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deprivedofwords · 5 years

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What’s in a Name [Nick/OC]

Summery: Letting herself accept she had more than platonic feelings for the conman was difficult, knowing that he had barely platonic feelings for her was as easy as breathing.

This was a bad attempt but I wanted it posted so I would stop rewriting it. L4D2 has it's ten year anniversary this year! Wanted to do something beyond playing it again, and while I was tempted I would have felt guilty writing a multi-chapter fic on another site when I've been so negligent with my current project.

It's not my best, however I will love it like it is!

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Everything had gone to shit in that swamp.

No, in actuality everything had gone to shit quite literally when this infection spread and every bipedal mammal Sarah came across had turned into a flesh eating zombie, but for a shorter timeline she condensed her frustration to that bayou.

Disregarding how innately filthy it was and the danger that posed to everyone should they be hurt, the fact that so much destruction could be seen during that time had set the doctor on edge. Nevermind the resident conman having to put-down their pilot on account of him succumbing to the same sickness; there had been an aeroplane nestled against some trees in the middle of a expanse of water--the state of it clearly lending to the idea that it had crash landed without any survivors. She had checked anyway, a force of habit, but that whole place had nipped at her previously ironclad resolve.

At the beginning, the fact that she had found herself with four others as those helicopters left meant they had a goal she could clearly visualise. Now?

After the swamp, it had been the fact their simple plan to collect gasoline for the boat that Virgil--the kind gentleman who had picked them up from that damn swamp--had continued to be met with crap that chipped away at every little thing.

That had started with forgetting the gun bag that held the flares that they needed to use to signal Virgil to return, after all it wasn’t safe for him to park up so close to land when the infected could pounce.

Currently? They were about halfway done with this excursion. Just as rain had begun to fall around them, the group of five had barrelled into a rundown gas station. The door had been promptly closed and, thankfully, there had been a safe room inside with exactly what they needed.

Funny how gas manages to be in its intended home.

“Now, Ellis,” Sarah’s voice had come out stern. It was a tone the Savannah native had to hear whenever she patched him up, just so happened that he was on the receiving end more often than the other three, “that Hunter didn’t cut you deep, thanks to Rochelle, but be... mindful of the fact I didn’t stitch you because of that, which means you still need to make sure don’t strain your side too much.”

In hindsight she was grateful this had happened when they were out of that bayou, but whenever any of them were hurt...

“I sure will, ma’am!” The enthusiastic response from Ellis set her mind at ease.

For about half a second before she remembered who she was dealing with. The doctor parted her lips with the intention of speaking, of chiding the youngest in their group, before a more cynical tone cut her off.

“If the kid wants to get his wounds infected, I say let him. ‘Least it’ll leave a lasting impression.”

Were she at all intimidated by the man clad in a dirty white suit she would have found his presence imposing. For all the muscle Ellis had in his arms, and what she had seen while securing his bandage, he definitely lacked the aura Nick had.

From his comment alone he had stolen her attention, giving her mind ample excuse to rake her gaze along his person. He stood with a shoulder pressed against the wall by her side, forcing her to look up at the man, had she not gotten to know him--had she not been around to see where those bloodstains had originated from, were the world in a normal state and still this situation had somehow occurred where they met like this--he would certainly cut a striking figure.

In more ways than one, in her mind.

Sarah felt her lips purse at the thought, having allowed Nick’s words to register, “You know, I can subscribe to the real life lessons method of parenting but you’re telling me to leave him be. Sure, learn by understanding what you did led to this, but I can’t not make sure he’s--”

“It’s ‘cause you keep trailin’ after him like a puppy--’course he’s gonna get himself hurt, you’re the safety net, Doc.” Nick’s almost incredulous tone cut through any sort of argument Sarah could have made to justify her nature. Having watched as Nick all but waved his gun to the side to truly convey how idiotic he found her coddling was all she needed to back down.

On that front.

“Nicholas!” She cried, one hand pressed against her chest with all the horror of a duchess learning of scurvy, “Had we known your memory was that awful, we would have colour coded ourselves for your convenience. That is why you suck at it, right?”

In all honesty, joking about was the quickest defence response she had. Were she to have an actual conversation, to be serious about her fears with their lacking supplies and how not being able to see them at any given time made her fear the worst, the weight of all those possible outcomes threatened to crush her heart in a vice.

“Like I said, you didn’t have to remember mine, Scalpel.” He once again cut through all the frivolity she had built up in a matter of seconds. Without another word the conman had swiftly secured a tank of gasoline to his back--a plan she realised Coach had cooked up during the time it took to patch Ellis up--but had remained more or less by her side with a hand held out to her.

