Sarge (rageandblow) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2015-08-19 14:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2018 [08] august, adelaide hawkins, ian terrell, james hawkins |
Who: Addie and Sarge and Rodeo
Where: Hamilton Pool National Reserve
What: trying to recharge batteries but stuff happens
When: August 15th
There aren't many people or situations that could make Sarge drop everything. Addie is one of them, and Addie sending a distressed sounding text asking him to pick her up is that squared. But unlike last time, Sarge has a better idea about what exactly could have caused her to send that message, and he is not sure if that makes this any better. Actually, no. He knows that doesn't help at all, only makes things worse. So he decidedly ignores any thoughts about husbands and babies as he drives towards the Capitol, even more so when she climbs onto the bike behind him and they are speeding towards their destination without even talking about it.
Sarge is still a creature of habit, even if this is only the second time.
Without saying so much as a single word Sarge drives out to the former pool, kills the engine of his Dyna and helps Addie off, waiting for her to calm down and make a decision whether or not she wants to talk about it as much as he is giving himself time to recover from the involuntary physical contact. A set of wooden dog shaped baby toys Sarge carved is burning a hole into his pocket, so he decides to get things over with before they descend into the canyon. There is no gift wrap, because he doesn't have any, would rather be shot in both feet repeatedly than be seen scavenging for some, and because he hates wrapping gifts. So instead he pulls a brown paper bag from his pocket that looks so worn and crumpled that the slightest touch might tear it and hands it to Addie. And because he figured that he owes her a few birthday, Christmas and Prembus presents there is a gift for her at the bottom, to reciprocate for the paracord bracelet she gave him. In true Sarge fashion he doesn't stick around to watch her but sets out to check the perimeter, stalking around as if the ground itself insulted him.
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It may have been an overreaction, the sinking, trapped, and helpless feeling in the pit of Adelaide's stomach that brought them here, but it was how she felt and how was she supposed to help that?
When she found her brother and Sarge still alive, right here in Austin, Addie had, underneath everything, just assumed that she would be with them soon. It had never been more complicated than that unless jail cells were involved - the three of them belonged together.
But time is wearing on and Adelaide is barely closer to what she'd presumed months ago. It was never conscious, but there's been an image in her mind of a trailer, removed from the thoroughfare of the camp but still within those Dog Park walls, where she and Charlie would live, alongside the people she loves most. There are things she doesn't like, dangers and inconveniences, but none of that has ever mattered when it comes down to it. None of those considerations would have stopped her being with her brother and Sarge.
The thing stopping her, now, is TR, and every day the reasons grow more and more convoluted. The secret is out, and he knows the whole thing, but still if she moves on it he will be there. Either an ill-fitting appendage she signed up for in another lifetime, or an enemy, a particularly well-armed and well-motivated enemy, if she tries to amputate him from their lives.
She had expected to feel the complications, to feel the ties that bind her to the father of her child. What she never expected in a million years is the guilt. Adelaide is not and never was a person with an overly active conscience - or even a normally active conscience. She wrote off her own mother at the tenderest of age without ever feeling badly about it at all. But Thomas has started to distress her, and that distress is just not something that she has any experience in dealing with. She may not be in love with her husband, he may have done some terrible things in their marriage and violated her free will in such a way that Adelaide doesn't think she can ever forgive, but the more they communicate, the more she understands him, and the harder it is getting to turn a blind eye to the fact that the things she wants most in this world are things that will destroy him. He has seemed so utterly human lately, and it isn't anything that Adelaide expected.
Building and building lately, the feelings finally came to a head this afternoon. Charlie had a bad day, fretful and crying throughout the morning though he's normally a very content child. He cried through lunch and through his nap, and on until dinner time, when Thomas came home. He took the baby from her arms and instantly he soothed, a blubbery little "DA" coming from his mouth.
Adelaide panicked.
Maybe it was an overreaction, and maybe a day with a crying baby helped, but Adelaide just plain needed to get away, to clear her head, to feel for at least a short while like she is free.
There are two people she can feel like that with, two people she trusts enough to see her this way. Jims has enough to worry about, and if she's honest, Adelaide doesn't know yet if she wants the questions, anyway. And so she texted Sarge, and just like always he was there.
Without even asking he brings her exactly where she wants to be.
She stands while he goes and checks things out, and she can only look down at the bag in her hands for a moment as she tries to reel herself in. There aren't a lot of things that Adelaide can't abide, but this separation, the helplessness that goes along with it, is one that is truly testing her. She closes her eyes, fingers tight on the worn brown paper, and breathes deep. She imagines all the knots untwisting in her chest. And then she opens up the bag.
She smiles foolishly and then frowns thoughtfully, one after the other, taking one of the pieces out to turn it over in her hands, and then clasp it, briefly. The gift is both perfect and heartrending, right now. Then she discovers the bracelet and that's just as perfect but much more surprising, and she puts it right on. When Sarge returns from his perimeter check she offers a smile, though she doesn't try to hide the fact that there's still a lot churning around with her. "He'll love those," she says, rather reverent as she puts the pieces back in the bag. Then she draws breath, let's her tense shoulders loose. "Let's walk," she says, telling them both that she'll be getting around to talking but she needs a bit more of just his comfortable presence first.
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There is no hesitation in his step when he walks back to her, no extra tension in his shoulders. At least that's what he would like to think, because the small boy hiding somewhere inside his head is just waiting for her to laugh at him for thinking something silly like this could appeal to someone like her. But she doesn't laugh, and she doesn't turn it into a big production, either. Addie wouldn't, but it's easy to forget that she's still herself, all things considered. Which he won't, because that will only lead to complicated thoughts about how he really shouldn't be out here with her, alone. Even if his intentions are nothing but good and pure and whatever else, it's just... not right.
