Emily glanced at the rat as it scurried away behind some heavy metal equipment, it’s motion dredging up a memory from the past. ”Get it!” her mother screeched from atop a chair in the kitchen, urging her husband to shoo away the vermin that had somehow found its way into their impeccable kitchen. Emily had done her best not to laugh at the ridiculous image of her mother atop the chair like a damsel in distress and her father running around yielding a broom like a spear, her knight in shining armor. She wondered if her parents could see her know if they would even recognize her. Everything they had once known about their happy little girl had changed.

”Yeah, that sounds good,” Emily commented, happy that they weren’t heading anywhere shady just yet. She was also happy to hear that she’d have her own room. She wasn’t too keen about sleeping in the same room as a stranger just yet though she imagined that once they started sending her out on missions that’d be a different story. ”You don’t need to worry about my place,” Emily said, ”It’s not worth the risk. If you know someone with an extra hairbrush, that’s about all I need.” She added, lifting up her tangled mane as if to demonstrate. Though she’d stop really caring about her appearance long ago, her hair was the one thing she made sure to care for. Her nearly butt-length hair had been her mother’s pride and joy as much as her own and it was the one part of her that would always stay the same.

Benny chuckled and nodded. "I've got a couple extra brushes and combs lying around." One he didn't use, nor did he want anyone else to use. Maybe it was yet another testament to his unwillingness to give in to a past he refused to accept, but the scent that remained trapped in those dark, close bristles brought back much happier times. If he remembered right, it was well known that scent was the strongest memory-inducer. That one needed only to catch a whiff of something from their past to remember certain memories. His was cinnamon---so heavy and deep, one could almost taste it. Now it was so hard to find anything even remotely close to that. It seemed no spice jars remained, no sticks or bottles of the stuff. So he kept the only thing that could.

Thinking about hair, though, made him run a hand through it. Though he did well to keep it relatively clean, it was never much more than flat and uneven because he used a pocket knife to cut it. It didn't look vastly different than five years ago, though, when it was just a little more curled at the ends and more cared for. "I'd say after a week or so it'll be easy to get back to your place. Probably not as safe as it used to be, but you'd be able to get anything you might want to." He didn't know what. A few extra pieces of clothing? Perhaps, though nowadays it wasn't odd to wear the same clothing for weeks at a time, until they were worn through entirely.

Emily smiled at the chuckle that escaped Benny’s lips. It was a joyous sound and one of the first she’d heard in a long time. ”A brush would be best, given the choice,” she said, happy that she wouldn’t have to wait long to take care of her tangled locks. It wouldn’t take more than a few days for her hair to become completely matted and unruly if left alone.

To be honest, Emily wasn’t sure she wanted to go back. It was as if stepping back into that “safe house” that she had been hiding in, doing her best to escape life, might trigger some sort of reaction against the new life she had chosen. Sure, she could use the few things but it wasn’t like they were irreplaceable. She really didn’t have much: a hairbrush, a few changes of clothes, a few books/magazines she had already read a hundred times over. She wouldn’t really miss them.

”Alright,” she said in a noncommittal tone. She had a week to think on it and get back to him. ”So where does this Melissa Gordon live?” she asked, wondering if she had been around Benny’s place before. One could live in a city this size and never meet all of its inhabitants. And to think, 5 years ago, it had been at least two times more populated than it was now…

Benny's hand was wrapped around the metal in his pocket. The flat plate that was embossed with his name and number, and another rounded thing on the same chain. It was a bit lumpy, and could be slightly manipulated to be a little more flat along the sides. He'd made it a habit to hold onto it when he was uncertain, afraid, or otherwise clouded in memory or confused. It was a type of totem, something that meant more to him than any gun or knife or can of food or warm blanket. They had stepped out onto the street and now were walking the direction Benny had come to enter the north side. If they kept to back alleys they'd make it without going through the crowded central areas. "Lives in the east side." He replied after a moment. Now he was walking beside her, so they could speak a little easier. "I have a bit of a job around there. Menace eradication, which... is a glorified term for a rat catcher." He wasn't complaining, of course. It gave him a few extra benefits that were otherwise impossible to reach, such as some extra clothes and food, and access to certain areas that would get others shot on sight.

Half of the extras that came his way went to Andrew, who stored it away to send in bulk to various Firefly locations. If he were to be on anything but commission Benny would have a hard time explaining away the long periods of absence that stretched, sometimes, over a week.

Emily nodded absently. She lived, well used to anyway, on the upper West side but she’d been to the upper East a time or two. “A job huh?” she commented, “Of all the positions, I can’t say I’d really want to be rat catcher...” Her tone almost teasing but in all honesty she was impressed. “Paid” positions were extremely hard to come by. Workers didn’t actually get paid per say, but most positions came with benefits, including extra supplies.

As they walked through the back alleys of the North side, Emily began to wonder if they’d be pulling another dumpster stunt like the one she and Amber had used to make it to headquarters. She had her papers now but Andrew had said her ID card would take about a week. It had been a long time since she’d crossed over to the North side and she wasn’t sure what the gate policies were anymore.

Benny laughed a bit and nodded. "Well I'd be stupid to complain about something that gives me a lot to do, and a lot to be content with. And it gives me a close view of certain places most wouldn't be able to get to without setting off alarm bells." And it was always a little tempting to take a thing or two here or there, in those store rooms with open boxes, while the guards weren't looking. But Benny wasn't like them. What little came to the city's people would be even less if he did that, and it was going directly opposite the way he was hoping things would go.

They were near the checkpoint now. From this distance Benny could see the same guard was on duty today as what had been a couple days before, when he'd come through the first time. He rolled his eyes, then looked at Emily. "I don't think they'll know who you are." He said. "The two pervs that cornered you the other day roam specifically around the north side, and there are plenty of girls that look somewhat close to you." He hoped that was the case, anyway, as they approached and Benny presented his papers. "Ben." The guard huffed. "Been some time, eh?"

"Like I said, visited a friend. Didn't know how long I'd be."

"Hmm... This your friend?" The guard studied Emily hard. The way his eyes lingered made Benny force back a growl of disgust. For now, her papers would be enough to convince him of her fake name.

”True” Emily conceded with a smile, ”And there is that,” she added, in reference to the perks he had mentioned. The way Benny explained it, it sounded like the unpleasantness of the job more than made up for itself with the opportunities it presented.

As they neared the checkpoint, Emily felt her muscles tense. Breathing in through her nose, she let it out with an almost imperceptible sigh and forced herself to relax. ”Let’s hope you’re right,” she mumbled as they approached the guard on duty.

Conscious not to make any quick movements or do anything to give herself away, she took on an air of indifference and let Benny do the talking. The way the guard was looking at her made her cringe but she didn’t show it. Pulling her identification papers out of her bag, Emily held them out as if it was nothing new and prayed that Benny knew what he was doing.

The guard took Emily's papers and studied them hard, then looked from her to Benny. "This is your friend?" He asked pointedly.

Benny raised a brow. "Hm, y'know... Maybe this is a different Melissa. I mean, it's hard to tell her and her clones apart sometimes and they'll switch places when you least expect it." He clasped his hands behind his head, smiling lightly. The guard's face reddened a single shade, almost imperceptibly, and he thrust the papers back to Emily.

"Get goin'." He muttered, and the gates opened. Benny smiled a little wider, putting a hand on the young woman's shoulder and going through with her.

When they were relatively out of earshot, Benny pocketed his hands again. "Paranoid bastards." He muttered. "That went off easier than I figured it would, though." From this place Benny could see the top of the apartment his was in, and pointed. "That's where I live." He said. "Just a couple blocks away from here."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Emily couldn’t help but chuckle both at Benny’s comment and the guard’s reaction. Taking back the papers the guard thrust into her hands, Emily shoved them in her bag and allowed Benny to escort her out.

The warm hand on her shoulder felt odd. It had been a long time since she’d touched or been touched by anyone else, either intentionally or unintentionally. She could remember a time when handshakes, high fives, hugs and kisses had been the norm. Nowadays she tended to keep to herself. Not quite sure how she felt about Benny’s innocent touch, she filed it away as something to write about later. Writing down the day’s events in her journal would help her sort through her thoughts on the matter.

