Another Thing Altogether – The Nomad of Nowhere – The Nomad, Skout [Part I of III]

[thecrazyalaskan]

Title: Another Thing Altogether
Author: fireweed15
Fandom / Setting: The Nomad of Nowhere
Characters / Pairings: Skout, The Nomad; references to others
Word Count: 860
Rating: T
Warnings / Notes: Written for Hurt / Comfort Bingo's May Amnesty Challenge: Small Fandoms; mild spoilers for Episode 6, "The Kindness of Strangers"; Part One of Three — Sacrifice
Summary: It was one thing to make friends, both of people and by bringing rocks and pocket watches and little things to life. It was another see them give up that life—to say nothing of giving it up for you.

••• ••• •••

He sat in the lee of one of the large boulders decorating the landscape, watching the sky change from blue to red-orange to purple. The air was still, no longer sweltering, and it felt almost peaceful.

"Hey there." His attention shifted from the horizon to Skout, who leaned against the boulder and slid down until she sat with a puff of dust beside him. "Whatcha doin'?"

He smiled behind his scarf before indicating the desert stretched out before them.

"Yeah it's nice," she agreed, drawing her legs up to her chest. "Mind if I join you?"

He shook his head, and they sat for several minutes in silence. When Skout spoke next, her words were almost melancholy. "Look… I gotta level with you, friend."

The Nomad glanced at her, head tilted slightly in wordless encouragement to continue. He reached out for a moment, hand hovering over the bandages that peeked up from under her shirt collar, before withdrawing it.

"It ain't that," she promised, shaking her head. "It's… Look, I know I keep calling you 'friend,' but I know you're the Nomad of Nowhere."

His stomach twisted and flipped, and whatever peace he felt was suddenly gone from his thoughts. If she knew, it was only a matter of time before—

"It's okay," she soothed. "I ain't gonna turn you in."

A second surprise in less than a minute! The way his circumstances were so rapidly changing threatened to make his head spin, and he could only gape at her behind his scarf. After a moment, he lifted his hands, palms up, hoping the gestures conveyed the meaning. Communicating with others who didn't instinctively understand his signs and gestures (as many of the things he brought to life did) was something of a challenge.

Thankfully, she was able to gather the meaning. "Everyone says you're this awful person or whatever," she murmured, her gaze fixed on an unseen point on the horizon, "but you were so nice to me in the briar patch… I just can't see the kind of person you are being the kind of person everyone says you are."

It was a kind thing to say, and he certainly appreciated it, but ultimately, it explained nothing. He repeated the gesture, more urgently.

"I'm gonna help you clear your name," she announced, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, before turning her gaze back to him. "If that's alright, of course."

He canted his head to the side before tapping his hand, bent in the shape of the letter C, against his shoulder. It was somewhat vague, and he allowed his hand to drift closer to her wounds.

Skout shrugged. "I'm s'pposed to be on the mend. What I do outside of the Dandy Lions ain't their business." She paused, considering him for a moment before smiling warmly. "…Wouldn't feel right turnin' in my friend, anyway."

The words were impossibly kind, and they felt like a knife between his ribs. He managed a thin smile before, at her request, helping her back to her feet. Once she was a safe distance away, his strength left him completely, and he dropped to his knees. He'd wanted friends, of course, and was happy to have one that wasn't of his own magic—but then everything went so… wrong.

He hadn't counted on all the times his friends (he shuddered involuntarily when he thought of them being called things, or trinkets) did so much for him, and he had yet to understand why. For years he'd only asked of them their companionship, and they gave that, to be sure—some of them gave more. His heart twisted when he thought of the pocket watch and the music box cylinder. There was some truth to the fact that he felt responsible for, and a vague desire to protect them—which the fact that some of them gave up the life he endowed them hurt all the more.

And now another person was getting in on it. Skout was right when she brought up his kindness in the briar patch he had previously called home—he showed her the same kindness she had him, the first he'd known in years. Now she was throwing her lot in with his, keeping his identity a secret and offering to help clear his name—which would, in turn, get the bounty off his head. Aiding someone like him, especially someone with that kind of price tag on their very life, was dangerous, and part of him wondered if she knew what she was signing up for.

A bigger part of him knew that she was aware of the risk, especially to someone like her—the aide to a Dandy Lion captain, especially one who reported to a man mere breaths away from ruling over the region with an iron fist. She would have been rewarded handsomely for betraying him and bringing him in… and yet she chose not to. The opposite of being handsomely rewarded… He tried not to think about it, the very idea making him feel nauseous.

She was giving up everything to help him, and he could only hope to god he was worth it.