[[ milliways // el paso, texas ]]

[almosthonorable]

[ "Now, Sparklehead, don't you know it's armageddon out here?" ]

Ben's tired.

His arms are heavier than iron, and his breathing is labored.

But Jesus Christ and all twelve disciples, it's not like he can just quit fighting these swarms of monsters and demons.

So he fires every bullet he can finagle; he attacks with the pike until it snaps in a mammoth, razored mouth; he resorts to fists and elbows and feet; and, when he's driven back, and back, and back by a fire-spitting serpent, he finds himself near the forge once more.

He dives inside, and hefts the first weapon his fingers close around: a samurai sword, as beautiful as it is deadly.

But Ben has precious little time to appreciate the aesthetics. He has a serpent to behead.

He doesn't expect to be thrown backward upon the kill stroke, as if he's ignited a powder keg by mistake.

Hurtling through the air, Ben twists, and — 

shit damn shit shit shit shit

— he's sailing into the forge, headed for a workbench covered in all manner of sharp, certain death.










Two heartbeats later, he blinks in the Texas sun.

He's standing just outside the Acme, sword still in hand.

He doesn't feel like an overgrown pin cushion, but he takes stock of himself, all the same.

Comments

[lasthalfmile]

Dan, having been up the street at the mercantile on the corner to pick up a few things, is on his way back to the Acme when he notices that Ben is standing outside on the wooden sidewalk.

With a sword.



"...Thomas?"

Why in the heck does Ben have a sword?

[almosthonorable]

When the good Lord was doling out brains, Dan Evans got an extra helping — a fact that Ben mightily appreciates right now.

He turns, answering to his El Paso alias, and expels a breath that's less than steady.

(He was just in the thick of a fight to end all fights.

Wasn't he?)

His shoulder is throbbing, and his sleeves are streaked with unidentifiable grime.

That, at least, composes some kind of evidence.

(Doesn't it?)

"Dan."

He wiggles the sword; the blue-black blood on the blade has to be from that damned exploding serpent.

"Look what I found."

[lasthalfmile]

"...I thought we were takin' a break from..."

He motions at the sword.





"That sort of thing."

He looks around to make sure nobody is staring, before he peels out of his coat. That blood is going to stain the cloth, but it's better than Ben continuing to wave a piece of ninja-weaponry around in the street.

[almosthonorable]

"Because we were."

He tucks the sword into Dan's proffered coat, his forearms protesting the simple movement.

"I got swept up in a pile of ugly," he says, voice low, as he makes for the Acme's entrance. "But I don't think I was there for all that long."

If the sun's any judge, it looks to've been less than half an hour. On the Milliways grounds, though, is anybody's guess — it felt like half a day.

[lasthalfmile]

"You ain't been gone for very," he agrees, as they make their way inside.

They're keeping separate rooms, of course - but that doesn't stop Dan from following Ben up to his - and once the door is closed behind them, Dan leans against the frame and really looks at Ben.


"You hurt?"

[almosthonorable]

"As unscathed as unscathed can be," Ben says.

Ignore the monster viscera slicking his boots.

"But I don't believe I can say the same for the bar."

[lasthalfmile]

Dan sets his jaw.

"Y'see my boy?"

He has to ask.

[almosthonorable]

Ben shakes his head.

Low, for emphasis: "No."

[lasthalfmile]

"Good," Dan says.

(If William had been there, he's pretty sure that he would have been getting himself into the fray of the battle or something else dangerous and ridiculous - so the fact that Ben didn't see William is a good thing, as far as he's concerned.)

Ben doesn't look injured - though he could use a visit to the bath house.

[almosthonorable]

Ben wrinkles his nose at his current state.

"Tell you what. Give me a little bit to slough off this shit, and then we'll discuss the particulars like civilized folks."

Which, of course, involves whiskey.

And steak, should Dan be inclined to eat.

Afterward, Ben plans on opening every goddamn door in El Paso to find the bar again.

Hell, he'll open every door in Texas, if that's what it takes.

[lasthalfmile]

A smirk pulls at one corner of Dan's mouth.

"Civilized folks," he agrees.

A dead man and a famous outlaw, locked out of their favorite transdimensional watering hole.

One coated in the guts and slime of demons.

One with a pet pig, sitting beside him.



It won't take every door in Texas...but it'll take quite a few in El Paso proper before they find their way back.

(After dinner, of course. Dan does appreciate a good steak, even if Ben Wade's table manners are a bit on the primitive side.)