singillatim | Keep your truth to yourself (closed, +open)

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Keep your truth to yourself (closed, +open)

Who: Tim, Chloe, busybodies
What: Tim decides Paradise isn't for him after all
When: Early November
Where: Milton, throughout; most concentrated action around Paradise Farms

Content Warnings: Warning for November's Strangers prompt likely; Tim himself is walking Depression

After Dia de los Muertos, Bruce dies. And after that, Tim packs his things. There's a lot of shuffling around the farmhouse in the early days of November; Tim doesn't venture into town to announce anything and he's almost certain no one is going to venture out to see the commotion of him hauling tarp-fulls of electronics from the farmhouse to the remains of the barns, the skeletons of gadgets now decisively thinned down to only what works.

Sunlight is precious. Tim knows how to make the best of demanding deadlines.

Belatedly, what's left of the barn is brought down during an Aurora night- three cheers for a chainsaw. Better to level the damn place than to wait for it to collapse on its own. The good wood is piled up near the slaughterhouse- still intact, by the way. Tim wonders if Damian is going to kick his ass for dooming the cow to inconvenience. Anyway-

Paradise Farms.

A wild, bustling, lively place (not).

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He keeps his backpack at the door of the house, but he does wander to Milton and then slips to the outs of it with the intention to meet with one woman- and Chloe Frazer is easily found. She has the greenhouse. And the project has actually been viable. Tim invites himself in, says, "Hey, I've got a proposal for you."

No ring.

Just grass.

Grass.

A little handful of sod- dirt packed with roots, many green blades of fresh (ish) grasses sprouted and having been previously destined to be rabbit chow. But that was months ago. And Tim's got to get better at letting things go. So his hands toss the sod back and forth between them, and Tim looks to Chloe and masterfully explains his great(est) idea of the year.

"D'you want the farms?"

“Oh, I think you're a little young for me,” Chloe says airily. But then she notices the sod. The green shoots.

She’d known Tim was up at the farm with the rabbits - she's a regular patron at the general store - but she hadn't really known what had gone on up there since the barn burned.

“You’re moving on?”

Wisely, he says nothing about his alleged affinity for older women. Chloe earns a small and amused huff- for as much as Tim isn't in the mood to entertain or be entertained, there's no reason that anyone else oughta know it.

The lump of grass falls to the ground, and Tim crosses his arms to keep the bite of cold away from his fingers. He has gloves, for once, but still.

"I dunno," he admits.

Miracle of miracles: honesty.

"But I am moving. The farmhouse has a hot water system. It's easy to pump it outdoors. I used to keep one of the barns with heated floors."

--which is an exaggeration, sure. But it conjures the same image. Heated floors just happens to be easier to say than I used to run hot water under floorboards to the nursery, and the metal pipes are still in working order on last inspection. Tim says, "I figured it could help the greenhouse if the water itself could keep the frost at bay."

Chloe looks at Tim, impressed, and reevaluates him a little. “Does it work all the time, or is it an aurora thing?”

Even intermittent heat would be huge for the greenhouse, and Chloe hasn’t had a hot shower since Lalo disappeared.

Sometimes it helps shift things into focus, how little few people care.

Tim hums. "It's wood, fire, and boiling water."

The simplest fucking thing.

He had had Jason's help-- the cool Jason-- back then. And then something had happened. And now Tim's explaining how to create hot water.

"The house itself has a self-feeding fire. There's a chainsaw that helps with keeping up with the demand for firewood, but that's only functional on Aurora nights. There's fail safes. And so far the contraption has passed its tests. I took old plumbing and buried it after insulting it the best that I could-- you know, you can just see it for yourself."

And because he-- can't--

"I mean, the bunnies liked it."

Ah. Chloe nods. “They ever figure out who set that fire?”

That's probably someone who should have been on trial, too. That could have sunk them if the sun hadn't come back.

He's frowning now. Tim knows he's frowning. It's not fucking unheard of to frown when there's no closure to such a mindless, animalistic attack on something so.... fluffy. cute. innocent.

He shakes his head. "No," he says. There's a distance there, and Tim refuses to cry over spilled milk. Or spilled blood.

He never cried at Stephanie's funeral so what right does he have-?

"Du Lac said he was there and he tried to help stop the fire from getting to the animals. And the kid who kept the cow in there... I know they got out safely," he explains. And really, that's what matters.

Imagine being weak enough to suffer for dead animals when people managed to escape the hellfire, safe. sound.

Moving on: "The salvaged lumber is going to the Community Center. If someone moves in before I can get it all out myself."

Chloe hadn't known that Louis had been up there for that. She’ll need to ask him about it someday.

“That's good, that the kid’s all right. Louis has had terrible luck with fire.” The house on Greene Street had been reduced to kindling.

“I'm sure I can arrange to get anything left over down to the hall.” Men love doing things for her, and she's pretty sure Raylan had been helping out up there with what's left of the barn anyway.

Tim sighs; it's not a bothered noise, but a heavy one that tells he's too tired for the bags under his eyes (considering those are a permanent fixture on most, if not all, people in this world). "Have you seen him since?" Tim asks, and he's soon having to correct himself, "Mr. du Lac, I mean."

Finally, what a feels like an eternity later, he lets himself wander the greenhouse. Or, let his eyes wander through the plants.

Ivy would have a fit.

Ivy would actually be kind of an asset in this situation? On account of wanting to keep the greens alive, which in turn-

okay, but, seriously. (She would.)

Tim says, shyly, "The, uh. Harvest has been good. Better than I thought, if that was all yours at the- wedding, and Ruby's party."

“After the barn fire, yes. After the house fire, no. I understand he went to live with…” Chloe had promised Louis that she wouldn't tell anyone about his situationship with Lestat. “With someone he knows from home. He's still pretty torn up about his daughter, I think.”

Hard to blame him for that.

The harvest is nicer to think about.

“I can't take all the credit for it. The other people here have really stepped up to help. I don't think anyone wants to let it get as bad as it was in the summer. Can't deny I'm proud of it, though. And this will go a long way to getting it through the winter, I think.”

"Yeah, I don't know where Lestat calls Home either," he adds with appropriate defeat. Because Chloe is confirmed a confidant, Tim mimes zipping his lips shut- as if he's only aware of the faux pas after the fact. He forgoes asking about the General store. Whatever might be left of it. He pivots like Chloe has done.

Seamlessly (and maybe even eagerly) interjects that, "You should be proud."

There's not a lot of leading going on here. There's too much leaning, whisper his darker thoughts on the darker days. But even Tim, still, can recognize that's trash.

"We're all screwed when the plumbing finally craps out, huh. I don't know what the hell they treated these pipes with. There's a bending tool in the second floor of the farmhouse if you ever need or wanna refit the pipes. Not a lot people go for scavenging the U-bends under kitchen sinks, you know? Ruby got the chainsaw- sorry, I just know she likes things that go whrrr and have sharp ends. Wood shavings help keep things warm, but a little damp-- I don't know why I'm telling you that. You already know."

Right, if Tim had worked in the store often, he probably knows about Lestat whether Louis wanted him to or not.

She winks at the zip motion, then continues.

“Oh, good to know. Thanks. You know, as long as she doesn't wind up lopping off a limb, I think Ruby is one of the only people I'm okay with getting the chainsaw over me. I'm sure she'll love it.”

[Aurora nights had gotten kind of quiet without Eddie around to make some noise. So the sound of a chainsaw revving up is certainly enough to catch Ruby's attention in the evening.

She knows Tim isn't exactly the best person at dealing with things, so it does not surprise her to come across the fact that he's the one wielding the chainsaw and that he's bringing down the remains of the barn.

That sure is a lot of work being done.]

Uh- Hey.

Nice night for bringing the place down, don't you think?

[Yeah. She can make a joke about this.]

[The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire-- was on fire- and Tim winces as he powers down the Gift Pig brand chainsaw to greet Ruby properly. He's made himself some OSHA disapproved step with crates from the neighboring slaughterhouse, and he waves a small hello as he rests.]

Yeah.

[A true Tim idiosyncrasy is his inability to Words when he most believes he can make good use of them. It's frustrating. This time, Tim doesn't let it show.]

Yeah, I... didn't think repairs were going to happen any time soon if they haven't already. Better to put the planks of wood to use.

[And because it's plain weird to have visitors in Paradise since the... bunnies... Tim furrows his brows, asks,] What's up?

[Look. In his defense she had an awkward start to this conversation too.

Still she kind of looks up at the remains of the barn and then back down to him.]

Yeah you got a good point there. I think a handful of buildings have seen better days.

[There's a shrug and then a shift.]

Couldn't really sleep. Thought I'd go out and go on patrol, then heard you over here.

You know, a normal night around here.

[She had been in the thick of it from the beginning: hell, Tim's almost sure she was the one who plucked the first rabbit out from the Wilds and shoved the squirming tote bag at his waiting arms. He fights a sad, small smile and loses.]

Do you want the chainsaw? I don't think I want to see it again after this.

[Look. She's generally worried about Tim on a good day, to see him a bit more actively suffering and taking down things he had previously worked very hard to build and maintain. It was kind of heart breaking.

She manages her own little smile and nods.]

Look there are only a few ways into my heart and chainsaws or anything that can slice and dice are one of those things.

I'll gladly take care of it.

[Tim's not done with the work; but there's sweat beginning to curl the fine hair at the nape. The crate he's been standing on gets turned to a makeshift chair and Tim places the chainsaw almost gingerly on the ground.

(And, since this is night, sensibly away from the small, personal fire.)]

I honestly can't think of anyone else I could trust with a chainsaw.

[--but, like, seriously.]

I didn't ask for a gas-powered one because the fuel's stale anyway. The farmhouse has some barrels I siphoned offa the cars, like, months ago. But I only used them to melt the ice when I was working on the... well, on the heating for the the rabbits. Or the house. I don't know if you need any of that. [Bravely, preemptively, he raises a single hand to clarify,] I'm downsizing, that's it. Don't worry.

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Keep your truth to yourself (closed, +open)

closed - chloe

Re: closed - chloe

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cw animal death mentions, grief

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