The Farm- IC

Selene Durlan · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Selene Durlan** on Tue Oct 01, 2013 10:05 pm

After the events of 'Don't want to be down with the Sickness': 5

Kiera was taken aback for a moment by the suspicious tone in Ben’s voice. He feels defensive about the situation she realized. How interesting. Desperately wanting to dig deeper, but she knew it wouldn't be socially acceptable to press him about it further, so she decided to bide her time about it.

“I was concerned for her safety. She is a member of the community that we have here. While I can’t claim of being a friend to her, the others have spoken highly of Laney.” She replied with a note of hurt in her voice. It was partly the truth, Kiera had worried about Laney’s safety, but obviously she had already known the young woman had returned safely before she posed the question to Ben.

“My name is Kiera Trennan by the way. I don’t think we've had the chance to meet, but I've been staying with Doctor Short for a while now.” She kept both hands firmly buried in her pockets. Her sharp ears had caught the lack of a return greeting from the man before her, it stung a bit that he hadn't bothered to learn her name, but truly he couldn’t be held entirely responsible. Kiera had been very shy and had often stuck close to the Doctor since her arrival. That needed to be changed.

She stood there a few moments longer, letting him experience the awkwardness he no doubt was feeling by standing next to a woman he barely knew. Perhaps she truly had arrived too late to be considered an option to the young man that stood before her. Despite that somber thought, Kiera wouldn't give up the idea just yet.

“Well, it was nice to see you, I enjoyed our little rendezvous.” Kiera said with a small laugh. “I will probably see you again tomorrow at breakfast, or at the job board. It will be my first Scav mission. I’m a bit scared, but also excited.” A shy smile creeping onto her face. “I guess I should probably let you get to bed. Have a good night!” She added with a brief grasp on his forearm, before turning around and heading back into the Farmhouse. Somewhere she had read that light touches to a person’s hand or arm were a good way to tell if they are interested in you by watching the way that the contact is returned. Kiera would be curious to see if this advice was true or useful.

She glanced back once at the man standing in the cold darkness, before stepping into the enveloping warmth of the Farmhouse.

VindicatedPurpose · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **VindicatedPurpose** on Tue Oct 01, 2013 10:56 pm

After the events of 'Tour de Lakes': 7

"How's it goin' down, Tilo?" Tilo blinked for a moment trying to decipher youthspeak, he had learned enough of it from students and his own sons to know that it was simple greeting meant to inquire about one's situation.

He missed being called professor King, or even doctor King, but that last title he felt was reserved for the African-American civil rights activist who was up there alongside Mahatma Gandhi and Nelson Mandela.

"Well..." he stared off toward the trees, "I'm just enjoying the forest and the land that I call home."

He stopped as he tried to invoke a more eloquent speech, "I've never had the chance to enjoy this, this," he emphasized as he gestured toward the trees, the farm, the wall, and everything between and beyond.

The cool wind sailed quietly about as the trees huddled up.

"Nothin' to do." She murmured softly. "We need more stuff to just.... do."

"Mm, perhaps," Tilo paused, "I found a football on my last run, once we get back from the next one, maybe we could kick it around for fun. The people could use a bit of morale boost."

Messiah · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Messiah** on Tue Oct 01, 2013 11:11 pm

After the events of 'Don't want to be down with the Sickness': 6

Ben felt bad. She was new. She hadn't gotten the chance to really meet any new people and he wasn't really sure what to say, "Yeah, she seems okay. We didn't really talk much." It was mostly true. Most of the time hadn't been spent talking, and the time that had, he had done most of the talking.

"Well, good to meet you, and good that you're getting out," he offered a little smile in her direction, though he wasn't entirely sure if she could see it.

Rubbing the back of his head, he stood there awkwardly. He felt like he should say something, or maybe that she should say something. One of them should.

Mercifully, the awkward silence was ended by her farewell, and he might have returned her gesture in kind, but he was mostly taken slightly by surprise at the whole thing, still. His throat certainly lacked the proper moisture to say anything worthwhile. All he managed was to cough out a short "See ya!" before she was back into the house.

"That was weird," he muttered to himself before returning to the confines of the farmhouse.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Before the events of 'Getting to Know You', 'GTA', and 'Bring Zack Back': 1

As usual, Ben was up with the sun, and that was getting later and later now, with the days nearing November - if it wasn't November already. He couldn't really be sure what day it was; he'd stopped counting around fifty.

When he woke up, he immediately noticed a nip in the air. Walking to the window and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he noticed that a sheet of white was covering most of what he could see out. He'd been right about the snow.

"Great," he mumbled to himself, rummaging through his supplies. Luckily for him, he'd planned for the inevitability of winter - though maybe too much. Apparently, the winters here weren't as bad as in America. Though, Seattle usually didn't get much snow in the winter, but when it did, it was a nightmare. The city basically shut down, and with very little snow. People from the east side of the state always made fun of people in Seattle for not being able to handle snow, but the truth was, much of the state's largest city was built on hills, which really messed things up in the snow.

But, he had to remain positive. Yesterday hadn't been the worst day. Despite being completely out of his mind wondering what the hell had happened to Laney, it turned around pretty quickly. And he was happy. Despite the presence of snow, he was happy.

After pulling on his clothes - which consisted of his normal attire, except for a pair of boots, a slightly heavier jacket, and a plain black wool cap - he headed downstairs, casting a glance in the direction of the so-called command center, and then out the door of the farmhouse. Honestly, he was still a little embarrassed by what Callie had seen the other night and didn't really feel like facing her just yet.

