The Stars Still Shine (for apassingafternoon)

[askthelookout]

It was a long day, and one which seemed as if it might never end. Long after the sun had gone down, Cuthbert was crutching his way around the little tent city which was sprouting up on the practice ground. He'd had the rest of his injuries seen to briefly - by Jamie, not Eunyce, largely because he trusted a fellow gunslinger much more to understand why he wouldn't take anything to put him to sleep - and he'd wiped off the worse of the dirt that clung to him, but he still looked thoroughly sick and weary.

He'd managed to see Rebecca's girls in the hands of someone he trusted, at least, and made sure they were sleeping soundly. Those with friends or family in the lower town had long gone to find shelter there, those without had set up tents and campfires and settled themselves down in the ruins. But it was the small hours of the morning before he lay down himself, on the bare ground, and tried to rest.

It was maybe half an hour later that he gave up on the attempt, hauled himself back to his feet, and limped away again. He found Kaine without too much trouble, and levered himself down onto the grass next to her. With a rather sick feeling, he remembered just how recently they'd been sitting on this ground in the sunshine, telling stories in the shadow of the castle complex, and how he'd felt that things were finally relaxing a little. Ka-mai, indeed, he thought bitterly.

Leaning over a little, he touched her shoulder. His voice was low, so as not to wake the rest of the camp. They needed sleep, he knew. Everyone was weary as all hell.

"Kaine? Are you awake?"

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[askthelookout]

He was quiet for a long time, his breathing as steady as ever, except for the occasional hitch when his broken ribs twinged. At last, he said quietly, "Might have been best if you did. Though I wouldn't take the road that brought you here. We've had more than a few reports of bandits bearing Farson's sigul."

He was no Roland. He wasn't so tight-lipped, or so serious. But, as that should tell her if nothing else did, he was at least as capable of covering reality up with pragmatism. And, as far as he could see, it was true. She should have left. There was nothing left here worth staying for.

"I hope you didn't stay for me." His voice was starting to thicken with sleepiness.

[apassingafternoon]

"So what if I did? That's my decision." Her hand paused in his hair and she kissed his brow gently. Her tone might have been sharper than she meant, so this time Kaine was sure to speak clear and softly. "You're my friend. And Nariko loves this place, because she saw it before, and because her father loved it too. Even if barely anyone can stand me being here, and even though I'm hardly useful, I can't just go. Doesn't do me any good to run away."

He was a part of the reason but not the entire one, for however much that counted it was certainly the truth. She returned to carding her fingers through his hair, settling back into his hold and breathed evenly until she began to relax.

"Sorry, can't get rid of me just yet." Not that he had really been trying in the first place.

[askthelookout]

"If Roland's right - and he usually is, on things like this - it'll come to bloodshed again before too long." The warning might have been dulled somewhat by him stopping midway through it to yawn. "I mean, even if Marten had nothing to do with this, Farson would have to be an idiot to ignore an opportunity like this. We're laid bare and in disarray. If Roland and Nariko come back, there may be nothing to come back to. And if you stay, there's a not inconsiderable probability that you'll die here."

So much for keeping his mind off the serious problems. The trouble was, he couldn't wish himself into blindness. Every time he stopped actively keeping it at bay, that thought started creeping its way back into his mind.

[apassingafternoon]

"I'll take you, Alain, Jamie, and Yonah away before I let that happen and you're an idiot for thinking otherwise. Or too honor bound." Maybe it was the exact same thing. The idea of running from all of this probably wasn't even in him, she could see Bert doing his best to hold everything down until the very last moment. Until it got him killed once and for all.

"Maybe it's the cowards way out but that's why I'll be the one to do it. The rest of you will just be my kidnapping victims." And she'd smack them all unconscious and pile them into a cart and run like fuck to save them. "That's about as no-muss, no-fuss as it can possibly get."

[askthelookout]

He pulled away from her, sitting up sharply. Too sharply - the stabbing pain it brought to his abused body was enough to render him pale and speechless for a moment. When he did speak, though, his voice was absolutely firm.

"If you took us away from here, it would be worse than dying. It isn't just honour. Our whole lives are in this fight. Roland knows that, else I truly believe the Tower would call louder than his duty." In the darkness, he nonetheless met her eyes. "Kaine. My father died for this war. My mother, my ka-tel, my friends, my lovers. My great-great-great-great grandfathers are buried under this ground. Maybe it's stupidity, but it's not honour, and it's not courage either. I would rather throw my guns in the river and myself after them than leave here without trying to defend it. Roland might force me away of my own free will. But even Roland only might."

