Chapter Text
- Mister President, your offer is certainly flattering and means a lot to me, but I simply cannot leave my home, my patients, my colleagues and my students behind. It would be irresponsible of me.
Deadman nervously fiddled with his gloved hands. Interacting with Die-hardman, especially after he became the president of UCA, has always filled him with unease, especially in one-on-one confrontations like this one. He was never a confident man, not when regarding people higher in the hierarchy like the leader of his own country. Deadman knew that Die-hardman wasn’t a tyrant and was willing to negotiate, but something about defying his orders, even politely, always made his blood cold. His cabinet was also far from plush, with navy blue walls and black-tinted chiralium flooring, with two large windows in the back providing artificial sunlight.
- Deadman, I understand that all of this means a lot to you and I can’t blame you. I’m well-aware of how important human connections are to all of us, especially after what Sam, Amelie and Bridget did for America.
Deadman crinkled his eyes in sadness at the mention of Sam. He was glad he was wearing tinted glasses.
- Nobody is asking you to completely abandon them. You will still be able to contact them through your cufflinks. I’m know that it’s not the same as seeing them every day in person, but it’s better than nothing. - Die-hardman spoke calmly, with the well-practiced tone of a politician used to convincing people to do things they wouldn’t otherwise want to.- People with DOOMs have been our source of first-hand knowledge about the Beach since the start of this mess, and monitoring their health, now that Amelie’s Beach has been cut off, is vital for us to keep our understanding of the Beach as up-to-date as possible. You’re a valuable researcher and scientist, your work on the amygdala synthesizing fear into pleasure was revolutionary! The UCA NEEDS brilliant minds like yours, especially now, when we’re on the right track to rebuilding America’s former glory!
- Thank you, Mister President.- Deadman bowed his head politely.- But I still don’t understand why do you specifically need me to be in a secluded lab. Couldn’t I just work from my office here, in Capital Knot?
- I know that this is probably what you would prefer, but we think that you would simply be too close to the medical facilities.- Die-Hardman drew his eyebrows closer in sympathy, and while Deadman was willing to believe that the feeling was genuine, he had no doubts that it won’t stop Die-Hardman from putting pressure on him.- You’re truly dedicated to your patients, and that’s a great strength for a doctor to have. As with most traits, however, it has its own downside: We’re afraid that you would be too tempted to help out, which would draw your valuable attention and time away from the data. We need your entire focus on this project.
That’s what Deadman’s been worried about.
It wasn’t unheard of for BRIDGES to send different scientists to live in labs far away from major populations, to allow them to only pay attention to their hermetic research. These people were entirely devoted to what they were studying or engineering, feeling perfectly fine by themselves, with weekly oxytocin shipments substituting them their families or friends. But Deadman… he wasn’t sure if he would take it as well.
He loved seeing his patients in person, chatting with fellow doctors or BRIDGES personnel, teach classes and see his students looking attentively at him when he answered their questions. It made him feel respected and important, like he actually had a place in the society of Capital Knot. Leaving it all behind to live alone, with only emails, chiralgrams and oxytocin to ease the loneliness would certainly be a challenge. He already felt alienated enough from others due to who he was. Not being able to prove his negative thoughts wrong every day will certainly worsen his insecurities.
- The lab will have all accommodations.- Die-Hardman continued.- Clean water, heating, electricity, connection with the chiral network and ability to print everything in our database, weekly deliveries of necessary items and food according to your dietary plan. There’s even a hot spring, so you can unwind after a day of research. We’ve sent a team there last week to see if anything needs to be fixed or refreshed, so everything should be like straight out of a printer.
- It’s all printed?- Deadman’s eyebrows rose up.
- It’s a mix. Some furniture and items had to be printed to cut costs, but a lot of it is old-school pre-Stranding furniture, flooring and walls, like in Heartman’s lab. A safe location, too. The team says there aren’t any MULE or terrorist camps nearby.- His voice softened, coaxingly.
- Who will take care of Central Knot’s medical ward when I’m gone?- Deadman tilted back, wanting to turn his gaze towards the walls, but knowing that he can’t allow himself a show of submission like that.
- I’m sure your fellow medical professionals can handle it. And besides, your students are just as capable.- Die-Hardman was unyielding.
Deadman sighed. Die-hardman was right, of course.
