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savage-rhi · 1 month ago

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Duality

Chapter 13: The Walk

Summary: Sawyer Kiddo has walked a razor's edge as a hacktivist for several years, driven by the loss of her family in the Raccoon City incident. Haunted by past choices and fueled with desire for vigilante justice, Sawyer's work takes an unexpected turn when she ventures to Spain and crosses paths with Luis Serra—a man with blood on his hands long thought to be dead. Together they unravel a web of corruption and face an impending bioterror threat, fighting not only monsters but also the darker elements of their humanity. As they delve deeper into each other's pasts and the conspiracy at large, Sawyer begins to sense something unsettling about Luis—something that might be even more dangerous than their mutual enemies.

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Two Legs stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the attic door with an intensity that bordered on obsession.

Almost two weeks had passed since Sawyer had woken up, and hardly a word was spoken between them. Not that Two Legs minded silence—usually, it suited him best, but this was different. He tried not to take it personally. Humans, he reasoned, needed substantial downtime when they're upset. He had seen it before in fragments of Luis's memories, people retreating into themselves to heal. That's why he'd moved downstairs to one of the smaller rooms, leaving the attic to Sawyer. Not that she ever asked for it.

The most she'd said in days was a quiet "hello" or to ask where the bathroom was. Two Legs knew he should be grateful. Sawyer promised him time and space to adjust, and she'd kept her word, but he missed her voice more than he expected. How she bantered with him, and hell, even when she got angry. The thought of her pinning him to the wall back at the hotel in Toledo was something he thought of often with a stupid grin. It certainly made his skin tingle.

Only the faint shuffle of her feet above and an uncomfortable quiet remained. It reminded Two Legs that there had been a time, as brief as it was when she seemed alive. Spirited, as humans would call it.

He hoped that was all this was—downtime.

Two Legs exhaled, dragging his gaze away from the attic, and headed toward the kitchen. His footsteps were as silent as the rest of the house, but his mind was loud with thoughts that came to him in the form of pictures and quick snaps of things he'd seen recently, mixed with remnants of Luis's memories he used as a guide around the residence. He noted that he still needed to clean the fireplace in the living room and make it presentable, along with the book room where he currently spent most of his time.

Cleanliness wasn't something the plaga ever thought his nature would be inclined to, but having a guest brought it out in him for better or worse. It reminded him of his primary duties in the Valdelobos hive, where he'd pick off weaker brethren and ensure the structure comb was secure to caves, bringing a smile to his lips at the connection. Whatever happiness he felt soon vanished as Two Legs furrowed his brows when he came to a stop.

Sawyer's plate sat on the counter untouched since last night. The meat and vegetables had dried to a sad, cold heap.

She hadn't eaten much of anything he had prepared for her, and while Two Legs knew he was not a five-star chef, Luis knew a thing or two about meal-making that he could pull from. Enough to where he was confident Sawyer shouldn't have been put off by what he left out for her, by human standards at any rate.

From what Two Legs observed over the last few weeks, it seemed that the only thing Sawyer nibbled at was the snacks from the grocery bag he bought for her upstairs. He knew she was coming down to the wire, as he hadn't heard the sound of a bag of chips or a granola bar being opened in the past couple of days.

Two Legs stared at the plate for a moment longer, trying to ignore the growing pit in his stomach. At first, it was practical to make her meals — feeding Sawyer to keep her strong, like preparing livestock for slaughter. He pressed his lips together, trying to push the thought aside, but it stuck. That logic didn't sit right anymore with him as he glared and pressed on.

He opened the fridge, reached for a bowl of grapes and cherries, and paused. His hand hovered over them before lowering again. The cool air from the refrigerator brushed his skin as he stood there, frowning.

She's getting thinner...

Even if Two Legs couldn't always see Sawyer, he knew. He could hear it in her movements, sensing how her steps seemed lighter. The concern was becoming insistent, the same discomfort he'd felt in Madrid, in Toledo. Hell, since they first met. Two Legs species wasn't built to care like this, but he could feel it creeping under his skin and growing.

He wanted to help her. No, more than that.

He wanted to comfort her.

The realization made his jaw clench, his teeth grinding together. These feelings, these thoughts, they didn't belong to him. They shouldn't belong to him.

What the hell is wrong with me…?

Without another word, Two Legs grabbed the bowl of grapes and cherries, shutting the fridge harder than he intended.

