Ties That Bind

  Bucket turns to face the five prisoners lined up on their knees, like tightly grouped mooring bollards on the edge of the dock, “We need to protect our home!” Emmy cries out, tossing the hood off her head she strides past the 'X' mark on the dock, brandishing the revolver centimetres from the mans head.

  She grits her teeth and pulls the trigger.

  A cloud of red mist is expelled out the back of the prisoners head, he slumps to his side and rolls off the dock into the water. She stares at the spot on the dock where the man was, her arm hanging like a drenched bath towel over a shower rod, her finger tips barely grasping the revolver.

  “Who was that? Arrest them!” The Princess cries over the radio.

  The crowd goes silent. Then, someone starts to stomp their feet.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Then another.

  And another.

  More and more stomp their feet in rhythm, louder and louder until what feels like every single one of them is stomping their feet in solidarity. The rhythmic stomping thunders through the Cavern, the reverb from the stomping dislodges the soot and other debris from the ceiling above, falling like brown snow, darkening the artificial spotlight, the hundreds of small florescent lights in the Cavern vanish.

  Feeling the thumping reverb in his chest, shaking his core, Bucket turns to Tales; no words are needed, they will not let Emmy take the fall for this. The prisoners look frantic, their cries for mercy drowned out by the crowd as Bucket and Tales draw their sidearms, take aim and execute two a piece.

  All but the one prisoner who repented his sins fell into the water. Four men dead in florescent orange prison jumpers, bobbing in the water like misshaped caution buoy's, the brown snow collecting on their back.

  Tales takes the radio, “I ordered the execution, Bucket concurred. It is done.” She throws the radio into the water. The crowd cheers. Buckets lungs fill with the heavy, choking cocktail soot and dust. As everyone covers their mouth and nose to filter out the brown snow the cheering dies down.

  Emmy is standing there, mouth ajar, staring blankly towards Bucket. Her hands and face sprayed with the blood of the prisoner from the backspatter, her breathing is rapid and shallow. Bucket puts his arm around her and leads her through the cheering crowd who seem oblivious to her current stressed state—they got their pound of flesh, everything else is minor to them in this moment.

  Emmy is curled up beside him under a blanket on the loveseat in his room. She hasn't spoken since she executed the man. Tracy followed them to his room, said she needs a bit of time, to watch her, then she left her hood on the desk before she leaving.

  Bucket shifts some, the tension of sitting there with Emmy for a couple of hours seeps into his skull, which leads to a dull throbbing pain behind his left eye. But he won't displace her—he needed her before, now, she needs him. He washed most of the blood off her hands and face. He sees a small spot he missed on the back of her hand, he won't draw attention to it unless it bothers her.

  Glitch unblocked communication and has been blowing off the Colonel who's demanding to speak to Bucket. Tales has been talking with the Princess on the radio for over two hours.

  Bucket can't deal with the Colonel right now—for more then one reason. How things went between them really doesn't change things; with what she confided to him they're now bound to do the right thing. Working together, the two of them may very well be the catalyst to end the struggle.

  “I did the right thing,” Emmy says, her voice a low, dry croak of a whisper. She nods her head, her quivering lower lip stiffens, she clears her throat, “I did the right thing.” She clearly asserts, “He will never do what he did to another woman. I made sure of that. Is that why you do what you do?” She leans back and looks at his face, life back in her eyes now.

  “That's why I started. But I have also done things I shouldn't have,” He lights a cigarette and offers her one. She takes his offering, pausing, her hand shakes as she goes to take a drag, pauseing, she stares at the spot of blood on the back of her hand. Bucket wets a towel with his tongue and gently wipes it off. Her hand steadys and she takes a long drag.

  “Will I go to jail?” She asks, wideyed looking up to him.

  “No. Tales is a Royal, she's takeing full responsibility, at worst she'll get a slap on the wrist.” He says, she rests her head back on his chest, “Emmy, why did you remove your hood?” Bucket asks. It would have been easier if no one saw who she was.

  “There is no shame in what I did.” She pauses, looking back at him, “If I had more then one bullet I would have kept going.” her eyes cold and distant again, she clutches him tighter.

  It's late, Glitch finally left, Emmy and Bucket are alone. Physically alone, they have been mentally alone together since they first sat there.

  “Can I call you by your name?” Emmy asks him.

  “Of course.” He says.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Ok.” She says, smiling. “What's it like above?”

  “Above?”

  “Yes. I've lived in the Cavern my whole life.”

  “You've never been up top?” He asks. He's not surprised though, her very fair complexion is quite distinct.

  “No. This is my home.” She clutches him tighter, seeming hesitant to continue, “I don't normally talk about it.”

  “You don't have to.”

  “I want to. I want you to know,” She says. “Father Daniel found me in front of the chapel one morning, I was a baby. Peter and Mary raised me, they were an Unlinked couple. They cared very deeply for me. I was the only child living up above with the Unlinked. They all cared deeply for me, were very kind.” He smiles, it turns out every single person in the Cavern looks out for her.

  “That sounds nice Emmy.”

