Nick was used to the negatives.

The sour, harsh side of reality was no stranger to the conman. He'd seen and experienced his fair share of loss. In games, in love, in life, he could easily spew out the phrase 'been there, done that' and shock himself by his honesty in the moments after. Mostly, his experiences in the latter subjects had varied.

Being a card shark, he knew the chances he took didn't always reap rewards in high-stake gambles. He liked to consider himself a relatively gifted when it came to luck, and there was no question in his mind he was talented. He'd made a pretty penny under the table, his expensive suits a standing reminder of that. But every once in a while his planning, scheming and luck had failed him and collectively lost him a healthy sum of money.

He'd win it back, no problem, but the loss didn't sting any less regardless.

He didn't like to lose.

In love, he thought he'd found someone worth keeping in his youth. A sweet young thing with a sweeter name to boot. For a while, she seemed perfect for him. They would bide their time through friendly banter, sex and late-running card games through which they'd bet nothing but promises for later on in the week. This carried on for a while after they'd married, but Nick had never kicked his gambling habit. It seemed he was all too willing to put his Marriage second, and his earnings first. It didn't take long for his wife to question why it was he was still so much more infatuated with the thrill of the game than he was with her. They started fighting over trivial things: where he was, what he was doing, who he was seeing. All these, things she wanted to know but he didn't feel like sharing.

They began to drift apart upon realizing there was more to marriage than lust and a playful banter. She eventually presented him with the papers required for divorce. He thought he would've been a little defiant, refusing the notion. Instead, he quickly came to terms with the fact that the girl he'd fallen for years before really wasn't 'the one' as he'd thought.

The feeling of loss he'd experienced watching her car pull out of his driveway for the last time was bitter, but temporary. He didn't dwell on her for long, instead picking up his things and returning to life on the road.

He'd only recently begun to feel what it was really like to lose out on life. Being stranded in the Savannah was a slap to the face from Fate. There was only so much upstanding, tightly-knit southern family folk he could stand before he wanted to pull his hair out and run off the nearest cliff in a blind craze. The infection only made matters worse. Not only was he stranded in the Savannah with not one, but two tightly-knit upstanding southern family-folk and an added touristy-third, but each day was started and ended with the firing of a gun.

The pain of wounds.

The fight for survival.

Coming to terms with the fact that they may never reach true safety again.

Despite this, Nick had slowly begun to tolerate those he was surrounded by. He really had no choice. These people often determined whether or not he would live to see the next day, depending on how quickly they reacted to trouble when it approached him eagerly.

Rochelle was relatively quiet, though not without a snide remark here and there about his behaviour, and a comforting to the other two members of their party. She was a decent shot, too, which he found was a very vital attribute to have nowadays.

Coach was not quiet. He often mused aloud how he missed food, or wished they would stumble upon some functioning disgusting fast-food joint to settle his cravings. But he was also quite the motivational speaker, an optimist in a sense. He would encourage them to keep going, to keep fighting.

Even though everyone would be inwardly doubting whether or not it was worth it in the end.

Ellis was annoying. He would jabber on endlessly about the most pointless things until someone shut him up. There were a plethora of stories in the kid's head, one for almost every zombie-ridden situation they found themselves in. But in some ways, he helped make the day go by a little quicker. He helped bring a little laughter out from everyone (aside from the conman, Nick was careful) to lighten the burden of survival.

However, as time ground on, stubbornly refusing to yield in the dismal situation and give the gambler the relief he searched for but was too cowardly to deliver himself, Nick noticed something odd.

It was shortly after they lost what Ellis argued to be the fifth member of their team, Jimmy Gibbs Jr.

At first, Nick thought it was only the hick being overly emotional about the loss of a stupid, arguably uncomfortable car. His stories became less fequent, less excited. When he did let one tumble from his lips, it seemed as if it was only to fill the silence: not share a silly excerpt from his past life.

To be blunt, there just wasn't as much life behind his words as there usually was.

For a while, Nick thought he liked the change. He didn't have to bitterly hiss out a 'shut up' to stop the story from carrying out too long and he looked like less of a villain with less to silence. He contently let Rochelle fire off an occasional "Are you alright, sweetie?" only to receive a cheerful lie as an answer. Coach did little more, though he seemed just as worried at the youngest member's change of heart.

Eventually, the conman began to question what he found more annoying: Ellis's constant drabble of stories, or this brooding, quieter hick that had replaced the kid.