Maybe Sawyer would eat today, perhaps she wouldn't, but he'd keep trying—because something in him, some unknown thing he still didn't understand, wouldn't let him stop.

Several minutes later, Two Legs stood in front of the attic door. He released a deep breath and softly knocked, his fingers brushing the wood with more hesitation than purpose.

"Sawyer," Two Legs' voice was barely a whisper. He was unsure if he even wanted to wake her up.

When he entered, the room was dim, a quiet refuge untouched by the morning light that had started to peek through the cracks of the curtains.

Venturing closer, Two Legs saw Sawyer was still asleep, curled in on herself, limbs tangled in the sheets as if protecting her body. The sight made him stop momentarily, just staring at her. It was almost eight in the morning—late by most measures—but he was still unsure what "most" meant when it came to her, unclear if this was too early to be impeding.

Two Legs' brow furrowed, still trying to grasp how human circadian rhythms worked, especially hers. Luis had always been a night owl; naturally, so had he. The plaga were inclined to a nocturnal living. But since Sawyer arrived, Two Legs woke earlier than his instincts allowed. It wasn't just the constant low-level dread that she might figure out he wasn't human and needed to be on guard; something else stirred beneath the surface, a desire to understand her world and her ways. He hadn't been prepared for this—for any of it—living with another being, not just occupying space but learning them and absorbing their habits.

Two Legs didn't have much to go on; Luis's memories weren't beneficial—most of his life was solitary, save for the fleeting misadventures and connections he made during college and at work. None of them were like this, like her.

Gracias por nada, amigo… (42)

The bowl of fruit in his hand felt oddly heavy.

Two Legs placed the bowl on the nightstand, replacing the old, untouched one with mold speckles growing on the orange slices. The bright colors looked out of place in the muted light of the room. His eyes shifted, noticing Sawyer's blanket had slipped; kicked down to the end of the bed in her sleep. Without thinking, Two Legs reached for it, intending to toss it back like a chore that needed to be checked off. But as he started to turn, something held him still, and he looked back at her, at her face. How it cradled against the pillow he normally nuzzled into. There was a peculiar urge in him, one that he didn't recognize but couldn't ignore.

Hesitantly, like a child testing a parent's boundary, Two Legs returned to the bed, carefully draping the blanket over Sawyer with awkward, mechanical precision. He had seen humans do this—covering each other up, tucking one another in as if the act was a way of caring. Once he completed that, his hand hovered above Sawyer's head, fingers trembling, and he was unsure what to do next.

Slowly, as though the action were alien to him, Two Legs patted Sawyer's head, imitating how he'd seen humans pet their animals and other beasts of burden.

Luis once wrote a college thesis on the symbiotic relationship between Amazonian tarantulas and frogs, exploring how such a delicate balance might someday emerge between parasitic organisms and humans, given the right conditions. The frogs found safety beneath the spider's formidable presence, sheltered in its burrow, while the frog repaid its silent debt by devouring ants and larvae that threatened the spider's young, a near-perfect exchange of power.

Two Legs realized that, under the circumstances, he was the spider, and Sawyer, the frog, nestled under the shadow of his legs. Maybe that was why he made the eight-hour journey to bring her half-dead body to this place. Perhaps he was so protective because he needed protection himself.

Maybe that was all she was, a pet.

The thought should have felt cold and transactional but blossomed into warmth and settled in Two Legs' chest like a quiet flame. Although the term 'pet' was tangible, it still felt incorrect. If anything, Luis would fit that category, and Sawyer wasn't Luis, nor anyone else he had ever known. She was some other thing. He couldn't name it, didn't understand why it lodged so deeply in him, but it mattered in a way that startled him.

Two Legs stepped back, his eyes lingering on Sawyer's face one last time before he scribbled a quick note on a sticky pad nearby and left it on the table for her to read later, letting her know he would be stepping outside to go for a walk and she was welcome to come along.

Slipping out the door with the same calmness he had entered, Two Legs noticed a faint lightness dropping in his body, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Many questions remained unanswered, hovering at the edges of his thoughts, but they didn't seem to matter as much for now as he turned his attention elsewhere.

