# Reserve Tank

Title: Reserve Tank
Status: Complete
Characters: Anon, Fang, Samantha
Rating: SFW
Classification: One Shot
Author: P.M.
​
>Anon fucked up
>Anon can't believe just how badly he fucked up
>Not even his decision to join the navy was as poorly executed as this
>Why did he think Fang would be in the supermarket anyway? She's rehearsing with the band today
>Literally the one he encouraged her to attend so she could bring forth a new proposal to the band. One that could cement their place in the stars
>All he wanted to do was pick up something nice for her to celebrate the occasion
>That or to help console he-
>Anon pushes the idea out of his thoughts. He knows she can do it. He's seen her passion, her drive
>He's not sure what possessed him to yell Fang's name out when he saw pale ptero wings poking out from behind an aisle
>Those wings bristled slightly before before they ducked out of view, replacing themselves with the face of a completely different dinosaur
>Anon steeled himself for the encounter, pushing his weakness out
>Maybe she had forgotten him, just like Fang did at that pizza chain all that time ago
>A stranger mistaking her for someone else can't be that big a deal right?
​
>Standing in front of Anon is a female ptero, waiting with motherly patience by her shopping cart as he regains his composure
>Fang really is the spitting image of her mother, Samantha. If it wasn't for her long blonde hair and demeanor, Anon would mistake her for Fang
>But, there are a few things that have changed over the years. Anon doesn't remember her eyes being that tired, that dull
>The wrinkled creases crisscrossing her face offer no favours in hiding her age either
>If he hadn't jumped the gun, he would never have ended up in this situation. The only thing missing was a record scratch
>Anon finally regains control of his voice, giving a quick apology to the aged ptero for the mistake
>The terror lurking in his heart fades as he sees a smile return to Samantha's face
>She graciously accepts Anon's apology, remarking that it happens every now and then to everyone
>Crisis averted, Anon makes his way to leave, sounding out his goodbyes as he turns around
>He has to ask Fang about reconnecting with her parents
>She's been really quiet about it when he's asked before, quickly steering the conversation towards anything else
>He knows it has to happen at some point, the sooner the better. The longer it's put off, the harder it will be
>Not to mention, if he runs into Ripley of all dinos, he won't survive the encounter
>A singular step is made away from the matriarch before a sudden pressure and sharp pain by his wrist makes itself known
>The terror returns, striking its flaming lance directly into Anon's heart, as he sweeps his vision down towards the pain
>A feminine hand, with the grip of an iron manacle and claws as perilous as an executioner's axe, is attached to his arm
>The strength of it pulling on him threatens to dislocate his arm as he spins around, his footing lost as his knees meet the floor with a crash
>His lungs exhaust out a hiss of pain as adrenaline surges through his arteries, the primitive part of his brain urging him to flee
>If he could, he would
>Anon casts his eyes upward, meeting the eyes of his jailer
​
>What greets his vision is the face of a mother scorned, her warm smile completely absent from moments ago
>The faded dullness in her eyes has disappeared with her smile as well, her citrine orbs having found new life with her prey captured
>Razor sharp teeth glint in her mouth as she spits out her words
>"Where is my daughter?"
>Fucking hell, the god damn mumbling!
>The sheer venom in her whispered voice commands a response, but what can he even say?
>Fang hasn't revealed the circumstances of her leaving her parents. For all he knows, they're waiting to exact retribution over it
>He wasn't going to let that happen. Fang has suffered enough already, especially from his mistakes
>Besides, what can Samantha actually do in a public place?
>Anon's thoughts are quickly answered as a vicious tug shoots through his arm, his body sliding across the floor in response
>Samantha is clearly tired of his muteness, deciding for herself to drag him along as if he is nothing but a petulant child in need of discipline
>Her shopping cart shrinks into the distance. She has no need of it wherever they're going
>The polished floor offers no resistance that Anon can use to leverage himself against her
>How is she even doing this? She can't weigh more than half what Anon does
>It is in this precise moment that Anon gains a new appreciation for Ripley. What trials and tribulations had he endured to survive Samantha?
>A few of the store's customers have their phones out, taking pictures and videos of the the human getting utterly humiliated by a petite ptero
>This is going to end up on Yousnoot later, isn't it?
