Fear Itself

When I returned to the base, Sam’s door was already cracked open, but the place was empty. I had never been here this late before, at least not since I was kidnapped and forced to stay over night. Never saw Sam over that time anyway. Something frightened me about approaching Sam. I don’t know why. I knew he wasn’t going to turn me away; plenty of people were living down here.

I hated how empty it was. It felt like a morgue down here at night: cold, abandoned… didn’t smell nearly as clean though. The smell didn’t bother me when people were here, and as much as the Brotherhood provided a rather motley crew, I preferred them much more than the invisible ghouls and regrets hiding around me in the dark… haunting me, weighing me down. Too long, they held me back. The second I knocked on Sam’s door, I was going to cut ties and kiss them goodbye. I would revel in the sight of my fears floating back into the darkness of the tunnels. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore, after all. No perpetual curfew, no Dad… nobody to hide from anymore.

That was the upside of all this, I supposed.

But still, all I could see when I looked at Sam’s door was the exchange that took place just hours ago, and suddenly, all the emotions came flooding back. I sucked in my breath and blinked my eyes, just trying to keep composure. I started to think maybe I could turn around and go home. Then, I realized how ridiculous that was. I had to talk to Sam, had to stay here. There wasn’t any other way. Everything felt horrific and heavy and so dark… and one time, that darkness was comforting. Now, it was locked around my ankle like a ball and chain, holding me back.

Time to let go, Tali, I thought and pressed forward toward Sam’s door. I knocked three times on the door, averting my gaze before it creaked open.

“T-Tali?” Sam stammered, surprised to see me. He probably thought I was never coming back. He stood there, looking at me. He held the door open just a little wider. “Are you okay?” he asked with quiet, nervous concern.

“Can I stay here?” I blurted out, finally looking him in the eyes. My lips curved downward only slightly, twitching south no matter how hard I fought them. “Please, Sam?” I implored. “I’ve decided that I can’t live in my house anymore, and I’ve no where else to go.” Ralph paced impatiently by feet, still stuck in the harness I clutched in my left hand.

“You… ran away…” he whispered. “Tali, I’m sorry, I never meant to—“

“Sam,” I cut him off. “Just… yes or no,” I told him sadly. “It’s fine. Better you tell me now than later…” I looked away from him again as tears stung my eyes. I didn’t think I had any tears left to cry, but I was wrong. “Truth can hurt, huh?” I joked half-heartedly.

He gave me a gentle nod, face grim and heavy with guilt. “Of course,” he said softly, reaching out and putting a hand on my shoulder. “We’d be happy to have you, Tali.”

Those words rang in my ears like a joyous reverie of church bells. A smile fought it’s way on my face through the tears that started to spill. Sam wasn’t always good with words, that was common knowledge, but those seven words were exactly what I wanted and needed to hear in that moment. I launched myself at him in a hug and squeezed him tight, knowing he was probably locked up and tense as usual. I heaved a muffled, weak sob into his shoulder. “Thank you,” I muttered. “Thank you so much, Sam.” After a few moments, I finally heard him breath again, and one of his hands gently patted my back.

“No need for thanks. It’s what friends do,” he assured me. I stayed there, just hugged him until he nervously asked, “Are you okay?”

I lifted myself immediately and brushed my hair out of my face. I sniffled and forced a smile. “Peachy,” I chuckled. “Guess I’ll be off then. Thanks again,” I added before I led my leashed cat into Avery’s room, which I supposed was my room now too. I let go of Ralph, who immediately hopped up on Avery’s cot before I set my bag on the ground. I peeled off all my layers until I was left in just my white v-neck. Only moments later, I decided that it was too cold for just a t-shirt and dug my black cardigan out of the pile. I stared at the heap of clothes for a moment and thought about what was in the bag. It wasn’t much. It probably would only last me a week, probably less. I frowned slightly at the thought, but maybe Avery would teach me how to steal clothes… or if he was feeling unusually moral that day, maybe he’d buy them for me. New clothes for a fresh start.

But the old still remained, still laid in front of me. The cat my father had given me still laid there on Avery’s bed, sleeping like nothing had even changed. The bag was the same… so was the small collection of random objects that had amassed beneath my cot. All old, all right in front me. In that moment, I realized that no matter how far or fast I ran, the past was always going to be with me. My memories of my father still remained, even though I had essentially cut him loose. My left hand traced lines over my lips as tears stung my eyes again, and I heard a dreadful sound escape my mouth. The door was locked. Nobody could hear me, so I just let it out. I didn’t want anyone in there, anyway. As worried as they were, nobody else understood, and I knew they’d all say that they did.

