These Different Times (Nick Clark FF)

58.

Arriving back at the cabin, I knocked back a couple of paracetamol for a headache that was forming due to my lack of sleep and I barely managed to climb out of my jeans and throw my sweater somewhere before I fell face first onto our mattress, curling my arm under the cool pillow, which is how I fell asleep. 

I slept for hours, being woken up by Nick when it was dark out.

He woke me by shaking my shoulder gently and I groaned into the pillow before rolling on my back, staring blearily up at him, "Nick?" 

"Hey," 

"I..." I sat up, rubbing my eyes while trying to work out if this was still a dream, "You were in the medical tent." 

"I know," he whispered,  pushing my hair from my face, "But they needed my bed." 

"You're feeling okay?" I asked, leaning my forehead against his shoulder so he wouldn't see me yawn again. 

"Yeah," he nodded and I felt his hands lower me back down, "Just a bit sore. I shouldn't have woken you." 

"No," I protested, grabbing his arm before he could pull away, "Stay."

"Tay-" 

"You almost died, Nick," I interrupted him, "Let me have this." 

He sighed but lay down and I opened my eyes to look up at him again, seeing him staring at something on the other side of the room and turning my head slightly, I saw that he was looking at the painkillers, a slight look of longing in them and I cleared my throat, shuffling across so I was closer to his side but not touching him. 

"Nick?"

He hummed and looked down at me, "What?"

"I..." I trailed off and played with the bottom of his shirt, "You never told me what it's like."

"What what's like?" 

"Being high." 

I felt him tense beside me and glanced up at him, seeing him looking down at me, "Why do you want to know?" 

I shrugged, burying my face further into the pillow, "I don't know. I just...I want to know why you liked it so much." 

"What's being high like?" he repeated and I felt his arm wrap around my waist, "It's...it's like a dream. Everything's so...vivid. Colors, sounds, everything. I can't even describe it. You'll never know how it feels when it's five in the morning and the sun's about to come up and you're out of your mind." 

"You miss it, don't you?" I asked, glancing up at him again but he wouldn't meet my eye. 

"Yes," he admitted,  "But I wouldn't touch it again. Not after what it did. How it made me lose you." 

I gave him a weak smile and closed my eyes again, "I know, Nick. I know." 

**

When I woke up the second time, Nick wasn't beside me anymore but he was still in the cabin; standing with his hands in his pockets as he stared intently at the floor. 

"What are you doing?" 

He didn't turn at the sound of my voice, nor did he answer me and I silently wrapped the blanket around my shoulders to move and stand beside him. 

"He shot up the floor," he mumbled after we both stared silently for a couple of minutes, "Remeber, Jeremiah?" 

I nodded, "Yeah. He said it had blood in it." 

He glanced at me and then looked at the toolbox that was on the side before reaching over and grabbing a hammer. 

"What are you doing?" I asked, stepping back as he dug the claw of the hammer into the wooden floorboards, "Nick!" 

"He's hiding something," he panted, looking at me again, "Jeremiah is hiding something and I bet you that whatever it is, is under this floor." 

I said nothing, moving back to sit on the bed so I could watch him, picking at my nails until he was done ripping up the floorboards. 

"So?" I asked, "Anything?" 

He shook his head, "I'm gonna go a little deeper. There has to be something here."

He disappeared outside for a couple of seconds, returning with a shovel and I got comfortable to watch him.

And let me tell you, watching him wasn't the worst thing in the world to do. 

**

"So what exactly are you going to do?" I asked as we made our way up to Jeremiah's large house, "Huh? You gonna show him it?" 

It being a skull that Nick had found. Meaning that he was right. The oldest Otto was definitely hiding something. What it was though? Well, that could be anything.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," he nodded, "I want to know what happened and who the hell this is." 

"And why am I here?" I asked again, "Because to be honest, that man gives me the creeps and I don't want to be anywhere near him." 

He gave me a weak smile, "Moral support." 

The lights of the house were on and I timidly followed him when he went barging in, storming straight into the room where the older man was sitting and I hung back, leaning against one of the concrete pillars.

Jeremiah, looking over as Nick entered, chuckled, "Jesus. Look at you standing there like some sort of ghoul." 

Nick stepped further into the room, "You shot up our floor. Said it had blood in it." 

"Did I?" he asked as Nick dug through the bag we had brought, "I was in my cups. I-I've been known to wax metaphoric." 

I shuddered as he finally brought out the skull, which had a single bullet hole to the head, "Who is this?" 

"That's a long story." 

Now that, that caught my interest and I stepped into the room too, Jeremiah's eyes flickering to me as he got up to pour himself another drink. 

I sat down on the step while Nick sat on the sofa, giving the old man a smile, "Tell it to us."

"Well..." Jeremiah began, "When Jake and Troy were young boys, the local Indian tribe decided that the ranch belonged to them. Sacred land or some sort of bullshit." 

"Wasn't bullshit to them, huh?" 

The man glared at him, "They sold the land to my family. Got a square deal but none of that stopped those young bucks from making trouble." 

"Young bucks?" I asked, making him look at me. 

"Thugs, derelicts. Nothing better to do than steal from me and kill my cattle. I had two small children and a terrified wife." 

"So you killed one of them." 

"No. We killed three of 'em." if he saw the shocked looks on our faces, he didn't say anything, "Phil, Russell, Vern and me. We camped out among the herd one night, and when the Indians come upon us..." 

"Well, it turns out that one of them is Walker's uncle." 

"Him?" I asked, pointing at the skull, "That's Walker's uncle?" 

"No, that son of a bitch is Walker's father. He comes by to find out what happened to his brother. A single shot did the trick." 

I stood up, shaking my head as I turned for the door, "No. I can't...I'm not listening to this." 

I left the house before anyone could say anything, feeling bile rising in my throat and I managed to make it the balcony, leaning over it to bring up whatever food was in my stomach. 

Could he be the reason that Troy is the way he is? A killer? 

**

this is shite, which i apologise for