Katherine "Kissin' Kate" Barlow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ikissdhimbck) wrote2009-09-25 11:00 pm
ikissdhimbck) wrote2009-09-25 11:00 pm
Entry tags:
OOM: Room #100 - Visit from Bill, following fight with Ramon
[A few days after this:]
Kate isn't expecting company. Of course, she never is, when Doc already happens to be in the room with her. So when there comes a light, but steady, knock at her door this morning, they exchange glances.
Doc signals to her to step away from the doorway, taking quiet steps over to where he left his holster the night before. He quickly withdraws his Colt, and silently moves toward the door.
"Who is it?" he calls gruffly, while Kate waits on the other side of her desk, back pressed against the wall and sixshooter in her hand.
.
Kate isn't expecting company. Of course, she never is, when Doc already happens to be in the room with her. So when there comes a light, but steady, knock at her door this morning, they exchange glances.
Doc signals to her to step away from the doorway, taking quiet steps over to where he left his holster the night before. He quickly withdraws his Colt, and silently moves toward the door.
"Who is it?" he calls gruffly, while Kate waits on the other side of her desk, back pressed against the wall and sixshooter in her hand.
.
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She wants to yell after him to be safe, to watch his back and keep his eyes open. She wants to tell him just how sorry she is for everything she's done, and how much she wants to take it all back. But all she does, is watch him leave.
After a moment, with the weight of the silence in the room suffocating her, she pivots on her heels and looks at Doc. There's a lot of sadness there, but her frustration is still burning bright.
"'We'll deal with that when we get to it'?"
She scoffs, shaking her head as she moves toward the bathroom.
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It's Kate's harsh words that snap him out of his thoughts, and he glances over at her, slightly confused and a little surprised.
"Well tellin' him we wasn't never gonna consider it wasn't gonna go over well."
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You should know that, goes unspoken in her tone of voice.
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liar
"Well...what if we ain't bein' dishonest? What if someday, s'alright t'come back?"
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Doc watches her disappears into the bathroom, working his jaw as he tries to figure out just what he wants to say - just what he should say, to a comment like that.
He's drawing blanks for a moment...and then he walks to the doorway.
"I apologize...I just didn't think that considerin' comin' back wasn't an option for you. I wouldn't mean t'undermine you in front of nobody."
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She's brushing her hair with long staccato strokes that look more appropriate for making hay.
"I know you got the right t'lead, an' I'm supposed t'submit. But we ain't even married! Y'aren't even my head. I felt like a child, not a partner."
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I would never try to control you like that.
He steps into the bathroom and moves behind her, carefully shifting his hands in an effort to cover hers - not touching, but to get her to stop brushing her hair.
"...just stop a second, please?"
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She can see his reflection in the mirror. She looks down to avoid making 'eye contact'.
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A pause, to let that since in.
"I ain't your husband, and I ain't your head. But you are not a child...and I would never think I had the right t'control you like one. I'm sorry you felt like that was what I was doin'. If we were married, or if I was your head, even then...yes, there'd be a level of respect there, but it'd be mutual. I would never look t'control you."
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"At least maybe then you'd bother conferrin' with me," she mutters lowly. "Or warnin' me. Or even just seekin' my opinion."
She tosses her brush back to the vanity with a loud clatter, leaning away from him to pick up her perfume.
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Duly chastised and informed.
"Yes, ma'am."
It's not sarcastic - it's sincere, heartfelt, and respectful.
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"Thank you."
For understanding.
She applies the white pepper behind her ears and below the hollow of her throat before putting the bottle back down.
"It's not like I like the idea of all this. I just. I don't wanna give false hope. An' I'm tryin' t'show that I mean t'fix the mess I've made, not shove it off onto some man t'fix it for me."
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Doc leans down and nestles his face into her hair, breathing deep.
"Love this scent on your skin, y'know. More'n anythin' in the world...s'sweet but it's spicy, got a hint of a kick and fire...jus' like y'do, darlin'."
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Glancing back into the mirror at last, she smirks when she catches his eye.
"You're tryin' t'distract me, Cowboy."
Not that she sounds terribly upset about that.
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"Not entirely. We do have chores t'be takin' care of today."
Eventually.
After they go talk to a tree.
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She turns her head until she can see him -- not his reflection -- out of the corner of her eye.
"That so? You troublemaker; you're settin' t'mess up my makeup, is what you're plannin' t'do."
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"I'd kiss you, but I'd get that lipstick all over my lips and I'm afraid that shade'a red just ain't my color," he teases.
Of course, he's not entirely teasing when he leans in and briefly brushes his lips against hers.
"You'll fix this."
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Twisting an arm around, she wipes the tiny smudge of red from his lips with her thumb.
"I hope so."
All she wants is to ensure her friends will be safe. If she can do that one little thing, then maybe her life will not have been such the utter failure she fears it has become.
She gently nuzzles Doc's cheek, letting her temple rest against his. She squeezes his hand, as if to reassure him.
"An' you'll back me up."
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No matter what.
He interlaces their fingers and gently squeezes her hand in response.
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"Right, then. Let's go."
She'll fix this.
Even if it's the last thing she does.