His Special Ones by Orin Drake
It's... something, alright.

        Chapter 3


        Nick had left her alone in the kitchen for a short time to take a shower himself.  It wasn't as if he had to worry about her going through his belongings... not that he knew that.  Nor did he likely know her lovely foster home past, otherwise...  Eh.  Didn't matter.  She poured herself another cup of coffee and stood at the window, gazing at the landscape.  It was... amazing.  She quickly understood why hermits decided to live in the woods.  Though she preferred electricity and hot water, herself.
        The unnatural quality of his voice somehow stayed with her.  Being alone and a little more able to reflect, she pondered it... and yes, it was quite frightening in its own way.  She just couldn't imagine it, what probably happened at the hands of the Good Doctor... but then she'd come way too damn close, herself.  If it hadn't been for him...
        "Don't think too much about it."  He suggested, walking by from the bathroom and on his way to his own bedroom down the hall.  Though his tone was quiet, the modified quality of it carried his words far.
        She turned to get a quick look at only his bare back and the towel around his waist before he disappeared too quickly for her to respond.  Strange...  But then, of course he'd known... he'd been through the same shit, only worse.  Her thought process had probably been coming off of her in waves, especially at that last shudder as she'd been thinking about what might have been.  Yeah.  Good advice.
        Rinsing out the empty coffee cup, she took great care in placing it in just the right location in the dish washer--after checking that it was dishwasher safe, of course.  What an awful thing to have ruined something so early in her stay.  With a sudden sense of curiosity overload, she decided to meander into the bedroom she'd been sleeping in to take a bit of a closer look in the daylight.  Not to snoop or anything... but out of the desire to know.  And to make the bed.  It seemed rude not to do that much, at least.
        Catching her tidying up a bit, Nick carefully snuck into the door frame and watched, not saying anything.  Nice to see.  You could tell a lot by a person in the way they acted when they thought no one else was around.  And hell, she was making a bed.  Not bad.  It was almost enough to bring his old trickster self out... ah, it was enough.  Loudly, knowing the sheer unease his voice produced, he suddenly asked, "Want some help?"
        Admittedly, she jumped--then turned like a martial artist and got into something he could only have described as a ready stance.  She was damn good and ready to lash out with everything she had in her... until she saw a mixed look of panic and amusement on his face, his hands up for protection.  Even though her heart was racing and the adrenaline was thick around her, her laughed.  "Ah, you asshole.  Scared the shit out of me."
        He laughed right back at her reaction, making a note not to do that again.  She was little, but she seemed like she had enough experience (or rage, at least) to kick his scrawny ass.  "Okay, okay.  I couldn't help it."
        Still breathing heavily, at least she could appreciate the joke... on some level.  "Get out."  She ordered with no real intent behind it, unable to stop a slightly less than appreciative grin from being hidden.
        Instead, he stayed, watching her try to pull herself together with his hand not too subtly over his mouth, trying not to laugh at her effort.  He'd really startled the hell out of her.  But at least she got the joke... though he understood, having been a fan of devious practical jokes in the past, he'd have to watch his back.
        She finished the bed herself, letting out a joking curse once in a while as her heart slowed down to normal.  "So... this place..." she started.  "How'd you wind up here?"
        She still had questions.  He considered that as yet a good sign.  "It was an old farmhouse before my grandmother converted it to... a much nicer farmhouse."
        "Is it all forest?" she mockingly shooed him away from the door, finished with her "task".
        He backed up and followed her back to the kitchen.  "There's one neighbor about a mile down the road.  After him, the closest one is in town."
        One neighbor.  How... unexpectedly nice.  "And where's that?"
        "Ten miles away."
        "Nice."  One more glance out the window... but it was noticed.
        "I've got a garden to play in."  He suggested--only realizing possible undertones of the statement after it'd left his mouth.  Dammit.  He didn't want to freak her out... but then if he hadn't so far...
        Luckily, she understood it to be a poor choice of words and no more.  "What, do I look that young?" she changed direction.  Right before he opened his mouth to respond, she decided to try her luck by opening up her sick sense of humor, "Or is it just the best place to get dirty out here?"
        Only a moment of blinking silence seemed appropriate.  "Well, you aren't naive."
        The smirk she wore did well to hide the real tearing of the sentiment.  No, she wasn't.  Though she'd recently learned a lot more than she cared to.  "I'm not an idiot just because I didn't finish high school."
        "How old are you?" he more pondered out loud than really asked her.
        "Twenty one."  She grinned with no self-consciousness.
        "I mean really."  He elbowed her softly.
        For a moment it appeared that she just may hold up to her initial answer... but there really didn't seem any reason to bring that kind of shit into the place she'd miraculously ended up in.  "Eighteen."
        "If anyone asks, I'll be sure not to tell them."  He assured.  Good though the mood was... he just got a feeling.  "Do you have... anywhere to go?"
        Oh, so that's how it was.  Yeah, it wasn't as if she expected to be able to stay or anything, but... so soon?  Kinda sucked.  "No.  Not for a while now."
        He got the gist easily enough.  "There's room here, if you want to stay."
        The offer was... quiet literally shocking.  "We're... complete strangers."
        "Not so complete."  He shrugged, realizing for the first time in almost two years how much he missed speaking to anyone.  Beyond that... he enjoyed her company.  No they didn't know each other, but...  "It'll be like having a roommate."
        "Only I can't pay for anything."  Money was like an impossible dream...
        He made a dismissive gesture.  "I'm independently wealthy."
        An eyebrow raised.  "Really?"
        The expression made him chuckle like a dying engine.  "Food, clothes and the bills are all I ever buy.  And you might have guessed I've got a bit of money in my family to have this place."
        Good point.  "You don't have a job then?"
        He made a palms to the air, "what could I do?" gesture.  "Unfortunately I was blessed with laziness, too."
        "I understand that one."  She confirmed, taking another long look outside.  "I don't want to be a burden, though."
        "I don't think you would be."  He admitted.  "But you will have to help with the chores."
        "Dammit!" she joked, hand over her heart as if wounded.  "But first... I'm going to have to say that I need clothes that fit."


