1-16: Cold Comfort
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Leecifer
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Chapter Sixteen: Cold Comfort
A few weeks later, they reached the next Bastion.
Thule.
From the outside, it was another pure black hemisphere, and, passing through it, in those moments where Dylan hung suspended in an infinite blackness, concentrating, he could feel another presence, completely unlike those before. This one was warm, and encouraging, almost feeling like a welcoming slap on the back, before he was out of that space between spaces, his revolver once more filled with pure-black rounds.
That warmth was a direct comparison to the Bastion itself, which was really freaking cold.
So much it was practically a slap in the face as soon as he stepped out of their Cart, actually, and the ground the Caravan had circled up on was covered with several inches of snow. Which, for a New England guy, Dylan found… weirdly comforting.
Because, he realized, the Farweald didn't seem to have temperature, it just… was, only the Bastions, be it New Agartha's ambient warmth, or Gondolin's eternally cool breeze, having something he could feel. And, after weeks outside of it, feeling it again was centering in a way he hadn't expected. Though, from how Sam instantly turned back around to get a coat, some of his classmates probably wished the temperature wasn't felt that much.
And, in retrospect, the coldness he'd felt that first night? The chill that sent him shivering? That hadn't been actual cold. No, that'd been tiredness, adrenaline crash, and blood loss, though he didn't have enough experience with any of those to recognize it.
He did now.
Their jobs didn't stop once they were in Thule, though, even if they did a lot more hauling, of goods the Caravan was trading, and of goods they'd purchased. Dylan's [Courier] didn't increasing in rank, but was really useful in helping him figure out where to take things. More than that, he started to direct others once he realized he could look at something, form a hypothetical as if he were going to drop it off, and his [Job] would give him directions he could then pass on.
For a moment, he worried that he'd overstepped, as technically his job was just to carry things, but the guy in charge just checked the manifest, handed it to him, and said, "Keep going," so that was nice.
Asking around, no, they weren't imagining it, they could distantly hear, and smell, the ocean, as a third of the Bastion was an interior sea, a bay where fish just… showed up, the same way that metal veins were created in New Agartha, the NAgs 'collapsing' used up mine shafts, only for them to slowly be reset a month later.
It was this sea where a lot of what this Bastion offered in trade came from, both in fish and, of all things, salt. Which seemed… basic, but apparently, yep, their overlooking salt's value was another Outlander thing, though it was also a rich Bastion resident thing to believe, which helped. And, in return, Thule wanted a number of things, though most of all what the locals wanted was honey, which the Caravan had picked up from Gondolin. Not to buy and sell directly, the Caravan had just serviced a delivery contract, since the two were so close together. Because the locals really liked 'mead', a wine made out of honey instead of grapes.
Also, honey, which had been shipped in barrels?
Really heavy.
Malik wondered how big Gondolin's bees must be, which Kristen tried to call him stupid over, because back on Earth bugs just couldn't get above a certain size, because of physics.
Ivy pointed out that they'd killed bigger bugs last week, the Omukiddies already past that mark, and the larger, higher ranked Omukade were supposedly bigger than their Carts.
Kristen hadn't said anything after that.
So they'd worked, Dylan's group continuing their training, knowing they were being watched, but, well, Quill knew what they were doing, and if they shouldn't've, he would've said something, right?
Nothing came of it, at least yet, but it was still something to do, at least.
Then, on the fourth day, they were told it was their turn for 'shore leave', this time without minders as Thule was one of the few Outlander friendly Bastions out there, though they shouldn't be open with what they were, because they weren't the only travelers around. Also, news that their Caravan had Outlanders, if it got ahead of them, which, with their bouncing path, it might, would eventually be very bad.
So they were given their earnings, and turned loose, Dylan confused why he was given two satchels, one pouch of coins larger than the other.
Being told that the smaller was Anna's earnings… he didn't have a response, and the woman handling the payouts just patted him on the shoulder and motioned for him to leave, because more people were waiting for theirs.
Stepping out into the Bastion's city, he didn't know where to go, so just let his feet carry him.
Through markets, seeing hammered silver jewelry that…
He stopped and got a drink, a hot tea, sweet, which…
The docks were busy, working areas, not a vacation beach, Anna'd been right about that, and he just sat on a low wall, the cold biting, but centering, something he needed.
Eventually, he moved on, as, letting out a long breath, he could feel [Survivor] active, both blunting the worst of the temperature, despite the thin layer of ice that'd formed on his jacket, cracking as he moved, and pushing him forward once more.
