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Well, shit. Even though in the back of her mind there's been this thought, this idea, that things would be different here, she never expected that Beth and Beth Junior and Spike just wouldn't... be around. Not in their room, not in the one she used here last time, not in the bar, not out by the lake, not in the goddamn greenhouse, not in the stables, and not in the woods (although she did hear things in the underbrush, but that didn't scare her). They're just not anywhere, and she figures that's that: they're gone. Just gone, not that they had made any promise to be here just in case she ever trotted her lean mean ass back into the place.

It's a shitty feeling, though. Makes her kinda sad, because Beth... Beth's her friend. And Beth Junior is her niece: they're family, and she doesn't have much of that any more. Just Yorick and Mom, and the world's such a goddamn mess, who knows when she'll ever get back to DC to see Mommy again anyway?

Hero sets the backpack down right next to her chair: Quinn's awfully sweet but she doesn't want to leave her pack in his room where she might not be able to get to it if she needs it. It's been a lot of years of having to be ready to spring into action at a moment's notice and that habit isn't going to go away overnight, no matter how warm and seductive his arms are. He's going to have to go back and slay dragons -- literally -- and she's going to have to deliver her package. And it's gonna have to happen soon.

"Shit." Stretching out, she rests her feet on the chair across the table, the heel of one boot resting on the toe of the other. For as long as she can, she's going to soak up the atmosphere of this place. It's not like anywhere else in the whole goddamn world, that's for shittin' sure, and she wants to remember every minute she gets to spend here. Because if her family isn't here and Quinn's leaving, there's no selfless reason to stay. It'd only be to satisfy her own stupid ego, and that would be at the expense of everyone else out there counting on her.

She just can't do that. She can't be that selfish.

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With practically their own little apartment in the House of Arch, the bar's definitely getting less frequent patronage from Beth and Spike. They make trips in for groceries, basically, and the occasional meal they don't have to prepare themselves.

Tonight, for once, Beth thought she'd take advantage of Spike's offer to watch Junior while she's napping to come in and check for any familiar faces, maybe see if Elaine's around and extend an invitation so she could come see the rooms sometime.

What she never expected to see is the familiar figure with the cowboy hat and backpack at one of the tables.

It's not Jack, that's for sure.

For a minute her feet just kind of stop moving her forward, but a moment later, she stalks over and stops directly behind Hero.

It's been months. If not for the fucking scar, Hero might not even recognize her now that she's not the size of a beluga.

"I know some people come here after dying out there. That's what happened to Elaine. But if you tell me you're here because you're dead, you better be goddamn glad I don't have the hairspray and lighter I greeted your brother with."

Shit: she knows that voice; in a flash she's up and turning around. "Santa Madre! Look at you, mamacita!" She's so glad to see her that she hugs her hard. "Shit, Beth, look at you. Looks like you lost half your goddamn self since the last time I saw you." Stepping back, she grins like a goddamn fool. "And no, I'm not dead last I checked. But... where's Beth Junior?"

She peers around Beth as if the baby's going to come waltzing in on her own or something. "And where the hell were you guys? I looked everyfuckingwhere, and I tell you, for someone who's walked most of the way from Vegas to the cornfields of Kansas, it didn't take too fucking long to do a thorough job searching. I swear I turned over every rock and opened every building I could. Looked everywhere except in the lake."

Shit: she's so fucking relieved to see Beth. "You wanna hear the whole long story? I don't even know how long it's been since I was here last."

Beth very decidedly does not blink hard when she hugs Hero back -- Hero never saw it, anyway -- and when she steps back, she answers that grin on Hero's face with one of her own.

"You promise you're still alive and kicking? When the hell did you get here? Did you get to Kansas?"

It's hardly fair to answer each of Hero's questions with one of her own, but she kind of can't help herself and once those are out she looks at Hero for a second and has to laugh.

This is Hero. Amazon-turned-delivery girl for the last two males alive. The woman who lied to the highest-ranking woman in the Catholic Church to help her out. The woman who delivered her daughter.