Nick was supposed to be the negative one, not Ellis. Ellis was supposed to be positive, an optimist, cheerful and naive. He wasn't supposed to quietly gaze off ahead, taking out threats without so much as a chuckle. He wasn't supposed to avoid meeting the stares of his teammates.

And he definitely,

Definitely.

Was not supposed to fake his smiles.

Nick spun, slamming the heavy red door with more force than was likely necessary. He fitted the bar across the door and moved to pushing a nearby box in front of it to deter anything with decent arm strength from breaking in. When he was sure it was secure, he turned to lean against the wall beside it and sucked in a breath.

They were a mess.

That last horde had come on hard and strong, overwhelming them in a matter of moments and burying them in the flesh of the dead. They were worn out and tired enough from trying to cross the fairgrounds in one piece, that last wave was just...just...

Another slap in the face from Fate, Nick concluded bitterly.

Rochelle limped heavily across the safe room, blood seeping through the rips on her tight jeans. Tears dotted her eyes, her hair having come out of it's bun and was now falling in a mess around her face, splattered with blood. She tended to Coach, who was blinded by the blood dripping into his eyes from a bad cut on his forehead, leaning against the wall opposite the conman. His breathing was loud and just as heavy as Rochelle's limp, claw marks littering his chest from a close-call with a witch.

Nick himself was exhausted. He'd hung back, managing to protect his teammates as best he could without throwing himself in the throng of infected. He'd suffered the occasional bruise and some bitch had drawn particularly sharp nails across his arm, which now bled in response. But otherwise, he was okay. Okay enough to tend quietly to his own wounds. One eye on what he was doing, the other on Ellis.

The hick had silently settled himself against the wall beside the table, seated on the carpeting with his legs stretched out in front of him. His hunting rifle lay on his lap, which he half-heartedly fiddled with, staring absently ahead though half-lidded eyes.

Nick felt an inexplicable rage boil inside him.

Ellis was ignoring his injuries. Even from across the room, the conman could clearly see angry red marks where a smoker had grabbed him by the throat. His shoulder had several peculiar gashes that bled, staining his yellow shirt with the crimson fluid, but he didn't seem to notice.

"That was...that was..." Rochelle couldn't find words as she panted, trying to fill the heavy silence with conversation.

"It was rough. Thank the lord we made it." Coach finished her sentence, trying to assist her in wiping the blood away from his eyes, only to find the bleeding would not stop.

Nick didn't add anything (though he wanted to laugh and sarcastically 'thank god' for getting them into this mess in the first place). He simply sat, glaring at the hick and finding himself unable to properly explain his anger.

"Ellis, are you okay, honey?"

"Fine, Ro. Jus' a little winded is all."

Nick clenched his fists as he listened to the clear lie that spilled out from behind that fake smile. Did he think they were dumb? Did he think they couldn't notice?

"You look a little battered, young'un, you should patch yourself up," Coach's light suggestion was met with a dismissive wave of a hand. Ellis shook his head, still presenting that bullshit smile.

"I'm fine, I'm gonna save my medkit fer when I really need it, y'know?"

"I suppose that makes sense, so long as you're alright."

"I am."

Stop lying. Nick had to bite his tongue to keep from hissing this out, watching as the boy pushed himself to his feet, barely able to stop himself from stumbling as he picked a shotgun off the table and headed back to the door. He caught the green-eyed stare of the conman as he approached, looking a little surprised to see the anger that flickered in the colours.

"Y'allright, Nick?"

"Just peachy," the conman ground out in heavy sarcasm, "are you?"

"Yeah," Ellis turned his gaze to the door, unable to face the bitter look he was being given, "I said I was fine, I was jus' gonna take first watch..."

"Were you now?" Nick couldn't help it, his lips turning downwards in the beginnings of a snarl. Ellis saw this and frowned, though did not react otherwise.

"Um...yeah." He then decided to pretend to not notice Nick's rage, as he certainly couldn't understand it. Coach spared him from having to face Nick again, speaking up from across the room.

"I suppose that's a decent idea, young'un, if you're really feelin' alright. The rest of us should get some shuteye, Ellis will wake ya when it's your shift, Nick."

Ellis nodded absently and went about pushing the box out of the way.

For a moment, Nick considered asking the boy what the hell he thought he was doing. They'd just come in from that nightmare, and he was about to dive right back out? Of course, there were occasions were the person on watch would sit outside, where it was easy to see approaching threats and safety was only a step away. But here it just seemed odd that the boy was so eager to leave.

No one questioned it, not even Nick. They only watched as Ellis opened the door, fired his shotgun a few times, then exited.

Silence followed his departure, at least until Coach drew in a large breath and shook his head.

