the_gene_genie | OOM: Room 6620, #6

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OOM: Room 6620, #6

He knows he's probably in trouble as he drags himself up the stairs. He only went down to have a quick pint, and pick up some more wine. He's been gone about five hours now, he estimates, though it's really hard to care. Sitting on the garage floor after a scrap has left him stiff as a board, and freezing cold. The half bottle of Scotch - not to mention Guppy smacking him on the melon a few times - means his head's pounding. Everything aches, and he wants nothing more than to climb into a warm bed, and stay there forever.

But he can't do that. Enough of this. He's been trying so hard, but it's time to throw in the towel. He can't go through another encounter like that. All that's left is to tell her.

He lets himself into their room quietly, half hoping she'll be asleep but knowing he'd have to wake her up anyway.

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Her attempt, even while her voice breaks, makes his heart hurt.

'Don't worry.'

He tries a smile, and eases an arm around her back. His other hand taps the badge he's wearing.

'It'll bring me back. I checked.'

He doesn't mention that there have been people it didn't bring back. She doesn't need to hear that.

Her lungs fill with air, a shuddering gasp, and she looks back and forth between his face and the badge. His arm goes around her and she hiccups almost.

'Oh thank God.'

The tea is utterly forgotten as she wraps her arms around his neck and holds on tight.

He smiles, and brings his other arm around her, keeping her close. He's glad she's happy with that, and of course he is too. But it doesn't change the fact of how hard it is for him to be here at all. He can only assume that all this will be waiting for him when he walks back in. And can only hope it'll be easier to deal with when things are squared away at home.

'Soppy mare,' he mutters, affectionately. Only if she's soppy, he is too, because he's holding on just as tight.

She holds tight for as long as he'll let her, trying not to let her tears get the better of her, even though they're streaming down her face. Of course he'll be back. Of course he'll be a mess when he gets here. She's not exactly in peak form either, she knows. But that doesn't matter, when they're together.

'I hung up your suit, but I couldn't find your tie. I don't know where it ended up. I don't remember if you were even wearing one.'

Her fingertips dig into the fabric of his shirt, trying to feel the flesh and bone underneath. He's real. After all they've been through, he still wants this. It feels good just to hold onto that simple fact for the moment.

'I'll find it.'

She prepared for this. That's good.

Prepared his suit, too. Bonus.

He has to shift after a while. His body hurts, and while having her near is helping him calm, he can't get the image of the ghost out of his head. It was the first clear look he's had at his own face for thirty years. And he hardly recognised himself.

'Tea, sweet'eart. Please.'

'Yes, of course. Of course.'

She disengages from him, smoothing the front of his shirt and moving to hand him his mug. That done, she pushes her hair back from her face, twisting it back into a knot that refuses to stay tied. Doesn't matter.

She goes through the motion of making her own mug, and limits herself to four sugars. Breathe, just breathe, Alex. A long sigh, and she closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, she's a bit more collected.

'So are you going to tell me what happened?'

Maybe she can figure out why she saw his ghost in the first place.

He looks down at his drink, before swallowing some of it. It burns all the way down, in the best way. Better even than the half bottle of Scotch he's had, and it's not often he thinks that.

'Guppy wanted a fight. So we had a fight.'

He snorts quietly, and touches his fingers to the back of his head. It seems like days ago that the bloke's fists were smashing into it.

'Think he was trying to prove something.'

'Guppy?'

Her eyebrows rise and her chin dips to her chest.

'What did you say to him?'

She's only heard the doctor mentioned in passing, but he doesn't seem like the kind of man who'd scrap just for the sake of scrapping.

While she talks, her hands unfold one of the tea towels on the trolley. It has a plastic packet of blue goo in it. She folds it up so there's only one layer of cloth around it, and hands it to him. It's as cold as an ice pack, but much more flexible.

He frowns at the stuff in his hand, squidging it experimentally.

'He takes pills. For...I can't remember. Stress. It went from there.'

It's probably no kind of explanation, and he's aware it certainly doesn't say a thing about why he would agree to a fight over it. But that's what he says.

