ikissdhimbck | OOM: Room #100

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OOM: Room #100

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It's not the most romantic, or passionate, or perfect reunion in the world. There are the common problems that come with two people reacquainting themselves with each other, plus the nervousness of a novice and the eagerness of a man who's waited ten years for this moment.

However, their second go round goes off with much better success, for both parties. It's a learning process, committed with whispers and moans, gentle fingertips and patient bodies. Affection, tenderness, and devotion between two people not without their failings, but who haven't completely forgotten what it feels like to work together.

It's past sundown at this point, a red sunset painting the walls of Kate's room as Doc sleeps soundly in a tangle of sheets and blankets. The light breakfast Bar had brought up to the room earlier has been picked at, and now Kate is sitting on the back of the armchair again, a silk robe wrapped around her body and her hair loose at her shoulders, as she watches the sky burn.

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He smiles slightly.

"I know the feelin'."

His fingertips move to her foot, tracing the bones beneath her skin. He's silent for several long moments.

"Thank you."

She goes very quiet for a long time.

Dipping her head back in his direction, she murmurs:

"Y'don't got nothin' t'thank me for."

Doc shakes his head, the motion slight.

"No...I do. I know how much things have changed, how difficult you've had it...I know what this means."

He exhales softly.

"I know how hard it was for you to trust me."

Her hands still.

She doesn't speak, or look at him for a long time.

"Doc. You... I...

"I ain't doin' right by you. Don't... you ain't got nothin' to thank me for. I know I can't give you what you deserve."

"And just what do you think I deserve?"

Another long pause as she thinks.

Her hand moves through his hair again, once.

And she turns her face down to look at him with her sad blue eyes.

"Somebody who can satisfy all of your needs."

She obviously isn't talking solely in the physical sense.

Doc tips his head into her hand as she strokes over his hair, but his eyes are up on her face, reading the expression in them.

"Kate..."

He shakes his head.

"...I been gone ten years out there. If I had any needs that needed satisfyin', they'd have been taken care of a long time ago."

She peers down at him steadily for a still moment that seems to last forever.

Eventually, pulling in a deep breath, she returns her focus to the sunset, letting her forehead fall against the windowpane.

She opens her mouth to speak, but finds her voice fails her. How do you argue with those eyes of his? With the conviction in his voice? How do you tell someone that you're not sure if you do trust them, or love them, or want to be with them?

She's not emotionally connected to anything, save for the madness in her heart, the vengeance in her trembling fingertips, and the agony in her soul.

He distracts her from the feelings she doesn't have the strength to face.

He's not a distraction.

"Ten years is a long time t'spend without nobody."

"It is."

Doc returns his focus to the distant spot across the room, falling quiet as he slips into thought for a time. When he does speak, it's almost a whisper, but with that same sandpaper rasp he's always had.

"After awhile I thought about it. I'd get lonely...just need someone t'be with, to care for...someone who'd give two shits 'bout me. It'd been a few years since I lost the door, but I just...one night when I was seriously ready t'give up bein' who I was, I realized that as much as I knew you'd want me to find someone to make me happy, find somethin' to live for...you would understand that I had to be true to myself, had to be able t'live with what I'd done."

He pauses for a brief moment.

"Losin' that door...losin' you was hard. It was like...like I'd lost my wife, I just...other women didn't do nothin' for me, wasn't even interested. All I wanted was one more chance with you to make things right, just hear your voice again...and I just knew that if I went off and found somebody else I'd never get that chance, and I never would have anyway because you're all I ever wanted."

Again, her gaze returns to his face.

"What have I ever done that was so worth holdin' onto?"

"You never looked down on me for where I came from, for what I done with my life. Any other woman would have had nothin' to do with a poor kid from Tallapoosa who dropped outta university t'go ride with two-bit gangs, makin' barely 'nought to survive on while they was stealin' sheep and killin' folk."

Doc's not looking at her as he speaks.

"You saw who I was underneath all that."

Her fingers slowly return to combing through his hair as she considers his words.

I would have married you without a penny; followed you wherever you'd lead. I would have been your wife, raised your children, and loved you 'til we turned old and gray.

"I wasn't th'only one. There were other women."

