Benny opened and closed his mouth a few times, abut to speak but not necessarily knowing what to say. Dangerous? Outside the wall was far more dangerous than inside, though that was relative---it depended on one's ability to help themselves. And true, they would be watching her place, but he could easily climb up the wall and into the window. But if his idea was right, Emily seemed genuinely concerned. Perhaps it was out of obligation to herself or to Andrew, though it was rare to hear concern in the voice of someone speaking to him. Andrew kept himself passive, Lee was a psychopath and relatively devoid of many emotions. The only one that was halfway friendly to him in a familiar way was Matt, and Benny didn't see him much.

"Maybe." He sighed, and set the bag down again. "Would it set on your mind easier if I went at night? I've got specific paths lined out that keep me away from the bulk of the guards, and it's much easier to get into watched buildings when everything's dark." He was about to take the jacket off, but decided against it. The thing was comfortable despite its conspicuous and ugly color, and soft despite five years of few thorough washes. He went back around to where Emily was, taking the gun back out and unloading its full magazine. "I suppose before nightfall it'd be prudent to learn the layout of a gun before firing it, yeah?" He glanced at Emily. "Taking care of it is important, anyway." To have the gun jam or backfire in the middle of a fight? or at a crucial point outside the wall? He wouldn't think about that.

So instead, Benny went around to the loose floorboard and pulled out the topmost black case. It was one of a few cleaning kits that were specific to small pistols and handguns.

Emily could tell that Benny was wrestling with himself but kept silent, waiting to see how he would respond. The answer that came wasn’t very decisive. ”Probably not,” Emily said honestly but she could see that his mind was set. ”I suppose it’s our best bet though…” she added, already assuming that she would be tagging along. If Benny was going to do this dangerous thing, then she would accompany him. She knew her building and the layout of her apartment better than he would in any case and the place could be hard to navigate in the dark.

The young girl watched carefully as Benny approached her with the gun in his hand and unloaded its ammunition. ”I guess,” she said in response to his question before he moved around to grab something from his hidden cache. She was still reluctant to touch the firearm but she couldn’t argue that it would be good to know a bit more about how it worked. It seemed easy enough to pull the trigger but to be honest Emily didn’t know much about how to load it or set the safety and she decided that if she could wet her feet simply by handling the weapon before she actually had to shoot it, that maybe it would help her get over that barrier when the time came.

Benny raised a brow, but said nothing else until he'd sat down with a bit of a growl, and massaged his knee. "Well I hope you don't guess too much." He commented, setting the magazine down on the table and pulling back the chamber, glancing inside. "You see this?" He turned the weapon. "When you take the magazine out of the gun you have to check to see if there's a bullet in the chamber, or it'll go off without warning. If you forget anything else you should do well to remember that." He put a lot of weight around those words, since he'd seen plenty of accidental discharges that only narrowly missed the gun's owner. Mostly that was in academy, when a recruit was demonstrating their weapon's upkeep ability and didn't check the chamber first. If Emily forgot this step, an accidental pull of the trigger would give her a pretty permanent freedom from the rocky ground that was life.

Though it was still so easy to scratch important parts of the weapon while pushing the cleaning rod through the bore or using the wiry cleaning brush too much. And mishandling the spring would bend it in smaller weapons like this. A little slip up would also send the firing pin or bolt rolling away, never to be seen again. Where they went was a mystery to Benny---he was sure they were swallowed up by a void to Narnia that inexplicably opened up beneath them as they were falling.

Emily sighed and walked around the table, ”I pride myself in being a pretty good guesser,” she boasted dramatically before carefully sitting down in an unoccupied chair. It looked sturdy enough but she had fallen out of more than one unsound chair and had since then become more cautious about what she put her weight on. When the seat didn’t collapse underneath her, she turned her attention to Benny and the lesson he was beginning.

Words like “magazine” and “chamber” were quickly thrown at her and she studiously watched his movements, relying on context to tell her what part of the firearm these words referred to. The magazine part was easy enough to figure out, as it was the only thing Benny had removed from the gun. The chamber was a little harder to place but in the end she decided it was where the bullets from the magazine were pushed into the barrel as a shot was fired.

”Right,” she said, trying to sound confident as her eyes roved over the metal grooves on the gun’s surface. Remembering these things could save her life. She just hoped that she wouldn’t freeze up when the time came to put these things to use.

Benny studied Emily for a moment, and decidedly slowed down a bit. He tended to forget that even now, some people didn't know much---or anything, really---about guns. He disassembled the weapon as far as would be needed to clean it, setting each bit down and pointing it out specifically. Between spring, pins, and tubes, there was left a variety of small items on the table, saved from rolling about by one of the books on the lower side of the old table and the open cleaning kit. Benny carefully showed Emily the manner of cleaning the bore of the gun, pushing a soaked cotton patch through with the cleaning rod all the way out the other end, and made it a point to mention never to pull it back the other way. Then the brush attachment was put in place of the patch holder and run up and down the bore several times, which would release some stuck debris if there was any in it.

