Meg Callahan (setinstone) wrote in the_colony, @ 2010-12-13 17:01:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | ^ week 23, meghan callahan, michael callahan, | meg and mike |
Week 23: Wednesday
Characters: Mike and Meg
Location: The Garage
Summery: Meg takes Mike out a little lunch while he's working. The two fall into the subject of the group tensions surrounding Leo
Rating: PG
Mike pushed the welding goggles up on his forehead, sweating a little despite the cool air in the garage. He’d been working steadily on the barrels of the still and the wood gassifier respectively for the past week, and they were coming along nicely -- even though it took him longer because he had to explain everything to his new “assistant.” It felt good to do something useful, finally, something that only he could do. Guard duty was something, of course, but this was all him. Even if it meant spending some time away from Meg.
He wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve, looking down at the cooling metal barrel with a critical eye. It was looking good so far, from what he could tell.
There had never been a winter where Meg felt so utterly useless, on the other hand. For obvious reasons, she wasn’t allowed on raids, she sometimes kept someone company on guard duty, but that was the extent of it. Inventory and making sure things in the house stayed the way they were (lest she hurt herself as the result of moved furniture) weren’t exactly time fulfilling.
In effect, Meg was bored. And getting antsy because of it. Even if staying out of the way of the busier folks took up a chunk of her time, it didn’t fill the space. When that happened, thoughts tended to dominate the empty areas--thoughts she didn’t like.
So... mundane activities were the name of Meghan’s game, and had been for a while. Things for her had changed drastically when Mike showed up, but they were settling back into a routine again--good and bad. Take it or leave it.
In any case, she and Sarge had found themselves at the door of the garage, a bundle in one of the blind woman’s hands, the other curled around her dog’s lead. She brushed a shoulder on the door frame, and turned a freckled nose up into the air, before it wrinkled.
“What’s burning?”
“Just welding something,” Mike replied easily, grinning upon seeing Meg. “That doesn’t happen to be food, does it? Because if it is, you are a goddess divine. Well, more of a goddess than usual, that is.”
No, the flattery never got old. She and him could be ninety years old and still hitting on each other like college bar rats. Meghan grinned bright and let the door shut behind her. “Maybe... but who said it was yours?” The arch of a brow lifted over the mirrored shades to show her teasing. She gave Sarge a nudge with the pat of her hand and a quiet indication to go see Papa.
“Minx. Tease. You wouldn’t eat food in front of a starving man, would you?” It was hard to sound stricken while smiling, but he made a game effort, ruffling Sarge’s fur affectionately as the dog loped over to him.
“Only if it got me somethin’ later.” Even steps and a hand that trailed along the garage wall lead her toward her husband’s voice, where Meg eventually stopped when her shins touched the bottom wrung of the work table that stood between them. There she set the lunch down, folded in cloth.
Mike went over to the table, the smell of food instantly making his stomach clench in hunger. Hard work always made him lose track of time, and he was famished. “Babe, whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it,” he replied, leaning forward and kissing her on her forehead before sitting across from her.
“Well for starters, you get all my goat-duties from now on.” Her smile was crooked, but pleasant by nature. Her lips pursed at the air when she felt him near, and brushed the side of his mouth.
“I don’t want you near those things. Not unless they’re babies and can’t hurt anything.” Mike replied. “If that means I gotta get down and dirty with ‘em, I’ll take that.” Mike knew that Meg could handle herself, but he wasn’t about to see her get hurt again any time soon, even if they did have a doctor on call.
Despite the natural little flare of rebellion that came from being told not to do something, Meg surpassed it quick, and smirked while nodding. “Not a problem.” Trust her, she wasn’t going near the goats again.
Meg hovered her hand over the open cloth of food, and grabbed one of the two shelled hard boiled eggs she nudged with her fingertips. “So escaping reality for a bit? What’cha buildin’ again?” It was probably the fourth or fifth time she had asked, and he had to explain--but such was a little game of her’s, when it came to Mike’s profession (or former profession). She never claimed to understand it, but she knew he loved to talk about it. So she humored him.
“Well, I’ve nearly finished the pressure boiler for the still -- that’s the smaller one -- and I’m working on fitting the lid. Got to fit really tight, you know. And once I get this sorted out, the wood gassifier will be cake.” He popped half of the other egg into his mouth. “Mmmmm.”
Meg was chewing the first bite of her egg, taken while he was explaining. A faint nod followed with her general understanding, but it was way too complicated for her to work her brain around--at least, to what she wanted to put her effort into. Meg didn’t have a love of numbers, even if they were such a crucial part of her existence.
So she went past it. “Taken a break?” She swallowed her bite.
“Well, you know... a goddess comes walkin’ in with some food, you gotta do what you gotta do.” He polished off the rest of the egg with relish. “How ‘bout you? How’re you feeling?”
