Meg Callahan (setinstone) wrote in the_colony, @ 2010-08-17 23:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | ^ week 19, derek miller, meghan callahan, | derek and meg |
Week 19: Wednesday
Characters: Meg and Derek
Location: Derek’s room, late at night
Summery: Both still uncertain about how to proceed, Meg finds Derek to talk
Rating: PG
The house was quiet around Derek. The subtle pops and shifts of the house stood out now as the noises of the day faded away. This was the time of night people trickled to their beds and Derek was left with the house to himself as he waited for his guard shift. It was also the time of night when Derek missed the modern world the most. He missed the noise, the ability to turn on the TV and fill his time. Without that, Derek had to find a way to keep busy.It was too late in the evening to nap and expect to be able to get back up for his shift.
Derek was a frequent visitor to the library, selecting his books when no one else was around to watch what he decided on. Reading was a great way to pass the time and something Derek found pleasure in. It was relaxing and after the stress of the past few days, he needed something to space out on. Reading about American history wasn’t exactly spacing out but it was engrossing and reminded Derek of all the time he used to spend studying not so long ago.
Sitting in the light of his battery-operated lantern and reading was a good way to keep his mind off Meg. His guard shift would give him plenty of time to think about the blind woman and what had happened between them recently. They hadn’t spoken since and Derek was keeping his distance. The kiss had been unexpected but not regretted and until Derek was sure she wasn’t going to sic her dog on him or beat him with her cane, he was staying away. So he sat in the light of the lantern and read.
It’d been days, and though Meg’s thought process never really stopped mulling over the new development in her life, that didn’t mean she’d come to any kind of epiphany. Hence the reason why she hadn’t made much effort to find Derek until she couldn’t stand the inaction any longer.
The situation was ...unresolved. That bothered her more than the actual situation itself. Ignoring it, like she and Bridget had joked about, would not make it better. That’s why she found herself leaning by a shoulder on Derek’s door jamb: her fingertips lightly hooked and toying with each other by her abdomen, after a small knock. Sarge was sleeping in her and Holly’s bedroom (she’d made it a point to come without the protective mutt).
“I know you’re in here.” She said quietly after a silent pause--a small, but tight smile on her lips. She could hear a page turn.
Derek looked towards the door, suddenly nervous. He hadn’t decided what he wanted from Meg but the idea that she’d come to tell him to tell him to leave her the fuck alone was enough to upset him. Okay, he’d decided that much at least.
Quickly, Derek got up and kicked anything laying around on the floor far enough away so Meg wouldn’t trip and opened the door. “I’m here.” Derek was interested to see Meghan hadn’t brought her dog.
Her first reaction was the flash of a faint, but amused smirk, but she suppressed it lightly with a tight lipped smile. Her hair was held back at the sides, but slightly heavy with moisture from a recent shower... the curling ends twitched with the subtle breeze from the door being opened. “Can I come in?” She asked finally, canting her head a little. She’d also left her glasses in her room: softly clouded eyes crinkled a bit with her small smile, and lashes darkened by water.
“Yeah.” Derek felt like he was watching Meg more than he used to, taking the time to notice her wet hair - she’d obviously come from the shower. Meg. Shower. Water. Wet. Derek shook himself mentally. Okay, despite the fact that he wasn’t used to seeing her eyes, attraction wasn’t a problem. He knew that now too.
Derek opened the door wider and moved aside to give her enough room to enter. He’d never guided her before and he made no move to help Meg now.
Another twitched smile was on her lips as she heard him step aside, and though she didn’t know the layout of his room as well as the rest (she made it a point to at least get vaguely acquainted with each one at some point), she carefully stepped inside, just enough to pass him and let the door close behind her. The thought crossed her mind to pull out the cane, but it was overpowered by more pressing issues.
Of course, standing during this whole thing wasn’t going to help. “Gimme an idea of where I can sit?”
There weren’t many options. Besides whatever he was reading, his tool belt and his gun, dirty clothes on the floor was the dominant decorative theme to the room. “Bed’s three steps in front of you.”
A light nod answered him as she stepped lightly forward, probing with one toe until the frame of the bed made itself known to her shin. Meg turned to sit, and turned herself in his direction.
