Fic - Courier
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shadowknightTitle: Courier
Rating: PG
Universe: Alternate
Timeline: February 2nd, 2006
Written: February 2nd, 2006
Summary: The very first look at AU Mike, his horse Josh and his life as a courier.
It was time to say goodbye.
In a world that didn't have many bright points, where people could do little more than survive, it seemed like a real shame to give up this spot of happiness in his life. It wasn't about the practicalities, it was about friendship.
But all things had to end.
Mike shook his head to himself as he slipped the bridle over his horse's head. "Guess this is it, huh, Josh?"
Josh looked back at him placidly, his breath huffing out lightly to turn to steam in the cold air. If he knew what was going to happen, he didn't let on -- as far as he knew, this was just another stopover and they'd be back on their way again.
Except, Josh had gone lame and it just couldn't be ignored anymore. He was seventeen years old, and the daily grind was too much for him... he'd started limping the day before. His hooves were clean, but his lower left leg was hot and swollen; he had a sprain. In a less punishing world, he could have been put out to pasture and had a veterinarian look after him. Probably in a month or two, he'd be fine again. But this wasn't a less punishing world.
It was only a matter of time before he fell and took Mike with him, and Mike couldn't afford to take a spill, especially out here where the nearest trace of civilization was two days on horseback.
That didn't leave him too many courses of action.
Mike sighed, resting his forehead against the horse's for a long moment. They were friends; they'd been together for fourteen years. It was hard to say goodbye to someone that you spent so much time with... about ninety percent of the time, his horse was his only company. They'd been over mountain passes, and across desert terrain and along the rocky shores of the Pacific. They'd ran from nomads, hidden from mutants hunting them and had stepped into more settlements than most surviving humans could claim.
"Listen," he said, softly, "next time I come back through here, maybe we'll bump into each other. You just take it easy, keep yourself safe, and it'll all be okay."
It was far more for his sake than Josh's. He couldn't bring himself to shoot his own horse... not when there was even a chance that Josh would survive. Admittedly, in a winter world with a lame leg, those chances weren't great -- but they were better than a .45 round. Without any weight on his back, he could maybe heal and go on to live another decade or so happily.
Josh shook his head with a snort, then turned around and limped over to a patch of dried grass sticking out of the snow. Mike usually let him roam a bit when they stopped; he never went that far, and always came back in time to saddle up again.
Except, not this time.
It was real damn hard for Mike to keep his composure, so he set about getting ready to make this hike on foot and steadfastly ignored the big bay chomping on dead winter grass. He'd have to leave his saddle behind and God only knew when he'd get another one. The only reason he had that one was because he'd been so damn careful with it over the years.
He couldn't leave the saddlebags and pack, though, and he couldn't leave his pitiful excuse for a bedroll, his bow and quiver, or the two bundles of deer skins. And he wouldn't leave the bridle because it was just too sentimental.
It was a lot for a human to carry on his own, but the saddlebags were the reason he was even out here, the pack had enough food to last a few more days, the bow would give him a chance to hunt some more, and the rest of it might keep him warm enough not to freeze to death.
He managed to arrange it all as well as he could on his back and shoulders, using the reins to fashion shoulder straps, and started walking. On foot, this was going to take at least three weeks... more if hunting was bad along the way.
Mike didn't have much choice, though. On the surface, he was just a courier taking inventory sheets and supply requests to other settlements, along with small updates here and there. But in all reality, what he carried with him was worth more than gold in this world -- five bottles of oral penicillin from the raid last year (which in itself was worth killing people over), two spools of wire to repair radios and run wiring (likewise priceless), three hand-drawn recon maps of two more northern mutant cities (needed for the raids, when weather warmed up) and four bottles of gun oil.
The antibiotics were for the general populous, as well as some of the wiring, but the maps and gun oil were strictly for the resistance and if they were going to have any luck come spring, they'd need it. He'd gone in himself once last spring, and had helped coordinate the loose bands of renegades -- that raid was the only reason they had any medicine now.
Right now, though, he wasn't thinking about the importance of his mission. He wasn't contemplating the raiding season coming up, either. He was just thinking about his horse.
They were friends. Family, even. For fourteen years. Under snow and desert sun and endless stars, and riding in the rain on a pretty much never ending mission.
But it was time to say goodbye.
He could hear Josh trudging behind him, and it took everything he had not to look back.
