Ailaya's Pass Game 1
Katie stared straight in to Jack's eyes for a moment, seeing there his image of her standing on a hill, the wind that blew her hair so that the sun could catch the gold in it making her simple flag ripple like waves behind her. She saw the miners, gold dust still clinging to their clothes, gathered around her, saw their faces turned up with hope...
...And then she laughed. "I never realized you had such a sense of humor Jack Barrett," she refilled the ladle and brought it back to Jack's lips, "me speaking to the miners." Jack wouldn't part his lips, just kept his eyes locked tight on hers, and eventually she returned the ladle to the bucket.
"You spoke so disgustedly of your gun being a whore; well that's what I am. I'm a whore Jack, who stupidly fell in love with a married man. I can't care about the plight of the miners. They're just customers Jack. I'll listen to their stories and stroke their hands sympathetically because that's my job. As long as they pay me, it's no business of mine."
She roughly grabbed up her sewing, and reached for the door just as Doc Riley opened it.
"Sorry, doctor," she said as she brushed past.
"Katie, wait," she heard Jack call hoarsely, but she didn't stop, not for Meg's hand on her arm or Dan's question or anything until she was out and away from it all, until her back was firmly against the bark of a Eucalyptus tree. She sunk down, the tears falling to the roots below her.
She wasn't sure where that all had come from. She wasn't mad at Jack. She felt for the wife he'd left, grieving the loss of their child, just as she felt for his loss. Only his wife couldn't run from it like Jack could, couldn't just pick up and come here. Maybe that was better, to have to face it and not just lock your emotions and everything away, so far from everything, the way Jack did. The way she did if she were honest about it. They were similar that way. Both of their professions required it.
Her sobs were quieter now. She felt the soft blue silk of the flag still clutched in her hand and spread it out across her lap, the stars calming her. There was a small tare up in one corner, where she'd grabbed it too roughly, and her fingers ran over it, gently. It had taken so long to make this from the scraps of silk she'd saved or been able to buy. It was the most beautiful thing she had. Her finger traced the lines connecting the stars, connecting them like arms outspread, hands clasped, "we're all connected like this," she'd said to Jack once, up in her room at O'Conner's, tracing the pattern on his skin. Her breath caught just remembering the way she tingled, just touching him. She was so lost in the memory of it that she didn't hear the footsteps until they were almost upon her.
(And the pen goes to ailaya_believes)