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oom: room 25
[after this]
Bar takes care of the pile of wet clothes (his duster, jacket, hat, and gloves) for him with a note saying she'd have them laundered, but Doc slings his scarf over his shoulder before he and Miss Katherine head for the stairwell.
He's more focused on not tripping his way up the stairs, even with her arm around his middle, to try and talk much. Thankfully, his door's unlocked, and since he was going away for a spell (even with Bar saying it would be quick) his room is spotless. The desk is neat and organized, the bed made, his laundry done and in the drawers, and the shades half-shut.
"I appreciate this," he says, needlessly.
Bar takes care of the pile of wet clothes (his duster, jacket, hat, and gloves) for him with a note saying she'd have them laundered, but Doc slings his scarf over his shoulder before he and Miss Katherine head for the stairwell.
He's more focused on not tripping his way up the stairs, even with her arm around his middle, to try and talk much. Thankfully, his door's unlocked, and since he was going away for a spell (even with Bar saying it would be quick) his room is spotless. The desk is neat and organized, the bed made, his laundry done and in the drawers, and the shades half-shut.
"I appreciate this," he says, needlessly.
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Doc's face slowly shifts from hopeful anticipation to outright relief (and joy, and glee, and holy shit did she just say and nine billion other things) and then he pulls her into a gentle hug.
"I love you. I love you so damn much."
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Her arms go around his neck, her face buried in the crook of his shoulder. But her eyes are open, brow furrowed as she gazes out across the room.
Because.
Out there beyond his door, he's already got a wife.
And a son.
"Love you, too."
Her words are muffled by his shirt and his skin.
He left them. He died. He still loves them and he can't see them. Won't see them.
She adjusts her head on his shoulder, and in the darkness of the room she can just make out the pale pink glow of that crane on his dresser under the touch of moonlight.
"Love you, too."
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he knows what she's staring at - brown blue orange pink
His thumb trails over her shoulder blade again.
(The motion is becoming natural. Habit. Instinct.)
He thinks for a moment. There's something that he needs to do, with that pink crane, something that he read somewhere in some book. If you love them, set them free. He's not getting Yen back. She's with another man. He said his goodbyes and he left town. If Doc has any say in the matter, he'll never step foot within the limits of New York City another day in his life, unless he has to.
He's already said goodbye to her out there, beyond that door.
"Reckon I should set that one free, come dawn."
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"I wasn't tryin'... I didn't mean for you..."
She shakes her head, pulling back from his embrace. But again, she can't quite meet his eyes.
She has been wanting to talk to him about this, but she finds, in the quiet of his be-darkened bedroom, that she can't find her voice to even begin to try.
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He rubs the back of his neck gently, his eyes focused on the blankets at his knees.
"But I'm alright, now. For once I actually got closure. I...that ain't somethin' I'm used to and it...took some gettin' used to."
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He shouldn't have to say goodbye. They're his family.
(And she knows he still loves them.)
"Don't--"
Why is it so hard to talk about this?!
You should go back. You should see your son.
Her eyes go back to the dresser, this time falling on that little blue crane. New life.
He's your son.
She can't say it. She can't start a conversation she is afraid might upset him again. He's ill, still shaking a little from hours in cold, and she doesn't want to put him through any more stress than he has to.
(And part of her is terrified of him actually going back, because what if he doesn't come back to her this time?)
((They're his family. He loves them.))
She shakes her head again, but this time she is shaking it at herself. Scolding.
"You should lie back down, under the covers."
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry
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"Kate."
Doc's voice is a little bit more steady, a little bit more composed. They shouldn't talk about this right now, but if they don't talk about it now then he might never have the guts to do it.
"That's a decision nobody should have to face, but you did, and you've still got this place -- still got a chance to build a life for yourself here."
So he says it.
"I got to say goodbye. I went back t'New York City, 'fore I headed out West." He swallows lightly. "Only reason I didn't say nothin' 'bout it was 'cause I was still gettin' over sayin' goodbye myself. Just thinkin' 'bout it hurt like hell. I'm dead out there...and she's got someone else."
His fingers brush an errant, stray thread on the blanket, eyes focused. He doesn't sound sad, but he doesn't sound happy. It's just fact. Throw the walls up around his heart to keep it safe.
