Lightverse: 3 Conversations
Nov. 10th, 2006 10:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thecatevariLightverse Apocalpse AU: Dean has 3 conversations with Miria.
1. Lena & Jake. Jake is with Shay Davies, a hunter. Lena is back in whatever state they live in. Miria is worried whether they're still alive or not. So is Dean.
2. What now? Miria wants to know what the plan is, whether they're going to live, etc.
3. Miria knows about Sam & Dean.
"Dad?"
He's almost asleep when he hears Miria stir, hears her soft voice chirp against the silence.
"Yeah?" Coming up to wakefulness hurts, aching deep in the bone. He's not as young as he used to be. He opens his eyes and turns his head—another twinge—and sees her eyes gleam in the sticky dark.
"What about Mom and Jake?"
Like Sam, Miria has a way of asking one question so it sounds more like a hundred. And ninety-nine of them, Dean won't have any idea how to answer. "I don't know," he says finally, truthfully, because that was the deal. He's as truthful as he can be with his kids. "We're going to find Jake now."
In his mind, he curses the miles of distance between them and Shay Davies' home, curses himself for leaving Jake there and not staying when the little boy came down sick. It seemed harmless enough at the time, but Dean thinks he should have learned about 'harmless' already.
"You think he's okay?"
I think he's six and sick and small for his age, Dean thinks, and only the fact that he's with other hunters, and some damn good ones at that, gives me any hope at all. What he says is, "He's with Auntie Shay and Uncle Tim. They're good people."
"Yeah." Doubt quavers loudly in her voice and he holds out his arm to her. Kait is curled up against his side and Evan twined around her but he lets Miria settle awkwardly on his chest the way she did when she was years younger. "I just…he's so little, Dad." She sounds agonized, shivering in micro-tremors all through her body.
"I know." He strokes her hair soothingly. "But he'll be okay. He's little, but he's tough."
"Yeah." He hears her swallow, a loud click."
"Go to sleep, honey," he tells her. "We gotta get an early start tomorrow."
"Okay." She wriggles against him, trying to arrange long, coltish limbs into something like comfort. She jabs him good a few times, but he manages to hold in his grunt. Then: "But what about Mom? She's all alone."
Dean thinks of Lena. He'd like to say he doesn't care. That it doesn't matter to him if she lives or dies. But for as much as she's hurt him and tried to do worse, for as many times as she's hurt the kids, or Sam, he can't hate anyone that much. Lena's sins are catalogued in his mind, a long and well-populated list but they're all human sins. "I don't know," he says again. It seems to be like the only thing he can say lately. I don't know, I don't know, I just don't fucking know. "But your Mom's a survivor, hon. Just like you."
"Can we go?" Miria asks. "Can we go look for Mom too?"
The miles between Oakland and Shay's place in Napa already seem endless, especially with small children and no car. Across the country seems like another planet.
"Dad?"
"Jesus, Miria! Kinda peeing here!" Dean hastily shakes off and zips up before turning to face her. Color burns bright and hectic in her face and she's looking everywhere but at him.
"Yeah," She says, dragging her foot through the pine mast and leaving behind a smear. "I'm sorry. But I really wanted to talk to you."
"It couldn't wait?" He's yelping, high-pitched and weird, but he thinks he gets a bye for it. He clears his throat.
"I didn't…I wanted to talk to just you," she says finally, still not meeting his eyes. He reaches out and grabs her elbow and she looks up at him, some terrible pressure he can't understand in her face.
"Hey," he says softly, guiding her over to a fallen log for them to sit. "What is it?"
"I just…" Her head hangs and her fingers make knots between her outspread thighs. She looks at them like they're the most fascinating things in the world. "Promise you won't be mad?"
"Yeah," Dean says. "Sure. 'Course I do."
She looks up and the blush is stronger than ever, like a really bad sunburn all across her fair skin. "I know… I saw you. You and Uncle Sammy. I mean…I know about you guys."
If he could have moved, Dean thinks he might have fallen right of the log. As it is, he feels frozen in place, skewered through.
"Oh, God," Miria moans, hiding her face in her hands so that only her eyes peek through. "You're mad. I knew you'd be mad."
"N..no." Dean manages finally. He knows he and Sam have been sloppy since the world fell apart; the need to keep an eye on the kids at all times crossed with the need to have Sam touching him, to be able to touch Sam and anchor himself in that and them…they've been sloppy. They've been stupid. "I'm not…Christ, I'm not mad, kiddo. Really. I just…you kind of caught me by surprise there. What…what do you know about me and Uncle Sammy?"
Most of the time, he compares Miria to Sam, but the look she gives him then is pure Dean and on the receiving end of it, he almost feels ashamed of asking. Almost. Because he is still the patent-holder on that particular expression. "Dad," she says reproachfully.
"I…" Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God. "I'm sorry, honey. I…I don't even know what to say, past that. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry you had to see that. It…it won't happen again." Because that was the deal he made with himself. Never if it endangers the kids or his relationship with them.
"No." Miria pulls her legs up on the log, wrapping skinny arms around her scabbed knees. "No, you don't understand. It's okay, Dad."
This time Dean does fall off the log. "It…it's okay?" he croaks.
Miria makes a face. "Well, I don't want to ever see it again, that's for sure. And…" She hides her face in her knees. "It's weird, okay? I mean… It's really weird. But…" Her shoulders shake with a sigh and then she looks up again. "Uncle Sammy makes you happy, Dad. I mean, really, really happy. I've been thinking about this a lot. Like, a lot."
Dean squirms but he can't say anything, held in place by the potential judgment of his eleven year old daughter.
"And I guess…it kind of makes sense, you know? I mean, mom always said the you guys were kind of weird about each other. I just... I didn't know."
1. Lena & Jake. Jake is with Shay Davies, a hunter. Lena is back in whatever state they live in. Miria is worried whether they're still alive or not. So is Dean.
2. What now? Miria wants to know what the plan is, whether they're going to live, etc.
3. Miria knows about Sam & Dean.
"Dad?"
He's almost asleep when he hears Miria stir, hears her soft voice chirp against the silence.
"Yeah?" Coming up to wakefulness hurts, aching deep in the bone. He's not as young as he used to be. He opens his eyes and turns his head—another twinge—and sees her eyes gleam in the sticky dark.
"What about Mom and Jake?"
Like Sam, Miria has a way of asking one question so it sounds more like a hundred. And ninety-nine of them, Dean won't have any idea how to answer. "I don't know," he says finally, truthfully, because that was the deal. He's as truthful as he can be with his kids. "We're going to find Jake now."
In his mind, he curses the miles of distance between them and Shay Davies' home, curses himself for leaving Jake there and not staying when the little boy came down sick. It seemed harmless enough at the time, but Dean thinks he should have learned about 'harmless' already.
"You think he's okay?"
I think he's six and sick and small for his age, Dean thinks, and only the fact that he's with other hunters, and some damn good ones at that, gives me any hope at all. What he says is, "He's with Auntie Shay and Uncle Tim. They're good people."
"Yeah." Doubt quavers loudly in her voice and he holds out his arm to her. Kait is curled up against his side and Evan twined around her but he lets Miria settle awkwardly on his chest the way she did when she was years younger. "I just…he's so little, Dad." She sounds agonized, shivering in micro-tremors all through her body.
"I know." He strokes her hair soothingly. "But he'll be okay. He's little, but he's tough."
"Yeah." He hears her swallow, a loud click."
"Go to sleep, honey," he tells her. "We gotta get an early start tomorrow."
"Okay." She wriggles against him, trying to arrange long, coltish limbs into something like comfort. She jabs him good a few times, but he manages to hold in his grunt. Then: "But what about Mom? She's all alone."
