Jay Posey - Three

“No, ma’am,” he said quietly.

“Ma’am? Now I’m sure you’re an angel. Your mama must be quite a woman to be raising an angel. That is no easy task.” She glanced up at Cass. “You might want to keep him away from that one, though.” She nodded at Three, with a smile. “No telling what he’ll teach him when you’re not looking.”

“I don’t like what he’s been teaching him when I am looking,” Cass replied with a shrug, smiling back. “But he’s been taking care of us so far.”

“Yeah, he’ll do that too.”

Both women were looking at him now, and Three was suddenly uncomfortable. It was strange seeing them there, in the same place, right next to each other. Three’s carefully separated worlds colliding. He glanced away, surveying the apartment again for no real reason. Changed the subject.

“Twitch stayin’ out of trouble?”

“Have you met him?” Mol answered, lightly sarcastic. She struggled back up to her feet, and Three reflexively reached out to take her hand. She accepted the help, her hand warm and strong in his. Her blue eyes sparkled up at him. Even at her full height, she was nearly a foot shorter. Her voice dropped, tone warm and reassuring. “He’s fine, Three. We’re fine.”

Mol’s eyes held his steady gaze for a moment. Strong. But concerned. She looked away, to Cass and Wren.

“You make yourselves right at home. Bedroom and bathroom are back there. If you want to take a shower or anything, you let me know. Sleep, whatever you want. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

Three realized he was still holding her hand. He let go, busied himself taking off his coat and harness.

“Thank you,” Cass said. “This is really kind of you.”

“Selfish, really. Place like Greenstone, we don’t get a lot of chances to host company. Have to milk it when we can.”

Three noticed Cass was standing with the fingertips of one hand pressed in on the arm of a chair. Subtly keeping her balance.

“It’s alright if you wanna lie down, Cass,” he said. “Been hard goin’.”

Her eyes flicked to his. He knew she’d never admit it, but she needed it. He nodded.

“Go lie down,” he said, firmly. No longer an option.

“Isn’t there something I can do? I feel bad just coming in and taking over…”

“Sweetheart, go on back there and rest up,” Mol said. “Bed’s all ready. If you’ve been keeping up with this brute all day, I’m surprised you can even stand. Not to mention your little one.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long road,” Cass replied. “We came all the way from the Vault.”

Three winced, at least internally. He’d meant to tell Cass not to mention it. Forgotten. His expression must’ve caught her attention, because she looked over at him, and her face changed suddenly.

“The Vault?” Mol turned and looked back at Three, excited. “How’s Gev? Big goon hasn’t pimmed in like a month.”

Three stilled himself. Kept his eyes on Cass. She understood now. Pressed her lips tightly together, in a silent apology.

“Wren, baby, why don’t you come lie down with me for a little while?”

“I’m not sleepy, Mama.”

“Wren.”

The boy didn’t know what was going on, but he understood his mama wasn’t requesting. He slipped his hand into hers and let her lead him back towards the bedroom. Mol’s gaze hopped from Three to Cass, and back again. Excitement beginning to drain.

“Three. Did you see Gev?”

In the back, Cass quietly closed the door. Mol didn’t turn, just looked intently at Three. Her eyes different now. Wider, unsteady. Searching his.

He could feel himself telling her before he even opened his mouth. Tears had already started to well in her deep blue eyes.

“Three…”

“He’s gone, Mol.”

He heard the servos whine and click, and reached out to grab her elbows, supporting her before she sank to the floor. Pulled her close. She buried her face in his chest, clung to him fiercely. After a moment, shock gave way and her body began to shake with quiet sobs, her tears soaking his shirt. He held her for a long while, silently sharing the grief, tormented by her closeness.

Night had fallen, and outside the high and guarded walls of Greenstone the unearthly cries of the Weir echoed amongst the urban labyrinth, answers to their own calls. Together, jCharles and Three stood atop the roof of the Samurai McGann, looking down on the throngs flowing in the street below, snaking through each other like streams intertwined. The women and the boy had remained in the apartment beneath, leaving the men undisturbed to attend to their business.

“I don’t know how many times I tried to talk him into coming here,” jCharles said, more to himself than to Three. He took a pull on his stimstick, held it. He’d handled the news better than Mol, but Three knew it’d take him longer to actually come to terms with Gev’s death. jCharles exhaled with the sudden puff of a humorless laugh. “Said he couldn’t handle all the noise.”

Mol would grieve hard and fast. Twitch, well… he had a history of holding on to things.

“Sure, much better to live playing doorman to a bunch of trash-hunters,” he continued, “and die as one.”

Three just stood silently, letting the distractions below draw his attention. Twitch wasn’t talking to him so much as he was thinking aloud. Processing. No need to interrupt.

“The noise .” jCharles took another drag on the stimstick, held it, let out a breath like an extended sigh. Flipped some internal switch, packaged up whatever he was feeling about Gev. He’d deal with it later. “So you settling down, or what?”

“What.”

“Wouldn’t blame you if you were. Cass… she’s sharp. And a real looker, you know.” Three shrugged. jCharles smiled. “Yeah, you know. Kid’s cute, too. You don’t watch it, Mol might squirrel him away somewhere, keep him for herself.”

jCharles hadn’t meant it that way, but Three felt the cut anyway. Mol had wanted her own for as long as he could remember. And she’d had one, for the briefest, cruelest time.

jCharles turned to face him, serious.

“What’re you doing, man?”

“Standin’ here listenin’ to you, Twitch.”

“I mean it, Three. This isn’t like you. Traveling heavy. People in tow. I know it’s not for the money, ’cause you’d never take a job like this. And you look tired, brother. Real tired. So what’re you doing?”

It was the question Three still couldn’t answer. Or maybe wouldn’t. A woman in a yellow coat floated through the crowd below, with the flow but not of it. A bright leaf atop the current.

“The right thing, I hope,” he said. “We’ll see.”

“Is it the good guys or bad guys chasing them?”

“Bad ones.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

jCharles leaned over the edge of the roof and spat, watched as it tumbled towards the street below. Another pull on the stimstick.

“Listen, man. You wanna do you the penance thing, that’s your gig. But Mol and me, we never put that on you. You know that. We never put that on you. Don’t pick it up on our account.”

“It’s not like that,” Three answered, hoping it was true.

“I hope not. ’Cause no matter how it ends, Jakey’s not coming back.”

They stood in silence for a time, and Three wondered what outcome he was hoping for out of all this. He’d been too busy fighting for that next minute to stop and think what it’d be like when it was all over. Cass and Wren would be with Wren’s father, whoever he was. At some point, Cass would die. And what? He would go back to living the life he’d led before they stumbled into it? No matter what else happened from here, he already knew that was impossible.