- Deadman, I know this decision isn’t easy. I could probably just assign you there without sending you a notice, but I won’t do that. Your research could potentially save hundreds of lives and allow even more to get proper treatment! Is it not worth it to endure some discomfort?
Die-hardman has really picked a perfect career for himself. Deadman wasn’t sure if it was a natural talent or a well-practiced skill, but his ability to convince people was unmatched; Right now, he felt like a shucked oyster, shell in pieces, his soft, gelatinous body for anyone to devour.
He really started to reconsider the offer: he was a doctor, after all. It was his duty to help in any way he can to better the understanding of human health. If his research will help so many get proper treatment, he should take the opportunity without complaining. Loneliness was worth enduring if it was for the betterment of human lives across the UCA. He can still contact people he knows to ease it.
And besides, he was probably a best choice for living alone in the woods. He had no spouse, no children, no tightly knit group of friends who would miss him. Deadman would never dream of depriving someone who had that of it, no matter how secretly envious he might’ve been. Yes, that would be best.
- I… I’ll go. For the betterment of humanity.
- Excellent!- Die-hardman’s eyes lit up.- You’ve made the right choice, Deadman. We’ll arrange for your pickup in two days, to give you time to pack and make amends. You can take one person to accompany you, as per BRIDGES science division’s tradition. Is there anyone you’d like to invite?
Sam.
- No.- Deadman answered, bitterly.
---
The facility was exactly like it was promised; Rustic, medium sized and very, very isolated.
The terminal room for porters making deliveries housed large, heavy doors through which greenlit individuals could enter into a basement that also served as a warehouse for any supplies that the residents might need in the future. After going up another flight of stairs and gaining access, you were greeted by a quaint living room, with heated wooden floors, concrete walls, which were painted deep green, and a gorgeous vista of a beach with light sand and the contrasting, dark sea, its waves coming onto the land and back in a constant cycle, blending together with the blue sky in the horizon, the pines growing all around for miles and swaying sleepily around the building.
Behind the glass, there was the promised patio; Deadman could see the steam rising from the artificial hot spring even from the inside. He wondered if he will even have the time or energy to use it; Heartman had to take baths in the one in his facility due to health concerns (or so he said), but to Deadman, this was a useless luxury.
The room itself was frugally furnished- A green couch that could be unfolded into a bed, shelves made out of a material reminiscent of dark wood holding stacks upon stacks of books that could contain anything from novels to dictionaries or guides on finding the best spots to fish for bass propping up the walls, and a tv, with a small coffee table between them. A metal fireplace was embedded into the opposite wall, perfect to light up and get cozy right next to on a chill evening.
Beside to the room entry, there was a small kitchen, with a fridge, oven, stove, shelves and a kitchen isle for sitting down and eating the meal you've just prepared. Deadman didn't cook much before, so this ought to be interesting; He knew that agreeing for being stationed in a research facility like this one meant that he will have to be much more self-reliant, since it will have to take a week at least before anything he orders will even get to his destination, provided that a porter won't lose it half-way.
Other than that, there was a small, basic bathroom near the main doors, a single bedroom and a laundry room. Just the living room was larger than the quarters he lived in in Capital Knot, so the free space he had now was slightly intimidating.
Other than his clothes and research equipment, all of Deadman's belongings could fit in a single repurposed XL cargo container: A few DVDs with pre-Stranding movies and TV shows, a couple of mecha model kits he put together, three or four favorite books, all dog-eared and read many times, a chiral-printed fern in a white, square planter and two framed photos.
He stood in the living room, his treasure box in his hands, as he looked on at the sea in the distance. Deadman has never seen the real thing in person- oddly enough, it chilled his blood much more than the one that leads to the Afterlife; Due to the research station being designed with darker, more natural colors in mind, Deadman had the lenses in his glasses replaced with the standard see-through ones, as there was no need to protect his sensitive eyes from the white glare and harsh light, a constant presence in BRIDGES facilities.
Right now, he was starting to think that replacing them was a mistake; He could see the dark waves foaming like rabid dogs, and looking at the endless abyss of almost black water seemed like being steps away from a black hole, which threatened to swallow anything that it will manage to get into a trance and convince it to come hither, hypnotized by its vast beauty.
- Everything seems to be working properly.- A rough, female voice snapped Deadman out of his apocalyptic, anxious thoughts.- We carried the cases with your clothes and research equipment in the bedroom. Is there anything else you need, sir?
