ikissdhimbck | OOM sorta: Bill's room

He's trying to think, but it's hard.

Leaving Ramon on the floor of the stables wasn't an easy decision, but they couldn't be there when the man woke up. They're all lucky to have survived in the first place, sticking around waiting for it to start up again would be almost suicide.

The shot wasn't bad, and Bill's hoping Roman will come out with just a knot and cut on the head from Kate's gun, but there's still a sick feeling in Bill's guts as they keep walking.

Gunshots...

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Ramon's words...

"Make me."

and Kate's admission...

"I drew first."

echo in his mind over and over again as he soldiers past people in the crowded bar, avoiding everyone's gaze and acutely aware of the heavy metal of the guns in his hands, and the blood drying on his palms.

"Upstairs."

That much she knew.

She blinks at him, working her jaw soundlessly.

"...Shouldn't we tell someone where we left 'im?" she stutters.

He pauses a moment, frowning as he sorts this mess in his head.

There's a hundred reasons why they should, and another hundred on why they shouldn't, and he's caught up in everything surrounding the situation, but his instinct right now is to protect her.

"I will." Just not right this second. He needs to get Kate somewhere safe first, then he'll go back out to check on Ramon.

"C'mon."

She swallows hard.

"Okay."

She trusts him. And really, she has no other choice but to follow his lead, seeing as how starting another fight right now isn't really high on her list of priorities.

Though, as they silently scale the stairs, she's sure one is soon to come.

Edited 2009-08-07 07:59 (UTC)

He's glad she doesn't try to argue with him about it and he keeps leading the way up the stairs.

He takes them to his room, after all the chaos he needs something stable, familiar ground so he can try and collect himself.

The room is plain like he told her before. A bed and a night stand, a dresser, a chair and small coffee table, a desk and then a closet and bathroom. He hasn't been staying here much at all, but he couldn't go to his Kate's room right now, and didn't want to revisit Katherine's under these circumstances, so they're here.

After opening the door for them and closing it he steps over to the desk and sets the weapons down. They're both bloody and idly he thinks he's going to have to clean the rifle before getting it back to Doc.

He looks at Ramon's gun and hesitates a moment before picking it up again, then starts to unload it.

His back is to Katherine and he offers quietly, "Y'want somethin' to drink?"

Kate stands by the door and just watches him, letting him have his space. There's something about the way he picks up Ramon's gun and unloads it that disturbs her, though she's not sure what it is.

It's quiet.

Eventually, she steps up to him and gently takes him by the wrist. Without saying a word, she encourages him to put the gun down and then leads him to the bathroom door.

She draws a sink-full of warm water, grabs a clean washcloth, and then begins to wash Bill's hands.

The water turns pink, but it doesn't twist her stomach as much as seeing blood on the man's hands.

He doesn't notice when she doesn't answer, focused on his task and the gun instead.

He's staring at a bullet when she comes over, and he tenses when her hand falls on his wrist.

Leaving the weapon behind he follows her.

The washcloth and sink are stained and he's watching their hands when he finally works his throat and speaks.

"Tell me what happened, from the start."

He keeps his voice even, neutral; his eyes stay down, not looking at her or their reflections in the mirror.

She's happy to have something to concentrate on.

She lathers more soap into the cloth, and gently scrubs at his nails.

"We argued," she begins, her voice neutral. "He said he didn't like my attitude. We'd met b'fore, couple months back. Things hadn't gone well. He... he ain't a good man. He's cruel, an' wicked. So when he started cussin' and ravin' 'bout my attitude, I just... I wasn't gonna stand for it."

She pulls the plug in the sink, turning on fresh water for Bill to rinse with.

"Things got outta hand."

Her hands are so small; it hardly seems like she could lift a gun, let alone pull the trigger.

"Weren't gonna stand for it? Kate-- "

He rinses his hands and steps back from the sink, pulling a towel to dry off with and finally looking at her.

"The hell's wrong with you?"

It isn't harsh, but he is mad and having a hard time taking it in.

She meets his gaze evenly, if not intensely. Her eyes almost demand his attention, even as her body heaves slightly with the effort it takes to breathe calmly.

"Nothin's wrong with me, Bill," she replies.

"You're pickin' fights with a loaded gun."

He shakes his head and drops the towel back on the rack.

"Why? Who the hell is he that it's worth your life t'stand up to him?"

