theodore-garcia-blog

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

penny had slowly, slowly become more accustomed to theodore, in all of his quirks; being around someone almost non-stop for two weeks will do that to a person. she’d learned a lot about what set off his anxiety, and how to tell he’d been set off. she’d learned about some of his boundaries, and how to sneak around them just a little before he figured out what she was doing and shut her out. she’d learned that he was kind, and so generous, and that though he could brood and rage, he had never taken it out on her. and most importantly, she’d learned that there were a couple small things she could do to make him smile.

she had also learned that when you spent almost all of your time with someone, it was nearly impossible to stop thinking about them. while theo scouted, penny was thinking about him. while he was sleeping, she was thinking about him. even in the same room, doing completely different things, penny couldn’t stop from wondering about what was going on in his brain, and how she might be able to insert herself into those thoughts.

it all changed, however, when he finally thought she was ready to leave the apartment. she knew at that point that not only did he care for her, but he respected her as his equal, something she had begun to question, as up until then, she’d had nothing to contribute. but this was her chance to prove herself.

her leg was still healing, and every step on it was a painful one. however, she’d been through much worse; she could handle it. 

as they hiked, penny tried her hardest to keep her mind on anything but the way her body felt beneath the sun. still, there was little in the way of distraction other than making light conversation with the only other person in the world – at least in her world. she watched him take a swig of his water, noting the way his eyes scrunched as she sipped, and the way the crystalline droplets that escaped his mouth intermingled with the rivulets of sweat that dribbled down his face. she worried for him. 

he pointed to the church – beautiful and strong, in spite of the circumstances – and she couldn’t help the pull of her lips as they lifted into a smile. there was no denying the rapport she and theo had; it was like they’d been made for each other. they always knew how to bounce off of one another effortlessly. “you’d better pray i don’t kick your ass before we get home,” she answered, blinking evenly at him. even as they walked, she couldn’t keep herself from straying towards him, always in danger of bumping right into his side. this time, though, she left herself, using her hip to lightly jostle the rest of his body. “we can stop if you want to make an official call to the big man.”

He shook his head lightly, lowering his gaze as a breathy chuckle graced his lips. The touch of her hip against his made him falter in his step the slightest touch. Enough for him to have to regain himself, not just from the actual push, but from the way his chest soared. He’d not had such a playful relationship with anyone before in his life.

Back then, there wasn’t time to laugh, not really. If he was at the manor, he was always on edge, waiting for his father to do something to him or Alex. If he was out and about, he was constantly aware of the fact that his father had scouts out watching his every move, making sure he didn’t bring ‘shame’ to the family. Even at school he felt under surveillance. It was better to be quiet, to not bring anyone into his life more than they needed to be. The consequence of that was that he couldn’t have any friends, not unless they were okay with being involved with the mafia – which most people tended to be against. It was a truly deplorable upbringing.

He’d learnt to stay to himself, so his social skills lacked somewhat. One of the ways he got practice at it was through some of his father’s more light-hearted members of staff - the ones who couldn’t say no to a small boy with curly hair, freckles and a button nose wanting to play catch in the garden. Later, Girls provided him with the practice in confidence and other important things. In school, his main interactions were with his teachers, who he looked to with the upmost respect. They were intelligent, passionate, all the things he strived for. Plus, they would never get close enough to him to get themselves hurt. Although, one time, the boundary was crossed and a bad thing happened. But he’d buried that memory deep, deep down in his seventeen-year-old mind, and it hadn’t seen the light of day since.

Penny’s word choice of ‘home’ in coherence with the reference to ‘we’ made his heart feel a strange warmth. Home was an odd notion to him. Unsurprisingly, the Garcia manor didn’t really have that homely, inviting, nostalgic magic. If he was ever asked about ‘home’ he would correct the person and call it ‘the house’. Because it was just a house to him. Walls, roofs and doors. There was nothing about it which he could call home, no-where in it where he could feel safe. Only perhaps in his mother’s arms, but then that sense of security dissipated the older he got. He liked to think that Alex found some sort of solace by being with him, but that would have been learnt behaviour rather than a true feeling of safety. It was sad to think about it. But with Penny, he finally felt what a home should feel like. He found himself excited at the idea of returning to their apartment after a long, hard day of work. Being able to relax and just be content in the company of each other. He wondered briefly if it really was that easy to create a legitimate sense of calm, safety and happiness. Or whether it took a special type of person, an igniting connection...

“I think he’s got enough to deal with,” Theo said, a shade of sadness delivering his words. What kind of God would do this to his people?

It only took another twenty minutes for them to reach the mysterious area on the map. Theo’s eyes widened as he realised what they’d found. Rows and rows of finely kept trees boasted ripe fruits which looked so full of juice they could snap off at any moment. Saliva filled his mouth at such speed that he almost choked on it.

“Good-bye tins,” he said under his breath before trudging hurriedly to the six-foot grated fence which stood in the way of them and a feast fit for a king and queen. His head swung from side to side, noting how the fence travelled to beyond where the eyes could see in either direction. The only way was up. But he had to check one thing first, and for that he needed the old log which sat coincidentally on the side of the road. Electric fences could prove lethal, and even though the power should have gone out, he couldn’t be sure that a back-generator hadn’t kicked in.

“If I start seizing, pry me away from the fence using that, okay?” he ordered Penny, pointing at the wooden log before turning his attention to the fence in front of him. He could hear her lifting the thing from the ground and he took that as his moment to touch the fence.

He clamped his fingers around the grating and didn’t feel a thing, but something inside him made him want to do something so out of character. Perhaps it was the companionship, the playfullness with Penny. It had made him giddy and he wasn't sure what to do with it. So, in the split-second that followed his action, he gripped the metal harder and put his acting skills to their masterful use. His body shuddered and shook while his teeth grinded together, letting out strained grunts. But he couldn’t do it to Penny any longer than a few seconds. With a sudden stilling, he let go of the fence and turned with a quiet laugh.

[theodore-garcia-blog]

After careful consideration, the decision was mutually made to explore a secluded part of the outer-surrounding area which appeared to have lots of land enveloping a collection of buildings. The skeleton plan had come to Penelope when Theodore had left on one of his various day’s looting missions. In fact, she’d circled many potential gold mines in her time left alone, which he was extremely grateful to see. Penelope had proven that she was a girl not to be messed with, through her determination to heal and through her hard work in both planning their days ahead, and in how she managed to fix everything which he’d mentally fallen short with. And after spending fourteen days with her, he knew she was the answer to the tear-filled, lung squeezing prayers he’d whispered to whichever higher being was out there not long ago.

Having her there with him in the apartment, it seemed so disassociated from the outside world. There, they could be almost normal, like things used to be. As soon as he stepped out into the heat, and the danger, he was quickly reminded that those days were long gone, and that this was their life now. Each time he made it back, he returned slightly more down-trodden than the last. He made sure to give Penelope almost everything he found – to her great dismay -, which meant he had begun to thrive on light-headedness and a groaning stomach which threatened to eat itself. They were symptoms he could easily bear, especially if it meant her symptoms disappeared quicker.

She was able to heal and build up the strength in her leg within a week. The last week was spent being forced to rest by Theodore because despite her apparent recovery, he didn’t want to take any chances. Besides, he was fine to go out on his own and gather the things they needed. Although, by day thirteen, he knew in his head and in his heart that the nearby places just weren’t worth exploring anymore – they were picked clean. If there was any chance of procuring a bountiful loot, they had go further, something which he knew would be foolish to endeavour on his own.

So, day fourteen brought about a question of adventure, followed by a relieved looking girl, followed by a hearty hike, followed by exhaustion, followed by the sun beating down on them relentlessly through the trees.

Theodore’s hand swiped away the sweat which dripped into his eyes. The saltiness bringing about a sting to his vision, which he really didn’t need, considering the heat had already made his view foggy, like the road was dancing before him. Glancing down at the map in his hand, blinking fast, he quickly noted where they were. He took into account the gothic stone church, the crossroads which led down to what seemed like a sheltered wood, and the road which bent sharply, not allowing him to see what came next. What he did know, was that the trees not only offered the smallest of courtesy from the hard sun, but they also shrouded most things from sight. Looking to the map, they only had about mile let, following the curved road until they reached where they’d intended. Perhaps it was a farm, somewhere that livestock may still be roaming. They needed to know.

“Not long now,” he reassured the girl beside him before reaching into his backpack and hauling out the painfully half-full water bottle. He took a few sips, savouring each and every water droplet that coated his parched tongue. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he thought wistfully to the possibility of a freshwater pond somehow being part of the place they aimed for.

He twisted the cap back onto the bottle and shook it to feel how much was left. Not much. With a heavy heart, he shoved it back into his bag and looked to Penelope. She’d blossomed in the last two weeks. Her cheeks were full, her eyes shone, and her lips weren’t in dire need of a chapstick anymore. Her skin was practically glowing, and not just because of the sweat that coated it. If he thought she was a beauty when he carried her through that window, he was counting his blessings now. Physical attributes aside, she’d become more talkative too. With the pair having interesting, playful and almost competitive interactions. He lived for them.

“If you’ve got an overwhelming urge to pray, I suggest making it quick if we have a chance of reaching this place before nightfall,” he said pointing limply to the church, his eyebrow raised, lips tugging to one side.

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

the irritability that rippled over her was hard to control, though she tried to hold her tongue. still, a sentence slipped out, too quick to stop. “she’s nothing like me,” she snapped, though her tone was purposefully hard to decipher. the last thing she needed was to make waves with this man, but the simple idea of him comparing the two was almost too much to bear. no, penny had risked everything – everything – to find her ex-girlfriend, including her best friends’ lives. she had trekked weeks, had to beg, borrow, steal, and kill. she had dragged billie and sloan through hell to find a girl who she understood to be dead, and they had lost their lives for it. she was selfish. she was stupid. to compare her to someone so fundamentally good, someone who had never done anything but what was right and just, was irresponsible, noxious, and absolutely wrong. 

she tried to shake herself, lowering her hackles by watching him cautiously, eyeing him to make sure she hadn’t put distaste in his mouth. but he had disappeared. 

wherever he was in his head, it was far from the room where they sat. which, really, she couldn’t blame him. even with the sunlight streaming through the windows and the sense of security that the strong white walls around them projected, the two were still trapped inside of a nightmare. she’d give anything to be able to escape this world she was living in and head back to the days where it was only her and cheyenne. lying around on a sunday afternoon, cuddling in her small dorm room bed, giving and receiving lazy kisses or fevered strokes. or headed out on a friday night to one of the parties cheyenne had dragged her to, clothes tight, eyes dark, breath sweet with the lingering taste of flavored vodkas and bubblegum. or back to the days when it was just her and billie, billie who kept her together during her first year in the cold. billie who had made sure that she was always dressed properly, that she was eating the meals she needed, that she didn’t spend her nights alone on her phone, silent, heavy tears streaming down her face as she flipped through pictures of the only woman she had ever loved. or even back to the days when it was just her and sloan. he’d kept her safe time and time again; he quickly became everything she had left in the world, and she had trusted him to keep them afloat. 

she wondered if maybe she was better off than people like theodore were; in some sick way, her parents had actually prepared her for this, the crushing loneliness of it all. she’d grown up with little contact from the outside world. she had been raised independently of anything but her family and god, never recognizing a desperate need for any other relationships because she’d never really had them. theodore on the other hand, strong, handsome, sweet…. she was almost positive he’d had an experience much different to her own. not to mention he’d had a sibling, the one person he had been able to rely on day in and day out, a luxury she herself had never been afforded, even after she had moved on from her childhood. yes, in a cruel, twisted turn of fate, the religious shut-in was better equipped for the future, at least the future of this world.

and actually, as he answered her question, it almost felt like her entire childhood had been foreshadowing this very moment. a moment where her true strength and faith were tested, as he basically set a prison sentence for her. 

her mouth opened, but she was quick to shut her protest down. how wise would it be to answer without thinking? and even just a moment of consideration told her that, despite how she might feel about it, he was certainly right. she looked like death warmed over, and felt like it as well. she was in desperate need of some rehabilitation, whether she liked it or not. “what am i meant to do in the meantime?” she queried evenly, though her eyes betrayed her, asking a silent question that she would never dare speak. 