Deadman turned towards the corridor, where he saw two members of the security corp, a man and a woman, who drove him all the way here from Capital Knot. They were both clad in standard black uniforms, and sported a pair of dark sunglasses, which obscured their features to make them seem more threatening to anyone trying to harm them or their ward.
Due to that clothing, combined with their emotionless expressions, booming, authoritative voices and permanently stiff postures, Deadman always felt some degree of fear when interacting with them; He knew that they won't hurt him, given that protecting BRIDGES personnel was their job, and even if they'd want to, harming would get them in so much hot water that it simply wasn't worth it. This was might’ve been the first time he interacted with these particular two, and probably the last he ever will. They introduced themselves back in Capital Knot, but were completely silent during their travel. Deadman wasn't sure if he heard them say anything from the moment they entered the all-terrain truck back home to right now.
- No, I think I'm alright, thank you.- He smiled sheepishly, trying to not show just how scared he was of the situation he was in.- Can I offer you anything before you leave? A glass of water, perhaps? We might as well toast your job well done.- He smiled slightly awkwardly. Deadman knew nothing about these people, but his circumstances compelled him to keep these two around for as long as he could.
- I'm sorry sir, but we have our orders and we're needed back in Capital Knot City as fast as possible.- The woman's voice was still serious and emotionless, but slightly quieter, like she saw Deadman's true intentions and felt a little sorry for him.- If you don't need us to help with anything else, then we have to go back to Capital Knot City.
- I understand...- Deadman nodded, saddened moreso by the fact that he will be left completely alone then the fact that it will be these specific two leaving.- No, that's all I need, thank you. Stay safe on your way back.
The two saluted stiffly, the golden braid that the woman had thrown over the shoulder gleamed in the evening sun, like the quipu pinned on the opposite side of her chest. The knocking of their heavy boots on the wooden floor was the last sign of life outside of Deadman's nervous breathing in the whole research station.
And with that, Deadman was left completely alone. The sea waves hit the shore behind his back, a few seagulls called out in the distance, and the firs kept rustling, ruffled by the sea breeze. This had to be the first time in Deadman's life where he was so far away from any other living person, as he spent his whole life in massive compounds, where he could hear other people lead their lives if he'd just press his ear against a thin wall.
Deadman figured that he might as well unpack the few things he brough with himself. As unlikely as it was, maybe seeing some of the items that reminded him of home will ease the homesickness he was starting to feel creeping up on him already.
The sound of his heels clicking on the wooden floor echoed in the empty home as Deadman went to the room that's supposed to be his bedroom. The cases with his microscopes, petri dishes, pipettes, first samples and beakers were lying stacked on the floor, next to two identical metal boxes containing his clothes, just as the woman from the security team said they would. Deadman had to admit that he was at least slightly relieved that nothing he would need was mistakenly left in the car; He wanted to start working and researching as fast as he could, longing for his home and office swelling in his heart.
The room had gray walls and a wooden floor, with a shaggy gray carpet in the middle of it. A dresser was leaned against the wall, beside a king-sized bed, with a small night table holding a standard-issue BRIDGES alarm clock displaying the time: 16:47. The only other furniture was a large desk on the opposite side of the room, with a couple wall-mounted shelves and a closet stuffed in the corner. The space was right now lit with the evening light falling into the room through a window, tangling with the synthetic strands of the carpet.
Deadman knew that he simply didn't have enough items with himself to give this room a more comforting atmosphere, to make it look and feel "his own" rather than like a standard-issue BRIDGES bedroom. Still, he needed to unpack anyway, so he might as well try and make this place more like home.
Carefully, he pulled out the couple robot kits he made through the years- thankfully, they were all in one piece, and didn't get smashed or damaged on the way here. Deadman sighed in relief and gently posed them properly, bending the arms and legs in the right joints and securing their respective weapons in their hands. He decided that the best way to display them would be on the shelves above the desk, and that's exactly where he put them, giving the room some much needed color.
The photos joined in beside them, as Deadman hanged them on the small, blunt chiral hooks embedded in the wall, the designer clearly placing them there for that purpose. Chiral fern has found its new home on the dresser, and the books were stacked on the floor beside the bed. Deadman took his DVDs to the living room, placing them near the TV, preparing them for his routinely evening watch.
