[ It's not a day she ever has to think about until she's literally confronted with it everywhere. The specials advertised outside the Betties' salon when she goes in to get her manicure (normally, she'd make Waves do it but in absence of her sister's tiny, capable hands she's had to splurge more often so her nails aren't a bitten mess), the decorations in the center of town, the sign outside the goddamn school β it all serves to remind her of what she has but doesn't, not just far removed from it while she's here but even once she goes back home, too, how the child she had won't be safe until she never has to inherit something other than the color of her father's eyes.
So she pours herself into actively not thinking about it, keeping her head down and just trying to make it through the day, because the second she stops the second she's going to start remembering that tiny face (dainty and delicate in blue) and whether or not she still looks like an Earp or if there's a little Holliday in her too, if she's spoken her first word yet, if she would know the sound of her mom's voice even after all this time.
She goes to work and she goes to Frank's after, curving herself into a spot on the couch once he presses a glass of something into her hand. No one had asked her if she was a mother today, not one, but she can't exactly blame them for that; it's not like any part of her gives off major mom vibes, and she doesn't even have any stretch marks on her hips, the insides of her thighs, the edges of her abdomen where her belly had once swelled with the life inside it β
She realizes he's asking her something, looking at her expectantly for an answer, when the silence between them stretches on them for longer than normal, and she blinks a few times, trying to play it off with an empty laugh. ] Sorry, what were you saying?
[ he manages to avoid most of the reminders of what the day is. the diner is just small enough that it isn't much of an attraction for those mother's day brunches, even if he does get a few smaller families cramming into the booths. he works the kitchen, designating his part-timer to waiter duty, leaving him to avoid conversation on the matter β which isn't any more unusual than any other day on account of frank's hesitance for much social interaction.
it doesn't mean he doesn't think of maria, and maybe if he were in new york, he'd take an hour or two out of the day to visit her grave, to sit there with her for one-sided conversations until his throat grew sore. there's no chance of that here, nothing but a few minutes to spare in the morning in which he peers at her smiling face on his ripped photo, finger running light over the faint outline of her face. it isn't enough, but it has to be before he staggers off to work, letting his mind preoccupy itself with the heavy scent of bacon in his lungs and overly strengthened coffee on his tongue.
late in the day is when he finds himself with wynonna; it's the part where usually his smile curves more easily, where a stream of her jokes spout that standard roll of his eyes before he finally laughs light and faint, eased by her charm and the occasional brush of her lips on his.
but none of that comes today, and he doesn't even remember what he asks, something about reevaluating what he stocks up in his fridge for the benefit of bettering laura's health, before he finds himself distracted. because she isn't talkative at all, nothing like the usual train of bad puns and persistent commentary, and he can catch in her eyes the distance there, how she isn't reined in on their conversation in the slightest.
and when she forces the laugh, he knows there's something there throwing her off balance.
he stares at her for an extended moment when she speaks, merely peering at her closely as if that might provide some sort of vague answer. when he finds nothing, he lowers his fingers over her shoulder, thumb gently stroking the taut skin of her neck. ] Hey. [ his voice remains soft, intent focus in his gaze. ] What is it?
[ It's not even anything she means to do, to lose herself so completely in thinking about the one thing she's been trying to keep shoved deep down in her memories; it could be that her lingering attempts to bury are only resurfacing now because of where she is, in one of the few places she's come to know as safe here, with someone she's only recently let down some of her walls for. Or she's been keeping this secret for so long that she can't help but wonder if the dangers that surround her back home would even find a way here. The less people who know about Alice, the better, and the Earp heir can't prove a threat to her own daughter if she doesn't even have an in on where she is.
She knows she's probably given herself away by not talking his ear off, mustering minimal responses on her end and sometimes wordless ones too, the occasional hum of either assent or disagreement, especially as he'd proceeded to tell her about his day.
