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Infinity Smashed: Time To Go
Hey everybody! This prompt was requested and sponsored by titianblue of We Hunted the Mammoth; she requested the urge to just jump on a bus or a train and go. Enjoy, and happy writeathon! We are still taking prompts, so please join us!
Time To Go
Word Count: 1000
Summary: M.D. wants to run away, but Biff wants to run TO.
Notes: This takes place directly after Bodily Reconstruction and references Ritual Purification Through Arson. For those new to the series, Biff ran away from home, leaving behind two little sisters over a decade before this story; he tried to return once, but it went... poorly. M.D. spent most of her life on the street or running away. Neither of them are used to stability.
It’s almost three weeks after surgery and even though Biff has his arms (if not his strength( back, he’s itching inside like he hasn’t in ages. There’s somewhere he needs to go, something he needs to do, but he doesn’t know what, and it’s got him climbing walls.
It’s then that he hears about M.D.’s healer ceremony.
“I’ve been working for Scorch and Flame for four years now,” she explains as she fights with her hair and tries not to look anxious. “It’s tradition.” She stares in the mirror and makes a sound of aggravation.
Biff comes up behind her to braid her hair and she lets him. Her hair is smooth and straight, not like his sisters, but he can work with it. “So… what? You be a full doctor now?”
“Psh, no. I was a ‘dawn’ healer, now I’ll be a ‘high’ healer. ‘Set’ healers are full doctors. That comes after another four years.”
Biff grunts. So it’s like being halfway through medical school. Okay.
“I can’t believe they’re approving me, after everything but they are.” She looks sick, and her hands clench tight in the legs of her pants. “And the whole town is coming.”
She doesn’t say it, but he’s not stupid; he can count months. He met her in summer, all those years ago, and it’s July now, but it’s all been taken up with his surgery, no time for a ceremony. So, even though she doesn’t invite him, he comes. His itch ain’t going anywhere.
He doesn’t understand the ceremony much. Even after this long, he still barely knows any wiggle-dance, but the old bugs who made up his job contract are there, and Ribbonblack and the dinosaurs are there, and they’re in town center surrounded by everybody. The kid wasn’t joking about the whole town coming. (Then again, she’s nineteen now; maybe he can’t call her ‘kid’ anymore.) Her boyfriends are there too, and Biff decides to stay in the back, where they won’t notice him.
There’s a lot of speeches that he can’t understand, which everyone seems to approve of. M.D. gets a new apron and rubbed down with oil, and that’s apparently the diploma part, because the whole town chitters and stomps and someone sends up a bunch of what look like balloons on fire, and the whole time, M.D. just stands there and looks terrified.
Biff stays on the fringe of everything, just enough for her to know he’s there, and when the eating starts (it looks like the whole town brought food with them) he wanders off to the wall to smoke. She shouldn’t need to be associated with him right now. Now’s the time for the town and her boyfriends and all the respectable bug-eyed monsters to congratulate her.
He gives it an hour or two and ambles back just as her boyfriends are leaving; Biff ignores them and they ignore him. When he comes in (he’s still sleeping at her place), M.D. practically slams the door behind him and tears the Scrunchie out of her hair.
“Thank god that’s over. I swear, one more ‘blessings on your practice, healer!’ and I will scream.”
She looks at him, daring him, but he just holds up the bag of groceries.
Her shoulders slump with relief. “This is why I tolerate you.”
“Tolerate you too,” Biff says, and starts whipping up a stir-fry. Queasy as she looked, he figures she didn’t eat anything during the ceremony.
While he works, she combs the braid out of her hair with her fingers, redoes it in her usual ponytail, tears off her apron, and changes into the ugliest purple sweats he’s ever seen. Then she just deflates on her mattress pad and gurgles like a dead accordion.
He doesn’t expect her to say much, but just as the meat’s cooked through, she says, “I have never wanted to leave so badly before.”
Biff grunts.
“I mean, four years, Biff. I’ve never stayed anywhere at anything with anyone that long before, and now I’ve been sleeping in a bed with a real mattress and eating food I actually buy and it’s creepy. Times like this, it’s all I can do to not just pack up and leave before I ruin everything.”
Biff glances at the space next to the door. Her old Army backpack is up against the wall, and though he’s never checked, he knows it’s packed. Just in case.
“I can handle hard times. Those are easy. It’s the times like this that I want to go somewhere, anywhere, just go. You know?”
Biff pauses. He remembers the old muscle memory of braiding his sisters’ hair, and suddenly the nameless itch he’s been feeling for weeks turns clear and bright in his head. Yeah, he knows. It’s just that this time, he doesn’t want to run away. He wants to run to.
He turns, puts a plate of stir-fry on her table/shelf thing. “Hey. You know I got family in Georgia, right?”
M.D. opens one eye, looks at him. “Uh huh. You set a car on fire.”
“Yeah.” He hands her soy sauce. “I ain’t doing that this time.”
She closes her eye again, and for a moment, he thinks she’s going to ignore it, but then she says, “So when were you thinking of going?”
“Now. Soon. I dunno.”
“For how long?”
“I dunno. A week, maybe. Depends.”
“Are you asking me to come with you?”
Deep breath. “Yeah.”
“For you or for me?”
“For me.” He’s had enough of setting cars on fire.
She’s quiet for a while. Then she sits up and smiles. “I’ve never been to Georgia…”
When he exhales, his lungs burn. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. He makes himself a plate and joins her for dinner, and M.D. eats it all and keeps it down and goes to ask the dinosaurs for some time off. After all the doubles she’s pulled for Ribbonblack the last month, she says she’s overdue for a break.