Still restless, Deadman unpacked his clothes, hanging the suits neatly in the closet, and putting the underwear and socks in the drawer, the compartments opening and closing smoothly and quietly, clearly never used before. After setting up everything he would need for his research on the desk and putting away the now empty containers in the basement, preparing them for shipment of anything else he might want to send, Deadman returned to his new bedroom, still strange and uncomfortable.
Looking at the squares of light on the floor, Deadman has realized that he never had a living space with an actual window that would let in natural sunlight; All his other homes have been underground, with lightbulbs simulating natural sunlight's rays to trick the brain and body and keep them from falling into depression or vitamin D deficiencies. Come to think of it, this is how humanity lived before the Stranding happened, wasn't it? It was strange to realize that windows used to be an almost mandatory fixture of every house once.
People of the UCA were allowed to leave the underground and stand outside in protected areas, but Deadman knew that there wasn't an insignificant amount of those whose agoraphobia was so severe that they haven't left their underground shelters since birth. A psychology and psychiatry division was currently hard at work at inventing a complex therapy that would let these unfortunate people feel the actual sunlight on their faces for the first time, given that going outside was now safer than it ever was before since decades back.
Deadman approached the window, to try something he never did before: look outside from his own home. The view was quite relaxing- a small meadow covered with green grass, surrounded by pine trees and shaggy bushes that appeared to be growing some species of round, red fruits, which contrasted against the leaves. Deadman couldn't judge if what he was looking at was in any way extraordinary, given that his experiences with the outside world were highly limited. He was never a big outdoors man, the number of possible dangers and the various creatures you could encounter sending a shiver down his spine.
A flutter in the tops of the trees snapped him out of his thoughts. As he narrowed his eyes, he noticed a mostly black bird with a long body, a slender neck with white stripes, a long, slim beak and a tuft of intensely red feathers on its head. The animal was holding onto the tree bark diagonally, and climbed up and down with a flowing ease, sometimes tilting its head, as if it was inspecting something attentively. Deadman observed the bird closely, curious to see what it will do next. He had to admit that it look quite pretty; The striking red of its tuft and the contrast of black and white made the bird stand out among the dark green of the pine needles. Deadman wouldn't mind having a neighbor like this in this new living arrangement.
Rapid gunfire cut through the air.
Instinctively, in one swift move, Deadman hid behind the wall, right next to the window and listened. The sound still echoed through the air, and all of Deadman's muscles were still locked, ready to help him run or hide at any second. The heart still pounding in his chest made it difficult to hear anything beside his drumming pulse, but Deadman was sure that any potential threat was gone, at least for now. Slowly, he looked through the window again, the chiralium-infused glass still in one piece; Everything seemed to be in order, the meadow just as quiet and peaceful as before, with one difference- the bird was gone.
Something snapped together in Deadman's mind. He remembered that he heard of a species of birds who rapidly hit their beak against dead trees as a way of marking their territory; The noise is supposed to send a message to others of the same species.
The bird scared him, that had to be it. Deadman sighed in frustration, flopping onto the bed on his back. That was embarrassing; For the first time since arriving here, Deadman felt relief that there was nobody around to see his reaction. He grabbed the bridge of his nose, his glasses riding up onto his forehead. As he tried to calm his breathing, Deadman was convinced that he was justified in his wariness and distrust towards animals.
He dragged his hand on the bedding he will be sleeping under today and tomorrow and for however long this assignment will last. The sheets were crispy and cold, clearly laundered recently and ready for his arrival. Sleeping in a new place for the first time was always tough, and he expected that this time will be no different. The model was probably the same one he had at home, a standard-issue BRIDGES double bed.
Deadman usually slept by himself, but once in a while, he managed to score a companion for one night who would be kind enough to stay a bit longer. He didn't mind sleeping alone, but right now, he wished that he could have someone to share his bed with, at least temporarily, until he'll get used to living in this wilderness. The problem was that he didn't have anybody to even ask; He didn't have a partner and his colleagues had families of their own or barely knew him personally.
Deadman really wished Sam were here. He was so experienced with the wilderness and danger, he could easily tell actual gunshots from a bird knocking on wood. Sam was so strong, brave and capable, Deadman could sleep easy knowing that he has Sam by his side... He already saved his life once, on Cliff's Beach, racing through actual gunfire to save him and Lou... Oh, how he missed little Lou's smiling face and happy cooing!