But she does lean into the touch of his hand without thinking twice about it now, tipping her cheek against the back of his hand with a slow smile that doesn't completely reach her eyes before that gaze drops towards the glass in her hand, and she realizes she doesn't even know what she's holding, hasn't even taken a sip of it yet to find out. ]
It's, uh β [ She straightens, tries for another laugh again, but there's nervousness in her chuckle, and she can't look at him directly, mouth twisting to one side. ] Today, of all days. Totally unexpected, but, um β turns out it also totally sucks. Just one of the many things they don't tell you about when you become a mom.
[ his stroking thumb slows to a still when she answers his question, the weight of her explanation not understand until she drops that final word. it takes him a moment to stitch it together, mostly because it's a lot more suddenly said than he might have expected it to be.
he's never asked her about her past, her history in her world, nothing beyond what she's told him, regarding all those supernatural elements she's taunted with, that ones that make up with insanity of a curse she can't escape. he doesn't ask in the same way that she doesn't ask him, certain corners more sensitive to unravel than others. even when she'd discovered his photograph, remnants of a family he'd lost, he never gave her more than the knowledge of their existence. it was easier that way, he thought, to keep their worlds sheltered away. because the moment he began dragging enough of it to the surface, the more likely he'd fall into the pit of someone he doesn't want to become here.
but this, he hadn't imagined on her end; even when she learned of his kids, she never gave any hint of her own experiences with it, and he never thought to ask, never sought to go beyond the boundaries they allowed themselves.
even when he ceases the caress at her neck, he doesn't draw his hand away, letting the warmth linger there still even as he peers to her in silence, his gaze softening.
when he speaks, his voice is even quieter than before. ] You have a kid.
I β [ She draws in a breath, and it's not as smooth as she wants it to be, a small shudder in it, but she's gotten this far, she's done the hardest part of actually saying it out loud so now she just needs to keep saying it and maybe the next time will be easier, right? ] I have a kid. A daughter.
[ She hasn't told him, told anyone because it's not the kind of thing that ever comes up in casual conversation, never a subject she leads with, mother not a word she ever uses to define herself to people because it still doesn't feel that accurate sometimes; she can't really call herself a mom if she only got to hold her child for a few minutes before giving her away, if she doesn't even know where she is now, if she had to go back to moving through her life and taking down demons and trying to stop the curse almost like it never happened at all.
But the closer she's gotten to him, the more she feels like she's been withholding a piece of herself from him, not giving him the full picture of her mess for him to decide if he even still wants it, wants her β and there's a worry of that hovering in her expression even while his hand continues to rest on his shoulder, something that links him, something that anchors her.
She finally takes a sip of what's in her glass, humming in recognition. ] Oh, alcohol. That's nice.
[ She clears her throat, maybe even drinks again before mustering up the rest of it. ] It wasn't planned. At all. That one percent of the pill that wasn't effective decided to kick in hard that day, I guess. And I wasn't ready, had never even thought about having kids. Didn't want them to run the risk of inheriting my shit, you know? But I didn't even really have time to second-guess myself, because it all just flew by β [ Literally, but that's not a story for now. ] β and before I knew it, I was going into labor on a freakin' pool table, of all places.
[ And when she finds his eyes again, her own are threatening to swim over before she recovers herself, takes another steadying breath. ] I had her, and I held her, and I gave her a name, and I sent her away. Because it was safer for her, knowing all the threats, all the demons, all the evil that was gonna come for me, come for her if they knew there was another heir, another Earp for the curse to pass on to. The same exact curse I was trying to find a way to break right before I woke up here.
