Finding Serenity

Chapter Two: Ian

I didn't go home the night she arrived in Serenity, I couldn't. Throughout dinner I found myself stealing glances at her, my eyes slipping back over to her every chance I got. Every lull in conversation, every switch of attention, every excuse I could find my eyes would wander back over towards where she was sitting with the two others she'd arrived with, thankful that I was to her back so she wouldn't catch me staring. It felt surreal, seeing her again. Seeing her like this. Impossible, even. After ten years I was sure she was dead. Hell, I was sure she was dead long before the Outbreak, yet there she was. Living, breathing, real. "Boy, if you keep starin' at her like that you're gonna wear holes in the back'a her shirt," Bobby said when he'd had enough of my shifting attention.

"Huh?" I asked, my brain taking a second to process what he was saying.

"What, she look like an old girlfriend or somethin'?" He laughed, shaking his head. "Never seen you like this over a newcomer, or anyone else for that matter. She's cute, a bit skinny for my tastes but-"

"It's not like that." I snapped at the old man, and the guilt was immediate. All looks of humor left his face as he leaned forward slightly, obvious concern written all over his face.

"Then what's it like, son?" He asked, and I swallowed the lump in my throat.

When I had arrived in Serenity with a single duffle bag filled more with pills than clothes there weren't many people in town rushing forward to welcome me, Bobby least of all. I remembered the look he gave me the first time I walked into his general store, his eyes sizing me up like the junky I was, already writing me off as some hopeless case not worth saving. He sold me what I wanted, but kept his kind words for the people in front of and behind me.

Things continued like that for a long time, while most of the people in town avoided me it was as if Bobby went out of his way to make sure I knew I wasn't welcome. Eventually, things came to a head, as they always do. The store was already closed when I came by looking for something unimportant, the opiate in my system making my movements slow and sluggish, my speech slurred. Bobby called me out on the spot, telling me I didn't deserve to be around good folks, that I should go back to where ever it was I had crawled out of and never return. He said I was a waste of space, good-for-nothing, useless, hopeless, worthless.

When I look back on it I think he expected me to hit him. I think he wanted to see if he could push me far enough to do something stupid so he'd have a real reason to chase me out of town. I don't think, however, that he was expecting me to burst into tears for the first time in years, sinking to my knees in the middle of his store with my hands on the ground as sobs wracked my body. It wasn't the first time I'd heard those things, not even close, but to hear them sent all the memories I'd done my best to block out crashing back down.

At first, Bobby didn't know how to react, unsure of how to handle a grown man, high off his ass, sobbing like a broken child on his storeroom floor. After a moment he put his hand on my shoulder, he apologized for the things he had said, and I told him everything. In all my years I'd never told anyone about what it was like growing up in the Foster system. I'd never told anyone what it was like running away from home after home because living on the street was the better option. I'd never told anyone about the fatherly looking man who found me in an alley and promised me a home where I'd be safe and cared for, a house with my own room, with a sister and a mother and a life. I'd never told anyone about the things that man did to me, the things he did to his own daughter. I'd never told anyone about how he'd lock us in our rooms for entire weekends without food or water while he and the Missus went on trips. I'd never told anyone about the times his daughter had patched up my cuts and bruises with shaking hands and tears in her eyes because if he found us...