scurlock | oom: room 25, for katherine

Entry tags:

oom: room 25, for katherine

Doc leads the way into his room, holding the door for Katherine as she steps inside. He's still just buzzed enough from the liquor (though the food's helped him a lot) to be relaxed, but he knows that Katherine knows that he just wants to talk and hang out.

"You mind if I change, real quick, get outta this shirt?"

He inclines his head to the bathroom while he says it. Obviously she can go find a spot to claim on the couch and doesn't have to leave the room.

There are some new books on the desk, and a photo propped up against one, of Doc standing over an incubator, looking at a tiny baby that happens to be holding onto his finger. Guppy gave him a copy. There are also several brightly colored squares of paper in a pile.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She exits the bathroom in a pair of gray sweats, drawstring tied tight to keep the pants from slipping right off of her slight hips, white t-shirt drooping off her shoulder now and again, causing her to fuss with it. Her hair is down, and wet, and it smells of his shampoo.

She moves through the room quietly, settling lightly on the edge of the bed as she peers down at him. She can't see his eyes, but she knows he is asleep by the slight part of his mouth, and the steady rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes.

She smiles, glad he is resting, and watches him motionlessly for a long moment. As long as he is sleeping, she isn't going to disturb him.

So she has about decided to head back to her own room, and get herself back into her own clothes, thinking maybe when he is feeling better they can have ~~lunch~~ breakfast together. But before she leaves, she can't help but reach her careful fingers out to his face, brushing those bangs from his eyes.

Doc turns his head slowly when she touches his hair, and blinks a few times as he wakes back up. He wasn't that deep in sleep to begin with, and even with the slight vestiges of his hangover still digging at the back of his brain he's able to realize where the hell he is and what the hell is going on.

"Good shower?"

A pause.

"Y'smell nice," he adds, able to smell the soap on her skin.

She lets out a quiet, breathy laugh, nodding in response to his question.

"Was just gonna duck out and let you get some rest," she admits, quietly. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"I was fadin' in and out anyways."

Doc pushes the blanket down as an invitation, and she'll be able to see the darkened bruise against his pale skin as he does so.

"And I can rest with y'here just fine. Dare be so bold t'say I rest better when you are here."

"Is that right?" she smiles, shaking her head lightly. "That is bold, though I can't say I'm not glad to hear it."

She catches sight of that bruise, clucking her tongue in concern as her fingers instantly reach to touch the dark skin carefully.

"Oh, honey. That looks terrible!" she murmurs.

"I've had worse. Y'should've seen the bruises I had on my wrists after those Pinks were through with me."

Doc stretches out on the bed and yawns a bit as he gets comfortable, muscles twitching underneath the touch of her fingers.

"And it's true, I sleep better."

The comment isn't exactly comforting, for all the mental images it paints. Her eyes are on his face now, but the same concerned expression as was twisting her expression before still lingers on.

Her hand is still, barely touching his skin as it hovers above him.

The way his over-sized shirt falls off of that one shoulder, damp hair falling in her face as she peers at him, only increases the impression of a little lost pauper one might get while looking at her.

Doc pats the mattress with the hand that's closer to her.

"C'mere. Bed's warmer with the two of us innit," he urges. "Plus it's still early."

Sort of.

It takes her a moment, but eventually she slowly shifts to slip her legs under the covers, settling down in the bed next to him.

She lays her head down on the mattress, one arm bent under her neck for support (and to keep her wet scalp from the bed itself), face turned towards him.

Her blue eyes are imploring.

"Believe you had a story to tell," she whispers, blushing when her leg shifts and accidentally touches his.

"'Bout the mornin' I survived a hellstorm."

Doc nods slightly and shifts onto his back, and slightly closer to her, before folding one arm behind his head as he gazes up at the ceiling and he considers where to start.

"I didn't git much sleep, the night before. I took the sunrise watch," he adds. "Was up from 'bout midnight to six. We were holed up in a ol' cabin, wasn't more than adobe 'round the walls and a couple beams overhead. I sat up and watched the sunrise."

Thinkin' it was gonna be the last one I ever saw.

And he has her undivided attention as he recounts the events of that morning. She barely moves--barely breathes--watching his face with wide, round eyes, full of wonder and concern.

As he speaks, her free hand shifts slowly, easing its way to his breastbone while she quietly listens.

He goes on to tell her tiny, random details, what he remembers of the time before they all got up. The colors of the sky painting reds and pinks and then turning into blues. The way the air felt, cold and crisp, which was why they started a campfire.

