All That's Left Behind - ronance

chapter 3

When Robin wakes up, she almost forgets she’s not alone. Day Sixteen, she thinks, rolling her head against the hard knot of muscle in her neck. Similar knots ache in her lower back and thighs. She catches sight of Max’s picture, thinks, Small sacrifices. A soft snore from the back freezes her before she remembers her hitchhiker.

She twists to take in the sight of the sleeping girl. She imagines the backseat as a bed, her clothes as a gown, tiara glinting in her hair. She thinks that 'Barb' definitely would've been a priss in highschool. Like a princess looking down on band nerds like Robin. She looks different like this, face slack and calm, unguarded and smooth.

Very slowly, Robin opens the driver’s side door and steps out, sweeping the area for any sign of the undead. She thinks she sees staggering figures in the distance, but they’re far enough away that she considers it safe. They’re slow as hell, anyway.

It’s not cold, but still cool. Robin welcomes the touch of the air to her overheated body. She stretches, feeling the pleasant pull of muscle and pop of joints. When she glances back, the girl is still asleep. Barb. She wonders if, like her, she picked the name of somebody she cared about.

Max would’ve gotten a kick out of what she called herself. Vickie the first crush Robin had gushed over to Max when she came out to her, when her and Vickie had gone on a date Robin had realised she was a bit too much like her with the rambling but they had nothing to really connect with, Robin had liked the idea of Vickie, still it was pretty funny 'becoming' Vickie now.

She rolls her shoulders one more time. She hates being cramped up in the car. She hated road trips as a kid. She taps on the window lightly, watches Barb jerk awake. It looks like she’s forgotten too, because she stares at Robin in confusion for half a second. Then her face settles into the same façade as yesterday.

Here we go, Robin thinks.

*****

The last time Robin saw Max, she was pissed at Robin. Technically this isn’t atypical Max behavior nowadays, but it was a particularly high level of pissed. Like Robin-can’t-even-get-a-word-in pissed.

“Dammit, Rob,” she’d ended with. “Can’t you just humor me for a fucking second?”

She’d been focused on the meat she was roasting for fear she’d roll her eyes at her explosive sister. Then she’d really be in trouble. (Okay, it wasn’t like she didn’t have a point. But Robin wouldn’t say that.) “No,” she said stubbornly. “There’s no such thing as a safe haven, Max. This thing?” She shook her head. “It’s everywhere.”

This seemed to wound her baby sister, which really wasn’t her intention. (If you know one thing about Robin Buckley, it’s got to be that she’d rather cut off a hand than watch Max suffer even for a second.) She didn’t retort, just stood up and stormed off with a barely audible “Unbelievable” thrown Robin's way.

Robin decided to let her have a minute to cool off. She’d make it up to her. She just didn’t want her hopes to get too high, because she was sure they’d be crushed. Robin hadn’t believed the safe haven rumor the second she heard it, but Max had latched onto it. She has too big of a heart, she’d thought sadly.

She’d gone after her when she decided she’d been gone too long. But Robin didn’t find Max; she found a herd of walkers. She killed as many as she could, but it was no use. The more she screamed Max's name, the more of the dead came to answer. She was gone. The best Robin can tell, she had to run in one direction, and Robin in another. Stupid, stupid, stupid. In the twenty-four hours afterwards, all Robin could think were Steve's words: Both of you get back safely.

Robin realizes she’s gripping the wheel too hard at the memory. Slowly, she loosens her grip. If the girl—Barb—notices, she doesn’t say.

“Mind if I ask where you’re headed?” she says to fill the silence if nothing else.

The girl raises her head, mouth set in that guarded way again. “Oregon,” she says vaguely.

“Why?”

Robin's eyes are on the road, but she can see the critical glint of her eyes in her peripheral vision. She’s trying to decide if she’s trustworthy enough, probably. “My brother is there,” she tells Robin.

“What about your parents?”

Robin knows better than anybody that family questions are annoying and unwanted. But she’s curious.

“I thought you said no tragic backstories,” she says stiffly.

Robin suppresses a smile. “Yeah, I did say that.”

'Barb' glares at Robin, but she doesn’t offer anything else.

*****

A couple of days later and Robin has learned a total of four things about the girl in the passenger seat. First, she hates being called pet names. It’s funny that she doesn’t see how fitting they are for her and her upturned nose. So Robin keeps using them, specifically sweetheart.

“Pass the salt, Sweetheart.” So what if it’s the fifth time she’s said it?

She glares at Robin, but chooses to say, “What salt?”

That’s when she remembers she’s eating a Twinkie. If Max were here she’d punch Robin.

Second, she’s stronger than she looks. They stop to scavenge an empty house. Robin pauses at the front door and says habitually, “Wait here.”

Halfway down the hallway she realizes Barb is right behind her. Barb catches the lone zombie in the throat with her machete and severs its neck in the second whack.

She raises her eyebrows at Robin, daring her to say something. She doesn’t.

Third, she likes to read. At first she thought it was just to tune out Robin's presence even though she stops herself from rambling about anything or everything, but she always takes a minute to get back to reality, so it seems like she’s engrossed.

In that same house Robin discovers her in the master bedroom picking out a few books reverently. One of them is Julius Caesar.

“‘Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears,’” says Robin in a deep voice. Barb eyes her in mild surprise and Robin grins. “We’re not all stupid,” she tells her.

“No,” she agrees. “But everyone I've ever know says that.” She turns away smiling when Robin realizes she trapped her in that one.

Fourth, she refuses to sleep until she absolutely has to. A few times Robin recognizes the internal battle she has with sleep, even if it’s just dozing. It occurs to her that that’s how much Barb distrusts her.

“You can sleep in my presence, you know,” she says once.

“I’m not tired,” Barb replies stubbornly.

She’s pretty sure Barb waits until she’s out cold before she actually relaxes.

It’s funny how four tiny things can actually give an insight of who someone is.