Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai, General, 046. Star
Title: The Lurve Think Tank
Fandom: Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai
Characters: Reno, New Jersey
Prompt: 46. Star
Word Count: 799
Rating: PG
"Look at that," Reno said, unexpectedly breaking the silence.
"Hm?"
"One star. Must be lonely."
New Jersey sat up, as much as the piping over their makeshift haven would allow. Reno appeared to have obtained a head injury, possibly a conussion. Should it be a subdural hematoma (and New Jersey heartily wished it weren't) he would have thrown up, maybe complained of nausea or dizziness. New Jersey considered the ramifications of turning on a flashlight or even a glowstick, but with so many death dwarves wandering around - however aimlessly - it was probably a bad idea.
"Why's that?" he asked instead.
Reno looked at him, swaying as one inebriated or otherwise impaired, and New Jersey ticked the box for concussion.
He appeared to be considering some philosophical platitude in his expatiated way.
"One is the loneliest number," Reno said at last. New Jersey found further resolve to not allow his colleague to fall asleep or otherwise slip from the realm of consciousness.
"You have - you have," New Jersey said. He began to feel somewhat light-headed himself. It was the awkward quarters. And the atmosphere lent nothing to the imagination insofar as horror could be considered. The fog, the clouds, the occasional lunar glimpse, the single gleaming star. It looked like it was getting bigger. He closed his eyes and shook his head gently. You have someone, he meant to say. Someone...rupee? Someone like dinar, or maybe Yen. He knew a Yennifer once.
Maybe Reno had Penny. Shocked, in a muggy sort of way, New Jersey wondered if Buckaroo knew. One of his best friends and his girlfriend, who were maybe together. Or was it Euro?
"Pecos," he said. He fought the urge to pat himself on the back.
"Yeah," Reno sighed.
"You can be lucky," New Jersey said, "You have someone. Maybe."
Reno paused, and looked back at the doctor. "Maybe? You know something I should know, compadre?"
New Jersey leaned his head against the cold pipe, letting his body sag back against the building. "I don't know," he admitted. "I know two of the 47 something unknown...bleeding."
"What?" Reno looked forward, both of them shrinking - in New Jersey's case, closing his eyes - back as a sweeper unit came perilously close. If they were caught, maybe they would recieve medical attention. New Jersey began to weakly raise a hand.
Maybe they would be held and tortured and slaughtered and mailed back in pieces over a two week period as had happened to one extremely luckless BBI.
"I'm bleeding. Possibly concussion, possibly subdural hematoma. I'll die like soup, like that man on CSI."
When he opened his eyes again, Reno's face was in his, lit by the barest tip of a glowstick which was mostly buried down Reno's sleeve. "Talk to me," Reno said, quietly, holding New Jersey's chin with his other hand.
"One...you have Penny -"
"What?!"
"I mean Pecos. And yet here you are saying you have a concussion with the possibility of a larger injury and - " the star looked ever brighter in the sky, painfully bright. "And why would you say that? Are things not going soupy?"
"Well?" Reno asked, mesmerized by the fluctuating logic in New Jersey's ponderance. "Of course. We're engaged. I've...I've done this a number of times before. You aren't going to remember any of this, are you?"
"Probability is high that I will not. At all. Ever."
"O-kay." Reno sat back on his haunches and deftly maneuvered the glowstick to his pack without alerting the still roaming henchmen. "I've been married five...maybe six times before."
"I thought it was five."
"There was an evening of celebration and - general blurred sentimentality in Vegas, once. The point is, I haven't gotten it right. All those times and I'm still trying."
"But isn't that the point?" New Jersey asked, reflecting on the discomfort inherent in the metal pipe against his poor, injured cranium. "All those times, and you," here he took a deep breath in through his mouth to stay the nausea, "You keep trying."
Reno took a long look at him, still the newest Cavalier, technically, as their numbers had neither shrunk nor grown for some time. "Yes," he said, "I s'ppose so."
New Jersey nodded, or thought he nodded, or perhaps imagined the sensation of nodding and looked out at the star, nearly upon them.
"Neither," he said, "None of us are one. Right? Because..." There was something he had to say. Something important, life-changing, something truly profound.
The star, BBI Xanadu's jet, was currently making short work of the death dwarves. They would be alright. New Jersey would receive ample medical attention. And hopefully, someone would be willing to carry the elongated Cavalier as Reno could feel a deep exhaustion making itself known in his bones.