wheelsy_sheriff | (no subject)

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(no subject)

[i'm so tired but i can't sleep standin' on the edge of something much too deep]

It's still very early when Bill finds himself awake again. Kate's asleep, curled on her side and doesn't seem to be sleeping very well.

Frowning to himself he gets up. Slowly. He's stiff and sore and has to suck in a breath to stifle a groan when he rises from the bed.

Shuffling around the suite he heads to the bathroom and stares at himself and the lack of bruises in the mirror for a few long minutes before leaving.

He's hungry, and his body feels drained and overtaxed so he moves on to the kitchen where he sits at the table with a bowl of plain cornflakes. He just needs something in his stomach, and he needs to think. There's so much mess to sort through right now, and on top it all his failures are staring him straight in the face.

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She hasn't been in bed long — after she wrote and delivered a note for Katherine while Bill was sleeping, she spent what was left of the night staring at the shadows on the ceiling.

Her sleep is fitful, filled with half-formed flashes of teeth and bullets; her eyes open when the empty space beside her registers.

Throat raw and eyes bloodshot and sandpaper-dry, she sits up and rakes a hand through her bed-head.

Blinking to clear her sleep-blurred vision, she's relieved to see Bill across the suite.

He's just poured out a second bowl and comes too close to the edge of the table when he sets the box down. It slips off the table and hits the floor.

"Shit."

Pushing his chair back he reaches down for it, rising with a grunt and a wince.

Her mouth is open to stop him from moving, but she's too late; he's already wincing and favoring his side as he straightens.

She slides out of bed and pads toward the kitchen, adjusting the fallen strap of her camisole as she nears the table.

He sets the box back down on the table, pushing it away from him, then looks up as she approaches.

"Hey."

Unwrapping his arm from his torso, he sets his forearm on the table.

"Didn't mean t'wake you up."

"You didn't."

She doesn't want to touch him because she doesn't want to hurt him, so she ghosts her fingertips against his hair at his nape.

"How'd you sleep?"

"I was pretty out."

Which isn't to say he rested well, but after everything exhaustion took its toll and kept him deeply under.

Mostly he's just glad there wasn't any dreams, at least none he can remember.

"How 'bout you?"

"I'm okay."

They're both giving non-answers, and they both know it.

She eases away her hand and steps over to the counter to make a fresh pot of coffee.

He can see how tired she is, but knows why she doesn't say anything about it. He also knows that he won't get anything out of it if he pushes, so he lets it go.

Focusing on his cereal, he stares at the bowl a moment, then speaks up while she's at the counter.

"Can I get some sugar?"

She nods and reaches for the dispenser near the coffeemaker, and maybe it's exhaustion or maybe it's carelessness, but --

"Damn."

She squeezes shut her eyes and takes a breath before kneeling to gather the broken glass, mindful of her bare feet.

"Sorry, I -- "

She shakes her head, bent over the small mountain of sugar.

"I'll go downstairs for more, I'm sorry, it'll just take a second."

He jumps at the loud SMASH when the glass hits the floor, tipping his chair back and standing with both hands clenched into fists.

Heart hammering behind his ribs he swallows, trying to calm and find his voice.

Loosening his hands, he shakes his head, struggling to bend and right the chair and shaking his head.

"S'alright. I-- I'll get the broom. You okay?"

Her hands aren't quite steady.

"I'm fine, I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with -- "

She glances over.

"Bill, wait -- "

Leaving the shards and the spilled sugar for the moment, she closes the distance and lightly touches his elbow.

"Don't."

She scoops up the chair and swallows hard.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm -- I'm sorry."

"I can -- " He doesn't finish, watching her pick up the chair and staring at it after it's up.

When her voice lowers and catches his gaze moves to her.

"Kate?"

He turns so he's facing her, looking her over.

"I, um."

She focuses on his chin because she can't meet his eyes.

"I didn't mean to -- "

The room's too hot, her cheeks are burning.

"I just need to change, and I'll be right back, okay?"

The last word hitches in her throat.

"Don't -- don't worry about the floor, I'll get it when I -- "

"Kate."

He reaches his hand out for her arm. She's falling apart in front of him, and he can see how hard she's trying to contain it.

"S'alright. Just -- it's okay."

"It's not -- "

Her chin's quivering and she can't do this to him, not now, not like this, but she has to tell him so he'll know.

"It's not okay. I did this, I -- "

She shakes her head, chest tight with responsibility and regret.

"I put you there."

"Kate, no, you didn't -- "

His hand closes around her forearm, squeezing it gently.

"This wasn't your fault. I -- "

I thought I could handle it.

"I wanted to be there. You were trying to do what you could."

Then I ruined it.

"You didn't mean for this to happen."

I shouldn't have let it.

He strokes her skin with his thumb and hopes he can convince her, she's not to blame.

Last night was his doing; her and Katherine were right all along.

"No, I put you there, I've put us here, because I didn't listen, I should've gone by myself, and I -- "

She closes her eyes, concentrating on the movement of his thumb as she wonders how he can stand to touch her right now.

"I'm so sorry."

"I didn't let you." He says it quietly, but the guilt in his words is loud to his own ears.

"I couldn't let you."

Maybe I should have.

He knows the trouble didn't start until he opened his mouth. Things didn't get out of hand until he lost a hold of his anger.

"I should've told him the truth to begin with, I --"

She can see Bill on the ground, bloody and barely breathing, and she hooks a lock of hair behind one ear with her free hand, fingers clammy against her flushed cheek.

"What I did could've killed you last night."

He frowns, and he wants to tell her it wasn't that bad, that she's overacting, but he's pretty sure she isn't. The fact that he doesn't know how the fight ended is enough evidence that Ramon had the upper hand. The pain he's feeling now would probably be so much worse if it wasn't for the healing.

He was down. He was out. And, he could have very well died in the dirt last night.

He takes his hand back slowly, eyes going down.

"Kate, this thing has been out of all our control since it started. You're not t'blame for what happened."

She sees a flicker of something in his eyes she doesn't recognize; it looks almost like defeat, but it's more, somehow, and her expression softens further.

"I should've -- you were hitting each other so hard ... I should've known better, but I thought we could talk."

She licks her lips.

"I'm to blame for that, and I -- Bill, I'm sorry."

"You were just tryin' to fix things."

They should have been able to talk, but there was just too much bad blood and anger in the air, and a lot of it was from him. Ramon pushed him into that fight, and Bill took the bait thinking he could go up against a man like him and come out of it.

He should've known better.

"It just... didn't work out."

"I know you were protecting me."

Ramon did the one thing Bill wouldn't tolerate: he'd threatened her.

A tear slips down one cheek and she takes in a slow, shuddering breath, tasting salt.

"Sit back down, okay? I -- I've got this, I just need to run downstairs for more sugar. I'm sorry I ruined -- um."

She glances at the broken dispenser and scrubs a hand over her face.

I wasn't gonna let him hurt you again.

He sees the moisture run down her cheek and it makes him ache.

When she scrubs at her face he steps closer, reaching for her hand.

"Hey."

He lifts his hand to touch her cheek, the one without the faint bruising left from Ramon's hand.

"We're alright."

Through luck and help, but they each survived.

We're not.

She opens her eyes, seeing him on the ground again, blood covering his face.

"We don't know what's going to happen, Bill. When he changes back, we don't know -- "

She turns her cheek into the warmth of his palm.

focus, focus, focus, don't cry, not now

"Demeter's offered to let us visit her world for a while."

She's right. They have no idea what's going to happen when Ramon's back, and as bad as things have been, Bill is sure they're going to be much worse after this.

The thought scares him, and makes him realize how close he is to losing everything, because of Ramon.

He pulls in a slow breath and shakes his head, it's more to himself than to what Kate's said.

After a long, silent moment he asks, "Did she say how long he's gonna be like that."

"I didn't ask."

I was so worried about you, I didn't think to.

She turns her head to press a kiss to his palm.

"She said we could stay at her place in France, or she'll help us go anywhere else we want. Boo would be safe, and -- "

And so would you.

She swallows thickly.

"I left Katherine a note before I went to bed. I told her she should think about leaving the bar, too. She could even come with us, maybe."

Boo would be safe, and so would Kate.

Leaving is hard, though. Turning his back on a mess he's a part of, abandoning Katherine if she decides to stick around; he'd be running away.

He drops his hand slowly and turns back to the table, sitting down with a quiet sigh.

"I want y'all t'be safe, Kate."

This is still a hard choice to make.

"I know."

It's what you've always wanted.

"I want you safe, too."

She steps closer, and she wants to touch his shoulder, but doesn't want to startle him.

"You don't have to make a decision right now -- I just want you to know the option's there. And -- "

Two heartbeats.

"Bill, I think it's a good idea. But I need you to talk to me, tell me what you think."

"It's somethin' to think on." And he will this time, now that everything else has failed and Ramon is still a threat.

She asks what he's thinking, but there's too much to say. He's got so much on his mind, and a lot of it is doubts and confusion.

He reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, but then remembers it breaking and stops, setting his hand back on the table.

"I'm just -- I'm worried, an' there's so much to figure out. I mean, how long would we go for? It's a nice offer an' all, but Demeter's world... we'd both be out of our element there. It's probably not some place where we could stay all that long.

"And, if Katherine doesn't go, it'll leave her alone against that -- " His jaw tenses, stopping the curse, and he shakes his head. "'gainst Ramon."

"I know there's a lot of details."

She rubs the back of her neck, her breath catching at the degree of tension her fingers find.

"We'll have to talk to Demeter and Katherine before anything's concrete."

She pauses, studying Bill's worn, haggard profile.

"We probably shouldn't go back to Wheelsy right now -- you can't show up at work while you're still recovering, sweetheart."

Her hand slides up her nape, and she runs her fingertips through her tousled hair, thinking.

"But we could go to L.A."

He's not going to argue her about Wheelsy. He knows he can't go home like this, not just because of the physical shape he's in, he's exhausted and stressed and knows that at this point he'd be worthless at his job.

The thought makes him frown, but he can't focus on that right now.

When she suggests L.A. he turns to look at her.

"L.A.?"

She's been gone from her world so long (his fault), and he'd like a chance to go with her there, but is afraid the circumstances being what they are might ruin it. It's not the ideal situation, he's not in the best shape, but it's another idea.

"I -- I'll think about it, an' we'll talk to them."

"Okay," she says softly, her voice ragged at its edges.

Going back to L.A. means facing everything she's been avoiding for the past year -- Marie's arraignment, her father's hollow eyes, work, worried shareholders and employees, business reporters just waiting to see Warner International crumble -- but she's ready to do so if it keeps the people she loves safe.

She tries to smile and bends to brush a careful kiss to his crown.

"We'll figure it out," she whispers into his hair.

He knows she has a lot going on in L.A. and doesn't want to add more stress to that, but he'll still keep the option in mind. As long as she doesn't seem to object to it.

His eyes close on the kiss and he gives a small nod.

"Yeah."

God, I hope so.

He tries for his own smile that gets as far as hers does.

"Don't worry 'bout the sugar, Kate, unless you wanted some. I'm okay."

She pulls back and shakes her head.

"I'll run down and get some more. I can bring back a better breakfast, too, if you're still hungry."

He starts to shake his head 'no', then looks down at his soggy cereal.

"I -- yeah, thanks."

His smile is a little more this time, before it softens at the edges with concern he can't quite hide.

"Kate -- be careful down there."

"It'll only take a second."

She trades her pajama pants for a pair of well-worn jeans and tugs a fitted Stanford hoodie over her camisole.

(the faster she gets dressed, the sooner she gets downstairs, and the less time she has to let fear settle in)

Pulling her hair into a quick ponytail, she shoots him a Look.

"Don't touch the floor while I'm gone -- I'll get it."

He starts to comment, but keeps it in.

"Don't gotta be nothin' major. Bacon an' eggs is fine."

He holds back another caution and watches her leave.

After the door closes behind her worry builds quickly and he almost follows her.

He fights with his fear a couple minutes, then gets up and grabs the broom. Movement, even if slightly painful, is better than anxious waiting.

He does leave the gathered pile for her to pick up, unable to get down and use the dustpan.

She's back within a few minutes, a replacement dispenser and a breakfast tray for him in tow.

She sets down the tray -- there's bacon and eggs, toast, juice, and a small dish of fresh fruit -- and pulls a wry face when she sees the neat pile of debris.

"You're sweet," she says, saving both of them a useless lecture. "Stubborn, but sweet."

With that, she sweeps up the glass and sugar and deposits the mess into the trash.

He's washing his bowl after dumping out the cereal in it, staring at the bottom of the sink and thinking again of blood and water swirling down the drain.

He turns around when the door opens, and relief is clear in his eyes.

He doesn't say anything about being stubborn, just returns to the table and inspects the tray.

"Thanks."

He wants to ask her if she checked on Ramon, but he focuses on his eggs instead.

She peels off her sweatshirt and shucks her jeans, and she's back in her striped pajama pants and gray camisole when she pads into the kitchen again.

She heads for the coffee pot, pausing when her fingers curl around the handle.

It's so early, and she's so tired --

With a silent sigh, she takes back her hand and turns around, leaning against the counter while Bill works on his breakfast.

Gently, "Thinking about getting some more sleep?"

He looks up from his plate and hesitates.

"I might go an' lay down in a bit."

If she wants him to, so she can sleep, but he's up now and even though he knows Ramon was taken care of, it's hard to put aside the need to be alert.

He knows this isn't over yet, and that's enough to keep his guard up.

Even if he's in no shape right now to be of much good, should something happen.

"Bill."

It's a soft rebuke; there's no heat in her voice, just quiet concern.

"Getting some more rest is the best thing you can do for yourself right now."

She manages a weak half-smile.

"Please?"

She pushes away from the counter, the movement taking more effort than it should, and crosses the suite to crawl between the covers.

I'm not doin' this for me.

He watches her go back to the bed, then works on finishing his breakfast.

Cleaning the plate takes some time, he's hungry, but also tired. When he's done eating, he looks towards the bed and Kate, hearing her soft request.

Dropping the dirty dishes into the sink he checks the door to the suite first, then checks on Boo, and finally he carefully settles on his side of the bed.

She stirs when he eases into bed, her hand finding his across the sheets.

God, I'm glad you're here.

Once he's down his body is quick to tell him he needs rest as much as he needed to eat.

Accepting her hand, he squeezes her fingers gently.

I love you, Kate.

There's still so much left on his mind, problems, fears and doubts, but her touch and his body's lack of strength, is enough to help him shift focus off of that. His thoughts quiet for the time being, and he slips quickly into sleep.

Her hand tightens around his briefly.

I love you so much.

Pushing away thoughts of blood and bruises and slitted yellow eyes, she concentrates on the sound of Bill's breathing and the warmth of his skin against hers.

Exhaustion wars with uncertainty until her fingers loosen and she falls into a dreamless sleep, curled on her stomach beside him.

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