He could understand her clear anxiety about being left to seemingly do nothing in a world where being stationery meant giving up, leaving yourself vulnerable. But she also had to understand that her body needed vital recovery time, and that if she tried doing more than it could bear, she’d only damage herself further. There were many things which needed doing around the apartment. Not in terms of home décor, that would be pointless. But in terms of weapons of his which needed fixing, maps to scour through, clothes to be washed. Hair to be cut, he thought wishfully, blowing a strand of curled hair from his eye line. Not that he was expecting her to become some strange housewife of the apocalypse. But if she was concerned about what to do, those were her answers.

He squeezed down on his knees before stretching himself up to stand, letting out a deep sigh as he did so. The sun caught in his eyes once again, making him wince. “Come on, let me show you,” he coaxed, one arm shielding him from the light and the other finding its way on to Penelope’s shoulder. Gently, he guided her to stand and walked with her back to the room witch they’d both been acquainted with the night before. His pace was slow, allowing her to keep her exertion down to a minimum. Once they entered the room, he led her to the bed and gestured with a blood crusted hand for her to sit.

The maps which he had collected, lay strewn on a small, wooden table which sat near to the window. He stalked over to them and let his fingers skim over the multi-coloured roads, trails and open areas. Somewhere within the papers was the answer. Somewhere there was a place where they could find some sort of safety, or at least a place where they could forage some vital supplies. He picked up one which was of the surrounding town and shoved it into the back pocket of his worn jeans. In the next movement, he gathered up the rest and made his way back to the girl with moon eyes, and set them down in a pile beside her.

“While I’m out, you could have a look at these. Mark out possible scouting areas. See you if you can find something that I couldn’t. I’ve been staring at them for three days not being able to make heads or tails of them.”

Of course, his head hadn’t really been in the right place in the past three days. But Penelope could help him see clearer. She’d already forced him to come out of his depressive fog, who knew what else she could do for him, come the future.

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

penelope unwittingly found herself shifting forward to mirror his position with her legs uncrossed, elbows on her knees, hands clasped out in front of her. it wasn’t a natural position for her, really. she’d always had straight-laced parents who preferred a child with good posture and perfect ladylike etiquette. but as soon as she’d broken out of her old life and started college, cheyenne had taught her that it was okay to let go of that side of herself, and just do what felt good. even now, she could feel her heart swell with the idea, feeling so unrestricted, so free she could almost fly. she thought about it as her back stretched out comfortably, letting go of the stress it had been holding whilst she’d been in fetal position all night.

she couldn’t help but notice as theodore began to sweat – figuratively of course. he was no longer making eye contact with her, and she could almost see his skin jumping. clearly, he was just as averse to talking about his past as she had felt, which was probably a given for anyone who’d survived this long. being one of the last few living human beings came at a tremendous cost, and they all had blood on their hands, no matter how much they’d tried to avoid it. but if he was so against talking about his own experiences, why had it mattered to him what hers had been?

it wasn’t difficult to pretend to be interested in theodore’s life story because, really, she wasn’t pretending. if she were picking up on his cues right – which, despite her weeks away from any other living being, was a skill she was certain she still possessed – he was clearly anxious about something. and though it wasn’t made clear what it was, she could tell by the way he shaped his sentences that it was something big. something important. 

penny couldn’t help but catch onto the way he spoke about his mother. she protected us. protected them from what? with a businessman for a father and a mother who stayed by his side for his entire childhood, what could he possibly need protecting from? quickly, however, her thoughts were overrun from a different point of conversation. theodore’s brother.

his eyes began to shine, wet with the beginnings of tears. she leaned forward, lips pressed into a tight line, as her fingertips lightly brushed the top of his hand, the fleshy spot right before the knuckle. he didn’t give her time to express her condolences, and she hadn’t expected him to, but she hoped that he’d be able to feel the sincerity from the point of contact. 

licking her lips, she allowed herself to sit back again after a second, knowing that too much was too much, and there was a line she was not to cross with him. “sloan and i checked the campus.” billie had been there as well. until she wasn’t. “there was clearly,” she paused, trying to swallow the lump in her throat, “a struggle.” cheyenne’s roommate’s body – the same girl that penelope had cyber-stalked for weeks, eyes red with tears, face pale. the same girl that had quite literally taken her place in cheyenne’s life, at least physically – had been found on the floor, decomposing. chey had been nowhere to be found. but penny wasn’t dull. she knew what that meant, and she knew at that point that she’d endangered her friends for absolutely nothing. even now, her shoulders were heavy with the weight of their deaths. billie and sloan were gone because of her. she blinked the thoughts away as best she could, instead redirecting what she could of her attention to theodore. “if she’s holed up somewhere, there’s no chance of finding her. she’s long gone. if she survived, she wouldn’t be stupid enough to stick around and wait for the infected to come to her.” she thought to the girl with the wild mane of hair, the brown eyes that held such warmth, such comfort, such strength and resilience. she knew, had cheyenne been given the chance, she would’ve long outlived penny. she was a survivor in every sense of the word. only, she hadn’t been given the chance. penny knew that. she could feel it in her heart, in her every breath. she’d felt it since day three, when they first lost contact, and it had only gotten heavier with each passing day. 

she raised her eyebrows, tears not even bothering to try to surface anymore. her body was too dehydrated to produce them, and her mind had gone over and over the grief in her head until it had been properly compartmentalized and tucked far, far away. “so what’s our plan of action?”

When she touched him, he swore he felt the tiniest of jolts buzz through his skin. Maybe it was from the lack of physical contact – aside from beating up or killing. Or maybe it was because on some level, there was a connection. Either way, he kept the exhilarating feeling within him and offered a small smile when she quickly pulled away. It was enough.

“I must admit, that doesn’t sound good. And if your friend is anything like you, I think you’re right. She would have moved herself, found safety, stayed smart,” his eyebrows pinched together as he mused, thankful that his thoughts were on something other than his late brother. He wanted to know more about Penelope’s relationship to the girl, but he knew that she was the kind of person who shut down their walls as soon as a breach was detected, no matter how small. If he pushed her now, he’d run the risk of losing her trust, and in this world, that meant signing a death wish. He needed her to trust and like him. From the way she touched him, offered him comfort, he could tell that she was on her way to liking him. Trust was another matter altogether, but if he was sure about trusting her, he hoped she’d be just as willing to trust him.

But being a girl in the apocalypse brought about other issues, which he was unfortunately more than acquainted with. She was strong and resilient, sure, but in an unpredictable environment, even the kindest of men turned, and when the wrong men turned, getting away was a rarity. He knew he would never be that person. In fact, he’d been responsible for sending down several ‘men’ for doing such things. Power and money did come in handy sometimes, but actually doing that shit himself? He’d put a bullet in his brain if he ever so much as thought of the notion.

His mind flashed back to a time in the late winter when he was nineteen years old. He was being forced to have dinner with the sons and daughters of various ‘head honchos’ in the business. The idea being that they set up connections with each other, for personal gain. That was the world they lived in and they all had to play by the rules. So, every six months, the same dinner was held. The location changed to each household, with each affair more lavish than the next; a constant competition. On that particular dinner, the red wine flowed until the night blurred into a heaving mass of young adults in the cellar of the Garcia manor. The girls dropped off one, by one, by one. Theodore watched from the side-lines, he’d made sure that he didn’t drink too much, he never wanted to lose control. He noticed how some of the sons looks mischievous, calculating, scheming as they observed the girls. It was then that he realised that something bad was happening. In his house. Causing trouble with known names was a big no-no. So, he had to wait until the time was right to intervene. That came when Oscar Sinclair, the son of an international weapons trafficker, hoisted Anabella Prue up to one of the guest bedrooms.

Sinclair didn’t show his face for a while following that night. After all, it was quite hard to see it through all the bandages.

Theodore wanted Penelope to know that she was safe with him, but only the guiltiest of people preached and defended themselves with their words. His actions had to tell her what he wanted her to understand about him. Which meant he needed to be careful, he needed to show her that he was the right person to team up with.

“In terms of the next few days, we’ll have different plans of action,” he paused slightly, raising an eyebrow, knowing somehow that she wouldn’t be best pleased with the idea of it, however, he needed her to listen still. “But it has to be this way until you’re truly ready to go out there. And I’m not saying that you couldn’t handle it. But the body has a way of snapping back at you, just at the wrong time. If you somehow fell, or ran out stamina… I know that both of our lives would be at risk because I’m not going to let you down. So, you need to rest, for at least two days straight. Which means no leaving this apartment,” he tugged his bottom lip in with a scrape of his teeth. That sounds pretty creepy. He cleared his throat, quick to correct his tone, “I mean, you’re free to leave, but I’d rather you stay. Let me get some supplies. I'll be fine. I’ve made it this far, and now,” he sighed, a thoughtful gaze capturing her sapphire eyes, “Now I have a real reason to come back.”

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

he leaned towards her, a small smile on his face that almost tugged at her heartstrings – which was something she was hardly used to. back before all this had happened, she had been content single. she had been content on her own. she’d been in a relationship before, a serious one even, but when that had ended, she’d come to terms with spending her days by herself and even enjoyed it. she had ignored the men and women around her, trying to keep herself from having to experience any more heartbreak and it had mostly worked up until now. but in a world where the only luxury she’d ever be afforded again was the company of another person, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up her barriers, no matter how much she might want to.

she sighed, her gaze switching from brown eye to brown eye before taking a breath. she leaned back, bracing her hands against the aged wood of the table, letting her head fall back a little. her hair, split-ended and tangled, was getting long enough to touch the small of her back, and she could feel it then, tickling her skin from over her shirt. she thought for a moment on his question, eyes on the ceiling, blowing a puff of air out of her mouth before facing him again. her eyes narrowed a little, lips twitching. 

