Fic - Duty
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shadowknightTitle: Duty
Rating: PG
Universe: Alternate
Timeline: February 12th, 2006
Written: February 12th, 2006
Summary: Mike heads back out on the trail. See more of his backstory in this universe.
The morning air was still cold, though it looked like it would warm up to be a decent day. Most of the snow had melted off, making it far easier for Jack to grab a few mouthfuls of grass to keep going, and if the weather did hold, they would probably make the settlement by evening.
It was hard to say goodbye. And Mike had to do that far too many times in his life to date.
But duty was duty, and didn't always follow along the same path as wishes.
He had made up his mind, in regard to Joel and the 'bots, and Enrico, and didn't sway from that. So he redressed Enrico's side, glad to find the old courier healing well considering, bound it tight so a ride wouldn't open the slice up, and declared his intentions to report back.
Crow, not surprisingly, took it kind of hard. And Mike, much to his own internal dismay, found the pleading of that 'bot for him to stay absolutely heartbreaking. Even Servo seemed unhappy about it, though they hadn't really had much of a chance to talk.
But he still held his course. He left pretty much everything with Joel -- took only Jack, with his saddle, one of the cigarettes and one of the packs of coffee, the dead cajun's bedroll and a little food. He didn't know what Enrico thought of that, but he didn't allow much opening for anyone to ask, either. The mare (amusingly named Jill now), Josh and all of the other gear remained at the cabin.
Mike sighed, rubbing at his eyes, glad as Hell that he hadn't lost his gloves yet. It was a small comfort, but he took it. He'd pushed Jack hard; didn't stop for the night, didn't stop hardly at all except to let the horse rest briefly, graze, get some water from wherever he could. Enrico was fairly bundled up and surprisingly good at sleeping in the saddle -- then again, he was still recovering and that probably made it easier to fall asleep even in the cold air and on horseback.
It had been a lot harder to leave than Mike wanted it to be. Like being torn between two forces that were far stronger than he was. And he had been spooked by the attack worse than he had thought as well -- despite maintaining a fairly cheery attitude, the idea of being in the open again and leaving behind this safe place made him shake inside.
But duty was duty.
Deep down he knew that if he was really worried about performing his duties properly, he would have pushed Joel into coming back to Near Bend with him. Would have brought back everything he had gathered from the tracker, too. Would have put the resistance first, not these people.
But he couldn't. Couldn't even begin to. By the time he left with Enrico, he knew that the safest place for them right now was where they were. It wasn't necessarily true in a logical sense, but...
Mike didn't make any promises to come back; he couldn't. Even riding straight through, pushing that poor horse and himself, being in the open meant the possibility of being targeted. With a broken leg, his chances of defending himself were pretty slim, and he didn't think Enrico was up for it either.
Furthermore, he left his old six-shooter back with Joel. If there were other trackers, or if something happened, he wanted the other human to have a trump card -- there were only eleven rounds left, but it was enough to put off just about anyone who might attack. And Mike, even though he hadn't figured anything more out about who these guys were, knew that their lives were as important, if not more important than his own. He hadn't allowed any openings for argument on that, either.
The breeze blowing along the overgrown trail was downright frigid, but he didn't think that was why he shivered. Part of it had to be tiredness; despite being fairly well-rested, a two day push was hard on anyone. And part of it was nerves; that attack had rattled his confidence.
Pretty much the entire past week and a half or so did.
He patted Jack on the neck mindlessly. The palomino had to have some draft horse somewhere in his background, given his size and endurance. Even Josh couldn't have carried two people for this long without stopping at least for a few hours, and Josh was half mustang. Admittedly, Jack's personality seemed to lack the same flare -- then again, Mike didn't think the horse had much of a chance to develop a personality.
It was comforting to think about something he understood, and give his brain a break from all the things he couldn't piece together. Horses he got; loved them, had never met one he couldn't get along with. He'd worked a lot with the mustangs corralled in Montana before becoming a courier, and every single one of them had turned out okay in the end. Between him and his father, just about any settlement with a horse nowadays had one of theirs or the offspring of one of theirs.
Mike shook his head to himself. Thinking about his Dad... about his family in general... never led to anything great. Eddie had put his craziness to good use and became a fairly formidable leader and fighter, only to die in a raid. His mother was gone early on; she'd gotten sick one winter and couldn't recover. And his father followed behind her just after Mike became a courier.
It still made him flinch. That he hadn't been there. That when he said goodbye the last time, it really was goodbye.
He'd had to say it too many times.
It didn't get easier. If anything, it just hurt more each time. It was really no wonder he didn't like to stay in one place -- if you stay there, and start to get attached to people, then you're just going to lose them in the end.
And now he had even more people to lose.
Mike growled a little at himself in the back of his throat, trying to drive off this feeling and go back to focusing on the ride. It was persistent, though; a solid sort of ache that made him crazy. Between the half-broken dreams, and the attack, and leaving (or staying) and the sheer uncertainty of a world that had once been tangible, he wasn't sure how long it would be before he had a nervous breakdown.
He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly and took another one. Focus on the moment. Keep Jack moving, get to the settlement, report in. Don't think about the attack, or the people you left behind.
Or the sense of loss.
