[larry dimmick]

[im_a_toughguy]

Something about patrolling, even with Anita, more often than not proved itself to be one of the most mundane tasks that Freddy could name. The most you were bound to run into was a lover's spat or someone who forgot that napping on the beach in their skivvies wasn't the best plan, and even those situations were rare at best. It was, for all intents

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[shootmeinadream]

He'd long since stopped counting the days in which he'd spent on the island. He may as well have gone through the stages of grieving, for Christ's sake. All the way from anger to acceptance, even if the last one was still a little rough. But maybe that would just come with time. Isn't that what everybody said? Time heals all?

Every day was exactly the same for Larry. The same fucking routine, because routine you could count on. It was steady, constant, unlike the transition from the warehouse to the island. Helped keep him sane. Or as sane as you could be when you were surrounded by people who, like yourself, found themselves in the middle of nowhere with no idea how.

Even during the rainstorm he'd go for long walks, no real purpose behind them. Just one foot after the other, occasionally bumming a smoke off of anyone lucky enough to have one (he'd long since smoked the last in his pack). Today, though, something just felt off. Larry had had an uneasy sleep the night before, dreams of the warehouse and drowning in his head, and the nice weather just wasn't enough to put him in a better mood. Everybody else seemed to love it though, and he knew the Compound would be fairly empty. Enough for a few hours of sleep that didn't involve hellish re-hashing of past events.

Shuffling his feet, head bowed, he made his way towards the door and promptly bumbed into someone.

"Sorry," he mumbled, not even looking up, brushing past.

[im_a_toughguy]

Bumping into someone was never a big deal. A second to mutter a mutual apology, a startled look and then both were off again without even having it cross their mind again. With a single building as the focal point of an entire community it was very nearly a daily expectation.

Freddy had his side of the apology on his tongue, on the tip of it ready to tumble out but instead he swallowed it and it caught in his throat, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth as if he'd eaten too much peanut butter. That voice. Muttered, low and unfocused, but it was still there, hanging in the air and ringing in his ears and his head turned abruptly, just enough to see the guy from behind and his breath caught, choking him.

Don't be a clone, please be a clone...

Is was probably two seconds at the most, but he was standing there, half turned towards the man that had passed him and he couldn't make a sound get past the lump that had formed. He probably looked demented, the expression he had from trying to force a sound out, but rather than something strong, something even close to eloquent, the most he got out was a small strangled squeak.

A fucking squeak.

[shootmeinadream]

Larry paused, turning towards the direction of the bizarre sound he'd heard, halfway in the Compound, halfway out.

"Are you oka-"

There are certain moments where your heart actually grinds to a halt, synapses stop firing, and higher brain function shuts down. Unfortunately for Larry, this happened to be one of those moments.

When their eyes locked, he could feel his chest tighten, desperate for air, and yet unable to take a breath.

Mr. Orange, in the fucking flesh.

[im_a_toughguy]

This is exactly why you shouldn't play hookie. Freddy thought in stunned silence.

He had considered the possibility of this day. He'd wondered what he would say, when it would happen, if Larry would kill him on sight or attempt to speak with him first. But as he tried to formulate something to say, tried to force a coherent reaction, all he could think was... nothing. His brain was fizzling like static, small snippets, ideas and thoughts bouncing off the walls of his skull but nothing managing to settle. His mouth opened, he gaped and he he tried to form words, but the most he could do was stare. The older man looked exactly the same. Tired perhaps, his shoulders sagged down with the weight that came from being trapped. But other than that he was the same man Freddy had seen two years ago.

He wondered if he looked any different.

"... uh."

[shootmeinadream]

There wasn't a doubt in Larry's mind as to who this man was. Not even one of those, maybe it is, maybe it isn't, should I say hello and see if they recognize me? moments. But the nagging doubt as to whether or not he himself were actually dead was back. He had held this man in his arms, had pulled the trigger himself and yet here he was, looking...well, good for the circumstances.

It was all he could do to swallow hard and choke out the word Orange? in a pathetic, half-hearted sort of way.

[im_a_toughguy]

He nodded. It was a sheepish, half formed gesture but it was stronger than any word that could have possibly come from his mouth. His heart was past tearing under the strain of fear, guilt and confusion. It was shredding, his head aching and on the way to a migraine but more than anything he caught himself wincing at Larry's tone. He sounded so unsure, so broken and it actually hurt. It hurt as much as lying on that stone floor back when it all happened.

How long had Larry been on the island? How long had he failed to see the man. Was the heist and the warehouse fresh by weeks? Days, even? It was probably raw and eating at him. Two years and Freddy could feel himself crumbling under the memory of it, he couldn't imagine it being still fresh in the mind.

"Larry..."

[shootmeinadream]

He could feel a shiver run through him at the sound of his name on Orange's lips. it was perversely intimate, hearing someone he knew say his name like that. Someone he thought he knew, at the very least.

He had felt very much alone on the island before now, and even as he stood gaping at someone he'd known, that lonely feeling just increased tenfold. He knew how rediculous they must have looked, standing there in silence, head filled with a rush of blood. Larry could hear someone behind him mutter Excuse me, please, brushing past him in the doorway. Unsure, as if he were in some sort of dream, he practically stumbled down the steps, unable to tear his eyes away from Orange's.

