neverwrongagent | Running away from home. Just like kids.

He pet her hair, then shifted down some, so that if, when, he got up he wouldn't wake her. "I'll stay as close as I can." Which was definitely not a commitment to anything.

She read that loud and clear, but didn't challenge him on it. There was no point. She wasn't ever going to be able to rope him in. Even if she could, she wouldn't. Not after what he'd been through. She snuggled closer and closed her eyes. "Wake me when you get back."

He kissed her forehead. "Yes, ma'am." He tried to settle as much as he could, so that she could sleep. And he tried very hard to be content with laying there.

But that only lasted so long. He slipped from the bed as gently as he could and headed back into the bathroom. He looked like Hell when he looked in the mirror, even paler and more worn than usual. It was a hard sight and after a few moments he turned away to find his clothes.

He wasn't going to try and score again. But he really needed a drink. And he'd seen a liquor store while they'd been out. He checked his watch, hoping it wasn't too late. Then he took a long look at Carrie, laying in that bed, and sighed again.

The need to quiet his head won out over the need to get back in bed with her. So he grabbed the room key and slipped out the door.

She woke when he got up, but she dozed back off when she realized he was in the john. She woke again when he opened the door. That time she didn't go right back to sleep. Instead she lay there thinking about what she could have done differently and what she needed to do next time. Because she knew there would be a next time.

As she lay there, she didn't really notice that she was starting to feel sick. She was upset enough that everything was out of whack anyway. When she finally acknowledged it, she had to race to the bathroom to puke. Sitting beside the toilet, she groaned. "Thought that was supposed to happen in the morning."

Despite the pull to find more illegal drugs, he settled for a small bottle of vodka and a bottle of soda. The vodka was for him, the soda for her. At the last minute, he stopped into the gas station right near the motel and bought the least pathetic flower in the plastic stand next to the register.

When he got back, he let himself into the room as quietly as he could.

She'd cleaned herself up and made it back into bed by the time he got back. When the door opened, she jumped in surprise and put a hand over her belly as it roiled again. This was supposed to be over. She looked up at him and smiled. "Hey."

He noticed her holding her stomach and came to sit next to her. He offered her the flower and set the soda where she could reach it. "You okay, baby?"

She went for the soda so quickly that her stomach almost revolted again. Sitting back, she took slow sips. "Yeah, I'm fine. Stomach's upset." She patted his thigh. Hopefully he would write it off as stress.

She sniffed the flower, which had a surprisingly nice scent for such a lowly bloom, and smiled her gratitude. "Thank you for thinking of it."

He smiled and rubbed her arm. "Easy there, babe. Do you need anything?" He was still wired, but the edge was off some, thanks to the vodka he'd been sipping as he walked back.

She could smell the drink on him and between the jumping and that, she was back up off the bed and dashing toward the bathroom. There wasn't anything left, so all she had were dry heaves. Dry heaves were much worse than actual vomiting. She finally sank back on the floor and whimpered as she flushed the toilet. "Fuck!"

He stood in the doorway until she was done, then grabbed the still damp washcloth and knelt next to her. He wiped her forehead with a frown. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She groaned and leaned into his touch for a moment, then took the cloth from him and held it at her throat. She shrugged slightly. "I will be. It's not supposed to last much longer." Really it should have been over, but with the stress...

She looked over at him to see if he was going to ask any more or if she still had some time to pretend it wasn't happening.

He pondered that for a moment, then decided it was more than he could rightfully handle right then. So he nodded and stood. "I'll bring you your drink."

She nodded slowly enough that she wouldn't get dizzy again. This really was supposed to pass soon. If it kept going, she was going to be royally annoyed. It didn't occur to her that all the upset of the last few days would have enough to set it off without her constant companion. She leaned against the tub with her head on her knees while she waited for him.

No way she was trying to stand without him.

While he was getting her drink, he took another pull off his bottle. Then he straightened the bed before returning to her. He handed her the bottle and sat on the edge of the tub, waiting until she told him she was ready.

Rather than getting him to hold her, she used his solid body to push off of. She caught his shoulder when she was all the way up and held it tightly until her belly stopped flipping. She was really over this part. She touched his cheek lightly before heading toward the bed. "Shit. Grab my soda?"

She flopped back down on the be, on top of the covers and groaned deeply. She put her hand over her belly, more to keep it still than out of any affection. "Ugh."

Feeling somewhat like a fetch and carry boy for the soda, he grabbed the bottle and followed her back to the bed. He handed over the bottle, then grabbed his and sat down on the floor, his back against the side of the bed.

"Thanks." She gave him a small smile, knowing she was making him run around. "I didn't think bending over for it was a good idea." She took a few small sips, then set it aside so she could reach over and pet his hair. "You could come up, you know. Softer up here." She meant her, not the bed.

He took another drink from his bottle, then looked back over his shoulder at her. "I'll come in a few minutes. Want you to have a chance to settle."

She nodded a little and closed her eyes as she sipped her drink. It wasn't the best thing to settle her stomach, but the bubbles did help. Finally she closed it, set it on the table, and rolled on her side. She groaned softly. "That can stop any day now, really."

She'd blown him off earlier when he'd asked, so he wasn't feeling very inclined to take that bait. That and he wasn't emotionally ready for it. It was a little too normal.

So his response was to not have a response, past taking another drink.

Her head wanted a drink but her stomach knew better. She groaned softly and kept caressing his shoulder. The touch helped ground her and relieve her tummy some. She looked at him for a long moment, then closed her eyes.

He wasn't asking her and it really didn't occur to her to press it either way. She'd been avoiding thinking about it for so long anyway. "Tomorrow will be better."

He laughed bitterly at that. "No, babe, tomorrow is going to suck. You should get some sleep, though." He looked at the bottle in his hand. "I promise I'll stay in the room. There might be laws against drunk walking in this town."

She groaned softly, then pulled the blanket over her head. He was right, of course, but she didn't want to think about it at all. Not now, not tomorrow. "Just don't bounce the bed and all is well."

She snuggled further under the blanket and sighed deeply. Sleep would come quickly, but it wouldn't be restful.

He sat quietly and worked on his bottle of vodka. He wasn't going to sleep but maybe this way he wouldn't think. Maybe this way he wouldn't spin his wheels about how completely unprepared he was to be a father, since that is what it felt like Carrie was saying.

The kid was doomed if he or she had to go through life with a walking dead man as a father. There was no getting around that. Maybe he should just turn himself in, tell them that he coerced her, forced her to break him out. They'd believe it.

He took another pull from the bottle and leaned his head back, eyes closed. Every possible bad ending to this rolled through his head, now that he was alone with his thoughts. Carrie deserved so much better than him, just like Jess and his kids had deserved better than him. Maybe it would have been better if he'd just died in that whole.

He sniffled softly and reached up to wipe the tears from his face. Then it was back to the bottle, back to trying to drown what he wanted to shoot.

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