[ there's a slight gloss over his eyes, a shift in their expression to something more sorrowful when wynonna clarifies β a daughter. and as she takes those extended seconds, time to adjust herself, to catch her breath, to take a drink, his mind rolls over her word use; have, she'd said, remaining in the present tense, unlike the way in which he'd have used it if it was him speaking. there's relief in there that she must be alive, but of course, nothing's ever quite that simple. and by the weight she carries in her body, the sinking air of someone who desperately tries to make sure she's always visibly afloat, he knows that it isn't.
he listens carefully, eyes gently resting upon her as the words carry through to him, not turning away once, even when she brings her own to gaze in return, an ache visible in the core of them.
the silence carries on even after she speaks, holding it there as he stitches her words and finds the will to carefully decide on his own, his fingers still curling gently against her shoulder. ]
You made the right call. [ his voice is low, remaining just at a whisper, a swallow momentarily disrupting his speech. ] I don't β I don't know everything you go through with that curse. What it all means. The supernatural parts of it, I don't β [ he shrugs slightly, but his sigh keeps him focused, words sincere. ] But I do know how shit can follow you. Whether it was something we did, or something that just got thrown at us, it's gonna be on our heels until we can find a way to get rid of it. Till we put an end to it. And sometimes ...
[ his hand falls, sloping down her arm until it lands light on her wrist, thumb stroking the skin there. ] Sometimes it's safer not to be there. To put them β to put them as far away from yourself as you can. Because that's the only way we're gonna protect them. And that's β that's what we're here for, y'know? We gotta keep 'em safe. Whatever it takes. [ he gnaws on his lip, gaze momentarily falling away, seeking out that silence again when the strain begins to rise in his voice, swallowing again to clear it.
when he looks at her again, his voice is softer than before. ] What's her name?
[ Not a day goes by when she doesn't think about Alice, but it's a recall that happens in fragments, small reminders here and there β a shade of blue that prompts her to think of the blanket they'd picked to wrap her up in, a wayward scent that bears an uncanny similarity to the moment when she'd pressed her nose against that warmed skin, that newborn sweetness that can never be completely replicated by any other source.
In the quiet of the early hours that she's alone in the farmhouse, peering at her own reflection in the mirror, she looks at the shape of her features and tries to picture whether it's copied in a smaller, more fragile set, if Alice's eyes are hers or Doc's, if her hair's darkened at all in the months since she's been fighting for survival in the world β because she is gonna have to fight, every day the curse exists, without her even knowing it.
She doesn't need him to reaffirm that what she did was right, but she feels better for him having said it, managing a quick, jerking nod of her head and a hard swallow on nothing, like her words are sticking in the back of her throat. And for a while, she just listens β because it's easier than trying to stumble through talking about it, not when she's positive she's fucked that up too.
She listens, and she glances down to where his hand slips to curve around her wrist, and she knows he doesn't fully grasp the scope of what she'd had to face back home but he gets the rest of it, the sacrifices that have to be made in order to keep people safe, even if that means sending them away, removing yourself from them, because the dangers are only greater around you. And the same holds true for here, the ones they've taken it upon themselves to protect from whatever threats this town tries to wield over them. ] I made them promise not to tell me where they'd sent her, because I wasn't going to let that evil use me to get to her. They weren't going to be able to touch her. Not through me.
[ It's that understanding that finally drives her to seek out his face again, to turn her wrist over until she can take his hand with hers, a hold that she needs as much as wants right now. ] Alice. [ And she smiles, in spite of the hurt around it, that tightness that squeezes a grip around her heart, that leaves her fond even in the midst of the pain. ] Her name is Alice Michelle.
Alice. [ he repeats it quiet, a returning smile of his own gazing back at her, a bittersweet return that's just as torn between the hurt and the beauty of it. because all the same, he thinks of lisa, his lisa barbara, and all the time he'd missed watching her grow because he'd committed himself to protecting her from afar, casting his mistakes that would eventually cause him to lose her completely. ]
It's a good name. [ he swallows, but he curves his fingers to accept her hand as it falls into his own, grip only tight enough to confirm that he isn't letting go for as long as she wants him there, an offered comfort that won't heal her wounds but he hopes can soothe them slightly all the same.
unoccupied fingers reach up against her neck, a loose graze that strokes a thumb against her cheek, rolling strands of dark locks back against her ear. ] I'm gonna make sure you get back to her, alright? [ he peers directly to her, resolve in his eyes. ] The shit that keeps us here, we're gonna figure it out and we're gonna shut it down. Then you're gonna go back and you're gonna beat the shit outta that curse, because I know how damn persistent and stubborn you are. I know the good you have, and those asshole demons don't stand a chance against it.