"The boy'll be fine, Nick, don't worry. We should all turn in."

"Who said I was worried?"

Coach shrugged and instead of answering, crawled into the corner of the room, covered his eyes with his arm as he lay on his back, Rochelle slowly and quietly followed the large man away from the door, curling up to find sleep for herself.

When soft snores had filled the room, Nick was still glaring ahead at nothing.

What bothered him most, was the fact that he couldn't quite place why he was so angry. Ellis was just pissing him off - plain and simple - more than usual and without actually doing anything to earn such a treatment. He was usually so calm and cool and in control of his emotions, but now they seemed to be on a frenzied high, unable to come down no matter how hard he tried.

Maybe, just maybe, he was angry at the kid for being negative: for radiating such an odd depression and helplessness that was so very unfitting. He'd begun to look to the kid as some sort of light, the positive, upbeat soul in a world of downtrodden spirits and terrible illnesses. It was annoying to have his expectations so quickly thrown away, to see negativity he'd normally associate with himself surround and swallow someone so bright.

It was wrong.

"Fucking kid," he growled into the darkness, turning his head up to the window beside him. He slowly rose to his feet, gently opened the door and slipped outside, shutting it with a soft click behind him. His eyes took a moment to scan the area, adjusting to the bright moonlight that flooded the concrete. He stepped outside of the line for the Tunnel of Love, taking only a moment longer to spot his target.

The hick was seated on a nearby picnic table, his shotgun balancing on the edge of the table as he sat back on his hands and stared at the sky. Nick paused for a moment, staring at the boy, figure flooded in moonlight. He felt his anger subside inside of him at the sight, eyes softening at the peace until they fell upon the kid's face, which was etched in a frown.

The anger returned, hot and fierce.

"Hey, kid." He managed to hide the annoyance in his voice as he approached Ellis, watching with a cool expression as the boy tilted his head to one side, fixing him with a blank, blue-eyed stare.

"Oh hey, Nick, didn' think it was yer shift yet."

"It's not."

"Oh." Ellis stared, as if to ask, 'Then why are you out here?'

"You're still bleeding." Nick pointed out, only to earn a passive shrug in response. The kid looked down to his steadily seeping wound, then back up to the sky.

"It'll stop eventually."

"Yeah, when you're dead." Nick crossed the remaining space to the hick, pulling out his own medpack and setting it on the table beside him. "Shirt. Off. Now."

Ellis looked to him again slowly and Nick found himself spewing a string of curses in his head. The whole situation seemed sluggish, like it was progressing through muddy water. He hated it. Things needed to be crisp, clean, especially situations with other people. He'd have none of this slow-moving, awkward silence.

"Now," he repeated, more force behind the order.

"But I told y'all I wanted to save my medkit fer-"

"'fer when ya really needed it'" Nick mocked the boy's accent as he cut him off and completed his sentence. "I heard you. I'm using mine, now take it off."

"But I-"

"Do it, before I give you a serious reason to use your kit."

Ellis blinked, before nodding slowly, moving to obediently comply to the older man's order.

"Okay."

With the shirt off, Nick could clearly see the severity of the wound in the full moonlight. There were four jagged marks travelling from his upper left pectoral, back up his shoulder and around to start dragging down his back. Claw marks.

"A hunter?" Nick questioned absently as he examined them, earning a nod. "Why the hell were you ignoring these?"

"I told ya, I was fine, it doesn't hurt none."

Nick reached forward with a rag he'd withdrawn from his kit, placing it over the wound before clamping his hand down hard on the kid's shoulder

"Ow! Shit, Nick!"

"Yeah, that seemed pretty painless to me, too."

Without another word, he used the cloth to mop up the blood as best he could, surprised to find that a lot of it was still fresh. What was worse was that the kid's skin was cold to the touch. Regardless, Ellis said nothing as he watched the elder man work with half-lidded eyes, an expression Nick had begun to see a lot on the boy.

"Jesus, Ellis, are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Ellis didn't answer, and Nick decided to distract himself from what that insinuated by cleaning the wound completely before moving on to fetch the gauze. He began to steadily wrap the bandage around his shoulder, pleased the kid was at least holding his arm up to be more accommodating.

"How did you find us?" Ellis spoke at last, voice far quieter than usual as he let his blue-eyed stare wander off to the right. Not understanding the question, Nick raised his green eyes to meet the troubled stare of the younger man.

"Excuse me?"

