The Pale Horse

Seventh

[Content/Trigger Warning: This chapter contains blood, reference to r*pe, and a traumatic situation.]

By the time Doc had noticed Lana was a little quieter than she usually was, they had been sitting in the small restaurant for a while. The establishment was a short walk away from the Grand Hotel. The ceilings were high and blank, thick decorated columns separating the different sections of the restaurant. After a short wait, Doc had been directed to accompany Lana to their table by the hostess. They had ordered and been quiet ever since they were left alone.

An ornate chandelier was suspended in the air above the table the two sat at, unlit in the early hours of the morning. Lana stared at it, seemingly mesmerized by it when their food was bought over to the table. Doc looked at her expectedly, as her eyes shifted to him. She blinked a few times in confusion before removing her gloves. He didn't really care about etiquette but he had a feeling Lana did, and it appeared he was right by the way she hastily took her gloves off. Doc admired it in a way, how Lana still cared about such trivial things, still wide-eyed and young. She was dressed casually, her ruffled white shirt had a high collar, complimenting her long purple skirt. Doc's white dress shirt lay under a red waistcoat, his black tailcoat on the back of his chair. He got some weary looks about it, but no one would bother him about it. They ate quietly before Doc spoke.

"So. Kate."

Lana looked up from her food. She quickly swallowed the eggs she had just shuffled into her mouth as silently as she could. Doc picked up the glass of peach juice he had ordered.

"Is she your wife?" Lana asked softly, afraid of the answer. Doc was bringing the glass to his lips when he processed what she had asked him. He stopped his movement and set the beverage back down, staring at the napkins next to his plate of boiled eggs and toast.

"No. Maybe. Technically, but I suppose not completely. By the common law, perhaps." The answer pained him more than it did Lana. He could say a lot about Kate but most of it wouldn't have been pretty. What they had was once special, but now venomous and complicated more than anything else. The fault wasn't reserved for him nor Kate, but a shared nuisance they had concocted together. Doc finally drank from his glass as Lana stared at him, waiting for a further explanation, but he had another idea. "My turn. You have a sister, right?"

Lana hadn't expected any questions. She wondered how he knew, her eyebrows furrowing before answering hesitantly. After reminiscing earlier on her life before she met Doc, she felt the slightest bit more comfortable in her grief. It wasn't until recently that she had experienced such loss and trauma.

"Yes."

"Does she have a name?"

"My turn," Lana said sharply. She began to wonder what was his motive in asking about her sister. Doc raised his brows, amused at Lana's concentration. She wouldn't let him control the conversation. She was paying close attention. To him, she was a minx when she wanted to be, or maybe she just didn't realize how she drove him insane. "Can you explain more?"

"We're not together. Not anymore. Suppose we never were. Not good for each other, her and I. Though, I'm not much good for anyone. That's about it," Doc said, chuckling at himself. Lana noticed he barely touched his plate as she digested the information. "Satisfied?" Lana nodded in annoyance.

"Shoot," she said, awaiting more questions on Lydia. It was only fair that she answer his questions, for he had answered hers. She wasn't sure just how deep she could allow him to go into the topic.

"Her name?"

"Lydia," Lana replied. Her voice had cracked when she said it. The last time she had uttered her name was that last night when she saw her, bruised, bleeding, and naked in the bathroom.