She doesn't answer him at first. She doesn't shy away, or flinch, but still the words won't come.

Slowly, she turns back to the sink, switching the water on cold. She washes her face, only gasping quietly as the shock of cold water hits her features and runs down her neck. She's checking herself for bruises, but though the skin of her neck and the side of her head are tender and a bit red, they're not discolored.

"He's nothin' t'me."

She switches the water off, wiping her face a few absent times before reaching for another towel.

"I don't give a damn what he thinks 'bout me, neither."

"So what're you doin'? He woulda killed you. You were set t'kill him."

He takes in a slow breath and shakes his head.

"It's crazy. I don't even know what t'do here."

"I was..." she muffles into the towel she has pressed against her face.

There's a long pause.

She moves the towel from her face to her neck.

"I was standin' up for myself. An' I was standin' up for... for whoever he'd'a hurt in the past, or will hurt t'come. Because men like him, they think they can do whatever they want, no matter the cost, no matter the sufferin' they cause."

She absently folds the towel back up, and drapes it over the sink.

"They can't. An' I wanted him t'know that."

Perhaps she underestimated just how ruthless and arrogant he is, though.

Her answer brings him up short and he's quiet a long minute, turning it over in his mind.

It's crazy, but after all she's been through he can see why she'd do it.

It's wrong, and it's right and finally the only thing he can think of to say is, "Do you think he learned somethin'?"

From the way Ramon was still going, hell bent on killing them both, Bill doubts it, which really means in this case it wasn't worth it to try. Not with her being so close to dying in the process.

"No," she admits right away.

And then, quieter:

"But I wasn't gonna kill him with you standin' there."

The way she says it might make one wonder just what she might have done if he hadn't been standing there.

He gets the implication she's making and his jaw tightens.

"An' if I hadn't been there the both of you'd be dead. So what would've been the point then?"

"The point, is," she says, meeting his eyes calmly. "He'd be dead."

The fact that she, too, would have died doesn't seem to bother her as much as it should.

Seeing that the possibility doesn't phase her upsets him. He walks past her out of the bathroom, jaw set while frustration burns in his guts.

Crossing to the desk he looks at the guns laying there, then turns back around to face her.

"Y'ever been shot, Kate?" There's an edge in his voice; he's trying so hard to make her see, make her understand.

"Y'ever had to lay there while your life spills out all over the damn floor? Y'dont' want that. I don't care how hard or screwed up you think your life is right now, you Don't. Want. That."

Edited 2009-08-07 23:48 (UTC)

She lingers in the bathroom for a moment when he storms out on her, staring at the pink stained terrycloth.

Arms crossed over her middle, she reenters the room at length. Standing in the center, she stays quiet while he speaks. He's not shouting, but still the words ring in her ears.

She looks down briefly.

"Bill, I'm sorry y'got pulled into this. I can't 'magine just what kinds of memories you..."

She stops short, shaking her head once.

"I don't mean no disrespect to you, you gotta know that. But you don't understand."

"I'm fine," He lies. "This ain't about me. It's you an' how you seem so damned ready t'throw your life away for nothin'."

He doesn't understand, and he doesn't want to if that justifies her killing herself and putting a bullet into someone else.

"There's no reason at all you gotta be doin' this, 'specially not here. Maybe in your world where you gotta reputation that's gonna keep you alive, but you ain't wanted here, you ain't runnin', an' no ones here to cut you down. If there's anywhere at all you can let go the outlaw, it's here."

"It's not nothin'," she cries, her voice coming out a bit louder than she would have liked.

She falls silent, keeping her eyes on the ground until she's composed herself again. When she looks back up her blue eyes are steady as ever, though her brow is knitted slightly as she begs for him to understand this.

"He's exactly the kind of man that killed my daddy. He's exactly the kind of man who killed Doc's friend Tunstall, just so's he could take his land."

Greedy men, filled with hate and selfishness. Men like Trout Walker, who thought he had a right to whatever he wanted. And when Kate said no, it cost Sam his life.

"Why do you think I'm even here, Bill? Why I ain't plunged myself t'the bottom of the lake, yet?" she continues.

She could have already died a dozen times over -- sometimes, she feels like she already has. But she's soldiered on for one main reason.

She purses her lips together, and takes a step closer to him.

"How would you feel, if lovin' Kate was enough that the law in her world saw it just and fit to execute her, right before your eyes? How would you feel, if the most tender, and vulnerable moment of your life, was exactly the moment that robbed her of hers?" she breathes.