"I'm so fucking relieved you're all right. It's been about four months since you left." She smile gets a little more subtle but is no less fond. "Little Beth's doing great. She's napping right now, and Spike's watching her."

It's a female thing, but when she's with a girlfriend -- no, not that kind of girlfriend -- she lets her hair down in a way she never, ever does with a guy, and that comes in the form of being chatty as hell. It really is a chick thing and Beth's doing it too, and it feels like goddamn old times.

Except they never really did have old times together. She had a few moments out there a whole fucking lifetime ago with the other Beth, the one her dog of a brother still holds a candle for, but not this one. They just had a rocky fucking beginning and half the Catholic church down their respective asses.

Once it's put that way, she realizes that men or no men, the Church hasn't changed a bit.

"Come on. Sit down and I'll answer yours if you'll answer mine." Kicking her pack out of the way (which is stupid because it's heavy), she pulls out the two chairs and sits. Once Beth joins her, Hero can't fucking stop smiling.

"Okay, mamacita, I'll answer first. I got here late last night, but I got a little sidetracked looking for you. So many guys, so little time, right?" It feels so goddamn good to laugh and for the past four months, she's had precious little reason to. "Nah, Quinn's here." She figures that's enough said about that. "So picture this: your favorite reformed amazon's standing in a goddamn cornfield in Kansas, and I can see the silo that houses the safe house. I can see it, and I lean on this supply shed door and boom! here I am. I didn't believe it; I've stopped at what feels like a million cornfield supply sheds between Vegas and here, and none of the others opened onto this place. So I closed the door, walked away, came back, and tried it again. Same thing happened. I looked at that silo and I looked at this place, and said to myself... shit, I deserve at least a day or two, right?"

Beth looks fucking great. The last memory she has of her, she was lying in bed with a newborn at her chest and that's pretty much how she's been remembering her, practical or not. "Four months, huh? You know how easy it is to lose track of time when you're walking across the fucking United States?" Shaking her head, she laughs out loud. "But now it's your turn, Santa Madre. Where are you guys fucking hiding? Wherever it is, it's a pretty goddamn good hiding spot, because I couldn't find you and no one I talked to had seen you. I figured the three of you got your asses out of here. Maybe to Mars, maybe someplace great for all of you. So Beth Junior's fine? How about Spike? Settling in to fatherhood? He better be helping you out or I'll kick his skinny ass. And you, Beth. How're you doing?"

Blah, blah, blah: she could talk all fucking day and night. She probably will: it's lonely out there. Beth knows that too.

Well, if she happened to meet up with Quinn, Beth isn't sure she can very well blame her for getting distracted in her efforts to look for them until today. That's a reason she can understand pretty damn well, and fuck, so long as Hero's having safe sex, she thinks Hero should have as much as she can while she's here.

And she doesn't feel a need to remind her to be careful. After all, she was the poster girl for unplanned pregnancy last time Hero was here.

It's more than a little rich that a former amazon would be one of the easiest people Beth's ever had to talk to, and regardless of the fact there are people she's known longer both here and out there, before the plague, she feels closer to Hero than she has to almost anybody else in a long time.

(Except Spike.)

You just can't go through what they've gone through without developing some kind of bond, she guesses.

Her thoughts are swimming through her head at about a mile a minute.

"So you're in Kansas, but you're didn't quite reach the hot suite yet? Haven't delivered the sample? Haven't seen any of your friends?"

An almost apologetic smile settles on her lips for the space of a heartbeat, and then she leans forward, shaking her head a little, and rests both elbows on the table.

"We moved. Obviously," she adds, grinning slightly. "We got invited to live in this place called the House of Arch, which is kind of removed from the bar but connected to it." The look she gives Hero is evidence that she realizes precisely how much this seems like walking straight out of one dream and into another, and she nods, pointing her chin toward the portrait of the poker-playing dogs over on the opposite wall. "See that portrait? That's how we get to it. It's one of the most fucking surreal places I've ever been in my life, even after the bar. There are no doors, and you get from room to room by touching portraits, basically. It's not perfectly safe, but it's at least a step up from the bar as far as safety goes -- we even need to let the owners of the house know when we bring in anyone who doesn't live there -- and there are other kids there. If you need to reach us, we were told you can send have the bar send a message to us by owl."