>Samantha turns at the aisle exit, taking Anon with her
​
>"Ma'am, it's against store policy to assault other customers. I'll have security escort you out if you don't stop."
>Thank you Raptor Jesus
>A weary ankylosaurus garbed in the store's uniform glares at Samantha, his stubbornness shining through the danger
>A silent battle of wills wage between the two, until Samantha finally relents, releasing Anon's arm
>Anon grasps at the whitened outline where she held him, rubbing the sore appendage furiously in an attempt to restore blood flow
>She must have decided that being barred from the store wasn't worth whatever he could tell her
>That or she knows she can just follow him as he travels home from the grocer
>...Shit
>The facsimile of a perfect housewife reappears on Samantha's face
>"I'm terribly sorry. It won't happen again, will it" She turns to him "Anon?"
>Anon sits there petrified, unsure if he risks bodily harm by coming between the two
>The grocery worker gives a nod and, knowing he's not paid to be a therapist, returns to his duties of restocking the pasta shelves
>The assembled crowd begins to disperse as well, some voicing out their sign-offs to a future audience
>Wait. He hasn't said his name. No-one has said his name
>She's pieced everything together. She remembers
>"How could I forget?" Samantha stares down at Anon, "I could never forget the sounds of my daughter crying until dawn"
>Anon's heart sinks, plumbing to depths yet unseen. Until dawn? When he asked her all those months ago, she refused to elaborate further than 'until she fell asleep'
>Maybe she didn't want to remember it, or maybe she didn't want to appear weak in front of him
>He has to try harder, be stronger, for her
>Samantha remembers the ordeal so clearly. This isn't not the vengeful mother Anon first saw her as. This is a mother who hasn't seen her child in years
>A mother who would do anything to find her child again, to save them from a perceived tormentor
>Whatever had happened between them has long since burnt itself out, leaving only regret
​
>Samantha repeats herself, "Where. Is. My. Daughter?" Anon can almost hear whistling as her voice forces itself through clenched teeth
>But, she has no reason to believe anything coming out of Anon's mouth. Anything said by him can be discarded as lies meant only to save his own skin
>She needs proof, proof that the nightmares lurking in her subconscious are only fleeting apparitions
>Anon pushes himself off the ground, grabbing at the phone in his pocket as he rises
>He quickly navigates the menus, glancing back at Samantha
>She is not pleased by the delay, her hand turning even paler as it clenches ever tighter. It's a wonder how no blood has seeped from it
>She steps forward towards Anon again, ready to finish what she had started, store policy be damned
>There's no more time. He brings up the first item on his phone before he thrusts the ceramic slab towards Samantha, stopping her midstride
>She takes it from him, suspiciously eyeing the human before her as she brings the screen up to her face
>What greets her vision is a picture the two of them took together, the start of their project
>Anon cannot remember whose idea it was, only that he was the one who bought the selfie stick for it
>A memoir of times they can compare themselves to, to show that things really are getting better
>The first photo in the album is a travesty, plastic smiles and bodies as stiff as mannequins, as if they were auditioning to be crash-test-dummies
>Judging by her reaction, this is probably the first time in years that Samantha has seen Fang
>Her shaved head, her plucked wings, her thin body with tattoos and scars spread along it
>Samantha's eyes sweep back to Anon, a mixture of shock and revulsion on her face
>Revulsion at all the suffering that he brought upon her child
>Anon motions for her to continue through the album. That wasn't the picture he wanted her to start with
>The beginning of the album is torturous. Two pessimists pretending they know what happiness looks like
>Yet, as Samantha continues through the images, they become more realized, the plastic smiles fading away to ones freely offered by their hearts
>The amount of photos increased week by week as well, as they both found more moments worth remembering
>Fang and her angelic imprint in the snow beside her, a small bird that found kinship on her wing, Anon and her sitting tandem on a motorcycle at a car show
>Every new scene chipped away at the guarded anger adorning Samantha's face, a small melancholic smile forming in its place
>The world outside dissolves away for her. All that matters is catching up on all that lost time with her daughter, committing everything she can to memory
>The few customers loitering around paid no mind to the miniature roadblock the two of them presented, though a small raptor did bump into Anon
>Too distracted trying to convince his mother that the dessert in his hands is well deserved
>Anon is pretty certain at least one customer needs something behind Samantha as well. They've passed by several times already, giving the both of them rude looks
