The blood slows to a crawl and stops

[forthedog]

He stays in the apartment long enough to change his clothes--he doesn't think that stolen hospital scrubs are exactly the thing to be wearing out on the street--and then stumbles out again. There's blood on the floor, bloodstained kitchen shears nearby, broken glass everywhere. His own apartment feels like a tomb. Outside the streets are eerily empty but a couple of store windows are broken and twice he passes what look like fights in alleyways--fights or something worse. Maybe he's a coward for not trying to help. Maybe it's just the same instincts that have kept him alive this long.

An hour ago, be broke out of quarantine. It hadn't been difficult. Pick his way past the lock on his room's door, wait until the hallway was briefly clear, grab some scrubs from a cart on the way out and change into them in a janitor's closet. No one had looked at him all the way to the lobby, and no one tried to stop him as he walked out the front doors.

They're all too distracted by the sick, he supposes.

Neil.

Twenty-four hours before he'd been put into quarantine by a pleasant doctor who nevertheless made it clear that he'd use sedatives to make Mike behave if necessary. It was as they were taking Neil away, rolling him off on a fucking gurney, and Mike had just about killed someone right there, except for the new wave of fear hitting the sides of his head.

Sir, were you exposed? You're going to have to come with us.

Sixteen hours before, a nurse wearing a facemask had come in to give him some food and he had begged her to tell him how Neil was. Begged her with fucking tears in his eyes, begged her when all the time he was trying to resist the urge to grab her and smash her head-first into the nearest wall, because anything between him and Neil needs to fucking die. Fourteen hours back and she had returned.

No change in his condition.

The fuck does that mean?

It means he's stable. They're doing everything they can.

Then,

Do I have it?

She had consulted a chart. When were you exposed?

Your blood's negative so far. You probably won't get sick, then--whatever this is, it works fast.

That had been all he needed to hear.

He's replaying the conversation over and over in his head as he wanders through the dimness in a daze, all the conversations, the parting glimpses of Neil surrounded by nurses, pale. Like he was already gone.

He doesn't mean to go to Andrea's building, but when he manages to look around him, there he is, and he isn't going to argue with it. He makes his way up the steps, hits the buzzer and half falls against the door.

Comments

[uncannyaim]

"In her room. She has some books and crafts in there, she'll be okay," Andrea says, knowing Clementine's perfectly capable of keeping herself entertained for awhile. And knowing, too, that Clementine understands when things are going wrong, probably better than most people in this city ever really will.

She sits on the couch beside him and tucks one leg under her body, looking at Mike for a long moment. "He'll be okay," she says. "The doctors here are good, they're not just going to let people die of... whatever it is."

[forthedog]

"I don't think they know what the fuck to do," he mutters, dropping his hands away from his face and staring down at them. "I don't think they even know what the fuck it is."

He slumps back against the back of the couch, turning his numb gaze up to the ceiling. There are all kinds of avenues down with his thoughts could race if he lets them. And he can't. It's about his sanity.

"Dean said there isn't a cure. He said there isn't any hope." And while Dean might be wrong... The truth is that in that alley, Mike had believed him.

Believed him, and hadn't cared.

[uncannyaim]

"I don't believe that," she says. "We're not living in the dark ages here and, as far as I can see, while it's chaotic out there, society in this city has yet to crumble completely. If Neil's in the hospital, it means the doctors are working on it."

And that's a hell of a lot more than they got back in her world. This entire situation is making her wonder whether she and Clementine are still infected. If they're somehow responsible for what's going on out there. She doubts it, given how different the symptoms are, but the thought is still there, no matter what she does to push it away.

"You're not giving up on him that easily," she says, her voice firm. "I know you're tired, but you're not going to do that."

[forthedog]

"I'm not giving up on him," he says, finally looking at her--though it takes an effort. And he's not sure he totally believes himself. It's not even really about giving up on Neil.

It's about wondering if that good life he had could ever be real again. Or if he'll always lose everything in the end.

"But I died once before. On that island. Don't you try to tell me it can't happen here."

[uncannyaim]

"That's not what I'm saying and you know it," Andrea answers, tipping her head against the couch to look at Mike. "I'm not saying it's not possible. I'm saying I seriously doubt that everything is going to fall completely apart."

She's seen a virus tear society to shreds. It happened much quicker than this.

"And I'm saying that I have faith in the doctors here. They're working on it." Nothing has been able to kill that spark of optimism she's carried with her all this time and this won't be the thing to do it.

[forthedog]

"If I lose him, everything does fall apart. For me." He meets her gaze for as long as he can, then looks away. Part of him--a significant part--doesn't even want to hope. Hope feels dangerous. Hope feels like a trap.

"He didn't even know me," he murmurs. "He didn't know who I was."

[uncannyaim]

"Jesus," Andrea says softly, shaking her head a little. "My boss was hospitalized and I heard a few stories, but since then, I haven't left the apartment. I just figured we have enough food and I didn't want her to see that. But I guess it means I haven't seen much of it either."

It sounds a lot like what happened to her world, though. People get sick, they get violent and they don't know anyone. Not even their loved ones. The only difference is that the people here aren't dead yet.

