A/N: Hello everyone! So, I'm finally done being so damn busy for the summer! :D The good news is I can work on reading and writing more. The bad news is, I still don't have everything planned out for this story. Well, I mean, I kind of do. I have endless ideas and such, it's just organizing them that's the problem. So please bare with me a little longer! Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Despite the fact that it was difficult and sort of a filler, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, especially Dolly's part :) Review please!
Chapter 9: The Day Winds Down
Woody dawned his hat and sat at the head of his small rectangular table, looking at the solemn faces of his most trusted soldiers. He looked at the empty seat to his right with a scowl, then at his watch. As if the universe knew, Dolly walked in with a worry-worn Slink, and the two took their seats at the table. Woody stood and addressed his union.
"Friends," he started. "As you all know, we have an Alliance problem that is currently sitting in Dolly's store at this very moment. What we need to discuss now is our next plan of action. If we keep him here, we are putting ourselves at great risk of either murder or exposure. However, if we let him go, those threats are even greater. Ideas?"
"Memory Deletion?" Slink proposed.
"Too risky," Bo opposed. "If anything goes wrong during the procedure, we'll turn him into a vegetable."
"And what's wrong with that?" Sarge asked.
"We must think of ethics, people!" Pricklepants interjected. "We may be an army, but we are not barbarians!"
"Barbarians?" Dolly snapped. "We weren't the ones who took advantage of a dying society and created a totalitarian dictatorship of it!"
"Agreed," Bo said calmly. "But we cannot blame the entirety of the Alliance's operations on this one man."
"I say we just kill him," Sarge said.
Pricklepants gasped and cried out, "We will do nothing of the sort!"
"Even if we did kill him, the Alliance wouldn't care," Slink stated. "They have thousands of soldiers just like him."
"Not Benjamin," Woody stated. "His father is the head Securer of Peace."
"So, we kill him," Sarge said again, as if this helped his argument.
"Why not hold him for ransom?" Slink suggested.
"There's no way the Alliance would negotiate with the Outlaws and live up to their end of the bargain," Dolly said. "They'd kill us all and wipe their asses with our corpses."
Everyone fell silent, irritated and troubled.
"Look," Sheriff said. "The only solution I can think of is keeping him here till B-Day."
"That's at least another year away!" Pricklepants said, shocked. "You want to keep him here that long?"
"If everything goes according to plan, it'll only be another six months," Bo pointed out.
Dolly snorted. "Since when has anything gone according to plan with us?"
"I don't care how far away B-Day is," Sarge growled. "How are we going to keep him contained?"
"Cages work wonders," Dolly murmured under her breath.
"Honestly, who are you people?" Pricklepants exclaimed.
"As inhumane as it may be, Dolly has a point," Bo said, mostly to Woody. "I can't imagine keeping him here without chains of some sort."
"He has to have some sort of dirt we can blackmail him on," Slink said.
"His track record is completely clean," Sheriff explained. "He's the perfect soldier." Once again the room was silent. Woody looked at his people and they looked back at him. He heaved a sigh and said, "It's not the best plan, I know, but I can't see any other way about it. Bradley and Sarge will have to take shifts to escort him everywhere till we can think of something else. Until then, Slink, I'm moving headquarters to your basement. All plans and such will stay there for the time being. Brad and I will look to the prisoner's accommodations. Dismissed."
x*x*x*x
Dolly exited the meeting in a huff, a scowl on her face and her hands balled into fists. She walked out to the saloon, quietly blending in amongst the noisy customers. She slipped behind the bar, surveying the shelves for options. She wasn't in the mood for tequila, and rum wasn't enough of a bite for her... Perhaps whiskey? After a few moments of deliberation, she poured herself a shot of vodka. Tipping her head back, she downed the liquid as if it were water. She shook herself a bit, checking the time and deflating when she saw that it was a quarter till eleven. How long had this stranger been in town? Six, seven hours? The past twenty-four hours had seemed like two different days entirely.
