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Entry tags:

juliet,
tabula rasa

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Continued from here...

He sits up quickly when she makes a move to stand and he's about to ask her where she thinks she's going when she plops unceremoniously back into the couch. The flash of serious concern on his face fades when she asks to stay in quiet voice.

"I wasn't kicking you out. And I really must insist that you stay. Do you want to lie down though?" He wasn't sure how the pain meds might affect her. Some people fell asleep and others just acted loopy.

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Juliet closes her eyes, letting out a soft breath. "Yeah."

She moves to lie back on the couch, toeing off her shoes. "I have the same couch," she realizes, but she thinks maybe she knew that at some point.

He stands up and listens to her talk about the couch as though there were a lot of different places one might get a couch on Tabula Rasa. He figures there's probably only one person or maybe there was only one and that person made the furniture in New Atlantis and elsewhere and disappeared or else was still around making furniture.

"I meant in the bedroom," he replies. "It's getting late." He's not planning on sleeping which means she's more than welcome to crash out there.

"Oh."

She manages to push herself back up into a sitting position, running her hand through her hair.

"I like your bed."

She knows because she's woken up there once before. "You don't snore."

Joshua likes his bed as well, which is probably to be expected. And as for snoring, well he has no idea.

"Come on, we'll get you settled in so you can sleep this off," he says, moving to help her up and stabilize her so she can make it to the bed.

"Joshua," she starts, then pauses to bring an arm around him, leaning against him.

"Joshua, there are blue flowers out in a field behind the clinic. I think you'd like them."

Based solely on the fact that he'd said his favorite color was blue.

He nods patiently, moving with her, slowly because she keeps getting distracted and he has to keep nudging her in the right direction, that is toward the bed.

"Are there?" he replies, at this point, he's kind of humoring her as she's becoming more and more of a space case., but he's still patient about it. It's not her fault after all. "Which clinic would that be?"

"The compound," she sighs, as if he should definitely know this.

Once she's sitting on the bed, she looks up at him.

"I killed someone, once." She says it like it's something she admits to every day. "More than one person. I had a gun."

Her next admission catches him off-guard, but he doesn't let on. He's not even sure if she knows what she's saying at this point, but he's playing along, if only because there's nothing else to be doing, and it's easier to agree and make her happy, than disagree and try to fight her.

"Did you?" he replies, a mild disbelief and perhaps a bit of condescension in his voice as he's distracted with pulling back the sheets for her. "More than one even? And why did you do that?"

She's getting into bed, so she does what she always would and stands up slowly, then starts trying with one hand to unbutton her jeans. It's a nearly impossible process and she frowns in frustration.

"I don't know. James told me. He's new. But I think I know him."

Juliet tries the jeans again. "Joshua, I can't get my pants off."

"Who is James?" he asks distractedly, as he realizes he's going to have to help her take her jeans off or otherwise distract her into bed. Jeans it is.

He squints in concentration, trying to keep her from losing balance and at the same time, not invade her personal space, or otherwise make this anymore awkward than it already is for him. After several attempts, he's finally able to undo the button, and looking away, manages the zipper as well for her.

She brings her good arm around his shoulders again, trying to step out of the jeans, and finally they're down, leaving her clad in a simple pair of black underwear. She doesn't move though, resting her head on his shoulder because she feels like she's swimming a little.

"He knows me. Not very well though, he said not enough to know my birthday. Just knows I killed someone."

Joshua has absolutely no idea what she's talking about and he doubts she's in any shape to explain anymore than she already is. Which means, most of this will get tabled until she's feeling a little more lucid, as in not today nor tomorrow, at the very least.

"I see. And who did you kill?" he continues, not noticing what color underwear she has on or anything else below eye level with her.

"I don't know," she responds with a soft frown, then pulls back enough to look at him, complete vulnerability in her eyes.

"Maybe I'm not a good person," she says quietly.

"Maybe you're not," he says, guiding her toward the bed and into the sheets, while, still, trying his best to avoid noticing anything that she might be embarrassed by were she not dosed on pain medications. "Whatever that means any way." The second said quietly and, perhaps, not meant for her.

"But you probably are."

Juliet lets him guide her, but before she's laying back all the way, she pulls him down into a hug with her good arm, burying her face against his neck a little.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Joshua."

He hadn't expected a hug and nearly falls on top of her when she pulls him down, only managing to stay on his feet by quickly putting his hands on the bed on either side of her. Once he's stabilized, he lets up with one hand to return her hug.

"You're welcome," he replies, standing up when she releases him. He'd give her a lecture about staying in her hut for four days in order to avoid him, but he doubts she'll remember it.

Laying back, she scoots over to one side of the bed, expecting him to follow suit next to her. Looking up, she held out her good hand expectantly, waiting for him to join her.

Up until now, he's been patient and indulgent, but laying in bed with her seems to be crossing a line. He compromises and tucks her in, then sits down on the bed.

"Get some rest. You'll feel better after you've slept some."

"Stay?" she asks, still waiting for him to take her hand.

"Like the night I stayed with you."

He takes her hand, but makes no movement toward laying down or otherwise joining her. He gets her point, and he'd been speaking about as coherently then as she is now, but it's too close to a line he doesn't want to cross, especially not tonight. He shakes his head.

"I can't. But I'll sit with you for a little while."

Curving her body a little toward him, she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

"Do you like it here? On the island, I mean."

He's still holding her hand, uncertain what exactly to do with it, while he's also aware of her movement. In the end, he just sits there patiently as ever.

"It's more of a life than I'll ever have back home. A life of my own, but I miss some things back there. Our technology. And not knowing what's going on back there."

"I like it here," she sighs. "I have friends here. And you're here. I like that. Even though there's dinosaurs."

Of course she likes it here. He imagines she'd probably say that even if she hated it here in her current state. He's quiet for a time, just patiently waiting for her to fall asleep, hoping if he's quiet, she'll follow his example.

Her thumb moves across his hand, tracing where she can reach as she heaves one more soft sigh before closing her eyes. Once she does drop off, she's deeply asleep and her grip slackens on his hand.