Then he repeated the first act with a solvent-soaked patch again, then used a dry one to dry the inside of the bore. He paused then to show Emily the inside, a quick visual inspection down the tube. “If there’s anything left, it’d be a good idea to repeat all the last steps until it’s entirely clean or you risk a malfunction or freeze.”

He put a cotton mop---a much longer patch---onto the cleaning rod and poured a small amount of conditioner onto it, which would lubricate the inside of the bore that was just cleaned. Then he used the gun brush, soaked in solvent, to clean the hammer and area around it, and a clean, dry cloth to dry it of any extra. He carefully added lubricant to the moving parts that would be unaccessible once he reassembled the gun. “A small amount.” Benny warned. “Just enough to coat the moving parts. Anything more and it’ll get sticky and collect dirt faster and need to be cleaned more frequently.”

Benny reassembled the gun slowly, but knowingly, so Emily could see how he did it. Surely she would need help on the first or second time, one couldn’t usually learn with one visual lesson, after all. He checked it, wiping down the outside of the weapon with one more movement. “And that’s it.” He said, holding the item up for a last visual inspection. “I’ll let you go at it right now if you like---it’s clean, but practicing is what matters beforehand.” And practicing on a clean gun would let her make mistakes without compromising the weapon itself.

Emily carefully studied each piece of the gun as Benny set it down on the table and named it. She resisted the urge to retrieve her notebook out of the bedroom to take notes and did her best to commit everything to memory so that she could later write everything down and possibly make a few sketches for reference. The journal entry for today would be vastly different from the entries of the past two years, assuming that she got a bit of time to write later. She wasn’t sure if Benny was planning on resting at all before their nocturnal adventure but even if he did Emily wasn’t sure she would actually sleep.

The young girl watched as Benny began cleaning the inside of the barrel with a small wad of cloth attached to a metal pole. Next he used a brush attachment on the barrel before repeating the first step and finally drying off the inside, again using the special rod. Brown eyes peered down the metal tube for a moment before nodding that she understood. She was proud of herself for following along with relatively little confusion so far. The next bit was a more complicated however as Benny started worked on the other parts of the gun and finished by lubricating certain areas.

When that was finished, Benny put everything back together; his movements deliberate to allow her to easily follow what he was doing. The task finished, Emily thought they would move onto something else but Benny suggested she go through the motions of what he had just practiced. Nodding that she would do it, Emily reached out to take the weapon that he offered. Her heart began to beat uncomfortably fast as her hands wrapped around the cold metal object. She was surprised by the weight of the firearm as she looked it over before setting it down on the table to begin dismantling it as she was shown.

Emily was careful not to let the tiny parts roll away as she removed them with slightly shaking hands. Refusing to acknowledge her fear, the young woman began cleaning the barrel with a clean oil-soaked rag. Her mouth was so dry it felt like it had been packed with cotton cleaning rags but she did her best to ignore it. ”Why can’t you pull it back through?” she asked ask she worked, half out of curiosity, half out of a need to distract herself from dark thoughts.

If he was honest with himself, Benny would have thought Emily had been at the end of a loaded gun pointed at her head. The way she obviously seemed uncomfortable was worrisome, but the fact that she was actually working to get over that fear of hers was definitely commendable. Benny slid backward in his seat, pulling up his legs to half-lie on the couch, propped up just enough to help if needed. She resembled a new recruit, fumbling with their gun one too many times under the hard-edged gaze of a superior. But she had an idea about what to do, at least. She'd go quicker as time went on, Benny was sure.

He tilted his head. "Pulling it back through would replace the dirt you might have pulled out. Even if you know your gun is clean it's better to be careful, just in case. Anything left behind will have you risk jams or misfires." He glanced toward the window as he spoke. It was still bright outside, the overcast sky having grown bright blue since his return. Quite beautiful, really, and the way the sun streamed into the window had his mind almost wandering. He didn't need that to happen again---shaking his head, Benny returned his gaze to Emily as she worked. She was doing quite well so far, for one that had seen it done just once. Perhaps she was a fast learner---that would take some bother off the introduction to guns they were going through. Hopefully Emily's nerves would ease up enough for that.

Benny folded his arms on the couch and rested his head. "You're doing well so far." He commented, smiling slightly through the mess of hair that decided to go forward and obscure much of his face. He felt too lazy to move it, though.

