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lavenderpearls · 4 years ago

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Some thoughts about Basta (and Capricorn)

I just saw a post about the Inkheart characters and how PTSD could be a possible explanation for Basta‘s behavior. And I had thoughts about it.

So I decided to share them, even though I have no idea if anyone is interested in this.

I think that PTSD is kinda a part of what’s going on with Basta. We know he had a rough childhood, wasn’t treated well by his parents or the people that were supposed to care for him back then. And later Fenoglio stated that Capricorn didn’t treat him much better. (And let’s be honest, we also see that Capricorn only „cares“ for him as long as he‘s useful). And then there’s all the other stuff, like that time he got both his arms burned or later when Mo read him, Capricorn and Dustfinger out of their world.

So yeah, he surely has been through a lot.

But while that would be enough to end up with PTSD, I think he fits the criteria for Antisocial Personality Disorder a bit better.

According to the DSM-5 the symptoms of Antisocial Personality Disorder are

• Failure to confirm to social norms concerning lawful behaviors, as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest. (Do I even have to say anything here?Basta killed people, is the reason for Dustfingers scars, stole stuff, broke into houses, used to set things on fire, kidnapped people, all of this multiple times and in Inkspell it‘s literally mentioned that he was arrested after Capricorn died)

• Deceitfulness, as indicated by repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for personal profit or pleasure (Tbh this is more of a Capricorn thing, who also has ASPD imo, just a different subtype, but I‘ll get into that later)

• Impulsivity or failure to plan. (Throughout all the books Basta is CONSTANTLY doing impulsive stuff, and in Inkheart Capricorn literally said that this was a problem with him)

• Irritability and aggressiveness, as indicated by repeated physical fights or assaults. (I can’t mention all the times this was the case, it would be too much)

• Having no regard for the safety of self or others. (Pretty self explanatory.)

• Consistent irresponsibility, as indicated by repeated failure to sustain consistent work behavior or honor financial obligations (A little more difficult, because of the way the inkworld works and how Basta's life turned out in our world. He‘s never had a normal job. His job basically was being a criminal.)

• Lack of remorse, or inability to feel guilt, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another. (The times he killed people and didn’t give a shit? The fact that he had no problem with threatening children? Just to name a few things. He never really seemed to feel guilty for all the things he did. The only time he kinda feels bad about it is when he thinks this could cause problems for himself, like that time he made sure the cat in Meggies room could escape through the window. He didn’t care about the cat. He was worried that it would bring bad luck to him to let it starve in there. Just as an example.)

So with all this we can be pretty sure he has ASPD.

But there’s more to unpack.

One of the criteria for the disorder is that these or at least similar antisocial behaviors already occurred before the age of 15. We don’t know exactly if they did, but I think we can assume it. If I remember it correctly Fenoglio mentioned that Basta was younger than Meggie, wo was 12 at that time, when Capricorn took him in. And probably not because he felt sorry for the boy, but because he saw something in him that could be useful later.

Speaking about Capricorn. I said that I’m sure he also has ASPD. But he’s pretty different from Basta. At least in some ways. He’s so cold most of the time, much less impulsive, he’s able to plan ahead and also to control a bunch of other criminals.

To make this a little shorter, there’s a lot of different theories about this that include different subtypes, but one basically says that you can somewhat put people with ASPD in two different groups.

The ones that are cold, more rational and manipulative (like Capricorn) and the ones that are more openly aggressive and impulsive, like Basta. (That’s also where people sometimes draw the line between psychopaths and sociopaths, even though there‘s also a little more to that, but I‘m not gonna get into it now cause this text is already ridiculously long)

But to stay with all this 'subtype of ASPD'-stuff for a little longer - you might wonder at this point where Basta's superstitions and his constant fear of bad luck fits into all this. And I have a theory for that as well.

Malignant Narcissism. A syndrome first described by Otto Kernberg. It’s, to keep it short, a mix of narcissistic personality disorder (which btw very often appears together with ASPD) and ASPD.

It’s, apart from all the stuff I mentioned earlier, characterized by sadism (remember how Basta actually enjoys threatening people, how he likes to tell stories about all the awful stuff he and others did in detail, watching people get uncomfortable, etc? Sounds pretty sadistic to me.) AND paranoia. He’s constantly afraid something bad is gonna happen. But this could also be due to some OCD that he might have as well. (I gotta say this here, with personality disorders it’s not uncommon for people to have multiple ones that overlap. That’s what often makes it so hard to give a proper diagnosis.)

But what’s more interesting to me is that malignant narcissists, while usually not caring about anyone but themselves and being unable to maintain healthy relationships with others (remember when Dustfinger was hiding in Bastas house and mentions that Basta has literally no friends?), can show some sort of loyalty to a few people. Which is the case for Basta, since he‘s incredibly loyal to Capricorn.

So while generally being a pretty awful person, Basta has, at least somewhat, the ability to care about a selected few individuals.

Which I think is also the reason why there’s more fanfiction about him than Capricorn. Capricorn doesn’t care about anyone. He doesn’t even care about his own mother, or Resa, who was known to be his favorite of out all the maids. As soon as she caused problems for him, he decided to get rid of her. So with him, there’s a lot less to explore and to work with.

And, something more general about ASPD, it‘s as far as we know at this point, usually caused by a combination of genetic and environmental factors, such as neglect or abuse during childhood.

And Capricorn is a great example for this, since the genetic and environmental factors are both definitely there. We know his father used to beat him, and Mortola displays a lot of ASPD symptoms herself.

And for Basta, it was mentioned that he was a very unhappy child. Sadly we don’t know anything about his parents or what exactly happened during his childhood. (Maybe we could ask Cornelia about his parents in the next livestream?)

There’s still more I could talk about, for example some interesting studies about ASPD and reactions to fear that would also apply to both Basta and Capricorn, just in different ways or how ASPD works in general, but maybe I‘ll make a different post about that sometime.

Also feel free to tell me what you guys think about this, it‘s super interesting and I bet there’s even more to say that I haven’t talked about.

#inkheart #basta inkheart #inkworld #inkspell #have I mentioned how much I love Basta?#probably more than once but anyway #I had these thoughts for a while now and felt like sharing them #also be aware that Im just a psychology student not a professional

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goldenkamuyhunting · 6 years ago

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Hi i love your metas. I am now get worried that Tsurumi is a sociopath but he, Ogata are spies so hard to understand. I always think Ogata has BPD bcoz he is like this person and normal for a man. But author sometime writes him only for making plot twists. Sorry for bad english.

Thank you, I’m really glad you love my meta!

Don’t worry about your English as I’ve said many times English is not my mothertongue either.

Now, in regard to your ask and personality disorders let’s put some order in this as I’ve noticed there’s quite a lot of interest for this topic.

First of all rarely characters from works of fiction have accurate personality disorders. The best they can have is the trope version of that personality disorder, unless they’re stories dealing either with real life people or written by someone competent or that researched a lot into the topic as writing realistically someone with a personality disorder isn’t easy at all.

Also, more often than not they go for the extreme version of the personality disorder as the tame version wouldn’t be worth the effort.

That’s why instead than using my studies in psychology I fish up the trope descriptions for personality disorders and use them. It’s not just simpler but also more fitting considering the subjects at hands.

It’s also worth to note way too many authors aren’t trying to represent a personality disorder... with the result it becomes impossible to fit a character in that personality disorder because any resemblance is coincidental and the character simply isn’t meant to have it.

Long story short, I don’t think Noda had a particular disorder in mind for Ogata otherwise he would give him much more obvious syntoms.

Noda, instead than giving disorders to his characters, seems more focused in giving them traumatic experiences and maladaptative copying mechanisms giving them ambiguous disorders without really having to dig too much into them so as to make them accurate.

The only disorder Noda seems to refer at, albeit vaguely, in his manga, is the post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) as most of the cast is composed by war veterans who might be esperiencing it one way or another (well, actually in real life not everyone experience it but in fiction it either doesn’t exist or everyone experiences various deegress of it and becomes a Shell-Shocked Veteran).

The good part of having so many cast members who are probably experiencing this is that in order to keep characterizations different, each of them experiences it differently, giving the whole thing a tinge of realism instead than a flat aderence to a trope.

Of course this too can be Noda merely referring to a trauma and to the maladaptative copying mechanisms derived by it, without Noda really planning to dig too deep into the disorder’s condition.

Sugimoto, after all, isn’t really qualified to give a diagnosis for himself and the others and it’s worth to note part of the people he’s thinking at had pre-existing traumas.

Long story short, even if post-traumatic stress disorder seems a safe bet, we can’t really be sure about it.

Anyway, let’s give a look at the two disorders you mentioned.

Antisocial personality disorder (ASPD or APD) and Borderline personality disorder (BPD) don’t quite have a referencing trope as far as I know.

It can be because to people who aren’t really into personality disorders antisocial personality disorder closely resembles sociopathy and psychopathy and borderline personality disorder resembles post-traumatic stress disorder so media didn’t feel like digging into the distinctions.

