I Am Noman

[plaguedrat]

He's always preferred to own his books, but his refusal to seek out work and forge any real ties to the city have forced him to budget, to compromise. It's what takes him to the public library today. Signing up for a library card is different, he tries to convince himself. It's not as if it requires money, nor does he have to maintain it. It's different.

It's netted him a thick stack of books that he's negotiating into a bag while he sits on the steps. The acetate-bound copy of The Odyssey rests on his knees, the one he plans to read first.

Perhaps he's like Odysseus, trapped for years on an island and prolonging his foolish journey.

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[silenttrainbaby]

He was raised, trained to be an assassin, a fighter and a killer. On the train, too, the only way someone had anything was if they were willing to fight to keep it.

Grey looks away, down, his jaw working, his hands in his lap.

He ruined things, didn't he?

[plaguedrat]

Rat doesn't see why Grey would think that. He's ruffled enough feathers in his life that he doesn't care. If Grey's worried, Rat knows a big tip goes a long way.

"It's fine."

[silenttrainbaby]

There aren't other people who react like that here. Grey knows that much. He nods, though and he fishes his face paper from his pocket and when the bill comes, he holds it out to Rat.

He's tired, suddenly, and sad.

[plaguedrat]

Rat counts out the money for a good tip and stacks up their carry boxes. It's hard to ignore the troubled look on his companion's face and Rat holds out his hand. "What's wrong?"

[silenttrainbaby]

There 's a moment when Grey looks at the hand, wondering what it meant. Only Gilliam had reached for him on the train. But as he rises, he reaches for it with his bandaged hand. He doesn't fit here.

[plaguedrat]

Rat doesn't see why Grey doesn't, or why it has to be a permanent state of being. He doesn't fit here either.

"Back?"

[silenttrainbaby]

Nodding, Grey keeps his head down, his hand grasping Rat's. When they're outside, he breathes easier, but feels no less dangerous. It's a new feeling, this. It's part of who he is, yes, but where does it slot in here? Where does he slot in? Not in Curtis' bed, not in that restaurant.

These aren't questions he'd ever needed to ponder. He doesn’t know how to.

[plaguedrat]

He's used to touch, casual and intimate alike, and he continues to try to be Grey's anchor.

"Watch others. Observe how they handle things." It's how Rat learned to act, both for the stage and life around him.

[silenttrainbaby]

The suggestion is a good one and one Grey will ponder, wondering if he can act like anyone other than himself , like anything other than a train baby.

He draws Rat's hand up, nuzzling the knuckles. Touch, too, he knows.

[plaguedrat]

He's somewhere between confused and transfixed, unable to look away from he intimate gesture and not sure what to make of it and the warmth swirling in his stomach. Slowly, he opens his hand, still palm to palm with Grey.

[silenttrainbaby]

When things had upset him on the train, Grey had gone to Gilliam, been soothed by touch, much like this. Despite the fact that they are on a sidewalk, he closes his eyes, savoring the touch.

[plaguedrat]

He's letting things get hazy, letting Grey search for someone else through him. He can tell in Grey's face.

"It's..." What can he say? "You'll be fine."

[silenttrainbaby]

No. In this brief moment, Grey doubts he is going to be all right.

And for the first time, he turns on the memories he has of the train. He doesn't blame Gilliam - he doesn't know he should or that he even could, blind love and loyalty being just that. But he blames the train: Mason, Wilford, the man who killed him. He blames those people.

He pulls abruptly away from Rat.

[plaguedrat]

The sudden rejection stings more than he would have expected, but Rat doesn't say as much. He just waits, tries to track the shifting expressions on Grey's face.

He opens his mouth to speak, something pithy and quick. Nothing comes out.

[silenttrainbaby]

It isn't a rejection, even if it might feel like it. Grey just simply doesn't know what to do with himself. If he should protect Rat from himself.

He looks at Rat, stricken. He should run, he should hide, like he did on the train. So, he starts to run.

[plaguedrat]

"Hey!" Before he stops to think, Rat is on his feet and in pursuit, trying to figure out what has made Grey suddenly turn rabbit-scared.

"Hey! Stop!"

[silenttrainbaby]

He doesn't know where to go; Grey doesn't yet know enough of his way around to know where to go. He runs, though, feeling the blood in his veins, feeling the hard concrete under his feet.

On the train, it was sort bursts of speed; he can't go far. He turns into an alley, a small, dark place between buildings, looking for a corner, a crevice to make himself small.

[plaguedrat]

Rat gives chase, instincts telling him not to lose the other boy. Skinny and used to chasing, to looking at every place in terms of safe places and escape routes. He's grown up a rat, used to the kind of running that Grey does.

[silenttrainbaby]

There is a kind of metal stairwell under which he can tuck himself, casted arm hugged tight to his chest as he nestles his back against the cool brick wall.

Grey can feel his heart hammering, can feel sweat on his brow and it should bring him comfort, but he's alone, he realizes. Entirely alone and he doesn't know what to do. Gilliam would tell him what to do but Gilliam is dead. Grey's dead, too, but he's here. He can't make it make sense. He's not aware of the tears coursing down his face.

[plaguedrat]

It's the kind of place Rat would use too. Tucked away beyond the average person's sweep of vision but obvious to the right pair if eyes. Quietly, slowly, he circles in and slides down the brick wall opposite if Grey.

[silenttrainbaby]

It's only when he realizes that Rat is there that Grey knows he hasn't caught his breath, that he's crying and it's cowardly, he knows, but his heart aches. He doesn't know what to do with the ache, he doesn't know what to do, period. He can feel his breath hitch and he tries to wipe his face with his arm, but he can't seem to stop crying.

[plaguedrat]

"Crying means you're human. You're alive," he says it in a hard, but quiet voice. "And the one who lives wins." It's a lesson he learned long ago.

"You're lost. I was too. A long time ago. If you can't find a place made for you, claim the one you want instead."

[silenttrainbaby]

What does Grey want, though? It's never been a question he's had to ask. Wanting something? Was pointless on the train, so for most of them, it was foreign.

Grey wants Gilliam back. He wants the cat (not his cat; he cannot own something that lives, or something, period). He wants to feel peaceful. He'd felt peaceful when Rat had read to him earlier.

Slowly, he leans forward, rolling onto his knees and he slips closer to Rat. He'd sought comfort from Curtis and been rejected. Here, in this alley that he doesn't realize smells bad, he rests his cheek against Rat's knee. Sobs still hiccup out and he can't stop them.

[plaguedrat]

Shion would excel in this moment, he thinks. Not him. He's not made for kindness and comfort; the fires burned it out of him as a child. No, he's just angry and scarred, not someone with soft hands and soothing words, but Grey's on his knee crying silently. Even Rat isn't cold enough to push him away. So, awkwardly, he sits and runs a hand over Grey's back.

[silenttrainbaby]

There's a comfort in that even if Rat doesn't think he's good at it. The ground is cold and hard and Grey's stomach hurts and he's tired and feeling as if his insides have been scoured out.

Slowly, the sobs subside, but he still doesn't move, sniffling.