Entry tags:
oom: room 25, saturday night
Ever since Katherine had sprinted out of bed on Thursday night, Doc has been sleeping alone, and spending more time upstairs than he usually did.
Katherine was around on Friday - he knew that much because Beaut's been gone from the stables for periods of the day and back at night - but she didn't come upstairs at the end of the day. He left the stables for his staff to attend to on Saturday afternoon, claiming a need to get some paperwork done.
And in all reality, he has gotten a good deal of paperwork done. He spent a few hours going over the stock record and copying things into a fresh ledger, working out how to organize the list, and taking care of numbers and figures for costs and staff salary. Bar could have done it for him, but he doesn't mind the work.
It's late, now. There are sketches of barns and floorplans littering his desk, those small peach seedlings in his windowsill have grown a bit the last few days, thanks to a hint of a nudge they got, showing their familiar sawtooth shaped leaves starting to form. The lamps are turned down low, but he's not sleeping, sitting on his couch in the near-dark with a glass of whiskey sweating on the coffee table.
He's sketching on a notepad, lines and dimensions, occasionally sipping from that glass.
Katherine was around on Friday - he knew that much because Beaut's been gone from the stables for periods of the day and back at night - but she didn't come upstairs at the end of the day. He left the stables for his staff to attend to on Saturday afternoon, claiming a need to get some paperwork done.
And in all reality, he has gotten a good deal of paperwork done. He spent a few hours going over the stock record and copying things into a fresh ledger, working out how to organize the list, and taking care of numbers and figures for costs and staff salary. Bar could have done it for him, but he doesn't mind the work.
It's late, now. There are sketches of barns and floorplans littering his desk, those small peach seedlings in his windowsill have grown a bit the last few days, thanks to a hint of a nudge they got, showing their familiar sawtooth shaped leaves starting to form. The lamps are turned down low, but he's not sleeping, sitting on his couch in the near-dark with a glass of whiskey sweating on the coffee table.
He's sketching on a notepad, lines and dimensions, occasionally sipping from that glass.

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Don't matter when you go, don't matter, still gonna miss you like hell.
"No, no you ain't."
Doc clears his throat lightly, then brings her fists up to his mouth again, closing his eyes as he kisses at her knuckles. He trusts these hands, and she's still here. Maybe just for tonight, but she's here.
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She tips her face into his skin again, kissing a path up to his throat.
"Thank you."
Reaching back into his long, blonde hair, she nuzzles up underneath his chin.
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Don't die out there where I'll never know what happens to you, please.
Doc wraps his arms around her and holds her tight, focusing on the beat of her heart and the sound of her breathing, putting the little details to memory.
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She shifts atop him until she finds a comfortable spot, letting him hold her for as long as he likes, her heart rate slowing back down again at length.
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"You're welcome."
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"I'll be okay. Jus' gotta... git to Refugio. I can... can make it better. S'all I gotta do."
She shivers a little, nuzzling a little deeper into his embrace.
"Things'll be okay then."
no subject
Just hope Refugio ain't her version of 'Ol Mexico'.
Doc adjusts the blankets, pulling them up loose around their bodies, settling them in the middle of her back.
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She sighs when he settles the blankets around their bodies, letting her heavy eyes fall shut, and her shoulders relax.
"...Not runnin'."
I'll come back.
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Then I'll be all right.
He lightly interlocks his fingers, hands folded over the thin cotton of her chemise, resting gently against her back. She weighs practically nothing, in his option, and he's quite comfortable with her stretched out on top of him.
He leans his head down to gently kiss her hair.
"Love you, Kate."
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"Mmm," she murmurs, slowly letting her body go heavy, inch by inch relaxing into a long overdue slumber. Her hands go lax in his hair, her leg still curled over his.
Hopefully, her fever will break sometime during the night, and tomorrow will be a better and brighter day.