“i grew up in southern michigan as a single child. i had a mother and a father, both prominent in my town for little more than being gregarious. i spent most of my school years being home-schooled and i went to church two to three times a week, and of course, every holiday. when i was sixteen, i had a girl–” she paused, clearing her throat, trying to gloss over her slip. “i had a close friend that my parents didn’t like, and they sent me to live with my great aunt. i went to college in chicago for three years and transferred to bowdoin in maine for my final year. about halfway through was when all this,” she gestured to the room around her, “happened. my roommate billie, our hallmate sloan, and i made our way back here to find said close friend, but judging by how the city looks i don’t think we’ll be finding her.”

it was no mistake that the entirety of her spiel had been monotonous, her voice as flat as she could make it. not only were they things she didn’t care to think nor talk about, they were also really none of his business. of course, she wasn’t going to tell him that to his face, at least not in so many words. she turned her lips up at him in what could’ve been an albeit wry smile had it reached her eyes.

“your turn.”

Theodore listened intently, nodding his head and pressing his lips together at the right times to her frankly uninspiring speech. Though what she said interested him, it clearly didn’t interest her. Some things about her surprised him, like the home-schooling and the constant church dwelling. But something more so peaked his interest. It was the way she backtracked, with a blush on her cheeks and a wide panic in her eyes when she mentioned a… girl? Piecing it together with what followed, he came to a loose conclusion. A girl who her parents didn’t like her being with enough to send her to live in different state, now that spelt religious control. Clear and true. And a girl who Penelope would risk hers and her friends lives to find? The girl was someone special to her, someone she would die for, like her other friends clearly had.

Being a hopeless romantic at heart, Theodore felt somewhat excited over the possibility of helping Penelope reach an ending to her journey. Whether it be one with her being reunited with someone she seemed to –dare he say- love, or one where she got a final answer. He wanted to be part of it. Maybe it was the lack of stimulation in his every day, or maybe it was a genuine want, but all he knew was that he suddenly had another project for his mind to work towards, a goal worth completing. It made a nice change to what he generally thought about nowadays.

Her final words brought a breathy chuckle to him. He dropped his stare to the dusty floor but in the next second, his demeanour changed. Of course she’d want to know about him, it was only fair; Alliances went both ways. But his past was something which he – though he found it very hard – wanted to forget. He certainly couldn’t reveal to her that he was an actual murderer before this whole shitstorm even began. That was a step too far, and he didn’t want to scare her off, not when he’d found such a good match. His heart beat the beat of hummingbird, his lungs pumped faster and anxiety clawed at his stomach lining.

He decided it would be better to bend the truth.

“Me?” he began, bringing his deep stare back to her, regaining some kind of composure, “Well, there’s not much to know. I had a mother, a father and a younger brother. We had a fairly normal upbringing. I spent most of my time reading and forcing my parents to take me to countless skills classes. I guess you could say I was a bit of a know-it-all. I worked at one of my father’s friend’s construction site on the weekends, managed to save up enough money to buy myself a good car. So, by the time high school came around I could drive myself and my brother around. Um,” he stammered slightly, trying to think of what a normal upbringing was like. His pause was likely too long, but he held true, even though his hands twitched in their now clasped state, white knuckles breaching, “My father was a businessman,” he blurted, feeling confident in his cover up, “My mother was stay-at-home. She protected us. Cooked, cleaned,” he smiled, his hands calming somewhat, “I was a straight A student and at college I studied Business, looking to follow my father into the family business,” he said, trailing off. “But of course, my nights of instant ramen, frat parties and all-night essay writing sessions were in vain. My brother and I got away from the city when the walkers took over. We didn’t have a goal. The only important thing was staying alive,” he paused once more, sand filling his throat at the thought of Alex, eyes turning slightly glassy, “But that didn’t quite work out,” he said, clenching his jaw and looking around the room, anything to not look her in the eye in his now vulnerable state.

He cleared his throat before she could comment, and sat himself up straight, swallowing his pain.

"Anyway. Do you have any idea where your girl could be holed out? Just because the city looks like a walkers kingdom, doesn’t mean she isn’t still alive. This building looks more than worse for wear, and we’re here, aren’t we?"

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

with some rest, penny’s brain had eased up on her a little. the adrenaline had faded, and while it had been good for keeping her pain under wraps – not to mention, keeping her alive – the night before, it was of no use to her now. not while she was safe, high above the heads of the ravenous beings, and hidden far away from the eyes of those still alive who wished to harm her. it felt all wrong, but she wasn’t going to let that feeling overwhelm her while she had something so very precious, right in the palm of her hands. she knew it was temporary. after what had happened with sloan, she wasn’t stupid enough to let herself get fully comfortable with someone again; that was set up for failure, for heartbreak, for some kind of death, even if not physical.

but in the meantime, there was no reason why she couldn’t sit and have a conversation with one of the last faces she’d likely ever see. right?

it was a question instead of a demand, which she appreciated. there was little about this version of her, this huntress, this survivor, that could tolerate being stripped of her independence, no matter how trivial the situation. it was her ability to think on her feet, make decisions for herself, that had kept her alive thus far. had she been following her mother and father’s orders like she had in the real world, she would’ve been long gone. so it was important that she was able to remain self-reliant instead of turning into a mindless sheep at the sight of the first attractive guy she saw.

but it wouldn’t hurt her pride nor her cause to indulge him, and possibly indulge herself, though she’d never admit to craving the thought of a one-on-one, human conversation.

she took a moment, allowing herself to weigh her options before limping – as gracefully as she could muster, of course – over to the coffee table before him. she desperately yearned for the soft cushion to rest upon, but too close was too close. it was only day two. and besides, she’d like to get a good look at him now that the sun was out. as she walked towards him, she was met with what she could only assume was meant to be a compliment. 

popping her jaw, penelope tried to take the statement in stride, but she faltered. she couldn’t understand why it put her on the defensive, but it did. 

“what do you want to know?” she asked, feeling her teeth clench and her eyes steel over. she wasn’t quite sure where the line was, only that he was already tiptoeing it. good luck to him if he unknowingly crossed it. she sat back, crossing her less beat up leg over the other, her fingernails tracing calming patterns into her ribcage as her arms sat crossed over her chest. 

she studied him carefully, searching his face for what he was feeling, what he was thinking. she tried not to let herself get caught up in his features; a strong nose, shaggy hair clearly in need of a cut, thick eyebrows over cognac eyes. freckles that made a menacing face look just a little more bright, just a little more naive. 

Where she chose to sit was noted by Theodore, but only acknowledged by a narrowing of his eyes. It was her choice, of course, but he was extremely receptive of when people chose to do certain things – it gave him something to analyse. She was clearly aware of something that he seemingly wasn’t, for he couldn’t think of a reason why she didn’t take up his offer. In fact, it put a slightly sour taste in the back of his throat – disrespect was an unpleasant affair. When his father gave orders, his people obeyed him. Call it high expectations, but he thought he deserved the same respect. However, he reminded himself very quickly that he wasn’t in the world which he used to be in, and this girl was unlike any he’d met before. She was showing him what it meant to be to be strong, resilient. He was sure she’d rather sit on the comfortable cushion, but something in her stood its ground and instead, she parked herself on the solid table in front of him, arms crossed, a question on her lips.

He couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by her, with the way she was studying him, waiting for his answer. He admired her in more ways than one. She made him question what he knew to be true. It made him think, and thinking was one of his favourite things to do. Her probably unintentional intimidation made something stir in him. His jaw clenched and he placed the guitar in space she should have been sat in before leaning his elbows against his knees, bringing himself forward to her. A small smile tugged at his lips.

His eye line was below hers, and as he looked to her in the short seconds which lay bursting with anticipation of his response, he thought carefully about what he wanted to know. It turned out to be a lot of things. Things which his brain had to try and weave into one coherent and simple question so that she didn’t think he was some strange person who was much nosier than he would ever let on. Truth be told, he always took it upon himself to know everyone’s business. He was the quiet one with all the knowledge at his fingertips. He knew the ins and outs of his father’s business, the people who worked for him, his family members, the family cook. He knew the scoop on his teachers, his fellow classmates. He knew their dramas because he made it his business. To sit in the middle of a growing fire, knowing that it can’t harm you, that is one of life’s true delights.

Knowledge was power.

Theodore wasn’t a vindictive or malicious person, but manipulation was something he’d been forced to perfect. Mostly, he used his knowledge of things to help himself or his brother. In this world, he needed to know everything to make sure that he survived, along with anyone else he felt something for. Penelope was that person. So, it was only logical he knew everything there was to know about her. He couldn't help but be completely drawn into her. And yes, perhaps it was because she was the only attractive female he'd seen in months, but something deep down told him that if he'd seen her before the world collapsed, his heat would hammer just as it was at that very moment.

He finally breathed out a response, the sun caught in his eyes, making him wince slightly as he spoke.

“Who you were before this?”

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

she wasn’t sure how long she’d been sleeping, only that when she finally awoke, all she could feel was soreness. her legs, her arms, her neck especially. her mouth was drying, and she could feel her stomach rumbling, its small taste of food from the day before not being enough to keep up with the energy her body had needed to try to heal itself through the night. she stretched a little, only to wince from the pain in her thigh and arm, particularly where the blood had dried, forming a disgusting bond between her clothes and her skin. she needed a shower desperately, among other things. 

feeling everything out, she let herself lay for a moment longer before crawling out from beneath the bed. judging by the rays of sun that had blanketed the room, providing it with warmth and light, it was probably fairly late in the morning, and despite not having slept in the most comfortable position, she wouldn’t put it past herself to have slept even into the afternoon. but poking her head out the window, she took notice of signs of an early morning, still able to smell the dew in the air.

taking a look around, she was surprised to find the food still there from the night before. not that she believed he would’ve taken it from her; from what she could tell, he had offered her pretty much his whole world the first night they met. he seemed generous beyond belief, and she had reason to trust that all he wanted was for her to get healthy again, even if she couldn’t really understand why. in fact, in addition to the food on the bedside table, there was a full bottle of water, as well. she didn’t even think to stop herself before rushing over to it, and unscrewing the cap as quickly as her fingers would go. within moments, she had drained half the bottle; she would’ve kept going if she hadn’t been in survival mode for the past three months. she knew at this point how important it was to ration what you had. still, it almost pained her to put the bottle down. but once she caught notice of the strange sound in her ears, her curiosity began to win over.

was that music playing?

setting the bottle down, penny tiptoed cautiously to the door, careful to twist the knob and push as slowly as possible to keep from making any noise. but as she did so, the music became more clear. sounds of guitar strings being plucked carefully. she made her way down the hallway, not needing to have been in the apartment before; all she needed was to follow the melody.

finally she made it to what seemed to be the living room. before her, his back turned to her, was theodore, and just over his shoulder she could see the old instrument that he was playing with ease. the tune was familiar, though she couldn’t quite place her finger on it. but whatever it was, it was magical. she couldn’t bring herself to interrupt him, and instead leaned against the doorframe to the room, watching on as he played the song out.

after a few minutes the ditty came to an end, at which point she allowed herself to clear her throat. “quite the skill to have. really comes in handy, i’m sure,” she dictated, her lips threatening to betray her with a smirk. her arms crossed over her chest and she tossed her head, the movement manipulating her hair to throw it over her shoulder and keep it out of her face. “i’m sure it keeps the ladies flocking, as well.” 