[forthedog]

"He came after me with kitchen shears." He hates saying it, realizes as he does that it's the first time he's said it aloud. Making it solid and real. He gestures to the scabbed cut under his left eye. "I had to hit him. To knock him out. And since then I've been thinking what if he dies and the last time I saw him he was--"

It comes out in a rush and chokes off hard as he squeezes his eyes shut again. He'd wondered if he'd feel any better with all of that poison out.

He doesn't.

[uncannyaim]

She moves across the couch without thinking, her arm sliding around Mike's shoulders, hand cupping the side of his head gently to pull him closer to her. It's nothing like that time in the alley, nothing of what she feels now is even remotely close to that and she's grateful for that. Whatever they have now is different. And it's important to her. He's important to her.

She can spend all evening arguing with him, trying to convince him to be optimistic, but it doesn't always work and she knows it. This isn't like arguing with Rick, she won't fix this by putting her foot down. Instead, she just sits with him.

[forthedog]

It's weakness and he hates it, and he hates it all the more for the fact that he's sure it's something he needs to give into. He lets her pull him close without a hint of resistance, letting out a breath that's dangerously close to a sob.

Again he's thinking of Florence, and of how he'd always felt he didn't have to hide from her.

"Why the fuck is this happening now," he whispers, and it isn't really a question. "It's just one fucking thing after another."

[uncannyaim]

"It always is, isn't it?" she answers, because it seems like that lately. Roamers and then the island and finding something, but being taken away from it. Then the city and more monsters and now this. She's sure as many terrible things have happened to Mike, if not more.

"I know it's shit that you had to hit him, but once they treat him, he'll be glad you did," she says. "He doesn't want to hurt you, you know that."

[forthedog]

"I know that." He shakes his head slightly, as much as he can half-leaning on her--but at least tears aren't threatening the way they were before.

It's not that he feels more in control. It's more that he feels... numb.

"It's not even that. I know he wouldn't blame me. It's that... I hurt him before. I never wanted to do that again. And it was like a fucking nightmare. Like he wasn't even there anymore."

[uncannyaim]

Not for the first time, Andrea's glad she's made the decision to stay in the apartment. That isn't the sort of thing Clementine needs to see, not after all the horror she's been through, all the things she's already had to deal with. She deserves a break and Andrea will do everything she can to give that to her.

"That's shitty," she says honestly. "It sounds awful."

She tries to imagine what she would have done if Mike had shown up here like that. Violent and aggressive and like he wasn't even there. She starts to imagine it and then she stops, because she knows damn well what she would have done.

[forthedog]

He lets out a quick, hollow laugh and shifts away from her again, rubbing both hands back down his face. Suddenly he wants nothing more than to sleep, and for a whole lot of reasons that's exactly what he doesn't imagine he'll be doing.

"It's good you're staying inside." He glances back toward the door, almost as if he imagines that someone or something might try to come busting through it. "You're right, it's not total chaos out there yet, but it's... it's getting kinda scary."

[uncannyaim]

If it does become total chaos, she'll be ready for it this time. There won't be any road trip, no man in an RV ready to save her and Andrea's okay with that. She can save herself this time around, she's prepared for that.

Even so, she hopes it won't come to anything like that.

"You want to stick around for a bit?" she asks, because he looks awful. "I can feed you, you can sleep, take a shower, whatever." He looks like he needs all of the things she's mentioned and, besides that, she doesn't want him to leave yet.

[forthedog]

"I--" He almost says no. Part of it is the idea of being dependent, even a little--being taken care of by anyone has never come easily to him. And part of it is that he wants to run back to the hospital, break through the doctors and nurses and quarantine barriers and get to Neil's side.

But somehow he can still be practical.

"Yeah," he says, leaning his head into the cradle of his hands again. "Yeah, I probably should." He gives her a weak smile. "Thanks."

[uncannyaim]

"Yeah, you probably should," she agrees, giving Mike a crooked grin. She doesn't want to tell him that there's nothing he can do right now and she doesn't want to tell him that he sort of smells like a hospital, though both those things are true. The best thing he can do for Neil, she thinks, is get some rest so he can be completely aware of what's happening when he goes back. So he can talk to the doctors if he needs to, find out what's going on, what he might need to do.

She isn't sure she wants to say that either.

"I'm a pretty good cook," she says, getting up from the couch. "Although at the moment we're sort of down to canned goods and a whole lot of eggs and cereal."

[forthedog]

"I don't even know when I last ate." He leans back again, closing his eyes. He doesn't want to argue with her about the sleep part, but though he's exhausted to dropping point, he still doesn't see that happening. "Whatever's fine."

He pushes himself to his feet. "Guess I'll get that shower." But he pauses, and on an impulse he reaches down and touches her hand.

"I... thank you. I mean it. I didn't know where else to go."

[uncannyaim]

It means a lot to her and Andrea smiles, then, on impulse, leans forward and kisses Mike's cheek. Since the dead began to walk, all her friendships have formed in strange ways and Mike's certainly no exception, but she's grateful for them all. She's grateful for him.

"Anytime," she says honestly. "Now get your ass in the shower. I'll make you some eggs."

She wants to tell him again that it'll be okay, but she isn't sure he wants to hear it. Instead, she'll just believe it for him. Neil will be okay. Everything will work out.