Once they had distanced themselves from the gate, Benny’s hand slid easily off her shoulder and into his pocket. ”You made that look easy,” she said, complimenting him. Looking to where he pointed, Emily muttered, ”Home sweet home…” Slipping her papers out of her bag once they were out of sight of the gate guard, she checked the floor. ”Third floor, not bad. I was expecting worse,” she said, anticipating the climb. Some people lived as high up as the 10th floor in some buildings and without elevators it could be one heck of a climb.

Benny followed Emily's gaze up to where she was looking. From here he could see the windows to his apartment, the window that was his bedroom to the right, and the one that had previously acted as a spare to the left. He shrugged as they turned a corner, approaching the building more definitely now. "Well, I can't exactly climb ten flights of stairs easily with a trick knee. I'd rather live on the first or second, but I can't really complain here." He climbed the few steps under the overhang of the building and opened the front doors. They creaked loudly, but were still intact, and he held them open for Emily. The walls in the atrium were peeling. Not much light made it in or came from the buzzing lanterns here and there. Just four short flights of stairs would lead up to the third floor, though he'd have preferred to rest first. He'd only sat down for a few minutes today, and it was as if his age were beginning to propel further toward elder and surpass adult entirely.

But he made it up with little trouble, not necessarily paying attention to his surroundings and falling into almost a repetitive motion as he had for the past five years. Getting out, into the city, out of the city to deliver certain supplies, getting back and locking himself away and trying to gather some semblance of what he had. Most would give up after a time, bury the memories far away and pack down the dirt so it couldn't dig itself back up. Maybe Benny just held on to the threads of his memories a little easier. The things he'd salvaged before it all started helped, at least.

Halfway down the hallway he came to a stop and pulled his door key from a cotton string out of his backpack. He kept his door locked for obvious reasons, as most didn't have quite as much to steal. Unlocking it, he turned and opened it a little further. "Home sweet home." He shrugged. "Mine is yours, have a look around. The door to the furthest right's the second bedroom, you can have that one."

‘Trick knee?’ Emily thought as they approached the building, ‘That explains it…’ Entering the building ahead of him she waited for him to lead the way. ”You seem a bit young for a knee replacement,” she said half-joking yet also a bit serious. Her sense of curiosity longed to know more but the old adage “curiosity killed the cat” came to mind and she definitely wasn’t going to press Benny into talking about it if he’d rather not discuss the matter.

There was nothing remarkable about the building, Emily noted as they climbed the stairs. The same peeling paint, the same mildewy smell as most other buildings nowadays. Four flights of stairs later, Benny led them down a dimly lit hallway and unlocked the door to his apartment. Ducking inside, she entered what appeared to be a living room, complete with a couch. Politely avoiding the other bedroom, she entered the one on the right.

A mattress lay in the far left corner and there was a desk against the wall directly across from it with a small window provided a small amount of light. Noticing the equipment on the desk, she crossed the room to get a closer look at it, ”Wow, this is pretty cool!” she remarked. ”Does it actually work?” she asked as she lowered her bag down onto the chair and bent down to look at the dials.

Closing the door to the apartment, Benny went into the living room and knelt on his good knee, sifting through his bag and pulling out more implicating items---gas mask, gun, short-bladed machete and hunting knife in their leather sheaths, extra ammo and a nylon gun cleaning kit. Withdrawing a flathead screwdriver, Benny levered a floorboard up that he'd marked with very small red dot of blood at the corner of the plank. Hidden among shifted insulation that had become dusty and old, a shotgun, rifle, rifle sight, and several boxes of ammunition sat at the bottom. He placed the handgun in first, and its ammo, the kit, the mask, and the two blades, and returned the plank to its position. When he stood and inspected it, he left the plank at that, and tossed his bag onto his bed before peering in through the open door to Emily, inspecting the radio.

"Um, yeah." He stepped forward, checking the dials. The thing was off, but he habitually checked to make sure. From time to time some idiot managed to get hold of one somewhere and send disgusting or ridiculous messages to whomever might be listening. Sometimes the voices were those he recognized very well. "I use it to communicate with Andrew and other Firefly bases throughout the country. No one really knows I've got it. Pretty sure I'd be put up and killed if they did." He rolled his eyes. Anything could get you killed now. Having a radio? That was definitely a death sentence.