He’d almost lost himself to the world of melodic patterns when a soft voice brought him back to the room. She’d caught him off guard – literally. Despite the invasion of a sort of private moment, he didn’t jump, he only smiled at the sound of her and his lips spread even wider with her comments. She was right.

He reminisced very briefly about the time he went to Times Square -not long before this all happened- where they’d put out a grand piano just at the foot of the iconic red steps. There was a sign written in cursive explaining that it had been put there for any musical souls to express themselves. Theodore had always found great joy in music. Not that pop-love me-haters gonna hate- stuff. He liked the real stuff. Classical music was his favourite. Each song told a story without having to utter a word. Trips to the orchestra were of common occurrence for him. The Garcia lifestyle was one of grandeur, lavishness and opulence. Culture was held high. His father had taught him that an uncultured brain was a waste of matter. His father was quite cultured, with some interesting skills. Those very facts pushed Theo to become better than him, to beat him in every aspect so that one day he’d be able to come up against him full of fire. Of course, it never came to that. It did mean however that he had acquired many skills, practiced to the finest level. For that, he was grateful. Times Square was a moment he would never forget. No matter how many killings, near death experiences or horrific situations he wound up in, he would never forget.

No-one was on it. He thought that a crime, so he stretched his fingers out before flicking up his tailored coat so he could sit comfortably on the stool. He played ‘Nuvole bianche’ by Ludovico Einaudi. A song which made tears fall from his eyes the first time he’d heard it. Before long, he had a crowd gathering around him, and by the time he struck the final key, an erupting applause filled his ears and his heart boasted. It took him near enough twenty minutes to finally meet his driver who had been waiting to take him back to the penthouse. Girls swooned, a talent agent queried, foreigners took pictures. He felt like a true celebrity, and he didn’t quite hate it. His family had always held a quiet notoriety -to the outside world at least- and being in the centre of attention wasn’t really Theo’s style. But he’d had a taste and the taste was sweet.

“Guitar was the third instrument I learned how to play,” he said smoothly, setting the old thing on the sofa before finally turning to face her.

She looked lightyears better than she did when she first came through the window; it was a miracle what a few mouthfuls of fruit and a bottle of water could do to you. Her eyes practically sparkled in the mellow sunlight which shone through, lightening the room. For a moment, he forgot where they were. He forgot about the violence, the blood, the screams, the need for survival.

In that second, it was early Sunday morning, the sun was warm against his skin, the birds chirped lazily out in the trees. He’d woken early, took the time to practice on his guitar, had no cares in the world. Soon enough, a beautiful girl stood watching, revelling in the music, again, at peace. They were a couple on a beautiful morning. Perhaps they’d go out for brunch, take in a spot of art in the city. The world was there for the taking.

But that wasn’t true and this wasn’t a stupid dream.

“I feel like I’m constantly surviving. Sometimes I just want to live,” he sighed, picking up the instrument once again, holding it like a precious new-born, admiring it with a deep smile. Staying alive, that was always going to be his main priority. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t let himself feel alive.

“Sit? For a bit. You could still use the rest, and I could use the conversation,” he offered, gesturing to the space next him on the well-worn sofa cushion. “Besides, I’d like to know a bit more about you. I have to say, you intrigue me, and not only because you might be the only girl left on Earth...”

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

penny watched carefully as theodore set the remaining tuna and the unopened bag of chips on the bedside table, making a mental note to remain resolute in leaving the rest untouched. at least until she was well enough to be able to contribute something, should he request it. she pushed herself further back on the bed, resting her back against the wall, and bringing her knees up to where she could rest her chin against them, arms wrapped around her legs, fingers linking in front of her. the wall was uncomfortable against her back, especially where she could feel her spine scraping the plaster, but she elected to ignore it. 

“is it that you’re not used to others being right, or that you’re not used to being wrong?” she questioned prudently, her eyebrows and lips quirking ever so slightly in a challenge. if there was one thing penelope had always prided herself on, it was her ability to outwit almost anyone in the room at any given time. she’d made sure to keep her wits about her, growing up, learning everything she could. what were humans without education, after all? without the desire to constantly grow and expand? just more animals, really.

she could feel her heart twinge as she watched theodore begin to straighten, pushing himself up off of the floor. she didn’t like being told what to do at all – stubborn, hard-headed, and naturally rebellious made for a wicked combination, her mother had always said – but she’d rather him stay and lecture her all night if it meant she didn’t have to be alone. not that she’d admit that out loud; her ego wouldn’t be able to take that kind of a blow, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to let him in on the fact that she was attention starved to the point where she felt she was going to go absolutely mad. but if he looked hard enough, she probably wouldn’t have to tell him. it was likely clear as day on her face.

“i….” she trailed off, unsure of what to say. licking her lips, she began to move, positioning herself to lay down on the soft bed. “good night.”

——-

the first twenty minutes were spent tossing and turning, but she couldn’t get comfortable, and she couldn’t keep her eyes closed without seeing flashes of the evening before. her very own nightmare, tailored to meet every bit of horrifying criteria she had to suit her just right to the point of no return. and being out in the open, unable to shake the feeling of being completely vulnerable was only making it that much worse.

half-asleep, almost unaware of herself, penny crawled out from beneath the sheet she had lain atop herself, and instead crept to the floor, sneaking under the bed. she couldn’t see the dust bunnies and fuzzies, but she could feel them surrounding her. these were little things that used to give her the creeps, the idea of the filth touching her, not knowing what could be lurking in the dark with it. but now, she’d seen and lived through worse. dust bunnies were the least of her worries, and in some small way, the nostalgia of those old fears was almost comforting. the want for simpler times. she backed herself to the wall, curling up into a ball on her right side, keeping her left – the healing wounds – off the ground.

there, after a few awkward moments of attempting to get comfortable, she allowed herself to slowly begin to drift. reality began to mesh with dreams, but with thoughts of theo as her protector, only in the next room over, her fitful sleep quickly turned into a fairly peaceful slumber.

Three hours on the dot and the sun graced his face with an almost blinding greeting. He was thankful for it though. After all, his sleep (once he’d finally been able to let it come) had been one of pure ache. Ache from the spring-riddled sofa, but more so, heartache. Being asleep was the one and only time where his thoughts had full reign, where pain was a feeling felt in all its horrendous glory. The past hours had dragged on for what seemed like days, grasping and yanking him deeper into a world which appeared so real, he could have sworn it was his reality. But a run in with Alex told him otherwise. His words still permeated him to his core. You said it would be okay, big brother, you said. A mistake. One which wouldn’t let him go. Dream Alex was unforgiving, relentless. Far from the polite, weak boy he was just days ago.

Theodore cleared his throat as he opened his eyes slowly, stewing in the grief which made his stomach churn and his lungs lose capacity. He wondered briefly if he would ever feel normal again, and he came to a very quick conclusion. Of course not, you moron. It was then that he suddenly remembered his unexpected visitor. His deep dream had caused him to momentarily forget what had happened in his reality not a few hours before. With the quickest of breaths, he jumped off the sofa and wiped the sleep from his eyes before stalking his way to the other room.

He cursed himself for not waking up sooner to check on her, he was sure he would have been able to force himself to wake, but he’d let himself down. When his palm pushed the door open, his heart jumped into his throat and his eyebrows pinched together.

She was gone.

His breath quickened along with the beat of his heart which matched the wings of a hummingbird. What the hell? What the-? He thought, eyes scanning the room. There was the bed he’d left her on, but where on earth was she? His stare darted around the room, his chest constricted with the anxiety and worry of her not being there anymore. Losing her wasn’t an option. The whole thing baffled him. Surely, she didn’t go through the… His stride was long as he approached the window, but parting the curtain and looking to the ladder below, it was clear she hadn’t escaped through there. Then where the hell?

He swallowed the lump in his throat. The image of her out there in the open with the wounds she had was too much to bear. No, no, you wouldn’t have, you shouldn’t have! I could have done so much for you. His thoughts tumbled and fell over themselves, squeezing at his vital organs, making him ache all over.

An idea popped into his mind. The front door. It was barricaded from the inside, but maybe she’d somehow gotten through it in the night while his mind was somewhere else. He knew she was strong, but he didn’t know how far she’d go. Why do you think she’d want to stay here with you? You’re not special. You barely kept a friend in the real world, what makes it any different now. He wondered how it was that he was so bad that someone would rather run out into the arms of the walkers than spend another day in the flat with him. But his worries were burnt away when he turned the corridor to the main door. The barricades stood in place just as they had, blocking anyone from leaving or coming back in.

Confusion held him in a steel-like grip, and he found himself returning to the bedroom to look for clues. The maps, his bags, the food, the water, they were all still there. It wasn’t until he stood in the room, still as stone, mind gathering and making sense of the facts for a few minutes that he began to notice the intermittent sound of soft breathing. He dropped to his knees immediately and that’s when he saw her, bundled up under the bed, peacefully asleep.

Relief washed over him like the cool sea. He could literally see his anxiety trickle away and out of him. One thing was truer than any other in that moment. He’d made an attachment that would likely prove fatal someday down the line. Even so, he knew he wanted to involve himself, anything to feel a connection, to feel somewhat human again.

She looked so calm, away from all of the shit which went on outside the four walls they were in. He didn’t want to wake her. Instead, he fetched another bottle of water (three left) and placed it beside the untouched food. He then returned to the other room. He made sure to close each door on the way and once he’d settled on the sofa again, he reached for the rickety guitar whose strings had rusted just a touch from the elements, and began to pluck at it quietly, revelling in the stillness of the sunny morning – taking himself away to a place where no-one could hurt him, not even himself.

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

even encompassed in dark, theodore’s sunny smile was unmistakable. she wasn’t sure what it was that had brightened him up so immensely, or if he was just always like this, but she couldn’t complain. whether attached to his mood or not, he was being generous with something incredibly valuable, and she’d be a fool - not to mention a complete bitch - to rain on his parade. whatever it was, though, it felt almost infectious. after months of this heavy, heavy world, it was something that she hadn’t recognized as a necessity, but really was. for what was the point of surviving all this time if there was no destination to the journey, no light at the end of the tunnel? what was the point if they weren’t striving for lives of this, right here? so she took a moment to try to mirror him, though she could feel in her cheeks that hers wasn’t near as big or bright as his.

when the man returned, however, his arms full of things she’d been sure an hour ago she’d never see again, her smile made a reappearance– this one much more lively than the last. “no way!” she exclaimed, hearing her voice raise at least three octaves at the sight of the peaches he placed in front of her. no, they would never live up to south carolina’s ripe, natural, gorgeous peaches, but they didn’t need to at this point. all they needed were to be free of mold, and to her, that would make them enough to be some of the most precious things on the planet. she leaned forward from her spot on the bed, eagerly grasping at the spoon he produced and thanking him with her eyes and the flash of a smile. then she made a beeline for the sweet fruits in the can.

she listened thoughtfully, trying to split her attention between the way the peaches tasted on her tongue, and what theodore was saying, but it was hard. the sweetness that exploded in her mouth was leaving her stomach aching, really. it was only a couple moments before the can had been emptied, and her fingers inched towards the tuna. she wished absently that she’d had mayonnaise, relish, and a few crackers to spread the fish over, but she was just as pleased with the canned meat itself.