Emily nodded, ”Makes sense,” she commented as she replaced the rag with the brush to do a second sweep of the barrel then followed up once more with a new cloth moistened with oil. After drying the shaft, she inspected it once again, taking a longer look this time than she had when Benny had originally held it up to her. She had seen up close what gun could do to an infected…or a human skull at point blank range. Though she knew the weapon wasn’t loaded, looking down the barrel still sent a creeping sensation along her spine and after a moment she pulled away, blinking quickly as if just coming back to her surroundings.

Sighing, she lubricated the inside of the bore with the conditioner as Benny had done before turning her attention to the hammer she cleaned and dried that too. Benny’s compliment surprised her and she looked up from her work to see him smiling over at her. She wasn’t sure if he was simply trying to set her more at ease or if he really thought she was doing well. Perhaps it was a combination of both… Not letting the compliment go to her head, she carefully added a drop or two to lubricate any areas where it had been wiped away by the second cleaning before setting the main body of the gun back down on the table.

It was time to reassemble everything. This part wasn’t quite as intuitive as the cleaning had been and it took her a moment of hesitation to recall the correct order and manner in which each piece needed to be put back. She managed it alone however and when it was finished, Emily felt a certain sense of accomplishment. Ben had been the keeper of their only firearm and she doubted he had known how to really care for it but it had kept them alive on a few occasions. Holding the unloaded gun up she did her best to imitate the way he had held it and closed one eye, then the other, trying to get a feel for the sight and the weight in her hand. Though she was only mimicking the action, her heat began to race uncomfortably and her insides squirmed so she quickly pulled her arms back and set the weapon back down on the table without a word.

Benny smiled a little at the way Emily worked, taking a little longer to put it back together. But she did it, and Benny was glad to see that. He sat up as she set the gun on the table rather quickly, but said nothing about it. Perhaps her aversion to guns came from a similar place as his own dislike of the people that relied on them---the army and most of the government's grunts. He picked it up, turning it over and sliding a full clip into the weapon, checking the safety, and flicking it so it was on. "You did well." He said. "Better than most recruits at the academy..." They were taught by sight and verbal lesson, then left to struggle as best they could for the rest of the day. Those that couldn't handle their gun would hardly succeed through the rest of the academy, or be put on desk duty until they figured it out.

He wouldn't mention that odd reaction after she finished putting it all together. Hopefully she would get over that enough to actually fire it, and fire it well. But luckily for her that was some time away, and she would have about a week and a half, maybe, to get used to handling and dealing with it. She would probably not need to use a shotgun, but a thought came to him, not in his own voice: "You've got a better chance of surviving if you're overprepared, Ben. You of all people should know that..."

"That'll be good for today, eh?" He said, putting everything away in the cleaning case and closing it. "Maybe tomorrow I'll see if you can do it again without a demonstration first, see how much you remember." That would probably be a good challenge. And tomorrow wasn't that far away. Benny was supposed to go clear out the rats tomorrow afternoon, so a morning test would suffice, perhaps.

Emily looked up when Benny took the gun she had placed on the table and loaded it. He activated something that she assumed to be the safety and filed that knowledge away for future reference. She was surprised by his compliment. Apparently she had done better than she thought but Emily was simply satisfied that she had managed to handle the weapon and complete the task without giving into her fear. The reference to the academy left her wondering what sort of academic institution he was referring to but for the moment she didn’t dwell on it.

”Thank you,” Emily replied, both in reference to Benny’s comment and for the lesson. He seemed to be patient and understanding. Either that or he at least had the tact not to poke his nose into her past or ask her too many difficult questions just yet. Most people avoided asking simply because they didn’t want to know. They’d had enough of their own hardship and didn’t need to add anyone else's on top of it. The way she figured it, Benny did have a right to know a bit more about her, they were partners now after all, but she wasn’t willing to divulge yet and neither did Benny, which was just fine with her for the moment though eventually she hoped that they would able to find out more about the person who would be watching their back.

Emily nodded; one difficult lesson was good enough for her for the moment. She leaned back against the couch and watched as Benny put away the tools she had failed to rearrange in the black case. ”Okay,” she said, her voice less hesitant this time. She was sure that if she made a few sketches and notes in her notebook like she was planning that she could perform the dismantling and reassembling of the gun without too much difficulty. She wouldn’t even need to review the notes after she made them. Usually the action of writing something down was enough to ingrain it into her memory. And if by chance it wasn’t, well then at least she would have the notes to remind her later on.

Benny breathed in slowly, running his hands through his hair and standing. "Well, I'd say there's a good amount of time until we're off to your apartment." He said, scooping up the cleaning kit and going to return it to its hiding place under the floor. "There's not much else to do in that time. There's some food in the cabinets, water below those." He had a fridge, which had no power, naturally, since it was usually routed back to the lights and radio, and more necessary electric items. Room-temperature water was hardly an issue nowadays, since one couldn't be picky about their liquids. Thinking about that, Benny went in to retrieve a bottle from the bottom cabinet and return to the couch, sitting and picking up the weapon. Twice-cleaned today, it shone in the afternoon light streaming into the apartment.

