the things. Francis snorted, shaking his head. "… Do we have a plan?

"…. I got a plan," Ellis said, steadfastly. "…. Kill all sons'a'bitches."

Tried and true.

Chapter Text

"Is there any way we can thin that group out a bit?" Rochelle asked, not keen on just busting in on dozens and dozens of zombies. "Take it you didn't pack any pipe bombs with the big guns in the trunk, Francis."

"No, not really," Francis replied. "But… Hey, Motor Mouth, look under the passenger seat. I think Nick has a flare gun under there."

"WHY would Nick have a flare gun in his car?" Ellis asked, though he cooperated and bent at the waist to remove the box.

"Because he used to be terrified as fuck of getting stuck in the middle of the Grey Zone," Francis replied. "Figured you can't have enough shit to help people find you, I guess."

"Yeah, I guess," the mechanic nodded, thinking his boyfriend was either incredibly paranoid or incredibly prepared. He wasn't sure which it was. "So what're we supposed to do with this? It's not like it's a gun."

"It might not be as good as a grenade launcher, but you can light up a few Infected with it," Francis scoffed, accepting the box from the mechanic. "I figure the kit has a few flares, we can shoot a few freaks, and those freaks will run into other freaks and that will thin it out at least a bit anyway."

"Okay, but then what?" Ellis asked. "Just grab the stuff from the trunk and go guns blazin'? If Creevy and Nick are in there, they'll hear us. And who knows what Creevy'll do if he figures out we're here to help."

"Well the flare gun's going to make noise too," Rochelle pointed out.

"Not as much as repeated gunfire though," Francis replied, and scratched his head. "Hm…. Alright. Melees. We have to do melees. I threw some in the trunk with the guns."

"Oh great, that's going to suck," Rochelle groused. She had never really cared for melees. While she had never fired a gun before the Flu, she'd learned quickly, and blunt objects stopped appealing to her. If she had access to a gun, she'd rather use the gun.

"It'll hafta do," Ellis replied, pulling down the seat and reaching into the trunk. "I gotta get into that church."

"Hold your horses, let's clear the way a bit first," Francis said, loading up the flare gun.

"Hurry up!"

"I'm going as fast as I can!" the biker snarled. "Okay, here's what we're doing. I'm going to light up a few of them, then when they're distracted and confused, we go out, blades swinging. Ellis, you go for the church doors and we'll clear things out as best we can, then we follow you."

"I don't know if he should go alone-," Rochelle began, but Ellis shook his head.

"I'll be fine, Ro, you hafta help Francis with the zombies outside," Ellis stated.

"But if Creevy's in there-."

"I'll take care of it, don't worry!" Ellis replied.

"You better," Francis said as he opened the car, getting out of the BMW and using the door as a shield. He held up the flare gun, and shot it off.

The flare hissed through the air, and hit one Infected right in the chest. As the fire exploded across the creature it bellowed in surprise and pain, running into a couple other Infecteds as it flailed. The other Infecteds began to take notice, and Francis loaded another flare into the gun, repeating the process all over again. As more of them set ablaze, more attention was brought to the three attackers at the car. Francis muttered a few choice words as he loaded the last flare into the gun, and aimed it at a rather large Infected that had seemed to deem him the largest threat. The flare shot forward and hit that zombie in the chest, and it shrieked as it ran around in a panic. A fetid smell filled the air as their flesh burned, and Francis motioned at his companions.

"Alright, let's get the shit outta the trunk!" he said, and Rochelle and Ellis left the safety of the car in favor of the uncertainty of the outside. The reporter flung the trunk open, and silently wished she could grab one of the AKs but instead grabbed an ax as Ellis removed a machete. Francis looped around the back and saw that the bladed weapons had been taken. "Gee, thanks guys, leave me with the baseball bat."

"Oh stop whining," Rochelle said, turning around to swing the ax into a zombie that had tried to creep up on them. The blade hit it in the rib cage with a sickening 'thwack', and it fell backwards to the ground. "I guess this will do. But if I get bit or scratched because I can't use a gun, I'm blaming YOU, Francis."

"Yeah yeah yeah," he said, and jumped in front of her to crunch one in the head with the bat. "I'll make sure you don't get hurt just because I don't want to hear your whining."

"So romantic," she said, smiling a bit, and kicked an Infected woman back before swinging the ax into her side. "Ellis, sweetie, there's a small path towards the doors, make your move now!"

"Way ahead've ya, Ro," he said, and ran forward, machete cutting a path as if it were simply prairie grass in front of him. He hadn't missed this. Not one bit. But if he had to kill hundreds of these things to get to Nick, he would. Barehanded even.

A nasty coughing distracted him, and his face turned to the right just in time to see a Smoker's tongue shooting his way. He leaped to the side, and brought the machete down across the long muscle. The Smoker wheezed, and Ellis ran forward while it was stunned, stabbing it through the sternum, or where the sternum used to be, anyway. He wasn't sure how much anatomy had changed for the mutated creatures. He put a hand to his belt, confirming that he did, in fact, have his handgun with him still, just in case dire straights did set in.

Which, as it turned out, didn't take too long. For right as he was passing the gate to the church a rather addled zombie tackled him to the ground. "FUCK!" he exclaimed, his machete falling to the side, and he grasped for the handgun as she pawed at his face. He set the cool metal to her forehead, and closed his eyes as he pulled the trigger, not wishing to get gore in his eyes. Splashing on his face was bad enough. The shot rang out, hurting his ears, and he sat up, shoving the body off of himself.

"So much for abstaining from THAT," Francis grumbled. "FINE, RO! GET A GUN!"

"YES!" she exclaimed, and ran back for the trunk. Ellis kicked a zombie off as he stood up, and shot his gun again, trying to use his bullets sparingly, even though instinct was telling him to just keep shooting. He was happy to have had that lesson in the Grey Zone not so long ago. It was better to drop the long distance ones before he got to them. He picked up his machete, strapped it back to his belt, and continued forward.

Rochelle grabbed the AK from the trunk and climbed on top of the car, giving herself the higher ground. She went down a line of the swarming Infected, dropping them quickly and efficiently. Francis watched through the corner of his eye as he cracked skull after skull, and smiled to himself.

"I got a serious hard on right now, Cupcake!" he called, and she gave him a 'come on!' glare before she dropped a long distanced Boomer. He looked over at Ellis, who was running up the path to the church doors. "Careful, Motor Mouth! Don't get yourself killed!"

"Got it!" Ellis shouted as he grabbed the doors to the building.

Inside the church, Creevy's head whipped towards the boarded up window. Gunshots? How the FUCK were there gunshots? Nick looked over as well, just as puzzled and heart beginning to beat a bit faster.

"What the fuck?" Creevy asked gruffly, standing up from the landing.

"You got me," Nick replied, though he was filled with a sudden bout of hope. Creevy shook his head, grabbing his gun from his holster and trotting down the steps. "UH OHHHH. Looks like FBICE is sending in the cavalry!"

"They'll be too late you know," Creevy said, pressing up against the wall by the door, and gestured with his head towards the Witch. "Just look. She's waking up."

Nick looked down, and indeed, the Witch's eyes were starting to flutter daintily. Her back arched up off the floor ever so slightly, and she sighed, the sound raspy and rough. Her legs began to slip across the floor slowly, and she shuddered. She was definitely fighting against the drugs, though it was an uphill battle. Nick was nearly mesmerized by how she moved in reaction to the haze inside of her head.