She hesitates a second, sitting back and letting her hands gather her hair on top of her head. It's long enough for that now, and she's been thinking of cutting it a little.

"Pretty fucking odd, right? Maybe you should try it sometime; we haven't had a chance to see how it works. God, Hero, are you hungry or anything? You should probably be stuffing your face."

Suddenly she has so much to tell her and so much to think about and so much she wants to do.

Like let Hero see her niece.

"Just really glad to see you." It's sentimental and retarded, but in the short time they've known each other, Beth's been like a goddamn sister to her. For whatever reason, she's glad Yorick picked her to play messenger girl. Otherwise they wouldn't have ever met.

And then there wouldn't have been this place, either, which is so fucking surreal: she's sitting right here and still isn't sure she knows where the fuck she is.

"But wait, did you say send a message by owl? That's... not making a lot of sense, mamacita." Still, there's all sorts of weird shit that happens here and she knows it. "And no, I haven't reached the hot suite. I could see it. It was right there. I even walked in here and walked out before I walked in again. So goddamn close, you know? Maybe it's a weakness, but this place is pretty fucking alluring, especially when you've been walking for the better part of four months."

It's been a really long trek. It isn't like she can just hop a train to Kansas and say hey, madam Conductor, let me off at the top-secret government facility right over there. That would be stupid, and she's not her world's most trustworthy person anyhow. There's no hiding the missing tit when push comes to shove; she's been pegged as an amazon before and she knows it'll happen again, even though she'd die defending anyone against those fuckers.

"You were right about the cigarettes. They're worth more than gold. They'd be worth more if they weren't stale, but most of the chicks who still smoke don't give a shit. They just want 'em. They'll trade a week's worth of food for a carton."

Inside, she's a jumble. The words I can't believe I'm here, I can't believe I'm not just dreaming keep grabbing at her. Her eyes travel back to that portrait Beth pointed out. "So my little niece is doing good? Growing up fast and everything? And how about your green-haired guy? Taking good care of you, you taking good care of him?" There's no small amount of envy for the normalcy of their relationship, but she's still really fucking happy for Beth.

And for Beth Junior. They have something so abnormal it's normal again, all things considered, and it's got to be a lot better for the kid growing up in a place like this with a real mother and father than it could ever be out there. If she's lucky, she'll never have to know the world she was conceived in.

Beth grins. "Of course I was right about the cigarettes."

Stale or not, they're a valuable commodity. When women want a cigarette, they want a fucking cigarette, and there are a lot of smokers out there not getting their fix. She knows what it's like to dream about having one, and there was never any doubt in her mind that Hero could make some good deals with them.

"I bet we have a few spare packs we could part with, and..."

Her grin fades a little, and distracted, she makes a vague rolling gesture with one hand.

"Hold up, back track a second. Did you say you walked in and back out and then in again? Did you close the door? And it kept leading here anyway?"

"Yeah." Her answer's a little guarded, a little cautious. "It led here twice, but you still owe me answers." She's not even gonna think about out there until she gets what she needs to know. To her, it means that as soon as she's delivered that package of shit, she can come back here any goddamn time she wants... if she stays in Kansas. But one thing at a time.

"Tell me about my niece. You're a new mama: you got pictures on you?" If there's one thing she knows how to do, it's how to redirect a conversation. Because right now she's here, and fuck if she isn't gonna enjoy every goddamn minute of it. "And you might've been right about food. You want anything?"

She won't take anyone's cigarettes for barter. Not unless it's obvious Beth can get more for herself and that chimney stack guy she lives with.

"Hero."

Her expression softens visibly.

"Some new mama this makes me sound like, but I only would've brought pictures with me if I'd known I'd need them. I'm with her practically all the time."

