milliways_bar | (no subject)

(An hour or so ago.)

When Beth and Spike come in from the House of Arch, she's got a hell of a lot more on her than she ever has for her trips out with him, but none of those trips ever involved a baby. And all of those trips were to places where she could easily buy anything she forgot and needed mid-trip.

Her small backpack's been stuffed with everything it can possibly fit (and then some), and even more has been crammed into the flowery bag holding all the baby's things. And Junior, dressed in preparation for chilly weather and seemingly fascinated by her new vantage point, is securely strapped to her back.

Her cap's on, her sunglasses are on, her hair's pulled back, and her hand... is clasped tightly in Spike's.

The life Yorick's leading out there is no life for Spike, but just this one time, she has to firmly remind herself that she would never want that for him. It's a wonder Yorick's still alive -- if he is -- and she won't take the risk with Spike. It's a proven fact that any remnants of the plague that could be in the air wouldn't hurt him, but the plague is pretty fucking far from the only danger for him. Spike can take better care of himself than Yorick, no question, but Spike would be a fuck of a lot harder to miss.

She just couldn't take him.

Sliding her sunglasses down her nose a little, she shoots Spike a quick smile and then glances around the bar. If Hero's not here already, she'll be here any minute.

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There's nothing easy about this. Despite all the planning and all the assurances and all the reassurances, it's still not easy. Mostly it's because the whole setup makes him feel helpless, and feeling helpless isn't his strong suit at all.

He can hide it, though. He has to, for Beth's sake and for Junior's sake. Less so for Hero, because he doesn't know her as well and even though he really likes her, part of him can't help but resent what she represents, try as he might not to think of it that way. Really, it's all just shit that's happened and he's grateful as hell that she took care of Beth out there last time. He's a little less grateful that she came back and unwittingly disturbed their balance, their sanctuary.

Their happiness.

But Beth and Beth Junior won't be gone forever. Just for as long as it takes for Beth to establish herself out there, make sure she ends up in that damn cornfield instead of someplace else in her world if fate decides to be as cruel again as it did last summer and separates them without warning. The odds are lower now living in the House of Arch -- fewer doors -- but nothing ever came to him with a signed, sealed, delivered guarantee and this is no different.

The only guarantee is that he loves the hell out of Beth and he loves the hell out of Beth Junior and damn if he doesn't want the best for both of them. Hell, for all three of them, when and where that's possible. In the meantime, he'll do a lot of that proverbial holding down the fort -- not something he's ever been the least bit good at -- and wait.

That's something else he sucks at.

Then again, he did wait three years for Julia, so maybe he's not as bad at it as he thinks. And he can also think about all this other shit later after they're gone, because that'll be better. He'll have nothing but time.

It's almost an afterthought that he takes Joe's watch out of his pocket and presses it into Beth's hand. The significance of it is something she'll understand: no matter where the hell she takes it, she'll always know the time back here at the bar. If she gets lonely, she can look at it and check out the time and maybe think about what he might be doing: teaching Ingress how to defend herself, or sleeping late because he can for the first time in ages, or running by the lake, or sitting there keeping... her cornflakes just the right amount of soggy.

When he catches sight of Hero, he almost doesn't say anything but shit, Beth's going to see her in a second anyhow.

"There's Hero."

He doesn't let go of Beth's hands. Not yet. But he does wink up at Beth Junior, sitting high in that baby backpack: she's smiling like it's just for him.

The backpack weighs a goddamn ton; it always amazes her that just a few days without the thing on her back makes it so much harder to pick up and put on again. Scanning the bar, she sees them waiting just where Beth said she'd be. With a determined stride, she makes her way over. Quinn's not here, Jayne's not here, Jack's not here, Duo's not here. And that's okay, because it makes it easier. Once she gets close enough, she reaches over and touches the little cap on top of Beth Junior's head.

She only feels a little bit like an intruder. But the mission she's on has to fucking be done: she has to deliver the sample to the lab and the twin doctors there. It's only the fate of the whole goddamn world that hangs in the balance. Or maybe that's an awfully self-important assessment of the situation.