"Fuck, I REALLY don't want to miss this," Creevy said as he loaded his handgun, and looked down at the Witch. "Maybe you can hold off a little while longer, baby?" He took in a deep breath, and exited the room, arms locked forward as he held the gun in front of him.

He walked down the smaller flight of steps that led to the actual area of worship. He tread carefully and silently, not sure if whoever it was had actually entered the building, or were still contending with the Infected hordes outside of it. The doors were still closed, but that didn't mean anything. FBICE knew how to be stealthy; it was their job to be. He crept forward, keeping his gun aimed at the ready, and looked around the open space. Someone could feasibly be hiding behind the pews, but there was only one way to the bell tower, and Creevy was going to make sure that whoever it was couldn't get that far.

The Witch slowly rolled over so she was on her belly, and pulled herself away from Nick and towards the wall. Her arm slowly slipped up the wood, claws digging into it and making clacking noises. Nick's body began to all out tremble as she carefully pulled herself up, head tipped forward and brushing against the partition. She took in a raspy breath, and her knees lifted, pulling the rest of her body up in a hunched gait. Her back was scabbed and filthy, no doubt from other run ins with other Infected. Nick had always wondered if Infected messed with each other; it looked like a Hunter had tried it's luck with her, but judging by her presence he assumed that she was the victor. She tugged her talons out of the wood, and ran her hands down her tiny frame. It was then that she began to cry.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, Nick thought, and closed his eyes, praying that she wouldn't turn around. Just don't turn around, just stay there, he thought. If she didn't see him, and if he remained as still as his body would let him (the duct tape would help that), maybe it would take her a few minutes to realize that he was there. Maybe his rescuers, whoever they may be, would be able to come in in time and save his ass.

Creevy slowly walked down the aisle, looking left and right for any hint of company. It was certainly possible that whoever was outside hadn't entered yet, but that didn't seem likely. He stepped forward, listening intently for any sound coming from within instead of out, and came to a stop next to some pews. He flicked his eyes towards the door, and turned around to look at the pulpit. Maybe you're just getting paranoid, he thought, and turned back around, pausing to see if he could hear the Witch. He didn't want to disturb her by barging in while she was about to strike. He'd be sad to miss it, but at the very least he could see the end result. He put his gun away, removed his cigarettes from his coat, and began to light one up.

Which gave Ellis the perfect distraction so he could scooch out from under the pew he'd hidden beneath. He leapt up, and rushed at the CEDA agent, who spun around just in time for the mechanic to punch him in the face. Creevy yelped out as he fell onto one knee, and Ellis, filled with a rage he'd never experienced before, tackled him all the way down, straddling him as he punched him across the face a second time.

"FUCKING BASTARD," he snarled, and grabbed him by the collar. "Now I'm only askin' ya this once. Where's Nick?"

Creevy's eyes rolled from the back of his head back to Ellis, and once they'd focused and he realized just what was going on and who was on top of him, he sneered. "Oh hello there, Jethro."

"WHERE'S NICK?"

Creevy shrugged disinterestedly, and cast his eyes up to the ceiling. "You country boys sure do know how to pack a wallop," he said, lolling his tongue about his mouth before spitting a tooth out onto the floor. "I have to wonder how much damage you'd have done if you WEREN'T a pansy assed queer."

"This pansy assed queer is real tempted to kick your ass from here to California," Ellis said, gripping Creevy's collar tighter. "Last time. Where's Nick?"

"You're too late," the bloodied agent replied, grinning cruelly. "He's been taken care of."

"You're lyin'," Ellis replied, though his stomach began to knot and twist at the very thought of it.

"How would you ever know?"

"WHERE IS HE?" Ellis shouted in his face, removing his handgun and aiming it right between Creevy's eyes.

"You won't use that," the CEDA agent said, snickering a bit.

"Try me!" Though Creevy was right. He wouldn't use it. Not because he was a coward, but because he couldn't live with himself if he did. He could barely hold it steady as he aimed it at the man beneath him.

"WHY do you even care?" Creevy asked, scoffing a bit. "For God's sake, kid, can't you see that he broke you?"

"Whaddaya mean?" Ellis asked, keeping his face hard but getting edgy and a bit nervous. "How'd he 'break' me?"

Creevy snickered again, and looked him up and down to the best of his ability when pinned to the floor. "You're the All American Boy Next Door! You're red blooded and patriotic as apple pie on the Fourth of July! You could have any girl next door with big brown eyes and huge breasts, but instead you've been caught by a goddamn con artist who has pulled the same con on dozens of men and women from here to San Francisco! Why do you think he's worth this?"

"Worth what?" Ellis asked.

"This," Creevy said, and suddenly snagged Ellis' arm and managed to flip the smaller off of him, deftly pulling himself out of the pin as he contorted so he was on top of the mechanic in no time. Ellis grunted in surprise, and tried to gain control back for himself, but Creevy smacked the handgun from his hands and slugged him across the face with his elbow. The mechanic cried out, eyes seeing stars for a few moments, and when his vision cleared he was face to face with the CEDA agent's gun barrel.

Up in the bell tower, the Witch's head snapped up, hearing something that Nick couldn't. Her rough hair swept across her face as she turned to the side. The gambler's eyes remained closed as he tried to maintain quiet breathing, but he could hear her breath catch in surprise. She snarled, claws running down the wooden wall, and her moans transformed into growls. She curved around, noticed the man tied to the chair, and she began to hiss and shriek.

"You were a true, true idiot to come out here," Creevy said to Ellis as he kept the gun aimed at him. "Oh yes, I much prefer being in this position. I'm sure you're used to being beneath another man, but I don't really enjoy it."

"Yeah, well, the man I'm usually underneath could probably get someone off better with just his pinky than you could with your dick," Ellis said, knowing that Creevy's inferiority complex was a sore subject, and therefore perfect to mess with. The CEDA agent glared, and smacked the mechanic across the face with the handle of the gun. At least he didn't shoot me, Ellis thought through the pain. He figured that Creevy was so intent on proving himself to everyone he would need to show the mechanic just how damn capable he was. Which would buy more time.

"Well this is actually kind of that much more thrilling," Creevy chirped. "Assuming my associate in there hasn't gotten her jollies JUST yet, I'll be able to tell Nick just what became of his fuck buddy. I really hope that the news can sink in before she takes him apart."

Ellis swallowed, and let his eyes fall to the side, not wishing to see the gun when it went off.

"So I'll ask you again," Creevy said, leaning in close. "Was everything up until this very moment worth what's going to happen to you? Was every minute with him worth these last minutes here?"

The mechanic weighed the question. Was the fact his life was no doubt going to end in the next few minutes worth everything he'd experienced with Nick? Was a life cut short worth the fact he'd loved enough for a lifetime, and been loved enough for a lifetime? Was Nick worth it?

His eyes fell from the ceiling and settled on Creevy's, a serene smile spreading across his lips. "… Yep," he nodded. "Sure was."

The Witch stumbled forward, becoming more and more angry at Nick's presence, and she began to bellow at him. He dropped his head back, hoping that it would at least be quick. He forced his mind to not focus on the horrible noises that preceded his fate. Instead, he thought of Ellis, and that happy go lucky smile that captured the con man's heart so long ago, and had haunted him for so long.

"You're a TRUE idiot then," Creevy stated, snidely. "He isn't worth that. Goddamn fruit isn't worth ANYTHING."

"Worth more than you."

"SHUT UP!" Creevy shouted. "I'm sick of everyone thinking that he's something special! He's a criminal and a pervert! He doesn't represent what the Government is supposed to stand for!"

