[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

[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."

[2goodarms]

Curtis hesitates. Several long beats go by before, reluctantly, he scoots a little closer to Gilliam, Tanya, and the baby.

Maybe if he plays along for a couple minutes, that'll be enough for them to let it go.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

It takes Gilliam a few tries to realize that while holding a baby with one arm isn't entirely impossible, passing that baby to another person is rather more difficult. Even with Tanya's help, it's awkward as hell even getting him turned around.

[hate_gettin_older]

Baby Edgar doesn't seem bothered by the shifting and jostling, but he's definitely awake now. Another yawn, and he blinks and opens his eyes.

And focuses on Curtis's face.

[2goodarms]

Curtis draws in a breath, bracing himself for the inevitable moment. Even a baby has to remember what happened. Even someone this young would recognize the person who killed their mom -- and almost killed them.

Nothing happens. The baby just blinks again, sleepily, regarding Curtis with deep solemnity.

It's like if he reaches out, it'll imply he's agreeing to Gilliam's idea. But even with Tanya's help, the kid's starting to slip, and if he hits the floor then he'll definitely start crying, and --

Curtis reaches out to touch Edgar's side, helping Tanya and Gilliam hold on.

[hate_gettin_older]

Between the three of them, they manage to establish a stable balance with the baby more or less sitting on Gilliam's lap, steadied against his chest.

Predictably perhaps, Edgar almost immediately moves to destabilize it, trying to lunge out of Gilliam's restraining arm as though convinced he can already walk. Or swim, perhaps; one chubby hand is flailing as though trying to push himself forward.

[2goodarms]

"Hey, knock it off," says Curtis, grabbing the kid's hand.

A beat later, he seems to realize what he's done, and instantly lets go as if he'd touched a chunk of ice.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar blinks up at him, round-eyed.

And then cracks a big gap-toothed grin and reaches that same hand out toward Curtis again.

[2goodarms]

Curtis draws his hand far out of reach and throws an equally round-eyed look toward Gilliam and Tanya.

He could not telegraph HELP ME more clearly if he'd shouted it at top volume.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"He wants to play with you," says Tanya; the dumbass she tacks onto the end, while unspoken, is clearly audible.

[2goodarms]

Faint, and a little accusatory, Curtis replies, "You said they only had three modes."

[snowpiercer_npcs]

"Yeah, and looks like he's growing a fourth one."

[2goodarms]

Curtis bites his lip, glancing back toward Edgar.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

Edgar waves his hand insistently, trying to lean forward again.

"Give it a try," Gilliam murmurs. "It's worth a try, isn't it?"

[2goodarms]

"He doesn't recognize me."

It's hard to tell from Curtis' tone whether that's a good thing or a bad one. Even he's not wholly sure.

[snowpiercer_npcs]

Gilliam's eyebrows rise a little. "Did you expect him to?"

[2goodarms]

He shrugs, a little helplessly, and finally -- with some trepidation -- offers his hand back to Edgar.

The baby latches on with a gleeful giggle.