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Feb. 15th, 2011 04:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feel_humanShe doesn't say a single word as they drive along the dim, winding parish road, staring out the window at the telephone poles as they flash by, her hands in her lap, holding onto her phone and purse with grim determination, and though she can feel Sam looking over at her now and again, he doesn't say anything, either, just pushes the Bronco along with a thrum of the engine that eats up the few miles between the bar and home.
She'd left the lights on, a precaution that, it turns out, would probably not make any difference, and her steps are steady enough as she walks along the crunching gravel of the driveway, but when she shoulders open the screen to unlock the door, the keys shake in her hands and she can't seem to fit the right one in the lock until she can feel Sam come up behind her, following her in by unspoken agreement, and she makes an effort, finally fits the key and turns the lock, opening the door with its familiar creak.
Inside the entranceway, she finds herself at a loss, one hand still clutching her phone, the other holding the keys, and she turns to Sam with wide eyes, trying to rally herself. "Do you want some iced tea or lemonade or somethin'?" she asks, falling back on the most basic manners, trying and failing to keep the green-eyed girl from dying over and over again in her head. Her voice comes out stilted, and she turns towards the kitchen, uncertain.
"Or I've got some beers in the fridge...would you go ahead and just lock that for me? I should really, really go change..."
She's rambling and she can't seem to stop herself, walking towards the kitchen as if in a dream, feeling like a wheeling kite with its string cut and a gust of wind shunting it irrevocably out to sea.
She'd left the lights on, a precaution that, it turns out, would probably not make any difference, and her steps are steady enough as she walks along the crunching gravel of the driveway, but when she shoulders open the screen to unlock the door, the keys shake in her hands and she can't seem to fit the right one in the lock until she can feel Sam come up behind her, following her in by unspoken agreement, and she makes an effort, finally fits the key and turns the lock, opening the door with its familiar creak.
Inside the entranceway, she finds herself at a loss, one hand still clutching her phone, the other holding the keys, and she turns to Sam with wide eyes, trying to rally herself. "Do you want some iced tea or lemonade or somethin'?" she asks, falling back on the most basic manners, trying and failing to keep the green-eyed girl from dying over and over again in her head. Her voice comes out stilted, and she turns towards the kitchen, uncertain.
"Or I've got some beers in the fridge...would you go ahead and just lock that for me? I should really, really go change..."
She's rambling and she can't seem to stop herself, walking towards the kitchen as if in a dream, feeling like a wheeling kite with its string cut and a gust of wind shunting it irrevocably out to sea.
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Date: 2011-02-21 02:12 pm (UTC)Yeah, right.
This is better, this is nice, sitting with him and talking like they used to -- although she's never felt quite comfortable saying whatever she wanted to Sam -- he is after all her boss, as well as her friend -- but this is nice, and she takes a deep, calming breath, feeling the edge of panic growing further away, aided by his warm presence and the sweet tea and the memory of John's encouraging smile. So when he says she's got him, she looks at him from over her shoulder with a small, strange little smile, meeting his eyes and glancing from one to the other.
"I know I do," she tells him, lifting her chin slightly, that same searching look on her face. It doesn't take a telepath to know he's absolutely sincere, that he means every word, and she thinks that even if she can't love Sam the way he wants her to, she's still glad he's here with her now.
She can't keep watching him for long and she turns back to her tea with her smile turning inward, thoughtful, and she studies the surface of the liquid for a moment before looking back up, halfway apologetic.
"I think I -- would really like to go get changed. And I'll grab some blankets and a pillow for you while I'm upstairs." She considers, trying to remember John's advice, and as she stands up, leaving the tea behind she tips her head to the pantry door.
"Jason's shotgun is in back, that way, and there are some shells in one of the drawers. Think you could grab it for me?"
With any luck they won't need it; they'll be able to sleep peacefully tonight and tomorrow...well, tomorrow's another day, and she's already starting to wonder if maybe there's a clue she'd missed in her panic earlier.
It's worth looking into.