"An' you do?" Ellis egged on. Whatever kept him talking was good in the mechanic's book. So long as it wasn't a bullet to his face, it was good.

"Damn straight!" Creevy snarled. "I represent tenacity, hard work, unwavering values in the face of adversity-!"

"Face it, Creevy, even when he's dead the world's gonna love Nick more'n it'll love you," Ellis baited.

"I DON'T WANT THE WORLD TO LOVE ME! I JUST WANT IT TO RESPECT ME!" Creevy roared, grabbing Ellis by the neck and thudding his head against the wooden floor. "I WANT THE RESPECT I DESERVE!"

Up in the bell tower, the Witch suddenly looked at the door, the voice coming up the steps familiar to her somehow. In her sick and lost mind she couldn't piece together why it did so, but it filled her with a rage and hate that far outweighed the man tied to the chair. She screamed loudly, the sound lingering and echoing in the small tower, and just like that, she tore from the room. Nick's eyes opened as he felt a burst of air at her departure, and he exhaled a moan of relief.

The screech tore through the church, and both Ellis and Creevy looked towards the door. Before either man could say anything, the emaciated but deadly woman leapt out of the darkness of the doorway, arms reaching for Creevy as she ran forward, as if longing for a horrific embrace. The CEDA agent's mouth barely opened to cry out as she tackled him from atop Ellis, and the mechanic paused a beat before sitting up, not quite processing that he was free. His attention turned to the female zombie on top of the CEDA agent, his legs and arms flailing as he screamed in agony and terror.

Ellis stood up, removing his gun and trying to shoot her, but he was shaking too hard, and his shots missed her. Creevy's blood splattered up on the girl as their combined howls bounced off the walls, and Ellis tossed his handgun down and covered his ears, not wishing to hear the noises anymore. He sank to the floor, and only removed his hands from his ears when Creevy's screams finally stopped. The Witch stood up, pulling some of Creevy's viscera with her as she did so, and shrieked as she burst out the church doors and into the daylight. Rochelle and Francis didn't even notice her as she tore off down the street, as they were preoccupied with the last of the Infected outside.

Ellis couldn't bring himself to look at what was left of Creevy, though judging by the mess on the pews and floor it wouldn't be much. In fact, there was only one thing on the mechanic's mind now; he needed to get to Nick. The Witch was definitely pissed, and he was so very scared that she'd gotten to him first. But his fear was outweighed by a need to know. He ran through the door the Witch came from, calling 'NICK!' as he sprinted up the steps.

Nick wasn't sure that he'd heard Ellis' voice. He THOUGHT he had, but maybe it was his imagination. He flipped the chair around as best he could, still quivering from his near death experience, and looked towards the door. Was she going to come back? Was Creevy going to come back? Was FBICE going to come through? Or was he alone? Completely alone to die in a long and drawn out way?

When the door flew open, and he saw Ellis standing before him, gasping and frenzied, he took in a sharp breath as relief flooded him. "El!" he gasped, breath hitching.

Seeing his lover tied to a chair and looking a bit beat up, but alive, Ellis' face broke into a relieved smile. "NICK!" he exclaimed, running forward. He fell to his knees in front of the worn out older man as he grabbed his arms. "Oh my GOD NICK! Nick are you okay? Are you alright?"

"Untie me," was all Nick could say at the moment.

"Nick, are you-?"

"UNTIE ME, PLEASE UNTIE ME!" the Z-man exclaimed, voice desperate, and Ellis didn't hesitate, grabbing at the duct tape. He tugged on it roughly, but it wouldn't budge.

"I-I can't tear it," he stated, becoming frustrated (even more so when he saw how panicked his bound lover was).

"Just do something, I can't be tied anymore!"

Ellis nodded seriously, and his hand groped for the sheathed machete on his back. He removed the blade, and said, "Hold still, 'kay?"

"What are you-?"

"I need to cut it somehow, an' this is all I have," the mechanic replied, and smiled at him reassuringly, though he wasn't at all calm. "You hafta trust me, okay?" Nick nodded quickly, and very carefully Ellis severed all the tape, being sure that the sharp edge didn't touch anything but the adhesives. When he'd made enough cuts he threw the blade to the side, and ripped the bindings away.

As soon as he was free Nick plunged forward out of the chair, throwing his arms around the mechanic. Once they embraced, Nick buried his face in Ellis' shoulder, clinging to him like his life depended on it. Ellis leaned his head against Nick's, trying to still the gambler's shaking by holding him tighter and tighter as he rubbed his back. "I gotcha, Nick, I gotcha. You're okay, okay? I gotcha." Nick nodded, scantly moving as he clutched the younger man as best he could. The mechanic kissed the side of his head, stroking his hair soothingly. God how the older man loved how the fingers felt in his hair and across his scalp.

Nick pulled away, needing to look at Ellis' blue eyes, and he trembled, putting his hands to the mechanic's face. "… You found me," he said, voice wavering. Ellis nodded over and over again.

"Course I found ya, Nick," he replied, placing his hands to his lover's face as well. "I'll always find ya, I promise." With that he kissed the older man, mouth dying to take him in after being faced with the possibility that they'd never do this again. Nick returned the urgency of the embrace, holding the younger man's face in his hands the entire time as they kissed. Ellis moved his right hand to rest on Nick's left, just to try and give more comfort, but then his heart sank a bit. Something wasn't right, and he took the gambler's palm gently off his face and pulled away from his lips to examine the hand.

When he realized that there were only four fingers left, and saw the mutilated place where the pinky used to be, his face crumpled in despair. "Aw man, what'd he do to ya?" he murmured, the horror and ordeal Nick had gone through finally hitting him, and dismayed tears fell from his eyes. Nick shook his head, and pressed his forehead against his lover's.

"Don't worry about it, kiddo, it doesn't matter," the gambler stated, swallowing a growing lump in his throat.

"We shoulda gotten here sooner-!"

"You got here. That's all that matters," Nick said firmly, needing to dispel him of that belief, and brushed the kid's face with his good hand.

Ellis sniffled, and frowned. "I hate that he hurt you. I really, really hate that he hurt you," he said, voice trembling, and Nick continued to stroke his face. Ellis wasn't too pleased that the kidnap victim needed to comfort HIM, and when he saw that Nick's eyes were also spilling over a bit, he felt even worse "I'm sorry! I shouldn't be so worked up, you're the one who Creevy did the worst too an' I can't even be strong for ya! I SHOULD be strong for-!"

"You're doing fine, kiddo, forget how you 'should' or 'shouldn't' be. Fuck that shit," Nick said thickly, and Ellis snickered. The vulgarity mixed with the emotional voice struck him as funny for some reason. The mechanic's laugh made Nick smile a bit. "All that matters is you're here, okay?"

Ellis nodded. "Okay."

"Where's Creevy-?"

"Dead," Ellis answered, doing his best to be tough for both their sakes. "The Witch just took him apart, Nick, it was…. It was real awful. I tried to help him, God, I don't know WHY I did, but I tried, an' I didn't have a good enough gun, so she just ripped him to shreds."

Nick knew exactly why Ellis had tried to help that son of a bitch: because he was Ellis, and that was what he did. He was a better person that Nick was, that was for sure.

"Did he do anything else to you?" Ellis asked, looking his boyfriend over for any other injuries. "Because if he did-!"

"Nothing I can't handle, kiddo, really," Nick insisted, and kissed him again, unable to stop himself. Ellis sank into his mouth, no longer letting the guilt and sadness affect him. All that mattered now was that they still had time, and they sat on the floor, holding each other as if they'd never hold each other again.

