Chapter Text
The rain drops hard and heavy against your bare shoulders. There is not a part of you that is not cold and shaking, but you welcome it as you stare up at the sign. Only three directions have been carved into the rotting wood:
Town Center
Bus stop
Firelight Farm
A testament to how far from everything you have gone. You hike the backpack a little further up on your shoulders, gritting your teeth against the scrapes now lining beneath the straps. You tell yourself to fight through it. You tell yourself that you’re almost there. You tell yourself that it’s almost over.
Yeah. You’ve been telling yourself a lot of things lately.
As you walk towards the farm, every step feels heavy and slow. You don’t dare look behind you, fearing, among other things, to see how short a distance you’ve actually walked. There are not a lot of things from your surroundings that jump at you in this state. There are a ton of plants, so many that you almost fall over a rock you had mistaken for tall grass. You knew that the farm had stood lonely for many years - your grandfather had barely been able to take care of it in the end - and that would show. What you had not been prepared for was how badly a farmhouse like this would suffer when being neglected to such a degree.
The stairs up to the veranda barely held under your soaked clothes, forcing you to step to the sides in hopes of not falling through and adding ‘broken neck’ to your list of shitty things that had happened recently. The handle on the door barely stayed on when you tried the key – the same could be said for the door, as you awkwardly manoeuvre around the leaning wood.
You shut the door behind you, allowing the darkness to crawl out from where it had been hidden, waiting. You stumble around, relying on memories and echoes of laughter a forgotten part of you could still hear in the corners, until you eventually bump into the creaking wood of what has to be a bed. You lower yourself slowly, carefully, not trusting it to hold you. There is not part of you that cares about the state of the bed, the age of the sheets and the company it possibly holds as you drag the wet clothes from your body, draping them over the frame. You are just relieved to get everything off, to lie down.
You drag a sheet over your body and close your eyes.
The mercy ends when the dreams begin.
***
It’s the light hitting your face that wakes you. The lack of curtains allows the sharp morning sun to graze your eyeline. And the deep ache in your muscles prevent you from rolling over in time to stop your float towards consciousness, so you find yourself blinking your surroundings into focus much earlier than should be legal. Not that you’re exactly mourning your leave from dreamland.
No, you decide quickly. The cracked paint and clear water damage is the winner this morning.
You glance down at yourself, seeing the surprisingly well-kept blanket covering your otherwise nude body. With a deep breath and a prayer to whatever deity is still listening, you raise the blanket with a squeal.
You don’t know what you had expected shared your bed all night. Perhaps a family of roaches, worms, and their hybrid children– love is love, you don’t judge. Perhaps an unhoused person who had called dips on a vacant lot – a cuddle wouldn’t have been that bad of a thing to wake up to. You had not, however, expected a chicken. The beast flew out from under the covers, as if it had been released from a cage and finally saw its opportunity to escape the horrible naked monster holding it capture for the entire night.
You roll your eyes and drag your legs over the side of the bed. That bird can stay in the corner and continue to glare at you for all you care, right now you only have one mission. As if it had heard your thoughts, your stomach growls loud enough to startle the feathered freak still hugging the wall. You ignore it and with a quick feel at the make-shift clothing rack decide you will already have to use your second set of clothes. As you drag your bag over to you, you wonder what that second set will look like. It was not as if you had had time to coordinate accessories before you left.
Shaking the memories away, you unzip your bag and search for something, anything, to wear into town that wouldn’t get your arrested immediately. You find a short-sleeved loose-fitting shirt and a pair of sweatpants and gratefully get dressed, slowly. At certain red spots you cringe as the material drags over them, and you have to move the waistband of your sweats to not hit directly on your waist. A tear springs to your eye as you bend down to put on the wet shoes and gather necessities for a town visit.
You’re shaking by the time you lock the door behind you, and you have to sit down on the steps to catch your breath.
The grounds are as expected. The trees have taken up most of the fertile ground, the weeds filling in wherever they could, and it was clear that what used to be a path lined with stones had turned into a runway for frogs and bugs that travelled from the small pond not far down the property. You run your hands over your face.
Fuck, this place is gonna be hard to sell.