Or maybe they just aren’t mainstream enough.

This of course lowers the chances Noda thought at them as well.

Anyway, Antisocial personality disorder.

I’ll just pick the main defining traits from tv trope again because they feel what an author would use more than the defining traits from a psychology book... even though since I’ve already said Ogata didn’t fit the sociopath trope, this might feel redundant.

Antisocials will simply take what they need or want, and don't think of anybody as a friend; everybody is a tool.

While Ogata has no friends, not everybody is a tool to him as, as I mentioned discussing the sociopath and the narcissist tropes, he went out of his way to spare Huci, help Nikaido, spare Shinpei and even comforted Koito.

They have a reputation for rationalizing acts most would consider dog kicking, in the process shaming their accuser for standing up for themselves. Contrition and remorse are tools for getting what they want and nothing more; if they think or know that they can win their way back into someone's good graces by appearing to want to atone for their actions, they will, only to revert to their old ways the minute that they have succeeded.

Ogata never tries to atone for his own actions... but I’ve already discussed how he clearly feels guilty for Yuusaku’s death.

They are also notoriously prone to violent and aggressive behavior and will frequently seek revenge after a setback, and their general inability to experience guilt or appreciate consequences means that they are unlikely to view punishment as anything other than an undeserved injustice, something to bullshit their way out of, or as a score to settle.

Ogata, being the trope of the cold sniper isn’t really prone to violent and aggressive behaviour. Sure, he used scissors against Ejiri Matasuke, but that’s probably the only time Ogata did used physical violence against someone without being in need of it (kicking Koito to render him unconscious is tactical, not gratuitous violence).

He didn’t kick Asirpa when she tried to reach for the arrows nor beat Koito after he was immobilized to take revenge for Koito hitting his nose with his head.

In a time period in which people are actually very violent (look at the Nikaido brothers beating Sugimoto up or at Sugimoto threatening Shiraishi or even at him and Kiro beating the guys who were trying to rob them), Ogata is comparatively very calm and cold.

More traditional methods of teaching empathy are generally held to be useless with antisocials, as they typically just learn how to be better manipulators.

Again, I’ve talked already about how Ogata fails as a manipulator.

(They) have no qualms of violating established rules or disproving widely held theories.

This can be perceived as fitting... but it actually fit all the cast. No one is really following the law in the gold hunt, it’s a pre-requisite to take part to the gold hunt itself and again just a trait wouldn’t be enough to.

Long story short, no I don’t think Noda had this in mind when he created Ogata.

Borderline personality disorder now.

I’ll skip all the elements it has in common with post-traumatic stress disorder... as this can be a disorder in Golden Kamuy.

So... defining traits that differentiate it from post-traumatic stress disorder are: frantic fear of abandonment, unstable and intense relationships, impulsiveness and inconsistent image of self.

None of this really fits Ogata.

He is an abandoned child, true, but while he likely would have preferred for Asirpa not to leave him, he didn’t show a ‘frantic fear of being abandoned’ by her.

His relationships aren’t intense or they wouldn’t fit with the trope of cold sniper.

Ogata isn’t consistently impulsive, he’s a risk taker, true, but he usually plans things first when possible and hardly acts on impulse.

Regarding Ogata’s image of self he knows very well how good he is as a sniper... but also how little worth he had in his father’s eyes.

Long story short I don’t think Ogata was meant to have this one disorder either.

Again it’s just me.

If the Golden Kamuy characters were real life people to make a diagnosis about what they might suffer would be a lot more complicate than just checking a checklist. As they’re just characters, we should expect them to have just the defining traits to the disease, the ones that would eventually create a trope.

Still, if you want, you might consider reading @chibivesicle‘s post which actually considered the chance of Ogata having borderline personality disorder per the NIH as @chibivesicle diggest into this not from the trope side but from the psychological side.

Now... can Tsurumi be a sociopath?

Skipping I don’t think Noda had in mind specific diseases for his characters, Tsurumi is much more complicate than Ogata to analyze because we hardly have any introspection for him... and since he’s meant to fit the trope of chessmaster and manipulative bastard we hardly see him in contests in which he can be himself still... let’s try.

Mind you, this time I’m going to report only the main points and not the descriptions.

1) Lack of Empathy and Devoid of Conscience

As I said there are little to no introspection scenes with Tsurumi so we can’t really say if his actions are due to how he feels or due to the image he has to project outside to play out his role of chessmaster and manipulative bastard to judge.

However the fact he tries to send away Fina and Olga...

...and seemed to genuinely suffer for their dead

since he remained with Fina until she died, holding her hand and even told her his true name, showed affection for Olga...

...and even set them down to rest together before leaving...

... make me think in those moments he was showing empathy and coscience otherwise he would have had no reasons to waste his time with them once Kiro and Co were out of sign.

Also although it would have been easy for him to persuade his men to get rid of the lightnight bandit and O-gin, he spared him and even entrusted him to Huci alongw ith some money wrapped in his parents’ clothes so he would even have mementos of them.

2) Consummate Liar and Manipulator.

As said before Tsurumi fits the tropes of chessmaster and manipulative bastard so of course he’s a consummate liar and manipulator, the best in the whole Golden Kamuy were everyone lies and way too many have tried manipulating someone.

The problem comes from the fact this isn’t an enduring maladaptative behaviour which characterize a personality disorder but a set of skills he had to learn to be an effective spy and that now is using to reach his goal. As we’ve no info on Tsurumi PRIOR to him becoming a spy, we can’t know if he’s just someone with enduring maladaptative behaviours which he’s using to do his job or if those are merely acquired skills.

3) Pathological Need for Stimulation.

I wouldn’t say Tsurumi is doing all this for the thrill, even if there are moments in which he seems to relish on the thrill. We also have no info about him viewing his existence as boring or meaningless.

Tsurumi seems to have a clear goal in mind, and all this doesn’t seem just an excuse to have fun.

4) Shallow Affect and Complete Lack of Emotional Reciprocity.

Again he seemed to care for Fina and Olga but, due to the situation, it’s hard to say how much. He might care/might have cared for others, like Tsukishima, but again, his plans get in the way and with the lack of internal dialogue we can’t really tell, just speculate.

5) Grandiose Sense of Self-Worth.

I can’t remember Tsurumi babbling at how clever he is but since he wants to become the new Hokkaido dictator I guess he could have some.

To sum it up.

Info on Tsurumi are vague and, due to the tropes he represents and the lack of inner info or past info about him, we can’t really sort him well.

Tsurumi has very little evidence going again the idea he’s not a sociopath (never mentioning Noda even had fun compating him to hitler or a demon) and actually, considering other factors people could very well buy he’s one.

Is that the case?

Actually I still think we miss pieces of his past that we should know before judging him... and I’m not sure Noda aimed to represent personality disorders and, in this case, the resemblance with one is ‘coincidental’, the result of Tsurumi being an antagonist as well as Noda wanting to use the chessmaster and manipulative bastard tropes, and not to a genuine effort to portray a personality disorder... but again, maybe I only saw the tip of the iceberg.

Still, it's worth to note I think if he wanted us to buy he's a sociopath he would have given us absolutely 0 evidence he could not be one and instead he gave us 2 moments that seem to deny it and much more evidence he's one when there are actually some parts for which we've no evidence.

In short Tsurumi I understand how people can thinks Tsurumi can be a sociopath... but his resemblance to the Sociopath trope can very well be coincidental due to the other tropes he represents and due to us missing some info. It’s hard to say FOR SURE as for now we've nowhere near enough elements to judge... and some elements seem to go against this theory.

Noda seemed to favour being vague so I think we can only wait and see.

Thank you for your ask and sorry if something in my reply was unclear but I had a pretty terrible week and now I’m mostly worn out. Sorry again!

#Ogata Hyakunosuke #Tsurumi Tokushirou #Golden Kamuy #Ask

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wroughtbetwixtfanfic · 6 years ago

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Love, Blood, And Rhetoric, Ch 1.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Campbell's just trying to survive in the new world. He knows he can make it-- it's everyone else he's worried about.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Family Issues, Substance Abuse, Complicated Relationships, Consent Issues, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Mild Sexual Content, assuming Elle and Campbell are both 18 for the sake of things, Underage Drinking, PTSD, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, implied eating disorder, Fix-It, Campbell has mild ASPD, and is actively trying to not be awful

Word Count: 6061

Part One, Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || AO3

Disclaimer: This is part two of a three part series. Reading part one is more-or-less essential.

This is a canon divergent storyline for Campbell, using (in my experience) a realistic take on conduct disorder and ASPD instead of Hollywood "psychopath" stereotypes. While people with conduct disorder can be violent and abusive, the diagnosis does exist on a spectrum, and neither ASPD nor "psychopathy" should be diagnosed before the age of 18; this is one thing that rubbed me the wrong way on The Society. Campbell's power will be more in his ability to manipulate-- not "being crazy". Hopefully I can succeed in presenting a more understandable and less sensationalized vision of his behavior. Please note that I have no intention of making him a violent abuser, to bring his character more in line with my experiences of how an emotionally neglected teen with moderately reduced empathy would behave, provided they were actively attempting to help themselves.

