singillatim | The sun took a tale to the moon in the west

[Running.

Hiding.]

Scavenging, as we are supposed to do. I set a few traps for the animals.

[He takes the battery and brings it closer to the light of the fire so he can read the little writing on the side. How odd.]

I really meant more like 'what are you doing in Lakeside,' but— whoa!

[ She reaches before she can stop herself, with both hands, before retracting her right arm back against her side with a hiss. ]

Careful, I don't know what might happen if they get too hot. Let's not add chemical burns to the mix of 'shit we're already dealing with,' huh?

[He jumps up when she reaches forward and simultaneously shields his own arm before accidentally dropping the battery safely at his feet.]

Chemical burns?

[He picks up the battery again and places it in his pocket.]

What happened?

Tommy, I was a terrible student. If you wanna know about chemical burns, you're gonna have to ask one of the many science nerds we've got running around.

[ She relaxes back as he puts away the battery — which probably wouldn't hurt him, but it's not like she knows anything about how they work. And pretty much everything else in this place is deadly; why not AAs too? ]

What, this? [ Tipping her head toward her shoulder. ] Ran across some locals with good aim and bad attitudes, and now everyone gets to call me 'Lefty' for a couple weeks.

[Batteries and fires don't really mix well, but Jopson would have had no trouble finding out for himself.

He tsks at the mention of her injury.]

Did you return the favor in kind?

No.

[ Her expression is just as petulant as her tone. ]

They were sniping from the woods. I never even saw them, but they got me and Ruby, too. We had to make a less than dignified retreat.

But you better believe they're on my shitlist now. Seriously—

[ She tips her chin up at the rabbits. ]

They run out of rabbits in Milton, or did you decide to go through the mines and over that way too small bridge just for funsies?

[He laughs, a bit sheepish, though he's already forming a way to get back at the people in the woods. They're on his shitlist now, for whatever that means. He's angry on her behalf, hating that she was hurt in his absence.]

I needed a fresh start.

[He tucks his forelock behind his ears, staring into the fire.]

I needed somewhere new.

[ There's that little tic of his, the way he reaches up to push his hair back off his forehead toward his temple and ear. That, combined with the way he's staring into the fire, added to how he's out here in the woods all alone, has Wynonna's glance sharpening, misgivings clutching in her gut. ]

Why, what happened?

[ If that fucker Hickey started something again, she's going back, wounded or not. She could kick his ass left-handed and not break a sweat. ]

[He looks over, startled.]

Ah, there isn't anything to worry about, Wynonna. It was a choice I made. To strike out on my own. To leave and - begin anew.

And your big plan for a new start was to go all Man vs Wild and hunker down in the woods?

[ It's not that she doesn't believe him — exactly — but it does seem like there's something missing. A reason past just wanting a fresh start.

Then again, she's wanted that more times than she can count, so who's she to say? ]

Would you tell me if something was wrong?

I was on my way to the homes!

This was simply a stop.

[He turns more solemn, poking at the fire.]

Yes, I would tell you. It is - I left a life I could not have.

[ She watches him poke at the fire, sparks floating up into the air, fat from the rabbits sizzling as it hits the hot coals. ]

Yeah, I can get that.

[ Leaving a situation she can no longer handle is a Wynonna Earp special, after all. ]

Well, the cabins are pretty nice. Huge, comfy. Nice views. You know, rich people stuff.

Rich people stuff.

[He laughs.]

I've only ever attended to the wealthy and the better off. I know how to fold the napkins. I know how to arrange the silverware and how to pour wine on a ship in the middle of a storm.

But I've never sat at those tables. Have you?

[ She lifts a finger, swings her good arm in an ironic gesture. ] And that's a skill you can take right to the bank.

[ Somehow she doubts a ship's steward made that much in the way of cash, even on an expedition like the one he'd come from.

His question has her shrugging, gazing into the fire without really seeing it. ] Nope. Went to a few of the big houses for parties when I was a teenager. Well— I crashed those parties. But I did know this one girl, back in high school... I guess you could say we were friends. She didn't hate me, at least.

Her name's Mercedes. Her family was rich rich. Like... multiple forks at the table, crystal decanters, huge house, owned businesses kind of rich.

Edited 2024-05-03 00:59 (UTC)

[There is so much that he does not understand about what she's saying, but the gist of it comes through, as it always does.]

Did you spend much time with her? At her rich rich home?

Nah. She liked me because I was from the wrong side of the tracks. She was slumming it.

I still liked her, though.

[ She reaches for a stick of her own to prod at the coals of the fire, willing the rabbit to cook a little faster. ]

How about you? Any friends from high society?

[He glances behind him and then back to the fire.]

No.

I suppose - that Francis believed we could be friends. I know he believed that. But he spent far too much time thinking of me as his steward that it was never anything he could tolerate.

And he wasn't high society. He's Irish. They wouldn't let him too far into their inner circles.

Francis?

[ But context provides a clue a moment later, and she nods, understanding. ]

Your Captain. Got it.

[ The Irish thing is something she vaguely recalls from history classes long past, but it's still weird to think about. ]

So you never got to be friends?

[He shakes his head.]

I'm certain we would have arrived at friendship eventually.

Do you recall when we spoke about - the ones we cared for? The people at home we loved?

[He tilts his head, swallowing back his own feelings on the matter. He thought it might be easier to admit now that he had severed that connection, but it's not. He can't say the words.]

Yeah. [ She looks over her shoulder at him, studying him. There aren't that many people here who know what she told him, and she bets it's the same for him. Remember that talk? She'll never forget it. ]

I think about it a lot. Pretty much anytime I think about any of them.

[ There's definitely something going on with him, and she lacks his natural talent at coaxing confidences out of people, but whatever it is, she wants to know. She wants to help. ]

Why?

[She doesn't to coax it out of him because he'll tell her all the same. It's only - difficult to say so it takes him a moment.]

I was in love with him.

[He swallows hard and would almost rather throw himself on those flames than say that again.]

[ Love — that is a bummer of a word. She herself has used it to describe how she feels about Waverly, Thai food, and her favorite leather jacket, but it gets... complicated trying to assign it to another person.

Tommy looks like it took everything he had to say those six words, and Wynonna has never been good at this, but he doesn't like her because she's good at this. He likes her because she's her, awkward words and too-tender emotions and all. ]

Was?

[ It doesn't really sound... past-tense. ]

[He smiles and it's tense.]

Ah, yes. Well.

One does not see their employee in that manner, Wynonna. Not in my time.

It would be - unfair for him to.

[Even after all he'd done for him. After all the sacrifices he'd made. After nursing him back to health and cleaning the sick from his shoes and his clothes, after wiping it from his mouth. After believing him and following him for years, devoting himself to him - no.

It meant nothing when the man could barely stand to look at him as a friend. When all he thought was that Thomas followed him for duty. He couldn't continue to live that life.]

So. I came here. To try something new.

Not just in your time.

[ Not that she's thinking about the liability issues of a workplace romance, exactly, as she looks into the flames. She wets her lip and pushes any thoughts of Deputy Marshal Dolls firmly from her mind before she looks back over at him, her eyes big and clear and sympathetic. ]

I'm really sorry. That sucks.

[ Love isn't something she knows how to grasp, but she's an old pro at broken hearts. ]

Sucks.

[He laughs to himself, tucking his hair behind his ear again.]

Yes, it sucks. But there are plenty of nice faces to look at here. He isn't the only one.

[He's willing to move on, to keep going, to put one foot in front of the other. A heartbreak is a small price to pay for having a beating heart once more.]

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