multiversallogs | Striking in complete silence / devastating, isolating, until I lose control

Entry tags:

Striking in complete silence / devastating, isolating, until I lose control

Who: Raylan Givens and Rachel Conway
What: Saving the day! Aaaand opening up a CR can of worms.
Where: Champion's Walk, Griss Twist.
When: Backdated a few days, in the midst of monster madness.
Notes: N/A
Warnings: Violence against monsters.

She'd been driven from her apartment three days ago, driven from her neighborhood a day after that. Rachel had managed to pack a bag on her way out, slung across her body now, full of what meager first-aid supplies she could gather and everything she could possibly use as a light source.

...Not that she intends to go that route. Ever. But better to be prepared for something you don't have to do than to be pushed into that corner and not be ready.

She's been moving through the city, doing what she can, sleeping when she can. She's hardly prepared for this; she's been a book editor and a tea house waitress and a low-level volunteer for a political party, there's nothing in her background to ready her for circumstances like these. But she couldn't just hide somewhere and not try.

The side streets tonight are reasonably quiet, if demolished here and there, bearing scars of earlier skirmishes. She makes note of buildings that look like they'll stay standing, and when she comes across the odd person wandering the street, she checks to make sure they don't need medical attention and then she shoos them off to the nearest safe place.

But as she nears Champion's Walk, the odd people become groups of people, and they're not wandering, they're fleeing. She catches the ones she can, directing them to a safe place, unable to get much out of them besides "monster" and "didn't want to be trapped."

There's a knot of people running through the open back door of a business that faces Champion's Walk. She fights her way through, dodging people, and she gets out the front door. She still can't see much--there's a group of people coming toward her, and some more, lit by the few street lamps still working, congregating by some buildings on the next block.

And then a shape moves between her and a lamp, flitting by so fast there's only a silhouette, and an impression of size. Great size.

She can't just stand here and do nothing.

Back through the shop she goes, back out the back door, but instead of joining the others fleeing onto the side streets, she takes one that parallels Champion's Walk. She sees another stream of people coming down an alley, and she squeezes through, popping out into the crowd of people gathered there.

"Who's in charge?" she asks the nearest person. "Is there anyone helping you guys right now?"

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While it's clear what she did took a lot out of her--she's still pale, subdued--she falls into step beside him and has no problem matching his pace. Her hands move up and close around the strap of her bag where it crosses her chest.

"You're okay? You're not hurt or anything?"

"No more than you would expect." Bruises, and he thinks he might have pulled his shoulder earlier, but everything still functions. "How are you doing?"

"About the same. Nothing that needs a doctor or anything, I'm all right."

She falls silent again, and she stays that way until they reach the end of the block. " Let's cut through here. There were some apartment buildings back that way. Lots of interior rooms, right?"

"Sounds good. Some of these things don't do stairs so well either, so it couldn't hurt to get some higher ground." As long as he stays focused on movement and practicalities, he'll do okay.

They make their way over to the side street, to check out the apartment buildings. The first one's entrance is locked. The second one doesn't inspire much confidence in its safety, what with its roof torn off.

The third one looks stable and the front door is unlocked, revealing a dim corridor beyond. "You ready?" she asks, because, after all, he's the one with the gun.

"Stay behind me." It's hard to do the classic sweep with a shotgun instead of a handgun, but Raylan thinks grimly that it's somehow fitting for a holler boy. Law training takes over as he leads them up through the first floor to the second. He finds a corner room with a view of two streets, and thinks it's the best they'll do.

She lingers in the doorway, letting him make sure the room is clear; when he lets her know itis she steps inside, closing the door and locking it. The room is sparsely appointed with threadbare and mismatched furniture. She crosses to the far side, peeking out ine window, then another.

"It's quiet down there so far. Hopefully it stays that way." she settles onto the beat-up old couch, scrubbing at her face with a hand as fatigue catches up with her for a moment.

"...I'm sorry," she offers, a bit abrupt. "I should've figured out how to tell you before now so you didn't have to find out like this. We can talk about this at some better time but I just wanted to get that out there."

"We can probably stay here, at least until we get hungry," he says, after a moment, which isn't quite a reply. He sits against the wall, leaning the shotgun beside him.

"You didn't have to tell me. Not you problem if I assume things." He took his hat off, and sat it next to his gun. "Thanks, by the way, for saving my life."

"Yeah, but it's not like you had any reason to assume anything else without that knowledge. I guess."

She spreads her hands a moment before folding them in her lap. "You're welcome. But I had to." And she's trying to make it sound like it wasn't any big thing, just what one decent person does for another, but maybe there's something in the way her voice softens and she studies her hands that says it's more than that, some internal motivation beyond well, I'd be a dick if I didn't help.

"...Thank you for not leaving me there."