Two Legs wandered along a narrow path an hour later, the soles of his shoes pressing into the dirt with a stable, mindless rhythm. Occasionally, he'd glance to his right, eyes drifting below to the valley stretching toward the horizon, a town at the base cradled by mountains and sea, the ocean shimmering just far beyond. Trees were scattered here and there, providing pockets of shade as the sun's heat started to grow. The air was dense with the scent of salt, mingling with the rich, earthy fragrance of the trail beneath him. San Viento del Mar was a sight for the senses, even for a creature like himself. The area was tranquil in a way Valdelobos could never hold a torch to, but even such serenity couldn't still the disquiet that followed Two Legs throughout his little venture. Thoughts of Sawyer pulled at him, disrupting the routine distractions that usually accompanied him on these walks.

As Two Legs recalled the past week, a pain throbbed in a place where his heart should have been mute. He remembered how his every attempt at care was met with silence or suspicion, how Sawyer's eyes seemed haunted by something he couldn't quite understand nor witness himself, almost as if she disappeared into "the other place," but one of her own making. His thoughts circled around it, tighter and tighter, until they coiled into something that resembled fear—her fear and his—of each other.

Fear was such a strange sensation. His kind, the plaga, had no need for it. Not in the sense that humans did. In his world, the hive attempted to flourish in the absence of such emotion. Small doses were acceptable as it ensured survival, but beyond that, to have fear was to have attachment, and attachment was unnecessary when the main focus was to expand and defend the territory. Yet Two Legs could feel it, soft and insidious, whispering in his ear, reminding him that he couldn't control everything, much less control Sawyer's actions and behavior toward him despite good intentions. He couldn't control his fear when she was dying in his arms, nor could he prevent its emergence when he encountered the other plaga back in Toledo.

The fear brought Two Legs back to his earlier efforts that week, how he had forced himself into "the other place" for forty-eight hours straight, pushing his mind to the limit to retrieve memories tied to Alvarez and Luis, using the method of overdosing on sleep medication and setting an intention—a ridiculous pursuit, if ever there was one. Not for the risk of death—Two Legs was immune to the medication's dangerous properties—but for the fact that he had implemented a religious prayer Luis used when he felt cornered in his research when fear would keep him from leaping off the edge. Two Legs vaguely repeated some of the words in his mind, letting them flow in and out as he gently kicked at a few stones near his feet.

Permíteme discernir mis verdaderas necesidades que me están ocultas.

No te pido ni cruz ni consuelo; Te espero con paciencia...(1)

Prayer felt strangely similar to how plagas would call out for help through the hive mind when faced with danger—an overwhelming cry for strength against an enemy. Yet, despite his dedication to a higher authority, Two Legs had emerged from the stunt with more questions than answers, enough pictures to tell the story but not enough to solidify the narrative. And now, he didn't know how he would explain it all to Sawyer when they'd eventually cross that bridge. How could he tell her about the memory gaps and missing details without revealing the truth about himself, that he wasn't Luis?

Two Legs could already picture the look in Sawyer's eyes at discovering his true face—the way her hand might instinctively reach for something sharp, or worse, a gun. She'd seen what happened to Samuel, how he twisted into that monstrous form, an insect wrapped in human skin, and how, despite their shared bond, she eventually found the courage to destroy him. After everything she'd been through, Two Legs doubted she'd have a heart for a creature like him.

No human would.

It suddenly hit him—the small acts of care—it wasn't instinct that made him wake early, listening for her movements, his mind tangled in questions he couldn't answer. It was her. It had always been her. And the fear biting at Two Legs wasn't just about being discovered; it was the dread that Sawyer might genuinely see him and, in that moment, he would lose something he didn't even know he needed.

For the first time since he could remember, Two Legs cared about being seen in the truest sense—naked and judged. He cared how humans viewed him as a person.

He cared how Sawyer saw him.

A small gasp left Two Legs' mouth as he rounded the bend. A familiar musk with cucumber and yeast wafted through the air, cutting down the last of his scattered thoughts. He knew that smell all too well, and he knew who the owner was.

Luis's memories flashed through Two Legs' mind, unsought but vivid. He could see her behind his eyes as he closed them briefly—the older woman, always quick to smile, her warmth woven into every quirk of her aging frame.

Ida…

In those distant years, when Luis was barely a teen, Ida had become a role model for him in the new world away from Valdelobos. She reminded him of his Abuela—the grandmother he never knew but always imagined through Abuelo's stories, the kind of woman who would slip homemade bread into his hands, gossiping bits of wisdom while weaving wild tales and offering unsolicited affection.

Two Legs didn't share Luis's sentimentality, at least not in the human sense. However, the old neighbor carved out a place in his borrowed heart with her nosy habits and meddling ways. He found something intriguing in the elderly—a subdued resilience that set them apart from their younger and more restless counterparts.

