(no subject)

[lastgunslinger]

As soon as he got up to his room he fell asleep, and there were nightmares, so he spent the night sitting in the bathroom with the lights on, reading Walt Whitman. When dawn came he fell into bed and slept hard.

Now, in the waning afternoon light, he takes stock of his surroundings. There are his chairs, and the end table. The books have been moved -- by him, he thinks; it's been many years (for him, anyway) and he can't remember all the details -- but other than that it's just the same. Not home -- he won't let himself think of it that way yet -- but it's his.

And he nods. It'll do.

Comments

[joewithnoname.livejournal.com]

"She ain't happy about it." Shortly.

"Tell you the truth, gunslinger--you scare me sometimes. You've got something... people believe in you. They want to help you. And then they die. We both yelled at Meg over that pistol, I reckon, but without it, that--that it would've bit her right in half." Joe shakes his head and drains his glass. "Mina reckons I've dodged enough bullets with your name on them. And I gotta say she might be right."

[lastgunslinger]

Roland is quiet for a long moment. Joe's right. He knows Joe's right -- that people who help him die. He's told Meg as much.

"I know," he says finally. "That's why I told you I wanted you out of Tower business."

Bombardier eyes focus on Joe.

"She's right."

[joewithnoname.livejournal.com]

Joe nods. "From here on out, I'm out. Be easier on me if you folks stay out of trouble."

He halts again, then speaks. "I had the dreams again, last night."

[lastgunslinger]

"We'll try. Trouble usually finds us."

A sip of whiskey, and now a closer look. "I'd hear more."

[joewithnoname.livejournal.com]

"First one--damned thing. Reckon I was dreaming I was Tuco, hunting me down after I left him in the desert. Anyway, it came out the same way, finally-- found an inn and my horse was outside, so I climbed up to the window and there I was."

"Then it turned over into the other dream. I wandered around and I found that fence again, and then, well," Joe shrugs. "I jes' turned around and went the other way."

[lastgunslinger]

Roland is silent for a moment.

"With the second one -- you didn't hear any singing?"

[joewithnoname.livejournal.com]

Joe shrugs. "Takes a little bit more than a pretty choir to draw me on, after all I've seen. No Tower, no God, no war. That's my stand, an' I aim to hold it." He shoves his hands in his jeans pockets, awkward with the sincerity.

[lastgunslinger]

"What was behind that fence -- " Roland stops, and looks at Joe with some wonder.

[joewithnoname.livejournal.com]

Joe shrugs.

[lastgunslinger]

Still with wonder: "It's the Tower."

[joewithnoname.livejournal.com]

"It was a dream, Roland," Joe says gently. "Only that and nothing more. Dreaming's done. I am who I am, and you are who you are, and whatever Stephen fuckin' King may say, that's all we are. Give you the joy of your Tower, but you can fuckin' keep it."

[lastgunslinger]

Roland looks at Joe now, wonder still on his face -- and then it is changed for solemnity, and he nods.

No gunslinger, Joe Manco.

But that's all right.