With a sigh you hoist yourself up and try again. Perhaps if you just get going a little, the muscles will warm up again and make it easier to get through the day. Then you just have to not stand still until you can safely collapse in the bed again for a week. How in the world you were going to carry a week’s worth of supplies back to the house was a problem for future you. Shoutouts to her, she really pulls through for you time and time again. Past you, however, is a true shithead.
It's no longer early when the town square finally comes into full view, and it’s…
Tiny.
From where you stand there is one small convenience store, a bar and a few streets that lead down to barely a handful of houses. You scoff in surprise and shuffle towards the shop. At least the elders, that, let’s be honest, are the only ones that still hover in towns like these, will have no way of knowing anything about you. A feeling of being watched does however descend on you the moment your feet touch the stone road that meets the end of your nature trail, and it gives you the extra energy to hustle into the shop before anyone of them find the courage to approach you.
The bells chime happily above you, and you’re faced with a couple of aisles of differing supplies to your sides, and a smiling blond man cleaning up behind the till. He raises his head, alerted by the damned bells, and fixes you with what quickly morphs into a curious expression. You dart to the side and start looking for sustenance, trying to ignore the eyes that follow you. The bells ring out one more, their noisemaking fast replaced by the lively conversation between two surprisingly not old voices.
“Nuh-uh!” A male voice protests.
“As I believe the youth say, ‘yuh-huh.’” Another male voice counters drily.
“But- I mean, how?”
From how devastated the more emotional of the sound, you thought they must have gotten groundbreaking news. Someone has died. The pig has escaped. The queen has been abducted.
“She kept grinding all night, used her entire allowance, but she broke your record fair and square dude. I saw it.” A muted clap of what you assume to be a pitying hand against a clothed shoulder sounds on the other side of your aisle.
You shift quietly as you grab some bread and items with a long shelf-life just in time to move with the boys, rounding the shelves and scanning the other products as they unaware take up your spot. The move is so quick that you can still smell them. The sea and smoke.
You continue your shopping like this, almost praising yourself for not getting caught up in anything. For a moment you dare to dream about making it back to the house without a single unnecessary interaction.
Perhaps you would have, had the shopkeeper not revealed himself to be your biggest enemy so early on.
“Well, hello there, little lady. First time in here? Well, I sure hope you found everything you needed.” His voice practically booms over the small shop, and you can feel the silence behind you as the boys curiously peak out from behind the shelves.
You hand over your bills. “Just this- and well, a bag too.”
In the same tone and completely ignoring how your shoulders are now up to your ears, the man continues. “Looks great, sweetheart. Are you just getting some quick road-trip shopping in? Where are you going this fine spring day? You know, I would just love to head on up to the desert one of these days, but believe it or not, there’s always so much to do down here.”
Without any help from you, this man has an entire conversation with himself, taking his time scanning and typing in every product until the boys eventually finish their shopping as well. They come up to stand right behind you.
Kill me now.
He eventually finishes bagging your items, handing over your change that you try not to look like you’re clinging to too desperately. “My name is Pierre, what’s yours?”
You heave the bag over the counter pathetically, ignoring how Pierre’s eyebrows draw into a frown as he watches you.
“Sweetheart is just fine.” And with that you turn and leave, only getting a quick glance at the two tall boys. One with big blond hair and an even bigger smile, and one with dark flat hair that partly covers his bored expression.
The bell chimes as you leave.
***
“Fucking, fuck shit.”
You drop your body, hanging on only by the wrench in your hands.
“C’mon you piece of mindless metal, work for me.”
When the anger gets you nowhere after hours of work, you admit that desperation begins to cloud your good judgement.
“Hey baby, yeah good girl. C’mon, move a little for me baby. I know you have it in you. Yeah, just like that.”
Surprisingly, dirty talk is what eventually gets the pipes sputtering out with the warm water. You cry in victory, limping around the room with the wrench half raised in your hands, taking your well-deserved victory lap. The chicken panics between your legs and you both almost get flattened in the process.
You’re about to take off your clothes and hop under the warm water, having by then gone days without, when a knock sounds at your door. You and the chicken look at each other.
“Fine, I’ll get it.”
Bracing yourself, you heave the door open. It was almost easier when the wood was wet and slippery than dry and hard. Nothing is as willing to move for you in this house as it had been the first night. Perhaps you would have to try dirty talking to the door a little later.