Hiking his backpack up onto his back, he checked the board for what was needed next. There was a job on the board about going out to make nice with the Caravanners, and there was another one about going to fetch a truck from Cromwell. As much as he probably should be around for the rendezvous with the Caravanners, he wanted something simple and straightforward. Maybe he would get that with this truck thing.

He heard the sound of snow being crushed underfoot approaching him and he turned around. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Laney approaching him. No doubt he was happy to see her, but he didn't want to come across as too eager.

She held out her map to him, "Can you show me where you saw that gang?"

"Hmm? Oh! Yeah. Just a sec," he muttered before taking off his backpack and rummaging through his own bag to find his map. He had kept the map from his original task, even though it was getting a little dog-eared. Davis Crag had still been circled on his own map from it.

He showed her the map and pointed to the circled area, east of Haven.

"Thanks," was her reply and she turned to go.

Only, before she did go, he coughed and spoke up, "Hey. Can we talk about the other night?"

Honestly, he hadn't thought much about what he was going to say to her and the urge to ask her that only arose at the last second, pretty literally. He only spoke up as soon as the thought came to his head.

"I mean, we really haven't had much of a chance to talk since then. You haven't been... avoiding me, have you?" Things had been... a little awkward around Haven since then, even with her. More than once, he'd looked her way, only to see her look away right as he looked to her.

After a brief hesitation, he stepped closer, so they wouldn't have to talk so loud to hear each other. At least, that's what he told himself.

Faith Fanon · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Faith Fanon** on Wed Oct 02, 2013 12:18 pm

Before the events of 'Getting to Know You', 'GTA', and 'Bring Zack Back': 2

Laney fought the urge to step back as Ben closed the distance between them, not because she was scared but because his proximity brought back immediate physical memories of their kiss. That wasn't a bad thing itself - quite the opposite - but it made it hard to think. She could feel her heart thumping just standing there.

The answer to his last question was that she'd been avoiding thinking about it, and that required avoiding him. Throwing herself into Monroe's military training had given her the perfect excuse, and came with the added bonus of Monroe offering an olive branch of sorts at the end of the day.

She'd kissed Ben because he'd been there. If he had been somewhere else, she wouldn't have sought him out. But if Tilo or Jesus had been there, she wouldn't have kissed them. She'd been trying to figure out what that meant.

She looked up into his face, where confusion reigned. He was scruffy, unshaven, dressed for function rather than glamour, but underneath the rough and ready exterior enforced by the new world, he had that strong-boned, clean-cut American look. His eyes were deep, soulful wells.

'Look, Ben...' Was this the right way to deal with this? If she didn't know exactly what she felt, how could she know what to tell Ben?

'Look, you're a nice guy, I think...' she hardly knew him '...and right then it felt right, it felt good...' really good, she'd fallen asleep thinking about his hand on her hip '...and I'd like to do it again.'

A look of hope flickered across his face. Laney swallowed.

'It's just...' the look of hope fell again '...it's just a kiss, okay? It doesn't mean anything. Well, I don't know...' She was foundering in those eyes. She put her hand out, her fingers resting lightly on his chest.

'Ben. You know what it's like out there. Nothing means anything any more. Let's just take it easy, okay?'

A pause. Ben nodded. Unable to perceive his thoughts, Laney fought the urge to disregard her last request and throw her arms around him.

'I gotta go meet the Caravanners. Be careful in Cromwell, Ben. There's a lot of Zeds there.' She gave him a weak smile and walked through the snow back into the farmhouse.

Rann · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Rann** on Mon Oct 14, 2013 3:41 pm

After the events of 'Getting to know you':

Hoppy was exhausted. She was too tired to even bother with the mask, just trembling with each step as she walked. The briefing would be soon, according to Monroe, and she'd have to somehow energize herself for the rescue mission. And she was determined to be there, at the rescue mission. They needed her anyways; only she knew where she'd left the truck. But her body was already begging for her to lay down and rest- she'd already walked for hours.

But maybe this is punishment. Punishment for letting Ben get left behind with those zed, for letting Cihp die on her behalf, for leaving behind her loved ones before this whole thing happened. For being selfish and useless, this was punishment. With a harshly clenched fist, and kept walking. There was someone she had to see, after all. Hoppy had to set at least one thing right.

Hoppy brought herself in front of the young former actress, Laney, with a sheepish and shamed frown on her face. Heck, it was all she could do to not cry- because once again, the hoodie'd girl had fucked up bad. But she had to do at least this.

"I'm sorry." She went on her knees in front of Laney, apologetically; looking akin to a pathetic dog or something similar. "I'm... I done fuck'd up 'n I dunnae what to-"

She took a steadying gulp, not daring to look at Laney's face right now.

"I'll save 'im, Laney." She muttered in a resolute voice. "E'en if it costs's me my life, I'll get 'im back to us! It's my fault, 'innit, so I gotta fix it!"

As she cried and whimpered in front of Laney, she also hoped the Actress would strike her, or beat her, or something. Anything to alleviate the guilt.

Faith Fanon · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Faith Fanon** on Mon Oct 14, 2013 4:52 pm

After the events of Getting to know you: 2

Laney was never so glad of Doc Short's minimal bedside manner. She worked quickly and quietly on the hand Laney rested on the table, leaving Laney to her inner turmoil. Shame hung heavily on her, dragging her shoulders and head down. Her thick black hair shut out the rest of the world. A stinging tear slid down her cheek.

'Bend your wrist?'

She'd barely known Toby, not until yesterday, and even then she'd hardly revealed much of herself. But she'd been brave, heroic even. She'd stood up for Laney, and then she'd carried the injured Sam; she hadn't discerned between rival factions but tried to save life wherever she'd been able.

'Does this hurt?'

