She turned the box of Dandy Boy apples over in her hands. She remembered eating these apples on her first go around, on a night not unlike this one. Boone had worked himself into a stupor, and curled up in a tight ball on his side of the bed. She had sat on the other side of the rolled blanket that marked where his territory ended and hers began, and eaten everything she could get her hands on.
The apples were part of her now, but also in her hands. What would happen if she ate them again? If someone else ate them? A chill crawled down her spine, and she shoved them into the safe.
“Carla?” Boone mumbled, sitting up in the bed.
“No,” she replied, though she could see from his face that he already knew that. “I'm sorry. I-” she wanted to tell him that she had tried, that if only she had booked her one-way ticket for twelve fucking hours earlier everything would have been alright, but he didn't deserve to have her open that can of worms. “I'm sorry.”
He didn't answer her for a long time, preferring to stare up at the water stained ceiling. “This isn't our- my room.”
“We're in my room. I wasn't sure what state yours would be in.”
“Its fine. They were very neat.” He dropped his head into one hand. She gripped the edge of the dresser, physically restraining herself from reaching out to touch his face. He didn't like to be touched at the best of times, let alone by strangers. But it had been more than a year since the last time she had heard his voice, screaming obscenities at her and Veronica's retreating backs.
After several minutes, he took a deep breath and raised his head again. “What's a First Recon soldier doing out this way?”
Shit. She touched the hem of the beret. She had vowed never to take it off again, since she always felt like she fought better with it on. It felt like more of her shots found their targets. Like they were less likely to go wide and instead hit the only eyebot who could prevent a second nuclear holocaust from hitting the Mojave. But it may have been wiser to leave it in her pack until after Boone had given it to her.
“I'm just a courier. This was a gift from a friend.”
“Must be some friend.”
“I couldn't begin to tell you.”
The room was turning a dingy grey as the sun came up. She glanced out the window, realising that the other her was in the ground by now. She pushed the thought down, needing to focus. She hadn’t saved Carla, could never have saved Carla, but she had brought Boone inside. He had told her once, in the first time line, that he spent that first night unconscious on the road. That meant that things could be changed, and she had a lot to do.
“I need to go. Will you be ok?”
He stared at her like that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard.
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timeasmymeasure
Betty and Me 1c/?
Date: 2012-07-02 12:29 pm (UTC)The apples were part of her now, but also in her hands. What would happen if she ate them again? If someone else ate them? A chill crawled down her spine, and she shoved them into the safe.
“Carla?” Boone mumbled, sitting up in the bed.
“No,” she replied, though she could see from his face that he already knew that. “I'm sorry. I-” she wanted to tell him that she had tried, that if only she had booked her one-way ticket for twelve fucking hours earlier everything would have been alright, but he didn't deserve to have her open that can of worms. “I'm sorry.”
He didn't answer her for a long time, preferring to stare up at the water stained ceiling. “This isn't our- my room.”
“We're in my room. I wasn't sure what state yours would be in.”
“Its fine. They were very neat.” He dropped his head into one hand. She gripped the edge of the dresser, physically restraining herself from reaching out to touch his face. He didn't like to be touched at the best of times, let alone by strangers. But it had been more than a year since the last time she had heard his voice, screaming obscenities at her and Veronica's retreating backs.
After several minutes, he took a deep breath and raised his head again. “What's a First Recon soldier doing out this way?”
Shit. She touched the hem of the beret. She had vowed never to take it off again, since she always felt like she fought better with it on. It felt like more of her shots found their targets. Like they were less likely to go wide and instead hit the only eyebot who could prevent a second nuclear holocaust from hitting the Mojave. But it may have been wiser to leave it in her pack until after Boone had given it to her.
“I'm just a courier. This was a gift from a friend.”
“Must be some friend.”
“I couldn't begin to tell you.”
The room was turning a dingy grey as the sun came up. She glanced out the window, realising that the other her was in the ground by now. She pushed the thought down, needing to focus. She hadn’t saved Carla, could never have saved Carla, but she had brought Boone inside. He had told her once, in the first time line, that he spent that first night unconscious on the road. That meant that things could be changed, and she had a lot to do.
“I need to go. Will you be ok?”
He stared at her like that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard.