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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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"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.