"Having a rough time, sweet cheeks?" someone interrupted her thoughts.
Dolly looked at the one inebriated patron sitting at the bar, irritated. She rolled her eyes and ignored him, replacing the handle of vodka in its assigned place, only to pick up a better brand.
"Aw, come on!" he tried again. "I was just trying to be friendly!"
She turned, about to respond, but stopped cold once she saw the Sheriff coming around the bar. She nodded to him as he walked right up to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"I know you're angry," he said simply.
"I got a right to be," she replied, pulling herself away and pouring another shot.
He gave her an understanding smile, and Dolly struggled to maintain her composure. "Yes, you do... We're all a bit pissed off right now."
She glanced at him, taking another glass and pouring him a shot. "It's been a long day." The Sheriff and her drank together, both coughing a bit afterwards. "I don't see how anybody can stay calm in all this, let alone you."
"Ah, I manage," he said, waving a hand and wiping his mouth.
She touched his arm, squeezing. "You shouldn't have to just manage, Boss." Realizing herself, she retracted her hand immediately. The Sheriff didn't seem to notice.
"Now don't you go killing yourself with worry over me," he said easily. "I got people I trust around me. And Bo helps me more than I care to say."
Dolly nodded, saying quietly, "Bo's quite a lifesaver."
His smile turned dreamy as he said, "That she is." Dolly turned away, avoiding eye contact. The Sheriff took a step closer to her, his voice low when he spoke: "I know it's going to be tough, but you need to remain focused. You need to stay strong, Dolora, you hear me? I need you."
Her breath momentarily left her body, and she tried not to faint as she felt her heart clench tightly in her chest. She mustered up the courage to look him in the eyes. "You do?"
"Of course," he said, flashing his pearly whites. "You're the best damn doctor in this town."
Though she was paralyzed for a moment longer than she would have liked, Dolly cleared her throat and nodded. She forced a smile, like she had done so many times before, and said, "I'm the only damn doctor in the town."
The Sheriff threw back his head for a laugh. He patted her shoulder once more, firmly, and then walked off. She watched him go, her shoulder prickling at his touch. As the oxygen returned to the room, Dolly busied herself with pulling her hair into a short ponytail, cleaning up shot glasses, and putting bottles back into place. A whistle alerted her that the drunk man at the bar was still hanging around. She slowly turned her head to glare at him.
"What, scab?" she dared.
The man hiccuped and laughed. "So feisty! Is that always the way you flirt?"
"Actually, no." She pulled one of the six knives from her belt, spun it in her fingers, and thrust it into the polished wooden top of the bar. "I prefer to play nurse."
The man paled horribly.
"Ah, let him go, Dolly," called Sarge from down the bar. "He's not worth it anyway."
"Shame," she said, more to herself than anyone around. "I was in the mood to stab something today."
So away she went, placing her knife in it's proper sheath, and pulling a hand-rolled cigarette out of a small box in her pocket. She left the saloon and lit up, the spice of vanilla and homegrown tobacco filling her lungs, smoke tickling her nostrils. The night air was warm and welcoming as it touched her exposed skin, and Dolly wished she had time to look at the stars... With purpose, she walked down the street to her little apothecary, hoping the best for everyone inside. With any luck, Buzz and Buttercup were in one piece, and Jessie...
Dolly inhaled her little cigar, scowling and deciding not to think about the patient for another thirty seconds. As she entered her store, Brad stood from his post and walked over to her.
"Shouldn't smoke, you know," he said with a weary smile. "It's bad for ya."
"Oh, hush," Dolly said, standing on tiptoe to ruffle his hair. "A drunkard hit on me again. I'm allowed to be grouchy."
Brad chuckled, then his face grew serious. "What did the council say?"
