(no subject)

[e_delmar]

Ennis Del Mar's been a stubborn bastard from the day he was born, and he'll be a stubborn old bastard until the day he dies. Maybe longer. Which'd be why, once things'd calmed down with Sallie and all, he went stormin' out of the house, intent on takin' a walk on his own for once.

It's slow going, ain't no doubt about that, and he can't help his foot draggin' a little that way it does when he's gettin' tired.

click, woooosh



click, woooosh



click, wooo-


There's a clinking sound as his foot hits something metal and small, a can. And maybe he can't help smilin', neither, as he picks it up and sets it on a fencepost off in a quiet corner.

Comments

[river_meimei]

River frowns a little, and the hand at his eyes drops slowly.

"No," she says softly.

As if to Naomi, or a skittish horse.

"What it means. That's all. Forget the musculoneural degeneration."

[e_delmar]

Ennis furrows his brows, confused. Not at her meanin', but at her words. It's a good few minutes before he puts two and two together and shows up somewhere in the vicinity of three, flexing his hand. The pain's still there, ain't nothing to be done about that, but he's lookin' up at River, instead of down at his hand.

[river_meimei]

River smiles at him, small and sweet. It's a smile Roland would recognize.

"Just so," she says. So soft.

"Hit it."

[e_delmar]

Ennis pulls the gun up, slow and sure, and this time when he does, there's no sign of shaking.

[river_meimei]

River watches.

Her eyes are clear, and her hands rest easily on her knees, and that tiny sweet smile is still there.

[e_delmar]

Ennis ain't watchin' her now, don't even give any sign of hearin' her. But there's the slightest move and somewhere, off a few yards behind the fence, up in the high grass, a metal can hops.

[river_meimei]

The sky is a blue bowl above them. No hawks here; but, far off, there's the silhouette of a Fletcher-class shuttle cutting an arc over the grasslands.

Under this tree, nothing moves but Ennis's trigger finger.

And, some yards away, a can. Hop, and hop, and hop.

[e_delmar]

Hop and then it's

(dead)

still, and even then Ennis don't move.



The gun comes down, and he takes a breath and only then he remembers to blink, and turns to River.

[river_meimei]

Her eyes are on the can, and that same half-smile is hovering around her lips, and for a moment more she doesn't move.

And then her head turns, and her eyes meet Ennis's. And her smile shifts: widens, warms, stays just as sweet. We share a secret, that smile says. You and me.

[e_delmar]

Ennis looks up at her from under his hat, eyes askew and almost shy as he brings his thumb up to bite at it gently.

[river_meimei]

"Just so." Soft as the wind that's rustling the tall grass.

She breathes out, something like a sigh, and a little of that intent, clear focus slides away; not all, but some. Enough to soften all the angles of her face, until she looks like a girl again instead of a gunslinger.

[e_delmar]

"Just so."

He echoes her words. Ennis reaches up, one hand brushing against her cheek, just some, before he leans in an place a small kiss on her forehead. His hand's back to shakin' as he puts the gun away, but he don't seem to pay it much mind 'til he tries to stand and stumbles his first try. Muttered curses from under his breath, and he gives River a sheepish look.

[river_meimei]

River's eyes close when he murmurs those words back at her in that deep voice raspy from illness and too many cigarettes, when he brushes a callused hand over her cheek and kisses her forehead. It's a long minute before she lifts her eyes again, and when she does that steely clarity of before might never have been there. She looks twenty again, or younger, her face fond and sad and wistful, and the way her gaze drifts and her head tilts is all River and nothing quite like normal.

She smiles a little at Ennis, reassuring. And doesn't try to help, but she's near enough for him to put a hand on her shoulder for balance, maybe, if he wants to.

[e_delmar]

He don't want to, but he does it anyway, standing slowly with nothing less than a grimmace on his face. He'd offer her a hand up if he could, but instead he leans against a tree and waits, and that's all he can do.

[river_meimei]

River watches him as he pushes himself to his feet; watches his knees, after he's standing.

Breath in, and out.

River is a dancer, and she always will be a dancer in spite of whatever else she is too. So when she does finally move, it's to rise from her crouch in a single fluid motion, her eyes on something indefinable in the stretch of ground between tree and fence.

[e_delmar]

He should go in, he knows that, shouldn't'a come out here in the first place, but he couldn't help it. Ennis looks around, and he smiles at River. Or maybe he's smilin' at the sky, or the trees, or the fence. Or that can, off in the grass somewhere, and he offers her his hand.

[river_meimei]

Sometimes, you need to see the sky.

To breathe. To walk. To remember what you are.

River looks at Ennis; and she smiles back, and slips her hand into his.

It's a circuitous route they take back to the house -- not too tiring, but enough to make it a stroll (or a pasear, as some might say) -- and inside there's a warm kitchen, and soft chairs, and pie. And maybe Ennis keeps wearing his heavy overshirt even in the warmth, and maybe he doesn't touch a bit of the pie or even a sip of coffee. But it's still there, and that's something.

And so are Sallie and Jack. And that's something, too.