Booker DeWitt isn't father of the year (dewitt) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-08-05 04:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | !open, alice, booker dewitt, sarah connor |
Who: Booker DeWitt, Sarah Connor, and OPEN
What: Booker can’t sleep so takes a ride around town. Sarah is working the early morning shift at a cafe
When: Early Wednesday morning
Where: Miraloma Cafe in Anaheim
Rating: TBD
In progress
(feel free to bother booker or order from Sarah! Multiple threads for both welcome!)
Booker couldn't sleep. Not that sleep ever came easy for him anymore. Too many thoughts running through his head. Some of them about Columbia and Elizabeth, some of them about Rogue. Most of them about Lina. He couldn't really bring himself to accept that she was gone. But he'd been at the memorial. In the back. Where he could watch and keep his emotions in check. He kept thinking back to that, and to the day she'd died.
Where he'd felt helpless, powerless. He wished he could rip tears in the fabric of reality. Maybe that could have saved Lina. But he couldn't do a damn thing, and now that he couldn't feel sorry for himself about being sick, he only had the grief.
Mostly he wanted to do something. Almost like he wanted to make something of his life, because if he didn’t do it, there was only really one person left who’d push him anyway. But it would be easier to drown his sorrows like Naga did. It was a miracle the woman had stayed sober enough to heal him, and after she had they’d both drank until they couldn’t see straight. Him more than her because she had been too wiped to get very far before passing out. He’d tucked her in, and stumbled into a cab and then gotten out at a bar and promptly got plastered.
It was easier that way.
He could drink. It was easy. He never stayed on the wagon for long, but he tried. Could last a week, maybe two sometimes, when he had something to keep him distracted. He had loved Lina. Feelings that damn near ruined his friendship with her. Shifted into something different, something new. More platonic, or so he’d told himself, but Booker didn’t love often, and when he did, well… he lost them anyway. Hence keeping Rogue at a bit of a length, no matter what they’d done together.
No drinking. Maybe a walk. There wasn’t a place to really visit to pay respects, so he kept walking until he got tired of walking and hailed a cab instead. For a brief, crazed moment, he considered enlisting in the army. Go away, never come back, do something stupid and get shot somewhere.
But the moment passed, and he eventually got out in a part of town he didn’t recognize. Didn’t matter. He picked out a cafe and walked inside, taking a seat at a booth.
“What can I get you?” The waitress was young and pretty. Brunette. She had bags under her eyes and looked like she’d slept less than he had. She had a look about her that he knew pretty well. This woman was a dreamer, and her name tag said Sarah.
“Whatever the special is and coffee.”
“Cream or sugar?”
He smiled at her. “Both.”
Watching her move around, he tried to get a measure of her, but pulled up a blank. When she put the cup of coffee down, her hand was shaking. He asked, “You okay? You look a little tired.”
“Long night. Your food should be right up.”
“Thanks.”
Nodding at him, Sarah went to take the order of her next customer. Sleep had eluded her all night. She’d dreamed of terminators and life on the run and a constant fear of not being the Sarah Connor that Pops told her she was. It was a hell of a thing putting the fate of the world on an eight year old. A hell of a thing knowing that some day you were fated to fall in love, get pregnant, and lose the guy all at once.
Sarah hated the idea of fate. She wanted to fight it. It would be better to be a waitress for the rest of her life, than the mother of humanity’s savior. She forced a smile. “And what can I get for you today?”