On your steps stood a head of flaming red hair and a big smile. She wore a yellow shirt and a working west, as well as good walking boots and work pants.
“Hi! I’m Robin, the local carpenter. Mayor Lewis sent me here to make sure you’re doing all right out here by yourself.”
They’ve found me. You knew you wouldn’t be able to hide out in the farmhouse forever. At some point they would by process of elimination figure out where you were staying and eventually someone would remember that Frank had a granddaughter. ‘Sweetheart’ could only save you for so long.
You sigh. “I’m-“
“Oh you look so much like your pictures! All grown up, of course, but still.”
Your pictures?
Before you have time to ask, a basket is thrust into your hands. It’s to the brim with assorted snacks and also some… seeds?
“We figured you would need a little helping hand getting started out here. Oh we’re just so excited someone is finally coming here to… spruce things up a bit.”
You both look around at the sad state of the property.
“It would take a while.” You mumble to yourself, too tired to realise what such a statement would start.
“Oh, we don’t expect miracles. If you need a job to get an income in the beginning, just talk to Lewis and he’ll set you up someplace nice.” Robin seems to think for a moment. “Actually, maybe talk to Emily first.”
You agree that it’s perhaps a little too micromanaging for the mayor of a town to be taking care of the job market too. But a job doesn’t sound half bad. It could get some money in your pocket, and you didn’t think that people so far out would be against paying in cash. Perhaps if you didn’t outright deny the plans to renovate, they would be more forthcoming with job offers.
Not that you would be completely lying. Even if you were staying only a month, the place would need some help to make it liveable. Perhaps you could get some of them to come up here and catch the chicken. You had tried opening the door for it, but it refused to get out.
“Carpenter you said?”
Robin smiles another megawatt smile and nods eagerly. “Sure did. I can help you get started on this place.”
Setting down the basket and leaning against the door frame, you strap in for a longer conversation about prices and plans.
Robin is very ambitious, you learn quickly. And creative. A lot of the carvings and designs she wants to do end up being thrown in as some kind of deal, revealing how eager she is to just be allowed to do them. Something over the door that of course must go, because honey, how are you living like that? And many other things.
Eventually you both agree on a plan. And though it hurts to pay, you had taken such a large sum with you for this reason. Making a quick get-away was never the point. Lay low and once the storm is gone, you can cruise the seas. But not when the windows are falling out and chickens are stealing your blankets.
As you’re saying your byes, you bend down to pick up the basket and inadvertently groan at the shooting pain.
“Hey, sweety, are you okay?”
You hold up a hand before she can get too close and impose further questioning on you. It only takes a few deep breaths before you stop seeing dark spots everywhere.
Yeah, you’re totally fine.
“I’m good. Just slept weird. Thanks for the gifts, I’ll come into town again a few days.”
Robin doesn’t look convinced. “We have a doctor here. He can take care of you without a lot of notice. It really wouldn’t be a problem.”
Wouldn’t it though?
“There is nothing wrong with me. Have a good day.” And you rudely close the door in her face, trying your best to appear swift when every part of you tears as you hurry inside.
You slide down the door, ignoring the splinters settling in your back as you just try to breathe through the pain. When you open your eyes, the chicken is perched on the bed and pecking at your clothes.
You close your eyes and let you head fall back on the door.
***
It takes you a couple of days before you brave the world again. You admit that you look more put together this time and after having rested for almost a week, you’re itching to get started on – well – anything. The energy is probably what makes the townspeople a little braver when approaching you.
You meet several of the mothers and a couple of small children that hid behind their skirts as they watched you with fear. Some of the adults would have done the same if they could get away with it.
They really aren’t used to new faces out here.
Even though you had woken up early, once again blinded by the morning sun, you didn’t arrive at the center before midday. The sign in front of a large brown building reassures you that you have come to the right place:
The Stardrop Salon
In clear, big letter, the sign takes over almost the entire front of the building. As the only pub in the area, it’s really only there for tourists and newcomers like yourself. You walk inside and the quiet music is a relief. At least they’re not blasting music from open ‘till closing. Though the quiet doesn’t stay with you. Soon something blue pops out from the side and you catch your flinch as the girl practically runs towards you.
“Farmer-girl! I wondered when you’d come to our little shop.” Her blue hair is styled short, and her clothes are colourful and unique. She fits the description.