"So I was sittin', breaking up little sticks and tryin' to git my hands warm. It was cold...it's always cold, when you git up and you've spent all night sitting still, not quite awake just yet...and we just got to talkin'. About everything. About the war...about the outfit...we were all just shook up about Tommy, and rightfully so. It'd only been a day..."

Doc covers her hand with his own, thumb running over the back of it as he speaks.

And she is content to just listen, until he is finished. Her eyes never leave his face the whole time he speaks.

And her hand never moves from its spot, warm on his chest.

His fingertips trail designs against the back of her hand.

"Even with the vest on, I had a bad feeling. I mean, maybe it was nerves, maybe it was somethin' else...I don't know. We didn't eat. Just sat around and talked, and then Billy...told us that there wasn't no trail to Mexico. That we weren't goin' to Mexico. And...I got mad. I was just so...I trusted him, we all did. And he lied."

Simple as that.

Simple as that.

She nods slowly, brow furrowed over blue eyes sparking like two hot flames. It still makes her mad to think about it.

"So I told him I was leavin'. I couldn't stay anymore. And I grabbed my gun and my coat and I walked out the door...and I never saw the sonuvabitch." He pauses to click his tongue against his teeth at the language. "Forgive me for swearin'," he adds, low and soft.

Then he continues.

"I was lucky he didn't have time to shoot me twice, I guess."

His hand goes to the skin, the scar from that bullet and the infection, rubbing gently.

Her eyes follow the movement of his hand, down to his belly. It don't look so bad now, compared to when it was "fresh." And even then it had spent a few weeks festering.

"God, that was just awful," she whispers, shuddering with the memory of that night.

There were points where she wasn't sure he'd make it, either. She can't remember the last time she had been so scared.

"I fell back, 'gainst the doorframe. Someone grabbed me. I think it was Billy. They dragged me back in and Chavez was tryin' to patch me up, stop the bleeding...Dave was hollerin' something, I can't quite recall. He and Billy started to bicker about who was gonna go out first...and I knew their only shot was someone layin' down fire. That's how I got that second gun."

Doc closes his eyes as the scene plays out in his head.

"I told Chavez to git me up...and then told Billy we was gonna finish the game...and he gave me his gun. I took a deep breath...thought of you, and Will, and Jack...I said I was sorry an' then I ran out there into all of it."

She is so focused on the scene he is describing, she barely notices the way her fingers tighten into a fist against his skin, knuckles turning white under the weight of his hand, tears bristling in her eyes for no other reason than the fact that it's horrible and he almost didn't make it back and she hates not being able to keep him safe.

She squeezes her own eyes shut, keeping her breathing steady as she waits for him to finish the story.

Edited 2008-11-22 09:52 (UTC)

"And I...I think I got four, five rounds out of each gun...and then I fell. I passed out stone cold cause it hurt so damn bad. I didn't wake up till the next mornin'. Nova had done run off when it all started, I reckon, or maybe one of the boys cut him loose while they skinned out...he came back for me."

Doc chuckles a little.

"Came to when he was chewin' on my hair, breathin' in my face lookin' for sugarcubes."

She sniffles softly, forcing a smile to her face. But her eyes are glassy when she reopens them.

And then she figures, screw it. Propriety be damned. And she slides up next to his body, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug, face buried against his bare skin.

"I'm glad you made it back."

Doc wraps his arm around her, shifting to unfold it from under his head to pull her close, his hand trailing over the still damn strands of her blonde hair as he presses his lips against the top of her head again.

"For awhile, I wasn't sure if I was gonna. But I knew that I had one shot and I wanted t'get back to you. I'm glad I made it back too."

She simply clings to him, getting her emotions under control bit by bit. It takes a while of holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut to fight back the tears, but eventually they subside.

"So they snuck out while you drew the fire?" she asks, voice still a bit strained.

"All of 'em 'cept Billy. They caught him 'cause he was the last one out, they had him pinned down and he couldn't run. I'd gone down by then."

Doc moves his hand to her back, rubbing slow, even strokes along her spine to soothe her a bit.

Her body tenses just slightly with his words, trembling as the soothing motion of his hand relaxes her too-tight muscles.

She lets out a sharp, awed breath, almost laughing she can't hardly believe this man.

"You're really som'thin' else," she marvels, tipping her head to place tentative, grateful kisses along his collarbone.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject