The Kids Are Not Alright


brian_icon.gif samara2_icon.gif

Scene Title The Kids Are Not Alright
Synopsis Prepping of Bay House is interrupted by new realized truth
Date February 17, 2011

Bay House

"A big fuckin' swing right here."

His hand is moving in a grandiose gesture, sliding across the hyopthetical swing hanging from the imaginary beam on the cellar ceiling. The young man has spent the last few moments going over his plans for the cellar. Trying to get caught up in the moment, anything to distract him from what is going on in his other sets of eyes. His distraction may be evident by the amount of repetition he has done of his facets of the cellar. Glancing over his shoulder at the tunnel leading away from the cellar.

He turns some to look at his wife to be swaddled in blankets. "Want to walk the tunnel?" He asks quietly, taking a few steps forward. Offering his hand out to her he offers her a sort of sad smile.


The auburn haired woman had examined the makeshift bed carefully and had proceeded to add blankets to the pile in the event that their friend return sometime. "It's chilly down here," Sam tugs the blanket she'd brought tighter around her as she shivers once over.

"A swing from the ceiling?" Sami's nose crinkles as she does a tight little pirouette ending with her hands in the air. "I could see that. I've always been a fan of the porch swing type, but I guess that's not likely to happen here, right?"

Her head tilts slightly at Brian while her eyes narrow as her hand is held out to her. Her finger squeezes his as she sidles up to him. With a tighter squeeze she falls into step with him. "We can walk the tunnel," she says quietly with a slight smile that fades at Brian's expression. "Are you okay?" Her other hand rises to his cheek.

"No." Brian finally breaks. He's been keeping up a front the whole day and finally it seeps out, "The kids are sick." As soon as the words come out, his voice cracks. And it seems like that's all that needs to happen to break the floodgate. His tongue presses against the inside of his bottom lip. His eyes roll wildly as if to fight off the inevitable. Samara's hand is dropped as he brings up one hand to his chin. His head lowering. A long moment passes.

When his lips open to continue talking, only a wrecked sob drags from his lips. Tears immediately springing from his eyes. Stumbling backwards, his back slaps against the tunnel wall before he lowers himself to the ground. Openly weeping. Something Brian Winters can say that he has never actually done. Until now.

The revelation draws stunned silence as Sam's hand is released. Frozen in place, tears begin to well in the base of her eyes. There's a sick feeling in her stomach as she takes a step towards the wall and turns her back to it, letting herself slide down. Like her ghost days, she sits next to him, wordlessly, helplessly as he sobs.

Her arms are thrown around him, drawing his head towards her lap. Her fingers lightly line his hair in a gentle caress. Tears trail down her cheeks, but her lips press tightly together, she needs to be strong.

A culmination of words stumble over each other and fall out of his mouth. A strained "FFuuuuuuuck." Eeks out off his lips, his lips trembling as his head iseased down to Samara's lap. The sobbing racks him, his hand climbing up to his fface. Hand weakly going to find Samara's free hand that isn't wandering through his hair. Legs curling up to his chest much like a child folding himself into the ffetal position.

"I.." It comes off strained. "We have to move.." A pause for heavy breathing and convulsing. "The babies and Joe.. and Lily. Here. We don't have time to get it ready.. they have to get away from the sick ones."

The hand is willingly given, accompanied by a tight squeeze, still silent. Sami leans forward, bending at the waist to plant a soft kiss at his temple. "Shhhh… shhh…" she soothes quietly. Being someone who constantly says the wrong thing, she's hesitant to open her mouth, hesitant to give her thoughts, but she has to say something. And so she whispers one of those lies that people spread, "It's gonna be okay. Somehow." She doesn't know how. She doesn't know when.

Sam's head turns so she can peek down the tunnel while she sidles closer to him, leaning downward. "It's ready enough," she soothes quietly as she sniffles loudly. "It's gonna be okay. We.. we… we can do this— " she affirms in a whisper.

But even a Brian wrecked by dispair is still a Brian with a sense of humor. And so as he sobs and weeps openly in her lap, and otherwise makes weird noises he does his best to joke. "I'm going to eat you leg." Leaks out in between sobs. "Your fuckin kneecap!" The last syllable comes out in a shrill high pitch as he rolls to his back. Wet eyes peering up through the water to the face above him.

Stomach bouncing with the sobs, his hand squeezes her hand back tightly. "I—" A choking sound is made. His mouth hangs open as tears stream from the sides of his eyes. "Nnnnngghhh. I can't do this Sam. This isn't supposed to be my job. I'm just pretending.." It sounds more as if he's making a deal with her than stating facts. "I'm just pretending to be him.. This isn't supposed to be me."

There's the oddest flicker of a smile amidst Sam's own tears at the aforementioned cannibalism and another quiet sniffle. She plants another soft kiss on his forehead. She bites her bottom lip sharply to keep from chattering. She doesn't want to babble. But… "Baby?" she says softly, "I.. you don't need to be him. You're you." She presses her lips together tightly as she blinks hard, trying to contain her emotions. Crying at everything isn't the most productive thing. "You're.. you're good.. strong.. supportive.." she sniffles again " kind.."

The fingers in his hair trails down his cheek gently. "And you can do this.. I know you can.. but.. you're not.. you're not alone, Brian. I'm here. Gillian…" she shrugs slightly as her head cants to the side. "I.. I love you. I never knew him, but I know you. And I know you can do this."

The crying does not subside immediately. His semi-tantrum continuing on a little while longer before a few stabilizing breaths are drawn in. One shoulderblade presses down to roll onto his other shoulder. Laying on his side with his head in her lap, he presses his face into her stomach. Another breath is taken. "I wish we could drink. I wish our baby wasn't such a pussy and he could take a little tequila." Letting out a groan, one hand goes up to grab at her shoulder. Pulling himselff up, he goes to lays back gently against her stomach and chest.

Letting his head roll back onto her shoulder a light whimper is let out. "The babies have to live here." He mutters weakly. Before shaking his head. "We'll have to keep the babies at the apartment again. Koshka will have to move here." He lets out a long sigh. "I wish we had more god damn time."

Sam's eyebrows tick upwards while her arm wraps around his chest. "You can drink if you don't mind drinking alone… that's one of those things I actually know I can't do." Her lips part slightly like she intends to speak again, but with a small shake of her head, they're easily neutralized into something straight faced.

"Everything is going to be okay. Just.. we improvise, right? I mean, we take what we have and.. we go with it, right?" her tone finds some semblance of evenness, an intentionally steady cadence with every word. "We can do this. And babies are good.. it's.. " she takes a deep breath. "Koshka can help. And it'll work out. It will."

Overall, she manages to play it confident, save for the tremble of her arms around him, a distinct tell that she's not wholly convinced of her words, but she's certainly trying.
