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 Posted: Sat Aug 22, 2015 10:39 pm
For a moment, he wished he didn't have such an agreeable nature. That it didn't take just a simple please to get him moving, hat plopped on askew and eyes sunken from troubled nights and more troubling days gazing ahead with forced purpose. He wished he could just tell America just give me one day to get it together, but the truth was that no amount of time, it felt, would ever get him to piece himself back. Not from languishing over the past, but because Dawson wouldn't ever sit long enough to spend the time on himself anyway. Had America not dm'd him, he would have eventually found something else to preoccupy himself with; there was certainly more than enough work, both necessary and tasks taken upon himself just to help someone else out.
After all, he was just too used to putting everyone else ahead to bother really trying to change it, no matter how exhausted he was.
Those feelings went away once he hit the last step in the stairwell anyway; it always helped to feel Important. That resolve filled what empty spaces he was becoming a little too acquainted with in the twilight of his room, because the more he assisted, the less he had to feel sad about, right? A lot of things on this damn island weren't so simple, but that was. Had to be.
He slapped his cheeks as he made it outside, prepping himself. Don't be down. Don't be a p***y and cry again. Meri's had it way worse than you have, remember that. He turned a smile on some of the hunters working the shift as he ducked into the tents, a few getting a clasped shoulder or a casual question in passing. Dawson was s**t when it came to duties in the infirmary, but he liked to think having a good attitude about it somewhat made up for his otherwise rather stressed coworkers. It made it easier to keep it up once he found America's cot at least.
"Heeeeeeey, honey," he greeted her, unsurprisingly going straight for the hug that would lift her off her feet if she let it. "You owe me fifty a'these, so pay up."
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Posted: Sun Aug 23, 2015 9:54 pm
The girl clung to Dawson silently and did not cry, but her arms shook at the attempted strength of the hold. Quietly, she greeted him with pre-amble, "I want to go to the house." America hadn't planned on asking. She didn't want to tie up anybody's time with her own shitty weaknesses. She didn't want to try relying on anybody else right now ( ever again sounded melodramatic even in her own head, even when it felt true). But the clone, Caly, had spent a good while relying on him, and maybe that's what made it seem so natural, so okay to do so now.
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Posted: Sun Aug 23, 2015 10:29 pm
"You got it, hun."
He took care of signing her out and fixing the cot up, the latter unnecessary though he figured someone might appreciate it when it was filled with another body soon enough. America looked fragile (felt worse with the shakes), but he kept his mouth shut and didn't follow his impulse to offer to carry her there. Standing on one's two feet was important, he could feel that, and so he restrained himself to just an arm around her for support if she wanted.
"I tried t'keep it clean for ya," he told her as they left the tents, trying at something conversational. "Figured it'd be a big insult f'ya came back t'dust bunnies n' nasty Fear fridge mold 'r somethin'. Or a s**t monster in the bathroom," he added with a chuckle.
Then he remembered that Caly had mentioned that to him, and his smile dropped.
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Posted: Mon Aug 24, 2015 9:28 pm
America leaned heavily into Dawson and they had to take regular breaks for her to sit down. The progress was slow, and Dawson was, as ever, good to fill a silence, but eventually, with the house in sight she responded with more than a noncommital sound or nod of the head. "I remember what she did to it," and there wasn't any anger there, just calm apology. "I remember you getting her to help clean it a bit. Cynical and uncertain and shy at the idea of doing something like that." She turned a half smile at the man. "I appreciate you going through the trouble."
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Posted: Mon Aug 24, 2015 10:11 pm
It was his turn to be quiet. He'd hoped it wouldn't hurt as much to hear, there there it was like little pinpricks digging in his skin. He didn't know why; it wasn't like America was persecuting him for actions. Maybe it was the Catholic in him seeking reasons for guilt.
"Wasn' no trouble," Dawson said eventually, eyes ahead. He tacked that smile back up like a for sale sign. "Was only doin' what I thought was right for a friend. Would've done the same f'it was you. Havin' someone there matters."