Seeing Ida come into view, Two Legs recalled how simple it would've been—practical, even—to erase her presence when he first reclaimed the Jacintos' household. He could have wiped the slate clean and staked his territory with no loose ends or prying eyes, but she never threatened him. No, there had been no fear in Ida's eyes the day they met, no tremor in her voice, just that neighborly zeal—friendly curiosity over why Luis had returned after nearly a decade of being gone. She'd offered him food before asking questions, even cracking jokes to coax a smile out of him.

It disturbed Two Legs how close she'd been to death without ever knowing it—how she could've been snuffed out, ignorant to the danger she was in. Oblivious to the hunter she was befriending, standing right in front of her. He couldn't comprehend how humans were so gullible. Yet, in the end, Two Legs had no appetite for her. She wasn't prey. She was just old Ida.

Two Legs didn't understand why it was different with her, how it was so easy to suppress the instinct to devour an old feeble creature, yet the ache refused to fade with Sawyer.

"Ah, Luis, estás en casa! Ha pasado demasiado tiempo. " Ida's voice called out, warm and teasing. She lifted her basket like a prize to behold with a grin. "He traído pan recién salido del horno. Pensé que podríamos compartirlo en el almuerzo de hoy si estabas en casa. Me alegro de haberte encontrado. Más tarde iré a la ciudad, así que si necesitas algo de la carnicería, dímelo. ¿Te trató bien tu viaje al capitolio?" (2)

Two Legs smiled, grateful for her presence—her predictability—and how it eased his hesitation. Perhaps that's why Luis had always held her in such high regard and admired women in general. Females carried an air of stability, a quality that always seemed to evade him.

"Me malcrías, Ida," he said with a chuckle, voice softer than he meant it to be. "Te acepto el viaje a la carnicería, pero me temo que el almuerzo tendrá que esperar. No es el mejor momento." (3)

Before Two Legs could explain further, Ida's sharp eyes looked past him. Her smile faltered, brow knitting in confusion. She squinted at something behind him in the distance, something—or someone—hovering just at the edge of sight.

"Ida?"

"Allí," She nodded toward the figure. (4)

Two Legs did a double take, and for a moment, his mind froze. His heart lurched into his throat, not expecting to see Sawyer outside. Hell, he hadn't expected her to even be out of bed, much less venture far away from the house to catch up to him, even with the note he left behind for her.

"Veo que recogiste un recuerdo de Madrid," Ida's curious voice snapped Two Legs out of his trance. She tilted her head, her gaze sweeping over Sawyer with an almost maternal scrutiny as if assessing every piece of her. (5)

"Más bien ella me recogió." Two Legs murmured under his breath, more to himself than to Ida. (6)

"¿Quién, quién es ella?" (7)

"Es...una amiga," Two Legs said, though the word felt wrong—too small for what she was, too weak for what they'd gone through. "Una invitada. Su nombre es Sawyer." (8)

"¿De qué región es ella?" (9)

"Ella no es de aquí. Es americana. Una turista." (10)

"Turista?" Ida's brow arched skeptically, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she looked at him. "De todas las mujeres guapas de Barcelona a Madrid, ¿Te trajiste a casa a una americana con el culo plano?" (11)

"¡Oye, sé amable!" Two Legs laughed, but his cheeks flushed, heat spreading under his skin. "No es tan plano." (12)

Ida chuckled, giving his arm a playful swat, but her laughter faded as her eyes narrowed on something that stole the humor from her face—the bandages peeking just beneath Sawyer's shirt. Even from a great distance, she could see them well. Her expression darkened with concern, and her voice briefly lost its warmth.

"¿Y para qué es eso?" (13)

"¿Para qué es qué?" Two Legs muttered with a swallow, though he already knew where this was going. (14)

"Las heridas en ella," Ida said more sharply now, her eyes locking onto his, hard as steel. " ¿Hiciste eso?" (15)

"¡Podrido, claro que no!" Two Legs stomach dropped, a wave of shame hitting him as if she'd slapped him across the face. He flinched, almost bracing himself for Ida to take a swing at him with her basket. "¿Qué clase de hombre crees que soy? ¡Nunca lastimaría a una dama!" (16)

"¡Bien!" Ida's stern gaze softened, her tone gentle but probing. "¿Pero cogiste al que lo hizo?" (17)

For a moment, the question lingered between them as Two Legs' gaze drifted back to Sawyer, who had seated herself on a weathered bench by a grove of trees, her eyes distant, as if searching for something she'd lost. Seeing her like that stirred a soft spot in himself as he wondered what was on her mind and what motivated her to come out this far.