Tl;dr I just wanted to make Campbell less needlessly shitty, because it makes me feel better as a person, and because I wanted one (1) antagonist who isn't just an evil, horrible abuser with a scary mental illness.

Thank you for reading, and leaving kudos/comments/likes. <3

///

The bridge was quiet as a graveyard. It was something out of a science fiction movie, wasn't it? Alice in Wonderland type shit. Something happens, and suddenly the world goes inside out, with people transported to some other dimension. No one had said a damn word, but it was the only explanation that made any sense at all. It looked like home, but it wasn't home. Everything felt a few degrees to the side. Just a tiny bit abnormal. Forests that sprouted up around them overnight. Everyone else in the city, gone. The smell, gone. Gordie was the first to break the silence. "I mean, there's only so many options."

"Maybe we're dreaming," Allie offered. "It's the best option." Campbell rolled his eyes, but held his tongue for Cassandra's sake. They would all have to be dreaming the exact same dream at the same time, and that seemed far less likely than some sort of weird wormhole situation. Harry was sitting on his car hood, with Helena and Luke next to him. He ran his hands through his hair; he was still half drunk, and had no business being there, but there he was and he was freaking out. "Maybe this is just some elaborate fucking game. Like, someone built an exact replica of our town and just put it in the middle of nowhere, and if we just walk..." He paused, waving his hands towards the trees. "Like, this way or that way or any way, eventually we'll get back to the real world." Christ, that was an even worse theory. Campbell sighed. "An exact replica of the town," he pressed, "complete with all our family's cars? Our clothes? Our bathroom towels, posters, jewelry, stuffed animals, the food in our fridges?" "I'm not saying it makes any sense." Crossing her arms, Cassandra leaned against the bridge and frowned. She had that debate team look in her eyes. The look that said she was trying to dissect the situation in her mind. "There was a smell, and then it went away. It came back, and the buses came for us." Harry scoffed. "You're gonna just work this out, Cassandra? Like some logic problem? I mean, not a flicker of a doubt?" "The world doesn't just turn upside down without a reason. We're not in some play-within-a-play. Okay? Clever is not the same thing as true. There is a point to everything, there are answers." "That's right," Helena chimed in. "God doesn't just play games with people for fun." Cassandra clenched her jaw as she looked to Helena, then to Campbell. They had both stopped going to church a long time ago, and Cassandra had been the one to get religious-specific plays banned from school performances. Campbell didn't really believe or disbelieve anything, but he knew Cassandra and Helena had gotten into argument before about all sorts of things. LGBT rights, abortion, gun control... He could see that anger stirring up in Cassandra. It wouldn't be pretty if it got loose. Luckily, Luke seemed to sense the tension and butted in. "All right, look, Grizz and I will get a group together and we'll go hike out here through the woods, okay? Like a search party." Helena nodded. "I think that's a good idea." "Do you think it's safe?" Cassandra asked, frowning. "Yeah," Grizz replied, "sure." Luke tried to smile. "Grizz knows what he's doing. And if there's people out there, we gotta find them, right? You know. To get help." "I'm leaving." Harry got up off the car and headed towards the driver's door. His eyes were glassy, distant. It wouldn't be long before he imploded. "I'm hungry." Allie stood up, glaring. "You're leaving?" Campbell watched the bickering that followed, wondering when-- if at all-- they were going to ask his opinion. But he knew they wouldn't. They never did. If they would have shut the fuck up long enough to bother, Campbell would have told them that the horizon looked a little too clean for a West Ham summer. Too clear. He would have pointed out that there were no planes, no trails even, in the sky overhead. Wherever they were, chances were they were alone. Instead, he focused on his phone while everyone started arguing in full; Elle was trying to call. Can't talk now, he texted. At the bridge with Cassie and others. She replied quickly. Why? What's wrong? Not sure. All roads out of town are blocked. Blocked? We can't get out? Has anyone found our parents? Campbell rubbed his face with one hand. No, we can't. No adults or younger kids yet. Trying to figure out what to do. Oh. A long, long pause. Show me. Whatever was happening, Harry was officially done. His tone sharpened, and Campbell looked up to see him trying to collect Kelly. "You coming with, Kel?" He stood there, staring, when she shook her head. Ouch. Harry hadn't mentioned that they were on the rocks; he was being an unreasonable ass, though. Not a surprise. "Jesus christ, just get in the car." "Leave her alone," Will grumbled. "Hey, fuck off, Will." Harry looked to Campbell, seeking someone to follow him. Campbell just raised an eyebrow. Harry seethed, getting into his car and starting the engine. "Fine. Who gives a shit." He knew Harry would be mad at him for a while, but eventually he'd stop being a selfish prick and come around. Campbell needed to be there, to keep an eye on people and the situation; he needed to hear what was happening, and plan accordingly. If Cassandra couldn't keep herself together and all hell was going to break loose, Campbell needed to be ready. In the mean time... Cassandra blinked at him and he moved to her side, lifting his phone to take a picture of the blocked off tracks and road. "What are you doing?" "I'm just gonna send a text. Let everybody know how fucked we are." "Campbell!" she hissed. "Don't. Come on, let's think about this." But there was nothing to think about. Campbell pressed the send button, and his phone dinged in confirmation. He smiled at the look of horror on her face, sitting down on the sidewalk while he waited for Elle to reply; it wasn't often that he actually felt stronger than Cassandra, or even smarter, but it was one of those rare moments that he saw an opportunity and took it. Hiding the truth from people would only backfire. She'd thank him later, if she had the sense. Cassandra was still moaning over it. "Fuck. Why did you do that?" "Relax, Cassandra. I don't have many people on my contact list." "But they'll share it with their friends. It'll spread." "A slow, steady distribution of information is better than pretending things are fine." "Campbell--" "Look." Setting aside his phone, Campbell turned to Cassandra and held her gaze. "You, me, and like a dozen other people already know. How long do you think it'd be before one of them squealed, huh? Someone would let it slip, at some point. And if you go back into town, telling everyone it's all good when it's not, at some point they'll realize you lied. What do you think is gonna happen when three hundred teenagers stop trusting their student body president, Cassandra?" "I'm not student body president anymore. Harry said so, and it's true." "Harry's a shithead." "Then why are you friends with him?" "Not the point. You're one of the smarter people here. Gordie, Bean, Will, Grizz? They're amazing, but you were the closest thing to a leader we had back home. That doesn't just go away." Cassandra chewed on her lip. "I don't want to be a leader. I'm..." She pressed her hand to her chest. "I'm sick. What if I can't get my medicine?" "Tough shit," Campbell retorted. "Power is in your hands, and if you don't get a grip on it, someone else is going to put you in the dirt. All the medicine in the world won't help you if there's a fucking mutiny." "What do I do, then?" "These kids are gonna get scared, and they're either gonna look to you or they're going to challenge you. Pull yourself together." For a long time, Cassandra didn't speak. She sat next to him and gazed woefully at a small group of teens that were heading their way, some walking and others jogging. They were pointing at the road, and some began shouting. A few began to hover closer to her, looking nervous. "Well. Maybe you're right." "Usually am. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an acquaintance to console." Elle had arrived with the group, staring off the side of the bridge at the tracks. Other kids joined her nearby, and Campbell could hear them whisper as he approached. He was telling the truth. What does this mean? How is it possible? He ignored them, leaning against the railing next to Elle; she didn't look at him, but she leaned a little closer. "This is such bullshit," she said after a time. "What are we supposed to do?" Campbell shook his head. "Whatever is happening, if we're stuck with no way out, then we gotta do what you do in any survival situation. Secure resources. Shelter, food, water." "Should head to the store and grab some shit before people all get the same idea." "Probably, yeah." Elle glanced over at him. "You're pretty calm in all this." "Getting panicked or scared just means mistakes get made." He texted her a small list of supplies. "Go to the store. Bottled water. A lot of stuff can be frozen or dried. Get what you can, we'll figure out how to preserve it later." She nodded, turning and heading towards the closest market. Campbell waited for her to be out of earshot, then headed towards Cassandra, who was talking to Will and Sam. Everyone else seemed to have dispersed. They all glanced at him, but kept talking; Will was discussing the food situation, already, and Will specifically mumbled something about dehydrating and canning. Well, at least Will had some clue, then. "I saved a bunch of YouTube videos," he said, looking sheepish. "I always wanted to be a chef, so..." Campbell kept walking. They already were making plans; they didn't need him any, and he should go make sure that Elle was doing alright. He made it a few yards before Sam caught up to him, grabbing his sleeve to get his attention. "Where are you going?" Sam asked. "To get what I can." Campbell sighed at the way Sam's eyebrows knit together. There was no point in wasting time trying to explain, and besides, he had to make sure Sam wasn't gonna starve to death. "Coming?" There were a few different stores and markets in town, and while there was one close by, Campbell knew of a smaller one run by one of those doomsday prepper types. There wasn't as much variety there, but it did have gallon-sized bottled waters and things like powdered eggs. People went to it for camping supplies, but not much else; it wouldn't be the first place most would think to go to. Sam followed him inside, watching at Campbell began to fill a basket full of supplied. At least he didn't try and argue that it was theft or anything. "What are you getting?" "This is for you. A week of water. Jerky, nuts and seeds. Dried eggs. Dried fruit, some other shit. Keep it in the basement until you need it." "Why a week?" "Because if the utilities go and no one comes for us after a week, they're not going to." He didn't mean for the words to come out quite so grim, but it was useless to sugarcoat things