Pardon Me While I Have a Lil Flashback, Part 4

[Rue Wydown 0]

Pardon Me While I Have a Lil Flashback, Part 4

Commander Ruth Wydown

 

((And yep, there's a bit more...This is just some back story about my character and her history, a peek in her head while she's knocked out cold on the bridge/sickbay. The dialogue underlined indicates words spoken in the Ralafean language - translated in English for the reader for the fun of it. ))

 

 

 

Rue sat on the table top, feet planted where her seat should have been, pretending she was not eavesdropping on Clay and Mal's conversation as they sat at a picnic table behind her. She picked at the banana-mania split slowly, deliberately, so she could allow the two buddies to speak. And so she could plot, of course. "She's not taking this seriously. You have no idea – she's acting like this is all a laugh. Well, I'm not laughing." Clayton Wydown growled, shaking his head.

 

Mal allowed a bite of chocolate amaretto gelato to melt on his tongue, lips pursed. "It's called a coping mechanism, you idiot," he said at length. "Each one of us has one. And each one of them is different -- sometimes very different."

 

"That's not coping." He jabbed in her direction with his cone. "That's torturing. She's torturing me. On purpose. And she knows it." Clayton shifted in his seat to turn around and scowled at the back of his girlfriend's head. She didn't flinch, leading Clayton to believe she wasn't paying them a lick of attention. It figures, just when I want her to listen in, she's on a walkabout in her mind. Clayton turned his attention back to his old school mate.

 

"Regardless of the end result," Alexander said, pausing, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "She deals with things differently. Simply because she's not freaking out the same way you are, doesn't mean she's not... affected... by what happened. If anything, she seems a little more concerned about what nearly happened to your sorry arse."

 

"Is that your clever way of saying she likes me-likes me?" Clay smirked at him, mimicking Rue's middle school jab earlier, listening for an expected squeal of glee, giggle or sigh from the peanut gallery behind him. It didn't materialize, which troubled him. "You have no idea what a nutter she is. Certifiable. I should have listened to you weeks ago." He threw the melting remains of his ice cream into the trash, dabbing at the melted mush on his hands with a used napkin.

 

 

"And you wouldn't be half as interested if she weren't a nutter." Mal shook his head. "You forget -- I know you, Clay. She's smart; she's funny; she's easy on the eyes. That puts her, oh, pretty well ahead of most of the Barbie dolls your mum tries to set you up with -- and that alone has you interested. You like that she pushes your limits, pushes you out of your comfort zone. But you went a little too far, too fast, and now you're scared." He wiped his own mouth with a napkin. "What gives with your coping mechanism, hmm?"

 

"I don't know what you're talking about." Wydown scowled.

 

Hoping to be forgotten about, Rue sat picking at her sundae. Her cheeks flushed a little while they talk about her, but she didn't alter position or exhibit any other reaction. Of course she did more than like Clayton, but she sure as hell wasn't going to tell him right now. Especially since he was acting like a robotic wind-up toy. She tried to swallow past the lump forming in her throat. He sounded so angry with her. But there was an underlying fear of something that she couldn't put her finger on. If she didn't figure out an opening to insert herself back into the conversation soon, what the heck was she going to do then?

 

Mal folded his arms, leaning forward against the table. His voice dropped an octave and his eyes narrowed as he looked to Clay. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. And the sooner you admit it to yourself, the sooner you can save your relationship with her."

 

He stared hard at his friend for a moment longer, eyes hard, lips thinned. The moment passed. Slowly, he offered a slight smile that eventually reached Mal's eyes. "Now, I suggest you have a corpsman to see about your cranial-rectal inversion."

 

"You saying I have my head up my arse?" Clay smirked, relaxing, some of his boyish mannerisms starting to reappear with just one joke at his expense.

 

"If the shoe fits..." Mal raised his ice cream, saluted him with it, and then took the last swallow.

 

"You didn't see her out there, Malcolm." Wydown took a shaky breath. "It was a cluster." He paused. "I mean the part when she saved my life was bloody brilliant. But the rest was just.......bloody." Clayton shuddered.

 

"And how many times have you seen blood in your -- albeit short -- lifetime?"

 

"You mean besides the times when I cut myself shaving?"

 

Mal blinked. "You still use a razor?"

 

"You don't?" He studied him carefully. "No wonder it looks like you took a weed whacker to those sideburns of yours."

 

"You saying my sonic doesn't do a good enough job?" Alexander rubbed his chin experimentally.

 

Thank the goddess. Clayton was starting to sound like his old self again. Rue suppressed a giggle as it sounded as if the conversation was starting to degrade quickly. Her timing might have been off, but Thouvenot felt if she didn't jump in now, she'd lose her nerve. Sliding off the picnic table, she sauntered over quietly, wrapping her arms around Clay's neck from behind. Beneath her arms, she felt Clayton tense up, but she wasn't going to be back down. She laid her chin on his shoulder as she glanced over to Malcolm. "He looks fine to me." She grinned.

 

"Don't take his side." Clay warned. "You'll inflate his ego."

 

Mal snorted. "Too late." He winked at Rue.

 

"See this...this is why I never put the two of you in the same room together. You're gonna start ganging up on me." Clay growled.

 

"You need a little difficulty in your life, mate. We're just here to provide it."

 

"So I see." He rolled his eyes, then glanced at the imp on his shoulder. "You and I need to have a little talk." He glanced at Mal. "Can you give us a few minutes?"

 

"Sure," Alexander said. He rose, tossing his napkin onto the table. "Need to go shake hands with the unemployed, anyway. Back in a tick."

 

"I like him." Rue grinned mischievously.

 

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm afraid of." Clayton felt a sense of impending doom now that he'd introduced his best mate to his best girl.