Bunny. (itisenough) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2016-09-26 18:19:00 |
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As night fell over Austin in the wake of the second day of zombie attacks, Bunny and Bode ended up the last two souls awake in the their house. The boys had finally settled down to sleep not too long before, with their door left open just a crack in case one or both of them woke up again later on. Despite the hour and the darkened sky outside, Bunny didn't feel at all in a place to go to sleep herself. It would likely only have resulted in her lying in the bed anyway, staring at the ceiling. Maybe it was silly to still be shook up by the fact that Bode had been so near Walker’s when shufflers swarmed into the area. He was home safe, not a scratch on him, but she felt unbalanced anyway. It was something she preferred not to look at too hard, since dwelling on a narrowly avoided misfortune felt too much like asking for trouble. So she channeled all that unspoken worry in the best way she knew how -- looking out for the people she cared about. “Are you sure you don't want anything?” As she asked, Bunny set the stack of blankets she'd brought down from upstairs onto the coffee table. With a guest in the house and no spare rooms, Bode had volunteered to sleep on the sofa. And she was letting it happen, rather than insisting that she bunk in the twins’ room instead, but only if he let her make it up into a proper bed before he turned in later. “How about another cookie? Or something to drink?” Their house was fuller than it had been that morning. Violet upstairs in his bedroom for the time being, which meant that until further notice the couch was his bed. Bishop had in truth been surprised that Hazel hadn’t even made a peep about the sleeping arrangements, though maybe Violet had made enough noise for the both of them? Their guest had gone back and forth with him about how she could just take the couch, that that would be fine. Except it wasn’t fine in his book. Bishop had been raised better than that and he knew his mama -- wherever she was -- wouldn’t have had kind things to say to him if he hadn’t given up his own bed to their guest. Which was how he found himself downstairs with Hazel fussing over making up the couch like a proper bed -- he reckoned there wasn’t any way he was going to get out of her doing at least that, since he wasn’t budging on it being him who bunked on the couch. The day had been one for the books, a book Bishop never wanted to open and or read ever again. He knew that despite escaping unscathed, there was a very real chance things could have gone another direction -- a fact that was hard to ignore when so many of the people he knew and cared about were now sitting in small rooms in the quarantine center. One wrong move, one misstep and he might have been right there with them. A zombie bite could have easily taken him away from all of this. From his boys and from Hazel. Bishop’s heart kind of stuttered and he felt sick to his stomach at that thought. Jackson and Lincoln had already lost their mother, they didn’t need to lose their father too. And Hazel, she had already lost Nate. If Bishop could spare her from ever feeling that kind of deep pain again, he would. “Positive, darlin’,” he replied as he reached out for Hazel, hand clasping hers as he dropped down onto the couch and pulled her down with him. “All I want or need right now is to sit here and be thankful I ain’t in a small room losing out on the chance to kiss my boys goodnight and spend some time with you,” Bishop continued, giving Hazel’s hand a squeeze. “Unless you’d like to head up to bed, I ain’t about to keep you from that.” In truth Bishop knew he probably wouldn’t sleep for a few more hours, but he wouldn’t keep Hazel from turning in if that’s what she wanted to do. Almost immediately, Bunny shook her head. The hand that was wrapped in Bode’s tightened its grip too, though that was more of a subconscious act on her part. An attempt to hang on tighter to something that had been put at risk today. “I'm right where I want to be as well,” she said firmly. “Whether I go to sleep now or in an hour or two, the bed will still be right where I left it. And at this moment I'd rather have your company that its.” Talking about Bode in one of those little quarantine rooms made Bunny shiver. She leaned a little closer, like his shoulder was a lightning rod to ground her worries. Aside from her own experience being bitten, she'd seen a fair number of people between here and Harlan in the same position -- plenty of whom didn't make it -- and it wasn't something she wanted anyone to suffer. Especially not Bode. “I'm thankful you're here too,” she added, turning to look up at him. “And that you're safe. There's a lot of folks that can't say that, so maybe it's selfish of me to feel so relieved, but I can't help it.” As Hazel shivered Bishop eliminated what little space had still been between them by pulling her in closer. He had only one guess as to what might had spurred on that reaction and he hated it down to his very core that she even had to think about the day’s events, or how close he had come to possibly landing himself in one of the little quarantine rooms. “I think you’re allowed to feel relieved or a little selfish,” he assured her, turning his head to peer down at her. “There ain’t even a shadow of a doubt that I’d be feeling the exact same way if our roles had been reversed.” Though, admittedly Bishop was a far more selfish person than Hazel would ever be. He didn’t think the simple act of being relieved was anything she should feel badly about. “I wouldn’t change what I did, though,” Bishop