It wasn't his, not specifically. His was in his room, under his pillow, and was used much more often. This one he used on a whim, never took it outside the wall. Among a few other things it was a bit of a prized possession, just one more reminder of a past he had fully intended to share with only one other person. The books, the jacket, a few other things, they were a manner of keeping that happy time with him, in a way. Even if it ended badly.

"Hey..." Benny glanced at Emily. "I... eh, look forward to getting to know you. It's been a while since I've had... I guess you could call it a partner." Lee didn't count. He was random, showed up at erratic times and never came into the city. He was more of a chance to make a certain run a little easier. Maybe Emily would be more of a constant presence. A friend, even. A friend, other than Andrew, would make things a bit easier, perhaps.

Emily watched Benny run deft fingers through his hair and stand up to retrieve the gun cleaning kit to stow it away along with the rest of his stash under the floorboards. She was glad he had raised the question of what to do while they waited for the sky to darken. Unfortunately he didn’t offer much in the way of an answer to that question however. She looked towards the kitchen where he mentioned the food and water was stored. If it was anything like her own it would be nearly empty but Emily had a hunch he was probably better provisioned if Andrew’s storehouse was any indication.

Benny retrieved a bottle of water for himself and Emily debated getting up to get one of her own. She hated to impose upon his hospitality but at the same time Andrew hadn’t given her the option. Before she had decided, Benny interrupted her thoughts with a casual “hey”. Emily looked over at her new mentor and was a bit surprised by what he had to say. The younger girl nodded, ”Me too,” she said with a hint of a smile. ”It’s been a while since I’ve gotten close to anyone,” she admitted.

Emily was sure that if Ben were still around, he would be glad to know she was finally making acquaintances with more than the senile old woman down the hall. She’d been in the city for three years already and still didn’t have much to show for it. Sure a few of the locals knew her and she made idle chat with some of them but it was as if something in her mind mentally blocked her from getting to close to anyone, to avoid the pain of losing someone in a world where everyone was slated to die before their time.

She promised herself that the Fireflies would be a new start. Since meeting Amber, Andrew, and Benny she was finally starting to feel the effects of her social starvation. If they were going to be out in the wild, Emily wanted to know more about the man who would be helping keep her alive. What sort of person he was, what his strengths and weaknesses were, maybe a bit of what his life was like before the fall. So far she had chalked him up as a rather patient person, a bit gruff but general meaning well, who took good care of his equipment and held a passion for books. She was sure that in time she would come to learn a lot more about Benny and similarly divulge more information about herself.

Benny slid the weapon under the couch after picking it up and studying it. He was careful about it, too, so it wouldn't be scratched or harmed on the rough old wood, and would be just out of sight in case he quickly needed it. But that was rare. Usually some stupid thief decided to come into his apartment looking for some quick steals, but found a loaded gun pointed at his head. Having unsecured windows sometimes caused that problem, but after a while it had come to be known that the man in apartment 4-D wouldn't be giving up anything without a quick and very one-sided fight that they certainly wouldn't win. Thievery wasn't something the government cared about, though, unless it was taking from them. Then it was more personal. People like Benny, like Emily, were left to defend themselves with no right of redemption if something irreplaceable was taken.

He shook his head, though, and regarded Emily curiously. "Really?" He asked. "Well, I suppose we share that... It's been about five years for me." He chuckled at that. Five years! Ever since this started, perhaps a few days afterward, but who was he to go nitpicking specific dates? "You might think Andrew's a friend to me, but..." Benny grimaced as if he'd just tasted something sour, and shook his head. "I don't know, maybe I could call him a crazy half-uncle... Someone I work with but can't really be bothered to get to know on a closer basis." He paused, and stared at one of the books scattered on the table. A beat up old old book sat on top of the rest, 'The Strong Shall Live' by Louis L'Amour. Benny never understood the hype with these little books. Sometimes not so little, but most of them were rather thin and quickly written. Old westerns. This one in particular had been written in 1980 if he wasn't mistaken.

"I... had a few partners in the past." He admitted after a moment, staring at the cover of the book, a man on horseback. "None worked out... I guess they were all too full of themselves, they died because they didn't want to think they had to listen to someone that wasn't themselves. Stupid bastards got attacked by clickers, all of them, and I had to shoot them before they turned because they were too afraid to." He didn't talk about those three. Each of them, making stupid noises or talking when they weren't supposed to. It was their fault! But he couldn't see Emily doing any of that. She seemed far too concerned and careful. He felt safe enough to put a little faith in her.

