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

Reida couldn't remember the last time anyone held her like this. Had to have been years ago. Back before everything turned to hell, back when she still had someone to hold every night. Back in better times. Alastair's embrace certainly helped, but at the same time, it only caused her sobs to become that much more violent. She hadn't had anyone to simply help, and now that she did, it only made the past years feel all the more bleak.

She cried for a long while, unable to rush through it even if she had been willing to do so. After a long while, it subsided to near-silence, the occasional sniffle or tightening of Reida's grip on Alastair the only indication she was even still awake. She slowly opened her mouth to speak once more, and when she did, her voice was hoarse, unsteady. There was none of the confidence with which she had carried herself, but she didn't care. She wanted to finish telling this story. She wanted to talk about her family.

"...Jameson n' his brother...Zane, God bless that boy's little heart...they'd always run around the yard n' beat each other silly with branches fallin' from the trees. Didn't matter how much I told'em to cut it out, they were havin' the time of their lives..."

It took another minute or two for her to collect herself after that, biting her lip to prevent from having another complete meltdown. Even if she knew it would be okay to do so, that didn't mean she wanted to.

"Anne Marie'd always help me make lunch for 'em when they got sick of it...she'd go out there n' yell 'til they came back in, all bruised up but smilin' like it'd been the best day they ever had. Tell 'em they better cut it out or mama would get mad... Never had it in me to really get mad though. Just told 'em to wash up before they ate..."

Reida's hands gripped Alastair perhaps a bit more tightly than could really be called comfortable, a pure, physical reaction to grief that she just needed to get out. Her next words were nearly silent, practically a whisper, and not even directed at Alastair. Just something she couldn't keep in, a pleading, desperate prayer that she already knew would go unanswered.

"Just come back..."

Alastair was not quite sure what the due process was for when Reida started to writhe against his embrace but resolved to hold her tighter. Both to keep her steady and to let her know that he was still here, that he was not going anywhere. She was not struggling to break free, he would know about it if that were the case, rather she could not quite control her body and her mind. It was not an unfamiliar sensation, though he had previously been on the receiving end.

Eventually, she regained some semblance of that former composure. A long way from the rowdy vet he had met in a bar, but able to speak again. So he shifted her onto one side, head still resting against his chest whilst he was flat on his back, as the pair now lay across the length of the sofa in a position that might have been considered scandalous were the pair not fully clothed. Reida, for all that she had been through, was still wrapped up in her coat like a blanket and it seemed unlikely that would change.

He reached across her as she resumed the story, his hand free from the duty of holding her head, and pulled the whiskey bottle over for a long drink. Had he not already been dull to the taste by this point then the next part of the story would have certainly made him so, as it twisted upon his heart like an ache he could not put aside. They were lovely children, though, of course, he had expected them to be, but he could just envisage himself in this story and that was terrifying enough to give him pause for thought.

Thirst satisfied, feelings numbed, he placed the bottle down again. Then that same hand returned to Reida's face, only this time it was not to play with her hair. It wrapped around the side of her face, cupping it in the palm as his fingers pulled gently against her cheek. He had thought about wiping away the tears, but more would come and he just wanted to bundle her up tightly.

"They sound like such wonderful children, Reida. I.. I am sure that they were lucky to have you as a mother. I..."

Alastair's own resolve was hardly infinite, as his voice trailed off. He had braced himself for this, had been bracing himself ever since it had first been mentioned, and yet he could not stop tears rolling down his porcelain face. Not quite a stream like Reida, nor did he wail or such, rather they seemed to flow in spite of his will.

She held him tighter, and in turn, he pulled her closer. It was not a comfortable experience physically but they did not seem inclined to stop and adjust themselves.

One might have expected that Alastair's own tears would have worsened Reida's state, made her emotional instability that much worse. But, if anything, that seemed to sober her just a touch. Perhaps it was just maternal instinct, or perhaps such a genuine display of empathy made her grief, founded on loneliness, feel just a touch less overwhelming. Whichever it was, if either, didn't matter much to Reida. She didn't think about those sorts of things.

"I couldn't've asked for better kids. Couldn't've asked for a better husband..."

She didn't mind his touch, didn't mind his hand against her cheek or being pulled close against him. She just wanted to know someone was there, that someone would listen to her and that someone really, genuinely cared. Didn't matter to her that the two of them had just met. They'd bonded plenty already.

"I'd trade anything in the world just to see 'em one more time. To hear their voices. To tell 'em how much I love 'em all, even just- Even just to get to say goodbye..."

Closing her eye, Reida could certainly feel the combination of liquor and emotional exhaustion sweeping through her mind. She probably wouldn't be able to stay conscious that much longer, but she certainly didn't want to move from this spot. Her tears had begun in earnest once more, and she simply held herself that much closer to her companion for the night.

"You deserved them all, deserved to be happy. But you still do. Do not ever convince yourself otherwise, even when it hurts so much that you cannot even think straight, alright?"

His hand traced down the side of Reida's broken face, noting in his head that her eyepatch was no doubt masking something truly garish, until it rested was under her chin. Softly, he pushed her gaze upward until they could lock eyes once more. There was nothing more he could add, he could tell her more sweet nothings about the family she had lost but it would not do anything to bringing them back or helping her to move on in her life.

Watching that eye close again, Alastair could not help but feel a sudden weight from her body pressed up against his. It was not that she was heavy, he had enough liquid confidence to prop her up all night or until they were both out cold. Still, he knew in his heart that he had to ask.

"I have a spare room if you would prefer? You can crash in there until the morning, nothing will bother you, I promise."

