C. Adams - Version 2.0

“With Maverick,” Birdie surmised, and Reesy nodded. “Have they made any progress?”

“I’m honestly not sure. You’d probably hear about it before I would. Speaking of, how’d your first day on the job go?”

Birdie grimaced for a split second. “Considering I’m training as I go? I guess it wasn’t too bad.”

“There’s like four Observers that aren’t in regeneration,” Brian chimed in. “Birdie totally got promoted.”

“Promotion on your first day? You go, girl,” she smiled.

“I’d hardly call for congratulations,” Birdie half-grinned. “But thanks. Anyway, sorry to bug you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well I’m glad you bugged me, sweetie. And I’m glad you two are okay, too. I’m gonna have to go help out at R.R tomorrow, so I have to rain-check our shopping trip again. Sorry.” she grimaced, hating to cancel on her.

“That’s okay,” Birdie replied. “I have a feeling I’m gonna be wearing a uniform for a while, anyway.”

“And I can take her to get a few things, in the meantime,” Brian offered.

“He’s actually not half bad at picking out nice clothes,” she smiled, brows raised.

“Oh honey, I know,” she told her. “We dragged him shopping his first day up, and he barely needed any help once we got him to the store.” Birdie shared a small laugh. “Alright, sugar. I’ve gotta go. Get some sleep. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye Reesy,” Birdie waved.

“Bye, Reese,” Brian waved as well. “Tell Jodie I said hey.”

“Will do,” she smiled, and Birdie saw as she reached for something in front of the screen, and the call ended.

Birdie let out a sigh, then turned to Brian. “Please tell me we get better beds than what they had in debriefing.”

“Oh of course,” he said, scrunching up his face for a moment as if that should’ve been obvious. “Come on,” he stood and made his way around the couch. “I have something you can sleep in for tonight, too.” He led Birdie down a narrow hallway to the bedroom on the far end. The light flickered on as they entered it. “I hate how the lighting looks when we’re underground,” he commented as he walked to his dresser.

Birdie looked around his bedroom and noted how much, even with the completely different style of furniture available to them on the island, it looked like Brian’s room, sans the trash. There were clothes strewn about on the floor, empty coffee cups from the shop on his end table, and general disarray. It didn’t smell bad. It smelled like him, though. Like Brian before the drugs. Something inside of her felt as though it burst. Something like the little glass tube filled with hydrogen peroxide that lays within the casing of a glow stick. Only, instead of glowing as it mixed with everything else, it ignited underlying emotion that she’d been able to re-shelve a little of, since finding him that morning.

Brian found a pair of drawstring pajama pants and a tee shirt amongst the disaster that was his second drawer. “These should do,” he said before turning to hand them to her. But he froze in the action when he saw that there were tears streaming down her face. “I-I’m sorry it’s a mess,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone, and usually don’t have people over…” Birdie’s breath picked up and her face skewed with something Brian rarely ever saw her outwardly express. There was panic and sadness in her eyes. “Birdie?” he dropped the clothes as his heart clenched in his chest, and he took the few steps to reach her. “Birdie, what’s wrong?” he put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to meet his eyes.

“I don’t know,” she replied, her eyes darting everywhere but at his. “I… I think I’m… having trouble believing this is real. That this is really you…” she breathed in shakily, at the same time hating that she was crying in front of him.

Brian pulled her into a hug, squeezing her so tight that it had to hurt on some level. “Honestly, I’ve felt the same way all day,” he replied, softly. “Seeing you in the coffee shop, and every insane moment after, I kept having to pinch myself to see if I was really awake. I’m actually kinda scared I’ll wake up tomorrow and you won’t be here.” He blinked back his own sudden onset of tears.

Birdie’s arms snaked around Brian’s back and squeezed back, taking comfort in the solidity of it. “As long as we’re on the same page, here,” she let out a small laugh, and felt the slight shaking in Brian’s chest as he did the same. She pulled away after a few moments. “I feel like I need a shower, after today.”

“Oh,” he shook his head as if to clear it. Birdie was a pro at putting things back on the shelf, even after they’d just toppled off of it, and he’d never met another woman able to do the same. He watched as she quickly dried the wetness from her face and squared her shoulders. “I’ll show you your room. It’s been a guest room, up until now. Even has it’s own bathroom,” he explained as he led her back out to the hallway, stooping to grab the fallen pajamas before they left his room.

The lights flickered on in the same fashion once they entered Birdie’s room. This room was clearly different than Brian’s. It seemed cold; not in temperature, as that was perfectly controlled, but cold in personality. It was like a motel room; neutral and uncharacteristic. Clean, but unused. The bed was an adequate size and dressed in the same robin’s egg blue as her debriefing clothes. The window was hidden by copper-colored metallic blinds, and the dresser was the same as Brian’s; hand-crafted wood with brass pulls.

“You’ve got a big closet over there,” he pointed to a closed set of pocket doors on the wall beside the bed. “Anything you need before we can get to the store, just ask me. I refuse to share underwear, however.”

“I’m fine going commando, thank you very much,” she glared.

“Ew,” he scrunched his face for a moment.

“You expect me to wear the same ones I have, until then?”

“No. But I don’t wanna know when you’re going commando.”

“Easily obliged,” she replied.

“Here’s the bathroom,” he pointed out, quickly changing the subject. The lights flickered on as he entered. “There are towels in here in the cabinet, and stuff to wash with already in the shower. Everything here is hand-made by people on the island, so whatever you used before, get used to doing without. This stuff is good, though. And there are different scents and stuff at the store, so if you don’t like those, you can get something else.”

“Where’s the washer and dryer?”

“We don’t have them,” he told her. “There’s a launderer downtown. We take everything there. They hand-wash everything.” Birdie looked a bit uncomfortable with that thought. “I wash some of my own things here. Like underwear, because I’ll be damned if anyone is touching my underwear besides me.”

“And I’m sure they appreciate that,” she raised her brows, amused.

“Hey, those people wash everyone’s underwear,” he retorted. “I just like some of my business to be my own.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll go ahead and do my own, as well… Wait, everyone’s? No one has a washer or dryer?”

“It’s inefficient to have them,” he told her. “There’s one area where everything is contained and done. Everyone needs a job on the island. It’s how we pay for everything else. There are people that rotate in and out of that place day and night.”

“A twenty-four hour Laundromat? That sounds very convenient.”

“Considering there are over two hundred and fifty people’s clothes to wash, it’s kinda necessary.”