He leaned against the door. "I think it'd be best if you stayed around the east side until Andrew gets your ID. You were lucky today, they didn't ask for it, but they can be unpredictable, you know. So any training with physically shooting a gun will have to be put off. I know how disappointed you must be." He added that part in an obviously sarcastic manner---Emily probably didn't even like guns. But it was imperative that she at least learn how to handle the kick, the loading and reloading, the handling, the cleaning. Caring for a gun was just as important as shooting, after all.

”Wow…” Emily sighed, ”That’s pretty nifty!” Working technology wasn’t easy to find anymore. Most of it was rusted, broken, dead, required an electric connection, or all of the above. Caught up in a reverie of lost technology, she only half paid attention to what Benny was saying until she caught the word “killed”. Huffing she replied, ”Like wearing a tag won’t get you shot?” The statement meant more than ever to her however now that she had one looped around her neck.

Lifting the metal disk out from where it hid beneath her t-shirt, Emily flipped it over to read what Andrew had written on the back. Only two letters had been punched into the metal: EM. The young woman tore her gaze away from the pendant as Benny leaned against the door frame and began to speak. She nodded her understanding regarding the need to stick around the East Side. The implications of that statement didn’t hit her fully until he added that her lack of ID would delay learning how to shoot a gun.

As comprehension dawned on her, Emily was flooded with relief. Though Benny would surely challenge her in other ways during the week that followed, she was glad to put off training with firearms. Perhaps starting with the basics would prepare her for what would likely be one of the most difficult aspects of her training to face. ”Yeah… Well let’s just say I’m uh…not too eager about that part.” Though the admission of weakness made her feel awkward, Emily felt Benny had a right to know about her apprehension.

He had gone around to the radio, settling himself onto the chair in front of it and looking at the dials, then to Emily as she spoke. Benny simply shrugged and pulled his tag out of his pocket, where it clinked together against the foil-ring behind it. "That's why most of us either wear them under our clothes or put them in our pockets so they're not detected." He said simply. Most Fireflies had their tags on long chains if they wanted to keep them around their neck. It made it harder to accidentally reveal it if their clothes ripped or stretched without warning, or if they'd gone along without a change to make it harder to see. Benny's paranoia, though, had made him shove his pendant deep into a pocket, sometimes under layers of tissue or old paper written with lines of text smudged far beyond comprehension, decoys in case he were searched without warning.

Benny couldn't help but laugh when Emily voiced her apprehension. "You know, Em---I used to be a cop. So I fired a gun almost every day---if not for training or practice, for life or death scenarios, or distraction. And when you're around them so much you learn to respect them. Respect them, but don't enjoy them. Guns are deadly things no matter what, but it's never their fault for what they do. Humans make them do what they do. They're unpredictable. You shouldn't enjoy shooting or handling a gun." He shook his head. "It's necessary, especially now, and once you start to... like killing...? I'd say it's over for you." One's humanity was lost when they liked the power a gun gave them. Even if it were meant for the infected, or true threats.

And Benny hated guns. He'd always hated them. Despite having a collection of them under his floorboards it made him ill in spirit to load it, and kill a human. A thinking creature. Even if they were a threat.

Sitting down on the bed across from him, Emily’s eyes narrowed when Benny laughed, unsure if he was mocking her. When he spoke though, her expression turned quizzical. A cop? That would explain the injury she supposed… ‘It’s never their fault for what they do…’ Emily felt a chill run down her spine and the picture of the young man with his finger on the trigger sprung to mind once again. Pinching her leg through the cargo pants Amber had given her, Emily forced herself to concentrate.