"No," he said quietly, keeping his eyes on her. "Ella ha pasado por mucho." (18)

Ida nodded, the lines around her eyes softening with compassion as she glanced between Two Legs and Sawyer, raising her brows briefly as if something clicked.

"Ya veo," she murmured. "Tendremos que posponer mi visita entonces, ¿no?" (19)

"Eso sería lo mejor," Two Legs replied, turning his attention to Ida. "Al menos hasta que se sienta mejor." (20)

"Parece simpática," Ida mused, her gaze lingering on Sawyer. Her tone had a knowing, gentle interest, which didn't escape her concern. (21)

Two Legs felt the term catch in his throat for a beat. Like with 'pet,' 'nice' wasn't quite the right word he had in mind for Sawyer, but it was the easiest to grasp at the moment . He smiled again as his gaze settled on her, staring longer than before.

"Si, ella es." (22)

Only when Ida's loud chortle startled him did Two Legs realize he had been too preoccupied for his own good. He could feel the back of his neck heating up as Ida grinned at him.

"No dejes que te meta en sus asuntos, Luis. Siempre has tenido problemas con las chicas. Debe ser la maldición de ser guapo." (23)

"¡Eres tan territorial conmigo!" Two Legs threw his hands up in mock surrender, giving her a flirtatious grin. "¡No soy digno de ello!" (24)

Ida's laughter, hearty and warm, filled the air. "Chico, si tuviera treinta años menos, tu virtud estaría en peligro. Será mejor que tengas cuidado!" (25)

He clutched his chest in exaggerated horror, playing along. "¿Intentas provocarme un infarto?" (26)

"Nah. Sólo un pequeño empujón ," she winked. (27)

They shared another chuckle, a short reprieve from the suspense Two Legs hadn't realized he was carrying. But as the laughter faded, so did the distraction. Two Legs pivoted weirdly, his thoughts weaving around Sawyer again as he rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat, quickly glancing at Ida.

"Oye Ida, tengo una pregunta." (28)

She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Esto debería ser bueno ¿De qué se trata?" (29)

"Se trata de ella," he admitted, the worry seeping into his voice despite his best efforts to mask it. "Ella realmente no ha comido mucho desde que llegó aquí. Yo, eh...no sé qué hacer. ¿Alguna sugerencia?" (30)

"Ah, el viejo dilema de me importa pero no puedo admitirlo." Ida chuckled. (31)

"¿Qué?" His face scrunched. "No, sólo intento mantenerla con vida. Es supervivencia. Como alimentar a una mascota." (32)

Ida burst out laughing. "Una mascota, ¿eh? Bueno, cariño, estás en un gran problema si es una mascota. Parece que eres tú el que mueve la cola." (33)

Two Legs blinked. "Eso está... mal en muchos sentidos." (34)

"¿Pero lo es?" Ida chuckled, then let out a breath before answering fully. "Bueno, la solución es bastante fácil. Cuando mi hijo era pequeño, se negaba a comer nada nuevo desde que nos mudamos de Madrid a Figueres. Más quisquilloso que un gato con un plato de sopa. Al final, empecé a hacerle las recetas de su abuela. Algo familiar." (35)

Two Legs frowned, thinking back to the meals he'd prepared. "Entonces, ¿estás diciendo que debería cocinarle a Sawyer algo de... su abuela?" (36)

"No necesariamente," Ida said, stifling a laugh. "Tal vez solo consíguele algo que le recuerde a casa, como comida rápida. Engrásalo muy bien. ¿No es eso lo que comen los americanos?" (37)

"Hamburguesas y papas fritas, veinticuatro siete. Sí, suena bien." Two Legs snorted as a memory of one of Luis's colleagues from the States played through, and how the man could eat his entire weight in fries like it was no one's business. Two Legs cringed at the thought of Sawyer pulling a similar stunt, not that he'd stop her, but because he was not a creature that cared for too much salt in his diet, it made him very sick in the past, and he still had no clue if it was a limitation of his species or Luis's body. (38)

"No es exactamente gourmet, ¿eh?" Ida teased. "Pero podría ser lo que ella necesita. Nada demasiado exótico." (39)

"Bien. Sin tentáculos ni nada que se mueva," Two Legs mumbled then laughed. "Gracias, Ida." (40)

"De nada. Te veré luego mi muchacho. "Ida patted his arm and smiled big as she circled back on the trail to return to her residence. While walking away, she turned to give him one final mischievous look. "¡Buena suerte Romeo!" (41)

Two Legs frowned at that, unsure what she meant by 'Romeo,' but shrugged it off.