She takes her Army pack with her.
Time To Go
Word Count: 1000
Summary: M.D. wants to run away, but Biff wants to run TO.
Notes: This takes place directly after Bodily Reconstruction and references Ritual Purification Through Arson. For those new to the series, Biff ran away from home, leaving behind two little sisters over a decade before this story; he tried to return once, but it went... poorly. M.D. spent most of her life on the street or running away. Neither of them are used to stability.
It’s almost three weeks after surgery and even though Biff has his arms (if not his strength( back, he’s itching inside like he hasn’t in ages. There’s somewhere he needs to go, something he needs to do, but he doesn’t know what, and it’s got him climbing walls.
It’s then that he hears about M.D.’s healer ceremony.
“I’ve been working for Scorch and Flame for four years now,” she explains as she fights with her hair and tries not to look anxious. “It’s tradition.” She stares in the mirror and makes a sound of aggravation.
Biff comes up behind her to braid her hair and she lets him. Her hair is smooth and straight, not like his sisters, but he can work with it. “So… what? You be a full doctor now?”
“Psh, no. I was a ‘dawn’ healer, now I’ll be a ‘high’ healer. ‘Set’ healers are full doctors. That comes after another four years.”
Biff grunts. So it’s like being halfway through medical school. Okay.
“I can’t believe they’re approving me, after everything but they are.” She looks sick, and her hands clench tight in the legs of her pants. “And the whole town is coming.”
She doesn’t say it, but he’s not stupid; he can count months. He met her in summer, all those years ago, and it’s July now, but it’s all been taken up with his surgery, no time for a ceremony. So, even though she doesn’t invite him, he comes. His itch ain’t going anywhere.
He doesn’t understand the ceremony much. Even after this long, he still barely knows any wiggle-dance, but the old bugs who made up his job contract are there, and Ribbonblack and the dinosaurs are there, and they’re in town center surrounded by everybody. The kid wasn’t joking about the whole town coming. (Then again, she’s nineteen now; maybe he can’t call her ‘kid’ anymore.) Her boyfriends are there too, and Biff decides to stay in the back, where they won’t notice him.
There’s a lot of speeches that he can’t understand, which everyone seems to approve of. M.D. gets a new apron and rubbed down with oil, and that’s apparently the diploma part, because the whole town chitters and stomps and someone sends up a bunch of what look like balloons on fire, and the whole time, M.D. just stands there and looks terrified.
Biff stays on the fringe of everything, just enough for her to know he’s there, and when the eating starts (it looks like the whole town brought food with them) he wanders off to the wall to smoke. She shouldn’t need to be associated with him right now. Now’s the time for the town and her boyfriends and all the respectable bug-eyed monsters to congratulate her.
He gives it an hour or two and ambles back just as her boyfriends are leaving; Biff ignores them and they ignore him. When he comes in (he’s still sleeping at her place), M.D. practically slams the door behind him and tears the Scrunchie out of her hair.
“Thank god that’s over. I swear, one more ‘blessings on your practice, healer!’ and I will scream.”
She looks at him, daring him, but he just holds up the bag of groceries.
Her shoulders slump with relief. “This is why I tolerate you.”
“Tolerate you too,” Biff says, and starts whipping up a stir-fry. Queasy as she looked, he figures she didn’t eat anything during the ceremony.
While he works, she combs the braid out of her hair with her fingers, redoes it in her usual ponytail, tears off her apron, and changes into the ugliest purple sweats he’s ever seen. Then she just deflates on her mattress pad and gurgles like a dead accordion.
He doesn’t expect her to say much, but just as the meat’s cooked through, she says, “I have never wanted to leave so badly before.”
Biff grunts.
“I mean, four years, Biff. I’ve never stayed anywhere at anything with anyone that long before, and now I’ve been sleeping in a bed with a real mattress and eating food I actually buy and it’s creepy. Times like this, it’s all I can do to not just pack up and leave before I ruin everything.”
Biff glances at the space next to the door. Her old Army backpack is up against the wall, and though he’s never checked, he knows it’s packed. Just in case.
“I can handle hard times. Those are easy. It’s the times like this that I want to go somewhere, anywhere, just go. You know?”
Biff pauses. He remembers the old muscle memory of braiding his sisters’ hair, and suddenly the nameless itch he’s been feeling for weeks turns clear and bright in his head. Yeah, he knows. It’s just that this time, he doesn’t want to run away. He wants to run to.
He turns, puts a plate of stir-fry on her table/shelf thing. “Hey. You know I got family in Georgia, right?”
M.D. opens one eye, looks at him. “Uh huh. You set a car on fire.”
“Yeah.” He hands her soy sauce. “I ain’t doing that this time.”
She closes her eye again, and for a moment, he thinks she’s going to ignore it, but then she says, “So when were you thinking of going?”
“Now. Soon. I dunno.”
“For how long?”
“I dunno. A week, maybe. Depends.”
“Are you asking me to come with you?”
Deep breath. “Yeah.”
“For you or for me?”
“For me.” He’s had enough of setting cars on fire.
She’s quiet for a while. Then she sits up and smiles. “I’ve never been to Georgia…”
When he exhales, his lungs burn. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. He makes himself a plate and joins her for dinner, and M.D. eats it all and keeps it down and goes to ask the dinosaurs for some time off. After all the doubles she’s pulled for Ribbonblack the last month, she says she’s overdue for a break.
She takes her Army pack with her.
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!!!
(Good.)