(One cracks and crumbles like adobe met by he strike of lead.)
"I could've taken them with me. We could'a gone to Canada or someplace else, started over. But..." he shakes his head. "She's got her family there. Someone else t'love her."
Someone else to be that boy's daddy.
He swallows again.
"I wanted to leave. I left New York because I wanted to come back to the bar. I had t'leave but, I wanted t'leave."
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She shakes her head.
"Just now?"
Her heart is pounding with relief and wonder and a little apprehension.
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"Not this time I was just out, but the time before."
He moves to lie down again, but props his body up on one elbow so he's still half-upright, looking at her.
"I saw both of them."
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"You mean, back in October?"
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Doc shakes his head.
"I ran into them. I said goodbye to my boy and to Yen."
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She blinks a time or two, absorbing this.
"...Oh. I see," she mumbles, trying to clear her head.
There are a hundred questions unfurling in her brain, but there are so many, so fast, that she cannot concentrate on just one.
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He looks up at her.
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She's concentrating rather seriously on the blankets at her feet. But she notices when he goes quiet, feeling his eyes on her.
She turns to peer down at him, the line in her brow remaining even as she smiles at him, tightly.
"I'm glad. I...I'm glad you... went. Saw them."
She sucks in a breath and swallows, forcing her smile a little wider as she shuffles back in bed, leaning against the headboard.
"You should sleep," she whispers, inviting him to lay his head in her lap. "You can tell me 'bout it tomorrow."
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But he is tired. Exhausted, really.
Worn and beat and he's still cold if he thinks about it too long, which is why he nods, slightly. Part of him knows they should talk about this, but the other part of him...knows that they shouldn't.
"Alright."
He settles down on the bed and lightly rests his head against her lap, eyes focused on the blankets at the end of the bed, as he pulls his own tighter around his shoulders.
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She runs her fingers through slowly, methodically, shoulder blades pressed against the wooden headboard as she tips her head back, letting it fall to the wall beyond.
She doesn't bother making it comfortable. She just sits, quiet, staring out across the room while she plays at his hair.
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The silence is telling him that something's wrong and the only time the boys were ever silent was if something had gone wrong, someone had been...
Doc swallows and pushes the images out of his head, and focuses instead on her fingertips carding through his hair, the strands still slightly damp from his earlier bath.
It's not long before his eyes close, and even though he's fighting tooth and nail to stay awake, it's not long before he drifts off.
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She's vaguely aware of his weight growing heavier, and his breathing getting deeper, steadier, as he drifts into deep slumber. He doesn't snore, but the slow, even breaths are loud and hypnotic.
Two months ago. He didn't tell her. She had even asked him, and he didn't...
'Only reason I didn't say nothin' 'bout it was 'cause I was still gettin' over sayin' goodbye myself.'
She's got nothing to worry about. She's got nothing to worry about. He trusts her. He's honest with her. He just didn't tell her because--
'It...it hurt like hell, seein' them again. But I guess I had to.'
"I can't ever go back again."
She isn't really focusing on anything in the room, despite the way the crease in her brow deepens and her eyes grow darker. Why didn't he tell her?
"I was going to tell you."
When? It had been three months before you ever even mentioned being married. You promised me you would never hide something like that from me again.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for not telling you the truth."
I just wish I knew why.
"I will always love my son and Yen."
I know. I know that.
But you said you couldn't go back.
Why didn't you tell me?
((Because you felt guilty.))
"Never gonna lie t'you again, Kate, swear to God."
She closes her eyes to the sudden sting, feeling the tears trickle down her cheeks. Don't be stupid, Katherine. Don't be stupid. You don't have anything to worry about.
She covers her face with one hand, and then another, holding in the sob she can't let loose. She promised, she swore, she would never be brought to tears by him again. She wouldn't let him do this to her.
Her lips are practically blue from holding in her crying, hands slick with tears she refuses to admit she shed.
'Only reason I didn't say nothin' 'bout it was...'
"I was going to tell you."
She leaves the room at dawn, before he wakes. And on the pillow next to his head, she leaves a note in her prim handwriting:
I'll make sure Nova gets his fair share, come feeding time.
Be back later to check on you.
-Katherine'
But she never came back.