If Drinkin' Don't Kill Me [Reida, Alastair]

"Nowhere in mind. It's just nice to see the stars."

Reida slapped a fairly sizable wad of cash onto the counter, more than enough to pay for her own drinks, Alastairs, and frankly anyone else who came by tonight. It wasn't an act of drunken negligence, just general apathy. She knew exactly how much she'd put there, but money wasn't worth much at all to a woman like her. Couldn't buy what she actually wanted.

"Guess it ain't fair to do all this talkin' and keep puttin' ya on the spot, huh? Truth is, I can't tell ya if it gets easier. Still wonderin' that myself. Might seem like I'm plenty older than all y'all, but I wasn't like this til the war."

She almost went to take another drink from the bottle she'd brought with her, but instead she offered it first to Alastair. Southern hospitality and all that.

"Still see their faces. Still wake up in the middle'a the night, yellin' their names. Wonderin' if I coulda done anything else. Sometimes it's the little things. See someone who looks a little like 'em. Hear a kid callin' their mama. Never know."

Gazing upward, Reida's gaze grew glassy, as if she were close to tears but simply refused to cry. Perhaps most might have thought she was simply telling a stranger too much about herself, but she was not a woman who cared what others thought of her. If it helped someone else understand their own situation, that was all the reason she needed to share something like that.

"Dunno if anyone there was close to ya. Maybe it sounds a mite cruel, but it might help if they weren't. Keeps it all a little further from y'er heart. Last thing ya ever want is your heart to go south."

Seeing the stars, that was simple enough. Sometimes it was the simple things that helped to clear your head, Alastair quietly reasoned with himself as they headed out. He would probably have to pay her back at some point or another, but trying to do so now would be fruitless.

At the sight of a bottle being offered in his direction, he accepted it with a gruff note of acknowledgement and took a swig whilst Reida regaled him with her own experiences. He had thought to hand it back quickly but, as she continued, he took a second pass at it and then offered it to her. Certainly seemed like she needed it more.

"War made strangers of all of us, I think. Every battle put me a few steps further from that green kid who enlisted in the Vandenreich to do his part."

He had not expected Reida to get that deep that quickly, but suddenly his problems paled a shade in comparison. That was not even to suggest that he thought any less of what he had been through, but there was a sensation that he could scarcely even imagine and it twisted his stomach to even consider. That of losing a child. Not that he had judged her for it before, perhaps out of some misplaced feeling of understanding, but now the drinking and the whole atmosphere made a lot more sense.

What could he even say in response to that? There was nothing that came to mind for a few long moments, as they walked in silence and contemplation.

Eventually, Alastair followed her gaze up to the stars, finding them just like she had said, but when he cast a glance over to Reida it was like she was not seeing anything at all. He knew a distant stare all too well, and hers was longer and deeper than any of his own.

"Maybe I am lucky that I cannot remember even a fraction of the faces of those who died at Jefferson, but then I think about their faceless families and I wonder why they had to die whilst I got to walk away."

Reida listened, despite the distance in her eyes. Even if she looked past those distant stars, her attention was still entirely on Alastair. This was a topic of conversation that she would not dare to treat with anything less than the utmost gravitas.

"It'll do that. Over time it'll feel that way a little less. But ya won't ever go back ta being that kid, no matter how much ya might want to. Don't try'n cling to it, 'cause it'll only make them later days hurt more."

After a little longer walking, she chose a patch of grass near the city's edge, where one could see the ocean even in only the moonlight. She studied it, then simply laid down. It wasn't a matter of being tired, or too drunk to keep walking. Reida just wanted to lay down.

"You'd've been that faceless fallen man if someone else'd lived, ya know. They'd be here, maybe wonderin' about ya, maybe not. But it don't matter. Don't know if you're a religious fella, but I pray about those sorta things a lot. Why I'm here, why they ain't. If it's some sorta way of testin' me, makin' me stronger."

She paused, only long enough to down more of the liquor that kept her sane.

"If it is, it's doin' a mighty poor job of it. But I don't think it is. I think I'm here 'cause I'm lucky. Or maybe unlucky, dependin' on how ya look at it. But either way, we gotta live knowin' we made it out, and I know I'd be doin' all them people mighty wrong if I wallowed in it. Some days it might hurt ya so bad ya can't even walk. Might feel it all crashin' down. But it'll hurt worst if ya let yourself stay that way, let the life ya got to keep go to waste. It'll hurt like the devil, Alastair, but ya better keep on taking every step. If ya can't do it for yourself, do it for them."

