apassingafternoon | between two points

between two points

The journey was largely uneventful.

They passed some angry yaks and Kaine's 'skirt' fell off and she squealed before she fumbled it back on but that was about the extent of things. It took the entire afternoon and the sun had long fallen by the time her home/little compound made itself known, even against the mountains. Just as she had thought the lights were on inside and her animals made their familiar, happy shuffling noises. Shivering, Kaine didn't bother to explain a damn thing just yet, no matter how many questions might linger on Alain and Cuthbert's tongues. She undid the strings to her gate to let them in and then quickly closed and retied it from the other side to help keep the wolves out.

As they traveled up the little stone path to her door Kaine could smell dinner and suddenly she knew with frightening clarity that Roland and Nariko hadn't gone anywhere. Maybe into town but returning to Roland's world wasn't currently on their mind. That didn't bother her but she knew it would only further aggravate Bert who was already in a shit mood and poor Alain who was in pain and shouldn't have been traveling at all.

Kaine opened her door and sighed even as she heard a gun unholstering and knew from its soft whistle that it was Nariko's.

"You're not shooting me in my own fucking house," Kaine said, raising a brow at her best friend. Her ex-lover. "... How did you even find a dress that tight?"

Because it was certainly that, a rich blue and figure hugging, paired well with her dark hair left down, too genuinely Nariko-ish for Kaine to believe this was some odd dream she was still having in the corners of her brain. They were here and Nariko was alive. Roland was alive. Kaine couldn't see the telltale ring on either of them. That crazy bitch-god had kept her word and brought her back, let Roland go find her. Kaine had never believed in anything but even though her expression remained deadpan she suddenly wanted to praise any God that might listen to her.

"Wei." Nariko answered but her voice was thin and uncomprehending. "Why are you - how?" Her eyes darted to Alain and Cuthbert as if unable to fully understand their existence, Kaine could clearly see her friend trying to puzzle out what the hell was going on but she gave up halfway through. Her gun went back to the table and Kaine gave up before she started and let herself be pulled back into those familiar, warm arms, the protective grip.

"I'm home." She didn't know if anyone heard it, didn't really care. Shit was going to hit her own fan, but Kaine earned these few seconds.

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Alain answered with an unfeigned yawn and a smile. "Hard to say, as I was already close to falling down from tiredness," he replied, rather wryly. "As for Roland, you'd be mad not to fear him. He's the truest gunslinger I've ever known. And at our heart, what gunslingers are is still killers."

He said it simply, as if it could be no other way. And, really, it couldn't. What they had always been taught was to make themselves weapons. Bert's silliness and brashness, Alain's own quiet kindness... those were really just the covers that the weapons wore. He would never consider anyone less for fearing Roland, who wore no cover over the gleaming steel underneath. Roland had never scared Alain - even if he'd made him worry endlessly - but that was only because they were of a kind.

If he was honest, his only doubt about Kaine fearing Roland was that she didn't fear him and Bert too.

Finishing off his tea, he set the mug aside and settled down under the covers, closing his eyes. "Anyroad, I don't think you'd have to worry about any crossed links. Nariko and Roland only have eyes for each other, anyone can see that." He yawned again.

Kaine would say that, yes, it was beginning to work since he could barely go a whole minute without yawning all over the place. She remained on the bed anyway, because he wasn't quite asleep yet and she had promised to stay until then. The idea of seeing Bert hadn't become any simpler in her mind, of course, so that helped her stay just as much as Alain himself did.

"You really think so?" Of course Roland had effectively jumped at the first opportunity to get her back, and that was as positive a sign as any, but something remained an obstacle. "I hope you're right about that."

And she hoped that when it really came down to it she could trust Roland to be what Kaine was now barred off from. Bu she kind of doubted it even now.

"In any case I think you're free of worrying about anything else for a little while."

"Wouldn't that be nice," Alain remarked with an acerbic kind of humour in his voice, shrugging one shoulder. Worry was probably the biggest constant in his life, the last few years. It was a side effect of spending too much time around Bert and Roland, he suspected. It had become almost a friend to him.

Which wasn't to say he didn't appreciate having someone to share the burden. And he was relieved that someone was going to find Bert, although he wouldn't say so; Bert hated to be pitied or worried over, but from Kaine, it might be different. There was hope. For those of them left, there was always hope.