She's the person who spends the most time with little Beth, period. And she spends so much time with her that she has next to no need for pictures at all.

They're just nice to have sometimes. For the future. For other people.

"But she's... she's beautiful and stubborn and babbling and bears a lot more than a passing resemblance to her father, and I can do you one better than a picture. You want to drop in at the House?" She jabs her thumb back toward the portrait. "You can see Junior and Spike, and we've even got a goddamn kitchen, Hero. I can get you something to eat that's not even close to baked beans."

"And here I thought you were never gonna ask. Fuck me, yes I want to see her. And Spike. And your place." Wasting no time, Hero slides her chair back across the floor and stands, reaching for her pack.

Then she sets it down again. "Shit, I need to leave a note for Quinn. If I couldn't find you, he won't be able to find me and it'd be terrible of me to not tell him where I am. It'll just take a second."

Opening the outside pouch of her backpack, she takes out a notebook and pencil, writes a quick note.

Quinn, I found Beth. I'll be back later. Keep the bed warm for me.

-Hero

Grinning, she saunters over to the bar, hands over the note. "Can you get this to Quinn Abercromby for me? Thanks." She feels like a goddamn fool talking to a bar, but the note's absorbed -- it just fucking disappears -- and she's surprised as hell when it hands something back to her: a blade with a note wrapped around it (http://community.livejournal.com/milliways_bar/15307421.html). She unwraps the note and reads it, and then grins: she's gonna have to thank that cute little dude if she ever sees him again.

But now it's time to see her goddamn niece and she can't fucking wait. She didn't even know how much she was looking forward to it until just now. Until Beth offered. Folding the note back around the blade, and it is a lethal-looking thing, she tucks it away deep inside her pack for now where no goddamn baby fingers can even hope to get close to it.

"Take me to my niece, mamacita. If I'd known I was gonna see her, I would've brought her an ear or corn or something. As it is, all she gets is Auntie Hero."

"Auntie Hero's not so bad all by herself."

Standing, Beth grins. Already she knows the baby's going to charm the socks off Hero.

"C'mon. Let's go."

Part of the atmosphere is currently the sound of clattering computer keys coming from a nearby booth.

Duo is leaning close to the screen of his laptop, and apparently thinking faster than he can type. He pauses every minute or so to review what he's just written, and go back to fix a few things before continuing on.

There's a cup of tea being ignored to his right, and a small pile of training manuals next to the computer on his left. He's also got a pencil stuck behind one ear.

"Hey!"

Looking over, she tries to be stern but it's so fucking good to see a goddamn familiar face in this place. "You mind? Some of us are trying to think over here."

Her smile betrays any annoyance she's feigning, though. "Shit, look who's here. It's Mr. Handsome."

"Some of us must be failing," he retorts without looking to see who it is.

And then grins when he does. "It's Miss Don't-Need-No-Beauty-Sleep. Hero, you made it back!"

Duo slaps the computer shut, and saunters over to commandeer one of her chairs. "How's life?"

It's a question she can answer fully, or wave off, either way. She's a distraction from work he's perfectly glad to see.

"It goes on, Mr. Eye Candy. It goes on." She's tired from all the goddamn walking, but it's nothing a couple nights in a soft bed with a warm guy can't cure... she hopes. Kicking out a chair for him with the toe of her boot, she can't help but grin. He's the cutest almost-adult she's ever met, and he knows it, too.

"Take a load off... if you don't mind hanging around with an ugly old chick."

He will: he's already here and shit, she liked him last time so there's nothing gonna keep her from liking him this time. It's all kinda complex, but not really. He's a teenager. He's a kid. She likes him and he's fun to flirt with when she's not being all protective on his behalf whether he needs it or not.

"How's your Heero?"

"Pffft, whatever, man. I hang around with older and uglier chicks than you all day. Of course, I get paid for it, usually."

He spins the chair around and sits in it backwards, resting his arms on the back.

"He's pretty good, I'd say. Though he's been in here about as often as you, these days. He's quttin' the policing business and heading off to school."

