Kate Warner (
justdidntseeit) wrote2012-05-29 12:03 pm
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[[ wheelsy, south carolina ]]
[ previously: "'bout damn time." ]
Kate shifts her weight on the stepladder, and twists slightly, all the better to reach the junction box. This new chrome fixture is going to be a gorgeous accent, if she can -- just --
"Ow ow ow ow ow."
She drops the wrench, and presses down on the pinched skin between her thumb and forefinger. A thin line of blood blooms beneath the pressure she applies; she bites her lower lip, blinking hard, and determinedly does not look at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
She's not going to cry.
She's not.
Kate shifts her weight on the stepladder, and twists slightly, all the better to reach the junction box. This new chrome fixture is going to be a gorgeous accent, if she can -- just --
"Ow ow ow ow ow."
She drops the wrench, and presses down on the pinched skin between her thumb and forefinger. A thin line of blood blooms beneath the pressure she applies; she bites her lower lip, blinking hard, and determinedly does not look at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
She's not going to cry.
She's not.
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The bottle of bourbon from Raylan still in hand, he walks through the house; heading for the bathroom when he doesn't find Kate in the kitchen or living room.
Hearing the clatter of metal on tile, and Kate's murmuring, he pokes his head around the door and peeks in.
"Kate?"
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"Hey," she says, without turning around.
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"Kate, y'alright?"
Setting his bottle down on the unfinished counter, he steps up to her, leaning to try and get a look at her.
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She uncurls her fist to show him what she's done.
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"Wrench bit ya, huh?"
He smooths his thumb along her hand below the pinch, giving her a soft smile.
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Another sniffle, and she lifts her head; her eyes flick to the bourbon on the counter, and back to Bill.
"Confiscate some evidence today?" she jokes, with a weak grin.
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Glancing over at the bottle, he chuckles and shakes his head, smile growing.
"Nope. I got that from Raylan."
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She licks her lips, cautious hope lighting her red-rimmed eyes.
"What?"
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"Yep. Left a note for me with Bar. He's fine, an' the place looks good."
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She forgets to care about the throb of her self-inflicted injury. Weeks of pent-up worry and suppressed frustration melt from her spine and shoulders.
"That's great, sheriff."
She steps off the ladder with deliberate care, her knees as solid as shredded rubber.
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"Yep, walkin' out of the station."
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"And everything's ... okay?"
Or, more accurately, everyone, but she can't quite voice that question -- not yet.
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He squeezes her hand, passing on comfort and reassurance.
"Raylan left a note, an' I ran into Doc an' Will. No one really knows what happened or why, but everyone came through it okay."
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"Good," she says, nodding. A tiny, heartfelt smile curves the corners of her mouth. "That's good."
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"Milliways pulls through again."
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But that disappointment doesn't lessen her relief, or dampen how pleased she is to know the bar's still functional.
Low, and a little playful: "Looks like you had a good time, though."
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"We'll have t'get you back there soon so you can visit, too."
Bowing his head closer to hers, his smile quirks into one that's more amused and pleased.
"Yeah well, folks missed me. Had t'do the welcome back proper an' all."
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But even as she reminds herself that it was only a couple of rounds -- a couple of harmless rounds -- she can't ignore the slight twist deep in her stomach that accompanies the familiar smell of alcohol on his breath.
"And I guess Marshal Givens was feeling generous?"
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"Yeah, real generous. That's top shelf bourbon there."
Nodding at the bottle, he leans back in to rest his forehead against hers.
"He said it might help in dealin' with the Twilight Zone that happened."
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"I figure that's the best way t'look at it so the whole thing don't make me nuts."
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"Too late, sheriff."
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"You callin' me crazy, Kate?"
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"I reckon, as long as you keep up the story that I'm in my right mind when we're in public."
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