”I don’t think I’ll ever have to worry about that,” Emily responded, her voice unusually quiet. After Ben had shot himself, she couldn’t bring herself to handle his gun, even though she knew it might save her life. At that point in time, living hadn’t exactly been her priority. Only Ben’s last words to her had forced her to go on, to keep living despite current circumstances. She could still hear his soft voice speaking in her head… ’This isn’t the end of the world, you have to keep going for the both of us. One day the world’s going to rebuild itself. I want you to be around to see it, to see your buildings take shape on the skyline…’

Swallowing hard, she bowed her head so that Benny wouldn’t see her tears. Her throat burned with a sob that she refused to let escape. ’Get it together Emily…’ she chided herself as she hid her face behind fallen strands of hair. Breathing deeply she was able to compose herself and nonchalantly pushed her hair out of her face, using the gesture to hide the fact that she was actually wiping away tears.

Benny studied the girl silently for a moment. No one could have this kind of aversion to guns without a good reason. Of course, the guards' and officers' guns were a big problem but they weren't normally used in the center of town, or in the midst of a group or random passersby. Something had to have happened... perhaps in the past. Maybe the death of a loved one? He shook his head lightly. Now he was just speculating. Speculation did well to push potential friends or associates far, far away. And with Emily staying with him, that would make for awkward or silent days. He stood, then, and when he went by, he patted Emily's shoulder. "Someday it'll be better." He muttered. Though he wasn't one for false promises, Benny was sure of his words. "It's not the end yet---we'll all rise from the ashes and make things better. Maybe like they used to be..." Like they used to be? That was a long shot, but who was he to try to see a reality any different than what they were forced to leave behind? Only now the difference for Benny would be much, much more solitude.

Stepping out, he went to the living room and sat on the far end of the sagging couch. It had seen its share of horrors, by the way the springs creaked and the upholstery was bare in a couple places. But one couldn't just go out and buy some new furniture---they had to make due with what they had, and try to ignore the item's shady history. Since he was generally safe in his apartment, Benny would wear his tag around his neck instead of in a pocket or a compartment in his backpack. Now he picked it out and studied it. The front was imprinted with his name. Underneath were a few numbers: 0093. On the back was the logo of the Fireflies themselves, and the loop of silver foil he always kept on the chain with it. This he picked up, and rolled it between his fingers. It didn't bend as foil would, but retained its shape even if he squeezed it a little. It just barely fit his finger, though he did try to make it from time to time. Wearing the ragged-looking thing was certainly not in his list of top priorities, but it never hurt to try.

With a sigh, Benny glanced up to the stand that might have held a television at one point. He'd found this place without much in the way of creature comforts, and had to smuggle in the radio a piece at a time. So instead, books were his comfort. Books could take away from his overly-active imagination, and his desire to continue going to the past. He picked up one from the coffee table in front of him: "Odd Thomas" He knew that book. Written... perhaps three decades ago? He couldn't recall, but he did like the story. A story about ghosts and the young man that could see them. It was such a good distraction.

Emily registered Benny's presence in front of her and the reassuring hand on her shoulder but didn't lift her head. Instead she looked blankly forward, her only acknowledgement of his words being a stiff nod. Though she didn't show it, his words moved her. They sounded strikingly similar to what Ben had said to her back then. Though she highly doubted she would live to see a day Benny prophesied, Emily knew she couldn't let the bleakness of their current world smother her to inaction.

With Benny gone from the room, Emily took a few minutes to herself. Feeling mentally exhausted, the soft surface of the mattress below her offered a tempting escape. She could have lay back and slept the day away if she taken on her new responsibilities. Emily knew the idea was a bad one however. Given her current state of mind, she would surely be haunted by the usual nightmares that often visited her when she found herself thinking too much about the past. She definitely wasn't relishing the thought of sleeping in a strange new place with a man she hardly knew come nighttime but she come too far to turn back now...

Sighing, Emily padded out into the living room where Benny was sitting on a very worn out couch with a book in his hand. Her eyes traveled around the room, taking in the details she had missed at first, including the small collection of books. Moving closer to the stand as if it held precious treasure, Emily carefully scanned the spines. "You've got a pretty nice collection," she remarked as she removed one book in particular to take a closer look at it before making herself comfortable on the couch beside him.