“you don’t think a hospital’s been picked clean as well? i’m sure there are plenty of floors with plenty of rooms to loot through, but that’s the first place anyone will head, and there’s a possibility people have already built up barriers and made themselves at home there.” she was lucky, really, that her stomach had shrunk to half its size, because soon the tuna can was halfway emptied, and in another timeline of her life where this hadn’t happened, she would be left wanting more. but here, in this time and place, she was miraculously full. for the first time in weeks, her stomach was content. clearing her throat, she pushed the can his way. her brain and stomach were begging her not to give it away, to continue to gorge herself in the case that this would be the last time she’d seen any kind of food for a while, but she wasn’t going to be greedy, and she also didn’t wish to push her body when it had already been through so much.

her hands were shaking with the sudden onslaught of energy she was feeling from both the food and the water, and the skin of her thighs was twitching, jumping, conditioned to be ready to be on the move again. she did her best to ignore her body, though, in favor of returning her attention to the man in front of her once again. she nodded at his question, quietly humming. “mm.” she took a pause, before musing aloud, “perhaps it was always a luxury, though. we just didn’t take it as one.” she wrapped her arms around herself, not really knowing what else to do with them. “where is the sofa?” she asked, her eyes moving to the darkened hallway through the door. half of her was curious. for she needed to know how long she would have to wake up and prepare to fight or take flight, were she to hear footsteps whilst she slept. the other half of her, the half she tried desperately to stamp out so that it would leave her alone, was curious simply because the idea of him leaving her alone in this room after she’d already spent so much time alone in the dark, was far, far too much for her to bear. 

A smile blossomed further across his lips as he watched her eat. He could see genuine joy practically seeping from her every pore; her skin had already begun to take the form of an actual human rather than a ragged ghost. Despite her almost ravenous trance, she seemed able to comprehend his ideas and formulate her own, something which he held her highly for. She was right, the hospital probably was picked clean, but even if there was the smallest chance of finding something to elongate their life-span, it would be worth it. Her other point, however, did make him think twice about the risk. There was a strong possibility that people had somehow holed themselves up there. And the pair of them were in no position to take one any kind of organized group. But perhaps they could join them. The number of outcomes were dizzying.

He let his brain chug and whirr until he saw her push the tuna can towards him. His mouth instantly filled with saliva, the thought of the salty fish on his taste buds sending his body into a sense of urgency. Hunger outweighed his need to check if she’d had enough; yet he only allowed himself one spoonful of the stuff. The sound of his stomach gurgling was loud enough to be heard, but he remained determined in the fact that it was her food now, not his. Though looking at her, she did seem to be content. So, he raised the tin and spoon and placed them on the bedside table, leaving it for her to delve into if she woke up hungry in the night.

“We’ll have to be smart when going out there, you’re right,” he began to speak, placing the unopened bag of chips beside the tuna can, subtly telling her to eat more at least later if not now, “And you’re even more right about luxury,” he grinned softly, meeting her eyes with hooded lids, “I’m not used to people being so right all the time around me.”

Her next questioned forced him to look to the dark hallway to the side of them, “It’s about a five second walk. When you’re up tomorrow, maybe, I can give you the grand tour of this abode. It’s enough. It’s dead-free, and that’s what matters the most,” he nodded assurance, thinking of the place and how it was so fit for purpose it was almost his own little miracle.

He glanced to the window then and peered at the bright moon as it shone its way through the worn curtain. He estimated it to be around three in the morning, which meant they had about three hours until sunrise. Which meant three hours of uninterrupted sleep until the sun blazed through the windows, waking up the deepest of sleepers. Penelope needed all the sleep she could get and the seconds were passing by faster than he liked. He needed to set her to rest, to leave her alone. Though he somehow found himself unable to leave her side. His limbs refused to move. Get up, he willed himself, no, I can’t leave her, I-I don’t want to.

With a heavy heart and more effort than it should have been, he stood himself up. “You really need to sleep now,” he sighed, his gaze flitting from the hallway, to her. “I’ll see you in the morning. Try and stay on your back, it’ll be better for the stiches, plus it’s the healthiest position to sleep in,” he rambled, wide eyes on her, on her ever-increasing beauty. To him, she was becoming a wonder, a diamond in the thick of the dirt. A treasure.

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

three days wasn’t long at all, really. not in the grand scheme of things. but it was long enough to have picked the place clean, if it hadn’t been left completely empty in the first place. but he seemed to be doing alright, this stranger. he seemed to be prepared– at least more than she was. and more than that, he seemed to have compassion, something she wondered if she could fully understand. yes, in a time and a place like this, it was probably better to have allies. in fact, it could be life-saving, if not only sanity-saving. but taking in the sick and the starving, at least to her, seemed like a recipe for disaster. was it perhaps some cruel way to ensure some kind of gross loyalty? a stockholm syndrome without the trouble of having to go through kidnapping and a hostage situation? she had no clue; he didn’t really seem like the type to be so ill, but what did she know?

either way, if he was willing to offer her some of his rations. did she really have much a choice but to take them? unless he had poisoned the food – which was a ridiculous notion. if he wanted her dead, he wouldn’t have to poison a good amount of his only food to do it – he clearly wished her well. her panic-addled brain was just trying to mess with her at this point, clearly. otherwise it would just let her accept that this man, this strong, seemingly kind, and potentially extremely beneficial man, was safe enough for her to keep around. and though he was rambling, it became clear that he was volunteering it.

she could feel her eyes lighting up with hope, though she willed them to dim down. it was too good an offer to be true; she wasn’t stupid. hope was an incredibly harmful thing in this day and age, especially when putting it into individuals. she knew it was all she had, but it was also something extremely toxic. cancerous, even. if she let it fill her, and she somehow lost it, the results could be life-threatening.

and yet, the minute he mentioned possibly leaving her in order to scavenge, she could feel her body become almost leaden with despair. it almost hurt, really. the idea of him leaving and possibly not returning. she wondered if it was because she’d be left alone with no source of food or water if he didn’t come back, no one to care for her until she returned to a healthy state. a small part of her brain told her that that wasn’t true, though she quickly pushed the cloud of thought to the back of her head.

she did her best to ignore his questioning. answering it would’ve been painful, either way. if she told him yes, but later decided to split, it would’ve hurt him. and if she told him no without even giving it a shot… well… the immediate ache in her chest and churn of her stomach told her just how repugnant the idea was. “have you already checked the rest of the complex?” she asked. “if this place had some useful stuff, there are sure to be plenty of other treasures in the building. as long as its cleared of any infected, we just have to get in.”

Her answer, though not directly saying what he’d hoped, still made his heart settle and his panic ease. She said we in the context of the future. In his mind, she’d told him that she was staying, and the happiness that came from that conclusion, filled him with a warmth which he hadn’t thought he could feel anymore.

Ever since the day the dead began to walk the muddied earth, happiness became a distant memory. Even when finding a secret stash of food or discovering the key to a promising building, he barely felt the notion of happy. He felt relief, that much was true, but happiness? Guilt got in the way that before could take hold. How could he feel happy when the world and everything he knew had gone? People were dying, being eaten, killing each other to survive. Humanity had fallen. But in this moment, with Penelope on the bed, looking to him with bright eyes, he allowed himself to feel it, to feel all of it.

Loneliness had had such a profound effect on him. Losing his group, his brother, being left alone in the world, it was too much to bear. And she found him. In all of the streets and towns and places, she’d found him in his tiny, hidden apartment. She’d hurt herself, rung herself dry and found him right when she needed him. He’d read many books on fate, the scientific explanations for it, the spiritual explorations of it. His final thoughts on fate had always been belief in something happening for a reason. It was the one thought that got him through every single day. His life was so fucked that he had to believe that there was something more, something which the stars were preparing him for. Perhaps this was it. Perhaps this was the reason he went through all of the pain, the abuse, the suffering. Maybe this was –against all his logical reasoning- meant to be.

“Hold that thought,” he said, “This is a conversation to be had over a fine dinner,” he grinned before disappearing back to his trusty cupboard of lifesaving supplies. He chose a tin of peaches, a tin of tuna and a bag of chips for their feast (her feast). Once back in the room, he laid out his bounty on the bed next her and he took his place on the floor. Before she could do anything herself, he cracked open both of the tins of food and fished out a small spoon from his bag of ‘randomness’. “Eat,” he kindly ordered, handing her the spoon and sitting himself on the floor beside her. He toyed with the bag of chips, feeling his stomach rumbling, aching and desperate for some food. He distracted himself with the conversation which he was sure she was waiting to continue.

“I’ve checked the surrounding complex,” he said, raising his arm in the general direction of the area, “It’s practically been picked clean. But I have a few maps, I know where we are and I’ve pinpointed a couple of towns which are nearby. One of which has a large hospital. When you’re ready, we’ll check there. I’m sure we can find at least some valuable medical supplies, of which we can use for bartering. And I’m hoping they still have a cafeteria with non-perishable food in it… But, we can worry about all of that tomorrow. For now, you need to eat and sleep. I’ll uh, I’ll take the sofa, it’s in the next room. You stay here, it’s not as bad as it might seem,” he explained, meeting her ocean eyes, “Plus, it’s kind of rare to have a bed in sleep in where you’re completely safe. That’s strange, isn’t it? How sleeping in bed without the fear of dying is now a luxury.”

