New Fanfiction!
Hey everyone! Been working hard on my newest Fanfic. One of my friends, AristoKitty was like, "What happens if Evie gets her period?"
What came out was this.
It's called "Red Badge of Courage" and if you click on the title you can read it over on An Archive of Our Own. It's a six part fic.
If you can't go there, then under the cut will be part one. I plan on releasing Part Two on Tuesday.
Enjoy!
I woke up feeling cramps in my thighs and nausea roiling in my belly. I swallowed, that sick sweet feeling of too much saliva collecting in my mouth. With a gulp, I held it back. After a moment the unease passed. I blinked then turned my head to look around. The shadows of the room were still thick, the sun not quite high enough to chase away the darkness. Dust motes danced in the air and were it not for the pain in my gut and thighs, I could almost look at the morning with appreciation.
The windows were boarded but thick slits were in the covers, as if once people had used them to point guns. Jack was sitting in the door frame, between this room and the hallway. His head leaned against the wood, his hands resting on his crossbow. I sat up then, resting an arm behind me as the other curled protectively around my cramping abdomen. He opened his grey eyes, peering at me in the gloaming of the early dawn. If he had been sleeping, it was too light to count as any type of rest.
“It’s a bit early for you, ain’t it?” he asked, his voice raspy.
I nodded, trying to straighten without giving away how sore I felt. “Do you know what time it is?” I wanted my toothbrush and maybe a bath.
The house we’d rolled tonight was a two story model. The main bedroom still had a large bed with a mattress but the curtains that had adorned it were long gone, threads the only sign of their existence. There was furniture in the form of a dresser and vanity, though the glass was cracked and dirty. Last night Jack had rubbed it clean with part of the rug and angled it down the hall so he could see anything coming around the stairs in the dark. All the other rooms had been stripped or used for some sort of shootout weeks ago, leaving nothing but broken glass and empty bullet jackets. Jack had told me that this had probably once housed a militia passing through and from the damage to the surrounding fence, I believed he was right.
I rolled my shoulders, and then stood, dropping my arms by my side so as not to bring attention to the ebbing and throbbing pain in my belly.
“Going to the bathroom,” I told him. He nodded, standing up so that I could get past him in the doorway. As I turned sideways he stopped me, a hand on my shoulder.
“You feeling okay?” he asked. When it was early like this, I could almost believe he didn’t mind all the work he had to do for us. “You looking a bit <i>cagou</i>, you.”
Clever and observant Jackson.
He was probably right. I felt pale. With the nightmares and Matthew’s random visits, I’d had enough blood loss to last me a lifetime...not to mention what I was beginning to suspect. On the plus side, the lack of “gardening” the last five days had been a relief. I shrugged, feeling embarrassed with his attention. “Don’t worry.” I turned away so he couldn’t see my wince of pain. “I won’t slow you down today.” My gut gave another throb and after a step, my suspicion became belief.
I went down the creaking hallway and was relieved that Jack had set up the antique vanity in the corner of the stairwell. The coast was clear. I went down the splintered stairs, skipping a broken step... one I’d tripped over yesterday when we’d been exploring. Through the bare kitchen was a half bath with only a toilet and a dirty sink atop an equally disgusting cabinet.
The toilets in all of our overnight places didn’t work, what with no electricity to run the water pumps, but usually Jack was able to rig up some sort of system to keep things fresh. The army that had camped here before us had pulled the ceramic bowl out of the bathrooms and replaced it with a type of opening. It smelled foul and made my nausea worse, but the only alternative would be outside... which wasn’t much better. Besides, maybe the stench of the sewage would hide what I was sure I was going to reveal.
I closed the door and then checked my underwear, hopeful that I was wrong -- but no.
The brown spots on the lining gave me all the confirmation I needed.
I sighed. My period had been unpredictable since the Flash. Mom had said it was normal for stress to alter a girl’s cycle. I’d hoped that it would be another couple of weeks before I’d get mine again, but then, nothing else seemed to go my way post-Flash.
===
I watched Evie go down the stairs and then followed after her, waiting until she’d gotten inside the bathroom before slipping out of the house to do a perimeter sweep.
It had been a quiet night. Our crash pad was rather <i>bein</i>, with its fence and second defensible floor. It’d been five days since Evangeline’s <i>mère</i> had passed and I was starting to worry about our food. What we’d packed from Haven was starting to run low and all the houses we’d come across for the last two days had been picked clean, leaving nothing but the walls and roof to shelter us.
This morning, she’d begun to look pale. It worried me. She wasn’t used to a hard life, one where food was scarce month to month. I wished we could find some animals, some birds or squirrels. Gator would be better, but we’d gone beyond the swamplands of Louisiana and were in the drier flats of Mississippi.
I slowed my pace, waiting to see if there were bagman tracks here, but with the earth so dry, it didn’t appear than any had been attracted. I turned and went back inside, waiting in the kitchen for Evie to finish her <i>toilette</i>. After a minute she opened the door, looking sick.
“What’s wrong, you?” I asked, feeling a spike of dread hit me. What if she was getting sick with the poor food and low water? She hadn’t had to ration the stuff at Haven.
“It’s... nothing,” she said, starting upstairs.
I stopped her, holding her elbow to keep her still.
“Tell me what is <i>nothing,</i>” I said, searching her face for signs of plague.
She flushed dark red. “Jeez,” she said, her pitch rising, “Let it go, Jackson.”
I released her, frustration bubbling. In the last five days she’d been guarded about every word. Trying to find out about a crumb of her life was like trying to break down a wall with a rubber mallet.