Ellis withdrew at the sharp tone as if he'd been bapped harshly on the nose like a scolded puppy. Realizing he couldn't quite be himself and expect Ellis to cooperate, Nick sighed and tried again:

"What do you mean?"

"Didja...I mean...uhm. What led up to you bein' in the Vannah?"

"Ah, well, I was heading south for the Riverboats."

"The riverboats?"

"Yes, I'm a gambler, remember?"

"Oh, righ'. Didja win summin'?"

"I never made it on. I was staying in The Vannah when the infection hit. I woke up, rolled over and was greeted by a zombie pounding on my window. I was heading out when I stumbled accross the lot of you, claiming there was rescue on the roof. The rest is common knowledge."

Ellis bobbed his head in a slow nod, once again gazing off into nothing. A normal person would've returned the question, but Nick wasn't normal. He was making a gamble right then and there, betting the kid would pipe up and tell him his story in return without being asked.

He was spot on.

"Well...I uh...I was workin' when someone barged in an' tried to tear off my face," the comment would've been humorous, were the atmosphere not so heavy, "An' then I turned on the radio 'n heard the broadcast sayin' where all the evacs were located 'n stuff..." He trailed off, falling into a silence that stuck with him for quite some time.

It was then that Nick noticed he'd stopped his administrations of first aid in the midst of conversation. With a slight grunt, he settled back to wrapping the boy's shoulder tightly in bandage. He said nothing for the longest while, and when he finally did find his voice, the conman was nearly done with his most pressing injury.

"D'you know what happened to yer family when the infection started, Nick?" Ellis asked, voice quiet and cautious, like he was treading on thin glass.

"Not a clue. I haven't made contact with my family for years, Ellis. I must've been a little younger than you the last time I saw them."

"Oh."

Nick wrapped the bandage around another time, intentionally pulling it quite tightly, finding a little satisfaction in how the boy drew in a sharp breath of pain. That's what he deserved for being so melancholic

"I do," he said when the sting had subsided., "know what happened to mine, I mean."

"I see."

Nick said nothing more in regards to the matter, focused intently on completely covering the wound and fastening the white material in place as Ellis returned his gaze to his healer, as if waiting for him to say something. When he realized the conman was content enough to listen, he tentatively continued.

"I stopped by my Ma's house before headin' to the Vannah..." Ellis paused, unsure where to leave his gaze for the moment, so he let it fall to the floor, "it was burnin' up. Summin' had happened, the whole place was on fire."

Another pause.

"Ma's car was in the drive..."

Nick let out a soft, understanding hum in response, inspecting the kid's chest for any further imperfections.

"She was all I had left, Pa left us, 'n we had no other family..."

He could hear the kid's voice shaking.

"An' I called up Keith, 'n he said he was headin' to Whitaker's gun shop, he was gonna wait there, he dinn't think The Vannah evac was workin' righ'."

The words were tumbling out now. Nick made no attempts to stop him, though he silently noted that Keith had been right.

"So I led us there hopin' he'd be there, 'n then to the mall, 'cause I thought maybe he'd headed there, but you saw it...we all saw it...CEDA was messed up...there weren't no rescue..."

"No, there wasn't a rescue," Nick's confirmation was his way of harmlessly correcting the kid's grammar.

"An' he wasn't at Jimmy Gibbs' Car, 'n he loved the guy just as much as I did...'n...an' I..." Ellis's mouth continued to work, but it was void of anymore words. He clamped his lips together, bottom lip trembling for a moment before he took in a breath and tried again. "I lost 'im...I know I did...He wasn't family, but he was...he was the next thing, after Ma...after Ma had..." He lowered his head so much his chin just about met his chest, the bill of his hat effectively hiding his eyes. Nick stepped back, giving the kid his space.

Ellis's bare shoulders shook with the effort of holding back tears, and while watching, Nick had to remind himself that despite everything, the hick was still just a kid. Despite the crazy cheering while ripping through hordes of zombies with a chainsaw, despite the frequent, carefree stories while popping heads off from a distance, despite the friendly insult or playful jab he'd direct at the conman, he was still a kid.

The baby of their makeshift family.

Nick sighed, stepping forward to grab the kid's shirt off the side of the table. He stretched it out in his hands.

"C'mon, sport," he said as he pulled the shirt down over Ellis's head, knocking his hat further down his head. The hick half-heartedly moved to push his arms into the sleeves. When his shirt was pulled back down over his torso, Ellis adjusted his hat and gave Nick a blank stare.

The conman returned the stare for a few silent seconds.

"Cry." He said curtly, surprising himself when the word had leaped from his lips.

"...What?"

