James’ voice gets rougher by the day. Israel hates it. He’s afraid that soon, he’ll no longer be able to tell James’ voice from other ghouls he comes across. James keeps Israel bedridden for far longer than he thought was necessary, but every time he tries to move his breath is taken away by a shot of pain that course through his entire being.
The door to the shack is open, and Israel is watching James fish. He can almost see the man he used to look like, and the faint outline of a blonde child on his knee.
“What was your daughter like?” he croaks, shifting in his bedroll uncomfortably. He’s too hot, but it’s hard to find the energy to do more than squirm. Even talking exhausts him. James freezes for a split second before answering.
“She is very intelligent,” he answers. “Very kind. A lot like her mother, but more like me, God bless her. I,” and at this, he pauses. “I always felt guilty, and tried not to be too hard on her.”
“Why?” Israel asks. James doesn’t answer until after he manages to pull a fish out of the water, and watches it struggle for breath until dying.
“I was always comparing her to Arcade,” he answers finally, shooting an apologetic look at Israel. “I always wanted her to be like him. As well-behaved, as smart. I was secretly delighted when her hair grew to be blonde because it meant she looked a little more like him.”
“You took care of him after I was gone, didn’t you?” Israel asks, a weariness infecting his voice. “After you thought I was dead.” James nods, and sadly answers,
“I stayed until Mona died. I would’ve stayed after that too, but Orion forced me out at gunpoint. He blamed me for not being able to protect you two.”
“I’m sorry,” Israel says. “For that.” James shakes his head.
“I’m not. I understood. Even when I left to go back to the Capital Wasteland, I always thought about you,” he says, and his look makes Israel avert his eyes. It’s too deep, too searching and loving, and Israel can’t deal with it.
He doesn’t deserve it.
James continues to speak.
“I thought about all of you. You know, I never wanted children of my own until I met you and Mona. Until Arcade.” James falls silent, working on gutting the fish for dinner.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Israel says, more to break the silence than anything else. “For taking care of him.” James shakes his head, and a soft hint of a smile graces his ruined features.
“No thanks needed. You all were my family. I loved you.”
Israel doesn’t ask if that love still exists. Somehow, he doesn’t think he can bear to know.
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timeasmymeasure
Keep Your Composure 12/?
Date: 2011-12-04 04:28 pm (UTC)The door to the shack is open, and Israel is watching James fish. He can almost see the man he used to look like, and the faint outline of a blonde child on his knee.
“What was your daughter like?” he croaks, shifting in his bedroll uncomfortably. He’s too hot, but it’s hard to find the energy to do more than squirm. Even talking exhausts him. James freezes for a split second before answering.
“She is very intelligent,” he answers. “Very kind. A lot like her mother, but more like me, God bless her. I,” and at this, he pauses. “I always felt guilty, and tried not to be too hard on her.”
“Why?” Israel asks. James doesn’t answer until after he manages to pull a fish out of the water, and watches it struggle for breath until dying.
“I was always comparing her to Arcade,” he answers finally, shooting an apologetic look at Israel. “I always wanted her to be like him. As well-behaved, as smart. I was secretly delighted when her hair grew to be blonde because it meant she looked a little more like him.”
“You took care of him after I was gone, didn’t you?” Israel asks, a weariness infecting his voice. “After you thought I was dead.” James nods, and sadly answers,
“I stayed until Mona died. I would’ve stayed after that too, but Orion forced me out at gunpoint. He blamed me for not being able to protect you two.”
“I’m sorry,” Israel says. “For that.” James shakes his head.
“I’m not. I understood. Even when I left to go back to the Capital Wasteland, I always thought about you,” he says, and his look makes Israel avert his eyes. It’s too deep, too searching and loving, and Israel can’t deal with it.
He doesn’t deserve it.
James continues to speak.
“I thought about all of you. You know, I never wanted children of my own until I met you and Mona. Until Arcade.” James falls silent, working on gutting the fish for dinner.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Israel says, more to break the silence than anything else. “For taking care of him.” James shakes his head, and a soft hint of a smile graces his ruined features.
“No thanks needed. You all were my family. I loved you.”
Israel doesn’t ask if that love still exists. Somehow, he doesn’t think he can bear to know.