added, because it just wasn’t in him to have fled Walker’s without offering to help out the woman from the doughnut shop. “Wouldn’t have felt right just leaving,” He watched Hazel as he spoke, studying her reaction and hoping that hearing those words wouldn’t be any more painful than the day had already been. “Of course you couldn't just leave. Not when someone needed your help.” Bunny caught the way Bode was watching her and gave him a small, encouraging smile. She wasn't sure whether he was looking for reassurance or something else, but her mind was easy when it came to his actions. It had been dangerous, much too dangerous for anything even remotely close to comfort, but Bunny knew it had been the only possible thing Bode could do. “You're too good a man for that. And, anyway, you did exactly what I would've in your shoes.” She squeezed his hand again, before adding, “I hope you like homemade bread, though. I may start making my own now.” It wasn't the fault of the bread, truly, but it still sat uneasy with Bunny that Bode had been at Walker’s looking for something she could easily handle herself. “And I'll try not to fuss too much. You don't need me acting like a mother hen with you.” Something akin to relief washed over him at Hazel’s reassurance that he had done the right thing. Not because he questioned his actions, so much as Bishop had questioned what her approval of his actions might have been. Though he shouldn’t have been worried, she was the most selfless person he had ever known in his entire life. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he gave her a squeeze. “Homemade bread sounds like a real good idea to me, darlin’,” Bishop answered, leaning in on a whim and pressing a kiss to her temple. “And you know I’ll like anything you make.” He added, pulling back to offer her a smile and a laugh when she talked about fussing over him. “Hazel, you know I ain’t going to fault you if you need to fuss over me,” his tone was gentle and understanding. “I’m okay, really. But if it sets your mind at ease, I owe you that much for giving you a scare like I did.” Bishop unconsciously began to swipe his thumb in slow patterns across the smooth skin of the back of Hazel’s hand as he spoke. “All you did was try to go shopping, so you don’t owe me anything,” Bunny replied. Her gaze flickered, resisting an urge to glance down at their linked hands. It was a comfort, that little motion Bode was doing. Her nerves had been tangled like a knot of yarn but they were starting to smoothed out now, bit by bit. “You can't control what's going to happen outside this house.” Shifting slightly as she spoke, Bunny let her head come to rest just lightly against Bode’s shoulder. “I can't either. Nobody can, not now or even before. But I can make it so your home is a good, safe place. A solace, I suppose I mean. Doing it does make me feel better; I like to know that, no matter what else, everything is taken care of right here.” As those last two words were said, Bunny punctuated then with two soft pats -- one for right and one for here -- on Bode’s knee. “Our home,” Bishop corrected her gently with a quirk of his mouth. In truth without Hazel it wouldn’t feel much like a home at all. He had never been much for homemaking and she just put a touch on things that made it not only feel like a home, but like a place you might walk into in Harlan. God’s honest truth he never thought he would miss his hometown as much as he did, not when he had spent so much of his days wishing he was anywhere but there. Now though, he found there was nothing more comforting than the woman sitting beside him and the way she brought so much of where they grew up into their home. As Hazel shifted to rest her head against his shoulder, he moved to close up whatever last little bit of space had been between them on the couch, arm still firmly around her as they both settled themselves further. “Maybe I can’t control what happens, but I can sure as hell control how hard I fight to get back here, to you, to the boys, to everything.” Before, when it had just been the MC that had grounded him to this place Bishop had fought to remain with that family. But now, well, now he had something even deeper, a family whom he was the head of and who all expected him to walk through their front door on a nightly basis unscathed. “I ain’t going to promise you that something won’t ever happen, because as you pointed out we just ain’t positive of everything,” Bishop paused. “But I can promise you I’ll always fight to get back here.” He reached up with his free hand and hooked a finger under her chin, lifting Hazel’s gaze up to meet his blue one, the sincerity and truth in his words echoed in the earnest look of honesty he gave her. Bunny looked back at Bode, her own expression open and trusting, and after a moment she gave a little nod. “I know you will. I’ve always known you wouldn't do anything less than fight tooth and nail, but it helps to hear it all the same.” Where his voice had been steady and sure, hers rippled with an undercurrent of emotion. They both knew, more than most, what it was like to be haunted by the memory of someone who went out one day and never came back. Having Bode say that he would do everything in his power to keep that from happening to her again was a gift more valuable than any impossible promise he could have offered about staying out of harm’s way. “That goes for me too. Being here with you and Jackson and Lincoln, in our home -- as long as I've got a will, this is where I'll be. You can count on that, if nothing else.” In the silence of the house, it seemed to Bunny that their words hung in the air. Neither of them had said anything that wasn't already understood on some level by each other, but there were thoughts that needed to be spoken aloud, sentiments that deserved to be given voice. The fact that there was no one who meant as much to her as Bode and his sons was one of them. And it was that thought that made Bunny capture the hand that had tilted up her chin so she could brush a swift kiss across Bode’s knuckles. Then she looked back up at him with a wide, genuine smile. “Thank you for putting my mind at ease. You knew just what I needed to hear.” While Hazel hadn’t said anything that wasn’t already understood on some unspoken level, the way she said our home and made it crystal clear there was no other place she would rather be. It struck a chord within Bishop, eased some unspoken worry of his that his need for help with the boys and companionship (though he didn’t voice that last part ever, not even to himself) may have been keeping her from living her life. “Darlin’, you may have just done the same,” Bishop drawled as he held her gaze as watched as she pressed his battered knuckles to her lips. The small gesture sent a spark through him, igniting a feeling he had been suppressing since the moment he realized it existed. Bishop’s gaze remained for the briefest of moments on Hazel’s mouth, before it flicked back up to hold her gaze again. “You’re welcome,” His voice was quiet as he spoke and mixed with the emotions he had been keeping steadily at bay. Even with his emotions bubbling up Bishop returned her warm and genuine smile with one of his own. The kind that made his eyes crinkle at the edges and made him look less like a man who had seen a war and more like the boy from Kentucky who had grown up playing in creeks and getting himself into all kinds of trouble with the locals. “Just said what I knew woulda eased my mind if I were in your shoes,” he admitted before he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, smile still in place as he pulled back to peer down at her again. It was in many ways surprising that neither had voiced their thoughts before now, both operating on some kind of unspoken understanding. Now though, with thoughts having been laid out on the table, spoken aloud and made crystal clear, there was more finality to them. To this, whatever it had become. On the fringes of his mind Bishop knew how he felt, knew that things had shifted -- at least for him, but couldn’t yet quite put it into words in a way that might make sense to anyone else. There were sentiments he could put into words though, truths that he felt Hazel should know after all these months. “I don’t say it enough, but thank you,” He began. “You might think otherwise, but I know I wouldn’t have survived the last seven months without you,” Bishop paused again, finding the right words to express something anyone with two eyes already knew to be true. “Neither would Jackson or Lincoln. Sadly they ain’t ever going to know Teagan, but they won’t grow up with a void where their mama should have been and that’s ‘cause of you,” as he spoke he searched Hazel’s expression for some sign that she might already know what he was about to say. “You ain’t just an aunt to ‘em, hell, you've never been an aunt. Those boys are as much mine as they are yours, Hazel.” Truth rang out in every word he spoke. “They ain't going to know what it's like to not have a mama ‘cause they've had one all along.” Bunny’s eyes were bright and shining by the time he was finished. Not with tears, so much, just happiness. Her heart felt full to overflowing, and for a moment she foundered for how to answer, how to put into words what it meant to hear him say she was like the boys’ mother. It echoed a feeling she'd been having for awhile, but had held onto, for fear that she was reaching for something that couldn't be hers. But now here was an open door, just waiting for her to step through. “I’m not going to pretend I don't love them like they were my own. I do. I’d never dream of trying to take Teagan’s place with them, but --” Her gaze flickered to the stairs, as if she could see straight through to the bedroom on the floor above where Jackson and Lincoln were sleeping. Her tone became gentler as she went on. “There's nothing that would make me happier than to keep on being a mama to them. It feels natural, like stepping into a role I was meant for.” She brought her attention back to Bode, her whole face still practically glowing as she looked at him. “You know you don’t have to say thank you, though. Or else maybe I should say it too. I think we must've been saving each other, surely, because I wouldn't be here either without you and the boys.” It was awful hard to imagine what would have come after those first bleak, lonely days on her own if it hadn't been for Bode being right there to ask her for help with his two tiny babies. Bunny’s mind shied away at the thought. It wasn't a life that she even wanted to imagine. Bode had been there, or else -- and this was likely the most accurate way of looking at it -- they’d both been there to provide each other with a lifeline. And maybe, as it turned out, something more. A family. Bishop had never had the sort of strong faith his mama had had, nor was he the type to believe that there was one set path your life would take. What he did believe with all his heart was that if there was anyone more suited to be a mother than Hazel, well, he hadn’t met that person yet. She had stepped into the role like she was born to do it, a fact he had marveled at. Hearing her say now that it was something she wanted, to continue to be that for his, no, their boys made his heart swell and the smile he gave her was the kind that made his whole face light up and his blue eyes reflected every last bit of happiness he felt. “I think it was a role you were meant for, ‘cause there ain’t any other explanation as to why things just fell into place,” Bishop began, his own gaze lifting up to the ceiling as if he could see the boys in their bedroom right now. “They took to you as if they just knew, and while I know you wouldn’t have ever dreamt of taking Teagan’s place with ‘em, there ain’t another soul in this world I’d want to step in and be their mama more than you.” He gave her hand another squeeze to emphasize his words, unsure how else to convey all the emotions that seemed to clatter around inside of him in that moment. He still wore the bright smile from earlier as he nodded in agreement with what Hazel said. Bishop felt like it was one hell of an honor to know that just as Hazel had saved him, he had done the same for her. They had stepped into each other’s lives (well, more than they had already been) and kept the other from getting lost in the darkness and loneliness of those early days. “I think you’re right, darlin’,” Bishop words were rough with emotion and feelings he wasn’t going to hide, not with Hazel. “Reckon much as it hurt, maybe this was how it was supposed to be all along…” That they had so seamlessly become a family wasn’t lost on him. Neither were the feelings he felt safer to acknowledged, even if only to himself right now. “Because I ain’t got any other explanation for it. And I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side, to be completely damn honest.” Bunny smiled back at Bode, the expression quintessentially her own while still reflecting the joy that suffused his face. It seemed to her, in that moment, like a peace had settled over the pair of them, something beyond the atmosphere of the quiet house. Unsettled as she’d been feeling when they first sat down, anxious about Bode’s near miss and all the rest of it, now she felt content. Safe and happy in a way she hadn't in a long time, and it was all thanks to the man sitting next to her. “I think so too. We've ended up exactly where we’re supposed to be now, hard as it was to get here. And there's nobody else’s side I’d rather be at.” Bunny returned the squeeze to Bode’s hand. She liked thinking they weren't just making the best of a bad situation by living together and taking care of the twins, but instead actively choosing something they both wanted. It made it easier, looking back, to see that a beautiful thing had been made out of all their pain. Though it was getting late, the idea of breaking up this moment to go to bed held little appeal. Bunny could have stayed just so all night, but she wasn't the only one to think about. “Unless you're feeling exhausted from your ordeal at Walker’s,” she said, “I thought we might stay up a little while. Even though I'm not feeling worried anymore, I like just sitting here with you. You think that'd be alright?” Neither had had an easy go of things of late, hell, probably since before the apocalypse even. But as Bishop sat on the couch beside Hazel, her hand still in his and her body tucked up so close to his own that he could feel her body heat radiating through the cotton of his shirt, he could with absolute certainty say that he wouldn't change a single thing that had lead up to this moment. This had not been the conversation he had been expecting to have that evening, but it was the one he had unknowingly needed to have. The house somehow felt more at peace in the moments after their conversation, like unexpressed concerns had been put to rest and they stood on equal footing -- or as equal as it could be while Bishop was not yet able to express the shift he had felt regarding his feelings. "Who would have thought all those years ago in Harlan that this is where we'd end up," Bishop murmured with a fondness to his voice that was tinged with some humor as he thought about Hazel's older brothers -- men he had grown up with -- and what they'd think of him playing house and falling for their baby sister. Bishop could say he sure has hell hadn't seen it coming, but maybe fate had known all along exactly what they both needed in order to move on from the pain they had both felt months prior. Or maybe, and while it was a painful thought, this had been fate's plan all along -- even way back all those years in Harlan when neither could have, or would have said that years later they would be sitting on a couch side by side, happy and content in a way they hadn't been in a very long time. Bishop gave Hazel's hand another squeeze as he chuckled, "It'd be more than alright, darlin'," he drawled quietly, blue eyes flashing with sincerity. "I ain't ready for it to be just me down here on this couch just yet, so I'd be real damn pleased if you'd keep me company for awhile longer," In truth he didn't relish the idea of Hazel heading upstairs to her own bed at some point, but Bishop kept that thought to himself. Instead he would soak up as much time as she was willing to give him before she retreated for the night and he was left on the couch with his own thoughts and feelings to sort out. "We ain't even got to talk." Bishop added quietly, aware they had both had a long day, full of ups and downs that had had their emotions running high already. Seated in their living room, the house quiet sans for their breathing and the faint noises from outside. Bishop with absolute certainty knew there was no other place he would rather be than right here on this couch with Hazel, soaking up every last bit of attention she was willing to give him -- and knowing selfishly that he would always want more, because Hazel was not a woman you could get enough of. |