[apassingafternoon]

"I never said anything about not defending it." Maybe it was exhaustion that kept her level and her emotions unharmed, maybe it was just the nature of the conversation or the affection between them. Who knew. "What I mean to say is that it isn't very often that people have the opportunity to fight the war and get out of it if they've realized it's done and over with. And there are always those moments, you have to know that. We know when something is done and lost for good. We know when it's been taken over for the better and won. If it comes to having to fight them ourselves then, fine, but if we reach the second that it's done, then I want you to live. I want to live. I want everyone that I care about to go on."

And that list of people was incredibly short as she had just explained, but Kaine didn't feel any guilt in that. "I guess it's that I can't believe that something like ka, Jesus, Mary Magdalene, whatever, would take away the semblance of a family I've just rebuilt. Not when I could do something about it."

She wasn't going to talk about what that something happened to be. Not tonight. It just needed to be there. "But I also know that you'll do what you need to, and I'm not saying I'll go against that. It's just ..." Her laugh was a little dry for reasons that had nothing to do with him. "It's just how I feel about it. That's all."

[askthelookout]

He was quiet a moment. Then, touching the side of her face, he lay back down carefully. "I kennit," he said, his voice low, and closed his eyes again. "Like it little enough, but I kennit. But I'm fool enough to go on hoping for a miracle, right to the bitter end. Maybe old Arthur himself will rise up and smite the wicked. Maybe the whole of Farson's army will have a sudden change of heart and go home. Maybe we'll all become immortal and twenty feet tall and smash our way through his forces like a child through grass. All I know is, I'm not ready to give ground just yet, and I don't know that I ever will be. I'm like to go to my death still hoping for a miracle."

Sighing, he rested his head against her chest, his arm going around her again. "Cry pardon. I didn't mean to speak so darkly. Sometimes it just... slips."

[apassingafternoon]

There was a strangely gratifying quality in that response. They didn't agree and Kaine didn't feel any worse off for it, but it did make her happy that they hadn't fallen into the same trap as earlier in the day. That tiny joy kept her from saying what was horribly obvious - That none of what he said was logical or had any hope of occurring. What he spoke of was choosing to die and in her mind it wasn't any better than suicide. But he wouldn't change his mind, and Kaine would get around to accepting that she was in love with a dead man walking.

"It's okay," Even though he was likely to hear her insane heart beat she returned to petting his hair, bending a little to kiss him where she could. "I'd rather you speak than drown yourself with those thoughts." It was bad enough that he would still have them, expressed or not, but maybe it would be easier to go on having let them out a bit. That was all she hoped for.

[askthelookout]

He knew damn well that he was a dead man walking, and if he'd known what was going on in her mind at that moment, it would only have made him angry. So far as he saw it, he'd tried to tell her, to spare her the whole messy business. He was dying, and had been for a long time, because he'd known for years now that this wasn't a war that could be won. He hadn't thought she understood; now he knew she hadn't.

But it was still nice, through the odd ache of guilt, to curl up against her and let himself relax a little, her fingers gentle in his hair and her body warm against him. "I'd rather not have them to drown in," he said after a moment, but he sounded drowsy again. "But it is what it is."

[apassingafternoon]

Yes, he had told her, she had heard him quite well, in fact. And Kaine had, since the day they got drunk together (though it was more like she was wrecked and he just had enough kindness in him to take care of her) she had done her best to get rid of the feelings. They could be friends, and through that, they could also be considered family in a sense. But she hadn't pushed it any further. It just happened, and lead them to where they now happened to be. In the most unsettling manner Kaine was sure that she would never want it any other way.

"It is what it is." He needed to sleep, and so she didn't say anything more than that. It is what it is and they would be whatever they might be.

[askthelookout]

Cuthbert smiled a little, bitterly, and let himself drift. He'd been afraid that, after everything, he would still be unable to sleep. In fact, though, he was snoring loudly within a few minutes, dead to the world, to everyone else's pain, and to his own. He'd been afraid of dreaming, too. But he was too tired for dreams, too tired even for grief any more. When he slept, it was as deep and as easy as death.

Outside, the crickets were starting to sing, and dawn was just beginning to break on the horizon.