[ he takes a breath, a soft bite to his lip. ]
But before that, I'm gonna do everything I can here to get you home. Got that? Whatever it takes, I'll get you home so you can do what you gotta do to get back to your girl.
[ She doesn't move aside from that curling of fingers around his, apart from the hand that clutches onto his like it's the only lifeline keeping her from drowning in her grief β because those are the days that are the hardest, when she remembers, when she has the phantom ache of labor pains, when she wakes up from the all-too-real dreams in this place where she swears she can still feel her daughter kicking inside her, when she recreates the memory of tiny fingernails and an equally small grip around her hand before the wholly utter emptiness that had followed when Alice had been gently taken from her arms.
Her other hand shakes before securing a tighter hold on her glass and when he touches her, she releases a breath, a long, shuddering sigh through pursed lips, the warmth of his hand so careful, so open on her face that it nearly threatens to pry her apart right then and there, and she doesn't look up at him until she's sure, she's sure she's not going to break down in front of him.
His words prompt a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle from her, especially when he notes her stubbornness, something she's never been all that shy about acknowledging herself but it's different to hear it in this context now β like it's one of the strengths she can use to get through this as opposed to being chalked up to just yet another grating aspect of her over-the-top personality. And she turns her head into his hand, eyes wider now, cheek nudged into the path his finger takes across her skin before her chin bumps against the top of his palm. ]
Anyone ever tell you you're surprisingly good at that whole pep talk thing? [ The further away she gets from talking about Alice, the less likely she is to lose her cool, but there's still a waver in her voice when she poses the lighthearted question, not necessarily trying to undercut the moment but because she's hopelessly bad at letting this and ones like it happen with this much sincerity behind them; she's almost struggling to keep her gaze locked with his. ] Whatever it takes, huh?
[ he aims to give her something steady to balance herself on, with the firm but gentle press of his palm, the way her chin fits against his skin, and the accompanying assurance of his words. but there's a selfishness to this too; he couldn't save his family, couldn't save them from his own self-destruction after all he'd done in kandahar, mistakes that followed him back home. in the same way he'd seen lisa in amy, perhaps he was still looking for second chances, to save someone else's daughter as some minor compensation towards his guilt for not being able to save his own.
that, or perhaps it had something to do with the pained look in her eyes as wynonna talked of having to let her go, the longing ache he could see, that he could recognize, in wanting to hold her daughter in her arms again. he didn't want to keep seeing her wear that look, didn't want her to have to feel it.
there's a minor lift of his lips, a simple upward curve that could pose as a forced smirk. ] Yeah, don't go telling people. Then they'll all come scrambling for a pat on the back. [ he'll give a partial return of the joke, but his expression remains sincere as his thumb rubs soft circles to her cheek, warming her skin. ]
But, for you? [ his eyes soften, breathing slowing as if he might be resisting the honesty of it, before his voice speaks quietly, like the words remain a secret only for her. ] For you, yeah, whatever it takes.
[ She might always feel the loss of her daughter, but there are days when it hurts a tiny bit less to think about Alice. Today's just going to be one that sucks more, especially when all the reminders of how she absolutely failed as a mom are plastered everywhere in this town, only serving to make her dwell on her own mistakes. If only she'd been better, done better, something, maybe she wouldn't have had to give up her kid. Thing is she's pretty good at finding a way to a second chance, and she has to hold out hope that she'll be able to do it again.
She smiles a little more when her question provokes that slightly amused look that feels completely involuntary amidst the weight of his promise, but even that only amounts to a small upward tilt of her mouth, the brief deepening indents in her cheeks. ] Could be you've even got a career in it. Think you could add a third gig to your resume? "Non-traditional motivational speaker."