If he did, he'd probably break into pieces.
Rating: PG
Universe: Alternate
Timeline: February 2nd, 2006
Written: February 2nd, 2006
Summary: The very first look at AU Mike, his horse Josh and his life as a courier.
It was time to say goodbye.
In a world that didn't have many bright points, where people could do little more than survive, it seemed like a real shame to give up this spot of happiness in his life. It wasn't about the practicalities, it was about friendship.
But all things had to end.
Mike shook his head to himself as he slipped the bridle over his horse's head. "Guess this is it, huh, Josh?"
Josh looked back at him placidly, his breath huffing out lightly to turn to steam in the cold air. If he knew what was going to happen, he didn't let on -- as far as he knew, this was just another stopover and they'd be back on their way again.
Except, Josh had gone lame and it just couldn't be ignored anymore. He was seventeen years old, and the daily grind was too much for him... he'd started limping the day before. His hooves were clean, but his lower left leg was hot and swollen; he had a sprain. In a less punishing world, he could have been put out to pasture and had a veterinarian look after him. Probably in a month or two, he'd be fine again. But this wasn't a less punishing world.
It was only a matter of time before he fell and took Mike with him, and Mike couldn't afford to take a spill, especially out here where the nearest trace of civilization was two days on horseback.
That didn't leave him too many courses of action.
Mike sighed, resting his forehead against the horse's for a long moment. They were friends; they'd been together for fourteen years. It was hard to say goodbye to someone that you spent so much time with... about ninety percent of the time, his horse was his only company. They'd been over mountain passes, and across desert terrain and along the rocky shores of the Pacific. They'd ran from nomads, hidden from mutants hunting them and had stepped into more settlements than most surviving humans could claim.
"Listen," he said, softly, "next time I come back through here, maybe we'll bump into each other. You just take it easy, keep yourself safe, and it'll all be okay."
It was far more for his sake than Josh's. He couldn't bring himself to shoot his own horse... not when there was even a chance that Josh would survive. Admittedly, in a winter world with a lame leg, those chances weren't great -- but they were better than a .45 round. Without any weight on his back, he could maybe heal and go on to live another decade or so happily.
Josh shook his head with a snort, then turned around and limped over to a patch of dried grass sticking out of the snow. Mike usually let him roam a bit when they stopped; he never went that far, and always came back in time to saddle up again.
Except, not this time.
It was real damn hard for Mike to keep his composure, so he set about getting ready to make this hike on foot and steadfastly ignored the big bay chomping on dead winter grass. He'd have to leave his saddle behind and God only knew when he'd get another one. The only reason he had that one was because he'd been so damn careful with it over the years.
He couldn't leave the saddlebags and pack, though, and he couldn't leave his pitiful excuse for a bedroll, his bow and quiver, or the two bundles of deer skins. And he wouldn't leave the bridle because it was just too sentimental.
It was a lot for a human to carry on his own, but the saddlebags were the reason he was even out here, the pack had enough food to last a few more days, the bow would give him a chance to hunt some more, and the rest of it might keep him warm enough not to freeze to death.
He managed to arrange it all as well as he could on his back and shoulders, using the reins to fashion shoulder straps, and started walking. On foot, this was going to take at least three weeks... more if hunting was bad along the way.
Mike didn't have much choice, though. On the surface, he was just a courier taking inventory sheets and supply requests to other settlements, along with small updates here and there. But in all reality, what he carried with him was worth more than gold in this world -- five bottles of oral penicillin from the raid last year (which in itself was worth killing people over), two spools of wire to repair radios and run wiring (likewise priceless), three hand-drawn recon maps of two more northern mutant cities (needed for the raids, when weather warmed up) and four bottles of gun oil.
The antibiotics were for the general populous, as well as some of the wiring, but the maps and gun oil were strictly for the resistance and if they were going to have any luck come spring, they'd need it. He'd gone in himself once last spring, and had helped coordinate the loose bands of renegades -- that raid was the only reason they had any medicine now.
Right now, though, he wasn't thinking about the importance of his mission. He wasn't contemplating the raiding season coming up, either. He was just thinking about his horse.
They were friends. Family, even. For fourteen years. Under snow and desert sun and endless stars, and riding in the rain on a pretty much never ending mission.
But it was time to say goodbye.
He could hear Josh trudging behind him, and it took everything he had not to look back.
If he did, he'd probably break into pieces.