But none of them had lived with their mother’s killer for eighteen years. They didn’t spend their entire lives locked in house, raised to fear anything and everything. They didn’t understand, never would… I had no patience to listen to them try and tell me that they did.

I tried my hardest to keep everything calm, keep myself composed. People could probably still hear me outside the concrete walls and metal door. At least here, people couldn’t blame me for having such a reaction… if I acted out like this in front of my father, I would be banished to my empty room. A faint smile crept onto my face when I realized I no longer had to worry about that, and better yet, a small stack of books rested underneath of my bed from my swaps with Harley. Maybe it wasn’t all so bad. My eyes fell upon a filled shot glass set atop Avery’s dresser. Laying flat in front was a small note on a torn piece piece of paper that read “Thought you might need this, Blondie. Cheers - Dean.” It was hard to read in the dark, but I managed. I thought my eyes might adjust to living in perpetual dim-lighting eventually. I knocked it back, and while the liquid burning the back of my throat, provided some relief, it didn’t really make me any happier. Tears still spilled. I just felt a little light-headed.

Tired of walking, I sat on the stiff mattress, and I leaned my head back against the wall until I thought I might be able to fall asleep there, but thinking such was foolish, for I knew that I couldn’t sleep with my mind racing like it was. That only made my sobs harder, my breath shakier. Not to mention, my feet were sore and blistered from all the walking I had done in the last 24 hours, but if I took the shoes off, I’d be freezing because my feet were cold. Scratch that. I was already freezing. My body shivered and quaked in the frigid air, and the last thing I wanted to do was take my shoes off.

I sat there for awhile. A long while, just thinking. At one point or another, I took the yarn harness off of my poor cat, and he seemed pleased by that. It didn’t matter to him that I was still shaking and crying. He was free to sleep as he pleased now, and he ended up relocating to my bed, curling up on the far side, clearly unfazed by my choking sobs.

I tried to stop crying, tried for a really while, but I couldn’t find it within myself, not even when the door opened, not even when I saw Avery come in. In fact, that just made it all worse. He closed the door behind him with his foot. I wanted to thank him, tried, but couldn’t. All that came out was this horrible, squeaky sound and more sobbing. I kept trying, but it only got worse. My eyes were so stung with tears that I couldn’t see him clearly enough to judge his expression. My chest hurt. It was shaky and tight, and it hurt. I heard something thud against the ground by the door. I couldn’t see that either, didn’t really care what it was, figured that Avery would have told me if it was really important. He was quiet. Everything was quiet except for me. Avery sat beside me on the cot, and I just about lost any ounce of composure I had left.

He caught me when I collapsed on him. “C’mere, Tali,” he said. He used my name. I wanted to cry even more when he pulled me closer to him. “C’mere.” My arms wrapped around him, clinging to his clothes as tightly as I could. I don’t know why I thought he was leaving, but I didn’t want him to. If he left, I didn’t know what I’d do. Didn’t know who I’d talk to. Not that I could talk anyway, but I was trying, wouldn’t stop either. Someone had to know what was wrong; I felt heavy trying to keep it all tucked inside. I kept my head down, kept shivering and shaking and crying. He squeezed a little, keeping me close so I couldn’t shake. I stopped. Sort of. I tried to talk again, and he shook his head. Avery rubbed my shoulders and hushed me, “Shh, Princess.” He rubbed my back when I shivered. It was so cold, unbearably cold.

I settled my head in the crook of his neck as my breathing seemed to slow, just a little, just enough for to me feel like I wasn’t dying of a heart attack. He was warm, warm enough; my skin still felt frosted over. That was one good thing about my home: at least my house had heat. I kept trying to explain what had happened. Tried to tell him was cold, but I just jittered and sobbed, and nothing coherent left my mouth. I couldn’t talk; he didn’t talk. It wasn’t so bad.

“Okay, Princess,” he told me. I listened, took everything in. I was trying really hard, maybe more than Avery knew. I closed my eyes tightly, let his voice drift in my ears. “Okay.” I nodded a little, softly, mostly in an attempt to reassure myself that it would be okay, even though, deep down, I knew otherwise. I finally stopped trying to tell him what was wrong with me. I don’t think he needed to know right now; he would wait until I was ready to tell him, if I was ready to tell him. There was no urge to pry, no pressing me to answer questions I didn’t want to. That made a world of difference.

We just sat there for awhile, sat there until I felt warmer (couldn’t say I felt totally warm). Everything slowed down finally. My chest rose and fell. My breathing fell into a normal pace. I moved a little, shifted my side toward his chest and rested my head on his shoulder. I felt dead, felt drained. I felt like I was all dried up from my crying. My eyes stung, and my head hurt; I felt a little bit sick to my stomach, but I knew was alright now that Avery was there. Nothing was going to happen to me. Nothing ever did with him.

He brushed a few loose hairs out of my face, and my eyes drew up toward him. I blinked out another tear, but he brushed that away too before it could fall more than halfway down my cheek. My arms loosened around him, just a little, not so desperate anymore. “It… it was Dad, Mumbles,” I managed to stammer meekly, barely able to look at him. My voice shook and trembled, even though I’d stopped. I blinked and swallowed, trying to find words, but all that came out of my mouth wad stammering. “He… h-he…” I shut my eyes again and shook my head. It still hurt. I still felt a searing pain in my chest.

I immediately buried my face in his jacket, and he just stayed there. “Shh, Princess,” he said again when I started shaking. “Shh, it’s okay.” Lies. It wasn’t okay. We both knew it, but there was some part of me that wanted so badly to believe him that I just kept telling myself he was sure, that he couldn’t have been lying to me. I shook for awhile, but again, like before, it stopped. I felt Avery’s fingers run through my hair and untangle the knots I’d been too hurried to brush out before I left. It was comforting, reminded me of when I was a little girl.

“Mumbles?” I asked softly, looking up at him.

“Sorry,” he muttered and stopped immediately. Wrong, that wasn’t what I wanted at all. I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. I was too tired. I just dropped my head against him again.

“Can you braid it?” Dad used to braid my hair when I was little. Maybe it was unfair. I didn’t care, didn’t have it in me to care anymore. I didn’t even look at Avery when I asked.

I didn’t even know if Avery knew how to braid. It was a shot in the dark, in all honesty. He didn’t answer me, just started playing with my hair again, just like I wanted. I did, I honestly did, and I don’t know why I started crying again. It wasn’t bad like before. It was soft, tired. I didn’t have the energy to sob or even make a noise, but he heard me. He stopped again when he addressed me. “Princess?”

Gently, I shook my head a little. “It’s… it’s not… it’s not you. It’s okay. I… I’m okay,” I lied in a shaking voice. Truth was, I wasn’t okay. Didn’t know if I was going to be okay. I sat there and cried while he braided my hair until I finally stopped. I didn’t even know that I stopped. I didn’t realize I was even asleep until I woke up the next morning wrapped up in both his blanket and his coat, and he was nowhere to be found, at least upon first glance. I rubbed my eyes as I sat up and stretched. My back felt stiff. These mattresses were horrible; I had almost forgotten that.

I lifted my head, and when I turned to the left, I saw him sitting on his own bed, just minding his own business. “Morning,” I mumbled in a groggy voice, flashing a tired smile.

“Afternoon,” he corrected. “It’s 2 o’clock, Princess.”

Blinking, I looked around for a clock. I forgot I wasn’t in my room at home—not that it was really home anymore. I chuckled under my breath. “Oops,” I giggled quietly and sat up. I looked around a little, got my bearings, and I spotted a trash bag in the corner on my side, filled with what looked like clothes, and I thought I caught the outline of a few books in a second bag beside it. What a wondrous thing to wake up to. “Thanks, Mumbles,” I told him. “Dad didn’t give you any trouble, right?”

“Nope,” he replied. I thought I caught an amused smile flash across his face.

“Cool,” I said softly and slid off the cot. “Well, Mumbly Mumbles,” I yawned as I stretched my arms out. “I think I owe Dean a thank you, so I’m going to see if he’s ‘round.”

He gave me a shrug and nod before I hopped out the door. I don’t know what he did. Probably slept. Maybe Ralph slept with him. Ralph did have a strange fascination with Avery after all. Whatever it was he planned to do, I left him to it, and I was off to find Dean.