[voice test] somewhere for this, death and guns

[assassinwithahairpin]

It had been a long day. They had all been long days, since they'd arrived in Rose Creek, but this was possibly the longest. Billy didn't know how he felt about that. He didn't know what he'd do. Ever since, the night before, Goodnight telling him about his anxious, superstitious dream, the day had felt every bit of their heat, every bit of the effort they were putting into last minute preparations, every moment of worried waiting.

Now, the trenches were finished. Though the town folk had collected in front of the church to hear a sermon from the preacher, Billy and Jack had set about finishing those and making sure they were set for the inevitable siege in the morning. Billy was aching tired, his shoulders and lower back screaming for some form of relaxation--laying in bed or on the floor, having a bath to soak in, anything. They were running short of cigarettes; he had tobacco, but no more rolling papers, and nothing else he put in them. He'd just have to live with himself.

He trudged his way up to the room he and Goodnight shared in the boarding house, stretching his shoulders still as he let himself into the room.

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[goodnight_robicheaux]

He couldn't shake it. He had been trying all day, all goddamn day but it sat there in his chest, worked its grip all through his mind. Goodnight managed to get through the day without breaking down again, but only just.

He'd skipped dinner, unable to stand being around the rest of them right now, certain they could all see what he felt. Especially Sam.

Goodnight was sitting on the edge of the bed when Billy came in; he realized he had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, too lost in anxious, obsessive thoughts to mark the passing minutes. He looked up, something guilty crossing his face, like Billy had caught him in the act of... something. He looked at Billy, took in the tired ache of him and a hollow hurt grew in his chest.

"We can't stay."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

[assassinwithahairpin]

Billy looked at Goodnight from across the room. Had they not just spent six days working this city into a froth, whipping it toward some semblance that, maybe, they could get through this? His boots felt glued to the floor.

He took off his holster belt, and then his waist coat. He didn't say a word. He wanted Goodnight to think about those words, think about what they meant.

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"I heard the voice, Billy. I raise my hand again in violence and I will die a ghastly death. I don't want that for me and I sure as hell don't want that for you."

He'd thought about this; more time was not going to change that.

[assassinwithahairpin]

"It was a dream," Billy said, again, the same he'd said the night before when Goodnight had leaned over with those words and that hysterical look. Billy bent to unlace his boots, then toed them off.

"These people need us, Goody." And that, more than any other statement, should have meant something. How long had he been on the run, how often were they selfish? For Billy to admit that these people needed them--their skills, their knowledge, their ability--was as close as Billy could come to admitting he needed this too.

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"That doesn't make it less real," he insisted. Goodnight's chest felt tight and he gripped the edge of the bed like that was the only thing keeping him in place.

"Sam's not doing this for the good of these people. He's given them visions of victory that he can't promise, and he roped all of us into this like he's doing it for the betterment of mankind. Bullshit. I don't see why either of us needs to die for his vengeance."

[assassinwithahairpin]

"Do the two have to be mutually exclusive," Billy grumbled, cutting Goodnight a tired expression. If his guns, his knives, could help these people, that seemed as good a reason to put his life on the line as any gun fight or gambling racket he'd ever been a part of.

"We have all been working with the tools we are given, Goodnight," he continued, sinking into the chair in front of the vanity. "None of us had to say yes. None of us had to stay. But we did. And now you're going to doubt it?"

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"I've got nothing left to give this. What good am I to these people if I can't fire a shot? What the hell good am I?" he snapped, finally standing up. "And what happens if this doesn't work? If we all die here in righteous fury? What then for these people? For the next town?"

It never ended. It never ended.

[assassinwithahairpin]

"You've been plenty good the last five whole days, Goodnight," Billy said, irritation sinking in around his eyes. They had not had many fights, and the few they'd managed had not been quite like what this felt like.

"Ms Cullen has already said she'd take your place to shoot if needed. Why do we have to talk about running? These people need someone."

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Goodnight shook his head. "I'm not that man, and haven't been for a long time. The killing and dying is never over and I can't--" His voice cut and he shook his head, taking a sharp breath. "I can't be part of it any more."

[assassinwithahairpin]

"Goody," Billy hissed, exasperation in tone and posture now, "no one is asking you to be Goodnight."

He tapped his heel against the crowd, thinking, shaking his head. He wanted to say that no one was holding him here, that he had never been forced to this. But Billy would not leave. Was that not a compulsion for Goodnight to stay?

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"That's who Sam asked to join this crusade. Sent that drunk, star-eyed baptist looking for Goodnight, not Lucien Eugene. That is exactly what they are asking me to be."

And one of those men was terrified of dying, and of what would become of his soul after that. There was a lot of weight balancing one side of that holy scale and he could not face it.

"These people - us - we're-- we're pawns in a grander scheme, Billy. I have done enough killing for other men's designs."

[assassinwithahairpin]

"You're being a coward," Billy snapped.

It was out like a shot, and he could not take it back. So Billy held on, felt the recoil, absorbed it. Like when Goodnight had taught him to shoot a rifle; like when Billy had learned his secrets and held them so preciously because Goodnight held his.

He tried to smooth it. "You are not the things you've done. Goody--Lucien."

They so rarely used their given names. It was a foreign shape on his tongue, an unfamiliar weight. When was the last time Goodnight had called him Bokyung? It had been years, probably.

"But you will be the things you do."

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Goodnight stepped back like he'd been shot; the impact felt the same and for a second he was left breathless. Coward. The words that came after were a buzz in his mind, the slight crackle of his Christian name forced him up for air. It sounded strange coming from Billy; they'd both left their old lives far behind since falling in with each other, but now here he was, confronting that man all over again.

Coward.

He opened his mouth to respond but he couldn't summon a sound. He couldn't. Goodnight closed his eyes for a second, but he couldn't shake it.

Before his brain caught up, Goodnight had moved, picked up his saddle bags and rifle. "I'll be in Carson City," he said, voice hollow. "I'll wait for you there. I don't hear from you in a week then..." He couldn't bring himself to say it. Either Billy would be dead or he didn't want to find him.

[assassinwithahairpin]

Something in Billy's chest seized, watching Goodnight shut down like that. He'd done that. He hadn't meant to. The word had come out of his mouth and then it was just there, a hunter's trap, and he could not unset it in time.

He got up from the chair and grabbed for Goodnight's arm.

"Goody, please."

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Goodnight stopped at the touch on his arm but he didn't look up from the floor. He wasn't sure he could. "Carson City," he repeated softly.

He finally tipped his head up, finding Billy's face, his eyes. "I'll wait."

He'd die there waiting if that's what it took. But he could not stand one more second in Rose Creek. He searched Billy's eyes but he had to look away again. "I'm sorry I'm not a better man for you, Billy."