Moving on, feeling his own Pulse of life, which had grown quiet, begin again, he wandered more, catching sight of Sam and Val, turning to avoid them, still no idea where he was actually going, [Courier] unable to deliver him to wherever he was going, because even it didn't know.
Above, in the cold, sharp blue skies, sat clouds, thin and streaky, like soft white slashes across the heavens, as the illusion of the sun crept towards the horizon, and he… just kept moving.
Until he stopped.
Standing in front of a restaurant, nothing too fancy, but better than a market stall, the kind that, with how much money they made, they could afford without drawing attention.
The kind he'd promised he'd take Anna to.
And, despite himself, he walked forward, entering it, the question from the waitress if he was alone taking him aback, before he told her he was, and was led to a small table, near the back, and handed a menu made of carved wood, the prices little tiles that'd been slotted in, which… was something to focus on, pinging it with [Arcane Handyman] to find the little release lever that'd pop them all out.
But, ordering, he just… sat there.
Alone with the one thing he didn't want to be with.
Himself.
Which was kind of stupid, really, because then why did he go off on his own?
But Dylan made a lot of mistakes.
His meal came, some kind of fish, he hadn't known what it was just that it was about middling price wise, and, it was good.
Really good.
More than anything else, in that moment, he wished he could share it with Anna.
And… he started crying.
Couldn't help it.
Couldn't stop.
Only could try and do so quietly, so he didn't bother anyone.
But the waitress came over anyways, and, instead of telling him to leave, which he'd get, just asked, voice soft, and warm, "You with the Avalon Caravan, Hun?"
He tried to respond, but the words wouldn't form, past a choked, "I-I-Ye," so he just nodded instead.
"Heard they lost people," she remarked, gently, and he just nodded again.
"You lose someone?" was the question that made him have to force himself not to sob, so he kept his mouth closed, and just nodded again.
Then she left, which… was good. Heading into the back, leaving him alone, so he didn't make this… weird.
And, it was a struggle, but he managed to pull himself back together, a bit, before she came back, and locked the front doors, only then did Dylan realize he was the only customer here, having wandered in between lunch and dinner.
He went still, as much as he could, as the older woman, his mother's age, poured herself a glass of water, and took the seat across from Dylan, studying him, before asking, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Which he didn't.
He really didn't.
Unfortunately, he couldn't not.
Not like he was forced to, just, he'd been pushing it down, trying not to think about it, and then the thing with Ivy, and…
"I loved her."
It was something he'd never told Anna, would never tell Anna now.
Not because he hadn't realized it, but because he'd been worried it'd make things…
Weird.
Did he know then, what would happen?
No, no he didn't think he did, it was just… not something you just said.
So he hadn't.
And God he wished he had.
So, slowly, he told the waitress, a stranger who didn't even know his name, about Annabeth.
About how much he cared for her.
Of all the things he loved about her, of her smile when he got her flowers, of the warmth that was just for when it was the two of them, of, of her lightness, which made him feel better just being around her.
Of how, the two of them, joining up with the Caravan after leaving their 'Bastion' along with their friends, had worked to fit in, of how he tried to give her space, tried not to bother her, both of them so busy and how he regretted it now.
Then, of that night, when the world went dark, and something tried to come down, but didn't, and the two of them fought, how he tried to protect her, how he took the hits for her, to do what a good man should.
Dylan fell silent for a long minute, or maybe five, he wasn't sure, the woman just waiting, his dinner long since gone cold.
Then, slowly, haltingly, he continued talking about Anna.
Of how she left him to die, and couldn't even listen to him try and save her as she did so.
Because that was what happened.
And… he was never going to see this woman again, didn't have to face it every time he saw her, and, at the same time, if he was telling her, he…
He wanted to be honest.
So he finished, wishing he'd been stronger, but, he hadn't, and now she was gone.
"Anna, she your age?" the waitress asked, when it was clear he was done.
"A couple months older," he replied.
The woman gave him a sad look, before shaking her head. "I don't think you're being fair to her."
What!?
"H-How?" Dylan demanded, because, damn it, how else had he let her down? What else was left!
The Waitress took a sip of her water, "You're an adult, right?"
"What does that have to do with what I did?" he questioned, off-balance, but the woman just waited. "I, yeah, I am! Which meant it's on me that, what happened is on me!"
"What you did," she agreed. "Not what this Anna of yours did. You made your decision. She made hers. Pretending it's all on you, you're taking that from her. Sounds like you didn't really see her. Just like she didn't see you."
