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Just to set the record straight, Five is not a virgin. He’s had sex.
When he and Delores were in the Apocalypse, they used to make lists of all the things that they had missed out on and all the things that they wanted to experience if they ever escaped. Delores had very sweetly given him a pass on experimenting with sex if he ever got the chance considering what she could and couldn’t offer him herself.
And so when he was rescued by the Commission, he’d wasted no time exploring his options.
What he hasn’t got much experience with is … relationships.
Except that after six and half years of being lost in a subway, he’s pretty sure that he has some kind of mixed up, messy RELATIONSHIP with Lila.
They have bonded over surprisingly similar childhoods – both stolen by egotistical megalomaniacs who raised them up to be efficient killers.
They’ve learned to communicate, to compromise and to apologize when needed. It’s essential to be functional partners when you’re facing deadly attacks – can’t be distracted by sniping over who is responsible for burning last night’s dinner!
At times, Five feels like an unofficial, and definitely under-qualified, therapist as Lila dumps all her frustration over marriage and motherhood on him. He doesn’t think that they will make it home, but if they do, he’s going to take Diego aside to tell him to pick up his dirty socks, because apparently, according to Lila, leaving socks on the floor is a marriage-killing sin. (Five would not have guessed that either so he doesn’t blame Diego).
But for six and half years, their relationship is decidedly platonic.
And then they set up house in a very nice, decidedly pleasant, post-apocalyptic home and something … shifts.
Suddenly, Five is noticing how nice Lila smells and how smooth her skin is and what a nice, shapely body she has … and yikes.
Five does not need to be told what a terrible idea it is to fall in love or in lust or whatever this is with his sister-in-law. His brother’s wife. He’s spent his whole life – from the time he was a child, trying to protect his family. It’s been the defining feature of his personality. The driving force that kept him alive.
But life in this house with strawberries in the greenhouse is pleasant and relaxing. For the first time in decades, Five can let his guard down.
They don’t know what caused the Apocalypse in this timeline. It’s certainly less obviously destructive than what happened in other places and timelines. Here, the buildings are mostly intact, the sky is clear, the vegetation is lush and overgrown, and there are plenty of animals.
Just no people.
They haven’t found any bodies or skeletons. Their best guess is that people fled about ten years ago and somehow never came back.
Five convinced Lila to stay in this house because of the lovely greenhouse full of overgrown strawberries, but he also likes that the garden has a hand pump so they have access to water and a fire pit in the back patio where they can boil the water – Five is a stickler for boiling water whenever possible.
They go scavenging in nearby houses. This is a rich neighbourhood – the houses are beautiful and elegant, located on large plots of land that are now overgrown.
“Are you looking for doomsday preppers?” Lila teases him. “This doesn’t seem like the right sort of neighbourhood.”
“Preppers?” he scoffs. “Hell no. They got scammed. Most of the stuff in a prepper’s vault is useless – serrated knives with no sharpening tools, food that goes bad way before the expiry date … total crap. And if you did manage to find a tub of ‘survival’ food, it would have a label saying ‘good for 600 meals - must be consumed within 48 hours of opening’.”
Lila laughs. She is eternally grateful for the fact that if she has to be lost in a post-Apocalyptic world, that she’s trapped with Five who has a doctorate degree in survival. He’s saved her life on multiple occasions and she’s sure that she would not have lasted long without him.
“How do you know that this house will have useful stuff?” she asks him as they trudge up a driveway.
“Canoe in the backyard,” he points.
“What do we want with a canoe?” she asks, mystified.
He grins his sharkish smile. “We don’t. But it tells me that the people who lived here were Rich-People-Who-Camped.”
Indeed, the basement of the house that belonged to Rich-People-Who-Camped is a smorgasbord of useful camping equipment that would make the heart of any survivalist sing with delight. Five doesn’t sing because of course he doesn’t, but he is gleeful at the haul. There are high quality tents and sleeping bags that roll up into teeny tiny packs – they don’t need them now, but it’s nice to know that they are here. There’s a nice camp stove and a stash of propane tanks. There are flashlights and batteries. Fire starter kits and matches in waterproof containers. Bear-bins and waterproof rucksacks.
Five examines the packs of freeze-dried food.
Lila snatches one pack away from him and reads the label. “Freeze dried Crème-Brulé!” she exclaims. “You have got to be kidding me! No way is it edible after so long.”
“We could try,” Five grins.
“It won’t taste good,” she insists.
“Well, it won’t taste like real Crème-Brule,” he agrees. “Since we don’t have the cream and butter and whatever else is needed, but it’s probably still edible. It’s from a really high-end camping supply store.”