She gives him a moment to consider that thought before she continues.

"I don't care what men like Ramon think of me, or do to me. I'm livin' on borrowed time as it is. I. want. justice. I want them t'look at the lives they've spoiled, and see that their money can't buy their freedom, their arrogance can't win every fight.

"They will pay for what they've done."

His eyes close and his head bows, but he's still listening to everything she's saying.

What she's asking him to, he can't imagine. Not the way she's describing it. There's no way he could come close to feeling the way she must, and he knows it.

He's lost Kate countless times in nightmares; at the gas station, to the events in L.A., even in the Old Kingdom and to Grant and the slugs, but it's only dreams and he knows it doesn't compare to her experiences.

He has faced men like she's describing. Eric Lawson was one, and so was the Doctor. He knows what they're capable of, he's suffered because of them, and yet when he faced one, Lawson, the man who turned Bill's life upside down with a pair of bullets, Bill turned his back on him. A million consequences would have followed, but the truth is, Bill had the opportunity to take the kind of justice Kate is describing, and he let it go.

He's not sure which of them is stronger for their decision.

His thoughts go over everything, all the details of their lives; the similarities and differences, the choices, the things they both have done, and there's no final answer for any of it.

"Kate-- "

His voice is quiet after the long spell of silence, and his eyes reopen and focus on her.

"I can't-- What you're doin', I can't say it's the right thing."

A beat, and it's clear he's reluctant to go on.

"I can't say it's the wrong thing, neither. Nothin' that's happened to you is right, an' it ain't deserved, but it scares the hell outta me knowin' this is what you're out there doin'."

She lowers her head, sighing quietly. She runs a hand through her hair slowly, and then gestures in something reminiscent of a shrug.

"I'm by myself, Bill. I gotta protect myself."

Seriously:

"I didn't go lookin' for a fight with Ramon. He brought one to me. I was lucky you wandered by, but if y'hadn't, it would have been up t'me to protect myself. It's what I gotta do."

"I drew first."

"Yeah."

His eyes go down to the gun on her hip, then back to her.

"I gotta go check on him. Y'outta stay here, I'll be back in a little while."

She notices the way his eyes stray, and unlike the appreciative looks of most men, she knows exactly what he's looking at.

Her gaze falls short of his face, somewhere around his throat, and she nods.

"I don't... I mean t'say, I can go t'my room if you'd prefer."

He shakes his head, then turns away from her, looking at the desk.

"It's your choice, Kate. All I ask is that y'stay away from him."

A part of him doubts that she will.

She tries not to feel hurt when he turns away from her.

She stands in silence for a long moment more, chewing her bottom lip.

"I'm sorry, Bill," she murmurs at last.

I know you're disappointed.

Feeling that she has outstayed her welcome, she quietly turns toward the door to leave.

He shakes his head to the apology, not sure which part she's apologizing for.

What happened with Ramon, what they've been talking about, the situation between them or something else entirely.

Whatever it's for, an apology isn't want he wants. In truth, he doesn't know what he wants, but it seems whatever it is, isn't something he can have.

She's quiet, but he can still picture her at the door, ready to open it and leave.

"Kate-- "

He doesn't know what to say. He's run out of things to tell her, arguments to make, and it feels like they're two walls talking at each other.

He can see where she's coming from, but can't fully understand it. She seems to know what he's saying, but can't alter what she's already chosen to do.

"Y'don't gotta apologize. There's just some things... ain't no one can change."

She pauses with her hand on the doorknob.

"Y'asked me what's the point," she mutters quietly, keeping her eyes on the door. "Why it's worth throwin' my life away.

"Bill, my life is already gone. I ain't got nothin' else t'throw 'way. This is all I have. An' it ain't much ... but I don't got a family t'go back to, or a home t'keep, I ain't got no money or possessions, no land and no name.

"If I die out there, ain't no one will miss me.

"But, before I go, they're sure as hell gonna remember me."

And with that, she turns the knob, and leaves the room.

"Y'got your friends!"

He turns around but she's already out the door. He takes a half step after her then stops, realizing that she's gone.

Guilt and frustration grind in his belly and he's stuck wrestling with it all.

Finally he turns back to the desk, hesitating before picking up the rifle.

He needs to check on Ramon.

When he gets there, the stables are empty.

OOM sorta: Bill's room

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