Memories of what Ivy said hit him, and, okay, sure, he didn't see what was right in front of him, but Dylan couldn't stop messing up. "She saw me!" he argued.
"She thought you were gonna beg, Hun," the waitress stated.
"I did!" he reminded her.
But the woman shook her head, "No. I don't know her, but from what you said? She thought you were gonna beg her to stay. Knew it. And was scared if you did, she'd not be strong enough to run, and you'd both die." She sighed, "Not sayin' she was right, but that's what she probably thought. And she was wrong. Twice." Another sip. "You trusted her, right?"
"With my life," Dylan responded, not having to think about it.
"And she didn't trust you with hers," the Waitress responded simply. Frowning, she added, "That's, that doesn't make her a bad person, Hun. Just normal."
"And I'm not!?" he demanded, trying not to cry again, feeling raw.
The woman gave him a long look. "No. You're not. And not just 'cause you're an Outlander."
That brought him up short, heart hammering, wanting to run, wondering if he needed to fight, remembering what they were told, but-
"It's fine, we won't tell anyone," she reassured him. "You can put the gun down, Hun."
He blinked, not realizing he was holding it, the rounds still loaded, from days ago, faintly smoking with blackness, as, hesitantly, he re-holstered it. "I. Um. Sorry. Just. Sorry."
Slowly reaching over, the woman patted his arm. "It's fine. But… everyone knows. Caravanners? They ain't normal. That's why people join, 'cause they want to be more. And the ones that aren't, and do it anyways? A lot of them don't make it. By Ægir, there's a reason I stayed here, and I'm not sad I did. But that was my choice, not my husband's, just like it was my choice to say yeah when he courted me. And this Anna of yours, she made her own choices. And ya gotta respect them, to respect her."
Dylan sat with that, finally asking, "I didn't respect her, did I?"
"Sounds like she didn't either," the woman told him. "But you're young. What, twenty?"
"Eighteen," he corrected.
The waitress blinked, "Oh, you're new new." At his look she explained, "All Outlanders are eighteen when they start. It's why that's the age you're an adult in most Bastions. Or that's what I heard. Eighteen here."
"It's been a rough few months," he offered with a helpless shrug.
She considered that, "And you're already Lead?"
He laughed bitterly, "We all got there our first day. Night. Whatever. Got them fighting a Shadow Pack. Picked up a few more Leads, a few Clays. Didn't help."
"Let you survive," the waitress disagreed. "Would've let her survive, if she'd trusted you. That's not nuthin', Hun."
"It just wasn't enough," Dylan noted.
"You bein' here tells me it was," the woman replied, standing, and picking up his dish. "'l'll have my Hubby warm this up for ya, Hun. He's a Bronze Culinarian, and just magic in the kitchen!"
And then she was gone, back in five minutes, his dinner hot once again, the sauce sizzling slightly. "Thanks," Dylan told her. "For this. And… Everything. Sorry you had to close down."
Giving him a flat look, the waitress reached over, and lightly cuffed him in the back of the head, not hard enough to hurt, just to get his attention.
"I chose to do that, young man," she chided. "Don't be apologizin' for somethin' someone else did. You been doin' too much of that already, it seems."
"R-right, sorry, thanks," he stammered. "This… is gonna take a bit, isn't it."
"Best things do," the woman replied. "Enjoy the meal."
"I will," he promised, as she went and opened up the front, enjoying it, as it was really good.
And, when he left, he also left Annabeth's pouch, and all the coins in it.
She wouldn't've wanted to do that, but…
He did.
And he was responsible for his actions.
So he needed to do what he thought was right.
Not what he thought others might have wanted him to do.
Stepping into the freezing Thule air, the evening light turning the snow drifts into piles of glistening bronze, Dylan knew he wasn't magically better.
The past still hurt, but he couldn't do anything to change it.
The future would probably hurt too, because more bad things would happen.
But he could control the present, decide what he did now.
Dylan still hurt, but, for once, he no longer felt like he was drowning.
Now?
Now he could tread water.
Or, he could do what Malik and the others had been trying to help him do.
And swim.
… Not literally though, the water here had looked absolutely freaking freezing.
His smile was small, and pained, but it was honest, as he headed back to the Caravan, hoping he could find Malik, and see what his roommate had gotten up to this time.
AN: As always, next four chapters are up on Patreon and Subscribestar, and this story will be stubbed before publication, so it won't stay up here forever.