After giving the younger man’s side a soft pat she graciously took Nick’s hand as he tugged her up into a stand. She had been quick to learn to not point out when the man helped without prompting, it often lead to grumbling from Mr. Three-Thousand-Dollar-Suit. You would think having positive points was a death sentence with how vehemently he tried to counter the accusations.

Knowing that, she too took one of the tanks of gasoline and strapped it to her back; it was only when she felt how tight the straps were against her shoulders that she felt satisfied and so attempted to continue some level of revelry within the cramped quarters.

“That was thrown out before you said it, the second you ran with all of us in fact, and now we’ve been through too much together to entertain the thought,” An air of resignation fell on her shoulders then as a look flashed across Nick’s eyes--one she couldn’t fully discern--that seemed to at least signal that he wouldn’t react kindly to any further provoking. It caused her to exhale, to ease the tension in her posture that had no business being there.

Warmth felt hard to come by ever since the group had been on the run. Sarah reluctantly, far too reluctantly, took her hand from Nick’s grip and stepped away from him after that.

“Alright, everybody got a gas can?” Rochelle’s authoritative voice was welcomed, with no effort at all she had everyone’s attention, “I do not want to make this trip twice.”

“Yup,” Nonchalantly Nick’s voice rose up for the roll call, followed closely by the others chiming in to expedite the process.

Sarah’s eyes ran over the fixture at the back of the room. Pills still remained untouched and out of habit she found herself picking them up to take with her. In a moment of nostalgia her eyes flickered over to Rochelle before they returned to the pills now stuffed into the medkit on her hip; she had met Rochelle as the woman was setting up cameras for her report, herself having offered to help and talk to the crew on account of her being a doctor who had volunteered to aid CEDA.

Then the infected had gone out of control and attacked there, and the two had found themselves running up to the top of a hotel with three men just to find out that they had narrowly missed the evac.

“Back to the boat, people!”

Coach’s booming voice drew her to the present, helped further by his hand clamping down on her shoulder with a heavy nod of his head once their eyes had made contact.

It was funny how close she felt to these guys. The situation wasn’t, there was nothing comforting or natural about a zombie apocalypse, but to come out? Knowing this group? She shot Coach a smile, one he accepted as confirmation for whatever question his touch had meant, before he took point once more.

The saferoom door opened. The ferocious onslaught of rain caused hearing anything but to be nearly impossible. Thankfully, thankfully, their route was merely going back the exact way they came, their destination was their beginning, and this group was resilient.

Forgetting the way wasn’t even an option.

Someone’s shoulder bumped against her own, forcing her feet to take a few steps and then some as the five passed out the gas station door to return to the overgrown crops.

“Look lively, Doc.”

His warmth had returned. Sarah chided herself for noticeably feeling her body relax. Everyone felt like a relation of sorts to her. Despite the age not matching, as he would have been too young, Coach felt like a father to her. Rochelle was a younger sister, Ellis was--without question--a younger brother. Nick?

A thought process she often stopped herself from pursuing, as painfully ironic as that was.

“I’m the most lively thing you’ve seen for hours,” Sarah cut herself off with a hum before she offered the conman a smile, “scratch that, most alive thing. Save for the others.”

“Don’t go changing that, gotta have someone to talk to.” A retort, one that would remind him how well he actually got along with the others, died in her throat the second he followed his comment up with a wink.

Despite herself, despite herself, Sarah shook her head to both let Nick know she really wanted to continue this combat--so long as he paid no mind to her smile--and to diminish the faintest hint of a blush she could feel on her cheeks, “You’re always so close to having almost genuine sounding comments, Nickolas.”

“Great! Seriously, don’t get used to it.” A simple brush down his clothing and he appeared physically, and mentally, prepared for the downpour, “Keep up or I’m leaving you behind, Quack.”

The smile broke out in earnest, “That one stopped annoying me the second you laughed,” The truth. He had called her a Quack and the second he saw her expression he had laughed, without remorse.

Such moments felt as if they were a lifetime away. How had she felt so in control before now? This was, in no way, the first time they had lacked fresh medical supplies. Time seemed to wear her down, at the beginning she had tried to help rally everyone. Now it felt as if everyone had grown more resolute, and she had become forced to watch their backs as they passed by.

A vicious poke drew her from her thoughts. Her eyes focused, the jab against her forehead had left a lasting pressure, then her gaze halted. Grey. Those grey eyes were staring into her, searching for something she wasn’t privy to nor would she be. Her mind had barely caught the fact he was watching her, bent down as he was to be at eye level with her; his eyes threatened to drown her.

“You’re doing it again. Focus here or we really are gonna leave you behind.”

Oh how it thrived. That warmth, his warmth, the thoughts that came with his presence, all at once they wanted out from the slightest hint of sincerity in that pessimistic voice of his.

For an instant her thoughts told her to speak with him more, to confess how she feared for their lack of provisions, how she had been tormented with guilt familiar to almost everyone in her profession, how that guilt wrestled with the rising affection she felt ever since Nick had stopped completely shutting everyone out--

When she was back, he was gone.

Quickly assessing the area she caught the tail end of her companions booking it to the grass, unable to even hear the sound of their footfalls over the ambient noise. With a quick grit of her teeth she too darted off towards them.

Rain pelted her skin. It pounded her skull, set deep into her flesh and promised to seep into her very bones. Morning had become night without any preamble, it had shaped this situation into one that had no business being even more tense.

Zombies were enough, pathetic fallacy hadn’t needed to rear its head to cause further issues.

It was all too quick. The thick grass did nothing for her vision, that had further been impaired by the pounding rain, but realisation quickly fell over the woman.

She was alone.

The freak storm roared in absolute delight at the prospect of further cutting off her senses. Hearing was almost impossible, the thunderous thumps of every drop of rain resounded so clearly that all other sound was swallowed up and made redundant.

Dammit all. For losing her nerve, she was being rewarded with separation and no visibility too. Sarah rose her shotgun to her shoulder, her pace slowing to a crawl as she attempted to be alert. This area had been treacherous with her hearing.

Her gaze flickered up towards the building in front of her, spying the lift they could use to bypass the lower levels. No doubt traversing the other side with the water having risen would prove strenuous, at least if they were able to remain somewhat discrete they could hopefully slip past the Witches they had navigated around.

Not being able to hear their sobbing left them all at a disadvantage.

The grip on her firearm grew tighter, the doctor mentally chastising herself for falling into her thoughts again. No, she needed to focus. There should be a pipe, a huge pipe that would more or less lead her back to the shack right by the lift. If she used that pipe she would be elevated, she would be able to find the others.

It was all she had.

Her pace was far too slow, she moved as if one would be able to hear the squelching of her shoes against the muddy ground. Knowing that, nothing changed. It made for easier concentration, easier to hear anything in the immediate area.

Surely she would hear an infected screaming right by her side.

Through the crops came a peeking pipe, barely shining despite its colour due to lack of care, the faintest pang of hope shot through her chest at the sight of the beautiful beast.

Lacking any hesitation she lowered her gun to raise her elbow, effectively shielding her eyes in her pursuit of the pipe. Thankful was she that no-one decided to jump out at her, understanding how her defences had been down, Sarah climbed the pipe with precarious footing and narrowed her eyes.

Needing to use her time wisely she quickly assessed her position, noting she wasn’t too far off from the shack she recalled but how she still lacked visuals on her party. They wouldn’t have left her, they wouldn’t. Coach was a together or fight to be together kind of guy, the others definitely wouldn’t leave her behind but knowing Coach would form a plan left her in relative ease.

Still, she had to find them too.

The way up was to the north west, clearly uninhabited by any form of life and so she drew her attention elsewhere. Further eastward was a pathway that connected to the lift, and still she couldn’t see her friends. Nearer to the beginning of the patch of grass, close to the pathway and yet deeper into the crops than she had expected she spied pink. White. A baseball cap. Purple.

Lighter. Her entire body felt lighter at the sight of the four and yet nothing compared to watching as they searched, as she watched their mouths moving, as that sarcastic asshole five years her senior rose his gaze by a fraction and allowed their eyes to meet.

She would have felt utterly betrayed to know just how openly affectionate her expression had been in that instant. She beamed at Nick, waved slightly in a habitual greeting that she hadn’t shaken even during the apocalypse, before she made her way along the pipe to have an unhindered shot towards them.

Nick’s hand clasped Coach’s, drawing the older man closer to him as she watched the conman gesture towards her. Ellis and Rochelle came closer into frame then, shooting her a grin and relieved smile in turn.

That was when she felt something coil around her thigh, wrap around her waist, and constrict her neck. The shotgun flew out of her grasp as she was flung backwards, her head hitting the ground at an alarming speed. No concern was shown, her body was dragged through the mud all the way back towards the Smoker that had trapped her.

Her fingers clawed at the tongue around her neck, mind barely registering how disgusting the sensation was when it fought against her head ringing in pain and the rapid lack of oxygen she was receiving.

Clawing was all she could manage. Desperate tugs at the muscle in hopes of regaining some air to her lungs--

“Sarah!”

Was her heart playing tricks on her now, in her moment of need? Or had Nick truly closed the distance between them enough for her to hear his voice calling out to her through both the rain and her pounding head?

How she wished he could have been a normal person who said her actual name under normal circumstances.

Yet that warmth remained.

#Nick x OC #Left 4 Dead 2 Fanfiction #L4D2 Fanfiction #Left 4 Dead 2 Fanfic #You can tell by how this is all over the place that I had really wanted to write a big old slow burn fic and yet here we are #Shall We Continue On

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