[flashback] in the bleak midwinter long ago

[2goodarms]

The materials started coming in from the Front last week, a few days after the protein blocks: boards, risers, gym mats, army blankets, rolls of fabric that might have been curtains or carpeting. They've been putting together bunks, stacks of them, under the direction of the armed guards.

By unspoken common consensus, the very end of the last car gets curtained off for Gilliam and the others recovering from their voluntary amputation, and the first makeshift pallets are carried back to them.

The work shift is over for the day, and protein blocks are being distributed. Under a guard's watchful eye, one person -- a different one each day -- is tapped to bring food to those who can't walk out to get it for themselves.

Today it's Curtis.

The cloth pulled tight around his right arm used to be a bandana. The wound beneath it split open again last night; he hasn't been able to stop picking at it. Before, a cut like this might've meant stitches. Now it just means pain biting his arm as he cradles the protein blocks to his chest.

Curtis doesn't look up. Nobody looks at him. They part like the Red Sea when he moves, like the train cleaving through the ice. Even in this small space, they find room to get out of the way.

They still wonder if he's got a knife.

He stops in front of the curtains, exchanging an uneasy glance with the guard.

Comments

[snowpiercer_npcs]

Gilliam's looking up at him in concern; Tanya, at his side, in cool assessment.

"It's all right, dear boy." Very gently, almost worriedly.

[2goodarms]

He shakes his head, like he's been gripped by an involuntary shiver. His eyes dart to Tanya, back to Gilliam, down to the baby and away; he has to wet his lips before he speaks.

"Why do you want me here."

[snowpiercer_npcs]

Steadily: "I need to ask you to do something for me."

[2goodarms]

Curtis swallows, hard.

He can't help it: this time, when he looks down at the baby, he can't tear his gaze away.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

The baby's sleeping, albeit fitfully; as he looks down, the tiny head turns on Gilliam's shoulder and the little face screws itself up as though about to yawn or wail.

Gilliam waits, still looking up at him.

[2goodarms]

The baby wouldn't stop screaming. The noise almost drowned out his mother, it was so loud. All Curtis can think now is, please don't start crying.

He doesn't want to think about what he might do, if the baby starts crying. Even with Gilliam and Tanya sitting right there.

"What?"

[snowpiercer_npcs]

The look on Gilliam's face is more sad than anything else, now.

"Please sit down, Curtis."

[2goodarms]

What could they actually do to him, if he left the room? It couldn't be worse than what they just went through. He doesn't have anything to fear. He should just go.




Curtis lowers himself to the ground, and folds himself small.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"Someone," says Gilliam very gently, "needs to take care of this child."

[2goodarms]

"You can't be serious."

Very small, and even more horrified.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"There's a woman who's been able to help feed him, because she has a nursing infant of her own -- but for the same reason, she doesn't have the wherewithal to take care of him on her own."

Gilliam's gaze dwells on him, serious and intent.

"This is something you can do, Curtis."

[2goodarms]

"No. No, look, man, I-I -- " The words accelerate, careening down the track. "I didn't even do any babysitting before, I don't know shit about stuff like this, I can't -- "

[snowpiercer_npcs]

Tanya cuts him off. "You will."

Gilliam's glance goes to Tanya, and after a moment he nods to her: go on.

Her gaze hasn't shifted once: still cold, unmoved. "You took away this child's family."

[2goodarms]

Bile rises in his throat.

"I -- "

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"Shut up."

Edgar squirms, and without looking away from Curtis, Tanya reaches over to steady the baby. "I don't care what you've got to say. You took his mother and you damn well better take on the responsibility of him."

[snowpiercer_npcs]

Gilliam's voice is quiet. "You don't have to do it without help, Curtis. You can learn what you need to know."

[2goodarms]

He can't say anything. All he can do is shake his head, dumbly, as the cold radiates from the floor and seeps through his blood.

He hasn't shaken it yet. Don't they see? He walks through the car and sees a baby, and some part of his hindbrain still thinks food. The instant this kid starts screaming he'll probably throw it off one of the new bunks.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

Gilliam's eyes on his face are gentle, and very, very clear.

"You can bring him back here anytime you need to," he says, not quite laying any particular stress on any particular word, "and give him to me for a little while."

[2goodarms]

Curtis tucks his injured arm close. Layers the other one atop it, after a moment.

He still can't say anything.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"It's not that tough," Tanya says -- still brusque, but without quite as much disdain to her tone. "Kids his age only really got three modes: eat, sleep, and poop. He starts crying, you just figure out which one you gotta fix."

[snowpiercer_npcs]

Edgar yawns wide, revealing a scattering of tiny teeth.

"Is he taking solid food yet?" Gilliam asks Tanya, and then makes a mildly deprecating face. "Well, I say solid ..."

[snowpiercer_npcs]

She shakes her head. "Don't know. He's old enough to be starting soon. And the sooner we can take him off Dee's hands, the better."

And then, mimicking his tone and expression: "Well, I say hands."

[snowpiercer_npcs]

He gives the faintest huff of laughter, and looks back to Curtis.

"Would you like to try feeding him?"

[2goodarms]

Fuck no, he almost says.

This is what they'll do if he runs, he realizes: they won't give up. They'll just keep trying to put that kid in his lap, again and again, until he's too exhausted to fight back.

"With what?" he says instead, more acidly than he means. "I don't have tits."

[snowpiercer_npcs]

Tanya snorts.

"The idea was to see if he'll take adult food," says Gilliam mildly. "There's plenty of my ration bar left. I'd be happy to donate a piece by way of experiment."