Not that he should care, she's basically his sister, so that husband of hers can just shove it. Could, if he knew. Whatever. He's just here to provide a ride and protection, and some silly things he carved out of wood during the nights he refused to partake in any bonfire shenanigans because he's sometimes too tired to even bother showing up. All those people are grinding on his nerves steadily and this trip might just be as much for him as it is for her, because his batteries have been running quite low lately and the relative solitude is just what he might need to keep his brain from frying.
The three words she says about the figurines coax nothing but a grunt from him in response, but it is a satisfied sound, and he relaxes just that tin little bit, he doesn't look like he will attack the next best rock formation, and his step goes from stalking to merely impatient pacing. Except that he has a goal and a direction to go in, and he keeps his mind focused on that as he leads the way down the worn out steps in the canyon wall, amusing himself with thoughts about cushioning her fall if she should slip up, and how he'd probably make a not half bad sled going down there. It's the little things in life that make him perk up, even though he is fairly certain that most people wouldn't get this.
Once again he brought some food, water and a blanket, but unlike last time he also brought something alcoholic. Namely some cheap pina colada mix and some rum for her, including a straw - the kind that comes with some sort of hula skirt in gold - and a freaking umbrella because he thought it was funny at the time and because they have a certain lack of ice or halfway decent receptacles to mix in. And there is a flask of Fireball, which he personally finds rather disgusting but will drink it anyway because that's just how things are.
Walking towards the large dome of the cave, again trying to marry the current look of the area and what he has seen of it in pictures before everything went to hell, he briefly ponders lighting a cigarette when something makes him stop dead in his tracks. Something he should have, quite frankly, thought about. The familiar scent hits him like a kick in the guts and he goes from default slight frown to full on panic mode, which is only visible in the way his eyes take a turn towards grey and seem larger than they used to be. All he can think of is how he needs to get Addie to safety somehow, and the most logical step would be to find a way deeper into the cave, which has to exist because the water used to come up from underground somewhere.
"We better head into the cave and do some exploring, darlin'." If the smell and the look in his eyes didn't tip her off this should do it because he doesn't use terms of endearment unless he is really drunk - which he doesn't think she has ever witnessed, thank God - or if something is very wrong. Seeing how they could be about to die, that is a good description of their situation, he thinks.
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Though Adelaide doesn't expect any of her problems to actually be solved out here, she does think that the place and the company should be perfectly suited to hitting the 'reset' button on her head. The comfort, the solitude - the simplicity of being with someone she understands and who understands her, all feel like releasing the valve on a pressure cooker. It can build and build, and she has rather an extraordinary tolerance, a large capacity for compartmentalized things, but clearly there are points that even she needs to let it off.
She feels light enough as they reach the bottom of the pathway down that she can turn and half-smile up at him, squinting in the setting sun. He's got a bag with him again, but Addie doesn't ask him what's inside as they start toward the arc of stone. She likes the way he just comes up with things that fit, and puts them out there without comment when the moment comes. She learned long ago to stop asking, to just pay attention and wait, because he may not always be quick about things but he never forgets and it's always worth the wait.
It reminds her of a game she used to play when she was small, tucked into the cab of Rodeo's powerwagon between the two of them. They'd go into a tunnel and she'd hold her breath, close her eyes. All pins and needles waiting, waiting, still and ready, for the light outside her eyelids to change so she knew she could breathe again. If she missed that subtle moment, she could keep on holding her breath long past the tunnel, or she could come up too soon and lose the game - but she was a subtle person, a perceptive one, and she never did miss it.
Reading Sarge was like waiting for the light to change outside your closed eyelids.
The thought is busy amusing her, when he stops so quick she bumps into his arm. Her eyes snap up to his face and she sees the alarm plainly for a split second before the smell enters into her consciousness - a sickly sweet and noxious thing that might not be so bad if she didn't know what it meant. She nods at the call he makes, and she quickly, precisely, wraps the brown paper bag around itself and tucks it safely into the bag on his shoulder for safekeeping, wanting her hands free if they're about to hurry over terrain. The term of endearment isn't lost on Addie, either, but she doesn't comment as they start at a swift pace deeper into the collapsed grotto, toward the sloping far walls.
She took the time, between texting Sarge and hurrying out to meet him, to change into the well-worn boots that have only been used occasionally since the trip down from Boston ended, and she's glad now that she did. She isn't strong, but she's always been plenty nimble and deft, with good balance, and so when they hurry through the smooth part of the cave that used to be the floor of the pool, and on beyond where the ground slopes and becomes more hardscrabble, she keeps up.
They scan that upward slanting wall for an opening, a space where the old underground river must once have flowed from, while the smell of the S'mores creeps in on them. Finally she spots it, and points. "Here," she says, reaching out for his wrist in that old way, out of habit though she lets go again before too long so they can move. The opening is only just tall enough to walk into without ducking, with an unsteady scrabble of rock in front of it, but there is little choice but to move toward it now.
Adelaide goes first, blinking owlishly into the dark - the sun is near set outside, but in here the bit of light that's left doesn't extend far at all. She takes out her phone while Sarge comes in behind her, and turns on the light to shine it around. The cavern looks like it once extended in deeper, through the rock for who knew how far to wherever the old underground river once originated, but a few hundred yards down from where they stand it looks long since caved in.
The air inside is damp and cooler than outside, and Adelaide stops to listen. There's a sound, dull and distant but definitely there - a sound like running water, though that seems less than possible. She turns to the silhouette of Sarge. "Do you hear that?" she asks, on a whisper.