Francis was the next to enter the bell tower, and found the two of them clutching each other urgently. He exhaled, relieved to see that they weren't too late. When he entered the church he'd seen what had become of Creevy, and had worried that Nick had met a similar fate.

"Well, it's nice to see that Karma finally had her day," he said, and Ellis and Nick looked up at him. "'Bout time, am I right?"

"Francis, we need to get him to a hospital," Ellis stated, standing and helping his boyfriend up.

"Ellis-," Nick started, but Ellis was having none of it as he helped support him.

"Don't fight me on this."

"But-."

"Nick, knock it off with your pride! Your finger was cut off!" the younger man snapped, and Francis' face contorted in shock. "We're takin' you to a hospital!"

"Are you serious?" Francis asked, and Nick held up his left hand. "Holy SHIT! Sick!"

"Yeah, well, you should see the other guy," the gambler said, arrogantly, and Francis snorted.

"I have," he replied. "Stop making jokes you asshole. This is serious." He put Nick's other arm around his shoulder, and they helped him down the steps and down through the church.

"I feel like a goddamn baby," he grumbled.

"Deal with it," Francis snapped.

"Yessir!" he replied, sarcastically.

Rochelle kept her eyes on the surrounding area, just in case the commotion had attracted more unwanted company, and as soon as she saw her boys leave the church she jumped up and down, relieved and thrilled that they had all made it out alive. "Thank GOD!" she exclaimed, rushing towards them. "Nick, are you-?"

"Get in car, Ro, we have to take him to the hospital," Francis said, gruffly. She didn't ask questions and nodded, opening the back seat of the BMW so Ellis and Nick could climb in with ease.

"Crap, my car," Nick groaned, imagining that his blood was going to smear all over the seats.

"Stop thinkin' about that, for God's sake," Ellis said, irritated that Nick was seemingly more worried about his car than he was his well being. He leaned over to pull the door shut, and paused when Nick held onto him tighter, as if worried that he was going to leave his side. The mechanic smiled sadly, completely understanding the impulse, and once the door was closed he set his hand on Nick's thigh, squeezing his leg comfortingly. Their eyes met, and Ellis' blues blatantly said 'I'm not going anywhere'.

Nick nodded, and leaned his head back against the seat, setting his hand on top of Ellis' so their fingers entwined. If they didn't have to, they wouldn't come undone until they got to the hospital. And even then, it would be reluctant.

Chapter Text

Nick wasn't a good patient. The doctors in Santa Fe could have attested to this, but it was the doctors in D.C. that had to bear the most recent brunt of stubborn crankiness. Between the time his hand was sewn up and the time he got painkillers in his system, he bitched at, groused to, and verbally berated the nurses, doctor, and other various hospital staff members. The respite came when he got the painkillers, but even that didn't last too long, because once he was through the initial happy place, he still slurred cranky invectives to anyone who would listen.

When he was told that he had to stay the night for observation (what with being smacked in the head a few times and surviving a traumatic event), he called the doctor a quack.

When told that Ellis couldn't see him outside the visitor hours, which ended at nine pm, he called the orderly a douche bag. Especially since he hadn't been able to see Ellis before visiting hours ended. From then on out he was known on the floor as a 'difficult patient'.

He slept through the night thanks to some pretty heavy duty sedatives, and after surviving an especially bland hospital breakfast, he was just counting down the minutes until visiting hours began. And unfortunately, in a hospital room there really isn't much one can do when hoping for time to tick on by.

Not that it was much better for Ellis. He'd tossed and turned the entire night, then waited on pins for most of the morning, asking when they could go see Nick. He hadn't seen him since he'd disappeared between two doors, and had had flashbacks to the cruise ships, when he'd disappeared down a hallway and hadn't been seen again. Though his mind was telling him it was going to be different this time, he was still anxious to get to the hospital to see him.

By the time Francis deemed that yes, they could finally go (even if they were going to get there a half hour before visiting hours started), Ellis was the first in the car and honking the horn at the other man to hurry up.

"We're going to be early and we're going to have to wait," Francis grumbled as he climbed in the driver's side. "I hate waiting."

"Well Ro'll be there too, I know she was comin' by this mornin'!" Ellis said.

"But she's always right on time! Never early, never late," Francis complained. "It's going to be BORING."

"So we go to the gift shop an' get Nick some nice things!" Ellis replied, practically bouncing in the passenger seat.

"Nice things from a hospital gift shop?" Francis asked. "The only shit you find in hospital gift shops are corny cards, creepy stuffed animals and dumbass balloons. None of which Nick likes."

"AND flowers," Ellis said, crossing his arms. "I'll get him flowers."

"Nick doesn't like flowers."

"He does too!"

"I'M getting him Scotch, that's going to make your gift look real stupid," Francis announced.

"You can't get Scotch at the hospital gift shop!" Ellis protested.

"I'm getting it AFTER he gets out."

"Francis, you can't show up my gift-!"

"I can do whatever I want!"

They did go to the gift shop, and the selection wasn't all that great. Ellis settled on a bouquet of daisies and a cute card (which had a cat with a thermometer in it's mouth), knowing that Nick probably WOULD prefer Scotch. But he also knew that whatever came from Ellis would be appreciated by the wounded gambler.

They went up the elevator, and Ellis fumbled the flower vase in his fingers, suddenly nervous with what he'd find. While he knew that Nick's wounds weren't life threatening, he was worried that his boyfriend would be morose and sulky. He'd had a hard enough time dealing with a split chin; how was he going to deal with a missing finger? He would have loved to go in by himself, just to have some alone time with his beau, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to ask that of Francis, or even Rochelle when she showed up in a little while.

They found the room Nick was staying in, and Ellis held up a hand at Francis. "Let me go in first."

"Huh? No way, we're going in together."

"I just wanna see him quickly-!"

"He's my partner! I want to see him too!" Francis snapped, and Ellis furrowed his brow at the biker.

"C'mon, Francis, I haven't seen him since he was taken back in the ER!"

"Neither have I!"

"Dammit Francis, I just want to see him first! Just for a little bit! YOU'D wanna do it if it was Ro, and I'D let you!" Ellis snarled. Francis huffed, and crossed his arms. Yeah, Ellis probably would do that for him, and yes, Francis would want to see Rochelle on his own. So he snorted again, and nodded.

"Just don't take forever," he stated, and Ellis smiled at him.

"I won't," he nodded. "Thanks man."

"Yeah yeah yeah."

Ellis gathered some bravery, and stuck his head inside the door. He saw his boyfriend in the bed, looking rather crabby as he watched ESPN.

"Hey! I thought you didn't know anything about sports!" the mechanic said, and Nick turned to look at him, a smile spreading across his face.

"Well, I have a confession to make," Nick said as Ellis walked in the room. "Yeah, I hate sports, and I don't know all that much about them. But I DO know what the scoring's called in each game. I just pretended I didn't because it made you laugh."

Ellis chuckled, shaking his head, and threw his arms around the older man as best he could with a vase in one hand. Nick hugged him back, content now that it was finally visiting hours.

"I brought you flowers," Ellis said, holding them out, and Nick smirked.

"Of course you did," he said. "You can just put them by the sink for now."

"Will do!" Ellis chirped, and Nick watched him place the vase on the countertop. He nodded in a satisfied way, and turned back around to look at his boyfriend again.

