stillborn ;
A slow, sick feeling crept into Adamâs gut and stayed there the more Patsy spoke, weighing the man down. It was such a silly thing to get upset over but when his old friend brought up some ex of Charlotteâs he could not help but blister in agitation. He didnât like that. He couldnât stand it, or stomach even the notion of her wrapped up in some other manâs arms, in some other manâs bed while they enjoyed a life they took for granted. Even if it was his own damn fault for not calling, even if he had shagged countless girls after their split, it was still sickening. And it seemed even under the most duress Adam could not help his jealously. His arm curled tighter around her waist. "It was a long time ago.â He mumbled. It was said more to himself than to the woman. More of a whisper, as if he was trying to the bubble of the glee when Charlotte admitted his fate. Good riddance, the bastard. âA long time ago. Thaâs all thaâ is, love.â
Everything seemed to go too fast for Adam to comprehend. From the screechy, familiar voice of Patsy in his ear to the sensation of a cigarette being shoved between his lips, he felt as though he and Charlotte had been picked up, shaken about, and then dropped without warning into a universe that made little sense. Maybe the combined hits from Lorelei and her father and James had truly turned his brain to much, because he couldnât find the sense to say anything at all in return. Even quicker still Patsy was distracted by the call of her boyfriend, and as soon as she had arrived, she was walking up the staircase with her finger wrapped around the following manâs belt loop. His blood ran cold at the realization. Not even the sudden flame in front of his face, nor the words slipping from Jamesâ mouth could distract him properly from the horrific thing he just witnessed, and he hoped that Charlotte had not seenâŠor at least had not understood. âAh.â Adam didnât know what to say to that. If they had bumped into each other at a restaurant, or perhaps a wedding of a mutual friend after a long bout of having not seen each other Jamesâ words would have been fine. But the other man had just attacked him, and they were standing there when they shouldnât have been living, and Adam was had not lost all his sense just yet. He had to be a fool not to infer what Patsy just did. And it seemed James realized what Adam knew as well, since he smirked in an odd, chilling way, and lightly punched Adam against his shoulder once the fag was lit. âFirst one of those is on the house. If ya want any more though âm afraid I canât be so accommodating.â
That was an even stranger thing to say to someone he hadnât seen inâŠwhat, a year? More? Less? Adam looked back down at Charlotte once before lifting his free hand and pulling the cigarette from his lips. It had been so long since he last had one that his lungs felt like they were on fire right before the nicotine kicked in. He coughed once. âWe havenât any moneyâŠâ Adam couldnât believe he was having this conversation with James of all people. âWe havenâtâŠhavenât much of anything. At all, really, besides the ca-â He shut his mouth before the man could reveal the car they had stolen from their last shelter. Once upon a time he would have trusted the other bloke with any secret or any thought, but now everything was different, and the only person Adam trusted any more was the woman clinging to his side and keeping his heart in sync to hers. Luckily though, James didnât seem to notice the almost-slip, and he waved his hand almost carelessly, in such stark contrast to how he looked a few minutes before, and gave Charlotte a look Adam could not recognize.Â
âWeâll think of something.â
âRight.â The adrenaline from the brawl had slipped away by now, and it was replaced with the throbbing of Adamâs mangled face and chest and knuckles. Just for once he wanted to not be bruised. Just for one bloody day. Adam huffed in frustration at it all, and turned completely towards his wife to hold her against his chest. âYe got a washroom round this dump, mate?â The Scot didnât notice the break in Jamesâ relaxed expression. Nor the anger, the offense that he took at that jab. Adam simply kept the cigarette tight between his lips. And his hands continued to rub against Charlotteâs back in the same soothing fashion they always did.Â
âCourse.â  After a long moment of silence James plucked the cigarette from his lips and turned his heel in a clear sign for them to follow. âWeâre doinâ pretty damn well over here. Not total animals like the rest of the world.â Adam disagreed. Though the church was better than the Boucher house, the smell was much worse in there, and the company a lot more threatening than the invalids who drooled over themselves and stared too long whenever the Walkers kissed. HoweverâŠAdamâs eyes flickered back down to the bottle in Jamesâ hand, and the smoke was still thick in his lungs as they followed behind, Charlotteâs hand still clenched within his. There were far more carnal pleasures in this madness. Something to distract him maybe from the child growing inside his wife or the fact that they had both completely lost it. Even if it was just for a little whileâŠeven if James was so different he couldnât recognize him any longer, there could be worse things than discovering those they once loved werenât rotting in the masses. âJust try to not use all the hot water, if ya will.â Stopping abruptly in front of a door, James shoved the bottle back towards Adam to pull a ring of keys from his pocket. Seemed like the drunken fool of a friend he once knew had turned into someone of importance around here, Adam thought. Someone in charge. Someone who could do a lot more damage than a few punches. And worst of all he hated thinking these things of his mate. Truly, he did. And still there was something so off about him when he pulled open the door for Charlotte and flickered his gaze downwards quite suddenly to stare at their feet. â'nd donât take too long. I donât feel like listening to Patsyâs bitching when she comes back, eh?â It didnât sound like a suggestion, and he didnât wait for a response, and just as quick as Patsy James was stalking away with a look and a cloud of smoke.
