Apparently, what has now included lounging about, praying that the town will forget about them soon, so they can continue clearing the rot and investigating the spectre. Apparently, what now did not include adequately addressing their issues.

Beverly hides in a corner, a blanket pulled up over the top of her. Only Adwin is in the room, and he notices since he is perusing the few English books in Hubert's collection.

Her body lies under rocks. Her whole soul is weighted down. She bites her lips to keep the blood flowing in them. She awoke in this condition and hasn't spoken yet. Her silence stems from a fear deep inside her that if she wanted to talk, she would lack the capabilities.

Adwin finds a notebook and flips to an empty page. He scans Hubert's cursive writings, trying to decipher any clues, but it seems in this timeline, Hubert has written nothing about the rot or the spectre or the Grip.

Instead, Adwin runs through. He remembers the initial note, from who he has still no idea.

The rot is coming. You have little time.

It makes no mention of the disease. Like the war, is he supposed to accept that it is coming and do nothing? Is the disease tangential to the real problem?

Is the rot even the real issue they have come to solve?

He looks over to Beverly, to ask her what her opinion is, and then he sees it. The tightness in her face, the quick breaths.

"Are you panicked?" Adwin asks.

Beverly wants to both shake her head and to nod, but she can't move. Her eyes stare forward, and she darts around the room, but even that feels strained.

"I can't," her voice is raspy, as if she has been smoking for years. A cigar has never touched her lips. Now, none ever will.

Adwin makes his way over to her. "Is it alright if I touch you?"

"Where?" she asks, because it matters so much. "I... I cannot feel much but my face."

She bites down until she bleeds, the pain just a numb echo on the pink flesh of her lips. Blood trickles down on to her chin, the wound deeper than she realized, using the last of her strength.

Adwin pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. He wipes at the blood, quickly cleaning it away. The flood of blood becomes a small stream, until it slowly stops.

"Who do you want me to get?" he asks her.

"No," she insists. "You cannot tell them. I don't want anyone to know."

Adwin sighs. He looks down at the bloodstained handkerchief in his hands. "If that's what you choose."

~~~

Maverick and Alvaro are in the kitchen, preparing lunch for the group. Their food rations are small, because Hubert only has enough food for himself without drawing suspicion. They are each taking turns going without food so that they have enough to get them by.

"I do not understand what we are going to do," Maverick says.

Alvaro wraps his arms around Maverick's waist from behind. He puts his head on Maverick's shoulder and the two shrug together.

"We need to somehow convince the townspeople that we aren't dangerous," Maverick says.

"They assume we are dead," Alvaro blinks, trying to get Maverick to put down the utensils and calm for a second. "I bet that showing up out of nowhere will just have them try to chase us out of town. They'll think we're ghosts."

Maverick straightens his spine. He thinks for a second, then shakes the thought off. The realization is undoubtedly unhelpful (it is actually, quite of used to them). "We need a plan."

"No, we need a day off," Alvaro forces Maverick to turn around and presses his back into the kitchen counter. With a grin on his face, he presses a kiss against Maverick's cheek bone.

Unimpressed, Maverick continues to think. "We don't have time for a day off. Our job was to clear out the rot, and if we aren't fighting against it, all of our work will be done."

"Then we will be sent home, I know, I know," Alvaro cradles Maverick's head, forcing them to look at each other.

Maverick snaps to attention, because even though he is trying to resist, something in him stirs and he looks up at Alvaro. It is deep in his chest, and it is all consuming. Why does Alvaro have this affect on him? It's the universe punishing him, probably. Although, Alvaro could never be a punishment.

"Do you want to be sent home?" Maverick asks.

Alvaro shrugs. He has a thought (only if you could come with me, he thinks), but it is too soon to say something so crass. Instead, he simply embraces Maverick. "You worried about it?"

Maverick doesn't think that he can ever go back to a normal life after any of this. No, he could never suffer through another day of working for his father. Especially not considering that all of this is out there.

Perhaps, even though he and Clara have never been particularly close, he could steal Clara from a dreadful husband. Then, they could get married (out of convenience rather than love), move to some city which neither of them has ever seen, and start a new. Maybe Maverick could find someone like Alvaro, and maybe he could live happily, like he supposes that he might deserve.

Then again, people will always ask him where he got this scar, and what should he tell them?

"Mav," Alvaro tries to snap him once more.

"I want to be happy here," Maverick says. "I... it would take a lot for me to find joy back home. I just wish we could stay here forever."

Alvaro grins. "We've outlived a hundred other strangers, who's to say we can't outlive ourselves?"

Maverick presses a kiss against Alvaro's lips, and the two embrace once more.