Nick was a bit self conscious as his lover looked him over. He certainly didn't look good, but he didn't look terrible either. He had a black eye, more sutures where Creevy hit him with the bolt cutters, and of course even more around his hand. His wound was wrapped in gauze, and Nick hadn't been able to look at his left hand since he'd come out of his painkiller induced stupor. He knew that it could have been much worse, but he still thought he looked like a complete mess.

Ellis, of course, thought he looked absolutely incredible. Nick smirked uneasily. "Jesus, kiddo, don't stare, I look like Quasimodo."

"Naw, you don't," Ellis replied, shaking his head slowly as he walked forward, and kissed him delicately on the lips. Nick kissed back, putting his good hand to the younger man's face.

"So can I come in too or are you going to make me wait in the hallway all day, Motor Mouth?" Francis demanded. Ellis pulled away and rolled his eyes. He would have LOVED to have a couple more seconds just the two of them, as selfish as it might have been, but he nodded.

"Yeah, c'mon in," he said, and took his place in the chair next to the bed. Francis walked in and yelled 'HEEEEY!' as he lumbered on over to the bedside.

"Just couldn't wait to see the damage, eh?" Nick asked.

"Aw bullshit. You look great, Suit!" Francis said, shaking Nick's good hand. "Way to bounce back from death AGAIN."

"I wasn't really near death's door," Nick said. At least, not wound wise. "But thanks, Big Guy. And THIS time you didn't have to give me any blood! So we both win!"

"We sure do!" Francis agreed, just as Rochelle arched her neck around the corner.

"Knock knock sicky!" she called, and stepped into the room as well, making it a bit more cramped and crowded. "How's the hand, Frodo Baggins?"

"Oh you're SO funny," Nick sneered, and she snickered. "I'm deformed and you're making wisecracks!"

"You're hardly deformed," Ellis said, putting a hand on Nick's shoulder in comfort.

"You lose a ring back at the church?" Rochelle continued. "…. Was it the One Ring?"

"Enough with the 'Lord of the Rings' jokes!" Nick snapped.

"I feel like I haven't used my allotted amount," the reporter giggled, and the gambler snorted. "Okay, I'm done, obviously you aren't ready to laugh at it."

"I won't ever be ready to laugh at it!" Nick bitched.

"Psh, we'll see," she said, and finally went over to hug him. "I'm happy you're alright."

"… Thanks," he said, patting her back, even though he was tempted to yank on her hair.

"You had me scared there for a bit," she murmured in his ear. "Bet you never thought I'd be scared for you, hm?"

"It is a bit surprising, I'll admit," he smiled.

"…. Ringbearer." He shoved her away lightly.

"Ro, that's not nice," Ellis chastised, and she shrugged.

"I figure if we make light of it he won't become a huge bottle of angst," she said, winking at the gambler. He gave her a false smile, and then shook his head bitterly.

"So when do you get to leave?" Francis asked.

"They say I can leave at three today," Nick replied, and Ellis practically beamed. "Bastards will probably keep me until five or later."

"With all the bitching you're doing I bet they let you out as soon as they can," Francis snickered, leaning against the sink.

"Yeah, well, that's part of the strategy," Nick said. "At least I won't be here for weeks, like LAST time."

"Yeah, I'm real glad it isn't like last time," Ellis agreed, voice soft as he nodded. Nick glanced at him and gave him a reassuring smile.

"Me too," Francis said. "And, you know, not just because I'd have to give you blood again, or anything like that." He scratched the back of his neck, and Nick chuckled.

"Awwww, how sentimental of you, Francis," he said, and the biker scowled.

"Shut up. Jeeze, try and say somethin' nice and get made fun of," he muttered.

"Kidding, Big Guy," Nick stated. "I appreciate it, okay?"

"Yeah, well, you better!" Francis barked.

Rochelle, noticing Ellis' restlessness, gestured to the door with her head.

"Hey. Francis. Let's go get some food from the cafeteria, huh?" she suggested, making eye contact with her best friend. "I kind of want to get some Jell-O."

"I hate Jell-O," the biker said.

"No one said YOU had to get Jell-O, come on," she said, physically taking him by the wrist and pulling him towards the door. "We'll bring you back something, Nick. You want some ice cream?... Maybe Lembas bread-?"

"Beat it!" Nick snapped, and she and Francis left the room, closing the door behind them. "Christ. Has she always been such a bitch?"

"She's not a bitch," Ellis said, turning the chair to face his boyfriend better. "She's just tryin' to make you not feel sorry for yourself."

"I'm sorry, I was kidnapped and tortured, I think I'm allowed to feel sorry for myself," Nick muttered, crossing his arms defiantly. Ellis sighed, and put a hand on Nick's arm. "I mean, no, I'm not going to be a total pussy about it, but come on. 'Lord of the Rings' jokes? Too soon, man. My finger's gone!"

"…. It really doesn't look that bad," Ellis said.

"Yeah right."

"Really! I can't even notice it!"

"Because it's all wrapped up," Nick sulked. "It's going to look hideous."

"I doubt it," the mechanic said, shaking his head. The gambler exhaled slowly, and chewed on his lip a little bit. "…. I mean, I don't care, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know you don't but I just…" Nick began, and huffed agitatedly. "…. It's one thing to have scars on my chest, that's not THAT big of a deal. It's not like everyone sees those every day. But I can't really hide the fact my pinky is gone. Fucking asshole. I thought the scars were bad, but this? This is… it's worse."

"… Yeah, it's upsetting," Ellis said, scooting the chair closer. "But really. I don't care."

"Yeah, well, you might care when my hand jobs start sucking," Nick groused, and Ellis made a skeptical face. "Because without my pinky-!"

"Nick, you're right handed," Ellis stated flatly. "I don't think this's gonna affect them."

"…. Fine. Maybe not. It…. It just sucks."

"I know." Ellis reached over and took the bandaged hand, smiling at his lover. "I still think you're sexy as hell."

"….. Well, that's all I can ask, really," Nick said, and genuinely smiled at him. "…. Happy I'm getting out?"

"Uh, YEAH," Ellis nodded, and the older man chuckled. "Let me tell ya, it was REAL lonely in that big bed last night. I thought I was gonna go outta my mind. I was real pissed they didn't let me see ya."

"I was mad too," Nick agreed, snorting a bit. "Whatever. Fuck it. Won't matter at three." Ellis nodded, and then let his gaze drop, a frown setting on his face. "… What's wrong, Overalls?"

The younger man shrugged, and then looked back up at his boyfriend. "Yesterday as awful, Nick."

"You're telling me."

"No, I mean, YEAH, I know it was bad for you, REAL bad for you, but I was so scared," he said, brow knit in a worried manner. "I just, I thought….. I thought you were gone." He leaned in as close as he could and took Nick's other hand as well, needing to touch him as much as he could. "I thought that Creevy'd killed ya, an' then when we got to the church an' I saw the Witch I thought maybe she got you first…. An' that I wasn't gonna find YOU, but…. But what she'd left of you." He shuddered, looking down at the floor.

Nick didn't want the younger man to know that he'd been worried about that too. Not that it really mattered now. But he wanted to make the younger man feel better, and so he swallowed down his own self-pity, and moved his face down a bit to try and catch his gaze. "Ellis?"

"…. What?"

"You thought that you were going to find a pile of guts and nothing else…. But you came for me anyway," he said, pulling the kid's face back up and stroking the younger man's cheeks with his thumbs. Ellis wasn't exactly sure why this was significant, and Nick could see the confusion in his eyes. "Just like in the Milltown."

