adifferentlife | The long walk home [[for Kaine]]

The long walk home [[for Kaine]]

The night had gotten late without Sybil realising it. The emergency room had been busy and she had stayed at the intake station well past the time her shift was supposed to be over. When it finally became quiet enough for her to leave the hour was nearing on three. All the girls that she would normally walk home with were gone, likely showered and in their own beds. The taxi that she called never arrived, and Sybil found herself frustrated, tempted to walk home on her own even though it was so late.

It was only after she remembered the murder that had happened so recently that she pulled out the phone and painstakingly pulled up Kaine's number. She tapped out a message, trying her best to not spell anything incorrectly and to use all the proper punctuation. A few minutes and she had sent it, asking if he was still awake and if he would walk her home from work. It was relief that she smiled with when the message came back that he would. She shouldn't be so dependent on him, she knew that, but who else was she to call? If this were Downton-

Sybil cut the thought off before it had time to fully form. This wasn't Downton and never would be. She'd adjusted to that, for the most part.

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"Says the girl who pulled a bullet out of me and sewed me up afterward," I say.

It was not one of our best moments as friends and she was justifiably upset, but I think she understands a bit better now. I don't know that she's exactly pleased with me, but I think she's more understanding. You know, because my lie was exposed and she understands how I really got shot.

"I would do it again, too, if you needed it." She says it quietly, looking down at her hands, trying to not think on how worried and frightened she had been in that night. When she tilts her head up into the light to catch his eyes, there's real concern there, concern borne of friendship and affection. "I would hope you wouldn't need it again."

But she's not so foolish as to expect him to not be who he is. It would be as futile as expecting her father to listen to Branson's ramblings on Socialism and Irish independence and not react.

"I hope so too. Getting shot hurts," I say.

It's a manageable pain, something I can function just fine with for the most part, but I certainly don't like it. Not that I know anyone who does. Maybe Wolverine, that guy is pretty fucking crazy though. I wonder if he even bothers to dodge bullets.

"Also, it worries people I care about," I add, smiling at her. "Can't have that."

"It does," she says firmly, his words an invitation to rest her hand on his arm as they walked. He was her escort, she tells herself, there was nothing untoward in her action. "But I think I might understand better now. Why you need to try and help, to put yourself in danger. You can do things so many of us can't."

I reach over and pat her hand reassuringly. Of course, I'm still going to attack guys with guns, so I don't know how reassuring it really is. Hopefully it's worth something though, but I doubt she sits up late at night worrying about me or anything.

"And that's a pretty altruistic motive. My brothers do it because of that but do it to try and balance out some of the bad things I've done. Simple as that."

Sybil can't stop the shiver that runs through her as she thinks of the other Kaine. Of the monster that attacked and kidnapped her. She squeezes his arm, afraid that he'll be able to follow her thoughts and not wanting that. They've come too far since then. "You only do it so you can have me all to yourself, I know."

The teasing is risqué for her, but well meant. Still, she feels the need to follow it up with a more sincere thought. "Whatever the reason, I appreciate it."

Okay, that was a joke. A relationship joke, I'm pretty sure. From Sybil. The Apocalypse is surely upon is. I'm proud of her though, at least so long as she's proud of herself for making it.

"You've seen through my clever plot," I say with a nod. "But I'm here right now so it seems to be working."

"In the stories I've ad, I think I should tell you that I know of your plans now, and will foil them. Only... Does that make me the villain?" Sybil laughs, casting them in the pages of what the bookshop owner had told her penny dreadfuls. The name ask, the stories were entertaining if entirely unrealistic.

I try to imagine Sybil as a villain, as someone even remotely unpleasant, and I can't. I can see her maybe upset or angry, because I have seen her that way, but not mean. Not evil.

"Would you be offended if I laughed at the idea of you as a villain?"

"No, I wouldn't. I think that I've a hard time killing a spider when the other girls are all shrieking. I rescue them and put them outside. They're lucky you know, if you have one in your pocket." A strange superstition she learned from a housemaid as a child, she can't even remember who told her. "I really would just want everyone to get along with one another."

"Good, because the idea of it is kind of laughable," I tell her. I'm glad she's able to recognize how silly the idea is though.

"Also pretty good luck to have one on speed dial."

"It is, isn't it? My sisters would likely laugh if I told them." Sybil shakes her head in amusement. She cannot imagine either of her sisters as being the villain either, believing the best in them both.

His words make her pause, cocking her head as she looked up at him. When it dawns on her, her smile grows. "It would seem that I do."

His words make her pause, cocking her head as she looked up at him. When it dawns on her, her smile grows. "

"I ever tell you that for a while, I looked like a giant spider?" I ask. Maybe not the best transition ever, but I don't think that Sybil would be bothered by it all that much. Well, at least not as much as some people. She might actually find it interesting.

"An actual spider?" She cannot keep the surprise from her voice, trying to imagine that. What it look like, what would he be like beneath that? "Did it hurt?"

"Human sized though," he said, indicating the height he used to be at, which was well over his current height but still human sized.

"Giant mandibles, freaky eyes. Drooling. Eight harry legs."

The shiver this time is well-earned, she feels, pulling closer to Kaine for all that he’s describing something unappealing. “I’m glad it got better. I don’t think I would like it if you were like that.”

"Not one of my better moments," I admit. Not that I've had a lot of good moments. Maybe one or two, really, so I guess that was one of my average moments. Debatable on whether or not it was one of my uglier ones.

"That was after I came back from the dead."

“Yet you tease me for reading silly novels,” she says, looking up to him in bafflement. “Your world- It sounds so different than mine. These things, were they usual? Has so much changed between your time and my own?”

"Most people never have to deal with anything like that," I say, although now that I think about it the entire island of Manhattan had to. Then there was the invasion and... okay, maybe it's not quite like her own time.

"It's more like... if it happens to you once, it's likely to happen again. So unless you dress up in a costume to fight crime or rob banks you should be fine."

"Then I am sorry it has happened to you at all, and am happy you're here." Not only for selfish reasons such as friendship, though that was a large part of it for Sybil. "Here these things happen much less, don't they?"

"If nothing weird ever happened to me, I'd never have existed," I point out. Which would be fine with me, really, but I don't know that Sybil really shares my sentiment on that. She stubbornly believes the best about me, even if she shouldn't.

"Although, I guess there's a good chance I won't exist, depending on what happens here."

That sort of talk makes her head hurt. Thinking of not existing, of lives being lived in their absence, it’s all a rather strange fantasy rather than anything she can really comprehend. “But you exist here, and so do I, and that matters more than any of that, doesn’t it?”

"I'm going to say yes, because I know I'll end up agreeing with you eventually," I say. And a portion of her is right. I know I have a good existence here. A great one, better than I deserve by far. A part of me is always aware of the fact that I shouldn't have it though. I don't tell that part to Sybil anymore, I know better than that.

"You're a wise man," she laughs, resting her head against his shoulder as they walk. It's comfortable now in a way that it hadn't been even a few months before. Sybil is glad things are no longer strained, for she missed him when they were. "At least as wise as my father, likely."

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