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When Zack broke Rachel out, he had every intention of finally fulfilling that promise he made. Regardless of whether or not she was able to muster up a smile for him, or hell, any form of expression at all. A promise is a promise and he knows they don’t exactly have time on their side, the ways things are. He’s a little obsessed with the notion now, smile twitching up at the most inopportune times as he allows himself to think about it.
See the problem is- outside of the bloodlust and obsession with taking Rachel’s life- Zack’s kind of gotten attached to Rachel. She’s what he imagines having a little sister might’ve been like if he grew up like other kids. She isn’t normal herself, not by a mile, but if he squints at those jagged edges he can almost see them smoothened out. She’s the only damn thing in this world he’s got besides his own self and admittedly he’s not the best company to keep.
So being attached to her, a problem, but a small one admittedly. As attached as he may be, he’s not beyond removing himself of attachments. He has no use of them really, dead weight to pull at what very little of a conscience he does have, no matter how lonely that ideology may leave him.
Except when he breaks her out of the facility he hesitates.
He tells himself it’s because they need to make it quick, that they have to go right now or he’ll be caught before he can do either of them any good, but the moment of hesitation is what makes it all so much harder.
He gets her out to the woods and hesitates again, something tugging at the barely there vestiges of his conscience. Her big blue eyes stare back at him, framed by dark circles and by cheeks that had slightly sunken since the last time he saw her. The impulse to hurt her is right there at his fingertips, he could do it, and it would be all to easy.
He doesn’t want to.
Afraid for Rachel to see his inability to carry through he lies through his teeth about getting some more distance and barely waits for the jerk of her head meant to be a nod before taking off towards the nearest bus stop.
Zack is a selfish creature and he knows it. He considers it as he swipes a hoodie from the top of a duffle bag sitting next to a distracted man, tapping away at his phone with no idea there’s a serial killer and- technically- kidnapped girl at his back. He’s lucky Zack is on a mission or it would really only take one decisive movement to end it all. His fingers twitch with the urge, heart jack-rabbiting in his chest.
He doesn’t, by some miracle, and slings the hoodie over the crook of his arm. His own hoodie is distinctive and probably the first thing that could identify him if someone looked in his direction for far too long- the bandages, too, pose a problem. Rachel isn’t exactly a common looking person either. Her long, light hair stands out like a sore thumb in most settings and her eyes alone are distinctive enough to mark her down as her without even seeing anything else. He needs to get them both disguises, even flimsy ones.
His face is all over the news and he has no doubt that soon Rachel’s would join his.
There’s a small family bathroom at the bus stop, he shucks his own hoodie off and shoves it at Rachel, barely pausing before motioning her into the bathroom first. He goes ahead and shrugs the newly stolen hoodie on, right there outside the bathroom, and tries not to cringe too hard at the mint color. It’s distinctly not him, which is what matters for the time being.
When Rachel leaves the bathroom his hoodie is hanging off her like a dress, light hair tucked back in an attempt to mask the distinctive feature. She looks tired, holding herself wearily as she leans against the brick exterior of the bathroom as Zack nudges her aside so he can go inside.
He stares at himself in the dingy mirror for a long moment and starts unwrapping his face.
It’s too obvious to run around with them on, but he cringes all the while, adverting his eyes as more and more skin is revealed. He doesn’t stop until anything that isn’t covered by his hoodie is revealed, throwing the bandages into a nearby trash can. He has no doubt the bandages will play a large part in more witness descriptions as it is one of the most obvious aspects of his looks, it’s the choice that’ll keep him and Rachel under the radar, and yet he falters.
He takes one meager look in the mirror, just half a glance, and peels out of the bathroom. He’s rough enough with the door that Rachel jumps from her relaxed position, clearly having been nodding off standing completely up.
She doesn’t even flinch at his face and he doesn’t say a word as he leads her back to the stop, where the bus was pulling in right on time.
She lets him bully her into the window seat in the back of the bus, letting her hoodie covered head drop against the cool glass. The night sky is like a backdrop behind her, inky black lit up with tiny pinpricks of light. Like this, in this horribly yellow-tinged florescent lights on the bus, she looks so painfully young.
He can’t keep lying to her.
“I’m not doing it, Ray.” He says, keeping it vague enough as to not alarm anyone around him but making sure she understands what he’s trying to say.
She just nods, features blissfully blank, and it is almost enough for him to shake her like a particularly unruly toy until she acts the way he wants her to.
“That’s it? You’re just going to fuckin’ nod like a bobble head?” He asks, purposefully goading, prodding. He isn’t sure what he’s trying to earn here besides a reaction, but what that reaction is he can’t really tell you. Maybe he wants her to freak out on him, remind him exactly what he had promised to do, force him to hold himself accountable.
Instead just the smallest corner of her lip raises, like it takes all her effort to even offer a half-hearted smirk, “I figured.”
“Oh yeah?” He snarks, jamming his hand into his pocket and meeting wires. He ignores it in favor of continuing to antagonize Rachel, “Then why the hell didja come?”
She tilts her head, confused, “Why wouldn’t I?”
And he has a million little reasons at the tip of his tongue, but instead he just scoffs, “Who gives a damn.”
He yanks at the bundle of cords in his pocket tugging out a pair of black headphones connected to an old iPod, the silver paint scratched and dinged. He feels no sort of way about it but when his eyes skate over to Rachel she’s looking at the mess with barely concealed interest, a hint of something swimming in her eyes.
“Here.” He drops it off into her lap. She takes it up quickly, small fingers nimbly untwisting the wires. Zack watches, nothing else better to do, as she diligently sets off to work like a woman on a mission.
She makes quick work of it and then she’s pressing an earbud into his hand, not even flinching at the burnt tissue beneath her fingertips. He closes his hand around it and shoots her a withering look, but she’s already looking outside the bus window, earbud in her ear.
He puts the offered earbud into his ear and lets the tinny sound of the cheap headphones draw him into a soft sense of security.
Zack, for the first time in years, properly relaxes. He allows himself to drop his head against the bus seat, peering over Rachel’s head as the world quietly whips around them. He doesn’t know where he’s going or what he’s going to do, but all he knows is that for the first time in a long time he won’t have to do it alone.