Still silent. Christ she wished she felt like she knew what she was doing. A chaotic storm of emotion had been brewing in her head since that night. Meg wondered if she was about to make a complete fool of herself--under everything else on her mind.
“Come sit with me?” She asked before she really realized it, but it was harmless. She felt a subtle quiver under her skin--everywhere. Nerves.
Even with Meg here in his bedroom, Derek was keeping his distance as if he was afraid that something messy would happen and he wanted to keep well back. “Sure.” He took a seat next to her, keeping at least a little space between them.
Feeling his weight on the mattress beside her was cue for Meg to continue with the conversation, considering his short answers hinted at the same pensiveness she was feeling. Or at least, so she thought. She took a deep breath, and leaned her forearms on her knees, lacing fingertips.
A deep breath followed, and it was clear in her voice. “Okay--so... Here’s where I stand.” Might as well just get to the point. “I’ve been married for ten years... Been in the same relationship for fifteen years. I--I know that’s over...” There wasn’t as much conviction in her voice as she tried to put into it: Meg’d been trying to convince herself for a long time that Michael was dead, but it never sunk to the deepest part of her. Not even now, when she had a reason--or semi-reason--to make the effort to move on. “...but it’s really scary moving on from that. I’m trying... but you have to understand it’s gonna be hard for me.”
She sighed again, sitting up, though her hands remained laced in her lap. “I don’t wanna miss what I survived for because I can’t let go, but-- change isn’t really my forte.”
Derek understood, he did - or as much as it was possible for him, never having had a relationship like that. But Meg had been married and he knew that. What he didn’t understand was what she wanted from him. “Look, I know I kind of started something the other night.” Or something like started anyways. What happened felt like a continuation of the line they’d both crossed by the fence. “If I - if I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”
Meg made a face, something similar to a wince and an agreement. Yes, she was uncomfortable, but it had less to do with him than it did the situation itself. She was trying to push herself beyond that comfort zone now, with the thought that if she didn’t, she’d never move on. It was just... really complicated.
“Don’t apologize.” She said, rather gently. It was clear she meant it. “I’m just-- I think, emotions were high...and...” This was so awkward and against the grain for her. She felt so out of practice, and had absolutely no idea if she was going to be able to convey her thoughts. “...Look, before the other night, what did we know about each other? Barely anything. I’d like to, I dunno... take this by baby steps?” She turned a ‘look’ in his direction over a bare shoulder, damp curls drifted with the movement over the faded star-burst scar located beneath. She had a small, but hopeful smile. “That make sense?”
Derek nodded and then remembered he needed to articulate what he was thinking. “Yeah, it does.” He looked at the scar on her should and thought about how he had one like it himself. “I guess I’m just kind of impulsive. I’m not exactly known for thinking before I say something or do something. Part of the reason I’m such an asshole.”
Meg’s brows arched a little, though her smile seemed just a little easier. “Yeah... yeah, you are an asshole.” Her voice wasn’t as bogged down or tight as it had just been. Meghan gently eased her hand toward his voice, where her fingers brushed the fabric of his shirt and followed the line of his forearm... to his hand. She let her fingertips lace with his, where they squeezed, almost reassuringly. “Let’s see if we can get through a week without pissing each other off. Sound feasible?”
Derek looked down, studying the way her hand stood out against his skin. “I don’t know about that,” he answered with a breath of a laugh. “We haven’t managed that so far. How about checking if, even after we want to kill each other, we still want to do...this.” With his free hand, he traced a fingertip across the back of her hand.
The path of his fingertip left a trail of sensation along her skin. It tickled faintly, but she naturally zeroed in on the feeling. It tightened her grip on his hand just barely. “Sounds like a plan.” Automatically, her brain had been fighting to switch into sarcastic mode as a defense mechanism. As the conversation lightened, even a little, Meg started to lose the fight. “I dunno if I can go a whole week without insulting you.”
Derek’s hand stilled but he didn’t pull away, smiling at Meg instead. “Speak for yourself, cupcake.” He didn’t see much need to change their behavior; the difference was they didn’t actually hate each other.