“If you’re feeling sick,” I began. She turned around, glaring.
“Sometimes,” she said, “A girl doesn’t <i>feel</i> great, okay?”
Understanding dawned. “Oh!” <i>Ech</i>. Then I shook my head. “You got any supplies for that sort of thing?” Oh <i>mon dieu</i> let this be the one time she’d managed something without me...
Her blush deepened and I could see she felt miserable. “No,” she admitted. Then she jutted her chin, looking down her nose at me. “Not yet.”
<i>Alohrs pas</i>. Well, it couldn’t be helped.
“Come on,” I said, moving past her into the first of the guest rooms we’d ignored the night before.
We were <i>mal pris</i> but there was no reason to <i> make the misere </i>. It couldn’t be comfortable being in her state without the things a girl would need. I opened up the door and then went through the room. I found some old sheets, but they were dusty. I frowned. Not good enough. I started digging through the closet, looking for anything we could use until we found some legitimate products.
Evie stood by the door, holding her arm for a second before her eyes widened. Without a word, she turned around and went back downstairs.
“Hey!” I called, stopping. “Hey!”
I turned then, dropping the empty paper bags I’d found crumped to stalk after her. She’d gone back into the bathroom and was on her knees by the broken sink. I paused, her ass barely covered by that skirt she was wearing. I shook myself out of my admiration.
“Careful you,” I grunted. There were splinters and broken shards on the ground and around the sink.
“Eureka!” she said, sounding excited. I stepped back as she pulled out a dusty box with a yellow flower on it. She looked inside and let out a breath.
“Um...” I said, “That what you needed?”
She blushed harder. “Yeah... guess I should have looked there first.”
It seemed better than my idea of cutting up a bunch of sheets.
“We’ll source for them on the road,” I murmured, reaching a hand down to help her up.
She took it but made a grimace when she straightened. After a second she coughed at me and once again she looked as though she expected me to understand something.
“A bit of privacy?” she said, sounding cross. I nodded, then turned my back, walking out, starting to try and remember how many markets or abandoned convenience stores we might pass.
Through the closed door she called, “We’re going to need to source some things.”
“<i>Mais yeah</i>,” I replied back, feeling frustrated all over again. What I wouldn’t give for one lucky break in this whole mess. I scanned the kitchen then frowned when I saw movement out of the corner of the kitchen. Instincts on high alert I crept closer, bow at the ready. I moved against the wall looking out... but saw nothing.
Unnerved I glanced back at the door. The door knob twisted and I gave a sharp nod.
“You ready?” I asked.
She nodded, starting back upstairs.
“Come on, Evie. Time to go.”
She frowned. “So soon?”
“No time. I think someone is out there.”
That seemed to get through whatever fog she was in and she started back up the stairs. As she gathered the food bag and her own pack I slipped to the car, cranking it up.
The car would have been a beauty Pre-Flash. It was one of those hybrid models and probably the only reason we’d been able to get as far as we had. I scowled when I realized that our gas was lower than I’d thought. We’d have to source fuel and some supplies for Evie sooner rather than later.
A few seconds later Evie popped out of the house, the food and bedrolls in her arm. I opened the hatch in the back so she could load them but stopped when I realized that she’d not grabbed her bag.
In the militia I’d forgotten my bugout bag on a Bagger raid. For three days I’d been separated from the group and almost died of thirst.
“Goddamn it, Evangeline!” I grabbed her shoulder. “Get your ass back up those stairs and get your fucking bugout bag!” She cast me a shocked look. “Now!” I said, furious all over again. I glanced out at the area on the street where I’d caught movement. There it was again. Dread coiled. She’d opened her mouth to argue but I cut her off.
“Go get it, <i>now</i>,” I hissed, frustrated that she was wasting time. I pulled the gun up and her eyes widened in fright, before she turned tail and scurried back into the house.
I followed her as far as the kitchen. There weren’t any lines of sight opened to the outside world save the kitchen window. I heard her stomping through the hall to the room we’d stayed in. I held my breath but the movement had frozen on an opposite building. Within seconds she was back down the stairs, glaring at me with anger.
I’d worry about that later. I snatched her bag from her, threw it over my shoulder and put my hand against her lower back. After getting her in the car, I tossed her backpack next to mine in the backseat and within a few more hair-raising seconds had us on the road again.
===
“You didn’t have to shout,” I finally burst out, tired of fuming about it. We’d been sitting in silence for a mile before I’d told him the truth. <i>Careful Evie, you need him.</i>
“You always get your bugout bag first.” He kept looking in the rearview mirror, his fists tight on the wheel.
“Yeah but I was going back--”
“Always, Evie,” he interrupted, glaring at me before pulling his gaze back to the road. In Cajun he said, <i>”Gonna get yourself killed.”</i>.
I leaned my head back against the car seat. I snapped back, <i>“Jesus, you act as though I forget it all the time.”</i>
Was that surprise? Forgotten that I could speak Basin too, Jack?
<i>“One time is all it takes, cher,”</i> he said darkly, his eyes on the rearview mirror again. I sighed, turning my head back to the window. Of course. Never could do anything right. Useless little doll.
It all hit me again, the pain and nausea. I knew I’d at least save my skirt from some stains but the cramps weren’t going to make the jarring roads any easier. I looked away from him, no longer feeling like adding to any of the animosity that he seemed to produce all on his own.
When I thought my voice could be calm I said, “Next time we can, we need to source some Midol.” Then, in Cajun I said, <i>”Or so help me when I run out of </i>supplies<i> I will be using your jacket.”</i>