Emily watched as Benny slid the cleaned and oiled gun under the beaten up sofa they currently occupied. She couldn't help but wonder at how trusting Benny was of her. She'd only just been paired with him and already she was privy to his secret stashes and allowed to handle his weapons. She too was being very trusting however Emily thought, suddenly aware of their close proximity on the couch in light of her recent scrape with a couple of bored and horny FEDRA soldiers. Still, both he and Andrew seemed trustworthy and were on the opposing side of those two bastards at the very least. That had to count for something in her book.

Emily blinked when Benny revealed that it had been five years since he'd been close to anyone. This rather surprised her as she had imagined the Fireflies as being a rather closely knit group. Apparently she had thought wrong however. Still, it made sense she supposed. In their line of work, the dangers were numerous and she could imagine that getting close to one's colleagues was akin to inviting future heartbreak. Still, the coldness of their operation saddened her a bit and Emily was glad for the fact that Benny seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her.

A moment of silence passed in which Emily awkwardly searched for something to say in response to Benny's explanation of his relationship with Andrew. Fortunately she was spared when Benny changed the subject. Listening to the fates of her predecessors didn't bring her much comfort however. Emily paled slightly but showed no other reaction. "Hopefully things will be different this time," she said quietly, not only for Benny's sake but also to reassure herself. "I'd like to think I'm not as stupid as those unlucky souls..." she added with a hesitant smile.

Benny absentmindedly picked up the topmost book and stared at it. This was one of the books he'd gone back for, as if it was solid gold. He'd never read it, but did intend to. He had no idea what it was about, but assumed it had something to do with the stranger on horseback. And no doubt he'd be using that gun. It seemed guns were everywhere, even in the books he read. That or weapons of any kind. Maybe it was human fascination with weapons and violence. He opened the cover and studied the title page, and the name written in looped script and in faded ink, and immediately closed the book and set it down quickly, turning to face Emily with more resolve.

"You're definitely not as stupid as they were." He said with a serious tone. "They didn't want to listen to a former cop tell them about how to clean a gun. Or how to fire a gun. Or how to get around unseen and quietly. They thought they could handle it because they watched a lot of spy movies and thought shooting a gun was as simple as the movies tried to show. So they failed fast." He scoffed, and leaned back, putting his head back and staring at the cracked ceiling. "They only ever listened to me after they were bitten, when I told them that... they wouldn't want to let the infection begin spreading and were better off dead. That's hard, isn't it? To know you're either subject to a life of... insanity and hosting a parasitic growth that slowly takes over your whole body, or death. No cure."

Benny hated that. It was a lose-lose situation. Like all his zombie novels and games. But most of the time, in his games, they would have found an immune, or a carrier. And the book or movie or game would be about getting them to a safe place or a science center still functioning to produce a vaccine or cure. The reality of it all seemed so... disheartening. If they weren't in a specific place, behind a wall, they'd be subject to spores. If they were away from the spores, they would have to fight the already-infected. And it seemed there were so many. So many millions. Like hoards.

"Sorry." Benny shook his head. "I get a bit depressing sometimes, I guess. You just seem to have your wits. And a good amount of logic. Like I can rely on you more than the others."

Emily was surprised at Benny’s matter-of-fact tone as he confirmed that she wasn’t nearly as stupid as his previous pack of students. The fact that Benny was a cop was an interesting bit of news as well but it made sense when she thought about it. It easily explained his knowledge of guns and offered a possible explanation for the “trick knee” as he called it, maybe the result of an occupational injury? Possibly not though, there were plenty of things that could cause that sort of damage… She could tell by the way he spoke that Benny wasn’t boasting and she had to laugh at the bit about watching too many spy movies. The conversation quickly turned morose however and Emily couldn’t help but cringe inside. She had seen those last moments herself, the realization that the game is over, that your life as a human is basically at an end. Ben had met his end like a man, though Emily couldn’t say the same for herself.

”I’m sorry, that must have been painful for you,” Emily said quietly, ”I really hope that we can come to count on each other.” The young girl sighed and pulled at her long bangs, ”It’s been a while since anyone’s had my back… It’s a nice feeling, like it’s no longer me versus the whole world. I mean…it sort of still is, but at least I won’t be alone.” Emily paused as her throat constricted. After a moment she managed to suppress the emotion. ”You seem to really know what you’re doing. I’m glad Andrew put the two of us together,” she finished, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her chin against them. It felt odd to bear her emotions to Benny. She’d spent so long bottling them up with her journal being her only outlet.