Benny had already gone through five pages by the time Emily left her new room. He'd read this one a few times already, but didn't skip bits and pieces as one might when they've read a book more than twice. He liked to take in every word again, remember it for what it was worth, and treat it as if it were a new experience each time. Registering a new weight on the other end of the couch was delayed, but he looked around when he remembered her words as if she had only just spoken. "I suppose I do." He commented. "It's hard to find books that haven't been used for fire fuel or ruined by water or weather. When I find one that's... okay... I take it, even if I've got a few of the same ones." He'd gone back home once. It had hurt to do so, to walk into that apartment as if nothing had changed, yet alone, and finding it utterly deserted, silent. Ghosts of the past had returned when he went back there, when he opened the door. Things were dusty, cold, and odd shards of sunlight had made it through the slats of the blinds over the windows.

He hadn't spent much time in that place. He'd had a bag, and used it to collect the books he and Nick had gathered over the years. Not too many, but several complete series and a few dozen others. Some that Benny had never even liked---old, flimsy westerns Nick had seemed to be obsessed with, written decades before, at least fifty years. He still didn't understand the appeal, but did read them from time to time. Perhaps it was the oddly uplifting messages in the books he liked. Veiled in sadness and obscured in questions, yes, but somehow it left Benny a little... happier.

The Odd Thomas series was quite melancholy. Perhaps it was necessary for its relation to death, the closeness one felt with the character that dealt with mortality each day, but didn't allow himself to be sealed away out of fear or depression. Absently, his right hand rolled the tag and foil loop as he turned the page.

Leaning on the threadbare arm rest with her legs curled under her, Emily wasn't surprised by Benny's delayed response. She had often done much the same when she had her nose in a good book. She nodded absentmindedly at his comment as she studied the cover of the book in her hands and replied, "I have a few books...well, had anyway. I've probably read each of them about a hundred times by now..." she said with a laugh.

Opening the cover of the leather bound book in her hands, she turned to the first page, despite the fact that it wasn't the sort of book that went in chronological order. After skimming the first few lines she flipped a few pages further, paused, then a few more. Finally coming upon the page she had been looking for, Emily set the open book in her lap and began reading.

(Gads, sorry for the baby post! I was so... um, uninspired...)

Benny glanced away from the page when the chapter ended. Had? Did Emily refer to the books she had to leave in her apartment? It was such a shame to leave them there, for the scavengers or officers or someone that might not appreciate their value. Not even the military-run schools had many books to their name. Benny's collection was that of at least three classrooms' worth. But they didn't do anything more than tell stories---not that useful in the eyes of the teachers. "So you have some of your own?" He asked. "Maybe you've got some I don't have... I'd be happy to go get them sometime soon. Maybe before they're scrounged up..." He glanced out the window. The sky was a bit clear, a bit cloudy. "It'd be a shame to let them go to waste..."

Maybe she had found some of those thin westerns. In a way, grabbing them up would be a form of clinging to the past, a form of not letting go when one had to move on, but Benny didn't want to let go. He would gather those stupid little books as long as he'd find them, and then keep looking.

”Yeah, I only have handful or so,” she said without looking up from her page. ”It doesn’t really matter to me, like I said, I practically know those books by heart anyway. If you’re interested though, I could give you the titles so you can decide for yourself.”

Looking off in the distance she mentally called up the image of her tiny collection stacked neatly atop the desk back in her apartment. ”Let’s see, I had a Star Wars book that I’ll probably never find the sequel to, Memoirs of a Geisha, The Two Towers (that was always my least favorite of the trilogy), Java Script for Dummies (like I’m ever going to need that), and some book in Spanish that I was teaching myself to read.”

Looking back towards Benny she smiled, "What do you think? Anything there you’re interested in? Like I said, it’s not a lot, not compared to your collection anyway…”

Benny closed his book fully, ripping one of the blank sheets out of the back and leaning forward to the coffee table to retrieve a pencil. Emily looked like she would have all the books recalled by now, memorized in her mind and able to go through the list flawlessly. And she did, not to Benny's surprise, and as she listed each one he wrote them down in case he forgot one or it might be misplaced. She didn't have that small of a list---it was more than most had nowadays. "I don't have any of these." He said appreciatively, regarding Emily with a bright look in his eye. "Never read them, either. I'd really like to get them before anyone else thinks of them as firewood---would you mind terribly?"