“Eh. Can’t complain too much.” The straight grin on her face was the direct result of his extended flattery, as well as her delicate teasing sarcasm. She twisted the half-eaten egg in her fingers, but didn’t bite it. “Can’t fuckin’ wait for Spring, though.”
“Yeah? It’s getting pretty damn cold out here, that’s for sure.” He shrugged. “Wind was worse in Chicago, though.” The comment reminded him of Leo, and he grinned. “Leo’s from Chicago too, you know that? Small world, huh. Looks like we’re tied with Texas.”
Leo. Meghan paused a little, letting her mind reclick over the newcomers of their group, specifically the one she remembered much more vividly. Not because she had actually met him in any significant fashion.
“No, didn’t know that.” A slight ‘huh’ tone was woven into her voice. “I hadn’t had a chance to really talk to him.”
“Well, he seems like a nice enough guy. I mean, we got to talking a little when we were cleaning out the Doc’s trailer, and hauling it over here, and he’s quiet, but he’s not half bad.” Mike knew there was some tension surrounding Leo’s return because he’d taken off before, but he hadn’t been there for any of that, so it didn’t phase him much.
Meg propped her chin in her hand, her elbow set on the work table. The depth of one dimple displayed all the unsettled little emotions that no one could see behind sightless eyes.
She didn’t say anything, though. She hadn’t talked to the guy, but she did know about the circumstances of why he left the group before they found her and Sarge, wandering the desert like a half-dead wraith. Nothing more than a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat, silenced by another small bite of egg.
“And that Walker kid, he’s a hoot. I’d forgotten what kids are like, you know? I mean, Jack and Searle are sort of mini adults, but that kid...” he trailed off, not wanting to hit a sore spot with Meg, seeing as how they were going to be knee deep in kids soon enough, none of them theirs. “Anyways, glad they’re here instead of out in the cold.” He grabbed another bite of food.
It was a sore spot, but an old scar that didn’t hurt that much anymore. The subject brought out more of a nostalgic feeling for Meg, soft and somber, but with a small smile that showed she agreed with him. So did her nod. “Me too. I shook Walker’s hand--kid’s a beanpole, isn’t he.”
“Heh, you got that right.” He paused. Meg seemed quieter than usual, and he figured the relative privacy of the garage would give them an opportunity to talk that was as good as any. “So... anything on your mind? Want me to beat up one of those goats for ya?”
She snorted. “Beat’em all up, fine with me.” But that wasn’t what was bothering her. Anymore, anyway.
A quiet sigh followed another swallow of lunch before she continued. “I dunno. Not sure what to think about Leo. I wasn’t with these guys when he left, but I know it wasn’t on great terms.”
“I know Derek looked pissed off. Even more than usual,” Mike replied, chewing thoughtfully. “Molly too -- something about how he was a member of a gang or somethin?” There had been an awful lot of talk at that meeting, and a lot of it had gone over his head -- continuations of discussions they’d had far before he’d come on the scene.
Meg nodded somberly. “The Sevens.” She very purposefully avoided any specific talk about Derek himself. Not to mention the fact that she and Mike still hadn’t gone into detail about their year apart. They were both avoiding it like the plague--no pun intended. “Guess they’re supposed to be like the Aryan Brotherhood, or something.”
Mike raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really? Because that doesn’t seem like Leo at all. I mean, he didn’t say shit about cleaning out the Doc’s trailer, and seems to... I dunno... respect her? For what she did to check out Walker?” He paused. “I mean, he didn’t say one way or the other about Derek, but he’s not the easiest to get friendly with...”
Yeah, he had that right. Though Meg wasn’t about to tell her husband why Derek had a particular sour expression always aimed at him.
She just nodded, then drew thin shoulders up in a shrug. “S’just what I heard. I haven’t talked to him besides that first day.” She paused, unaware that she was suddenly gnawing a little on the inside of her lip.
“I wouldn’t worry about Derek. He’s ...temperamental.”
“Yeah, I gathered,” Mike replied with a bit of a snort. “Still, you’d have thought he got an electric shock the way he jumped out of his chair at that meeting.”
Obviously, Meghan hadn’t ‘seen’ that particular reaction. But she didn’t question it.
Again, she shrugged out of pure reaction, twisting the half-eaten egg in her fingers, as if she forgot it was there. “I dunno what happened before they found me. I usually don’t ask.”
“Yeah, that’s probably best. I mean, we’ve all been through a lot -- I’d imagine sometimes people’ve had to do things they aren’t proud of to get by.” He washed everything down with a drink of water from his water bottle. “Want some water, babe?” She shook her head lightly.
“Nah.” The topic of conversation had not been very conductive to a chipper mood. Suddenly she found herself sifting through thoughts, memories and ‘what ifs’ that she really didn’t want to focus on.