Regardless, it's time to get the fucking party started. Nodding, she clears her throat and looks at Beth. "Whenever you want, mamacita." What's she going to say to Spike: that she'll take care of Beth? Of course she will. Beth's her best friend in the goddamn universe, and Beth Junior's her fucking niece. If Hero knows one thing about herself, it's that she's at least as fierce as the next chick when it comes to protecting her own.

"Spike." It's her way of saying goodbye. She knows how invested he is in Beth and the baby, and she's not going to waste any of their time talking when it's really the two of them that probably have more shit to say to each other. After all, once they walk out that door she and Beth will have acres and acres of cornfield in which to catch up.

"All right. The sooner we get going, the sooner we can get the hell back."

Turning from Hero to look at Spike again, she pulls her sunglasses off, rests the bag in her hand on the floor, and tugs him forward by the tie until her mouth meets his.

There's no room for bashfulness at a time like this, and she doubts she'd be bashful about it anyway.

With barely an inch between them, her hand still on his tie, she barely smiles. "Don't you think for a minute that I don't love you." It's all but a whisper. "Not for a fucking second."

Once that's out, it's almost a return to business: she slips the watch they've had for so long but she still always thinks of as Joe's into her pocket, then picks up the bag she let drop a moment before.

And frankly, she already feels just a little bit better.

"Hey, Junior. Got a smile for Spike?"

She doesn't smile on cue, but it's worth a try.

"Bye, princess." Reaching forward, he rubs Junior's cheek with his fingertip, then leans over and kisses the soft skin on her forehead. "I'll see you back here soon." The baby's eyes are wide with stimulus, with excitement, with the amount she can see from her new vantage point. It's awfully damn sweet.

Turning to Hero, he nods decisively. "You take care of yourself. And everyone else: I know you will. Thanks." It's as gracious as he can be to her right now because this whole saying goodbye shit isn't for him... but at least he gets to do it this time and that's a hell of a good thing. "I want to see you back here too." That's something Hero may or may not know.

He doesn't want to see her back here as much as he wants to see Beth and Junior back here, though: he doesn't love Hero like he loves his Beths. And while he could stand right here all night making out with Beth, that would be pretty counterproductive: there's this thing that has to be done and drawing it out will only prolong it in all sorts of miserable ways. The smile on his face might not be evident to most people, but he knows Beth can see it: it's the private one, the one he only ever uses for her. She's the love of his life and while the door here has shown itself to be unreliable at best, he trusts her. He trusts her with his life and with her life and with Junior's life. The baby couldn't be in better hands.

His voice is low and private and even. "I love you, Beth Durand. You go do what you need to do, then... get your ass back here. I'll be waiting." Just one more kiss that's no less important for its relative sedateness and he stands back and nods.

Time to let go. Whatever happens happens, like it or not.

That's her Spike.

That goddamn hint of a smile is better than anything else he could say or do for her right now, and she's still smiling when she takes a step back and looks at Hero again, lifting her chin in the direction of the door.

As she puts her glasses back on, she can feel Junior wiggling around a little bit against her back. There's a lot in here for her to take in, and there'll be just as much out there.

"After you, Hero."

It's her door to open.

It's our world now, mamacita. That's what she told Beth as they were setting off on their last adventure and it's still so goddamn appropriate. This has to be hard for Beth, but she's doing it now to hedge her bets for the future.

Their world breeds strong fucking women.

They have no choice but to be strong, to be survivors in every sense of the word. Opening the door, she looks out into the Kansas cornfield, then motions Beth and the baby through (http://stbethadettes.livejournal.com/14592.html) with a nod of her head.

She doesn't look back: there isn't anything else to say.

That's... that, and there's nothing he can do about it except watch the door close.

Then he lights himself a smoke and leans against the wall, just thinking and smoking until he can muster the effort to walk across the bar again. He's going to head back to the House of Arch and once he gets there he might pour himself a drink, or he might read, or he might work out. Hell, he might even come back here later just to not be alone but right now, there's not a person in the place he really wants to see.

No, they both just walked out the door.

How 'bout that.

Spitting out the cigarette, he walks back to the portrait, touches it, and vanishes. He can't think of a single damn reason to hang around the bar right now.