knowthyexits | After the Attack

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columbus

After the Attack

Sarah's refused to get a cast on her wrist, settling for a wrap. It hurts, but she's used to pain. It's almost refreshing that this is something that will fade in time, but the attack has reminded her of her own mortality and the danger she can pose to others. Maybe, maybe it's better if she tells them about it upfront and lets them make their own choices. There's no fate but what they make, and who is she to tell them what they can and can't do.

She has to decide, as well, when the chemo should begin. It's a decision she's been putting off, but it's one that needs to be pushed forward if she wants it to have an effect. She's trying not to think about any of this as she combs through the bookshelf for something mindless to read. Maybe a mystery novel or even a smutty romance book that she can tuck under her pillow in the mornings. Anything will do until she's well enough to get back to waiting on tables.

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I've...kind of been hanging back from talking to her, ever since I spoke to Cal. Hanging back because...well. I like Sarah. I really like her and...I can kind of count the people who matter to me on one hand. And I'm sick of losing.

And I kind of feel...really, really shitty for not knowing about this sooner.

I walk up behind her, careful to let my sneakers scuff, let her know I'm coming, because the last thing I want is to sneak up on her.

"Uh." Classic way to start, Columbus. "Hey, Sarah."

Sarah takes a moment to collect herself. When she's sure that she's only smiling passively, then she turns to look at Columbus and give him a small nod. "Columbus." Yes, she's wondered where he's been for the last little bit, but everyone has their own lives and their own problems. It's not her place to intrude.

That smile. I never...You know, I never know what to make of that smile. I've...I've done that smile myself. I kind of know all about masks.

"I...So. I heard? What happened, I mean. And...I'm sorry, Sarah. I'm really sorry."

"It's not your fault." It seems like something she's been saying a lot lately, but it's the truth. It's no one's fault but her own. She exists, therefore, they come. "I'm glad you weren't there to get hurt in the crossfire," she admits, her voice slightly raw. "I'd hate to think of you caught up in the middle of all that."

"I can look after myself, Sarah," I say because, you know, you survive the Zombie Apocalypse and it kind of hurts when people keep acting like you need o be protected.

"And I should've been here."

"So can I," she points out and holds up the broken wrist before she tips her chin up to the ceiling so he's able to see the bruise marks around her neck. She's been speaking quieter, but stubbornness has made it so that she refuses to whisper. "But look at me, now. It's not about looking after yourself. That thing was bad news and I'm glad it didn't hurt you."

"I just." I can feel my jaw tightening and I don't...know what I'm supposed to say. "Sarah. I just. You're...You're the closest thing I've had to family in a long time, you know? And...I...can't. I hate the thought of you getting hurt."

Sarah isn't very good at dealing with emotions. She's not good with her own and she's even worse with other people's. This is a difficult situation and she's not sure how to make it better. "I'm hurt," she admits, wanting to be realistic about the mess she's found herself in. "But I'm alive. That's important, right?"

"Yeah," I say, nodding, ignoring the sudden lump in my throat. "Yeah. Absolutely, yes. I just..." I can feel my mouth tightening. "What can I do?"

"I could use some company," she admits, giving Columbus a tentative smile as she grips at the bed with her good arm. "I know it's not much, but at the best of times, I feel like I'm not...the best at this," she admits warily. "And asking is sometimes difficult. So, I'm asking."

I can appreciate that. I'm not great at asking, either. And she's asked. I want to be here. I do. I move and I sit down by the side of the bed.

"Can I...uh...do you need anything?"

"I'd kill for a beer right now," she says before she realizes that she's picked almost the worst turn of phrase, given the circumstances. She opens her mouth, then closes it, abandoning the notion of fixing it. "Got any ideas where we can find one?"

"The Hub's pretty close?" I say, pushing one hand back over my hair. "Uh...if you can walk there. We could go. That would...be nice. Really nice."

"I definitely need the drink," she admits, watching him carefully as she takes the first step in that direction. She doesn't fault him for not being there. In fact, she's grateful for it. She just doesn't know how to say it again and have him understand. "How's your friend? Wichita?"

"Uh...more than a friend, actually," I say, and I can't keep the stupid fucking grin of my face when I say it. "For a while, now, actually."

It's actually surprising how delighted she instantly feels on his behalf. Her own life might be a mess, but it's almost good to know that someone in her close proximity is still experiencing happiness. It's a refreshing change from the usual death-cloud that follows her. "Really?" she teases. "And are you two happy?"

"Pretty much the happiest I've ever been in my entire life," I say, and it's pretty much true. "That's sad, isn't it? That my entire happiness depends on one person? That's...really messed up."

I'm not even sure that I care.

"No," she says, a bit sad herself, because her happiness had always been tied to John for as long as she could remember. "No, it's not. To me, it just means that the person is incredibly special to you. I have someone like that back home." She's become aware of the fact that she has to accept that he's not going to come here -- as much as she wishes otherwise.

"Well. I hope you find someone here, Sarah. Really."

And that's when a normal person would have, like, put his arm around her shoulders or something, but that's not me. I just...can't.

So I just walked.

"No one can replace John," she insisted, firm and possibly sharper than she needs to be. She blames it on her inability to read normal behaviour, but also on her love and adoration of John. No one could replace him. "Romantically...I gave up on that years ago."

I hate feeling like I've said the wrong thing. I mean, I spend most of my life feeling like I've said the wrong thing but I really hate it when I really clearly have.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I just...you know. Want you to be happy."

"I'm happy," she says, but then pauses because she doesn't want to lie -- not to Columbus. "I'm happy, enough," she amends her statement, giving him an almost-saddened smile. "Considering the things I've gone through, happy-enough is something I'll definitely take."

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After the Attack

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