Dolly took a lengthy drag, knowing full well that the news wouldn't sit well with Brad. "He stays prisoner till B-Day." Until that very moment, she was unaware that the force of someone's voice could actually blow her hair back.
"WHAT! That's insane! This is jeopardizing everything!"
"It's the only choice we have!" she countered, trying to calm him down. "Everything else was too risky."
"Where are we to keep him, then?" Brad was pacing around the room, outraged. "What do we do? Keep an armed guard around him at all times?"
Dolly gave him a look of reluctancy. "Well... that's kind of where you come in." He looked at her, blankly at first, but that was quickly restored to anger once more. He opened his mouth to say something, but she rushed over and put a hand over his lips. "Brad! Sheriff has his mind set, and all we can do is the best with what we've got. This is the way it has to be."
His shoulders sagged and he looked at her pleadingly.
"Oh, come on now," she said, removing her hand and putting it on her hip. "You know you're best suited for the job. And you've been complaining about lack of action lately."
"This isn't action, it's babysitting," Brad gruffly mumbled. He paused, brooding, before looking at her cigarette and saying, "Give me one of those."
x*x*x*x
Pressure, on her hand. A warmth that trickled through her veins, and a low humming...
No, a voice. A man's voice, telling her she couldn't leave.
At first, she ignored it. After all, Jessica Albarn didn't take orders from just anyone.
Still... it was a nice voice, and a nice warmth...
She supposed she would listen to this man... just this once...
x*x*x*x
Dolly was genuinely taken aback at what she saw in her back room. Buzz was fast asleep, head on the bed by Jessie's side, small amounts of drool trickling forth from his mouth. It was so humorous, she could have laughed out loud. She supposed the gentleman was rather exhausted from his fights with the bounty hunters. Come to think of it, Jessie probably gave him a good run for his money as well. What was most peculiar, however, was that Buzz's hand was laying overtop of Jessie's, his finger still unconsciously stroking her skin.
Dolora stood there, head tilted to the side, and her mouth slightly ajar in befuddlement. How very, very strange for an Alliance Official to show any sort of emotion, let alone... dare she say it?
The prisoner stirred, and she moved quickly to the other side of the bed, not wanting to be behind a trained officer once he woke up. She began checking Jessie's vitals, thoroughly pleased to see that her heart rate was back to normal and some of her color had returned. She still had a bit of a fever, and was also still not awake. Now the pressure was on to see if she was in a coma or not.
"How is she?" Buzz asked groggily, waking up by, what Dolly assumed, sheer force of will.
"Not bad," she replied, checking Jessie's bandages. "It would be better if she were awake." She placed her stethoscope on a table and looked at Buzz, not failing to notice the deep circles under his eyes. "You should sleep."
He shook his head, rubbing his face. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine," she pushed, surprising herself at her own gentleness. "You've been through a lot in the past couple of days, and depriving yourself of sleep isn't going to do anything except cause hallucinations."
Buzz was silent for a moment, before nearly whispering, "I want to be here when she wakes up."
Dolly's eyebrows shot up. "Quite noble of an Alliance Official, if you don't mind me saying so."
She knew she had struck a nerve because he clenched his jaw. Yet he didn't yell, snap back, or get upset. He simply breathed, looked her in the eye, and said, "I owe her my life. Not just once, but twice over. The least I can do is wait until she wakes up so I know that she's alright."
The two of them held the stare for a moment, before Dolly resigned. "Ok... I can respect that." So she walked over to one of the cabinets and took out a small vile of light orange liquid. She handed it to Buzz, and he took it, but stared at it questioningly as she made her way to the refrigerator. "It's just nutrients," she explained. "It doesn't taste good, but it'll help you regain some of your strength, and it'll help you heal a bit faster. No doubt you have something like it back at the Alliance bases as well."
"We do," he said just before he downed the potion. His face contorted, and he stuck out his tongue. "Still tastes like shit."
This time, Dolly did laugh. She crossed to him and held out a cold metal can. "Here. It'll help you stay awake."