any. "Keep using the water at home as long as you can. If it goes off, use this." Campbell grabbed some for himself, and they managed to weasel the baskets home without being seen. Probably because most of the other kids were at home crying or at the bridge by that point, who knew for sure. At least no one approached them. As they put shit away, Campbell made a list in his head of things in stores that would be in high demand. Toilet paper, first aid kits, batteries, medications, alcohol, anything for hygiene. Bleach, matches, lighters. And knowing his peers, condoms. If he got his backpack and headed out again, he could probably snatch a good stock before anyone else thought of it... Sam sunk onto the sofa once they finished. He tilted his head as Campbell got a couple backpacks, and made another list on his phone. "What are you going to do?" "I have some business to take care of." "Harry?" Maybe it was the comment itself, or maybe it was the eyebrow quirk of Sam's eyebrow, or some sort of tone his brother had. Either way, Campbell's mood soured on the spot. "Don't pretend like you know me." "I don't know you. That's what scares me." There was nothing to say to that, in the end. Campbell stormed out of the house, heading towards the pharmacy first. Most of what he wanted would be there, and the chances of anyone else being there already were slim. To his surprise, when he arrived, someone had already been messing with the lock; they hadn't managed to get in, whoever they were. Campbell slipped his lock picking kit from the backpack and made quick work of it. First was anything addictive, then meds that would be important. The pharmacy had a little book behind the counter that explained what everything was, and Campbell swept through as fast as possible to grab asthma medications, birth control pills, anti virals, whatever looked useful. He paused as he examined the shelves, seeing a prescription for Cassandra. Her heart meds. He tossed it into his backpack, and then found the rest of that medication and stole it, too. Harry's home was close by. Campbell headed there, knowing Harry would let him stash shit there until Campbell convinced Sam to get in line. When he knocked, though, no one answered. Sighing, Campbell found the hidden key Harry had made specially for him; the house was quiet when he came inside, with Harry nowhere in sight. He hid the backpacks in the attic first, then went hunting for his friend. "Harry? You were supposed to be here eating." A muffled sound came from the living room. Campbell found Harry laying curled up in a ball on the floor, under a blanket. "Hey, buddy. You don't look so hot." "Leave me alone, Satan," Harry slurred. "Are you high?" "Maybe." Campbell flopped onto the floor next to Harry, lifting up the blanket to peer in at him. "C'mon. Tell me. What'd you take?" "A xanax. From mom's medicine cabinet." A quick trip upstairs, to peek at the dose. Not worrisome, but definitely more than a beginner should take, and enough to knock Harry on his ass for several hours. Campbell went into the kitchen and made a can of soup. Harry's favorite, split pea with ham. He brought it to Harry and sat on the floor again, tempting Harry with it. Eventually, Harry crawled out from under the blanket and took the bowl. "She dumped me." Harry poked at the green mass. "Kelly. We found out her dad was screwing with my mom, and I don't know. She got pissed off at me." "You do stick your foot in your mouth regularly." "I didn't mean to make her mad. Now we're in this fucking nightmare world, and... what am I supposed to do? I can't do this alone." Campbell resisted the urge to gloat. He'd never really liked Kelly, anyways, and the feeling had been mutual. "Look, you two have been having problems for over a week now. This changes nothing." He reached over, snagging the spoon from Harry's hand and loading it up with soup. "Besides. You're not alone. You have me." Harry didn't fight as Campbell fed him the soup. "You know what I mean," he said through a bite. He suddenly stopped, swallowing and sinking his face into his hands. "Maybe you don't. Christ." "You're hung over and high. Eat your soup and we can talk later." He muttered under his breath, but Harry listened anyways. Campbell put on a movie, chilling while Harry ate; when Harry was done, he slumped against Campbell and fell asleep. Well, at least he couldn't panic if he was passed out cold. Hours passed. Harry eventually woke up enough to stumble into the shower and clean himself up, while Campbell made them grilled cheese sandwiches. Harry had just returned when their phones began to buzz. "It's from Cassandra." Campbell slid Harry a sandwich. "She wants us to get to the church as soon as possible." Harry shook his head. "Man, fuck her." "Quiet. She knows what she's doing." "Do you seriously believe that?" "Yeah, I do." Harry didn't say anything, but he tightened his jaw, and Campbell saw something in his eyes that planted another seed of worry. Rebellion. Fucking hell, it was starting already. Campbell headed towards the bathroom while Harry got dressed; it was a quick detour to the bedroom of Harry's parents, where Campbell knew Harry's mother kept a gun. The case wasn't locked. The ammo was right there. Thank fuck Harry never had the inclinations to kill anyone. Campbell made sure it was unloaded, then stuck the gun in his waistband and the ammo in his pocket, before heading back out. Harry was waiting on the porch, and they hopped in his car and made their way to the church. By the time they got there, people were starting to gather, but it was mostly empty still. Cassandra was standing by the water fountain, leaning against the brick wall and taking deep, slow breaths. Harry went on inside without waiting. Campbell hung back, sidling up to Cassandra when no one was paying attention. "I can't do this," she whispered. "I can't." Campbell nudged her shoulder with his own. "It's gonna be okay, somehow. If it makes you feel any better, I knocked over the drug store and stole you a few months worth of your heart meds." "You... What. No, no, nevermind. I don't want to know." "You're welcome. But seriously, just chill out. What are you even talking about?" Cassandra ran her hands through her hair. "Luke texted Helena. Helena texted me. We got ahold of everyone on the buses, but people all keep asking me what's going on. You were right. People are looking to me, and I don't know how to lead them." Campbell shrugged. "We're kids, okay? Most of us aren't used to living in the real world. They're gonna be worried about things like resources and safety. Guide them a bit towards ways to get or keep that, and they'll follow." "But why would they take my word for it? I have maybe five friends, Cam. There's over two hundred people coming, and I don't know how to trust them, or get them to trust me." Trust wasn't something Campbell was familiar with, but he knew no one would trust Cassandra if they saw her as weak. And if Cassandra didn't believe in herself, then weak was exactly how she'd come off. Cassandra had been tempered by her love for her family and friends. It was sweet, it was good, but sweet and good wasn't going to get shit done. The people in their town only understood wealth and power. But it was too late to talk more; dozens of people were heading their way, and Campbell knew better than to be seen lingering around Cassandra too long. He took a seat in the back, far from the Cassandra and her little herd. Sam was there, surrounded by Allie, Becca, Gordie, and Will. His actual, chosen family. Even Harry was up there, and Kelly. He felt a small stab of jealousy, but bit it back as soon as it reared its head. It'd do no good. "You could join them." Campbell glanced up at Elle's voice. She stood in the church aisle, watching him. "No, that wouldn't be a good idea. I don't want to be a public relations nightmare for my cousin." "Stay away from the alcohol, and you'd probably be fine." "Elle..." "No, Campbell, whatever you're about to say just don't bother. The best thing you can do is promise never to do that again, and then keep that promise, okay?" "I can do that." "Are you sure?" "Yeah." Campbell hesitated. He hated making promises, because he knew he could be unreliable and he hated breaking promises just as much, but Elle was worth the effort. "I promise." Crossing her arms, Elle looked down at the floor. "Alright. Well, Kelly invited me to sit with her. I'll let you know if they say anything good." She didn't wait for an answer. Elle peeked back at him as she headed up front; he tried to smile at her, and she didn't really smile back, but it was a start at least. Campbell turned his focus to the crowd in the church and their quiet whispers. Many were scared. A few were angry. Most just seemed confused. As time passed, they became restless. At least, that was until Cassandra stood, and began to speak. She stood in the center of the stairs leading to the podium. "Listen. Hey, listen up." Silence fell over the church. Cassandra continued, her voice shaking at first, but becoming louder and clearer as she carried on. "While we're all here, together, there are some things that we ought to figure out. Before we rip this place apart and maybe... you know, start hurting each other." She paused as quiet murmurs spread through the gathered students. "I don't know what the hell is going on. Maybe Luke will come back with some good news." Elle spoke first, her tone annoyed. "Maybe? Of course he will." "Yeah," Harry agreed. "Why don't we just wait and see, Cassandra?" Cassandra sighed. Her eyes darted to Campbell, for just a split second. "Because I would rather prepare for the worst before the worst happens." "What does that mean? Prepare?" Kelly wondered. "I don't know specifically, but I think it means we agree not to just take things when we want until all the food is gone and we starve." The murmurs turned into a panicked rumble. Campbell winced, but Allie, Clark, and Helena loudly agreed with Cassandra, and that seemed to quell the surge of fear... until Harry opened his goddamn mouth, just as Campbell knew he would. "This is bullshit." Will's back was to Campbell, but he could heard the disbelief in Will's voice. "Jesus, man, what is your problem?" "What are we agreeing to, Cassandra?" Harry turned to Cassandra, ignoring Will completely. Some of the students waiting in the pews began to yell in agreement with Harry. "Which one of us gets to decide who gets what? Your friends?" Becca let out a huff. "It's called democracy." "I'm not a fucking idiot, Becca." That was debatable, Campbell thought, but he kept quiet. At least for the time being, to see how things would play out. At least Cassandra seemed to have a handle on things, for the time being; Harry was getting flustered, especially when Cassandra brought out the coin she'd kept from the play. "How do you want to decide things?" she challenged. "Every person for themselves? Then we're back to where we started. Maybe you want to flip a coin to see who decides? You don't like democracy? How about random fucking chance?" Harry scoffed. "That's--" "Call it, Harry. Call it." "I'm not gonna do that." "Okay, okay. I'll call it for you. You get heads." Cassandra flipped the coin. "Tails. Still think it's unfair? Best two out of three. Oh! Tails." "I... I mean..." Cassandra flipped a third time, but this time, her face fell. "Tails." Harry looked frozen. The church had become so quiet, it was like no one was even breathing. Harry was thinking back to the play, and Campbell knew everyone else was, too. "Do it again." Four more times, Cassandra flipped the coin. Tails, tails, tails, tails. Harry stepped back from Cassandra, eyes wide. "Fuck." For a moment, Cassandra paused. She stared at the coin, and flipped it again; she closed her eyes, her hand over the coin for a long moment before she finally looked. "Heads." She held up the coin, and the crowd let out a long sigh of relief. She turned her attention back to them, lifting her voice once more. "It's all up to us. There's no civilization here, not until we start one. So what are we gonna do? First, I think we have no choice but to share. Share food, share resources." "Houses?" Harry asked. "Maybe." "Fuck you." Allie stood up. "Really? How much electricity do we have? Until it's all used up and everything goes dark? I think 225 people in 200 houses doesn't make sense." 