"Jamie would have been amazed by this place," he said sleepily, his voice thick. "Those pills you gave me. And whatever was in the tea. He would have loved to know about them."

And that was the last thing he said. A couple of moments later, he was snoring, fast asleep.

For just an extra moment Kaine remained. There was something easy about listening to Alain sleep (also, if she shared that idea with anyone but Nariko, well, Kaine would just sound insane, wouldn't she?) but she stood and left him to his unconscious state before she fell asleep right along with him. A few steps and a door closed behind her and she was back in her pale, halfheartedly decorated room.

She didn't pause to look at anything, only assessed that nothing else was inside, that neither Nariko or Roland had invaded her space, and went to her closet. The blanket was shed for her comfortable running pants (they said 'yo-ga' on the rear but Kaine didn't know what the hell that could even mean, or why you would put words on your own ass). The heart sweater Nariko had knitted for her years ago went on over Bert's shirt, and after that, well, there was nothing to do but find the man himself.

Even with the mountains that curved around her home and land, protecting her from the rest of the world, there was still an acre of land to consider. Most of it was taken up by the animal pens and their little grazing spots, but the back end had been turned into a makeshift practice range for Nariko long ago. Slightly off to one side of that was the little path up into the mountains that went to the garden.

Kaine considered all of these places while she headed down the steps and back outside because she really didn't want to think that Bert had gone beyond the gates. If he'd been that stupid he wouldn't need to throw a punch first she might just punch him herself.

Bert had, in fact, headed up the little mountain path. Part of him wanted to go out and find the wolves howling in the distance, although whether to shoot them or run with them he wasn't sure. Either way, he was lucid enough to realise that was a bad idea. So. The mountains it was.

He was sitting halfway up the path, chin resting on one knee, tossing pebbles and watching them bounce off the rocks. It was aimless, but that was okay. He felt pretty aimless himself. It wasn't even precisely anger or grief or guilt any more; the feelings inside him had been bubbling together for hours now, mixing into something dark and thick that he couldn't quite pin down. He'd rather have felt anger. Anger could be burnt off, fought through, salved with a bloody nose or bloody fists. This, whatever it was... This, he didn't know how to deal with.

The cold was biting, raising gooseflesh on his bare arms and chest. He had welcomed it at first, a reminder that he was alive and feeling. But over the last hour or so, it had settled into a kind of numb ache which so perfectly mirrored how he felt that he hardly even noticed it any more. Besides, what was the alternative? He'd be damned if he was going to risk dealing with Roland again just now. If he had to look his dinh in the eye, he'd either punch him or burst out crying, and neither seemed particularly productive.

So he stayed right where he was, throwing stones and whistling an off-key rendition of Ease On Down The Road. It was easiest that way.

She left the path, like all good and occasionally tiring things, for last. So of course that's where he was.

Kaine dodged a little pebble as it floated down her way, and she paused a few steps before him. If it wasn't for the unbearable shine of the moon there wouldn't have been anything but darkness. She watched him for a second, had no idea what to say, and then decided to just blurt something out.

"I'm guessing you haven't seen Sauerkraut around here?"

"Wouldn't know, seeing as I have no idea what you just said." Bert didn't look up, aiming a pebble with dead-on accuracy at a little tuft of grass. "Shouldn't you be inside getting a hot meal and some sleep? You survived a massacre. Should be fucking celebrating." He threw another pebble, rather harder than necessary, and watched it go skipping off in the moonlight to vanish into the deep shadow between two rocks.

"My cat," She explained without touching the rest of it just yet. "Or rather, my grandma's. A mean old thing that never went away."

Kaine walked up a few more steps but she didn't sit beside him, rather just one step up and off to the side. Maybe it was some subconscious desire to give him more space, even though she thought that was maybe the last thing he needed, one way or the other.

"There isn't a lot to celebrate when Alain's worried, was until he asked to sleep, Roland feels like shit - as you might think he should - and when I'm just worried about you. And I know how you go on about hating that and all that shit but, frankly, you can get over that part or keep pouting about it. Because that's how everyone feels and it's not going anywhere."