He just wanted to know what happened to them after he took off Sam's cufflinks. Were they even still alive, and lived in an abandoned shelter somewhere? Did they both die in the incinerator? Not knowing was worse than actually knowing they're dead, at this point.
Deadman sighed once more, fixing his glasses back on their place. This is going to be a hard period in his life.
---
It was evening, the sky has long since went dark, and the crickets were chirping in the grass outside. They were one of the things Deadman still couldn’t get used to. Being this close to untamed nature, insects, the occasional bird that flew by while squawking, or a deer that he saw running in the distance when he looked through the window was so foreign to him, it always distracted him or made him feel on edge. Until now, he could count the number of times he saw a living animal on one hand, not really understanding the appeal they’ve had to some. Few people kept anything bigger than a jar of cryptobiotes, and they often couldn’t even if they’ve wanted to, due to a lack of living space needed for them, their family and the animal. The frequency with which he saw them since he came here just made him realize just how far from home he is, far from other people and everything he knew. It saddened and terrified him in equal amounts.
Deadman was lying on the living room couch, absentmindedly watching a recorded pre-Stranding TV show he brought with himself all the way from Central Knot. He saw it a million times before, and could quote almost every line from memory by now. Most media was lost in the Death Stranding, leaving only a handful of what used to exist to people who lived now. While everyone, with good reasons, kept talking about how avoiding the Stranding will allow the people to live in peace, rebuild, finally live without fear and reconnect again, right now Deadman was hoping that people will make more movies.
He didn’t have much to do today anymore, so he thought that he’ll take a shower and go to bed soon. Back home, he’d routinely stayed in his office, filling out papers and signing reports into the dead of night, actually preferring to stay up when most other scientists were at home, with their families or sleeping. In this place, however, he has lost nearly all of his motivation, and he felt really anxious or bored whenever he was left only with his thoughts and nothing to do to occupy himself. Sleep was his only solace, so he tended to go to bed early, hoping that it will make the time he has to spent here go by faster, and that he will be allowed to go back to his home in Capital Knot soon enough.
- NO CUFFLINK OR STRAND DATA DETECTED. UNAUTHORISED PERSON AT THE DOOR.- The voice of the AI of his cufflinks announced, getting him out of his stupor.
Deadman’s whole body tensed up, his jaw clenching, fear gripping his heart as he sat up abruptly.
A stranger? This late into the day? It couldn’t have been a porter, since Deadman wasn’t waiting for any delivery, nor did he have anything to be picked up. The stranger didn’t have a strand or cufflinks on them, so it couldn’t be anyone associated with BRIDGES, not to mention that BRIDGES probably wouldn’t send a single person in the dead of night without a warning. There were no MULE or terrorist camps anywhere near, not to mention that they rarely left their turf, and bothering prepper shelters or research stations wasn’t in their MO.
What did they even want from him? How did they know that this station is even occupied, after years of being abandoned?! Did they wanted to rob him, or kill him?! Nobody from BRIDGES would even know until they check that his cufflinks are unresponsive!
Deadman turned on the safety camera on his cufflinks, the hologram letting him see a grainy image of a figure wearing a light hoodie, dark pants, and a large, hiking backpack on their back. Their front and face were obscured and blurry, not letting Deadman gather any more details about the stranger. Deadman sighed in frustration and worry; after so many years of BRIDGES developing their technology, you’d think that the safety cameras in compounds that were meant to house lone, unarmed civilians would at least let them take a better look at any stranger who was bothering them!
Deadman could pretend that he’s not here, that this place was completely empty, and hope that the stranger will grow bored of loitering at his doorstep and leave. Actually, considering it now, Deadman suddenly felt a pang of guilt in his chest.
What if this person needed help? That’s why he came here, didn’t he? To help humanity and other people, not to shut himself in his comfortable house when someone might need him. He wouldn’t forgive himself if the stranger was wounded or ill. Maybe they lived in some secluded shelter nearby, and knew that the man living in here was a doctor?
Deadman squeezed his eyes clothes and sighed. He turned off the camera and stood up, hoping that whoever was waiting for him will forgive him wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. Not bothering with putting on anything else, he went down the stairs to the basement, the light inside turning automatically as he walked in. After getting past some shelves, he started to slowly climb the steps, each one making his heart pound harder from all the adrenaline coursing in his veins.