239, but who was counting. "Keep what's ours!" some random fuckhole shouted from the other side of the church. "What is yours?" Cassandra questioned. "Do you have money? Who you gonna pay? The things that you need to live-- food, clothes, the stuff in stores-- no one owns them." Will and Harry erupted at one another over housing, and Campbell sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes. They were snapping and snarling, and the mood in the church was getting tense. Will on one side, arguing for Cassandra's view that there should be rules, organization, a method. Harry on his own side, screaming about how he should get to do whatever he wanted. Campbell understood. Harry was afraid, afraid of losing what was his and the comfy little life he had for himself. The big house and big bed and things were all he really had, in his mind. And well, men in general weren't great with sharing, were they? But Campbell knew history sided with people like Will and Cassandra. Capitalism, mine-mine-mine, greed. It never fared well in situations like the one they were in. No, they needed rules. They needed some sort of system, where everyone had an equal portion of things. And they had such a small, small window of time to get things going and working, before it all fell into chaos. Harry was yelling at Cassandra, getting ready to storm off like the entitled rich boy he was. Great. "I don't have to listen to this. Not anymore." "Harry, this has nothing to do with you," Cassandra snapped. "We need to--" "I don't need to do anything you say, you fucking--" Campbell had been busy loading the gun while the two argued, with the rest of the students starting to stand up and scream back and forth, too. He stood, pointed at the back wall's roof where it wouldn't hurt anyone, and fired a single round. The angry screams turned into screams of panic as everyone hit the floor. Some started crying, but everyone was staring at him, and no one was speaking. "Well..." Campbell took to the center aisle, walking towards his cousin. He had to act fast, before anyone recovered and tried to stop him. "Fuck this. Harry's right." Cassandra's mouth dropped open. "What?" "No one elected you king, cousin. Did anybody vote for her? Did they?" Campbell stopped in front of Cassandra and gestured to the cowering teenagers on the floor. "Anybody elect her to speak on your behalf? No?" "I... I don't want to be king." Campbell stared hard at Cassandra. She was stuttering. Oh, it wouldn't do at all for her to look like this in front of the people she was trying to rally. He cocked the gun again, but this time, he pointed it at Cassandra. There was no bullet left in the gun, but she didn't know that. No one did. "That's not what it looks like. Is it?" Allie jumped in front of her sister, glaring daggers at Campbell, but Cassandra gently brushed her aside. Something flickered to life in her eyes. Something courageous. Self-sacrificing. "I've thought a lot about dying. I've almost gotten used to that. But I don't like to be afraid." Cassandra looked down the barrel, then met Campbell's gaze. If she had any idea of the hand he was playing, she didn't give it away. She simply stood tall, steeling her voice and not flinching a bit. "Do you want chaos? Fucking shoot me." And there she was, the Cassandra he loved. Campbell chuckled, lowering the gun and giving her a little smile. "I don't want to shoot you. I wanted to get everybody's attention." Just one last part of the plan to put into place. "This meeting's obviously over. We'll be back when Luke gets here. Until then, if anybody else is tired of listening to her, you can follow me." Campbell turned and headed towards the door, knowing Cassandra would be watching and counting each and every person who left with him. She would know their names. Their faces. She would know exactly who was siding against her. Once he got to the exit, he glanced behind him. It was a good sign. Harry and Kelly. Seven others, of various genders. A tiny, tiny minority, and no threat to Cassandra at all. She would be safe. But then the church doors swung open with a bang, and Campbell fell back. Everyone did. Luke walked in, flanked by Grizz, Bean, Gwen, and the others that had gone out into the forest. In Luke's arms draped Emily's pale, limp body. Gasps and noises of despair rippled through the crowd, and everyone parted to allow Luke access to the table at the front of the room. Grizz cleared the table, and they all stood around, staring. Some started to cry. Some tried to check for her pulse. She was dead. It was clear the minute Luke came in. Campbell had never really known Emily, so he stayed near the door, letting everyone else have a chance to see her for themselves. Closure or whatever. "She died from a snakebite," Luke called out. "Her whole body just shut down. We did everything we could, but we couldn't save her." Grizz spoke when Luke sank to the floor. His voice was flat, cold. Practical. "So we're gonna bury her tomorrow, before it starts to smell. I'm gonna need a couple of guys..." "There's nothing out there, guys. Just a whole bunch of just... woods that go on forever. We're all alone. This isn't our home." This isn't our home. Those four words were all it took to shift everything. He looked to Sam, his thoughts already spinning. His little brother was huddled with Allie, Cassandra, and Becca, and Campbell could practically smell the fear on him. Alone. Sam didn't trust Campbell, and now they had to be alone together? They had to try and survive together? It wasn't going to work, not like this, especially when-- not if, but when-- things started getting cutthroat. Campbell was too bitter, too hateful, and he knew he wouldn't be able to handle the stress of worrying about them both. Especially if Cassandra expected people to start sharing houses. There was no way Campbell could do it. He would hurt someone, at some point. In the end, it was for Sam's own good. Campbell knew he, at some point, would snap. He would destroy Sam. He wouldn't want to, or even mean to. But if they were on their own, trapped, it'd be like too many rats in too small a cage. They'd turn on each other someday, and Campbell knew he would always save himself, without hesitation. Sam deserved better than that. So... Campbell eyed Cassandra and Allie as they walked past, heading to their home. They had already opened their home to Will. Safety in numbers, right? And Cassandra loved Sam. Allie was protective of her family. Sam trusted and loved them, too. They could keep him safe. They would take care of him, and sacrifice their own needs for him if it came down to it. They could be the home Sam needed, even if it was just for a little while. Campbell just had to hope that Sam was angry enough inside, hurt enough by years of distrust and backbiting between them, that he'd be happy to leave. He grabbed Sam's arm as Sam followed after their cousins. Campbell kept his face calm, his voice neutral. Maybe it would be simple. No need to get nasty about it, if Sam would go willingly. "Hey. Don't come home tonight." Sam tensed. There was hurt in his eyes, and the smallest glint of stubbornness. He was angry, but not angry enough. Not yet. "It's my house, too." Campbell studied Sam's face, choosing to dig a little deeper. Something more painful was going to be needed, obviously. "Ever since you were born, I never had just one day that was mine, until now." It was the truth, anyways. It had been the Sam Show from day one, and it was no secret that Campbell resented Sam for it. "Alright?" Sam stared Campbell down, not saying a word. Not at first. Finally, he shook his head. His voice was low. Pained. But he didn't look away from Campbell, not even a little bit. "No." So, that's how it was going to be. "Give me the key, you little fag." He had never called Sam that before, or anything like it. He'd busted plenty of people's lips for less. It felt dirty on his tongue, but it was the one thing that Campbell knew would hurt Sam past the point of forgiveness. And if that didn't work... Campbell shot his hand out and scruffed Sam like a petulant kitten, digging his fingers hard into the back of Sam's neck. "Give me the key." Shock was the first emotion that crossed through Sam's expression. Campbell had never laid his hands on Sam before, either. He'd never needed slurs or physical violence before. But persuasion wasn't working, and maybe shock was exactly what Campbell needed to bring Sam's rage to the surface. It worked like a charm; the fury finally arrived, hurt transforming into a deep, crushing hatred. It was the same hatred that Campbell had seen in Sam the night Oliver was found dead, and fuck, it wasn't what Campbell wanted to see. But it had to happen now, before it happened later. Before Sam got hurt worse. Sam handed over his key to the house, then shoved Campbell hard and walked away. Campbell watched him go. Sam didn't look back. Good. It stung more than Campbell had expected, in some weird, dull way, but it was necessary. Wasn't it? Sam would be with Allie and Cassandra, where it was warm and welcoming and loving. Campbell would be on his own, away from anyone he could easily hurt, with time and space to figure shit out. When he got home, it was dark. He turned on the lights, turned on some music. There was cold cheese pizza still in the fridge; he ate it, not bothering to heat it up first. It was late, and he was tired, but there was a restlessness in him that wouldn't let him sleep. He ended up standing in the living room a bit past midnight, with the lights turned off and just a little bit of moonlight streaming in through the windows. He'd turned off the music, and it was quiet. Perfectly quiet, like he'd always fantasized about. No one to interrupt him, no one to scold or condemn him or look at him funny, or bother him with questions or requests, no one to have to pretend around. Happy, relaxed, carefree... Quarantined. Campbell sat in the middle of the living room sofa, emptiness settling over his shoulders like a frigid, heavy blanket. For the first time in years, he cried.