[ Her lips part almost on instinct, like she's got a ready remark prepared to downplay everything, especially that honesty in his gaze, his voice; she doesn't know what to do in the face of it and she closes her mouth to hold back anything that could diminish what he's saying to her right now. Instead, she doesn't respond with anything at all β not in words, that is, because she's already closing the distance between them to kiss him, a soft and grateful press of her lips to his. ]
[ perhaps thereβs always been a need for him in seeking something to protect, an excuse to fight; he doesnβt know who the real enemy is in this town, but he knows if theyβre ever presented in front of him, he wonβt hesitate to take a shot, supernatural nonsense or not. and if he thinks too hard on it, he might think itβs all selfish of him, that heβll take anything as a reasonable cause for him to bloody his fists again, especially after all these months of keeping them clean.
you didnβt hesitate, amy had once told him. you know, itβs almost like you were happy for the excuse.
but heβd bargained for something worth wanting to protect to this degree, he hadnβt expected itβd be her, not when he recalls moments of frustration and impatience those first meetings, when her constant stream of talking equated more annoyance than mutual intrigue β mostly. but with time, heβs found more resonance between them than not, and though heβs already come to accept something a little more significant between them, itβs the knowledge of knowing more now, that she recognizes the grief that comes with parenting, that she knows loss and sacrifice in that light even if itβs not with a full loss of hope, which makes him all the more eager to get her home safe even now.
and when she kisses him, itβs honest, his fingers curling around her neck, gentleness of the skin. he leans in, only for the soft return, not pursuing anything more than the light warmth of those pressed lips, letting it replace the vague confession heβs offered, not wanting to say anything more for fear of what it could imply. ]
[ She still doesn't know the full extent of why they've been called here β like most everything else about this town, every answer they've been given has been couched in riddle and mystery, making the true reason for their being trapped something she apparently doesn't get to understand yet, not until it's revealed itself. But she knows what she has to offer, and it's more of a track record with this brand of evil than some of the others can claim. Why tag in a girl with a demon-killing gun if you don't plan on her using it at some point?
And somewhere along the line she'd offered to have his back in a fight if it ever came down to it, that regardless of whatever else happened between them he could rely on her to watch out for him out there against any type of threat; she just hadn't counted on this tenderness occurring right alongside it, that she'd want to protect him not solely in looking after someone she considers a friend but to keep him closer than that.
He'd never pulled away from her, not even with one of her biggest secrets finally spilled; his touch had never left her, that warm constant one she wants to linger in, to wrap herself up in until the shittier parts of today fade into the background and all that's left is this, his hand lightly guiding along her neck and his taste on her lips. She does let that kiss break, but her forehead tips to his in the immediate after as she whispers, from behind closed eyes. ] Thank you.
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action backdated to mother's day;
So she pours herself into actively not thinking about it, keeping her head down and just trying to make it through the day, because the second she stops the second she's going to start remembering that tiny face (dainty and delicate in blue) and whether or not she still looks like an Earp or if there's a little Holliday in her too, if she's spoken her first word yet, if she would know the sound of her mom's voice even after all this time.
She goes to work and she goes to Frank's after, curving herself into a spot on the couch once he presses a glass of something into her hand. No one had asked her if she was a mother today, not one, but she can't exactly blame them for that; it's not like any part of her gives off major mom vibes, and she doesn't even have any stretch marks on her hips, the insides of her thighs, the edges of her abdomen where her belly had once swelled with the life inside it β
She realizes he's asking her something, looking at her expectantly for an answer, when the silence between them stretches on them for longer than normal, and she blinks a few times, trying to play it off with an empty laugh. ] Sorry, what were you saying?
