ikissdhimbck | OOM: Milliways grounds

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OOM: Milliways grounds - lunch with Tommy

It's Tommy's first day working in the stables. Kate sets him up with a grooming bucket and shows him what to do, handling her morning chores between bringing him horses — though she works a little more aggressively than usual. It's just been a few days since Tommy fought with Voodoo, and despite his claims that he feels much better, the bruises have mottled and turned uglier colors. Kate's temper hasn't abated, and likely never will. God help Voodoo if he ever tries approaching her.

Once it's time for afternoon tea, Tommy suggests they go someplace quiet to eat together. It only takes her a moment to decide on the field out beyond the lake where she likes to take Beaut from time to time. Instructing him to finish up and put his tools away, she heads out first, on horseback. It's a typical sight around this time of day, so nobody else is likely to suspect she'll be meeting someone.

When Tommy does mosey along, he'll find her just a few paces away from the beaten path in a great field of dandelions and poppies. Beaut is grazing freely while she's unpacking a basket of food on a large checkered blanket.

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Everything about her response throws him off for a second, but he doesn't succumb to it.

"I-- what're you-- now wait a sec. Okay, for one thing, of course I cared, I always cared, and I always wanted to ask, but I knew you'd only get upset and maybe even get mad at me just for the hell of it, so it ain't at all like I never cared. And another thing, I ain't the only one angry at Voodoo right now. You are, too. This ain't me dredging up what's in the past, 'cause you were thatclose to hunting Voodoo down the other night, and you said yourself it wasn't just about me. And another thing? You avoided my question."

Leaning in, he gives her knee a squeeze, but his eyes are serious, his tone of voice low and level.

"And I dunno 'bout you, but when I don't answer a question, it's usually 'cause the answer is the last thing I wanna admit to."

Edited 2013-10-05 20:29 (UTC)

"What's gotten into you?"

She flushes with annoyance — yes, still avoiding the question, but filled with righteous indignation about it now.

"You ain't 'always wanted t'ask'. The last we spoke of Voodoo I was tryin' t'make up with him. 'Member? I asked you almost every day when he'd be back from his mission. Y'didn't say a thing when that stopped, mostly as you'd left me on account of I wouldn't let you into my room."

He's rapidly losing the high ground.

"So don't give me that kicked puppy song an' dance, like y'had some reason t'be afraid of me. Y'didn't come t'call till weeks after I'd been t'Ellen's world."

"A guy who I thought was one of my closest friends here tells me I should've died and almost beats the shit outta me, and you wonder what's gotten into me? You pick up your guns and you tell me point blank that you're gonna go shoot him, and you wonder what's gotten into me? Honey--"

Too many thoughts are crowding his head and he can't get them out fast enough without tripping over his words and saying something wrong. He's starting to get frustrated, with himself, with Voodoo, with this whole fucking situation.

He shakes his head, picks up his plate, and stabs at some fried vegetables, not looking at her.

"I'm only tryin' to understand something. And I don't even know what I'm supposed to ask or what I'm supposed to say."

"Y'don't think I know that?"

Under the anger is something more pervasive. Desperation.

"You come in riddled with black an' blues, in so much pain y'can hardly breathe, an' I find out Voodoo's the one that's done that t'you. How did you expect I would feel? What kinda reaction was I s'posed t'have?"

Whether or not Voodoo had personally hurt her, her reaction would've been the same. She was scared, and angry, and worried half to death about him. Nobody goes after her man. Nobody.

"I know you're upset with 'im, an' I know you're still achin'. But goddamnit, Tommy. I ain't talked t'you 'bout this 'cuz you an' Voodoo are friends, an' someday y'might want t'rekindle that. I know how y'deal with problems. Y'go in swingin'. You're likely t'get one or both'a you killed."

He keeps stabbing at things on his plate without putting anything into his mouth, having lost his appetite for the time being.

Then, suddenly the bottom of his stomach drops out, and his gaze abruptly shifts from his plate, to her.

"So he did say something to you."

Kate facepalms.

Grunting in exasperation, she takes a few moments to steady herself, drawing in a cleansing breath.

"Yes. He did. But it was a long time 'go, an' he's made his feelin's rather clear."

He puts his plate down again.

He knows that exasperation, has seen the look on her face before. And he has a terrible, awful, sinking feeling that he already knows what Voodoo said-- because Kate's already told him about it.

"That letter. At Christmas. That was from him?"

She watches Beaut amble a little farther away from them.

And doesn't say a thing.

It's not even shock that takes hold of him. But whatever it is, it's numbing, absolutely mind-numbing.

He mentally rewinds the better part of an entire year, all the way back to last Christmas. When the Problems began. When the Misunderstanding happened. When things went Wrong.

Because of a note. From Voodoo.

If Tommy had just calmed down--

If he hadn't jumped to conclusions--

If he'd just listened--

"Oh, fuck... Honey...Kate, I'm sorry..."