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wroughtbetwixtfanfic · 5 years ago

Text

Stamped Into Memory, Ch 3.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Campbell’s just trying to survive in the new world. He knows he can make it– it’s everyone else he’s worried about.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Major Character Death, Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Family Issues, Substance Abuse, Slow Burn, Dubcon Kissing, Romantic Friendship, Mild Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Unhealthy Relationships, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It, implied animal death, the dog lives, Antisocial Personality Disorder, ASPD, Campbell has mild ASPD and is actively trying to not be awful

Word Count: 5417

Ch 1 || Ch 2 || AO3

Death had a way of changing things. Harry actually came out of his room to get dinner. They watched a movie together, with Campbell between them; Elle snuggled against his side, not seeing that Harry was gripping Campbell's hand tightly under the big blanket they shared. Elle slept in Campbell's bed that night, her face pressed against his arm and her arms tangled around him. They were frightened. All Campbell could do was let them cling to him as much as they wanted; it helped them feel safer, reassured, and he drank up the attention.

The next day, they all received texts at breakfast. There was to be a meeting at the church, with Allie speaking to the wayward congregation. So, Grizz and his band of merry folk had managed to persuade her. Everyone was whispering in speculation as they shifted around in the church pews. Maybe they caught Cassandra's killer, one teen suggested. Ridiculous. If the killer had been caught, everyone would know already. The doors of the church opened as Allie came down the aisle, flanked by the guard. She stood at the podium, head high and shoulders back. She had a flare of something Cassandra didn't have, that Campbell couldn't put his finger on right out of the gate. Whatever it was, it gave Allie the nerve to she needed to speak. "In the name of my sister, I'm taking over the responsibility of keeping us all safe. Of reinstating and enforcing the rules that she established. All the things that made this place work." Her voice was clear, loud, as she glanced around the room. "Is there anyone who objects?" Harry glanced to Campbell. Campbell said nothing. No one did. Just as Campbell thought, everyone was willing to let Allie take control. "Okay," Allie continued. "New work lists will be posted this afternoon. Starting immediately, I'm going to be confiscating all guns. Every last one." Helena let out a shout of protest. "You can't do that!" Allie looked at Helena, eyes cold. "I can, and I will. We don't need them. All they're good for is getting people killed. I'm not gonna let what happened to my sister happen to anyone else." And that was that. No voting, unanimous or otherwise. Allie walked back out, leaving everyone else still whispering, and more than a few people fuming. Campbell sat and listened. Watched. Took note of who was angry. Helena stormed out, mouth twisted in rage; Campbell had never seen her quite so mad before, though it figured that Sister Christian was a gun lover. That seemed to be how things went-- thou shall not murder, unless the fucker deserves it. The only thing thicker than their Bibles were their hypocrisy. But whatever, it'd get some weapons off the street. And, hopefully, make people less on edge. Campbell didn't see much of his old friends, the precious few he'd had, but Elaine told him at lunch that she'd heard the shooting yesterday had been some fool dropping a gun. A ban would help lower the chances of that, anyways. Too bad the damage had already been done. Sure, nothing had actually happened, but their generation had grown up with active shooter drills and news of school shootings plastered everywhere more times than anyone could count; Cassandra's death had brought the idea home to roost. The mood in the cafeteria was low, with everyone glancing around and jumping at every little sound. Someone dropped a tray, and a few kids started crying. Campbell walked to Allie's house after lunch, stopping by his own home first to fetch the gun he stole from Harry's mother. It was the best gesture of good will he had to offer. Not that he expected it to work; Allie was stubborn, and never forgot a slight. It would either make her a good figurehead or a terrible one. They'd find out soon enough. The asshole sitting in front of her home's door didn't fill Campbell with much hope. Clark was sitting on the steps. When he saw Campbell coming, he stood up and blocked Campbell's path. "Hey, nobody comes in without approval. What do you want?" "I need to talk to Allie." "Stop." Clark made a spinning motion with his finger, a smug look on his face. "Turn around and put your hands on your head." Campbell wanted to kick the guy in the junk, but he grit his teeth and did as he was ordered. He jumped, though, when Clark's hands were on him without warning. A pat down. "Seriously?" he snapped. This was the kind of shit Allie was choosing to put in charge of the rules. "What are you doing?" Clark took the gun and dangled it. "Could ask you the same. What the fuck, man?" "That's why I'm here, asshole. Allie didn't give us a place to turn them in, so I brought it here to hand over. I didn't know there was gonna be a fucking TSA check." "Keep your hands on your head." "You gonna pull out the handcuffs next, officer?" Clark-- still smirking-- led him into the house. Allie entered the front room a few seconds after, glaring at Campbell the minute she noticed him. Clark held out the gun to Allie. "Found this on him. He wanted to see you." "I came here to turn it in," Campbell repeated. "Is this really necessary, Allie? We're cousins." Allie took the gun and shrugged. "That doesn't mean anything, now. Everyone's a suspect until the killer, and anyone who helped them, is caught." "Look, you're in the right. This situation is fucked up, and I agree that none of us need guns. I'm on your side here, just like I was on Cassandra's side." "This is the gun you threatened her with before. Isn't it?" "Jesus christ, Allie, I didn't threaten her. The gun was empty. It was a ploy to see who stood with Cassandra and who didn't. She knew that. I did the shit I did to help her, not hurt her." "Would you do the same for me?" An interesting question. Campbell met Allie's eyes, trying to get a read on her thoughts. She wasn't like Cassandra; she wore her emotions right on her face, including contempt. "What Cassandra and I had going only worked because we trusted each other completely. Unless you're willing to do the same, I can't help you." "Right. Anything else?" Allie asked. "No." "Then go." Campbell was glad to leave. Allie had her little group, and she didn't have room for him in those ranks. That was fine. He didn't want to be there anyways, in case Allie drove things into the ground, but he worried about no longer having access to what was going on. Cassandra had always tried to keep him in the loop. Except Sam would know, wouldn't he? It was a good excuse for Campbell to make up with his brother, when he wouldn't allow himself an excuse before. Of course he wanted to keep his distance, but well, if it was to get information about their dear leader, surely it would be okay to go for a walk or get same re-reheated tater tots together. Campbell traveled to the edge of town, overlooking the railroad tracks. He remembered their first night there, and how he'd seen Cassandra afraid for the first time in so, so long. Of course she'd stumbled a little at first, but she'd bounced back and returned to her iron-clad self in no time. She'd always seemed so indomitable, like their own personal Boudicca. He wanted Allie to be that, now that Cassandra was gone. Political intrigue was never Campbell's thing. It would be best if Allie could just grow up and take her place as their new leader, and find a way to return the order to the town. But what if she didn't? There were plenty of good people in town, but what if they didn't want to try? He sat on the ground, leaning his head against the bars of the bridge and closing his eyes. "You should still be here," Campbell spoke to the air. "You should still be here with me." If he held still enough, if he slowed his breathing enough, Campbell could imagine that he felt Cassandra's hand resting on his. He could imagine that he felt her next to him, could almost hear her soft breathing. How long he was there, he didn't know, but it started to get cool and the sky began to get darker. The sound of bang in the distance-- a car backfiring, probably-- jerked him out of his meditative stillness. His eyes opened and revealed the truth. He was alone. She wasn't there, and never had been, but it had been a welcome illusion all the same. Campbell went home, walking faster than usual just in case the backfire wasn't a backfire at all. The house was dimly lit, and Campbell could hear a faint sound coming from the kitchen; when he rounded the corner, he was greeted by the sight of Harry, who was sitting on the floor with a knife and hyperventilating. Fuck. "Harry? Hey. It's me. What's going on?" Campbell tried to sound soothing, but it didn't seem to be working. He made his voice a little sharper. "Harry." That, Harry reacted to. He snapped his head up, eyes wide. "I heard a bang." "It was a car. You're okay." "A car?" "Yeah. Backfire." "Oh." Harry sucked in a breath and let out a shuddering sigh. He set the knife on the floor and stood, wrapping his arms around himself. "You were gone. You've been gone all day. I came out to look for you, and then I heard that. I thought..." Campbell shook his head. "I'm fine. I just needed to clear my head." "How could I know that?" "Text me?" "I did. You didn't answer." "I've kept my phone on vibrate since that shit went down at the cafeteria, just in case. I must have missed it. I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to