They load up the useful items and head home. Lila teases him and makes him laugh. That’s the thing – he’s not so shallow as to be attracted to her just because she’s pretty. She makes him laugh like no-one else has ever done. She’s had his back in some crazy battles. She’s lethal in a fight and is the best partner he’s ever worked with. She’s stitched up his wounds and nursed him through injuries and illness. He trusts her like he’s never trusted anyone before.
And she has skills that are useful. She can fix an amazing array of mechanical items, even without power. She has the phonograph working and she has hooked up solar lights. And she can cook! Five feels bad that he loves her cooking – it feels a bit sexist. But he’s never been a good cook – in the first Apocalypse, he was more concerned about nutrition than taste and he ate some truly disgusting things.
But with access to fresh vegetables from the garden and a nice camp stove, Lila is able to make food that is truly delicious.
Quite frankly, she makes this second post-Apocalypse bearable. He isn’t sure that he would have been able to survive another Apocalypse on his own – he just doesn’t have it in him any more.
But here they are, ‘playing house’ in a nice sturdy home with sheets on the beds and access to a big claw-footed bath and lots of food … it’s almost like a holiday.
They try the freeze-dried Crème-Brulé for dessert. It tastes almost right, but the texture is weird. It’s tough and stretchy, more like Crème-Brulé flavoured salt-water taffy. They drink a bottle of wine and lounge on the patio in a swing seat meant for two, watching the stars twinkle and listening to the frogs croak. Fireflies dance in the dusk.
It’s a little chilly so Five pulls a blanket over them and Lila snuggles into him, resting her head on his shoulder. She’s always been tactile, reaching for his hand when she’s nervous, giving him a hug after a particularly vicious battle. As someone unused to such physical contact, it had taken him a while to get comfortable with her touch.
He wonders what she would do if he kissed her.
Probably smack him.
She’s the driving force in this adventure. She wants to get back to her family so badly. She has told him her dreams for her children; she has cried in Five’s arms at the prospect of missing so much of their lives.
He has tried to explain to her that the chances of getting ‘home’ grow slimmer by the day, but she doesn’t want to hear about it. Their worst fights are always about the search for the elusive ‘home’ subway stop. At what point do you give up and find a way to live your life?
In many ways, Lila is the opposite of Five – she’s open and frank and shows her emotions freely. He loves that about her – it’s nice to know where he stands.
But recently, he feels like she’s been sending mixed messages. Or that he’s mis-reading her. She’s stopped wearing a bra. Five doesn’t know if that means something. Her ratty, worn-out bra hangs on a rack in the bathroom, in full view whenever he soaks in the big bathtub. It looks uncomfortable. Maybe this is just a thing that women do – they take off their bras when they’re home and in a comfortable place.
He doesn’t know. He’s never lived with a woman before.
But he notices.
She has scavenged clothes from nearby houses and she bounces around their home, often barefooted, braless, wearing casual cotton dresses.
She loves to shock him. She teases him about being a stuffy old man. And she’s learned how to push his buttons and embarrass him.
She catches him shaving one day.
“Good thing we have lots of razer blades, eh old man?” she says lightly. “Wouldn’t want to run out in the middle of an Apocalypse and have to grow a beard.”
“I’ve grown a beard,” he reminds her. “I hated it. It was itchy.”
“I know!” she laughs. “I thought about stealing one of your blades to tame the forest …” she waves vaguely at her own crotch. “But then I don’t want to deal with stubble down there when there isn’t anyone to appreciate the landscaping if you know what I mean!”
She laughs and saunters away.
Five pauses in the middle of his shaving, shocked by a bolt of lust and distracted by images of … well … inappropriate thoughts. Damn Lila.
He can try to rationalize his attraction to her. It’s unlikely that they will ever get home. It’s possible that the timeline that Diego and the kids are in no longer exists – it may have been destroyed by yet another Apocalypse.
But he can’t lie to himself. He knows full well that Diego loves Lila. He wasn’t always the best husband, but he was intensely loyal. If the situation were reversed and Diego was stuck here with a woman who was not his wife, Five would bet his left nut that Diego would not cheat on Lila.
He tries to imagine being in that situation, but it’s too hypothetical. Five hasn’t left a loved one behind. In fact, he’s terminally single and increasingly horny. And his morals are … squishy. He’s done some truly terrible things in his life. Is falling in love with a beautiful sexy woman such an awful crime?
He squashes down his growing interest – it’s just a phase. A temporary period of insanity. He will ignore it until it goes away and he’s back to seeing her in a purely platonic way.
It’s raining today.
The sky is grey and the rain falls steadily, but they are snug in this nice home.
Lila decides to conduct an inventory of the dresses that she’s scavenged from the near-by houses. She recruits Five to zip her in and out of the dresses because apparently a lot of dresses are designed to make it difficult for the person wearing it to get in and out.
“Why?” Five asks mildly as he fiddles with the zipper of a nice turquoise blue dress that Lila is trying on. “Seems ridiculous that dresses are designed so you need someone else to help you dress.”