With the distraction of Ida out of the way, Two Legs let his eyes meander back to Sawyer. She was still on the bench, gazing out toward the valley, not seeming to pay him nor the world any heed. At first, he wondered how much of the conversation she had caught onto, his face heating up until he remembered that Sawyer had confessed to not knowing Spanish too well. Also, the longer he thought of it, Two Legs doubted her hearing was on par with his, that she could detect things at great distances. She'd have to be superhuman, and last he checked, she was anything but.

He contemplated leaving Sawyer alone to let her gather her thoughts and process what needed to be processed. Two Legs figured she'd like to enjoy the scenery by herself until he reminded himself of a few things: First, she needed to learn her way around the property. Second, if she wanted to be alone, Sawyer never would've ventured out this far, much less followed him or would've left the attic, and finally, he wanted to hear her speak again, to talk to him like before. His mind couldn't help but suddenly replay how Sawyer would say Luis's name, how satisfying it was to hear it rolling off her tongue despite him not being the owner himself.

Two Legs could feel his heart's tempo picking up the longer he dwelled on the sound of Sawyer's voice, and he recognized fear—not the fear from his earlier contemplations, but another variant that tied extremely close in tandem with his worry of being exposed, of being seen for what he was. He finally took a deep breath—though it didn't help—and forced himself to walk over to her. Every step was inelegant as if he were learning to walk again.

Two Legs had no idea what he was doing and didn't know how to fix things between himself and her, but one thing was clear: He was going to try.

"Uh, hey! Fancy seeing you out and about!" Two Legs grinned as he approached the trees near the bench, his voice coming out louder than planned. Still, he mentally high-fived himself for the effort as he watched Sawyer glance up, smirking while giving a lazy nod toward him.

"Was that your grandma you were talking to just now?"

"Ida?" Two Legs blinked and laughed, scratching the back of his neck. "Oh, no, we're not related! She's just a nice old widow who sometimes brings me food because, y'know, I'm quite irresistible. Even to the bingo crowd."

His eyes widened for a split second, shocked at what left his mouth before giving a lopsided grin, attempting to look smooth as his foot caught on a rock, sending him stumbling before he awkwardly plopped down beside Sawyer on the bench.

"You good?"

"Y-yeah, just a little tired, is all. A lot of walking, y'know?"

Two Legs shifted uncomfortably, leaving too much between them then overcorrected, sliding closer until his body brushed against Sawyer's. He faintly apologized under his breath, unsure why he was saying it in the first place.

"I didn't know old ladies were your type," Sawyer quipped, sneaking a glance to check if Luis was alright. She moved slightly, trying to mask the warmth creeping up her face.

"What can I say? I have range." Two Legs grinned, though his face reddened as he shot her a playful wink and hurried to give her more space. "She likes you, by the way."

"Oh really?" Sawyer's smirk deepened as she leaned back, thankful she didn't have to budge. "I couldn't tell if she wanted to come over and say hi or hit me with that basket."

"Eh, probably both, if I'm being honest." Two Legs chuckled. "Ida only tolerates me because I remind her of her first boyfriend…or was it the second? I'm like vintage hot, apparently."

"Are you serious?"

He chuckled nervously, once again unsure why he said what he said. "Okay, maybe I made up the last part."

"Vintage hot, huh?" Sawyer's grin widened, looking him over as if sizing him up compared to the remark.

"You know, in a classy way," Two Legs cleared his throat, flustering as he bragged further. "Like a nice antique chest."

Sawyer burst into a laughing fit, her whole body shaking, oblivious to Two Legs' wide-eyed horror as he fumbled to salvage his pride.

"Wait, no! I didn't mean chest—like a chest of drawers! I meant something better! Like, uh—like a...ah, forget it!"

"No, no, please! Don't let me stop you." Sawyer wiped a tear from her eye, still grinning mischievously as her laughter fell to something more manageable. "Y'know, being a chest isn't so bad. You can hold a lot of shit inside you. That's a good quality to have, being durable like that."