~~~

Hubert has all but forced Clara to join him in his room. She stands, arms crossed, refusing to lie down on the bed.

"I still don't seem what I have done to bring out such a rage from within you," Hubert points out. "All that I said was that we didn't have time."

"You tried to force me out," Clara places a finger against her forehead, pressing down against the headache that is coming.

Hubert shakes his head back and forth. "Clara, we did not have time. They were going to burn the house down."

"I do not take orders from you, nor anyone else," she turns to face him, her cheeks bright red.

"You are stubborn then," Hubert argues, staring up at the ceiling. "I thought I liked that about you, but I do not appreciate you turning your anger on me, when all I did was save you."

'You grabbed me," she argues.

"I did not have to run across town to save your friends, but I did it because I actually care about you," Hubert stands up, taking a few steps closer to her. God, he makes her feel things. All of them consume him terribly. It's been so long since he has felt properly. Every second of it leaves him on fire. That's what she is, a flame that refuses to be put out. If left unchecked, she will take down him and his whole house with her. He has yet to die, and though times have become desperate, they are not desperate enough to wish for the grip that life has on him to slip.

He tries to put a hand to her cheek, but she brushes him away. Finally, she goes to the bed and sits on it, with her legs and arms crossed. Her body is closed off, especially to him.

"You make me angrier than I have ever felt in my life," she tells him.

Hubert laughs and shakes his head.

"I am not a joke," Clara counters.

"If I make you so angry, than leave," Hubert tells her.

She doesn't budge. Part of her wants to get out of the door and run to Mickey, but she doubts that she would be accepted in his arms.

"I cannot tell if you stay because you love me, or because you love the things that I do for you," Hubert shakes his head back and forth.

Clara feels as if she has been slapped. "I do not love either, Hubert Tremblay."

He wishes that he hadn't drunk the last of his liquor. Instead, he simply rubs his hair until it stands up in a crazed mess. He has no words left to say, so he does not speak.

On the other side of the door, Mickey stands and waits. He knows that he shouldn't be listening, so he sits in the hallway, pretending to be distracted by nothing. Flo sits next to him, her head on his shoulder.

"You shouldn't forgive her, you know?" Flo says, not mentioned that it is likely that Clara doesn't want to forgiveness.

Mickey won't, and he knows it. He waits for a quiet second so that he can give Clara a piece of his mind. How dare she pretend to love him? Kiss him and then leave with Hubert. Cry at the sight of him, like he is the one who left her? He doesn't know what he is going to say, but surely it is something, right? Something that will resolve this ball of anger tightening around his stomach.

"I know you will though," Flo points out. "You've gotten it written all over your face."

"I'm not going to accept an apology, not that she would ever give one," her main flaw is her stubbornness, he thinks. And he loves it. With all of himself and some more. It's embarrassing how much he falls for her.

"Well, I know I would forgive Beverly for anything she has done."

Mickey shakes his head back and forth, jolting Flo. "It's not the same," he insists.

Flo almost laughs. Instead, she swallows the bile in the back of her throat. She wonders if she is even safe in Mickey's arms. "Maybe it is."

~~~~~

I'm so excited! I've cut this down so there are fewer chapters left now. Only a handful. Argh! I am so so so excited. Like, this was good, but it gets so much better.

Anyway, I'm thinking of revamping Degrade. Like, having people reapply, and accepting new applicants (all of whom would just have graduated high school) or I'm thinking of something new entirely. I want it to be summer themed, since each of my apply books is themed after a season, but I don't know yet.

Anyway, let me know what you think, and I will see you soon!