"I'm not in the habit of letting friends get torn apart my monsters," he observes, wryly.

"Look. There's a lot going on here and I can't... I still can't help but thinking someone got their paperwork crossed when they brought me here. But whatever you can do, whatever you are... Hell. I gotta trust someone, or I should just go back out and take my chances with the monsters." He sounds tired, more than anything. He can't help but thinking he'd love to go to sleep and wake up in a hospital bed in Lexington, Wizard of Oz style.

She looks up then, somewhat surprised. She's braced for the worst because this is usually the point where things fall apart with other people, where at best they just can't get their head around what she is and don't want to try and at worst it's get out, weirdo. And when she doesn't get that here she's at something of a loss for what to say.

Rachel watches him for a few long moments, silent. And then she gets up, crossing to where Raylan sits with his back braced to the wall. She lowers herself so she sits beside him, slightly on the wrong side of "not too close" but not terribly so.

"Thank you," she says, her voice soft.

He looks over at her. "I've spent a week shooting monsters in the head and trying to keep civilians from getting killed. Fuck it. I'm not gonna go running for a torch and a pitchfork, considering you did save my life."

After a moment, he adds: "I'd thought you - us. It was something normal. But hell if there's anything normal about this place."

"Well, I appreciate that. Especially since pretty much everyone else who's gotten to this point, like, gotten this information--if they haven't gone for a torch and pitchfork, then they've just gone for the door."

She falls silent, frowning slightly--not out of being upset, it's clear she's thinking, trying to figure out how to put words to what's going through her head.

"I'm not fully normal, no," she allows, meeting his gaze again. "There's that one thing I can do that normal people can't do. And as far as I know, it's because of one tiny bit of my DNA. All that genetic code that makes me up, and one very small part is mutated. But that's it. That's all about me that's completely different. I'm a pretty damn regular person, the rest of me and my life."

She shrugs slightly. "So I'm a genetic mutant and we're in a place that's not right. That doesn't mean everything we get into is entirely fucked up. You and me--separately or together or whatever--we can still have normal things and normal relations and all that, despite me or this place. I intend to do just that, no matter how much this place tries to derail that."

"Well, clearly," he says, after a pause, "you just gotta wait until the other person is exhausted and needs their ass saved, and then they'll look like a bit of an idiot for running off." He lets his head fall back against the wall. "Not that I"m not an idiot, but I'm not gonna avoid you. Assuming we both live through this."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," she says, with a faint smile.

She turns to look at him, reaching over to touch his arm. "When's the last time you got any kind of rest?"

He manages a half smile in return. "Been sleeping on and and off when I could manage. I probably look like shit, though - haven't had a shower in days."

"That doesn't bother me so much. But I am worried about you being tired." She gives his arm a gentle squeeze. "Things are quiet now, and there's a couch over there. You want to try grabbing an hour or two of sleep? I can wake you up if anything happens. I figure the one of us that actually knows how to use the shotgun ought to be a bit more rested."

"You sure?" He'd generally fight her more, but he is in fact more tired than he's showing.

The fact that he's not putting up much of a fight convinces her this is the right idea. If he's tired enough not to fuss...

"I'm sure, Raylan. Get some rest now, while you can. God knows when we're going to have another chance."

He holds up a finger. "No more than one hour. Really. Then it's your turn." They'll both get proper sleep when the siege ends, but for now, he can't turn down the chance to rest.

Even if he feels betrayed, he knows she won't hurt him. For now, that's good enough.

She gets to her feet, holding up one hand like she's taking an oath as she fishes out her CiD with the other hand. "One hour. You have my word--I'm even setting a timer on this. Go on, go lie down."

He shakes his head, but gets up to move to the couch. "Yes, ma'am. You see anything, you think you see anything, you shake my shoulder if you can, shout if not."

Rachel puts the tips of two fingers to her temple in a mock salute, smiling faintly. "I'll peek out the windows every few minutes--I don't want to hang out near them in case anything notices me, but I'll keep an eye on things. Enjoy your nap."

Raylan only intends to close his eyes for a few minutes, but he really is exhausted. He almost immediately falls into a light and restless sleep, and he'll easily be out more than an hour unless she wakes him.

She pokes around the room while he sleeps, glancing out the windows every so often for any sign of incoming trouble. It's clear that at one time, though probably not recently, this was someone's modest home or crash pad. There's no food int the cabinet--and if there was she wouldn't eat it--but she does find a few glasses. She gives those a good rinse in the sink so they can be used.

She gets two glasses of water in her before her CiD buzzes in her pocket, telling her the hour's up. He's clearly tired. She really wants to let him sleep longer, but she gave her word and she's not about to go back on that now, not after what happened earlier.

"Raylan." She kneels beside the couch, setting down a glass of water before putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Raylan, it's been an hour, but if you want to sleep longer, that's okay."

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