It was still her apartment, after all. When people came to realize no one was coming or going, they'd ransack the place. "I wouldn't just go after books, anyway." He added for good measure. "Anything you might need that you don't have here. I know you said you didn't need anything, but... one can never be too careful, can they? Might forget something in the moment." He'd made that mistake, actually. But he'd decided to go back for that, again, because he would have preferred death than to leave it. A picture, the only real image beyond memories he would have now. He'd gone back for the books without even thinking about the photo, and he'd made the trek back just for that.

"Nothing sentimental?" He added quickly, not necessarily specifying what. Anything could be sentimental to someone, depending on its history or who gave it to them.

Emily watched Benny write down the last of the titles she listed. He looked…eager…she decided. Part of her found it difficult to believe he could get so worked up over such an odd collection but then again books were hard to come by and she wasn’t going to bash his hobby, especially since she planned on raiding his library from time to time.

”You’ve never read the Lord of the Rings?!” she asked incredulously when she heard he hadn’t yet read any of the books she had mentioned. ”I wouldn’t recommend starting with The Two Towers but I guess it can’t be helped…” she muttered to herself. ”No, I don’t mind at all,” she said in response to Benny’s inquiry, ”Consider it my rent I guess,” she finished with a shrug.

Benny's second question gave her reason to pause however. She had brushed off his offer to retrieve any valuables from her apartment earlier but since he was insisting she figured she might as well ask… ”Well I guess you could grab my brush while you’re there,” she began slowly, ”And if you could there’s a sweater I wouldn’t mind saving…” She blushed slightly, ”I know, leave it to a girl to ask for clothes…”

Benny nodded slowly as Emily spoke of her items. A brush, and a sweater as well. Well, who could really turn down some extra clothes? When one had to rely on wearing the same pair of pants for days at a time, and have no available water to wash them beyond rain, an extra shirt or some socks would be akin to silver or gold in an economy that still valued such things. Now their silver and gold was cotton coverings, perishable edibles. Their platinum was water, a safe place to live for a day if nothing else. He laughed, though. “It’s fine, Em. I’ll get that sweater for you.” He went around to the loose floorboard and pulled it up, fishing out his small handgun and sliding it under his shirt so it rested against the small of his back. One could never be too careful.

Lying on the back of a chair nearby was a thin zippered sweater. It looked to be in pristine condition, if a little frayed around the cuffs. Bright green, not really his color but he wore it whenever he wasn’t working or heading outside the wall, and when there was no threat of rain, which there didn’t seem to be now. He loved it, but never really said why. From the chair’s seat he picked up his discarded bag, which he slid over his shoulder. “I shouldn’t be long.” He said, and paused. Where was he going again...? “Erm, where did you live...?” He asked quickly. “I don’t think that was mentioned...”

Or maybe it was. Perhaps Benny was just thinking a little too much about the books he’d never read. That he’d wanted to read, but never really got around to doing. At one time he wanted to, badly, but... he’d said he would later. Now that he thought about it, there was a lot he said he’d do later. It felt stupid, now. Like he’d wasted too much time saying ‘maybe later’.

Emily genuinely smiled when Benny agreed to bring back the two object she had requested along with the books. She could really live without the faded baby blue sweater but it was the last remaining memento from her parents, apart from the faded photo in the back of her journal. She could clearly remember the day it had been given to her by her mother, wrapped up in green paper and securely tied with a red bow. She could remember being disappointed receiving clothes on Christmas morning, but the color looked good and it was unbelievably soft. She had packed it into her duffel bag at the end of Christmas break, more out of a feeling of obligation than anything else. Ben had often teased her about the one size too big garment but it had served her well throughout the mild California winter.

Coming out of her reverie, Emily watched Benny slide a handgun into the waistband of his pants and sling his pack over his shoulder. "Wait, you're going out now?" she asked, disregarding his question. Pushing the encyclopedia she had been reading off her lap, Emily stood up. "Didn't you say it was dangerous? That they'd probably be watching my place?" Emily definitely didn't want her to put her new partner in danger over a couple of books and a few personal items. Benny might be willing to do it, but that didn't mean he should if it wasn't safe...