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Odd number says we walk away now, even says we die
I'm really going to miss these 3-12 PM shifts, I think. It's so wonderful to flop around in bed all morning and early afternoon, napping with kittens and eating crap. The shifts only really suck because I keep on getting scheduled for 9 AM the next morning T_T
Series: Kingdom (Mexico!AU)
Chars: Deon, Mara
He drank too much, he thought. His vision blurred and he couldn't hear anyone very well. Deon tried to reach out to the coffee table to steady himself, except his hand curled over the torn seat cover instead. He was taking shots in the Fortress, then he was bumping his forehead against a paneled glove compartment.
"I'm trashed," he mumbled.
"Really trashed," Mara echoed. She sounded faint, like from far away, except he realized that she must be beside him, at the steering wheel. Because he was in the truck, and it was moving, and someone else had to be driving the truck if he wasn't.
"Cold." Not the same cold as the rolling chills of a bad binge. His fingers felt frosted over, and real tremors shook up his spine, and didn't go away even as he curled over himself. Everything felt damp too, his shirt and jeans and his shoes, even soaking the seat under him and little carpeting under his feet. He thought he should touch the dark stuff, but his arms wouldn't answer anymore. "Can't feel things."
"Suck it up, Barros."
"I think..." he started, but he still struggled to put together what was happening. He knew he breathed, but he felt as if his lungs couldn't capture enough air. The same liquid weight over his clothes and seat seemed to settle in his lungs. Deon tried to shift himself in his seat, to better see himself, but he hadn't the strength to lift his torso. "Mara. Something's wrong. Mara-"
"I'm taking us home," she interrupted. The truck lurched forward a bit, and only now did he realize that the very frame of the vehicle rumbled with speed. "We're going where everyone else is."
The news stunned the rising panic out of him. He heard her, bobbed his head in a nod, though not a word of her claim made sense. So many years and miles passed between them and Southern California. Then he struggled to think of the others, of where they had been all of this time. Where had they gone? But he only ended up with images of a living room, revolving cast of figures and face, and all the beers, jeers, and jokes he could have wanted.
"Was fighting," he suddenly remembered, then lost track of his thought again. He wasn't sure what point he was trying to getting at anyway. There had always been fighting. He groaned and turn his head to the left, a slow, dizzying effort. His body no longer even liked to bear the weight of his head and neck.
"Not anymore. We're finally going home," she said. And it was so hard to see anything, but he saw her eyes crackle with brightness as she looked to the road. She even smiled when she saw Deon turned his head, and she laughed, laughed like he hadn't heard her in so many years. He could see her as she was then, in one fogged part of his mind, smirking and pouring more vodka.
"That was our last call," Mara said, the one behind the steering wheel. Her hand pulled his shoulder up, so he leaned against the back of his chair properly. He saw gray sky and the long stretch of desert and banged-up electric poles that whipped past as fast as a newsreels. "Go to sleep, Deon. We'll be there soon."
He wondered if he'd like to watch more, but he was tired again, and didn't feel like arguing her. "Yeah." So Deon closed his eyes, pressed the side of his head to the cool glass. He could feel the wind whistling against it, lulling him away. "Good."
---
A/N: This version is a lot tamer and less disturbing than the original end I had in mind for Deon in this AU (I never imagined he'd be able to survive it indefinitely). My first idea involved Russian Roulette, but then Kol suggested a Thelma and Louise ending, which seemed like a much more peaceful alternative and more workable for the prompt. (Still might write the Russian Roulette ending anywho).
Also, thank you to everyone who has been leaving comments for the month so far <3 <3 <3 I know I don't comment back on your comments regularly (this is mostly me not knowing what to say, though I'm going to start fixing this habit), but I really deeply appreciate it. And please feel free to add in crit if you like! The point of this is for me to improve as a writer, so I can get published one day and send all of you signed copies of my bestselling books <3
Series: Kingdom (Mexico!AU)
Chars: Deon, Mara
He drank too much, he thought. His vision blurred and he couldn't hear anyone very well. Deon tried to reach out to the coffee table to steady himself, except his hand curled over the torn seat cover instead. He was taking shots in the Fortress, then he was bumping his forehead against a paneled glove compartment.
"I'm trashed," he mumbled.
"Really trashed," Mara echoed. She sounded faint, like from far away, except he realized that she must be beside him, at the steering wheel. Because he was in the truck, and it was moving, and someone else had to be driving the truck if he wasn't.
"Cold." Not the same cold as the rolling chills of a bad binge. His fingers felt frosted over, and real tremors shook up his spine, and didn't go away even as he curled over himself. Everything felt damp too, his shirt and jeans and his shoes, even soaking the seat under him and little carpeting under his feet. He thought he should touch the dark stuff, but his arms wouldn't answer anymore. "Can't feel things."
"Suck it up, Barros."
"I think..." he started, but he still struggled to put together what was happening. He knew he breathed, but he felt as if his lungs couldn't capture enough air. The same liquid weight over his clothes and seat seemed to settle in his lungs. Deon tried to shift himself in his seat, to better see himself, but he hadn't the strength to lift his torso. "Mara. Something's wrong. Mara-"
"I'm taking us home," she interrupted. The truck lurched forward a bit, and only now did he realize that the very frame of the vehicle rumbled with speed. "We're going where everyone else is."
The news stunned the rising panic out of him. He heard her, bobbed his head in a nod, though not a word of her claim made sense. So many years and miles passed between them and Southern California. Then he struggled to think of the others, of where they had been all of this time. Where had they gone? But he only ended up with images of a living room, revolving cast of figures and face, and all the beers, jeers, and jokes he could have wanted.
"Was fighting," he suddenly remembered, then lost track of his thought again. He wasn't sure what point he was trying to getting at anyway. There had always been fighting. He groaned and turn his head to the left, a slow, dizzying effort. His body no longer even liked to bear the weight of his head and neck.
"Not anymore. We're finally going home," she said. And it was so hard to see anything, but he saw her eyes crackle with brightness as she looked to the road. She even smiled when she saw Deon turned his head, and she laughed, laughed like he hadn't heard her in so many years. He could see her as she was then, in one fogged part of his mind, smirking and pouring more vodka.
"That was our last call," Mara said, the one behind the steering wheel. Her hand pulled his shoulder up, so he leaned against the back of his chair properly. He saw gray sky and the long stretch of desert and banged-up electric poles that whipped past as fast as a newsreels. "Go to sleep, Deon. We'll be there soon."
He wondered if he'd like to watch more, but he was tired again, and didn't feel like arguing her. "Yeah." So Deon closed his eyes, pressed the side of his head to the cool glass. He could feel the wind whistling against it, lulling him away. "Good."
---
A/N: This version is a lot tamer and less disturbing than the original end I had in mind for Deon in this AU (I never imagined he'd be able to survive it indefinitely). My first idea involved Russian Roulette, but then Kol suggested a Thelma and Louise ending, which seemed like a much more peaceful alternative and more workable for the prompt. (Still might write the Russian Roulette ending anywho).
Also, thank you to everyone who has been leaving comments for the month so far <3 <3 <3 I know I don't comment back on your comments regularly (this is mostly me not knowing what to say, though I'm going to start fixing this habit), but I really deeply appreciate it. And please feel free to add in crit if you like! The point of this is for me to improve as a writer, so I can get published one day and send all of you signed copies of my bestselling books <3