Cuthbert considered that for a moment, then shrugged, tossing the pebble he was holding from hand to hand. Some of his grace was gone, dulled by the cold, but it gave him something to keep his eyes on, and that was a lot easier than looking at her. Or at anything important, really.

"Worry about me all you want. Just keep it to yourself." He clenched his jaw for a moment, his shoulders hunched. "In return, I promise not to throw stones at your cat if it creeps up on me."

Actually, part of him rather wished it would. Animal company might not be so bad, just now. All the warmth and not-alone of having someone there, without people's bothersome need to talk about feelings. You could talk to a cat and it wouldn't judge you or pity you or ask you what you meant.

His cold-numbed fingers fumbled the stone, and he cursed as he dropped it on the path, but didn't move to pick it up. Instead, he put his hand to his throat, touching where the crow skull had once hung.

"I used to have the Lookout for this," he mused aloud, almost as if he'd forgotten she was there. "Could use his advice right about now."

She was entirely too tired and worn down to hide how much all of that stung, which was exactly what he was so good at, made for in a sense. It didn't matter one way or the other, he wasn't looking at her and he wouldn't have cared any if he was. It was hard to reconcile Alain's implication with the man in front of her. "The skull." The one that terrified Nariko because of deep, inset beliefs. "It probably wouldn't tell you anything you didn't already know."

Or that Alain hadn't known long before, or that Roland understood entirely, in that way that close friends, pairs could comprehend.

"They'll go to bed soon, will you at least come inside, then? Really seems like shit to survive all of that and then catch pneumonia."

"If it happens, it happens." He laughed, but it was nothing like his usual light, merry laugh. It was a harsh, bitter kind of bark that sounded more like it should have come from Roland's mouth - and under that harshness, just a hint of a quaver, like tears might have choked it for a moment. "That's ka, isn't it? Ka like a fucking wind."

He'd cried on her once before. He didn't particularly want to do it again. Instead, he clamped his jaw tight, screwed his eyes shut, and sat for a moment with his fists clenched tight enough that his nails bit red crescents into his hands. Breathe in, breathe out. In and out, in and out, until he had control of himself again.

"Anyroad," he said at last, with something like his old sharp humour, "this is exactly what sai Lookout was good for. Who knows how to deal with death better than the dead?"

"The living, for one thing. They're the ones that have to deal with the repercussions."

Alain had said that if Bert were to hit her than she would have to hit back. He thought that she wasn't afraid of him or Bert in any way but that was the farthest thing from the truth. Sure, Roland scared her in his own way but the only one who terrified her right down to her bones, in a way that had given her strange dreams and nightmares since the moment she kissed him was one Cuthbert Allgood. No one else. Roland and Alain could attempt to kill her and do it without a single thought but Bert could absolutely destroy her beyond the shadow of a doubt.

Even knowing that, she pressed. Maybe not with any subtlety or tact, but she did. "But not Roland and Nariko, right? Because they weren't there. Roland wasn't there for you, not for Jamie, either. The person I might as well have helped to kill. You said it yourself. Maybe Lookout would only tell you that you should have just let me die. Win your war. Roland would come back and you'd have been a better dinh than him, somehow."

Just the right button pushed, the right nerve and all that control would just tumble right out of him and Kaine would deal with what was left over. Since he wouldn't let anything else happen he hadn't left many options.

"Fuck you." She'd hit a nerve all right, but at least for now, it seemed to have the opposite effect. If anything, his control was stronger than ever, his voice flat and almost entirely emotionless. The only sign of just how deeply she'd struck him was in his fists, which clenched so tight that his knuckles cracked quietly, the skin over them stretched waxy-pale. "What would you know? It's a matter of honour and friendship. You wouldn't understand."

She wasn't the only one who could aim below the belt.

But everything was strong right before it broke, right? An act of inevitable, subconscious desperation. And even though his words hurt enough to make her cry she throttled that emotion as best she could, and kept her voice leveled.

"Right." Gods, she didn't want to do this, didn't want to say it. But he wouldn't let her hold him, wouldn't talk to her or anyone, it was like there was no such thing as winning. But he couldn't go back in there and fuck up Nariko and Roland anymore than he already had. And she couldn't just continue on knowing he was out here by himself. "I'm the fatherless, unknowing girl you spent the night before with." She could almost vomit but even if he did look at her there would be no telling it. "All that wasted time. Maybe that was the first of very many mistakes."