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

she hadn’t needed to see to know his eyes were on her. as she had finished the bottle, she had been becoming aware of her body, and she had wished that this wasn’t what he was seeing. she didn’t feel herself at all. she felt feral. she could feel the grime on her cheeks and the holes in her flesh where strong muscle had once been. she could feel the sores on her feet from the endless days of walking and the lack of life in her skin from transitions from too much sun to far too little. she could feel her bones which ached with the stress they’d been put under. she wasn’t penny. he was taking in this small, lost, fragile woman that just wasn’t her.

the air was a little colder on the other side of the bed, only a few inches from where she had been, pressed against him, but still far enough to feel the difference in warmth and the distance in energy. she watched him carefully for any sudden movements, though she was positive that there was very little chance that he’d pull anything at this point. she couldn’t help but take note as he moved, dutifully placing her emptied bottle on the ground, of the lay of his face. he’d eaten far more meals than she had the past few days, though that wasn’t saying very much at all. and she was close enough to tell that it was freckles that spattered his face, rather than specks of dirt. his eyes, which had looked so black with his back turned to the window, now proved brown. she couldn’t tell which shade, though, as the moon had bathed everything in soft blue. regardless of shade, however, there was no use in denying that he was handsome. beauty may have been subjective, but she would be hard-pressed to find a person on the earth, whether before or after the end of civilization, that wouldn’t find him attractive. but surely, that was the least of her worries at the moment.

it wasn’t until he looked at her, really for the first time, that she felt the gravity of his aura, though. his presence was strong, and defied almost any other she had dealt with, even since before the infection had spread. she could tell, not just by his actions and quick thinking, that he was a natural born – or at least, bred – leader who wouldn’t take no for an answer. perhaps that was how he’d gotten this far. and perhaps that was how he was going to make it in the future. maybe, with his help, she’d be able to make it too.

she wasn’t positive what his sentence meant, but the tone behind it wasn’t sinister. it left her a bit to think about, but she wasn’t sure which direction of it to follow. so she just nodded.

she didn’t really care to pull her pants up; her jeans would tug on the stitches, and really, it was just extra energy that she didn’t have to spare. so she ignored his comment silently. besides, his next question was enough to make her forget it had been said altogether.

her stomach and heart both jumped with excitement at the topic. food. she’d needed the water, yes, but she hadn’t dreamt about it the way she had about food. she thought back in her brain, her last real meal being sometime before sloan had passed. at least three days before, though with the amount she’d slept, it could’ve been more.

“i’m not sure.” it had been a couple dented cans of spam, eaten with fingers rather than utensils, and three granola bars, one and a half to each of them. but it had been delicious.

“how long have you been here?” she asked, looking around the room. and her next question was spoken not because she was curious, but because she knew it would open up a conversation that they needed to have, before she got her hopes up and before she began to take things from him that he somehow expected her to give back for. “do you have enough to spare?”

The way her whole demeanour changed at the very mention of food told him all he needed to know. He’d already made his observations of her. The paleness and dryness of her skin told a plain and simple story, one where nutrition and hydration scarcely featured. Her lack of compliance in pulling up her pants also told him something. Her need to eat outweighed her dignity, though he did quickly realise it could have had something to do with the fact that she had fresh stiches in a more than awkward place. Still, he’d take careful measure to ensure her dignity was held at the upmost degree.

She asked him two questions almost at once.

“I’ve been here three days,” he started before standing himself up and stretching out his back. Bending over the bed, straining like he had been, had taken a toll on his already taught muscles. The bed was comfortable enough. He was quite lucky in the fact that the place had been untouched by people. The open window of course let the elements in and that sure had an effect, with dampness and mould coating the walls in flower-like patterns. But over all, it wasn’t a bad place to stay. Even so, he was used to the finest beds money could buy. He didn’t sleep a lot, that much was true, but when he did, he usually slept like a baby. Not so much these days. Looking at the bed now, he said a mental goodbye to it. He was brought up to be a gentleman (one of the good qualities his psychotic father bestowed upon him), so Penelope would take the bed, and he would take the sofa.

Letting out a tight sigh with the final stretch of his back, he began to tackle her second question. She seemed almost nervous to ask it, like he’d say no or something, despite him offering it to her first. He supposed he didn’t really offer it. But what kind of person would he be if he gauged how starving she was and then threw her out? The kind of person who didn’t deserve to be a survivor. Survivors were meant to look after each other, help each other to become strong. Of course, the opposite was true in some cases, like the survivors he’d met earlier in the day. Looking briefly at his fingers, he could still see tiny specks of dried blood that had burrowed their way in under his nails, reminding him of his daily toll. Penelope’s fresh blood did its best to cover the murders, but he knew what he did. He always knew what he did. Acceptance was the key to moving on. If he lived in his sins, he’d die in their constricting arms long before he was due.

An image of Alex popped up into his vision. He was laughing at his thoughts of sin, of moving on. You let this happen to me big brother, you said it would be fine, well, look at me now. A bubbling gash in his neck spurted red and Theo had to force himself to blink and focus on the girl sprawled on his bed. She was proving to be the perfect distraction for him.

“I’ve got enough to last a few days,” he nodded, grabbing a discarded rag and ringing the blood from his hands as he spoke, “… If I were alone. But with you and the way you are…If we’re going to make this work, you need to be stronger. And that’s only going to happen if you eat, drink and rest. More than me.” He had at least two days’ worth of strength before he would need a good meal and a comfortable sleep. And for her, for some reason, he was willing to do it. “Tomorrow I can head out, try and find some more supplies. But we last until you’re fit and well, then we can talk logistics, scavenger outings, maybe even get away from this place, find a fresh town with more goods for the taking…”

He rambled until his brain shut him down. He’d made an assumption. Just because he’d helped her, didn’t automatically mean that she’d stay. Maybe she was cautious of him, maybe she’d get better and leave because why else would she stay? She had no attachment to him. For all he knew, she could be a lone wolf, one who got injured out of character.

A mini-panic took hold in him at the thought of losing the company of the perfectly beautiful stranger.

“I’m sorry,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat and running a hand through his curled hair, “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. Unless you do...?” his eyebrow raised and he tried his best to keep the one thing about him at bay. But the eyes were the windows to the soul and his soul was crying out for a chance for companionship.

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

it was the last thing she needed to be focusing on, really, but her brain caught onto the way he said her name, and for some reason, it stuck on it. his voice, husky and deep, was so unbelievably comforting to her after weeks of isolation. and not only that, but even before the end of the world, it would’ve been considered something of a ???? but the feelings quickly disappeared as he basically told her to shut it by gesturing to the flashlight and mentioning that she should probably put it in her mouth once again. she was sure he didn’t mean it the way it sounded, but the fact that she was essentially laying on an operating table that could’ve potentially turned into her death bed wasn’t making her feel any less cranky. especially not when a stranger was poised over her with a needle and thread in his hand, headed straight for a giant gash on her hip.

a hiss left her mouth as he began his onslaught. she knew logically that it wasn’t his fault in the slightest, and that, in fact, he was helping her, but that same logic was clouded by the pain she felt. she wanted to slap him as hard as she could muster. instead, though, she settled for reaching over to bite down on her left arm, muffling what little noises she would allow.

eventually, the pain began to lessen as her leg went all but numb. it was mostly skin anyway, as the fat and muscle had been broken down for energy. she was able to stop biting down so hard, and gradually, her muscles began to release as she relaxed a little more into the bed. the more she did, the easier she felt.

she watched theodore closely as he worked, noticing the pinch to his eyebrows and the sweat that began to bead up on his brow. she wanted to soothe him, some way, but was afraid that anything could scare him into jabbing her or himself with the needle. so she slowly, giving him a little time to process, snaked her hand towards him before lightly resting her fingers against the skin of his arm. she stroked there lightly, absently, as her thoughts battled back and forth between the pain she was enduring and whatever ideas flit through her brain at some in vain attempt at distracting herself.

it was over soon enough, however. she couldn’t say she wasn’t exhausted; it had been trauma to her body, and though her mind was now awake and racing with all kinds of thoughts, her body was ready to sleep for ages in order to recover from her ordeal. she’d be damned if she let herself fall asleep, though. not while she was at the mercy of this boy. waltzing into his space bleeding and half dead was one thing. staying in his space, unconscious and unable to care for herself was another all together.yes, he’d saved her life. but what did he expect out of her for it?

it was hard to keep her guard up, though, as as soon as he had finished stitching her up, he had his arms around her, helping her to drink once again. she knew it wasn’t safe to feel so confused and undecided about him, but she couldn’t help it. even the warmth of his body so close to her was comforting in a way that was hard to ignore. perhaps, if she learned a little bit more about him, she would be able to reach a decision more easily.

once she finally finished the bottle, after long and slow and easy sips, she leaned away from him so that he was no longer cradling her and so that she could look him in the eyes. “who are you?”

As she drank, he took the chance to look at the gash on her arm. He would need to stich it up eventually, but perhaps not just yet. Penelope deserved a rest. As did he. Penelope, his deep brown eyes grazed over her, taking in details which he’d missed in the panic of the last few minutes. It was so quiet now, with just the sounds of her quietly swallowing the sweet water echoing in the room, it gave him a chance to breathe and reflect.

She was thin little thing, but he could tell she wasn’t usually like it. Her cheeks were hollow like two caves on either side of her face. If she’d been in the real world, he was sure her cheeks would be filled out, rosy. She had grey, stretched bags under her eyes; a hazard of surviving in the apocalypse. But her eyes were captivating. Despite them being closed as she drank, he was already in awe of their size. He thought briefly to his readings on facial structure, remembering something that was said about people with large eyes. They were endlessly curious, intellectual and ambitious. If what he’d read was true, this girl had the potential to be a very good friend to him – something which he hadn’t ever truly experienced. It would be typical that it took the end of the world for Theodore Garcia to find a friend.

Once she’d drained the bottle, she pulled away from him – the lack of her against him made him feel instantly cold, like she’d taken herself away from somewhere she belonged, somewhere she fit perfectly. He didn’t say anything or protest, he only moved further from her, placing the empty bottle on the floor.

Then those eyes caught him and he felt the breath leave his body. She might be the last person left alive, but don’t be such a boy. Have control. In the real world, he tended to be very picky. Girls would almost throw themselves at him. He was rich, mysterious, and he’d inherited the dark good looks from his parents. Sometimes he’d have his fun, but more often than not, he took more pleasure in being wanted, rather than making anything a reality.

He thought carefully about her question before sighing and really meeting her stare, “Just a guy,” he smiled softly, “A guy who wants to feel something good for once, you know?”

The question was rhetorical, he didn’t need an answer.

As he continued to hold her ocean eyes, he placed the back his hand to her forehead, checking her temperature. She was clammy, but she wasn’t running a fever, which was the best sign he could hope for. If any infection was present in her body, it may have taken effect already. He made a mental note to check her head each hour. Sleeping wasn’t the biggest issue for him. The nightmare life which he led before had versed him in surviving on as little sleep as possible. And for such a girl, who stumbled so gracefully into his every day, he wouldn’t mind losing a few winks.

“You can pull those back up now,” he said, gesturing to her pants, which gathered loosely around her jutting hips. Being a perv wasn’t in his nature. Women were always honoured and respected in his family, so he followed the same respectful ideal. That being said, he couldn’t help but let a tiny thought cross his mind. He immediately shook his head in response, shutting his thoughts down. Now is not the time.

She was stitched, watered, safe. Next thing on the list.

“When was the last time you ate?”