The only time that she felt safe was against Adam, and Charlotte leaned a bulk of her weight on the man. Her head pressed against his jaw, and she wrapped one of her arms tight around his waist. The idea she was with anyone else seemed ridiculous, and the concept that someone else lived with her was poisoned her stomach.But Adam was hers now, and only hers. She didn't always look at James or Patsy, her eyes dropping downward when she jumped up the steps, keeping her same long stride as she walked. Yet, Charlotte did danced around the past in her mind, her hand pressed against the small of Adam's back as she swayed a bit. They must of looked unbalanced, especially with the blood that dropped itself against Adam's cheek and knuckles. The smell of smoke was familiar, too familiar as she felt it burn her nose. It had been what felt like forever since Adam had smoked around her. She remembered stealing packs for him when they laid in Paris. It was a kind memory, a better one that London and and a kinder one than then the skeleton friends they ran across. Adam used to relax when he smoked, and shake his head just a bit as he exhaled. Charlotte always liked laying next to him as he did, and his back to fall into the bed with a small back loose its tension. It used to be calming, at least before this mess happened, and before James's eyes scanned Charlotte with a snakelike perception, and she looked up at Adam to see if he caught it. He didn't, and that only made Charlotte tense.
Tense up until Adam spoke up, and the two walked together like they always had down the halls. "Thank you, for helping us. We needed it, it's been a long time to get here. We were in Paris for a while and then... a few other places, and then here. I guess," she said before catching herself off guard. James wasn't listening, seeming to not even bring his eyes down to Charlotte as they talked. There was still a darkness in him, a darkness whenever he saw Adam. But she noticed the keys, and the way he had some sort of strange authority over the group that lived in the town-- or at least the ones that stumbled into the church turned bar. James was always a grudging leader. She remembered how him and Patsy would always be trying to set people up, always trying to bury themselves in other people's lives. It was a spirited back then, almost in jokes and laughter the way they would kiss in public, or the way Charlotte could never really shake the fantasy of Adam and Charlotte together to complete some sort of strange double dating fantasy. But now it all seemed to be fantasy, like a strange dream from a drug trip gone wrong. Charlotte tried to bring it back, place where she had last seen there faces. James she saw less of, Charlotte knew that for certain. Mostly because it usually meant that Adam could be there, too and she didn't want to deal with the painful awkwardness of seeing him again. But Charlotte could have sworn that it was at Patsy's when she came over for wine night. And James swiftly left with a cigarette in his mouth and a mumbling of seeing his mates. She wondered if that night he saw Adam. It was only a week before the war; it was so soon before the outbreak. Patsy and her drinking wine on a small patio on the third floor flat and Charlotte got a bit too drunk on what was supposed to be a lazy Sunday night. Patsy braided her hair and reminded her that five years was a long time, maybe she should try seeing Adam again. Maybe in a week Charlotte would have texted him, but it seems like forever now.
Her hands started to shake as soon as he left. It didnât make any sense. They were dead, or supposed to be dead. And the signs of the skinny, broken versions of them. It wasn't like they could drink wine and forget about their problems anymore. The slamming of the door frightened Charlotte, and her mind spun with the memories again. âHow is this possible,â she stammered out, her feet moving to the bed that was too small in the middle of the makeshift room. The whole church was made into these rooms, mostly broken down into the barest of essentials. But she flopped hereof down on the bed, with her eyes wide as she looked down at her hands. âItâs not possible, thatâs it. Iâm just sick.. weâre just sick to death,â she stuttered even more. Her head dropped against her hands, squeezing at her hair between her fingertips. Charlotte was still mumbling to herself, things that did not make sense to anyone but her as she pulled at the dark, uneven strains. Patsy and James were not themselves anymore. The memories of their relationship flooded her. Of the fights they would create and the tears that she would cry against Charlotte's shoulder. They were supposed to be in London, that strange mix of mismatched strangers that sprawled across Britain. She wondered if the other couples would appear. Of Jackson, the country boy whose never been to London until the military, or of Will, whose Scottish accent was thicker than Adam's. It all started to overwhelmed Charlotte in that familiar way. First in her hands, then in her breathing, then in the undeniable way she couldn't just calm down, how she couldn't stop talking. She was rambling now, all slurring together so that none of it could make a word of sense as the corner of her eyes turned red. Charlotte looked up, across at Adam and shook her head. "What... what do we do?"