Ellis thought a couple of beats, and then smiled, realizing that yeah, it was like the Milltown. "…I didn't give up on ya, I guess."

"So it would seem… Thanks for that," the older man stated. "I guess when I don't give you reason to give up on me it works out for the both of us."

"I guess so," Ellis nodded.

Nick slyly ran his tongue across his teeth, and pat himself on the lap. "So…. Want to, I don't know… Come up here?"

The mechanic did, as at the moment he couldn't think of anything better than sitting in the bed with Nick, or on Nick. He just needed to be close to his lover after having so little time together post-trauma. "… Can I? I mean, what if someone walks in-?"

"Ah fuck 'em, who cares?" Nick asked, and tugged on Ellis' wrists. Which was good enough for the mechanic. He hopped up, and crawled onto the bed, straddling his lover and wrapping his arms around his back before kissing him fiercely. Nick moaned quietly, and took the younger man into a more fevered embrace, holding him tightly and returning the intensity of the kisses. Ellis smiled as he moved his lips from Nick's and made them dance down the gambler's neck. If he had his way they would have their ways with each other right then and there. He tangled his fingers through Nick's dark hair, and ground his hips down into the other man's, which elicited an excited grunt from the gambler.

"Oh God, kiddo," Nick murmured, thinking this was the best medicine that the world had to offer.

Unfortunately, before Ellis could go much further, the door flung open to reveal Merle Morgan with a dumbass balloon in his hand. "Hey, James Dean, I figured I'd stop by and- WHOA." He turned around, and both Ellis and Nick flushed as the mechanic practically leaped off the bed and sat back in the chair. "Wow, holy God, guys. Are you sure you should be exerting yourself like that, Nick?"

"It's just my hand," Nick said. "And my face. And the concussion-."

"Sorry," Ellis muttered, pulling his hat down a bit.

"Whatever, I don't really care," Morgan said, tying the balloon to the end of the bed. "Though I think I'm going to start referring to you as Sal Mineo now."

"Who's that?" the mechanic asked, and Morgan was going to explain, but decided against it.

"Never mind. So! Nick! How are you feeling? I assume you're sore and crabby," the Assistant Director said, standing at the foot of the hospital bed.

"Well, I WAS feeling that way," Nick smirked. "As you can see, my physical therapy is going VERY well thus far."

"You know, whatever keeps you from pitying yourself is okay in my book," Morgan said. "So. I spent most of the morning trying to sort out this giant shitshow that we all found ourselves in yesterday. Creevy's remains were, um, collected. It's going to be officially on the records that he not only kidnapped you, but that he orchestrated the Infected attack on Roanoke II. Which means you and Francis are officially clear. I also spoke to my superiors, and formally put forth my recommendation of giving you my job."

Nick scratched the back of his head. "What did they say?"

"They said that they didn't see why you wouldn't make an excellent candidate," Morgan replied, and smiled thinly, trying to remain calm and neutral. "I said that they could expect to hear from you once you've recovered. That IS true, isn't it?"

"Oh, well, yeah," Nick nodded, somewhat awkwardly. "Not that I'm expecting much, Morgan, I can't imagine I'm the only qualified candidate who would be applying-."

"True, but from speaking with them it sounds to me that should you apply, you will almost certainly get the job," his boss stated. "In fact, you WILL get the job. And if you don't, they won't hold it against you. They'll just find someone else and this opportunity will go down the drain. No pressure."

"… Do I still have time to think about it?"

"Yes… But substantially less," Morgan said. "Oh they understand that you need some time to heal, to gather your bearings and recover from this trauma, and the job wouldn't start until January anyway. But they'd want you out here in December so I can show you the ropes. So…..They want to know soon. Very soon."

Nick knew FBICE and knew if he didn't confirm or deny his intentions but quick, they would close the door on him. And he had come to realize that he'd wanted this job, if only to make the extra money and to keep busy until he was ready to ACTUALLY retire from working. And there was the matter of not wanting FBICE to start turning into CEDA; he would actively make sure that didn't happen, at least in HIS branch. And it would be kind of satisfying to go head to head with that asshole McCarthy, maybe not on an EVERY DAY basis, but satisfying nonetheless.

But there was also the matter of Ellis, who lived in Roanoke II. Nick also wanted to be with him, no matter what. It seemed to be quite the quandary.

Until he looked over at the mechanic, and saw that his bright eyes were sparkling and that he was smiling, obviously quite proud that his lover was being chosen for such an important position. Nick chewed the inside of his cheek, and raised his eyebrows at him.

"What do you think?" Nick asked him.

"I think…. that you should do it," Ellis replied, nodding.

"But it's here in D.C., your home's in Roanoke-."

"We talked 'bout this. My home's you," Ellis stated blithely, repeating the previous declaration that had made Nick's heart soar once. And of course it made it soar once again, even if he wasn't going to necessarily show it. So he smiled at Ellis, and turned back to Morgan.

"….Yeah, you can tell them I'll do it," he said, and Ellis nodded at Morgan as well. "I'd say they won't regret it, but hey, I might be the biggest pain in the ass FBICE has ever given a real position of power to."

"That you might be," Morgan nodded, and extended his hand to his protégé. "But I'm sure I'll be the one who has to ultimately deal with you, and I'm used to it."

"Fair enough," Nick said, and Morgan smiled widely. "…. Thanks, sir."

"Thank YOU, James Dean," he said. "I know you'll make me proud. Hell, you've already made me proud… Alright, I'll leave you two to whatever it was you were or weren't doing before I came in. I'll see you later, Ellis, and I'll see you when I see you, Nick."

"I'm coming home today, you'll see me tonight."

"Damn, I thought I was getting a longer break from you," Morgan said, and Nick scowled as the oldest man in the room winked at Ellis. "Until later, gents."

Once he'd left the room, Nick turned back to his boyfriend. "So. You'd be willing to move to D.C., huh?"

"Well yeah Nick, I was gonna come with you into the Grey Zone, wasn't I?" Ellis pointed out. "D.C. seems like it's a bit nicer'n that."

"Yeah, a little bit," Nick agreed.

"So you want me here with ya?"

"Sure do."

"…. Dalton too?"

Goddammit, Nick thought, but relented. Dalton came with Ellis, like a package deal. Even if Nick couldn't stand the little fleabag. "Yeah, the damn cat too. But we have to give him a sedative for the drive, I don't want a screeching cat in the backseat for five hours."

"Aww, I don't wanna give my cat drugs!"

"Do you want him to ride in the trunk?"

"… Okay, I'll talk to his vet," Ellis agreed, and then began to grin again. "Oh MAN, now I can't wait to get back to Roanoke II because we gotta start packin'! An' I gotta find someone to sublet my house 'til the lease runs out in March, an' I gotta tell my boss that I'm quittin' soon-."

"Hey, kiddo, we have LOTS of time to plan all this stuff out," Nick pointed out.

"Yeah, I know," Ellis said. But he had some OTHER planning he needed to do, and wanted to get on top of all of it as soon as possible.

Time flew by, and it wasn't too long (at least it didn't feel too long) before Nick and Ellis were packing up the last load of their things for the third, and last, journey from Roanoke II to D.C. Having dropped Ellis' truck off at their townhouse on the last trip, they'd loaded up the BMW as best they could with the last of their things and were now just waiting for Francis and Rochelle to arrive to say their goodbyes. Albeit temporary goodbyes.

"They better hurry up, I want to get on the road in fifteen minutes," Nick grumbled as he leaned against the car. Ellis checked the small trailer that had hauled so much over the years, and gave his boyfriend a chastising look.