Two Legs groaned, slumping forward and burying his face in his hands, though a muffled laugh escaped from between his fingers. "I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

"Never," Sawyer grunted, shaking her head. "You're a mess."

"Hey," he shot her a hopeful grin, leaning into the banter. "Messes can be endearing, right?"

"If you say so," Sawyer nodded, and a soft smile reached her eyes for the first time in what felt like ages.

Despite how embarrassed he was at himself, for a fleeting moment, Two Legs would have done it all over to hear her laugh like that again. He found his eyes trailing over her, easing up as he caught the light in Sawyer's gaze. Then, with a playful nudge of his chin, he gestured to the turf of crumpled paper poking out of her pants pocket.

"I see you found my note from earlier."

"Yeah," Sawyer nodded, fingers grazing the edge of her pocket where she'd tucked it away.

The sticky note—scrawled with elegant cursive, too fancy for someone like Luis but somehow fitting—had made her chuckle when she first found it, giving birth to a quip she intended to share later on. But now, sitting beside him and after what just happened, she felt a knot in her throat.

"You wanna keep walking?" Two Legs asked, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he tried to compose himself.

"Actually," Sawyer paused, trying to find something to lighten the moment but to no avail. She decided now was as good of time as any to bring something important up, to not beat around the bush as Samuel would've put it once upon a time. "I came here to talk to you about the three boxes of tampons and pads in the bathroom."

Two Legs's face flushed redder than a stoplight, and he immediately looked away like he'd just been caught in a lie. It was an understatement to say this hit him out of left field, as he recalled when he purchased them and the snack stockpile he got for Sawyer, remembering the weird looks and snark some males gave him and how a couple of females complimented his kindness. He didn't realize the products' societal connotations until he descended the rabbit hole of Luis's memories. All he understood then was that females of the human species bled sometimes and used the devices to clean up.

His eyes darted back to hers, nervous and expectant. "Did I overstep getting those for you? I wasn't sure which ones to grab."

"No, no, you didn't cross a line," Sawyer said quickly, shaking her head. "It's just that you wasted your money. You might want to return them and get a refund if it's not too late."

"Wasted, what do you mean?" His brow knitted, confusion crossing his features like she'd just spoken an ancient tongue. "I might be uneducated in this area," he gestured awkwardly, "but I do know women—"

"I'm sterile."

Two Legs blinked, his expression freezing mid-thought as if something inside him short-circuited. "You're...what?"

"Sterile. I'm fixed," Sawyer shrugged, eyes downcast. "So I don't, y'know..."

"Bleed?"

"Yeeeahhh...well, unless I'm shot at," Sawyer murmured with a huff and shoved her hands into her pockets, rocking on her heels, trying to seem like it hadn't just cost her something to say it.

"Oh." Two Legs voice muffled as his gaze dropped to his lap, his fingers picking at a loose thread in his jeans. He still didn't quite understand what she meant by being fixed, but he smiled, looking at her. "Well, if you get shot again, they might be useful, so it's not a total loss. The first aid kit is gonna be packed, though."

"That's disgusting!" Sawyer fought to keep a straight face, but a snort of laughter escaped before she could stop it. "But hey, reduce, reuse, recycle, right?"

"Exactly!" Two Legs grin spread wide, relief shining in his eyes, proud of himself for pulling her out of the spiral. "I'm sure they'd help nosebleeds too!"

"God, you're so gross," Sawyer shook her head. Glancing at Luis with a half smile as her laughter died, she said, "Thanks, though, for thinking about me."

"It's nothing," Two Leg's expression eased as he looked at her and shrugged, attempting to play it off. "I didn't want you to be uncomfortable."

"You didn't have to."

"I know, but I wanted to take care of you."

Sawyer's heart twisted slightly at his sincerity, mainly since they hadn't spoken much in a long time. She knew that was her fault, and although she didn't regret taking time to herself, she could tell her silence affected Luis, even if he didn't say it aloud.

"Hey," Two Legs murmured, his voice gentler than usual. "Do you want some breakfast? I'm getting hungry."

"Nah," Sawyer murmured as she shook her head, glancing over him. "but I'd like the company. If that's okay?"

"Yeah!" Two Legs practically jumped at her response, his answer too quick. "I mean—yeah, of course! Company! I can do that. Company's my middle name."

He cringed at himself the second the words left his mouth, wondering why he stumbled like that.

"Sure, Luis," Sawyer raised an eyebrow. A slight smirk tugged at her lips as she chuckled. "We should roll out before your stomach starts speaking for you further."

"Too late for that..." Two Legs chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. He got up alongside Sawyer from the bench, gesturing for her to take the lead before walking beside her at the right. It was several minutes before he spoke up again, noticing his earlier observations about Sawyer losing weight were correct now that he was close enough to get a gander.

"Hey, if you change your mind about food, I've got bread. And, y'know, things that go on bread."

"Wow," Sawyer remarked sarcastically, turning her head to look at him with a smile and raised brow. "Things that go on bread. You really know how to sell it."

"Stick with me, and you'll be eating like royalty in no time," Two Legs grinned. "I mean, bread and toppings? That's high-class. Especially if we're talking about pizza."

"I said it before, I'll say it again: I'm stunned you don't live in a van."

"Personally? I'd go for a cave if I had the option."

"Speaking to your inner caveman?"

"No, I just like the dark."

"I think they call that depression, Luis."

They both laughed. It wasn't the kind of laugh that brightened a room, but it was enough.

Two Legs realized then that this moment was enough. He didn't need to fix anything or overthink his fears. Alvarez, "the other place," the monsters, his weird ramblings—none mattered now except being here, sharing this moment. And judging by the change in Sawyer's demeanor, maybe that was all she needed, too.

Notes:

Spanish to English Translation (FYI, I'm not well versed in Spanish but I tried my best) 1. Allow me to discern my true needs that are hidden from me. I do not ask you for a cross or consolation; I wait for you with patience. 2. Ah, Luis, you're home! It's been too long! I've brought fresh bread, just out of the oven. Thought we could share it over lunch today if you were home. I'm glad I caught you! I'm heading into town later, so if you need anything from the butcher, just let me know. Did your trip to the capitol treat you well? 3. You spoil me, Ida. I'll take you up on that trip to the butcher, but I'm afraid lunch will have to wait. It's not the best time. 4. Over there 5. I see you picked up a souvenir from Madrid. 6. More like she picked me up. 7. Who, who is she? 8. She's...a friend. A guest. Her name's Sawyer. 9. What region is she from? 10. She's not from here. She's American. A tourist. 11. Tourist? Of all the beautiful women from Barcelona to Madrid, you brought home an American with a flat butt? 12. Hey be nice! It's not that flat. 13. And what's that for? 14. What's what for? 15. The wounds on her. Did you do that? 16. Rotten! Of course not! What kind of a man do you think I am? I'd never hurt a lady! 17. Good! But did you get the one who did it? 18. No. She's been through a lot. 19. I see. We'll have to raincheck my visit then, won't we? 20. That'd be best. At least until she's feeling better. 21. She seems nice. 22. Yeah, she is. 23. Don't let her get you tangled up in her business, Luis. You've always had a way of finding trouble with girls. Must be the curse of being handsome. 24. You’re so territorial over me! I’m not worthy of it! 25. Boy, if I were thirty years younger, your virtue would be in danger. You best be careful! 26. Are you trying to give me a heart attack? 27. Nah, just a little jumpstart. 28. Hey Ida, I have a question 29. This should be good. What is it about? 30. It's about her. She hasn't really eaten much since she got here. I, uh...I don't know what to do. Any suggestions? 31. Ah, the ol' 'I care but I can't admit it' dilemma. 32. What? No, I'm just trying to keep her alive. It's survival. Like—feeding a pet. 33. A pet, huh? Well, sweetheart, you're in big trouble if she's a pet. Sounds like you're the one wagging your tail. 34. That’s…wrong in so many ways. 35. Is it though? Well, the solution is easy enough. When my son was a boy, he refused to eat anything new after we moved from Madrid to Figueres. Picky as a cat with a bowl of soup. Finally, I started making him his abuela's recipes—comfort food, you know? Something familiar. 36. So, you're saying I should cook Sawyer something from...her abuela? 37. Not necessarily. Maybe just get her something that reminds her of home, like fast food. Grease it up really well. Isn't that what Americans eat? 38. Burgers and fries, twenty-four seven. Yeah, sounds about right. 39. "Not exactly gourmet, huh? But it might be what she needs. Nothing too exotic. 40. Right. No tentacles or anything wiggling. Thanks, Ida. 41. You're welcome! I'll see you around, my boy. Good luck Romeo! 42. Thanks for nothing, friend

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