Ow, yes it fucking did. Laney flinched, then nodded. Doc Short got the idea. How much had Toby's bite hurt? Had the final bullet hurt, had dying hurt? Laney recalled the calm in Toby's eyes as she'd taken the pistol from her. And then she recalled the horror on Toby's face when Laney told her to sacrifice Sam to save themselves. And the shame burned hotter, weighed heavier.

'Okay, wrist's not broken.'

Toby was a better person than her, and that's why she was dead now, Laney mused, and realised exactly why she was crying for this person she'd never known: because she was part of Haven. She was a good, and a strong, part of Haven, and now she was gone, Haven was weaker.

'This might hurt.'

'Fuck! Fuck. Bitch ass fuck.'

The pain flashing through her fingers brought Laney out of her minserable trance. She could hear Monroe arguing loudly somewhere in the farmhouse; same old Monroe. She wondered if he was angry at her for not protecting everybody. She'd had the rifle, after all, and she hadn't hit a thing.

Doc Short moved away for a moment, and Laney listened as Monroe dropped the volume. Must be talking to Callie then. Doc Short returned with a couple of white sticks and bandages. 'I can't be sure but I think you've fractured those fingers,' she muttered. 'Do you want some anesthetic?'

Laney was sweating when Doc Short left the sick bay. Next time she got something splinted, she'd ask for anesthetic. She wiped her eyes with the back of her left hand. When her vision cleared, Hoppy was approaching.

'Damn girl, you look like I feel,' Laney grimaced, trying to inject some humour to the moment. 'How's - '

She didn't get a chance to finish as the little Welsh girl flung herself to her knees in front of her, babbling. Through the upset and the accent, Laney couldn't make it out. Then Hoppy seemed to steady herself. 'I'll save 'im, Laney,' she said, low and determined.

Him. Ben. Save Ben. Fear rose from Laney's gut, her chest tightened. Images of Jake's last moments, torn apart screaming by monsters, and Toby's last moments, resigned and at one with death, flashed through her mind. She recalled the blood on her fingers, Toby's blood, Toby's death sentence. She recalled Ben's beating heart under her fingers. Was that really only yesterday?

'Save - ' her voice cracked. The room seemed to fade to grey; all she could see was Hoppy's tear-stained face. 'Save him from what?' She reached down to her and Hoppy flinched. 'What the -' She grabbed the girl by her much-loved hoody and dragged her to her feet, her face to Laney's. 'Save Ben from what, Hoppy?'

Rann · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Rann** on Mon Oct 14, 2013 5:37 pm

After the events of 'Getting to know you: 3'

Laney looked like she had gone into shock, as if remembering dark, traumatizing thoughts. Was this also her fault? Hoppy grit her teeth as more waves of guilt crashed into her, wearing her down even more. But this was how it should hav ebeen, right? she's doing the right thing, i teling Laney, the one who'd have beenbrave enough to rush back in, nab Ben, and escape before the Zeds could have closed in on them. If it was Laney, she could have done it, no sweat! But, Hoppy thought, she couldn't do it. She was too cowardly. She felt the weight of the bottles of dye in her front pocket. A coward, only for a few bottles of dye.

Pathetic.

Hoppy felt a hand grip her hoodie, and gasped as she was forcibly dragged to her feet; intimidated by the taller woman. No, Hoppy growled inside. She had to stick with it. Whatever happens here, it's fine. It's just as she deserves. Then she can go and save Ben, or die trying. And if anyone else tries to come along... there's no way she'll let them slow her down. This is her mess, after all. Her shit to fix.

"Save Ben from what, Hoppy?" The Actress asked; face close to tear-stained face.

"Zeds," Hoppy whimpered. "I... all fer a bit a dye-" Hoppy dropped the bottles out of her pocket, one of them breaking open and spilling the eerily red liquid onto the floor of the room. "We took a detour an' it slowed us down! It slow'd us down 'n then the zeds- Laney, so many zed, they were comin' out'a every'ere 'n Ben, he..."

Hoppy lowered her head; shame and regret building up inside. "Ben made me ge' out an' leave 'im behind."

Hoppy pushed back against Laney, making a bit of distance; heaving and panting for breath.

"Shoulda been me." She murmured. "Me who was left to rot." She clutched at herself, buckling over with wide, terrified pupils; shivering. "If I hadn't- if only-... 'e's s'posed to be 'ere, healthy an' I be the one still out there!" Her crying started up again in earnest, and the seeds of self hatred had planted themselves inside her.

Faith Fanon · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Faith Fanon** on Mon Oct 14, 2013 7:20 pm

After the events of 'Getting to know you: 4'

Laney realised she'd got in Hoppy's face just like Sam had done to her at Davis Crag, and loosened her grip. A feeling of shame coursed through her again, like a hot wave, then disappeared, leaving her a shiver. A bottle fell between the women.

'All for a bit of dye,' Hoppy stammered. 'We took a detour...' The rest of Hoppy's words were lost as a ringing rose in Laney's ears, and a band of pain tightened around her head. The dye glugging on the floor reminded her of Sam's blood splattering across Toby's face. Laney wished she'd stop recalling people who had died in her company. The room swam and she gripped at the table for balance. Pain shot through her injured right hand and brought her back to the here and now.

'Shoulda been me,' Hoppy murmered, and burst out crying again. Laney stared at her. Coulda shoulda. It could have been her three times yesterday. It could have been her who opened the cottage door. It could have been her hit by the long-range rifle shot. It could have been her getting a bite unseen in the dark. Would she have faced death as nobly as Toby? Would she even have owned up to the bite?

'We gotta get him back, Hoppy.' Laney stood, with an effort. Sweat suddenly beaded her forehead.