When he finally stood on the small platform that connected the stairs and the main doors, he sighed for the last time, preparing himself for anyone the stranger might be. Deadman twisted his right hand, the cufflink registering his prompt to open the main doors.
- How can I- - Deadman looked at the stranger and immediately felt like someone punched him in the chest. The person standing outside had the most intense look in their blue eyes. Dark strands of chin-length hair slipped from the sides of the hood, and a young child in a carrier strapped to their chest cooed excitedly at the sight of Deadman’s face.- Sa-?
- SH!- Sam pressed a finger to his lips, with a deadly serious look in his eyes. Deadman immediately pressed his palm to his mouth, without even thinking twice about it, aware that Sam wasn’t joking.- Cameras?
- O-only to my own use.- Deadman answered, according to the truth.
- Cuffs?- Sam gestured with his head at them in a one, forceful move.
- Just my vitals and location, no audio.
- Anyone else in there?- Sam was backing out of his posturing slowly, signalling that he felt slightly safer with Deadman, no longer seeing the need to be as aggressive.
- No, it’s just me, I promise.- Deadman looked Sam in the eyes, hoping that it will convince him that he’s not lying.
Sam’s shoulders slouched slightly as he exhaled, his eyes wandering to the wall on his left.
- Can we, uhh… Can we come in?
- O-of course!- Deadman moved slightly to the side, allowing Sam and, presumably, Lou to enter.
Sam stepped inside, head bowed low. As he passed next to Deadman, he could scent that Sam smelled like the damp, night air from outside.
- I’m sorry, but I have to ask…- Deadman slowly turned towards Sam, who was going down the steps to the basement. -It’s… It’s you, Sam, right? And Lou…?
- Yeah, it’s us.- Sam pulled off the hood of his hoodie.
Deadman still wasn’t entirely convinced that the two weren’t just lookalikes, or if he didn’t fall asleep on the couch when he was watching that show and he was just dreaming. Sam was difficult to confuse with anyone else, especially with those piercing eyes that still held a little bit of gentleness to them, but there was always a chance. Maybe if he saw the stencils that marred his skin, he would be convinced, but somehow, he felt that asking Sam to strip right now wasn’t the best course of action.
His mind felt like it was swimming- there were so many things he wanted to know: Where they were, how did they know where to find him, how are they doing, if they need anything? He didn’t know where to start.
- How did-
- Word travels.- Sam shrugged.- Look, I… I just wanted to ask.- His tone became more pleading.- Can you… please give Lou a checkup?
- Is something wrong with her?- Deadman’s eyes widened in worry as he came down to get closer to Sam.
- No… at least I don’t think so.- Sam put his hand on Lou’s head. Her eyes were drooping in tiredness, since it was clearly much too late for her.- But… No doctor has ever looked at her since I got her out of that pod, a-and I’ve been worrying-
- Of course I will Sam, don’t worry about it.- Deadman said in the calming, reassuring tone he usually reserved for talking to his more conventional patients.- Would you like to come upstairs? That’s where my living quarters are.
- No, no, I’ll just stay here.- Sam looked around, looking for a place to sit down.
- As you wish.- Deadman said. He was a bit disappointed, but on some level understanding Sam’s reluctance.- Sit down, wait a moment, I’ll just grab my tools from my office.
- Thanks.- Sam sat down on one of the crates. He suddenly seemed really timid and awkward, with his shoulders hunched, eyes avoiding Deadman’s and a stiff posture, a huge contrast between the aggressive attitude he had when he first knocked on Deadman’s door. Deadman didn’t know if this was because he wanted to come off as more intimidating in case of someone else opening the door, or if there was more brewing in Sam’s head than he wanted to admit.
Deadman went up the stairs, leaving Sam in the dimly-lit basement. He only hoped that Sam won’t fall asleep in the meantime.
***
According to Deadman’s, admittedly rusty, knowledge on pediatrics, Lou was fine. Maybe a bit small for her age, but not enough to raise any concerns, especially given the fact that she was technically born prematurely. She kept laughing and trying to clumsily grab his hands and reach out to him, with Deadman not being able to keep himself from smiling. She was so adorable, curious and full of life, and it was clear that Sam was taking great care of her.
