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[lincoln county]
[after highways 2]
The drive across White Sands is quick - little traffic, open road, clear sky - and they don't slow down until they hit Carrizozo, and it's not too much farther until they reach Capitan.
He tells her stories as he notices landmarks, but it's really just landscape, save for the few small towns they've come across.
It's so familiar it makes him nervous and excited at the same time.
It's like it ain't changed a bit.
The road into Lincoln is only a two-lane highway, with worn pavement and faded stripes, the hills on the side of the road brown and green from mix of heat and spring rain. It's quiet (they've turned the radio off at this point) and he's shed the sunglasses, eyes focused on the landscape.
There's a two-story brick building coming into view on the right side of the street, and they're already going pretty slow (not much traffic, but there are a few other people around), but he leans back and exhales, giving a nod to indicate what he's talking about.
"That's the courthouse." A beat. "Welcome to town."
The drive across White Sands is quick - little traffic, open road, clear sky - and they don't slow down until they hit Carrizozo, and it's not too much farther until they reach Capitan.
He tells her stories as he notices landmarks, but it's really just landscape, save for the few small towns they've come across.
It's so familiar it makes him nervous and excited at the same time.
It's like it ain't changed a bit.
The road into Lincoln is only a two-lane highway, with worn pavement and faded stripes, the hills on the side of the road brown and green from mix of heat and spring rain. It's quiet (they've turned the radio off at this point) and he's shed the sunglasses, eyes focused on the landscape.
There's a two-story brick building coming into view on the right side of the street, and they're already going pretty slow (not much traffic, but there are a few other people around), but he leans back and exhales, giving a nod to indicate what he's talking about.
"That's the courthouse." A beat. "Welcome to town."
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"I think I'll manage."
He'll do more than manage. He nods again.
"Seriously though, I appreciate it."
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"Okay."
His shoulders get a brief squeeze before she pulls back and clears her too-tight throat quietly; with another glance at the graves, then back to Doc, it's clear she's letting him decide if he's ready to leave yet.
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Be seein' you.
Hopefully it's not anytime soon, but you never know.
Doc then turns to Kate, and nods his head as they start to walk back towards the street.
"S'more of a...I guess you could say it's just the time period. Men don't talk 'bout their issues, especially not with womenfolk. I'm still gettin' used to the idea that you don't mind it."
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"And I get that -- I do."
She pauses and licks her lips.
"Does it ... do I make you uncomfortable when we talk about those things?"
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"Uncomfortable? No, no...I just..."
He shakes his head.
"I'm not used to be able to talk about this kind of stuff without havin' it come back to bite me later. It's...a welcome change."
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"Bite you?"
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They're automatically walking up the street towards the courthouse, he's using it as a heading more than an actual destination or goal (but she should see it, it's important too) as he talks.
"Things with Katherine and I ain't goin' so well, I think part of it is...my fault for not bein' able t'keep my feelin's back."
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"Doc, no -- "
She shakes her head.
"Wait, I shouldn't say that, because every relationship is different."
She lets out a slow breath.
"I will say that I almost ruined things with Bill when I got back to the bar last summer. I wasn't completely honest with him about what happened in L.A.; I didn't want him to know everything because I knew he'd feel terrible about not being there, but it backfired. I only made things more difficult because I tried to hold back."
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He looks down at the ground, and kicks a small stone with the toe of his boot.
"I mean we've..."
He shakes his head.
"I just get the feelin' she'd rather I make myself scarce."
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She and Bill have walked a similar tightrope -- and still are, some days.
"And I also know you're trying, and as cliché as it sounds, that's what matters."
She rubs at the back of her neck beneath her collar.
"What do you think would happen if you made yourself scarce?"
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He kicks another rock.
"Thought she wanted me. That ended up..."
He pauses, shakes his head again.
"Didn't fix nothin'."
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(Not yet, at least.)
Softly, "I meant what do you think would happen to you?"
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Or if she's dead?
Doc's never really considered what would happen to him in the event of this idea - he's been too worried about ensuring her safety and well-being.
He shrugs his shoulders lightly.
"Go...find me a place somewhere and...keep workin', I guess."
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"You know, I'm amazed we aren't related."
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"Who knows, maybe in some distant universe we are."
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"You and Marie are about the same age -- she's twenty-four."
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A small smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he can't help it when it turns into an actual smile.
"M'pretty good at bein' the younger brother, y'know."
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She gives his shoulder a gentle bump with hers as they continue toward the courthouse.
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"Careful, now. Just cause you're a girl don't mean y'git special treatment when y'go pushin' us outlaws around."
It's a complete lie, and they both know it.
Sobering slightly, he shakes his head.
"I know I ain't the easiest guy in the world t'be friends with sometimes," even if he's never wronged her "But I am real grateful that you've been there when I needed y'to be there. Only a few people I can say that 'bout."
His Kate, Bill, Jack, Will, and a few others. His Milliways friends.
His Milliways family.
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She looks at him, serious and sincere.
"That isn't something you need to thank me for -- I'm here because I want to be, okay? And you -- "
She shakes her head.
"I don't think you know how easy you are to talk to."
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At her second comment, he smiles slightly.
"Maybe it comes from bein' a poet, I got plenty of words t'spare."
And no shortage of dreams to chase.
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"You're a good friend to have, Doc. Don't forget that."
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You went back east while Billy sat in this courthouse...
He glances up at the front door, nodding.
"I'll try'n remember that when I next start doubtin' myself."
Then he leads the way inside.
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She follows, wondering what kind of stories these walls would share if only they could.
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Billy the Kid.
There are weapons in cases and informational cards to describe what everything is, drawings and photos, maps. History.
(Only to Doc it's not all that removed at all.)
"Those aren't his chaps," he murmurs, looking in a particular case. "Least none that I ever saw."
There's a part of the room dedicated to The Regulators and the war, and his name is peppered through the stories printed on the displays.
(It's an odd feeling.)
He stops at a certain spot on the wall and lets out a low, impressed whistle.
"Now that," he motions at the photograph on the wall. "Is the real thing. Hell, that...was durin' the war."
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