'You alright,' the smaller woman queried, peering up quizzically. The room wobbled again, and Laney leant on Hoppy. The ringing in her hears returned, then snapped off, and she could hear Monroe barking orders again. Suddenly Doc Short was by her side again.

'Flu or exhaustion. You have to rest.'

Laney sat again, weak as a kitten. 'Find Monroe, make him go. Cromwell's no place for little girls.' She closed her eyes as Doc Short put a cold hand on her forehead. She knew she should have been nicer to Hoppy, who was obviously beating herself up about leaving Ben, but the claustrophobic feeling around her chest when she thought what might happen to him robbed her of any empathy. First Toby, now Ben? They were getting weaker all the time.

Rann · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Rann** on Mon Oct 14, 2013 8:03 pm

After the events of 'Getting to know you': 5

"We gotta get him back, Hoppy." Laney suddenly stood up, and for the first time, Hoppy actually took a glance her. She was injured; Hoppy was bitching to a woman who'd needed rest more than anything else, and instead piled extra stress and worry onto her, and who knows what else. Hoppy cursed herself bitterly; there was no point in this at all. Gulping up the last of her tears, the hoodie'd girl reached down to pick up her dye bottle that had fallen, and shut the stopper before returning it to its pocket.

"You alright?" She asked in a more subdued tone, hoping against hope that she didn't wear Laney out too much. If she messed up with Laney's recovery time with her own shit, then that'd be even worse, wouldn't it? She didn't need yet another strike against her. Before Hoppy could do much else though, Laney somewhat swooned as she stood, and ended up leaning on the shorter girl.

"Hey, Lane-"

Doctor Short chose that moment to burst back into the room, doing medical stuff that Hoppy more or less ignored. "Find Monroe, make him go. Cromwell's no place for little girls."

Hoppy stopped stone cold. What, did Laney think she couldn't handle it? Her fist clenched and her mouth turned into an angry frown. Laney didn't understand, not at all. Maybe she never would. Hoppy was an idiot to turn Laney. This was her mess, not Laney's. And she'd have to fix it her way. Hoppy spun and turned to face away from Laney, fingering the cleaver still hooked into the strap of her jeans.

"This' my fault, en't it?" Hoppy muttered in a cold, biting voice. "So I'm g'nna fix it; little girl 'er not, okay?" Her voice shook ever so slightly. "Even if I'm g'nna die savin' Ben, I'll do it, Delaney."

Without bothering to look back, Hoppy dashed out; restless and anxious, leaving the actress behind.

VindicatedPurpose · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **VindicatedPurpose** on Tue Oct 15, 2013 9:13 pm

After the events of "Getting To Know You": 6

November 5th

0800 hours

"Are you serious?" Tilo was completely stunned.

"Mm hmm," the grave look that Mark wore told it all.

------

Tilo had just returned from bringing back a man who turned into a walking corpse the previous night. Sleep, for him, was scarce. In between Dr. Sharma's ramblings in the room above, Tilo kept thinking of the man they carried home. The point when he turned was something that Tilo did not want to witness with his eyes, but his ears heard otherwise.

Then his thoughts drifted to William Rand, the man with the son. He wondered about the man who in his final moments asked some strangers to tell his family how he died. The man who had a dying act of fortitude to request that he be killed rather than let to turn. Never before had the history professor come to face this reality of humanity, this sort of condition that was present within each and everyone. By around two a.m. Tilo nodded off.

Then he dreamed of the man and the boy on the yacht in Tull Lake. They reached out to him for help, from the water. And below in the murky waters of the lake, the various bloated and bloodied faces of the undead came to consume them. By the time Tilo arose out of the nightmare, it was already seven in the morning.

------

He and a couple of others who were up early decided to raise a bit of morale in the camp. The football he managed to get from Hamilton resort was a start. After a couple of minutes of kicking it around and dribbling, they decided to take a break.

Mark took a sip from his canteen as they both tried to catch their breaths.

"Last night?"

"Yeah, she came home all blood and tears," Mark shook his head, "I heard the entire tale in the 'command post' with Monroe and Callie. Poor lass. I don't know what happened out there. They got ambushed by stiffs, one of the Caravanners died up in the mountain path. Then the group of five showed up out of nowhere and wounded the other one. Jesus ran back trying to lure them away, lad was tryin' to catch his breath."

Mark took another swig. Tilo's eyes were fixed on the story-teller.

"The other two, eh Toby and Laney went the opposite direction to the Caravan park because it was closer. They were trying to get the Caravanner medical aid. They got ambushed by zed again, and had to leave her for dead. That was also where Toby," he sighed, "Got bit."

Tilo's expression was blank. Got bit...bit...bit...where Toby...got bit...bit. He blinked for a moment. Toby? It wasn't possible. How could she...

"Then what? What happened?"

"Easy man," Mark sighed again. Then he made a gun with his hand and placed the barrel under his chin, his thumb clicked in place signifying one thing. Tilo closed his eyes, trying to avert his gaze. He felt as if he just been blinded. He didn't even want to remember that image ever. She's gone. Tilo felt the burn under his eyelids.

Mark knew he was aching, he didn't want to say anything else, but his case could not be helped.

"Anything else?" Tilo cleared his throat, his lips trembling a bit.

"The Welsh girl Hoppy, she got back in a hurry. She and her partner, the American..eh...Ben it was. They got separated. The lad's out there in the wilderness or somewhere," Mark shook his head again.

"That girl's barely legal and she's been through so much already. Her first partner Chip, good kid, one of the dependable ones, offed himself in front of the zed to save Gary and her."

Lightning had struck twice. Tilo was shocked again. This was the same girl who seemed cheerful and out-spoken enough to start tossing swear words at people she did not know. Just the other day they were sitting under a tree trying to enjoy nature. Everyone had their story.