Dean thinks of Lena. He'd like to say he doesn't care. That it doesn't matter to him if she lives or dies. But for as much as she's hurt him and tried to do worse, for as many times as she's hurt the kids, or Sam, he can't hate anyone that much. Lena's sins are catalogued in his mind, a long and well-populated list but they're all human sins. "I don't know," he says again. It seems to be like the only thing he can say lately. I don't know, I don't know, I just don't fucking know. "But your Mom's a survivor, hon. Just like you."
"Can we go?" Miria asks. "Can we go look for Mom too?"
The miles between Oakland and Shay's place in Napa already seem endless, especially with small children and no car. Across the country seems like another planet.
"Dad?"
"Jesus, Miria! Kinda peeing here!" Dean hastily shakes off and zips up before turning to face her. Color burns bright and hectic in her face and she's looking everywhere but at him.
"Yeah," She says, dragging her foot through the pine mast and leaving behind a smear. "I'm sorry. But I really wanted to talk to you."
"It couldn't wait?" He's yelping, high-pitched and weird, but he thinks he gets a bye for it. He clears his throat.
"I didn't…I wanted to talk to just you," she says finally, still not meeting his eyes. He reaches out and grabs her elbow and she looks up at him, some terrible pressure he can't understand in her face.
"Hey," he says softly, guiding her over to a fallen log for them to sit. "What is it?"
"I just…" Her head hangs and her fingers make knots between her outspread thighs. She looks at them like they're the most fascinating things in the world. "Promise you won't be mad?"
"Yeah," Dean says. "Sure. 'Course I do."
She looks up and the blush is stronger than ever, like a really bad sunburn all across her fair skin. "I know… I saw you. You and Uncle Sammy. I mean…I know about you guys."
If he could have moved, Dean thinks he might have fallen right of the log. As it is, he feels frozen in place, skewered through.
"Oh, God," Miria moans, hiding her face in her hands so that only her eyes peek through. "You're mad. I knew you'd be mad."
"N..no." Dean manages finally. He knows he and Sam have been sloppy since the world fell apart; the need to keep an eye on the kids at all times crossed with the need to have Sam touching him, to be able to touch Sam and anchor himself in that and them…they've been sloppy. They've been stupid. "I'm not…Christ, I'm not mad, kiddo. Really. I just…you kind of caught me by surprise there. What…what do you know about me and Uncle Sammy?"
Most of the time, he compares Miria to Sam, but the look she gives him then is pure Dean and on the receiving end of it, he almost feels ashamed of asking. Almost. Because he is still the patent-holder on that particular expression. "Dad," she says reproachfully.
"I…" Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God. "I'm sorry, honey. I…I don't even know what to say, past that. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry you had to see that. It…it won't happen again." Because that was the deal he made with himself. Never if it endangers the kids or his relationship with them.
"No." Miria pulls her legs up on the log, wrapping skinny arms around her scabbed knees. "No, you don't understand. It's okay, Dad."
This time Dean does fall off the log. "It…it's okay?" he croaks.
Miria makes a face. "Well, I don't want to ever see it again, that's for sure. And…" She hides her face in her knees. "It's weird, okay? I mean… It's really weird. But…" Her shoulders shake with a sigh and then she looks up again. "Uncle Sammy makes you happy, Dad. I mean, really, really happy. I've been thinking about this a lot. Like, a lot."
Dean squirms but he can't say anything, held in place by the potential judgment of his eleven year old daughter.
"And I guess…it kind of makes sense, you know? I mean, mom always said the you guys were kind of weird about each other. I just... I didn't know."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-11-10 10:24 pm (UTC)♥
no subject
Date: 2006-11-10 11:29 pm (UTC)At any rate she's sooooo cute! And I like that Dean compares her to Sam. It's cute. And Dean-like. x)
no subject
Date: 2006-11-11 01:56 am (UTC)And I love Miria. So understanding and willing to accept her Dad and Sam simply because it makes Dean happy. And really, I think most well adjusted kids want that for their parents. I've always wanted that for my mom and I've felt a lot like Dean in the past - where you have way too much responsibility because you're the only kid there that's capable and you're just THERE. So, I think it's only natural that Miria would be accepting.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-11 08:10 am (UTC)