"C'mon, Nick, they'll get here soon enough," Ellis said. "It's what? Ten fifteen? We'll get out to D.C. in plenty've time."

"All I'm saying is that I want to be on the road by ten thirty," Nick stated brusquely. "If only because we've timed it out so Dalton's meds wear off around the time we'd be getting to D.C. if we leave then." Ellis looked at the cat carrier in the backseat, hoping that the cat wasn't TOO miffed. And if he was, well, he'd hopefully sleep most of the way.

"I'm just real excited we're gonna get to our new place and be all moved in just in time for Christmas!" Ellis stated, pleased that he and Nick would be spending the holiday together, even if they might still be organizing a bit here and there.

It was crazy to think that it had only been a couple of months since Nick walked into Carlisle's and fallen in love at first sight all over again. And yet so much had happened after the showdown in Washington D.C. After they had returned to Roanoke II, Nick had been told to take it easy and not be in the field as much as he normally would have been, to at least wait until his hand was somewhat healed. Nick, of course, had ignored these orders, and finished out his tenure at Francis' side. Their last day was on November 15th, and the entire group of friends went out to dinner to celebrate.

It was soon thereafter that they had heard of what was going to happen to Barbara for her involvement in the Tank attack. She had been able to plead down to Involuntary Manslaughter, and due to her clean record and repentant attitude she was only going to prison for fifteen months. Ellis said he would visit her once a month for all those months. And it was soon after THAT that Rochelle officially became Wednesday's guardian, and they moved into the house near the edge of town to live with Francis.

Nick was still getting used to his sudden four digits on his left hand. It hadn't quite healed completely, but he was assured that yes, it would, and yes, he would stop noticing it. He wasn't quite convinced, but he was adjusting to picking things up without the help of his pinky. But Ellis had been right: it hadn't hindered his hand jobs in any way, shape, or form. The mechanic could certainly attest to that. And at least his face didn't have any scars on it. Little blessings.

Ellis moved the last of the boxes on the porch into the back of the BMW. He sighed, and brushed his hands off. "Alright. That's it. We're ready." Nick nodded, and languidly dropped his arm around Ellis' shoulders.

"…Feeling okay?" he asked as the younger man gently took his fingers in his own.

"Yeah….. Have some pretty okay memories in this house is all. Gonna miss it sorta," he said, wistfully. Nick squeezed his fingers, and shrugged.

"You'll make more," he said, never quite sure what to say at times like this. "We'll make lots more in D.C."

"Yeah, I know," Ellis nodded, and smiled at him, whatever sadness he was feeling melting away at the thought of it. He was about to say something else, but then Rochelle's Honda drove up the driveway, honking jovially. "Oh there they are!"

The car pulled to a stop, and Rochelle and Francis climbed out. "Well, well, well," Francis said, slamming the car door. "And so the travelers are off. I might just bust out crying."

"Don't make it sound so dramatic," Nick scoffed. "You're joining us after the New Year, it's not like we're going to be apart that long."

"You're ruining the moment," Rochelle sniffed, and winked at Ellis.

Once it was clear that Nick was going to be the new Assistant Director in D.C., Francis had immediately suggested that he and Rochelle move out there as well. He could live on his pension, and SHE had lined up a job to write for a progressive magazine that ran out of Georgetown. They figured it would be a clean transition for Wednesday to start up during the Spring semester. After all, since Rochelle was her guardian, she had to keep the teen's best interests in mind. But they wouldn't see each other at Christmas, a first for Ellis and Rochelle since they'd met. And Francis hadn't been away from Nick since they'd trained together. So it was strange to even have a few weeks apart.

"Where's Little Orphan Annie?" Nick asked, referring to Wednesday.

"CHRIST, don't call her that to her face, okay?" Rochelle snapped, slugging him on the shoulder. "And it's a school day, I wasn't going to let her ditch to say goodbye when we're seeing you again in January. But she sends her regards."

"Well tell her goodbye for me, 'kay?" Ellis asked.

"Of course, sweetie. And she's already hoping to hire you for help with guy advice, Nick."

"Oh joy."

"Do you guys have everything?" Rochelle asked, crossing her arms in the brisk air. "Everything get packed? Do we need to bring some things with us when we make OUR move?"

"No, I think we got everything," Ellis said, looking at Nick. "Can you think of anything?"

"Nope," Nick said. "We're set."

"Well…. Then I guess this is goodbye," Francis snorted, crossing his arms.

"For three weeks, man, we'll see you after the New Year," Nick said, though he too was feeling like something significant was happening here. As if an era was ending. "…. You can always call me, you know."

"Yeah yeah, I know, don't be a pussy," Francis stated gruffly, and extended his hand. Nick took it, and they shook hands curtly, as if they thought if they were curt it wouldn't feel so weird. It wouldn't feel so…. Bittersweet. "Freedom, partner."

"Yeah. Freedom," Nick nodded.

It was Francis who turned the handshake into a hug, but Nick was silently grateful that he had done it, as the gambler wasn't sure that HE would have mustered the courage to swallow his pride and do so. Once they were hugging, however, he had no shame gripping his friend a bit tightly. Not that Francis gripped him any less tightly.

"I'll miss you, Suit," Francis said.

"Three weeks, Francis."

"No, I mean… I'll miss you and me bein' the good guys for once," the biker said, and Nick nodded. He was going to miss it too.

"… You could always come work for me."

"Fuck off," Francis said, and knocked Nick away gently. "Haven't you heard? Some of us retirees like to STAY retired."

"You're getting a job," Rochelle said, and Francis huffed. She then turned to Ellis. "Well sweetie… I know I'm going to see you in three weeks, but will you judge me if I cry anyway?"

"No," Ellis replied, shaking his head vehemently, and he hugged his best friend close. "Man….. Can you believe we've come this far, Ro? When we met in the Vannah did you ever think we'd be HERE?"

"Sweetie, I thought I was going to die, so no," she chuckled, tears falling from her eyes. "But I know what you mean…. I'm really happy for you, Ellis."

"I'm happy for you too," he said, resting his chin on her shoulder. "An' hey! Three weeks ain't too long! An' I'll call ya at Christmas an' then it'll be New Years an' THEN y'all'll be out there with us! Not a big thing!"

"Nope. Not a big thing," she agreed, stepping back and wiping her eyes. She then turned to Nick. "If you hurt him I'll kill you."

"Noted." Though none of them thought there was much reason to worry about that. "We'll call when we get in."

"Sounds good," Francis said, hands in his pockets. "Well, you better get going if you want to get there before rush hour is REALLY fucking terrible."

"Shit," Nick muttered, not even thinking of that. "Oh Francis?"

"Yeah?" the biker asked.

"That box under my bed?" Nick prompted as he walked to the side of the car.

"Huh?"

"The BOX," Nick repeated, trying to be subtle. "The one you said I was just going to take back when I left Roanoke II?"

"…. OHHHH, THAT box!" Francis said, and chuckled lecherously. So much for subtlety. Nick shot him a dirty look, and the biker tried to recover. "Uh, what about it?"

"….. It's all yours," Nick replied, and winked at him before climbing into the front seat. Ellis hugged Rochelle one more time, and followed Nick's lead and got in the car as well.

As the BMW pulled out of the driveway with the trailer latched firmly behind, Ellis leaned out the window to wave to their friends. "Bye guys! See you in a few weeks! I'll miss you!"