>He's fairly confident anything that might happen between the two will be much more entertaining than anything on pay-per-view television
​
>A guitar sounding out through the phone's speakers draws Anon's attention back to Samantha
>This is what Anon was scrambling to show her
>Fang hadn't noticed him return home that day, too engrossed in her music to care about any errant noises in the apartment
>Chords vibrated out from the body of the guitar, her tail playing the part of a metronome as she hums a whimsical melody
>Her eyes closed to the world as a serene smile tugs at her lips
>The smile that is now mirrored almost perfectly on Samantha, but there is no serene peace to be found on her face
>The wet trails of unbound tears reflect the fluorescent lighting as she struggles to contain herself
>Long breaths drawn in and out and to ward off the trembling of her hands that threaten to send the phone tumbling to the ground
>The music dims down, coinciding with Anon leaving Fang to her music. He didn't want to ruin her moment
>He can use the video to tease her later if he feels inclined to do so
>As soon as the music halts, another song comes on
>It's familiar, yet Anon knows the video that contains that song is a long way off yet
>Did Samantha skip ahead? She looks as surprised as he is. Perhaps more so
>The only other place he uses it is... is-
>There's only one person whose ringtone is set to that song
>That's Fang
​
>Even if Raptor Jesus falls from the heavens to name Anon his champion, with all the god-given strength it may entail, it's too late
>Samantha is lost in her memories, in a time where her daughter still loves her, in a time before everything went wrong
>All he can do is watch as she answers the call and pulls the phone up to her head
>The exuberant yelling of a younger ptero blasts out from the device, too excited to bother checking the call's recipient
>The pure joy in Fang's voice settles the anxiety that has been in Anon's stomach since she left this morning
>One thing going right today is enough to balance out everything else
>But Samantha-
>Samantha looks like a parent listening to a recorded voice of a loved child long departed from this world
>The strength that anchored onto Anon now anchors itself on her clothing, right above her heart, her hand bleaching white under the strain
>Her teeth bared, grinding against each other as her mouth tries to split the difference between euphoria and sorrow
>Her shoulders quaking as guarded sobs leave her, scared of betraying her presence
>There's a pause, as Fang's voice dies down upon the realization that she has yet to receive any sort of response
>A muffled question sounds out from the speaker, probing for a response
>Samantha gathers her strength for an answer
>"Lucy?"
>A deafening quiet is followed by Anon's phone chirping out with a new tone
>Apprehensive muscles pull the phone away from her head, before finally placing it back where it started
>The red colour reflecting off Samantha's eyes told Anon everything he needed to know
>Fang had hung up
>A roiling storm of emotions passes over Samantha's face, none of them hinting any relief
>Fang was right there, yet stuck behind an impenetrable wall of radio waves
>The emotions finally settle, leaving a small lonely ptero in their wake
>She looks so utterly defeated, just like Fang did at that pizza chain
>...He can't leave her like that
>Anon puts his hand on Samantha's shoulder in a wordless apology
>It remains there, the matriarch not having the strength nor the will to pry away from him
​
>The two of them remain like that for a moment, until the phone rings out once more
>The same song, the same wayward daughter
>Samantha looks at Anon again, her eyes sweeping back and forth over him, as if to really see him
>To see the real Anon, for who he really is, without the prejudices she built up over years and years
>There is something trusting in the way she looks at him, as if she is beginning to accept that he isn't the tormentor she believes he is
>That all those photos of her daughter smiling with him are truly real
>A trembling hand holding the cellphone moves towards Anon, returning it to him
>He takes the device, tapping it to answer the call before bringing it up to his ear
>The unbound exuberance that Fang expended the first time doesn't return for this call. The excitement is still there, but it's muted
>She divulges how well everything went, how her idea was unanimously accepted, and that it was already being acted upon
>Anon's chest fills with second-hand pride as he responds with utmost joy
>In his mind's eye, he can see her tail swinging back and forth unbidden, ready to betray false emotions with her real feelings
>There is a pause before Fang continues. She says that for some reason, her first call to him was hijacked somehow
>She then suggests he call his cell provider to figure out what's going on. Having someone else answer his number is rather unnerving
>Anon's attention swings back to Samantha, who is busying herself with a handkerchief, wiping away evidence of her sorrows
>It takes a second for her to meet Anon's eyes, her eyes vibrating as if silently pleading
>Is now the time? Would it be right to chance ruining Fang's moment like this?