"Maybe it was. Given that now you're trailing after me like a bitch in heat, I'm starting to think so."

That hurt to say, a dull ache in his chest, but that wasn't about to stop him. Poison always hurt to spit, but sometimes you had to. Sometimes, that ache was still better than the alternative. Sometimes, there was that horrible, bitter satisfaction to cruelty, as well.

It was awful. But it was something. And something was better than that dark, thick nothing inside him, so he guessed he should be grateful for that.

You know, he was really so much better at this than she could ever be. Now she really was crying but Kaine wiped them away, painful and quick, and sucked in a deep breathe. She could do this. She could at least have enough pride to avoid breaking entirely. Hopefully.

"Right, because that's always what it boils down to, isn't it? If Nariko had never come here then Roland would actually be able to spare a glance at you. He wouldn't have run off to another world, and I wouldn't have helped him go there. He would have been there by your side where he actually belongs, right? And your parents' tomb wouldn't be collapsed, caved in, no more shadows to stand under, no more Anis, Rebecca's daughters likely gone, everyone you grew up with and loved, dead, because Roland was gone, and because you were as sorry a replacement as you already knew you were."

At some point or another, her voice had risen a bit and found some strength, some emotion, but it deflated slightly as she added. "Frankly, I'd rather be a bitch in heat than whine over all this the way you do, at least my state is temporary. You'll always be this way, won't you?"

And Jesus Fucking Hell on a cracker if that didn't get him to swing then maybe nothing would, and she really would need to do it herself.

He knew she was baiting him. Of course he knew. But every single one of those barbs hit home, and before he really had time to think about it, he was on his feet, his fists raised. Anger pulsed through him like a heartbeat, anger and grief and an incredible weariness. He swung for her jaw, his full weight behind the blow, moving with a gunslinger's speed...

...and stopped, his fist a few inches from making contact. His eyes were stinging and his breath came in hoarse rasps, but those rasps sounded a lot like laughter. "Good try," he said, bitterly, letting his hand drop to his side. "Bringing the girls into it. Nice touch. Did Ro' put you up to this, or did you come up with it all on your own?"

Spitting to one side, he turned on his heel to head up the path. "You don't want this. Go home."

It wouldn't have been difficult to move out of the way. Her speed had always been unnatural, bordering on eerie, but this time she didn't put it to use. Didn't flinch, didn't cry out, just waited for it, for something that never came. Really, it shouldn't have surprised her that he knew all along, but what hurt and stung worse than poison in her gut was that he knew it and still said all of that.

The shock of that was enough to keep her glued in place and she only heard those words in passing. Without thinking she turned to his back and reached out, felt the tips of her fingers claw and catch onto, of all things, his belt.

But, really, what else was there to do? What was the point in holding on to someone who wanted everything but to be held onto? Kaine knew the answer just as well as anyone with a clear head might but she still hated it. She really hated being in love and yet that was what kept her here for a last second, wanting a miracle.

He froze, mid-step, as her fingers snagged his belt. He could have pulled free. She was fast, maybe, but he was stronger, and a belt was hardly the strongest handhold in the world. But he froze instead, the only movement the rising wind that whipped at his hair and his jerkin. The tendons stood proud of his neck, every muscle in his body whiplash-tight. When he spoke, though, his voice cracked like a boy's.

"What the hell do you want?" It was meant to sound accusing. It didn't; it sounded desperate. "What the hell am I supposed to do? Break your jaw so I can feel worse and you can feel like you've done your duty? Fall down and cry?" He reached back to wrap his hand around her wrist. His fingers were like ice. "Like that'll bring them back? Just let me alone, will you? Just let me have time!" That was almost a sob.

She had felt this pulling, tearing sensation years ago. It was like invisible hands searching around for the seams that held the rest of her together, trying to rip her apart where it mattered. Everything in Bert's mannerisms gave her that feeling, from the anger in his body to the contrasting sadness in his voice. The larger part of her wanted to run away. She was tired, angry with herself, angry with him, angry with everything. The other part ...