[im_a_toughguy]

Freddy wondered what it was like for other people when they found someone from home. Did they stand in shock like he and Larry did now, were they joyous reunions, spiteful fights? He didn't know what he could say to the man, anything seemed inappropriate somehow, too casual, to personal, too... not right. There was nothing that could be said. It was an awkward, shocking experience. Looking in the face of the past, a stinging reminder of home after having it drilled into you day after day that home was gone, possibly forever. For them it was forever. There was no going home.There was only death, a pit of dirt and a coffin. No start over, no picking up where they had left off. What they had was what they had at the present, and all that was was staring at each other in dumb shock.

His face flushed, he stumbled over his words as he tried to not make a fool of himself, his voice high pitched and weak. And more importantly, not anger the man. "I... shit. Shit. I didn't... I didn't think you'd ever make it. Christ."

[shootmeinadream]

Given the choices, Orange was the last person Larry had ever hoped to find on the island. Or so he'd though prior to actually finding him. Now that they were face to face, this chance to gain closure, as cliche as it sounded was appealing. There were a million things he wanted to do just then, things he wanted to ask. A million questions that needed answering. And yet, all he could do was just stare like an idiot. His brows knitted together, a frown coming over his face as he stopped a few paces away from Orange, too fucking afraid to get any closer.

"How long?" He whispered. "How long have you...?"

[im_a_toughguy]

He wasn't angry. Not yet, anyhow. Freddy hadn't any clue what to expect, what he should have his guard up against, but as much as his instincts screamed to stay on his toes he didn't want to. He didn't want to have to be on edge around Larry, no matter how much his sense tried to remind him that this was the man same who had put a bullet through his head. This was the same man who had murdered him, but despite that fact, as terrifying as it was, he was also the person he had wanted to see the most. More than his friends, more than his own parents. It was sort of sick in a way.

"Two years." He said, his mouth dry. "Almost. Just under two years." Two years of living day by day, dealing with the holidays, dealing with the strange weekends and the island fuck-ups. Crazies, murders and everything in between. Nothing, not even the Halloween before the last amounted up to this.

"You?"

[shootmeinadream]

Larry's eyes were roaming distractedly over Orange, taking the sight of him in, like he was still trying to convince himself that this man actually existed, like all of this was actually happening. He was definately still Orange, but his hair was a little messier, skin just a little more tan, looking healthy but weathered. The whole situation was surreal, and his head hurt from the weight of all of it crushing down on him. All the walls and comfort he had tried to build up after realizing that this was it, there wasn't anything else was peeling away, brick by little red brick coming down.

"Weeks."

[im_a_toughguy]

"Christ." Freddy breathed, head turning to the side, needing to give his eyes a break, unable to keep them locked onto Larry even if he had wanted to. He wanted to ask when he had come from, if he knew, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't think he even needed to. If Larry hadn't known the truth, if he had still seen Freddy as Orange the good little thief, then he'd have been more open, more welcoming. As it was, he just looked pained and tired. Asking would just be grinding salt into an open wound.

"I didn't... I didn't know you were here." He almost felt as though he should have. Like somehow he should have been able to tell. But he hadn't, he'd been obliviously living life like he had been.

[shootmeinadream]

Years. He had been here years. The timing was all off, nothing made any sense. Larry had only been here a few weeks, how could...?

Then another thing was brought to mind. With as absent and as removed from situations as he had made himself, he and Orange had probably crossed paths on multiple occasions without realizing it. And if so, how many times? How oblivious had Larry become? He shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

"No way. No fuckin' way."

[im_a_toughguy]

Freddy looked pained. He didn't want to face this, he was a coward and he knew that now. The bravado he'd built around himself had long since expired and if he could have he would have turned tail and ran. It would have been a purely selfish act, a childish immaturity. And as much as he wanted to, or as much as his instincts urged him to, he owed Larry more than that. He owed Larry more than he could probably ever give.

"Have you," he started off, his words rushed and awkward, stumbling over his speech foolishly. "I mean, is anyone else...?"

[shootmeinadream]

He could tell Orange was uneasy, way beyond that point, in fact. You would have had to have been an idiot not to sense the discomfort that hung over him like a raincloud.

And yet, Larry found himself starting not to care.

"Is anyone else what?" He licked his lips, his mouth felt dry. Tilting his head forward, his frown grew.

What about Joe, Eddie?

Were they here too?

[im_a_toughguy]

"... here?" He finished meekly and damn near hating himself for it. He hadn't seen anyone, and Nice Guy would stand out in a crowd with his bad taste in clothes. But he had managed to go weeks without ever running into Larry, and that meant there was a chance anyone could be walking around in their civvies and he'd just been too occupied with other things to notice. It was an uncomfortable thought, actually.

"I mean... I haven't, y'know, seen nobody but I just thought maybe. Just thought since you're here now that maybe... yeah." He was suddenly aware that he was still standing there with comics under one arm and a sandwich in one hand. Not feeling all that interested in food, he absently tossed the sandwich to the side of the path. A dog or a monkey or something would probably be more interested than he was. And conducting uncomfortable conversations, in his mind, went better when he didn't look the part of an ass even as he filled the role.