Benny tilted his head at the girl, brushing back his hair as it fell into his eyes again. It wouldn't behave today, probably because of the rainfall he'd subjected it to. Emily seemed to know just what she was talking about, seemed to have her fair share of story as well. Of course Benny expected that---everyone had their sob story, their long and winding collection of sad novellas that they might like to keep to themselves to reread in the dead of night, so they could cry their share and face the world with a brave face. He could understand doing that, showing one's weaknesses where they couldn't be seen or judged by an unfeeling and cruel and horrible world so that they could seem a little stronger the next day. But it seemed Emily was one of those that didn't mind, given time, revealing a little about herself. Her feeling of facing the world alone. Like he felt. Despite wearing the Firefly pendant, being considered a part of a big operation, he felt as if he were ultimately alone, like he couldn't really rely on anyone. Lee was helpful, sure, but not exactly the most stable of companions.

He couldn't help but smile, though. Emily was, for lack of a better word, rather sweet, like a friend of his had been. A friend he'd had at the department, a desk girl that didn't mind what she did and preferred the relative safety of inside the building rather than hauling around a gun. She didn't like guns just like Emily. Absently, Benny reached out and rested an assuring hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad he put us together too." He said, taking his hand back quickly. He'd gathered a habit of limiting his touching to quick moments, if at all. "It'll be... well, I'd like to think it'd make things easier. With two extra eyes to see, extra hands to help. That's... that's what having a partner is all about, isn't it?"

He looked away quickly and blinked hard. Damn it! Why did he have to say that? "Uh... We've got a few hours left until evening... You can do what you like, I might go take care of some things..." He couldn't really specify what, exactly. He didn't have anything to take care of, but didn't say that as he stood and quickly went to his room, though not so quickly as to raise much curiosity as to the action. Closing the door, he breathed out shakily. All his stupid bastard partners had to be killed by him because they got bit out of their own idiocy. And his one true partner had left him with so many recollections, books and a gun, and a jacket and the loop of metal behind his Firefly pendant that he obsessively rolled between his fingers. Why did it have to change...? He sighed, sitting on his bed and cradling his head in his hands. It would a long time until evening at this rate...

This time when Benny touched her, Emily didn’t tense. Though she had been with him barely a half-day she was already starting to feel that she had really been missing something the past three years. His simple touch sent an odd feeling across her skin and she could remember once upon a time what it was like to shake hands when you met someone, to hug a friend, give someone a pat on the back. Most people just avoided unnecessary contact nowadays, physical or otherwise.

”Yeah, I think you’re right,” she responded with a smile when Benny explained what he thought having a partner should be like. When their eyes met, the older man looked quickly away. The rapid beating of his eyelids gave her a hint as to his current emotional state and Emily merely nodded as he retreated to his room with a vague excuse of having things to do. It was quite possible that he did in fact have things to take care of but it seemed more likely that he just wanted to be alone.

Dropping her legs to the floor, Emily rose and crossed the floor to her own room. She pushed the door almost closed behind her but left it open a crack to let Benny know that he wouldn’t be invading if he wanted her for anything. Pulling her journal and pens out of her bag, Emily opened it to the next page and started a new entry:

August 11th, 2023

Today I learned how to clean a gun.

After this, she began carefully drawing various sketches of Benny’s gun from memory. The first few were of the gun whole, from various angles. Next she began mentally dismantling it and drawing each piece, step by step in the order it should be removed with various notes beside them to remind her of details that wouldn’t be apparent from the drawings. When at last she was satisfied with both the drawings and her notes, she reviewed everything one more time before closing the notebook and slipping it back into her bag along with her drawing utensils which were stored in a blue fabric pencil case.

It was against his better judgment that he reached under his mattress and pulled out an old book (not that many were new) and looked at the bent cover. The Way West, a book he'd never read, nor did he have an intention to begin. He only kept it so close because its bookmark, on page forty-three, was an old picture. It didn't show its age in its current state, which had only a very slight discoloration around the edges, but he recalled the moment the picture was taken and the words he'd said when it had been snapped. He always managed to smile when he regarded the shock in Nick's eyes when he'd crept up on the man and tossed his arms around him with the words, "I got it! We'll be working together permanently now!" If the picture could only replay the scene. Nick had been worried about mixing a relationship with work, especially after they'd been in separate stations, but six months later it was as if nothing had changed. They were the envy of everyone involved with someone, so it was tolerated, since work relationships were mostly discouraged.

Benny laughed, but it sounded almost hollow. Every time Lee might be with him and Benny brought the book along he was scolded, told to forget about the past because it was a stupid weight to carry. Benny couldn't help but know how detached Lee was. He'd seen his parents and grandparents die and hadn't kept such a melancholy tone as Benny, but then again, he hated his parents and never knew his grandparents well. Benny was human, at least! He slammed the book shut and slid it under his bed, standing and glaring out the window and absently rolling the ring of silver between his fingers, letting it clack against the Firefly pendant. How stupid did he have to be, to force himself to remember such... times in his life? And at such a simple sentence, too. But it sounded so familiar. And he hated that familiarity!