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

psychology had never been penny’s interest, but the closer she looked, the more signs of the boy’s anxiety became clear to her. she watched as his hands shook a little, and in his eyes, she could see the shadows of doubt, the same ones she herself had been harboring since being lifted into the apartment in the first place. but they didn’t have time to sit and worry over what would and wouldn’t work, or anything else for that matter. they were both driven in this moment by one thing and one thing only: the need to survive.

it should’ve been the very last of her worries, as she knew realistically it only benefit her, but the minute the lighter flickered to life in his hand, casting a dim light over the previously blackened room, pangs of fear shot up penny’s back and down her legs. she tried her best to focus on what else she could – the way the rays from the flame danced across the walls, the sounds of distant scraping of lifeless shoes against pavement and constant moaning of the undead below, the way the man’s hair seemed to bounce with almost every little movement he made, the way the fire from the lighter reflected in his deep, emotive brown eyes – but it was still difficult to keep her worries at bay.

the moment he began speaking to her was the moment her heart felt just a little less heavy. she knew he wasn’t really meant to be distracting himself by talking to her, and yet that made it all the better. she wasn’t even sure if that was what he meant by the question, especially since the way it was delivered seemed maybe just a tad arrogant. not necessarily cocky, but perhaps as though it was meant to be playful. it reminded her of the way sloan had treated her, from before. actually, there were quite a few things about this man that reminded her of sloan. it was almost comforting. almost.

she debated on leaving the flashlight in her mouth and just ignoring the question altogether though, in favor of having something to bite down on as he continued to prep. she had a job to do, after all, and he couldn’t help fix her up in the dark. but after a moment, she realized that though it would help her to grit her teeth through it, perhaps a conversation would do wonders for her in keeping her distracted from the task at hand. so she swallowed, and transferred the light to her right hand, gripping it so hard she could almost feel her knuckles turning white. she sighed, resigning herself to opening up to this man. after all he’d done for her so far, maybe he even deserved it. “my name is penelope sommers.” her voice was wavering from the pressure, but she tried her best to ignore it anyway. she was almost tempted to stop there, her stubbornness shining through, as the last thing she wanted as to start some kind of attachment only to be torn apart. again. but curiosity piqued and then won over, and after a second of silence, she glanced at him, trying her best for a smirk as she parroted humorlessly, “you know, i’d rather know the name of someone who is about to stick me with a needle and thread.”

His pupils dilated accordingly as the beam of light from the torch danced across the wound with the movement of the girl. It settled once again and with it came an answer to his question - finally. He was curious in nature, perhaps even nosy sometimes. Knowing things, whether it was facts, figures or personal details about someone, was something he took great pleasure in. Alex was completely the opposite; to him, ignorance was bliss. But Theo knew better. He knew that equipping himself with as much insight as possible was something of a survival tactic, especially in the Garcia household. It took him many years to cultivate information about his father, his right-hand men, even the butlers he employed. And it took him a few more years before he finally thought to put it to good use. Unfortunately for him, he had to endure the ‘Garcia Initiation’ before he was able to blackmail his way out.

He killed on an almost daily basis, the dead at least. Killing survivors wasn’t something he liked doing, but if they put him in a position to do it, he wouldn’t hesitate. But all the lives he’d taken, and all the non-lives he’d taken, had no comparison to the one he took in stables at home on that dark Autumn evening. Having reality go on normally around him, while he sat in the hay, sweat running down his cheeks, his father’s strong grip on his shoulder and a body spilling brains at his knees, it was different. It was real. This world seemed like a video game, one where a kill added to your survival score, not a notch on your humanity.

“Penelope,” he mused, removing his thoughts from the past to the present, thankful that she was there to keep him on track. “You don’t hear that name very often,” he said, poking her skin lightly, finding the perfect spot to start the procedure.

Without even looking at her, he could tell she was smirking, her words came out with an air of confidence, making him instantly smile. His stare remained on the task at hand, but he did raise his eyebrows and nod in response. “Excellent point,” he said coolly, “Now that I’ve got that out of you, I’d suggest putting this back in,” he said, holding the torch to her hand, his eyes dark but remorseful, “I’m Theodore Garcia, and this is going to hurt.”

The point of the needle found its place on her skin and he quickly pushed it with force. It took a millisecond of tension where the metal refused to pierce the flesh, but with the strangest of pops, it burst through to the other side, revealing itself. He had to brace himself for the way he suddenly felt. Sick. He’d only performed this kind of procedure on himself, and it didn’t seem that bad then. Now, it made his stomach flip. He held strong though and steadied himself to pull the wire through. It made an almost squeaking sound as it slicked through the flesh. Blood spurted from the commotion and he felt its warmth sprinkle his face.

He worked as quickly and carefully as he could, easing the wire up and through until it caught on the knot on the other side, and repeating the whole thing again. Any reaction from Penelope was tactfully ignored in favour of his determination to get the job done in the least amount of time possible. Every second her body lay open risked letting the bacteria in. He held her firmly in place and sort of lost himself to the wound, ensuring that the stitching was even and narrowly spaced. He could feel his eyebrows knotting together so much so that they ached from the concentration, and sweat began to form on his brow. His hearing and vision tunnelled to the wound and remained on it until the job was done, zoning every other noise out.

Once the last stich had been stitched, he cut the wire with scissors and tied it off with care. He followed with a final dash of water to clear the blood away. He had to take a second to himself to get over the fact that he’d just done what he did. But the moment was cut short by remembering how someone might feel after going through trauma and losing more blood.

He quickly grabbed the honeyed water bottle and rested one arm around her back to hold her before placing it in her hand.

“Drink.”

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

with only two bottles in his hands when he returned, penny felt the need to prepare herself for the worst. there was clearly no anesthetic here, and obviously all he had to clean her up was water. it instilled the worst kind of fear in her; she wasn’t frightened of tonight, but she was terrified for what could be to come. if bad bacteria had gotten into the wound, whether from the glass of the door, her long journey here, or even just from somewhere in this room, she knew the probability of her being able to fight it was low. with how much her body was putting into surviving other things, including other wounds that she’d been healing from, there was little change it could produce enough antibodies. but all she could do was hope for the best. if they left it open, there was even more of a chance for bacteria to enter.

his hands against her were firm but gentle; she appreciated the care he seemed to be taking, despite the fact that the pressure of his skins against the wound was actually quite painful. but she tried her best to ignore it. she’d always had a low threshold for pain, but had been lucky enough to have a high tolerance. even so, there wasn’t much she’d felt in her life that compared to this.

when the man asked if she was ready, all she could really do was nod. her hands had balled up in the sheets beneath her as she prepped herself for whatever was to come. if she weren’t in charge of providing light for the procedure, penny probably would’ve found it best to lay down. her energy was still waning, and she was sure that the pain would’ve been better dealt with if she didn’t have to prop herself up in the position the entire time.  

she wanted to ask if there was anything he needed her to do, such as a specific position to lay in, but the flashlight in her mouth kept her from doing so. it hurt against her teeth as they pressed into it, and her tongue felt uncomfortable sitting at the back of her mouth, almost far enough to make her gag. but she was thankful for the flashlight, however, as it gave her something to keep her grounded.

the water was cooling against what she now understood to be hot, feverish skin. she wished more than anything that they didn’t have to waste such a precious resource, and that, instead it could be used to soothe the dry desert that was still her mouth. but the more she thought on it, the more she began to realize what a great deal this man was doing her in his service. water had been so very difficult to come by, and here he was, wasting so much of it on her. so what did this mean for her, penny wondered? when all of this was said and done, if she still lived, what would this mean for them?

With it being so fresh, it was easy to see the dirt that had been in the wound as it washed away. If she hadn’t have found him when she did, and the wounds had been exposed for longer, she probably would have succumbed to infection, and her fate would have been sealed. Theo knew he wasn’t a ‘knight in shining armour’, but he seemed to have a knack of being in the right place at the right time. In a way, the girl had come at the right for him too. If she hadn’t have stumbled upon him, his evening would have probably looked like a scene from a Tim Burton film, with his dark thoughts threatening to become reality, pulling him into a spiral of depression. A dark and fraught path. Now, in the moment, he had a purpose.

She had done well to deal with the pain of the wash. But that was nothing compared to what was coming next. He clenched his jaw as he studied the clean wound, his mind running through the process of it all. This also gave her a –probably desperately needed- moment to recover and prepare herself for the ‘close’.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before pulling out the medical kit from his backpack, which was essentially a bag of randomly collected items from his various lootings. Each component was in a state of somewhat decay or just plain useless, but it was all he had. Sterile equipment was something of a dream. But he’d been using it on himself, and he was still standing – just about. As he gathered the things he needed, he noticed that his hands were shaking. He stared at them for a second, willing them to stop. This was no time to get nervous. He needed to remain calm and focus his attention on the problem at hand.

Come on, Garcia, put that mind to good use.

His fingers unwound the thin medical wire from its spool, measuring out an estimate of how much he’d need to close the wound securely. They then reached for the thick needle and lighter. He didn’t have any antiseptic to hand, so burning the needle was the closest thing he had to sterilization. Once it was sufficiently burnt, he threaded the wire through with precision before tying a knot in the end. Now or never.

“You know, I’d rather know the name of someone who I’m about to stick a needle and thread into,” he murmured, not getting distracted, but still remaining curious.

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

perhaps it was the survival instincts taking hold, but the wounds on her side had been the least of her worries. in fact, they hadn’t even really hurt that much - at least not in comparison to the rest of what she was feeling, both mentally and physically. but as soon as the man pointed it out, the muddied focus of her pain shifted from her entire body, down to the two spots down her side that had been torn open while she was trying to escape. one on arm, which didn’t look as bad, and the one on her leg. glancing down at her hip, she felt her stomach begin to churn.

penny had wanted to be a doctor for most of her life; her parents had pushed her towards the occupation, but it was penny’s interest in not only the elite title but also helping others that kept her going. she’d graduated pretty much top of her class; of course, she’d changed paths during college after meeting samara, but before then, she’d read plenty of text books and watched plenty of reality television, set in hospitals. nothing of course, had prepared enough for this. nothing had prepared her for the slaughter and slaughter of people that she loved, and even the people that she didn’t know. had she known from the beginning how it felt to be so completely immersed in hurt and sorrow and death, she probably would’ve just kept to something like business.

she could tell by the man’s voice that he knew - or was at least confident in - what he was doing, so she didn’t question when he asked her to pull down her pants, the same worn out jeans she’d been wearing for what felt like years, even though it had only been a couple months. she struggled to use what energy she had to unbutton and begin to pull down the tight pants, but after weeks of sweat and the blood that was so quickly changing consistency, it was difficult to get them down. eventually she was able to, however, catching sight of a wound that looked even more nasty against her pale skin.

glancing up at him and seeing the look in his eyes, penny knew she didn’t really have a choice. “what are you going to do?” she asked, catching notice of his dirty hands, and realizing her reality with an almost painful suddenness - they were in a looted apartment, musty from months of disuse with no real medical supplies and someone who, based on statistics, was completely untrained. but what other choice did she have than to let him do whatever he felt was necessary? she eyed the flashlight in his hands. not that that would help her any – and in fact, it would probably only make matters worse – but at least it would help him see. at least he, hopefully, wouldn’t miss anything. with trembling hands – and from what, she wasn’t completely sure. dehydration? nerves? adrenaline? – she took it from him, its weight in her hands doing nothing to help calm her, even as she turned it on and placed it carefully in her mouth.