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it doesn't mean he doesn't think of maria, and maybe if he were in new york, he'd take an hour or two out of the day to visit her grave, to sit there with her for one-sided conversations until his throat grew sore. there's no chance of that here, nothing but a few minutes to spare in the morning in which he peers at her smiling face on his ripped photo, finger running light over the faint outline of her face. it isn't enough, but it has to be before he staggers off to work, letting his mind preoccupy itself with the heavy scent of bacon in his lungs and overly strengthened coffee on his tongue.
late in the day is when he finds himself with wynonna; it's the part where usually his smile curves more easily, where a stream of her jokes spout that standard roll of his eyes before he finally laughs light and faint, eased by her charm and the occasional brush of her lips on his.
but none of that comes today, and he doesn't even remember what he asks, something about reevaluating what he stocks up in his fridge for the benefit of bettering laura's health, before he finds himself distracted. because she isn't talkative at all, nothing like the usual train of bad puns and persistent commentary, and he can catch in her eyes the distance there, how she isn't reined in on their conversation in the slightest.
and when she forces the laugh, he knows there's something there throwing her off balance.
he stares at her for an extended moment when she speaks, merely peering at her closely as if that might provide some sort of vague answer. when he finds nothing, he lowers his fingers over her shoulder, thumb gently stroking the taut skin of her neck. ] Hey. [ his voice remains soft, intent focus in his gaze. ] What is it?
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She knows she's probably given herself away by not talking his ear off, mustering minimal responses on her end and sometimes wordless ones too, the occasional hum of either assent or disagreement, especially as he'd proceeded to tell her about his day.
But she does lean into the touch of his hand without thinking twice about it now, tipping her cheek against the back of his hand with a slow smile that doesn't completely reach her eyes before that gaze drops towards the glass in her hand, and she realizes she doesn't even know what she's holding, hasn't even taken a sip of it yet to find out. ]
It's, uh β [ She straightens, tries for another laugh again, but there's nervousness in her chuckle, and she can't look at him directly, mouth twisting to one side. ] Today, of all days. Totally unexpected, but, um β turns out it also totally sucks. Just one of the many things they don't tell you about when you become a mom.
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he's never asked her about her past, her history in her world, nothing beyond what she's told him, regarding all those supernatural elements she's taunted with, that ones that make up with insanity of a curse she can't escape. he doesn't ask in the same way that she doesn't ask him, certain corners more sensitive to unravel than others. even when she'd discovered his photograph, remnants of a family he'd lost, he never gave her more than the knowledge of their existence. it was easier that way, he thought, to keep their worlds sheltered away. because the moment he began dragging enough of it to the surface, the more likely he'd fall into the pit of someone he doesn't want to become here.
but this, he hadn't imagined on her end; even when she learned of his kids, she never gave any hint of her own experiences with it, and he never thought to ask, never sought to go beyond the boundaries they allowed themselves.
even when he ceases the caress at her neck, he doesn't draw his hand away, letting the warmth linger there still even as he peers to her in silence, his gaze softening.
when he speaks, his voice is even quieter than before. ] You have a kid.
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[ She hasn't told him, told anyone because it's not the kind of thing that ever comes up in casual conversation, never a subject she leads with, mother not a word she ever uses to define herself to people because it still doesn't feel that accurate sometimes; she can't really call herself a mom if she only got to hold her child for a few minutes before giving her away, if she doesn't even know where she is now, if she had to go back to moving through her life and taking down demons and trying to stop the curse almost like it never happened at all.
But the closer she's gotten to him, the more she feels like she's been withholding a piece of herself from him, not giving him the full picture of her mess for him to decide if he even still wants it, wants her β and there's a worry of that hovering in her expression even while his hand continues to rest on his shoulder, something that links him, something that anchors her.
She finally takes a sip of what's in her glass, humming in recognition. ] Oh, alcohol. That's nice.
[ She clears her throat, maybe even drinks again before mustering up the rest of it. ] It wasn't planned. At all. That one percent of the pill that wasn't effective decided to kick in hard that day, I guess. And I wasn't ready, had never even thought about having kids. Didn't want them to run the risk of inheriting my shit, you know? But I didn't even really have time to second-guess myself, because it all just flew by β [ Literally, but that's not a story for now. ] β and before I knew it, I was going into labor on a freakin' pool table, of all places.