Only now did she glance over at her conversation partner, away from the specks of light in the night sky that kept her focused on a single thing. Despite the overwhelming grief obvious in her gaze, there was nevertheless an earnestness to it, one that seemed almost at odds with such a spiel. It was, without question, the reassuring face of a mother.

"I meant it when I said ta call if ya need it. Sometimes ya can't take them steps alone. Lord knows I can't."

The bottle in her hand may have been nearly empty, but to Reida it was a heavy weight indeed.

Alastair sat next to her as she lay down, both of them still with their gazes fixed upon the sky above whilst they talked about matters heavy enough to keep them grounded. Unlike Reida, who fixated on one point far beyond sight, his eyes moved lazily from one star to the next. Taking a moment to appreciate each in turn but never dawdling too long. There was a comfort in the vast infiniteness of space that reminded him of his place in the universe and how infinitely small it was.

"I do not want to go back to being that child, he was too innocent for the lies of the world, and yet it pains me to forget him little by little. Perhaps he holds on to me, rather than I him."

He took a deep inhale and closed his eyes for a moment, pondering who might have survived if he had not and whether they would have been sat here thinking about him. In some small way, he hoped so, he hoped that people would think of him when he eventually bit it. Yet there was that gnawing voice in the back of his head that agreed with her. That he was not stronger than them, faster or smarter too, just luckier.

"I am not not religious. Just sometimes I wonder, if there is some all-powerful force out there, why does he keeps picking on me to carry on the burdens of those who fell. If you are a faithful believer, I am truly envious of that devotion. Means at least you always have something to hold close, you know."

He looked down at her, still quite unable to quantify all of the sorrow that she contained within that slight frame, and found his eyes locking with her own. There was emotion there, certainly, but it was more a look of mutual perseverance. The acknowledgement that, if she could carry on, so could he. That was comfort enough on a night like tonight, when the loudest sounds were their muted breaths against the backdrop of an ocean bathed in moonlight.

"The same goes for you too, Reida. Maybe you already have better people you might call but, if you ever really need someone to talk at, then I am never too far away."

He took out his own phone and hit the dial button on Reida's number, letting it buzz once before hanging up. He could have keyed in his digits but that felt like the easier way to get the point across.

"There ain't nothin' wrong with lettin' that little boy hang onta ya. It's good to know that lil' spark's still with ya, I think. That it ain't gone just 'cause you've been through hell n' back. Me, I reckon that little girl I used to be ain't around no more, but I don't think I'd want her to see how I turned out anyway. Might be for the best."

Reida finished off the last of her whiskey, setting the bottle to the side as she kneaded her forehead with her fingers. When she got this into her cups, she could definitely feel it, though that was obviously the point. She knew it was bad, obviously. Didn't change that it helped.

"I like to think I'm a good Christian gal. More'n plenty of other people I know, if nothin' else. Lotta people ask how I can hold onto that sorta thing knowin about how the world works, but I reckon it don't really change that much at all. Way I see it, life ain't really supposed to be easy, or nice. If it is, that's just sorta a lucky break."

Wasn't that the truth? Despite herself, Reida's fingers moved almost absently to the patch over her right eye, or rather, where it had been once upon a time. If she was being honest, she'd have given up the left one too if she could trade it for a few other things she'd lost. Her hand lingered for a moment or two longer, memories of simpler times refusing to leave her alone before she returned her focus to the conversation at hand.

"Life's hard. S'posed to be that way, far's I can tell. Easy to be a good person when things're calm, when nothin's at stake. When ya find yerself livin' like this, though, that's when it's a hell of a lot harder. When bein' a bad person don't seem like such a bad option. I figure that's why we end up with these sorta burdens. Don't mean it's easy. Don't mean it ain't hell for us. Don't even mean it's somethin' we're supposed to just accept like it's some sorta terrible gift. But I don't reckon it just happens for nothin'. Who knows, maybe I'm just wastin' my time thinkin' all this."