Rochelle and Francis waved back, watching the car drive down the street, and didn't stop waving until it turned the corner. Once it had, Rochelle brushed more tears from her eyes. She knew it was silly to get this worked up over them leaving, as she would soon see them again. But she was more crying happy tears that she and her best friend had found the lives they'd longed for, and that their happy endings weren't going to somehow change everything about their friendship. It was rare that that happened, in her experience. So she slipped her hand in Francis', and rested her head against his arm.

"What's in the box Nick was talking about?" she asked.

"Condoms. Lots and lots of condoms."

"Hm. He's so thoughtful to leave those for us."

"Believe me, we use them more than they do."

"Hey, I walked in on them too you know," she said, and they walked back to her car.

As soon as their friends were out of sight, Ellis pulled himself back into the car and sighed. "Man. Even though it's only a couple weeks I'm gonna miss them."

"I know you will," Nick nodded. He was going to as well.

Ellis was going to ask if they could stop for bagels or donuts before heading out of town, but noticed that Nick missed the turn for the East gate. "Hey, Nick, we wanna go East, where are you goin'?"

"Just making one last stop for nostalgia purposes," the gambler said, and glanced over at his boyfriend mischievously. Ellis cocked his head to the side, and made a face.

"Where?"

"I thought we could make a visit to our favorite side street back alley," Nick suggested, hand dropping from the steering wheel and landing on Ellis' thigh. "For one last hurrah of sorts."

Ellis smiled just as slyly as the gambler, and nodded. "I like this idea," he said.

Once they'd parked Ellis flipped into Nick's lap, barely giving him enough time to unbuckle his seat belt before kissing him over and over again. Nick ran his hands up Ellis' back, taking in a whiff of his scent and tugging the tee shirt over the kid's head (though it was a bit cramped and fumbling in the car). Their new life was so damn close he could almost taste it, and as Ellis began to bite his neck and grind down into his lap, Nick moaned and grabbed the steering wheel.

"Oh shit, Overalls," he said, wincing. "I think that of all the places in this hick town, I'm going to miss THIS place most of all."

"We can always come back and visit," Ellis responded, unbuttoning Nick's shirt quickly. "Just come back to this spot for a quick fuck. When I go visit Barbara at the women's prison in Raleigh once a month you can come too, and we can come here for old time's sake-."

"We'll figure that out later," Nick said, and ran his hands up Ellis' back again before attacking his chest with his mouth. Ellis made a lust-filled noise, and ground into his lap again before attacking his mouth with his own.

Nick was about to unbuckle the mechanic's belt, but before he could Ellis pulled away and said, "Hold on. I… I wanna get somethin' for ya."

"Please let it be lube," Nick said, and Ellis snickered as he contorted his way to the backpack at the foot of the passenger seat.

"Well I'll need to grab that too, but I have somethin' else first," he said, heart starting to race a bit. He grabbed the item he was looking for, and held it behind his back. "Okay, now you gotta close your eyes."

"I'm already irritated."

"Oh c'mon, just close 'em for a few seconds!" Ellis begged, and Nick sighed before doing so.

"What I do for you, kiddo," he said, crossing his arms. "We're wasting valuable fucking time."

"You're such a romantic," Ellis muttered, holding up the item in his hand. "Okay. You can open 'em."

Nick opened his eyes, expecting to see the lube or some other kind of sex related object. His lover was getting more and more sneaky after all.

So he was surprised as hell to see that Ellis was holding up a ring box instead.

"… What-?" he began, and Ellis grinned as he popped open the top to reveal a simple silver ring.

"So I've had this since the place scoutin' trip to D.C.," the mechanic explained, shifting on Nick's lap nervously. "I've been waitin' for the right time to ask ya, and I was gonna wait until we moved in, but… I guess I wanna do it now. Maybe it's weird, but it just feels like I hafta do it now."

He knew that he wanted to marry Nick as soon as they'd left the hospital. He may have been sort of kicking the idea around vaguely before that, but after he got Nick back it was solidified in his mind that he wanted to be with him for the rest of his life. So when they went back to D.C. to look for a place to live, he'd gone back to the jewelry store and purchased the ring that he and Wednesday were looking at. He'd hidden it in his toolbox all that time, knowing that Nick would never look there, and only moved it to his bag a few days before, not wanting to risk it getting lost in the move. He barely trusted the moving company with his tools, he sure as hell wasn't leaving that ring with them.

He waited for a reaction from Nick, any reaction would do. But the longer Nick just stared at the ring, the more uncomfortable Ellis had felt. He crinkled his forehead, and tried to smile, even though he was suddenly very nervous. "I just…. I don't know, I've known awhile now that I want to spend the rest've my life with you, so I thought that maybe we could… Well, we could make it official."

"…. Dammit Ellis," Nick said, frowning, and the mechanic's heart plummeted into his stomach. He ran a hand through his hair, perceiving this as a very embarrassing moment of rejection, and closed the box.

"You know what? Just forget I even said anything, I'm fine with how things are, and I understand that you're still tryin' to work through everything that's happened," he began, about to shove the ring back in his bag and never speak of it again. But Nick suddenly took his shoulder in his hand.

"Hey, whoa, Overalls," he said, "what's the-?"

"Things don't hafta change, Nick, I just… I just wanted to maybe…" The younger man trailed off, thinking he'd totally blown it, and his face started to flush. But Nick shook his head.

"No, kiddo, it's not that," he said, and sighed, reaching his hand into his coat.

"Well then what is it?"

"It's… You beat me to it, I have one for you too," he muttered, pulling out a similar ring box and revealing another simple silver ring.

Ellis looked down at it, and then started laughing. "MAN! Nick, you wrecked it!" he said, shoving his lover lightly.

"No I did not!" Nick protested. "YOU wrecked it! This was going to be a HUGE thing for me and YOU went and stole all my goddamn thunder!"

"Sorry!" Ellis smiled, taking the ring he'd bought out of the box and lifting Nick's left hand. "So I'm just gonna assume you're sayin' yes."

"Yeah yeah yeah," Nick said, letting the mechanic put the ring on his finger. "…. Looks weird without a pinky to frame it-."

"Stop complainin'," Ellis demanded as Nick did the same with the other ring onto his finger as well He held his newly decorated hand up, and smiled as he studied it. He'd imagined things could be this way, but now that it was a reality it felt completely different than he thought it would. And it felt even better than he thought it would. "Wow. We're engaged. This is CRAZY."

"You're telling me," Nick nodded, and wrapped his arms around Ellis' back. "….. I can honestly say when I first kissed you in Rayford I never thought we'd get THIS far. What about you?"

Ellis put his hands to Nick's face and looked into his green eyes, green eyes that had always driven him up the wall, ever since he'd first seen them that first time in the Vannah. He smiled gently, and said "Well, maybe never thought it. But… I think that part've me always kinda hoped we would."

Nick smiled slowly. "…. Me too," he agreed, and pulled the kid into a kiss while fumbling with the radio in the car, hitting the button to get some music playing. As the Psychedelic Furs played on the radio, they undid each other's pants and went for that one last romp in their secret little alleyway. Through the hazy and addled thoughts each of them had while making love, both men thought about how far they'd come, and how far they'd go. They had the rest of their lives ahead of them now, and neither man was going to let the other haunt him ever again. And the best part was that they wouldn't have to.

As the finally left Roanoke II and drove towards their new life, they listened to the Furs and sat in satisfied and comfortable silence. They were driving towards a life they both fantasized about. They were driving towards a certain and attainable future they had so badly wanted for so long.

They were driving towards home.

THE END