[Locked to RatBoy]
I keep dreaming about her.
I don't care what they say. They don't know anything.
She can't be dead. I would know if she was. I heard her in my dreams, calling out for me. So afraid and alone. She is not dead. She can't be. Not m-, not Callie. I would know ( Read more... )
I don't care what they say. They don't know anything.
She can't be dead. I would know if she was. I heard her in my dreams, calling out for me. So afraid and alone. She is not dead. She can't be. Not m-, not Callie. I would know ( Read more... )
ooc:If you want to play it out, I'm game. If not, feel free to delete this.
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Randomness.
The play of light and shadow on the pavement. The senseless rustling of the wind, carrying paper and trash down the streets.
Waiting, leaning against a wall. Just waiting.
Empty inside. Patient.
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"Don't fuck with me. I'm not in the mood for it... and the guys monitering those security cameras up there are on my payroll, not your's." Alex's tone is snappish and annoyed.
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He looks tired. Worn. Not in the mood to be fucked with.
What a coincidence.
You!
He points at Alex, his back rigid and and his face still partly cast in shadow.
You.
The hand slowly turns till the curled fingers are facing up and then the fingers beckons, slowly. One, twice.
Come here.
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The crooked finger gets a hard stare.
Alex has tossed himself here and there into situations that have taken care of punishing him, like between Mulder and Victor, but he's not so suicidal any longer that he wants to be quietly disassembled by Callie's ex. "Nyet. I've got nothing for you and you've got nothing for me." The bike is between them. It's staying between them and Alex is going to keep walking. He won't run, but he's not stopping for this either.
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The smile dissolves as he starts walking slowly, not directly toward Alex, just to keep up with him.
Alexander never understood him very well. He knows his has some bits of paper in his pockets, measurement sheets for coffins and crumbled up receipts, but that is for another time. Instead, Clay signs slowly, tapping his ear, then making a wide, horizontal arch with the same hand, before tapping his ear again. I have heard ... He levels the same hand at Alex, his whole stance accusatory, and I blame you. So - you've got something for me.
He still looks fairly calm, all things considered. And there is even the hint of a smile as he points to himself and then taps his temple. And I know things, you don't know. So I have something for you as well.Part of him knows he shouldn't say anything. That people like Alex won't understand the truth in dreams and how his own heart wouldn't be beating if hers had stopped. But it still shows ( ... )
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"We went to Russia. It was important. I had to go. She wanted to go with me. I didn't make her. There was... trouble. She's gone." Alex glares. Anger is an over-ride for grief. He'd rather feel anger. "That's all of it. Now leave me the fuck alone. I don't want to do this... especially with you." He'd climb on the bike, but that would mean the bike wasn't a barrier any longer and Alex is feeling a real need for a barrier.
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The head shake is firm but Clay's face stays impassive.
It's hard to tell whether it is denial or justified confidence.
I would know. You lie. He steps a little closer, maybe aware that Alex wants to get away from him. And that wouldn't do. Not now.
You lie. But you trust your own lies. Fool. The hint of a smile is back. He feels certain now. How could he be wrong? How could what he feels be wrong? No, she is alive. She has to be.
And then the smile disappears as Clay's eyes darken. But you took her. You took her away. You didn't make her come but neither did you make her stay. So it is your fault. And you know it.
Up close, he smells of sweat and a little bit of blood. There's a fresh cut on one of his fingers. The kind of cut honest work leaves, the kind that spills no blood but your own.
ooc -- I'll be gone this weekend
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It frustrates him that Alexander doesn't understand him, because he thinks he knows what he is really saying. Why he is saying that.
He never liked that Callie tried to protect him. Not with Alex. Not ever.
I lured him into the house Clay. To get him away from you.
And yes, he isn't stupid enough not to realize that he likely wouldn't be breathing now, if that hadn't been the case.
It grates him.
He mouths 'Callie' at Alex, silent breath instead of a voice, and then he holds one fist in front of his own heart, clenching and unclenching it a couple of times. Heart-beat. Alive. Then he taps his chest with a finger, and then his temple. She is alive. I know it.
He doesn't really expect Alex to believe him. Not with the way he looks at him. RetardBut if he jumps at him, if Alex jumps at him, he'll know the barbed wire hidden by feathers and that'll teach ( ... )
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Clay jumps backward, stumbling a little as one of his legs is hit by the falling bike and then Alex is in his face. He manages to duck away from the knife and then he shoves at the other man.
Alive. Don't you get that?! Alive!
Shiny steel doesn't scare him. Knives he knows. He even has one and he manages to get it out of his pocket, a worn blade, but sharp.
He doesn't use it though, merely holds it in his left hand as his right takes a swing at Alex.
Bruise and beat and bite and hold.
And she was mine. Never yours. MINE
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The pain lancing through Alex's jawbone is solid and clean, perfect justification for anything he might try to do to Clay. "She loved me more... was with me... stayed with me... not you." The words are a little slurred and it hurts to scream them, but Alex needs to get them out. He needs to throw them in Clay's face and make the other man hurt. "Wanted to marry ME!" That's a double edged sword. Alex shouldn't have said 'no'. He realizes that now, but it's too late.
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{ - Yes, yes, yes - blood, and pain, and flashes like teeth. Yes. -}
When he smiles, the smile is not his own. It hurts, but only if he lets it { - only the flesh and blood will hurt - }
She didn't care about marrige. She wanted to be free. What does that say? What does that say about you? That she thought she had to offer you to be bound and caged for you? I let her be free. I let her leave. Could you have done that? Could you? Fucking son of a hore.
{ - bitch, yes, and evil, and sick, and twisted, yes, smells wrong, stinks, death and rot and disease, yes, yes, yes - }
Clay shifts his knife to his good hand and crouches a little. He doesn't want to do this. Not really. He just wants Callie back.
She is alive I tell you. And she will come home. She will come home to me. He doesn't know this. He merely hopes.
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Green eyes narrow and Alex crouches. "I'll see your ashes scattered far from her's," he whispers before throwing the entire weight of his body at Clay's stomach. His knife aims at the inside of Clay's wrist in an attempt to stop him from wielding the weapon now the man has proven he's willing to do it.
ooc: Clay is welcome to inflict whatever minor to medium damage he can... include cuts across the face... so long as leaves Alex's groin area intact. *snicker*
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{- death, yes, death and pain and blood and winning, yes -}
He throws himself back, out of reach of Alex's knife and tries to kick at his ankles, to make him fall, as he himself hits the ground. Down, down to the ground.
The treat makes him laugh, silently. Wildly. What ashes? There are no ashes. She lives. What do I care if I do not?
ooc: Likewise, although I'd like to add fingers to the list of unbreakables. He needs them ;)
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