Her wrist turned to grab at his. Kaine was fast, not strong. Nariko was far slower but one punch from her had sent people reeling. Kaine had seen that, marveled at that kind of weight in one body that was, ultimately, quite small. Kaine wished she was strong because she pulled on his wrist with all of her weight but didn't know if that might be enough to get him to tumble into her arms. But she tried, even if she was a little afraid he might push her away and down the steps and that would put an end to ever speaking to him.

So it was stupid, but she tried and clawed, suddenly, with greater force as if that might account for her small frame.

"I'll go after this!" After she could hug him, even if he pushed her and she broke her stupid, emotional head open. "You can be alone all night after this!" So he could just shut up and bear it for a little while longer! At least, that was what Kaine wanted to say but couldn't. This was taking up the last of her energy so ... Just one shot and all that.

Had he thought that her insults had stung? Had he really? It was nothing compared to this. He didn't even have an explanation for how it felt, suddenly, as if he was breaking open. It was too much. All of it, too much. And it hurt, not like a broken leg hurts, but like betrayal hurts; a punch in the chest, a twist in the gut. He didn't just let himself be pulled into her arms, he clung to her with an almost violent desperation, the way a drowning man might cling to a piece of wood he knows is too small to keep him afloat.

He didn't cry. That was something, at least, even if it felt like it might be only that there were too many tears to come out at once. But his cold fingers clenched into claws against her sweater, and he buried his face against her shoulder, his breath coming in rags and tatters. All the strength seemed to have gone out of him.

If there had been time for it Kaine would have been utterly shocked. How did this work? How was this the right answer? And why hadn't she trusted her instincts? Who knew. Who cared. Maybe she was just a tad too small but she lifted her arms and put them around his middle, palms laid flat on his shoulder blades. She squeezed him just about as hard as he clung to her, and even if she occasionally shuddered Kaine wouldn't say a word on it.

Of course it was entirely possible that none of this would help or that it might only be temporary. She would keep her word if that was the case, and leave him alone when they parted. But at least something had come out of all that. Getting over everything that had been said would take time, but that was later.

Right now he let her hold him and she couldn't remember the last time she felt so utterly grateful.

It was a long time before he managed to get hold of himself again, and another few moments before he trusted that grip on his sanity enough to loosen his grip on her sweater. "You didn't dodge," he said, his voice husky with unshed tears, and took a deep, steadying breath. "If I hadn't pulled that punch, it would probably have broken something. Mine or yours." And, for all that he was still shaking perceptibly in her grip, there was something of the old Cuthbert in his voice, a wry sarcasm that slipped back into place with more ease than he'd imagined. "Me breaking my knuckles on a woman's face really would be the perfect end to a perfect day, wouldn't it?"

Then, more seriously, after another moment had passed, "I tried to get them out. Rebecca's girls. I put them on Glue Girl and headed them out of the city as soon as we knew Farson was on his way. They're probably still dead. But I tried."

That was the kind of ridiculous humor and attitude that she expected. The kind that was less about hiding things and more of just ... Just more of the man she had feelings for.

"Well, it's entirely possible they met Eunyce and Yonah on the way and if they did, they'll be just fine." But they had no way of knowing that. Even if they managed to return in a timely manner they'd be too far along to reasonably catch up with. "... And I know it would have. But better that than everything else that you might do that scares me. I heal quick on this side of things." To the point where hurting her in any lasting way was quite difficult, but she didn't need to explain that now. Instead she let her palms skate over his back and shoulders. He was freezing and it made her want to drag him inside, but this was hardly the time to push her luck.

"... You know I didn't mean any of what I said, right? Not a single bit."

"What does it matter if you meant it or not? You said nothing that wasn't true." She couldn't see it, but his mouth was set in a hard line, his dark eyes staring over her shoulder and down at the lights of the house. "Nor did I. Both of us were aiming to wound, but that doesn't make it lying."

He closed his eyes again, swallowing, and said slowly, "I cry your pardon for it, though. You've taken the brunt of this. And I haven't yet thanked you, but damned if I can't attack you anyroad." A bitter, ironic kind of laugh. "I'm a generous man that way."

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http://wintxersoldier.tumblr.com/post/112814152085/dartagnan-sass

someone needs to tell him his real name is Cuthbert and get it over with

Right?

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