Chapter Text
BZZZT
"Who's there?!"
The professor's voice is demanding, even a little panicked. Emma rolls her eyes; he knew she was coming. He’s known for a good few hours now.
“It’s me? Emma Perkins? You know, I said I’d bring you groceries?”
“Oh! Yes, of course. Hold on, Emma, I’ll let you in.”
“No- Professor, I’m just going to leave the bag here, we’re not supposed to-”
“Emma, I insist, come inside! It isn’t safe out there!”
Of course. Of course Professor Hidgens is freaking out about this. It's a shame really; if he wasn't so scared he'd be loving this, Emma realises. An excuse to stay shut inside, not even leaving for his job? Sounds like his personal idea of heaven. But unfortunately he thinks it's the apocalypse.
"I have a mask, Professor. I'm-"
"It's not enough! I am the only one in this town capable of achieving a true state of quarantine, this is the safest place for you! I have enough supplies to last us both years, with no risk of any contamination."
"What? Are you asking me to move in with you?"
He pauses. "Yes. I am. For what it's worth, Emma, I do care about you. I know I would sleep easier if I knew you were safe."
"I… I don't know," Emma responds, trying to hide her relief. She never expected the prospect of being stuck in a house with her kooky, reclusive biology professor to bring her relief, but when was the last time that something happened how she expected?
"Emma, please. Keep an old man company, eh? I'd hate for you to have to spend this crisis alone in your apartment."
The woman pretends to think for a moment. "...Okay. I'll stay with you, just give me some time to go home and pack some clothes."
"Excellent!"
"You're… You're sure about this, professor?"
"Yes, of course."
"Alright. Thanks, Professor. I'll leave these groceries here."
Emma's rucksack from her backpacking days is still stuffed in the back of her wardrobe, and it doesn't take much effort to fit all of her clothes into it. Other essentials and small possessions are packed into the smaller backpack she uses for college. The rest - utensils, sheets, her old one-man tent - are thrown into a bin bag, all the food in her kitchen in another.
Four bags. She sits on her bed and stares at them. She's been back in this fucking town almost a year, and yet her whole apartment fits into four bags. When she came home she told herself it was for good, or at least until she finished college. She acted like it, in some ways; rented a place, enrolled in college, bought a beat up old car. But now she realises that she never fully stopped living like she's only sticking around in one place for a month or two, just long enough to earn money for the supplies needed to fuck off down another backpacking trail. She's been ready to get the fuck out of Hatchetfeild from the day she came back.
Sighing and grabbing the two bin bags, she stands up. It's only then that she notices that she's thrown her day-to-day boots into her rucksack out of habit, leaving her hiking boots by the door. She only lets that distract her for a moment; Emma can ponder what all this says about her mental state later. For now, she just pulls on the battered leather boots, relieved that her lack of possessions means it'll be easy to store the stuff she doesn't need in the boot of her car.
BZZZT
"Who's there?!"
"Emma. Again."
"Oh, yes, good. Hang on, I'll let you in!"
Emma follows her professor into the house, thanking him again for letting her stay.
"It's really no issue, Emma. My apocalypse preparations always accounted for scenarios wherein I would be able to shelter a few fellow survivors."
"Right… Oh, I brought the food I had at home, figured there's no point letting it go to waste."
She holds up the bag to illustrate her point. Hidgens eyes it with slight confusion.
"Any particular reason why it's in a bin bag?"
"I-" Emma doesn't have an answer for that. After packing away most of her apartment in a bin bag, it seemed natural to pick up another one to put the food in. "I, uh… it was just what I had to hand."
"Very well. Here, I'll take that to the kitchen while you take your bags upstairs. The guest room is on the far right."
"Are you sure you don't want help putting that stuff away?"
"Yes. Go and unpack. Make yourself at home, eh?"
10:26 pm. Emma lays on top of the duvet in the small guest room in the old t-shirt she’s designated as pyjamas, staring up at the ceiling. She can’t shake the thought that she’s made a mistake.
Not because she’s been subjected to Hidgens’ terrible cooking skills. Not because she’s realised just how close he is with an amazon echo, of all things. Not because she had to retreat to bed hours earlier than she would usually to avoid watching a ‘documentary’ about trawling through historical records for evidence of alien contact with humans. No. Living with her eccentric professor is still a relief. What could be a mistake is the fact that she didn’t tell him why it’s such a relief.
She hasn’t mentioned that beanies laid her off weeks ago. Didn’t say that her landlord has been less than understanding about her difficulty getting together the money to pay her rent. Failed to bring up the fact that she’s been putting off asking her brother-in-law to let her crash on his sofa, not wanting to push their already strained relationship by making him feel obligated to help her. In short, she didn’t tell Professor Hidgens that if he changed his mind about giving her a place to stay she’d most likely be sleeping in her car. This is the safest place for her, it’s true, but he doesn’t know that it might be the only place. She didn’t want to pressure him. But now she’s wondering if that was a good idea. Should she have told him?
Sighing, she reaches into the backpack beside her bed to dig out her headphones. One thing is for certain; this is going to be an interesting quarantine.