He reaches for her, laying a hand on her shoulder, his touch heavy with apology.

Suddenly the shock hits. All those months of hurting, loneliness, frustration, her anger and her silence and her tears, every misstep that drove them apart, the struggle to reconcile--

Voodoo had called Kate a bitch and a whore.

And now the fury hits.

And he abruptly starts getting to his feet.

"Sit down."

She's still gazing out across the field, brow heavily furrowed.

"You ain't gonna do anythin' in your condition, let alone on supposed facts based on your own assumptions, an' secondhand information you ain't got the whole of."

He's barely taken a step away from the picnic blanket when she speaks. His hands balled into fists and the blood pounding in his ears, he stops and turns to look at her.

"Then you go on and shoot 'im."

"Don't tempt me."

She looks up at him at last, eyes burning with a cold intensity that betrays her seriousness. It wouldn't be the first time.

But she tamps down the rush of adrenaline. She can see the bruises up and down his body as if they were exposed to her, every color, every shape. Her brows knit a little tighter, and her voice drops.

"Come lay down. Please."

He's ready. He's so ready to go back to the bar and tear the place apart in search of that goddamn asshole. And if he can't find him, he'll wait. And when he does come around, Tommy won't give a single fuck about the rules.

But Kate's the only one who can rein him in. And after a few strained moments of staring out at the pathway, and then back at her, then at the path-- he grits his teeth and snorts a short sigh.

He sits down heavily. Still seeing red. Still too furious to think straight.

Kate draws her knees up to her chin, and rubs at her brow. She's gone from angry to resigned so fast that she doesn't know what she's feeling anymore, aside from the fact that she don't like it.

Goddamn.

"You listen t'me. You still got a lotta healin' t'do. I'm gonna be madder'n a hornet if you're not in my bed the next several days 'cuz you're laid up in the infirmary."

He can't properly process very much right now, but he knows enough to take Kate's threats seriously.

"Fine," he growls.

He can't say very much right now either, unless she wants to hear exactly what he thinks of Voodoo.

It's no skin off her nose. She spares him a passing glance, but she's not keen on talking this out any more than he is.

Now that the cat's out of the bag she'll answer whatever questions he's got, but she's not about to volunteer.

Beaut raises her head and looks back at them, an ear twitching like she's wondering if she's supposed to take a walk around the meadow and give them some privacy.

He simmers in silence for a while, his head pounding. Even as he stares out across the field, so serene and beautiful, with Beaut grazing so peacefully, it doesn't do much to lower his blood pressure.

"This's unbelievable. This's all just un-fucking-believable."

Shaking his head and frowning deeply, he massages the bridge of his nose.

"Why-- why didn't you ever tell me?"

She's begun fiddling with the mobius strip necklace tucked under her blouse.

"I was humiliated."

And angry, and hurt, and confused, and frightened, and ashamed, and betrayed, and alone ...

"An' I didn't want to—"

He looks at her, and a switch inside him slowly flips. He reaches over and gently touches her back with a hand that would break Voodoo's nose all over again.

"You didn't want to what?"

Lord, that's a complicated question.

She didn't want to admit what had happened. She didn't want to sell Voodoo out — mostly 'cuz she didn't want Tommy to take his side, to tell her she was overreacting, it was a joke, get over it ...

"I didn't wanna talk 'bout it."

It's half truth.

He sighs.

"Well, I know that."

There've been quite a few things that the both of them didn't want to talk about. Yet somehow, eventually, they did.

"But you did tell me what that letter said. I know how upset you got every time it came up, and I hated seeing you that way, so I didn't press you if you didn't wanna tell me who wrote it. But maybe if I'd-- listened to you better or-- or showed you that you could trust me..."

He trails off, knowing that he'd done things that caused her to question her trust. And he's sorry. He'll always be sorry.

She glances at him, voice mildly incredulous.

"An' sell out one'a your best friends here? I didn't wanna get in the middle. I know how it is. Been through it before. Y'always stick with your pals."

If she's mildly incredulous, he is totally.

"You think-- you thought I would--? Honey-- the moment he gave you that note, he got between us. I don't know and I don't care what the hell he was tryin' to do except prove himself to be an idiot and an asshole, but there is no fucking way he can say that kind of shit to you and get away with it."

Edited 2013-10-06 19:05 (UTC)

"Oh. I jus' thought—"

She flushes with sudden vulnerability, and can't form the words. After three long years she should be able to talk about why she jus' thought, what she jus' thought, but it's still too painful.

"I jus' thought — it wouldn't matter."

"Wouldn't matter?"

He shifts to look straight at her, whether or not she'll meet his eyes in return.

"Honey, what matters to you, matters to me. If anybody's treating you like shit, it matters to me. If something's bothering you, worrying you, keepin' you up at night, it matters to me. You matter to me. You can fight your own fights, but I'm still gonna be in your corner, 'cause you've done more for me than anybody here and I ain't about to forget that."

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