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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.
"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.
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"S'cold here," she points out.
Pause.
"But there are ways of keepin' warm."
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He shudders a little at the breath and her voice in his ear, a chill running down his spine.
"Ways of keepin' warm, yeah, there are ways. I know a lot of ways."
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He's serious about that.
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"I'd go anywhere," she whispers, blue eyes bright. "Anywhere you were. Just... long as I could keep checking in back home. Make sure the children get on all right."
She goes quiet, a far-off look in her eyes.
"I miss them. So much. I miss turnin' pages and smelling like chalk by the end of the day."
She has noticed, too, the way her English has declined a bit, in the presence of all these outlaws here in Milliways.
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There is a bundle of folded papers in his desk, tucked away safe, with careful handwriting in neat rows and lines. Letters and penmanship, progress in the months he was gone.
Doc reaches up to brush a bit of her hair back behind her ear.
"I don't know if I could ever ask you to leave them forever. I know what it's like to miss them so much it hurts."
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She catches his hand at her ear, holding him gently by the wrist.
"I just wish I knew why she won't let me go home. The landlord, I mean. Whomever. Not that it's so terrible being here, but I..."
She pauses, turning her face to kiss each one of his fingertips.
"I feel like I'm losing myself."
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Doc thinks for a moment or two.
"Maybe y'can teach here?"
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She sighs, letting his wrist go as she snuggles closer to his shoulder.
"Just gettin' restless, is all. There's a lot goin' on back home, it gets me to wonderin' how things are going."
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"What's goin' on back home?"
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But only when Doc was around. He might remember her blazing pink cheeks better.
"She's been out of school for quite some time. Deathly ill. Last I heard she was taking a turn for the better, but I'm still not sure..."
She snuggles into the warmth of the blankets and his body.
"'N I had just started the class on their multiplication tables, 'n little James has been having trouble. Promised to sit with him for an hour that morning, when my door disappeared. He had been lookin' forward to it."
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Doc grinned.
"And you can go back, and teach 'em all their numbers and tables, and it won't be like they've been missin' you one bit." He leaned in and kissed her, gently. "Time don't move. Milliways give us the chance t'be together."
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"I know they aren't missin' me, Josiah; it's me that's missin' them. You know, for the first month or so after I came back, I figured I'd only be here a few days, maybe a week. I'd sit and write up lesson plans and work assignments, I collected little things like fall leaves for crafts. But it's been so long... my desk is full of bundles of paper, things I couldn't begin to teach in a year's worth of time."
Her thumb moves against the curve of his jaw, in slow, absent strokes. Again, her face falls against his shoulder, lips pressed to the muscled joint.
"I'm glad for the time Milliways has given us, don't get me wrong. Settin' things right with you has given me a world of peace. I just... left in the middle of things, there. In the middle of a lot of things. Can't help but think of time as movin', of what'll happen if I don't get back home. People there that I'll... miss."
She continues to hide her eyes from him.
"An' I miss reading to my kids, and hearing them read back t' me. It's not the same, sittin' alone in my room with a book of poems. Can't help but think of their voices, last time we was together."
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Doc closes his eyes as her lips move over his shoulder, near that well-faded scar, the bullet he took in Lincoln, riding away from the McSween house, smoke stinging his eyes and mingling with the sweat and tears that were threatening his vision.
The bullet they'd pulled out of him here, on his very first day and visit to Milliways Bar.
He shivers.
"It ain't the same. Just like ridin' hellbent for leather in these woods ain't the same as ridin' out in the desert with the boys."
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"It ain't the same," she agrees quietly.
She goes quiet for a long moment, just hugging their bodies together in the growing light of day.
"You still worked up about what's goin' on back home?"
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Doc keeps his eyes closed, his breathing is even and relaxed. The hangover is fading quickly, replaced by content and peace from having her close to him, having their relationship in order.
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"It's okay. I think I understand," she murmurs, brushing her hand over his other shoulder.
She wasn't too pleased with him the night previous, all things considered. But it's the wild outlaw in him that drew her to him in the first place. He gets an itch, and he can't help but scratch it. She can't fault him for that. She would be foolish to try.
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That's all he has to say to that, really. She understands and she still loves him. Doc smiles slightly, eyes still closed. He's ready to go back to sleep, if he's being perfectly honest, but right now he's still holding on to awareness.
Somewhat.
"Means a lot, you know. Understandin'. Lot of folk don't."
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Her hand is still brushing lightly along his shoulder, back and forth...
"It's hard. But I want you to feel... safe."
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Doc shifts and rests a hand on her waist.
"You make me feel safe."
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She swallows dryly, smiling a little as she snuggles deeper.
"Good. 'M glad."
She has noticed the way his movements have gotten slower, his words lower and shorter.
"Y'want to get some more sleep, baby?" she whispers.
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"Stay with me?"
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She lifts her head slowly, hand smoothing across his chest as her chin comes to rest on his shoulder, blue eyes deep and cautious.
"Where else d'you think I'd go?"
It's uttered playfully, for the most part. But it's serious, too. Laying in bed with him... well, it's not something she wants to make a habit. But right now, things as they are, where else could she go to?
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"Just don't want to'wake up alone, for once."
He presses his fingertips to his lips, and then touches them to her cheek, softly.
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"C'mere," she whispers, shifting her body away from him briefly as she tries to situate them properly. She yanks that pillow down under their heads, tugging gently at his waist to roll him onto his side. She snuggles up next to him on the pillow, hand on the small of his back, forehead touching his, eyes open to his sleepy gaze.
She peers at him unflinchingly, their bodies close together, knees touching, chest-to-chest, eyelashes tickling skin.
"You won't wake up alone. I'm not going anywhere."
She lifts her head to kiss the corner of his mouth, before going right back to where she was, thumb moving slowly along his back.
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