“Might as well ask why women’s clothes don’t have pockets,” Lila sniffs. “It’s because we’re decorative. So our clothes are designed for appearance rather than function. I used to buy the girls boys’ clothes just so they could run and jump around.”
“Hmm.”
Lila poses in front of the mirror. The dress is long and swoopy, made out of some soft silky material. It looks like something one would wear to a ball.
Five has no idea why she grabbed it or why she’s trying it on.
“It gapes,” she decides, cupping the bust area. “Made for a bigger woman than me.”
“Hmm.”
“Unzip me,” she orders, pulling her hair up and out of the way.
He does, trying not to focus on the smooth bare skin of her back, exposed from neck to waist. She had a bath this morning so she smells fresh and faintly flowery. She walks back to the other room where she’s keeping the dresses, peeling off the dress as she goes, apparently not bothered about what Five can see.
He averts his eyes.
She comes back in a dress that’s fire engine red. She holds up the front part with one hand, and holds her hair out of the way with the other as Five zips her up. This dress has off-the-shoulder sleeves and a daringly low dip that shows off her cleavage.
“Oh cute!” Lila declares. “What do you think?”
Five gives an exaggerated look over his shoulder. “Me?” he says. “You’re asking ME? I have no fashion sense. My preference for Apocalypse attire is something with lots of pockets and made out of something durable … like Kevlar.”
She laughs.
“But it’s nice,” he falters, feeling like he’s let her down somehow. “It’s pretty. You look good in it.”
“Hmm.”
He unzips her. His dick keeps perking up every time he unzips a dress. He tries to discreetly adjust while she’s in the next room.
The next dress is dark forest green with short sleeves and a light flirty skirt.
“Fits me like it was made for me,” Lila declares, twirling in front of the mirror.
“Very nice,” he agrees.
She tries on more dresses – short, long, different colours, different materials. Five has no idea why she’s doing this, but he doesn’t mind. It’s a nice way to spend a rainy afternoon. He can look at her without feeling naughty.
Afterwards, she emerges in cargo pants with many pockets and a plain t-shirt. “Better?” she teases.
“Very functional,” he agrees.
After the fashion show, Five goes up to his ‘office’ in the attic. Here’s another difference between this Apocalypse and earlier ones. Previously he spent every waking minute frantically trying to find the right calculations to get them home. Now, he dabbles. Honestly, he thinks that there isn’t a mathematical solution to their situation – there are just too many timelines for them to be able to explore. They MIGHT find the right one by chance, but there’s no formula that will guide them.
Instead, he flops down on the couch and watches the rain splattering on the skylight.
He unfastens his pants and slides them down. He sighs, wrapping his fingers around his dick, feeling that familiar curl of arousal tighten in his groin.
He knows better than to think of Lila while he strokes himself. He conjures up an image of an actress he always thought was sexy … but when his fantasy girl bats her eyes, she looks like Lila.
He tries to imagine a different woman - the barista at a favourite coffee shop had golden hair and a quiet, demure smile. He tries to imagine her smiling that shy smile at him … and once again, all he can think of is Lila, grinning cheekily.
He groans a little, aware that he should be more disciplined, but also wondering why it matters if no one else knows.
He closes his eyes and imagines Lila in that pretty green dress, twirling for his attention, the dress unzipped, sliding off her shoulder to reveal one bare breast …
His fantasy Lila laughs at him and hikes up the skirt. “Want to see if I’m wearing pants?” she teases as she flings one leg over him and straddles him. He can just about imagine what she would feel like in his lap …
CRASH! Boom! The door is flung open and the real Lila barges in … “Oi Five!” she declares. “I just had a thought … oh …”
Five curls in on himself, swearing. “Jeez Lila!”
She freezes.
Five grabs for a blanket to cover himself.
“Whoops!” Lila exclaims, and departs, the door slamming behind her.
“Damn,” Five mutters.
His first instinct is to haul on his pants and go search for her, but what is he going to say? He wasn’t moaning her name; she doesn’t know what he was thinking.
Instead, he finishes what he started (well, why not?) and then putters around the office, poking at his math a bit. He can’t avoid her for long but he figures that there are two likely paths for how Lila will react.
She might just ignore it - that would be the best option (but also unlikely).
More likely is that Lila will tease him, her sharp wit needling him into a reaction.
Eventually, he goes downstairs for dinner and finds that Lila wants to apologize.
“No, no, no,” he says firmly. “Let’s just drop it.”
“No!” she exclaims. “Like I know that men .. I mean everyone has needs, but you’ve just always been so discreet …”
“What?”
“I’ve never noticed before ..”
“Lila!”
“I’m sorry!”
“Can we just not talk about it?”
“We should have a signal,” she says very seriously. “You know, like a sock on the door?”