His eyes turned down to the street outside. It looked like a few of the FEDRAs had found a Firefly in a building across the street, but he couldn't be sure. It was probably just a smuggler that didn't work for either side specifically. One of them grabbed something from the man's hand and tossed it across the street, where it slid into the gutter and glinted in the lowering sun, and the man was forced to his knees. Benny knew what was going to happen but couldn't make himself look away. He convinced himself just a moment too late, though, and flinched as a shot rang out and the man fell among raining mists of blood, shards of skull and bits of gray matter. Benny closed his eyes, breathing in sharply and leaning his forehead against the window to spite the heat that rose with falling tears. And he didn't even care about that stranger. It happened multiple times a week, after all...

Emily slipped out of the chair to look out the window. The view was different than the one from her apartment window but it was the same story. Dirty people walked along dirty streets, doing what they could to survive. One man toted buckets of water on his shoulders with a pole he had fashioned into a makeshift yolk. A pair of children chased each other up and down the street. A woman sat beside a rag upon which she had placed brick-a-brac she hoped to sell for something more useful.

A gunshot rang through the humid air, causing Emily to jump. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to hear a couple of shots a week but still… The knowledge that each time that sound echoed throughout the city meant that someone’s life was left splattered against the mud-covered pavement, made Emily’s jaw clench. Fortunately her window hadn’t overlooked the killing ground but from the sound of the shot, it had been very close.

Emily decided she’d had her fill of the outside world and pushed away from the window. There wasn’t much to do with Benny locked away in his room so the young woman flopped over onto the bed and debated the merits of taking a nap versus discovering a new book. In the end she decided she was too comfortable to get up and just lay there, staring up at the ceiling. After a while the heat of the stuffy apartment lulled her to sleep.

((Sorry sorry sorry! I'm bad, I know...))

Benny forced himself away from the window and onto the bed, curling up against the wall with his head buried under his arm. Why had he watched...? He knew the outcome before the person was even forced to their knees. Accusations of being a Firefly gave little room for negotiation beyond immediate execution, right in the middle of the street or sidewalk. it was difficult, but he closed his eyes and managed to fall into a light sleep.

He opened his eyes to a white room. The usual white, anyway. He'd come out of minor surgery not long ago, and was fighting off the effects of the sedative. Outside he could hear people talking, and a familiar voice. He snapped his eyes shut in a sudden bout of inspiration and waited until the footsteps entered his room, then paused beside the bed. A light hand on his shoulder. "Ben..." The voice sounded cautious and slightly worried. "Ben...? You awake...?"

He didn't move until the hand poked lightly again, and his other hand darted up to grab the intruding one with a surprising grip for someone just out of a surgery. The resulting high-pitched squeal brought Benny up laughing, reaching out to ease Nick's obviously-pounding heart. But the man wasn't having it. "Jesus, Ben, what'd you do that for!? I was worried..."

Benny rolled his eyes. "God, Nick, it was a surgery on my knee! Ease up a little---"

"Oh, you're one to talk about easing up." Nick sat on a chair nearby. "So... did they get it?"

Benny shook his head, turning his eyes down to the leg that was bandaged beneath the light blanket. "No. They said it'd cause too much damage to get in and get the bullet's shards out. If they did I'd have to walk with a cane or crutches for the rest of my life because I won't be able to put weight on it. But I'll just have a limp at the worst if they leave it the way it is."

"Bastard..." Nick sighed, running his hand through his auburn hair.

"Hey, it could've been worse, okay?" Benny reached out, and this time, Nick took his hand. "Couple inches higher and I'd have bled out." Nick nodded. He didn't move as Benny grew suddenly tired again, and closed his eyes.

A sharp knock startled him into the dank reality, and Benny turned over, finding his book on the floor. It had fallen when he moved slightly. Looking up, his half-awake eyes were laid out on a dark sky, and the buzz of generators lighting up only certain corners of the streets only just filling the air. He stood, a little dizzy from the rude awakening, and stretched, going to find Emily for their evening 'stroll'.

”Emily…” The familiar voice spoke quietly in her mind and the young woman opened her eyes. ”Emily,” Ben repeated. It seemed there was fragility in his voice that hadn’t been there before. ”I’ve been bitten.” The words fell calmly from his mouth and he bent down to push up his pant leg for her to see. Those three little words, spoken so normally, took a moment to fully permeate into her brain. ”No…” she heard herself moan in denial, thought the proof was evident for her to see.

Tears began to stream down her face, blurring her vision. Letting his pant leg fall, Ben took Emily’s face in his hands and pressed his forehead against hers. ”You have to be strong Emily, for me. I know you, you’re not one to give up.” She shuddered, suppressing a pent up sob, and tried to find her voice. ”I can’t keep doing this without you Ben,” she heard herself whisper.