  “It was,” she looks melancholy, “Until I was 9. I was playing, I fell from one of the lower decks above, plunging into the harbour. They,” She sniffles, “They took me from them, said it wasn't safe for a child to be up there.”

  “Who agreed to this?” He says. She turns to him.

  “The Colonel signed off on it.” She says, he face turning cold. He clenches his jaw. “I was given a room in the boarding house and told the crown will pay for my room as long as I stay there. I got lonely so begged them to let me work taking orders in line. I schooled myself with the digipad. I also learned it best to dress really conservative when young and on your own, it keeps unwanted situations... from occurring.” She holds him tight.

  “Did anything ever happen?” He asks, feeling an overly defensive twitch deep down at the notion of something 'happening' to her.

  “Not really. I once held a knife to a mans crotch, he said something very vile. A couple of soldiers and sailors in line pulled him back and gave him a right good beating. He walks with a limp still, and orders elsewhere.” She looks up at him, “I feel safe with you, I feel you would give anything for me to be safe. I've never felt that before.”

  Kiss her. Ryan says.

  Stop! Bucket says.

  She turns her head and rests it on his shoulder. “I'm glad you feel safe.” He says. Ryan speaking up torments him, he won't stops calling Emmy Angela. This isn't Angela he cares for; it's Emmy.

  “I do. All your scars, they aren't just from being a Specter, are they?” She says.

  “No. My father is not a good man.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “You have no reason to be sorry. My mother kicked me out of the house when I was 15. My biggest regret is not saying goodbye to my brother and sister. Also, my sister,” He hesitates, taking a deep breath, “I didn't comprehend what was going on at the time; I didn't protect her.”

  She puts her hand on his cheek, nudging his head to face her, “You were a child, you did what you could to survive. I understand that.”

  Now, kiss Angela! Ryan says.

  Shut the hell up! Bucket says.

  He stands, heading to the washroom he rinses cold water in his face. He stares in the mirror; he can see the infrared outline of Emmy in the reflection, facing the bathroom door, waiting for him to come back. He heads back out. “It's getting late.” He says.

  “I don't want to be alone right now. Do you mind if I sleep on the love seat?” She asks.

  “I don't mind at all.” He says. Changing he gets in bed. Edgar morphs and fly's over to the desk for the night.

  “That is amazing.” She says.

  “Yeah. It's interesting.” He says. Wondering what she's thinking, wondering how he feels. “Are you going to get some sleepwear from your place?”

  “I don't want to leave.” She says.

  “You can borrow a shirt from the drawer if you like.”

  “Ok.” She says, hopping to her feet she goes to his drawer, grabs a shirt and heads to the bathroom. She comes out a moment later wearing one of his shirts that looks ridiculously large over her slight frame, and her half slip. She heads to the love seat with a blanket.

  Buddy... Ryan says.

  Please don't... Bucket replies.

  You're forgetting you can't lie to me... Ryan says.

  Bucket looks over at Emmy, she's staring right at him, her mouth straight like the time she nodded for him to pick his cigarette butt off the dock. The thought of it brings a slight grin to his face. “Are you warm enough?” He asks.

  “I'll be fine. Are you cold?” She replies.

  “I'll be fine.” He says. She is still staring at him with her mouth pulled in a straight line.

  “There is a bit of a draft here though...” She says.

  All you have to do... Ryan says.

  Stop running a damn commentary!

  Looking at her he taps the bed beside him. “Well, there is no point in us both being cold.” She starts to stand before he finishes his sentence. He expected she would lay on top of the blankets but she lifts the covers and crawls underneath. He feels content laying there, his eyes close.

  Are you really going to fall asleep? Ryan says.

  Her head on his chest he brushes the hair from her face, she looks into his eyes.

  “I need to feel needed Blake.” He leans in and kisses her.

  03:04. He's laying there, staring at the ceiling. She's asleep, snuggled up against him. He sighs and stands, grabbing a communicator from his desk he heads into the bathroom.

  What are you doing Buddy? Is this about Angela? Ryan asks.

  Dammit! She's Emmy! Why the fuck did you have to get in my head?

  Blake, please. I know what you're thinking, I'll...

  You mean everything to me Ryan. You got me through some rough times. But it's time, again...

  No...

  Bucket pulls up an encrypted file on the communicator, stored there a news story:

  Local Teen Dies in Horrific Farming Accident

  He reads through the story; by the end Ryan's voice is gone; his mind is quiet.

  He encrypts the file and stares at the mirror. Did he just sleep with Angela? Did Ryan make him? Was it what he wanted? Or Ryan?

  There is a gentle rap on the door, “Are you ok? I heard some noises.” Emmy says.

  He opens the door, looking deep into her eyes, “Emmy, I need you. Right now.” He says. Pausing, no on else s;peaks in his head, "Right now."

  “Right now?” Leaning in he kisses her, holding her tight. He scoops her off her feet with his left hand, turning to the vanity he plunks her on the edge, knocking the communicator to the tiled floor it shatters. “Oh, right now...” She purrs.