|Chapter Four: She isn't sympathy|

Her arms lay across my chest
His hands in mine as we closed our eyes
Dreaming of the day to come,
When we'd be together for eternity.

It'd been a day and a night since they'd last spoke. Since a threat was given, or a retort taken. It was almost surreal the way they ignored eachother as Catherine and Boone sat in the dark, in a camp they'd set up. The fire crackled and the stars seemed to eternally weep light onto the sands in the pitch night. Embers smoked, and the sniper watched the young woman sleep, whom seemed finally at peace. Her breaths were slow, he noted, signaling she was deep in some sort of dream.
His rifle laid by his side, the scope slightly scratched and the wood of the stock cracked. Same old, same old. His sense of hearing focused elsewhere, he kept his eyes on Catherine, thinking. She was mysterious, having never spoken a word of her origins and here, she knew everything about him, because he reluctantly told her. She hadn't spoken a word about her own when he coughed up everything he knew about his being. It seemed selfish.
He almost didn't care. Almost.

But yet she was so familiar. Her eyes were like Carla's but not quite and behind them he noticed there was something there than just another wasteland warrior, per say. She had to have something more than kills to her name, whether it be a tragedy or not. He was just curious on who she was. Couldn't blame himself.
Boone found himself crouched and trying to shake awake the lady. Her eyes opened grogilly and he saw a little behind them. A story to tell.
"You need something?", she asked, nearly pissed off. He glared at her in his usual way before she sat up, and sighed, ruffling her hair back a little.
"You never talk about yourself. Tell me something", Boone nearly demanded. Her brow furrowed and she stared. Nothing to hide, Catherine thought. But it hurt all the same.
All there was the moon, stars, and open air. She wasn't tired much anyways, and here was someone to listen.

"...I.. well, I was born in a little town. Grew up under God, and then it got burned to the ground one day. Are you trying to say you don't know my name or do you want more?", she said, curious. She never did say her name, in fact.
"That and I wanna know more", he slightly demanded. Boone already knew a sob story was in tow, but he was just curious. He had hardships, everyone did. They were all only human.
"New Canaan. I came from there, and you know the rest", she said, sighing deeper. "Or you should. But I'm not sad- my family was one of the few, fortunately. And that's the day I lost my faith. I don't have much to live for".

Now, there was something you didn't hear every day. Boone shook his head and just looked at her.
"You're not fucking with me, are you?"

"No sir. Born and raised there, wasn't much".

"Should I be sympathetic?", he asked, trying to be to the best of capabilities.

Catherine shook her head and smiled. It wasn't much but it was there, sitting on her thin lips. She didn't look in the least bit depressed or asking for a kiss or hug better. She looked indifferent about it- there was a little hurt, but time heals, he figured. The stars wept light and the moon bled silver. The sun, however, gave all it could in the early inkling of morning, as they sat, trying to smooth wrinkles out of unknown information. She didn't sugarcoat her past and he didn't ask bad questions. He listened and she gave.

They were, after all, only human.

{Side note:
Sorry guys, the chapters are a bit short. I've come down with Strep throat and find myself blank of ideas or too lathargic to type. I'll try and write up more ideas once I get better, but until then, expect things a little short.

3}