todd rhone ◊ james 'sawyer' ford (justshotabear) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2010-07-10 07:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | morgan kennedy, todd rhone |
Who: Todd Rhone & Morgan Kennedy
What: Late night musings
Where: The Kennedy-Rhone residence in Savannah, GA
When: Around 4 AM, July 10
Warnings: PG.
Todd had gotten home extra late from work that Friday night, just like he had every night this past week. He couldn't say it wasn't a conscious thing – this week, he was working late on purpose. He didn't want to go home. Didn't want to see Morgan keep changing into Kate. It was a slow change, but a noticeable one, and honestly, he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before. She wasn't just his fiance anymore – she wasn't just the love of his life. No, she was something else entirely. Something that brought out the worst in him, and he hated it.
Which was why he hadn't even bothered to crawl into bed when he'd gotten home. He had a bite to eat, watched some late night TV, and "accidentally" fell asleep on the couch. Truthfully, there was nothing accidental about it. He'd come home to an empty bed once this week; he didn't want to again. It was until Emma started crying just before the sun came up that he knew Morgan was here – even though she slept through their daughter's crying, she never would've left the baby here by herself. She was thoughtful enough for that, at least. All things considered, it was a small comfort.
Groggily, he took Emma out of her crib and into the kitchen, where he began to make a bottle for her. She didn't quiet down immediately, but like he always did, he sang to her in a low, gravelly undertone, kissing her softly on the forehead while they waited for her formula, and that helped more than anything. Emma was used to her routines, and there was no doubt in his mind that she loved him. Even when she was crying, her eyes always lit up when she saw him, and she always smiled at him, no matter how bleak his mood. He couldn't say that about Morgan anymore. Lately, he was lucky if she even made eye contact with him.
Whatever's going on with her, it can't just be Kate, he thought idly as he sat down in his mother's old rocking chair with his daughter and the lukewarm bottle and began feeding her. It just can't. There had to be more to it than that, just like everything going on with him was more than just Sawyer. When he'd said yes to that Camelot recruiter the other day, that had been all him. Sawyer had had enough of turf wars, and he'd made that abundantly clear to Todd, as only he could. Truth be told, he was sick of Sawyer. He was sick of everything. Everything but his daughter. As she drifted to sleep in his arms, absentmindedly suckling at the bottle, at least he could pretend that everything was okay. That everything was peaceful, normal, unchanged. She could be his constant, even if nothing else could.
Todd leaned forward and gently kissed his daughter's soft, little head. "I love you, baby," he whispered hoarsely, trying not to break. "And that will never, ever change. That'll never, ever change."