>He might never get another shot at reconciliation if he leaves
>"Your first call went through fine Fang." Anon draws in a breath, steeling himself "When was the last time you talked to your mom?"
>His strained heartbeat counts the time as he waits for Fang's answer, Samantha's eyes dilating as the implications of what Anon is doing reach her
>Fang's answer is quiet, vague. To Anon, it sounds like it was just before she left and set off on her own
>It really has been a long time then
>"She's right here."
>Nothing but silence greets Anon on the other end. Whatever Fang is thinking, she's keeping it to herself.
>Maybe she just needs some assurance, some support. "Everything will be fine, I'm still alive aren't I? I'll be right here, alright?"
>The noise of shuffling fabric breaks the silence on the other end, before a quiet, cautious, yet perfectly clear voice responds
>"Alright."
​
>Anon draws the phone away from his ear as he offers it back to Samantha
>Her smile finally reaching her eyes lets him know he's making the right choice
>She accepts the phone, bringing it back up to her head
>A quiet word is made in the softest voice imaginable, as if her daughter might shatter to dust and blow away
>"Fang?"
>Anon finally lets go of Samantha, an implicit affirmation allowing her find the space she needs
>She meanders back down the aisle, Anon a few paces behind, grabbing her shopping cart once more
>Their conversation is soft, small; filled with meaningless words that carry all the meaning in the world, as the two of them feel each other out
>Anon can only catch half of the conversation, but what he hears soothes his heart
>"How are you feeling?" "Are you eating well?" "Have you been getting enough sleep?" "Your guitar sounds lovely dear"
>Heavier topics are wisely left alone, waiting for the day when both of them are ready
>Aisle after aisle is perused, Samantha's shopping cart filling up with the basic food groups and then some
>Anon supposes that Ripley needs a lot to keep his strength up. If Fang is anything to go by, the black hole of ptero stomaches takes a lot to fill
>Before long, Anon spots Samantha looking back at him. His phone rests in her palm as she waits for him to catch up
>"Here he is dear. I'll phone later, ok?"
>As she passes the phone back to Anon, he glances at the screen, confirming that the call is still ongoing
>He brings the phone up to his head, praying that Fang isn't about to give him an earful
>"Hey."
>What greets him are the sounds of weary breathing coming from the phone. Fang is emotionally winded from the twists of today
>It's no wonder. Today's events would bring even the mighty Mr. Spears to his knees
>Anon makes the decision to drop by later and pick her up, instead of letting her take her usual bus home alone
>"I'll be by to pick you up soon, alright?"
>There's a pause in her breathing before she responds, "Alright."
​
>The phone chirps out, once again informing its user that the call is finished
>Its task complete, Anon pockets it
>Samantha remains in front of him, the smile he gave her still occupying her features
>She gives out her heartfelt gratitude, before extending a future dinner invitation for both him and Fang
>He'll make time for that. Besides, the only way he'll manage to negotiate a truce with Ripley is if Samantha is there acting as a mediator
>Anything less would be suicide
>Samantha makes to leave, her shopping not yet finished
>Yet, that sure is a lot of groceries
>Anon knows just how strong she is, but is she intending to bag and carry all of it to her car alone?
>He still needs to get something for Fang, but it won't take long to swing back inside after he lends a hand
>In fact, wouldn't Samantha know? Fang's tastes can't have changed that much
>Anon's query receives an enthusiastic answer from Samantha
>Dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets and some expensive barbecue sauce. How expensive is that sauce?
>Wait what? That much for barbecue sauce? Oh lord
>The laugh that comes out of the petite ptero is the first Anon has ever heard from her. It's short and sweet
>Another invitation is given to him, to come along with her so she can show him exactly what he should be looking for
>He accepts.
>The both of them can use the company