make you worry." Harry was a little unsteady, but he wobbled over to Campbell and threw his arms around his neck. Campbell almost complained, but then Harry's lips were brushing against his ear. "You could have been hurt that day," he said, voice low and husky. "Or worse. I've been scared fucking shitless since. If I lose you, I don't know what I'll do." "I'm fine. Takes more than some jackoff with a peashooter to bring me down." "Stop it. Just, stop. Stop making everything a joke." "Harry, really. I'm fi--" His words were cut off as Harry took Campbell's face between his hands and pressed their lips together in a hard, fast kiss. It was over before Campbell could even realize what was happening; Harry stumbled back, covering his mouth and shame in his eyes. They didn't speak. Harry just hurried back to his room, shutting the door behind him. Campbell stood there, touching his lips with his fingers. His heart fluttered and fuck, fuck, fuck. Elle. What was he going tell her? She needed to know. Didn't she? But what could he tell her? He couldn't out Harry. Campbell moved into the kitchen and picked up the knife, putting it into the dishwasher and slamming the door shut. Goddamn it. He hunched over the sink and tried not to feel sick. He was used to anger, and by now he had adjusted to the reality of grief, but this was something else. Not direct at Harry, but at himself. Enough to make him nauseous, even though it was distant and numb. Some sour, terrible thing. Fear. But then the door clicked open and shut as Elle came home from her work shift at the cafeteria. Meal prep, again. She yawned as she shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed a reused water bottle from the fridge. "Hey. It's almost dinner time. Ready to go?" "I..." Campbell ran his tongue across his lips, swallowing hard and forcing a smile. "Yeah. I'm ready to go when you are. Just gotta run to the bathroom." "Alright. I'll go get Harry, then." Campbell nodded and make a hasty exit. For a good five minutes he argued with himself about taking one of the pills in the cabinet. It would be so much easier to just feel nothing, but what good would that do, in the end? He was already fucked up enough without making matter worse. By the time he came back out, they were waiting for him on the porch, talking and laughing like they were actually friends. And maybe they were, but that only complicated matters. With Harry grinning like that and joking around, it was easy to forget what had happened; it was easy to forget how much was going on underneath that charming smile. Still, Campbell knew those mannerisms and knew that heart, and he knew when Harry glanced at him that Harry was scared, too. He'd fucked up. They'd fucked up. At least there was something to talk about, to keep Elle distracted. "So," she said as he took Campbell's hand. "I talked to a few people about an idea I had." "Yeah? What about?" "I thought maybe it'd be nice to have a movie night once a week. You know, get people out of the house. Something nice to look forward to." Campbell gave her hand a little kiss. The idea of being stuck in a room with a bunch of people, in the dark, made him want to gag but there was a hopeful little glimmer in Elle's eyes that he refused to squash. "It's a great idea." "Would you go with me?" "Sure. Yeah, of course." She seemed happy, and that was all he wanted. Things had been so off between them since Cassandra's death; maybe she'd finally tuned out the assholes who'd been accusing him of being involved. Not that it'd matter, if she found out about Harry kissing him and left. If she didn't leave, of course Harry would have to. The miserable look on Harry's face that night during work said that Harry knew that, too. "Are we gonna talk about it?" Campbell asked when they were alone, scrubbing the floors of the cafeteria. "At all?" "Do I really have a choice?" "No." Harry sighed, shoving the mop back into the bucket. "So then tell her, okay? I'm sick of pretending like I don't have these feelings. Maybe it's easy for you, but it's not for me." "You think this is easy for me?" "Isn't it?" "Oh, right. Campbell Eliot, the first known man to exist without a heart. How could I have forgotten?" "That's not what I--" Tossing down the ice scraper he was using to pop gum off from under the tables, Campbell stood and turned to face Harry. "This has never been easy for me. My family thought I was a monster. I've been in love with you the whole time I've known you, and had to watch you go and fuck damn near everyone in town, including the cousin who hates me. The one person who really understood me is dead, and now the only person I've ever loved who actually seemed to like me back gives me weird looks because people told her I'm a murderer. But sure, Harry. Sure, this is easy for me." "I'll leave," Harry said after a long moment. "I'll go back to my house. "No, you won't. I know there are people in this town who are struggling, and I know you're one of them. That shithole is going to end up killing you. I'm not letting you go back. We're gonna shut the fuck up and deal with this like grown ups." "We're not grown up, Campbell. Not really." "Then we're gonna have to fucking pretend." Campbell pick up the scraper and went back to work, venting his frustration out on the cafeteria tables. Harry was right about one thing. They were 18. Some of the teens in town were just barely 16. They were all trying to be adults, when they shouldn't have had to try so hard yet. People like Will had been trying for a lot longer, Campbell knew. But now, now it was everyone, and many of them were flailing in the uncharted waters. It was only a matter of time before some of them went under. Campbell refused for one of them to be Harry. But that didn't mean Campbell knew what to do next. They walked home in silence, but Harry stopped a block away, staring at the house. "Are you going to tell her?" "I'm not going to lie. Not to Elle." "It doesn't matter what you want, you know. She's going to make me leave. Even if she never says the words, she's going to find a way to push me out." "That's more something I'd do." "I know, Campbell. I know." Harry's eyes were almost black as he gazed at Campbell, a circle of golden lamplight burning around them. "Isn't that why you chose her?" Campbell didn't answer. He kept walking. Elle slept in his bed again that night; he kept trying to find the right point to say something, to bring it up, but there wasn't one. She was so excited about movie night that he couldn't bear to ruin her mood. And anyways, maybe it would be best to take a day to think about how to say it. Except one day turned into two, and two turned into three. They went to work and came home like everything was normal. Harry looked like he was waiting for an axe to come down on his neck. From what Campbell heard, most people turned over their guns within that time frame-- the ones they admitted they had. It didn't stop people from being on edge. The rumors of who killed Cassandra just kept getting worse and worse, and full conversations would often stop when Campbell walked by. Grizz didn't seem to mind; he kept up his end of the bargain, agreeing to meet Campbell at the old library a couple days a week. "Why do you think you have an anger issues?" Grizz wondered as they settled in the back. "I've heard a lot of things from a lot of people, but..." Campbell shrugged. "I was born wrong, I guess." "You believe that?" "Sometimes." Grizz drummed his fingers on the faded leather of the chair. "You know, when I was tiny, I didn't talk for a long time. I wasn't like other little kids. I hated being touched, I hated playing with others. My parents thought there was something wrong with me." Tilting his head, Campbell faintly recalled something he'd read during his online research. "Autism?" "Yeah." Grizz smiled a little. "But I don't feel like I was born wrong because of it, even if my family kinda made me feel that way." "Explains a lot of the nerdiness. I always thought that was cool." "It comes in handy sometimes. So what about you?" "Me? I've..." Campbell felt the words stick in his throat. "Does it matter?" "It could help, if you know. I won't pry it out of you, though." "All that's important here is that I lash out a lot. When I was a kid, I'd get upset and punch things, break things. Get hurt that way sometimes. I used to beat up jerks in school. I'd do drugs and drink. I mostly stopped but since Cassandra, I guess I've just lost it." "Right, well. That'd do it. Did your parents try to help you at all?" "Not really. My parents took me to some psych once, but then they pretended I was fine after that. They were good to Sam but I was the unruly pet. If I didn't behave they'd just swat me and yell at me to go to my room." "Wait." Grizz sat up straighter. "They hit you?" "It's whatever." Grizz shook his his. "Maybe that's what you've told yourself, but it's really not whatever. Even spanking and stuff can really fuck up how someone thinks. There's never an excuse to hit a kid, you know?" "I guess not, but they just got sick of my shit." "So? You didn't ask to be born. They're the ones who are supposed to teach you how to behave." There was a simmering anger in Grizz's tone, and Campbell shifted uncomfortably in his chair. No one had ever really expressed anger on his behalf before, not even Cassandra. It was just how life was for their family. "It just teaches kids to solve things through violence." "It must, because fuck knows that's how I solve things a lot of the time." "Right. Why did you lash out, though? If you don't want to hurt people, why do you?" Campbell frowned. "It's the only way people will listen, or leave me alone. I mean, I try not to do that much anymore, but sometimes I still end up yelling or punching walls and shit. I guess it still feels like people just don't care unless I make a scene." "That sounds like a stressful way to live." "It's why I'm here. I know it scares Elle, and I don't want to do that." "Of course not. Most people who have anger