Faith Fanon · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Faith Fanon** on Fri Oct 18, 2013 6:25 pm

After the events of 'Epilogue, November 5th'

The boom, and the subsequent jet-plane roar disturbed Laney's fevered sleep. For a disoriented moment, she thought she was onstage, hearing the fusillade of drums and distorted screech of guitar that began her hit 'Pussywagon', and instinctively drew in a lungful of air to expel the blood-curdling shriek that should accompany them: 'Pusssssaaayyyyy!' But there was no screaming crowd, no dazzling light display, just the dark of the dorm in the farmhouse. Someone had tacked up the black-out blinds and, frowning at the heavy fabric, Laney vaguely recalled someone trying to wake her earlier, telling her to lay low, not to call out if she needed anything.

She'd used her right hand to sit herself up, and now her damaged fingers were stinging in their splints. The painkiller Doc Short had given her seemed to be wearing off. As Laney sat on the edge of the bed in the dark, waiting for the room to stop spinning and her forehead stop thumping, the door opened, and someone slipped into the bunk opposite. It was where Callie normally slept.

'Callie,' she whispered. 'Hey, Callie?' All she heard in response was laboured breathing. 'Callie, what's going on?'

Eventually, a reply came, sounding choked and muffled: 'There's a horde. Be quiet and go back to sleep, Laney.'

A horde? Though Laney's thought process was fuzzy from the sleep, the pain and the fever that had eventually caught up with her after spending a night in the snow, she reasoned that a nearby horde was the perfect reason to stay alert, not go back to sleep. There was a sharp intake of breath from Callie's bunk, almost like a stifled sob. Getting the feeling there was going to be no more information forthcoming from that quarter, Laney small-stepped across the room, groping for the door with her uninjured left hand.

She tip-toed down to Doc Short's sick bay, where not long ago, she'd been sitting having her fingers bound and talking to Hoppy. A pang of fear and loneliness flashed through her as she remembered Ben was missing; the Welsh girl had tearfully filled her in on the news in a conversation that had ended strangely abruptly. Her attempts to recall the conversation were interrupted by the sight that greeted her in the sick bay. Doc Short was cleaning away instruments and bloodied bandages as a blonde woman in military fatigues, one trouserleg slit to the hip to reveal heavy bandaging, possibly another splint, lay unconscious on the table.

'What's going on, Doc?'

The silence was broken only by the clink of metal on metal as Doc Short tidied up her station. When she'd finally finished, she returned to the table bearing the military woman and looked squarely at Laney. 'Jonathon brought this one in from a helicopter crash. We think he's dead now, in that explosion. He'd been bitten.'

Jonathon? Explosion? Helicopter? It was the most the doctor had ever said to Laney, and it took a moment for Laney to figure out exactly what she meant. When she did, a chill washed over her, fever or no fever.

Monroe was dead? She could hardly believe it. Even though, in the past few months, Laney had learned that anyone could die, even though she'd just yesterday been with three people who'd died, she could hardly believe the gruff old soldier could die. He'd been too damn angry at the world to die. A rebellious voice in the back of her head said he'd been too damn careful to die - sending out Scavs like Toby and Ben to die in his place - and the first time he'd left Haven he'd succumbed to the dangers he asked Scavs to face every day.

Laney immediately felt ashamed of herself. Not only had Monroe built somewhere to survive, he'd given others a hope of survival. Tears sprang to her eyes as she recalled the nod he'd given her during rifle training, as if to say he thought she was learning from all his harsh treatment of her. Not just the rifle training, but the discipline, the confidence she could survive, just the hope that life could go on, even if the old world was never coming back. But as she stumbled back to the bedroom, that certainty ebbed away. It was one thing that Jake, Sam and Toby were dead, that she'd failed them. Now the very core of Haven's strength was gone. And Ben too, most likely, she realised. Haven's strength and its heart, torn apart.

'Carrie? I'm sorry,' was all she could manage as she slipped into bed again. The two women lay in silence as the long hours to dawn scraped by.

Messiah · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Messiah** on Tue Oct 22, 2013 9:26 pm

After the events of 'GTA 2': 1

By the time Ben finally passed through the gates of Haven, he had started to feel light-headed. On their walk back to Haven, Hoppy and Mark had offered to let him use them as support.

"No," he had said, waving his hand dismissively. It was almost insulting, "I'm fine." His protesting body had told him otherwise, but he wasn't weak, and he wasn't going to show weakness. Maybe it was strength. Maybe it was stubbornness. Maybe it was pride. Whatever it was, he refused their help.

He gave no farewell to them as they parted ways once back to Haven and he immediately directed his body towards Doc Short's. Plopping down in her office, he remained silent while the doctor worked, his thoughts elsewhere.

Finally, Doc Short turned around and saw the disheveled and bloodied man sitting in her office; it gave her a start.

"Ben!" she gasped. For a millisecond, she smiled at seeing his safe return, but the look faded once he saw the condition he was in. "You're back! What happened?"

Instead of answering, he redirected the topic of discussion to his injuries, "I'm a little beat up."

He stood up and took off his shirt and jacket, revealing the gashes and bruises he'd sustained to his chest and arms - including his missing left pinky finger. Then, sitting back down, he rolled up his left pant leg, revealing the last of his gashes on his left calf.

There was no audible protest from Ben as Short bandaged and stitched up his wounds. She must have noted his lack of reply to her question about what had happened, as she did her work without so much as another word on the topic.

While she worked, Ben took a slow glance around. Nearby was a woman that he didn't recognize. She had shoulder-length blond hair and she was wearing what looked like some kind of military fatigues.

He nodded to the unconscious woman, addressing the doctor, "Who's that?"

