Kate Warner (
justdidntseeit) wrote2009-09-01 03:14 pm
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[[ milliways, upstairs ]]
[ "three days." ]Kate's asleep on her side in Boo's too-small bed, neck bent at an awkward angle. One arm is draped around Boo's snoring form, and the fingers of her free hand are still loosely curled around a dog-eared paperback on the pink comforter. An impressive assortment of Boo's books litter the floor, and a small stack is perched precariously between the edge of the mattress and Kate's heel.
She hasn't been sleeping long, her breathing still shallow and features not as relaxed as they could be.
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Breathing a soft sigh at the sounds, she opens her eyes and squints against the low lamplight.
When did I fall asleep?
She eases onto her back, careful not to jostle Boo, and —
Hoarsely, "Sweetheart?"
She licks her lips and focuses on him.
"Whatcha doing?"
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He shrugs his left shoulder and shakes his head. His voice is soft, and a little rough, and he works his throat to clear it.
"Y'all were sleepin'."
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She sits up, carefully untangling herself from a Boo-sized arm; when Boo stirs, Kate strokes Boo's hair until the toddler settles and the snoring resumes.
She stands, smoothing her palm down her yoga pants and running a hand through her bedhead; her fingers fall to her neck and she winces slightly, rubbing at the tense muscles.
"Is it late?"
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He gives her a faint smile.
At her question he glances around, then shakes his head.
"Not sure what time it is, s'not too late."
He has lost track downstairs, though.
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She lifts her paperback from the comforter and retrieves the fallen library from the floor. Once they're deposited on Boo's bookshelf, she steps closer and offers Bill both hands.
"C'mon. Unless — "
She glances at Boo, then back to Bill.
"You wanted to sit in here for a while?"
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"No, I -- we gotta talk."
Standing he let's go of Kate's hands and moves closer to the bed. Gently brushing her cheek with his fingertips he steps back and quietly heads out of the room.
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Stepping out of Boo's room, she turns to face him, all traces of tiredness replaced by sharp concern.
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"I gotta tell you somethin', Kate, but I don't want you t'get upset or worried. I promise, it's gonna be alright."
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She shakes her head, searching his features.
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I don't want you to worry, or another fight.
He shakes his head and takes a slow breath.
"I talked to Ramon."
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So she swallows and keeps her voice steady, even though she feels anything but.
"How'd it go?"
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It's a terrible attempt at humor, and his try at a smile gets no where, but anxiety is knotted tight in his chest and gut and he's having trouble handling it.
Giving her an apologetic look his eyes drop to his hands.
"He wants his gun. Gave me three days t'get it back to him."
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The syllables catch in her too-tight throat like shards of glass and she closes her eyes at the unfunny joke.
focus, don't get upset, it won't help anything right now
A breath.
"Three days."
A nod.
"Okay."
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He's silent a long minute before quietly clearing his throat.
"I'm not gonna give it to him."
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"He's tryin' to intimidate me. If I give him what he wants, s'just gonna give him even more control over the situation. An' me."
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"Then I'll do it."
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"No."
Pushing down anxiety, his eyes narrow and his jaw sets firm.
"No."
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"Neither of us wants to find out what happens if he doesn't get it back. So if you don't, I will."
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His voice is louder and he turns away from her to move farther from Boo's door.
"You let me handle this. I don't want you havin' anything t'do with him.
"Givin' that gun back ain't gonna do me any good."
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She moves closer to the kitchen so they won't wake Boo.
"He's an arms dealer, Bill, it's not like he doesn't have access to more."
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He steps into the kitchen and pulls out a chair, but doesn't sit.
"You think if I give him the gun back he's just gonna forget what happened an' let me an' Katherine alone?"
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God, she doesn't want to do this -- they're both tired, so worn from nonstop stress -- but she can't keep from arguing.
Because she loves him, and because she's terrified.
"I think he's a man who shot his own brother and called it a business decision. And if you keep his gun, you'll give him an excuse to do the same to you."
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His hand tightens on the back of the chair as fear stirs up in his belly.
"If I do what he wants, it just tells him I'm an' easier target than he already thinks I am."
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God, how did we get here?
"Then don't be a target."
She lifts her eyes.
"You go back to Wheelsy for a little while, and I'll give him the gun."
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