 

        Having agreed to her "terms", Nick had gone outside to drive the car around from the back garage.  As Ally heard the none too subtle roar due in part to a lack of muffler, she was taken aback by the choice of car--an old Bronco.  An old, yellow, Bronco.  But then... that was one hell of a cover for riches, alright.
        Allowed to check the radio until her heart was content, she discovered out in the boonies sucked for stations.  "This is all crap."
        "I know."  He agreed.  "That's why it's usually off."
        Ten miles sounded like a lot more than it actually was... though it was a far cry from walking down to the corner to pick up some milk.  Not all bad, though.  They pulled up to a large discount department store, not looking too exceptionally full of teeny boppers and morons.
        "If you don't mind, I think I'll wait here."  He grinned slightly, taking a look around to make sure no one was looking.  "And here."
        She was handed a wad of cash.  Staring down at it in absolute disbelief, she actually let herself hold it for a moment before protesting.  "Hey, Jesus... no, I won't be buying that much."
        "Don't girls need a lot of accessories and... stuff?" he gave her a moment to think about handing any back, first.
        "Girls do usually, yeah.  But I don't."  She affirmed.  "Just the basics: socks, underwear, jeans, shirts.  I'm really not going to need even half of this, seriously."
        Well, if she said so.  He carefully pocketed what she handed back.  Though, now that she'd mentioned it... he kind of wondered what she was wearing for underwear...
        Already out the door, she called back, "Bareback, baby!" and ran to the store.
        He covered his face with a single hand for a moment, not really wanting to look around to see who might be staring.  Ah well.  Finally pulling open the glove compartment, he dug out a customary "car book".  He hadn't really had much of a reason to read one before that very moment, seeing as how he'd never had to wait for anyone...  Glad it was there, though.  He'd hardly made it to page 25 before the Bronco door opened, and Ally presented his change and a receipt.  "That was fast."
        "Told you I didn't need that much."  She confirmed comfortably.  "Besides, this wrinkled bitch was following me around like she thought I wasn't going to buy the pile in my arms or something.  They get the scent of foster kids, I swear."
        That provided plenty of amusement to get them back to the house. 