[ And when she finds his eyes again, her own are threatening to swim over before she recovers herself, takes another steadying breath. ] I had her, and I held her, and I gave her a name, and I sent her away. Because it was safer for her, knowing all the threats, all the demons, all the evil that was gonna come for me, come for her if they knew there was another heir, another Earp for the curse to pass on to. The same exact curse I was trying to find a way to break right before I woke up here.
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he listens carefully, eyes gently resting upon her as the words carry through to him, not turning away once, even when she brings her own to gaze in return, an ache visible in the core of them.
the silence carries on even after she speaks, holding it there as he stitches her words and finds the will to carefully decide on his own, his fingers still curling gently against her shoulder. ]
You made the right call. [ his voice is low, remaining just at a whisper, a swallow momentarily disrupting his speech. ] I don't β I don't know everything you go through with that curse. What it all means. The supernatural parts of it, I don't β [ he shrugs slightly, but his sigh keeps him focused, words sincere. ] But I do know how shit can follow you. Whether it was something we did, or something that just got thrown at us, it's gonna be on our heels until we can find a way to get rid of it. Till we put an end to it. And sometimes ...
[ his hand falls, sloping down her arm until it lands light on her wrist, thumb stroking the skin there. ] Sometimes it's safer not to be there. To put them β to put them as far away from yourself as you can. Because that's the only way we're gonna protect them. And that's β that's what we're here for, y'know? We gotta keep 'em safe. Whatever it takes. [ he gnaws on his lip, gaze momentarily falling away, seeking out that silence again when the strain begins to rise in his voice, swallowing again to clear it.
when he looks at her again, his voice is softer than before. ] What's her name?
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In the quiet of the early hours that she's alone in the farmhouse, peering at her own reflection in the mirror, she looks at the shape of her features and tries to picture whether it's copied in a smaller, more fragile set, if Alice's eyes are hers or Doc's, if her hair's darkened at all in the months since she's been fighting for survival in the world β because she is gonna have to fight, every day the curse exists, without her even knowing it.
She doesn't need him to reaffirm that what she did was right, but she feels better for him having said it, managing a quick, jerking nod of her head and a hard swallow on nothing, like her words are sticking in the back of her throat. And for a while, she just listens β because it's easier than trying to stumble through talking about it, not when she's positive she's fucked that up too.
She listens, and she glances down to where his hand slips to curve around her wrist, and she knows he doesn't fully grasp the scope of what she'd had to face back home but he gets the rest of it, the sacrifices that have to be made in order to keep people safe, even if that means sending them away, removing yourself from them, because the dangers are only greater around you. And the same holds true for here, the ones they've taken it upon themselves to protect from whatever threats this town tries to wield over them. ] I made them promise not to tell me where they'd sent her, because I wasn't going to let that evil use me to get to her. They weren't going to be able to touch her. Not through me.
[ It's that understanding that finally drives her to seek out his face again, to turn her wrist over until she can take his hand with hers, a hold that she needs as much as wants right now. ] Alice. [ And she smiles, in spite of the hurt around it, that tightness that squeezes a grip around her heart, that leaves her fond even in the midst of the pain. ] Her name is Alice Michelle.
no subject
It's a good name. [ he swallows, but he curves his fingers to accept her hand as it falls into his own, grip only tight enough to confirm that he isn't letting go for as long as she wants him there, an offered comfort that won't heal her wounds but he hopes can soothe them slightly all the same.
unoccupied fingers reach up against her neck, a loose graze that strokes a thumb against her cheek, rolling strands of dark locks back against her ear. ] I'm gonna make sure you get back to her, alright? [ he peers directly to her, resolve in his eyes. ] The shit that keeps us here, we're gonna figure it out and we're gonna shut it down. Then you're gonna go back and you're gonna beat the shit outta that curse, because I know how damn persistent and stubborn you are. I know the good you have, and those asshole demons don't stand a chance against it.
[ he takes a breath, a soft bite to his lip. ]
But before that, I'm gonna do everything I can here to get you home. Got that? Whatever it takes, I'll get you home so you can do what you gotta do to get back to your girl.