"Jonathan rescued her. We think he's--"

"Dead," Ben finished. He should have felt something for this man that had taken a risk by setting this place up and taking in hapless survivors such as himself. But, all he was left with was an empty feeling. There was nothing.

"The explosion. He was bitten."

Right. Ben had figured the explosion had been him, but... bitten? Sometimes the strong didn't survive in this world. Monroe was dead now. He himself had almost died. But, now that Monroe was gone, who would step up?

It couldn't have been the woman lying on the table. Military or not, they didn't know her. How could they trust her? Anybody was susceptible to this world. Anybody.

"Are you done?" Ben asked, flexing his fingers a little.

"Yes, but you should get some--"

"I'll take that under advisement," he said coldly, before redressing himself and making his way back outside.

As exhausted as he was, the last thing that he wanted to do was sleep. There was a beast inside him that he was having trouble keeping locked up.

He had no idea how long he stood there, outside the farmhouse, lost inside his own head - lost inside his own rage.

In fact, he was so preoccupied, that he hadn't noticed Mark approach him. Gently, the older man cleared his throat while he stood a few feet away, out of arm's reach. The man looked a little cautious as he spoke.

"What happened over there?"

"You don't want to know," Ben answered without looking at the man.

"Yeah, I do."

"Then ask Hoppy. I'm not exactly in a sharing mood."

Mark blinked and seemed a little hurt. What did he expect? It's not like this was Laney. Ben barely knew him.

For a while, he didn't respond - just watched Ben, his brows knitted together in a look of concern, "Okay," he said, nodding, before leaving Ben alone again. Maybe to look for Hoppy. Maybe not. He didn't particularly care.

After a little longer, Ben shook himself out of his stupor and went back inside the farmhouse. Without bothering to take off any of his clothes, he lied down on his makeshift bed to try and rest.

He still couldn't sleep.

Rann · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Rann** on Tue Oct 22, 2013 10:53 pm

After the events of 'GTA 2': 2

Goddamnit. Goddamnit. Ben lost a finger. The vanners are probably pissed and angry a Haven now. Munroe's dead. Chip's dead, too. Laney hasn't talked to her since the last time. It was all her fault. She had nothing to defend herself for. She kept fucking up, over and over and... just goddamnit she was so sick of it. Upon returning, Ben had almost completely shut himself off from her, not even letting her help him walk or anything. Probably hates her now. Who wouldn't? She was the useless one of the team, anyways, wasn't she? The one that could only keep causing problems, all the time.

She''s so tired of this.

At first, Callie had tried to pry, gently, the cleaver away from the girl, but now it seemed as if the weapon was a part of her body now, more than anything. It had become a part of her identity, just like the hoodie was. It was as integral to her personality as the damned hoodie, vomit stained and all. She at least had the sense to take it off for whoever to wash and clean it.

So clad in just a bra, panties, and a pair of jeans, Hoppy lay curled up in her bed, door locked shut; blanket and sheets covering her small, quivering form. Who knows how long she'd stayed like that for? She sure wasn't keeping track of time. She was clutching and hugging the cleaver to her body though; the steel warmed by flesh.

But there was always the faint hope that perhaps they'd let her starve to death, because God knows she doesn't have the motivation to eat right now. Or do any sort of life-preserving function, really.

A knock. Hoppy ignored it, letting out a fierce moan, and pressing the sides of the pillow harder over her ears, refusing to hear it. Another, more insistent knock, before Mark simply opened the door, making Hoppy realize that she'd forgotten to lock it in the first place.

"How've you been?" Mark asked after a few moments of silence. Hoppy wondered if he was looking away or not. She knew she was pathetic, after all. "You... you're strong, okay? Just, hang in there."

Why did she have to do as he said?

"Get out." Hoppy mumbled in a hoarse, cracked voice; a sign of dehydration. How long has it been since she ate or drank?

"At least put the cleaver away."

Utter silence answered the man.

"Look, you saved him... alright?" Mark tried, almost pleadingly. "You got him back. Isn't that what's important?"

A cold, angry voice.

"Get the 'ell out!" Hoppy scowled. "'fore I gut yew wit' it!"

Mark, suddenly fearing for his life, decided to bring it up another time. "I'll go talk to Callie." He murmured to himself as Hoppy was allowed to bask in her silence and mental anguish once again. This time, she remembered to get up and lock the door so something like this couldn't happen again, and went back to her not-really-asleep state, curled up on the bed.

Messiah · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Messiah** on Wed Oct 23, 2013 12:35 am

After the events of 'GTA 2': 3

Ben rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His body ached and throbbed, and his mind raced. How could things have gone so wrong in such a short time? It was less than a day ago that Ben and Hoppy had been joking about Baby Bens running around. Now... Ben had nearly been killed and eaten, and so had Hoppy. In his own self-defense, Ben had killed the men that were nearly responsible for two deaths at Haven and countless more before them. He sighed.

But, in the time that he'd been lying on his bed, he'd had time to think. He was still angry, but maybe the (formerly) cheery young girl who had come after him was not the right outlet for it.

Ben figured that, being still awake with the sun up, that he shouldn't try to sleep, for fear of messing up his sleeping schedule, when he'd worked hard getting it the way it was now.

With that in mind, he stood up and made his way slowly towards the room he assumed Hoppy to be. Lightly, he knocked on the door. At first, there was no response. Again, he knocked. Immediately, her response came gruffly, "Go away, Mark."

Mark? Apparently, he had come up to see her before. Probably not that long ago.

"That's not my name," Ben quipped. Was that a little bit of his old self showing through? It was hard to tell, really. "And I'm not leaving until you open the door."