The phone ringing in her pocket shook Reida from her thoughts, and she had to say that was probably a good thing. No sense unloadin' all this onto him, least not all at once like this. Then again, wasn't like she really talked about all this too much. Most of the people around the Vandenreich didn't see things how she did, she'd noticed. Maybe they just handled it all better, if all the stories she'd heard about before she joined were true. But Reida was a woman who knew exactly how self-destructive her choices were. She knew she only ran from her grief. That was miles better than trying to face it.

"Can't say I've got anyone else. You're mighty nicer to talk to than the bottle, that's for sure."

She didn't know if she really had the ability to call him herself. It was easy to say all these things when it felt like it was for his benefit. Maybe it was just that natural motherly instinct to try and help. But it was awfully more daunting to think about fixing her own problems, calling him and asking for help. Didn't feel right.

It stung a little to hear her talk about that inner child disappearing. But he figured it was only a matter of time before he ended up the same as her if he kept on living this life certainly. Maybe it was still in there somewhere, buried deep underneath all the assorted emotions, trauma, and the like, but she was probably right: digging it up now would only hurt her more.

"It is not a waste of time to think or talk about this, at least that is how I feel after only talking to you about it. We have been through some hellish struggles, but if we let it all bottle up then I reckon it will only bubble over when things get shaken up again."

A pretty lousy metaphor, all things considered, but he was hardly the most profound individual at the best of times. Watching as she fumbled around her eyepatch for a moment, he wondered what had taken it from her. No doubt it was something unpleasant, given that she seemed almost regretful when she touched it, but what could he even do about it?

Noting with a curling of the lip that she had finished her bottle, he paused for a moment and noted that she looked a little worse for wear. Conscious enough that he probably was not going to have to carry her, but still far enough over the limit that it would be irresponsible of him to leave her out here without seeing her home. Was it perhaps his fault that he had not taken more from himself? No, she had already been well on her way long before he had even arrived at the bar. He should feel responsible for her now, but not for getting her there. Being compared to a bottle was something at least, peculiar for sure.

"Well I suppose that is the best compliment I will ever get. But if you are looking for another drink then I might suggest we take this show on the road. Is your place nearby? If not, I think my place is only a couple of blocks away."

Even if the metaphor wasn't especially amazing, that didn't matter too terribly much to Reida. She was, after all, a simple woman. She didn't need him to give her some deep poetry or a life-changing answer. Honesty was more than enough.

"I sure can't argue with all that. Holdin' it all in...ya get bitter. Don't wanna live your life like that. Life's short, even if ya live a thousand years. One day you'll have to look back, and you don't wanna have to look back and feel like ya wasted your time bein' angry, bein' sad. That's...that's no way to live."

What a hypocrite she was. She knew that. She knew that all too well. But knowing something wasn't the same as doing anything with that knowledge. It was only the invitation to join him at his place or hers that distracted her from that particular train of thought, and more than anything, she found it sort of comforting. When people asked her those kinds of questions, she just turned them down, told them she wasn't looking. But Alastair didn't exactly seem to be after anything like that, and besides, she couldn't say she wanted to go back to her place just yet. Nothin' there but whiskey and her own thoughts.

"My place is pretty far. 'Sides, it'd be mighty embarrassing bringin' anyone there. My mama would raise a fit just thinkin' about that. Lead the way, just don't walk too quick. I'm not lookin' to rush out of a nice evenin' like this."

Standing up certainly wasn't easy at this point, but Reida was more than used to nights like that. It was just a matter of patience, of focusing in on the world spinning around you and doing your best to keep it from doing that. Maybe the fact that she was so clearly practiced at operating this drunk only made it that much more pathetic.

Without much exertion, Alastair rocked himself back to his feet. His gaze now venturing from between Reida and the stars to out across the ocean. Just as she was, Alastair was a simple man who enjoyed simple pleasures. The steady rolling of the tides was one that he had come to appreciate ever since moving to the City of Lights, though his favourites still remained at sunrise and sunset.

"I can always walk you home later, to make sure you get there without being bothered, but you can just about see my apartment block over that way. We can meander on over and see about a second bottle."