When she took the torch, and put it in her mouth, he mentally said ‘good girl’, which he was glad to have kept in his head. She didn’t seem like the sort of girl who would appreciate that kind of comment. He wasn’t very sure of why it instantly came to him, but he paid no attention to it. Her compliance was something which instilled some hope in him about their situation. There would have been nothing worse than if she was pushing him away or refusing his advice. Even in the ‘real world’ Theo had a hard time dealing with resistance, especially when it came to his intellect. It was the only thing he had to hold onto in a world where he had no control. A funny as it was, he felt freer now that the apocalypse had taken over.

“I need to clean it,” and my hands, he thought painfully, realising they only had six bottles of water, of which he’d have to dip generously into if he were to free all her wounds from infection. But, he had to do what had to be done. “Then I need to close it. Simple,” he assured her, pressing his lips together.

He wasn't medically trained. But he had done his reading, and as with most things in life, he had a pretty good idea about it. His father made him study business, but that didn't mean that he didn't have other interests. Theo's natural habitat was a warm place where he could sit and be undisturbed in his quest for knowledge. He had always been particularly fascinated by the human body and the lengths it could through before finally giving up. He'd seen his fair share of it before the walkers made their mark. The family business was a hazardous one. He'd learnt how to withstand trauma. To mend his own wounds when his father didn't want a fuss. Of course, some injuries were harder for him to fix on his own. Like the time his father broke his knee with a golf club because Alexander had putted a ball through a window. Hospitals were a safe place for the Garcia brothers. They meant they weren't going to get hurt, at least not for a little while.

His dark eyes lingered on her for a second before he fetched two bottles of water. On his return, he picked up a couple of rags from his pile of looted clothes. They weren’t exactly clean, but nothing ever was anymore; no matter how clean something looked, there always seemed to be a thin layer of grime coating it.

Once by the bed, he knelt down on the floor so he was at the level he needed to be to be in full control of what happened with the wound. He cracked open one of the bottles and carefully washed his hands as best he could before drying them on the bed sheets – which were surprisingly clean considering the room itself was found with the window open, and he’d been sleeping on the bed for a week. He then took in a deep breath.

“You ready?” he asked the girl. It served as warning to what came next.

He placed his palm flat on her abdomen, making sure his thumb and forefinger sat around the wound so that he could squeeze it lightly before pouring water into it. He pinched the flesh together lightly in rhythm as the water flowed over, making sure that each and every part was exposed to the cleanse. He braced himself for her reaction, but made no move to stop. She had to go through the pain, she had to be strong.

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

penny laid in wait for her savior’s return, as, lacking any strength whatsoever, she wasn’t able to really move much on her own. she was sure that now that she’d had a little bit of water, she could if she truly needed to, but the fact of the matter was that everything hurt. everything, right down to the tips of her fingers was throbbing, each and every single nerve feeling like a live wire.

and yet, the longer penelope sat in the strange bed in the strange room, the more her anxieties began to overtake her, her mind going over all of the worst case scenarios. she tried to fight them with logic, but she was on her own here. in the horrific case that he was some crazy murderer, she didn’t have any way to defend herself. she was at complete mercy of this stranger who, for all she knew, simply took her in so he could have the pleasure of murdering her in the comfort of his own home. honestly, if someone were to survive the apocalypse for this long, they had to be at least a little insane.

but soon, the man returned with what looked like a bottle of water, only the color differed from the first bottle. she looked to it, and then to him, her heart quickening its painful pace. he wasted no time in dropping back to his knees and hoisting her into sitting position again as he explained carefully what chugging the water could mean for her. she nodded; she understood. it wasn’t as if she didn’t know that she could regurgitate the water if she drank it too fast. it was moreso that she just couldn’t find it in herself to care. not at this point in the game when she hadn’t had anything to drink in what felt like eons. but she held her tongue knowing that sassing him wouldn’t lead to anything good at all.

he pressed the glass to her lips and she took a long, slow sip. she could taste whatever had colored the water; sweet and thick, it coated her tongue. she recognized it, but she couldn’t quite place what it was, not when her brain was working with so very little. so she gave up on identifying and instead focused on trying her best to take it as slowly as she could, though she was positive she wasn’t doing as well as he probably would’ve liked, because he soon removed it from her lips anyway.

she didn’t bother to answer his question; she had too many of her own swimming around in her head. and if he was going to kill her or harm her in any way, he didn’t deserve to know anything about her, let alone her name.

“what’s in the water?” she questioned, her eyes as hard as she could make them. it was sweet enough that she knew it wasn’t poisonous, and it hadn’t numbed her mouth at all, so it wasn’t harmful, but she was still suspicious. she hoped there was something within her look that would intimidate him as she fixed her steeliest glare, but there was little she could do to enforce that kind of threat to him; he had her in his arms and by sharing his rations with her, he was saving her life for the second time in little over ten minutes. there was very little about her that was intimidating at this point.

She took to the water much slower this time, which made Theo’s lips curl the tiniest bit. Not that he could muster a smile in the situation, but he was pleased that the girl listened to his advice - somewhat. Her slow gulps did begin to pick up some speed so his decision to take the water was well-thought out. She’d have the chance to drink more once she regained some form of clear consciousness and alertness. The thing about almost dying was that it brought you right back down to your primal self. The need for food, drink, warmth. It took over. Anything else in between was forgotten. In Theo’s case, he knew that bringing this girl back from the brink was the first step, or there was a danger she could go feral on him.

Her eyes shone brighter, even after a few sips of the honeyed water. He mentally took note of its effect and it only strengthened his theory on the lifesaving quality and essentiality of the substance. His research into botanicals on one of his family’s vacations to Hawaii came in useful finally. And now he could be confident in relying on it in the future.

She spoke while he thought. Her question was met with a nod. The lack of an answer on her part to his inquiry was picked up on, but Theo could understand that, along with her words. Of course, she would be inquisitive about it. Her life depended on it. He was happy to know that she was gathering her thoughts, it meant she was coming back. The look in her eyes as she questioned him told him something else too. She was a fighter. Clever, determined. He liked her.

“It’s what’s saving your life,” he said clearing his throat, “A tablespoon mixed with water will give you carbohydrates, sugar, antioxidants, it will hydrate you, give you energy… all the things you need to get you back on your feet. It’s not to some people’s tastes, but I’m a fan,” he said, finding himself smiling and looking to the bed.

That’s when he noticed a small pool of blood gathering itself by her side on the mattress. It was from the oozing wound on her hip. All the while they’d been speaking –though not long at all- it seemed to have opened more, spilling her blood slowly, but in quantity. His eyes quickly scanned her arm – the wound wasn’t as urgent as the other. He had to act fast.

“Your wound is bad. But you don’t need me to tell you that. What I do need from you is to lie down and pull down your pants,” he paused for a moment, realising how his words had come out. “Not like that,” he sighed, rubbing his temple with a dirtied hand before bringing his ‘hopefully’ reassuring eyes to her, “Just, lie back, pull your pants down enough for me to work on the wound, and use...” he started before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a torch, “this to bite on. You’ll need it.”

[theodore-garcia-blog]

vitrioliics:

penny wanted to protest when the man lifted her up into his arms and carried her towards the bed, she really did. though she’d been sheltered by her family in her earlier years, as soon as she’d gotten out of her house, she had bloomed into a wildly independent woman; she’d had to. sink or swim, really. but she was on her very last leg; she probably couldn’t have worked up the energy to cross the room if her life depended on it– the adrenaline was still pumping through her body, but it just wasn’t enough to sustain her anymore. not at this point.

she felt as though she were inside of an oven, despite the slight breeze from the still open window. being this close to another human would’ve been comforting if not for the insane heat she was feeling coming from the nest of his arms. it was hard to ignore, but not as difficult to disregard as the open wounds down her side and the dryness in her throat. the hunger pangs had passed, but the feeling of drought had not.

she watched the man closely as he moved to the bedside table, trying her best to remain vigilant in the case that, for whatever reason, though he’d clearly gone out of his way to save her from an untimely demise, he was actually not the knight in shining armor he’d made himself out to be. but the more she tried to pay attention, the harder it became. luckily for her, he wasn’t gone from her side for too long before returning with a bottle of water that he raised to her lips without any hesitation.

the change in her was instantaneous as the liquid passed her lips and into her mouth. despite her lack of energy, there was a fervor in her, a fiery determination that she didn’t think she’d ever before experienced. her hands, weak as they were, were still able to wrap firmly around the bottle, tilting it back so she could suck it down as quickly as she could. it was probably a mistake to drink as fast as she did, and she ended up spluttering more than she’d intended to, but in spite of the coughing, she continued to chug.

the water was gone in moments. the last thing penelope wanted was to be greedy– in this world, as a willowy girl all on her own with no weapons - now that her golf club was gone, thanks to the ladder - taking anything but the bare necessities was bold in a potentially very dangerous way. but the minute the last droplets reached her tongue, penny’s eyes were searching for more. she had no time for morals or for logic; her body was still in survival mode, and she had to listen to it.

“more,” she whimpered, hating how pathetic she sounded though she was unable to change it. “please, tell me you have more.”

Theo leaned away but kept his palm on the small of her back, holding her up as she ravenously sucked the water down. She was clearly in a moment of pure survival and he didn’t want to disturb her.

The way she drank though, it told him more about her. She was a desperate girl, and desperate people had the potential to be dangerous people. Looking at her, alone, weaponless, it was unlikely she would start any trouble. But the world itself had become desperate. Perhaps this was a trap, set up by the friends of the looters he’d met (killed) earlier in the day. Or maybe she was desperate enough to be so bold as to take what he had and run. These thoughts buzzed around his head like gnats, piercing his judgement as they flew. But the lack of sound from outside - aside from the gormless walkers – and the way she turned to him with a whimper, he knew she was just a girl looking for a lifeline.

He dropped his stare and took the empty bottle from her, placing it on the floor beside his mud-ridden boots. Raising it again, he met her eyes. He held her gaze for a moment, something twisting deep down in his chest. Please, tell me you have more. He nodded his head solemnly. He had filled a cupboard down the hallway of the apartment with all the essentials he’d gathered. There were six bottles of water, two bottles of champagne (absolutely essential), various tinned foods, chips, and of course, honey. Honey had become something which he relied on for energy. It’s infinite shelf-life made it the perfect food for the apocalypse. Thinking about what was in the cupboard gave him an idea.

“Just wait here, alright?” he asked, not waiting for an answer before disappearing into the dark hallway. He briefly wondered whether he should have left her alone in the room, 1. With all his weapons, maps and daily essentials, and 2. In her current literally on the death bed state. But this would save her.

Within two minutes, he was marching back to her. He put the, now honeyed, bottle of water on the floor as he sat on the bed. He then worked to hoist her back into a sitting position –she still shook- and placed one hand around her back, and the other cupped her face.

He tilted her head to face him, his dark eyes locked with hers. “Listen to me, okay? Listen. You have to drink this in sips. It’s really important. I know, I know you feel like you need it all and right now. But if you down this bottle like you did that one, you’ll throw it back up. And that’s a waste of water. So, slowly,” he trailed off warningly, reaching for the bottle and bringing it up to her lips. “What’s your name?” he asked, easing the bottle from her after a second.