His eyes slip shut as he rests his head against her thigh.

I made you a promise.

"But you were the only one that I loved with all my heart...and the only one who ever gave me yours."

Her face grows softer.

Sadder.

"I can't argue whether'r not that's true. But I ain't the only one you ever gave your hand, or you mine."

"That's true," he admits.

He sighs without making a sound, remembering when he asked her to marry him, all those years ago. Crazy dreams and wild plans, now nothing but bitter ash and smoke they can't quite grasp in their curled fingers.

(But as futile as it may seem, they're still trying.)

Doc reaches up and rests his arm lightly on her lap, palm open and upturned.

"M'givin' it t'you now."

"M'not sure I can take it now, Doc."

I understand.

Slowly, he turns his hand over, fingertips against her thigh.

He nods, the motion nothing more than a hint of movement.

She feels her heart collapse like crumpled paper set aflame and left to curl into black cinder.

She slowly shuffles their bodies, repositioning herself until she can slide down off the back of the chair and onto his lap. She settles her small frame against him, her head nestled under his chin and her arms curled around his bare back.

"What was she like?"

His arms naturally settle around her body, the silk of her robe warm under his touch.

"Yen?"

When she acknowledges that he's correct, he shifts to get comfortable in the chair (more than he already is) and exhales another silent breath before he speaks. It's been quite some time since he thought about his previous wife for more than a passing moment or two.

"She was quiet...for months after we left New Mexico, she didn't talk much. She loved her family...she had a ton of them. Brothers and sisters...and when they'd get together, then she'd talk. Laugh...I loved the way she'd smile when she was honestly happy."

He thinks for another moment, and a slight smile crosses his features.

"She was a good cook...even if I didn't know what she was cookin', eighty-percent of the time."

Kate's lips twitch at that, her eyes half-open and unfocused as she pictures everything he says.

"When'd y'know you was fallin' in love with her?"

"Probably 'bout the time I'd stay up nights wonderin' what I could do t'git her away from Murphy so that I could have her for myself. It was crazy...but I knew it was right."

She begins to draw absent, featherlight patterns over his bare skin as she listens to him speak, the vibration in his chest as he speaks warming her cheek.

She closes her eyes, and sighs.

"Tell me more."

"She was scared t'death when she found out she was with child," he says. "Worried what her family would think...of the fact that I was the father. I don't think they liked me much, other than gettin' Yen out of Murphy's employ."

As her fingers slide across his skin, it occasionally jumps and shivers at the contact - but not in a bad way.

Doc thinks.

"She taught me how to speak Chinese...sort of. I was never really any good at it...just knew enough t'git by if I needed to give her parents a message, or somethin'. That was hard. I never quite knew was people were sayin', sometimes...she'd translate, but it was still strange. She hated my guns, so I kept 'em in a drawer of the dresser...drove me crazy for awhile, not havin' them on me. I got used to it."

Another brief pause.

"She loved Jonathan with all she had, though. He looked like her more than he did me. I think sometimes she was grateful that he wasn't blonde...I know she would have loved him just as much if he had been, though."

She furrows her brow, nuzzling closer.

For a long time she remains quiet, her mind too busy in deep contemplation to form proper words.

"Tell me 'bout him."

"I only got to watch him git t'two months old."

He missed quite a bit - too much - of that boy's life and childhood. He's thirteen now, wherever he is - and that thought gives Doc pause. It's strange, almost an adult...when all he can see is a tiny black haired boy.

"It was hot as blazes in the city, the day he was born. I don't know if I've ever been so nervous, sittin' out in the livin' room of her parents' apartment and waitin', not gettin' no word 'cept for bein' able to hear her cryin' 'cause it hurt so much. I was scared t'death the whole time I was waitin' for him to be born and I was scared t'death the moment they told me that he had been, and that he was alright.

"He was small...I remember how red he was...not much hair, 'cept for a real fine layer all over the top of his head...dark as night. His eyes were real dark, too."

Doc shifts one arm, moving his right elbow slightly with a nod.

"He's got a tiny little birthmark on the outside of his arm. It looked strange on his pale skin, once he wasn't so red no more. No other marks on his body."

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