Ben folded his arms as he waited, turning his back to the door to glance around briefly.

Rann · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Rann** on Wed Oct 23, 2013 1:32 am

After the events of 'GTA 2': 4

More knocking. Hoppy let out another anguished groan- her head felt like a slamming ache, constantly riveting it, and yet people want to knock on her door and screw with her resting? Why couldn't they just leave her alone? Hell, Hoppy really wanted to just be alone. Solitary. Isolated. That's all she's good for- otherwise she'll get other people fucked over in the process. Mark really needed to know when to back off.

"Go away, Mark." She hissed through the door. But the voice that returned, was someone entirely different. Someone she never expected.

"That's not my name." Ben said, almost making a joke. Hoppy growled in response- that was all she really could do, and it was more of a growl of surprise than anything else. "And I'm not leaving until you open the door."

Hoppy, with a frown, then opened the door,in her undressed state and all, not giving the slightest shit that Ben could see her less than stellar assets. The only problem was the breeze- but that wasn't really critical. However, Ben being here, was. She brandished the cleaver at him in annoyance.

"There, I op'nd the door." She muttered. "Now c'n yew ge'out?"

She almost hoped that someone would walk by and see this odd sight. It would be hilarious... or maybe it'd be infuriating.

Messiah · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Messiah** on Wed Oct 23, 2013 2:15 am

After the events of 'GTA 2': 5

Ben turned around, then raised his eyebrows, before shaking his head, "No," he said flatly.

His gaze moved to the cleaver in her hand, but didn't seem particularly phased by it, one way or the other, "I don't think you're going use that. Not after you went through all of that to bring me back."

"Speaking of which..." He sighed, "I owe you a couple things. First of all a thank you. You risked your ass to come back and look for me. Not everyone would have done something like that."

The girl opened her mouth to speak, but Ben held up his hand, stopping her, "I know you think it's your fault that I got left behind, and for what happened to me, but it's not, okay? I told you to go. You couldn't have waited for me. I couldn't have gone to you. That would have gotten one of us killed, if not both."

After a moment's pause, he continued, "I have nobody but myself to blame for this." He held up his bandaged left hand, missing its left pinky, "I should have seen that something was up with them from the start."

"And I owe you an apology - for the things I said, and for what I nearly did..." His mind returned to the moment she'd pulled his sleeve away to reveal his hand, and nearly gotten a harsh reprisal for it.

"One more thing. You're strong, Hoppy. That's obvious. Don't ever let anybody tell you you aren't. But, killing a person... It isn't easy, no matter how much they might deserve it." No doubt, he seemed to be talking about Benson, the asshole Runner that Hoppy had nearly sliced up just hours earlier.

He had hoped that this had at least a little bit. Truth be told, he could deal with his own rage, but he didn't like to see her like this. Maybe it was a little hypocritical, but she reminded him of her little sister. When he saw her like this, he saw his sister like this, and that pained him more than he would care to admit.

Maybe he had to get colder to protect the things he cared about in this world, and maybe Hoppy would too, but he didn't want to see her become that. Not yet.

Rann · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Rann** on Wed Oct 23, 2013 11:13 am

After the events of 'GTA 2': 6

When she opened her eyes from the overly dramatic blink, she saw that Ben was still there. Still just... just standing there in that stupidly calm way of his. Hoppy let out a bit of a shudder- it really was pretty damn cold to just be standing around in a bra. But seriously, was the only reason Ben wanted to come was to deliver that whole speech? He wouldn't even let her talk- when she had tried to, Ben had just held his hand up to stop her.

Not her fault? Saying she's... she's strong? Did Ben think she was an idiot? Sure, on the surface, it made sense, in a way, but then again, that's a very stupid way to look at things. And what was he trying to do, anyways, the hypocrite? Hadn't he himself killed the two brothers? Who was he to judge whether or not Hoppy could kill or not? With a furrowed brow, and an angry twitch of the mouth, Hoppy swung her hand at Ben and then looked down in shock as the cleaver fell unspectacular onto the ground; harmlessly.

"Fuck." She hissed. What the hell was going on; why couldn't she have a good enough grip on the weapon? Or maybe, just maybe, was there some part of her that was deep down, that didn't want Ben to die? Well... okay, fine. She didn't want Ben to die. He's great. So maybe he was right that she wouldn't use it on him. But to any outsiders to Haven? That was a whole other story.

"Should'a let me kill 'im." Hoppy grumbled. "D'served it, the dar'd twyp."

She bit her lip, tapping her bare foot on the wall. Then her thoughts went to another question. What the hell was Ben doing here, when he should be with his girlfriend? Or, well, maybe not girlfriend, persay, but, Laney? And the more Ben hung around here, the more annoyed she got. She just wanted to be left alone to dwell in her thoughts, right?

"Go knock 'bouts with tha' Laney!" Hoppy snarled, voice rising. "She sure din't like me; she din't think I w's strong!" With a small shake of her head; bangs falling over her eyes, giving here a shadowed look; "Go an' make a bunch'a Baby Bens 'n ge''out!"

Almost trembling on the spot, but suddenly not sure if it was sadness or anger, she bent down to pick up the cleaver, but held it to herself' not-aggressively. "Yew'll prob'ly fin' more comfort wit' 'er anyways."

Messiah · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Messiah** on Wed Oct 23, 2013 2:04 pm

After the events of 'GTA 2': 7

Ben watched as she raised the weapon and then as it clattered to the floor.

She had considered it. An anger rose in him again.

Ben stepped forward, his voice going low and serious. He had tried being nice to get through to her and now his patience with her had run out again. Maybe this would get through to her better than the calm approach - the way the old Ben would have done it.