He leaned over and offered out a hand for her to take if she wanted a lift back to her own feet, but would quickly break from the grasp once she was situated unless it seemed she really needed the support. A friendly gesture, nothing more or less. Nodding in a direction similar to that they had once been heading but angled now to take them back into the city proper, he gave Reida another moment to compose herself and then set off. He stayed perhaps half a pace ahead, but never outside of talking distance and at such a slow speed that they could have been moving side by side.

"Easy thing to say that, when talking about regrets. Is it terrible to be angry or sad about something bad happening to you? Perhaps it is not great to let that singularly define you, but if you simply take it in your stride and move on then are you even human anymore? So maybe that means we get mad or cry from time to time but, in some strangely reductive way, does that not show how much we cared?"

A hand reached up to scratch at the back of his head, fiery hair ruffling as he pondered the question he had laid out himself. Perhaps he was just as much a hypocrite as her, for all his efforts to avoid having to feel like this. Was it a case of drinking to take the edge off or drinking to forget? Similar thought processes but they belied completely different approaches to handling the feels.

"Well ain't you just a gentleman and a half? Maybe I'll take ya up on that just for the conversation, we'll see in the mornin'."

Reida had, frankly, already accepted that she would almost certainly be passing out at Alastair's place, and while she would want to apologize for all that later on, for now there was a little more interesting stuff to talk about. More important. It'd been a long time since Reida felt like talking to anyone about herself, and she'd had enough to drink that any inhibitions were far from gone. Didn't matter to her.

Taking Alastair's hand gratefully, it took her a fairly long moment to fully straighten herself out, and her steps were certainly not as steady as they had been before. Not that it made more drinks sound any less appealing, of course. She wasn't sick yet.

"Bein' angry sometimes, takin' a minute to cry, that ain't the same as livin' your life angry or sad. When ya let it be everything ya know, everything ya are, you ain't ever gonna grow or learn anything."

Beating around the bush about these things, speaking in hypotheticals, that didn't do either of them any good. Reida didn't give much of a damn who knew about her life, anyway. She didn't want other people living one like it. When she continued, her voice had lowered, a smoldering tone that carried with it the restrained fury of a woman with nothing to take it out on.

"I ain't got a thing left, Alastair. Nothin' but a burnin' hate for the people who took my family from me. But you gotta fill all that empty space with somethin', or you just end up empty. And ya gotta fill that void with somethin'. Work. Drink. Anything that keeps ya from really stoppin' ta think about it for even a little. Because when ya get like this, ya can't even handle it anymore."

Gritting her teeth as she stopped walking, Reida slammed a fist into the building next to her. She wasn't strong enough to cause any damage, of course. Wasn't strong enough to do much of anything, really.

"If ya wanna cry, ya oughta do it, or one day you'll realize it ain't in ya anymore."

Hauling Reida to her feet, he left a hand somewhat outstretched and turned to lead the way. It was less of an invitation and more a reminder that he was there to lean on if she felt herself going over.

"Yeah, I suppose that is fair enough. We should not get ahead of ourselves, lest we forget to put one step in front of the other."

Alastair had intended it to be a mixture of a joke and a bit of commentary on how their conversation had gone so far but, instead, he found himself turning around to make sure that Reida was still keeping up. He had first taken notice when she had said that she did not have anyone else, but it was only now that he truly wondered if anyone had cared to even just look at her recently. For all that she had been through, had anyone actually dared to give her the chance to be anything but surface level.

He listened to her vent, unpack everything that they had once danced around somewhat delicately, and felt just a fraction of that pain. Maybe it was because she saw something of herself in him, or maybe he was just in the right place at the right time, but it genuinely felt like she needed this. A cathartic experience for both of them. As she stopped to inflict mild property damage, he turned to face her and waited for her gaze to meet his.

"Maybe that is the truth of it, but perhaps I am still naive enough to think that it does not have to be a closed loop. For everything you care about there is the chance that you will lose it, and you cared about a lot and lost it all in turn. That is a pain that I cannot hope to understand unless I experience the same in turn, but I choose to believe that it does not mean that you cannot care anymore. Maybe it is tonight, maybe tomorrow, maybe a decade from now, but one of these days that heart will start beating again. It does not have to mean that you have moved on, but you just found something else worth caring about too."

That same hand that had just pulled her to her feet now actually reached out for Reida's own. Ostensibly because he wanted to check that she had not injured herself but also because, when someone opened themselves up like that, they could probably do with a little support.