He stares at her. “The door was closed.”
“But not locked.”
“Most of the doors in this house don’t lock.”
“Have you been jerking off in every room in this house?”
“What!? No!”
“I’m sorry!”
“You could have just knocked,” he points out. He wonders if up to now, she’s been thinking of him as asexual or just disinterested in sex? That’s kind of embarrassing.
They eat dinner together, testing out other topics of conversation. It’s awkward but they will get through it.
The next day, Five is in the garden wondering if he should stake some of the tomato plants or weed some sections of the garden. He’s never had a garden so he’s flying a bit blind, but it seems to him that they should take care of such an excellent resource. The mint is a little out of control – should he try to remove some of it?
Lila appears, dressed in the very same green dress that he ‘liked’ so much. She twirls. “Hey, what do you think?”
Five finds himself a little breathless. “What? What are you doing?” he asks.
“Thought I might as well wear something nice,” she says.
“Have I missed an invitation or something?” he asks, getting himself under control. “I’m a little underdressed for a party.”
“Well, if I don’t wear it, no-one will ever wear this dress again,” she explains. “I know it’s more suited to a garden party than to actually gardening, but who cares?”
“Are you in bare feet?” he notices. He hates her penchant for walking around outside in bare feet – he worries about injuries and tetanus.
“Yeah … trainers don’t look good with such an outfit.”
He scowls.
“Sorry, sorry, don’t be grumpy, old man” she says. “I’ll go back into the house.”
“I’m going for a run,” he tells her. “Up to those houses on the hill. You don’t mind?”
“No, of course not.”
He’s more or less stopped worrying about fitness – life in the Apocalypse is usually strenuous enough, but he decides that he might take up running again. It’s a good way to burn off the nervous fretful energy that he’s been struggling with.
He runs up the hills behind the neighbourhood for a view of a distant city and then browses through other gardens to see what else can be harvested.
And he has an epiphany.
He’s been agonizing about whether it’s ethical to be attracted to Lila and whether he should do something about his interest.
But it isn’t up to him – it’s up to Lila.
She’s the one who has to grapple with her Schrödinger's husband situation. Does she still consider herself married to Diego? She’d asked for a break just before she left. Is it cheating if she and Five get it on? Or is she most likely a widow, free to make her own decisions?
She’s worldly and open and bold – if she decides to change her relationship with Five, she’ll let him know.
He returns home at dusk with a bag of early harvest apples.
“Is everything OK?” Lila asks when he gets home.
“Yeah. Just needed to get cobwebs out of my head.”
He spends the next few days planning what they need to spend the winter. He makes sure that the boarded up window is secure and he considers building a chicken coop. There are plenty of feral chickens around – if he can catch a few chickens, they might be able to get eggs. That would be a game changer.
He pulls an old log close to the house and starts to chop it up with an axe. They have plenty of wood tucked into a storage shed, but he always likes to be prepared.
Lila wanders out, wearing one of her ordinary cotton dresses and unlaced shoes. She’s eating one of the early apples. She flings herself sideways into a chair and bites into it with gusto. There’s nothing ladylike or demure about her – she does everything with enthusiasm.
Five grins at her in between swinging the axe. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” she responds, apple juice running down her chin. “Just admiring the view.”
He squints at the horizon. They can see the shadow of mountains in the distance from the other side of the house, but there’s nothing visible from here.
She winks.
Ah – he’s shirtless, chopping wood – she’s looking at him.
He smirks and keeps going.
After a busy day and dinner, Five has a bath. It’s a whole process – three large pots of water heated up in the fire pit, mixed with cooled water, so it’s not a daily thing, but it’s deliciously decadent. There were not many baths in his first Apocalypse.
And then he wanders into the greenhouse.
Lila tosses strawberries at him and he laughs and reminds her not to waste them.
And then she slips and he catches her. She’s in his arms.
She looks a little surprised. “You’re always catching me,” she says. “Saving me from disaster.”
“I wouldn’t want you to go splat,” he answers, feeling a little breathless.
They’re very close to each other. His heart is thudding. And he leans in and closes the distance, kissing her softly, uncertainly.
She pulls away. “Don’t make this weird,” she warns him.
His heart sinks. “Is it weird?” he asks.
“No,” she answers slowly. “It should be, but it’s not.”
“What do you want?” he asks carefully.
She ponders, a long few seconds for Five. Then she leans in and kisses him.
He kisses her back, a little more fiercely. She tastes of mint and strawberries. She leans into him; he slides his hands around her back.
She slides her hands under his sweater, tracing patterns on his bare skin, the tips of her fingers sliding along the top of his jeans. She tugs him closer. “Bed?” she asks.
“Great idea,” he agrees.
He concentrates and blinks them to her room.
As far as they know, they are the last two people alive in this timeline.