issues don't want to hurt the people around them, you know? I used to get really overwhelmed, and I'd get mean, too. It's because I just didn't have the right tools to figure out another way." "Tools?" "Yeah. Ways to keep yourself from getting overwhelmed, ways to communicate your needs effectively, ways to get the anger out without resorting to physical violence. That's what my middle school counselor told me." Campbell snorted. "Is that where you're getting your psychology information? Some middle aged guy named Greg with a french bulldog?" "Steve, actually, and it was a boston terrier." "Awesome." "But it makes sense, right?" "I guess. I don't really know how to communicate things sometimes, but I could always try harder. What do you do when you don't know what you're even feeling?" Grizz fiddled with a nearby book, running his fingers along the spine. "This would be a little easier if you told me what's going on, you know. If I knew what we were dealing with." "Can you still help me?" "If you're willing to let me." On one hand, the idea of someone who wasn't Cassandra dissecting his brain and telling him how he should behave chaffed at him, but isn't that what he needed, in a way? So Campbell nodded, and they got to work. They spent the better part of an hour going over materials Grizz's counselor had printed off; most of it seemed a little cheesy, but a few things struck a chord. How to detangle why he felt the need to yell or throw things, and figuring out how to address that root problem. Logically, he already knew the deep down issue, but it would be worth looking at directly rather than acknowledging it and then burying it again. Still, everything was about emotions, emotions, emotions. His were locked behind a few sheets of lead, a moat of alligators, and a barbed wire fence. "Do you mind if I hang onto these?" Campbell asked. It wasn't something he was going to figure out in a night. "I should get going, but I'd like to read over them later." "Yeah, go ahead." "Thank you." Grizz watched Campbell pack up, and walked with him to the library door. "Hey, Campbell? Can I say something?" "You already are." "Yeah, but..." Grizz trailed off. "I know you said you're doing this for Elle. But I think that sometimes, in order to really have a healthy relationship with someone else, you kind of have to start having a healthy relationship with yourself. So maybe do this for your own sake, too, yeah?" "You sound like Cassandra." "I'll take that as a pretty awesome compliment." "It was." Campbell was about to leave when he paused and glanced back at Grizz, eyeing him a bit. "By the way, my brother's into you, too. Go for it." "Really? I mean, I don't... what?" "You almost peed yourself in the car during Fugitive when I asked if you liked anyone. You'd only do that if you thought I'd be mad, and I'd only get mad about Sam or Elle. It wasn't Elle, so it must be Sam. Plus you two were being all awkward at Allie's house." "So... you're not mad?" "Nah, I'm not mad. Break his heart and I'll break your kneecap, though, Football Boy." Grizz blushed bright red and looked at the ground. "Yeah, I get it. See you in a few days." "See you." His good deed for the year was done; Sam could thank him later. Campbell strolled home a little slower than usual, giving himself time to think the meeting over. He didn't feel too different. Not that it was going to be some magical cure or anything, but he still felt... off. Wrong. There was, however, a part of him that felt a little lighter. Not better, but less smothered. Maybe it was worth it, after all. Hell. Maybe it would be possible to be honest with Grizz; he'd never told anyone besides Cassandra about his condition, not even Harry, but maybe Grizz would understand. And hopefully, that would be a step towards telling Elle. Elle was getting dressed when he got home; it was Saturday, one of the town's two days off and the designated movie night, and Elle was dressing a little glamorous. "Ready to go?" she asked as he come into the room. "Everyone voted on The Princess Bride." "I don't know. I feel a little underdressed next to you." She ducked her head and smiled. "Do you think it's too much?" "Not at all, beautiful. Here." Campbell set down his papers and helped Elle with the clasp of her necklace. He placed a little kiss to the name of her neck before letting her hair back down. "Let me go change my shirt real fast." "How about that soft black one?" "As you wish." It was the least he could do to look less frumpy. Elle peered at his papers while he rummaged through his clothes. She didn't say anything, but she did give him a bit of curious look at the left the house. Maybe it would have been good to talk about it, but he was busy trying to amp himself up to even go to the movie. The only reason he was going was for Elle. Not that he hated the movie, but he still hadn't gotten over the idea of being around everyone else. It wasn't so bad on the way over, but once they got close, Campbell felt his heart start to race. "What's wrong?" Elle asked as he ground to a halt outside the doors. "You look like you're gonna be sick." "Maybe you should go on without me. I think I should just go home." "Is it because there's too many people?" Bingo. Campbell tried to find the right words, but Elle leaned up and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "If anyone says anything, I'll break their nose. Okay? Besides, Harry saved us the best seats." It didn't really help anything, but Campbell nodded and forced himself to go in. No one said anything, but they still shot him dirty looks. He bolted to where Harry was sitting, sinking into one of the chair as far as he could. Elle brought them popcorn and cans of soda. As the lights clicked off, Campbell felt some of his anxiety ease, though another thought began to nag at him halfway through the movie. What if the killer was in the room with them? What if they still had a gun? What if they never found the killer? They would just be walking free among everyone, and who knows if-- when-- they'd kill again. Thankfully the movie came to an end soon enough, and Campbell tried to escape. Not so thankfully, Elle was hanging behind and talking to Clark and some of the other folks. "I promised to stay behind and clean up," Elle said when Campbell tried to prod at her. "Why don;'t you go home and I'll catch up in a little bit?" Of course it wasn't okay, but he couldn't say it wasn't, because he was supposed to be supportive. "Yeah, yeah." He tried not to imagine Elle on the ground, covered in blood. "Sure. I'll see you soon." Harry, who had watched the exchange, pulled him aside before he made it out the door. "Do you want me to stay here with her? Keep an eye out?" "Would you?" "I wouldn't offer otherwise." Campbell wanted to say no, because like hell he wanted them anywhere near each other at the moment, but he nodded. "Thanks." Harry gave him a pat on the back, and Campbell took off at a brisk pace. He just needed to be away, in the quiet, alone. Just long enough to rest and recharge his batteries. Campbell hated that he had to walk by the street where Cassandra was killed, but it was the fastest way home; he was almost by it when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. A flash of light fabric. Campbell stopped and looked, but there was nothing and no one there. Not even that dog, the collie he hadn't seen or heard since that night. Whatever. Campbell walked quicker, locking the door behind him when he got home. He set to tidying up the house, trying to ignore the time. They'd be home when they were home, he told himself. That attitude changed after thirty minutes had gone by, and then forty-five. He texted them both, but there was no answer from either. Campbell made some tea and went upstairs to his bed, breathing slow and reminding himself that sometimes time got away with people. An hour and fifteen minutes later, Elle pranced up the stairs and kicked off her shoes. "Sorry we're late. We wanted to finish off the popcorn so it wouldn't go to waste, and suddenly it's way past curfew." "It's okay. I was just worried." Even to himself, his voice was tight. Aggravated. Campbell closed his eyes a moment and forced the irritation to the side. He followed her to the bathroom, bringing Elle her pajamas as she drew a bath. "Did you have fun?" "Yeah, I think so. I've never really talked to anyone that much before. Are you doing okay?" "I'm fine." "Are you sure? I just thought--" "Can we not talk about it right now?" Campbell interrupted. "It's just been a long night, and I don't want your water getting cold." "Oh. No, of course." Hopefully by the time Elle came back out, she'd have forgotten the whole thing and they could just pretend like it was a happy, fun night with no drama whatsoever. And, Campbell could admit, for the most part that was true. Most of the bad parts were entirely within his own head. Nothing bad had happened. Elle and Harry both returned safely. It was the thought of what could have happened that haunted him, and the fact that they hadn't come home when he'd expected. Combined with everything else, though, and it was a sickening cocktail of worry. Elle wandered in a bit later, arms crossed over her chest as she hovered in the doorway. "I'm sorry if I did something wrong. I know things have been tense, but I thought this would be good for us." "No, no, it is good for us." Closing the space between them, Campbell ran his hands lightly down Elle's arms. "I promised I'd keep you safe, you know? And it's just hard to do that when there's still some armed killer out there, and I can't keep my eyes on you. When you're at work, when I'm at work, nights like this. It freaks me the fuck out and I hate being freaked out. It's not your fault." There was a small flare of doubt in Elle's eyes, but then she wrapped her arms around Campbell and rested her head on his chest. "I just want everything to be okay again." "Me too, sweetheart. Me too." And that, at least, was the truth.

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