“You must be Emily.” You try to nod but quickly you find that your hand is pulled from your body, and now you’re an unwilling participant in hyper handholding.
“I am! Robin told me you were looking for a job?”
You nod as you gently try to pry your fingers from her grip.
“Wow your hands are cold. Do you need a cup of coffee before we begin?”
Emily is already behind the counter again, working the machines while you’re flexing your fingers, feeling for broken bones. She turns to look at you expectantly.
“Um,” you hesitate. “Tea, please. Whatever you have.”
She beams. “Coming right up.”
You take a moment to look around the pub. The entire area by the entrance seems to be the serving area, with a couple of booths and tables by the walls, but mostly chairs by the long bar. To the left is a jukebox, working as the divider for the next part of the bar. From where you’re sitting, you can see a pool table and what looks like an old arcade game. There also seems to be a faints smell of spaghetti coming from somewhere.
“We can’t provide a lot of hours here.”
You look back at Emily as she places two cups of tea on the bar, before she moves around to join you on your side.
“That’s fine.” You just need enough to keep the water hot, food in the fridge and an ear to the town gossip. Make sure the stench of the city doesn’t reach them before you’ve had a chance to prepare.
Emily watches you as you take a sip, and it’s not until you give her a polite nod that she continues, seemingly satisfied with your reaction. “It’s mostly busy right around dinner on weekdays, and evenings on Fridays and Saturdays. Then it gets really rowdy.”
Hard to imagine, but you nod politely, nonetheless.
Emily really doesn’t ask a lot of questions, and the ones she does barely need you to do anything but tell the limited version of. The whole ordeal is all in all painless. You agree to one last conversation with Gus, but Emily promises to put in a good word for you.
“You know, Gus really hates disappointing people. That’s why he has me approving anyone first. So don’t be nervous, he just wants to show who’s the boss-man.” She giggles at what you presume must be an inside joke.
“Great. Thank you for meeting with me. I’ll come in tomorrow then.” You try to hide your flinch as you get down from the chair, but it’s evident. You should have picked the booth, where your body doesn’t have to stretch and scrunch to get in and out. At least not without support.
“You know.”
You brace yourself.
“We don’t have a female doctor, but Maru, the receptionist, she’s always ready to sit in. I know it makes some of women uncomfortable to go in and see Harvey the first couple of times.”
You lean against the bar, trying for casual. “I’m assuming Harvey is the doctor?”
“Oh! Right, yeah, Doctor Harvey Becker. Sorry. It must be so hard to follow along as an outsider.” She blushes. “I mean newcomer! And if you’re an outsider, you won’t be for long. People are already talking about you so much; you’ll be boring old news in no time.”
You cock an eyebrow at her, more than a little amused at hole she’s digging.
“No! Not boring. Or old! What are you – 25 probably? No age. You’re practically a child. Well, of course you’re a grown woman. Strong, sexy-“.
“Emily.”
She stops, panting as if she’s run a mile.
“I’m not offended.”
Her shoulders immediately fall as a long breath flows from her. “Good.” And her smile is natural again.
The bells chime and she shifts her attentions to the door, her smile growing even more. “Hi! I’ve got your order right here, doc.”
Does every store in town have bells? You really hope that becomes part of the background noise, like traffic in the big city. But it is practical to know that they do take-away. Perhaps it would make the trip in to work easier if you knew that you could haul money and food with you home. Perhaps some bread for the chicken – you had heard bread was bad for them. Perfect.
As Emily rounds the bar once more, you turn to look at who’s come in. The first thing you notice is disheveled, curly hair and thick rimmed glasses framing a strong face. Clearly an adult man. Something about the bone structure gets more evened out when they go into their thirties, if the smile lines didn’t give it away. He’s wearing business clothes, a tie, dress shirts and slacks. Huh, you hadn’t seen an office or anything like that on your walk in. Perhaps scoring a second job in his building could be an option if the whole farmer thing goes down the drain.
He wears an expression of surprise as he takes you in slowly. When he sees you noticing, a mild blush spreads over his cheeks.
Huh. Not unpleasant, you decide.
“Harvey, meet our latest settler. Sweety, this is Doctor Harvey. He can help you with your thing.”
Curse Emily.