He looked at it, pained. "More poison?"
She opened it for him. "Energy drink." He took it and gulped down half of the can in one go. "We, uh, have water too, you know."
He wiped his mouth. "I didn't know what I was allowed to have."
"We might have you prisoner, but that doesn't mean we're going to starve you. " she said, grabbing him a bottled water from the fridge. "If we want to kill you, we just kill you. No torture about it. And lucky for you, that's not the case." She looked in another cabinet and took a package of crackers out. Giving both items to Buzz, she added, "Now listen. This here is my store, and whatever is mine is yours." She thought for a second. "Except for the chocolate chip cookies. You can't have those."
Buzz looked shocked. "Thank you, Dolora."
The sincerity of his gratitude made Dolly aware of how badly this man had been treated in past hostage situations. She nodded and made her way out of the room. "If she wakes up, come find me. Brad should know where I am."
She closed the door to the back room, ignoring the grumbling in her stomach that alerted her that she hadn't eaten since noon. She pulled out another cigarette and walked out to her porch, leaning on the railing and putting her face in her hands.
She was so tired. Tired of Woody, tired of people she loved getting hurt, and tired of always being the peacekeeper amongst angry men. What she wanted, more than anything, was to just go to sleep, but she had a feeling that she would be up for a while yet. She still had to go through her inventory, make herself and Buttercup dinner, clean up the store for a regular business day tomorrow...
"Miss Dolora?"
She lifted her head, trying not to be angry at her interrupted alone time, to look at the stocky young lad in army green standing before her. He removed his helmet and gave her an old-fashioned salute. "I have a message to deliver from Sarge."
Dolly gave him a look of disbelief, keeping her chin propped on one of her hands. "Jesus, Carl, it's after midnight and Sarge is probably asleep. Don't you ever go off-duty?"
He smiled sheepishly and looked down at his hands. "Sorry, Miss Dolora. Force of habit, I suppose."
"It's Dolly, Carl," she said as the redhead walked closer. The mock-officer was so tall that the top of his head came to the banister Dolly was leaning upon, and that was sitting upon a risen porch. "Dolora makes me feel like a granny or something."
"Right," Carl said with a timid smile. "Dolly." He didn't say anything after that, so Dolly waited, expectantly, until a lightbulb went off in his head, and he continued on. "Oh! Uh, Sarge wanted me to ask you if you're still on for cards tomorrow night?"
Dolly rolled her eyes. "Does that man think of anything else but cards? He should know by now that he can't beat me..." She shook her head and lit her cigarette, thinking. "Are you going to be there?"
"Sure," he replied. "I'll make an appearance if you will."
"I suppose we can't leave him dry two players, can we?" she asked, scratching a few itches on her neck.
"I suppose," he agreed. "Besides, you know that if Sarge starts winning, it'll all go to his head."
Dolly smirked. "I guess I'll have to go then."
Carl beamed. "Yes, ma'am!" He went for a salute, stopped, then decided a handshake was a better idea.
Dolly looked at his extended hand and had a hearty laugh. She leaned down and ruffled Carl's buzzed hair. "Goodnight, Carl. Sleep well."
The freckles on Carl's face were highlighted by the pink that appeared in his cheeks. He nodded, placed his helmet back on his head, and said, "Goodnight, Miss Dolly."
He began his walk down the dirt road, and Dolly took a few more drags from her cigarette before stomping it out. She was about to head back inside when she stopped, a sudden thought occurring to her. She leaned over the railing again, calling out, "Hey, Carl?" The distanced figure stopped and turned back to face her. "I'm going to see Sarge when he swaps out with Brad later tonight. He didn't need to send you to find me, did he?" The figure was still for a moment, but then he simply turned and kept walking, his pace significantly quickened. Dolly watched after him, thoroughly confused.
It appeared that everyone was affected by the length of that day.