The group had moved on, the hill now far behind them. Jimmie pondered why the aliens hadn’t hunted them, nor even tried to shoot them, even after they had emerged from the top of the hill. Maybe they couldn’t see that far? Their weapons couldn’t reach? Jimmie didn’t know.

The commander ordered for a stop, the whole group practically deflating, while Jimmie and Dick gently put Chris down into a sleeping position. The commander ordered Piernov to look out for any pursuers then plopped himself down, letting out a heavy sigh.

Rick immediately darted to Chris, taking off his backpack and removing his own, gently placing it under Chris' head while speaking softly. Chris didn’t seem to react, his eyes merely looking up, absentmindedly nodding. He didn’t seem to be present at the moment, thought Jimmie.

Jimmie stared at Chris' prone body, his mind caught up to the present, but he still found himself lost. Lost in thoughts and emotions, emotions he couldn’t place, nor understand. He was. Confused.

Rick seemed to have noticed the pair of eyes on Chris, looking up to see Jimmie, face distorting into a frown, eyes asking for death. Jimmie knew those eyes well, so he looked away. Why did Jimmie look away? He didn’t know somehow. It just felt wrong to challenge Rick right now, he knew he would win, but it felt wrong.

“Catch your breath, eat something and then we’ll move out in thirty minutes. Dick! Come here, I need to ask you something.” The commander shouted, and Dick grunted in response, slowly hauling his ass up and dragging his feet over to the commander.

A few minutes passed in silence, Rick whispering to Chris, the commander to Dick. Jimmie was staring out at nothing, the blank landscape that was dotted with few rocks was not enough for Jimmie to call a view. He noticed that Bill had jumped to his feet, walking over towards Jimmie, eyes wandering and hand scratching his thick beard. Moments later, he sat himself down beside Jimmie.

“Hey Jim”

Jimmie didn’t respond. Bill awkwardly readjusted his sitting position, moving closer to Jimmie, but keeping an arm's length away. He looked up at Jimmie, then back down, then up, and down. Jimmie ignored him, it looked like Bill was about to shit himself.

Bill shuffled even closer to Jimmie while scratching loudly at his beard. He sneaked a few more peaks at him and did his best to look unsuspicious. He obviously had something on his mind, but Jimmie didn’t care, he did his best to ignore him.

Bill continued doing this for a few minutes, silence stretching thin, his scratching getting louder, his awkward shuffling more obvious. Jimmie found himself irritated, when was Bill this much of a coward? Jimmie turned towards Bill and huffed out.

“What”

Bill practically beamed at Jimmie’s question, then quickly turned solemn, face full of focus and determination.

“Well, you know... Ehm.. Everyone has their own ways of… Dealing, with their first skirmish, everyone here knows that” Bill intoned slowly, his face determined, but his eyes soft and gentle. Jimmie felt disgusted, turning away quickly, making his back face Bill. Bill didn’t seem bothered, continuing.

“So, your erm... What I’m saying.. What I’m trying to say, is that... Dont.. It's not your fault”

Jimmie was wondering what the fuck Bill was talking about. Bill was stuttering, flabbergasted and sounded unsure, very different from how Jimmie pictured him.

“Ahem, yeah... It's not your fault... good talk” Bill quickly pushed himself to his feet, moving away towards Piernov, his face crunched into a cringed expression.

Jimmie didn't see that, his head was somewhere else. Jimmie thought.

My fault? My fault? As if, it was Chris’s own fault, it's not like he had to push me, yeah, it wasn’t my fault, of course it wasn’t. His brows furrowed, his mouth turning downwards at the thought.

Fuck you Bill, fuck you for thinking I’m weak, fuck you for being such a weak fuck.

“Fuck”

Jimmie let out under his breath, bringing his knees up, leaning his arms against them, mouth covered by the crease of his arm, eyes staring out into, the nothing.

It was Chris fault; he didn’t have to do that; he didn’t have to. Save me.

Jimmie’s eyes grew a little wider.

Chris, saved me. He didn’t even hesitate, he just saved me... Why?

His mouth breathed out heavily and forcefully, airflow restricted by his arm.

That weak fuck, saved me. He saved me because I was a fucking idiot.

His eyes started burning, wrinkles growing larger.

I’m- I’m still so weak.

He leaned his eyes on his arm, pushing hard, trying to ignore the pressing feeling from inside. His chest aching, burning, hurting. It felt so bad.

His breathing escalated, got heavier, louder, faster.

He was stuck, he was a failure; he was weak.

Something wet hit the ground.

What’s the point of my life if I can’t even save myself? What am I even doing here?

I hate myself.

I’m a fucking pathetic existence.

A heavy hand fell on Jimmie’s shoulder, he arched his head upwards, meeting Dick’s eyes, big and looming, looking at Jimmie, looking through Jimmie.

He didn’t say a word, his back arched forward, his hand firm against Jimmie’s shoulder. Jimmie’s eyes were red.

Jimmie looked away, but leaned against Dick’s hand.

Dick slowly sat down, staring out at nothing with Jimmie.

And the two sat there, one with their back straight, the other leaning forward.