Her lips thin, and she takes the ice pack from him, placing it behind his head with gentle hands.

'He's has a prescription, you mean?'

She knows how he feels about drugs, but she feels very strongly about the difference between medication and recreational drug use. Her tone tells him as much.

'Yeah. But that's not what-'

He pauses, and holds the gel pack so she doesn't have to. He doesn't normally bother icing injuries, but it's easier to acquiesce than face her disapproval.

'-I think he wanted to prove it didn't make him weak. I just wanted a fight. It's alright.'

Only it's not, because it went too far. It's one thing beating a scumbag until they need hospital, another to do it to a mate for no good reason. The difference might be obvious in the shame on his face, that he's trying to pretend isn't there.

Again, she gives him a long look, searching his face for some kind of explanation.

'Is he going to be all right?'

She can't imagine Gene would risk his security badge the very first day, especially since it's their only guarantee he'll be coming back through that door.

Then again, this is Gene she's talking to. The lines in her furrowed brow deepen.

'Yeah. Yeah, he'll be fine. He got a mate of his to watch, and heal him after.'

Which was a weak thing to do, but perfectly in keeping with what a little wimp the bloke is.

He can't disrespect him for it, today.

'It wasn't that bad. But-'

He doesn't know how to explain.

'-I still have to go home.'

It still aches to hear him say it, but she knows it just by looking at him. Her hand rests on his knee, her gaze fixed on the fabric.

'Now? Or can it wait until morning?'

Either way, she has to respect his decision.

He looks at her hand on his leg, quiet for a long few moments.

Then he turns, and wraps both his arms around her, his face close to her neck.

Not right this moment.

It's not an answer, but she'll take it. She sighs, nodding. God, she thought she'd be okay with it. She didn't think she'd be so emotional about it. But she is, and she can't keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks.

She melts into him, turning her nose into his hair, her arms curling around his neck again.

'I love you, Gene. Please don't forget that. Please.'

'Can't promise, luv.'

Today has proved how little control he has over himself, hasn't it? He has no idea what'll happen when he goes home. And he's not going to lie to her.

His lips press to her neck, because it's the closest skin available, and maybe his arms get a little tighter.

'Wish I could.'

She's nodding again, her shaking hands combing through his hair. She knows it's beyond both of their control, but it doesn't mean she won't try to write it in his skin, with her hands and her kiss, with her whole body.

'It's okay, love. I'll remember for both of us.'

He grips her tighter and she responds in kind, shifting until she's wound up tight against his side.

He nods, and turns his head to kiss her gently. It's almost chaste, only not really at the same time. Like he's in two minds, or in two places at once.

He has to let her go a little bit, because he aches and the angle's awkward. But at least it's warmer now, and she's not angry at him. It went easier than he thought it would.

'Did it speak?'

She returns the kiss, going back for another before he pulls away entirely. Her hands smooth over his jawline, fingertips marking the line of his sideburns.

'I'm sorry -- what?'

'You said you saw...it.Him. Did he say anything?'

He can't understand why it never speaks.

'Oh. No.'

She shakes her head, again looking down at her hand on his chest. 'No, if he'd spoken, I would have known he was...' The thought dies on her lips.

'Why?'

'Would've known he was me?'

He shakes his head, and looks away. He'd meant whether it had spoken to her today, but at least now he never has to ask again.

'Don't know. Just don't understand why. It turns up, and just stares.'

And a cold sweat is threatening on his forehead just thinking about it. He swallows hard, and runs his palms down his thighs. Deep breath. He has to make it go away.

'He,' she corrects, her voice quiet. Her hand presses over his heart, feeling the strong beat beneath.

'He's -- the first of us all, isn't he. Lost and confused. Hurting. Angry at the universe for taking it all away from him. Angry because he has no control over his own fate. He doesn't need to speak to us, does he? We already know.'

'Don't.'

He's shaking his head as she speaks, not letting the words go in. They'll make him remember, and he doesn't want to. He's going home so he doesn't have to.

And he turns to kiss her, firm but gentle, because it's the easiest way he knows to shut her up. And because it's nice.

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