Lou’s guardian, on the other hand… well, let’s just say that if someone put Deadman and Sam next to each other, people might have a difficulty in saying which one is made up of corpses.
Sam’s eyes were puffy and red, with huge bags underneath, like he hasn’t slept in months. His body was stiff and rigid, with his shoulders hiked up and tense. Deadman couldn’t help but wince when he looked at him- Sam was clearly exhausted, or at least in a lot of pain. He couldn’t help but wonder what exactly were they doing past the six months since they got out of BRIDGES.
- Well Sam, it seems like your little one is in a pretty good shape overall.- Deadman gently patted Lou's head, to her clear delight.- Maybe a bit on the smaller side, but unless she'll start exhibiting any worrying symptoms, this shouldn't be a concern.
- Great.- Sam exhaled, with clear relief.- Thanks for that, really. I was worried sick that something wrong with her, a-and I just can't see it-
- Hey, it's okay, Lou's fine.- Deadman spoke in the voice he used for panicking patients, hushed and gentle. Sam was very clearly wound up and seemed to be approaching his limit; Letting him spiral deeper into his anxieties would be a terrible mistake.- Are you all right, though?
- 'm fine.- Sam mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his fist.
He was a terrible liar.
- How did you two even got here?- Deadman pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.- Where were you staying all this time?
- Lots of people feel like they owe me.- Sam nervously bounced his leg, the sole of his boot hitting the concrete floor, tapping out the rhythm of a panicked, painful heartbeat.- Been travelling between prepper shelters.
Deadman nodded with understanding. It seemed logical that Sam and Lou wouldn't want to stay in one place for long, since the risk of attracting BRIDGES' eyes likely grew more and more with each day. People of the UCA were kind and would happily help a national hero like Sam, who had personal experiences with him, and who wasn't just a distant face on BRIDGES recruitment posters. Deadman was slowly piecing together Sam's and Lou's life in the past six months.
- Well, thanks for the help, but we'll be going.- Sam made sure that the straps of the carrier on his chest are fastened properly.
- Going? Where?- Deadman suddenly felt a pang of anxiety.- There's no prepper shelters nearby, where are you going to sleep?
- I've seen some caves nearby.- Sam huffed impatiently.- They're enough.
Not only was Sam a bad liar, but also a terrible comedian. It was a joke. It had to be. Sam wasn't going to leave him now, with a young child with him, and walk into the dark wilderness, for Deadman to never see him again.
- Wait, are you serious?- Deadman asked with dumbfound confusion.- You two can stay the night in here!
You two can stay forever, he thought, but bit his tongue.
- Mhm, sure.- Sam's voice full of pained, bitter anger.- I'll sleep in here, and the next morning a squadron of however the fuck the security team is called now will be there, to drag me and Lou to Die-Hardman.
Sam's words stung, but Deadman had to sadly admit that his rage at BRIDGES and even him wasn't entirely baseless, given Sam's experiences.
- Sam, this isn't about BRIDGES.- Deadman said with firm voice, though the sadness in his tone was clear.- This is about you and Lou. You're both exhausted, you can barely stand on your feet! What if you'll trip or fall into a river or a ravine and hurt yourself or Lou?!
Sam's expression softened into a pained frown. He knew that Deadman was right and he hated it, but he didn't have any counter arguments. It was clear just how bone-tired he was, and that he was sick of constantly worrying about how they will survive the next day.
- I told you, you're safe here, I promise you that.- Deadman once again spoke gently to Sam, looking at his face, while Sam's gaze wandered on the shelves stocked with cans and hygiene products.- You two will always be safe in my home. Please, at least stay the night. You can take a shower, sleep on a normal bed, eat something good... I'll give you a checkup in the morning, you really don't look good.
- I've had worse.- Sam croaked, fixing Lou, who was falling asleep against his torso, in his arms.- 'm just tired, I think.
- I can see that.- Deadman said, voice full of gentle compassion.- Come on, let's go upstairs. Can you really resist the heated floors I have there?- He smiled.
- Guess not.- Sam chuckled, his eyes closing by themselves.
****
Thankfully for Deadman, his couch didn't make it into top 10 worst places Sam slept on.
- I'm sorry you have to sleep on the couch.- Deadman wanted to smile apologetically, but his excitement over Sam's presence twisted his lips in a bit of an awkwardly wide grin.- The lodge doesn't have a guest bedroom, I'm afraid.