"Just cry," Nick repeated, understanding his own reasoning now. "It's alright. I won't judge you, just this once. Just cry."

Ellis still stared, bottom lip quivering with the effort of swallowing his tears stubbornly. He was determined not to cry, it seemed. Not to show weakness, determined to beat the Conman and show him he could be tough and keep everything inside; just like he did.

But what he didn't realize, that this stubborn refusal had turned the situation into a cruel game.

And Nick hated to lose.

The elder man stepped forward, heaving another sigh as he wrapped his arms around the boy's waist. He roughly pulled him off the table and into a tight embrace, feeling the boy stiffen in his grip momentarily, before finally melting into a steady flow of tears.

He grabbed fistfuls of Nick's jacket in his hands, head low as he let himself cry quietly, feeling the steady pat of the older man's hand on his head, which would evolve into a tentative stroke every other tap. With this soothing pattern lodging itself in his brain, he let his thoughts roam free, coming to a complete understanding in his suffering.

He'd lost his Ma. She'd likely burned up in the fire, and there was little he could've done to get her out. In a perfect world, she wouldn't have even been in the house when it caught ablaze, but Ellis knew this world was far from perfect. He had to face the harsh facts, facts that included the likelihood that he'd lost Keith as well, to the infection or worse. The sickness had spared him, but tore away everyone and everything he'd ever loved.

It was cruel and unfair.

But, it had failed to leave him with nothing.

Through the loss, he'd gained something. Coach, a father figure in a time where he had realized a scatterbrained person such as himself would need guidance. Rochelle, the doting female who cared greatly for him and everyone else she fought with against the infection. And then Nick, who stood here, holding him and letting him cry himself out, silently accepting his weakness when he'd tried so hard to hide it; to keep the others from sharing his depressing burden.

But they were family, and Ellis knew families had to stick together and support each other, or they would crumble into nothing.

He dimly wondered if that's why Nick hadn't seen his family in so long. Maybe they hadn't supported one another enough, maybe they'd fallen apart?

"Hey, Nick," mumbled Ellis, "You can cry too, y'know." He'd managed to swallow the rest of his quiet sobs, shoving aside his brooding to concern himself with someone else.

"Me? Why on earth would I cry?"

Ellis pushed himself out of his elder's arms.

"'Cause, y'know, you dunno what happened to your family and stuff."

"Ellis. I stopped caring for that family a long time ago. I've long since finished crying over them."

"Oh...okay." Ellis suddenly felt a little silly for suggesting that the stony-faced gambler should cry too. He felt himself redden a little, which did not go unnoticed by the conman. Instead of picking on the hick, just this once, he let the remark slide and let himself be terribly honest with the boy.

"Besides, I now have a different family to worry about, the youngest member of which being my primary concern when he's too busy brooding to take notice and laugh at the fact that we're squatting in the Tunnel of Love."

"Oh...Yeah." Ellis felt the beginnings of a smile tug at his lips, suddenly feeling so lifted. He owed Nick a lot, he was well aware of this. But he would start repaying his debt right this very moment, by letting a genuine smile cover his face. He would resume those stupid, annoying stories, just because they were fun and lightened the mood. He would make the best out of every situation, if not for himself, for those around him. Because they needed to know he was okay, just as he would for anyone else. "That is pretty cool."

With a genuine grin, Ellis hopped back up onto the table, shoving a little ways over so his comrade could join him, already preparing a story his train of thought had reminded him of, unsure if, even after this situation, Nick would have the patience to sit through all of it.

It was worth it, after all, even Nick believed it so. So long as Ellis smiled, and meant it, he would put up with the silly stories. They weren't so bad in hindsight, and the conman had definately sat through far worse.

Besides, Nick was used to the negatives.

It was time to get to know the positive.

B-b-b-brofic.

B-b-b-brofictastic!

Dunno why I wrote this. It sorta just jumped into my brain while I was trying to motivate myself to write for my other story, Able. I was all, "hey, Nick and Ellis are super-cool, let's ruin that! :D"

And so I did. I think. I don't really know. I feel sort of good about this, but then again, I still feel as if I've messed up somehow. If you spot the fail, please do not hesitate to point it out. I don't bite too hard, and I do have my tetnus shot. You should be okay.

Anyways, pleaseprettypleaseplease review, and let me know what you thought. If you took all this time to read through it, you might as well spill your thoughts, yes? I would greatly appreciate it. Time to skip off to reading other people's masterpeices/finishing my own work of failart. Have a wonderful day, comrades!

Thank you for reading this far!

Toodles~

Shmee.