 

        She took complete care of washing and drying the new clothes, along with her old ones in the hamper.  Sure it'd been a while since she'd been around a washer and dryer, but it was mostly idiot-proof.  She hoped.  They turned out alright, though.
        Somehow it seemed to have become early evening in the snap of a finger, rendering the view outside a calm, dark blue.  She also watched closely as two chicken pot pies were placed into the oven.  Cooking was never a function of hers... but she supposed she should really learn.  The best part was, Nick actually encouraged eating in front of the television.  Wonder of wonders, TV!  She was perfectly thrilled about that part.
        It was... really, uniquely nice to sit on a couch and laugh at a cheesy Hollywood movie with someone else.  Someone that by all rights was just a stranger... but trusted, all the same.  She wasn't worried that he was going to turn around and hit her, or try to rape her in the middle of the night.  And he hadn't even considered the idea that she was going to call up the mad doc and turn him in.  No, they were runners, together.  And that was... really good. 


 

        The next few days were at once entirely surreal, and astoundingly natural.  She'd never helped out around the house because she had wanted to, before.  She'd discovered (with a great deal of misfortune, on her part) that she was entirely able not only to follow a recipe with barely the need for a first glance, but had some sort of odd sixth sense for being able to blend extra ingredients.  Hey, it was a slow beginning, but a steady one.
        The next morning, however, she discovered that he wasn't up at 8:00 as usual.  She took a shower anyway, figuring he was probably just doing something in his bedroom, or maybe actually sleeping in... but as she got out and got dressed, that seemed less likely.  It was a feeling she got, rather like the feeling that crossed over her spine right before... certain events.  She'd learned to read her instincts.
        Maybe it wasn't in her best interest as a house guest (or even as a roommate), but she'd begun to worry.  Making her way down the hall, she peeked into the living room and saw nothing.  Then down to the furthest part of the hallway before it ended at his bedroom door... she heard something very faint.  Sounded sort of... like gasping...
        "Nick?" she called at the door, then listened.  Nothing changed--the same rhythm of the gasping (or whatever it was) persisted.  She knocked this time, calling out more loudly, "Nick!"
        There was a bit of a thud that time... but no verbal response.  Well, screw that.  She turned the knob and pushed, finding the bedroom empty... but there did seem to be a master bathroom to the side.  She listened at the door for a moment, confirming the sound of suddenly irregular gasping.  Not bothering to call for fear she may already be too late, she opened the door--not on much of a master bathroom at all.  It was a tiny half-bath, with a half naked Nick half kneeling, half sitting in front of the toilet, balancing on crossed arms resting on the toilet seat.  As if that picture wasn't enough, there was a thick stream of blood dripping steadily from his ear... and another from his nose.
        She kneeled instantly, fighting for balance in the small space.  "What the hell is going on?"
        While she hadn't expected an answer, she got a halfway conscious one from him.  It was slurred, but understandable.  "Just... happens..."  He made an attempt to look at her, but his eyes just wouldn't focus.
        If things like that "just happened"... then the reason he didn't shower in that bathroom was pretty clear.  It was probably just for this... purpose...  She reached to put a comforting hand on his back, then thought better of it.  If he was sick, it may not be much of a comfort.  This looked a hell of a lot more than sickness, though... and she got the feeling she knew what the original cause of it was.
        He opened his mouth to assure her, to try to get her to relax and just wait out in the kitchen, that it'd all be over soon... but the nausea struck him again with pounding force.  The reason he was close to the toilet was somewhat disgustingly illustrated.  Luckily for him, he'd become an expert.  Reduced clean-up time.
        Seeing all of this, especially the slowly flowing blood... it was just utterly scary.  She had meant to get up and wait for him elsewhere, but... her legs just wouldn't allow it.
        Finally feeling the attack begin to wan, he shakily reached up with the arm closest to her and made an attempt at rubbing her back reassuringly.  It was rough at best, but understood.  At least the worst of it was over.  He panted, laying his head against his bracing arm and closing his eyes, waiting for it to pass entirely.  That was all he'd ever used this bathroom for.  "Listen."  He invited, his voice even more grating and rough than usual.
        She nodded, seeing that she had no choice but to listen.  Just about anything he had to say right then would probably be damn important.
        His breathing evened out rather quickly once the stomach portion was over.  "If ever I start acting... strange...  I mean, really strange.  Walking around like a zombie with no life in my eyes... you have got to get out of here.  Just run.  Any direction, anywhere.  Run and hide."
        She swallowed.  "And then?"
        He tried to smile... but the expression came across almost too weak to be real.  "I'm... not sure there will be an 'and then' after that."

     
Content copyright Orin Drake 2011.
Use without linking back to the source makes you a dick.