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Posted: Wed Aug 26, 2015 12:23 pm
The last stretch hurt. It brought up an unwelcome memory of crawling toward something determined to remain out of reach. But eventually America was in her own house, and it was like she'd only been gone a day or two, nothing like months. It wasn't home, not anymore, but it was something.As they walked through the parlour, America tried to answer his question again, if he'd been stupid. "You took," she began, "a big ********' risk. She'd already near beat the s**t out of Lawrence and Horace, and maybe they did provoke her but they also didn't have a chance against her, either." In the kitchen she stood up a bit straighter and disengaged from Dawson to go to the fridge and get them each a drink. It was her house, she'd get the drinks. She could do that much. And it was the labels on the food containers, recently dated in a familiar hand that made her realize the rest. The little extra things about how the house looked and smelled, how she could have left it just the day before. America stood in the light of fridge, leaning heavily against the door and stared down at those dishes, voice going on quietly. "But everyone here is dangerous, Dawson. We're all dangerous and a little different from human. So you look around you and all there is are risks, with faces and smiles and a need for someone like you." Swallowing dryly, she finished, "Real question is, was she worth it?"
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Posted: Wed Aug 26, 2015 7:26 pm
It wasn't quite the same as he last remembered leaving it, but that wasn't surprising. People going in and out, leaving their own little sorrys and I love yous and I wishs, it was just par for the course in the aftermath of something like this. It was just a little bit closer to something familiar again. Achingly close. Three breaths away from going back to the old self doubts and delusions of intrusion, back to the unshakeable thought that he was being allowed there rather than accepted there. Almost back to the almosts that seemed to make up his life.
What kind of ******** question is that? he wanted to retort, on any other day when they were both less world weary and when maybe he could try to be a little selfish for once. But even thinking it was enough to make him guilty and push it away. As if he was really the injured party here.
"Aw, y'know. Daredevil's my middle name," Dawson said with listless cheer. "Always doin' the s**t people tell me I shouldn'. Don' be friends with Maebe, she's a maneater. Don' talk t'Caly, she's just gonna go revengey n' s**t on yer a**. Maybe my dumb a** meter so through the roof, though, it counters bad karma 'cause God just too busy shakin' his head." He snapped his drink open and gulped it down.
"But hey now. Outta them both, I only killed one. So. Wouldn' label me s'dangerous." Another gulp. "Word yer lookin' for's probly incompetent."
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Posted: Wed Aug 26, 2015 10:51 pm
"Everybody's dangerous, Dawson," America repeated tiredly, finally closing the door of the fridge, eyes closed for a moment before moving to sit down. " Everybody. It's not a bad thing, hun, it's just the way things are. M'not accusing you of anything and I'm sure as hell not saying you were wrong. So put that all away, 'cause you may got a lot little angry voices nattering in your ear, but mine isn't one a'them." Sighing she tries to open her own drink and then handed it to him to do it. "For her, you were worth it. But not just you, okay? You...represented something important to her, enough to make...to make me a little worth it too."
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Posted: Thu Aug 27, 2015 9:22 am
"Sawry," he caved in seconds as he rubbed at his eyes wearily. "I know. I know, I know, I shouldn' talk t'you like that."
You're a good guy. Taym had prefaced his messages twice with that when Dawson had forced them into a conversation. He was the right sort of people, that was what Jan said the clone had told him. So why did he feel miserable instead of humbled?
Twisting the drink open, he handed it back to America and asked, "What kinda important?"
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Posted: Mon Oct 12, 2015 4:51 pm
"Hope," she offered a wry little smile around her bottle. "Not even the great big sort, like world peace or that kinda s**t. Just...that there was more in her than just me with the middle cut out. That someone could see it, and not hurt her for the knowing. I guess, basically, that the world is decent and worth giving a s**t about."
Eyes flickering down, she nudged his shoulder, "It's an easy thing to forget."
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Posted: Mon Oct 12, 2015 8:30 pm
It didn't alleviate the thorny knot inside of him, but he nudged her back and gave a small and weary sort of smile because it wasn't on him to drag them down, whatever he felt. (Wasn't it always? Stuff it back down and put on a smile because it's not about you.)
He handled his beer like a trophy. "Yeeup. Tha's why Deus recruited me, so I could be the big loud guy fer Goodness n' s**t, y'know." This time it wasn't a dry joke but the honest sort, the one that might not have been a joke at all, knowing Dawson. "Keep people from sinkin' inta their sufferin' canoes down the wailin' waterfalls ta hell. I got good arms tossin' life vests n' everythin'." He flexed an arm and was honestly surprised to see some mass in it this time; he hadn't noticed what the Deus regimen had been slowly accomplishing.
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