Or the goodbye.
Rating: PG
Universe: Alternate
Timeline: February 12th, 2006
Written: February 12th, 2006
Summary: Mike heads back out on the trail. See more of his backstory in this universe.
The morning air was still cold, though it looked like it would warm up to be a decent day. Most of the snow had melted off, making it far easier for Jack to grab a few mouthfuls of grass to keep going, and if the weather did hold, they would probably make the settlement by evening.
It was hard to say goodbye. And Mike had to do that far too many times in his life to date.
But duty was duty, and didn't always follow along the same path as wishes.
He had made up his mind, in regard to Joel and the 'bots, and Enrico, and didn't sway from that. So he redressed Enrico's side, glad to find the old courier healing well considering, bound it tight so a ride wouldn't open the slice up, and declared his intentions to report back.
Crow, not surprisingly, took it kind of hard. And Mike, much to his own internal dismay, found the pleading of that 'bot for him to stay absolutely heartbreaking. Even Servo seemed unhappy about it, though they hadn't really had much of a chance to talk.
But he still held his course. He left pretty much everything with Joel -- took only Jack, with his saddle, one of the cigarettes and one of the packs of coffee, the dead cajun's bedroll and a little food. He didn't know what Enrico thought of that, but he didn't allow much opening for anyone to ask, either. The mare (amusingly named Jill now), Josh and all of the other gear remained at the cabin.
Mike sighed, rubbing at his eyes, glad as Hell that he hadn't lost his gloves yet. It was a small comfort, but he took it. He'd pushed Jack hard; didn't stop for the night, didn't stop hardly at all except to let the horse rest briefly, graze, get some water from wherever he could. Enrico was fairly bundled up and surprisingly good at sleeping in the saddle -- then again, he was still recovering and that probably made it easier to fall asleep even in the cold air and on horseback.
It had been a lot harder to leave than Mike wanted it to be. Like being torn between two forces that were far stronger than he was. And he had been spooked by the attack worse than he had thought as well -- despite maintaining a fairly cheery attitude, the idea of being in the open again and leaving behind this safe place made him shake inside.
But duty was duty.
Deep down he knew that if he was really worried about performing his duties properly, he would have pushed Joel into coming back to Near Bend with him. Would have brought back everything he had gathered from the tracker, too. Would have put the resistance first, not these people.
But he couldn't. Couldn't even begin to. By the time he left with Enrico, he knew that the safest place for them right now was where they were. It wasn't necessarily true in a logical sense, but...
Mike didn't make any promises to come back; he couldn't. Even riding straight through, pushing that poor horse and himself, being in the open meant the possibility of being targeted. With a broken leg, his chances of defending himself were pretty slim, and he didn't think Enrico was up for it either.
Furthermore, he left his old six-shooter back with Joel. If there were other trackers, or if something happened, he wanted the other human to have a trump card -- there were only eleven rounds left, but it was enough to put off just about anyone who might attack. And Mike, even though he hadn't figured anything more out about who these guys were, knew that their lives were as important, if not more important than his own. He hadn't allowed any openings for argument on that, either.
The breeze blowing along the overgrown trail was downright frigid, but he didn't think that was why he shivered. Part of it had to be tiredness; despite being fairly well-rested, a two day push was hard on anyone. And part of it was nerves; that attack had rattled his confidence.
Pretty much the entire past week and a half or so did.
He patted Jack on the neck mindlessly. The palomino had to have some draft horse somewhere in his background, given his size and endurance. Even Josh couldn't have carried two people for this long without stopping at least for a few hours, and Josh was half mustang. Admittedly, Jack's personality seemed to lack the same flare -- then again, Mike didn't think the horse had much of a chance to develop a personality.
It was comforting to think about something he understood, and give his brain a break from all the things he couldn't piece together. Horses he got; loved them, had never met one he couldn't get along with. He'd worked a lot with the mustangs corralled in Montana before becoming a courier, and every single one of them had turned out okay in the end. Between him and his father, just about any settlement with a horse nowadays had one of theirs or the offspring of one of theirs.
Mike shook his head to himself. Thinking about his Dad... about his family in general... never led to anything great. Eddie had put his craziness to good use and became a fairly formidable leader and fighter, only to die in a raid. His mother was gone early on; she'd gotten sick one winter and couldn't recover. And his father followed behind her just after Mike became a courier.
It still made him flinch. That he hadn't been there. That when he said goodbye the last time, it really was goodbye.
He'd had to say it too many times.
It didn't get easier. If anything, it just hurt more each time. It was really no wonder he didn't like to stay in one place -- if you stay there, and start to get attached to people, then you're just going to lose them in the end.
And now he had even more people to lose.
Mike growled a little at himself in the back of his throat, trying to drive off this feeling and go back to focusing on the ride. It was persistent, though; a solid sort of ache that made him crazy. Between the half-broken dreams, and the attack, and leaving (or staying) and the sheer uncertainty of a world that had once been tangible, he wasn't sure how long it would be before he had a nervous breakdown.
He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly and took another one. Focus on the moment. Keep Jack moving, get to the settlement, report in. Don't think about the attack, or the people you left behind.
Or the sense of loss.
Or the goodbye.