Ben sighed and pushed some wet strands of hair off of her face. ”This isn’t the end of the world,” he said softly, ”You have to keep going for both of us. One day the world is going to rebuild itself. I want you to be around to see it, to see your buildings take shape on the skyline.” Emily’s throat constricted and she squeezed Ben so tightly she thought both of their chests might burst.

”I’m not going to wait for the infection to take me,” he said with a tone of finality, ”You go on ahead,” he offered, hoping to spare her from the worst of it. ”Nooo…” she heard herself wail uncharacteristically, ”I can’t leave you to die alone,” she said, pulling away slightly to look at him, soaking in every last second of him that she could get.

”Emily, it isn’t something you should see. Go. I’ll count to one hundred and then pull the trigger. The noise could draw out more of them; you have to get out of here.” A clicking noise in the hallway caused both of them to freeze. ”Go!” he hissed, pulling a gun from his pocket. Emily stood, rooted to the spot until Ben shoved her roughly back and moved down the hallway, utterly calm.

A gunshot rung through the air, and at last her legs sprung into motion, carrying her down the hall faster than she had ever run in her life. She arrived just in time for the second shot, the one that blasted through Ben’s head, leaving a bloody stain on the faded floral wallpaper behind him as his body slid down to the floor.

- - -

”BEN!” Emily could hear herself screaming and fought to pull herself away from the dream and back to reality. Trapped in a state of semi-consciousness, she struggled frantically against the blanket that had entangled her while she tossed and turned in her sleep.

It felt like a dark morning. A dark morning of silence and stillness that had a strange sensation of loneliness set in on Benny, like he'd never dealt with it before. A loneliness that was so desperate he could hardly drag himself out of his room and into the little kitchen and find some water to take away the dryness in his mouth. At this point he didn't ask himself why he kept dreaming of those times. At least they were better than the nightmares that set in not long after. It was so ridiculous, though. To feel this level of... lonely. And someone was just a few yards away. But the feeling in the pit of Benny's stomach was that of complete and utter... isolation. As if all humans had gone. And he was the only one left.

A scream startled him so much that he dropped the bottle he'd retrieved. Was Emily calling for him...? He didn't ask himself twice, but bounded forward, slinging open the door and shaking Emily roughly to wake her from whatever night terror she was caught in. "Emily! Em? Wake up, hey!" He bent to one knee by the bed and disentangled the cocoon of sheets that had clamped her down. "Emily, are you okay?" He asked, a little loudly so his voice would permeate whatever sleep was still clinging to her.

Emily was so caught up in fighting against the blankets that bound her that she didn’t even register the hands that roughly tried to shake her awake or the voice that called her name trying to coax her back from the darkness. As the sheets were lifted away, Benny’s voice finally broke through the barrier of Emily’s subconscious and the young woman sat up, gasping for breath like someone who had just surfaced after nearly drowning. ”Oh God…Ben…” she moaned through shuddering breaths, holding her head between her hands.

Bile rose in her throat as she recalled the last image that the dream had imparted but she willed it back down. The sickening acid taste in her mouth helped bring her back to the present and Emily focused on calming her frantic breathing before she began to hyperventilate. As her heaving breaths slowly lessened and the pounding in her ears subsided, the young woman realized she wasn’t alone. ”I-I’m s-sorry,” she said shakily. Wrapping her arms around herself she could feel the sweat that beaded across her skin. Benny’s apartment was stuffy in the summer heat but inside Emily felt painfully cold.

Sighing in relief, Benny crouched on the floor beside Emily and shook his head. At least he hadn't been torn from sleep by Emily's desperate-sounding cries---if so, he'd have probably scared her to death by bursting into the room with his gun drawn and ready to use on whatever threat had crawled in through the window or oozed up from the floorboards while they were both asleep. But it was only the subconscious imaginings and memories coming back to haunt them. Though this time Benny's seemed to be a little nicer. He couldn't help but think somehow his perchance for more... terrible dreams... had invaded Emily somehow. But that was probably his ridiculous tendency to think about things in Fate and spiritual happenings. It was a thing his friends used to prod him about.

"Never mind that, Emily, it's okay---I was already awake." He made himself stand, hating his bad knee as it locked up and forced him to sit on the end of the bed. "But are you okay, Emily? What... would have you so afraid...?" He forced himself to snap his mouth shut. Benny felt like a fool now. Asking someone about their obviously-horrifying dream right after they woke up from it? How could he be so insensitive...? Had this world really changed him that much? Normally he would have just put an arm around the person---no matter who it was---and make sure they knew they would be okay. He shook his head. "Never mind... I shouldn't have asked, I'm sorry." It felt like a pity party, one saying sorry and the other doing just the same. Like a neverending river of awkward situation. He sighed inwardly.