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Her other hand shakes before securing a tighter hold on her glass and when he touches her, she releases a breath, a long, shuddering sigh through pursed lips, the warmth of his hand so careful, so open on her face that it nearly threatens to pry her apart right then and there, and she doesn't look up at him until she's sure, she's sure she's not going to break down in front of him.
His words prompt a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle from her, especially when he notes her stubbornness, something she's never been all that shy about acknowledging herself but it's different to hear it in this context now β like it's one of the strengths she can use to get through this as opposed to being chalked up to just yet another grating aspect of her over-the-top personality. And she turns her head into his hand, eyes wider now, cheek nudged into the path his finger takes across her skin before her chin bumps against the top of his palm. ]
Anyone ever tell you you're surprisingly good at that whole pep talk thing? [ The further away she gets from talking about Alice, the less likely she is to lose her cool, but there's still a waver in her voice when she poses the lighthearted question, not necessarily trying to undercut the moment but because she's hopelessly bad at letting this and ones like it happen with this much sincerity behind them; she's almost struggling to keep her gaze locked with his. ] Whatever it takes, huh?
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that, or perhaps it had something to do with the pained look in her eyes as wynonna talked of having to let her go, the longing ache he could see, that he could recognize, in wanting to hold her daughter in her arms again. he didn't want to keep seeing her wear that look, didn't want her to have to feel it.
there's a minor lift of his lips, a simple upward curve that could pose as a forced smirk. ] Yeah, don't go telling people. Then they'll all come scrambling for a pat on the back. [ he'll give a partial return of the joke, but his expression remains sincere as his thumb rubs soft circles to her cheek, warming her skin. ]
But, for you? [ his eyes soften, breathing slowing as if he might be resisting the honesty of it, before his voice speaks quietly, like the words remain a secret only for her. ] For you, yeah, whatever it takes.
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She smiles a little more when her question provokes that slightly amused look that feels completely involuntary amidst the weight of his promise, but even that only amounts to a small upward tilt of her mouth, the brief deepening indents in her cheeks. ] Could be you've even got a career in it. Think you could add a third gig to your resume? "Non-traditional motivational speaker."
[ Her lips part almost on instinct, like she's got a ready remark prepared to downplay everything, especially that honesty in his gaze, his voice; she doesn't know what to do in the face of it and she closes her mouth to hold back anything that could diminish what he's saying to her right now. Instead, she doesn't respond with anything at all β not in words, that is, because she's already closing the distance between them to kiss him, a soft and grateful press of her lips to his. ]
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you didnβt hesitate, amy had once told him. you know, itβs almost like you were happy for the excuse.
but heβd bargained for something worth wanting to protect to this degree, he hadnβt expected itβd be her, not when he recalls moments of frustration and impatience those first meetings, when her constant stream of talking equated more annoyance than mutual intrigue β mostly. but with time, heβs found more resonance between them than not, and though heβs already come to accept something a little more significant between them, itβs the knowledge of knowing more now, that she recognizes the grief that comes with parenting, that she knows loss and sacrifice in that light even if itβs not with a full loss of hope, which makes him all the more eager to get her home safe even now.
and when she kisses him, itβs honest, his fingers curling around her neck, gentleness of the skin. he leans in, only for the soft return, not pursuing anything more than the light warmth of those pressed lips, letting it replace the vague confession heβs offered, not wanting to say anything more for fear of what it could imply. ]
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And somewhere along the line she'd offered to have his back in a fight if it ever came down to it, that regardless of whatever else happened between them he could rely on her to watch out for him out there against any type of threat; she just hadn't counted on this tenderness occurring right alongside it, that she'd want to protect him not solely in looking after someone she considers a friend but to keep him closer than that.
He'd never pulled away from her, not even with one of her biggest secrets finally spilled; his touch had never left her, that warm constant one she wants to linger in, to wrap herself up in until the shittier parts of today fade into the background and all that's left is this, his hand lightly guiding along her neck and his taste on her lips. She does let that kiss break, but her forehead tips to his in the immediate after as she whispers, from behind closed eyes. ] Thank you.