"What do you have to be angry about? Big mean Laney hurt your feelings? A Runner spoke down to you? So what? What happened to me happened and there was nothing you could have done about it. You need to get over yourself. It's not all about you."

He sighed, "Do you know what would have happened if you had killed that kid? The Caravanners would probably be out for blood right now just like when Tim was killed. You could have put all of Haven in danger because of your pride. I bet you didn't think about that, did you?"

Finally, he stepped back, and made to leave, "She's not here, anyway, but I'll leave you alone now." Then he turned around, "Think about what I said. If you want to be strong, you're going to have to move past this. Haven needs you, regardless of what you might think."

And with that, he made his way downstairs. He was now just beginning to realize how hungry he had felt. It must have been more than a half-day since he'd eaten, or even had something to drink.

Of course, there wasn't much else but eggs. He didn't really feel like eggs, so he went searching for something else. Then, he remembered that he had some jerky in his backpack.

But, when he thought about jerky, he thought about how it was made, and then he thought about the room in the back of the barn.

The thought made him gag.

No jerky.

Eggs it was. He wasn't the best of cooks, instead having taken to eating most of what he'd found since the outbreak as it was.

Thankfully, Mark walked in just as Ben was taking out some eggs.

"You're still up? Don't you think you should get some rest?"

"Short seems to think so. I tried. I couldn't." Well, that was mostly true.

"Sit down. I can take care of that."

Ben sighed, "Fine," then handed the eggs over to Mark before sitting down at the dining room table.

He waited restlessly at the table while Mark made the eggs - two fried eggs, both of them offered to Ben.

"Don't you want one?" Ben asked.

"I'm not hungry."

That was a lie. Everyone was always some degree of hungry now. But, Ben didn't argue. Maybe the food would help settle him down a little bit.

Mark sat down across from Ben as he ate. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about what happened?"

"Yeah, I am. Can you just leave it alone? What good is talking about it going to do? It doesn't change what happened."

"Alright. I get it."

Finally, Ben thought. It only took him an hour.

"Just don't shut the rest of us out," Mark added as he stood up to go.

"You should be more worried about Hoppy."

Mark shook his head and sighed, then exited, leaving Ben alone to his own thoughts once more.

Had he been too harsh on Hoppy? Maybe he had, but at the same time, she had needed to hear those things. It wasn't her fault he'd been taken, and she needed to move forward.

Messiah · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Messiah** on Fri Oct 25, 2013 11:31 am

After the events of 'Mission Impossible' and 'Epilogue November 6th-9th': 1

"Fuck you!" Ben shouted and pointed at Callie, "You don't know the half of it, so don't fucking pretend that you do." He then wheeled around and threw the door of the farmhouse open furiously, causing it to smack and bounce back to its closed position violently.

There was a loud commotion coming from one of the nearby buildings and he saw the end of what looked like a scuffle. Laney stood over that crazy doctor, Rishi was his name? She held a flare gun and was pointing it at him. Nearby, seemingly in shock, was the other American, the one that had followed him the night Laney and he had kissed.

"Laney!" He called out, in a mix of exhaustion, confusion, and relief at seeing her alright. At least alright in a physical sense.

She dropped the flare gun and ran to him, but stopped dead in front of him.

"What happened?" the young woman asked as she looked to his hand, and then to his face.

As soon as the words tumbled out of her mouth, he hung his head. Ben had feared this from her. He didn't want to tell her. He didn't want to talk about what had happened, but he knew that he couldn't just blow her off, could he? She was probably going to find out from someone else sooner or later. And part of him was ashamed. Callie had been right in some respects. He had let himself get captured. It was his own damn fault, and he knew that.

"Found some guys. Drugged me. Tied me up. Tortured me. Had to kill them." To emphasize, he held up his bandaged hand, missing its finger. He seemed so distant from the entire thing, his voice oddly neutral, as he avoided looking to her. Finally, he finished with a simple statement, "My own damn fault."

Faith Fanon · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Faith Fanon** on Fri Oct 25, 2013 12:54 pm

After the events of 'Mission Impossible' and 'Epilogue November 6th-9th': 2

Laney tried to peer through his shaggy hair as Ben hung his head and mumbled. Incongruously, she found herself planning a haircut for him. But his words soon shocked her back into the present, and she gasped as he held up his wounded, bandaged hand. What shocked her almost as much was his seeming disconnect from it all. He sounded like he'd left a newspaper on the bus or something.

'My own damn fault,' he said finally.

'Ben...' she whispered. For once in her life, she was stuck for something to say. She knew they all lived with the daily horror of the living dead and the end of the old world, and she'd experienced at first-hand the heart-strangling fear of having other humans trying to kill her too, but the idea that there were people out there, and nearby, whose sole interest and pleasure was hurting others chilled her to the bone. And she felt a whole new fear too, different to the fear she felt for herself. She was still grieving for Monroe and Toby, but suddenly she knew she could be hurt in whole new ways.

'Ben,' she tried again. She reached for his bandaged hand with her own injured hand. He flinched instinctively, and instead she held up her splints. 'Look, Still got all mine.' She gave him a weak, washed-out smile, and finally he looked at her. His expression was neutral, but Laney imagined she could see a deep hurt or anger within them. There was something different about him now. She just hoped he hadn't changed completely, permanently. She could sense her tears coming, and buried her face in his chest. She felt his heart beating against her cheek, just the same as she'd felt before she'd left haven with the Caravanners days ago. And the tears came. For Monroe, for Toby, for the old world. But also for relief at getting Ben back, and for fear of losing him.

'Can we go sit?' she snuffled eventually. 'Somewhere quiet, and just be quiet?'

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a part of “Live Together or Die Alone”, a fictional universe by Bosch.

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