- 'S a nice place.- Sam kept looking around the room, as if it was the nicest interior he has seen in his life.
- It is, isn't it?- Deadman nodded.- Maybe not as modern and stylish as Heartman's lab, but I still like it. I think it has a very quaint, rustic decor.
Sam didn't respond. Deadman wasn't sure if he didn't hear him or just didn't have anything to add. Lou babbled something and waved her hands at Sam, prompting him to snap out of his state instantly and turn to Lou, gently grabbing her tiny hand between his thumb and index finger.
Thankfully, a spare set of bedding was easy to find, and it didn't even become a feast for moths yet. As for pajamas, Deadman volunteered one of his own clean shirts he slept in, and a pair of complementary BRIDGES grey sweatpants that were still in their plastic vacuum-sealed bag. The shirt wasn't exactly too big on Sam, a stocky and powerfully build man himself, but it was clear that it was made for and belonged to someone with a bit more circumference in the waist area than Sam had- it hanged loosely on his frame, revealing his collarbones and tense shoulders. The filthy clothes Sam lugged with himself were instantly thrown onto the floor, with a promise of being thrown into a washing machine first thing in the morning.
- You're free to use the kitchen and the bathroom, of course.- Deadman clasped his hands in excitement.- I'll be staying up in my room for a while longer, feel free to knock on the doors if you'll need anything, even in the middle of the night.
- What if I'll want to leave?- Sam turned his head to Deadman, his eyes piercing through him.
- Well...- Deadman looked at the doors to the basement nervously.- I'm afraid that... You won't be able to leave by yourself.
- So I'm a prisoner again?!- Sam's anger ignited in his chest again.
- No, no, of course not!- Deadman shook his head vigorously and waved his hands.- Just say the word and I'll let you out, I promise!
Sam still glared at Deadman, like he expected further explanations from him. Despite his shaky trust, Sam was still giving Deadman a chance, which seemed like a one in a million win. Deadman exhaled, his shoulders slumping a little.
- All BRIDGES facilities are integrated with the cufflinks of approved individuals.- Deadman lifted his right arm and rattled the device coiled around his wrist.- It's a safety measure, I'm sure that you can understand that.
- Mh.- Sam grunted, resting his chin on his fist, his elbow digging into one of his thighs.
- Think of it as a set of keys. You wouldn't want just anybody to have the ones that open your living quarters, right?- Deadman leaned on his arms, resting them on the kitchen island.- So currently, I'm the only one with the access to the main doors. The ones to the patio lock automatically when I fall asleep, and the ones to the rooms inside are always opened. You don't have a set of cuffs of your own anymore, so I can't grant you the access.
- Forget about it.- Sam said quickly and firmly.- Fine, I'll tell you if I'll want to go out.- He sighed heavily.
Deadman couldn't keep a giddy grin off his face. Sam trusted him. After all this time, he still trusted him enough to know that despite his allegiance to BRIDGES, he and Lou were safe in Deadman's home and in his presence. Deadman felt like he tamed a wild animal that trusted him enough to let him be in its enclosure without fleeing or attacking. It was a precious gift, one he had to cherish and care for dutifully.
Sam threw the pillow he was given onto the armrest of the couch and hit it, wanting to even out the synthetic filling inside.
- D-Do you have any sort of evening routine?- Deadman chimed in, nervously. He knew it was silly, but finding out that Sam and Lou are alive and well, only to then have them out of his reach almost instantly was stressing him out.
- Huh?- Sam mumbled, turning his head towards Deadman and glaring at him sleepily.
- Is there anything you do before you go to bed to relax.- Deadman smiled in an overtly courteous way, further betraying his anxiety.- Listen to music, read, drink a glass of milk...?
- I close my eyes.- Sam huffed.- That's it.
- Gotcha!- Deadman clasped his hands.- Well then, I'm off, have a good night and sleep however much you two need!
He left the room, unable to stop staring at Sam sitting on the couch, with Lou lying next to him. Deadman feared that if he'll stop watching them even for a second, they will disappear, and this situation will turn out to be a mere dream or hallucination.
Deadman kept checking multiple times throughout the night, transfixed by the slow rise and fall underneath the bundle of bedding on his couch, and the soft snores it made, the sound of which could easily become a part of Deadman's own evening routine.