"Yeah?" The concept of school and schooling's so foreign to her these days; it seems like a hundred years ago she was in college feigning becoming a member of the literati. What a fucking useful contribution that would have made to society: some self-indulgent college angst first novel. Good thing she became an EMT instead.

"How about you? What are you working on over there with that computer? Anything good, or are you taking notes on all the good-looking chicks who can't get enough of you?" That makes her crack a smile that feels like it's a mile wide. "And all the good-looking guys? You're even cuter than I remembered, you heartbreaker. And that's saying something, because I remember all the guys I met last time I was here."

Duo attempts to look modest. It's harder than usual, because he actually likes Hero, and that last part of her statement sounded more true than the rest, anyway.

"I wish. Unfortunately, it's work. Only work can make talking about explosions boring, Hero. I'm helping fix up the training sessions for 'Things That Go Boom 101'. It's basically how to tell if something is gonna blow, and what you're supposed to do about. Like, evacuate the premises in a ten block radius, call the Hazmats, or just put a bucket over at, yanno?"

Shit, she doesn't know much about explosives. She only knows how to patch people up afterwards, and it's a nasty job no matter what. But... an idea starts forming. "Hey. Duo. You know how to teach the other class? The one that goes 'How To Make Things Go Boom 101?' Because I'd be interested in finding out about that one."

So far as she knows, there's plenty of crazy chicks out there still after her dog of a brother. Like that crazy ninja bitch, or the whole fucking Israeli army. Any advantage she can have, she'll take.

"You know, without messing up my pretty face and all."

"Heaven forbid," he says absently. Duo gives her a good up and down look.

"How in depth you looking to get? Pulling pins on a grenade? Setting timed charges? Building bombs with chemicals from under the kitchen sink?"

"Oh, I don't know, hot stuff." She tries to make herself look a little bit angelic, but it's been a long goddamn time since she did anything remotely innocent. "Something portable. Something strong. Something that can stop a lot of people with only a little effort."

It's just an idea. "Just something I'm flirting with, you know. It just popped into my head while you were talking: a girl can never have enough weapons in her personal arsenal."

"C-4," Duo tells her, nodding a bit. "I dunno how advanced you guys are, tech wise. It's best to stick with old friends. It's pretty good stuff. Hard to make on your own, 'course. But you got a few pounds of that, and you use it right, your troubles, they just melt away."

Literally. Heh.

"Hard to fuck it up, too. You can shoot it, and nothing'll happen."

"C-4?" She perks up a little. "And I don't know how advanced we are tech-wise either, but talk to me. Tell me things. I was class valedictorian; I'm a quick study."

The information might come in handy some day and it might not. But it's always better to know more instead of less, especially in the world she frequents.

"C-4 is a plastic explosive, high explosive. You can mold it around like clay, and it makes for good destruction, and works for anti-personnel, too. Depends on how much you use."

Duo reaches into his pocket and pulls out a blasting cap. "This is what sets it off. This is pretty old fashioned, really. Electric signal sent down a fuse that you'd roll out. 'Course, that's just for demolition purposes. For 'other uses', you'd want a remote detonator. Otherwise, they'd just follow the fuse right to you."

She shoots him one fuck of an appraising look. "For a kid, you sure come in handy. Where'd you say you learned this shit?" He didn't, but he doesn't have to: she remembers well enough it's kind of what he does. He seems awfully goddamn young to know this, though, or to have to use it or to do it.

Then again, there are kids who grew up in the plague, girls who are just fourteen and fifteen and sixteen now running guns and selling drugs and doing all sorts of shit in her lovely world, and that can't be the only planet out there in the universe where things have gone to shit.

Obviously.

"So these things... readily available? You don't get them here, do you?" Maybe someone at the hot suite will know where to get them. Shit, they probably have a whole stockroom full of the stuff: she'll have to ask when she gets there, and a sudden thought grabs her right in the pit of the stomach: what if she's too late? What if they've abandoned the place?

Wouldn't someone know? Like 355?

Fuck.