song_tra_bong | (no subject)

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Mary Anne is pretty sure she's found the right world. That knowledge isn't as comforting as she'd thought it would be.

The trail leads her to a hotel, where she almost drops the ball. The description of the man sounds like Ramon, but the presence of two kids throw her. She almost lets it go.

Almost.

But then she figures the guy could be mistaken, or maybe it's part of Ramon's cover, or maybe...

She follows the lead.

Ramon (she's assuming it's Ramon) did a good job of covering his tracks. But there are still things to point the way: someone cleaned the cabin, stocked it with food. Even false names on rental paperwork are names, and they're names she's seen before.

(Spain, France, Switzerland)

She doesn't think she's assuming any more.

She rents a motorcycle, an offroad number with chunky tires and an engine that growls like a bear. She rides it most of the way up the mountain, before parking it and hiding it off the side of the road. She continues the rest of the distance on foot.

There's a gun in the small of her back, money and ammo in the bag at her hip; knives in all the usual places. She thinks she's right, but it's important to be prepared.

She steps up onto the porch, careful not to let the boards creak, then knocks on the door.

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He almost snaps at her for that but restrains himself.

'Plates. They're happy, they're getting beer.'

Ramon, it has to be said, would probably agree that he's a terrible father if anyone told him but would also point out that he doesn't give a shit. He doesn't think about it though really; as he takes plates up to his sons, his mind is most definitely on other things.

Mary Anne makes up plates for her and Ramon while he goes.

She thinks she knows what those other things are; she thinks she isn't going to think about them right now.
what is it you want?

While he's upstairs, he takes the opportunity to do a couple of lines. Speed will help him stay awake through the drinking he's plannign on doing later and he'd rather not face disapproval downstairs as it would only ruin his mood.

As for what he's thinking - he's not, and knows he's not on purpose. He's been on his own for months now and is really not alright; he definitely knows that something has to give and if it gives this weekend, perhaps its for the best. He is resolutely not thinking about Random.

'Smells good,' he announces, on arriving back in the kitchen. 'You're a useful sort to have around.'

"Killing and cooking, all in one nice little package," she quips, setting the plates down on the table and doubling back for silverware.

"Need another beer?" She's still got enough left of her second, but since she's up...

'Yeah, thanks.'

He looks at the food and then back at her.

'So versatile and in such a nice package too. Lucky me.'

She hip-checks the fridge shut before bringing booze and cutlery to the table and pulling up a chair.

"I aim to please."

'I bet.'

No attempt whatsoever to hide his double meaning there; he hadn't meant to be like this ut the drugs have given him a boost and it's been fun this afternoon. Nice to see a freind again.

She just responds to that with a smile, mostly because she's hungrier than she'd thought and there is tasty (if she says so herself) food set to go cold on the table.

Oh yeah, food. Ramon tries a bit and it's nice but he doesn't have much appetite.

'Taught yourself to cook in Vietnam? Or did you have the apple-pie upbringing with mommy showing you how to do all this stuff?'

"Little bit of both," she replies.

"Although most of what I did in Vietnam wasn't really cooking, just heating up MREs."

'Can't imagine you as the great American stereotype.'

He laughs.

'Were you a cheerleader too?'

"Tried out; didn't make it."

MWHAHAHA!

This might just be the funniest thing he's heard in a while.

'Are you for real?'

"Dead serious," she replies around a mouthful of food.

"And now you know my darkest secret."

'You're not wrong. That's much more strange than the necklace of tongues thing you told me about.'

He's dead serious. Though he does wonder what she'd look like in a cheerleading outfit. Hmmm.

"You probably only think it's strange because I told you about the necklace first," she counters.

'Possibly.'

He looks down at his food and then eats some, because it would be rude to not after he bugged her to make it.

'Can I ask you a question?'

He's going to anyway.

'Do you ever get tired of doing this?'

She

(knows exactly what he means)

goes very still.

"...doing what?"

Being here like this and pretending all the time. The facade.

'All this.'

He gestures around.

'Walking through worlds and getting shot just to find your friends. Putting your neck on the line all the time, even before you were immortal. Don't think I haven't noticed,

Might not be able to do it anymore

it's not just me you do it for. When's the last time anyone stood up for you?'

I will pretend as long as that's how I get to keep you

"You think I need somebody to stand up for me?"

There's no anger, no challenge in it. It's just an honest question.

He rubs a hand across his forehead a couple of times, as if he's got a headache.

'Yeah. Sometimes.'

He can't deny that he's needed it at times and he's determined not to be the weak one...well, ever.

'But I suppose you've got your husband for that, wherever he is.'

You remember you've got a husband? I do. I bet he can take you apart as well, if he wants to.

'I just mean that I can't ever remember a time when you've asked me to go kill someone for you because they've pissed you off or something like that.'

The corner of her mouth twitches, maybe a smile.

he is my Ciaran, he will never be a substitute for you--for better or worse

"Most of the people who piss me off that badly can't be killed."

'Mmm.'

He gives up on dinner and pushes the plate away.

'I think you're missing the point on purpose.'

"Maybe I am."

She pulls her knees to her chest, draping her arms around them.

"'M just used to defending people, not being defended."

His fingers tap the table, musing, trying to articulate what he means.

I don't want to need you to defend me, especially if I don't have to do it in return. How come you turn up when I fall apart but I never see it happen to you?

'Just doesn't seem very fair but it's up to you how you live your life.'

What makes you fall apart, Mary Anne?

After years of friendship - and not friendship - maybe he's just now realising that there's a lot he's never asked her about.