Pulling her close once more, he returned to the position of before with arms wrapped around her in a proper embrace, he let her contemplate on an answer. If one would even come. He could carry her if need be, though it would hardly be graceful he doubted that Reida cared much about grace.

"Ain't nothin' left I want or deserve, Alastair. All I want's already gone. What'm I supposed to ask for now?"

Reida simply shook her head at Alastair's offer, nothing sounding less appealing than being alone for even the briefest of moments. All she wanted was to stay here until this had all subsided, until she no longer feared the idea of having nobody beside her. However long that took.

"I'm stayin' right here, n' you are too."

There was nothing more to say, nothing left she needed to talk about. Just staying right here, and wrapping her arms more warmly around him, was enough for her.

Relenting, but satisfied that she was sufficiently out of her mind and certainly far beyond any more talking, he let her just lie there, their bodies still somewhat entwined.

"Way I see it, that just means you have not found anything else yet. But it does not mean you never will again. Just keep your mind open, for me."

Alastair's body shifted onto its side to give her more room on the sofa, only now they were lying face-to-face. One arm was wrapped around her neck whilst the other had moved down to her midriff, it was the best way to support her frame against his own without having her be on top of him. Though the true reason for this shift was that it would allow him to slip out once she was really out cold, then he could at least put her to bed properly. Nobody deserved to sleep on a couch when they were in that much pain.

Reida, despite her situation, could not help but be caught a bit by surprise as Alastair resituated them. She didn't mind, obviously, but it at least shook her ever so slightly from her exhaustion, long enough that her eye could meet his again. How was she intended to reply to something like that? Taking a deep breath, she simply touched her forehead to his, and spoke in a quiet, collected tone.

"Guess I gotta, if it's for you. Ain't done much for myself in a long time."

While Alastair may have intended to eventually move her from this place, she had no intention of the situation changing. Once more wrapping her arms rather tightly around him, Reida closed her eye and allowed overwhelming exhaustion to overtake her.

Alastair held her there for a while before attempting to make his first escape attempt. Her grip was adamantine though, and his efforts were thwarted before they had even truly begun. He hated to admit that he enjoyed the warmth of her forehead against his own, but even he could not deny the power of the gesture. Still, it was unseemly for them to continue this way on the sofa. Resolving to try again later, he let the sweet relief of sleep take hold.

It was light out by the time he awoke again, the morning sun peeking over the sprawling metropolis and pouring in through the line of windows that encompassed the entire far side of the room. Reida was shielded from this both by the back of the sofa itself and Alastair's body wrapped around hers, but he still caught the rays and so bloodshot amber eyes opened once more. Wriggling again, her grip was no less absolute than before but he was more agitated now and that gave him the strength to challenge his bonds. It was not much, but it was a start.

He lay there quietly after that, their bodies still pressed together, but he could not move even if he wanted to. He wanted to break away from this embrace, right? It felt strange to even ask himself that question, after all, surely he knew his heart better than anyone else. That affirmation gave him the strength to finally break free from the hug and, with all the grace of a man falling face-first off a sofa, he fell face-first off the sofa.

Crawling his way to freedom, he accepted the knowledge that he was not going to move her without waking her and headed over to a chest of drawers to withdraw a blanket. This in hand, he now draped it over her and headed over to take a seat at the dining table. He would 'sleep' there for a few more hours, a hazy gaze rarely leaving that of the sleeping Reida between brief bouts of true unconsciousness.

It was only when he could pretend to sleep no longer that he finally left her alone, if only for a few minutes as he threw on some more comfortable clothes and did his best to make the place as tidy as he could after Reida and he had crashed through it.

He had considered whether it would just be best to just let her leave in peace, but that did not quite resonate with how one should treat a guest that had stayed the night. So instead, he got to work on some semblance of breakfast. The kitchen coming alive with the smell of fried food as he did the best he could to recreate a typical American breakfast from the ingredients he had in the pantry.

It was, perhaps unsurprisingly, not an especially pleasant night's sleep for Reida. Not on account of the location, or even the company. But when one filled their evening with reminiscence, it only made sense that their dreams would be filled with much the same.

She wasn't a woman who tended to sleep long, and seeing those dreams though, the image of her family together in that house no longer standing-- It was no wonder that when she awoke, it was not a particularly pleasant affair. Shooting upright, her hand reaching desperately toward what was not there, Reida could only stare at the empty space, her attention slowly turning to the man in the kitchen.

"...Mornin'."

She had nothing else she could really say, at least not at first, though the smell of a full breakfast did at least bring a faint smile to her face, even despite the cold sweat and the furrowed brow.

"...Ya really are a gentleman, huh?"

She jolted awake with about as much violence as he had expected, panicked eyes frantically scanning the room before they rested upon him. He did watch as her hands seemed to clutch for something, and he did wonder whether that was for him or her family. A feeling of guilt panged in his chest for even thinking that way, though his blank face did not betray it. Instead, those eyes flashed with a familiar warmth, and he invited her to approach.

"Good morning, Ms. Reida, I hope you do not mind but I started on breakfast."

Turning back to the oven, Alastair busied himself with tending to several pots and pans. He was hardly a masterful chef, but he dared to consider himself capable enough to take on breakfast. Whether he had heard her comment on being a gentleman or not, he did not seem to answer her at first as he focused on the food again.

"I reckon I could arrange a suitable change of clothes if you would like, or you can take a shower should you be so inclined. You should have enough time before the food is ready, either way."

Hair pulled back into a tidy ponytail, fastened with a black ribbon, he looked over his shoulder towards her and flashed a narrow smile as he continued.

"Oh, and how do you like your eggs?"