ikissdhimbck | OOM: Milliways grounds

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She wraps her arms around her middle.

"They was burnin' down my school. Didn't know why at the time; jus' that none'a the children showed up that mornin', an' Trout Walker came leadin' in a lynch mob, callin' me a Devil Woman, sayin' I'd been poisonin' their children's minds. I'd rejected Trout not too long before, an' he weren't used t'people sayin' no t'him. So when they started pilin' the books an' tables in the middle'a the room, settin' 'em on fire ...

"I ran t'the sheriff an' told 'im t'stop 'em before they destroyed the whole school. He told me not t'say nothin' bad 'bout Trout Walker. Called me pretty. Told me t'kiss 'im. He was drunk as a skunk; said he always got drunk 'fore a hangin'. That's when I figured out someone had seen Sam an' I kissin' the day before, told Trout, an' — sheriff said if I could kiss 'the onion picker', why couldn't I kiss him? Said he'd make me deal; one sweet kiss an' he wouldn't hang my boyfriend. He grabbed me, an' I remember feelin' my stomach in my boots. This awful light an' queasy feelin', like I weren't no longer in my body. I wrenched myself away t'find Sam, but — we didn't make it far.

"When I ran, he said, 'the law will punish Sam, an' God will punish you.' He was right. Sam died, an' I've — I've been wishin' I was dead ever since. That — feelin'; that horrible, floatin', helpless feelin' — s'what I felt when I got that note, an' them things. If I was prepared t'stop bein' a bitch, we could have 'makeup sex', so long as I let him on top'a me. That's what it said. I felt the sheriff's hands all over me, all over again."

Though she wraps herself in her own arms to protect herself, he keeps close but lets his hands slip from her. He listens quietly, letting her tell her story in full. And as she reveals details she'd never told him before, with emotions she'd never trusted to show him before, it's as if he's seeing her in a whole different way. Not better, not worse-- but a little more whole, more of who she really is inside.

(to thine own self be true)

And then the anger rises again. Anger at what they did to Sam, and to her. Anger that she had to go through such pain.

stop bein' a bitch

makeup sex

on top'a me

Anger at Voodoo.

Tommy flashes back to that Christmas Eve and the way Kate wouldn't let him into her room. And when he did force his way in, she pulled away from him. Wouldn't let him touch her. And he comes to the sickening realization-- she was still feeling the sheriff's hands on her. She'd gotten that fucking letter, and she was going through all that awful shit again.

God he feels like a complete jackass now.

Jaw clenched, he turns his head and glares out across the field toward the path that would lead past the stables and back to the bar.

Fuck you, Voodoo. Fuck you.

But instead of heading off on a rampage, he turns back to Kate, eyes hard but pained and apologetic, sorry that he can't change the past for her. Sorry that he can't take the pain away.

"Jeezus Christ, honey..."

Slowly, with just a bit of hesitation, he reaches up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. If he could promise her one thing, he would never, ever do anything that would make her fear his touch.

She's still.

And then—

she covers his hand with hers, keeping it pressed to her cheek. Her brow is furrowed, teeth working on the inside of her lip, but nothing about her hints at being afraid of him.

"M'sorry I didn't tell y'earlier, I jus' — y'were so hurt 'bout your brother, an' I didn't want t'—"

She shakes her head.

He quickly shakes his head as well.

"No, that-- I wasn't-- I shouldn't have--"

Palm pressed to her cheek (and grateful that she takes his hand), he keeps shaking his head, unable to process just how fucked up everything had become because Voodoo decided to be an asshole.

Inhaling a sharp breath, he holds it for a second, before leaning in to press his lips to her hair, exhaling a sigh at the same time.

She closes her eyes.

"We can go back now."

Her voice is barely a whisper. She uncurls the arm slung across her belly, pinching the front of his shirt, giving a gentle tug. It's as affectionate as she can be right now.

"Finish our lunch, if — if y'wanna."

"'Course I do, honey."

He wraps his fingers around her hand at his shirt, squeezing it firmly, warmly. Giving her something (someone) to hold onto, if she wants to.

She doesn't move for another second or two.

Something about this moment is steadying. His hand in hers, her hand in his, the open air and space and freedom around her, just breathing, Beaut somewhere at her back, hoofbeats muted.

Eventually she nods, turns to press a kiss to his palm, and releases his hand. The other two can stay entwined as they walk back to their blanket.

"Y'don't, ah — y'don't have anywhere t'be tonight, do you?"

Out here, Kate has the freedom of everywhere else to turn to. But she stays with him instead.

They make the trek back to the picnic site, their pace as unhurried as when they'd left it. Then at her question, he gives her a sidelong look, before his lowered gaze returns to the grass ahead of him.

"Yeah, I do. Or at least, I hope so."

Another glance, another brief squeeze.

"Your place?"

The corner of her mouth tucks up.

She raises her eyes, brushing an errant strand of hair out of her face. If he's not mistaken, there's a touch of relief in her expression.

"Yes."

It's simple, but that one word speaks volumes.

He smiles at her expression. He was only teasing a little, trying to bring some levity to the situation, and he gives her hand a tug, her shoulder bumping lightly against his arm as they walk.

And somehow that little yes makes him feel like his heart just grew three sizes.

OOM: Milliways grounds - lunch with Tommy

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject